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Kenneth A. Carlson ScheerPost
By the time most Americans encounter war, it arrives not with the thunder of
artillery but with the quiet click of a gas pump.
The price rolls upward in glowing red numbers. A family of four hesitates in
the grocery aisle, comparing brands of eggs and milk. Parents postpone
vacations. A small business owner rethinks hiring another employee. No
bombs fall here; no air raid sirens pierce the night. Yet the costs ripple
through American life all the same. In this quieter sense, we too are casualties
of Donald Trump’s war on Iran.
War has always traveled far beyond the battlefield. In the modern global
economy, a missile launched thousands of miles away can eventually reach
an American wallet. Energy markets tighten. Shipping lanes grow dangerous.
Grain supplies shrink. Sanctions ripple across currencies and commodities.
The result is a subtle but relentless tax on ordinary life.
Consider the gasoline pump. Oil is among the most sensitive commodities to
geopolitical instability. When conflict threatens major oil-producing regions
or shipping routes, markets react instantaneously. Prices spike long before
any shortage appears at the local gas station. The driver filling a minivan in
Ohio or California becomes, in a sense, an unwilling participant in a distant
conflict. Each extra dollar per gallon represents a fragment of global
instability translated into household stress.
The grocery store tells a similar story. Modern food systems are deeply
international: fertilizer from one continent, wheat from another, fuel from
another still. War disrupts each link in that chain. Fields go unplanted. Ports
close. Insurance rates for cargo ships soar. Suddenly bread costs more,
chicken costs more, even vegetables cost more. The war that destroyed a
harvest thousands of miles away quietly narrows a family’s weekly grocery
budget.
These economic effects compound. Higher fuel prices increase transportation
costs. Trucking companies raise rates. Farmers pay more for fertilizer and
diesel. Food distributors pass those costs along. Inflation becomes not merely
an economic statistic but a daily negotiation between necessity and
affordability.
Yet the economic toll is only the most visible consequence.
War also weighs on the American psyche.
The modern citizen consumes conflict in real time—through livestreams,
push notifications, and looping images of destruction. War that once unfolded
in distant newspaper columns now appears on our phones before breakfast.
The result is a kind of ambient anxiety. We absorb the suffering of strangers
across the globe, yet feel powerless to change it.
Psychologists sometimes call this phenomenon “vicarious trauma.” Even
when we are physically safe, constant exposure to human suffering can erode
emotional resilience. Parents worry about global instability. Young people
grow up with the sense that the world is perpetually on the brink of crisis. A
low-grade tension becomes part of the national mood.
War also reshapes national priorities. Resources that might have funded
schools, infrastructure, or healthcare shift toward defense and security.
Debates harden. Political divisions deepen. The war abroad begins to echo in
arguments at home—across dinner tables, cable news studios, and social
media feeds.
History reminds us that Americans have long borne these indirect burdens.
During major conflicts of the twentieth century, rationing, inflation, and
uncertainty became part of daily life. What has changed today is the scale and
speed of the global system. The distance between battlefield and kitchen table
has shrunk dramatically.
A conflict in one region can disrupt fertilizer supplies on another continent
and alter food prices in American supermarkets within months. Markets
respond instantly. Social media transmits fear instantly. The modern economy
ensures that no nation, however powerful, is fully insulated.
None of this equates American discomfort with the unimaginable suffering
endured by those who live in war zones. Civilians under bombardment,
families fleeing their homes, and soldiers facing death carry burdens far
heavier than a higher grocery bill. Yet acknowledging their suffering does not
erase our own smaller but real costs.
War radiates outward in concentric circles. At the center lie the soldiers and
civilians directly caught in violence. Beyond them are refugees, neighboring
states, disrupted economies—and eventually the everyday lives of people
thousands of miles away.
In that widening circle, Americans occupy a distant ring. We feel the tremors
through inflation, uncertainty, and psychological strain rather than through
explosions. But tremors, however faint, still change the ground beneath our
feet.
Perhaps recognizing these quieter consequences can deepen our sense of
connection to the wider world. War is never truly distant in a globalized age.
Its costs travel across oceans, across markets, across screens, and into the
routines of ordinary households.
The battlefield may be far away. The ripple effects are not.
Kenneth A. Carlson
Kenneth A. Carlson is a distinguished filmmaker known for his compelling documentaries and feature films that tackle profound human stories. He directed and produced The Heart of Nuba, a feature-length documentary about Dr. Tom Catena, the sole doctor serving a million patients in Sudan’s war-torn Nuba Mountains. The film received critical acclaim, opening in over 30 U.S. cities and has been screened globally, including at the U.S. Congress, British Parliament, and the International Criminal Court. The Heart of Nuba was executive produced by Maria Shriver and is currently available on Hulu, iTunes, and Amazon.
Carlson’s recent work includes Those Who Serve, a documentary that explores the journeys of American combat veterans facing the judicial system after committing crimes, offering a raw look at the intersection of mental health and justice. His earlier credits include the award-winning documentary Amargosa, an Academy Award finalist, and Wild Bill Hollywood Maverick, which won multiple accolades, including Best Documentary from the National Board of Review.
As a director and producer for NBC, Carlson worked on the prime-time reality series Lost, which garnered strong ratings, and Meet Mister Mom. For nearly seven years, Carlson worked on America’s Most Wanted, directing and producing over 275 segments that contributed to the capture of more than 72 criminals.Currently, Carlson is directing and producing a documentary about Death Row inmate Kevin Cooper, who has been in San Quentin State Prison for over 36 years. Carlson’s photography has been featured in outlets such as the New York Times, Washington Post and Boston Globe. He is a proud member of the Academy of Motion Arts Pictures and Sciences, the Directors Guild of America and The Adventurers’ Club of Los Angeles.
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