By Rtd Lt Colonel Samsudeen Sarr
I woke up Sunday morning June 22, 2025, to the unmistakable clang of déjà-vu. In the small hours—while most of the planet slept—the United States, my adopted homeland, plunged head-first into the Iran-Israel war it had spent a fortnight pretending to hold at arm’s-length. So much for the “two-week pause” President Donald Trump dangled before the cameras only days ago; in Washington, two weeks have apparently been compressed into one sleepless night.
Twelve B-2 Spirit stealth bombers roared out of the darkness, each disgorging GBU-57 Massive Ordnance Penetrators—thirty-thousand-pound bunker-busters designed to punch through a mountain. Their targets were Iran’s three crown-jewel enrichment sites of Fordow, Natanz, and the Isfahan complex. Meanwhile, an Ohio-class guided-missile submarine lurking somewhere in the Persian Gulf released a volley of Tomahawk cruise missiles to finish the job.
Moments later, President Trump strode to the White House podium to declare the facilities “completely obliterated”, a flourish worthy of a Las Vegas demolition act. Tehran, for its part, insisted the damage was superficial and claimed most enriched uranium had been spirited away days earlier. Both proclamations cannot be simultaneously true, yet both are entirely predictable. The International Atomic Energy Agency, ever the straight man in this theatre, noted no spike in radiation.
Only last week, Iran said it would not discuss the future of its nuclear programme unless Israel first ceased its blistering sorties. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu answered with more bombs, and now Washington has followed suit. One wonders what “negotiating table” diplomats can gather round when the furniture is still smouldering.
At the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation’s emergency session in Istanbul, Iran’s Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi was asked whether Tehran would heed President Trump’s overnight call for talks. His reply dripped with scorn:
“We were in the middle of negotiations with the Americans when the Israelis blew it two weeks ago, and two days ago we were in Geneva, negotiating with Europeans which the Americans blew last night. Why should we trust any ‘suggested’ negotiations? We will defend our country and will never surrender to forced peace.”
In other words, diplomacy cannot coexist with incoming warheads.
Within four hours of the US strike, Iranian medium-range missiles clawed past Israel’s vaunted Iron Dome, slamming into Tel Aviv and Haifa, turning apartment blocks into blackened grids. Israeli officials confirm dozens of casualties; Tehran vows “heavier” salvos should Washington or Jerusalem strike again.
President Trump, in trademark bravado, warned Iran not to “even think” of further retaliation—while insisting the raid was a one-off. The mixed messaging recalls an old American idiom: “speak loudly and wave a very big stick”. The trouble is, sticks invite counter-sticks, and the Middle East is a forest of tinder.
Mr Trump frames the US mission as a surgical effort to hobble uranium enrichment. Mr Netanyahu, by contrast, lusts openly after regime change in Tehran—no half-measures. Yet regime change is rarely the offspring of aerial bombardment; ask any Libyan still waiting for the promised dawn of democracy. Early reports suggest even Iran’s grumpy opposition has rallied to the flag, horrified by the specter of an Israeli-designed future. A ground invasion would be the next logical, and catastrophic, step, for which neither Arab capitals nor Europe’s weary electorates show appetite.
Older readers will recall how “shock and awe” in Iraq decayed into insurgency, and how NATO’s air umbrella in Libya translated into power vacuum now teeming with militias and migrant traffickers. Once again, we are assured this time is different. Forgive me if I remain skeptical; Middle-East wars have a nasty habit of commandeering the script.
From Banjul to Basse, our markets, our fuel bill and our fragile tourism sector all shudder when global shipping lanes convulse. The African Union’s studied neutrality is beginning to look less like diplomacy and more like silence in the face of a gathering storm. If ever there were a moment for continental statesmanship—demanding an immediate cease-fire and UN-brokered talks—it is now.
I remain, stubbornly, among those who champion de-escalation. The Pandora’s box yanked open last night will not be resealed by bunker-busters, nor by triumphant tweets. It will require disciplined diplomacy, ironclad security guarantees for all parties, and, above all, the humility to admit that bombs rarely deliver happy endings.
The alternative is unthinkable: refugees spilling across borders in numbers dwarfing 2015, oil prices torching fragile economies, ours included, and a region consigned to perpetual convulsion. We have walked this road before. Must we really march it again?
