Nournews: The developments in Yemen over the past few days should not be viewed merely as a military operation. Ansarullah forces have made one of their most significant advances in recent years, capturing the port city of Mokha on the Red Sea coast and subsequently taking control of the strategic Mayyun Island, also known as Perim, at the entrance to Bab al-Mandab. The island lies just off the Yemeni coast, adjacent to one of the world's most important maritime routes.
At the same time, Ansarullah forces have advanced along Yemen's western coastline, moving closer to Bab al-Mandab. These developments represent the group's most significant territorial expansion since the 2022 ceasefire.
The significance of this advance lies not simply in the capture of several square kilometers of Yemeni territory. Mokha and Mayyun, together with Bab al-Mandab, bring Ansarullah closer to one of the world's most sensitive chokepoints for global trade and energy. Under normal circumstances, Bab al-Mandab carries around 12 percent of global trade and is particularly important for the movement of energy from the Persian Gulf through the Red Sea and onward to the Suez Canal.
Ansarullah attacks had already caused a significant decline in traffic through the waterway. With Mokha and Mayyun now under its control, concerns are growing that the maritime threat could evolve into a more durable strategic lever.
Ansarullah fighters have already demonstrated that even without full control of Bab al-Mandab, they can influence the strategic dynamics of this vital waterway. They do not necessarily need a large navy or military capabilities comparable to those of the United States to exert a decisive influence over the route.
If they can increase the risk of attack for even a portion of vessels, force shipping companies to reroute, raise insurance and transportation costs, or compel governments to devote additional military resources to protecting the route, they have effectively restricted part of their adversaries' freedom of action.
This is what can be described as “chokepoint power” or “veto power.”
Here, veto power does not mean completely closing a waterway. It means the ability to create conditions in which the opposing side cannot pursue its preferred course of action without paying a heavy price. A weaker actor may not be able to shut down a route completely, but it can make passage so risky and costly that the economic and security calculations of the stronger side are fundamentally altered.
This is precisely where the significance of Ansarullah's operations extends beyond Yemen.
In recent weeks, Ansarullah attacks have targeted not only shipping in the Red Sea and Bab al-Mandab, but also Saudi energy infrastructure and export routes. Recent reports indicate a sharp decline in oil exports through Red Sea routes amid the escalation in attacks.
At the same time, Saudi Arabia has sought to use the port of Yanbu as an alternative route to the Strait of Hormuz. Yet this route, too, has come under heavy Ansarullah attacks.
A major paradox is therefore emerging: the greater the pressure on Hormuz, the more valuable Bab al-Mandab becomes; and the more important Bab al-Mandab becomes, the greater the Houthis' bargaining power. An attempt to bypass one chokepoint may therefore simply transfer vulnerability to another.
Saudi Arabia's response also highlights the scale of the problem. Riyadh has targeted Mokha airport in an airstrike following the Ansarullah advance. More importantly, according to Axios, Mohammed bin Salman asked Trump twice in a single day to intervene directly against Ansarullah. Trump, however, has so far refrained from opening a new direct military front.
According to the report, Washington is increasing intelligence support for Saudi Arabia while seeking to avoid direct involvement in another war in Yemen.
This is what makes the episode strategically significant.
If Saudi Arabia, despite its enormous economic and military advantages, cannot sustainably manage the Ansarullah threat without seeking U.S. assistance—and if the United States itself remains cautious about entering a new front—the issue is no longer simply Ansarullah's military capability.
The deeper issue is that greater military power does not necessarily translate into a proportionate increase in freedom of action.
This is the same phenomenon that must be considered on a larger scale in the Iran-U.S. war.
The United States and Israel entered the war relying on overwhelming military superiority—a superiority that was expected to produce a political outcome through extensive strikes, economic pressure and the attrition of Iran's capabilities.
But in asymmetric warfare, the weaker side does not necessarily have to compete on the battlefield where the stronger side holds the advantage. It can change the battlefield itself: from the air to the sea, from the sea to energy, from energy to shipping, and from shipping to the global economy.
From this perspective, Ansarullah is an important example. Its military and economic capabilities are not remotely comparable to those of the United States, Israel or even Saudi Arabia. Yet it can force part of the opposing side's power to be devoted to managing the threat.
That distinction is crucial: Ansarullah does not necessarily defeat the United States. But it can divert part of America's power away from its primary mission.
This is where the concept of front proliferation comes into play.
If the United States is simultaneously dealing with developments around the Strait of Hormuz, taking into account the security of Bab al-Mandab, supporting its ally Saudi Arabia, defending Israel, and managing the economic consequences of higher energy prices at home, it is no longer facing a single battlefield.
It is confronting a network of interconnected pressure points.
Under such circumstances, chokepoints become locations where an apparently weaker actor can exercise veto power. The result is not necessarily the military defeat of the stronger power. Rather, it is higher costs, reduced freedom of action and more difficult decision-making.
The energy market is the first place where this pressure is being reflected. In recent days, Brent crude has approached $110 a barrel, while U.S. diesel prices have climbed to a record above $6 per gallon, and U.S. bond and equity markets have come under severe pressure.
A war that was intended to concentrate pressure on Iran is therefore beginning to transfer part of its costs onto energy, shipping, America's regional allies and, ultimately, the U.S. economy itself.
This is where the concept of a “strategic quagmire” takes on meaning.
A quagmire does not necessarily mean military defeat. It emerges when achieving the original objective becomes increasingly difficult while withdrawing from the war also becomes more costly.
The United States continues to rely on its military power to shape regional dynamics. But the central question is no longer simply whether it can bomb another target. The question is whether it can use that power to impose its political will on Iran and its regional partners—and then withdraw from the war at an acceptable cost.
The developments in Yemen show that the war is creating a new problem for Washington and its allies: an actor that is apparently weaker in terms of conventional power can use a geographic chokepoint to tie down part of the capabilities of a much larger coalition.
From Mokha and Mayyun to Bab al-Mandab and Hormuz, one reality is becoming increasingly clear: in 21st-century warfare, neutralizing part of a great power's military advantage does not necessarily require a comparable power. Sometimes, all it takes is control—or the ability to threaten—the right chokepoint.
The war launched by the United States and Israel to impose their political will on Iran, if it leads to the proliferation of fronts, the activation of chokepoints, the emergence of veto points, and the transfer of war costs onto U.S. allies and the American economy itself—as multiple signs now suggest—is no longer the same war that was designed on day one.
The issue is no longer simply winning a battle. It is finding a way out of a war that becomes increasingly difficult to contain as more interconnected pressure points are added.
And perhaps this is the central paradox of the war: a power that entered the conflict to impose its will may ultimately find itself forced to devote a significant share of its capabilities, resources and capacity to managing the consequences of the very war it started—and to preserving its credibility.
Nournews