Republicans Are Falling Victim to Groupthink on Iran

Declaring victory days into an international crisis is not just historically shortsighted — it’s strategically unserious.

The word “groupthink” gets tossed around a lot these days — usually by people who couldn’t define it if you handed them a glossary. Over the years, I’ve had MAGA types accuse me of suffering from groupthink simply because I criticize Trump —as if pointing out a pattern of authoritarian behavior makes me the problem. But groupthink isn’t just a buzzword or a cable news insult. It’s a very specific psychological phenomenon, and it’s one we’re watching play out in real time.

It’s always easy to diagnose groupthink after the disaster. No one ever wants to admit they were part of it when the consequences start unraveling like cheap stitching. But as someone who’s been immersed in studying groupthink and the many disguises it wears in politics, I can tell you: if it walks like a pressured consensus, quacks like a silenced dissent, and runs headfirst into a wall while telling you it’s a strategic plan? That’s groupthink.

And we are watching it in real time. The Republican Party’s reaction to Trump’s military strikes in Iran has been a showcase in fractured loyalty and performance-driven unity. Some officials hesitated at first — voicing concern over escalation, legality, or optics — but as the pressure mounted, the chorus fell into tune. Within twenty-four hours, senators like Ted Cruz, Lindsey Graham, Tom Cotton, and Mitch McConnell were celebrating the bombing of Iranian nuclear facilities as a bold success. Because that worked out so well for us with Vietnam. Or Iraq. Or the Bay of Pigs.

Declaring victory days into an international crisis is not just historically shortsighted — it’s strategically unserious. In 1961, the Bay of Pigs was launched with the belief that Cuban exiles would topple Castro and democracy would flourish. Instead, U.S.-backed forces were outgunned, outmaneuvered, and left to fail. President Kennedy had to eat the loss. In 2003, we dropped bombs in Iraq with confidence, then spent the next decade getting dragged through insurgency, regional destabilization, and a PR nightmare so toxic it birthed “Mission Accomplished” as a cultural punchline. But sure, this time will be different.

If you’re wondering why so many Republicans went from cautious to cheerleading, it’s not ideological coherence. It’s groupthink. Irving Janis, who coined the term in the 1970s, outlined eight symptoms of groupthink — behaviors that show up when decision-makers are more concerned with consensus than clarity. The symptoms include:

• Illusion of invulnerability

• Collective rationalization

• Belief in inherent morality

• Stereotyping outsiders

• Direct pressure on dissenters

• Self-censorship

• Illusion of unanimity

• Mindguards who shield the group from dissenting information

Let’s apply this to what we’re seeing.

Illusion of invulnerability? That’s Cruz calling the airstrikes a strong deterrent and Graham assuring us Iran got the message. Right. Because nothing says “lesson learned” like retaliatory rocket launches and Middle East chaos.

Collective rationalization? That’s the GOP downplaying concerns about constitutional overreach. Marco Rubio, once a self-proclaimed defender of liberty, waved away criticism of Trump’s use of emergency powers as if habeas corpus were a quaint suggestion. Belief in inherent morality? That’s Mitch McConnell framing the strikes as a defense of Western stability — as if the morality of an act is guaranteed by the uniforms carrying it out.

Stereotyping outsiders is easy. The Iranian regime is apocalyptic, irrational, a threat to civilization — as if flattening their infrastructure is just a mature way to negotiate. Dissent? What dissent? Anyone who questioned the strikes got brushed aside or clowned on social media. That’s direct pressure on dissenters and self-censorship baked in. Nobody wants to be the one Republican who says, “Maybe we shouldn’t escalate into World War III.” And the illusion of unanimity is maintained through performative press statements and cable news scripts that make disagreement feel like treason.

And let’s not forget the mindguards — the pundits and party-line loyalists who act like intellectual bouncers, blocking alternative perspectives from reaching the people inside the echo chamber. Just ask Thomas Massie or the handful of Republicans who dared to raise concerns. Their comments didn’t trend, because challenging the narrative doesn’t make for good TV.

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But here’s where it gets more complicated: fractured groupthink still functions. Not every Republican agrees, but they know the performance matters more than the pause. Tucker Carlson and Candace Owens both expressed skepticism — Carlson with his “Thank God” after Trump’s ceasefire, Owens with a string of posts calling Trump “deranged” for escalating then deescalating with no clear strategy. And yet, their voices are outliers. As public sentiment shifted and the narrative hardened, silence swallowed resistance. Because when groupthink has momentum, it’s not about whether you agree — it’s about whether you want to deal with the blowback if you don’t.

You see this dynamic with Iran, but it’s not new. It happened during Vietnam. It happened in Iraq. And it happens on both sides of the aisle. Democrats had their own groupthink moment in 2024 when they forced Joe Biden out of the race with no backup plan. There was no deliberation, no strategy session, just a wave of nervous consensus — an emergency move masquerading as clarity. Was Kamala Harris the right choice? Maybe. But the process wasn’t thoughtful. It was panicked. And panic is fertile ground for groupthink.

Even now, as tensions with Iran escalate, we’re seeing Republicans either embrace Trump’s aggression as strength or rationalize it through historical fiction. Meanwhile, Republican leadership tried briefly to pump the brakes — and for a moment, the headlines reflected real intra-party disagreement.

Several Republicans voiced concerns about constitutional overreach and the risk of escalation, and for a rare moment, dissent from within the party got coverage. But that window closed quickly. Marjorie Taylor Greene, who initially expressed concern about dragging the U.S. into another endless war, has since shifted her tone to more aggressively defend Trump’s decisions, repeating vague apocalyptic talking points and claiming he is protecting “God’s nation.” As Trump deploys military forces into major cities under questionable constitutional authority, the transformation from critic to disciple is almost too on-brand to parody. The few voices still pushing back are now being drowned out by polling data showing Republican support climbing by the hour.

Because that always works out well, right? Declare victory early. Minimize dissent. Frame critics as weak. It worked with Vietnam. It worked with Iraq. It worked with the Bay of Pigs. Wait, no — it didn’t. Every one of those was sold to the public as a sure thing and ended with body bags, confusion, and a national identity crisis.

Who knows? Maybe this time is different. Maybe this strike won’t escalate. Maybe Iran won’t retaliate in a way that draws us deeper into conflict. Maybe these Republicans have a sound strategy and for all of our sakes, I hope that they do.

But if history is a guide — and it usually is — then what we’re watching isn’t leadership. It’s rehearsed unity. It’s party branding. It’s people nodding in rhythm, not thinking independently. And when the music stops, it won’t be the loudest voices who are remembered. It’ll be the ones who knew better — and said nothing.

Kristoffer Ealy is a political science professor who teaches at California State University Fullerton, Ventura College, Los Angeles Harbor College, and Oxnard College. He is the author of the upcoming book Political Illiteracy: Learning the Wrong Lessons.