Zaid AlKami

What happened yesterday was a political moment that encapsulated the entire course of the confrontation. Wars are not always decided by the final strike, but by the outcomes they produce.

Still, one question arises after the ceasefire announcement: Who actually won the war? To answer it, we must revisit what happened and weigh the gains and losses on the ground. While it is still too early to fully assess them, at least we can examine what has been publicly revealed.

In Iranian discourse, the ceasefire was presented as an achievement. Victory signs were raised, and terms like “resilience” and “breaking American will” were repeated. This narrative was echoed by Tehran’s allies, most notably Hezbollah, in an effort to construct a parallel version of events. But there is a wide gap between rhetoric and reality, and that gap reveals what truly happened: Iran did not win, it lost, even if it seeks to delay acknowledging that fact.

This defeat is not reflected only in accepting a conditional ceasefire that includes sensitive concessions such as reopening the Strait of Hormuz. It runs much deeper. A state that once portrayed itself as a regional power capable of imposing deterrence suddenly found itself facing two costly options: either open confrontation with the United States, or accepting a de-escalation imposed on its terms. Choosing the latter was not a victory, but an implicit admission that the cost of confrontation had become unbearable.

The most significant loss, however, was not political but structural. The targeting of the top of the system, Ali Khamenei, along with senior leadership figures, points to an unprecedented breach deep inside Iran. This was not a routine military strike, but a signal that the center of decision-making is no longer secure, and that the security equation the regime long prided itself on has eroded.

The impact of striking the leadership is not only immediate. It raises difficult questions: Who is managing this phase? How will internal balances be reshaped? Can cohesion be maintained amid such a vacuum? These questions alone reflect the scale of the loss, shifting Iran from a position of action to one of reaction.

By contrast, Israel appears to be the primary beneficiary of this round. Despite significant losses that may not have been fully disclosed, it is clear that Tel Aviv has changed since October 7, 2023, and is now capable of absorbing costs that would previously have been intolerable, both material and human. At the very least, it has achieved a key objective it has long pursued: weakening Iran internally, eroding its deterrence, and pushing it onto the defensive. Israel today does not need to declare victory. It sees it unfolding on the ground, in a retreating adversary, a leadership under strain, and a region recalibrating its priorities.

At the regional level, the confrontation once again exposed the contrast between two opposing paths. On one side are countries like Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states, which faced unprecedented attacks from Iran despite not being parties to the war. These states have chosen a path of stability, development, economic growth, and reduced reliance on conflict. On the other side is a model based on exporting crises, investing in instability, and entering open-ended confrontations without a clear calculation of costs.

In this sense, what unfolded was not just a military round, but a test between two models: one focused on building the future, and another consumed by ongoing conflict. With each crisis, it becomes clearer which is more capable of achieving genuine resilience.

In the end, Iran may succeed in raising slogans of victory and mobilizing its audience with rhetoric of defiance, but facts cannot be obscured for long. Defeat does not always mean total collapse. It can also mean losing the ability to set terms, and being forced to accept rules defined by others.

In this war, the real question was not who endured more, but who emerged holding the initiative.