When Small Powers Fight Like Great Ones

Israel is reshaping the Middle East, one strike at a time

It’s hard to say exactly when the Israel-Iran war began. Maybe it was when Iran and Israel traded direct blows last year. Maybe it was when Hezbollah kidnapped its first IDF soldiers. Maybe it was on October 7th. What’s clear now is that the war is real, and Israel is not just surviving it. It is dominating it.

That shouldn’t have been possible. A small country, isolated, resource-constrained, internally divided, and supposedly in decline, has now destroyed Hamas, wrecked Hezbollah, and begun dismantling Iran’s nuclear infrastructure. It has done so with startling speed, clarity, and impunity. The world is still catching up. So am I.

Time for the analytical mea culpa: For years, I thought Israel was losing the plot. That it was surrounded by enemies it couldn’t ultimately defeat, hollowed out by internal polarization, and increasingly isolated from its indispensable U.S. patron. And for a time, that view wasn’t wrong. The October 7 Hamas massacre—an intelligence and military failure on a scale Israel hadn’t seen since 1973—seemed like tragic confirmation of this thesis.

But if you judge Israel by its responses rather than its failures, a very different picture emerges. Since that dark October morning, Israel has done what few countries in the region—or the world—could. The Islamic Republic’s slow-motion regional campaign—the “Shiite crescent” strategy via Hezbollah, Hamas, the Houthis, and various militias—has run into something neither it nor I anticipated: an Israel not just surviving but out-maneuvering and out-fighting it at every turn.

Not only has Israel done all of this, but it has done so with little meaningful pushback from its neighbors or the so-called international community. The outrage always fades eventually. The military edge has not.

Israel chose this fight. That fact alone is astonishing given the context of the last decade. A more cautious, divided Israel might have stopped after Gaza. It might have postured around Hezbollah. It might have continued to “mow the lawn” in Syria and waited for a future administration in Washington more sympathetic to military action against Iran. But this Israel—the post-Oct. 7 Israel—is playing a different game.

From Holocaust to Hi-Tech: The Zionist Engine of Innovation and Militarism

Israel is not just a military power. It is one of the most technologically advanced societies in the world. It is a start-up superpower, a cyber-security leader, a biotech hub, and a world-class intelligence machine. This innovation didn’t arise by accident. It emerged from the deepest currents of Jewish history, and in particular from the founding mythos and lived trauma that forged modern Zionism (which has become such a dirty word that it seems like everyone has forgotten what it actually is).

Zionism is just a fancy word for “Jewish nationalism.” But external threats meant it could never be just nationalist project, it had to become a survival project. European Jewry was being murdered – first by pogroms, then by Nazis. The old diaspora dream of assimilation was finally cremated once and for all in Auschwitz. Modern Israel was born not out of confidence, but fear. Not out of triumph, but trauma. It was shaped by people who had seen the worst that civilization could do, and who resolved never again to be powerless, placeless, or defenseless.

As an aside: This explains why foreign critique often falls on deaf ears in Israel — why should survivors listen to self-righteous lectures from the descendants of their attackers?

This fear gave the Zionist project its clarity and its urgency. It is what fueled the early waves of aliyah—young Jews draining swamps, building kibbutzim, and forming self-defense leagues in Ottoman and then British Palestine. It is what animated the secular idealists of Labor Zionism as well as the messianic revisionism of Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s followers (the latter being the intellectual ancestor of Benjamin Netanyahu and his ilk). It is what turned Holocaust survivors into tank commanders and schoolteachers. It is what made Israel a nuclear power by the late 1960s, barely two decades after its founding.

But fear is a hard thing to shake. It can harden into strength—but also into paranoia. Zionism was supposed to normalize Jewish life. In many ways, it did the opposite: it created a state where the exceptionalism of the Jewish people became the permanent condition of the Israeli state. Instead of integrating into the international order, Israel built an Iron Dome around itself—literal and metaphorical—and internalized the idea that the world would never truly accept it.

As a result, Israel’s innovation economy is not just about solving problems—it’s about surviving them. Its military doctrine is not just about deterrence—it’s about demonstration. And its political culture has become, over time, increasingly focused on existential threats—real or perceived—at the expense of liberalism, secularism, and long-term sustainability.

The End of the Iron Wall?

Ze’ev Jabotinsky once wrote that Zionist colonization could only be protected by an “iron wall” of force. That iron wall used to be British soldiers. Then it became the IDF. Now, it includes cyber capabilities, missile defense, and something more difficult to measure: a society so accustomed to conflict that it absorbs trauma and converts it into political will.

But that iron wall was always supposed to be temporary—a brutal necessity until the Arabs accepted Israel’s presence. In practice, it has become permanent. The dream of a two-state solution has faded into irrelevance, replaced by a doctrine of perpetual dominance. What’s unclear is whether this can endure. Can a society founded on being “a sabra”—tough and prickly on the outside, soft and sweet on the inside—remain soft when it must be constantly aggressive to survive? Can a democratic society live indefinitely in a state of siege and not rot from within?

These aren’t just moral questions. They’re strategic ones. And Israel’s strategic future is not only about Iran. It’s about Turkey. About Egypt’s growing fragility. About the possibility of Kurdish or Druze statelets forming with Israeli support (or a Palestinian one without it). About whether Israel will exploit this moment to reshape the region in its image—or simply hold back the tide until the next flood.

Small Powers, Big Lessons

There is a lesson in this war for every so-called “small power” watching from the sidelines.

Israel has about 10 million people. (FYI, Ted Cruz.) It’s boxed into a tiny sliver of land, wedged between hostile or unstable neighbors. It has no strategic depth, few natural resources (gas discoveries notwithstanding), and is isolated linguistically, religiously, and culturally from much of the world.

And yet, it’s fighting—and winning—a multi-front war against a major regional power.

That’s not just about military prowess. It’s about national priorities. Israel has long ranked among the world’s leaders in R&D investment as a share of GDP—consistently over 5%, according to World Bank data, dwarfing the OECD average and even countries like China and the U.S. In a world where technological superiority is more decisive than raw population or landmass, that matters more than most analysts are willing to admit.

If Israel can do this, why not South Korea? Why not Taiwan? Why not El Salvador? Why not Ukraine? Why not Chile—resource-rich, democratically stable, relatively under the radar? Could R&D-to-GDP ratio become a better indicator of geopolitical power than tanks, troops, or oil reserves?

Conversely, what about the paper tigers? Iran looks powerful—large population, vast geography, a ruthless security apparatus. But it is brittle. North Korea projects menace but depends on foreign fuel and fragile elite cohesion. Venezuela has the largest proven oil reserves in the world but cannot feed itself. It has also threatened oil-rich Guyana constantly — Guyana should be taking notes on Israel’s geopolitical spanking of Iran. The modern world may reward precision, coherence, and innovation more than scale or bluster.

It’s not hard to imagine a future of digitally networked city-states, smaller powers wielding asymmetric capabilities that outmatch much larger, more dysfunctional states. In that world, Israel may be the prototype, not the exception.

A Kurdish Israel?

If Israel is rewriting the rules for what a small state can achieve in the modern world, the Kurds in particular should be taking notes.

There are roughly 35 million Kurds scattered across Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and Iran (again, FYI Ted Cruz — need to get yourself a briefer before your interviews, dude)—arguably the largest stateless people in the world. But to describe “the Kurds” as a unified nation is misleading. The Kurdish world is fragmented—linguistically, religiously, culturally, and politically. Different Kurdish groups speak different languages (Kurmanji, Sorani), practice different religions (Sunni, Shia, Yazidi, secular), and have even fought each other in civil wars, as the KDP and PUK did in Iraq in the 1990s. They are less a people than a confederation of contested identities and provisional alliances. That’s a big reason why external powers—first the Ottomans and Persians, later the British, and today the U.S., Russia, Iran, and Turkey—have been able to manipulate them so effectively.

But if there were ever a moment for Kurdish unity, this is it.

Israel has shown that a coherent identity, a historical grievance, and a commitment to self-reliance can become a state—even under siege. Zionism was not just a response to the Holocaust; it was a century-long project of institution-building, cultural revival, and strategic patience. It began with language and education, expanded to land acquisition and community organization, and has culminated in armed defense offense. Israel’s founders did not wait for external validation. They acted, and the world caught up.

The Kurds have never quite crossed that threshold. They’ve been indispensable to the U.S. fight against ISIS—and abandoned for their trouble. They’ve flirted with autonomy in Iraq, only to become economically beholden to Turkey. They’ve tried to make deals with Assad and flirt with Russia. But every time, they’ve depended on patrons. Contingency is not strategy.

If Kurdish national identity is to harden into something resembling a state, it will require a conscious shift from tribalism and tactical improvisation toward ideological coherence and long-term planning. It will require the construction of institutions that transcend faction. It will mean figuring out how to operate across deeply contested geographies—like Israel does every day. And it might mean asking Israel, quietly or not, for help.

Israel has every incentive to be open to that. An independent Kurdish state would be a nightmare for Turkey, a body blow to Iran, and a wedge against Sunni Arab dominance. It would be a secular, multiethnic, semi-democratic ally that shares Israel’s core concern: survival in a neighborhood that doesn’t want it to exist. That doesn’t mean Israel could create a Kurdish state. But it could nurture one. It could share the playbook.

Whether the Kurds are ready to read it is another question. History suggests they are not. But history is moving fast—and the Kurds know better than most that when the ground shifts under your feet, the cost of not acting can be permanent.

American Blindness and Israeli Clarity

In this war, Israel sees clearly. The United States does not.

Israeli clarity is born of necessity. The country lives in a permanent state of threat assessment. It doesn’t just analyze intentions—it prepares for capabilities. That’s why, after October 7, Israel didn’t hesitate. It knew the world would flinch, protest, and eventually forget. It also knew that no one else would disarm Hamas, dismantle Hezbollah, or destroy Iran’s nuclear infrastructure. So it stopped asking for permission. It acted.

The United States, by contrast, is not acting. It’s reacting—cautiously, inconsistently, and incoherently.

Take U.S. President Donald Trump. When he campaigned in 2016, Trump mocked the neocons and promised an end to endless wars. When he was president, he tried to exit Syria, abandoned the Kurds, and hesitated to respond to Iranian provocations (after he ordered the assassination of IRGC leader Soleimani in 2020, he took no further action). Yet now, Trump is giving off Lyndon B. Johnson vibes: a domestically focused president getting pulled into a war by advisors who see strategic opportunity and personal legacy in escalation. Trump may yet TACO—Trump Always Chickens Out—but right now, he’s giving off strong Lyndon B. Johnson energy: a president pulled into an overseas war he doesn’t understand, advised by hawks who see opportunity not catastrophe. History as tragedy, now repeated as farce.

What’s more remarkable is that Israel seems to have excellent intelligence not just on Iran, but on President Trump. It has calculated that the U.S. won’t stop it—and that Trump, despite his isolationist instincts and campaign rhetoric, won’t let Israel go it alone if it begins to win.

LBJ didn’t start the Vietnam War—but he inherited it, misread it, and let his advisers lead him into the abyss, forfeiting his tremendous domestic ambitions for ignominy in Vietnam. Trump may be doing something similar in the Middle East. Maybe this time he sees the chance to remake the region as part of his comeback narrative. Then again, maybe bombing Fordow a few times will be the limit of his decision, and he’ll avoid being pulled in more deeply. Or maybe the neocons he once disdained have finally figured out how to steer him where they want him.

This dynamic isn’t new. During her ill-fated run for the presidency, Kamala Harris called Iran the greatest “adversary” to U.S. national security. Today, Iran is under direct assault—not by the U.S., but by Israel. And what is the U.S. doing? Walking a tightrope between tacit approval, plausible deniability, and institutional confusion. The Pentagon doesn’t want escalation. State is divided. Congress is gridlocked. The National Security Council appears to be watching events, not shaping them.

Meanwhile, Israel is reshaping the battlefield. It has turned Washington’s paralysis into geopolitical space. It knows that U.S. support is not guaranteed—but it also knows that American politics is more reactive than strategic. By acting decisively, Israel has forced the U.S. to respond on its terms. The tail is wagging the dog.

This is a dangerous game. Israel is betting that its tempo, intelligence dominance, and sense of mission will keep the U.S. aligned. But American politics is volatile. The election could swing either way. A shift in domestic pressure, a spike in oil prices, or a major miscalculation could all derail the current equilibrium. The fact that AOC and Steve Bannon’s talking points are eerily similar lately is mind-blowing.

What’s striking is that Israel is planning as if the U.S. is already irrelevant—except when it isn’t. That’s what clarity looks like in a world where alliances are fickle and great powers are distracted. Israel has learned the hard way that patronage is not permanence. The U.S. still hasn’t learned that even hegemons must make choices.

The irony is thick: America, with all its resources, influence, and global reach, is the actor with the least agency in this war. Israel, with none of those advantages, is driving the agenda.

The Long-Term Problem

I have spilled a lot of ink here about Israel’s strength and success. Still, I can’t shake the sense that something isn’t right.

A strategy built on permanent force invites eventual resistance. An overstretched power is still overstretched, no matter how effective. And Israel’s domestic challenges—polarization, religious-secular fissures, and a paralyzed political system—have not disappeared. They’ve just been suspended by the urgency of war.

The broader region is also not as static as it seems. Turkey is resurgent. Egypt is tottering. Saudi Arabia is calculating. And the rest of the world—India, China, Russia—is watching how the U.S. responds, not just how Israel fights.

The paradox is this: Israel is strong. Maybe stronger than ever. But it’s surrounded by a world that is changing faster than it can control. That doesn’t mean it will collapse. It may even win. But victory is not the same as stability. And regional supremacy is not the same as permanence.

Between Athens and Jerusalem

There’s an old metaphor that compares Western civilization as a tug-of-war between Athens and Jerusalem—between reason and faith, between the polis and the prophet. Israel lives that contradiction more than any other country on earth. It is a hyper-rational security state built by a people of deep faith. It is a high-tech democracy that governs a tribal and religiously diverse population. It is a beacon of Jewish renaissance—and a source of permanent regional disruption.

The war with Iran is not just another chapter in this story. It may be the moment Israel steps fully into its power. The question is whether that power will bend the arc of history toward stability—or snap it back toward chaos.

So, what comes next? Perhaps a collapse of the Islamic Republic into warring ethnic groups and factions, hastened not by American sanctions but by Israeli jets. Perhaps an Israeli security corridor across southern Syria. Perhaps a relatively bloodless Iranian counterrevolution that sees a more friendly government installed in Tehran (if that seems implausible just remember the sea change in Syria over the last ~6 months). Or perhaps just more of the same: deterrence, dominance, and delay. Maybe even Kurdish or other ethnic autonomous zones, backed by Israeli arms and intelligence.

Whatever it is, it’s no longer the Israel I thought I knew. That country was surrounded, outnumbered, and insecure. This Israel is audacious, calculating, and dangerously confident. And if the war continues the way it has begun, it may not just survive. It may shape the next phase of Middle East history—whether the U.S., Iran, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and the rest of the world is ready or not.