Wars no longer end the way they once did. The conflict between Russia and Ukraine, and the confrontation between the United States and Iran, make this point unmistakably clear. These are not wars that culminate in decisive victories or formal defeats. They extend, they accumulate pressure, and they leave behind outcomes that remain open, contested, and subject to revision.
This alone is enough to cast doubt on inherited doctrines. But the deeper shift lies elsewhere. Deterrence, as it was understood for decades, no longer functions with the same force. The old assumption—that overwhelming power prevents escalation—has been steadily eroded. Medium and regional powers have demonstrated that they can absorb strikes and respond repeatedly, without collapsing into submission. They calculate differently. They endure. They retaliate. Deterrence has not disappeared, but it no longer disciplines behavior in the way it once did.
Nuclear capability was meant to impose a final ceiling on conflict. It no longer does. It still shapes strategic calculations, but it does not prevent confrontation from taking place. This is where the risk becomes more serious. Nuclear proliferation is not receding; it is quietly expanding. At the same time, repeated attempts to dismantle such programs through force have failed to deliver decisive results. The conclusion is not new, but it has become unavoidable: international frameworks such as the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons and the International Atomic Energy Agency remain indispensable—not because they are sufficient, but because there is no credible alternative capable of imposing monitoring, restraint, and a minimum level of order.
The cumulative effect of these developments is a system that is more exposed, less predictable, and increasingly difficult to manage. It is not only more dangerous; it is less organized. Institutions that once anchored the international system have lost ground. The United Nations has been pushed to the margins in a manner that would have been difficult to imagine even a decade ago. In conflicts involving major powers, its role is limited, and at times almost absent. This is not simply a failure of performance. It reflects a deeper erosion of shared rules.
At the same time, the nature of warfare itself is being rewritten. Technology is no longer an instrument within war; it is now shaping its logic. Precision missile systems, intelligent drones, cyber operations, and satellite-based surveillance are redefining how force is used and how power is measured. In this environment, states that possess technological depth hold a decisive advantage. The relative weight of non-state actors—so dominant in earlier phases of regional conflict—is receding in high-intensity confrontations. The center of gravity is shifting again, this time toward those who can control complex, integrated systems across multiple domains.
This transformation places the Arab world in a position that is increasingly difficult to ignore. The region is directly exposed to these shifts, yet it continues to operate without a coherent security structure of its own. For years, reliance on external arrangements provided a measure of stability. That phase is coming to an end. What is now required is not incremental coordination, but the construction of an Arab security framework—one that integrates political alignment with military and intelligence capabilities, and one that is able to act across the full spectrum of conflict: from prevention and mediation to defense and deterrence.
Within this context, Egypt’s role is not optional—it is central. Geography, institutional continuity, and diplomatic reach converge to place Cairo at the core of any serious regional effort. Egypt is not simply participating in the regional system; it is one of the few actors capable of organizing it. This is why the proposal to establish a permanent platform for Arab strategic dialogue deserves to move from concept to implementation. Whether based in Cairo, Alexandria, Sharm El-Sheikh, or New Alamein, such a platform would address a longstanding gap. It would not only facilitate discussion, but provide structure—something the region has lacked at critical moments.
The urgency becomes sharper when one looks at the ongoing negotiations between the United States and Iran. These discussions are often framed as bilateral. They are not. Their implications extend across the entire region. The issues on the table—missile proliferation, drone mobility, foreign military presence, nuclear oversight, satellite surveillance, and naval deployment—are all directly linked to the future balance of power. The absence of an Arab role in discussions of this scale is no longer defensible. Presence is not symbolic. It is necessary.
Meanwhile, the conflict continues to expand beyond its immediate military dimension. Its effects are now visible in energy infrastructure, in gas pipelines, and in oil facilities. It is beginning to disrupt movement across land, air, and sea. The pressure on critical routes is growing, and the risks are no longer contained. What is unfolding around the Strait of Hormuz is a clear example. This is not a local issue. It extends outward, with direct consequences for global markets and economic stability.
As the ceasefire deadline approaches, the pressures facing the region are becoming more pronounced. This is not a single crisis that can be isolated or managed independently. It is an accumulation of tensions that intersect and reinforce one another. Military escalation continues. Economic disruption is deepening. Competition among regional and international actors is intensifying. These dynamics are not parallel—they are interconnected.
But pressure, by itself, does not only produce risk. It also creates space. The present moment carries within it a narrow but real opportunity. It allows for the emergence of a more active Arab role—if that role is defined clearly and pursued collectively. The question is not whether such a role is needed. That question has already been answered. The real question is whether it can be organized in time.
Here, Egypt’s approach offers a working model. Diplomacy has been sustained, not episodic. Channels of communication have remained open across multiple levels. Mediation has been continuous, not reactive. This is not simply the management of a crisis. It is the positioning of the region at a moment when decisions are being shaped, and where absence carries a cost.
This matters because the region is moving toward a security vacuum that is becoming increasingly visible. And history leaves little room for ambiguity here: vacuums do not remain empty. External powers are already moving to fill them, each according to its own priorities. The issue is no longer whether this will happen, but whether the region can act early enough to influence the outcome.
The ceasefire period, alongside the ongoing negotiations—particularly those taking place in Islamabad—offers a limited but important window. It is a moment that can be used to articulate a coherent Arab position, one that goes beyond mediation and moves toward shaping the broader framework of regional order. This is not about reacting to events as they unfold. It is about defining the terms under which they evolve.
There is little time for hesitation. The pressures are already in motion, and they will not pause. What is required is a level of coordination that has often proven difficult, but is now unavoidable. The challenges facing the region—from the Red Sea to the Strait of Hormuz—are interconnected. Addressing them in isolation is no longer viable.
In the final analysis, the issue is not whether the Arab world understands the scale of the transformation underway. It does. The question is whether it can respond with equal scale and coherence. The transition from fragmentation to coordination will not happen on its own. But without it, the region risks remaining shaped by external dynamics rather than by structures driven from within.
* The writer is a Professor of international Relations at Geneva School of Diplomacy and senior fellow at Geneva center for security policy.
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