We learned exactly nothing from Vietnam.

Back then, we incinerated jungles, dropped more tonnage than we did in World War II, and still got run out of Southeast Asia by peasants in sandals with AK 47s and a clearer sense of purpose than any official in Washington. We had helicopters, jets, artillery, sensors, computers; they had bikes on jungle trails and the patience to bleed us until our own public gave up. Our firepower “worked” tactically and failed strategically. It killed people; it didn’t win the war.

Yet here we are half a century later, with our idiot so-called “leadership” still talking like the only thing that matters in a fight is whose toys are shinier. Same mindset, different target: Iran instead of North Vietnam.

Vietnam was small, poor, and technologically primitive, and we still couldn’t bend it to our will. Iran is bigger, richer, more industrialized, with more people, tougher terrain, and decades of practice in asymmetric warfare and proxy fights. It doesn’t need an air force that can dogfight with ours; it needs missiles, drones, mines, militias, and the nerve to absorb punishment while making life hell for us and our allies over years, not weeks. That’s exactly what it has been building.

If firepower alone decided outcomes, Vietnam would be a footnote and the American flag would still be flying over Kabul. Instead, we keep demonstrating a uniquely American kind of stupidity: confusing the ability to blow things up with the ability to shape political reality.

We are very, very good at the former. The rest of the world has spent decades learning how to make the latter impossible for us.

Iran does not have to “beat” us in some fantasy Red Dawn showdown. It just has to survive, strike back enough to matter, and outlast the attention span of a country that can’t stay focused through a news cycle. That’s what North Vietnam did. That’s what the Taliban did. That’s what Iran is preparing to do if we’re foolish enough to test them.

The uncomfortable truth is that we Americans like simple stories: good guys, bad guys, big guns, quick endings. The world doesn’t care about our stories. It runs on geography, demography, politics, and willpower. Those are precisely the things our firepower can’t fix—and, all too often, makes worse.

So when someone tells you “We’ll just bomb them back to the Stone Age,” remember: we tried that already. They’re still there. We left.

The fantasy that firepower is all that matters doesn’t make us strong. It makes us suckers and we’re going to pay dearly for our delusions.