The first tool used in Operation Roaring Lion was a Hyundai i10, unwashed and scratched from parking. The Israeli deception operation before the strike included sending all the top IDF General Staff officers back home for Friday night dinner. After all, the neighbors watch the parking lot to see whether the general's car is there; if it is, the attack must not be imminent. And so the head of the Planning Directorate slipped away from the meal and made his way in his assistant's second-hand car all the way to the command bunker.
It is already an open secret that Israel had planned a complementary operation against ballistic missiles around this coming June, marking a year since "Operation Rising Lion." The new development was that the United States expressed interest in joining a campaign to bring down the regime. The Netanyahu–Trump meeting at Mar-a-Lago on December 29 mainly focused on finalizing a joint strike in the summer. Netanyahu returned from there, gathered a handful of senior officials, and informed them.
That day will be remembered in history. By chance, just hours before the meeting in Florida, protests began in Tehran. At first, they were too small for Netanyahu and Trump to take seriously. But a few days later, it was decided to seize the opportunity, increase the stakes, move the attack forward, and expand it significantly. The wheels of the dual war machine began turning quickly.
In fact, too quickly. Trump was very eager to deliver a crushing blow to the ayatollah regime. He therefore announced to the protesters that help was on the way. Israel had to restrain him and convince him—through the head of the Mossad—that such a premature strike would cause more harm than good. They succeeded, but then a new problem emerged: the president began to worry that the mission might be too big for Israel. It required another flight by Netanyahu to dispel those concerns, followed by an urgent meeting with IDF Chief of Staff Eyal Zamir. He landed in freezing temperatures, carrying on his classified computer a fifty-slide presentation—the war plan.
In the United States, there is order: instructions come from above and are implemented without a High Court and without the infamous left-wing NGO B'Tselem. Still, it helped that the commander of CENTCOM, Admiral Brad Cooper, is one of the U.S. military's greatest experts on Israel. When Sinwar was eliminated, he opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate. After last June's war, he launched his own inquiry to understand the Israeli operation and what the Americans could improve. What began as a theoretical study turned into operational preparation. The operation was originally meant to begin the previous Friday, but a combination of less-than-ideal weather and last-minute issues in the U.S. military caused a delay.
Back to the deception plan: the idea was simple and brilliant. For weeks, Military Intelligence and the Air Force had been placed on full alert, aircraft loaded with bombs, wearing down Iranian vigilance. And precisely in the final days, the readiness was lowered, supposedly, signaling that it would not happen now.
Saturday morning is a particularly opportune time for military surprises in the Middle East.
I do not know which international source leaked, just before the attack, that the Saudi ruler was pushing with all his might for a strike against Iran. But whoever did so possessed both natural malice and perfect timing. One can only imagine the hysteria in Riyadh when the truth was revealed publicly: while Saudi Arabia condemned the aggressive Israelis, its ruler, Mohammed bin Salman, was urging them to strike the great Shiite enemy.
Then the war began. Saudi Arabia's major oil facilities were attacked, and Israel began receiving requests from Riyadh to strike specific targets in Iran to prevent further danger to the kingdom's flagship industry. Inciting publicly, pleading privately. Whoever decided to expose them did the world a favor.
The Gulf states took hits this week unlike anything they had experienced before. For so many years, they walked a tightrope—until the ayatollahs cut it beneath their feet. The countries with the highest stability suddenly stared across the globe, with columns of smoke and echoes of explosions.
The United Arab Emirates took the heaviest blow. Close to two-thirds of all the missiles and drones launched by Iran were aimed there.
A senior Emirati official told me this week that there are five reasons for this. First, we are closer. Israel is dealing with the long-range ballistic missiles, leaving the shorter-range missiles for us. Second, we are more international. Images of the Burj Khalifa surrounded by smoke or of a burning port near the artificial palm-shaped island echo around the world. Third, Iran believes we are more vulnerable because ninety percent of the population is foreign nationals, and our economic model depends heavily on foreign investors and tourism. Fourth, because we are a Muslim state that represents everything Iran is not, the only state in the Middle East that exports oil but does not export terrorism. Fifth, and most important, because of you. Relations with Israel have changed the Middle East. They were aimed first and foremost at the Iranian axis. Nearly six years later, Iran is trying to settle the score.
The past two years have been difficult for Israel's efforts to integrate into the region. The war in Gaza made life unbearable for the Abraham Accords countries and prevented others from joining them. It also helped Turkey and Qatar—the Muslim Brotherhood's patrons—extend their influence over additional countries that normally would have been wary of extreme Sunni movements.
But perhaps something good will come out of this. Iran's violent assault on the Gulf states reminds millions in the Arab world that the divide is not between Jews and Muslims, but between fanatics and moderates. And the strong bond between Israel and the United States may weaken the Turks, who had already begun warming up to the idea of becoming the rulers of the Middle East. Gaza took—Tehran will give.
"War is too important a matter to be left to the generals," said French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau.
Fate, and politics, would have it that in the most dramatic security year in Israel's history, the country is being run by the most civilian cabinet since the days of Ben-Gurion. At the beginning of the war in 2023, the defense minister was a retired general, joined by two former chiefs of staff. Half the small cabinet consisted of retired generals.
Gantz and Eisenkot left in June 2024, and Gallant was fired five months later. In the decision-making forum that approved Operations "Rising Lion" and "Roaring Lion," the highest-ranking officer is Captain (res.). Netanyahu and Captain (res.) Israel Katz.
It is hard to argue with success. In theory, the conclusion of the Winograd Commission that investigated the Second Lebanon War seems to have been vindicated: there are real advantages to a defense minister who does not come from the security establishment. "He may strengthen the guiding and supervisory authority and emphasize the fact that civilian oversight is not the management of the army."
The new cabinet member, Gideon Sa'ar, once wrote that, in his opinion, the defense minister should not come from the security establishment "tainted by collapsed conceptions, failed systemic doctrines and institutional obligations and calculations. The defense minister is not a super–chief of staff."
There is no doubt that the dynamic of security discussions has changed entirely once the defense minister became a civilian, one who owes more to the prime minister than to the system in which he spent decades.
Even if it is just a coincidence, it is doubtful that we will soon see cabinets full of generals again. Recent chiefs of staff Aviv Kochavi and Herzi Halevi are unlikely, to put it gently, to run for the Knesset anytime soon. The current chief, Eyal Zamir, is chill toward politics until roughly 2032. That leaves Gadi Eisenkot, currently fighting a difficult primary battle against four other opposition parties.
Still, one thing can be said in favor of the dominant IDF thinking of the past generation. The doctrine of the "small and smart army," which failed dramatically on October 7 and has been repeatedly criticized since, proved its power in the two rounds against Iran. The intelligence community's high-tech and AI, combined with the Air Force's aircraft and munitions, produced the breathtaking achievements. In other words, there may be reason to reconsider positively the policy that favored the technological-air arm over boots on the ground.
The problem on October 7 was not necessarily weapons or force structure, but the conception—the perception of the threat from Hamas and Hezbollah. The high-tech army proved itself, even if there is still a need to strengthen the cavalry.
"Now we turn our eyes to the next twenty-five years, which will bring us to the centennial of Israel's rebirth," said Prime Minister-designate Benjamin Netanyahu when presenting his government in the Knesset on the final debate day of 2022.
"In the next four years, we will act so that by our hundredth year of independence, Israel will be a thriving global power, strong and no longer questioned in its existence. To achieve this, there are three major missions: the first is to thwart Iran's efforts to develop an arsenal of nuclear bombs that threaten us and the entire world."
"And what about the damage to the Supreme Court?" shouted MK Yorai Lahav-Hertzanu of Yesh Atid. His colleague Naor Shiri continued: "We also have limits. You can't come here and make these lies."
"These members are shouting that Iran will not destroy us with nuclear bombs—that it's not important, that it's minor," Netanyahu replied. Then the protocol recorded the rhythmic chants of the incoming opposition: "Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak."
Netanyahu was not the first to talk about Iran, and certainly not the only one. But he was the most consistent leader in Israel, and arguably in the world, in focusing attention on the threat. He did so while facing torrents of ridicule and accusations that Iran was merely a political spin. And above all, he was the one who led the IDF together with the United States, twice in one year, to eliminate the gravest existential threat to the State of Israel.
For that reason, he justly deserves full credit for the historic alliance. All the opposition leaders' statements this week, which carefully praised the security establishment while ignoring it, were a model of pettiness, and above all a political mistake. When credit is due, it is due.
What will Netanyahu do with the public credit he accumulates? In theory, if his life's mission is nearing completion, perhaps he will not run again, finish his trial and retire. After all, elections do not reward completed missions, only future problems.
"A nice thesis," says a Netanyahu associate, "but the prime minister's car has only one gear: forward." Trump is there until 2029, and Netanyahu intends to make the most of every day of the great alliance. In other words, he has no plans to start looking for a lecture circuit.
