Are the US and Iran fighting their final war?

Wars are not always waged as an instrument of expansion; sometimes they are an attempt to slow down decline

Are the US and Iran fighting their final war?


Wars do not always carry the same meaning. At times, they proclaim power at its height; at others, they mark the first clear sign of its limits. Between these two poles lies the essential question: are America and Iran waging this war to preserve their role, or to stave off decline?

In moments of ascent, great powers use force to consolidate their standing and draw the boundaries. That was how the 1991 liberation of Kuwait was understood. It was far more than a military operation; it was a declaration of a new international order led by the United States after the collapse of the Soviet Union.

The pattern resurfaced in the Balkans during the 1990s, when Washington assumed the role of arbiter, capable of redrawing the balance on the ruins of Eastern Europe. Even the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq after September 11, 2001 were launched in this spirit of supremacy, before gradually becoming two experiences that exposed the cost of hegemony and the limits of power.

History, however, offers lessons of the opposite kind. In the mid‑1950s, Britain and France, together with Israel, achieved rapid military superiority in the Suez War, yet lost something far greater: their place in the international order. The same paradox appeared elsewhere whenever empires fought their last wars in their final years—from the Ottoman Empire to the Soviet Union in Afghanistan, and later the Russian Federation in Ukraine.

The US-Iran war may end up revealing that power, for all its endurance, no longer suffices to determine the shape of the world

Staving off decline

In such cases, war was no longer an instrument of expansion but an attempt to slow down decline whose outlines were already visible. These were battles that accelerated the descent rather than halting history or altering its course.

What, then, of the war with Iran? Militarily, the disparity is unmistakable. The American-Israeli strikes revealed overwhelming superiority, combining conventional force with precision warfare, and were directed at military assets and command structures. Tehran's response, however, took a different path. Iran did what neighbouring states had warned of for decades: it broadened the conflict across multiple fronts, deployed unconventional tools through drones and missiles, exerted pressure on vital waterways such as the Strait of Hormuz, and disrupted supply lines. The strikes even reached Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, placing European capitals such as London, Paris, Berlin, and Rome within reach of Tehran's missiles.

From here, another question arises: is Iran fighting its final war? Does this confrontation reveal the limits of the "empire of militias and drones" and the dangers it poses to neighbours near and far once it comes under direct assault at the level of its structure and leadership? Can an influence built on fragmentation quickly turn into a strategic burden—one that hastens disappearance rather than entrenching presence?

So far, the war does not appear capable of imposing the victor's peace or the unconditional surrender familiar from earlier conflicts. It is as though force, despite its military effectiveness, has lost some of its ability to produce swift, decisive outcomes. From this perspective, the war may prove to be more than a test of the relationship between the United States and Iran. It may also test regional and international alliances, broader patterns of power, and a world order that is changing slowly—an order in which military strength alone no longer suffices to impose balances, while retreat from those balances carries its own cost.

The US-Iran war may test regional and international alliances, broader patterns of power, and a world order that is changing slowly

Key questions

Who will win this war militarily? It is an important question. Yet the more important one is this: what will the war reveal? Does the United States still possess the ability to translate military superiority into a stable order? Or does that superiority now operate in a different environment, one in which other powers—above all China—can reshape the balance from beyond the battlefield? Will America move from war with Iran to Venezuela and then to Cuba? What kind of Iran will emerge from the rubble? What sort of Middle East will take shape? And what role will Israel and the other active regional powers play within it?

When the war finally lays down its burdens, it may come to be seen as more than another confrontation in the Middle East. It may stand instead as a revealing moment within a longer history, one in which military, economic, and security transformations converge in ways that will leave their mark on the region and the wider world.

This may not be the final war for either side, yet it belongs to a different category. It is a war that produces no clear victory and establishes no new order with the certainty once associated with the twentieth century. Instead, it reveals that power, for all its endurance, no longer suffices to determine the shape of the world.

The year 2026 has already entered history, and historians will return to it as more than a year of war. They will see in it a moment that tested both the meaning of power and its limits in a changing world.

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