Demanding simple answers in a complicated world

We often look for simple answers in a world that rarely offers them. More often than not, the truth refuses to fit neatly into a slogan or a single line in a newspaper article.

International politics, in particular, rarely offers the comfort of simple moral binaries. It is a world of competing interests, imperfect choices, and outcomes whose consequences only become clear with time.

Consider the extraordinary capture of Venezuela’s president, Nicolás Maduro.

Maduro presided over the systematic dismantling of Venezuela’s democratic institutions. Under his rule, a country once among the richest in Latin America, thanks to its vast oil reserves, collapsed into economic ruin. Millions fled the country. Democratic checks and balances were hollowed out. Elections lost their meaning.

When Venezuelans attempted to vote him out, Maduro simply refused to leave. Power was maintained through repression rather than consent.

So, when the United States ultimately intervened and brought Maduro into custody, the reaction across Europe was cautious. Many governments avoided endorsing the method through which it happened. Yet few mourned the outcome.

That ambiguity reflects an uncomfortable reality. One can question the legality or motivations of such an operation while still recognising that the removal of a corrupt authoritarian leader may open the door to a better future for his country. The fact that Venezuela might now have a chance, however uncertain, to rebuild its economy does not automatically vindicate the means by which that moment came about.

It illustrates a broader truth. That history rarely offers clean verdicts.

International interventions, however dramatic, do not always produce the outcomes their architects intend. Sometimes they stabilise a situation. Sometimes they make it worse. Often, their consequences only become clear years later.

Morality and international politics

This ambiguity runs through nearly every major crisis shaping our world today.

Take Gaza.

When Gaza was devastated, I was among the most consistent voices in Malta describing what was happening as a genocide. I said so publicly and repeatedly, despite considerable pressure and criticism. I argued that Benjamin Netanyahu allowed the conflict to escalate in part to appease far-right coalition partners whose support he needs to remain in power and shield himself from legal consequences.

I also named the ministers in his cabinet who have openly advocated policies that amount to the annihilation of Gaza and its people.

At the same time, I criticised those in positions of authority who should know better but have chosen instead to tiptoe around Israeli and American actions. Even at the highest levels of European leadership, the response has often been hesitant and cautious.

I profoundly disagree with that hesitation. I know first-hand the pressure that comes with taking these difficult positions, especially when doing so carries consequences. But there are moments when conscience must prevail over convenience. I will never compromise my principles, or the dignity of fellow human beings, for the sake of personal advancement. If that comes at a cost to my career, it is a price worth paying.

Yet moral clarity alone does not make the world simpler. Even when the right position appears obvious, the realities of international politics rarely allow for straightforward responses.

International politics is shaped by alliances, dependencies and strategic calculations. Governments often act not only according to moral considerations, but also according to security interests, diplomatic relationships and domestic political realities. That does not excuse moral failure but it helps explain it.

And explanation matters if we are serious about finding solutions.

The same complexity applies when discussing Iran.

The Iranian case

For decades, Iran’s regime has violently suppressed its own population and projected instability throughout the region.

I don’t subscribe to whataboutism, nor to the idea that acknowledging one injustice somehow diminishes another. I have spoken clearly and repeatedly about Israel’s actions in Gaza, and I stand by those words. But recognising that reality does not require intellectual blindness elsewhere. Condemning the suffering of Palestinians cannot mean remaining silent about the suffering of Iranians.

Protest movements have repeatedly erupted across Iran, often met with brutal repression. Tens of thousands of protesters have reportedly been killed in recent protests, and over the years countless others have been imprisoned or executed.

Iran remains one of the states in the Middle East still defined by a rigid system of religious authoritarianism. While countries such as Saudi Arabia and several Gulf states have begun cautiously pursuing economic modernisation and social reform, Iran continues to look inward, maintaining a system that suppresses personal freedoms.

In my role within the European Parliament’s delegation responsible for relations with Iran, I have spoken with many young Iranians, from students and activists to professionals. They dream of a different future. They want freedom. They want dignity. They want to build a modern future.

Of course, they do not represent the entire nation. Iran is a diverse society, and the regime still commands support in parts of the population. But the persistence and scale of protests in recent years demonstrate that dissatisfaction with the status quo runs deep.

And yet here lies the fundamental dilemma: How does the international community respond to regimes that repress their own people but remain firmly entrenched in power?

What mechanism exists to remove leaders like Maduro or Ayatollah Ali Khamenei?

In truth, there isn’t one. International law places strict limits on external intervention in sovereign states. Institutions such as the United Nations often lack both the authority and the political consensus necessary to act decisively. I would argue that technology is making it easier for dictators to remain in place. As mass surveillance systems fuse with artificial intelligence, the ability of dictatorships to maintain control will only grow stronger.

As a result of all this, the world is frequently confronted with a painful paradox. The international community recognises injustice and repression, yet lacks the legal tools or political will required to address them effectively.

No one welcomes the sight of bombs falling on cities. War is always a failure of diplomacy. Civilian suffering is never acceptable collateral.

But acknowledging that reality does not make the underlying political dilemmas disappear.

Actions in international politics rarely exist in a single moral dimension. They unfold across several layers at once. The context that precedes them may be understandable, even justified. The method used to carry them out may be questionable, or plainly illegal under international law. And yet the intention behind them may range from the genuinely principled to the dangerously irrational.

With President Trump, who has shown limited grasp of the region’s intricate dynamics and has yet to outline a credible path forward, the move risks appearing less strategic than impulsive, driven more by instinctive power projection than by a coherent plan for stability and freedom.

These dimensions rarely align neatly, and when context, legality and intention collide in this way, the result is ambiguity rather than clarity.

Certainly not a clear right or wrong.

The dilemma

This is precisely why many European leaders remain uncertain about where they stand when it comes to Iran. Germany appears to have aligned more closely with Washington, while France has taken a more cautious approach. The hesitation is also visible in the United Kingdom, where Prime Minister Keir Starmer finds himself navigating an extraordinarily difficult position.

Imagine the dilemma. A former prosecutor and champion of the rule of law suddenly leads a country whose closest ally launches a military strike outside the framework of international law.

At the same time, the region is home to hundreds of thousands of British citizens. Iran retaliates by striking a British base in Cyprus.

Across the Gulf sit critical economic partners. Countries such as Qatar and the United Arab Emirates hold investments and energy links that carry enormous weight for an already fragile British economy.

What, then, is the right course of action for a centre-left political leader such as Keir Starmer?

Do you join the United States in military action to preserve the Atlantic alliance that underpins your security, while risking a deeper and more dangerous conflict?

If not, are you willing to break ranks with President Trump and bear the enormous cost of replacing the security umbrella the United States provides, diverting resources from much-needed social investment?

How do you protect British citizens scattered across a volatile region?

How do you defend Gulf partners without becoming fully entangled in a war that could spiral beyond control?

It is easy to sit on the side lines and criticise Sir Keir. It is quite another to sit in the chair of power and be the one who must decide.

These are not theoretical questions. They are the kinds of real and impossible calculations that define modern geopolitics, and they rarely produce simple answers.

The world is not divided into heroes and villains acting in isolation. It is a tangled web of historical grievances, strategic interests, ideological conflicts and human suffering.

If we are serious about addressing global crises, we must resist the urge to simplify them beyond recognition.

Because the first step toward solving complex problems is recognising that they are, indeed, complex.