Foreword

There are some books that are written because the author has an idea. There are some books that are written because history demands a witness. This book belongs to the second kind.

This is a book about Minab.

Throughout history, many wars have been fought, and historians have recorded their causes, outcomes, victories, defeats, treaties, and borders. What is recorded less often is the pain of ordinary people. What is forgotten too easily is the suffering of the innocent and the crimes committed by invading powers against those who had no part in the decisions of war.

The United States often presents itself as the owner of the most powerful military force in human history. Perhaps, in terms of weapons, technology, money, and reach, this claim is true. But another question must also be asked: has there ever been any more brutal military power in the way it treats the lives of others?

This country was built from its beginning on the blood of the Indigenous peoples of America, people who were killed, displaced, and erased so that mainly European settlers could build what they later called the “American Dream”. From its birth, the United States has repeatedly used force beyond its borders in the pursuit of dominance. Each war has carried a different name and a different excuse: freedom, security, democracy, human rights, counterterrorism, stability. Behind those words, however, there have often been other motives: control over rivals, oil, strategic geography, military expansion, and imperial power.

But the result has often been the same: civilians killed, families destroyed, cities broken, and then the crime hidden beneath official language and as usual war crimes without any consequences.

After every catastrophe, new explanations are offered. They say it was a mistake. They say intelligence was wrong. They say the target was misidentified. They say civilian deaths are regrettable. They say investigations are ongoing. The word “mistake” has been repeated so many times that it has almost lost its meaning. It no longer sounds like an explanation. It sounds like a shield.

To examine every such crime in detail, and to prove the intention behind each one, would require years of work. But even a careful look at recent history reveals a terrible pattern. Mass killing is not always a failure of war. Sometimes it becomes a tool of war. It is used to terrify a society, to break its spirit, to surround it with fear, and to force it into submission.

Sometimes this method achieves temporary results. Sometimes fear can silence a population for a moment. But when it is used against a nation with deep memory, history, and dignity, it fails. Against a people such as the Iranians, it cannot produce surrender. It produces grief, anger, resistance, and shame for those who committed the crime.

At the time of writing this book, despite the evidence, competent international bodies have not taken effective action. Three months after the crime, U.S. military officials still claim that investigations are ongoing. This is not credible. Whether a missile was fired or not fired does not require months of mystery. It requires a simple answer from those who launched, tracked, and commanded the weapon. The delay is not an investigation. It is evasion.

In this book, we try to show that Minab was not an isolated mistake. It belongs to a larger pattern. We look at other cases in which civilians were killed, and the language of accident was used to soften responsibility. We look at the weapon, the day of the attack, the evidence, the witness accounts, and the unbearable suffering of the families. Most importantly, we look at the children: the innocent flowers of Minab, cut down before their dreams had time to bloom.

This book is not written to ask for pity from the powerful. It is not written to beg for an apology. No apology can return a child to her mother. No statement can rebuild a classroom. No investigation, delayed and controlled by those responsible, can erase the crime.

This book is written so that history will not be forgotten.

Minab is now a wound in the heart of more than ninety million Iranians and in the conscience of every free human being in the world. Global arrogance and imperial power may spend money, shape headlines, and buy silence, but they cannot wash this shame from their forehead. The faces of the children remain. Their names remain. Their dreams remain.

And as long as memory remains, the crime is not buried.