Iran will not be the next Sadat

Is Israel overestimating how much military might can reshape the regional chessboard?

A year ago this week, I was at a Council on Foreign Relations symposium, reflecting on the 50th anniversary of the Yom Kippur War and Israel’s hard-fought victory. It was a moment to remember how, a half a century ago, Israel overcame surprise and adversity to reshape the balance of power in the Middle East.

Who knew that just days later, we would witness the worst attack in Israel’s history—the devastating October 7 assault by Hamas that left over 1,200 Israelis dead and once again reshaped the region's strategic landscape. As we approach the first anniversary of that tragic day, the echoes of history feel more potent than ever, reminding us how quickly the tides of conflict can turn.

In 1973, Israel learned that even a supposed military Goliath could get blindsided. On October 6, —Yom Kippur—Egypt and Syria launched a surprise attack, and for a brief moment, it looked like the Jewish state might not make it to its next high holiday. It was a dramatic reminder that being a regional powerhouse means little when your intelligence reports get filed under “Should’ve Seen This Coming.”

Fast forward to October 2024, and Israel finds itself in another high-stakes conflict. This time, it’s not facing uniformed armies but Iran-backed proxies with rockets. Israel is now in a dangerous dance with Hezbollah and Iran. But stakes are higher now—if 1973 was a near-miss for Israel, this round could become a full-blown catastrophe for the region.

In the ‘70s, Israel turned the tables on Egypt and Syria, reclaiming the narrative through sheer force and improvisation. It was a comeback that solidified Israel’s image as the region’s scrappy fighter. But today, Israel’s foes have learned a few lessons—namely, that patience, proxies, and a steady supply of missiles from Iran can keep the fight going.

After taking out Hassan Nasrallah, Hezbollah’s leader, with an 80-bomb "we mean business" memo, Israel flexed its muscles. But that provoked Iran, which retaliated with ballistic missiles, testing Israel’s resolve. It’s as if Israel is replaying its Yom Kippur War strategy, but now the opponent isn’t across the Suez Canal—it’s in Tehran, Damascus, and southern Lebanon.

During the Yom Kippur War, the U.S. practically airlifted victory into Israel’s hands. Nixon and Kissinger saw Israel as crucial in the Cold War. But today, things are different—Joe Biden's America is less of an unconditional cheerleader and more of a wary partner. The U.S. still backs Israel but is aware of the risks of a region-wide blowout, especially with Iran’s nuclear ambitions.

That special U.S.-Israel bond now resembles a mismatched buddy cop film more than a seamless partnership. While Israel throws strategic punches against Hezbollah and Hamas, Biden’s team is trying to de-escalate tensions with Iran. It’s a far cry from the “you bomb, we back you” dynamic of 1973. Israel’s leadership—think Netanyahu 2.0—understands the shift.

In 1973, after taking a military hit, Egypt’s Anwar Sadat chose diplomacy, leading to the Camp David Accords. Iran, however, is unlikely to follow that path. Tehran’s hardliners aren’t interested in a handshake—they want influence, and they’re willing to use drones and missiles if diplomacy doesn’t suffice.

Iran’s internal divisions have led to a mix of restraint and aggression. Reformist President Masoud Pezeshkian is trying to avoid a full-scale war that could put Tehran in Israel's crosshairs. Meanwhile, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) is urging a tougher stance. The result? Tehran fires missiles, Israel fires back, and the world holds its breath.

If there’s a lesson Israel should remember from 1973, it’s the danger of overconfidence. Back then, hubris nearly cost everything. Today, the risk isn’t just underestimating enemies; it’s overestimating how much military might can reshape the regional chessboard. Taking out Nasrallah might feel like a victory, but it won’t make Iran, Hezbollah, and the “axis of resistance” disappear.

In this new landscape, Israel relies on intelligence coups, targeted strikes, and occasional ground operations. Its strikes on Lebanon aim to reassert regional deterrence and send a message to Tehran: “If you come for us, we’ll hit back harder.” Yet, there’s a hard truth behind the military moves: reshaping the battlefield isn’t the same as reshaping the Middle East.

It’s tempting to see tactical wins—Hezbollah’s diminished leadership, disrupted arms shipments—and believe Israel is changing the game. But those who think bombing runs will alter regional dynamics forget one thing: this is the Middle East, where winning the battle rarely means winning the war.

For every Hezbollah leader taken out, there’s another waiting, backed by Iran and driven by a sense of grievance. Tehran’s proxies, from Syria to Yemen, are more like a Hydra—cut off one head, and two more grow in its place. Israel can destroy infrastructure, but it can’t bomb away the ties that bind groups like Hezbollah to Iran. It also can’t destroy the hate-filled ideology animating Islamist extremism. (Though

Danielle Pletka

has a great blueprint on to fight this ideology, which walks alongside antisemitism.

Iran is scrambling to maintain its influence while avoiding a conflict it can’t afford. Despite setbacks, Tehran isn’t out of the game—it’s recalibrating, finding new ways to push back through covert attacks, increased support for proxies, and possibly accelerating its nuclear program.

In 1973, Israel rallied from the brink, but it paid a heavy price in lives and a painful reassessment of its intelligence failures. The question now is whether Israel’s leaders can remember that lesson before they repeat it: 2024 isn’t 1973, and Iran won’t be the next Sadat. The stakes are much higher and nobody wants a sequel with a nuclear twist.

Netanyahu, buoyed by battlefield successes, might see this as a chance to reshape the region. But the risk of overreach is palpable. While the Iron Dome might catch missiles, it doesn’t catch the diplomatic fallout every time an Israeli bomb hits. The Abraham Accords, once a symbol of a new era in Israeli-Arab relations, now seem fragile as images of destruction in Gaza and Lebanon spread. Saudi Arabia has paused its rapprochement with Israel, and the enthusiasm for a peace deal is - at least for now - gone. The U.S. might be watching, but it’s less likely to jump in with a game-changing intervention. Without a diplomatic option, Israel could find itself in a quagmire.

Netanyahu’s government may believe that it can reshape the region’s strategic calculus with military force, but the reality is more complex. The Middle East often reshapes those who try to master it. The landscape shifts, but the core dynamics remain—a cauldron of ancient grudges and modern ambitions, where today’s win can become tomorrow’s setback.

Even if Israel has weakened Iran’s proxies in Lebanon and Syria, it won’t erase broader geopolitical trends like the slow shift away from U.S. dominance and the rise of multipolar diplomacy Nor will it change the geopolitical realities that have defined the region for decades. The underlying fault lines—the sectarian tensions, the Saudi-Iran rivalry, the unresolved status of the Palestinians—are more resistant to change than even the most advanced missile system.

The pressing question is whether Israel can leverage its military edge to build stable deterrence without overplaying its hand. Even if it succeeds, the region around it will remain as volatile as ever. Because in the Middle East, reshaping the battlefield is possible. Reshaping the region? That's a dream as old as the desert itself.