The war might have stopped in a ceasefire, but its tremors continue shaking off the regional order. The unprovoked attack by Israel on the nuclear facilities in Iran and the involvement of the US in the bombing were a unique case of the outright confrontation between two long-standing rival nations. This brief conflict has, however, pricked geopolitical illusions that have existed over the decades and plunged the region into a perilous new balance where the rule of law has collapsed by military logic, where states that do not have nuclear weapons are seriously reproached, and international law is tactfully set aside.
The irony of this confrontation lies in the cause itself: Iran’s pursuit of nuclear enrichment, a right granted to it under the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). Article IV of the NPT grants all signatories the inalienable right to develop nuclear energy for peaceful purposes. Iran has persistently argued that its programme is within such parameters, and the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) provided international support to this argument. However, the US and Israeli attacks on Fordow and Natanz not only infringed upon Iran’s sovereignty but also undermined the very edifice of nuclear law itself.
It is this selective application of international standards that has undermined the legitimacy of the NPT itself. The Islamic Republic had figured that in case of a military conflict, it would face colossal damage, and the same would apply to American status and strength. This bleak thinking, although having civilizational endurance, can explain why Iran has been so persistent despite the stranglehold of sanctions and undermining of its nuclear programme.
Ironically, the legal basis for Iran’s uranium enrichment was not only recognised under the JCPOA but also affirmed in 2012 by the Non-Aligned Movement, where 120 countries—including Pakistan—supported its sovereign right to peaceful enrichment. This made Israel’s rationale for the bombing campaigns all the more indefensible. Iran had not weaponised its programme, a fact admitted even by US intelligence and the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA). The latter, despite its historically fraught relationship with Tehran, confirmed after the strikes that no evidence had been found suggesting Iran was pursuing a nuclear bomb. Yet the military attacks went ahead.
This makes the strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities not only illegal under international law but also immoral. Under the UN Charter, the use of force is permitted only in self-defence or with the Security Council’s authorisation. Neither condition was satisfied. Instead, the US and Israel engaged in what can only be described as anticipatory aggression—a dangerous precedent that threatens the fragile framework of nuclear deterrence. Even worse, the attacks on nuclear sites violated the Additional Protocols of the Geneva Conventions, which prohibit targeting installations containing dangerous forces. The IAEA had already warned that a direct hit on Bushehr could result in catastrophic radiation. Had Iran not removed its nuclear material beforehand, the Middle East could have witnessed another Chernobyl.
Even Saudi Arabia, a US ally and Iran’s regional rival, has expressed interest in enrichment. Yet when Saudi Crown Prince Muhammad Bin Salman hinted at acquiring a bomb from Pakistan if needed, there was little outrage in Washington. Iran, by contrast, has been suffocated with sanctions, assassinations, and now, open warfare. This double standard reveals what the nuclear regime has become: not a rules-based system but a club of privilege.
The war has also weakened Israel more than it admits. Despite having military superiority and American backing, Israel failed to achieve its objectives. The Iron Dome, long touted as impenetrable, was overwhelmed by saturation tactics. Iran, isolated and under-equipped, managed to fight back in ways that caught both Tel Aviv and Washington off guard. That it agreed to a ceasefire despite its initial ferocity suggests a nation wary of protracted attrition, especially after its struggles in Gaza.
The aftermath has unsettled Gulf capitals. For years, Saudi Arabia and the UAE had pursued delicate détente with Iran, even as they deepened ties with Israel. But the prospect of civil conflict in Iran—should regime change be attempted—terrifies them more than a nuclear-armed Islamic Republic. The question is no longer whether Iran will sprint toward the bomb, but whether the international system has left it with any other choice.
Nuclear aspirants across the globe have drawn one clear lesson: compliance does not guarantee security. Iraq abandoned its weapons programme and was invaded. Libya surrendered its nuclear assets and was dismembered. North Korea built the bomb and was spared. Iran stayed within the NPT, negotiated in good faith, and was bombed.
This is not a regional problem. It is a global legal crisis. When major powers arbitrarily redefine what is legal and who deserves protection under international law, they erode the very norms they claim to uphold. Washington’s continued support for Israel, even in clear violation of international law, confirms to much of the world that justice is no longer the currency of global diplomacy—power is.
Indeed, Israel’s strategy now appears to be that of short-term disruption over long-term stability. Its shift from simply sabotaging Iran’s nuclear timeline to seeking regime change mirrors the disastrous ambitions of the Bush era. And like the invasion of Iraq, this too could spiral beyond control. The Gulf’s fear is not just of war but of state collapse—half a million soldiers, nuclear stockpiles, and no clear successor. The spillover would be felt from Basra to Berlin.
In all this, the IAEA has hardly covered itself in glory. The Agency’s 2011 report, suggesting Iran had resumed its weapons programme, contradicted its findings and was reportedly based on Israeli intelligence. Even now, Rafael Grossi’s pronouncements oscillate between legal precision and political posturing. If the IAEA wants to retain credibility, it must act as an independent verifier, not a conduit of geopolitical coercion.
What then should be the response? First, the legal right to enrichment must be reaffirmed, and not just for Iran. If the NPT is to survive, it must offer equitable guarantees, not privileges for a few and punishment for the rest. Second, regional powers must reject external pressure to militarise disputes and instead push for a Middle East free of nuclear weapons—a proposal Iran itself floated at the UN years ago. Lastly, the global legal community must raise its voice. Silence now would only validate aggression as a substitute for diplomacy.
Iran may still choose restraint, but it will do so out of calculation, not trust. Its patience has been tested, its sovereignty violated, its citizens killed, and its legal rights denied. What the world must now decide is not whether Iran should be allowed to enrich uranium. That question is settled in law. The real question is whether international law will ever be allowed to matter again.
