March 15, 2026

The Paradox of the Accords: Why Did Arab States Sign The Abraham Accords in the Shadow of "Greater Israel"Ideology?

By Ephraim Agbo

In September 2020, as the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain joined Israel on the White House lawn to sign the Abraham Accords, a uncomfortable question hung in the air, unspoken but inescapable: Why now? And more pointedly, why would any Arab state formalize ties with a country whose nationalist right wing openly dreams of a "Greater Israel"—a biblical vision that, in its maximalist interpretation, encompasses vast swaths of Arab land?

The question has only grown more urgent in the years since. Far-right Israeli ministers now regularly visit the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound to assert sovereignty claims. Settlement expansion in the West Bank continues unabated. And in August 2025, the UAE felt compelled to issue a public warning that Israeli annexation of Palestinian land would constitute a "red line" that could unravel the very agreements signed five years earlier .

How did the architects of the Abraham Accords believe they could reconcile normalization with an Israeli government increasingly animated by territorial maximalism? The answer reveals a complex tapestry of strategic calculus, threat perception, and a calculated bet that engagement, not boycott, would ultimately constrain the very ideology the Accords were meant to bypass.

The Threat That Overcame the Taboo

To understand the Arab calculus, one must first understand the scale of the perceived threat from Iran. For Gulf states, the Islamic Republic's nuclear program, its ballistic missile arsenal, and its network of proxies across the region presented an existential challenge that gradually outweighed the traditional taboo of dealing with Israel .

This was not a sudden conversion to Zionism but a pragmatic realignment of priorities. The UAE and Bahrain calculated that Israel's intelligence capabilities, cyber expertise, and missile defense technology were assets they needed in their portfolio. As one analyst noted, the Abraham Accords function less as a peace agreement and more as a "security pact wrapped in scriptural language" .

From this perspective, the Accords were never about endorsing Israel's ideological project. They were about survival in a dangerous neighborhood. The "Greater Israel" rhetoric emanating from Jerusalem was a irritant, even a concern—but it was not yet a tanks-on-the-border threat. Iran was.

The Annexation Off-Ramp

There is a more immediate, and often overlooked, reason the UAE agreed to normalize: stopping Israeli annexation of the West Bank .

In the summer of 2020, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was poised to unilaterally annex parts of the occupied West Bank, implementing a campaign promise that would have effectively buried the two-state solution. Emirati Ambassador to the US Yousef al-Otaiba made clear to the White House that normalization was possible—but only if Israel formally suspended its annexation plans .

The deal that emerged was therefore framed by the UAE as a diplomatic intervention to preserve the possibility of Palestinian statehood. It was, in the Emirati telling, not an abandonment of the Palestinians but a rescue mission. "Preventing annexation" became the official rationale, allowing Gulf leaders to argue that they had extracted a tangible concession from Israel in exchange for diplomatic recognition .

Whether that concession was temporary or durable remains an open question. By 2025, with annexation threats resurfacing, the UAE was forced to reiterate its "red line," suggesting that the original bargain may be wearing thin .

The "Honey Trap" Theory: Soft Power as Strategy

A more sophisticated—and controversial—interpretation suggests that Gulf states signed the Accords not despite "Greater Israel" ideology, but because they recognized that traditional methods of confronting Israel had failed. Military force had not bent Israeli will. Boycotts had not delivered Palestinian statehood. Perhaps a new approach was required .

This perspective, articulated by some Israeli defense analysts, posits that the Gulf states view the Accords as a strategic "honey trap." By engaging Israel economically and technologically, they aim to compete in the very arenas where Israel has long dominated—artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, advanced technology—and gradually erode its comparative advantages .

In this reading, normalization is not capitulation but a long-term project to reshape the regional balance through soft power. If Gulf states can match or surpass Israel's technological edge, and if they can position themselves as indispensable partners to global powers from Washington to Beijing, they may eventually gain the leverage that decades of confrontation failed to produce .

This is a bet on the future, not an endorsement of the present. It assumes that "Greater Israel" ideology, while rhetorically potent, cannot survive the erosion of Israel's practical advantages.

The Limits of the Bet: Public Opinion and the Palestine Question

Yet for all the strategic sophistication of Gulf elites, they govern societies that remain deeply committed to the Palestinian cause. Polling throughout the 2023–2025 Gaza war showed a widespread decline in Arab public support for normalization . Protests erupted in Morocco and Bahrain. Criticism mounted across the region.

The Gulf states have so far weathered this storm. No signatory has withdrawn from the Accords . But the strain is evident. Saudi Arabia, the ultimate prize for normalization advocates, has repeatedly insisted that it will not formalize ties with Israel without a "clear path to Palestinian statehood"—a position that has hardened, not softened, since the Gaza war began .

The Saudis, who custodian Islam's two holiest sites, cannot easily ignore the religious and moral dimensions of the Palestine question. Their religious legitimacy is intertwined with their posture on Jerusalem. For them, "Greater Israel" is not an abstract ideological curiosity; it is a direct challenge to their role in protecting Muslim holy sites .

The Ideological Elephant in the Room

Which returns us to the original paradox: Can the Abraham Accords survive the ideological currents they were designed to bypass?

"Greater Israel" is not a coherent government policy, but it is a powerful mobilizing myth within Israel's ruling coalition. When ministers assert Jewish prayer rights on the Temple Mount, when settlement expansion accelerates, when annexation threats resurface, they test the limits of what Gulf states can tolerate .

The UAE's "red line" warning in August 2025 was a reminder that normalization has boundaries. It signaled that while Gulf states are willing to engage Israel strategically, they are not prepared to endorse—or be seen as complicit in—the erasure of Palestinian national aspirations.

The Accords, in this sense, are a wager: that the pragmatic benefits of engagement will outweigh the ideological provocations of Israeli maximalism. It is a bet that security cooperation and economic integration can build constituencies for restraint on both sides. And it is a gamble that the alternative—a return to boycott and confrontation—offers even less hope of constraining "Greater Israel" than the uncertain path of normalization.

The "Appeasement" Argument

Framing the Abraham Accords as "appeasement" draws a direct line to one of history's most cautionary tales: the 1930s policy of conceding to Nazi Germany's territorial demands in the hope of avoiding a wider war . Applying this lens to the current Middle East reveals a more complex reality. While there are superficial similarities—giving concessions to a revisionist power to manage a shared threat—the core logic and outcomes diverge significantly. The evidence from recent analyses suggests that what we are witnessing is not appeasement, but a strategic hedging strategy that is already beginning to fail and fracture.

At first glance, the analogy seems to fit a particular narrative. From this perspective, Arab states, particularly the UAE, chose to "give in" to Israel, normalizing relations and integrating it into the region's security architecture . They did this despite the ongoing occupation and the presence of an Israeli government with ministers who openly entertain the concept of a "Greater Israel." The gamble, in this reading, was that engaging Israel would moderate its behavior and that the shared goal of containing Iran was worth setting aside the Palestinian cause .

This could be seen as a form of appeasement: sacrificing a long-standing principle (the demand for Palestinian statehood) and a people (the Palestinians) to pacify a powerful actor and secure an alliance against a common enemy. The initial "concession" extracted from Israel—a temporary suspension of annexation—resembles the kind of limited, and ultimately reversible, promise that characterized the 1930s .

Why the Analogy Fails: Strategic Hedging vs. Abject Surrender

However, a deeper, journalistic analysis of the current geopolitical landscape reveals critical flaws in the appeasement analogy. The signatories of the Abraham Accords were not Chamberlain, naively trusting in Hitler's promises. They were, and remain, shrewd actors pursuing a multi-layered strategy that is fundamentally about managing risk, not capitulating to it.

1. The Threat Was Shared, Not Just "Aggressor vs. Appeaser"

Unlike the 1930s, where Britain had no direct grievance with Germany's targets, Gulf states share Israel's primary security concern: Iran. The Abraham Accords were built on a "deceptively simple logic: shared hostility toward Iran could anchor a new Gulf-Israeli security compact" . This was not about giving in to an adversary; it was about aligning with a powerful state to confront a mutually perceived existential threat . It was a realignment of interests, not a surrender of principles. As one analysis notes, the Accords were from the beginning a "security strategy in a regional alliance aimed against Iran" .

2. Concessions Were Not One-Sided

The appeasement analogy implies a one-sided flow of concessions. In reality, the UAE extracted a significant, immediate price for normalization: a suspension of Israel's planned annexation of West Bank territory . This was a tactical win, framed domestically as a diplomatic intervention to save the two-state solution. The signatories also anticipated concrete economic and technological gains, leveraging Israel's innovation economy to fuel their own diversification plans . This was a transactional bargain, not a capitulation.

3. The Crucial Shift: From Partner to Threat

This is where the historical analogy collapses entirely. The appeasement of the 1930s emboldened Hitler, leading to increasingly aggressive demands until war was unavoidable. The current dynamic has taken the opposite turn: the party that was being "appeased" (Israel) has become so aggressive that it is now被视为 by its erstwhile partners as a primary source of regional instability.

Recent analyses indicate a "profound transformation" in Gulf capitals. They increasingly view Israel not as a stabilizing partner, but as a "central security risk, often comparable to, or even greater than, Iran itself" . This perception was crystallized by events like the Israeli strike in Doha, which was seen as a direct threat to Gulf sovereignty and the region's vision of itself as an "island of safety and stability" .

The talk of a "Greater Israel" by members of Israel's government is not being appeased; it is being monitored with growing alarm. It amplifies the concern that Israel's "aggressive posture may draw them into unwanted conflict" . Far from falling in line, Gulf states are now pursuing a policy of "dual containment"—hedging against both Iran and Israel .

Conclusion: The Unresolved Tension

Five years after the Abraham Accords were signed, the tension at their heart remains unresolved. Arab states normalized relations with Israel not because they embraced its ideological project, but because they calculated that engagement served their strategic interests better than isolation.

They did so in the full knowledge that "Greater Israel" thinking persists within significant segments of Israeli politics and society. Their bet was that the practical logic of regional integration—the shared threat from Iran, the economic dividends of cooperation, the diplomatic leverage of recognition—would gradually marginalize the maximalists.

The events of 2023–2025 have tested that bet severely. The Gaza war, the settlement expansions, the annexation threats, and the far-right provocations at holy sites have all reminded Gulf leaders that the ideology they hoped to bypass remains very much alive.

Yet they have not walked away. For now, the calculation holds: engagement, however fraught, remains preferable to the certainties of conflict. Whether that calculation survives the next crisis, the next annexation threat, or the next outbreak of violence, is the question that will define the Middle East's future.

In the region where diplomacy, faith, and military calculus are inseparably intertwined, the Abraham Accords represent not a resolution but an ongoing experiment: Can strategic interest tame ideological ambition? The answer is still being written.

March 14, 2026

The War for the Last Days of Empire: Is Iran the Result of America's Fear of Losing Global Dominance?

By Ephraim Agbo

The question hangs in the air like the smoke over the Strait of Hormuz: is this war—the missiles, the closed shipping lanes, the deaths of more than 1,100 children—actually a desperate act by a power that senses its moment is slipping away? Three weeks into the US-Israeli conflict with Iran, the answer emerging from strategic capitals, academic institutions, and military analysis is unsettling in its clarity.

Yes. And that is precisely what makes it so dangerous.

"What we are witnessing is a Suez Crisis moment for the United States," Fawaz Gerges, professor of international relations at the London School of Economics, told Middle East Eye . The reference is deliberate and devastating. In 1956, when Britain and France invaded Egypt after the nationalization of the Suez Canal, they imagined themselves still as imperial powers capable of imposing their will. The United States forced them to withdraw, and the world understood that the era of European dominance had conclusively ended. Today, the question being asked from the Gulf to East Asia to Europe is whether the United States is playing the role of Britain in its own Suez drama—an overextended power whose military action reveals weakness rather than conceals it .

The Anxiety at the Heart of American Power

To understand why this war may be driven by fear rather than strength, one must first understand the psychological transformation that has overtaken Washington's strategic class. The United States that emerged from the Cold War was a power that believed in its own permanence. That confidence is gone.

"The anxiety of the United States does not stem from an overall decline in its absolute strength," writes Zhang Jiadong, professor at Fudan University's Center for American Studies. "Rather, it stems from the panic generated by the compression of its relative advantages" . This distinction matters enormously. The American economy remains the world's largest. Its military is unrivalled in technological sophistication. Its alliances, though strained, still span the globe. But the gap between the United States and everyone else has narrowed, and for a nation accustomed to unipolar dominance, the experience of becoming merely "first among equals" feels indistinguishable from decline.

This cognitive dissonance has produced what the Fudan analysis calls a "predatory hegemony"—a power that, rather than investing in its own competitiveness, devotes increasing energy to sabotaging the potential of its rivals . The logic is simple: if you cannot outrun the person chasing you, trip them instead. The war on Iran, viewed through this lens, is not primarily about nuclear proliferation or regional stability. It is about demonstrating to China, to Russia, to the entire watching world that the United States remains capable of projecting decisive force and disrupting the energy flows on which challengers depend.

The Signs of Overreach Are Everywhere

The evidence that this war is born of anxiety rather than assured dominance is not subtle. It is written in the redeployment of military assets from regions that Washington has spent decades declaring "vital interests."

The United States has reportedly begun moving a Terminal High-Altitude Area Defence system from South Korea to the Middle East. Patriot missile batteries are being shifted. The USS Tripoli, carrying 2,500 Marines, has been diverted from Japan . For South Korea, a treaty ally that endured a Chinese economic boycott to host that THAAD system, the message is alarming. "If US forces are just going to go in and out, then what does that mean for the US commitment to South Korea's defence?" asked Andrew Yeo of the Brookings Institution. "Those questions are being raised" .

They are being raised in Europe as well. Air defence systems have been moved from Germany to Turkey. Romania is hosting refuelling operations. Greece has deployed Patriot missiles to the Aegean . All of this occurs while the war in Ukraine continues, and while the Trump administration simultaneously walks back sanctions on Russian oil to contain rising energy prices . The picture is not one of confident power management. It is one of scrambling to cover gaps.

"The problem the US will need to recover from is the loss of credibility as it opened a Pandora's box without thinking through what would happen next," Oxford historian Peter Frankopan told Middle East Eye. "Lack of competence is a terrible thing to display in public" .

The Narrative of Victimhood as Cover for Aggression

There is a deeper pathology at work here, one that scholars increasingly identify as central to understanding American foreign policy in this moment. The United States has constructed for itself a narrative of victimhood that bears almost no relationship to historical reality.

"For decades, the American domestic sphere has been filled with a 'victim narrative'—the belief that the economic globalization of the past decades has caused the United States to 'suffer losses' and that the existing international system has damaged American national interests," the Fudan analysis notes. "If we pull our perspective back to the macro-historical dimension, we find this perception is absurd" .

The numbers bear this out. At the end of the Cold War, Germany and Japan together had an economy roughly the size of the United States. Today, after decades of globalisation that Washington now claims harmed its interests, the American GDP is more than twice the combined total of those two former challengers . The United States extracted more wealth from the existing international order than any other nation. To now claim victimhood is, as the analysis puts it, "not only a distortion of history, but a fig leaf for predatory policy" .

This psychological posture matters because it enables actions that would otherwise be indefensible. If you are the victim, then any response is self-defence. If the system is rigged against you, then violating its norms is justified. The war on Iran becomes, in this framing, not an act of aggression but a necessary correction.

The Allies Are Already Leaving

The most concrete evidence that this war reflects American weakness rather than strength may be the behaviour of those who have spent decades depending on American power.

France and Italy have opened direct communication channels with Tehran to secure passage for their tankers through the Strait of Hormuz—a clear bypass of American leadership . India has done the same . The Gulf states, traditional anchors of the American security architecture in the Middle East, are visibly hedging. Saudi Arabia has signed a mutual defence agreement with Pakistan and is exploring joint weapons production with Turkey. The UAE has hosted Chinese military personnel . When traditional allies begin making side deals with potential adversaries, the message is unmistakable: confidence in American protection is eroding.

"Across the Gulf, I am hearing lots of threats to turn to China and elsewhere for weapons systems, security and defence and even for investment more broadly," Frankopan said. "I think that reflects the heat and difficulties of the moment" .

The crisis extends beyond the immediate region. At the Munich Security Conference in February 2026, world leaders abandoned diplomatic niceties. Germany's chancellor said the global order "no longer exists." France's president warned Europe must prepare for war. The conference's own report was titled "Under Destruction," stating bluntly that "more than 80 years after construction began, the US-led post-1945 international order is now under destruction" .

The Iran Strategy: Endurance Over Victory

Iran, for its part, understands exactly what is happening. Its strategy is not to defeat the United States militarily—an impossibility—but to outlast it politically. Tehran is betting that the American public, confronted with rising energy prices, sustained casualties, and no clear definition of victory, will eventually force Washington to blink .

"They're like a bleeding animal—wounded, but therefore more dangerous than ever," said Alex Vatanka of the Middle East Institute . The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, now firmly in control after the killing of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and the installation of his son Mojtaba, is executing a pre-planned strategy of asymmetric warfare. Close the Strait of Hormuz. Attack energy infrastructure. Drive up global prices. Make the war hurt where it will be felt: in Western economies and at American polling places .

Thus far, the strategy is working. Oil prices have surged above $100 per barrel. The United States has been forced to release 400 million barrels from strategic reserves—an unprecedented intervention that cannot be sustained indefinitely . The IRGC has declared that Iran, not Washington, will decide when the war ends .

The Minab Catastrophe

If there is a single image that encapsulates the strategic incoherence of this war, it is the school in Minab. On a day in early March, a US Tomahawk cruise missile—operating on targeting data that predated the construction of a wall separating a military base from a school by more than a decade—killed more than 170 schoolgirls .

Tphe Pentagon had cut the office responsible for civilian harm prevention by 90 percent . The intelligence failure was catastrophic. And the administration's response—President Trump initially claimed Iran had fired the missile—only compounded the damage. The images of pink flowers on school walls have circled the globe. The United States, which began this war with claims of precision and moral purpose, now confronts a credibility crisis that no number of additional air strikes can repair.

"This is the most serious operational threat Iraq has faced in more than 20 years," a senior Iraqi oil ministry official said of the wider conflict . But the phrase could apply equally to the United States itself. The threat is not to American territory or even American lives, though those are being lost. The threat is to the idea of American competence, American reliability, American exceptionalism. Once those intangibles are gone, the concrete foundations of power begin to crumble as well.

The Contradiction at the Heart of American Strategy

The deepest irony of this war is that it seeks to preserve American dominance through actions that accelerate its erosion. Every missile fired at Iran is a missile that cannot be used elsewhere. Every air defence system pulled from South Korea is a signal to Pyongyang and Beijing that American commitments are conditional. Every ally forced to fend for itself in the Strait of Hormuz becomes an ally more open to Chinese or Russian overtures.

"By some thinking, anything that keeps US forces outside the Indo-Pacific region is good for China," Yeo observed . The same logic applies globally. The United States is pouring resources into a Middle East conflict at precisely the moment when its strategic rivals are consolidating gains in Asia, Africa, and Eastern Europe.

The Fudan analysis frames this as a recurring pattern in the life cycle of hegemonic powers. "When the backlash from predatory policies outweighs the short-term gains they can extract, when the costs of maintaining power exceed the limits of what can be borne, this policy model will inevitably reach a dead end" . The question is whether the United States will recognise that dead end before it is too late—or whether, like Britain at Suez, it will need to be forced to confront its own diminished circumstances by events beyond its control.

The Fear That Drives the War

So, is this war born of fear of losing global dominance? The evidence suggests yes, but with an important qualification. The fear is not that the United States will collapse or be conquered. It is that the comfortable assumptions of the post-Cold War era—automatic deference, unchallenged sea lanes, allies who follow without question—are eroding faster than Washington can adapt.

"The very fact that there is a debate over whether ties with the US are an asset or liability is disturbing," said Ian Lesser of the German Marshall Fund . That debate is now underway from Seoul to Riyadh to Berlin. And it is happening because the United States, in its anxiety to demonstrate continued relevance, has chosen a course of action that raises questions about its judgment, its reliability, and its understanding of its own interests.

The war on Iran may achieve its tactical objectives. Nuclear facilities can be destroyed. Missile launchers can be eliminated. Leaders can be killed. But the strategic objective—the preservation of American primacy in a rapidly changing world—cannot be achieved through military means alone. It requires the consent of allies, the confidence of markets, the belief of other nations that American leadership serves their interests as well as Washington's. Those intangibles are draining away with every day this conflict continues.

In the end, the fear that drove the United States to war may become the fear that defines its aftermath. Not fear of Iran, or China, or any external adversary. But fear of a world in which American power is no longer decisive—a world the United States itself, through this very war, is helping to create.

March 13, 2026

Strait of Hormuz Crisis: Why Europe Seeks Iran Deal And U.S. Eases Russia Sanctions to Calm Oil Markets

By Ephraim Agbo

On the fourteenth day of the war between the United States, Israel, and Iran, the rhetoric from Washington hardened into steel. Senior defense officials signaled that the coming phase of the conflict could involve the largest wave of U.S. strikes yet, targeting an Iranian leadership they describe as weakened, isolated, and forced underground.

But to focus solely on the bombs falling on Iran is to miss the bigger picture. This is not just another Middle Eastern war. It is a 21-mile war with a 5,000-mile reach.

While the Pentagon boasts of degrading 90% of Iran’s missile capacity and forcing its command structure into hiding, the real battleground has shifted to a narrow corridor of water that holds the global economy hostage: the Strait of Hormuz.

The Ghost Leader and the Missing Tape

The political instability inside Tehran is proving to be as potent a weapon as any bunker-buster. U.S. officials have suggested that Iran’s newly declared Supreme Leader, Mojtaba Khamenei—the son of the long-serving predecessor—may have been injured in recent strikes that killed his father. He has since vanished from public view.

Iran did release a written statement attributed to him days ago. Yet analysts immediately flagged a conspicuous anomaly: there was no video, no audio, no proof of life. In a regime known for its meticulously choreographed communication, the silence is deafening. Whether the rumors of his injury are accurate or not, the optics have cracked the facade of stability, fueling speculation about a power struggle inside the ruling structure.

The Leverage Point: Selective Chaos

The Pentagon’s battlefield assessment reads like a victory lap. Officials claim Iranian missile launch capacity has fallen by roughly 90%, drone operations have plummeted by 95%, and air defenses are collapsing. If accurate, Iran has been contained militarily.

However, the Islamic Republic did not spend decades building a conventional army capable of facing the U.S. Navy. It built an asymmetric one. And its sharpest weapon is geography.

The Strait of Hormuz is the world’s energy jugular. Roughly 20% of global oil consumption passes through this choke point.

In recent days, tanker traffic has slowed to a crawl. Insurance premiums have skyrocketed, and shipping operators are rerouting cargoes. But Iran is not closing the strait; that would invite a catastrophic naval response. Instead, Tehran is employing a strategy of selective disruption.

By allowing some tankers to pass while threatening others, Iran creates uncertainty. It plays on psychology. In modern energy markets, the fear of a missile hitting a tanker is just as effective as the missile itself. Reports are already emerging that some European governments, desperate to secure their energy supplies, are quietly exploring separate arrangements with Tehran. This back-channel diplomacy underscores a stark reality that Washington cannot ignore: no navy, no matter how advanced, can perfectly guarantee security in a 21-mile-wide corridor if a determined actor decides to create chaos.

The $10 Billion Paradox: How the Gulf War Is Reshaping Ukraine

This brings us to the most dangerous ripple effect of this conflict—a geopolitical paradox that links the deserts of Iran to the trenches of Ukraine.

If Gulf oil exports are restricted, global prices surge. To prevent an economic shock, the U.S. has reportedly decided to temporarily ease restrictions on Russian oil exports, allowing additional barrels to flow into the market.

The logic is simple arithmetic: increase supply to stabilize prices. But the strategy carries a strategic contradiction that Ukrainian officials are watching with horror.

More Russian oil sales mean more revenue flowing into Moscow’s treasury. Those petrodollars are converted into tanks, shells, and drones. Ukrainian estimates suggest this temporary sanctions adjustment alone could deliver around $10 billion in additional revenue to Russia, even before accounting for the windfall created by higher global oil prices.

The question writes itself: Is America’s strategy in the Gulf unintentionally funding Putin’s war machine?

The Ukraine war has always been a contest of economic endurance. Russia has restructured into a wartime economy, churning out weapons. Ukraine relies on Western aid. Until recently, Moscow was under strain, forced to sell gold reserves and raise taxes. Now, thanks to the chaos in the Strait of Hormuz, that strain is easing. The two wars, seemingly distant, are now linked by a single variable: the price of a barrel of oil.

The Economic Battlefields: Collapse in Iran, Calculation in Moscow

Inside Iran, the war is accelerating a pre-existing economic collapse. Inflation has spiraled for years, but now food prices have surged beyond the reach of ordinary households. Businesses have shuttered in multiple cities, industrial production has slowed, and investment has frozen.

Ironically, Iran’s oil exports have actually increased during the conflict, as traders rush to move crude before sanctions tighten further. But this short-term revenue spike is a mirage masking a long-term recession. The regime is betting that its ability to disrupt global supply lines will force the West to blink before Iran’s economy completely buckles.

In Moscow, the calculus is different. The Kremlin is watching the Strait of Hormuz with quiet satisfaction. Every day the strait remains contested is a day Russian oil becomes more valuable. The conflict has handed Putin an economic lifeline just as his war effort was showing signs of fiscal fatigue.

The Uncertain Endgame

President Trump has vowed to intensify strikes and has suggested the U.S. is prepared to escort tankers through the strait—a move that would place American naval vessels directly in the line of fire. He has also hinted, without providing evidence, that Russia may be assisting Iran behind the scenes. If substantiated, that claim would close the geopolitical loop entirely, revealing a tacit axis between Moscow and Tehran designed to bleed Western resources.

Despite Washington’s confidence, the trajectory of the war remains unstable. The U.S. may dominate the skies, but Iran retains the ability to disrupt shipping, escalate proxy wars, or trigger a refugee crisis that destabilizes the entire Middle East.

This is no longer a localized conflict. It is a war whose consequences are reshaping global energy flows and the strategic balance between major powers. And as long as the Strait of Hormuz remains under threat, the entire world economy remains exposed—and Vladimir Putin remains the primary beneficiary.

March 12, 2026

The BeiDou Question: Is China Quietly Helping Iran Fight the U.S. and Israel?

By Ephraim Agbo

The newest round of conflict in the Middle East is not only about missiles and airstrikes. It is also about something most people never see: satellites and navigation systems in space.

Military officials in Washington and Tel Aviv are asking an important question.

Is China helping Iran improve its attacks by allowing it to use Chinese satellite technology?

The answer is complicated. There is no clear public proof that China is sending Iran secret military intelligence or live targeting data. But many analysts believe China may be helping Iran in a quieter way—by giving it access to technology that makes its missiles and drones more accurate.

This technology is China’s satellite navigation system called BeiDou.

Why Satellites Matter in Modern War

Modern warfare depends heavily on satellites. Without them, many modern weapons cannot work properly.

There are three important satellite functions in war:

1. Navigation systems
These guide missiles and drones to their targets.

2. Surveillance satellites
These provide pictures of the battlefield from space.

3. Communications satellites
These connect soldiers, commanders, and weapons systems.

For many years, most of the world depended on the U.S. Global Positioning System (GPS) for navigation.

But GPS has one big weakness for countries fighting the United States or its allies: the signal can be jammed or disrupted during war.

How Israel Previously Stopped Iranian Weapons

In earlier clashes, Israel used electronic warfare to interfere with GPS signals.

This made many Iranian missiles and drones lose their direction, reducing their accuracy. Some weapons that were supposed to hit precise targets ended up missing them.

For Iran, this was a serious problem. A missile that cannot find its target is much less dangerous.

So Iran began looking for another navigation system.

China’s BeiDou System

China created its own global navigation network called BeiDou. It works in a similar way to GPS but is controlled entirely by China.

By switching to BeiDou signals, Iran can reduce its dependence on Western systems.

This change could make Iranian weapons harder for the United States or Israel to disrupt.

Some analysts believe this may explain why recent Iranian strikes appear more accurate than earlier ones.

If Iranian drones and missiles are guided by BeiDou signals, Western electronic warfare tools that target GPS signals may no longer work as effectively.

Is China Directly Helping Iran?

So far, there is no confirmed evidence that China is directly sending military targeting information to Iran.

But the situation is more complex than that.

China often provides technology that has both civilian and military uses. These are called dual-use technologies.

Satellite navigation systems are a good example.

Millions of people use navigation satellites every day for smartphones, shipping, and aviation. But the same systems can also guide missiles and drones during war.

By giving countries access to these systems, China can strengthen their military capabilities without officially joining the conflict.

The Role of Satellite Images

Another factor is satellite imagery.

Commercial satellite companies around the world constantly take pictures of the Earth. These images can show:

Military bases
Airfields
Ships at sea
Damage from attacks

Some Western satellite companies have limited access to images of the Middle East during the conflict to prevent misuse.

However, satellites from other countries—including Chinese providers—still capture images of the region.

This means Iran could potentially use commercially available images to monitor battle damage or track military activity.

Why China Might Support Iran

China has several reasons to quietly support Iran.

1. Energy Interests

China buys large amounts of oil from Iran. A strong Iranian government helps secure this energy supply.

2. Strategic Competition with the United States

China and the United States are global rivals. Helping Iran develop technological tools against U.S. influence weakens American power in the region.

3. Promoting Chinese Technology

If Iran successfully uses BeiDou during a major conflict, it proves that countries can operate without relying on Western systems like GPS.

This could encourage other countries to adopt Chinese technology.

Why China Is Being Careful

At the same time, China does not want to trigger a direct conflict with the United States.

Providing real-time intelligence on American ships or Israeli aircraft would be a major escalation.

So Beijing appears to be taking a cautious approach:
providing infrastructure and technology, but avoiding direct military involvement.

A Bigger Global Shift

What is happening may signal a much larger change in the global balance of power.

For decades, the world depended on Western technology systems—GPS, financial networks, communications satellites, and intelligence infrastructure.

Now China is building alternative global systems.

The BeiDou satellite network is one example of this new technological competition.

Iran’s decision to rely on BeiDou instead of GPS shows how countries facing Western pressure may begin switching to these alternative systems.

The New Battlefield

Modern wars are increasingly shaped by technology that operates far above the Earth.

The side that controls satellites can:

Guide missiles more accurately
Monitor enemy movements
Communicate faster during battle

In this sense, the struggle between Iran, Israel, and the United States is not only being fought on land, sea, and air.

It is also being fought in space.

And in that invisible battlefield, China’s technology may already be changing the balance.

March 11, 2026

Iran Doesn’t Own the Strait of Hormuz — So Why Does It Control the World’s Oil Fate?

By Ephraim Agbo

As the rhetoric escalates and shadows of conflict lengthen across the Middle East, the global economic order is once again holding its breath. The focal point of this anxiety isn't a capital city or a battlefield, but a humble, 33-kilometer-wide stretch of turquoise water nestled between the jagged coast of Iran and the tip of the Arabian Peninsula. The Strait of Hormuz, the maritime gateway for the lifeblood of the industrial world, has transformed from a mundane shipping lane into the ultimate geopolitical pressure point.

For decades, energy security analysts have spoken of the strait in reverent, worried tones. It is the world's most significant oil chokepoint. Every day, roughly one-fifth of the world's total petroleum consumption—about 20 million barrels of crude oil and condensate—flows through this narrow corridor. Tankers laden from the terminals of Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Qatar, and the UAE must thread this needle to reach the open ocean and, ultimately, the refineries of Asia, Europe, and North America.

In peacetime, it is a monument to global interdependence. In times of crisis, it becomes a stage for asymmetric warfare, a place where a single mine, a swarming fast boat, or a misguided missile can send shockwaves through the global financial system.

The Inescapable Funnel: A Lesson in Military Geography

The strategic terror of the Strait of Hormuz lies not just in its narrowness, but in its irreplaceability. The world's other strategic waterways offer alternatives: if the Bab el-Mandeb Strait at the southern Red Sea becomes too perilous, ships can take the long way around the Cape of Good Hope. If the Panama Canal were to close, vessels could navigate the Strait of Magellan. These are costly detours, but they are options.

The Persian Gulf, however, is a geological trap. It is a semi-enclosed sea with only one natural exit. This geographic fact fundamentally shapes the region's power dynamics. It gives a state like Iran a lever of influence wildly disproportionate to its conventional military power. This is the essence of what strategists call a "choke point"—a geographic feature where the cost of confrontation is permanently lowered for the defender and permanently raised for the global economy.

To put the scale in perspective: the Strait of Hormuz handles around 20 million barrels of oil per day, compared with 5 million barrels via Bab el-Mandeb and roughly 4–5 million through the Suez Canal. The Panama Canal, by contrast, handles mostly refined products and containerized cargo rather than crude oil, averaging about 1.5 million barrels per day in equivalent energy cargo. This concentration makes Hormuz uniquely critical—any disruption has an immediate and disproportionate impact on global energy markets.

Who Really Controls the Water? The Legal Paradox

But to understand the current crisis, one must move beyond simple maps that paint the strait as a singular entity. A crucial question often arises: Does Iran control the Strait of Hormuz? The answer, grounded in geography and international law, is a definitive no. The situation is far more complex and reveals a fascinating paradox at the heart of the strait's strategic importance.

Geographically, the strait is a shared space. It separates Iran on its northern coast from Oman on its southern coast, specifically Oman's Musandam Peninsula, an exclave that juts into the strait like a sentinel. The shipping lanes used by the world's tankers do not exclusively run through Iranian territory. In fact, under the internationally recognized Traffic Separation Scheme (TSS), most commercial traffic is routed through waters closer to Oman.

Furthermore, the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) classifies the Strait of Hormuz as an international transit strait. This means that even though the waters fall within the territorial zones of Iran and Oman, ships and aircraft from all nations enjoy the right of "transit passage," allowing them to pass through freely and without hindrance in peacetime. Legally, neither Iran nor Oman can simply shut it down.

The Geography of Leverage: Why Iran's Influence Overwhelms the Law

While Iran may not legally control the strait, its geography provides it with a toolbox of coercion that international law is powerless to prevent.

Iran controls the entire northern coastline of the strait. Its shores and islands—like Qeshm, Hormuz, and the Greater and Lesser Tunbs—sit mere kilometers from the shipping lanes. Even when a tanker is technically in Omani-patrolled waters, it is still well within range of Iran's military assets.
Iran's asymmetric military strategy is designed for the strait: swarms of fast attack boats, naval mines, coastal artillery, anti-ship cruise missiles, and drones can threaten the entire width of the strait from land or islands.
Oman, in contrast, maintains a neutral policy, patrolling the southern waters but lacking offensive capability to project force or influence traffic in the same way.

This distinction makes Iran the primary geopolitical arbiter of risk, despite not “owning” the waterway.

The Role of External Powers

Iran’s leverage is magnified—or sometimes constrained—by the presence of external naval powers:

United States: Regularly deploys the Fifth Fleet in Bahrain and conducts freedom-of-navigation operations. This deters Iran from unilaterally closing the strait but also heightens the stakes for confrontation.
China: A major importer of Gulf oil, China has interests in keeping Hormuz open, including naval escorts for commercial tankers.
Russia: Though less directly involved, Moscow monitors shipping risks and can influence regional dynamics through arms sales and diplomacy.

In essence, Iran’s ability to threaten shipping is tempered by the fact that powerful navies patrol the area, but its asymmetric capabilities still allow it to dictate risk in a way Oman cannot.

Lessons from History

The current tensions are far from unprecedented. Historical incidents underscore why even limited Iranian leverage can have outsized consequences:

1980s Iran-Iraq War: Iranian and Iraqi forces mined the strait and attacked tankers, creating a sustained period of heightened global oil prices.
2019 Tanker Attacks: In one week, tankers were sabotaged near the strait, spiking oil futures by more than 4% overnight.
These incidents illustrate a pattern: small actions in this narrow corridor can have global consequences, reinforcing the notion that the strait is more than geography—it is leverage.

Infrastructure Workarounds: Pipelines and Partial Bypasses

Recognizing the vulnerability, Gulf states have pursued pipelines:

Saudi Arabia’s East–West Pipeline to the Red Sea
UAE’s Habshan–Fujairah pipeline to the Gulf of Oman

These allow a fraction of oil to bypass Hormuz but cannot replace the full throughput. Pipelines, too, are vulnerable to sabotage, illustrating that no alternative fully removes the strategic importance of the strait.

The Impossible Canal and the Geopolitical Paradox

An audacious idea often surfaces: why not dig a canal across the Arabian Peninsula? In theory, this could render Hormuz obsolete. In reality, it is an engineering and geopolitical nightmare: hundreds of kilometers of desert excavation, massive locks, extreme costs, and diplomatic hurdles across multiple sovereign states. The very danger of Hormuz is a source of leverage and relevance for regional powers—it guarantees global attention and external security guarantees.

Conclusion: Geography Remains the Ultimate Arbiter

Even amid modern infrastructure, global navies, and international law, the Strait of Hormuz exemplifies the enduring power of geography. Its narrowness, strategic location, and the asymmetric capabilities of Iran mean that risk, rather than legal control, defines influence. Pipelines, patrols, and diplomacy mitigate vulnerability, but they cannot eliminate it.

In the end, geography is immutable. And on the shores of the Strait of Hormuz, it plays for keeps.

March 10, 2026

Lessons From The Oil Crisis of The 1970s

By Ephraim Agbo

When the markets woke to crude flirting with triple-digit prices, many traders didn’t reach for newsfeeds so much as for memory: the dog-eared chapters about 1973 and 1979, when oil became both weapon and weather vane. Those decades taught a simple, brutal lesson—energy is not just an input to the economy; it is a lever of power, a social accelerator and a political thermometer. To understand what the Iran crisis means now, you have to read today’s price action as a sequel to that old playbook while also understanding how much the stage has been rewired.

This is not nostalgia. It is a forensic exercise: what happened in the 1970s, why it mattered, and how those mechanisms are mutating in the age of financialized oil, LNG, and a more diversified—but still fragile—energy map.

1. The 1970s Playbook: Embargo, Revolution, and the Grammar of Leverage

In 1973, the Yom Kippur War offered producing states a political tool. The Arab oil embargo weaponized supply: a coordinated reduction of exports that sent the price of crude soaring and global inflation tumbling into unaccustomed territory. The effect was immediate and indiscriminate—fuel queues, rationing, and a shock to consumer confidence. A few years later, Iran’s internal convulsions collapsed production and compounded the pain. The twin shocks—one externally wielded, one internally generated—morphed into a political-economic trauma: stagflation, diminished growth, surging unemployment, and a crisis of policy frameworks designed for a lower-price world.

The 1970s taught governments three operational lessons:

Energy vulnerability can be weaponized—exporters can slow or stop flows to gain leverage.
Domestic politics magnify external shocks—rising pump prices become electoral poison.
Strategic stocks and diversification are essential policy instruments—hence the birth of the Strategic Petroleum Reserve and efficiency drives.

Those lessons are the lens through which policymakers and markets still read the Gulf.

2. Anatomy of a Shock: Supply, Fear, and the Speed of Markets

The 1970s shocks moved at the speed of physical logistics and political coordination. Today the mechanism is more complex and faster. Three forces now animate the price spike:

Actual supply risk: physical bottlenecks like Kharg Island or the Strait of Hormuz still matter. A disabled terminal or a closed shipping lane removes barrels from the sea.
Risk premium: modern oil markets price not just current barrels but the probability of future disruption. Traders add a premium for uncertainty; that premium can double market moves when news is noisy.
Financialization: futures, swaps, ETFs, and algorithmic trading turn news into capital flows in milliseconds. Where 1973 required days for sentiment to ripple, 2026 prices can spike on a single headline, and the spikes feed on themselves.

The result is that the same geography—one terminal, one strait—now interacts with a global financial reflex that amplifies and accelerates the shock.

3. Geography as Strategy: Kharg Island and the Strait of Hormuz

If the 1970s taught us that oil can be a political weapon, the geography of the Gulf shows how it is wielded. Kharg Island—assuming it remains the hub it historically has been—embodies the structural vulnerability of concentrated export infrastructure. Destroy that node and you don’t just delay a shipment; you take months of capacity offline.

The Strait of Hormuz is a different instrument: a narrow, controllable chokepoint. You do not need to sink tankers to disrupt trade; you need only raise insurance costs, threaten crews, or interdict a handful of vessels. Insurers and charterers respond rationally—avoid the risk—and supply tightens without a single state formally announcing a cutoff. That’s leverage in its purest form: the power to raise the cost of mobility rather than the direct ability to confiscate barrels.

4. Domestic Politics: Why Leaders Fear Pump Prices More Than Missiles

One reason oil carries such political weight is domestic economics. The 1970s showed how a spike in energy costs can morph into collapsed consumer confidence and electoral punishment. Politicians fear gasoline prices the way generals fear attrition. When petrol doubles, household budgets shrink, inflation expectations rise, unions press for wages, and central banks face the dilemma of taming inflation without choking growth.

That calculus shapes strategic choices. Leaders may abstain from targeting infrastructure like Kharg not because they lack the capability but because the blowback—domestic economic pain—would be global and immediate. The 1970s taught that political endurance is finite; long-lasting supply shocks can topple governments even when the battlefield is thousands of miles away.

5. The Limits of the ``Oil Weapon’’ Today

It’s tempting to assume that a state like Iran could replicate the success of the 1970s embargo. In practice, the geopolitical arithmetic has changed.

Market share: Iran’s share of global crude is smaller than the collective cartel power OPEC wielded in the 1970s. Isolated disruption hurts, but it is less likely to dictate global policy single-handedly.
Diversified supplies: The global supply base is broader. U.S. shale, African projects, and floating storage add elasticity.
Buyer adaptation: Strategic buying, stock releases, and diplomatic rerouting blunt unilateral pressure.

That said, the asymmetry lies in geography and perception. Iran need not control a majority of barrels; threatening the Strait or key terminals can inject a premium large enough to bend policy conversations—and to create political crises in import-dependent societies.

6. The Cold Lessons Re-calibrated: Strategic Reserves, Efficiency, and Substitutes

The 1970s prompted concrete policy responses: strategic reserves, conservation, and a push for alternatives. Those instruments remain relevant. Strategic releases can blunt immediate scarcity and calm markets—if coordinated and credible. Efficiency measures (fuel economy, reduced demand) reduce exposure over time. Renewables and electrification decouple some demand from crude markets altogether.

But the new wrinkle is liquefied natural gas (LNG) and global gas markets. While oil is a globally fungible commodity, gas has been more regional—until LNG created tradeable gas. Disruptions in the Gulf now pressure both oil and gas, and the knock-on effects for electricity and industry can be severe in places reliant on Gulf gas exports.

7. Financialization and the Speed of Panic

The 1970s were characterized by physical shortages and rationing; today’s financial architecture multiplies sentiment. Index funds, commodity ETFs, and algorithmic funds translate geopolitical fear into immediate flows. The psychological recoil—Keynes’s “animal spirits”—is faster and more monetized. A rumor on a trading desk in Singapore can be amplified by a cascade of automated selling and buying, with the result that prices may overshoot fundamentals in both directions.

That introduces a paradox: modern markets are simultaneously more liquid and more fragile. Liquidity allows rapid reallocation; fragility means rapid re-pricing when confidence falters.

8. Allies, Sanctions, and the New Geopolitics of Energy

The 1970s were also an era of geopolitical cartelization and back-room deals—U.S.–Saudi understandings, Cold War alignments. Today, the map is multipolar. China is a principal buyer in the Gulf, Russia is a major producer whose fortunes rise with high prices, and regional actors pursue hedged policies.

This multipolarity changes the calculus of containment and retaliation. If the West moves to release reserves or impose naval pressure, China and others weigh costs and options differently than they did in the Bipolar 1970s. Sanctions and countervailing moves now ripple through a broader set of economic relationships.

9. What the 1970s Don’t Teach Us (And What They Do)

They teach us: the political potency of energy; the domestic consequences of imported price shocks; the imperative of strategic stockpiles; and the reality that geography can amplify influence.

They don’t fully teach us: how a world of shale, renewables, LNG, and instantaneous finance responds to the same stimuli. These elements both blunt and complexify the shock:

Shale adds supply flexibility (but at environmental and investment cost).
Renewables lower long-run demand elasticity.
LNG markets and long-term gas contracts reshape regional vulnerabilities.
Financial instruments create faster, sometimes over-reactive, feedback loops.

So the 1970s are a template, not a map. They show the grammar of oil geopolitics. They do not prescriptively model every modern outcome.

10. Policy Implications: What Governments Should Remember

If 1973 taught anything, it is that preparation matters.

Coordination works: Coordinated releases of reserves and diplomatic signaling can calm markets more effectively than unilateral gestures.
Transparency matters: Clear, credible statements from central banks and energy agencies can dampen speculative premia.
Domestic cushions: Targeted subsidies or compensation for vulnerable households reduce the political potency of price shocks (but create fiscal trade-offs).
Diversification is structural: Accelerating diversification—demand reduction, electrification, renewables—reduces long-term exposure.

But political will is finite. The temptation to “ride out” short spikes is high; the incentive to invest in long-term resilience is lower. The 1970s show how costly that trade-off can be.

11. Conclusion: A Contested Inheritance

The Iran crisis feels, in every market tremor and diplomatic utterance, like a return of a history no one wanted to revisit. The 1970s taught a generation that energy shocks can rewrite politics; today’s generation is learning a modified lesson: the instruments remain—chokepoints, embargo psychology, strategic reserves—but the theatre is faster, more financialized, and more geographically fragmented.

Reading the present through the ’70s gives both warning and clarity. It warns that a prolonged Gulf disruption can still swamp economies and politics. It clarifies which levers matter: physical chokepoints, the risk premium in futures markets, insurance and shipping decisions, and domestic political thresholds.

If there is hope in that inheritance, it is the very fact that the world learned once and acted—creating reserves, efficiency standards, and alternate supplies. The question now is whether policymakers will treat today’s alarm as a temporary scare or as a call to finally finish the hard work of energy resilience. The cost of complacency, as the 1970s taught, can be measured in years of stagflation and in political realignments that last a generation.

Trump Says the U.S. Hasn’t Won Enough — Iran Rejects Negotiations and Declares It Will Decide When the War Ends

By Ephraim Agbo

"They tell you we've won. But let me tell you something very plainly: we have not won enough yet."

When the most powerful voice in American foreign policy declares that a war is both nearing its end and yet fundamentally incomplete, the contradiction isn't a slip of the tongue—it's a strategic reveal. Donald Trump's remarks from Florida, part public reassurance and part warning shot, capture the uncomfortable truth of the current confrontation with Iran. It is a conflict that has achieved military objectives but remains strategically unfulfilled, a condition made infinitely more volatile by Tehran's categorical rejection of diplomacy.

Tehran's Defiant Counter: "We Will Determine the End of the War"

The arithmetic of escalation has just been rewritten—and Iran is making certain the world understands it holds a pen. In a blistering response to Trump's claims that the conflict is "very complete," Iran's Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) issued a statement that leaves no room for ambiguity about who controls the battlefield timeline.

"It is we who will determine the end of the war," the IRGC declared. "The equations and future status of the region are now in the hands of our armed forces; American forces will not end the war."

The statement went further, accusing Trump of using "cunning and deceit" to manipulate public opinion following what Tehran described as "shameful defeats." An IRGC spokesperson alleged that American naval vessels and aircraft have "fled the region more than 1,000 kilometres away" to escape Iranian strikes, specifically mocking the movement of the US Navy after missiles targeted the USS Abraham Lincoln.

Tehran also dismissed reports of a weakened missile inventory, asserting that Iranian munitions are now "more powerful than in the early days of the war," with some warheads weighing over one ton.

Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi sharpened the diplomatic edge of this defiance, warning directly: "If Mr. Trump seeks escalation, it is precisely what our Powerful Armed forces have long prepared for, and what he will get." Araghchi pinned responsibility for any intensification of the conflict squarely on the U.S. administration, framing Iran's actions as legitimate self-defense.

This is not rhetorical theatre. By explicitly ruling out a return to negotiations—dismissing the very prospect of talks as a "very bitter experience"—Iran has collapsed the most accessible off-ramp. What was a military campaign is now a test of strategic endurance. With the diplomatic circuit breaker flipped to "off," the United States and its partners are left with a grim triad of options: apply enough military pressure to force a political reversal, settle into a costly and indefinite posture of containment, or accept a simmering stalemate that keeps the entire region's risk premiums locked at emergency levels. None of these paths lead to a quick resolution.

The Limits of Kinetic Power

The military campaign, a coordinated effort publicly dubbed "Epic Fury" and building on last year's "Midnight Hammer" operations, has been anything but subtle. U.S. and Israeli forces have systematically degraded key nodes of Iran's missile program, nuclear sites, and proxy command structures. Satellite imagery and official briefings tell a story of significant tactical success.

But tactical success is not the same as strategic victory. "Hitting targets is the easy part," as Trump might put it. "The hard part is making sure the capability does not come back online while everyone else goes back to brunch."

Missile factories, as the history of modern warfare shows, are patient. They can be buried deeper, rebuilt faster, and their supply lines can be dispersed across a resilient, state-backed network. "If you let the factories reconstitute, if you let a black market work its magic, if you let proxy networks keep their logistics and rudimentary missiles rolling out, you haven't solved the problem—you've postponed it."

Iran's asymmetric response has already demonstrated this resilience. The waves of drones and missiles targeting Gulf shipping lanes aren't just acts of retaliation; they are a demonstration of logistical stamina. When Gulf defense forces report intercepting barrages numbering in the thousands, the conflict ceases to be a series of skirmishes and becomes an industrial-scale, grinding war of attrition. "When hundreds or thousands of drones are launched, the scale is not a parade; it's industrial—an asymmetric war machine meant to grind down defenses and morale. We ignore that at our peril."

And when those barrages deliberately threaten desalination plants and energy grids, they cross a threshold from military confrontation to an assault on the very fabric of civilian life. "You take out a water plant in that region and you don't just inconvenience people; you create real hardship, panic and a political crisis. There are thousands of those plants, and the Gulf is a global hub of desalination capacity. That's not something you shrug off."

The Strait of Hormuz: A Chokepoint Under Iranian Command

The battlefield extends far beyond the sand and rock of the Middle East. It is anchored in the shipping lanes of the Strait of Hormuz—and here, Iran claims a dominance that directly challenges Washington's pledge to maintain freedom of navigation.

"Currently, the Strait of Hormuz is under the complete control of the Islamic Republic's Navy," IRGC Navy official Mohammad Akbarzadeh announced, revealing that Iranian forces have already targeted more than 10 oil tankers within the strait for allegedly failing to comply with IRGC warnings. "It is now impossible for any oil or commercial vessel to transit the Strait following our declaration of its closure."

This is not empty posturing. Shipping data tells the story: Clarksons Research estimates that about 3,200 ships—roughly 4 percent of global ship tonnage—are idle in the Gulf, with another 500 vessels waiting outside in ports off the coast of the UAE and Oman. About a fifth of the world's seaborne oil funnels through this narrow passageway . The mere threat of disruption is enough to spike Brent Crude futures. The reality of attacks forces shipping companies to choose between crippling insurance premiums, lengthy and costly detours, or the gamble of running the gauntlet.

"Look at the leverage they're using. This is not just about bombs; it's economics by other means. The Strait of Hormuz is not an abstraction—it funnels a huge share of the world's seaborne oil. When they threaten to stop 'a single litre' of oil leaving the Gulf, they're not bluffing about pain. The world feels it in its wallets and in its factories."

The IRGC has made that threat explicit: it will not permit "the export of a single litre of oil" from the region to hostile nations until further notice . Yet in a tactical nuance that preserves some diplomatic flexibility, Iranian officials have simultaneously clarified that they have no immediate plan to permanently close the strait—they simply assert the right to control navigation during wartime and treat vessels belonging to the United States, Israel, and European countries as military targets.

Tehran understands with surgical precision that by refusing to negotiate while asserting physical control over the world's most vital energy artery, they are forcing the market to price in a permanent state of siege. This isn't just about the price at the pump. It cascades instantly. Airlines, operating on razor-thin margins for fuel, are already adjusting capacity and ticket prices. "Qantas and other airlines are already passing those costs to passengers. You don't want airlines and manufacturers paying the price for an unfinished strategic objective. That's economic pain headed straight for ordinary people."

The cost of everything from food to electronics, all of which traverse these waters, becomes susceptible to inflationary pressure. The refusal to talk is, in itself, an economic weapon.

The Human Ledger: Stuck at Sea

Amidst the geopolitical chess game, the human ledger tells a story often left in the footnotes. The United Nations shipping regulator's estimate is stark: roughly 20,000 seafarers and 15,000 cruise passengers are effectively marooned. For the global maritime workforce—disproportionately drawn from nations like the Philippines and India—this is not an abstraction.

These are men and women unable to rotate off duty, their contracts extended indefinitely, their families waiting at home without income or news. Cruise passengers, expecting leisure, find themselves trapped in floating hotels, their return journeys hostage to a conflict they never signed up for.

"Shipping's the bloodline of the global economy. We hear about 'supply chains' like abstract charts—but on the water, this is real people living in tight quarters, working long tours. You want to say we're already 'done' while crews are stranded, while families are waiting to hear if a husband, a father, a son will return? We can't. Not if we mean to finish the job."

When civilian infrastructure like power grids and water plants are in the crosshairs, and when commercial ships become targets, the ethical calculus for shipping companies is no longer just about profit. It becomes a question of their duty of care. The decisions made in boardrooms and on captains' bridges are now life-and-death judgments, forced by a geopolitical deadlock.

What "Finishing the Job" Actually Means

If the objective is truly to create durable peace rather than a temporary pause, the definition of victory requires recalibration. In clear terms, it rests on three pillars, none of which are easily achieved:

First, denial of capability—not just cratered factories on a satellite photo, but disrupted production chains, key technologies blocked, and the ability to import critical components strangled. "Victory is not a set of targets on a map; victory is denying them the ability to threaten our allies, our commerce, and our friends for years."

Second, reassurance of commerce—secure shipping lanes that do not force rerouting from Hormuz every single week and that allow tankers and bulk carriers to operate without excruciating insurance premiums. This means breaking Iran's claimed "complete control" over the strait.

Third, stability in civilian services—water plants, ports and power that are demonstrably protected so populations don't break and pressure governments into raising the white flag.

"That's a big ask. It requires a mixed toolbox: kinetic pressure to degrade hardware, surgical actions to cripple reconstitution, intelligence and sanctions to choke off finance and parts, and a credible security architecture so partners have confidence to reopen routes and markets. It requires persistence. We can't be episodic. We can't do one big raid and then go home and clap ourselves on the back."

Why "Not Won Enough" Matters Now

Trump's insistence that the campaign remains incomplete—"I'll say it again plainly, without spin: we have not won enough. We have made enormous progress—tremendous progress—but the task isn't measured in headlines"—carries three distinct and consequential effects:

Operational horizon. It signals a willingness to sustain operations until Washington's definition of victory is met, which tends to extend a conflict rather than compress it. "If you declare victory prematurely, you create incentives for your adversary to adapt and for your allies to lose confidence."

Diplomatic posture. Tehran's categorical rejection of negotiations—its assertion that "American forces will not end the war"—removes an obvious exit ramp, obliging the United States and partners either to ratchet up pressure or accept a longer-term equilibrium of containment where Iran claims battlefield control.

Market psychology. Words matter. Markets and insurers price outcomes; decisive-sounding rhetoric that promises more action raises risk premia until there is credible, observable stability—secure shipping, repaired infrastructure, resumed trade. Iran's simultaneous claim of "complete control" over Hormuz only hardens those risk calculations.

The Three Scenarios and What to Watch For

Paired with Tehran's diplomatic veto and its assertions of military dominance, the "not won enough" doctrine steers the region away from a quick resolution and towards one of three distinct pathways:

The Prolonged Stalemate (Rising Probability): This is the new default. Periodic strikes, intermittent shipping disruptions, and a permanently elevated energy-price baseline. Iran continues to assert control over Hormuz while the US and partners attempt to degrade that control through sustained pressure. It is a war of competing national wills, fought through proxies, economic pressure, and the slow bleed of attrition.

The Miscalculation (Low Probability, High Impact): The friction of a stalemate makes accidents deadly. A strike that destroys a major desalination plant, causing a humanitarian catastrophe, or an attack that kills hundreds of civilians could shatter the unspoken rules of engagement, triggering a full-scale, uncontrolled conflagration. Trump has already warned that any blockage of oil flow will be met with force "twenty times harder" than Iran has experienced thus far .

The Mediated Pause (Lower Probability): A return to diplomacy remains the only genuine off-ramp. For now, Iran's refusal has rendered this path nearly impassable. Its resurfacing would be the single clearest signal that the risk of war is receding. Notably, Russian President Vladimir Putin has reportedly held a call with Trump to discuss a "quick political and diplomatic settlement," while French President Emmanuel Macron has announced allies are preparing a "purely defensive" mission to reopen the strait.

What You Should Monitor Next

For those trying to navigate this uncertainty, the headlines will be deceptive. The true signals are in the data:

• Official signals that Iran has softened its negotiating posture—any change there would be the clearest lowering of risk. Watch for any crack in the IRGC's declaration that "American forces will not end the war."

• Shipping-lane metrics and insurer notices; when insurers stop pricing Gulf transits as "war-risk," that's a market signal the corridor is back. Currently, with Iran claiming "complete control" of Hormuz, those premiums will remain elevated.

• Energy inventories and refinery outages—these will determine how long high prices filter into consumer inflation and airline fare policy. Brent crude has already risen above $82, up more than 13 percent since the conflict began.

• Human-cost indicators: IMO and NGOs reporting crew rotations, missing seafarers and displaced families. Those are the humane metrics that track the conflict's social toll.

"This is not muscle flexing for the cameras. This is leverage. You hold that leverage until you can lock in terms that reduce the threat for years, not months. You don't let them rebuild the very capacity that put missiles in the air and drones over cities in the first place."

The "finish the job" promise now looks less like a final assault and more like a long-term commitment to a conflict without end. Tehran's explicit refusal to negotiate—its insistence that "we will determine the end of the war"—removes the simple diplomatic exit many hoped for. U.S. officials can promise completion, but completion now resembles a multi-year project of denial, deterrence and economic management, conducted against an adversary that claims it, not Washington, holds the battlefield initiative.

"This isn't bravado. It's realism. Finish the job the right way, and you keep the peace on terms that protect America's interests and the world's economy. Cut corners, and the crisis returns—stronger, nastier, and more costly."

For the civilians on the shore, the crews on the water, and the families waiting for both, the new reality has set in: this is no longer a crisis. It is the new condition. And it will be measured not in headlines, but in the ability of children in the Gulf to turn on a tap and get water, in whether a ship's captain will risk the shortest route or take the long way round, in whether families waiting for seafarers can sleep at night—and in whether Iran's claim of control over the world's most vital waterway proves to be bluff or enduring reality.

March 09, 2026

How the Iran War Could Create Africa’s Energy Winners — and Its Biggest Casualties

By Ephraim Agbo

As the Strait of Hormuz remains closed and global oil prices surge past $100 per barrel, a complex and deeply uneven picture is emerging across the African continent. Africa presents a fundamental paradox in this crisis: it is simultaneously a net importer of refined petroleum products and home to some of the world's most significant crude oil exporters. This dual identity means the Iran war is not simply benefiting or harming the continent—it is doing both at once, often within the same country.

For Nigeria, Angola, Algeria, and Libya, the price surge represents a potential fiscal windfall that could transform struggling economies. For Kenya, South Africa, Senegal, and a dozen other import-dependent nations, the same price spike threatens to reignite inflation, deplete foreign reserves, and deepen the cost-of-living crisis that has already sparked protests across the region. And for ordinary households from Lagos to Nairobi to Dakar, the war being fought 5,000 kilometers away is arriving in the form of higher transport costs, more expensive food, and shrinking purchasing power.

This is the Africa paradox: a continent that produces 8 million barrels of oil daily, holds 125 billion barrels of proven reserves—7.5 percent of the global total—yet remains profoundly vulnerable to energy shocks because it exports crude and imports the refined products its people actually use . The Iran war is exposing this structural weakness with brutal clarity.

The Windfall States: Africa's Oil Exporters

Nigeria: The Dual Economy

Nigeria presents the most striking illustration of Africa's contradictory position. As Africa's largest oil exporter, Nigeria ships approximately 1.5 million barrels of crude daily to international markets . Its 2026 budget was constructed around a conservative benchmark of $64.85 per barrel . With Brent crude now trading above $100, the arithmetic of Nigerian public finance has transformed overnight.

The revenue implications are substantial. Every dollar above the budget benchmark flows disproportionately to government coffers through Nigeria's production-sharing contracts and tax regime. The Federation Account Allocation Committee, which distributes oil revenue among federal, state, and local governments, faces the welcome challenge of allocating unexpected billions . Foreign exchange reserves, depleted by years of central bank intervention to defend the naira, stand to benefit from increased dollar inflows.

Yet the windfall tells only half the story. Nigeria imports the vast majority of its refined petroleum products, having spent decades failing to maintain or modernize its four state-owned refineries. The new Dangote Refinery, a 650,000-barrel-per-day private facility that began operations in 2024, has reduced but not eliminated this dependency. Within the past week, the Dangote Refinery and filling stations across the country have adjusted petrol prices upward twice. Petrol that sold at N870 per liter before the war now sells at approximately N1,100—a 26 percent increase in days .

The result is a nation experiencing simultaneous fiscal expansion and household contraction. Government revenue rises while citizens' purchasing power falls. Transport costs increase, food prices follow, and the inflationary pressure compounds an already difficult cost-of-living environment. As Dr. Muda Yusuf, CEO of the Centre for Promotion of Private Enterprises, notes, "The net exchange rate impact will depend on the balance between stronger oil inflows and potential capital reversals" as geopolitical instability drives investors toward safe-haven assets .

Timing, however, has favored Nigeria in one respect. The state oil company NNPC is weeks away from launching exports of Cawthorne, a new light, sweet crude grade comparable to the country's flagship Bonny Light. First loadings are scheduled for late March from a floating storage vessel holding up to 2.2 million barrels. Analysts at energy intelligence firm Kpler estimate the new stream could lift Nigeria's combined crude and condensate output from roughly 1.65 million barrels daily to approximately 1.7 million barrels through year-end .

As one Lagos-based oil markets analyst put it: "Cawthorne arriving in this market, with Brent flirting with triple digits, could not be better scripted" .

Angola, Algeria, and Libya: The Other Beneficiaries

Nigeria is not alone among African producers poised to gain. Angola, sub-Saharan Africa's second-largest oil exporter, operates with similar budget assumptions that higher prices will now supersede. Algeria, a member of the OPEC+ group of eight countries receiving expanded production quotas, has based its 2026 finance law on an assumed price of $60 per barrel. With Brent at $100, the difference of $40 per barrel generates significant additional revenue for the Algerian state .

Libya presents a more complicated case. Possessing Africa's largest proven oil reserves, the country's production has been chronically disrupted by the security fragmentation that followed the 2011 NATO intervention. Current output fluctuates unpredictably as rival militias and governments contest control of fields and export terminals. Higher prices provide incentive for all parties to keep oil flowing—and for each to seek control of the revenue it generates.

Collectively, African OPEC members—Nigeria, Angola, Algeria, Libya, Congo, Gabon, and Equatorial Guinea—produce more than 8 million barrels daily . The recent OPEC decision to increase production quotas by 206,000 barrels per day in April explicitly opens the door to expanded African volumes .

The Vulnerability Belt: Import-Dependent Economies

Southern Africa: South Africa's Precarious Balance

For South Africa, the continent's most industrialized economy, the Iran war presents a complex and ambiguous threat. Unlike its northern neighbors, South Africa possesses no significant crude production but has developed sophisticated refining capacity that processes imported crude into finished products.

The rand, always sensitive to emerging-market sentiment, faces what BMI analysts describe as "neutral to weaker" risks from the conflict . Higher oil prices increase the country's import bill, putting pressure on the current account and, by extension, the currency. Simultaneously, geopolitical instability typically drives investors toward safe-haven assets like the US dollar and gold—and South Africa is a major gold producer.

This creates an unusual dynamic. South African gold producers such as Pan African Gold, Harmony Gold, and Sibanye-Stillwater are raking in increased revenues as bullion prices rise alongside oil. Yet this positive impact is "offset by rising imported energy costs" for the broader economy . Higher transport fuel costs feed through to inflation, potentially forcing the Reserve Bank to maintain or increase interest rates just as households face mounting living expenses.

South Africa's historically close ties with Iran add another layer of complication. BMI analysts warn that Pretoria's relationship with Tehran could "further strain relations with the US, pushing up political risks and weighing on foreign demand for South African assets" . For a country dependent on portfolio inflows to finance its current account deficit, this is not a trivial concern.

Peter Attard Montalto, managing director at South African advisory firm Krutham, offers a cautiously optimistic assessment: "So far the impact has really been muted, for countries like South Africa," noting that recent economic reforms have helped stabilize the currency and bond markets. "Still, higher oil and gas prices are expected to filter into inflation in the coming months" .

East Africa: Kenya and Uganda's Supply Anxiety

In East Africa, countries like Kenya and Uganda report that fuel supplies remain stable even as they work to ensure continuity . But stability should not be confused with immunity. Both nations import virtually all their refined petroleum requirements, paying in US dollars earned through exports of tea, coffee, tourism, and remittances.

When global oil supplies tighten, prices rise while African currencies often weaken as investors move funds into safe havens . This combination—more expensive oil paid for with depreciating currency—amplifies the impact of price spikes in import-dependent markets. Kenya, which has experienced significant currency pressure in recent years, faces particular vulnerability.

West Africa: Senegal's Frustrating Transition

Senegal illustrates a different kind of frustration. The country is in the process of becoming an oil and gas producer, with the Sangomar field having commenced production in 2024. Yet this transition offers no immediate protection from the current crisis.

Senegal imports nearly all of the refined petroleum it consumes. Fishing, agriculture, transport, electricity—all depend on imported fuel. A sharp increase in pump prices translates immediately into higher living costs, intensified electricity load-shedding, and rapid impoverishment of large segments of the population .

The country cannot yet refine its own crude or redirect its gas production toward domestic consumption. As Dakar-based economist Mor Gassama explains, "If the price of oil soars, it will impact the prices of food and all derivative products for Senegal as for the entire world. The longer the conflict lasts, the greater the threat of generalized inflation" .

The solution, Gassama argues, lies in enabling the Société Africaine de Raffinage to process Senegalese crude at scale, creating a buffer against global price shocks. Until then, Senegal remains what Dakar Actu calls "a silent hostage of a war that is not its own" .

North Africa: Egypt and Morocco's Import Burden

North Africa's non-oil economies face similar pressures. Egypt, which transitioned from energy exporter to importer over the past decade despite recent gas discoveries, confronts the prospect of higher import bills at a moment of acute foreign currency shortage. The country's currency has already lost more than half its value since 2022; additional pressure on the external accounts could force further devaluation.

Morocco, which imports over 90 percent of its energy requirements, faces the same dynamic. The country has invested heavily in renewable energy to reduce fossil fuel dependence, but the transition remains incomplete. Higher oil prices mean higher costs for transport, industry, and electricity generation—costs that will ultimately reach consumers.

The Most Vulnerable: IMF Program Countries and Fragile States

Analysts warn that countries already operating under International Monetary Fund programs face particular strain as higher energy import bills drain scarce foreign exchange reserves. Among the most vulnerable are Sudan, The Gambia, Central African Republic, Lesotho, and Zimbabwe .

Zimbabwe has already acted. The Zimbabwe Energy Regulatory Authority confirmed fuel price increases effective March 5 . For a country where hyperinflation is a living memory and dollarization has provided only partial stability, energy-driven price pressures threaten to unravel hard-won gains.

The Democratic Republic of Congo and Mauritius face vulnerabilities linked to potential energy shortages rather than merely price increases . The DRC's mining sector, critical to global battery supply chains, depends on reliable fuel supplies for operations. Disruptions could ripple through copper and cobalt production just as global demand for both accelerates.

Zambia presents another at-risk case. The kwacha is expected to weaken in an escalatory scenario, with higher energy prices inflating the import bill and reigniting domestic foreign exchange liquidity pressures. Moreover, Zambia has benefited from a surge in foreign demand for its assets, particularly domestic government debt. Renewed risk aversion would prompt capital outflows, exerting depreciatory pressure on the currency. Positively, elevated copper prices—another commodity benefiting from geopolitical uncertainty—could provide some support, limiting downside risks .

The Structural Problem: Refining Dependency

Beneath the country-by-country analysis lies a structural reality that explains Africa's paradoxical position. The continent produces millions of barrels of crude daily but lacks sufficient refining capacity to meet its own needs. It exports raw material and imports finished product, capturing only a fraction of the value chain and exposing itself to exactly the kind of price shock now underway.

The numbers tell the story. Africa holds 125 billion barrels of proven oil reserves—7.5 percent of the global total . Its producers include seven OPEC members. Yet according to the African Refiners and Distributors Association, the continent imports approximately 80 percent of its refined petroleum products, spending billions in foreign currency that could otherwise support domestic development.

This is not an accident of geology but a legacy of policy choices and infrastructure neglect. For decades, African governments and international oil companies focused on extraction rather than processing. Refineries, where they existed, suffered from poor maintenance, inadequate investment, and corruption. The result is a continent rich in crude but perpetually vulnerable to price shocks in global refined product markets.

The Iran war is exposing this vulnerability with unprecedented clarity. Every dollar increase in global oil prices translates directly into higher costs for African importers—and, through them, for African households. The continent's oil exporters, meanwhile, capture only the crude value, not the much larger refining margin.

The Household Impact: Where the War Really Arrives

For most African households, the Iran war will not be experienced as a geopolitical event but as a cost-of-living crisis. The transmission mechanism is brutally direct: most food and goods across Africa are transported by road. Rising fuel costs therefore feed quickly into broader inflation and reduce household purchasing power .

In Nigeria, petrol price increases from N870 to N1,100 per liter means higher costs for transport, for food distribution, for essential goods. In Senegal, higher import costs for refined products mean more expensive electricity, more expensive transport, more expensive everything. In Kenya, currency pressure combines with oil prices to squeeze households already struggling with the aftermath of COVID-19 and the 2022-2023 drought.

As one analysis puts it: "There is something profoundly unjust in what is unfolding. Africa is in no way responsible for the conflict between the United States, Israel, and Iran. And yet its populations could pay an exorbitant price" .

The Strategic Response: Diversification as Imperative

Over the longer term, analysts say the crisis may reinforce calls for African nations to diversify their energy systems and reduce dependence on imported fuels. "It makes strategic sense for African countries to ensure long-term energy security and sovereignty," says Kennedy Mbeva, a research associate at the Centre for the Study of Existential Risk at the University of Cambridge. Achieving that, Mbeva notes, will require balancing short-term fiscal pressures with long-term investments in clean energy and green industrialization .

The irony is that higher oil revenues for producing countries could fund precisely such diversification. Nigeria's unexpected windfall could finance investments in refining capacity, renewable energy, and the non-oil economy that would reduce future vulnerability. Angola's additional revenue could support economic transformation away from resource dependence. Algeria's gains could accelerate the transition to a more diversified economic model.

Whether these opportunities will be seized is another question. Past oil booms have produced consumption booms, corruption booms, and debt booms—but rarely structural transformation. The 1970s price surge, the 2000s commodity super-cycle, each promised to lift African economies and each left them fundamentally unchanged.

The Geopolitical Dimension: Africa's Choice

The Iran war also introduces geopolitical complications for African states. Nigeria, Angola, and other oil exporters find themselves in a position similar to Russia and Venezuela: benefiting from higher prices while navigating the politics of a conflict they did not choose. Western powers, desperate to secure alternative supplies to trapped Gulf barrels, are suddenly more attentive to African producers.

The European Union, which replaced Iranian crude with Nigerian imports during the 2012 embargo, may follow the same path. South Africa, which turned to Nigeria, Angola, and Saudi Arabia during previous disruptions, faces similar choices . Asian buyers, cut off from Gulf supplies, are looking to West Africa with renewed interest.

This attention brings opportunities—and risks. African producers could secure long-term supply contracts, investment in production capacity, and enhanced geopolitical standing. They could also find themselves drawn into great-power competition, forced to choose between Western and Eastern blocs, between the United States and China, between competing visions of global order.

For now, most African states are attempting to navigate a middle course. They welcome higher revenues and increased demand while avoiding entanglement in the conflict itself. Whether this posture remains sustainable as the war intensifies is uncertain.

Conclusion: The Uneven Continent

Ten days into the Iran war, one conclusion is inescapable: Africa is experiencing the conflict not as a single story but as a thousand different ones. Nigerian officials count windfall revenues while Nigerian families count rising costs. South African miners benefit from higher gold prices while South African motorists pay more for fuel. Senegalese fishermen face higher expenses while Senegalese politicians explain that their country's own oil cannot yet help them.

The continent that produces 8 million barrels daily remains a net importer of the refined products its people actually use. The continent with 125 billion barrels of reserves remains vulnerable to price shocks in markets it cannot control. The continent with seven OPEC members remains a price-taker rather than a price-maker in global energy markets.

This is the Africa paradox, and the Iran war is exposing it with brutal clarity. Whether the crisis becomes a catalyst for change or another missed opportunity depends on choices African governments make in the coming weeks and months. The revenue is flowing. The attention is focused. The need for transformation has rarely been clearer.

Whether this time will be different—whether African nations can finally break the cycle of extraction without transformation, of resource wealth without economic development—remains the continent's most urgent and unanswered question.