In the early part of 2003, American Army rumbled over the Kuwait border into Iraq in the name of liberation. The pretext: weapons of mass destruction, regime change, and freedom for the Iraqi people. Within a matter of weeks, Baghdad had fallen. Saddam Hussein had been toppled; his regime destroyed.&nbsp;But as history would soon reveal, over-throwing a government was the simple part. What ensued was decades of sectarian strife, insurgencies, foreign interventions, and a region thrown into disarray. Now, with Israel bombarding Iranian military and nuclear facilities and the threat of American intervention hanging over it, the world is asking an all-too-familiar and foreboding question: Is America about to revive 2003 in Tehran?&nbsp;The Iran-Israel war that has broken out has spread much beyond covert attacks and proxy tensions. In what Israel called as ‘Operation Rising Lion’, its fighter jets have initiated prolonged air bombardment operations above Tehran, Natanz, Esfahan, and other military centres.&nbsp;Civilian neighbourhoods have been hit; communication and energy grids are crumbling. As of June 19, more than 500 have been killed and thousand injured, according to a human rights group. Iran’s response, swift and muscular, included launching hundreds of ballistic missiles and drones at Israeli territory—most intercepted, some not. The region is on fire.&nbsp;Amidst this spiral, the voice of US President Donald Trump—now again a leading figure in American foreign policy—is unmistakably belligerent. He has called for Iran’s “unconditional surrender,” declared that the Supreme Leader is “not hard to find,” and suggested that only full military intervention can bring this war to a decisive close. The language mirrors that of George W. Bush in 2003. The assumptions do too: that air superiority, regime decapitation, and a short, sharp campaign can reset the Middle East in America’s favour.&nbsp;But this is not Iraq. And that assumption may be the most dangerous one yet. The strategic thinking in 2003 was based on two key premises: that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, and that a swift removal of Saddam’s regime would lead to democratic transformation.&nbsp;&nbsp;Both premises collapsed under the weight of reality. Iran, on the other hand, does have an advanced nuclear program—although how close it is to building a weapon remains hotly debated. What’s beyond dispute is that its nuclear infrastructure is more advanced, more dispersed, and significantly better protected than Iraq’s ever was. Facilities like Fordow and Natanz are buried deep underground, hardened against aerial attacks. Even Israel’s cutting-edge F-35s and intelligence assets cannot reach them without either massive US bunker-busting weaponry or ground troops.&nbsp;Therein lies the Iraq parallel—and the trap. Just as Iraq’s regime change required boots on the ground to truly take control of the state apparatus, any serious attempt to dismantle Iran’s nuclear and military command structure would likely require a similar invasion. Airstrikes, however sophisticated, have their limits. And Tehran knows this.&nbsp;But there are deeper differences that make a repeat of 2003 far more perilous in 2025. Iran is a large, militarily capable state with regional networks—from Hezbollah in Lebanon to militias in Iraq and Syria—that can ignite multiple fronts. Its ability to retaliate is proven. Within hours of the first Israeli strikes, it launched one of the largest missile salvos in modern military history. Though most were intercepted, the message was clear: this is not a regime that will fall quietly.&nbsp;Even more critical is the geopolitical context. In 2003, the United States enjoyed broad—if ultimately misguided—international support. Today, the US is deeply divided at home and increasingly distrusted abroad. More importantly, it's not a unipolar world anymore. Russia and China—both Iran's friends—are vying for global power and actively shaping a multipolar order that resists American dominance. Any US action against Tehran will have to contend not just with Iran, but with a broader geopolitical axis that sees American interventionism as a common threat.&nbsp;These questions have no clear answers—and that’s exactly the problem. Iran, for all its internal repression and foreign policy aggressions, retains a resilient state structure. Removing its leadership without triggering national fragmentation would be almost impossible.&nbsp;Already, the Israeli bombings have stirred both fear and fury within Iran. Anti-government protests have erupted, yes—but so have nationalistic calls for unity. The regime is bloodied but not broken. And unlike Iraq, it has prepared for this scenario for decades.&nbsp;There are also the legal and humanitarian ramifications to consider. Several civilians have died in the Tehran region alone since Israeli strikes began. Hospitals are overwhelmed, and infrastructure is buckling. An American-led invasion would only magnify the toll—likely exponentially. The US would find itself at the center of international condemnation, with little to show but further destabilisation.&nbsp;And yet, despite all this, the temptation to act militarily remains strong in Washington’s more hawkish circles. They argue that deterrence has failed, that Iran’s leadership is emboldened, and that without a decisive blow, the region will descend into permanent conflict. They point to the limitations of sanctions, the breakdown of the 2015 nuclear deal, and the erosion of American credibility. To them, war is not the worst option—it is the only option left.&nbsp;But this is a false binary. Between all-out invasion and passive diplomacy lies a spectrum of action. The United States could intensify its containment strategy—reinforce missile defense across the Gulf, expand cyber operations to disrupt Iranian command-and-control networks, empower internal dissent, and prepare for limited retaliatory strikes without committing to regime change.&nbsp;The lessons of 2003 are not just historical footnotes. They are warnings. They tell us that removing a regime without understanding the society underneath is folly. That military victory without political vision is ruinous. And that America’s power, though vast, cannot impose stability on nations from 30,000 feet in the sky. As Israeli jets continue to strike and Tehran vows vengeance, the drums of intervention beat louder. But the echoes from Baghdad still ring. The world would do well to listen.

The Iraq invasion playbook returns: But can it work against Iran?

In the early part of 2003, American Army rumbled over the Kuwait border into Iraq in the name of liberation. The pretext: weapons of mass destruction, regime change, and freedom for the Iraqi people. Within a matter of weeks, Baghdad had fallen. Saddam Hussein had been toppled; his regime destroyed. But as history would soon reveal, over-throwing a government was the simple part. What ensued was decades of sectarian strife, insurgencies, foreign interventions, and a region thrown into disarray. Now, with Israel bombarding Iranian military and nuclear facilities and the threat of American intervention hanging over it, the world is asking an all-too-familiar and foreboding question: Is America about to revive 2003 in Tehran? The Iran-Israel war that has broken out has spread much beyond covert attacks and proxy tensions. In what Israel called as ‘Operation Rising Lion’, its fighter jets have initiated prolonged air bombardment operations above Tehran, Natanz, Esfahan, and other military centres. Civilian neighbourhoods have been hit; communication and energy grids are crumbling. As of June 19, more than 500 have been killed and thousand injured, according to a human rights group. Iran’s response, swift and muscular, included launching hundreds of ballistic missiles and drones at Israeli territory—most intercepted, some not. The region is on fire. Amidst this spiral, the voice of US President Donald Trump—now again a leading figure in American foreign policy—is unmistakably belligerent. He has called for Iran’s “unconditional surrender,” declared that the Supreme Leader is “not hard to find,” and suggested that only full military intervention can bring this war to a decisive close. The language mirrors that of George W. Bush in 2003. The assumptions do too: that air superiority, regime decapitation, and a short, sharp campaign can reset the Middle East in America’s favour. But this is not Iraq. And that assumption may be the most dangerous one yet. The strategic thinking in 2003 was based on two key premises: that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, and that a swift removal of Saddam’s regime would lead to democratic transformation. Both premises collapsed under the weight of reality. Iran, on the other hand, does have an advanced nuclear program—although how close it is to building a weapon remains hotly debated. What’s beyond dispute is that its nuclear infrastructure is more advanced, more dispersed, and significantly better protected than Iraq’s ever was. Facilities like Fordow and Natanz are buried deep underground, hardened against aerial attacks. Even Israel’s cutting-edge F-35s and intelligence assets cannot reach them without either massive US bunker-busting weaponry or ground troops. Therein lies the Iraq parallel—and the trap. Just as Iraq’s regime change required boots on the ground to truly take control of the state apparatus, any serious attempt to dismantle Iran’s nuclear and military command structure would likely require a similar invasion. Airstrikes, however sophisticated, have their limits. And Tehran knows this. But there are deeper differences that make a repeat of 2003 far more perilous in 2025. Iran is a large, militarily capable state with regional networks—from Hezbollah in Lebanon to militias in Iraq and Syria—that can ignite multiple fronts. Its ability to retaliate is proven. Within hours of the first Israeli strikes, it launched one of the largest missile salvos in modern military history. Though most were intercepted, the message was clear: this is not a regime that will fall quietly. Even more critical is the geopolitical context. In 2003, the United States enjoyed broad—if ultimately misguided—international support. Today, the US is deeply divided at home and increasingly distrusted abroad. More importantly, it's not a unipolar world anymore. Russia and China—both Iran's friends—are vying for global power and actively shaping a multipolar order that resists American dominance. Any US action against Tehran will have to contend not just with Iran, but with a broader geopolitical axis that sees American interventionism as a common threat. These questions have no clear answers—and that’s exactly the problem. Iran, for all its internal repression and foreign policy aggressions, retains a resilient state structure. Removing its leadership without triggering national fragmentation would be almost impossible. Already, the Israeli bombings have stirred both fear and fury within Iran. Anti-government protests have erupted, yes—but so have nationalistic calls for unity. The regime is bloodied but not broken. And unlike Iraq, it has prepared for this scenario for decades. There are also the legal and humanitarian ramifications to consider. Several civilians have died in the Tehran region alone since Israeli strikes began. Hospitals are overwhelmed, and infrastructure is buckling. An American-led invasion would only magnify the toll—likely exponentially. The US would find itself at the center of international condemnation, with little to show but further destabilisation. And yet, despite all this, the temptation to act militarily remains strong in Washington’s more hawkish circles. They argue that deterrence has failed, that Iran’s leadership is emboldened, and that without a decisive blow, the region will descend into permanent conflict. They point to the limitations of sanctions, the breakdown of the 2015 nuclear deal, and the erosion of American credibility. To them, war is not the worst option—it is the only option left. But this is a false binary. Between all-out invasion and passive diplomacy lies a spectrum of action. The United States could intensify its containment strategy—reinforce missile defense across the Gulf, expand cyber operations to disrupt Iranian command-and-control networks, empower internal dissent, and prepare for limited retaliatory strikes without committing to regime change. The lessons of 2003 are not just historical footnotes. They are warnings. They tell us that removing a regime without understanding the society underneath is folly. That military victory without political vision is ruinous. And that America’s power, though vast, cannot impose stability on nations from 30,000 feet in the sky. As Israeli jets continue to strike and Tehran vows vengeance, the drums of intervention beat louder. But the echoes from Baghdad still ring. The world would do well to listen.

The Iran-Israel war that has broken out has spread much beyond covert attacks and proxy tensions

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The Iraq invasion playbook returns: But can it work against Iran?