Is the war over, did Iran lose? Did Netanyahu lose?

After every episode of the war that began with the US-Israeli attack on Iran and has turned into a series, we return to the recurring question: Who won, who lost?

After the latest episode, which began with Iran's attacks, seen as a surprise, on Israel, which continues its attacks on Lebanon despite the ceasefire, we are returning to this question once again.

Looking at the goals announced at the start of the war, the answer to the question in fact does not seem all that difficult. Because the outcome of wars is evaluated not by how much destruction the parties produced, but by the extent to which they reached their declared goals.

Israel and the US had openly set out their goals as they entered this war. Iran's nuclear capacity would be destroyed, its missile and drone infrastructure would be brought down, Iran's regional influence would be broken, and finally the way to regime change would be opened. For Netanyahu, beyond all this, there was a much older dream: finally putting into practice the strategy he had advocated for more than thirty years, of bringing Iran into direct confrontation with American military power.

Looking back today, we see a strange picture. Iran took heavy wounds. Its military facilities were struck, its infrastructure was damaged, its economy faced new burdens. Yet despite all this, the regime did not collapse, the state did not disintegrate, and Iran's weight in the regional equation did not disappear.

More importantly, the expectation, frequently voiced in the Western media in the first days of the war, that "the Iranian people will rise up" did not materialize either. On the contrary, the atmosphere created by the external attack gave rise to an unexpected degree of solidarity and national reflex in Iranian society. This recalls the common fate shared not only by Iran but by all regime-change projects through external intervention over the last twenty years. It did not work in Iraq. It did not work in Syria. It did not work in Venezuela. It did not work in Iran either.

But the truly striking result of the war appeared elsewhere. The possibility that, at the end of this war, the party in the most difficult position is not Iran but Israel is being discussed more and more.

At first glance, this claim may sound surprising. Because the greatest military and technological superiority in the war lies on the Israeli and American side. But modern wars are no longer only the war of tanks, planes, and bombs; they are also the war of legitimacy, perception, and sustainability.

In the last two years Israel has pursued a constantly expanding war strategy in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, and finally on the Iranian front. But the biggest problem of this strategy is that, despite the constant expansion of the war, the political goals become increasingly vague.

In Gaza, Hamas could not be eliminated. In Lebanon, Hezbollah could not be completely liquidated. In Iran, the regime did not change. In return, Israel's international legitimacy eroded to an unprecedented degree.

The Israeli narrative, which was once considered unquestionable in the Western world, now faces serious questioning, especially among younger generations. In America, across a wide area from universities to media organizations, criticism of Israeli policies has begun to become mainstream rather than marginal.

In fact, this reality also lies behind the latest tension between Netanyahu and Trump.

Netanyahu still thinks that expanding the war will give Israel a strategic advantage. Yet Trump's agenda is very different. The Strait of Hormuz crisis, rising energy prices, the approaching midterm elections, the fragility of the American economy, and growing war fatigue in public opinion are pulling Washington away from a new war adventure.

Behind the zigzagging policy Trump has followed in recent months also lies this dilemma. On the one hand he feels obliged to support Israel; on the other hand, he does not want to be dragged along behind Netanyahu into a regional war with an uncertain end. For this reason, it would be more accurate to read the picture that has emerged lately not as a ceasefire but as an interim period oscillating between war and negotiation.

In fact, the most important result of what is happening today is that the balance of power in the Middle East is being redefined. Iran, despite all its shortcomings and heavy costs, has shown that it cannot be removed from the regional equation. Israel has seen that military superiority is not always enough to produce political results. And America is realizing that the image of absolute power is no longer as convincing as it once was.

This war is also the harbinger of a new era. No actor any longer has the capacity to shape the region alone. America is not the old America, Israel is not the old Israel, and Iran is not the old Iran. Therefore the real question of the coming period is not whether the war will start again.

The real question is this: Will the strategy Netanyahu has built on perpetual war prevail, or the politics of controlled compromise that Washington increasingly needs? Today's signs show that the second possibility is gaining strength.

Truly, wars also have a logic. When a war stops realizing the declared goals and begins to make them impossible, it ceases to be a strategic instrument and turns into an addiction. It is well known that Israel has theologically obsessive grounds for this addiction, but even that has a limit it rests on in the real world. Israel may think it is going toward those theological goals step by step, but the goal it is running toward is in fact its own end. To understand this, it begins to look like a wall or a cliff in the face of the facts.

The chain of war stretching from Gaza to Lebanon and from Lebanon to Iran, instead of producing security for Israel, forces it constantly to open new fronts. For this reason, the most striking reality to emerge at the end of the war is not that Iran has remained standing, but that Israel has been compelled to confront problems it can no longer solve by fighting.

A PERSISTENCE IN PRODUCING A GHANNOUCHI FROM İMAMOĞLU AND THE ANATOMY OF A HELPLESSNESS

Ahmet Taşgetiren has continued to utter İmamoğlu and Ghannouchi in the same sentence. This is by no means permissible, and he makes us do it as well, even if only to reject it. The sin is on his neck now. Though he himself tried to show that he knows the difference between them very well and had already mentioned it. So he does it knowingly.

He says he knows the difference between the two cases very well, but the only similarity between them is that there are judicial controversies. What case is there, for God's sake, in which there is no judicial controversy?

By this logic, all opposition politicians in the world and the cases they are tried in could be likened to one another. We can draw a parallel between the cases opened against Trump and Ghannouchi. We can draw a parallel between Le Pen and Ghannouchi. We can draw a parallel between the cases concerning Netanyahu and Ghannouchi. We can even draw a parallel between Ghannouchi and any investigation opened against any mayor whatsoever.

Because a common element can be found in all of them: The judiciary. But political science is not done this way. Comparative analysis is not picking out one similar-looking element and ignoring the entire historical context; on the contrary, it takes the context as its basis.

In the context in which Ghannouchi was convicted, for instance, no political activity is currently allowed, and it is not even possible to defend any opposing view. This is how it is in places ruled by coup. Not like in Turkey. Does this context mean anything to Taşgetiren?

In Turkey, despite Erdoğan's strong leadership, he can be opposed, anyone who wants can say whatever they like so long as they do not insult him, one can organize to overthrow him by legitimate means, and there are elections. As for comparing Turkey with countries where Takrir-i Sükun policies prevail, we would suggest they recall once more the days when İmamoğlu's party governed the country single-handedly.

Let me content myself with asking whether the values he reminded me of, Muslim intellectual responsibility or justice or "justice even toward those you hate," are still working in him as they used to. Whereas I say that, had he not drawn this parallel himself, I would have remained bound to my principle of never speaking so far about a matter that has gone to the judiciary in Turkey. I did nothing to violate it.

While he is insistently talking about Ghannouchi, he wants to wedge İmamoğlu in as well. What can this be, other than trying to acquit, before he has even been tried, someone who is the subject of complaints that have become public knowledge, starting from his own staff and party members, and who faces corruption, bribery, and embezzlement charges whose stench is unbearable?

As for Ghannouchi, his innocence is in any case established despite the coup courts. Even if a million years of sentence were handed down against him, it would require us to love him more, trust him more, and stand by him more. Does Taşgetiren not understand this?

If he wants to defend İmamoğlu, let him defend him, I can say nothing. But I would say: do not do it with comparisons that have lost all proportion, and especially in a way that exploits a value like Ghannouchi.