Three years ago, on a clear day, you could stand at the Lebanese border with Israel in the village of Marwahin and see the Baha’i Gardens on Mount Carmel, looking down over the Israeli city of Haifa. The view suited the widespread talk at the time about an Iran-led “axis of resistance” based in Lebanon and Gaza and intent on liberating Palestine. Then Oct. 7 happened.
That was when the “axis of resistance” finally met another regional dynamic head-on: an expansionist Israel that was increasingly willing to strike first against its adversaries. What has transpired over the past three intense years of war—in Gaza, Lebanon, and Iran—has been the collapse of Iran’s deterrent strategy. The axis was Iran’s first line of defense in its grand strategy against Israel and the United States. But the axis’s forward strongholds were no longer protecting its core; it was no longer possible to keep war away from Iran’s borders.
Iran entered a new era, one that necessitated a rethinking of its grand strategy for confrontation and even survival. Iran’s previous strategy, based on containment and strategic patience, has not survived the current war. Tehran has instead been forced to rely on what had previously been its second and third lines of defense. The second line consisted of its missile and drone arsenal, and the third relied on its geographical superiority: vast expanses of land; mountainous terrain; and, most importantly, the Strait of Hormuz and its significance for global trade.
This last line had never previously been tested, and Iran remained wary that its use might fail. But the country has now been testing its ability to fight alone on the battlefield.
What has been particularly painful for Iran is that it has been forced to reverse the roles between itself and its allied groups and organizations. Instead of these factions preventing the war from reaching Iran, as the plan had been, Iran rushed to their defense when necessary.
Hezbollah was transformed in an instant from a spearhead in the conflict to an organization under pressure, cut off from supplies after the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria, and besieged by the Lebanese state, which is negotiating with Israel while the militant group strives to maintain its existence, with Iran doing what is necessary to protect it militarily and diplomatically.
This profound shift in its function was reflected, in turn, in the arrangement of power tools within the Iranian strategy. The Hezbollah that existed on the eve of the Oct. 7, 2023, events and Hamas’s attack on Israeli settlements surrounding Gaza is no longer the same. Its previously declared objectives are no longer valid, and the role that Hezbollah played on a regional level, from Iraq to Syria and Yemen and decades earlier in Bosnia and Herzegovina, is no longer viable. The war and the fall of Assad in Syria returned Hezbollah to its Lebanese sphere of influence, which in turn altered its function for the axis in general and for Tehran in particular.
This shift prompted Iran to explore its latent power, which had remained untested for years in the very confrontation that it had long been talking about. The war appeared simultaneously as a challenge and an opportunity for a nation that, for nearly half a century, had never missed an opportunity to declare its hostility toward the United States and Israel. The activation of the Strait of Hormuz has given the Iranians an unprecedented advantage in the conflict. But Iran has also been confronting two nuclear powers with one of the most advanced air forces in the world, a sophisticated early warning system, and a multilayered air defense system.
What has become clear is that U.S. President Donald Trump, confronted with Iran’s new strategy, prefers normalization to a protracted war with Tehran. What complicates this matter is the team that is now in charge in Iran.
This team is a product of the war’s unstated fourth objective. From the early days until now, the rhetoric has focused on eliminating the Iranian nuclear threat, destroying its missile infrastructure, and dismantling its regional network. On the sidelines, Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have stated their desire to overthrow the regime. Then, after Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei’s assassination, Trump repeatedly declared that the regime had fallen.
In practice, the regime has indeed changed, but in a direction contrary to what the United States and Israel wanted. The change has produced a more rigid and cohesive system than its predecessor, even if differences have emerged. These differences, however, do not yet appear to be at a level that could divide the country into two opposing camps.
This was evident in the recent change that affected the position of the secretary of the Supreme National Security Council in early August. Mohammad Bagher Zolghadr—who succeeded Ali Larijani, who was killed during the war—disagreed with other leaders over how to deal with ships passing through the strait. He threatened to resign after the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) targeted them. He was then replaced by former IRGC commander Mohsen Rezaei, whose appointment coincided with subsequent appointments that filled most of the country’s vacant military leadership positions; Zolghadr himself became an advisor to Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei, who still rules from behind the scenes.
The appointment of Rezaei carries a message in more than one direction. He had spent the spring and summer arguing that it was not possible to negotiate and fight at the same time. This is a position that Mojtaba Khamenei had conveyed to other Iranian officials in June, as told to me by an Iranian official who refused to reveal his name.
But Rezaei may also be closing the circle on Iran’s evolving strategy, which has seen shifts in its defense priorities. In late August, Rezaei went further than any senior Iranian official had in years. In a television interview, he questioned the entire logic of the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty, arguing that membership in it had not prevented the United States and Israel from bombing Iranian nuclear sites anyway, and he asked on air: “Why shouldn’t we also seek to acquire nuclear weapons?”
Rezaei elaborated extensively on the nuclear issue, more so than any previous secretary of the Supreme National Security Council. This occurred while the Iranian parliament was debating withdrawal from the Nonproliferation Treaty and while the new supreme leader had yet to confirm his adherence to his father’s fatwa prohibiting the use, production, stockpiling, and acquisition of nuclear weapons, but also had not declared anything to the contrary.
This leaves the issue open to all possibilities, especially since Iran had stated on numerous occasions before its recent wars against the United States and Israel, through various officials, that it would reconsider its nuclear doctrine if targeted.
The nuclear issue brings us back to Iran’s defense strategy. If we combine all the elements that we mentioned earlier and prioritize them, we find that Iran hasn’t changed its strategy but rather reshaped it. The network of allies still exists; although it has been weakened, it hasn’t been eliminated, and Tehran continues to benefit from its existence in various ways. Hezbollah is exhausted after two difficult wars with Israel, but it is preparing. Iran’s allied Iraqi factions are facing pressure at a time when U.S. influence is growing again in Iraqi politics, while its Syrian corridor disappeared with the fall of the Assad regime. The Houthis, however, are still able to exert pressure on Saudi Arabia, which has spent two years trying to avoid this war through the Bab el-Mandeb Strait without fully activating that front.
The missile and drone programs have become a higher priority, especially given Iran’s heavy reliance on them. It appears from the past few months that Iran is investing heavily in developing these missiles and drones to increase their effectiveness and the leverage that they can exert in any future confrontation.
As for Hormuz, the third layer, this is the card that Tehran has forcefully pushed to the forefront since the cease-fire, and it now uses it in various ways while trying to establish a legal reality for itself.
The question that remains unanswered is whether a fourth layer, this time nuclear, will join the three existing layers.
From Iran, we return to southern Lebanon, where the areas that a journalist like myself can see from the last point not occupied are shrinking. We can no longer stand in Marwahin to see Haifa, nor even in Naqoura, which is now itself within Israeli-occupied territory. I find myself standing in Haniyeh, observing from there Mansouri and some of the slopes that connect to the sea and lead to Naqoura.
This new equation imposed by Israel on Lebanon was the product of a larger battle across the entire region. It is the same battle that brought the Strait of Hormuz to the forefront in a completely opposite equation, an equation in which Iran seeks to establish a new reality in the region—one in which it sees no U.S. presence to challenge it.
With this new reality, Iran no longer needs to focus on seeing Haifa. That goal, and the Lebanese front built for it, has quietly become less important. Israel, however, still wants to keep an eye on Tehran, which is why Iran won’t give up its influence in southern Lebanon, no matter the pressure or how weak its hold becomes. At the very least, Iran keeps an early warning system there, staying close enough to Israel to spot any signs of a new war and rebuild its presence however it can.
Still, this is now a lower priority for Iran. The main focus is now on rebuilding its missile and drone program, which played a key role in the war and is being rapidly expanded. The old defense line in the south won’t return soon. But what replaces it starts inside Iran’s own borders.
