America’s pyrrhic victory against the global south

My students often ask why a book about war appears in a leadership course outline. It is a fair question. Leadership is usually associated with development, cooperation and progress rather than conflict. My answer is simple: Leaders who aspire to build progress must first understand that a win that includes devastating long-term cost for the winner is actually a defeat. This is historically referred to as a Pyrrhic victory, named after King Pyrrhus of Epirus, who won a battle against the Romans that almost cost him the war and his kingdom in 279 BC.
One of the most influential works studied in both management and military strategy is The Art of War by the Chinese philosopher and general Sun Tzu. Written more than 2,500 years ago, the book remains essential reading in military academies, business schools and leadership programmes around the world.
Among its most famous insights is the idea that victory is often determined before the battle begins. Sun Tzu argued that the supreme form of warfare is not the destruction of the enemy but achieving strategic advantage before open conflict takes place. These lessons are particularly relevant when examining the escalating confrontation between the US, the Israeli Occupation and Iran.
From a purely military perspective, the imbalance in technological power is clear. The US spends more on defence than the next several countries combined. According to data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), US military expenditure exceeded $900 billion in 2024, accounting for roughly 40 per cent of global military spending. Israel also possesses one of the most technologically advanced militaries in the world. Iran’s official military budget, by comparison, is estimated at around $15–25 billion annually, depending on methodology. On paper, therefore, the outcome of conventional military engagements appears predictable. Yet history repeatedly demonstrates that wars are rarely decided by hardware alone.
The Vietnam War offers a well-known example. Despite overwhelming military superiority, the US ultimately withdrew after losing domestic and international support. Similar patterns appeared in Afghanistan and Iraq, where initial battlefield success did not translate into durable political outcomes. I would argue that US attacks against Venezuela and Iran will end up showing similar patterns.
Modern conflicts are fought simultaneously on several battlefields: military, political, economic and informational. This is where the deeper wisdom of Sun Tzu becomes important. In today’s interconnected world, legitimacy is a strategic asset. Military operations that generate widespread civilian casualties or appear to violate international norms can erode global support even if they succeed tactically.
Images of hundreds of dead school girls, destroyed neighbourhoods, injured civilians and grieving families circulate instantly across digital platforms, reaching billions of viewers. In such an environment, narratives can shift rapidly.
For many societies in the Global South, historical experiences of colonialism, intervention and double standards in international law shape how contemporary conflicts are perceived. As a result, the central question often becomes not who possesses the stronger weapons, but who appears to hold the moral high ground.
When legitimacy erodes, alliances weaken, public pressure intensifies and strategic endurance becomes more difficult. Sun Tzu understood this relationship between military power and political authority. Successful leaders, he argued, ensure alignment between moral legitimacy, national unity and strategic objectives before entering war.
My own experience as a university student illustrates how narratives about violence influence perceptions across generations. During my first year studying in the United States, I often saw academic textbooks linking Islam with terrorism. For many Muslim students, this framing felt both unsettling and historically selective. The twentieth century alone witnessed two world wars originating largely in Europe that resulted in more than 100 million deaths worldwide. Yet global discourse rarely frames those tragedies through the lens of religious identity or calls this Judeo-Christian terrorism.
History reminds us that violence, extremism and political manipulation are not confined to any particular religion or civilisation. They emerge when power is exercised without accountability and when ideological narratives are used to justify domination or exclusion.
The deeper lesson of The Art of War, therefore, extends beyond battlefield tactics. The most effective leaders understand that lasting victory lies not in winning wars but in preventing them. Peace requires strategic wisdom, diplomatic patience and the humility to recognise that military strength alone cannot produce stability.
For our region and the wider world, the challenge today is not merely to calculate military advantage. It is to restore the principles of serious diplomatic engagement, restraint and mutual respect that allow societies to truly live together without descending into cycles of escalation.
If global leaders fail to rediscover what winning really means, even the most sophisticated military victories may ultimately prove pyrrhic.