The Mass Graves of Gaza

 Thousands of families continue to bury their children in random mass graves, a phenomenon brought on by over 11 months of systematic killings of Palestinians by Israel in every Gaza Strip governorate. The situation is worsening as a result of the Israeli occupation army’s constant targeting of people who attempt to enter these makeshift cemeteries to bury their loved ones.

Euro-Med Monitor has released an infographic design that shows the locations and dates of approximately 30 randomly established mass graves in the northern, central, and southern governorates of Gaza, containing roughly 3,000 dead victims of Israel’s genocide in the enclave. The infographic also depicts 120 random mass graves in which three or more people are buried, and which were established in the Gaza Strip between now and last October.

Random graves

Since many random graves are found inside houses and other private spaces and some are periodically moved to new locations, the majority of them are still unrecorded. Thus, the number and location of these graves remain constantly changing. Furthermore, the Israeli occupation army is continuously bulldozing both makeshift cemeteries and official graves, disfiguring the victims’ bodies, and even stealing some of them, in grave violation of international law.  

Al-Batsh Cemetery, located in Gaza City’s eastern Al-Tuffah neighbourhood, is the largest documented mass grave in the Gaza Strip. Between 500 and 1,000 people have been buried there since the cemetery’s founding on 22 October 2023, just two weeks after Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began.

Euro-Med Monitor field teams have been documenting the mass and random graves across the enclave since the establishment of the first mass grave in Al-Shifa Medical Complex on 15 October 2023, when it became impossible to transfer the dead victims to the official cemetery in Gaza City due to the large number of corpses and the danger presented by Israeli forces. Over time, more of these mass graves have been created, one after another, eventually totaling at least 120.

backyards, courtyards

These graves have been established throughout residential areas, in the backyards and courtyards of homes and hospitals, public road intersections, wedding halls, sports fields, schools, and mosques.

“Random mass graves have become something of a phenomenon in Gaza,” according to a Euro-Med Monitor field researcher in Gaza City whose name is being withheld due to safety concerns. “They are seen on the roads, in traffic islands, [and] near markets and residential buildings at random.”

Added the researcher: “Residents resort to using various tools as tombstones to write the names of the victims on—instead of cement and stone—including plastic food trays, plastic barrels or gallon jugs, wood or cardboard, and other household items.”

Families are forced to create these random graves due to the difficulty of accessing the main graves as a result of the continuous Israeli bombing and targeting of individuals, in addition to Israel’s division of the Gaza Strip’s governorates and destruction of infrastructure; imposition of the blockade; scarcity of fuel and means of transportation; and the fact that the main graves are already filled with corpses due to the large and ever-increasing number of victims.

Some of the officially documented mass graves contain the remains of yet-to-be identified people, buried months ago during the ongoing genocide.

Euro-Med Monitor teams have documented 29 random mass graves in the various governorates of the Gaza Strip. These include:

North Gaza Governorate:

1. A mass grave in Al-Awda Market next to the Jabalia refugee camp police station, established on 5 December 2023, containing about 120 bodies.

2. A mass grave next to the Indonesian Hospital in the Tel al-Zaatar neighbourhood, north of Jabalia Camp, established on 18 November 2023, containing about 200 bodies.

3. A mass grave in the Jabalia Camp market, established on 7 December 2023, containing about 100 bodies.

4. A mass grave in the backyard of Jabalia Preparatory School (A), in Jabalia Camp, established on 28 December 2023, containing more than 55 bodies.

5. A mass grave in Al-Rifai School, opposite Al-Omari Registry in Jabalia Al-Balad, containing more than 70 bodies.

6. A mass grave in Halima Al-Sadia School, south of Jabalia Al-Nazla, containing more than 250 bodies, some of whom are still unidentified.

7. A mass grave in Al-Yaman Hospital in Jabalia Camp, established on 11 December 2023, containing about 44 bodies.

8. A mass grave built on a traffic island along Sultan Street in Block (2) in Jabalia, established in November 2023.

Gaza City Governorate:

9. A mass grave in the courtyard of Al-Shifa Medical Complex, established on 12-14 November 2023, containing approximately 179 bodies.

10. Al-Sabra Cemetery (1), established on 25 November 2023, containing more than 100 bodies.

11. Al-Istiqlal Street Cemetery (Al-Qaws) near the Al-Sha’biya intersection in Al-Daraj neighbourhood, containing more than 200 bodies.

12. Al-Sabra Cemetery (2), near Al-Dahshan Street, established on 31 December 2023.

13. Al-Batsh Cemetery in Gaza City’s eastern Al-Tuffah neighbourhood, established on 22 October 2023, containing between 500–1,000 bodies.

14. A mass grave in Al-Sahaba Street, near Ezzedine Al-Qassam Mosque in the central Gaza City neighbourhood of Al-Daraj, established in December 2023 and containing 150 bodies.

15. A mass grave in Al-Sidra Street in the central Gaza City neighbourhood of Al-Daraj, established in December 2023 and containing about 20 bodies.

16. Shahibar Cemetery in Al-Sabra neighbourhood, established on 18 November 2023 and containing about 100–120 bodies.

17. Ishtiwi Cemetery in Al-Zeitoun neighbourhood, established on 21 November 2023 and containing about 15 bodies.

18. A mass grave near Al-Shawa Square, east of Gaza City.

Deir al-Balah Governorate (central Gaza Strip):

19. A mass grave in UNRWA school in al-Bureij refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip, established on 14-15 January 2024.

20. A mass grave in a girls’ preparatory school in al-Maghazi refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip, established on 9 January 2024, containing approximately 14 bodies.

Khan Yunis Governorate (southern Gaza Strip):

21. A mass grave in western Khan Yunis, established on 22 November 2023, containing approximately 111 bodies.

22. A mass grave in Abdul Karim Al-Karmi School in the town of Abasan Al-Kabira, in the east of Khan Yunis, established on 14 January 2024, containing approximately 9 bodies.

23. Three mass graves in Nasser Hospital, established in January 2023, containing approximately 392 bodies.

24. A mass grave in Al-Amal Hospital, established on 29 January 2024, containing approximately 4 bodies.

25. A mass grave at Al-Aqsa University, established on 22 January 2024.

26. A mass grave at the UNRWA Industrial College, in the west of Khan Yunis, established on 23 January 2024, containing approximately 14 bodies.

27. Al-Agha Cemetery, established by the Al-Agha family on their land after the Israeli army destroyed the family’s main cemetery in the Austrian neighbourhood, west of Khan Yunis city, established on 22 January 2024.

Rafah Governorate (southern Gaza Strip):

28. A mass grave in the Tel al-Sultan neighbourhood, in the west of Rafah, established in December 2023, containing approximately 80 bodies.

Israel’s ongoing military attacks and direct targeting of Palestinian civilians by shelling, sniping, or shooting from quadcopter drones continue to prevent families from reaching regular cemeteries in which to bury their relatives in a dignified manner that respects human dignity, and make the process of counting, registering, and identifying all of the victims impossible.

Since most of the victims have not died from epidemics or infectious diseases, the accumulation of dead bodies or their improper burial does not present a serious health risk to the public. However, if the remains of these bodies—including feces—leak into residents’ drinking and use water sources, this may result in a variety of intestinal diseases among the living.

Israeli attacks on cemeteries

Since the start of Israel’s genocide in the Gaza Strip, Euro-Med Monitor teams have documented numerous Israeli attacks on dozens of cemeteries through deliberate shelling and targeting, exhuming and vandalising graves, and stealing dozens of corpses. These attacks have pushed residents to create new random cemeteries and transfer the bodies of their relatives there.

Israel’s imposition of inhumane conditions on Gaza Strip residents constitutes a serious violation of the provisions of international humanitarian law (IHL). IHL guarantees respect for the dignity of the dead and the proper treatment of corpses, especially the Fourth Geneva Convention of 1949, which stipulates in Article 17 that conflicting parties must “take the necessary measures to ensure that the dead are buried in a dignified manner and that their honour is protected”.

The World Health Organisation and the International Committee of the Red Cross must play their role in ensuring the dignity of the bodies buried in dozens of mass graves in Gaza, and ensure their burial in accordance with international standards.

In addition to applying pressure from abroad on Israel to immediately end its genocide against the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip, the international community must compel Israel to follow international law, which stipulates that bodies must be respected and protected during armed conflicts. It also requires Israel to take all reasonable steps to prevent the dead and deceased from having their bodies mutilated, and to ensure that they are buried properly.

EuroMed Human Rights Monitor

CrossFireArabia

CrossFireArabia

Dr. Marwan Asmar holds a PhD from Leeds University and is a freelance writer specializing on the Middle East. He has worked as a journalist since the early 1990s in Jordan and the Gulf countries, and been widely published, including at Albawaba, Gulf News, Al Ghad, World Press Review and others.

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NAZA: When Israel’s Killing Machine Speaks in Its Own Voice

CROSSFIREARABIA – There are documentaries that expose a war by showing its victims, and there are films that attempt something altogether different: Entering the machinery that produces those victims.

NAZA, the disturbing new documentary by Israeli filmmakers Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor, belongs firmly to the second category.

Premiered at the Venice International Film Festival on 10 September, NAZA does not principally take its cameras into Gaza’s shattered streets, hospitals or tent camps. Instead, Abraham and Szor turn their cameras towards Israel — specifically towards 24 Israeli intelligence officers and soldiers who participated in the systems of surveillance, target selection and killing that have shaped Israel’s war in Gaza.

It is this inversion that makes NAZA potentially one of the most consequential films yet made about the Gaza war.

The Palestinians are overwhelmingly the people who die. But for most of the film, the camera remains on the other side of the border, among people who helped determine who would be targeted and how.

The result, according to Peter Bradshaw’s review in The Guardian, is a profoundly unsettling film that casts a “chilling light” on what has happened in Gaza. The Guardian is not merely reviewing the documentary: it produced NAZA, which grew out of investigations undertaken by the newspaper together with the Israeli-Palestinian publication +972 Magazine and the Hebrew-language Local Call between 2023 and 2025.

A word that turns civilians into numbers

The horror begins with the title.

“NAZA” is described by the filmmakers as an Israeli military term for the civilian casualties expected in an attack.

Before a bomb falls, in other words, civilians may already exist inside the targeting calculation as a number.

This is perhaps the film’s most disturbing proposition because it moves the argument beyond the familiar dispute over whether civilians were accidentally killed during attacks on Hamas targets. NAZA asks a more uncomfortable question: What happens when civilian deaths become incorporated into the architecture of targeting itself?

The Israeli witnesses describe systems in which intelligence, artificial intelligence, mass surveillance and enormous quantities of personal data are combined to identify suspected targets.

According to testimony presented in the film, computer systems analysed telephone behaviour and other information to identify people suspected of connections to Hamas. Targets could then be attacked at their homes, sometimes at night, despite the presence of their families.

One witness refers to an error rate of around 15 percent. Another describes an expected “Naza” figure of roughly 20 civilians for an operation.

Other testimony goes considerably further.

The Guardian’s investigation accompanying the film reports accounts of neighbourhoods being destroyed even when Israeli forces estimated that significant numbers of residents remained inside, civilian homes being systematically burned and Palestinians being killed around food-distribution areas.

The effect is to transform the vocabulary of “collateral damage.” Collateral damage ordinarily suggests something unintended. NAZA suggests calculation.

The horror is 60 kilometres away

Abraham and Szor make an inspired visual decision.

The interviews take place at night on rooftops in Tel Aviv.

The witnesses’ identities must be protected. Faces remain largely in darkness and appearances and voices are digitally altered. Yet behind these anonymous figures another character gradually emerges: Tel Aviv itself.

Apartments glow.

Traffic moves.

People continue their ordinary lives.

And Gaza is only about 60 kilometres away.

Bradshaw draws particular attention to this juxtaposition in his Guardian review. The camera periodically leaves the intelligence officers and wanders across Tel Aviv’s illuminated apartment buildings, observing fragments of comfortable civilian existence while another civilian population, almost within geographical touching distance, has been subjected to extraordinary destruction.

This distance is central to NAZA.

Modern warfare permits killing without proximity.

The person gathering intelligence does not necessarily see the family beneath the bomb. The analyst studies a screen. An algorithm produces possibilities. Someone approves a target. Someone else presses another button.

Each individual performs one function. The system performs the killing.

It is therefore significant that Abraham and Szor say their film is not primarily concerned with individual “rogue soldiers.” Their subject is something larger: the orders, procedures, assumptions and language through which extraordinary violence becomes ordinary institutional activity.

They call it the story of “the system and its cogs.” 

That may ultimately be the most important sentence attached to the film.

Not monsters, but technicians

One of NAZA’s unsettling qualities appears to be the ordinariness of the people speaking.

These are not cinematic villains.

They are technicians, intelligence officers and educated professionals. Some appear troubled by what they participated in. Others describe operations with a detachment that is arguably more disturbing than anger or hatred would have been.

One interviewee describes the experience as resembling a video game. Another recalls surveillance of two young sisters used to determine when their father, a suspected Hamas operative, was home. According to Screen Daily’s account of the film, an attack subsequently killed the girls and other members of the family — while the intended target was apparently not there. (Screen DailyError! Filename not specified.)

This is where NAZA enters territory familiar from Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest.

The connection is not accidental: Glazer is an executive producer of NAZA, alongside a production team associated with that Oscar-winning film.

The Zone of Interest explored horror through normality: Auschwitz existed beside a family home in which people gardened, ate meals and raised children.

NAZA constructs a contemporary and inevitably controversial echo.

Tel Aviv sleeps.

Screens glow.

Analysts work.

Gaza burns.

The significance of Israeli testimony

There is another reason this documentary matters.

Palestinians have described the destruction of Gaza since October 2023 in extraordinary detail. Palestinian journalists have filmed dead children, flattened neighbourhoods, destroyed hospitals, displaced families and mass graves.

Palestinian testimony has never been absent.

The uncomfortable question is why another form of testimony — that of Israelis participating in the system — may carry greater weight with Western audiences.

Abraham and Szor themselves appear conscious of the contradiction.

They do not claim Israelis are required to reveal what Palestinians have somehow failed to reveal. The destruction is already visible. Instead, NAZA tries to document the institutional mechanisms behind what everyone can see.

This distinction matters.

The film is less concerned with proving that Gaza was destroyed than explaining how destruction became administratively possible.

The 24 witnesses describe the infrastructure behind the explosion: intelligence databases, surveillance, algorithms, targeting procedures, permissible civilian casualty calculations and the bureaucratic division of responsibility.

It is the anatomy of remote warfare.

From

No Other Land to NAZA

Abraham and Szor are particularly interesting filmmakers because NAZA follows directly from No Other Land, which they made with Palestinian filmmakers Basel Adra and Hamdan Ballal.

That film documented the destruction and displacement confronting Palestinian communities in Masafer Yatta in the occupied West Bank and won the 2025 Academy Award for best documentary.

The directors themselves see continuity between the two works.

In No Other Land, they have said, the filmmakers documented individual demolitions and acts of violence in order to reveal the larger structure behind them. In NAZA, the approach is similar: collect individual testimonies until the architecture of the system becomes visible.

But NAZA goes somewhere darker.

The West Bank film largely observed what occupation does to people.

The Gaza film asks the people operating the machinery to explain how it works.

The film’s weakness

Bradshaw nevertheless identifies an important problem.

All 24 witnesses are anonymous.

There are compelling reasons for this. They could face serious professional, legal and personal consequences. The filmmakers reportedly spent considerable effort technologically disguising their identities, and completion of that anonymisation process was one reason the film was announced unusually late for Venice.

Yet anonymity inevitably weakens testimony.

The viewer cannot independently judge who these people are, what positions they held or how much direct knowledge they possessed.

Bradshaw argues that having nobody prepared to attach a name and face to the allegations reduces their evidentiary impact, even while acknowledging the danger they would face by doing so.

It is a legitimate criticism.

Yet the cumulative nature of the film appears designed partly to answer it. There is not one anonymous voice but two dozen of them, while many of the systems they describe were previously investigated journalistically.

The film therefore asks to be judged not as a collection of isolated confessions but as a mosaic.

Where the Guardian review becomes debatable

There is one element of Bradshaw’s otherwise powerful review that deserves scrutiny.

When one of the Israeli interviewees reaches for an analogy with Nazism, Bradshaw resists it. Gaza, he argues, should not be equated with the Holocaust, suggesting Dresden as a more historically appropriate comparison.

His caution is understandable. Historical analogies can illuminate, but they can also flatten fundamentally different events. Yet perhaps the more interesting point is not whether Gaza “is” Auschwitz, Dresden or anything else.

It is who raises the comparison.

The discomfort comes from an Israeli participant in the military system looking back at European history and then looking at his own actions.

The film need not settle that comparison. The fact that an insider feels compelled to ask the question is itself part of the testimony.

A documentary about distance

Ultimately, NAZA appears to be about several kinds of distance. There is the physical distance between Tel Aviv and Gaza. There is technological distance between the person operating a computer and the human being beneath an aircraft. There is bureaucratic distance between collecting intelligence and dropping a bomb.

There is linguistic distance between saying “civilian” and saying “Naza.”

And there is moral distance — the extraordinary ability of a modern society to continue eating dinner, watching television and going to work while devastating violence is being inflicted only kilometres away.

That is why the nighttime Tel Aviv setting may be the film’s most effective image. The lights continue burning in the apartments. The intelligence officers sit in darkness. And beyond the horizon lies Gaza.

When the perpetrators provide the evidence

NAZA will inevitably generate political controversy. Some will challenge the testimony. Others will challenge the filmmakers’ terminology and conclusions. Israel has consistently argued that it targets Hamas rather than civilians and that Hamas’s operations within populated areas place civilians in danger.

But NAZA changes the nature of that debate.

Its central witnesses are not Hamas officials, Palestinian activists or foreign campaigners. They are Israelis who say they participated in the system.

And Abraham and Szor’s achievement is apparently not to force these people into dramatic confessions but simply to allow them to describe their work.

That may explain why the film sounds so disturbing. There are no screaming interrogations.

No theatrical confrontations. No need for them. The men and women behind the screens explain the algorithms, surveillance, intelligence and calculations.

Gradually the vocabulary of technology gives way to something painfully simple.

Every “Naza” was a person. Someone’s daughter. Someone’s father. Someone asleep inside an apartment.

Someone waiting for food.

And perhaps that is the lasting importance of NAZA. After nearly three years in which Gaza’s destruction has repeatedly been presented through arguments over numbers, military necessity and proportionality, Abraham and Szor take the audience behind those numbers.

They show us the people who calculated them.

And they ask what happens to a society when human beings can first be converted into numbers — and then those numbers become acceptable.

NAZA does not merely document the devastation of Gaza. It documents the bureaucracy that made devastation possible.

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Battle for Hormuz: How Iran Found America’s Achilles Heel
  • HebaHeba
  • September 10, 2026

The United States has overwhelming naval power. Iran has geography, missiles, mines and the ability to frighten commercial shipping. Six months of confrontation have exposed the uncomfortable truth that neither side can fully control the world’s most important energy chokepoint.

At first glance, the contest for the Strait of Hormuz ought to be hopelessly unequal. On one side stands the United States, with aircraft carriers, submarines, long-range bombers, satellites and arguably the most powerful navy ever assembled. On the other is Iran, economically battered and militarily far weaker, defending a narrow strip of water beside its own coastline with missiles, drones, mines and relatively inexpensive attack craft.

Yet six months into the 2026 confrontation, commercial shipping is still nowhere near normal.

On September 10, preliminary vessel-tracking data recorded only seven commodity ships transiting Hormuz, compared with roughly 125 commercial vessels a day before the present crisis. No liquefied-natural-gas tanker was recorded crossing that day. The picture is imperfect because some vessels travel with tracking transponders switched off, but the collapse in ordinary traffic is unmistakable. 

That leaves an uncomfortable question for both Tehran and Washington.

Who actually controls Hormuz?

The answer depends entirely upon what one means by control.

Legally, neither does. Militarily, the United States is considerably more powerful. Geographically, Iran enjoys a formidable advantage. And economically, Tehran has demonstrated that it can make navigation so dangerous that a navy does not actually have to sink every tanker to obstruct the waterway.

Hormuz has therefore become an unusual battlefield: America possesses sea power; Iran possesses sea-denial power.

And those are not the same thing.


A waterway Iran cannot legally own

The geography explains much of the struggle.

At its narrowest, Hormuz is only a few dozen kilometres across. Iran occupies the long northern coastline; Oman controls the Musandam Peninsula to the south. The recognised traffic-separation scheme threads ships between their territorial waters.

Iran therefore has a genuine sovereign interest in the Strait—but not an internationally recognised right simply to close it.

Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, ships and aircraft enjoy a right of transit passage through straits used for international navigation. Article 38 says that passage “shall not be impeded”, while Article 44 states that states bordering such straits shall not hamper it and that there “shall be no suspension of transit passage.” 

The International Maritime Organization reiterated precisely that position in July, saying transit through international straits must not be threatened, denied, hampered or suspended. It simultaneously condemned attacks on civilian commercial vessels around Hormuz. 

Iran sees matters differently, particularly when its security is involved.

The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps has insisted that ships coordinate with Iranian authorities. In March, IRGC Navy commander Alireza Tangsiri said a container vessel had been ordered away after attempting to cross without what Iran described as the required authorization, adding that maritime traffic had to respect Iranian “maritime sovereignty.” 

That dispute goes to the heart of the crisis.

Washington’s proposition is that Iran borders an international strait.

Tehran increasingly behaves as though Iran is one of its gatekeepers.

Those formulations sound similar. Strategically, they are radically different.


Iran discovered that it does not need to defeat the U.S. Navy

Iranian strategists have discussed closing or threatening Hormuz for decades. The assumption in Washington was generally that such a move would be enormously costly to Iran: American forces would suppress Iranian coastal batteries, clear mines, destroy vessels and restore navigation.

Much of that assumption remains true.

What the present conflict has exposed, however, is the difference between reopening water and persuading private companies that sailing through it is safe.

Iran does not need to sink an aircraft carrier.

It does not even have to stop every tanker.

It merely has to create enough uncertainty that shipowners, crews, charterers and insurers begin asking whether a voyage is worth the risk.

A mine whose precise location is unknown can influence hundreds of kilometres of water. A missile battery that survives somewhere along the Iranian coastline influences calculations even when it never fires. A drone costing a tiny fraction of a commercial tanker can change an insurer’s assessment of an entire route.

The result has been dramatic.

According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, crude oil and petroleum liquids moving through Hormuz averaged about 21.6 million barrels per day in the fourth quarter of 2025. During the second quarter of 2026, after fighting began, that figure collapsed to roughly 4.9 million barrels per day

That is the central achievement of Iran’s strategy.

It has not established classical naval superiority.

It has established something closer to a risk veto.


The US answer: Overwhelming punishment

Washington has by no means surrendered the Strait.

The American military response demonstrates the extraordinary asymmetry between the two sides in conventional striking power. CENTCOM says that during three nights of operations in July it hit more than 300 Iranian targets, including missile and drone sites, naval installations, ammunition depots, communications systems and coastal surveillance facilities. In the same statement, CENTCOM said U.S. forces had facilitated the transit of more than 800 commercial vessels carrying some 400 million barrels of crude since early May. 

The United States also imposed something extraordinary of its own: A naval blockade against traffic entering or leaving Iranian ports. When CENTCOM announced its resumption in July, it said its earlier blockade had redirected more than 140 vessels and disabled nine non-compliant ships. 

This creates what CSIS analyst Daniel Byman has described as a paradoxical equilibrium: Iran disrupts energy traffic through Hormuz while the United States effectively “blockades the blockaders”, denying Iran ordinary use of its own maritime trade. 

That formulation captures the conflict better than claims of victory by either government.

Iran says, in effect:

You cannot expect ordinary access to Hormuz while attacking and sanctioning us.

Washington answers:

Then you cannot expect ordinary access to Iranian ports while obstructing an international waterway.

Neither proposition eliminates the other.


The view from Tehran: Geography as strategic equality

Iranian commentary understandably portrays this outcome as evidence that America’s conventional supremacy has limits.

Its argument contains an important truth beneath the propaganda.

Iran fights beside its own coast.

Its forces can disperse missile launchers, drones and surveillance systems over a large land area. Small craft can operate from numerous bases. Mines can be deployed clandestinely. Tehran can wait.

An American carrier strike group, by contrast, is immensely powerful but extremely expensive. Ships require maintenance and rotation. Aircraft require fuel and bases. Sailors eventually return home. The political leadership has to explain casualties and costs to an electorate.

Iran does not have to cross an ocean to defend Bandar Abbas.

This is the classic logic of the weaker power exploiting geography against the stronger.

Iran’s objective, therefore, need not be to destroy the Fifth Fleet. It needs only to convince Washington that fully neutralising Iranian capacity around Hormuz would require a military commitment far larger than the United States is prepared to sustain.

Even some Western analysts have reached versions of that conclusion.

Bruce Jones at Brookings argues that the Hormuz confrontation exposes broader strains on American naval power: Relatively weak states and non-state organisations can now use inexpensive missiles, drones and mines to threaten commercial shipping, forcing vastly more expensive naval systems into the role of defending it. 

CFR analysis similarly describes Hormuz as a maritime flashpoint in which overwhelming U.S. capability has not automatically produced restored normality. 

That is precisely the lesson Tehran wants the region to absorb.


But Iran has discovered its own Achilles heel

It would nevertheless be a mistake to conclude that Iran has won.

Iran’s Hormuz weapon contains a fundamental contradiction:

Iran itself lives beside Hormuz.

It imports goods through the region. It depends on energy sales and maritime commerce. Its economy cannot painlessly operate behind a permanent naval confrontation.

The longer Hormuz remains dangerous, moreover, the more everyone else attempts to escape its geography.

Saudi Arabia has redirected larger volumes through its East-West pipeline to Yanbu on the Red Sea. EIA data show flows through Bab el-Mandeb rising during the early disruption as oil was diverted away from Hormuz. 

By early September, Saudi crude and condensate loadings at Yanbu had risen sharply again, according to ship-tracking estimates reported by Reuters. 

Every barrel that can bypass Hormuz reduces Iran’s future bargaining power.

So does every new storage terminal, pipeline, insurance arrangement and alternative supplier that Asian governments develop because they no longer trust the Gulf route.

Iran’s greatest strategic weapon therefore suffers from an unusual problem:

the more often Tehran uses it, the more incentive the world has to make it obsolete.


The market may decide the war before the admirals do

This is why the most revealing discussions about Hormuz may not be taking place in Washington or Tehran but in Singapore, Beijing, Seoul, Tokyo and the Gulf’s insurance and shipping offices.

At the APPEC energy gathering in Singapore this week, Reuters found an industry increasingly preparing for prolonged disruption. Oil flows were estimated at roughly three-quarters of pre-war levels, while refined-product shipments into Asia remained heavily affected. Executives were no longer talking confidently about an imminent return to normal. 

Meanwhile, the IMO said in late August that thousands of seafarers remained exposed to danger and uncertainty six months after the conflict began. It had verified at least 70 attacks on international shipping and 19 seafarer deaths

That highlights a weakness in conventional definitions of maritime control.

The United States may be capable of destroying the launcher that fired a missile.

But the shipowner’s question is different:

Will another missile be fired tomorrow?

The insurer asks:

What premium compensates us for that possibility?

The captain asks:

Should my crew enter at all?

If their collective answer is no, Iran can achieve considerable strategic effect without winning a traditional naval battle.


So is this a stalemate?

Yes—but not because the militaries are equal.

They plainly are not.

It is a strategic stalemate produced by unequal strengths.

America dominates the vertical dimension: Aircraft, surveillance, long-range precision weapons, submarines, major surface combatants and enormous logistical capacity.

Iran exploits the horizontal dimension: Coastline, proximity, concealment, mines, drones, dispersed missiles and the permanent presence created simply by geography.

Washington can destroy things Iran values.

Tehran can disrupt something the world values.

That distinction explains why both sides can hurt each other without compelling surrender.

CSIS calls the present contest one of political endurance and bargaining leverage rather than straightforward military capability. 

Brookings has gone even further, arguing after the June arrangement that Iran had survived the American barrage while retaining substantial leverage over Hormuz, even as the legal legitimacy of Iranian tolls or permission requirements remained strongly disputed. 

Neither observation means Iran is stronger than the United States.

It means military strength and political coercion are different currencies.


What Iran wants

Tehran’s end game appears to involve considerably more than reopening shipping.

Iran wants any eventual settlement to demonstrate that attacking Iran carries an international economic price.

It also wants sanctions relief, restoration of oil-export capacity and guarantees against renewed attacks. Most ambitiously, it wants acknowledgement—formal or practical—that Iran cannot simply be excluded from the security architecture governing a strait immediately beside its territory.

A system under which Iranian authorities exercise some recognised navigational or security role would therefore allow Tehran to claim that its sacrifices produced a permanent geopolitical gain.

That is why Iranian demands concerning permits, coordination and management matter.

The argument is not merely about ships.

It is about who writes the rules of the Gulf after the war.


What Washington wants

America faces the opposite problem.

Recognising an Iranian political veto over Hormuz would establish a precedent Washington is extremely reluctant to accept.

The United States’ postwar maritime position has rested heavily on the principle that strategically important waterways cannot simply become instruments of coercion whenever the coastal state possesses enough weapons.

Hormuz therefore intersects with a much larger American concern about freedom of navigation from the Gulf to the South China Sea.

If Iran can convert missiles and mines into a recognised right to license international transit, other states will study the precedent carefully.

For Washington, consequently, the question is no longer merely:

Can we protect an oil tanker?

It is:

Can coercion rewrite the rules governing international straits?

That helps explain why the legal language used by the United States, IMO and other governments has been so emphatic. The UN legal framework states that transit passage cannot simply be suspended by the bordering state. 


The most plausible end game

A decisive military victory by either side is possible, but it is not the most plausible outcome.

For America to eliminate Iran’s ability to threaten Hormuz with high confidence could require a continuing campaign against mobile missiles, drones, mines, command systems and coastal infrastructure—a problem made harder by Iran’s proximity and ability to rebuild.

For Iran to maintain a near-total closure indefinitely would impose enormous costs on its own economy while accelerating bypass routes and inviting continuing American attack.

The incentives therefore point eventually toward an intentionally ambiguous bargain.

Iran and Oman could retain sovereign responsibility within their territorial waters. International navigation would resume without Washington formally accepting an Iranian right to grant or withhold permission. Iran might obtain sanctions relief, restored oil exports, access to frozen resources or other economic concessions. The United States could claim that freedom of navigation had been restored. Tehran could tell its population that American pressure had failed and that Iran’s regional role had been recognised.

Both governments could call the same agreement victory.

That may be precisely what makes it achievable.

The alternative is the present equilibrium—and it is dangerous.

On September 9 and 10, renewed Iranian and American actions sent shipping traffic sharply lower again, while oil prices returned above $100 a barrel. Claims from the two militaries remain contested, including Iranian assertions about particular vessels it says it struck. 

Every such episode creates the possibility that tactical retaliation becomes strategic escalation.


Who controls Hormuz?

Perhaps the simplest answer is also the most accurate.

Iran does not control Hormuz in the sense of possessing uncontested sovereignty or naval supremacy.

America does not control Hormuz in the sense of being able to guarantee normal commercial navigation irrespective of Iranian resistance.

Iran currently possesses an extraordinary capacity to deny.

America possesses an extraordinary capacity to punish.

Neither has yet demonstrated the capacity to impose its preferred political settlement upon the other.

That is why the battle for Hormuz has become much larger than a struggle over a narrow strip of water.

For decades, American naval supremacy encouraged the assumption that command of the sea and freedom of commercial navigation were essentially the same thing.

Iran has exposed the gap between them.

A superpower can dominate the battlespace and still struggle to convince a merchant captain that the next twenty miles are safe.

And therein lies America’s Hormuz problem.

The United States can make Iranian control prohibitively costly. Iran can make American control prohibitively difficult.

Unless one side is willing to escalate far beyond what it has attempted so far, the eventual winner is therefore unlikely to be decided by an admiral.

It will be decided at the negotiating table.

And the central bargaining question will be the one neither Tehran nor Washington can yet answer without losing face:

Who gets to say why the Strait reopened?

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