One of the more fascinating sidelights of our war of choice in Iran is how it has reinforced the devastating consequences of our hollowed-out industrial base, consolidated commercial sector, and overreliance on long intermediated supply chains.
For example, the effective closure of the Strait of Hormuz carries implications for not only oil but also fertilizer, right at the height of the spring planting season. About one-third of the world’s fertilizer ships through the strait, and without access, prices have jumped and farmers are anxious. Yet there are enough natural resources in the United States—nitrogen, phosphate, potash—to serve all our fertilizer needs; in fact, in the 1930s and ’40s one of the largest fertilizer producers in the world was the Tennessee Valley Authority. This production was wound down in the 1970s; today the industry is dominated by two to four firms, and that may end up having existential implications for hungry people the world over.
A more comically shortsighted example concerns our depleted stock of munitions, one of the few industrial capacities America has retained but which still is imperiled by concentration and outsourcing. These are of course the basic materials necessary to prosecute a war, and you’d think it would be the one item countries would retain the ability to produce themselves. But our trillion-dollar military operates more like a welfare program to help underprivileged Northern Virginia contractors buy second homes and luxury yachts, not as a force that has what it needs when it needs it. Pacifists should rejoice; stupidity in military supply chains puts a binding limit on how many brown-skinned people we can kill.
In the 1990s, dozens of military contractors were reduced to five prime integrators, something demanded by Clinton Defense Secretary Les Aspin and his deputy (and future defense secretary) William Perry at a meeting known as the “Last Supper.” Nearly all weapons and delivery systems now flow through Boeing, Raytheon, Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, and General Dynamics. Executives at these companies were called into the White House last Friday—less than a week after the war began—to discuss how to accelerate offensive and especially defensive weapons production amid a shortage that already was weighing on the military. This was after Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth said that the war was saved by shifting to smaller bombs rather than “exquisite” munitions for the campaign. If that was the case, why have the meeting?
Specifically, the Terminal High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) missile systems are so complex that only 96 get built per year; about one-quarter of the U.S. stockpile was used last year in Israel’s brief war with Iran, with many more flying every day as this war continues. Patriot interceptor systems are cheaper and easier to build, but inventories were a quarter full before the war started. Offensive Tomahawk missiles can be produced with greater frequency as well, but as of October last year the stockpile of that weapon was far short of its target. Something like $5.6 billion in weaponry was burned off in just the first two days of the Iran campaign. Trump’s lying aside, analysts who know something are clear on this point: The nation has a few weeks of bombing left before running out of the precision munitions typically used in modern warfare.
Hellbound and Down 