The official position is that American military might exists to protect national security and defend democratic values. Stanley McChrystal, the retired four-star general who once commanded NATO forces in Afghanistan, sees something far more reckless at work in Donald Trump's second-term foreign policy: a doctrine of "we should do because we can."
McChrystal delivered this assessment Friday at Tulane University's New Orleans book festival, invoking Dolly Parton's classic "Jolene" to describe what he views as the administration's approach to international relations. Speaking with Atlantic editor-in-chief Jeffrey Goldberg, the general addressed U.S. military strikes Trump has ordered in Nigeria, Venezuela and Iran since Christmas, according to The Guardian US.
The comparison to a country song about taking what you want because you have the power to do so carries particular weight coming from McChrystal. This is a commander who led counterinsurgency efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan, who understands the mechanics of American military projection, and who resigned after criticizing civilian leadership in a 2010 Rolling Stone profile. When he warns about foreign policy driven by capability rather than strategy, he speaks from decades of experience watching what happens when military action becomes divorced from clear objectives.
McChrystal's "Jolene doctrine" critique arrives as the Trump administration continues bombing Iran without articulating exit conditions, maintains a naval blockade that has sent oil markets into chaos, and expands military operations across three continents. The general's assessment — that policy is being driven by what America can do rather than what it should do — points to a fundamental breakdown in how decisions about war and peace are being made.
The timing of McChrystal's remarks matters. Military strikes in Nigeria, Venezuela and Iran represent not isolated incidents but an acceleration of unilateral action that began immediately after Trump's return to office. Each operation has been justified with different rationales — counterterrorism in Nigeria, regime change in Venezuela, retaliation in Iran — but McChrystal identifies the connecting thread: a belief that American military superiority itself constitutes sufficient justification for its use.
This critique from within the military establishment carries different weight than civilian opposition. McChrystal commanded the Joint Special Operations Command before leading in Afghanistan. He helped design and implement the very capabilities Trump now deploys without apparent strategic framework. His warning about the "Jolene doctrine" is not about whether America can project force globally — he knows it can. The question is whether that capability is being wielded with purpose or merely because it exists.
The White House's approach to selling these conflicts through social media and threats against broadcasters who question the narrative suggests an administration more interested in demonstrating power than explaining its use. When foreign policy becomes about what you can take rather than what serves national interest or international stability, McChrystal implies, you're no longer conducting statecraft — you're just taking things because you can.
The general's invocation of "Jolene" may seem folksy, but it captures something essential about how American military power is being conceptualized in Trump's second term. In Parton's song, the narrator pleads with Jolene not to take her man "just because you can." In McChrystal's formulation, Trump's foreign policy takes military action just because it can — a doctrine that transforms American might from a tool of last resort into a first option driven by its own existence rather than strategic necessity.
