A map showing the Strait of Hormuz is seen in this illustration taken June 22, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dado Ruvic/Illustration

In the war between Iran and the joint force of the US and Israel, the Islamic Republic’s strongest tactic is to obstruct shipping in its coastal Strait of Hormuz.

The regime has strangled the world’s supply of oil and natural gas by attacking several commercial vessels as they transited the Persian Gulf channel. Some of Iran’s naval weapons have killed members of the ships’ crews.

As a political matter, Iran hopes that creating a global energy crisis will generate opposition to the US-Israeli military campaign. But as a legal matter, Iran’s targeting of civilian ships is a flagrant violation of international law.

Article 16(4) of the 1958 Geneva Convention on the Territorial Sea prohibits “the suspension of the innocent passage of foreign ships through straits” such as the Strait of Hormuz. Iran signed the 1958 document, as well as an updated version of the treaty, the 1982 United Nations Convention for the Law of the Sea.

The regime never “ratified” either treaty because it did not incorporate the international laws into its domestic law. That means Iran never became a formal party to the two pacts. However, the “innocent passage” framework of at least the 1958 convention is considered legally binding on Iran through customary international law, a consequence of widespread maritime practice.

The United Nations Security Council applied the principle of innocent passage during the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s. The council rebuked both combatants for firing on commercial oil tankers in the Persian Gulf.

In the current war, the UN Security Council likewise chided Iran’s lethal interference with civilian shipping in the Strait of Hormuz. A coalition of 22 countries including two Arab Gulf states recently signed a joint statement that condemned Iran’s violent closure of the strait and warned of “appropriate efforts” to reopen it. A US military contingent is now headed to the strait, presumably to clear the key coastal terrain.

Iran attempts to evade its maritime obligations with two legal arguments.

First, it asserts self-styled “maritime claims,” in which every commercial ship’s right of innocent passage through the Strait of Hormuz is subject to the regime’s “prior approval.” Iran accordingly grants safe passage to vessels from “friendly” states like China and Pakistan but not ships that could “benefit the aggressors.”

Assuming an additional power of prior approval, Iran has threatened to impose toll charges on ships passing through the waterway. International maritime organizations such as the United Kingdom Maritime Operations Center have confirmed that Iran’s self-serving legal concoction is unfounded. In fact, most of the shipping lanes in the strait run through the territorial waters of Oman, which lie beyond Iran’s legal reach.

Iran alternately contends that its anti-shipping terrorism in the strait is a “tool of pressure” to combat the US and Israel, implying a right of military self-defense. But the laws of naval warfare do not permit attacks on ordinary civilian vessels as a means of self-defense.

Finding Iran in breach of maritime law is easy. Enforcing the law is another matter.

The International Court of Justice cannot assert jurisdiction over a state without that state’s consent. The International Criminal Court lacks authority over Iran because the state never signed the court’s enabling treaty. The Security Council could vote on Bahrain’s proposed March 23, 2026, resolution authorizing “all necessary means” to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. But the measure would probably be vetoed by Russia and/or China, states that oppose the use of force against Iran.

At stake is nothing less than freedom of navigation, which is vital to global trade and security. If Iran can paralyze the Strait of Hormuz, other nations may block similar chokepoints such as the Strait of Taiwan, the Turkish Straits, the Panama Canal, or the Suez Canal. The resulting chaos could render maritime law a dead letter.

It may be difficult for American-Israeli warfare to release Iran’s illegal grip on the Strait of Hormuz. Nevertheless, military action may be the only way to restore the rule of law in the waterway and deter future maritime aggressions.

Joel M. Margolis is the legal commentator of the American Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists, US Affiliate of the International Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists. He is the author of The Israeli-Palestinian Legal War.

Muhoozi Kainerugaba of the Uganda People’s Defense Force (UPDF), the son of Uganda’s President Yoweri Museveni, who leads the Ugandan army’s land forces, looks on during his birthday party in Entebbe, Uganda, May 7, 2022. Photo: REUTERS/Abubaker Lubowa

Fifty years ago, Israeli commandos stormed the terminal at Entebbe Airport under the cover of darkness. They engaged in a deadly firefight with Ugandan troops and Palestinian hijackers to rescue over 100 Jewish and Israeli hostages. The daring 1976 raid astonished the world and reshaped modern counterterrorism, but it cost the life of the assault unit’s commander, Lieutenant Colonel Yonatan “Yoni” Netanyahu.

Fast forward to March 2026, and the geopolitical script between Jerusalem and Kampala has flipped entirely. The very soil where Ugandan and Israeli forces once exchanged fire is now the foundation of an emerging alliance aimed squarely at countering the Islamic Republic of Iran.

General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, the chief of Uganda’s armed forces and the son of President Yoweri Museveni, recently shocked the international community with a blunt declaration.

As regional tensions with Iran boiled over into direct military confrontations, Kainerugaba took to social media to draw a definitive line in the sand. He stated that while the world wanted the war in the Middle East to end, any talk of destroying or defeating Israel would bring Uganda into the war on the side of Israel. To physically cement this dramatic pivot, he previously announced that Uganda would erect a statue of Yoni Netanyahu at the exact spot where he fell at Entebbe Airport, framing the monument as a profound gesture designed to strengthen blood relations with Israel.

While some policymakers in Washington and European capitals are quick to dismiss Kainerugaba’s rhetoric as mere social media bluster, doing so overlooks a profound geostrategic realignment occurring in the Global South. This is not just historical poetry or diplomatic hyperbole. It is the public crystallization of Israel’s new “Circle of Partners” framework, a vital evolution of Jerusalem’s traditional defense strategy tailored for an era of multi-front warfare.

For decades, the Israeli defense and intelligence establishments relied heavily on the “Periphery Doctrine.” This strategy involved cultivating quiet but robust ties with non-Arab states to counterbalance a hostile Arab core.

Today, the threat matrix has completely inverted. The Arab core is increasingly allied with Israel, while the primary existential threat is the Iranian regime. Containing and defeating Tehran’s regional ambitions requires strategic depth far beyond the Levant, necessitating a modernized Periphery Doctrine that extends deep into the African continent. Israel recognizes that securing a “Circle of Partners” is no longer optional; it is a tactical imperative.

By cementing ties with Uganda — a Christian-majority, military heavyweight in East Africa — Israel is effectively anchoring a new southern flank. The strategic utility of this partnership becomes undeniable when looking at a map of Iran’s maritime ambitions. Tehran has spent years attempting to weaponize the Red Sea and the Bab el-Mandeb strait, primarily through its funding of Houthi proxies in Yemen, while simultaneously seeking naval footholds in the Horn of Africa. East Africa serves as the geopolitical backdoor to this critical maritime corridor.

Furthermore, as the conflict with Iran expands across multiple domains, an allied Uganda offers Israel unparalleled intelligence-sharing nodes in Sub-Saharan Africa. The Uganda People’s Defense Force possesses deep institutional knowledge of local terror networks and illicit smuggling routes that Iranian proxies frequently exploit. Uganda also provides potential logistical staging grounds that sit safely outside the immediate range of Iran’s conventional ballistic missile umbrella, offering Israel a secure rear base for long-term strategic planning and operational depth.

Equally important is the diplomatic and ideological blow this alliance deals to Tehran. The Iranian regime relies heavily on a manufactured narrative that pits the Global South against a supposedly isolated Israel. At a time when international forums are routinely weaponized to turn Israel into a pariah state, unconditional support from a prominent African Union member shatters Iran’s diplomatic framing. When a leading African military commander publicly volunteers his own forces to defend the Jewish state and honors a fallen Israeli hero on African soil, it signals a shared recognition of the threat posed by radicalism that transcends geography.

In 1976, the raid on Entebbe proved to the world that Israel possessed the operational reach to strike its enemies and defend its citizens anywhere on the globe. In 2026, the emerging Entebbe alliance proves that Israel possesses the diplomatic foresight to build a continental strategic firewall against Iranian hegemony.

Uganda’s willingness to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Israel is a testament to the shifting tides of global alliances. If Tehran continues to escalate its multi-front war, the ayatollahs will rapidly discover that Israel is not fighting alone, and its “Circle of Partners” reaches much further than the Islamic Republic ever anticipated.

Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx.

Emergency personnel work at the site of an Iranian strike, after Iran launched missile barrages following attacks by the US and Israel on Saturday, in Beit Shemesh, Israel, March 1, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Ammar Awad

There’s a line people love to quote — usually attributed to Mark Twain — that “history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” It’s clever, memorable — and almost certainly not something Twain ever said.

The now-famous “rhyming” version seems to have emerged in a 1965 essay by psychoanalyst Theodor Reik, who suggested that while events don’t replay exactly, they follow very familiar patterns with subtle variations. However you phrase it, the idea lingers — because every so often, the present arranges itself in ways that feel so familiar, it’s as if we’re watching history echo in real time.

And right now, that echo is getting harder and harder to ignore. If you’ve been paying even passing attention to the news, you’ll have noticed something unsettling — not just isolated incidents, but a pattern.

Israel is now under daily missile attack from Iran, a regime that has made no secret of its ambitions. Its goal is explicit: to obliterate Israel — and with it, the millions of Jews who live there. The threats are now being matched with action — direct, sustained, and deadly.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, in places that pride themselves on liberal tolerance, something darker is stirring. Antisemitic attacks are rising at a pace not seen in generations. This week in London, three men were caught on camera torching ambulances belonging to Hatzolah, a volunteer emergency organization whose sole purpose is to save lives.

The attackers didn’t care. A shadowy group claiming responsibility didn’t just justify the act — it promised more. “This is only the beginning,” the assailants warned.

And in Los Angeles — a city synonymous with diversity — a lawsuit filed by Madison Atiabi tells an almost unbelievable story. According to court documents, Puka Nacua, who plays for the Los Angeles Rams, allegedly launched into an unprovoked antisemitic outburst on New Year’s Eve.

The lawsuit goes on to allege that later, Nacua physically assaulted her, biting her shoulder with such force that it left a visible imprint. Nacua seems to have form. In December, he apologized after performing a gesture that plays upon antisemitic tropes on a live stream.

Different continents. Different contexts. But it’s the same hatred. And with it comes a powerful sense that we’ve been here before. Not exactly like this — history never replays with perfect symmetry — but the echo is unmistakable. Which brings us to Passover — and to the Haggadah.

Every year at the Seder, we say the familiar words: בְּכָל דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת עַצְמוֹ כְּאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרַיִם — “In every generation, a person is obligated to see themselves as if they personally left Egypt.” We are not being asked to remember. We are being asked to see ourselves as having left Egypt — a seemingly impossible task, given that the Exodus took place over 33 centuries ago.

The answer is that the Exodus was never intended to be a one-off event. It was meant to become a template — a lens through which we interpret history as it unfolds in real time.

Read the Exodus story carefully, and you’ll notice something unsettling: Things get worse before they got better. When Moses first appears, demanding the Israelites’ release, Pharaoh doesn’t just refuse — he escalates.

As conditions deteriorate, the people turn on Moses in frustration: “May God judge you … You have made us loathsome in the eyes of Pharaoh, placing a sword in their hand to kill us.”

And then comes one of the rawest moments in the entire Torah. Moses turns to God and says: “Why have You done evil to this people? Why did You send me?” He had come as the redeemer — and instead, everything had spiraled downward.

If you had been there, watching hope collapse into despair, you would have said — quite reasonably — this isn’t redemption; it’s a disaster. And yet, we know how the story unfolds. What looked like deterioration was in fact the prelude to transformation — the pitch darkness before the first crack of dawn.

Suddenly, the words of the Haggadah don’t feel abstract anymore. They feel current. We are living through a moment when things seem to be getting worse before they get better. Iran, like Pharaoh, is digging in. Even as pressure mounts, there is no sign of retreat — only defiance, and doubling down on aggression.

Beyond the geopolitical arena, there is the resurgence of antisemitism — less a series of isolated incidents and more a gathering wave. It is deeply unsettling for those of us living through it. But that is precisely the point.

The Haggadah does not ask us to relive the Exodus at its triumphant conclusion; it asks us to place ourselves inside the process — to feel the uncertainty, the fear; to stand where Moses stood and ask, “Why is this getting worse?” And then to hold our nerve. Because embedded within the Exodus story is a radical idea: that chaos and distress can be the precursor to the moment when everything finally comes together.

The night is always darkest before dawn — not as a cliché, but as a description of how redemption actually works.

And when it happens, it doesn’t unfold gradually. It happens, as the Torah describes it, כַּחֲצֹת הַלַּיְלָה, at the stroke of midnight, in an instant. One moment, Egypt is the most powerful empire on earth; the next, it is shattered. One moment, the Jewish people are slaves; the next, they are walking out toward freedom. It is a pivot — a complete reversal of reality.

Which means that if we are living through a chapter of that same unfolding story, we may be closer to the turning point than we think. The signs are there: a world order that feels increasingly unstable; an enemy under mounting pressure that still refuses to yield; a surge of hostility that defies reason. But all that will be over in a moment, as the divine will changes it in one stroke.

And so, this year, when we sit at the Seder and say, “In every generation, a person is obligated to see themselves as if they personally left Egypt,” we don’t need to stretch our imagination quite so far. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like ancient history — it feels immediate.

And one day — soon, and all at once — the shift will come. And when it does, those who held their nerve, who stared into the darkness and still believed in the dawn, will simply nod and say: of course. The Exodus never really ended. It has been unfolding all along — until we finally learn to recognize it while we are still inside the story.