The final hours leading up to the ceasefire between Israel and Iran announced by President Donald Trump on the night of 23-24 June resembled a countdown to the end of what has since become known as the 12-Day War.

In the first act, the US entered the war when it launched what appeared to be a surprise attack on Iranian nuclear facilities, some of which are buried underground, on the night of 21-22 June. Huge bunker-busting bombs were used, which Israel itself did not have at its disposal.

In the second act, on 23 June, Tehran responded symbolically as it launched as many missiles as the Americans had used. Iran targeted US military bases, mainly in Qatar but also in Iraq. Although both bases had already been evacuated, Iran’s attack, with a dozen missiles on Al-Udeid in Qatar, which houses the headquarters of US forces in the Middle East (CENTCOM), among other things, was a first.

In the past, on such occasions, the Islamic Republic had targeted US bases in neighbouring Iraq, either directly or through proxy militias. Such was the case in early 2020, when Tehran swore epic revenge for Trump’s order to kill Iran’s notorious top general Qassem Soleimani near Baghdad airport. In the end, Iran’s grandiosely proclaimed retaliation consisted of only a few missiles fired at a US base in Iraq, which did not cause any casualties.

Then, as now, the Islamic Republic warned the other side in advance, cognisant of the fact that a single dead American soldier could have triggered a full-scale US entry into the war – the nightmare scenario par excellence for the Iranian regime, whose single most important priority is ensuring its survival.

The choreography of these twin acts was that each side had been informed of the other’s impending attack. In the run-up to the US bombing of Iran’s nuclear facilities, Tehran had relocated its 400kg stockpile of 60 per cent highly enriched uranium (HEU) to a safe location, so that the head of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) says it is unclear where this stockpile is now.

Iran’s response, in turn, was also communicated hours in advance to both Doha and Washington, yet the launch of dozens of missiles at Qatar, all of which were intercepted, had a peculiar political flavour: after all, the super-rich sheikhdom is considered a confidant of the Islamic Republic. The embarrassment was therefore great when Iranian missiles flew over the glittering capital of Doha. The Qatari broadcaster Al Jazeera English was visibly embarrassed in its reporting, and the foreign ministry felt compelled to officially reserve the right to retaliate, even though it secretly hoped that the result of the whole affair would be an end to the war, one which could have existentially destabilised the Arab Gulf states.

At the end of this dramatic spectacle, Trump decided not to follow up on his strongly worded warnings that he would subject Iran to an even more devastating attack in the event of the latter retaliating. The US president now sensed an opportunity to style himself as a peacemaker and suddenly declared a ceasefire – after all, Israel and Iran, which he tends to see as childish enemies, had both asked him to do so at the same time. Netanyahu’s office then announced that a ceasefire had been agreed upon, and the Iranian side also held out the prospect of a cessation of military hostilities. Although there were still some Iranian–Israeli military clashes on 24 June after Trump’s decisive statement, by 25 June the ceasefire seemed to have been established.

Israel, for its part, can claim ‘mission accomplished’, because the danger of Iran’s allegedly imminent nuclear armament has been averted for the time being, while the paralysis of the tiny state as a result of Iranian missiles hitting urban centres has come to an end.

The Islamic Republic has also been propagandistically asserting its ‘crushing’ victory over its ‘Zionist’ and American enemies. From pro-regime circles to the state-promoted social media hashtag ‘victorious Iran’ (Iran_Pirouz), there are several narratives, some of them fantastical: Trump had ‘begged’ Tehran for a ceasefire, Iranian missiles had imposed ‘defeat’ upon Israel, while the Islamic Republic’s military had staunchly defended the country – and even that Iranian missiles had completely ‘wiped out’ the US base in Qatar. In short: the Islamic Republic had imposed peace upon the other side.

There is barely any other military conflict that leaves more questions unanswered upon its termination than this one – for the Iranian state and society, the Middle East, and the world: How will a regime that has been badly hit but not eliminated now behave externally and internally? Will it enter into a diplomatic settlement with Washington and accept limits on its nuclear aspirations? Will Tehran’s missile programme and its regional policy, as so often before, once again fail to make it to the negotiating table? What would all that mean for Israel and the Arab states of the Persian Gulf in the medium and long term?

And concerning the nuclear issue: how badly has Iran’s nuclear programme been damaged, and what will happen to the 400 kg HEU? Will the Islamic Republic race toward a nuclear bomb and cancel international inspections? And will Israeli intelligence, which is omnipresent in Iran, become aware of Tehran’s potential secret nuclear endeavours, leading Israel and possibly the US to launch new strikes?

And directed at Israel: was its Operation Rising Lion truly a ‘pre-emptive’ attack with Iran’s nuclear programme at a ‘point of no return’, as the IDF legitimised the assault – a claim that is not congruent with even the most recent damning IAEA report published shortly before? Or was the attack primarily intended to stabilise a fragile Netanyahu government? What did the attack achieve, especially since military and intelligence pre-eminence is not synonymous with strategic and political foresight? Will there be another unilateral military effort once Iran rehabilitates its missile and nuclear programmes? Why have Israeli leaders called for ‘regime change’ in Iran during the war, except to unnecessarily hand over Iranian dissidents as alleged Israeli spies to the regime’s gallows?

Selective decapitation of the military and political leadership, as well as the mere destruction of some of the repressive apparatus’s institutions, can barely bring the civilian population suffering from Israeli bombardments in the metropolis of Tehran to rise against the regime and to topple it. Was there some delusionary and dangerous expectation that in Iran’s capital city, the centres of power – military, intelligence, political, and state media – would be taken over by the revolting masses when those same sites were consistently subjected to Israeli attacks? After all, was Israel’s goal really regime change or merely the Islamic Republic’s degradation?

And domestically, will the Iranian regime, humiliated by Israel, now take revenge on the democracy movement and commit a great massacre like the one at the end of the Iran–Iraq War, largely unnoticed by global attention? How will the balance of power between a potentially even more authoritarian state and civil society evolve post-war, and what would that mean for what I have been calling, since 2018, the revolutionary process in the country? What will an Islamic Republic post-Khamenei look like? Will only the face of the dictatorship be changed, and will the new rulers ultimately be approved by the West for the sake of so-called authoritarian stability? Will this central paradigm of decades-long Western Middle East policy continue unabated, even though the Islamic Republic has routinely manoeuvred between confrontation and cooperation for the sake of its survival? Finally, will the regime’s preference for rebuilding its costly nuclear programme alongside its missile arsenal consume the already-strained state budget, trumping the need for economic development and further plunging Iranians into socio-economic misery?

All of this is just a selection of the pressing questions we will have to ask ourselves in the coming weeks, months and years. In other words, the end of the 12-Day War means, at best, a fragile peace; however, its actual impact will not be fully assessed for at least 12 months, if not 12 years. As such, this Israel–Iran war is already pregnant with the next.