War is not a violation of the international order. For a select few, it is the international order working exactly as intended; a machine that converts human suffering into corporate profit, political advantage, and generational wealth. The bombs that fall are not random. They are a calculated strategy, and behind every calculation sits a balance sheet.
In 2024, the world’s top 100 arms manufacturers generated a combined $679 billion in revenue; the highest figure ever recorded in human history. American firms alone accounted for $334 billion of that total. That wealth was not created in a vacuum. It was built, contract by contract, on the rubble of Ukraine, Gaza, Lebanon, and now Iran.
When Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, geopolitical tensions surged and a war of survival began on both sides. Ukraine rushed westward, particularly toward the United States, for aid and military hardware. What followed was framed publicly as an act of solidarity. What it actually triggered was one of the most profitable procurement cycles in modern American history.
Raytheon’s CEO Gregory Hayes stood before investors shortly after the invasion and declared the conflict would be “very, very good” for the company’s bottom line. He was not speculating. He was reading the market. Raytheon reported a record $180 billion order backlog in the months that followed. Lockheed Martin posted net earnings of $6.9 billion in 2023; a 21 per cent increase over the previous year, while sitting on $160.6 billion worth of unfulfilled weapons contracts. The US arms export figure hit $200.8 billion in fiscal year 2024, up sharply from $157.5 billion the year before.
These are not incidental numbers. They are the architecture of a system; one that political philosopher Max Weber identified more than a century ago. In The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, Weber argued that Protestant; particularly Calvinist theology provided capitalism with its moral foundation. Wealth, in this tradition, was not greed. It was divine confirmation. Accumulation was virtue. Profit was blessing.
That theological inheritance echoes loudly in the American defence industry today. A $6.9 billion profit is not merely a financial result. Within the cultural logic that shaped Western commerce, it is evidence of righteousness. And every missile fired is not a tragedy to these corporations. It is an invoice, one paid in human blood, invoiced to the taxpayer, and deposited into shareholder accounts.
The mechanism that sustains this system is not secret. It operates in full public view, protected by its own normalisation. It is called the revolving door; the seamless rotation of senior personnel between the Pentagon, the US Congress, and the private defence industry.
A 2021 report by the Government Accountability Office found that 1,700 senior US government officials had moved into arms industry positions over just five years. Over 80 per cent of retired four-star generals and admirals went directly onto defence company boards or into lobbying roles, men who spent their careers making war decisions, now paid to ensure those decisions keep coming.
In 2023, Lockheed Martin deployed 65 lobbyists in Washington. 48 of them were former government insiders. The company spent $14 million on lobbying that year alone. Since 2001, the weapons industry has collectively spent more than $2.5 billion lobbying the US Congress; roughly 700 lobbyists per year whispering into the ears of the men who decide where American bombs fall next.
The men who vote for war and the men who profit from war are, with remarkable frequency, the same men. Or they were last year. Or they will be next year.
President Dwight D. Eisenhower understood this danger intimately. In his farewell address of January 1961, he warned the American public of what he called the military-industrial complex, an alliance between the defence industry and the military establishment that, left unchecked, would corrupt democratic governance and manufacture the conditions for permanent war. He was right. The warning went unheeded. The complex grew.
Now observe what is happening in real time because theory without evidence is merely opinion, and the evidence today is overwhelming.
In the final days of February and the opening days of March 2026, the United States and Israel launched nearly 900 strikes against Iran within a single 12-hour operational window. The US military is burning through an estimated $890 million to $1 billion per day in expenditure. Iran has retaliated with hundreds of ballistic missiles and over 2,000 drones targeting US bases and Israeli territory. More than 1,700 people have been killed in eleven days of exchanges.
The economic consequences have rippled immediately across the globe. Oil prices crossed $100 per barrel for the first time since the Russia-Ukraine war. The Strait of Hormuz: the narrow chokepoint through which 20 per cent of the world’s oil supply passes is under direct threat of closure. LNG prices in Asia more than doubled in a single week after Qatar Energy declared force majeure at the world’s largest liquefaction facility. The Dow Jones Industrial Average lost over 1,000 points in a single session. Global food prices are climbing again, driven by supply chain disruption and fuel cost surges.
Civilians across Iran, Israel, Lebanon, and the Gulf are paying with their lives and livelihoods. And somewhere in Bethesda, Arlington, and the corridors of Capitol Hill, the shareholders are watching the numbers go up.
This is the economics of war in its most brutal form. One conflict. One superpower and its defence industry. One shared outcome, an entrenched elite that profits from permanent conflict, sustained by institutions too compromised, too invested, and too structurally captured to stop it.
The revolving door keeps spinning. The lobbying budgets keep growing. The order backlogs keep lengthening. And with every new conflict, every new theatre of war, every new headline about missiles and drones and civilian casualties, another procurement cycle begins.
The missiles point outward. The money flows inward, upward, always upward, toward the architects of the machine. And the machine, as long as it keeps paying, will never stop.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.
