Time is running out for any concrete intervention by the other big powers including India
By Ashok Nilakantan Ayers
NEW YORK: The Iran war enters its third brutal phase, with top leaders assassinated by bombings including its intel chief by U.S.-Israel combo, thus fracturing its leadership and central command while citizens flee the country in panic creating an existential crisis for a nation that stands on pride over its 5,000 year old civilisation as against a superior power that’s only 250 years old. The former prides itself on its civilizational strength, the latter on its military prowess.
Already the contours of a far larger crisis are becoming visible. What began on February 28 as a coordinated campaign by the United States and Israel to degrade Iran’s nuclear and military infrastructure has metastasized into a regional conflict with global consequences—economic, political, and humanitarian.
More than 1,400 people are dead. Oil prices have surged past $100 a barrel. The Strait of Hormuz—the world’s most vital energy artery—has been partially choked. And inside Iran, a slow-burning humanitarian disaster is edging toward a full-blown refugee catastrophe.
Yet beneath the smoke of airstrikes and the rhetoric of retaliation lies a more complex story: of competing endgames, collapsing leadership structures, weaponized narratives, and a region bracing for shockwaves that could rival the Syrian crisis in scale.
For all the violence unleashed, the central paradox of this war is stark: no side has articulated a clear, achievable endgame. Washington’s objectives remain fluid, even contradictory. At times, President Donald Trump has framed the war as a mission to dismantle Iran’s nuclear program. At others, it has taken on the language of regime change—an ambition that history has repeatedly shown to be far more elusive. Behind the scenes, American strategists appear to be aiming for a weakened Iran that can no longer project power through proxies or threaten global energy flows.
But that middle ground—crippling a regime without collapsing it—has proven difficult to engineer. Israel’s goals, by contrast, are more sharply defined and more ruthless in execution. Israeli war planners are focused on destroying Iran’s missile stockpiles, crippling its command-and-control systems, and targeting strategic energy infrastructure, including the critical export hub at Kharg Island. The logic is simple: even if Iran survives politically, it must emerge militarily diminished and economically constrained.
Iran’s objectives are both defensive and strategic. The regime wants the war to end—but not at the cost of surrender. Survival itself is victory. Tehran believes it can outlast Trump politically, absorb military punishment, and emerge with its core power structures intact. In the meantime, it has turned to its most potent leverage: geography.
By threatening and partially disrupting the Strait of Hormuz—through which roughly 20% of global oil flows—Iran has transformed itself from a target into a systemic risk to the global economy.
The Gulf states, meanwhile, find themselves in a position of profound frustration. Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Qatar, and Kuwait did not back the war. Yet they are now absorbing Iranian retaliation—waves of drones and missiles targeting oil facilities and urban centres. Their endgame is the simplest of all: immediate de-escalation and a restoration of stability. But they have little control over the trajectory of the conflict.
Its rumoured their envoys in Washington have told the Trump administration to finish the war fast and not oppose the US , as they are all crude allies of American leadership with each kingdom raking millions of a friendship that supplies oil in exchange for military bases to protect them — the very lifeline that is being attacked.
If there is a single choke point defining this war, it is the Strait of Hormuz. Iran’s strategy has been to turn the narrow waterway into a pressure valve on the global economy. By harassing shipping, deploying naval assets, and leveraging proxy forces, Tehran has created a situation where even limited disruption sends shockwaves through energy markets.
For President Trump, reopening the strait has become both a strategic necessity and a political trap. Efforts to assemble a multinational naval coalition have met with hesitation, particularly from European allies wary of being drawn into a war they did not support. Escorting tankers through contested waters risks escalation. Not doing so risks economic fallout at home.
The result is a familiar pattern: American pressure, allied reluctance, and a creeping sense of strategic drift. Iran understands this dynamic well. It does not need to permanently close Hormuz. It only needs to make it unpredictable.
As Israeli aircraft strike deep into Iran’s infrastructure, Tehran has expanded the battlefield outward. Missile and drone attacks on energy facilities in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Qatar have become a near-daily occurrence. Even when intercepted, they serve their purpose: raising insurance costs, disrupting supply chains, and injecting fear into global markets.
The Gulf monarchies, long accustomed to managing tensions with Iran through diplomacy and deterrence, now face a new reality. Neutrality is no longer a shield. For Israel, the calculus is equally stark. The campaign against Iran’s oil infrastructure—particularly Kharg Island—is designed to cut off revenue streams that sustain the regime. But every strike risks provoking broader retaliation, pulling more actors into the conflict. This is no longer a contained war. It is a networked one.
Inside Iran, the war has triggered a slow-motion collapse at the top. The killing of senior figures—including Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and, more recently, key strategist Ali Larijani—has hollowed out the regime’s decision-making core. What remains is a system increasingly dominated by military actors, particularly the Revolutionary Guard. This shift carries profound risks.
Without experienced political intermediaries, decision-making becomes faster but less calibrated. Retaliation becomes more instinctive. Escalation thresholds blur. The emergence of Mojtaba Khamenei as a shadowy successor underscores the uncertainty. Power is consolidating, but legitimacy is not.
At the same time, domestic unrest—already simmering before the war—has intensified. Economic hardship, infrastructure damage, and mass casualties have created conditions ripe for instability. And yet, the regime endures.
Inside Iran, the war is being fought on another front: information. State media has crafted a carefully calibrated narrative—one that blends truth with distortion. Civilian suffering is highlighted. Calls for retaliation are amplified. Military setbacks are downplayed or ignored.
At times, the line between propaganda and fabrication blurs entirely. AI-generated images, inflated casualty figures, and selective reporting have become tools of wartime messaging. But the strategy is not simply deception. It is cohesion. The regime understands that perception is survival. As long as it can maintain the image of مقاومت—resistance—it can sustain internal support, or at least suppress dissent.
For ordinary Iranians, the reality is more complex. Access to independent information is limited. Internet blackouts and censorship create an informational vacuum. In that vacuum, rumour and fear flourish.
Perhaps the most underreported dimension of the war is its human fallout. Already, an estimated 3.2 million people have been displaced בתוך Iran. Entire neighbourhoods in Tehran, Shiraz, and Isfahan have been damaged or destroyed. Critical infrastructure—schools, hospitals, water systems—has been hit.
For now, most displacement is internal. But that could change rapidly. Iran is a nation of 90 million people—more than four times the population of Syria at the start of its civil war. If even a fraction of that population is forced to flee, the consequences would be staggering.
Neighbouring countries are bracing. Turkey, already hosting millions of Syrian refugees, is fortifying its border and preparing contingency plans. Iraq, sharing a 1,600-kilometer frontier, faces both refugee inflows and its own security vulnerabilities. Pakistan and Afghanistan, already strained by refugee movements and economic instability, could be overwhelmed.
The situation is further complicated by the millions of Afghan refugees already داخل Iran. A mass exodus would not only push Iranians outward but could trigger secondary displacement of existing refugee populations. This is not just a humanitarian crisis in the making. It is a multiplier of instability across an already fragile region.
Watching from the sidelines is Europe—deeply affected, yet largely inert. Iranian attacks have struck European-linked assets. Energy disruptions threaten already fragile economies. The closure of Hormuz and potential disruption of the Bab el-Mandeb strait could sever critical trade routes.
And yet, European governments have hesitated to act decisively. Part of this is political. Reluctance to align with Washington—particularly under Trump—has shaped policy choices. Part of it is strategic ambiguity: uncertainty over end goals, risks, and consequences. The result is a widening gap between interest and action. Europe is not neutral in this war. It is exposed.
A Conflict Without Contours: What makes this war particularly dangerous is not just its intensity, but its lack of boundaries. It is a war fought across domains: Airstrikes over Tehran; Naval manoeuvres in Hormuz; Drone attacks in Riyadh and Doha; Cyber operations and information warfare online; and Political battles in Washington and European capitals.
And increasingly, it is a war without clear off-ramps. For the United States, escalation risks entanglement. For Iran, de-escalation risks appearing weak. For Israel, anything short of decisive degradation feels insufficient. For the Gulf, survival demands restraint—but restraint offers no guarantees.
History offers a warning. Conflicts that begin as targeted military campaigns often evolve into systemic crises when economic disruption, political instability, and humanitarian fallout intersect.
That convergence is now visible in Iran. An energy shock is rippling through global markets. A leadership vacuum is emerging in Tehran. A refugee crisis is gathering at the borders. And a regional war is inching toward something larger.
The question is no longer whether the war will reshape the Middle East. It is how far beyond it the consequences will reach. And whether anyone still has the leverage—or the will—to stop it. (IPA Service)
