By Barr. Kingsley Omose
Kingsley Omose is a Nigerian public analyst, strategic thinker, and faith-based mentor.
“Or what king, going to make war against another king, does not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to meet him who comes against him with twenty thousand?” — Luke 14:31
It is a principle etched into the conscience of kings and kingdoms alike: before any war is waged, the cost must be counted—or the throne risks collapse under its own ambition.
Yet that timeless wisdom appears to have been cast aside in the current U.S.–Israel approach to Iran. Military brilliance has eclipsed strategic foresight. Precision has been favoured over prudence. And a revolutionary regime is being cornered with no exit—and every incentive to go for broke.
The June 13 Israeli strike on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure and senior military leadership was not just bold—it was timed to perfection. One day earlier marked the expiration of a 60-day U.S. ultimatum for Iran to accept a “new” nuclear deal.
The terms were not negotiable: no enrichment, no sovereignty, no real choice. Iran predictably declined. But it did so under the impression that negotiations were still alive—because the sixth round of U.S.–Iran talks was still formally scheduled for June 15.
That was the trap.
On Day 61, Israel—backed logistically and politically by the U.S.—struck first, hard, and with a prepared air force supplied with advanced U.S. ordinance. Intelligence, interceptors, and coordination all bore Washington’s imprint. Iran, still believing diplomacy might resume on Day 62, was blindsided.
Now, Israel flies repeated sorties over Iranian airspace with impunity. Iran’s air defences are broken. Nuclear facilities have been set back. Retaliation has been symbolic—ballistic missiles and drones, with about 90% intercepted.
But herein lies the flaw: the U.S.–Israel alliance may have miscalculated the cost of cornering a revolutionary regime.
Iran is no ordinary state. It is a regime founded on resistance, shaped by martyrdom, and sustained by existential struggle. A campaign that appears surgical and effective from Jerusalem and Washington may, in Tehran’s eyes, look like an orchestrated drive toward regime collapse. Once that realization hardens, Iran will cease to act with restraint. It will stop measuring costs—because it will see no future unless it forces the costs upon others.
The Gulf states are already sounding alarms. They understand that Iranian desperation will not stop at symbolic retaliation. If Iran concludes that the United States is not a mediator but an aggressor and that regime survival demands escalation, it may strike broadly: Gulf oil fields, Israeli civilian centres, U.S bases in Iraq or Bahrain, Red Sea shipping lanes. Cyberattacks. Nuclear brinkmanship. The playbook will no longer be scripted—it will be scorched.
What has not even been factored in yet is how Russia and China may respond. Both powers have strategic stakes in Iran’s survival—as a partner, a proxy counterweight to Western dominance, and an energy corridor. If Iran calls for help, and either answers—through arms, logistics, or even diplomatic disruption—the Middle East may cease to be a regional crisis and become a global crucible.
Beyond the precision of Israeli airstrikes and the symbolism of U.S.-led ultimatums lies a deeper, more orchestrated framework: a deliberate good cop–bad cop handling of Iran.
From the beginning of the most recent nuclear negotiations, it appears that diplomacy was not a pathway to resolution—it was a corridor toward coercion.
The 60-day ultimatum issued by the United States, followed by a scheduled round of talks on Day 62, painted Washington as the reasonable actor, still seeking peace. But when Israel struck on Day 61, with full U.S. logistical support and presidential approval, it became clear that this was no breakdown of talks. It was the culmination of a joint strategy.
Israel, playing the bad cop, applied shock and awe: strikes on nuclear sites, targeted killings of scientists and commanders, and repeated aerial incursions. The United States, meanwhile, maintained the appearance of diplomacy—offering Iran an exit, but only one that required surrendering its strategic sovereignty.
Together, they presented Iran with a choice that was no choice at all.
This sequence served a dual purpose. First, it created international ambiguity, allowing Washington to maintain plausible deniability while Tel Aviv advanced its strategic aims. Second, it boxed Iran in—militarily hammered by one hand, diplomatically pressured by the other. The goal wasn’t negotiation. The goal was submission.
Seen in this light, the illusion of diplomacy is not a side effect. It is a central pillar of the campaign. And when Iran fully understands that diplomacy and destruction were part of the same choreography, it will not look for a deal—it will look for a way to break the trap.
“When you surround an army, leave an outlet. Do not press a desperate foe too hard.” — Sun Tzu, The Art of War
There is still time to count the cost. But that time is running out. The illusion of control may soon give way to a reality of chaos.
Because once survival becomes the only goal, desperation ceases to be a tactic—it becomes a fire that consumes every line of control, logic, and containment.
