WASHINGTON, August 28 — Six months after the United States and Israel launched their coordinated military campaign against Iran, the conflict has settled into a grim rhythm of economic attrition that is testing the resilience of a nation already strained by decades of sanctions. The war began on February 28 after Israel’s protracted assault on Gaza and the collapse of Iran’s regional alliances created a new flashpoint. The opening strike killed an IRGC commander and armed forces chief of staff, while other senior commanders were slain in the weeks that followed.
A leadership vacuum emerged when Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei was assassinated in that first strike. His son Mojtaba was appointed just over a week later, yet six months on he has yet to make a verified public appearance.
His portrait is carried through city squares and at mourning ceremonies, and decrees are issued in his name, while rumours about his condition persist. Tehran has been forced to rebuild its command structure in the middle of a war. On August 10, decrees issued in Mojtaba’s name formalised a new military leadership, including Ahmad Vahidi as IRGC chief and Ali Abdollahi as chief of staff.
The appointments appear to favour loyalty and continuity over change and were widely read as a signal that Tehran did not intend to soften its posture. The clearest sign that the war has returned to its economic origins is the campaign Washington has intensified since suspending strikes in early August.
US officials had already branded the broader effort “Economic Fury”; on August 24, the Treasury launched Operation Economic Outcast, an expanded campaign aimed at severing Iran’s remaining financial links with the outside world. Secondary sanctions on those moving Iranian oil, measures against its “shadow fleet” and financial networks, and greater enforcement of international sanctions are now being applied more aggressively. Iran’s oil exports, near 1.8 million barrels a day before the war, have fallen below half a million; inflation is approaching 90 percent, with food prices more than double what they were a year ago.
The siege lands on an economy whose troubles were never solely the work of sanctions. Iran had long failed to insulate itself from an architecture built over decades, from US sanctions dating to the 1980s to United Nations Security Council resolutions since 2006.
Neither the 25-year, $400bn partnership with China nor the strategic treaty signed with Russia in early 2025 delivered the stability Tehran sought. The most visible change is at the summit. After the assassination of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei in the opening strike, his son Mojtaba was appointed just more than a week later, a succession Tehran presented as proof of continuity and cohesion. But six months on, he has yet to make a verified public appearance.
His portrait is carried through city squares and at mourning ceremonies, and decrees are issued in his name, while rumours about his condition persist. A leadership that once drew its authority from the visible presence of a single figure now rests, in part, on an absence.
The state has also had to rebuild its command structure in the middle of a war. The opening strike killed an IRGC commander and armed forces chief of staff, while other senior commanders were slain in the weeks that followed. On August 10, decrees issued in Mojtaba’s name formalised a new military leadership, including Ahmad Vahidi as IRGC chief and Ali Abdollahi as chief of staff.
The appointments appear to favour loyalty and continuity over change and were widely read as a signal that Tehran did not intend to soften its posture. The deeper significance is simpler: A state still rebuilding its high command in the sixth month of a war is not doing so from a position of strength.
The clearest sign that the war has returned to its economic origins is the campaign Washington has intensified since suspending strikes in early August. US officials had already branded the broader effort “Economic Fury”; on August 24, the Treasury launched Operation Economic Outcast, an expanded campaign aimed at severing Iran’s remaining financial links with the outside world. Secondary sanctions on those moving Iranian oil, measures against its “shadow fleet” and financial networks, and greater enforcement of international sanctions are now being applied more aggressively.
Iran’s oil exports, near 1.8 million barrels a day before the war, have fallen below half a million; inflation is approaching 90 percent, with food prices more than double what they were a year ago. The siege lands on an economy whose troubles were never solely the work of sanctions.
Iran had long failed to insulate itself from an architecture built over decades, from US sanctions dating to the 1980s to United Nations Security Council resolutions since 2006. Neither the 25-year, $400bn partnership with China nor the strategic treaty signed with Russia in early 2025 delivered the stability Tehran sought. The most visible change is at the summit.
After the assassination of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei in the opening strike, his son Mojtaba was appointed just more than a week later, a succession Tehran presented as proof of continuity and cohesion. But six months on, he has yet to make a verified public appearance.
His portrait is carried through city squares and at mourning ceremonies, and decrees are issued in his name, while rumours about his condition persist. A leadership that once drew its authority from the visible presence of a single figure now rests, in part, on an absence. The state has also had to rebuild its command structure in the middle of a war.
The opening strike killed an IRGC commander and armed forces chief of staff, while other senior commanders were slain in the weeks that followed. On August 10, decrees issued in Mojtaba’s name formalised a new military leadership, including Ahmad Vahidi as IRGC chief and Ali Abdollahi as chief of staff.
The appointments appear to favour loyalty and continuity over change and were widely read as a signal that Tehran did not intend to soften its posture. The deeper significance is simpler: A state still rebuilding its high command in the sixth month of a war is not doing so from a position of strength. The clearest sign that the war has returned to its economic origins is the campaign Washington has intensified since suspending strikes in early August.
US officials had already branded the broader effort “Economic Fury”; on August 24, the Treasury launched Operation Economic Outcast, an expanded campaign aimed at severing Iran’s remaining financial links with the outside world. Secondary sanctions on those moving Iranian oil, measures against its “shadow fleet” and financial networks, and greater enforcement of international sanctions are now being applied more aggressively.
Iran’s oil exports, near 1.8 million barrels a day before the war, have fallen below half a million; inflation is approaching 90 percent, with food prices more than double what they were a year ago. The siege lands on an economy whose troubles were never solely the work of sanctions. Iran had long failed to insulate itself from an architecture built over decades, from US sanctions dating to the 1980s to United Nations Security Council resolutions since 2006.
Neither the 25-year, $400bn partnership with China nor the strategic treaty signed with Russia in early 2025 delivered the stability Tehran sought.
