Iran in the Aftermath of the Twelve-Day War

On 13 June 2025, Israel launched a 12-day war against Iran, two days before the sixth US–Iran nuclear talks in Oman. Citing an “imminent nuclear threat,” it carried out strikes on military, nuclear, and residential sites, killing commanders, scientists, and hundreds of soldiers and thousands of civilians. The war has reshaped Iran’s regime dynamics, state–society relations, and foreign policy.

• The regime remains intact following the ceasefire of 24 June. Yet fragile postwar cohesion is threatened by internal divisions over how best to navigate the legitimacy crisis, manage relations with foreign powers, address the nuclear programme, and confront environmental challenges. The succession issue continues to loom large in Iranian politics.

• Wartime and postwar state–society dynamics have seen both convergence and divergence at different levels. Convergence has occurred around a sharpened discourse on Euro-Atlantic interventions in the Middle East, targeted labour concessions, and the accelerated deportation of Afghan immigrants. Divergence has arisen in the context of the regime’s heightened securitisation and repression as well as its handling of reconstruction, alongside lingering sources of prewar resentment.

• The conflict and its aftermath catalysed continuity and change in the country’s defence stance in three critical areas: rethinking the future of the Axis of Resistance as part of the “forward defence” doctrine, the future of the nuclear programme with negotiations remaining in limbo, and the reinforcement of relations with other regional and international actors.

Policy Implications

The mixed, unintended consequences of supporting military action against Iran should not be underestimated. It did not precipitate regime collapse or yield substantive concessions. In tandem with the Gaza War (characterised as “genocide” by leading scholars) continuing, the West’s normative stance is under further strain. Diplomacy that respects sovereignty and protects civilians should prevail.

The Story So Far

On 13 June 2025, Israel started a war against Iran two days before the sixth round of US–Iran nuclear talks were scheduled to take place in Oman. It came after a long shadow war with a series of confrontations going back decades (see Figure 1). Over the course of 12 days and under the pretext of preventing an “imminent nuclear threat,” Israel carried out approximately 360 airstrikes against military and nuclear facilities as well as residential areas across the country. The attacks killed a number of military commanders and nuclear scientists, as well as hundreds of soldiers and thousands of civilians alike. They also injured and displaced thousands of others. Iran, in turn, retaliated by launching missiles and drones at Israel that killed 31 civilians alongside injuring and displacing thousands more. On 21 June, the US directly entered the war by bombing Iranian nuclear facilities at Fordow, Isfahan, and Natanz. Three days later, the war ended once Iran had retaliated against a US military base in Qatar, with Washington subsequently imposing a ceasefire on Israel and Iran.

Figure 1. Iran–Israel Conflicts

Source: Events compiled by Hamid Talebian; graphic by Eduardo Valencia | T4T.

Transformations within the Regime

The Iranian regime remains intact for now, but military confrontation with Israel and the ongoing Gaza War have brought long-simmering issues to the forefront, threatening its fragile postwar cohesion. Following the initial Israeli airstrikes and the deaths of several high-ranking military officials, one of the first questions to arise was: Would this mark the end of the Islamic Republic after more than 46 years of existence? At first the regime appeared to be in shock, struggling to determine how exactly to respond. This was particularly the case after Israel had killed the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corp’s (IRGC) top commander, Hossein Salami, the commander of its aerospace forces, Amir Ali Hajizadeh, and the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, Mohammad Bagheri, during the first day of the war. Reports soon emerged that Khamenei had gone into hiding at an undisclosed location and was communicating only through a single trusted intermediary, which severely hampered coordination and decision-making. After two days the regime overcame its initial shock, replaced its deceased commanders, and mounted a counteroffensive.

Even though the regime has maintained its grip on power, its long-term durability remains uncertain – it is still unclear which factions will ultimately emerge dominant. While it publicly presents itself as victorious, discontent has become widespread among both the IRGC and the political elite. Israel’s ability to conduct such a sophisticated attack from inside the country reveals the extent to which the regime has been infiltrated. The war’s profound consequences comprise not only the loss of military expertise and institutional knowledge but, perhaps more damagingly, a significant erosion of authority and trust within its own ranks.

Criticism within political and military circles has long existed beneath the surface and became increasingly visible during the Woman, Life, Freedom or Mahsa Amini protests of 2022–2023 and their aftermath. In particular, younger members of the IRGC have begun to question the regime’s approach to foreign threats. This was especially the case after Israel conducted an airstrike on the Iranian Consulate in Syria in April 2024, assassinated Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran in July 2024, and wiped out Hezbollah’s senior leadership, including Hassan Nasrallah, in Beirut in September 2024. For these critics, the regime’s calculated, cautious response to each event signalled weakness – which, in their view, ultimately emboldened Israel to launch large-scale attacks on Iranian territory during the Twelve-Day War. In April 2024, for instance, Iran carried out a telegraphed drone and missile strike on Israel. Although it was the first time that Iran had directly targeted Israeli territory, it deliberately notified the latter’s allies and neighbouring states in advance to mitigate potential harm. Growing discontent has also been directed at Ayatollah Khamenei’s leadership style and foreign policy choices. Younger IRGC cadres, in particular, want to see a coherent doctrine pursued that ensures deterrence and survival, even if that means recalibrating traditional ideological narratives such as preserving the image of resistance while avoiding escalation.

Alongside criticism from within the IRGC, a parallel debate is unfolding among the Iranian opposition. Prominent reformist figures such as former prime minister and leader of the 2009 Green Movement, Mir Hossein Mousavi (who has been under house arrest ever since), and the former minister of the interior, Mostafa Tajzadeh (who is currently serving a prison sentence), have openly called for a referendum on the Constitution. Former president Hassan Rouhani and his then-minister of foreign affairs, Javad Zarif, have also weighed in, with the former publishing an analysis of the Twelve-Day War. While Rouhani did not go as far as advocating for constitutional changes, as Mousavi and Tajzadeh have done, he nevertheless urged the adoption of a “new national strategy,” the “strengthening of relations with the world,” and the restoration of trust between the Iranian state and its citizens by granting the population a greater role in policymaking (Asr-e Iran 2025). Soon after, a coalition of diverse reformist parties calling itself the “Iranian Reformist Front” issued a statement outlining a series of demands. They included removing the military from politics and the economy, advancing women’s rights, and releasing political prisoners. The demand that attracted the most widespread attention, however, was the call for Iran to suspend nuclear enrichment in exchange for the lifting of US sanctions and the resumption of full diplomatic relations with Washington.

These matters have become a serious point of contention in Iran, particularly after the US insisted the country end uranium enrichment completely and dismantle its nuclear programme during negotiation rounds taking place prior to June 2025. The right to enrich uranium has been central to Iran’s nuclear programme, and simply relinquishing it would represent a significant concession by the regime – one bordering on capitulation in certain people’s eyes. This perception would persist even as Iran exceeded enrichment levels for civilian or peaceful purposes after Washington unilaterally withdrew from the “Iran nuclear deal” or “Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action” (JCPOA), reimposing economic sanctions on Tehran in 2018. Both prior to and since the war, many officials and citizens across the political spectrum have been of the view that zero enrichment and full dismantlement are a betrayal of Iran’s national rights and interests, constituting a dangerous display of weakness.

Similarly, the prospect of normalising relations with the US is seen by hardliners and more conservative factions within the political establishment as an existential threat. They were quick to criticise the interview reformist president Masoud Pezeshkian held with the right-wing, populist political commentator Tucker Carlson merely days after the war had ended (Iranwire 2025). Contrary to these factions’ outlook, Pezeshkian’s administration sees engagement with the US and specifically influential and isolationist figures in the MAGA base – such as Carlson, Steve Bannon, and Marjorie Taylor Greene, who are becoming increasingly critical of President Donald Trump’s foreign policy – as a means of de-escalating tensions and normalising relations with Washington. This outcome, according to Pezeshkian and his government, will ultimately aid the Iranian regime’s survival, as the latter cannot afford to become further isolated economically or politically as the war with Israel would show. These differing positions notwithstanding, the underlying debate increasingly being pushed to the forefront of these discussions is particularly noteworthy. For a regime that has long defined itself in opposition to Washington, reconciliation with its principal adversary raises an uncomfortable question: What becomes of the Islamic Republic if its foundational enmity with the US ceases to exist? This conundrum gains added significance when considered alongside the thorny issue of who Ayatollah Khamenei’s successor will eventually be.

Given Khamenei’s advanced age – he turned 86 in July – and history of health problems, speculation over his successor has intensified of late. During the Twelve-Day War, albeit without official confirmation, rumours circulated that Khamenei had identified or chosen three candidates in case he was assassinated. The more consequential question, however, may be whether the role of the Supreme Leader itself will change in the post-Khamenei era. Will the office continue to serve as the central locus of power, or will it be reduced to a largely symbolic function while the IRGC assumes de facto control? Regardless of the eventual outcome, these debates underscore the depth of internal fissures within the regime. Equally noteworthy is the fact that such statements and analyses are being circulated at all in Iran, where criticism of its leadership is typically suppressed. Rather than reflecting a genuine move toward liberalisation, though, this relative openness is a strategic calculation intended to release pressure, appease the population, and co-opt reformist voices at a moment of heightened vulnerability. This approach is reminiscent of the Shah’s handling of matters in the months leading up to the 1979 Revolution, when he permitted increased criticism of his rule – which ultimately contributed to his downfall. While it is by no means certain that the current regime will meet the same fate one day, adopting a similar strategy certainly carries the risk of backfiring spectacularly.

What further exacerbates this legitimacy crisis is the mounting failure to govern, as most readily visible in the acute energy and environmental challenges of recent years that some analysts have described as indicative of Iran’s “environmental collapse” (Kowsar and Nader 2025). The last 18 months have witnessed the highest number of power outages in the Islamic Republic’s history. Iranians have long been accustomed to both planned and unplanned blackouts, with the government struggling to deal with electricity shortages. A novel development, however, was that many citizens would also face frequent water cuts in the weeks after the war. A new crisis has thus been added to the long list of legitimacy issues already confronting the regime: its ineffective management of vital resources.

Rivers and lakes across the country have dried up over time. While Iran has historically been arid, the combined effects of climate change, economic sanctions, and chronic mismanagement have drastically worsened the problem, depleting groundwater reserves at an alarming pace. As of September 2025, 24 out of 31 provinces are experiencing severe water shortages. The gravity of the situation has been acknowledged even at the highest political levels. Pezeshkian admitted that the crisis was more serious than previously recognised. In the process, he warned that “Tehran is running out of water, and if this continues, we will not be able to supply the city.” The reservoirs that have long provided water to the capital have now shrunk to below 20 per cent of capacity (Azizi 2025). Instead of addressing the root causes of the crisis, though, the government has introduced merely palliative measures. Most strikingly, it announced that Wednesdays would henceforth be treated as public holidays in Tehran and its surrounding areas in an effort to reduce energy and water consumption.

In sum, while the regime has weathered the immediate fallout of its confrontation with Israel, deep internal fissures over leadership succession, foreign policy, poor governance, and environmental collapse pose serious questions about its long-term stability. Equally crucial will be how it manages its relations with Iranian society at large. Ultimately, domestic legitimacy may prove even more decisive than military power or foreign policy in determining whether the Islamic Republic is to endure.

Transformations within Society and in State–Society Relations

For Iran, the direct experience of war and its many repercussions have marked another turning point in state–society relations. The immediate effects of the war have intersected with Iran’s dominant political culture and its long-standing security narrative, which shapes how threats are perceived domestically. This narrative links prior US involvement in Iranian affairs with national threat perceptions. They include the 1953 Anglo-American coup, Washington’s support for Saddam Hussein during the Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988), as well as the North American country’s direct strikes on Iranian naval and oil facilities at the height of the latter conflict. These episodes have fostered the prevailing view among Islamic Republic elites that the US and its regional ally and partner Israel, with which it has been involved in a shadow war over its nuclear programme and regional influence, constitute existential threats. The Iranian military and security establishment has therefore justified its regional policy on the basis of notions such as the “Resistance Front,” which was renamed the “Axis of Resistance” in the wake of the Arab Spring uprisings of 2010 and 2011. More recently, it did so through the doctrine of “forward defence” after the uprisings largely failed to produce Arab governments friendly to Iran. This policy has been widely promoted, communicated, and legitimised via statements such as: “If we don’t fight in Syria today, tomorrow we will fight in Tehran.” This encapsulates a strategy of pushing threats outwards to neighbouring arenas, especially Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria. At the same time, and alongside the US and Israel, other states in the region from the Gulf to the Levant have perceived this approach to be an offensive one designed to dominate other countries.

Against this backdrop, domestic opponents of this policy have challenged both the premise of these threats and the way political and military elites frame them. They have argued that the Islamic Republic should prioritise its own people’s well-being amid a steadily shrinking economy, continued sanctions, political isolation, and rising social unrest – that is, instead negotiate with the West over its security concerns. From the 2009 Green Movement protests through the 2022–2023 Woman, Life, Freedom uprisings, different demonstrators have expressed their discontent with the Islamic Republic’s regional policy by chanting: “No to Gaza, No to Lebanon, We will die only for Iran.” In this context, the war with Israel erupted seven years after the JCPOA’s unravelling following US withdrawal and Europe’s inability to provide effective economic relief. In the face of the unprecedented Israeli strikes, debates over the Islamic Republic’s regional policy have shifted and the long-standing narratives of its supporters and detractors evolved. Each camp has intensified its critique of the other. Proponents of the regime’s approach are faulted for having failed to keep the Israeli and American attacks at bay. Meanwhile, even if its opponents have started to recognise the logic of “forward defence” in hindsight (Bajoghli 2025), they are dismissed as “naive” for questioning the very threats the military and security establishment has long warned about.

In this climate, evidence suggests that more Iranians, including many who favour engagement with the West, are increasingly suspicious of the latter’s intentions. Reports from international media highlight testimonies from civilians who lost relatives in the Israeli attacks on non-military sites, underscoring a sense that ordinary citizens with no link to the conflict became casualties. Such experiences have deepened resentment and added another layer of disaffection not only with the Islamic Republic’s presumed defensive invulnerability. They also did so with Western governments that many Iranians had long assumed would be sympathetic partners to the country’s democratic movements, particularly during the Woman, Life, Freedom uprisings.

On this point, a central factor shaping perceptions has been what many in Iran increasingly regard as the unconditional support of Western states for Israel’s actions. This stance is tied not only to what is widely seen as having been an illegal war against Iran and one heavily impacting its civilians. It is also connected to Israel’s recurrent violent interventions in neighbouring countries and, decisively, the ongoing genocide in Gaza and the escalating systematic abuses perpetrated against the Palestinian people at large. The real-time witnessing of Israel’s conduct in the aftermath of 7 October and increasing exchange with diasporic networks have only made these views more salient. But far from monolithic, the growing ideological alignment between Iranian monarchists and right-wing currents has produced a “marriage of convenience” (Nikpour and Sadeghi-Boroujerdi 2025) – or a convergence in which Israeli atrocities are justified and leveraged to bolster monarchist claims to legitimacy.

Further fuelling these perceptions, German chancellor Friedrich Merz’s remarks – which framed the strikes against Iran as the “dirty work Israel is doing for all of us” – received extensive coverage and criticism both inside Iran and among parts of the diaspora. Academics and intellectuals in Iran have also reacted sharply to Berlin’s stance on the Twelve-Day War. For example, several observers have characterised the chancellor’s words as emblematic of a convergence between Israeli and European imperialism (MollaAbbasi 2025). Commentators increasingly invoke analogies to the colonial era, often drawing parallels, for instance, between the abandonment of the JCPOA and the abusive attitudes of colonial powers toward the Qajar dynasty’s rule (1789–1925). For many who grew up with the trauma of the Iran–Iraq War, today’s isolation carries familiar echoes. It recalls the early days of Iraq’s invasion, when the international community – particularly Western states – not only remained reticent but also openly supported Saddam Hussein.

Amid these shocks and the resulting sense of urgency, state–society relations, on the one hand, have arguably witnessed a degree of convergence. With signs of a “rally-around-the-flag” effect, state institutions have followed a familiar crisis playbook. They offered concessions to demands framed as “labour grievances” and to those outside statal patronage networks while clamping down on deeper discontent over authoritarianism and restricted civil liberties. Throughout the 12 days of war, and despite the massive disruption to civilian life, the Islamic Republic’s institutions were keen to signal control and readiness to compensate citizens for war-related losses. Pezeshkian’s government and several conservative factions (Osul-gara) within the regime indicated a willingness to make greater concessions to sustain this nascent convergence, especially in anticipation of a potential next wave of fighting. On 13 July, for example, the government allocated 100 billion toman (roughly EUR 1 million) to offset the damages suffered by truck drivers (the backbone of Iran’s cargo transport and supply chains), who had staged one of the largest nationwide strikes just a month before the war began (YJC 2025).

During that strike, which lasted ten days and reportedly spanned 163 cities, unions and associations protested the announced hike in fuel prices. A reversal was demanded, as was expanded state support given inadequate insurance coverage, low wages, and surging operating costs. Although Pezeshkian and his reformist government had already backed down from enforcing the price increase, other concessions were stepped up during the war to avoid antagonising what is a vital economic sector. On day four, the government extended insurance coverage to some 200,000 drivers and announced a state contribution of 13.5 per cent to address gaps in benefits such as pensions. Five days later, the government’s Civil Servants Pension Organisation reported paying half of long-overdue pensions owed to retired teachers and educators. They comprised another mobilised socio-economic group, one that has been subjected to arrest and prosecution in recent years. Finally, the day after the ceasefire, the government approved a maximum 24 per cent increase in freight rates – something long sought by truck owners.

Convergence is also evident in the state’s approach to Afghans entering and living in the country and their mass deportation following the outbreak of war. Migration had already become an increasingly polarising issue that shaped the 2021 and 2024 presidential debates and forced the candidates to take clear positions on it. In 2024, the centrist-conservative candidate and the current speaker of parliament, Mohammad-Baqer Qalibaf, advocated building a wall along the eastern border and adopting “rough” measures against irregular migration. Similarly, the reformist candidate Pezeshkian promised, if elected president, a “total border shutdown” and talks with European states about “taking more Afghan migrants or at least covering the costs of their stay” (KhabarOnline 2024). Starting in the 2010s, critics of the regime have argued that the IRGC’s extraterritorial unit or branch, the Quds Force, exploits Afghan migrants for its regional security agenda – most notably, by recruiting them into overseas brigades in Syria and Iraq.

Since the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan in 2021 and the ensuing influx of the latter’s citizens into Iran, anti-migrant violence and widespread discrimination have risen sharply, particularly with Afghan communities becoming more visible in major urban spaces. Pro-deportation pressure campaigns on social media, such as “The deportation of Afghans is a national demand” (Ekhraj-e Afghani motalabe-ye meli ast), pushed the Islamic Republic to act more decisively. At the same time, platforms associated with monarchists and several ideologically aligned republican groups (especially in the diaspora) have amplified anti-migrant rhetoric. They have reappropriated European far-right frames and alleged that the regime seeks to “change the demographics of Iran” to bolster its own legitimacy by privileging those presumed loyal to it.

The war accelerated these dynamics and produced an acute crisis for millions of Afghans living in Iran. On 18 July, Iranian authorities would initiate and coordinate their mass deportation. In the process, an estimated 1.3 million out of six to seven million Afghans living in the country – many of them deeply embedded in its social fabric by then – were deported to Afghanistan, often under the added pretext of “collaboration and spying for Israel.” The scale dwarfed the prior year’s roughly 560,000 deportations, itself about an 18 per cent increase over the previous 12 months. Taken together, these steps suggest the government views the mass deportation of Afghans as a way to leverage rising anti-migrant sentiment to its advantage. In contrast to the previous administration’s “regulation policy” under President Ebrahim Raisi, there now appears to be broad consensus across the political spectrum that mass deportations are a powerful means to recover a portion of the regime’s declining social capital.

It remains uncertain, though, whether the current segmented patterns of state–society convergence, forged in the shadow of the Twelve-Day War, will ease the political and socio-economic grievances that have accumulated over the decades. The war might have deferred but not likely diminished the protest cycles of the past decade. In this sense, there are widespread concerns that the conflict has furnished the regime with yet another pretext to securitise society and clamp down on remaining forms of dissent even more. The reported arrest of 21,000 people, per opposition media, is the clearest manifestation of such anxieties. The Iranian Police Force, while not refuting these reports, justified this course of action as “a preventive measure to ensure public security,” adding that many of those arrested had been immediately released.

Minorities – particularly in Kurdistan and Sistan-e Baluchestan, where some representative armed groups had taken ambivalent positions on the war – fear a further erosion of their rights as securitisation deepens. The handling of wartime provisioning and postwar reconstruction could change the course of these unfolding dynamics. Reports of localised protests by civilians – who lost their homes during the war and were subsequently dispersed by the security forces – illustrate how relief provision and coercion are taking place in tandem. They also suggest potential precursors to renewed contention rather than long-term stabilisation. According to regime calculus, heightened authoritarianism and tighter constraints on citizens’ rights and mobility can be justified. They may even garner greater public backing under the mantle of an existential war.

Transformations in Foreign Policy and International Affairs

As its most costly conventional conflict since the one with Iraq, the Twelve-Day War caused considerable death and destruction to Iran’s military and nuclear personnel and infrastructure – not to mention its civilian population. Seeking to restore or salvage deterrence after such a destructive conflict, Iran was forced to rethink its Axis of Resistance as part of the “forward defence” doctrine. Since the Gaza War started, and in what some have called an “annus horribilis” for Iran (Juneau 2025), the country has suffered strategic setbacks in the form of degraded proxies and partners, particularly Hamas in Palestine and Hezbollah in Lebanon, and, most significantly, with the fall of Bashar al-Assad in Syria. Intent on changing the balance of power in the region, Israel hit these organisations hard by decimating their command-and-control structures and their missile and rocket systems, killing and injuring countless civilians in the process too.

In the context of these challenges and in the wake of the Twelve-Day War, Iran must decide its degree of investment in Hezbollah and other quasi- or non-state actors going forward, with sanctions already curtailing resources greatly. As one possible option, Tehran may prioritise the Houthis in Yemen. Since the Gaza War, they have repeatedly attacked Israel and imposed a military and economic cost on it and the US by disrupting commercial shipping in the Red Sea – the site of 15 per cent of the world’s maritime passage for goods. Nevertheless, it remains questionable whether the Houthis can replace Hezbollah as the primary proxy and central cog in the Axis of Resistance. They have been under intense military pressure by the US and Israel, culminating in Israeli airstrikes against the organization’s military and political leaders and other targets during and after the Twelve-Day War. Even if able to withstand this pressure, the Houthis are restricted by their religious and ideological divergence from Iran as Zaydi Shia and by their geographic remoteness from Israel relative to Lebanon as regards launching drone and missile strikes.

Iran-backed Shia militias in Iraq comprised another cog in the Axis of Resistance. Following the outbreak of war in Gaza once more, they conducted over 170 coordinated attacks against US military bases and assets in Iraq and the wider region (Carl, Jhaveri, and Braverman 2024). After being hit by retaliatory American airstrikes, and on the orders of Iran, in early 2024 these militias reduced their attacks against the US before ceasing them completely in cooperation with the Iraqi government following the fall of the al-Assad regime (Mehvar 2024). Towards the end of the Twelve-Day War, the degradation, demobilisation, and disengagement of these militias prompted Iran to directly launch a drone strike on Al-Asad Airbase in Iraq that housed American troops – the same site it struck with ballistic missiles after the US had assassinated IRGC major general Qasem Soleimani in January 2020. That said, the official visits to Iraq and Lebanon made in August 2025 by Iranian elites suggest they are not fully stepping back from the Axis of Resistance.

If no longer able to depend as much on the latter for deterrence, then this may mean greater self-reliance. This could come in the form of an equally – if not more – robust drone and missile arsenal. During the Twelve-Day War, Iran extensively relied on such munitions to retaliate against Israel and the US despite their strong air-defence systems. In addition to having to replenish its drone and missile stocks, Tehran possesses a number of currently unresolved weaknesses and vulnerabilities. They include widespread government infiltration and insufficient air-defence systems, not to mention major economic issues and its inferior conventional capabilities compared to the US and Israel. For this reason, the regime could further increase its self-reliance and deterrence by weaponising the nuclear programme. This potential pathway is fraught with risk, in that further military action by the US and Israel may ensue if followed. For now, Tehran’s ceasefire with Tel Aviv remains fragile. Trump, meanwhile, has threatened to attack again if the nuclear programme gathers momentum once more. Some analysts even believe a new Israeli strike by the end of the year is likely.

Aside from the possibility of another war, Iran must also confront the likelihood or reality of the Europeans or the JCPOA’s E3 signatories (France, Germany, Great Britain) reimposing the UN snapback sanctions that were lifted under the agreement and which are set to expire in mid-October. Consequently, it has not completely closed the door on nuclear diplomacy with the US or Europe, as evidenced by the meeting between Tehran and the E3 in Istanbul in late July. At that time, Iran also dialled down its discourse of defying the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) – indicating meetings with the body were imminent – and of threatening withdrawal from the Non-Proliferation Treaty. In the war’s immediate aftermath, Tehran sought to project strength, self-sufficiency, and independence from the US and Europe. However, as the prospect of another attack and snapback sanctions set in, the regime has realised its economic fortunes largely remain in the hands of those two actors.

To hedge against this, Iran was still able to count on regional and international partners – albeit with caution and constraint. During the Twelve-Day War, Iran received limited assistance from China and Russia. This saw them condemn the Israeli and American attacks, recognise Iran’s right to self-defence, convene emergency meetings, and contribute to joint discussions with the IAEA. Leading up to the war, the farthest China went militarily was providing Iran with propellent or fuel for its ballistic missiles. With China and Russia possessing inferior conventional capabilities themselves currently, and with the latter preoccupied with its war in Ukraine, neither country wanted direct confrontation with the US. Moreover, both could not completely side with Iran because of their political and economic relations with Israel and other regional rivals to Iran.

In light of these factors, Iran must temper its expectations of China and Russia. Military affairs aside, Iran may still benefit from its relations with both though. After the US’s withdrawal from the JCPOA and reimposition of sanctions, China offered an economic lifeline to Tehran by importing Iranian oil – albeit at a heavily discounted price. For its part, and from a multilateral perspective, Iran could further strengthen relations with China, Russia, and other significant states in the Global South through BRICS and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization after officially joining both in 2023.

Inside the region, Iran will likely continue to rely on Saudi Arabia and other Arab Gulf states as key interlocutors, even though their relations with Tehran are complex. Especially since the start of the full-scale conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza, these states have embraced and expanded their role as intermediaries in seeking regional stability, political prestige, and economic prosperity. In Iran’s case, Oman mediated its nuclear negotiations with the US during Barack Obama’s presidency and, more recently, Trump’s second term up until the Twelve-Day War.

Arab Gulf states condemned the Israeli and American strikes against Iran and called for an immediate cessation of hostilities and return to diplomacy. In the event of renewed nuclear negotiations or military conflict, Tehran would likely depend once again on these states to indirectly communicate with Washington and/or Tel Aviv to consummate a deal or de-escalate tensions. That said, relations remain complicated by regional neighbours’ enduring distrust of Tehran and by their persistent security cooperation with the US.

What Lies Ahead

As speculation has surfaced of renewed Israeli and American attacks against Iran set to occur before the end of the year, Western policymakers should not underestimate the consequences of supporting this aggression. During the Twelve-Day War, the military campaign waged by Israel and the US did not cause the Iranian regime to collapse or deliver substantive concessions concerning nuclear proliferation, conventional capabilities, or proxy networks. Instead, and in tandem with the failure to stop the ongoing genocide in Gaza, the normative standing of Western governments is now under further strain. Considering the conflict has shaped Iranian domestic dynamics in uneven and unpredictable ways, realistic diplomacy that respects sovereignty and protects civilians, minorities, and migrants should prevail. Addressed should be not only Iran’s regional interventionism but also Israel’s unchecked militarism and expansionism that has mocked and eroded international law, with the aim of forestalling or preventing renewed escalation and another war. Ultimately, such steps are key to promoting security and stability in a region where they are urgently needed.

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