Live

28 Feb 2026 | ~09:30 IRST | Tehran, Iran

On February 28, 2026, early in the morning, the Middle East woke up to a new reality: the US and Israel launched joint air strikes against Iran — Washington presented them as Operation “Epic Fury,” while Israel used different code names in public reports. While Israel used different code names in public reports. The first waves of strikes targeted infrastructure and critical military command centers, with the message being clear: this was not a “message,” but an attempt to dismantle capabilities (missile, command, and — according to the attackers’ claims — nuclear). Within hours, Iranian state media announced the event that politically sealed the first 24 hours: the death of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in a strike attributed to the start of the operation.

There is no doubt that the attack by Israel and the US against Iran serves a central political goal: to weaken the regime — and, in the most ambitious version of the plan, to bring about its downfall. The two allies seem to have concluded that the current situation represents a rare “window of opportunity”: a moment when they can attempt to rid themselves of an adversary that has remained resilient, adaptable, and extremely costly strategically for decades. Their basic assumption seems to be that Iran, under pressure, will be defeated in terms of capabilities and prestige: that it will lose its ability to impose itself regionally, to deter and coordinate — and that this loss will act as a catalyst for internal political erosion and, ultimately, the collapse of the current system of power. Even the prospect of prolonged chaos within the country does not seem to deter them; on the contrary, it is seen as a manageable cost or even a more favorable development than maintaining an Islamic republic that continues to function as an organized, cohesive pole of resistance to their interests.

The EU geopolitical twitch

NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte stated that NATO “will not get involved” in the war, but at the same time praised the actions of the US and Israel as strikes that limit Iran’s capabilities. Since the start of the war, the EU has called for “maximum restraint,” while the Commission and High Representative Kaja Kallas expressed concern and stressed the importance of international law, noting, however, the divided opinion of member states.

On the political front of European states, in southern European countries—Spain, Greece, Italy, Cyprus – there is no consensus on geopolitical stance, but rather individualized geopolitical choices depending on the respective interests of each country, defining an ideological axis of response. The governments of southern Europe seem to be trying to walk a tightrope between the US, and therefore Israel, and the rifts created by the unprovoked air strikes against Iran on Saturday, February 28, in violation of international law, in this new reality. At this critical stage, old alliances are being tested, the South is speaking out in its own way, Spain is articulating a new “not in our name,” the Italian government is concerned with its citizens and energy, while Greece and Cyprus are joining forces to shield their role as a stabilizing factor in the eastern Mediterranean.

Cyprus: Mayday

On Monday, March 2, 2026, the Eastern Mediterranean took center stage in the international spotlight, as the US-Israel-Iran conflict now directly affects the European geographical arc of the region. In Cyprus, sirens sound the alarm—an image that, according to local descriptions, evokes a rare sense of threat not seen since the 1980s — after the drone strike, where in the early hours, the question of its origin was debated between two scenarios: either direct Iranian involvement or action through proxies, such as Hezbollah from Lebanon, as was initially estimated. However, in a statement on Wednesday evening (March 4), the British Ministry of Defense noted that the drone was not launched from Iran, without specifying where the attack came from.

Article 42.7 TEU

Article 42.7 was partially activated in the days following the drone strike on Akrotiri. France dispatched air defence systems and naval assets; Britain provided support through its sovereign bases and interception capabilities. These were meaningful contributions, but they were bilateral reflexes dressed up as collective action, not the full-scale mutual defence mobilization the clause was designed to trigger. Merz, meanwhile, offered no military assistance whatsoever — notable for a chancellor who has spent months positioning Germany as Europe’s new strategic backbone. On Thursday, Italy and Spain, like France, said they will send naval assets to help Cyprus. What emerged was a patchwork of national responses loosely wrapped in the language of solidarity, confirming that Article 42.7 remains, in practice, a clause whose full activation depends less on the gravity of the threat than on the political will of individual member states at any given moment.

NATO's Articles 4 and 5

NATO’s Articles 4 and 5 remain untouched precisely because the minimal scale of the attack provided plausible cover for restraint. The UK, as a NATO member with sovereign territory directly threatened, could theoretically have triggered the collective defence clause, but to do so over debris and intercepted missiles would have been wildly disproportionate—a sledgehammer response to a fire alarm. The real complication is Cyprus itself, which sits outside NATO entirely, meaning that Turkish denials about the Incirlik base being the target were not merely diplomatic theatre but a way of containing the crisis within manageable boundaries. Had Ankara acknowledged that a NATO installation was deliberately targeted, Article 5 activation would have become almost impossible to avoid, and the escalatory consequences would have been catastrophic. Later, Iran publicly denied firing toward Turkish territory. U.S. and Western officials nevertheless told The New York Times the missile was likely aimed at Incirlik Air Base, and that it was shot down from a U.S. warship in the eastern Mediterranean.

Nicosia responds politically with the anchor phrase that “Cyprus does not participate in military operations,” but when British bases operate on the island and the airspace of the Eastern Mediterranean is filled with flying threats and interceptions, “neutrality” seems more like rhetorical defense than geographical reality. The climate is complicated by the contradiction in public narratives: earlier, on Sunday 1 March, British Defence Minister John Healey reportedly stated that two Iranian missiles were fired in the direction of British bases in Cyprus and were intercepted by Israeli forces, but the Cypriot government categorically denies this, arguing that “it is not true” and that there is no indication of a threat to the country, with the relevant authorities monitoring the situation “closely” on an ongoing basis. At the same time, Nicosia insists that there is no operational presence of American aircraft on the island and that any facilities are for humanitarian purposes, while recording movements of unmanned drones in the context of the wider regional unrest.

Nicosia’s so-called “neutrality” did not remain mere rhetoric. On Monday, March 2, the Cypriot government publicly expressed strong dissatisfaction with the United Kingdom for what it characterized as a lack of “clear and timely assurances” that British bases on the island would not be used for any purpose other than humanitarian activities, following the drone strike in Akrotiri. Government spokesman Constantinos Letymbiotis, following a meeting of the National Council, noted that the messages from London were deemed insufficient, “something we view with dissatisfaction,” ” and announced that Nicosia would take further diplomatic and institutional measures to formally convey its protest. The protest note is part of the same context: a move that is not “theatrical,” but a tool for recording responsibility and exerting pressure for binding clarifications regarding the use of the bases, especially when — as the Cypriot side has complained — there was no timely information provided to residents living in areas adjacent to them, resulting in heightened fear and confusion at a time when the crisis is literally knocking on the island’s door.

Spain: No to war, yes to defence

Madrid expressly refused to allow the use of its bases, and around fifteen US tanker aircraft left Morón and Rota when the Spanish decision became known. In contrast, NATO military assets (such as the US warships USS Roosevelt and Bulkeley, which were in Rota for exercises) continued their operations, as the Spanish government is not allowed to interfere with them when they are in international waters. Spain summoned the Iranian ambassador for talks, condemning Iran’s attacks as “unacceptable” and demanding an immediate halt (citing the safety of 30,000 Spaniards in the region). At the same time, the Foreign Ministry activated a special crisis unit to monitor Spanish citizens (United Arab Emirates, Israel, etc.) and is working closely with the EU to coordinate their protection (although to date there have been no reports of Spanish casualties, only delays in planning repatriations).

Pedro Sánchez publicly took up the gauntlet after American pressure, giving Spain’s refusal to allow the bases to be used a purely political dimension. In a speech in Madrid, he described the escalation as a game of “Russian roulette” with the fate of millions at stake and summed up his position in three words: “No to war.” The implication was twofold: Spain would not be complicit in a conflict it considered dangerous and unstable, and it would not change its stance “out of fear of retaliation.” At the same time, he called on the US, Israel, and Iran to stop before “it’s too late,” arguing that you cannot respond “one illegality with another,” because that is how major disasters begin and he recalled as a warning the example of Iraq (2003), where the promise of “security” ended in a wave of instability for Europe.

The statement came in response to an unprecedented attack by Donald Trump against the Spanish government: the previous day, Trump accused Madrid of not allowing the use of joint bases in southern Spain for the continuation of US operations and said he had instructed the Treasury Secretary to “cut off all transactions” with Spain. The dispute immediately opened up a European front: German Chancellor Friedrich Merz reportedly made it clear that Spain cannot be treated “separately” on trade issues, while the Commission’s line was even more blunt: any threat against a member state is a threat against the EU. However, Friedrich Merz himself said it was not the time “to lecture our partners and allies.”

Madrid’s stance is a momentary reflex, but it is also a muscle memory of the government; it ties in with its recent political stance, that of a government that wants to project autonomy to its European partners, protect its citizens in the region without further fuelling tensions, and establish its position in the language of international law, something it did with Gaza. Sánchez is not a radical “anti-Western” figure; he is a moderate social democrat and categorically opposes the Iranian regime. Precisely for this reason, his choice carries special weight: it is presented as a rejection of a war that would multiply the bloodshed in the Middle East, undermine the rule of law internationally, deepen destabilization, and make Spain complicit “in something that is bad for the world and contrary to our values and interests,” solely to avoid retaliation. 

Following Sánchez’s statements and the deployment of the frigate SPS Cristóbal Colón (F-105), it should be noted that the defense of Europe is not the same as serving US operational objectives in the Middle East. Spain appears to be invoking, informally, Article 42(7) of the Treaty on European Union and sending a frigate to Cyprus, acting within a European legal framework, a framework with its own hierarchy, its own rules of engagement and its own political logic, a commitment that exists independently of NATO and, above all, independently of Washington’s strategic preferences in the region.

The frigate’s mission therefore constitutes something more analogous to an informal activation of this framework in an emergency: it is not a declaration of war or escalation, nor is it submission to a US-led operation, but a de facto defensive response triggered by the vulnerability of a member state — Cyprus — which does not have NATO protection and whose security relies almost entirely on EU solidarity and international law. For Cyprus, deterrence options are based primarily on the application of international law and EU membership, making collective support, in fact, a one-way street.

Greece: The burden of geography

In statements made on Sunday, Greek Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis declared the safety of Greek citizens in the Middle East to be a “non-negotiable priority.” He also said that the country’s “constant goal” is to keep up free navigation and stability in the wider area, and stressed that escalation should be avoided and civilians protected. At the same time, the Foreign Ministry announced in an official statement (Saturday, February 28) that it had activated the National Crisis Management Center, all Greeks abroad were put on alert, while Foreign Minister G. Gerapetritis reiterated the need for international control of Iran’s nuclear/ballistic program and that Greece would cooperate with all parties to protect the rule of law.

Athens mobilized resources with strategic sensitivity, activating the Crisis Coordination Center for its citizens from the very first hours, while launching a coordinated plan to repatriate Greeks stranded at airports in the Middle East. The Navy has taken on increased patrol duties on the country’s southern borders and says it is ready to protect Greek trade flows. Militarily, Greece responded yesterday by sending two frigates to Cyprus, one of which is the recently purchased Belhara from France, and four F-16s to reinforce Cyprus’s defense. At NATO bases in the country, such as Souda in Crete, forces have been placed on high alert; an exercise was conducted with full radar coverage, while the Air Force has been on high alert since Sunday.

At the same time, Greece is sending a battery of Patriot missiles to Karpathos to strengthen air defense in the region due to the unrest in the Middle East. Finally, the Greek Coast Guard has instructed Greek-owned ships to avoid narrow sea passages (Ormuz, Adelaide, etc.) due to threats (a warning that was also issued on the first day by the Minister of Shipping). In the latest developments on Wednesday, however, Dimitris Koutsoubas, Secretary General of the Communist Party, told political editors that two of the drones heading for Cyprus that were intercepted were carrying weapons. Koutsoubas, Secretary General of the Communist Party, told political editors that two of the drones that were heading to Cyprus and were intercepted were targeting Souda, causing immediate political and operational turmoil, as it publicly reinforced the question of whether high-value Greek installations have already been targeted for threats or violations. The government and military sources moved to deny the allegations, but the incident reinforced rumours and fuelled the sense that Greece may be closer to the line of fire than it publicly admits.

Greece is attempting to project the image of a “responsible partner” — currently a staunch ally of its “sister” Cyprus — by demonstrating its readiness to assist in its defense. Behind this stance lies a heavy historical backdrop: the memory of 1974, when Athens, under the junta regime, was essentially absent from Operation Attila, acts as a permanent guilt but also as a tacit commitment that “this time we will not be absent.” At the same time, the Greek line insists — without acrimony — on the need to respect international law, following a relatively familiar trajectory in the way Athens reacts to operations involving the US: from Kyriakos Mitsotakis’ unfortunate statement, “This is not the time to comment on the legality of the recent actions,” regarding the operation in Venezuela, to the steady provision of political support to its strategic ally, Israel, even during the genocide in Gaza.

Greece does not want to get involved in a war, but it is attempting to emerge as a “pillar of stability” in the Eastern Mediterranean. On a broader level, Athens is positioning itself as a responsible regional power, while also highlighting its historical ties with Cyprus; crucially, however, it is avoiding adopting a logic of military action in Iran.

That posture of stability, however, was immediately tested. As Athens was projecting calm and reinforcing Cyprus, Ankara moved in a different direction entirely. Turkey pivoted,  with the Turkish Foreign Ministry spokesperson Öncü Keçeli publicly declaring that statements contrary to the demilitarised status of the Aegean islands were “frivolous, unfortunate and ill-timed,” invoking the 1923 Lausanne and 1947 Paris treaties to demand that Greece relocate missile systems from the Dodecanese. Athens responded immediately and without ambiguity: Greek Foreign Ministry spokesperson Lana Zozios stated that Greece’s defensive posture is “non-negotiable,” dismissing Turkey’s demilitarisation claims as entirely groundless and repeatedly rejected, while pointedly noting that Turkey is not even a signatory to the 1947 Paris Peace Treaty it so readily invokes. Zozios added that the prevailing uncertainty and risk of further escalation call for “prudence and sobriety, not powerless posturing” — a line that functioned as both a rebuttal to Ankara and a signal to domestic audiences. This exchange transforms what should be a collective conversation about regional air defence into a bilateral Greco-Turkish standoff, pulling NATO’s focus away from the broader eastern Mediterranean security architecture and back toward entrenched territorial disputes. The alliance, like the Union, retreats once again into separate bilateral conversations, rather than confronting the systemic vulnerabilities that the Iranian strike so sharply exposed. 

Italy: Caution as doctrine

Finally, on the Italian side, Rome acted from the outset on the basis of “warning and preparedness,” keeping the burden of reaction on diplomacy and the protection of Italians in the region. Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani set up a “Gulf Working Group” to coordinate embassies and consulates, reiterating that the safety of compatriots remains an absolute priority and announcing the dispatch of additional diplomatic and logistical personnel. At the same time, he attempted to downplay the extent of Italian military exposure in the wider region, noting that there were no casualties, while leaving open the discussion on strengthening anti-missile defenses in Gulf states. Giorgia Meloni described the Iranian attacks on Arab states as “completely unjustified,” stressing that there can be no de-escalation as long as they continue, and emphasized that the recent US-Israeli strikes were carried out “without European involvement,” warning of miscalculations that would also drag Europe into the conflict.

Rome has avoided giving political cover to operations against Iran, keeping a low profile in terms of direct involvement, but that does not mean inaction. According to Reuters, the Italian government is evaluating requests from Gulf countries for military assistance following the Iranian strikes, with the possibility of sending SAMP/T anti-aircraft systems (and possibly anti-drone equipment), without, however, drawing resources from Italian contributions to Ukraine. On the energy front, Rome is sending a signal of adaptation, diversification of supplies, and shock absorption measures, with the Minister of Energy even leaving open the possibility of reactivating lignite/coal-fired power plants if the crisis turns into an energy shock. 

The overall picture is of a government balancing between internal pressures and external commitments: internally, it “sells” security and protection of citizens; outwardly, it tries to appear useful as a force for de-escalation and a provider of defense to its partners, without breaking the Euro-Atlantic line — and without opening rifts around the American bases it hosts, stating that any requests to use them for operations against Iran will only be considered if they are made officially.

The Rubicon Moment

If the war began with the aim of a “simple regime change,” the signal reaching the Eastern Mediterranean already sounds like a war of duration, with no clear end in sight. Tehran is playing for survival and its opponents for structural change, with time becoming the decisive factor. In Europe, there is no common line and, in practice, the top leadership is not up to the task.  

On a second level, this lack of political will is compounded by the fact that Europe, which neighbors the Middle East, was not consulted. It was not invited, it was not consulted, it did not consent. The operations were decided in circles of power from which Europe was absent — and their results, the waves of instability, the refugee flows, the energy shocks, the geopolitical shockwaves — will be called upon to manage them, as always, an ally of the US. This is not the first time. In 2003, in Iraq, the same scenario unfolded with similar logic: a “solution” was imposed by force, without the consent of the international community, and Europe paid the price for years for the destabilization that followed.

The attack on Iran is based on a hegemony of hard power and ad hoc “willingness,” with the strikes appearing as a “solution” based on questionable legitimacy — even in the midst of negotiations, violating customary law as it took place at a time when negotiations were ongoing — it is not only Tehran that is undermined; it undermines the rule that protects both Athens and Nicosia, namely the very trust that makes diplomacy possible and acts as a shield against revisionism. Because the rules of international law are the only framework within which small and medium-sized powers can invoke something beyond the power of the strongest. When this framework is selectively violated, with the tacit tolerance of those who should be defending it, it is not only the “opponent” that is undermined; it is the very principle that protects us all.

 

And if anything emerges from this, it is a question directed at a fragmented, self-proclaimed decentralized Europe: can it accept as a new status quo an order in which hegemonic violence presents itself as legitimate? Where the powerful unilaterally decide on regime changes in regions no further from its own borders than Ukraine? If the answer is ‘yes’ — even through silence — then Europe is not simply legitimizing a military campaign. It is legitimizing a logic. And that logic does not stop at Iran.

It is no coincidence that these postures are multiplying at this precise geopolitical moment. The same logic that surfaced over Greenland (with Denmark as NATO’s member) — not as diplomatic bluster, but as a deliberate signal to allies about where consultation ends and enforcement begins — is now reasserting itself in a different theatre, with higher stakes and less room for ambiguity. For now, the Rubicon still appears to lie somewhere ahead. But Rubicons are never announced; they are only recognized after they have been crossed. And when that happens, there will be no “protocol” to invoke.

Europe certainly cannot ignore the geopolitical context in which we find ourselves and fail to provide the union with security in terms of hard power, but it must invest in binding rules for the use of European infrastructure, common red lines for bases and alertness, and a unified diplomatic initiative for a political end. This is not anti-Westernism. It is self-respect for a continent that has experienced firsthand what it means to lose the rules. Europe does not need to become an adversary; it needs to become an adult. And that, at this juncture, means refusing to legitimize anything that will turn against it tomorrow.

Written by

Shape the conversation

Do you have anything to add to this story? Any ideas for interviews or angles we should explore? Let us know if you’d like to write a follow-up, a counterpoint, or share a similar story.

Write a counterargument article Write a related article