Patient Endurance

There is a quiet, pervasive feeling in Israel today that is difficult to articulate but impossible to ignore. It is not fear in the traditional sense, nor is it panic. It is something more unsettling, a sense that events are moving elsewhere, driven by actors beyond our control, and that the outcome that will determine our future will be decided without us. When Israelis speak about Iran, the conversation always circles back to Washington. Everything, it seems, hinges on whether the American president chooses to resume the war or to sign a deal.

That alone should give us pause.

The contours of the emerging deal are already becoming clearer. As described recently by analysts close to the administration and retweeted by President Trump, the likely outcome is narrow in scope. The focus is now on reopening the Straits of Hormuz to maritime traffic, restoring a critical artery of global commerce. Everything else, Iran’s nuclear program, its ballistic missile force, and its network of proxies across the region, is deferred to future rounds of negotiation that may or may not ever take place. The implication is hard to miss. We are negotiating for calm in the present while leaving the fundamental threat intact for the future.

It is worth recalling that the Straits of Hormuz were open the day before the war began. If the primary achievement of a hard-fought conflict is a return to the status quo ante, then one must ask who exactly has gained. From an Israeli vantage point, this looks less like a strategic victory and more like a reset that favors Tehran.

The deeper concern, however, is not the text of any specific agreement. It is what comes after. Israelis worry that once a deal is signed, the United States will disengage, shifting its attention to domestic priorities and leaving Israel to confront a revitalized Iran alone. The damage inflicted during the conflict, both economic and military, could be repaired over time. Regional networks can be rebuilt. And we may find ourselves exactly where we started, facing an adversary that is once again gathering strength, this time with the benefit of experience.

There are clear signals that Washington has little appetite for returning to open conflict. Public opinion is wary. The political calendar is crowded. Even seemingly unrelated considerations, such as the FIFA Football (“Soccer” in the U.S.) World Cup hosted on American soil exerts its own gravitational pull. When the president stated last week that the United States will not commit ground forces to secure fissile material because of the risk to American soldiers, the message is unmistakable. There are limits, and those limits matter.

Yet it would be a mistake to conclude that nothing is being done. If this war has clarified anything, it is the growing importance of financial pressure as a strategic tool. In this regard, a steady voice coming from the U.S. Treasury – Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent – has been particularly instructive. Economic warfare lacks the drama of kinetic operations, but its effects can be profound and, more importantly, sustained. A recent report suggests that Washington is seriously exploring the use of frozen Iranian assets to compensate Gulf states for damage incurred during the conflict. The scale of that damage is substantial, with estimates ranging from tens to hundreds of billions of dollars, a burden that will linger long after the headlines fade. The idea is simple but powerful. Rather than relying on taxpayers in allied countries or on future aid packages, the costs would be transferred directly to the party responsible for the destruction. Iran would not only bear the financial consequences of its actions, but it would also do so visibly and immediately, in a way that reinforces deterrence. This is not merely an accounting exercise. It is a strategic signal. It tells regional partners that American commitments are backed not only by words but by concrete measures that impose real pain on adversaries and deliver real relief to allies. At the same time, it reframes the conflict in economic terms that Iran cannot easily dismiss, tightening the vise on a regime already under significant strain and forcing it to weigh the long-term costs of continued aggression against the diminishing returns.

For Israel, the significance of such a move would be even greater. It would send a clear, tangible signal that the United States is prepared to use its full range of tools to counter Iran over the long term. Financial measures of this kind do not require boots on the ground, but they demonstrate resolve in a language that Tehran understands. Even the credible threat of such action places enormous strain on the Iranian economy, pushing it toward the brink and constraining its ability to project power. According to many reports, the Iranian economy is already living on fumes with a lifespan measured in weeks.

The temptation, as always, is to be mesmerized by rhetoric, especially presidential rhetoric. Statements, declarations, and dramatic gestures dominate the headlines. But the real story may lie elsewhere, in the quieter, more methodical application of economic pressure that has been building for years. Since the United States withdrew from the JCPOA nuclear agreement in 2018, that pressure has not disappeared. On the contrary, it has evolved into a central pillar of policy.

Israel’s challenge is to recognize where leverage truly resides. Wars may begin and end, negotiations may stall or succeed, but sustained financial pressure offers a different kind of continuity. It does not depend on a single decision or a single moment. It is a campaign measured not in days or weeks, but in years. And it is a campaign that just might be coming to a crescendo.

The feeling of helplessness is real, but it is not the whole story. Beneath the surface, forces are at work that may prove more decisive than any battlefield outcome. The question is whether we in Israel have the patience and the clarity to see them through.

Good things,

Ari Sacher