The news from Kuwait this morning is grim, though not entirely surprising. A drone strike, allegedly Iran-backed, has killed one and injured dozens at Kuwait International Airport. The Gulf, that strange oasis of wealth and fragility, has once again been reminded of its vulnerability. We like to pretend that the Persian Gulf is a playground, a place of glass towers and air-conditioned malls. But the history of this region is written in blood and fire, and the drones are just the latest chapter in a very old story.
Let us not be naive about what this means. The Iranians, whether directly or through proxies, have landed a blow not on a military installation but on a civilian airport. This is not an act of war in the conventional sense. It is a test. A probe. The same sort of thing that everyone from the Barbarians to the Mongols did when they sensed weakness. The West, led by a feckless America, is retreating from its commitments. The British have long since retired east of Suez. And now the vacuum is being filled by those who understand that power is taken, not given.
I can already hear the cries for restraint. 'Do not escalate,' the diplomats will murmur. 'Let us talk.' But what is there to talk about? The Iranians have made their position clear for decades: they seek dominance over the Gulf, and they will use any tool at their disposal to achieve it. Drones, cyber-attacks, proxies. These are the instruments of a power that cannot match the conventional might of the United States or its allies, but can still cause chaos. And chaos, my dear reader, is a form of control.
One might ask: why Kuwait? Why now? The answer is simple: because it is there. Because Kuwait is the soft underbelly of the Gulf states. It is not the UAE with its hardened defenses, nor Saudi Arabia with its vast deserts and oil-fields. It is a small, wealthy state that relies on the kindness of strangers for its security. And the strangers are busy elsewhere.
The parallels to the fall of Rome are almost too obvious to mention. The barbarians at the gates, the luxury and complacency within. We spend billions on football players and shopping malls, but we scrimp on defense. We expect the Americans to protect us, but they are tired of our wars. The result is that we become targets. The drone strike is not an act of war, but it is a warning. The next one might not miss.
I have written before about the intellectual decadence of our age, the way we have lost the will to defend our civilization. But this is not just an intellectual problem. It is a practical one. If the Gulf states do not take control of their own security, they will become vassals. Not of Iran necessarily, but of whatever force decides to fill the void. It could be Turkey, or Russia, or even China. The point is that power abhors a vacuum.
So what is to be done? First, we must stop pretending that Iran is a rational actor that can be appeased. It is a revolutionary state with a messianic ideology. It does not seek peace; it seeks submission. Second, we must invest in our own defenses. Not just missiles and drones, but the will to use them. Third, we must recognise that the Gulf is part of a larger struggle: the struggle between liberal democracy and authoritarianism, between freedom and tyranny. If we lose here, we lose everywhere.
But I am not optimistic. We have grown soft, addicted to comfort and safety. We think that a few air strikes or sanctions will solve the problem. They will not. The Iranian regime is patient. It knows that time is on its side. It knows that the West will eventually tire of the conflict and go home. And then the Gulf will be left to its own devices, a treasure chest guarded by a few broken toys.
The drone strike on Kuwait is a tragedy, but it is also a lesson. The question is whether we will learn it, or whether we will continue to drift towards a new Thermopylae, where a few brave men stand against a tide of darkness, and lose.
