While it emphasized “outside” powers, since the Carter Doctrine was minted, both Democratic and Republican administrations have adopted a policy of containment to primarily target Iran and Iraq, while rendering the US Fifth Fleet and Central Command as the internal guardian of a bounded object. Toby Jones has described the cycles of combat fought in and around the Persian Gulf waters—the Iran-Iraq war, Tanker war, the 1991 Gulf war and the 2003 invasion and occupation of Iraq—as one single Gulf War to maintain US primacy. These military operations have birthed ports, bases and logistics hubs, others date back to the era when British imperialists liked to imagine the Gulf as their lake. It is some of these sites and arrangements of enclosure that are being targeted by Iran’s drones and missiles.

Here lies the central tension of geopolitical thinking in the past half century or more. If the United States is going to maintain its militarism and align itself with specific states while excluding others from “its security umbrella,” it will necessarily become a target and a destabilizing force in a geography and infrastructural archipelago that is both vital for global capitalism and requires meaningful political multilateralism. The immediate victims of this incoherence are the peoples living in its wake.

Almost 50 years ago and before the United States’ hegemonic decline, MERIP’s Joe Stork captured the contradiction well: “The US possesses the physical tools for military intervention, but the correlation of political forces in the region and the world does not endow such intervention with much promise of success. The great danger is that technological proficiency might be substituted for a comprehensive appreciation of the situation, especially as the political and economic crisis widens and deepens in this country.”

Arang Keshavarzian is a professor of Middle Eastern and Islamic studies at New York University and author, most recently, of Making Space for the Gulf: Histories of Regionalism and the Middle East.

Iran was already in possession of a regular army, however. To stay relevant, to remain justified, the IRGC maintained both the organizational structure and the conditions that would give it a raison d'être. Despite the conventional façade, the IRGC ground force continued to operate in a decentralized and semi-formal manner throughout the war. The new air force and the navy never came close to classic, advanced military forces either. But more importantly, the IRGC prolonged the war for eight years when it could arguably have ended in two and a half, when Iran had taken back its lost territory. The chaos of war was a necessary condition for them to present spontaneous, somewhat disorganized action as the only viable option. It was through such argumentation and action that the IRGC rose to unparalleled prominence by the end of the war.

Between then and now, the IRGC’s grip on power was institutionalized in various ways: its connection to the office of supreme leadership was systematized, its meddling in politics became prevalent, its security and repression apparatus expanded. It established an economic empire, and it became the government’s main agent in evading crippling sanctions, while expanding its military presence in the region. As central as the IRGC was, with the chaos of war imposed on Iran once again—this time jointly by the United States and Israel—the IRGC has become more relevant to the government’s future than ever before. It has certainly suffered major blows—refraining from conventional professionalization comes at a price. But it is unquestionably at the helm of the country these days and forms the backbone of the government’s continued resilience.

The urgency of the war has once again justified the IRGC hardliner’s radical, aggressive and hectic approach to war and politics. It has empowered them to have Mojtaba Khamenei, their own man in the eyes of many, appointed as the next supreme leader. His appointment has enabled a continuation of the policy of pushing adversaries far enough in the hopes of ensuring a lasting ceasefire, possibly including sanctions relief. As things stand, with the conclusion of the war, the IRGC will have emerged politically empowered to determine the course of the country’s future in whatever path it may decide to pursue.

Maryam Alemzadeh is an associate professor in history and politics of Iran at the Oxford School of Global and Area Studies and a Middle East Centre fellow.

After the end of the war in 1988, the calls for change from a reviving society grew louder as women, students, workers and other groups organized and campaigned. In response to these pressures from below, Mohammad Khatami campaigned for reforms and won the 1997 presidential election. This reform project was undermined by conservatives and the Revolutionary Guards, who perceived the US invasions of Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003 as a steppingstone toward an invasion of Iran. To counter this threat, they increased repression and concentrated more power in unelected institutions at home and built the “Axis of Resistance” abroad.

While the Iranian society remained resilient in the following decade, with major protests in 2009 (the Green Movement), the conflict around Iran’s nuclear program increasingly overshadowed the struggles from below. The Nuclear Deal reached in 2015 could have revived Iranian society, but its termination by President Donald Trump in 2018 and the return of crippling economic sanctions turned the tide, as the struggles of Iranians against austerity and authoritarian politics became increasingly overshadowed by Israeli and US attempts at regime change, culminating in the current war on Iran.

In his book Catastrophic Success, political scientist Alexander Downes shows that even when military interventions succeed in removing dictators, they increase the likelihood of civil war and violent instability. But there is still hope if domestic activists are not forced to focus on survival but instead are given the chance to organize, develop strategies to divide the ruling elite, unite the population and build coalitions. That path will be difficult and take time, but it is the only path. Bombs certainly do not bring democracy.

Peyman Jafari is an assistant professor of history and international relations at William & Mary.

The most dramatically visible recent attacks on vital systems have been carried out against Iran’s oil infrastructure. On March 8, 2026, Israel destroyed four large oil storage facilities on the outskirts of Tehran that helped provide 10 million people with basic services like electricity, heating and transportation of goods such as food and water. The attacks also have environmental consequences, the extent of which is impossible to fully grasp. As one resident put it, “soot is falling from the sky. It is terrifying.” Black rain, infused with carcinogenic hydrocarbons, has spread toxic fallout from the strikes well beyond the city.

The day before the attack on Tehran’s oil, US forces struck an Iranian water desalination plant on Qeshm Island, terminating the water supply for dozens of villages and potentially thousands of people. Iran followed suit a day later by attacking a desalination facility in Bahrain. That attack suggested Iran was threatening to escalate attacks on similar kinds of precarious environmental systems. So far, though, while Iran has struck commercial targets in the Gulf, it has not pursued the same strategy of destruction as the United States and Israel.

In echoes of the genocide, where Israel destroyed the majority of Gaza’s health care facilities, US and Israeli attacks have hit at least 18 hospitals and health care centers. Israeli forces have also directly targeted 25 health care centers in Lebanon. In fear of similar attacks, 49 primary health care centers and 5 hospitals have been shuttered in the country following evacuation orders. In addition to direct attacks on care, UNICEF reported Israeli bomb damage to water distribution lines, reservoirs and a pumping station in Southern Lebanon affecting more than 23,000 people.

In addition to the destruction of public services, attacks like these cause hardship through displacement. The United Nations estimates that up to 3.2 million people have been displaced inside Iran, while Israel has displaced over 800,000 in Lebanon, with many forced into overcrowded shelters with scarce access to water, food and care. The new refugee crisis not only creates immediate suffering but also adds to already overburdened systems of care, which are often underfunded and under stress. While this phase of the US and Israeli long war in the region may be limited in duration, these effects will persist long past the formal cessation of hostilities.

US and Israeli militarism has been destroying infrastructure and the material conditions of life for millions in the Middle East for decades. The current war adds spectacularly to the ledger and assures more harm is to come for ordinary people. Tragically much of this everyday suffering will remain invisible to most observers.

Toby C. Jones teaches Middle East history at Rutgers University, New Brunswick and a member of MERIP’s editorial committee. Andrew Bruno is a PhD student in Middle East history at Rutgers University, New Brunswick.

Meanwhile, US coverage of the Iran war has entirely ignored the fact that on the same weekend the strikes began, Afghanistan and Pakistan entered day three of what Islamabad's own defense minister called "open war." This conflict is one of the many unresolved afterlives of the US war on Afghanistan, rooted in the legacy of the so-called War on Terror, US drone warfare and a militarized border that fueled insurgencies neither state has resolved. In the past two weeks, Pakistani airstrikes have struck military installations, including Bagram airbase, but also civilian sites across multiple provinces—on March 18 an attack on a drug rehabilitation center in Kabul killed 400 people, according to the Taliban. The Taliban government in Afghanistan has launched drone strikes deep into Pakistani territory. The ongoing fighting is the most serious escalation between the two countries in years, and it follows months of cross-border shelling, mass deportations from Pakistan of Afghan migrants and the disruption of bilateral trade—worth billions annually.

For states and peoples in South and Central Asia, these wars are not playing out as separate events. Both conflicts jeopardize the economic and political connectivity of the regions, imperiling transregional projects, capital flows and diplomatic efforts. The Pakistan-Afghanistan corridor, the main artery of exchange between Central Asia and the Indian Ocean, is effectively closed, while the proposed Uzbekistan-Afghanistan-Pakistan railway—a $6 billion project intended to cut transit times and open landlocked Central Asia to global markets—is jeopardized. Meanwhile, the simultaneous war on Iran threatens a range of infrastructure projects connecting Central Asian states to the Persian Gulf through Iranian ports. Gulf states, which have cultivated significant diplomatic influence in Afghanistan, are now consumed by the war on their own doorstep. Qatar, which brokered an October 2025 ceasefire between Kabul and Islamabad, now has an uncertain capacity for mediation.

Afghan commentators have not missed the timing of these overlapping wars. The observation that Pakistan is striking Taliban military infrastructure precisely as the United States wages war on its western neighbor is read in some corners as serving US interests—a suspicion that Trump's own quixotic public musings about reclaiming Bagram airbase do little to dispel. Conspiratorial though it may be, such popular awareness that these conflicts are connected is almost entirely absent from US coverage of the “war in the Middle East.” Afghanistan is assigned to the past tense. The cascading crises of 2026 suggest it belongs firmly in the present.

Marya Hannun is a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Exeter’s Institute of Arab and Islamic Studies and MERIP’s managing editor.

One important factor is the rapid rise of charismatic and Pentecostal Christianity, the fastest growing sector of evangelicalism, both in the United States and globally. While many of its leaders remain deeply pro-Israel, they are less likely to narrate that support through prophecy talk. Instead, they often rely on more general scriptural claims, such as the promise God makes to Abraham in Genesis: “I will bless those who bless you, and curse those who curse you.” This approach maintains strong support for Israel while shifting its theological ground.

A related development is the rise in recent decades of the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR). This loosely organized but rapidly expanding network of charismatic-Pentecostal churches, organizations and individuals emphasizes pursuing power in worldly arenas such as government, education, business and media. It is one of the most important centers of Christian nationalism in the United States today. Politicians with ties to the group include House speaker Mike Johnson, Texas Republican senator Ted Cruz and Republican House representative Lauren Boebert. Its leaders routinely argue that President Trump was “divinely appointed” in order to increase the power of conservative Christians, and they have strongly supported the war against Iran. The network is pro-Israel, built around the “God blesses those who bless Israel” argument and buttressed by frequent trips to “the Holy Land.” While the NAR is controversial even within conservative circles for its “worldly” investments, there is no question about its influence. This network is reshaping evangelical investments in Middle East politics while retaining a strongly pro-Israel orientation.

At the same time, the category of “evangelical” overall is changing. Since the first Trump presidency, there has been a rise in the number of not-so-religious, predominantly white adults who define themselves as evangelical, as the term becomes more and more synonymous with simply being right-wing and Republican. These new adherents almost uniformly had expressed a warm view of Trump in 2016, before they came to call themselves evangelicals. In the same period, the number of self-identified evangelicals who did not attend church rose, particularly among those who identify as conservative. As a result, support for Israel among these newer evangelicals is less likely to be grounded in biblical interpretation than in broader ideological and partisan alignment.

Taken together, these developments suggest that while traditional prophecy-driven Christian Zionism may be weakening, evangelical support for Israel is not disappearing. But it is shifting. And this support continues to influence US policy. Despite their differences, for now, these movements are united in their support for President Trump, and they have created a remarkably effective bloc of right-wing power.

Melani McAlister is Professor of American Studies and International Affairs at the George Washington University.

Israel is intentionally creating a humanitarian disaster that they know the country, including its government and civil society network, cannot absorb. As of March 18, at least 930 people in Lebanon have been killed by the Israeli army, including 111 children and 38 health workers. More than 1,000,000 people have been displaced. Israel has stated that it wants to create a demilitarized and depopulated zone south of the Litani River (about 19 miles into Lebanon) similar to the “yellow line” they drew in Gaza. As Israel is expanding its territory and control into Gaza, the West Bank and Syria, there is good reason to believe that it desires to occupy and perhaps annex this resource and maritime rich territory, a goal often repeated by early Zionist and Israeli leaders and openly spoken of by Israeli politicians today.

Israel is targeting Lebanon’s social fabric, inflicting mass punishment to weaken public support for Hizballah—a strategy it also pursued unsuccessfully during the 2006 war. Through the displacement of primarily Shia Lebanese, Israel is also attempting to foment sectarian violence by continuing to target displaced people in their spaces of refuge. These attacks both kill and are intended to make people from different sects and areas too afraid to help their displaced compatriots. On March 11, they inflicted a double tap strike and massacre on the corniche of Ramlet al Bayda, Beirut’s only public beach, where displaced people were living in cars and tents. The spectacle of Israel’s impunity to commit atrocities is the point.

Before this return to open war, the Lebanese political equation had turned into a precarious balancing act between the government, the army, the Central Bank and Hizballah and its allies. Each element is reliant on different countries (now at war), institutions and actors for support. After the war, no matter its outcome, this political equation will change. But this war will not end soon, even if this episode does. The colonization of historic Palestine has always required the pacification of, or domination over, their kin across different borders. Israel, the only state in the Middle East armed with nuclear weapons, will never allow the formation of a Palestinian state, nor will it willingly change its ethno-sectarian character. This refusal is a declaration of permanent war against Palestinians and their supporters. In pursuit of this permanent war, and while they still have the unconditional support of the US government and its politicians, Israel has decided to be a country buffered by depopulated wastelands, with no people, party or government capable of mounting any modicum of resistance to either their occupation or that of Palestine. Even if Israel occupies South Lebanon, however, and Hizballah is somehow neutralized, resistance will grow like weeds under every boot print in the ground. Eventually, they will be ensnared.

Maya Mikdashi is an associate professor of Women's, Gender and Sexuality Studies and the director of the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at Rutgers University.