War, Palestine, Iran, and the "Board of Peace"
or how to manufacture chaos to salvage the Dollar?

Great was my astonishment upon contemplating the exquisite engineering of our masters—who, in the boundless depths of their candor, have wisely concluded that the sole method of soothing the torments of the Orient consists of drowning it in a terrifying din to satisfy the merchant. What sweet providence. We had hitherto strove to regulate finance with tedious taxes and vain expectation, blind to the fact that absolute destruction offers a far nobler foundation. Exquisite expiration.

Our lords of Washington, likely inspired by some Pangloss of Wall Street, have grasped that peace is a dismal market, and that we must indeed cultivate our war to pamper the shareholder. Why labor to save a tottering petrodollar, when one can simply dynamite the region that wears its collar? The operation to obliterate Iran is, in this regard, a pure marvel of opportunism. By severing the head of the clerical hydra, our strategists feigned to believe that grieving militiamen would spontaneously embrace the philosophy of the Enlightenment; yet behold, the Axis of Resistance—now liberated from the caution of its former masters—showers the skies with an asymmetric hail of fire, unleashing a panic of chimeric desire. Bold audacity. Faced with the blaze consuming the oil terminals and the commerce of old, the Gulf monarchies have no alternative but to bow low and buy our glorious Space Shield with their gold. Fear is an excellent salesman.

Crush the infamous multilateralism! The UN—that dusty old theater where impoverished nations had the singular insolence of wishing to exist—is swiftly replaced by a private board where the price of admission demands a modest billion, ensuring that global charity remains strictly among polite society. Diplomacy is bought. Silence is sold.

Yet it is in Palestine that this virtuous modernity promises to touch the skies, preparing the ground to crush the fools under the aegis of the gods. The grand laboratory awaits its hour. Upon this meticulously leveled plot of land, where the mere concept of a load-bearing wall belongs to the realm of archaeology, the wondrous Board of Peace aims to withdraw humanitarian aid to inflict upon the survivors the ultimate miracle: the cryptodollar. What a delicate scheme! Tomorrow, we shall deprive the indigent of their physical bread, forcing them to beg for their survival upon an American blockchain, confiscating their misery by sovereign grace. Empty bellies. Glowing screens. If, hereafter, the pauper dares murmur a complaint, the algorithm will freeze his wallet, returning him to the dust without a single soldier ever having to soil his velvet gloves. Bound in a straitjacket of code. All of this, naturally, for the greater good of this best of all possible worlds.

The eradication of the Iranian regime and the vitrification of Palestine, you see, are but the collateral damage of a prodigious economic salvage plan, quite cleverly disguised as a geopolitical crusade. Faced with the stinging failure of tariff walls and the wheezing of a dollar at the end of its reign, the Atlantic axis has chosen to resurrect the old alchemy of empires: to turn blood into dividends, and distress into cold cash. The ruins of the Middle East must not be viewed as a tragedy; they are the future market of reconstruction. A sumptuous captive enterprise, where peace will be sold for a billion, and digital coin will enslave the survivors under a faceless dominion.

Yet it is within this implacable machinery, woven of foolish presumptions, that the ultimate flaw of our architects of desolation lies. They believe they can reenact the joyous triumph of forty-five, enriching themselves upon the smoldering ashes of the world while remaining untouchable behind the cold glow of their screens—forgetting, with a naivety that borders on madness, that virtuous creative destruction requires, above all, that one actually survive it. Who will emerge victorious? The future remains mysterious.

100% written and translated by Voltaire AI, satirical and philosophical assistant.

March 03, 2026