Washington entered the war against Iran as the clear favourite. It has now paused the war, offering lessons for everyone in how not to fight a war. Of course, Iran couldn’t defeat the US militarily. It only needed to survive, on its own terms. And it did, visibly and defiantly for 39 days, against the world’s lone superpower. In such a war, survival alone would have been victory.
But Iran managed something more than mere survival. It walked away with its Strait of Hormuz card still in hand, its regime intact, and its own 10-point framework on the negotiating table as the agenda for the next two weeks. Tehran has also amply demonstrated the limits of American military power and the sustainability of Washington’s political resolve.
Read it alongside the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021 — two moments, five years apart, in which the world’s most powerful military walked back from a war it could not win, let alone finish honourably. It took 17 years the last time, and it took 39 days this time.
To be fair: Washington’s failure must be measured against its own stated aims: Obliterate Iran’s ballistic missile capability, annihilate its navy, sever its support for proxy networks, and ensure it never acquires a nuclear weapon.
Thirty-nine days later, the regime is mostly intact, the military is severely damaged but far from obliterated, and Iran’s nuclear programme is still in play. Iran gave no quarter, yielded to no ultimatum, and paused this war to fight another day, if need be. On March 6, US President Donald Trump posted on social media: “There will be no deal with Iran except unconditional surrender.” It took him just two days to reverse that. Of course, Trump was bluffing; but if you use a bluff for too long, it becomes a joke.
Does Washington have any friends now? At a White House press conference, Trump answered it himself: “Japan didn’t help us. Australia didn’t help us. South Korea didn’t help us.” He called Nato a “paper tiger”. Not too long ago, in March, he had boasted he needed no one’s help; by April, he had no one. Washington must not have felt this lonely since the end of World War II.
Remember what Iran looked like on the eve of Operation Epic Fury? A regime shaken to its roots by the largest protests since 1979, its economy crippled by sanctions, its proxies hollowed out by years of Israeli strikes, and its neighbours growing steadily more confident in its decline.
The war has undone most of it. Nothing consolidates a regime like a common enemy. The reforms that Iranian protesters demanded now seem a distant prospect. Trump’s war may have strengthened the Iranian regime more than Ayatollah Ali Khamenei could have wished for.
Then, there is Hormuz. Before this war, Hormuz was a hypothetical Iranian threat. Today, Hormuz is Iran’s “trump card” — to play in negotiations, to leverage for sanctions relief, to brandish against future attacks, and to remind the world that the most important chokepoint in global commerce is Iran’s. Iran’s Hormuz card is set to define the future of West Asia’s geopolitics in unprecedented ways.
Lastly, consider the optics. In international politics, optics are not separate from outcomes; they shape outcomes. The moment a dominant power agrees to talks with an underdog in the middle of a war, the stars begin aligning in the underdog’s favour. That powerful image will stay on in the minds of America’s friends and partners alike.
What does the ceasefire imply for regional actors? For Israel, Prime Minister Netanyahu wanted to use American firepower to permanently neutralise Iran. With the US stepping back, that objective will be unmet. If the world’s most powerful military could not break Iran in 39 days, Tel Aviv is in no position to succeed where Washington failed. What’s worse, Israel now knows something it did not know before this war with the same disturbing clarity, that its own territory is not safe for, after all, Iranian missiles did reach Israeli soil.
The Gulf States too have come out of this war deeply worried. Consider this: Iran, with whom none of them have a warm relationship with, is now the region’s most prepared, most battle-tested force that will invariably focus on strengthening itself militarily for years to come.
Washington’s security assurances, mostly assumed but never truly tested at this scale, have been found wanting. Reconciliation with Israel, already complicated by Gaza, is now further out of reach after a war fought in their neighbourhood. And the Arabian dreams they built in the desert, the gleaming cities, the Vision 2030s, the careful hedging between great powers, now sit under the shadow of doubt.
They are, in the most uncomfortable sense, friendless in a dangerous neighbourhood being unable to fully trust Washington, unable to afford Tehran’s ire, and unable to make peace with Tel Aviv. And their streets are watching.
If there is one country that must have watched this war carefully and drawn lessons, that would be China. Iran fought the war, and China has drawn its lessons. This is what Beijing’s strategists would think today: If Washington’s resolve has limits against an outgunned, sanctioned, struggling middle power, those limits are unlikely to expand against a peer competitor with whom each of America’s allies have deep economic linkages with. Beijing has every reason to be more confident today vis-à-vis Washington than before the Iran war.
This is why the ceasefire matters beyond its terms, beyond the fate of Tehran’s nuclear programme or the future of the Strait of Hormuz. The Iran war will be studied, cited, and remembered for generations to come by scholars and policymakers alike. The next time Washington issues an ultimatum, to anyone, the ghost of Tehran will linger in the room.
Happymon Jacob is distinguished visiting professor, School of Humanities & Social Sciences, Shiv Nadar University, and editor, INDIA’S WORLD magazine. The views expressed are personal
