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A new book made me appreciate Jewish Sunday schools — and the volunteer women who have powered them
(JTA) — As a kid I went to Sunday school at our Reform synagogue. I didn’t hate it as much as my peers did, but let’s just say there were literally dozens of other things I would have preferred to do on a weekend morning.
As a Jewish adult, I had a vague understanding that Sunday school was a post-World War II invention, part of the assimilation and suburbanization of American Jews (my synagogue was actually called Suburban Temple). With our parents committed to public schools and having moved away from the dense urban enclaves where they were raised, our Jewish education was relegated to Sunday mornings and perhaps a weekday afternoon. The Protestant and Catholic kids went to their own religious supplementary schools, and we Jewish kids went to ours.
In her new book “Jewish Sunday Schools,” Laura Yares backdates this story by over a century. Subtitled “Teaching Religion in Nineteenth-Century America,” the book describes how Sunday schools were the invention of pioneering educators such as Rebecca Gratz, who founded the first Sunday school for Jewish children in Philadelphia in 1838. As such, they were responses by a tiny minority to distinctly 19th-century challenges — namely, how to raise their children to be Jews in a country dominated by a Protestant majority, and how to express their Judaism in a way compatible with America’s idea of religious freedom.
Although Sunday schools would become the “principal educational organization” of the Reform movement, Yares shows that the model was adopted by traditionalists as well. And she also argues that 20th-century historians, in focusing on the failures of Sunday schools to promote Jewish “continuity,” discounted the contributions of the mostly volunteer corps of women educators who made them run. Meanwhile, the supplementary school remains the dominant model for Jewish education among non-Orthodox American Jews, despite recent research showing its precipitous decline.
I picked up “Jewish Sunday Schools” hoping to find out who gets the blame for ruining my Sunday mornings. I came away with a new appreciation for the women whose “important and influential work,” Yares writes, “extended far beyond the classrooms in which they worked.”
Yares is assistant professor of Religious Studies at Michigan State University, with a joint appointment in the MSU Program for Jewish Studies. Raised in Birmingham, England, she has degrees from Oxford University and a doctorate from Georgetown University.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
Tell me how your book came to be about the 19th century as opposed to the common 20th-century story of suburbanization.
There’s a real gap in American Jewish history when it comes to the 19th century, chiefly because so many American Jews today trace their origins back to the generation who arrived between 1881 and 1924, the mass migration of Jews from from Eastern Europe. So there’s a sense that that’s when American Jewish history began. Of course, that’s not true at all.
The American Jewish community dates back to the 17th century and there was much innovation that laid the foundations for what would become institutionalized in the 20th century.
Sunday school gets a very bad rap among most historians of American Judaism. If they’ve treated it at all, they tend to be dismissive — you know, there was no substance, they just taught kids the 10 Commandments, it was run by these unprofessional volunteer female teachers, so it was feminized and feminine.
But there’s also a lot of celebration of Rebecca Gratz, who founded the first Sunday school for Jewish children.
That’s the first indication I had that there might be more of a story here. Rebecca Gratz is lionized as being such a visionary and being so inventive in developing this incredible volunteer model for Jewish education for an immigrant generation that was mostly from Western Europe. And yet, by the beginning of the 20th century, [Jewish historians] say it has no value. So what’s the story there?
Two other things led me on the path to thinking that there was more of a story in this 19th-century moment. I did my Ph.D in Washington, D.C. And as I was searching through the holdings of the Library of Congress, there were tons and tons of Jewish catechisms.
“Sunday school gets a very bad rap among most historians of American Judaism,” says Dr. Laura Yares, author of the new book, “Jewish Sunday Schools.” (Courtesy of the author)
A catechism is a kind of creed, right? It’s a statement of religious beliefs. “These are things we believe as Jews.”
So Jewish catechisms had that, but they were also philosophical meditations in many ways. Typically, the first question of the catechism was, what is religion? And then the second question is, what is Jewish religion?
And then I started reading them. They were question-and-answer summaries of the whole of Judaism: belief, practices, holidays, Bible, you name it, that the children were expected to memorize. This idea that you’ve got to cram these kids with knowledge went against this historiographic dismissal of this period as being very thin and that kids were not really learning anything. The idea that children had a lot to learn is something that Sunday school educators actually really wrestle with during this period.
What was the other thing that led you to pursue this subject?
When I was beginning to research my dissertation, I was working as a Hebrew school teacher in a large Reform Hebrew school in Washington, D.C. And I remember very distinctively the rabbi coming in and addressing the teachers at the start of the school year. He said, “I don’t care if a student comes through this Hebrew school and they don’t remember anything that they learned. But I care that at the end of the year they feel like the temple is a place that they want to be, that they feel like they have relationships there and they have an (he didn’t use this word) ‘affective’ [emotional] connection.”
And so I’m sitting there by day at the Library of Congress, reading these catechisms that are saying, “Cram their heads with knowledge.” What is the relationship between Jewish education as a place where one is supposed to acquire knowledge and a place where one is supposed to feel something and to develop affective relationships? The swing between those two poles was happening as far back as the 19th century.
You write that owing to gaps in the archives, it was really hard to get an idea of the classroom experience. But to the degree that there’s a typical classroom experience in the 1860s, 1870s and you’re the daughter or grandchild of probably German-speaking Jewish immigrants, maybe working or lower middle class, what would Sunday school be like? I’m guessing the teacher would be a woman. Are you reading the Bible in English or Hebrew?
You are probably going for an hour or two on a Sunday morning. It’s a big room, and your particular class would have a corner of the room. It’s quite chaotic. Most of the teachers were female volunteers. They were either young and unmarried, or older women whose children had grown. Except for the students who are preparing for confirmation — the grand kind of graduation ritual for Sunday schools. Those classes were typically taught by the rabbi, if there was a rabbi associated with the school.
There would be a lot of reading out loud to the students with students being expected to repeat back what they had heard or write it down so they had a copy for themselves. Often the day would begin with prayers said in English, and often the reading of the Torah portion, typically in English, although in many Sunday schools, we do have children reporting they learned bits of Hebrew by rote memorization. Or they memorized the first chapters of the book of Genesis, for example, but I’m not sure that they quite understood what they memorized. “Ein Keloheinu” is a song that often children tell us [in archival materials] that they had memorized in Hebrew. They probably would have learned at least Hebrew script, and a little bit of Hebrew decoding. But it is fair to say that if they were reading the Bible, they were reading it mostly in English, because you have to remember that most of the women who were volunteering to teach in these schools came of age in a generation where Hebrew education wasn’t extended to women.
What’s the goal of these Sunday schools?
The Sunday school movement arose because there was a whole generation of immigrant children who did not have access to Jewish education, because their parents didn’t have either the economic capital or the social capital to become part of the established Jewish community. They couldn’t afford a seat in the synagogue, they couldn’t afford to send their children to congregational all-day or every-afternoon schools [which were among the few options for Jewish education when Gratz opened the Philadelphia Sunday school]. Sunday schools are really a very innovative solution to a problem of a lack of resources.
You also write that the founders of these supplementary schools want to defend children against “predatory evangelists.”
That was how Rebecca Gratz described her goal when she created the first Sunday school. She was very, very worried about the Jewish kids who were not receiving any kind of Hebrew school education. She talks about Protestant missionaries and teachers who would go out onto the street ringing the bell for Sunday school and offering various kinds of trinkets, and Jewish kids would get kind of swept into their Sunday schools. There was a very concrete need to give Jewish children somewhere else to go.
So Gratz and the people who created the first Hebrew Sunday school in Philadelphia looked at what the Protestants were doing and they saw that Protestant Sunday schools were providing very accessible places where kids could go and get a basic primer in their religious tradition.
The approach was to teach Judaism as a religion, as opposed to Judaism as a people or culture, to demonstrate that being Jewish was as compatible as Protestantism with being wholly American.
That is certainly part of it. It’s a demonstration that Judaism is compatible with American public life. But I think there’s actually a much bigger claim that the Sunday schools are making. The claim is not only that Judaism is as good as Protestantism, but that Judaism does religion better than Protestantism. These rabbis who were writing catechisms and teaching confirmation classes were saying that Judaism does liberal religion better than liberal Protestants, liberal Catholics and other kinds of liberal denominations. You see the same sentiment in the Pittsburgh Platform as well, which is the foundational platform of the Reform movement written in the 1880s. Sunday schools take that idea and bring it down to a grassroots level.
There are many, many fewer Jews in America in much of the 19th century, before the waves of Eastern European immigrants arrived beginning in the 1880s They didn’t really have strength in numbers, or the kind of self-confidence to have a system of day schools, yeshivas or heders, the elementary schools for all-day or every day Jewish instruction.
And this is also a community that has grown up at the same time as the birth of public education in America, independent of churches. That really emerged beginning on the East Coast in the 1840s.This generation of Americans really believes in the power of public education to craft an American public. It’s a project that 19th-century American Jews believe in and want to sustain. So Sunday schools don’t just become the preferred Jewish model because of lack of resources, but because American Jews really believe in the idea of public education.
What happens at the beginning of the 20th century, with the arrival of Eastern Europeans with different models for Jewish education?
A new generation tries to reform Jewish education, led by a young educator from Palestine named Samson Benderly, who leads the new New York Bureau of Jewish Education. He tries to change American Jewish education to make it more professionalized, but to bring more traditionally inclined Jews on board he has to convince them that he doesn’t want to make more Sunday schools, because Sunday schools by the end of the 20th century had become very much associated with the Reform movement in a way that they weren’t when they were founded and for much of the 19th century.
A painting of Philadelphia philanthropist and Jewish education activist Rebecca Gratz by Thomas Sully. (The Rosenbach of the Free Library of Philadelphia)
Benderly is surveying the scene of recent immigrants living in New York City [tenements] and other kinds of downtown environments, and his proposal is to create these community institutions for these dense communities, where children can be taught Hebrew in Hebrew. His disciples also created Jewish camps as a way to get children out of the inner cities and develop the muscular Zionist ideal of healthy bodies and a robust sense of Jewish collectivity.
You write that Benderly’s vision is a sort of masculine response to the “feminizing” perception of the Sunday schools.
These women teachers are recognizing that they’re being criticized for the kind of thinness of the Jewish education that they’re teaching in comparison to other models, but in periodicals like The American Jewess women are writing back and saying, “But you didn’t teach us Hebrew! I didn’t get that opportunity as a woman, so what do you expect?” It’s really important to note that the women did the best that they could in the time that they had available, and that they were the product of opportunities that were denied to them.
What lessons did you learn about Sunday school and Hebrew school education in the 20th century that relate to your research into the 19th century?
The move that is so decisive for shaping American Jewish education is suburbanization. Rather than having a large immigrant generation who are living in these tight ethnic enclaves, you have American Jewish children who are predominantly growing up in the suburbs, and socializing with children from all sorts of different backgrounds who are attending public schools. The place that you go to get your Jewish education is the synagogue supplemental school, which becomes the dominant model for American Jewish education up until today. Benderly might reflect that it looks a lot more like the Sunday school movement of the 19th century than his vision.
Today’s model is really a religious model. And by that I mean that students go to Hebrew school primarily to kind of check a religious box, to learn about the thing that makes them distinctive religiously, and to achieve a religious coming-of-age marker, which is the bar, bat or b mitzvah. Certainly the curriculum today is more diverse, embracing more aspects of traditional Judaism then you would have seen in a 19th-century Sunday school: more Hebrew, more of a sense of Jewish peoplehood, ethnic identity and Zionism of course. But the question that American Jews are increasingly asking themselves is, is this a model that they still want? So you may have seen that the Jewish Education Project published a report recently on supplemental schools, which saw that enrollment has really, really declined.
Sunday schools are based on a vision of Judaism as a set of a religious commitments that American Jews actualize through belonging to a synagogue and sending their children to a synagogue or a religious school, where they will learn primarily a set of religious skills: the ability to read from the Torah, the ability to decode Hebrew, the ability to navigate the siddur.
Is that still the vision that most American Jews have for what Judaism means to them? I think increasingly the answer seems to be no.
How else did experience in a Hebrew school classroom influence you? Did you access anything else when you were writing the book?
I think about the number of college kids and graduate students and empty nesters who are either volunteering or earning minimum wage, working at Hebrew schools, all over the country. That’s the labor force of American Judaism. These people also bring so much to the table. There are a lot of skills, dispositions and knowledge that don’t tend to get taken very seriously because this is a workforce that just gets kind of put into the category of “oh, they’re part time.” That made me look really closely in the historical archives to see if I could find anything out about the women who are volunteering to teach in Sunday schools. And what I found out was that [many] were public school teachers. And they brought a lot to the table. It was women in fact who were really pushing to make the Sunday school curriculum more experiential and to move away from rote memorization.
As a historian formed by feminist methods, I find it really important to recognize that these women were giving over what they had, as opposed to critiquing them for not teaching in a more traditional way. I think we need to pay attention when women are being scapegoated for problems that are described as problems of Jewish continuity. It blinds us to the role that women’s volunteerism has played in American Jewish life. This whole Sunday school movement was possible only because these women volunteered their time and largely were not paid.
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20 Percent of UK Students Would Not Share Room with Jews, Report Says Amid Deepening Antisemitism Crisis
Cambridge students march against Israel on March 10, 2025. Photo: Martin Pope / SOPA Images via Reuters Connect.
A new report by the Union of Jewish Students (UJS) say that Jewish campus life in Great Britain is rapidly deteriorating amid a resurgence of antisemitism across the nation.
Released on Monday, the report, titled “Time for Change: A Landmark Report on UK Campus Antisemitism,” highlights a climate of increasing fear for Jewish students.
47 percent of Jewish students, for example, report having heard their classmates justify the Oct. 7 massacre in which Hamas slaughtered civilians and committed mass rape; 23 percent have witnessed Jewish students persecuted over their identity; as many 36 percent have either lost friends in this new milieu or know someone who has; and a shocking 40 percent report “having changed their journey through campus” to avoid anti-Zionist protests occurring every week at some universities.
“This report demonstrates that antisemitism on campus is not isolated but normalised,” Union of Jewish Students president Louis Danker said in a statement. “No Jewish student should have to face social ostracism, abusive language or physical violence — there is a right to protest but not harass. If we are serious about combatting extremism in Britain, we have to start on campus, where half of students have seen glorification of Hamas or Hezbollah. Concerned sentiments and piecemeal progress are not enough.”
Some of report’s most concerning findings focused on anti-Jewish sentiments expressed by non-Jewish students. 20 percent said they prefer not be roommates with a Jewish person, while a quarter of students surveyed say that arguing that “Zionists control the media/government” does not constitute antisemitism. Responding to a separate question, 16 percent expressed approval of saying outright that “Jews control the media/government.”
“An environment in which Jews cannot be full members of the community, one which we are ‘othered’ and excluded and insulted is a failing environment,” David Finklestein, a member of the upper house of Parliament, said in a foreword contributed to the report. “Universities are a place where people can exchange ideas and learn facts in an atmosphere of civility, equality, and respect. Bullying people because of their ethnicity or history or political views is completely unacceptable and a university administration that ignores such bullying is failing in its duties.”
The Algemeiner has previously reported on campus antisemitism Great Britain. At City St. George’s, University of London Israeli professor Michael Ben-Gad has been unrelentingly pursued by a pro-Hamas organization which calls itself City Action for Palestine. It has subjected him to several forms of persecution, including social media agitprop, spontaneous, unlawful assembly at his place of work, and even a petition of their own.
In 2023, just months before Hamas’s Oct. 7 massacre in southern Israel, the National Union of Students (NUS), a body representing thousands of university students in the UK, apologized for discriminating against Jewish students.
In November 2022, NUS removed president Shaima Dallali after finding her guilty of antisemitism and other misconduct. Dallali’s tenure at NUS brimmed with controversies, including the discovery of tweets in which she called Hamas critics “Dirty Zionists” and quoted the battle cry, “Khaybar, Khaybar o Jews, the army of Muhammad will return,” a reference to the Battle of Khaybar in 628 that resulted in a massacre of Jews.
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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We Should Be Welcoming All Jews and Bringing Them Closer — Despite Religious Differences
Reading from a Torah scroll in accordance with Sephardi tradition. Photo: Sagie Maoz via Wikimedia Commons.
We Jews have always liked to argue about religion, and everything from kashrut to conversion. Often these differences are far from polite. In every branch and variation of Judaism (as elsewhere), there are sects and extremes, iconoclasts and revisionists, insiders and outsiders. It pains me that we seem so incapable of overcoming such differences and conflicts amicably.
There is an axiom in religious life (all religions, not just Judaism) that those more religious than you are fanatics, and anyone less religious is a doomed sinner. The joke may be extreme, but I think we can all relate to the sentiment.
I could never understand why, for many years, the established Orthodoxy was opposed to going to and teaching at Jewish conferences simply because there might also be people there whose ideas about Judaism they did not share. Neither could I understand the argument that one should not go to Reform communities to teach Torah. On the contrary, if they are so misled by their heretical rabbis, surely it would only be beneficial to go and share another point of view — unless one is so insecure that there might be a risk of backsliding.
The Lubavitch movement is successful precisely because it does not prejudge, and regards every Jew as worthy of attention, regardless of background. And on the other side, anyone vaguely familiar with Reform Judaism in Israel and much of the Diaspora knows that much (not all) of it is seriously trying to come to terms with how to get back to a more traditional way of life with more Hebrew and study.
Of course, as a traditionalist, I disagree with those who make light of our religious traditions and laws. But to some extent, we all choose what to focus on and what not to. I can understand communities that want to preserve their specific identities by excluding those who wish to undermine them. But we can still treat others with tolerance and understanding out of simple good manners. We are such a small people, we cannot afford to lose even more people than we do through ignorance and defection. And thank goodness for those of all variations we welcome in with open doors.
I may not agree with much of Reform ideology and ritual, but I also believe Orthodoxy could have and should be much more flexible. I admire a great deal in the Haredi world, but I think they are seriously mistaken over their attitude to serving Israel’s military needs. And I deplore Neturei Karta’s support of Iranian mass murderers, as I do secular Israelis who want to undermine the Jewish State. Opposition comes from both sides.
There is a Talmudic principle that a Jewish child captured by non-Jews, a Tinnok SheNishba, could not possibly be found guilty of breaking Jewish law since he (or she) would have had no positive experiences of it to be able to make a positive decision. The saintly rabbi known as the Chafetz Chaim (Yisrael Meir Kagan 1838-1933) used this to argue that most modern Jews have never experienced the passion and intensity of genuine Torah spirituality, and therefore cannot be blamed for rejecting something they know nothing of. You can only be a genuine heretic if you really know what it is you are rebelling against!
I would welcome anyone, no matter who, from whatever background, who wanted to identify as a Jew, study and participate. They should be welcomed and encouraged to explore the varieties of Jewish experience and decide where they fit in. And we should do our best to draw them closer and help with any problems of integration they might face.
On Pesach, we will read about the four different sons including the “bad one” with different approaches to Torah. But at least they sat around the same table and were participating in the Seder.
We should use Torah to bring Jews closer — including those who have drifted, and the misguided ones — not to insult them and push them further away just because they have a different view than ours.
The author is a writer and rabbi, based in New York.
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Tehran’s Escalation Doctrine: Why Iran Is Targeting the Entire Middle East
Smoke rises after reported Iranian missile attacks, following United States and Israel strikes on Iran, as seen from Doha, Qatar, March 1, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Mohammed Salem
Iran’s latest missile and drone strikes across the Gulf signal a dangerous strategic shift. What once appeared to be a confrontation primarily between Tehran, Israel, and the United States is rapidly transforming into a wider regional conflict. By conducting military assaults on Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain, the Islamic Republic has effectively widened the battlefield and placed the stability of the entire Middle East at risk.
On March 7, 2026, Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian publicly apologized to Iran’s Gulf neighbors after Iranian missile and drone strikes triggered air defense alerts in those states. In a televised statement, he expressed regret for the attacks and claimed that Tehran would halt strikes on neighboring countries unless attacks against Iran originated from their territory. But even as he spoke, air defense sirens and missile interceptions were continuing across the Gulf region. Then the government walked the statement back.
For many countries in the Middle East, the contradiction is glaring. Iran’s apology appeared less a genuine effort at de-escalation and more a familiar Iranian tactic: spinning rhetorical damage control while continuing its aggression.
This pattern is hardly new. For decades, the Islamic Republic has pursued a strategy that blends diplomacy, denial, and deception with relentless expansionism. The result is a geopolitical doctrine aimed not merely at confronting Israel or the United States, but at reshaping the entire Middle East under Tehran’s ideological and strategic dominance.
Iranian leaders have long framed their military posture as defensive, but the reality unfolding across the Middle East tells a very different story. Missiles fired toward Saudi territory, drones intercepted over Gulf cities, and attacks linked to Iranian proxies across multiple theaters point to a broader strategy of coercion. Rather than confining its conflict to direct adversaries, Tehran is increasingly pressuring neutral or semi-neutral states in order to expand the battlefield.
The remarks of Muhammad‑Bagher Ghalibaf, speaker of Iran’s parliament, made this explicit. Ghalibaf declared on social media that Iran’s defense doctrine follows the ideological guidance of the Islamic Republic’s revolutionary leadership and warned that peace will remain impossible as long as American military bases exist in the region.
This statement was effectively a strategic threat to every Middle Eastern state hosting American forces. It confirmed what regional leaders have long suspected: Iran views the entire Gulf security architecture, not merely Israel, as a legitimate target.
One of the most striking aspects of Iran’s recent escalation is that it has drawn states into the conflict that were actively attempting to avoid confrontation. Countries across the Gulf Cooperation Council had pursued diplomatic efforts to reduce tensions between Iran and its adversaries. Oman, for example, had played a leading mediating role in discussions surrounding Iran’s nuclear program.
Yet Iranian missiles and drones have now placed these very states directly in the line of fire. Strategically, this approach is baffling. By striking Gulf territories or allowing projectiles to fall near critical infrastructure, Tehran risks transforming potential mediators into determined adversaries. Analysts have long warned that attacks on Gulf states could collapse the region’s delicate neutrality and push Arab governments into closer alignment with the United States and Israel. In other words, Iran’s escalation may be strengthening the very coalition it claims to oppose.
The Islamic Republic’s behavior cannot be understood purely in military terms. At its core lies an ideological framework embedded in the doctrine of Vilayat-e-Faqih: “Guardianship of the Islamic Jurist.” This system, created after the Iranian Revolution, grants ultimate political authority to the clerical leadership rather than elected institutions. The result is a hybrid regime in which electoral politics exist but real power rests with a religious elite that defines foreign policy through ideological confrontation.
For this leadership, regional dominance is not merely a strategic ambition. It is a revolutionary obligation. From Iraq to Syria, Lebanon, and Yemen, Tehran has cultivated proxy networks that extend its influence far beyond its borders. These networks allow Iran to wage asymmetric warfare while maintaining plausible deniability. The expansion of this strategy into the Gulf itself marks a new and dangerous phase.
Iran’s confrontation with Gulf states is not only militarily reckless. It is economically self-destructive. The Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz form one of the most vital arteries of global commerce. Disruptions in the region affect energy markets, maritime trade routes, and strategic industrial supply chains.
Iranian actions that threaten shipping lanes risk destabilizing not only regional economies but also global technological industries. Qatar, for example, plays a significant role in the export of helium, a critical resource used in semiconductor manufacturing and advanced technologies. Any disruption in Gulf logistics reverberates across industries ranging from artificial intelligence to aerospace.
If Tehran’s objective is to impose costs on its adversaries, it must recognize that such disruptions will also inevitably damage Iran itself. Economic isolation, sanctions pressure, and investor flight are predictable consequences of escalating regional conflict. In strategic terms, Iran’s current approach resembles an “economic own goal” — a policy that undermines its own long-term stability.
The Islamic Republic’s external aggression reflects deep internal vulnerabilities. Years of economic hardship, corruption scandals, and political repression have eroded public confidence in the ruling establishment. Anti-government protests have repeatedly shaken the regime, revealing widespread dissatisfaction across Iranian society. The leadership in Tehran therefore faces a familiar dilemma.
Authoritarian systems often attempt to consolidate power by redirecting domestic frustration toward external enemies. Foreign confrontation becomes a tool for internal cohesion. In this context, escalation abroad may serve a political purpose at home: reinforcing the narrative that Iran is surrounded by hostile forces and must rally behind its revolutionary leadership. Yet such strategies carry enormous risk. History demonstrates that regimes relying on external conflict to sustain legitimacy often accelerate their own downfall.
The Middle East now faces a critical strategic question: Will Iran’s campaign of intimidation continue unchecked, or will the threatened regional states coordinate a collective response? The growing convergence of security interests between Israel and several Arab states represents one possible outcome. Iranian escalation may inadvertently accelerate regional cooperation against Tehran’s ambitions. The normalization processes that began in recent years could gain renewed urgency if the Gulf states conclude that Iran’s threats are directed not only at Israel but at the entire regional order.
At the same time, the United States remains a central factor in the strategic equation. In Tehran’s calculus, American military installations across the Gulf serve as both deterrents and potential targets. Iran’s repeated warnings about these bases indicate that the regime views the broader American security architecture as a critical obstacle to its regional ambitions.
Another factor shaping Iran’s future is the question of leadership. The Islamic Republic now faces a profound political vacuum. Despite widespread dissatisfaction with the regime, no unified opposition figure has yet emerged capable of mobilizing the population around a coherent alternative vision. This absence of leadership allows the ruling clerical establishment to maintain its grip on power even as public frustration grows. Yet history suggests that such conditions rarely remain static. The pressures created by economic stagnation, international isolation, and internal dissent can eventually converge to bring about transformative political change.
For Iran, the central challenge is whether a new leadership capable of reconciling the country with its neighbors and the international community will emerge before the current system pushes the region into wider conflict.
The Iranian regime’s recent missile and drone attacks across the Gulf reveal a dangerous strategic reality: Tehran’s confrontation is no longer limited to Israel or the United States. It is evolving into a broader campaign of intimidation against the entire Middle Eastern order.
By targeting or threatening Gulf states that had sought neutrality, the Islamic Republic risks uniting the region against it. By escalating military pressure while offering hollow diplomatic apologies, it exposes the contradiction at the heart of its strategy. And by prioritizing ideological confrontation over economic stability, it places the welfare of the Iranian people at risk.
If the current trajectory continues, Iran will not succeed in dominating the Middle East. Instead, it may accomplish the opposite — driving its neighbors, the United States, and Israel into an increasingly unified coalition determined to contain the ambitions of a regime whose revolutionary ideology has turned regional leadership into a permanent state of war.
Salah Uddin Shoaib Choudhury is editor of the Bangladesh-based publication Blitz and a commentator on Islamist extremism, terrorism, and South Asian geopolitics. A version of this article was originally published by The BESA Center.