Sometimes, in striving to demonstrate its superiority, power ends up revealing its deepest vulnerabilities instead.
By Sébastien Boussois, PhD in Political Science (*)
By launching a war against Iran on February 28, the President of the United States believed he could quickly settle the question of the Islamic Republic’s سقوط. Two months later, that outcome is nowhere in sight. The assessment provided by the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) after 54 days of confrontation between the United States and Iran belongs to those pivotal moments that clearly show Donald Trump displayed considerable hubris, overestimating his country’s real capabilities while underestimating his adversary. The saying goes that one should only enter a war if certain of winning it. Trump was certain he would.
Yet, through a series of raw, almost clinical figures, a recent CSIS report highlights a reality that Washington still struggles to articulate officially: the world’s leading military power has entered an unprecedented zone of strategic vulnerability.
From a strictly military standpoint, the data is unequivocal. More than half of THAAD interceptors have been consumed, nearly 50% of Patriot missiles used, 45% of precision-strike munitions deployed, and up to 30% of Tomahawks fired. Even naval systems such as SM-3 and SM-6, essential to missile defense in the Pacific, have been depleted by around 20%. In other words, in less than two months, the United States has significantly drawn down its capacity for both power projection and defense across all its theaters of operation.
By contrast, Iran, which many predicted would quickly weaken, appears in a very different position. Half of its ballistic missiles remain operational. Around 60% of its Revolutionary Guard fleet is intact. Two-thirds of its air force remains flight-capable. The Strait of Hormuz is still under control. Drone production continues. The contrast is striking: Washington has consumed its power, Tehran has preserved its own.
This apparent imbalance is not merely a matter of volume, but reflects a deeper transformation in the balance of power. The United States has engaged in a high-intensity war using tools designed for limited, rapid, technologically dominated conflicts. Yet the contemporary reality is one of prolonged confrontation, where mass, industrial resilience, and regenerative capacity outweigh pure sophistication. When Lockheed Martin announces it must quadruple production of THAAD interceptors or triple that of Patriot PAC-3 missiles by 2030, this is not a sign of strategic strengthening, but an admission of structural undercapacity.
This is where the real turning point in the analysis of these two months of war lies. The conflict has not only affected the military balance in the Middle East; it has shifted the center of gravity of American vulnerability. As researcher Mark Cancian notes in the CSIS report, the massive expenditure of munitions has opened a window of fragility in the Western Pacific. Yet this is precisely where the core strategic rivalry of the 21st century lies, vis-à-vis China. The Chinese leadership is closely observing developments and likely takes a certain satisfaction in Washington’s weakening, one less obstacle should it consider action against Taiwan.
By consuming a substantial share of its missile defense systems and precision-strike capabilities, Washington has indirectly weakened its deterrence posture around Taiwan, Japan, and South Korea. The same Patriot missiles, THAAD interceptors, and SM-3 and SM-6 systems form the backbone of these allies’ defense. A crisis in Asia today would unfold with already depleted stockpiles, exposing the United States to a risk it has long sought to avoid: simultaneous confrontation on multiple fronts without decisive superiority.
The question, then, is simple, almost blunt: why would Donald Trump resume bombing under such conditions? There is a clear reason for indefinitely extending the ceasefire. The answer is unequivocal: because he cannot, at least not without taking a major strategic risk. Resuming strikes would mean accelerating stock depletion, extending replenishment timelines estimated between one and four years, and above all signaling to Beijing that America’s window of vulnerability is set to endure.
This conflict, conceived as a rapid operation to neutralize Iranian deterrence, has produced the opposite effect. By resisting, absorbing the shock, and preserving a significant portion of its capabilities, Iran has demonstrated its ability to endure against a superior power. In doing so, it has gained a new form of strategic credibility. Not the credibility of victory, but of resilience, which has become one of the essential foundations of deterrence today.
More broadly, this war once again reveals the transformation of the international system. War is no longer solely about technological dominance, but about industrial depth, stockpile management, and long-term endurance. The United States is discovering it is no longer alone in its ability to sustain prolonged conflict. And this realization comes at the worst possible moment, precisely when competition with China demands endurance above all.
Thus, the vulnerability created 7,000 miles from Washington is no accident. It is the result of a mismatch between a strategy inherited from a unipolar world and a now multipolar reality. In seeking to contain Iran, Washington has weakened its position vis-à-vis its main rival. In trying to demonstrate its power, it has exposed its limits. This is why Trump’s restraint, far from signaling political hesitation, appears as a strategic constraint. In this new environment, power is no longer measured solely by the ability to strike, but by the ability not to exhaust oneself in striking.
