A Blow to Iran, or an Opportunity for It? When Roles Shift and Masks Fall Off

By Abdulaziz Yaqoub

Donald Trump demands that Iran “agree to peace,” while fighter jets roar in the skies, raining down fire rather than mercy. He waves the olive branch from the podium of political rhetoric, yet behind the curtain, he hides guided missiles that make no distinction between a nuclear reactor and a shelter for children or the elderly, between a political opponent and a civilian body, between a nuclear facility and a fetus in its mother’s womb in southern Iraq or the Gulf outskirts. Peace delivered on the wings of warplanes grows nothing but hatred, leaving behind only amputated maps and childhoods tainted by orphanhood and radioactive dust.

In recent days, the world held its breath as American and Israeli forces threatened to strike Iranian nuclear facilities—and on June 21st, they did.

Yet the surprise was that the strike left no nuclear explosion, no radioactive leaks, contrary to all the apocalyptic warnings that had flooded analysts’ imaginations. No glowing clouds rose, and no signs of another Fukushima hovered over the Gulf.

So, what happened?

Was the strike truly that precise?
Had Iran evacuated the facilities in advance? Was there an agreement?
Or was the nuclear program itself not yet at a critical stage?

Whatever the answer, the message Washington wanted to send was clear: We can strike you anytime, without sparking a global outcry or igniting an all-out war.

A blow without catastrophe—but packed with all the instruments of psychological and symbolic warfare. A strike that feels more like a knock on the door than a battering ram, yet says everything in the language of steel: You are under surveillance, under control, under our ceiling.

Trump’s strikes aren’t mere electoral theatrics. They are geopolitical earthquakes whose waves crash upon peoples who were neither consulted nor allowed even to raise their heads and ask, “Why now?” As tensions with Tehran escalated, the region teetered on the edge of a nuclear disaster. The facilities at Natanz, Fordow, and Arak threatened to become radioactive shrapnel, their ashes carried by the winds of the Gulf, the Levant, and the deserts of Iraq.

And yet, the strike appears to have been calibrated—not to destroy, but to remind. A political strike more than a military one, designed to reshape the balance of prestige, to draw Iran back to the negotiating table—but this time, weaker, or at least more cautious. Here, bombing becomes a tool of negotiation, a quiet message spoken by aircraft.

Amid all this, a troubling political question arises:
Is Trump lying, like George W. Bush did when he claimed Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction?

The truth is, Trump does not fabricate Iran’s uranium enrichment—Tehran does not deny it. But the difference between fact and function is what starts wars. What Trump is doing mirrors Bush—not in outright lies, but in the aggressive use of half-truths. He’s not looking for evidence; he’s looking for a pretext. He doesn’t seek truth, but an outcome he can sell to his electorate.

In the heart of these contradictions emerges an even more dangerous question:
Could Iran, despite the limited strike, see this as a green light to strike Israel instead?

Israel—long the spearhead against Iran’s nuclear ambitions—might suddenly find itself the target of a calculated response, not aimed at its annihilation but at shattering its deterrent image. If Iran retaliates against Israel instead of the U.S., will Washington intervene? Or will it simply observe from behind the curtain—perhaps viewing a “partial burn” of Tel Aviv as a chance to reshuffle the regional deck? Israel, once the region’s watchdog, may now be transforming in some Western capitals from a useful tool into a political and ethical liability.

Amid this shift, a greater possibility looms: that Iran, after this strike and potential response, might emerge as a new functional partner in the Western order of control.

If Israel retreats, or if its fragility is exposed, Washington might see Iran—notwithstanding historical enmity—as a manageable power, a partner capable of stabilizing the region without challenging the overarching hegemony. Enmity doesn’t preclude partnership; political history is full of enemies-turned-proxies when interests—not values—align. Remember the American-British-Russian alliance against Hitler.

What Washington seeks isn’t an ideal ally, but someone who can contain the flames without sparking chaos. And if Tehran demonstrates the ability to retaliate with restraint and return to negotiation after the strike, it may well prove itself eligible for this new role—as the rising alternative when roles collapse and masks are exchanged.

The haunting question remains for every conscious Arab soul:
Are Arab states content to receive only radioactive dust from this war? Or are they merely absent from the moment—silent, not out of fear of war, but because no one invited them to the table?

Radiation doesn’t distinguish between Sunni and Shia, between resistors and normalizers, between capitals preoccupied with diplomacy or drowning in helplessness.

When the air is polluted, it doesn’t ask permission to cross borders. Water carries no passport. And when unborn children are struck in the womb, they do not know the killer—but carry his mark for a lifetime.

This is not a call to side with Iran, nor applause for Trump.
It is a call for Arab reason to awaken before the homeland is besieged from all directions: from the skies by radioactive clouds, from the ground by barren awareness, and from the future by generations burdened with the diseases of wars they never fought—but paid for in the silence of graves.

In an age of military arrogance and shifting masks, only the voice of reason—if it survives the silence—can survive at all.

So will any Arab capital dare to tell Trump: We do not want your radioactive peace, nor a silent strike… but a life not measured by pollution levels, nor bought through servitude to shadow puppeteers?

And do the people realize that what’s being marketed as a strike against Iran might just be its golden opportunity—to become the new master of the game, now that the old player is exhausted?