It is remarkable how easy things suddenly become when the right excuse appears.
For a quarter of a century the world has been quietly constructing the foundations of a debt crisis. Governments borrowed enthusiastically, central banks lubricated the process with cheap money, and entire economic systems became accustomed to a level of financial excess that would once have been considered reckless.
The bill for that little experiment has been accumulating steadily.
But apparently none of that matters anymore.
Because now we are told that two weeks of conflict in the Middle East might destroy the global economy.
Convenient, isn’t it?
Consider the recent past. The pandemic response alone burned through sums of money that many governments never actually possessed in the first place. Entire economies were deliberately shut down. Trillions were printed, borrowed, or conjured into existence through creative financial mechanisms that would have made earlier generations of policymakers blush.
The consequences were predictable: inflation surged, public debt exploded, and the structural weaknesses of many economies became far more visible.
Yet somehow the narrative now suggests that Iran—or the latest conflict involving Iran—is the real culprit behind the looming economic pain.
Not the debt.
Not the monetary excess.
Not the years of political decisions that slowly eroded economic resilience.
No, the explanation conveniently arrives wrapped in the smoke of a geopolitical crisis.
And that is only one part of the story.
Over the past two decades Western economies have also embarked on a remarkable energy experiment. More than a trillion dollars has been poured into what might politely be called vapor energy—systems that look impressive on policy brochures but often struggle when confronted with the unforgiving realities of industrial demand.
At the same time, regulatory enthusiasm has taken a healthy bite out of the productive core of many economies. Layers of environmental mandates, social engineering projects, and bureaucratic innovation have steadily increased the cost of doing business.
Manufacturing has been squeezed.
Energy systems have been destabilized.
Investment has been redirected toward politically fashionable technologies rather than economically reliable ones.
None of these developments occurred overnight.
They accumulated slowly, year after year, decision after decision.
Yet now we are invited to believe that a few weeks of bombs falling somewhere in the Middle East might suddenly bring the global economy to its knees.
Come on.
Even a moderately attentive observer should find that explanation a little difficult to swallow.
Of course analysts will embrace the narrative enthusiastically. Financial commentary has always displayed a certain talent for discovering explanations that conveniently match the news cycle. If markets stumble, a cause must be identified quickly. Preferably a cause that is dramatic, visible, and easy to explain.
A distant conflict works beautifully.
It provides a villain.
It provides a storyline.
And best of all, it distracts attention from the far less glamorous structural problems that have been accumulating for decades.
Many people will accept that explanation without much hesitation. Humans have an understandable tendency to prefer simple stories over complicated realities. A single geopolitical crisis is easier to grasp than a long chain of policy failures stretching back twenty or thirty years.
But there is a small problem with relying on convenient narratives.
Reality eventually intrudes.
The conflict with Iran—like most conflicts—will eventually fade from the headlines. Wars end, ceasefires appear, diplomatic arrangements emerge. The immediate shock will pass, markets will stabilize, and life will continue.
Yet the deeper economic problems will remain.
Debt will still be enormous.
Energy systems will still be fragile.
Industrial competitiveness will still be eroding in many places.
And when those structural pressures continue to produce economic pain long after the missiles have stopped flying, the convenient explanation will begin to look rather thin.
At that point a new narrative will be required.
There is always another narrative waiting in the wings.
What would be far more useful, of course, would be a small dose of honesty. Governments and media institutions could acknowledge that the difficulties now emerging were largely self-inflicted. That years of irresponsible fiscal policy, questionable energy strategies, and regulatory excess played a substantial role in creating the current fragility.
Such honesty would be refreshing.
Unfortunately it would also require something that has become rather scarce in modern political life.
A spine.
Admitting long-term mistakes rarely improves short-term career prospects. It is far safer to blame distant conflicts, unexpected shocks, or mysterious forces beyond anyone’s control.
And so the blame game continues.
Perhaps that tendency reveals something uncomfortable about human societies. Prosperity often carries the seeds of its own destruction. When life has been good for long enough, discipline fades. Caution disappears. Ambitious schemes replace practical judgment.
Eventually the accumulated consequences arrive.
And when they do, we search desperately for someone else to blame.
It is an oddly persistent pattern in history.
Human beings possess an extraordinary talent for sabotaging their own prosperity.
Which is why, more often than not, our greatest enemy turns out to be ourselves.