GEOPOLITICS: Strait of Hormuz Blocked; Trump’s War Spreads Across the Entire Region

Looking for an Alternative Route When the First One Is Blocked

When faced with a blocked bottleneck, logic dictates looking elsewhere. According to Dayen, the obvious starting point would be the Red Sea. The Saudis already have an oil pipeline crossing the Arabian Peninsula to the port of Yanbu. The problem is one of capacity: according to Hellenic Shipping News, this port can unload only about four million barrels per day, while the pipeline carries seven million. With upgrades to the port and the pipeline, most of Saudi Arabia’s crude could once again reach Asia via a slight detour through the Bab el-Mandeb Strait. On paper, the solution exists. It is costly, slow, and imperfect, but it is a viable option. In a rational world, Dayen points out, building alternative roads, ports, or oil pipelines would be an absurd idea given the cost. Except that the rational world is not the one we now live in.

And this is where the trap snaps shut. Iran is well aware of this option. According to a Reuters dispatch dated July 14, 2026, Tehran is reportedly considering measures to block Bab-el-Mandeb through its Houthi allies in Yemen. In other words, every escape route is already being monitored by the very party that closed the first one. Circumventing the threat does not eliminate it—it merely shifts it. You think you’re escaping the Strait of Hormuz, only to run into a second barrier. Iran’s leverage does not rest on a single geographic point, but on its ability to threaten every alternative as soon as it emerges. That is the difference between a barrier and a strategy. One can be circumvented; the other follows you.

We always imagine that there is another route. But when the adversary holds the map and knows every path, bypassing one obstacle sometimes amounts to walking straight into the next—one that is even narrower.

An attack on an airport and a front that was thought to have been extinguished

Here, the narrative shifts from economic calculations to bloodshed. According to Dayen, citing an Axios report dated July 13, 2026, this is apparently why Saudi leader Mohammed bin Salman, with Trump’s support, recently ordered a strike on Sanaa Airport in Yemen at the very moment an Iranian plane carrying a Houthi delegation was about to land. The move is highly significant: this was not a blunder, but a calculated strike intended to prevent coordination between Tehran and its Yemeni proxies. The retaliation was swift. The Houthis struck a Saudi airport and are now threatening, according to Drop Site News, to block Saudi access to Bab el-Mandeb. A conflict that had been frozen since 2022 is reigniting, not by accident, but through the relentless dynamics of maneuvers and counter-maneuvers.

The consequences are evident on a map. If the Saudi-Houthi conflict resumes in earnest, writes Dayen, Saudi oil will have to pass through the Suez Canal and circumnavigate the entire African continent to reach Asia. In other words: weeks of additional sailing time, skyrocketing costs, and a global supply chain stretched to the breaking point. The decision to go to war and upset these delicate balances escalates the conflict onto new fronts. Every attempt to find a solution creates a new battlefield. This is the cold, hard truth of the matter: it is not fate that is spreading the war—it is choices, dated, signed, and attributable to specific decision-makers. Geography did not vote. Men did.

A front that had been frozen for four years flares up again with a single strike. War has neither a long memory nor patience; it only takes one reminder for it to return and demand what is owed to it from the past.

Billions Bet on Targets Within Missile Range

While bombs are falling, the computers are crunching numbers. According to the Wall Street Journal, as cited by Dayen, Chevron is reportedly in talks with Iraq’s new prime minister, Ali al-Zaidi, about a plan to invest billions in new oil fields and repair an old pipeline damaged during the 2003 invasion, which runs from Kirkuk to the eastern Mediterranean via Syria. Two other pipelines are reportedly under consideration, according to Axios: one northward to Turkey, the other southwestward through Lebanon. Kuwait is reportedly examining connections to the Saudi network. Dubai is reportedly considering a new port on the other side of the Musandam Peninsula to bypass the Strait of Hormuz. The list is dizzying: entire continents of capital seeking a breach in the Iranian wall.

But Dayen immediately raises the question that haunts the entire project. If only half of these projects were to come to fruition, oil capacity would be largely replaced, even if liquefied natural gas and manufactured goods such as aluminum would remain blocked. Except that most of this infrastructure would be within range of Iranian drones and missiles. The Iranian government might feel it has no choice but to disrupt them to preserve its leverage against a Trump administration it views as a threat. Building an alternative to the Strait of Hormuz means offering new targets to whoever controls the Strait of Hormuz. Billions are being invested in pipelines that could explode before transporting a single barrel. The gamble is not an economic one. It is existential—and it is terribly fragile.

We’re building oil pipelines just as we’d stretch wires across a void. Each pipeline promises a way out and presents a target. The emergency exit becomes, by sheer geography, the next front line.

Every countermeasure calls for a counter-countermeasure, with no end in sight

There is a recurring image in Dayen’s analysis, and it deserves to be taken seriously: that of the cat and the mouse. Iran is trying to preserve its leverage by putting pressure on potential workarounds; Trump and the other regional powers are pushing back against this pressure; Iran, in turn, counters. This cycle, the author writes, could easily escalate into a broader regional war. What stands out here is not a sensational prediction, but the description of a self-perpetuating dynamic. Each actor acts rationally within the scope of their immediate interests, and the whole produces an escalation that no one is truly in control of. This is the most disturbing logic of all: not the madness of a single man, but the sum of individually defensible calculations that collectively lead to the worst possible outcome.

Dayen makes no secret of his bias, and this must be stated clearly out of respect for the reader: he describes Trump’s initial attack as a “Pearl Harbor-style” surprise assault, using strong words like “unpredictable” and “unreliable.” These are bold judgments, not neutral facts. One may agree with them or qualify them. But they are based on a verifiable observation: according to the author, the American negotiators have made no progress. When diplomacy stalls and military pressure mounts, escalation becomes the path of least resistance. The cat-and-mouse game has no finish line. It goes round and round until someone overturns the table—or until exhaustion imposes what reason has failed to deliver.

The most frightening thing is not the isolated madman, but the chain reaction in which everyone acts sensibly within their own sphere of influence. The sum of a thousand reasonable decisions can give rise to a catastrophe that no one intended.

Sailors’ Fear: The Most Accurate Barometer of the Crisis

There is one piece of data that Dayen handles with commendable caution, and it speaks volumes about the enduring nature of the problem. Even at the height of the fighting earlier this year, a few ships continued to pass through the Strait of Hormuz each week—from Iranian oil tankers to Greek-owned vessels—throwing all caution overboard, as is their custom, to attempt the crossing. During Trump’s uncertain truce, daily transits reportedly rose to about half their pre-February 28 level. The nuance is crucial: the strait is not hermetically sealed. But “half-open” is not “open.” And this is precisely where the most persistent economic consequence lies—one that no fragile truce will be enough to erase.

The proof comes from elsewhere, and it is chillingly sobering. According to Lloyd’s List, as cited by Dayen, nearly two years after the Houthis stopped firing on ships passing through Bab el-Mandeb, traffic still hadn’t returned to its previous level. Here’s the lesson: fear outlives missiles. A shipowner who has seen an anchorage turn into a firing range will not return simply because he is promised calm. Maritime confidence, once shattered, takes years to rebuild—long after the last shot has been fired. Oil prices are rising, according to the Wall Street Journal, as Trump promises to renew the blockade. The consequence, therefore, is not a temporary spike. It is an economic scar that will remain visible long after the guns have fallen silent.

A sailor who has seen a strait become a target never forgets. Fear, unlike treaties, cannot be signed away or lifted on command; it fades only at the slow pace of years without incident.

Distinguishing the author’s judgment from the documented sequence

Honesty toward the reader requires distinguishing between two levels in this text. On the one hand, there is Dayen’s strong opinion of Trump: a “belligerent,” “unpredictable,” “unreliable” man who would never have kept his promises regarding Iran. These are strong value judgments, fully embraced by the author, and it would be dishonest to present them as neutral observations. On the other hand, there is a chronology of facts attributed to recognized sources: the resumption of firing, the strike on Sanaa, the Houthi retaliation, Chevron’s discussions with Baghdad, and the rise in crude oil prices. These elements are not dependent on the author’s antipathy; they are documented by The New York Times, Reuters, Axios, and The Wall Street Journal. The reader must be able to keep the two separate in order to judge for themselves.

This distinction does not weaken the criticism of Trump—it makes it stronger. An accusation backed by verifiable facts carries more weight than an accusation based on mere speculation. The responsibility that Dayen attributes to the president rests on a reconstructed causal chain: an attack created an opportunity for Iran to close the Strait of Hormuz, a truce cemented that control, and the escalation followed. One can debate the exact weight of each link in the chain. One might wonder whether the “routine budget overhaul” cited elsewhere by the White House in other matters might offer an alternative explanation here. But the analysis holds up because it attributes specific decisions to named decision-makers, without filling in the gaps with presumed intentions. This is how a critical stance remains defensible: through rigor, never through anger alone.

Criticizing a leader is justified by documented facts, never by contempt alone. Anger without evidence crumbles at the first counterargument; anger backed by a chronology stands firm, even in the face of its opponents.

A form of statecraft that is nowhere to be found in today’s landscape

Dayen concludes his argument with a demand that sounds like an admission of helplessness. It would take, he writes, immense diplomatic talent to convince Iran and the world that America is once again a reliable partner, and to reopen the strait on a lasting basis. The word is out: “statesmanship.” Yet this is precisely what the author believes is missing from the current landscape. The argument thus comes full circle: resolving the crisis requires precisely the quality that, according to Dayen, the party responsible for the crisis lacks. This is not a prophecy. It is an equation with a missing term, and the author sees no one to fill it as long as the political landscape remains as it is.

This text does, however, call for methodological caution. The data reported is from mid-July 2026 and pertains to an evolving conflict: casualty figures, troop movements, and negotiations can change from one week to the next. These figures should therefore be read as snapshots, not as fixed truths. Similarly, several statements rely on the words “apparently” or “according to reports,” including the rationale for the strike on Sanaa: these are reported details, not established certainties. The rigor of an analysis is also measured by what it refrains from asserting. Dayen leaves these gray areas visible rather than glossing over them. This is a strength, not a weakness. It leaves the reader with the margin of doubt that reality itself has not yet resolved.

The best analysis reveals its gaps rather than filling them with borrowed certainty. When dealing with an ongoing conflict, honesty means dating one’s figures and acknowledging what is still unknown.

A Closed Strait, an Open Lesson

Upon finishing this reading, a stark reality becomes clear. The Strait of Hormuz is not merely a place; it has become a symbol of a way of waging war without considering the consequences. An attack opened a breach, a poorly conceived truce sealed it, and since then, every attempt to find a way out has created a new front. Yanbu, Bab el-Mandeb, Kirkuk, Musandam: so many names that, until recently, meant nothing to anyone, and which today map out the geography of an escalation. Prices are rising, ships are hesitating, and decision-makers are improvising pipelines within missile range. Nothing in this picture is inevitable. Everything stems from choices that can be attributed, dated, and signed. This is what makes the situation both more serious and, in theory, more reversible than a natural disaster.

Yet there remains this thorn in the side, which neither a truce nor oil pipelines will dislodge. Sailors’ fear outlives the missiles; mistrust outlives the treaties. Even if the guns were to fall silent tomorrow, the strait would not instantly regain its former traffic, just as Bab el-Mandeb never did two years after the last Houthi attack. This is the cost of a decision made without weighing its long-term consequences: not a crisis that can be resolved, but a mistrust that takes root and endures. The haunting question is not whether the strait will ever reopen. It is how many years—and how many fronts—it will take to repair what a single series of choices has undone.

A strait closes in a day and reopens over the course of years. That is the true measure of a decision made in war: not the clang of the first shot, but the length of the shadow it casts over everything that follows.

Signed, Jacques PJ Provost, columnist