The world after the US defeat

MADRID – The reverberations of the Forty-Day War have not ceased, and it can already be said that they have affected not only Western Asia but the entire world. The story is well known: Donald Trump launched a war expecting that American and Israeli strikes would finally do away with the Islamic Republic. Instead, he has witnessed a historic defeat for his country.

Robert Kagan, the neoconservative geopolitical analyst, got it right from the very beginning: "The conflict will end in a defeat for the United States, an outcome that will irreversibly weaken Washington's global position and trigger a chain reaction around the world, as friends and adversaries alike adapt to American failure."

Kagan was speaking primarily of the international consequences of that defeat, which are the ones that concern this article, though its effects are likely to be felt in domestic politics as well. The long-term repercussions cannot be foreseen, yet certain things are already becoming clear. Trump's approval ratings had been declining for much of his second term, but the Iran war has accelerated the slide: one in four Americans who voted for him in 2024 now opposes the conflict. Since its outbreak, presidential approval has dropped more than three percentage points to a mere 40 percent, while disapproval has climbed to 57 percent.

At the regional level, the war appears to have convinced Saudi Arabia and other traditional allies that American security guarantees for Arab states are no longer as solid as they once were. The executive order extending a security guarantee to Qatar in 2025, the "major non-NATO ally" status granted to Qatar, Kuwait, and Bahrain, and the agreements permitting U.S. military bases in several Persian Gulf Cooperation Council states—none of these managed to protect their beneficiaries from devastating Iranian attacks. As a result, the countries of the region have few alternatives beyond reducing their dependence on what they now perceive as an unpredictable and unreliable Washington, one incapable of fully protecting them and liable, even, to endanger their security through reckless actions.

One of the most notable reverberations of the war is that it has accelerated the regional transition toward a post-American order.

The pact signed on August 7 between Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and Pakistan can be read—though not exclusively—through that lens. Under the Mecca Agreement, the three countries committed to strengthening "collective defense" and "collective deterrence," and to treating an armed attack against any one of them as an attack against all three. As Stanly Johny, international affairs editor at the Indian daily The Hindu, has noted, each member brings its own strengths and vulnerabilities to the table.

Saudi Arabia puts forward its financial capacity, but also its exposure to Houthi attacks and maritime blockades, as well as Iranian strikes against American targets in the Kingdom. Pakistan contributes its nuclear program, weighed down at the same time by a fragile economy and its conflict with India. Turkey, which has always aspired to a central role in Western Asia, adds military and technological capabilities, along with its ties to countries like Qatar, but carries its own fears: Ankara believes it must prepare for future conflicts. Israeli leaders have already issued public warnings against Turkey, accusing it of supporting Hamas and other Islamic forces, and although Turkey is a NATO member, Ankara doubts that the Alliance's collective security guarantees would hold in the event of a confrontation with Israel.

The pact is born of the loss of American influence in the world and, specifically, in the region, as well as of the ongoing reconfiguration in which Iran has become a central axis. This does not mean the agreement is anti-Iranian, but the three signatories cannot ignore the new reality.

There are other effects of the war that do not pass through the trilateral pact. The Emirates, for example, entered the conflict as a key piece of American political architecture and emerged deeply weakened. Mohammed bin Zayed, who had previously cultivated an image as an indispensable actor in regional diplomacy, finds himself increasingly relegated to the margins of the main political processes. In this new order, Abu Dhabi no longer has a seat at the main table.

China, too, has benefited from the American defeat. The setback with Iran has opened space for Beijing to exert greater influence and leadership on the international stage. In China's reasoning, the more Washington wears itself down—mired as it is in internal divisions—the faster China will reach the center of the global board. Beijing watches its rival consume itself while it conserves strength and concentrates resources on what it considers the decisive geopolitical contest: the battle for technological leadership.

That position is reinforced on the practical ground. Beijing is helping U.S. allies such as Thailand and the Philippines cover their aviation fuel deficits and other energy imports; by coming to the aid of countries in crisis, it occupies a role that Washington long used to its own advantage. In the longer term, it will benefit from the destruction of oil demand caused by the war and holds a clear advantage in consolidating its market share in the renewable energy technologies it dominates: solar and wind power, electric vehicles, and batteries.

The strain the conflict has inflicted on America's relations with its allies, especially in Europe and the Middle East, is another card in Beijing's hand. The open divergences between Washington and its partners over the war's legitimacy, its conduct, and its consequences have exposed cracks that, over time, could spread to other areas of the relationship.

The United States thought it would throw a stone into the Iranian lake and watch the ripples in calm, controlled fashion. But the lake behaved differently—not unpredictably, but differently—and those who threw the stone could no longer do anything about it.