Israel and Iran at War: Four Lenses on a Conflict
How this regional war is reshaping our understanding of the Middle East and the rest of the world
Israel and Iran are at war. This is not a special operation or a targeted strike—it is a full-blown conflict. I want to acknowledge that many of my readers are based in the region or have close ties there. Please accept my sympathies and my sincere wishes for safety and peace. Commenting on a war is easy, as ignoring that human lives are at stake. I do my best not to forget either—though I fully acknowledge I don’t always succeed.
A second note: I’m fully aware of how toxic discussions about this region can get. That’s one reason I’ve largely avoided writing about it. But that’s no longer possible. I’m not here to take sides—only to try to make sense of what’s unfolding, based on what I know (and not what I don’t). On this point, too, I’ll fully acknowledge my Western identity. I may get things wrong. Again, just trying to make sense.
What I’m thinking
There are multiple narratives through which this war can be interpreted.
#1: The Short-Term Strike
One short-term reading is that Israel had a rare opportunity to demonstrate overwhelming military superiority—and chose to act. While some of the strikes appear to have targeted Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, the broader campaign suggests a more ambitious goal: not just delaying a weapons program, but destabilizing the regime itself. Reports that Israeli operatives may be active inside Iran, assisting in the strikes, only deepen the sense of vulnerability for Tehran.
What comes next is anyone’s bet. The most enthusiastic are celebrating the possible fall of what is a despicable regime by any measure. But as many of you have pointed out, that could be wishful thinking—an objection I understand. In addition, videos of Reza Pahlavi, the exiled Crown Prince of Iran, are getting some attention in Western social media circles—but he, too, may only offer the illusion of a succession in a country he hasn’t set foot in nearly 50 years.
This uncertainty is both cause for concern and a reason to resist jumping to conclusions. Regimes do fall.
But Iran is a different case—complex, proud, and resilient.
Public opinion in the country has been volatile—while some initially welcomed the loss of unpopular commanders, Israeli strikes on civilian areas quickly triggered a rally-around-the-flag effect, with many viewing the war as an attack on the nation itself, regardless of their stance on the Islamic Republic. Analysts like Vali Nasr caution that, in the absence of a ready opposition, sudden regime collapse could lead to chaos rather than democracy
#2: The October 7 Reckoning
Another reading places the conflict within the fallout of the October 7 attacks. Israel’s response has been uncompromising—targeting not just Hamas and Hezbollah, but also Iran, which has funded both.
From Israel’s perspective, deterrence failed. The doctrine had to change. As Israeli journalist Eyal Nadav explains, Israel considers that it does not have the time for a wait-and-see attitude and is ready to move against its enemies. The supreme leader of Iran may have not measured how serious Israel was about the shift in doctrine that translated into this surprise June 12 bombing.
So this is not just retaliation—it’s the implementation of a doctrine built around eliminating threats quickly and with finality. There is legitimate outcry about the Gaza war and what it has meant for Palestinians. This shift in doctrine is no justification but an explanation of what is ongoing and how the logic on the field has changed.
#3: The Broken Deterrence That Undermined Diplomacy
The October attacks also derailed the long-anticipated Saudi-Israeli normalization. That breakdown is often attributed to the war in Gaza.
But I believe the deeper reason is the collapse of deterrence.
Arab interest in normalizing ties with Israel was less about ideology (to state the obvious) and more about its military, technological, and intelligence edge. October 7 cast doubt on all of that. The current offensive aims to restore deterrence—and thus, Israel’s regional value. The muted response to Israel’s initial strikes suggests that this effort is, to some extent, succeeding.
But the cost is likely to be incredibly high—unbearable by many measures, considering the human toll. But again, the reality on the ground shifted fundamentally. Furthermore, Michael Robbins and Amaney A. Jamal report in Foreign Affairs that since the war in Gaza began, public support for Arab-Israeli normalization has fallen among Arab citizens.
As a result, concerns about public backlash are pushing Arab leaders to distance themselves from deeper engagement with Israel—so we’re still far away from mission accomplished.
This is the tragedy of the prisoner’s dilemma: without trust, and without a long-term horizon, both sides are trapped in a dead end. For a brief moment, leaders like Bill Clinton managed to break that cycle—with Oslo and the Israeli-Jordan peace deal. It didn’t last. But it showed that a different trajectory was possible.
Today, that possibility seems farther than ever. By their own admission, no one in Israel is talking about “the day after,” in particular because no major ally (the United States) is pushing the country to do so. This is also a sign of how deep the global leadership vacuum has become.
#4: A Shifting Regional Order
There is also a broader regional reading. After the fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003, Iran and its proxies extended unprecedented influence across the region. Tehran saw October 7 as a strategic opportunity to escalate pressure on Israel.
Iran could legitimately claim that it didn’t start this most recent conflict.
But the story did not begin on June 12. Iran miscalculated. It underestimated Israel’s military response—and the ripple effects have weakened its network. Hamas, Hezbollah are under strain and the Assad regime has fallen. Inside Iran, the regime faces legitimacy challenges and low popular support. It may have believed it could weather the storm. Now, that’s uncertain. (According to Vali Nasr, Iran’s current restraint with its proxies is a calculated move to avoid wider escalation and U.S. involvement, not merely a sign of weakness.)
The fall of Assad and the erosion of Iran’s proxies suggest a shift.
Gulf countries fear both Iranian collapse—which could destabilize their economies—and a regional order dominated by Israel, preferring normalization as equals rather than junior partners. China, meanwhile, values Iran’s role in balancing U.S. influence in the region and would need to recalculate its regional strategy if Iran were removed as a player.
So, this shift is unlikely to bring greater stability—only a new and volatile phase with preoccupied actors on the ground.
Which brings us full circle—back to Lens 1. What many assumed would be a limited strike on nuclear infrastructure may, in retrospect, mark the start of something far more consequential.
I’ve written often in this newsletter about how risk is changing. That might feel like a trivial point in the face of war—but it’s not. The outcomes here are far more open than headlines suggest. And the forces now in motion may reshape the region more radically than most are willing to admit.
What I’m remembering
Ten years ago this week.
Not just a campaign launch. The beginning of a new business operating system.
On June 16, 2015, Donald Trump descended the golden escalator and launched a political movement few believed could endure. His style—brash, populist, and unapologetically transactional—was expected to clash with the institutional conservatism of corporate America.
The clash never came. A decade later, there was no rupture—only a quiet, often awkward, but deeply strategic accommodation. Instead of resisting, the corporate world built around him. What emerged is not a reaction to Trump but an operating system that treats him as a structural feature of American power.
This is the proximity economy. Over time, companies learned that closeness to Trump could yield material advantages—even if it meant weathering reputational damage, operational uncertainty, or regulatory volatility. Policy whiplash, tariff shocks, and 3 a.m. tweetstorms became just another form of political risk to manage.
The most surprising shift came from Silicon Valley. In 2015, Trumpism appeared utterly incompatible with tech’s self-image. But mounting frustration with Democrats—on issues ranging from antitrust enforcement to AI regulation—redrew the political map.
Tech leaders didn’t embrace Trump out of ideological kinship. They moved because they believed the alternative was worse. Investors like Marc Andreessen began to portray Democrats not as stewards of innovation, but as would-be censors of experimentation.
The result has been a strange, unstable alliance—fueled by a shared skepticism of institutional gatekeepers. The anti-establishment impulse that animates Trumpism finds surprising resonance in Silicon Valley’s ethos of disruption.
That alignment brings rewards—but also risks. Elon Musk embodies both: elevated to icon status in Trump’s ecosystem, while simultaneously bearing the cost of volatility, backlash, and overexposure.
Did I miss anything? I probably did. So, just hit “reply,” and let me know what. And see you next week.