Trump’s Iran dilemma: Strength as strategy or stumble?

Donald Trump’s foreign policy has always lived in paradox. His rallying cry—peace through strength—evokes Reagan-era swagger but often lacked the institutional depth and global consensus to sustain its ambitions. Now, five months into his second term, that contradiction appears set to detonate. With Israel pressuring Washington to support a strike on Iran’s hardened nuclear facilities, Trump is facing the most consequential decision of his presidency—one that pits his brand of muscular nationalism against the hard limits of global strategy.

The questions swirl with urgency: Will he or won’t he back Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in a direct attack on Iran’s nuclear program? Will U.S. forces join in dropping bunker-busting bombs on mountain-shielded uranium enrichment sites? Or, more radically, will Trump indulge Netanyahu’s long-standing ambition to topple the Iranian regime altogether?

The decision has implications far beyond U.S.-Iran relations. It could realign alliances, upend energy markets, and trigger long-tail proxy conflicts. It could also explode the fragile cohesion of Trump’s MAGA coalition—torn between war-weariness and anti-Iran sentiment.

At the heart of Trump’s dilemma is not just whether the U.S. can support an Israeli strike, but whether it should. From a logistical standpoint, U.S. participation would be decisive. Israel’s ability to neutralize Iran’s deeply buried nuclear assets is limited without American military hardware—particularly Massive Ordnance Penetrators and sophisticated intelligence support. Any joint mission would almost certainly have to be pre-cleared with U.S. Central Command, whose officers have already warned of the region’s combustible volatility.

But even if a tactical strike were successful, the strategic costs could be enormous. Iran would likely retaliate asymmetrically—via cyberattacks, missile strikes on U.S. bases in Iraq, or Hezbollah assaults on Israel. The Strait of Hormuz, which carries roughly 20% of global oil supply, could be temporarily shut down, sending crude prices surging and disrupting fragile global markets.

Politically, the calculus is even messier. Trump’s second-term cabinet is notably more insular than his first, with loyalists who prize ideological purity over institutional restraint. Yet even among MAGA die-hards, there’s unease. Trump’s 2016 victory rode in part on a repudiation of endless wars. A new conflict in the Middle East could alienate working-class voters already reeling from inflation, job insecurity, and rising mortgage rates.

There’s no denying that anti-Iran sentiment runs deep among Trump’s base. Many evangelical voters, in particular, view support for Israel as a religious imperative. Others, animated by anti-globalism, see Iran as a dangerous theocratic rival to American influence. Still, these impulses coexist uneasily with isolationist instincts. “America First,” after all, was as much about withdrawal as it was about dominance.

This ambivalence was on full display during Trump’s first term. He ordered airstrikes on Syria in 2017 and authorized the assassination of Iranian General Qassem Soleimani in 2020, but he also broke with GOP orthodoxy by questioning NATO’s utility and trying to withdraw troops from Afghanistan. His refusal to retaliate after Iran shot down a U.S. drone in 2019 drew criticism from hawks but praise from voters weary of foreign entanglements.

That split is sharper now. Polls show broad skepticism among Americans—across parties—toward entering another war in the Middle East. Even within the GOP, a new generation of lawmakers has embraced a populist, anti-interventionist bent. Figures like Senators J.D. Vance and Josh Hawley have warned that escalating against Iran could backfire spectacularly, draining U.S. resources and inviting attacks on American soil.

Trump knows this. He also knows that playing the peacemaker could burnish his image abroad, just as it did when he negotiated the Abraham Accords and met North Korea’s Kim Jong-un. But Netanyahu’s pressure is mounting. And if history is a guide, Trump’s decisions often hinge not on strategy but on perception—of loyalty, legacy, and leverage.

For Iran, the stakes are existential. The regime has grown increasingly bold since the U.S. pulled out of the 2015 nuclear deal under Trump’s first term. Uranium enrichment is back at pre-deal levels, and international inspectors are being stonewalled. But Iran also remains vulnerable. Domestic unrest is rising, its economy is in tatters, and its proxies in Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon are overstretched.

A U.S.-Israeli strike could deal a temporary blow—but at what cost? The region’s history is littered with failed interventions that produced unintended chaos: Iraq, Libya, Syria. Iran could interpret a strike as a declaration of war, unleashing a chain reaction across the Middle East. Saudi Arabia and the UAE, already wary of Iranian influence, might be forced into the fray. Qatar and Oman could lose their diplomatic balance. Global oil markets would spiral, and China—hungry for discounted Iranian crude—could step in with new security guarantees.

Meanwhile, Russia would likely exploit the chaos to regain leverage in Syria and elsewhere. Europe, desperate to avoid a migration crisis, would clamor for restraint. And America? Once again entangled in a faraway war it cannot easily win or cleanly exit.

There’s also the question of legality. Under international law, preventive war—attacking a country to thwart a perceived future threat—is far harder to justify than preemptive self-defense. Israel has relied on such rationale before, striking nuclear facilities in Iraq (1981) and Syria (2007). But Iran’s case is murkier. No imminent threat has been proven, and the U.N. Security Council would almost certainly condemn any unilateral strike.

For the U.S., joining such an action could further undermine its credibility on the world stage. It would complicate relations with European allies already wary of Trump’s transactional approach to diplomacy. It would also extinguish any remaining hope of reviving the Iran nuclear deal—or even a new containment framework.

The bigger risk? That the use of force becomes the default substitute for policy. As former U.S. defense secretary James Mattis once warned, "If you don't fund diplomacy, you'll have to fund a lot more ammunition."

Trump’s foreign policy was always more theater than doctrine. Now the curtain is lifting, and real consequences loom. Backing Israel in striking Iran might please parts of his base and project short-term strength, but it would risk a long, uncertain conflict with cascading effects across energy markets, global alliances, and domestic politics. In truth, “peace through strength” now demands a different kind of courage—the discipline to avoid war, the creativity to pursue diplomacy, and the humility to recognize that not every problem can be bombed into submission. Trump wanted to remake American power. This may be his last chance to wield it wisely.