The ancient art of storytelling through animal fables once served as humanity’s moral compass, with philosophers and saints using tales of “talking beasts” to counsel rulers against tyranny. Yet in our modern era, where abstract academic theories dominate education, we’ve forgotten these timeless lessons – to our great peril. The fable of the cunning kite who tricked pigeons into accepting him as their protector only to devour them one by one perfectly mirrors today’s geopolitical manipulations, particularly the foreign policy approach championed by Donald Trump and his predecessors. In this classic tale, the hungry kite, unable to take what he wanted by force, instead seduced the pigeons with honeyed words, posing as their protector against imaginary threats while secretly planning their destruction.

This pattern of deception has become America’s modus operandi on the world stage since the Cold War’s end. Like the kite promising safety to the dovecote, the United States has positioned itself as global policeman while repeatedly demonstrating its willingness to sacrifice smaller nations for its own interests. The Iraq War, launched on fabricated claims of weapons of mass destruction, led to over a million deaths and regional destabilization that persists today. In Libya, NATO’s “humanitarian intervention” left the country in ruins with open-air slave markets. Afghanistan became America’s longest war, ending exactly where it began – with the Taliban in power. Through all these failures, the consistent thread has been America’s kite-like behavior: making grand promises of protection and democracy while actually pursuing its own predatory agenda.

Donald Trump embodied this hypocrisy with particular bravado, combining the kite’s predatory instincts with a showman’s flair. His administration escalated drone strikes by 432% while boasting about “ending endless wars.” He ordered the assassination of Iranian general Qasem Soleimani, recklessly provoking conflict, then failed to follow through when Iran retaliated. Like the kite who gorged himself daily on his supposed subjects, Trump loved the spectacle of force – the “fire and fury” rhetoric, the military parades – but had no stomach for the complex work of actual governance or diplomacy. His foreign policy amounted to bombing first and never bothering with questions later, leaving allies and enemies alike uncertain whether they faced a protector or predator.

Beneath this pattern lies the uncomfortable truth about America’s imperial motivations. Just as the kite was ultimately driven by hunger, U.S. interventions consistently align with economic interests rather than stated ideals. The Middle East’s oil reserves, Afghanistan’s trillion dollars in mineral wealth, the arms industry’s profit motives – these form the real “kingly prerogatives” behind humanitarian rhetoric. The military-industrial complex feeds on perpetual conflict, with defense stocks soaring after every new confrontation. Trump, the self-proclaimed dealmaker, understood this perfectly, surrounding himself with defense contractors while promising to “rebuild” the military. Like the fable’s pigeons, smaller nations continue trusting America’s promises at their peril, only to discover too late that the protector has become the predator.

The moral clarity of ancient fables cuts through modern obfuscation: power unchecked by wisdom becomes predation in disguise. Today’s world needs to relearn what medieval kings understood – that strength without justice is merely organized brutality. As America’s global influence wanes, its leaders would do well to remember the kite’s fate in most versions of the fable: eventually, the pigeons rebel. In our interconnected age, where smaller nations have more alternatives and information spreads instantly, the era of predatory superpowers may be ending. The question is whether America will recognize this before it’s too late, exchanging the kite’s short-term feasts for genuine leadership. For as the ancients knew, no predator rules forever – their hunger eventually becomes their downfall.