Beyond the Bomb: Oil, China, and the U.S.

The recent war between Israel and Iran was primarily framed as a necessary response to the threat of Iran’s potential nuclear capabilities and the existential danger they pose to Israel. As with many past conflicts in the region, it was widely portrayed as a religious confrontation, a clash of civilizations, or yet another iteration of “freedom versus tyranny.” But setting aside the long-standing and legitimate concerns over Iran’s nuclear ambitions, these familiar framings obscure a deeper reality. Beneath the surface, the war was not primarily about theology—or perhaps even about security. It was about oil, great-power rivalry, and the shifting global order.

At the heart of this global contest lies Iranian oil. Iran is not just a destabilizing regional actor—it is also one of the few major oil producers operating largely outside the Western-led financial and political order. In 2021, Tehran signed a 25-year strategic cooperation agreement with Beijing, reportedly worth over $400 billion. This deal trades Chinese investment and diplomatic protection for Iranian oil—sold at deep discounts and outside the dollar-dominated system. That energy relationship has become critical to China’s strategy: cheap Iranian oil keeps its manufacturing competitive and its export machine running at scale.

For the United States to reindustrialize and reclaim global economic leverage, that energy lifeline must be disrupted. The war with Iran created precisely that opportunity. Although missiles flew between Israel and Iran, the deeper strategic alignment suggested more than just retaliation or deterrence. The United States, while not officially at war, was intimately entangled in the conflict. American intelligence, logistics, and weapons systems played a critical role across fronts—in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, and inside Iran. U.S. naval forces patrolled the Red Sea. Bases across the region were placed on high alert. Through this regional escalation, Washington advanced a core objective: undermining China’s access to subsidized Iranian energy.

This was not about ideology—it was about strategic survival. President Donald Trump, now in his second term, is the first modern U.S. president to confront China on purely economic terms. His tariffs, export controls, and industrial subsidies are components of a broader effort to contain Chinese power. But tariffs alone cannot halt China’s rise, especially when its industry runs on discounted Iranian oil. That’s why Iran has remained a critical pressure point. While President Biden continued many of Trump’s containment policies during his administration, he was reluctant to escalate militarily. Trump has not shown that restraint.

Recent comments from Trump underscore this tension. As he traveled to the NATO summit in The Hague, he posted on Truth Social:

“China can now continue to purchase Oil from Iran. Hopefully, they will be purchasing plenty from the US, also.”

This statement appeared to undercut years of sanctions enforcement and offered Tehran unexpected breathing room. But it also suggests a dual-track strategy: weaken Iran’s reliability through conflict while signaling flexibility to redirect energy flows under U.S. terms. It’s a carrot-and-stick approach—coercion by war, followed by incentives through market access.

Destabilizing Iran—via cyberattacks, sabotage, or open war—was never just about nuclear weapons. It was about economic containment. If you want to slow China, you hit its weakest energy link. That link is Iran. And weakening Iran also serves Israeli interests, especially regarding Hezbollah, Hamas, and the IRGC. But this was not simply a case of Israel dragging the U.S. into war. Rather, the U.S. leveraged Israel’s military posture to pursue broader strategic goals.

The war also allowed Washington and its allies to expand their presence in key maritime chokepoints—particularly the Strait of Hormuz, the Bab el-Mandeb, and the Red Sea routes. These are vital arteries for China’s energy imports. Under the pretext of protecting commercial shipping or deterring Houthi attacks, the U.S. consolidated control over the flow of oil to Asia. Should a crisis erupt in Taiwan or the South China Sea, the ability to choke China’s fuel supply becomes a critical advantage—arguably more effective than sanctions or tariffs.

Meanwhile, the Iran-China relationship has increasingly bypassed U.S. financial institutions. Oil is being traded in yuan, gold, and barter—eroding the dollar’s hegemony. The longer Iran functions as a stable supplier to China, the more entrenched this alternative financial system becomes. Disrupting Iran’s energy sector, then, is not just about cutting revenue. It’s about protecting the monetary system that anchors U.S. global power.

The war also exposed the growing convergence between Iranian-backed militias and the strategic aims of China and Russia. Escalations in Gaza and Lebanon were not isolated—they were part of a broader network supporting a multipolar realignment. Targeting Iranian logistics, command centers, and infrastructure weakens not only Iran’s regional power, but its value as a strategic partner for Beijing.

Even the maritime disruptions in the Red Sea, such as Houthi attacks on shipping, played a strategic role. They justified increased Western militarization of key shipping lanes—under the banner of global security. In effect, Washington used these provocations to further entrench its dominance over global energy routes.

It’s essential to place this moment within a larger historical context. For decades, U.S. hegemony has rested on two pillars: military dominance and control of financial infrastructure. What’s different now is the scale of China’s challenge and the willingness of American policymakers to escalate in response. From Reagan through Obama, China was seen as a partner in globalization. Trump shattered that consensus. Biden preserved much of the strategic architecture. Now, in Trump’s second term, the gloves have come off. Economic competition has become military confrontation—by proxy, for now.

The Iran-Israel war was not merely another Middle Eastern crisis. It was a theater in a much larger struggle. It represents the evolving shape of 21st-century conflict—not full-scale wars, but interlinked regional flashpoints, proxy clashes, and economic disruption. The visible violence may have centered on Iranian missile barrages or Israeli airstrikes, but the invisible structure reveals a deeper strategic pattern: a U.S. effort to contain China by any means available.

So let’s dispense with the illusion that this was just another chapter in a centuries-old regional feud. The real conflict is global. It’s about oil. It’s about power. It’s about who gets to write the rules of the next international order. And at the core, it’s not Israel versus Iran.

It’s the United States versus China.