<p>As the United States, Israel-Iran war reaches a delicate two-week ceasefire, the conflict seems postponed, at best. While Donald Trump neared an unprecedented rhetoric of ‘a whole civilisation will die,’ Iran has promised retaliation. The next two weeks will be critical because the current ceasefire allows both sides to return with some pride, and more importantly, with continued strength. One of the strongest post-war thoughts could be the limits of America’s extended security architecture for its partners and allies.</p>.<p>The war escalated dramatically, with both sides targeting critical infrastructure and crossing new red lines each day. While Iran has suffered massive damage to its assets, the US too has suffered from retaliatory strikes, with its military infrastructure across the region coming under sustained Iranian attack. Gulf countries, meanwhile, have found themselves in the crosshairs. The scale and intensity of the Iranian retaliation exposed the limits of both extended deterrence and defence arrangements as security guarantees. On the economic side, Washington’s inability to protect civilian, critical, and military infrastructure risks undermining the perception of the Gulf as a safe hub for global business and investment. The trajectory of the war points to a post-conflict reckoning: a recalibration among US allies, as they reassess their strategic dependence on American security assurances.</p>.<p>One of the defining features of the US-led post-World War II order was its network of security alliances, including NATO in Europe and bilateral (military and economic) ties with Japan and South Korea in Asia. Close partnerships with Gulf States such as Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Bahrain, and Qatar provided similar frameworks in West Asia. The logic was straightforward: the US provided security guarantees, while its allies aligned with a US-led liberal economic and political order. This security bargain was closely tied to an economic quid pro quo. For long, the Gulf proved America’s main energy mainstay. For Europe, America’s guarantee enabled a focus on post-war economic reconstruction without worrying about external threats.</p>.The world pays for the wealth of a few.<p>For decades, the alliances worked well with relative stability, albeit with little friction. Trump’s return to office has placed these alliances under severe strain. The President has viewed US security commitments as a disproportionate burden and wants to reduce Washington’s share of allied defence responsibilities. His repeated criticism of NATO and pressure on partners to increase defence spending have unsettled long-standing transatlantic ties, leading to the Hague commitment. More broadly, his emphasis on burden-sharing and shifting, as highlighted in the National Security Strategy, reflects a recalibration of US alliance management.</p>.<p>Trump’s transactional approach to foreign policy has pushed allies to reassess their security postures. Europe is now debating the reindustrialisation of its defence base. Japan has accelerated its defence spending plan to 2 per cent of GDP by FY27, and 70 per cent of South Korea’s defence equipment is now domestically sourced. The shift is overdue, as regional allies have long outsourced their security to the US. Yet this transition is long-term. In the short to medium term, dependence on the US remains unavoidable for maintaining regional security challenges. It is here that the war with Iran has laid bare the fragility and limitations of US security guarantees.</p>.<p><strong>Hard choices to make</strong></p>.<p>The war has reaffirmed the US’s military as the world’s most advanced and sophisticated military force. Yet, the rapid depletion of advanced ammunition and interceptor missiles has exposed deeper structural limitations. The war in Ukraine has steadily depleted stockpiles, raising worries about a widening demand-supply gap. The subsequent escalation with Iran has brought these vulnerabilities into the spotlight. Iran’s use of low-cost drones and missiles to target structures across the Gulf and beyond has strained US reserves of advanced air defence systems, pushing stockpiles to critical levels.</p>.<p>The emerging strain has had strategic consequences. To manage shortages, Washington has reportedly redeployed key systems from allies such as South Korea and the Philippines – moves that have raised concerns in Seoul and Manila about the credibility and reliability of US security commitments, particularly in the event of a regional contingency, especially against China.</p>.<p>For Gulf countries, the war has been a stark reminder of the risks inherent in their heavy reliance on the US security architecture. They have, first, been drawn into a conflict not of their choosing. Second, despite investing billions in advanced American defence systems, they remain vulnerable to sustained attacks, with additional support extended by European powers. The Iranian counterattack changes the risk threshold in the region, as any future US adventurism could invite a similar response. For the Gulf states, this warrants a rethink of their security posturing vis-à-vis the US.</p>.<p>The war has deepened existing fissures between the US and its European allies. The closure of the Strait of Hormuz and the resulting spike in global oil prices prompted Washington to seek European assistance in reopening the passage and stabilising energy markets. The responses, from the UK, Germany, France, and Spain, however, have been uneven, ranging from outright reluctance to a cautious, calibrated willingness to assist when necessary. The positions taken by the UK, which is now leading a coalition of nearly 40 countries seeking a diplomatic solution to reopen the strait, point to divergences within the transatlantic alliance. European countries are learning to deal with a reticent Trump in a language he most resents: defiance.</p>.<p>The war in Iran poses tough questions for all the actors, both directly and indirectly involved. For the US under Trump, who has been pestering allies to take charge of their own security, constant U-turns over ending the war and opening the Strait of Hormuz, critical demand-supply gaps in defence assets, and the repurposing of military assets will turn the conversation on its head. For US allies, the stark realities of outsourcing security and self-reliance couldn’t be more telling. Most strikingly, the questions about US security architecture will be hard to ignore, especially in an age of electronic and drone warfare.</p>.<p><em><strong>Vivek is Deputy Director, Strategic Studies Programme, Observer Research Foundation; Akshat was an intern at ORF.</strong></em></p><p><em>(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.)</em></p>
<p>As the United States, Israel-Iran war reaches a delicate two-week ceasefire, the conflict seems postponed, at best. While Donald Trump neared an unprecedented rhetoric of ‘a whole civilisation will die,’ Iran has promised retaliation. The next two weeks will be critical because the current ceasefire allows both sides to return with some pride, and more importantly, with continued strength. One of the strongest post-war thoughts could be the limits of America’s extended security architecture for its partners and allies.</p>.<p>The war escalated dramatically, with both sides targeting critical infrastructure and crossing new red lines each day. While Iran has suffered massive damage to its assets, the US too has suffered from retaliatory strikes, with its military infrastructure across the region coming under sustained Iranian attack. Gulf countries, meanwhile, have found themselves in the crosshairs. The scale and intensity of the Iranian retaliation exposed the limits of both extended deterrence and defence arrangements as security guarantees. On the economic side, Washington’s inability to protect civilian, critical, and military infrastructure risks undermining the perception of the Gulf as a safe hub for global business and investment. The trajectory of the war points to a post-conflict reckoning: a recalibration among US allies, as they reassess their strategic dependence on American security assurances.</p>.<p>One of the defining features of the US-led post-World War II order was its network of security alliances, including NATO in Europe and bilateral (military and economic) ties with Japan and South Korea in Asia. Close partnerships with Gulf States such as Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Bahrain, and Qatar provided similar frameworks in West Asia. The logic was straightforward: the US provided security guarantees, while its allies aligned with a US-led liberal economic and political order. This security bargain was closely tied to an economic quid pro quo. For long, the Gulf proved America’s main energy mainstay. For Europe, America’s guarantee enabled a focus on post-war economic reconstruction without worrying about external threats.</p>.The world pays for the wealth of a few.<p>For decades, the alliances worked well with relative stability, albeit with little friction. Trump’s return to office has placed these alliances under severe strain. The President has viewed US security commitments as a disproportionate burden and wants to reduce Washington’s share of allied defence responsibilities. His repeated criticism of NATO and pressure on partners to increase defence spending have unsettled long-standing transatlantic ties, leading to the Hague commitment. More broadly, his emphasis on burden-sharing and shifting, as highlighted in the National Security Strategy, reflects a recalibration of US alliance management.</p>.<p>Trump’s transactional approach to foreign policy has pushed allies to reassess their security postures. Europe is now debating the reindustrialisation of its defence base. Japan has accelerated its defence spending plan to 2 per cent of GDP by FY27, and 70 per cent of South Korea’s defence equipment is now domestically sourced. The shift is overdue, as regional allies have long outsourced their security to the US. Yet this transition is long-term. In the short to medium term, dependence on the US remains unavoidable for maintaining regional security challenges. It is here that the war with Iran has laid bare the fragility and limitations of US security guarantees.</p>.<p><strong>Hard choices to make</strong></p>.<p>The war has reaffirmed the US’s military as the world’s most advanced and sophisticated military force. Yet, the rapid depletion of advanced ammunition and interceptor missiles has exposed deeper structural limitations. The war in Ukraine has steadily depleted stockpiles, raising worries about a widening demand-supply gap. The subsequent escalation with Iran has brought these vulnerabilities into the spotlight. Iran’s use of low-cost drones and missiles to target structures across the Gulf and beyond has strained US reserves of advanced air defence systems, pushing stockpiles to critical levels.</p>.<p>The emerging strain has had strategic consequences. To manage shortages, Washington has reportedly redeployed key systems from allies such as South Korea and the Philippines – moves that have raised concerns in Seoul and Manila about the credibility and reliability of US security commitments, particularly in the event of a regional contingency, especially against China.</p>.<p>For Gulf countries, the war has been a stark reminder of the risks inherent in their heavy reliance on the US security architecture. They have, first, been drawn into a conflict not of their choosing. Second, despite investing billions in advanced American defence systems, they remain vulnerable to sustained attacks, with additional support extended by European powers. The Iranian counterattack changes the risk threshold in the region, as any future US adventurism could invite a similar response. For the Gulf states, this warrants a rethink of their security posturing vis-à-vis the US.</p>.<p>The war has deepened existing fissures between the US and its European allies. The closure of the Strait of Hormuz and the resulting spike in global oil prices prompted Washington to seek European assistance in reopening the passage and stabilising energy markets. The responses, from the UK, Germany, France, and Spain, however, have been uneven, ranging from outright reluctance to a cautious, calibrated willingness to assist when necessary. The positions taken by the UK, which is now leading a coalition of nearly 40 countries seeking a diplomatic solution to reopen the strait, point to divergences within the transatlantic alliance. European countries are learning to deal with a reticent Trump in a language he most resents: defiance.</p>.<p>The war in Iran poses tough questions for all the actors, both directly and indirectly involved. For the US under Trump, who has been pestering allies to take charge of their own security, constant U-turns over ending the war and opening the Strait of Hormuz, critical demand-supply gaps in defence assets, and the repurposing of military assets will turn the conversation on its head. For US allies, the stark realities of outsourcing security and self-reliance couldn’t be more telling. Most strikingly, the questions about US security architecture will be hard to ignore, especially in an age of electronic and drone warfare.</p>.<p><em><strong>Vivek is Deputy Director, Strategic Studies Programme, Observer Research Foundation; Akshat was an intern at ORF.</strong></em></p><p><em>(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.)</em></p>