Netanyahu's Iran gamble

Iran will respond—the question now is whether Israel's calculated risk becomes Trump's inherited war.

The imagery couldn't have been more deliberate: While Trump envoy Steve Witkoff was scheduled to sit down with Iranian negotiators in Oman this weekend, Israeli warplanes were already airborne, carrying out the most extensive strike against Iran in the Islamic Republic's 46-year history. The symbolism was unmistakable—and profoundly calculated. Netanyahu had just used American diplomacy as the perfect cover for his life's work.

For anyone who's followed Benjamin Netanyahu's quarter-century obsession with Iran, Friday's strikes weren't surprising—they were inevitable. What was remarkable was the precision of the timing, the breadth of the operation, and the strategic window that finally allowed Israel's longest-serving prime minister to execute a plan he's been sketching since the 1990s.

This wasn't just another round of tit-for-tat escalation. This was Netanyahu's attempt to fundamentally rewrite Middle Eastern security architecture, eliminate what he's long called the "head of the snake," and—not incidentally—rescue his own legacy from the ashes of October 7th.

The scale tells the story. Israeli forces didn't just hit nuclear facilities; they systematically targeted Iran's military leadership, key nuclear scientists, ballistic missile sites, and air defense networks across multiple provinces. Among the dead: senior Revolutionary Guard commanders and at least two nuclear weapons experts, including figures Israel describes as Iran's "principal bomb makers." This operation was more extensive than any previous strike against Iranian assets—and according to Israeli officials, it's just the beginning of what could be a multi-week campaign.

The trigger was as much legal as strategic. Last month's IAEA resolution finding Iran in violation of nuclear safeguards agreements wasn't just diplomatic theater—it provided Netanyahu the international cover he needed while confirming Israeli intelligence assessments that Iran was closer to a nuclear weapon than publicly acknowledged. Combined with Iran's regional weakness, it created what one senior Israeli official called "a closing window of opportunity."

But why now? The answer lies in a convergence of factors that created what Israeli officials privately call "a perfect storm of opportunity."

First, Iran's regional position has never been weaker. Over the past year, Israel systematically dismantled what Tehran called its "Axis of Resistance." Hamas leadership lies largely eliminated, Hezbollah has been gutted after four decades of building its arsenal, and Syria's Assad regime—Iran's key Arab ally—collapsed just weeks ago. Iran's carefully constructed buffer of proxy forces has essentially evaporated, leaving Tehran more isolated and vulnerable than at any point since the 1980s.

Second, October 7th shattered Israel's entire strategic calculus. The old deterrence framework—where Iran could threaten Israel through proxies while staying safely behind the nuclear threshold—no longer made sense after Hamas proved that even "contained" threats could inflict catastrophic damage. Israel's risk tolerance fundamentally shifted, and with it, the foreign policy consensus that had constrained previous operations.

But the third factor was the most crucial: Donald Trump's return to the White House. Here's where the competing narratives get interesting. Trump's Monday morning post-game media blitz where he called the strikes "excellent" and seemed to take partial credit for the use of superior American-made weapons, raised immediate questions about coordination versus tactical surprise. Was this Israeli autonomy or American orchestration?

“They made a bet on President Trump,” said Elliot Abrams, senior fellow for Middle Eastern studies at the Council on Foreign Relations, suggesting that Israel had pushed harder for strikes while the Trump administration favored diplomacy. “The Israelis struck and then today Trump called it ‘excellent’.”

The truth appears more complex. While the degree of U.S. intelligence sharing remains classified, administration sources suggest Israel provided general warning while maintaining operational secrecy about timing and targets. Trump's team appears to have given Netanyahu what Aaron David Miller, a former US Mideast negotiator called a "plausible denial green light"—strategic freedom to pursue shared objectives while maintaining American diplomatic flexibility.

This reflects what Abrams, who served as National Security Advisor under President George W. Bush, called Trump's "Jacksonian" approach to foreign policy. Unlike the isolationism often attributed to him, Trump's instincts are more Andrew Jackson than George Washington—willing to use overwhelming force when American interests are threatened, comfortable with allies taking decisive action, but deeply skeptical of nation-building or long-term commitments. His base shares this worldview: supportive of strength, suspicious of endless engagement.

The months-long preparation reveals the operation's sophistication. Mossad assets had been positioned across multiple countries, including Iran, gathering intelligence and preparing infrastructure for what Israeli officials describe as systematic "military decapitation." The targets weren't random—they represented Iran's nuclear brain trust and command structure.

Israel officially denies seeking regime change, but the logic of military decapitation suggests otherwise. When you eliminate key nuclear scientists, senior military commanders, and ballistic missile capabilities, you're not just degrading capability—you're potentially destabilizing the entire system. Whether intentional or not, Netanyahu's operation could trigger the kind of internal uprising that the regime has successfully suppressed for decades.

This represents Netanyahu's ultimate gamble: turning Israel's growing international isolation into strategic vindication. If Iran's nuclear program is eliminated and the regime weakened or toppled, critics who condemned Israel's Gaza operations and West Bank policies might suddenly find themselves praising Jerusalem's strategic foresight.

Trump's challenge will be managing the aftermath without getting drawn into a broader Middle Eastern war. His administration has already signaled it will help defend Israel while maintaining distance from offensive operations—telling Jerusalem it's essentially "going it alone" on offensive missions while promising defensive support. But wars have their own logic, and Iranian retaliation against American assets could force Trump's hand regardless of his preferences.

Iran's response will determine whether Netanyahu's gamble pays off or triggers regional conflagration. The regime faces an impossible choice: escalate dramatically and risk total war with both Israel and potentially America, or appear weak before a population already questioning its competence. Neither option offers clear survival.

The broader strategic implications extend far beyond immediate military calculations. If successful, Netanyahu's operation could herald a new Middle Eastern order—one where Iran's revolutionary regime is either eliminated or so weakened that Arab states can finally embrace regional integration. But success is far from guaranteed. Iran's nuclear expertise can't be eliminated through airstrikes alone, and a wounded regime might conclude that rapid nuclear weapons development is its only path to survival.

What's certain is that Netanyahu has finally taken the shot he's been lining up for 25 years. Whether it hits the target or triggers something larger than anyone intended, we'll know soon enough. The Middle East just became a very different place—again.

The question isn't whether Iran will respond—it's whether Netanyahu's calculated risk becomes Trump's inherited war.