The previous column argued that today's conflicts are better understood as wars of systems rather than clashes of civilisations. This column examines what those systemic wars actually cost and the patterns they are forming in the ongoing conflict in the Middle East. History offers an unambiguous lesson: wars are rarely lost on the battlefield alone. They are lost in the gradual erosion of credibility, the weakening of financial foundations, and the misreading of adversaries who fight with patience rather than firepower.

Washington insists that it will not “run out” of weapons in a confrontation with Iran. Analysts reassure the public that American stockpiles remain deep. Technically, they are right. But the more important question is not whether the United States can win battles in the Gulf. It is what remains of its global position after the war.

Modern warfare is an unforgiving arithmetic. Intercepting a relatively inexpensive drone can require missiles costing millions of dollars. Technology determines capability, but cost determines endurance. That distinction is becoming increasingly evident with every passing day of this conflict.

Every defensive launch drains stockpiles that cannot be replenished overnight. Every day of sustained conflict in the Middle East inevitably limits the resources available for other theatres, from Europe’s confrontation with Russia to the Indo-Pacific rivalry with China.

This is the paradox of tactical victory: success in one arena may translate into strategic vulnerability elsewhere. But the deeper problem may not lie in American arsenals alone. It lies in the political and economic architecture of the Gulf.

The wealthy monarchies of the region — Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Kuwait and Bahrain — are among the richest states in the world. Yet their prosperity rests on fragile structural foundations. Most import the majority of their food, rely heavily on desalination for water, and depend on expatriate labour forces to sustain large sectors of their economies.

Their security model has therefore rested on two pillars: American military protection and the recycling of oil revenues into global financial markets, particularly the United States.

Iran understands this asymmetry. It does not need to defeat the United States militarily. It only needs to raise the costs of protecting this system.

Recent events illustrate how quickly that system can come under stress. Major international banks have already begun taking precautionary steps. Citigroup and Standard Chartered evacuated staff from their Dubai offices, while HSBC temporarily closed branches in Qatar after Iranian threats to target financial institutions linked to the United States and Israel.

At the same time, the strategic Strait of Hormuz through which roughly a fifth of the world’s oil supply passes has become increasingly volatile. Merchant vessels have been struck by projectiles, including ships travelling through the Gulf towards Asian markets, raising fears of wider disruptions to global trade and energy flows.

These developments reveal something critical: in the Gulf, the financial system and the security system are inseparable. If banks evacuate, shipping falters, and investors begin to doubt stability, the consequences ripple far beyond the region.

It is the language of states doubling down on dependence, calculating that a permanently weakened Iran is worth the cost of deeper American entanglement

It is the language of states doubling down on dependence, calculating that a permanently weakened Iran is worth the cost of deeper American entanglement

History provides another lens through which to understand the present moment.

It is often assumed that the “Arab world” historically confronted Israel as a unified military force. In reality, the burden of war fell primarily on a few states: Egypt, Jordan, and Syria.

In 1948, after Israel declared independence, these countries entered war alongside Iraq and Lebanon. The conflict ended with Israel controlling significantly more territory than envisioned in the United Nations partition plan, while hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were displaced in what became known as the Nakba.

In 1956, Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalised the Suez Canal, triggering a coordinated military response by Israel, Britain and France. Israel overran the Sinai Peninsula within days. Egypt survived politically only after diplomatic pressure from the United States and the Soviet Union forced the invading powers to withdraw.

The catastrophe deepened in 1967. In the Six-Day War, Israeli aircraft destroyed much of Egypt’s air force on the ground. Within a week, Israel had seized the Sinai Peninsula, Gaza, the West Bank, East Jerusalem and the Golan Heights. The defeat shattered the prestige of Nasser’s pan-Arab project and reshaped the regional balance of power.

A final attempt to reverse the strategic picture came in 1973 when Egypt and Syria launched a surprise offensive during the Jewish holy day of Yom Kippur. Early gains eventually gave way to Israeli counteroffensives that surrounded Egypt’s Third Army before a superpower-brokered ceasefire ended the war.

The Gulf monarchies did not lead these battles. Their most consequential intervention came through economics rather than armies — the oil embargo of 1973, which demonstrated the geopolitical power of energy markets.

This historical division of labour still matters today. Egypt, Syria and Jordan built large armies and paid for war in territory and blood. The Gulf states built pipelines, sovereign wealth funds and financial networks. Their influence derived from wealth rather than military institutions.

That model has worked for decades because it operated under a stable strategic umbrella: American protection and relatively predictable energy flows.

But prolonged conflict in the Gulf could test both pillars simultaneously. Iran’s strategy emphasises endurance and asymmetric pressure — drones, missiles, proxy networks and disruption of shipping routes. Even limited attacks on ports, desalination plants, airports or financial centres could create cascading economic shocks.

If instability spreads through the Gulf, the consequences could extend into the global financial system itself.

For half a century, oil revenues from the region have been recycled into Western financial markets — particularly United States Treasury bonds and dollar-denominated assets. This “petrodollar” system has helped sustain the international role of the dollar and finance American deficits since the 1970s.

A severe geopolitical rupture could gradually alter that pattern. Energy trade might diversify across currencies or financial blocs as states seek to hedge geopolitical risks.

Such changes would not occur overnight. But wars have a way of accelerating transformations that once seemed unthinkable. This is why the stakes of a United States–Iran conflict extend far beyond the battlefield.

The Gulf monarchies' response to this vulnerability has, however, defied the logic of structural fragility. Rather than reconsidering their dependence on external protection or accelerating moves towards strategic autonomy, Riyadh and Abu Dhabi are pressing Washington to finish the job completely. “If the Americans pull out before the task is complete, we'll be left to confront Iran on our own,” one Gulf source told Reuters.

It is the language of states doubling down on dependence, calculating that a permanently weakened Iran is worth the cost of deeper American entanglement, whatever that entanglement ultimately demands of them. The fragility is real, and so is the perceived indispensability of American power.

What this alignment reveals is the hollowness of the civilisational conflict framework. The United States, Israel, and the Gulf monarchies are culturally and religiously diverse — united not by a shared civilisation but by shared systemic interests. Iran, governed by one religious sect, leads a coalition including Hamas, which follows a different sect entirely. The paradox is conclusive. These are not clashes of civilisations. They are wars of systems and survival instinct, not culture or religion, that drives them.

© The Friday Times