Coin Press - Iran and the holy War risk

NYSE - LSE
RBGPF 0% 69.99 $
AZN 0.64% 162.89 $
RYCEF -0.05% 19.29 $
CMSC 0.68% 20.48 $
BCE -1.78% 22.5 $
VOD -1.26% 17.46 $
RIO -1.53% 95.79 $
BTI -0.77% 56.09 $
GSK 0.56% 50.29 $
RELX 0.15% 34.27 $
CMSD 0.88% 20.29 $
BCC -0.82% 75.31 $
BP -3.48% 45.38 $
JRI -1.04% 11.5 $
NGG 1.45% 76.03 $

Iran and the holy War risk




For now, Iran does not appear to be launching a formal holy war. But the question is no longer rhetorical. After the bombings that turned a long shadow conflict into an open regional war, religious language has moved from symbolic background noise toward the center of state messaging. The more important issue is not whether Tehran will suddenly summon the Muslim world into a single, borderless struggle. It is whether the Islamic Republic will fuse military retaliation, political succession, proxy activation and sacred rhetoric into a broader campaign that functions like a holy war without ever formally declaring one.

The current crisis is already historic. Since the joint U.S.-Israeli attack of February 28, which killed Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and struck Iranian state and military targets, the conflict has spread across Israel, Lebanon, the Gulf and the energy corridors that underpin the global economy. Public death tolls inside Iran alone have climbed into the four figures. Even though international nuclear inspectors said early in the campaign that they had no indication several key nuclear installations had been hit or that radiation had spread beyond normal levels, later stages of the war clearly broadened toward oil storage, airports, command sites and urban infrastructure. This is no longer a contained deterrence exchange. It is a live contest over regime survival, regional order and strategic endurance.

That is precisely why the phrase “holy war” must be handled with care. In January, influential voices inside Iran had already warned that any attack on the Supreme Leader would amount to a declaration of war against the wider Islamic world and could require a jihad decree. That language mattered then, and it matters even more now because the red line was crossed. Tehran can plausibly argue to its own hard-line base that the highest religious and political authority in the Islamic Republic was not merely challenged but assassinated. In ideological terms, that transforms retaliation from a policy choice into a sacred obligation. In political terms, it gives hard-liners a ready-made framework for widening the war.

Yet rhetoric is not the same as doctrine, and doctrine is not the same as operational behavior. Iran’s response so far looks less like an uncontrolled call to universal religious uprising than a grim, state-directed campaign of calibrated punishment. Tehran has struck back with missiles, drones, maritime pressure and pressure on regional hosts of U.S. military power. It has also tried to impose costs on the world economy by turning the Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz into instruments of leverage. This is not the behavior of a leadership abandoning strategy for blind zeal. It is the behavior of a regime trying to survive by making the war too costly, too wide and too economically dangerous for its enemies to sustain indefinitely.

That distinction matters. A genuine, formal holy war would imply a sweeping call for open-ended religious mobilization across borders, one that subordinates ordinary state interests to an all-consuming theological struggle. Iran has not done that in any clear, universal sense. It has instead behaved as a revolutionary state that uses sacred language to reinforce legitimacy, discipline supporters and justify retaliation. That model predates the current crisis. The Islamic Republic has always blended theology, nationalism, martyrdom culture, anti-Western resistance and hard security logic. The bombings have intensified that blend, but they have not erased the regime’s instinct for calculation.

The strongest evidence against an immediate full holy-war scenario is inside Iran itself. The system’s first imperative has not been global mobilization; it has been continuity. Even after decapitation strikes, the state moved to preserve command structures, delegate powers downward and push the Assembly of Experts toward selecting a successor. By March 8, that succession process had reportedly advanced to the point where a decision had been reached, even if the name had not yet been publicly revealed. That is a survival reflex. Regimes preparing for limitless religious war do not usually prioritize constitutional succession, elite cohesion and internal control. Regimes fighting for their lives do.

Iran’s regional behavior also shows tension between ideological fury and strategic restraint. President Masoud Pezeshkian’s apology to Gulf neighbors was extraordinary, not because it ended the war, but because it exposed the conflict inside Tehran’s own response. On one side sits the logic of escalation: punish every state that hosts U.S. forces, widen the crisis, raise oil prices, frighten shipping markets and prove that the bombardment of Iran cannot remain geographically contained. On the other side sits the logic of isolation avoidance: do not drive every Arab state irreversibly into the opposing camp, do not convert every neighbor into an active launchpad for anti-Iran operations, and do not make regime survival impossible by fighting the entire region at once.

This internal contradiction is one reason the phrase “holy war” can mislead. What is unfolding is more dangerous in practical terms and more limited in formal terms. Iran may never issue a clean, universal call for a civilizational war against all enemies of Islam, yet it can still encourage clerical sanction, mobilize militias, inspire cross-border attacks, bless cyber retaliation, empower covert cells and unleash proxy violence under a sacred frame. That would be a hybrid escalation: not a single global summons, but a diffuse religious legitimization of a long, dirty regional war. For civilians, ports, airports, desalination plants, shipping lanes and energy markets, the difference may feel almost academic.

The role of Iran’s allied armed networks reinforces that point. Hezbollah has entered the conflict, but not from a position of unchallenged strength. Its intervention has deepened political strain in Lebanon and highlighted how even Iran’s most loyal partners are balancing solidarity against self-preservation. Other aligned groups face similar pressures. The so-called axis can still hurt Israel, U.S. assets and regional infrastructure, but it is not a frictionless machine awaiting one theological command to move in perfect unity. The more Tehran leans on proxies, the more it reveals that its preferred method remains layered coercion, not a single dramatic declaration of holy war.

There is also a sectarian and geopolitical reality that limits the holy-war model. The Muslim world is not a single mobilizable bloc waiting for instructions from Tehran. Iran is a Shiite theocratic state with revolutionary ambitions, but its appeal across Sunni-majority states is uneven at best and sharply contested at worst. Gulf monarchies, already targeted by Iranian missiles and drones, are not natural participants in an Iranian-led sacred struggle. Many of them fear Tehran at least as much as they oppose the bombing campaign against it. That means Iran’s religious messaging may galvanize sympathizers, militants and ideological fellow travelers, but it is unlikely to unify the wider Islamic world behind one war banner.

Still, dismissing the danger would be a grave mistake. The holy-war language matters because words can widen the menu of violence. Once a conflict is framed as sacred defense rather than national retaliation alone, thresholds can drop. Assassinations, sabotage, maritime attacks, strikes on civilian-linked infrastructure and violence by semi-deniable actors all become easier to justify. A state under bombardment, mourning its supreme leader and fighting for institutional survival may decide that conventional retaliation is not enough. If Tehran concludes that it cannot win symmetrically, it may authorize a looser, more ideological pattern of warfare stretching from the Gulf to the Mediterranean and beyond.

The economic front is equally important. Iran understands that energy fear can be weaponized. Even limited disruption in the Strait of Hormuz sends shockwaves through insurance, shipping, aviation and inflation expectations worldwide. That leverage is politically valuable because it turns a military confrontation into a global pressure campaign. A formal holy war would demand maximal ideological mobilization. A survival war, by contrast, rewards selective disruption, ambiguity and controlled chaos. Tehran’s actions so far fit the second model more closely than the first.

This is why the most serious answer to the headline question is not a simple yes or no. Iran is unlikely to launch a classic holy war in the simplistic sense of a formal, total religious call to arms that instantly unites the Muslim world under its banner. But it is already moving toward something more contemporary and, in some ways, more destabilizing: a war of survival wrapped in sacred legitimacy, regional coercion and asymmetric retaliation. The bombings have not merely invited revenge. They have strengthened the argument of those in Tehran who believe compromise invites death and that only resistance sanctified by faith can preserve the system.

So the real risk is not that Iran suddenly abandons strategy for theology. The real risk is that strategy and theology fuse more tightly than before. If that fusion hardens, the war will not remain a sequence of missile exchanges and air raids. It will become a broader contest over succession, legitimacy, energy, maritime freedom, proxy warfare and the right to define resistance as a religious duty. In that environment, the phrase “holy war” may remain officially ambiguous, but its practical effects could become visible across the entire region.



Featured


Long live Ukraine - Хай живе Україна - Да здравствует Украина

Es lebe die Ukraine - Да здравствует Украина - Long live Ukraine - Хай живе Україна - Nech žije Ukrajina - Länge leve Ukraina - תחי אוקראינה - Lang leve Oekraïne - Да живее Украйна - Elagu Ukraina - Kauan eläköön Ukraina - Vive l'Ukraine - Ζήτω η Ουκρανία - 乌克兰万岁 - Viva Ucrania - Ať žije Ukrajina - Çok yaşa Ukrayna - Viva a Ucrânia - Trăiască Ucraina - ウクライナ万歳 - Tegyvuoja Ukraina - Lai dzīvo Ukraina - Viva l'Ucraina - Hidup Ukraina - تحيا أوكرانيا - Vivat Ucraina - ขอให้ยูเครนจงเจริญ - Ucraina muôn năm - ژوندی دی وی اوکراین - Yashasin Ukraina - Озак яшә Украина - Živjela Ukrajina - 우크라이나 만세 - Mabuhay ang Ukraine - Lenge leve Ukraina - Nyob ntev Ukraine - Да живее Украина - გაუმარჯოს უკრაინას - Hidup Ukraine - Vivu Ukrainio - Længe leve Ukraine - Živjela Ukrajina - Жыве Украіна - Yaşasın Ukrayna - Lengi lifi Úkraína - Lank lewe die Oekraïne

Stargate project, Trump and the AI war...

In a dramatic return to the global political stage, former President Donald J. Trump, as the current 47th President of the United States of America, has unveiled his latest initiative, the so-called ‘Stargate Project,’ in a bid to cement the United States’ dominance in artificial intelligence and outpace China’s meteoric rise in the field. The newly announced programme, cloaked in patriotic rhetoric and ambitious targets, is already stirring intense debate over the future of technological competition between the world’s two largest economies.According to preliminary statements from Trump’s team, the Stargate Project will consolidate the efforts of leading American tech conglomerates, defence contractors, and research universities under a centralised framework. The former president, who has long championed American exceptionalism, claims this approach will provide the United States with a decisive advantage, enabling rapid breakthroughs in cutting-edge AI applications ranging from military strategy to commercial innovation.“America must remain the global leader in technology—no ifs, no buts,” Trump declared at a recent press conference. “China has been trying to surpass us in AI, but with this new project, we will make sure the future remains ours.”Details regarding funding and governance remain scarce, but early indications suggest the initiative will rely heavily on public-private partnerships, tax incentives for research and development, and collaboration with high-profile venture capital firms. Skeptics, however, warn that the endeavour could fan the flames of an increasingly militarised AI race, raising ethical concerns about surveillance, automation of warfare, and data privacy. Critics also question whether the initiative can deliver on its lofty promises, especially in the face of existing economic and geopolitical pressures.Yet for its supporters, the Stargate Project serves as a rallying cry for renewed American leadership and an antidote to worries over China’s technological ascendancy. Proponents argue that accelerating AI research is paramount if the United States wishes to preserve not just military supremacy, but also the economic and cultural influence that has typified its global role for decades.Whether this bold project will succeed—or if it will devolve into a symbolic gesture—remains to be seen. What is certain, however, is that the Stargate Project has already reignited debate about how best to safeguard America’s strategic future and maintain the balance of power in the fast-evolving arena of artificial intelligence.

Europe’s arms money maze

Europe’s rearmament has acquired an uncomfortable companion: uncertainty about what the money actually buys. In Germany, an argument over defence-related borrowing has raised questions about whether exceptional debt is producing genuinely additional expenditure. In Estonia, unreliable inventory records and disputed ammunition contracts have brought ministerial accountability into the foreground. These are different problems, but they meet at the same point: a larger budget is not a reliable measure of a stronger defence.The contention that nobody knows what is happening to Europe’s weapons money goes too far. Budgets are published, procurement bodies operate and auditors are identifying failures. Nor do these cases establish that funds have disappeared into Russian hands or that the Kremlin engineered the difficulties. The more defensible conclusion is also more useful: Europe cannot judge rearmament by the volume of money announced. It must establish what has been purchased, accepted and made ready for use.That distinction matters strategically. An adversary need not steal the money to benefit from delays, unusable equipment or a loss of confidence in the governments spending it.What the €800 billion actually meansThe scale of the spending is substantial. Combined defence expenditure across the European Union reached €418 billion in 2025, with €454 billion estimated for 2026. Those annual totals should not be confused with the much larger, multi-year headline attached to the EU’s rearmament financing plan. The widely cited €800 billion is potential financing capacity, not a single fund already transferred to arms manufacturers. Its main components are approximately €650 billion in possible additional national expenditure enabled by fiscal flexibility over four years, and €150 billion in loans through the Security Action for Europe instrument, known as SAFE. The loans must be repaid; the additional national spending depends on governments choosing to use the available room.These distinctions are indispensable to any honest assessment. Permission to borrow is not an order placed with a factory. An order is not a completed delivery. Equipment delivered to a warehouse is not necessarily equipment that troops can operate, maintain and replenish. Treating all these stages as interchangeable allows governments to claim progress before the military benefit exists.It also creates a temptation to add together figures that describe different periods or overlapping flows of money. A credible account of rearmament should distinguish financing arrangements from annual expenditure, and both from verified outputs. Otherwise, the public is left comparing impressive totals whose practical meaning is unclear.Germany’s argument over additional spendingOn 10 September, the Ifo Institute challenged the use of Germany’s defence-related borrowing exemption. It calculated an €11 billion gap between additional borrowing and the year-on-year increase in the relevant expenditure. Ifo’s argument was that 38.5 per cent of the additional debt had not produced additional defence and security spending, instead freeing room for other purposes in the ordinary budget. The Finance Ministry rejected the comparison as legally and methodologically flawed. The exemption concerns qualifying expenditure above one per cent of gross domestic product, rather than an increase over the previous year. Ifo, for its part, said its analysis concerned additional spending, not constitutionality.This is not evidence that €11 billion was stolen. It is a dispute over the relationship between an exceptional borrowing mechanism and the political expectation attached to it. The difference is important: an arrangement can comply with its legal design while delivering less additional expenditure than citizens understand the announcement to promise.The practical question is whether new borrowing expands defence capacity or changes the way existing commitments are financed. Those outcomes can coexist within the same budget. Refinancing an established obligation may be lawful and fiscally useful, but it should not be presented as though an equivalent amount of new military capability has been purchased. Germany’s dispute therefore points to a straightforward transparency test. Governments should identify the expenditure that would have occurred anyway, the genuinely additional commitments and the delivery milestones attached to them. Without that comparison, the argument risks becoming a contest between accounting definitions while the central question—what the armed forces actually gain—remains unanswered.Estonia’s warning from the accountsIn Estonia, the problems are more immediate. Defence Minister Hanno Pevkur announced on 2 September that he would step down, accepting political responsibility for failures exposed in defence administration and procurement. His announcement did not amount to an admission of personal corruption.The National Audit Office issued a qualified opinion concerning defence inventories valued at approximately €1.2 billion because their quantities, composition and valuation could not be established reliably. It also questioned an unexplained retrospective adjustment of €99.7 million to the previous year’s inventory figures. That does not mean €1.2 billion of weapons has vanished. An unreliable balance is not the same thing as a proven loss. It means the records are insufficiently dependable to establish what the balance represents—a serious weakness in any organisation, and particularly consequential in one responsible for military readiness.Inadequate records can obstruct decisions long before a final financial loss is demonstrated. Commanders and purchasing authorities need to distinguish usable stock from equipment awaiting inspection, repair or replacement. If those categories are unclear, another procurement decision may rest on a mistaken understanding of what is already available.Auditing is therefore more than an exercise in retrospective blame. A trustworthy inventory helps determine what must be bought next, how urgently it is needed and whether previous purchases fulfilled their purpose. Poor accounting can undermine operational planning even where no theft is established.Paid for is not the same as usableEstonia’s ammunition procurement for Ukraine illustrates a second difficulty. The audit identified disputed advance payments and warned of a potential exposure to the state budget of around €70 million. That figure describes a risk, not a final, adjudicated loss.The controversy includes contracts involving the Italian company Datasel. Pevkur described ammunition delivered under the disputed arrangements as incomplete and of insufficient quality, rather than simply non-existent. Datasel disputes the criticism and has said that goods delivered and invoiced were worth approximately €58 million against about €59 million in advances. The company’s account is a contested position, not a judicial finding.The disagreement exposes a distinction that matters beyond this particular supplier. A payment record, an invoice, the physical presence of goods and acceptance of those goods for their intended use answer different questions. A supplier may point to shipments while a purchasing authority disputes whether the contractual requirement has been met. The existence of equipment does not, by itself, resolve an argument over quality or completeness.For Ukraine, the decisive consideration is usable military support. For the public authorities financing it, the additional questions are whether payment conditions were appropriate, inspections were timely and contractual protections can recover money when performance is disputed. Those questions should be settled through evidence and the relevant proceedings, not through premature declarations of guilt.The procurement lesson is nonetheless clear. Emergency purchasing needs traceable contracts, independently verified acceptance and a dependable record linking each payment to performance. Urgency may justify faster decisions. It cannot make the distinction between an invoice and a functioning delivery disappear.An oversight system split across institutionsEurope’s defence financing does not sit within a single system of scrutiny. National budgets, EU programmes, loans and off-budget arrangements have different institutional responsibilities. The European Court of Auditors’ September review described complex governance and uneven oversight arrangements, rather than a continent-wide absence of auditing.SAFE falls within the European Court of Auditors’ remit. The European Peace Facility, outside the ordinary EU budget, has its own College of Auditors. National defence expenditure is scrutinised through national institutions. The distinction is between different mandates, not between money that is automatically checked and money that is automatically unaccountable. The difficulty arises at the joins. A public explanation may follow the announcement of a financing package, while a procurement body follows the contract and an operational authority follows the equipment. Unless those accounts can be reconciled, citizens and legislators may struggle to establish the complete journey from political promise to accepted delivery.Secrecy complicates that task, but it need not prevent it. Publishing ammunition locations or technical vulnerabilities would be irresponsible. Giving properly authorised auditors access to contracts, inspections and payment records is a different matter. The need to protect operational information should not become a general excuse for withholding financial evidence.Nor should procurement integrity be treated as a rival to speed. Clearly assigned responsibility, verifiable milestones and early checks can prevent disputes from developing into expensive attempts to recover money after the event. The relevant choice is between controls that work during procurement and explanations demanded after something has gone wrong.Where Putin could benefitThese failures do not establish that Vladimir Putin has obtained everything he wanted. A Europe that turns rising expenditure into effective forces would represent a very different outcome. There is also no demonstrated Russian role in the particular German budget dispute or the Estonian accounting and contractual problems described here.The potential advantage for Moscow is indirect. Delayed or disputed deliveries can leave the intended recipient weaker than the expenditure suggests. Confusing financial claims can make it harder to defend further commitments. A succession of procurement controversies could erode confidence not only in individual contracts, but in the wider case for supporting Ukraine and strengthening European defence.That is a strategic risk, not proof of an accomplished Russian victory. The public identification of problems is itself evidence that scrutiny exists. A minister accepting political responsibility, auditors challenging unreliable balances and a government being pressed to explain its borrowing are mechanisms through which democratic systems can correct failure. Their value depends on what happens afterwards.The answer is neither to abandon rearmament nor to shield it from criticism. Governments should report progress in terms that connect money to results: contracts awarded, payments made, equipment accepted and capabilities available, with sensitive details reserved for secure oversight. Disputed transactions should remain visible until resolved rather than disappearing beneath the next spending announcement.Europe does not need to prove its determination by producing another larger number. It needs to demonstrate that the money already committed is becoming usable strength. Until it does, the distance between those two things remains an opportunity for the adversary it is trying to deter.