The rising price of gas is both the consequence and the justification for the war with Iran. Read why in my new column at RealClearPolitics.

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By FRANK MIELE

Americans like to think that their lives are shaped by elections, legislation, and the decisions of their elected leaders in Washington.

Lately, they are being shaped by a 21-mile-wide strip of water half a world away.

The Strait of Hormuz – the narrow passage connecting the Persian Gulf to the Gulf of Oman and the broader Indian Ocean – has become the most powerful “legislative body” affecting the American economy. Roughly a fifth of the world’s oil supply flows through it. When that flow is threatened, prices spike. When prices spike, Americans pay – at the pump, at the grocery store, and everywhere in between.

That is not a metaphor. It is a reminder that in a globalized economy, geography can exert more immediate influence over American life than any vote cast in Congress. Yes, the War Powers Act technically gives Congress a check on military conflicts initiated by the president, but legislators are often hesitant to rebuke a commander in chief who has already put U.S. prestige and lives on the line. What’s left of the Iranian regime has no such qualms, however.

Critics argue that the Strait of Hormuz is no longer strategically vital to the United States because America imports far less Middle Eastern oil than it once did. That is true as far as it goes – but it misses the point entirely.

Oil is not priced locally. It is priced globally. The United States may be energy-rich, but it is not price-immune. A disruption in Hormuz does not have to send a single barrel directly to American shores to hit American wallets. It only has to tighten global supply enough to push prices higher, and those higher prices ripple instantly through every sector of the economy.

In that sense, Iran does not need to defeat the United States militarily to exert power over it. It only needs to remind the world that it can squeeze that narrow passage whenever it chooses. The militant mullahs know full well they can punch above their weight by leveraging the global oil market to their advantage.

Before the current conflict, Iran had not shut down the Strait or halted global commerce outright. But the Strait was never neutral. For decades, Iran has built – and occasionally demonstrated – the ability to disrupt shipping, harass tankers, and threaten closure. The power lay not in constant action, but in credible capability.

The question was never whether Iran had already imposed its will, but whether the United States and its allies were willing to wait until it did.

That is the dilemma at the heart of the present crisis. Acting to neutralize that threat risks triggering the very disruption we seek to avoid. Waiting, on the other hand, means accepting a world in which a hostile regime holds a permanent lever over the global economy.

There is no risk-free option – only different kinds of risk.

The situation is complicated further by the role of America’s allies. Many of the countries most dependent on the free flow of oil through Hormuz are not the United States, but Europe and Asia. Their economies rely far more heavily on Gulf energy than ours does. Yet they depend, to a remarkable degree, on the United States to keep that lifeline open.

For decades, American naval power has underwritten the security of global shipping. It has done so not just for American benefit, but for the benefit of the entire industrialized world.

But when that system is challenged, the response is often uneven. Allies issue statements, offer limited support, and debate their own domestic constraints, while the United States is expected to take the lead – militarily, politically, and economically.

In effect, the United States is asked to guarantee the stability of a system on which others depend even more heavily than it does.

This imbalance is not new, but it becomes more visible in moments of crisis. The Strait of Hormuz exposes a reality that is often obscured in calmer times: American power is global, but the burdens of maintaining it are not always shared equally.

Meanwhile, back in Washington, another imbalance is on display.

The Constitution assigns Congress the power to declare war. The president, as commander in chief, is tasked with carrying it out. In theory, this creates a balance – a system in which decisions of war and peace are shared and accountable.

In practice, that balance has eroded.

Modern conflicts rarely begin with formal declarations of war. They unfold through authorizations, executive decisions, and incremental escalations. Presidents act. Congress reacts – or avoids reacting at all.

The result is a familiar but troubling pattern: war without clear congressional authorization, and accountability without clear congressional ownership.

The president bears the immediate political consequences. Members of Congress issue statements, hold hearings, and position themselves for whatever outcome follows, but rarely take responsibility for the decision itself.

Americans, meanwhile, are left to sort out who is to blame.

But even that question assumes that the primary drivers of events are domestic political actors. Increasingly, that assumption is incomplete.

The forces shaping this conflict – and its consequences – are not confined to Capitol Hill or the White House. They are rooted in geography, in global markets, and in the strategic calculations of adversaries who understand how to exploit both.

The Strait of Hormuz does not cast votes, but it may have more influence over the daily lives of Americans right now than any elected body. It can raise prices, rattle markets, and test alliances with a speed and force that no legislative process can match.

President Trump’s speech to the nation last week underscored the point. He argued that U.S. strikes have largely neutralized Iran’s military capabilities. Perhaps they have. But as long as the Strait of Hormuz remains contested and global energy markets remain on edge, the measure of success will not be what has been destroyed, but what can still be disrupted.

Decisions about war and peace must account not only for immediate risks, but for the long-term consequences of doing nothing. At the same time, those decisions must recognize the limits of what military force alone can achieve in a world where disruption is often easier than control.

In the end, the question is not whether the United States can avoid being affected by places like Hormuz. It cannot.

The question is whether it will confront the leverage those places provide to its adversaries – or continue to live with the consequences of that vulnerability.

A narrow strait has put a very wide world in its grip.

And for now, Americans are feeling the squeeze.