لحظة ادراك

 

It Is War

Wars are not born in a single moment, nor are they a fleeting explosion in a political vacuum. Major wars resemble earthquakes: they are preceded by hidden tremors, by slow fractures deep within the earth, until the moment arrives when silence is no longer possible. Between the United States and Iran, the ground has seemed to tremble for years, as if history were rearranging itself in preparation for a shock no one publicly desires, yet many treat as an unavoidable possibility.

The problem is not a single incident, nor a passing statement, nor even a strike here or there. The issue runs deeper than that. It is a struggle over defining the regional order itself. Washington views the Middle East through the lens of its regional security and strategic interests, while Tehran sees it as a natural extension of its influence and vital security. When these two visions collide within the same geography, friction becomes nothing more than a deferred inevitability.

Since the withdrawal of the administration of Donald Trump from the nuclear agreement in 2018, the balance of restraint has shifted. The agreement was never mutual affection; it was a rational truce between two adversaries who understood the limits of power. When the truce collapsed, each side returned to its original logic: maximum pressure on one side, and building maximum retaliatory capability on the other. Since then, the question has no longer been if confrontation will occur, but when, how, and at what scale.

Strategic logic suggests that prolonged coexistence between two rival powers in the same space requires clear rules of engagement. Yet what is happening is precisely the opposite: rules dissolving, red lines being tested, and messages of fire delivered through third parties. Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, Iraq, Yemen, and even the Red Sea have all become secondary arenas of a central conflict not yet formally declared. Each arena tightens another layer of tension, until comprehensive war becomes a rational possibility within deterrence calculations, rather than mere media rhetoric.

Iran, having invested for decades in its regional network of influence, sees retreat now as a strategic loss difficult to compensate. The United States, which considers the security of its allies part of its international prestige, cannot accept a reality in which new equations are imposed outside its will. Here lies the precise impasse: both sides believe that retreat equals weakness, and weakness in international politics is an open invitation to an endless series of concessions.

Time in Washington is tied to electoral cycles and domestic calculations. Time in Tehran is also linked to internal balances, compounded by a revolutionary legacy that views steadfastness as a value in itself. When domestic calculations intersect with external tension, decision-making becomes less rational and more impulsive. A single major incident—a miscalculated strike, a high-profile assassination, a direct attack on vital interests—could transform a limited response into a chain reaction beyond control.

Economically, war may appear a losing gamble for all. But history shows that states do not enter wars only when they are economically profitable; they do so when they feel their status is threatened. Neither oil nor markets are the true fuel of major wars. If Washington senses its influence eroding, or if Tehran feels its regional project is being strangled, then confrontation may appear to decision-makers less costly than retreat.

There is what might be called the element of reversed deterrence. When each side successfully avoids war for many years, it may begin to believe it can indefinitely play the game of brinkmanship without falling. Yet this game, by its nature, cannot be mastered forever. Excessive testing of red lines turns deterrence into habit, and habit loses its effect over time. When deterrence loses its prestige, war reclaims its original logic: decisiveness instead of waiting.

None of this means that war is inevitable in the sense of blind fate. It is inevitable in the sense of accumulation. Every small decision, every limited escalation, every harsh message adds another stone to a wall that narrows the space for retreat. With each new stone, diplomatic options shrink and the window for settlements tightens, until comprehensive confrontation becomes the closest scenario to the cold “logic” of military calculations.

It is war… because it is the result of a long path of mistrust, clashing projects, and eroding agreements. It is war because the current balance is fragile, and because the Middle East has yet to know a stable regional order whose rules are accepted by all. It is war because when major powers compete over status and influence, they rarely settle for messages alone.

And yet the great paradox remains: everyone knows the cost of war, everyone declares they do not want it, yet everyone continues to move steadily toward the road that leads to it—as if the region were walking across a bridge whose pillars have eroded, each side betting that it will collapse first on the other.

If it erupts, it will not be a complete surprise. It will be the culmination of a long chain of signals that were either poorly read or deliberately ignored. Then the question will not be who started it, but why no one stopped in time.

It is war… because the logic of events as they unfold now points not toward a long truce, but toward a confrontation that seems almost inevitable—awaiting a single spark to shift from heavy possibility into a reality that could reshape the region for decades to come.