London, let’s start with a simple question that rarely gets a straight answer: What would victory over Iran actually look like? In Washington and Jerusalem, the answer often sounds clear: eliminate Iran’s nuclear capabilities, break its regional power and perhaps even force political change at the top.
This is the language of decisive battle, with a clear endpoint.
But turn your perspective to Tehran and the definition changes completely. For Iran, victory is survival.
This asymmetry shapes the entire conflict. In such wars, the side that needs fewer resources to achieve victory often has an advantage — and now, Iran needs far fewer resources.
The military imbalance is undeniable. The United States and Israel can strike with extraordinary precision and range. They have proven this time and time again – targeting infrastructure, leadership and strategic assets.
But the tactical success has yet to translate into political results. The country of Iran is not divided. Its governance system remains intact and its networks—military, regional, ideological—continue to function.
Even its most sensitive capabilities, including nuclear expertise, remain resilient.
The deeper miscalculation lies in assuming that Tehran is playing the same game as Washington. This is not the case. Iran does not want to defeat the United States or Israel outright.
It tries to outlast them, complicate their goals, and raise the cost of progress until it becomes unsustainable.
This logic can be seen in the way the conflict unfolds. The battlefield is not limited to direct confrontation, but also involves waterways, energy markets and regional alliances. Disturbances in the Strait of Hormuz are no accident – they are pressure points with global consequences.
Iran’s strategy is not hegemony but entanglement. It does not need battlefield advantage if it can draw its adversary into a conflict that is too costly to resolve and difficult to end.
When a war reaches a stalemate, the instinctive reaction is to escalate: more bombing, attacks on energy infrastructure, and even “ground troops” in extreme cases. Assume that more force will ultimately produce different results.
But Iran is not a passive target. It has shown a willingness to retaliate across the region, including targeting Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain, Oman, as well as Jordan and Iraq.
Strikes against Iran’s energy systems will not always be contained—they will invite retaliation against those countries, thereby widening the conflict.
There’s another limitation: U.S. aviation is estimated to have used about 45% to 50% of its critical missile inventory, including about 30% of its Tomahawk stockpile.
The harsh reality, then, is that escalation is no longer just about willingness but about capability—and in any broader war, the question may not be how far the United States can go, but how much it has left.
The consequences will extend beyond the battlefield, too. Iran’s response will be a sustained attack on its neighbor’s power, fuel and water systems, with parts of the region becoming increasingly uninhabitable as summer temperatures soar.
Large numbers of people will be forced to leave, risking another mass displacement crisis.
Even so, the core reality remains unchanged. Iran is built to last—any ground campaign is likely to become lengthy and exhausting. More importantly, escalation misses the point—the problem is not a lack of force but a lack of political goals that force can realistically achieve.
Compounding the problem is a quieter but no less important reality. The ultimate goals of the United States and Israel do not appear to be entirely aligned. Israel’s posture indicates that it seeks the maximum possible outcome—a profound and potentially irreversible weakening of the Iranian system, if not total regime collapse.
By contrast, the United States appears to be vacillating between coercion, containment, and negotiation.
These are not just differences in focus, but also differences in strategy. Wars without a common definition of victory are rarely victorious. Instead, they produce continued military activity without strategic convergence—constant movement but little progress toward solving the problem.
No conclusion in sight
At some point it is necessary to describe things as they are. This is no longer a war heading to a decisive conclusion. This is a conflict that has fallen into a pattern – strikes followed by pauses, ceasefires lasting long enough to prevent collapse, talks progressing just enough to avoid failure.
These ceasefires tell their own story. Their repeated extension reflects not progress but limitations. Under Donald Trump, Washington has strong incentives to maintain negotiations, avoid further escalation, and end the war as soon as possible.
The alternative—regional war or a global economic shock—is much harder to deal with. This dynamic gives Tehran leverage. It does not need to give in quickly when delay itself strengthens its position.
In this sense, time is not neutral. The longer the conflict drags on, the more it intersects with the global economy’s most sensitive pressure points. Energy markets are under pressure, with supply routes tight and reserves tightened.
Industries that rely on a steady flow of fuel — aviation, shipping, manufacturing — are increasingly at risk.
What started as a regional conflict has turned into a systemic risk. Even limited disruption can spread outward, affecting prices, supply chains and political stability. The longer the stalemate lasts, the greater the pressure builds up and the closer it gets to a broader economic shock.
Who really has the upper hand?
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From a purely military perspective, the answer is obvious: the United States and Israel maintain overwhelming superiority. But war is about more than just capabilities. They depend on how goals, costs, and time interact.
Iran’s position in this equation is stronger than it appears. It sets a lower threshold for success, demonstrates a higher tolerance for chronic stress, and demonstrates the ability to impose costs beyond the battlefield.
Best of all, it doesn’t require winning. It simply needs to prevent the adversary from achieving its goals. So far, it does exactly that.
Which brings us back to the original question: Can the United States and Israel win this war? If winning means forcing Iran to submit or fundamentally reshaping its strategic posture, the answer becomes increasingly difficult to avoid—they can’t.
All they can do is continue. Manage conflict, contain its spread and shape your bottom line. But this is not a victory. This is endurance.
The real danger is not failure, but clinging to the belief that just a little more pressure, a little more escalation, or a little more time would have produced a different outcome. If this belief is wrong, then this is not a war that is going to be won. This is a war that is simply unwinnable. A forever war. SKS
SKS
This article was generated from automated news agency feeds without modifications to the text.
