The War Between Israel and Iran Is Nowhere Near Over

Key Points – The ceasefire announced by President Trump between Israel and Iran on June 23rd is not a genuine peace but a temporary, tactical pause in a long-term conflict.

-This “lull in the thunder” mirrors the aftermath of the 2020 Soleimani strike, where a de-escalation of direct attacks gave way to a continued shadow war.

-Iran, while battered, will likely use this time to repair, rebuild, and disperse its nuclear and military assets. Israel, having demonstrated its military superiority, remains determined to prevent a nuclear Iran.

-This ceasefire is merely a “smoke break in a burning building,” not a resolution to the fundamental conflict.

The Iran-Israel Ceasefire Won’t Hold Forever

The ceasefire announced by President Trump between Israel and Iran on June 23rd is not a genuine peace but a temporary, tactical pause in a long-term conflict. This “lull in the thunder” mirrors the aftermath of the 2020 Soleimani strike, where a de-escalation of direct attacks gave way to a continued shadow war. Iran, while battered, will likely use this time to repair, rebuild, and disperse its nuclear and military assets.

Israel, having demonstrated its military superiority, remains determined to prevent a nuclear Iran. This ceasefire is merely a “smoke break in a burning building,” not a resolution to the fundamental conflict.

Let’s not pretend otherwise: what happened on June 23 between Israel and Iran isn’t peace—it’s a pause. A holding pattern. A lull in the thunder, not the clearing of the skies. The word “ceasefire” gets thrown around as if it signals resolution or even restraint. In reality, it’s often just the diplomatic word for “not now.”

This one is no different. Brokered under immense pressure—from the Americans, the Qataris, and others desperate to avoid a region-wide explosion—the ceasefire is a short-term fix to a long-term problem. Iran, battered but still standing, needed breathing room. Israel, having landed a string of punishing blows, was willing to hold fire—for now. But no one involved thinks this is anything but temporary.

Ceasefires, in theory, are supposed to mean a mutual halt in hostilities. In practice, especially in this part of the world, they’re more like mutual acknowledgments that the next phase of the fight can wait a week or two. This particular agreement reportedly includes an Iranian suspension of drone and missile strikes, and an Israeli pause in operations targeting Iran’s nuclear and military infrastructure—particularly the underground sites Israel pounded during Operation Rising Lion. Hezbollah has been told to cool it. Israeli jets have eased off. For now.

But it’s all conditional. It always is.

The Facts Have Not Changed for Israel or Iran 

Let’s be blunt: the underlying conflict hasn’t changed one bit. Iran still wants a nuclear deterrent. Israel still views any Iranian nuke—explicit or latent—as a threat it cannot tolerate. The missile factories, the enrichment centrifuges, the IRGC logistics chains—they’re all still there.

They’ve taken hits, yes. But they haven’t disappeared. Nor have the ideologies that animate both sides. Nothing in this so-called ceasefire resolves the fundamental issue: that Israel believes it must act, and Iran believes it must endure until it can hit back hard enough to prevent further attacks.

This has happened before. After the U.S. killed Qasem Soleimani in early 2020, the world braced for war. Instead, Iran staged a retaliatory missile strike designed more for domestic consumption than real escalation. The U.S. didn’t counterattack. Iran didn’t press further. And everyone declared the worst had been avoided. But underneath the headlines, the war continued—just more quietly. Cyberattacks. Proxy clashes. Assassinations. A slow, grinding confrontation with no real off-ramp.

The current moment feels eerily similar. The IAEA’s finding earlier this year that Iran had breached the 90% enrichment threshold confirmed what Israel already knew: the nuclear clock is nearly out of time. The subsequent Israeli strikes—carefully executed, devastatingly precise—sent a message not just to Tehran but to every regional actor: Israel is done waiting. Deterrence through ambiguity has given way to deterrence by destruction.

Iran’s retaliation was weak—symbolic strikes on U.S. bases, minor barrages into Israeli airspace. Like 2020, it was performative. The regime needed to save face, not start a regional war it couldn’t win. But the calculus in Tehran hasn’t changed: survive the blows, buy time, stay the course. And now, with a ceasefire in place, it can do just that—repair damage, relocate facilities, recalibrate strategy.

Meanwhile, in Israel, there’s no appetite for letting up. The F-35I Adir has proved its worth. Mossad has its next targets. The IDF remains on alert. And politically, there’s no pressure to stand down—on the contrary, there’s growing consensus that this latest campaign must be followed, if necessary, by an even more decisive blow. The idea that this ceasefire represents a turning point is wishful thinking. It’s a smoke break in a burning building.

And what of the Americans? Trump has made it clear he doesn’t want a new Middle East war. That’s been his refrain since 2016. But his administration—now in its second term—can’t ignore the facts. Iran is closer to a bomb than ever before. Israel has no intention of living with that reality. And every time the U.S. tries to thread the needle—supporting Israel without getting dragged in—it tightens the trap it claims to avoid.

What’s more, this ceasefire signals something dangerous: that Iran can push the envelope, absorb Israeli strikes, and survive politically. That’s the lesson Tehran is likely to draw from all this. Not that it must de-escalate, but that it can weather another round or two before the costs become unmanageable. It’s the same mistake Saddam made in the ’90s, the same one Assad skirted a decade ago, and the same one North Korea turned into a strategy.

Both Sides are Just Regrouping 

The broader implications? They’re grim.

First, this truce gives Iran space to consolidate. Not to surrender, but to adapt. We’ll see the enrichment sites buried deeper, dispersed more cleverly, guarded more tightly. We’ll see Tehran lean harder on China and Russia for diplomatic cover. We’ll see new fronts quietly emerge in Syria, Iraq, and the Gulf. And all of this under the cover of a ceasefire hailed in some quarters as a triumph of diplomacy.

Second, this isn’t a peace process. It’s not even the beginning of one. Neither side believes the other can be trusted. Neither side is willing to compromise on the core issue: nuclear capability. This isn’t Oslo. It’s chess with live ammunition. The moves have slowed, but the endgame hasn’t changed.

Third—and most troubling for Washington—this temporary freeze reveals just how little leverage the U.S. really has. It can broker a pause. It can shuttle diplomats between capitals. But it can’t force a resolution. And the moment things heat up again—as they will—it will either have to back Israel to the hilt or face the fallout of strategic indecision.

To be clear: the quiet won’t last. It never does. The clocks are still ticking. The red lines are still in place. The missiles are still in their silos. The intelligence networks are still humming. And the next strike—when it comes—will be shaped not by the memory of restraint but by the lessons drawn from this pause.

What we are witnessing is not the end of conflict. It’s a shift in tempo. The war hasn’t stopped. It’s regrouping.

And when it resumes, it will be sharper, faster, and more dangerous than before. Anyone who sees this ceasefire as the start of something new hasn’t been paying attention. It’s the same old war—just dressed, for the moment, in quieter clothes.

About the Author: Dr. Andrew Latham

Andrew Latham is a non-resident fellow at Defense Priorities and a professor of international relations and political theory at Macalester College in Saint Paul, MN. You can follow him on X: @aakatham.

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