He said to his companion, as the two of them watched the Middle East unfold on the screen: I have a feeling the Iranian project in the region has entered a phase of decline — and perhaps the retreat is no longer gradual, as it was, but closer to a rupture. His companion asked: and your evidence? Then added: the most dangerous form of analysis is to underestimate the strength of your adversary.
He said: I know that, and to reach a sound answer we need to go back a little. The Iranian project reached the peak of its expansion in the second decade of this century. In those years Tehran was present, directly or through its allies, across a broad expanse running from Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon to Yemen. Then the nuclear agreement of 2015 with the United States — the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, reached with the P5+1 — came to give Iran, in the eyes of its leaders and its allies, recognition of its regional role and a chance to catch its breath, economically and politically.
Hassan Nasrallah was then the strongest player in Lebanon. Hezbollah had money, weapons, organization, and media, and could sway Lebanese decision-making, sometimes through consent and sometimes through fear. Nor did its activity stay within Lebanon's borders. Its forces entered the war in Syria alongside Bashar al-Assad's regime, and it took part in training groups tied to the Iranian project in more than one Arab arena.
In Syria, Iranian intervention began to widen from 2011, and by 2015 it had become a military and political fact that could not be ignored. Amir-Abdollahian, in his book The Morning of the Levant, spoke of undeclared understandings between Iran and America that allowed Tehran a wide margin of movement in exchange for restraint on other files, the nuclear one foremost among them. Whether those accounts are true or not, the result is before us: in those years Iran came to hold considerable influence in Damascus, especially after 2015.
Iraq, meanwhile, was the most important prize. After the fall of Saddam Hussein's regime, Tehran spread through the Iraqi political fabric to an unprecedented degree. The 2010 elections are a clear illustration: Ayad Allawi's list won the largest number of seats, yet Nouri al-Maliki stayed on as head of government after negotiations and pressure in which Iran had the last word. For Tehran, Iraq was not merely a neighbor but a corridor to Syria and Lebanon, an economic market, and an important outlet.
In Yemen the arc was very nearly completed. The Houthis' seizure of Sanaa in 2014 gave Iran a card close to Bab al-Mandab, one of the most important maritime passages in the world. Thus, at a certain moment, the network of Iranian influence appeared to stretch from the south of the Arabian Peninsula to the eastern Mediterranean. It was no surprise that some Iranian officials spoke, at the time, in the language of the victor. Today the picture has changed.
Syria left the Iranian equation in 2024, and an important road connecting Tehran to Hezbollah was severed. The party took heavy blows that cost it a great many of its commanders, Hassan Nasrallah foremost among them. Its capacity for regional movement receded, and we find ourselves before a different Lebanese reality — with mounting internal and external pressure to confine weapons to the hands of the state, which has encouraged the state to open a negotiating track of its own.
In Yemen, the Houthis no longer operate in the environment that once permitted their expansion. Supply lines have grown more difficult, the Red Sea is more crowded with forces and alliances opposed to them, and the legitimate government is better prepared than it was in the war's first years. Their ability to control the Yemeni scene, or to use Bab al-Mandab as an absolute instrument of pressure, is no longer what it was.
That leaves Iraq, and here lies the most important knot. Tehran knows that losing its influence in Iraq means severing the most important remaining link in its Arab project. So it holds on fiercely, and it sent Qalibaf to keep that link intact. But Iraq itself is changing. Iran's ability to impose names and choices at the summit of power is no longer what it was; official Iraqi talk of confining weapons to the hands of the state, and of ending the phenomenon of armed forces operating outside its institutions, has grown louder; and the political and economic cost of an unbalanced relationship with Iran has become clearer to Iraqis.
Here a deeper problem appears before Tehran. The project that was built over years on the weakness of the Arab states now finds itself facing states that have begun to recover something of their capacity, and societies that have paid a heavy price for the war of proxies and no longer regard the old slogans with the same enthusiasm. Influence that once looked like a gain has, in some places, become a burden. Iran itself, moreover, paid a large price in the recent military confrontations — in capabilities, resources, and prestige. The attacks that struck the Gulf states also widened the circle of anxiety about it, and weakened its ability to present itself as a force for regional stability.
Does this mean the Iranian project is finished? Certainly not. Iran is a state with interests, and with networks that remain active, and it would be an error to believe that its present weakness means the disappearance of its influence tomorrow. But the difference between yesterday and today is clear: a decade ago Tehran was advancing and opening new arenas; now it is trying to preserve what remains. That is the most important shift. Small empires do not always fall with a single blow. Sometimes they begin by losing the peripheries, then the supply routes, then the allies, then the ability to impose their will.
Last word: the question is no longer where Iran will expand, but how much of what it expanded into it can hold on to.
