A Commentary by Michael L Weiss

Over the last two days, I have been asked repeatedly what I think about the U.S.–Israeli attack on Iran — its justification, its risks, its potential consequences. Friends, colleagues, and members of our community have all reached out. After a restless night — the kind that comes when history feels close — I have composed my thoughts.

There are moments in history when the ground shifts beneath our feet — not with a tremor, but with a tectonic realignment. I have lived through a few of them. I was in Iran before the fall of the Shah. I have been taken captive in Lebanon. I worked in Saudi Arabia, and I was injured in Libya in the aftermath of its revolution. I did this all as a proud American — carrying not just a passport, but a set of values rooted in liberty, faith, and responsibility. I have seen regimes collapse from the inside and watched societies struggle to stitch themselves back together.

I have witnessed what happens when faith is hijacked by political absolutism — when sacred language is weaponized, when religion becomes the servant of ideology rather than the guardian of conscience. I have also seen something else: how clarity of purpose, moral restraint, and genuine faith can illuminate a path forward even in the darkest circumstances.

So when we look at what is unfolding in Iran today, we must hold multiple thoughts in our minds at once. The Middle East is not a checkers board. It is three-dimensional chess played with history, oil, tribal memory, theology, and great power politics layered together. If you are looking for a simple narrative of heroes and villains, you may want to take up checkers.

But here is my personal conviction: this moment may be one of those rare generational openings — the kind that comes once every fifty years — and it must not be squandered.

The Possibility of Change in Tehran

Let us speak plainly. Since the 1979 Islamic Revolution, Tehran’s ruling clerical regime has operated with a clearly articulated ideological mission: to reject Western influence, dismantle what it views as corrupt Western institutions, and export its revolutionary model beyond its borders. The Iranian constitution speaks of extending the revolution. Its leadership has framed its struggle not merely as national defense, but as civilizational resistance.

For decades, this has not been rhetorical flourish. The regime has funded and armed proxy militias across Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, and Yemen. It has invested heavily in what it calls an “axis of resistance,” designed to weaken Western-aligned governments and challenge American and Israeli influence in the region. It has openly declared hostility toward the political and cultural foundations of the West.

These are not passing whims. They have been strategic dictates — the outgrowth of a radical agenda shaped by men who believed they were executing a historic mandate.

And yet, we must distinguish between a regime and a people.

The Iranian people are not the architects of this agenda. Many are educated, globally aware, and culturally sophisticated. The chant heard in protests — “No Gaza, No Lebanon. My life for Iran” — reveals a growing frustration. Many Iranians are weary of watching their national wealth diverted into proxy conflicts while their currency collapses and their freedoms shrink.

If this regime falls — or even fundamentally reforms into something less militant, less expansionist, less hostile to integration — it could alter the trajectory of the entire Middle East. We are already witnessing how weakening Tehran’s grip has shifted dynamics in Syria and Lebanon. That is not a small development. That is strategic gravity moving.

But we must not be naïve. Deeply entrenched regimes are rarely toppled from the air alone. Military force may open a door, but it does not walk through it. The Iranian people would ultimately have to claim that future themselves.

Still, history sometimes surprises us. And when it does, nations must be prepared to seize opportunity with clarity and restraint.

The Risks We Must Not Ignore

In the Middle East, the opposite of autocracy is not automatically democracy. Often, it is disorder.

Iran is not monolithic. Persians comprise roughly sixty percent of the population. The remaining forty percent is a mosaic of Azeris, Kurds, Arabs, Baloch, and others. A sudden implosion could fragment the country. And if Iran disintegrates, oil markets will not wait politely for political theory to catch up. The Strait of Hormuz remains one of the most strategic chokepoints on Earth.

Energy markets, financial markets, and public opinion will influence how this conflict unfolds just as much as military calculations. Wars today are fought in the skies and on the ground — but they are also fought in currency markets, shipping lanes, and election cycles.

We must also be honest about something else: supporting freedom abroad cannot mean eroding rule of law at home — whether in the United States or in Israel. Democracies are strongest when they defend their institutions even under stress. If we advocate liberty in Tehran, we must practice constitutional fidelity in Washington and Jerusalem alike.

That observation is not partisan. It is civic.

A Historic Opening for Israel and the Region

If Iran is defanged or fundamentally transformed, the strategic map changes overnight.

Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states could move more confidently toward deeper normalization with Israel. The Abraham Accords were not an endpoint — they were an opening chapter. A post-expansionist Iran could accelerate regional integration dramatically.

But opportunity demands leadership. Military victories must translate into diplomatic architecture. Otherwise, they evaporate.

The question for Israel will not simply be whether it can win battles. It will be whether it can convert strategic advantage into lasting regional inclusion.

The American Moment

Here is where my optimism rests — not only in geopolitics, but in us.

Regardless of whether you are Republican or Democrat, conservative or progressive, this is not a time for reflexive tribalism. This is a moment for national coherence rooted in our Judeo-Christian values — values that speak of human dignity, covenantal responsibility, justice under law, and moral restraint in the use of power.

Now is not the hour to fracture into ideological silos. Now is the hour to remember who we are.

We are Americans.

Not red states and blue states.
Not coastal and heartland.
Not defined by ethnicity, region, denomination, or income bracket.

We are Americans — bound not by uniformity, but by shared conviction.

At moments like this, we must consciously put aside our differences — differences of faith, regional identity, color, culture, and economic circumstance. The world does not look to us because we agree on everything. The world looks to us because, at our best, we demonstrate that free people with profound differences can govern themselves with order, law, and moral clarity.

For nearly two and a half centuries, when the world has trembled, it has looked toward the American experiment — not for perfection, but for steadiness.

This may be one of those rare inflection points when history opens a narrow window — and nations either step through it wisely or watch it close for another half century.

If we meet this moment divided, we diminish ourselves.
If we meet it united, we strengthen not only our nation — but the very idea of democratic civilization.

We must not squander it.

My Hope

My hope is not for endless war.
My hope is not for vengeance.
My hope is for a Middle East defined more by inclusion than resistance.
More by integration than isolation.
More by prosperity than proxy militias.

And my deeper hope is that Americans — of every political persuasion, every faith tradition, every racial background, every region of this great nation — remember that we are stewards of something larger than ourselves.

We cannot control every outcome in Tehran.
We cannot predict every ripple in oil markets or elections.

But we can control whether we meet this moment as a fractured tribe — or as one nation under G-d, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

History is unusually plastic right now. Everything — and its opposite — feels possible.

May we choose wisely.
May we stand together — no matter our differences.
May we be worthy of the freedom we inherited.
May we remain a beacon to the world.

G-d Bless these United States, and may G-d protect Israel and all His children.

Michael L Weiss Ph.D., HCCP
Writing as a Proud Private American Citizen
March 2, 2026