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The US build-up around Iran constitutes strategic war option, not ‘deterrence’

By Amro Allan | Al Mayadeen | February 23, 2026

The confrontation forming around Iran is increasingly defined not by diplomacy or de-escalatory statecraft, but by infrastructure: aircraft, tankers, ships, interceptors, forward bases, and the logistics that bind them into a usable strike system. What is being assembled around Iran is coercion by force posture—a regional arrangement designed to make the use of violence not only possible, but administratively routine.

The danger is not simply that the United States is “sending a message.” It is those messages, once backed by operational capability and sustained logistics, that develop their own momentum—especially in a region where a single incident, whether staged, misattributed, or opportunistically interpreted, can push escalation beyond the point where political actors can plausibly reverse it. That is how wars become “inevitable”: not because they must happen, but because the architecture is built until restraint begins to look like an admission of weakness.

What is underway is best understood as a transition from episodic pressure to a posture designed to make sustained operations feasible. Deterrence theatre is reversible: it can be intensified, paused, or theatrically concluded. War-enabling posture is different. It organizes the region for a campaign that could last weeks, not hours—requiring refuelling depth, airborne command, electronic warfare, forward munitions, missile defense, and a permissive regional geography. In other words, it is not the language of crisis management; it is the language of readiness for force.

The Israeli role

Any realistic scenario involving major strikes on Iran necessarily includes Israeli capabilities, even if formal command structures remain ambiguous. The Israeli Air Force is not simply a parallel instrument. It is a forward-deployed capacity that can be synchronized with US regional power while allowing Washington to stage-manage deniability until the moment of activation.

“Israel” maintains a large combat fleet with a long-range strike capacity built around multiple platforms: approximately 66 F-15 aircraft (including F-15I variants configured for longer-range strike), roughly 173 F-16 fighters, and about 48 F-35I stealth aircraft in service, with additional units expected over time. The operational implication is a structure suited to repeated waves rather than a single, demonstrative raid: stealth assets prioritized for penetration and suppression, with conventional fighters sustaining the bulk of strike and support roles once corridors are opened.

Defense planning in “Israel” also signals expectation of retaliation on a scale that exceeds symbolic exchange. The layered interception network—Arrow, Iron Dome, David’s Sling, and THAAD—is designed to deal with different classes of incoming fire, from rockets and drones to ballistic threats, and it functions as a prerequisite for any prolonged confrontation in which Israeli and US regional assets become primary targets.

This is where the political and military lines converge. Israeli leadership has long framed Iran as the central strategic adversary, and war planning has repeatedly been presented as a means of reshaping regional balances. Whatever language is used—“pre-emption”, “self-defense”, “containment”—the practical effect is to normalize the idea that Iran’s sovereignty can be overridden by an external security narrative. In that framework, escalation is not an accident; it is a policy option that is repeatedly rehearsed as common sense.

What the United States has built

The most revealing element in the US posture is not any single platform, but the way assets are being layered into an integrated strike system.

Open sources indicate that, on the air side, the forward package includes at least 30 F-35A fighters deployed in theatre, 24 F-15E aircraft, and an additional 36 F-16s moving toward the region. Electronic attack support includes 6 EA-18G Growlers, alongside 8–12 A-10 aircraft. Around a dozen additional F-16s are operating from Prince Sultan and possibly Al Dhafra, supported by 3 E-11A communications aircraft. In addition, a deployment of 12 F-22 stealth fighters is underway, with part of the force already forward-positioned and the remainder expected to continue toward regional bases.

The intelligence and command layer expands this into something far beyond a “show of force”: the movement or deployment of U-2 reconnaissance aircraft, an RC-135 signals-intelligence platform, a WC-135 nuclear-detection aircraft, and additional E-3 AWACS aircraft preparing for redeployment to forward bases—strengthening airborne battle management and command capability.

Operational persistence depends on fuel and lift. The posture is underpinned by up to 22 tanker aircraft operating from regional hubs, and sustained transport activity by C-17, C-5M, and C-130 aircraft delivering troops, equipment, and air-defence systems to forward locations.

At sea, the naval component includes the USS Gerald R. Ford carrier strike group moving toward the region while the USS Abraham Lincoln group operates in the Arabian Sea, alongside multiple Arleigh Burke destroyers positioned across key waterways (the Strait of Hormuz, the Gulf, the Red Sea, and the Mediterranean). The posture is reinforced by the USS Georgia, an Ohio-class guided-missile submarine capable of launching a large volume of cruise missiles.

Individually, each of these deployments can be framed as “routine”. Collectively, they form something more consequential: an operational environment in which launching a campaign becomes logistically straightforward. That is the essence of coercion-by-infrastructure. It does not announce war. It makes war easier to begin.

The aircraft carrier story

Washington foregrounds naval deployments because they are legible, dramatic, and politically manageable. Ships can be repositioned without forcing host governments into public commitments. Carrier strike groups allow Washington to appear decisive while keeping escalation thresholds ambiguous. This is useful domestically and diplomatically: it reassures partners, pressures adversaries, and sustains a narrative of control.

Yet the obsession with carriers often obscures the real center of gravity: land-based access, refuelling depth, persistent surveillance, and the defensive systems that keep regional bases operational. A serious campaign aimed at degrading Iran’s missile forces, air defenses, energy infrastructure, or nuclear-related facilities requires sortie generation and basing access that naval aviation alone cannot supply. The decisive question is not what is sailing; it is what is already positioned on land and in the air.

Iran reads this not as theatre, but as preparation. That reading is rational. When an adversary constructs a system designed for sustained strikes, it is the targeted state—not the deploying one—that is forced to plan for worst-case scenarios.

The geography of war

The enabling infrastructure of any sustained campaign sits in fixed locations. The operational map spans the Gulf and the Levant.

From Al Udeid in Qatar—often described as the operational heart of US Central Command—Washington can coordinate high-tempo operations supported by ISR and refuelling. Al Dhafra in the UAE extends its reach with advanced platforms and command integration. Prince Sultan in Saudi Arabia, if politically activated, shortens flight times and increases sortie density. The Harir airbase in Erbil provides forward access for strike and surveillance missions, while Jordanian airfields open western approach corridors. US positions in eastern Syria facilitate drone and reconnaissance activity along Iran’s western flank.

Beyond the Arab theatre, “Israel’s” bases operate in close alignment with US operational planning, forming an integrated environment even if formal command lines remain blurred. To the north, Azerbaijan offers potential basing or surveillance access along Iran’s sensitive frontier. Strategically, long-range bombers operating from the continental United States or Diego Garcia can be integrated through aerial refuelling and forward command nodes—adding strike capacity not captured by carrier-focused narratives.

This geography also clarifies what Washington rarely foregrounds: regional states become the battlefield’s enabling terrain. The bases, depots, radars, command centres, and runways that make sustained operations possible also sit within Iran’s retaliatory envelope. Iran does not need to neutralize a carrier to impose strategic and political costs. It can target the infrastructure that keeps the campaign running: runways, fuel depots, hangars, radar nodes, and the host-nation systems that sustain them.

If escalation occurs, the political question for host governments will not be abstract. It will be immediate: whether they are willing to absorb retaliation for choices made in Washington and Tel Aviv. That is precisely why the build-up is destabilizing. It expands the list of actors exposed to consequences while narrowing the space for de-escalation.

This is where the moral and legal questions sharpen. If host states provide launchpads, they are not passive bystanders; they become parties to the escalation. Yet these governments are rarely treated, in Western coverage, as societies that will absorb the consequences. They are treated as facilities—terrain, not people. Iran, by contrast, is treated as a problem to be managed.

Missile defense

If the escalation logic runs through bases, the defensive requirement runs through interceptors. Missile defense in this doctrine is a central operational requirement rather than a supporting function.

Patriot and THAAD batteries protect major airbases and logistics nodes across the Gulf and the Levant, integrated with early-warning radars, airborne surveillance, and regional command networks. Following the US withdrawal from Ain al-Assad in western Iraq, defensive emphasis shifted toward fewer but more politically sustainable bases: Al Udeid and Al Dhafra remain heavily protected, while positions in Jordan and eastern Syria rely on combinations of Patriot systems, shorter-range counter-drone defenses, and persistent surveillance.

“Israel” constitutes a distinct but integrated pillar in this interception architecture. Its layered air-defense network—Iron Dome, David’s Sling, Patriot, and Arrow—is linked to US early-warning and interception planning, forming a shared defensive envelope rather than a purely national shield.

Notably, the defensive geography is widening. Cyprus has deployed Israeli-made air-defense systems, and Greece is moving toward integrating Israeli interception technology into its own architecture—developments that point to the gradual emergence of an Eastern Mediterranean interception depth, built around interoperable sensors and strategic alignment rather than formal collective defence commitments.

At sea, US Aegis-equipped destroyers add a mobile interception layer capable of engaging aircraft, cruise missiles, and limited ballistic threats—again supplementing, not replacing, land-based interception.

This matters because missile defense introduces a vulnerability that carrier narratives often conceal: interceptor stocks are finite, and a sustained high-volume exchange strains them. In a scenario of large-scale missile and drone retaliation, the question becomes not simply “can you intercept?” but “for how long?”—and at what political cost to host governments whose territory becomes the absorbing surface for escalation.

Tehran’s strategic logic

Iran’s deterrence logic has been recalibrated by lived confrontation, namely the “12-day war”. The central conclusion drawn in Tehran is that survivability precedes deterrence. Missiles, air-defense systems, command-and-control, missile production, and retaliatory capabilities must be structured to endure the opening shock of war, not to dominate it.

In the opening phase of that confrontation, Iran’s air defenses suffered rapid degradation: fixed or semi-mobile systems were destroyed early, their locations effectively pre-mapped, and their network dependence exploited through precision strikes, electronic warfare, and intelligence integration. Mobile missile systems—long assumed to be the backbone of survivable retaliation—also proved vulnerable once movement became detectable under persistent surveillance and integrated strike networks. The conclusion Tehran extracts is structural: in a conflict dominated by satellite tracking and real-time targeting, anything that must move, emit, or communicate openly at the onset of war is at elevated risk of rapid attrition.

That assessment drives the turn toward underground infrastructure. Iran’s missile force is being reconfigured around hardened tunnels, concealed storage, underground silos, and pre-positioned launch infrastructure designed to reduce exposure time and reliance on vulnerable command links. In this model, air defense still matters, but its role is framed as damage limitation rather than denial: complicating targeting, absorbing strikes, and preserving enough capability to ensure retaliation after the opening exchange.

Disruptions cascade into command delays and coordination bottlenecks, so Tehran’s preparations increasingly prioritise hardened domestic infrastructure, reduced external dependencies, and decentralized command authority to ensure retaliation does not hinge on uninterrupted connectivity. Parallel to this is the elevation of the domestic front—civil defense, continuity, internal stability—as a core component of deterrence rather than an auxiliary concern.

This is not the posture of a state seeking war. It is the posture of a state that has learnt—through repeated threat and episodic attack—that its adversaries prefer to treat its security as negotiable. Tehran’s strategic lesson is bleak but coherent: if the US and “Israel” reserve an expansive right to strike, then Iran must reserve the ability to respond even after absorbing the first blow. This is not radical; it is the minimal condition of sovereignty.

The escalation problem

A central risk is that escalation is unlikely to remain geographically contained. Even if Washington frames an initial operation as “limited”, allied forces and partner theatres are not mechanically separable. Under conditions of sustained strikes on Iran, groups and allied actors across Yemen, Lebanon, and Iraq face their own strategic pressures, with intervention becoming a function of credibility and survival rather than preference.

Meanwhile, regional governments that host US assets occupy an exposed position. They may privately prefer de-escalation, but their bases and airspace can become operational requirements once Washington activates the posture it has assembled. Washington has 35,000–40,000 personnel deployed around Iran, expected to carry out the main attack in the event of war—an estimate that underscores how deeply the region is already militarily interlocked with any potential campaign.

This is where political constraint becomes as dangerous as military capability. When leaders publicly elevate threats, they increase the domestic cost of restraint; when adversaries interpret restraint as weakness, they increase the cost of compromise. In such conditions, accidental escalation—triggered by a strike, a misattributed attack, or a rapid chain of retaliation—can become more plausible than deliberate strategic design. And in an environment saturated with narrative warfare, the line between “accident” and “pretext” is rarely as clear as officials insist.

The build-up manufactures the conditions for war

The build-up is not reducible to theatre. It is a layered strike-and-defense system: forward stealth fighters and conventional strike aircraft; electronic warfare; airborne command and ISR; tanker depth and heavy lift; carrier groups and missile-capable submarines; a regional lattice of bases; and an expanding interception architecture stretching across the Gulf, the Levant, and into the Eastern Mediterranean. The combined effect is to make sustained operations technically feasible, while widening the geography of vulnerability and entanglement.

The strategic irony is that the more “prepared” this posture becomes, the less space remains for political off-ramps. Host governments become exposed. Interceptor sustainability becomes a decisive variable. Tehran’s retaliatory doctrine evolves toward survivability and endurance rather than symbolic signalling. In such an environment, the question is no longer whether war is “intended”. It is whether the operational infrastructure of war is now sufficiently in place that a single trigger—miscalculation, provocation, or opportunism—can transform a posture into a campaign faster than political channels can arrest it.

Iran’s reading of this is neither paranoia nor ideology. It is a basic inference. When a superpower constructs the machinery for a sustained strike and embeds it across neighbouring territories, the targeted state will plan accordingly. The real moral burden, then, lies not on Iran’s preparations for survival, but on the political decision—repeatedly rehearsed in Washington and Tel Aviv—that a regional order can be engineered through coercion and air power, while everyone else is expected to absorb the consequences.

If the international community is serious about preventing war, it should stop treating Iran’s defensive doctrine as the primary problem while granting the US-Israeli posture the presumption of legitimacy. The liability of proof lies with those constructing a regional strike system and calling it “stability”. There is nothing stabilizing about embedding a war option across neighbouring territories, then demanding that the targeted state behave as though this is normal. The region has seen this script before: coercion presented as protection, escalation presented as necessity, and catastrophe presented—after the fact—as an unfortunate surprise.

February 23, 2026 - Posted by aletho | Militarism, Wars for Israel | Iran, Israel, Middle East, United States, Zionism