In prolonged wars, the issue is not simply the ability to strike. More important is the ability to keep going after absorbing a blow. One side may still enjoy an advantage in weaponry on the battlefield, but if maintaining that advantage requires it to lengthen its supply routes, protect more bases, keep its warships at sea for longer periods without respite, and absorb higher energy and logistical costs, the equation of war gradually begins to change.
This is what can be described as a “war of resilience” — a war in which victory is measured not only by the amount of damage inflicted, but by the ability of each side to absorb costs and maintain its operational capacity. In such a war, any action that raises the cost of continuing the conflict, even if it does not directly destroy a military target, becomes part of the battle.
Signs of this are now visible in US media reports on the condition of the US military in the region. A New York Times report on logistical problems facing the US Navy offered an unusual picture of the difficulties involved in sustaining a force of about 20 ships and 20,000 sailors and Marines deployed in the region. Supporting this force requires more than 420,000 meals and about 8 million gallons of fuel each week. After the main US support base in Bahrain was damaged, Diego Garcia, about 2,200 miles from the operational area, became one of the main supply hubs, while Singapore emerged as another option, roughly 3,700 miles from the battlefield. The result is greater reliance on at-sea refueling and resupply, an operation that must be repeated roughly every five to six days. These figures are not merely logistical statistics; they are a practical translation of the concept of resilience.
Several weeks ago, an informed Iranian military official told Nournews that Iran was closely monitoring and documenting information on the commercial and maritime network supporting US military operations. He stressed that commercial vessels, transportation companies, operators, ports and logistics service providers, when placed in the service of sustaining US military operations, cannot simply be regarded as commercial activities and will be considered military targets. These remarks now take on greater significance alongside US reports about the difficulties of sustaining its fleet: Iran’s targeted pressure on the logistics chain is part of the Iranian battlefield, not a peripheral issue.
A clearer example can be seen in the fate of the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln. After about 286 consecutive days deployed at sea, the carrier eventually arrived in Thailand, marking the longest deployment of its kind during this mission. Reports of the strain imposed on its crew by the prolonged deployment, equipment wear and the carrier’s need to stop and recover indicate that even a massive military platform is not immune to the constraints of time and logistics. In fact, the Lincoln’s situation can be viewed as one indication of the costs created by the inevitable distancing of the support chain from the operational theater: a force that wants to remain on the battlefield increasingly requires time, fuel, spare parts and logistical support.
Even more significant is what happened at Titen Camp in Jordan. Following the recent US attack on the Sirik area, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) announced that it had carried out a ballistic missile strike on the US base in Jordan. The significance of the attack lies not only in hitting a target, but in its strategic message: a base located at a considerable distance from the main theater of the Persian Gulf, and one that could have been regarded as part of the US “secure depth,” is also not beyond the reach of Iran’s surveillance and offensive operations.
This gives rise to an important concept: geographical depth does not necessarily mean strategic depth.
The US can move its forces from the Persian Gulf to Jordan, disperse its bases and move support centers farther from the battlefield. But because of the effective range and precision of Iran’s missiles and drones, these rear layers also remain under sustained threat. “Retreating” therefore does not necessarily mean leaving the threat zone.
Under such circumstances, the farther the US moves back in an effort to create greater distance, the longer and more costly its logistics chain becomes, while its operational capabilities are also reduced.
Iran, by contrast, is essentially fighting on its own geography. Iran is bordered by the Caspian Sea to the north, the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman to the south, and land borders to the east and west. Therefore, even if the US can put pressure on a specific artery such as oil exports through the Strait of Hormuz, speaking of a complete geographical blockade of Iran is meaningless. What the US has been able to target is one of Iran’s economic chokepoints, not all of its existing lines of communication.
The US, however, depends on a far broader network to sustain the war in the region: bases, ports, supply ships, fuel, ammunition, spare parts, aircraft, personnel and transportation routes. If any one of these links becomes insecure or more costly, the effect is transmitted to the next. That effect is now clearly spreading from the military battlefield into the markets.
Oil is moving toward $100 as tensions escalate. Brent traded at around $95.52 a barrel on Friday, while West Texas Intermediate stood at about $91.36. Brent has risen 7.6 percent in a week and WTI more than 10 percent. This increase does not simply mean more expensive oil. More important is the transmission of the energy shock to products that are directly tied to everyday life and production costs in the US.
US diesel has now reached a record $5.82 per gallon, 55 percent above the level at the beginning of the war. US diesel inventories in August also fell to their lowest level for that month since 1982, while inventories on the East Coast declined to about 19.3 million barrels. At the same time, the diesel-to-crude price spread, known as the crack spread, reached a record of about $108 a barrel. Reuters has warned that these higher costs could feed through from transportation and agriculture to manufacturing and ultimately food prices.
In other words, from this point onward, the war is not merely a cost for the Pentagon; a significant portion of its cost is being passed on to American consumers.
The pressure is also visible in the insurance and shipping markets. War-risk insurance for vessels transiting the Strait of Hormuz has reached double-digit rates for some shipowners, while the cost of war-risk coverage for a single voyage by a very large crude carrier (VLCC) has exceeded $10 million. Insurance-industry estimates also point to about $1.5 billion to $2 billion in losses linked to the Gulf conflict.
This means that even a ship that is not attacked may have to operate at a higher cost because of increased risk — or may not sail at all.
Under these conditions, the concept of resilience moves beyond the military sphere and reaches the financial markets. The surge in energy prices has intensified concerns about inflation, and those concerns have been transmitted directly to the US Treasury market. The yield on the 10-year Treasury has risen to around 4.8 percent, and the market views its approach toward the 5 percent threshold as an important pressure point for equities, government borrowing, companies and households. Reuters has reported that rising Treasury yields have increased borrowing costs and could put pressure on investment, consumption and economic growth. This is where US economic resilience becomes part of its military resilience.
The political significance of this chain is no less important than its economic effects. The US midterm elections in November are approaching at a time when gasoline and diesel prices directly affect American voters. Reuters has warned that rising energy prices and inflationary pressure pose a political risk for Trump and Republicans ahead of the midterm elections. At the same time, the Financial Times has estimated that since the start of the war, American consumers have paid tens of billions of dollars in additional costs for gasoline and diesel — an average of hundreds of dollars per household.
Iran’s pressure, therefore, should not be measured solely by the number of missiles that have struck US bases. If an attack forces a base to relocate, lengthens a logistics route, requires a supply ship to spend more time at sea, raises insurance costs, drives up fuel prices, increases inflation, pushes Treasury yields higher and increases the political cost of the war for the US government, its impact extends far beyond the initial military target.
That is why the real comparison in a war of resilience is not simply about who has “besieged” whom and who has been besieged. The US has managed to restrict Iran’s oil exports, and that pressure is real. But the question is: What has Iran, in turn, made more difficult for the US?
If the answer is a chain that begins in Bahrain, extends to Diego Garcia, creates thousands of miles of supply routes, keeps an aircraft carrier at sea for 286 days, places even rear bases such as Titen under threat, and then transmits its effects into US energy markets, insurance, inflation, Treasury bonds and domestic politics, then the two forms of pressure must be considered side by side. This is where the meaning of “blockade” changes in a war of resilience.
A blockade can no longer be measured solely by lines drawn on a map. It must be measured by how much the ability to continue the war has been constrained.
The US is seeking to reduce Tehran’s ability to continue the war by putting pressure on Iran’s economy. Iran, in response, is seeking to increase the cost of maintaining the US presence by pressuring its logistics chain and imposing military, energy, financial and political costs. These two strategies do not necessarily have the same impact.
The US may still have the upper hand in terms of firepower. But if it must spend more on fuel, logistics, base protection, troop movements, maintaining its fleet and insurance in order to use that power, while simultaneously facing inflationary and financial pressures at home, the question of the war shifts from “Who is stronger?” to “Who can endure this situation longer?”
In that case, US resilience is not measured only by the number of its warships and aircraft. It is also measured by the strength of the US economy, the Treasury market, fuel prices, households’ ability to absorb higher costs and even American voters.
And it is precisely at this point that the central question of the war of resilience emerges:
If the US has been able to target Iran’s economic lifeline, but Iran has been able to put pressure on the logistical lifeline of US operations and transmit the effects of that pressure into the US energy markets, economy and domestic politics, which action has ultimately placed a greater constraint on the other side’s ability to continue the war?
In the war of resilience, who is really besieging whom?
NOURNEWS