In a dramatic turn of events, a “ceasefire” between Iran and Israel appeared to take hold early Monday, after nearly two weeks of escalating conflict that rattled the Middle East and global markets. 

Brokered informally with international support and announced publicly by President Donald Trump, the truce marked the most significant pause in hostilities since the outbreak of violence.

However, just before the ceasefire's original implementation deadline of 4 am Tehran time, Israel launched a final round of air strikes against Iranian positions in western Iran. 

In response, Iran delayed the official start of the ceasefire to 7.30 am and launched a barrage of ballistic missiles at Israeli cities—including Tel Aviv, Haifa, and Beersheba—just before dawn. 

The move appeared to be calibrated not to escalate further, but to ensure Iran had the last word militarily before standing down.

Despite the intensity of this final salvo, Iranian officials reiterated that their objective was limited: retaliation within the window of legitimacy, not war beyond it. 

And so, with both sides having exchanged one final round of fire, the guns fell silent—at least for now.

Only a few hours earlier, and following the US attacks on Iranian nuclear infrastructure using bunker-busting GBU-57 munitions launched by B-2 Spirit bombers, Iran launched a retaliatory missile strike late Sunday on the Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar—home to the largest US military installation in the region and the nerve centre of CENTCOM’s command operations. 

The attack, codenamed News of Victory, was swift and sharply limited. But despite targeting a US base, it was not a cry for escalation—it was a carefully calibrated message: We are responding, but we are not provoking war.

Iran claims it fired 14 missiles—the same number the US reportedly used in its attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities at Fordow and Natanz last week. 

Of those, Tehran says three missiles successfully impacted the Qatari base. Qatar’s defence ministry, in contrast, reported that only seven missiles were launched, with just one breaching air defences. 

But the point was never raw military impact. The attack, like Iran’s 2020 missile retaliation after the assassination of General Qassem Soleimani, was designed to thread the needle between symbolism and restraint.

Why Qatar?

What makes the attack all the more surprising is its geography. 

Qatar is not just another Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) state—it is Iran’s closest partner in the Arab world. The two countries share the world's largest natural gas field and cooperate on everything from energy policy to regional diplomacy. 

But in choosing to strike Al Udeid, Iran made a calculated bet: that Qatar would understand the gesture as a signal to Washington, not a threat to Doha.

Iranian officials justified the attack by pointing to Al Udeid’s centrality to US military operations in the Middle East. But the reality is more layered. 

According to multiple regional sources, Iran likely provided backchannel notice of its intentions to Qatari officials, who in turn facilitated the evacuation of US personnel. 

In this context, the base was the safest place for Iran to send a message with minimal risk of American casualties—and, crucially, without igniting full-scale war.

President Trump seemed to confirm this calculation. “Very weak attack,” he posted on social media. “Iran gave early notice. I thank them for that. Now is the time for peace.”

But even this measured response did not shield Iran from diplomatic blowback. 

Every Arab state in the Gulf swiftly condemned the attack, including Saudi Arabia, which expressed full support for “any action Qatar may deem necessary”. 

Qatar, for its part, issued a rare public rebuke, condemning the attack on its sovereignty while also subtly pointing the finger at Israel as the source of regional instability. 

In a statement that echoed Oman’s, Qatari officials declared themselves “shocked” by the strike but emphasised that Israel’s initial strikes on Iranian territory had lit the current fuse.

Yet Qatar positioned itself not just as a victim of regional escalation, but also as a potential peacemaker and proposed a ceasefire plan between the two states. GCC states also supported this idea. 

The reason is clear: all understand that further provocation could endanger the region’s economic lifelines—particularly the Strait of Hormuz, through which a third of the world’s seaborne oil flows. Any overt confrontation with Iran risks an energy shock they cannot afford.

That diplomatic overture gained traction quickly. Within hours, President Trump announced a temporary ceasefire between Iran and Israel, congratulating both governments for “avoiding further bloodshed” and declaring this moment “a win for peace in the Middle East”. 

It was a striking declaration, particularly after weeks of heightened tension.

Yet, Iran’s response was cautious. Abbas Araghchi, Iran’s top negotiator and now one of its lead crisis diplomats, stated on X that “If Israel halts its attacks on Iranian targets by 4 am local time, Iran has no plans to respond to the most recent Israeli operations.” 

Fragile peace 

The ceasefire may be holding for now—but its foundations are brittle at best. The underlying disputes—both old and newly minted—remain unresolved. 

The 12-day conflict has generated fresh geopolitical wounds, hardened nationalistic sentiments, and disrupted already-fragile regional alliances. 

Any permanent truce would require a rare alignment of conditions: formal recognition of the conflict’s initiator, an agreed assessment of wartime losses, international condemnation of the aggressor, and binding guarantees that hostilities will not resume. 

None of these are currently achievable. Neither Israel nor Iran is prepared to accept culpability. Neither side trusts international mechanisms to guarantee security. 

And no third party enjoys enough legitimacy to enforce such a peace. Noteworthy, the idea of a ceasefire is viewed with skepticism in Tehran. 

Many believe that temporary truces merely allow Israel to regroup, restock missile supplies, and reinforce air defences—only to resume operations against Iran, similar to the short-lived ceasefires in Gaza, Lebanon, or Syria. 

For Iran, then, intermittent escalation may be preferable to ceasefires that reset the clock in Israel’s favour.

Even beyond these obstacles lies the deeper cause of the conflict: Iran’s nuclear programme. 

The current crisis was catalysed by Israel’s covert attacks on Iranian nuclear infrastructure, amid fears of enrichment capacity expanding beyond thresholds deemed tolerable by Tel Aviv and its allies in the Western world.

Tehran, in turn, has viewed uranium enrichment on its own soil as a sovereign right. If the purpose of this escalation was to force Iran to abandon that capability, it appears to have failed. 

Having paid a heavy price, Iranian officials are even less likely to concede now. “Iran fought this hard,” said a senior regional diplomat, “not to give up enrichment, but to preserve it.” 

The US, caught between Israeli pressure and Iranian defiance, has so far sidestepped this core issue.

Until it is addressed, many believe, the region will remain on a knife’s edge.

Indeed, Iran’s leaders have made it clear that while conflict with the US has been compartmentalised, the war with Israel is far from over. 

Tehran is reportedly preparing for a prolonged campaign of low-intensity engagement—a war of attrition fought through missile salvos, cyberattacks, and proxy operations. 

The message behind Iran’s limited retaliation was not just restraint; it was strategic clarity: although fully allied with Israel, the US should no longer engage in the duel of these gladiators. 

For now, the missiles have stopped flying. But in this region, silence is rarely peace—it is only the pause between storms.