By Dr. Adnan Bozan

Major transformations in history are not merely the outcomes of wars that end with one side victorious and the other defeated. Rather, they are pivotal moments that redefine the balance of power, reshape geopolitical realities, and lay the foundations for a new regional order. What the Middle East is experiencing today cannot be understood simply as a series of separate wars or passing crises. It is, instead, a transitional phase in which the old rules are coming to an end while the new ones have yet to fully emerge. Therefore, the central question is not: Who won the last war? Rather, it is: Who possesses the ability to shape the Middle East that will emerge from the ruins of the old order?

Throughout the twentieth century, the regional order in the Middle East was built upon equations imposed by the outcome of the First World War and consolidated by the international balance of power that followed the Second World War. The nation-state served as the fundamental political unit, borders enjoyed a considerable degree of stability, and the great powers managed regional conflicts in ways that prevented the complete collapse of the system. Yet this framework gradually began to erode with the end of the Cold War. That erosion accelerated through successive regional wars, the rise of non-state actors, the weakening of central governments in several countries, and the growing scope of both regional and international intervention.

Within this turbulent landscape, Israel has emerged as one of the actors most capable of capitalizing on these transformations. It is the only state in the region that has consistently maintained clear military and technological superiority, stable state institutions, and a deeply rooted strategic partnership with the United States, while simultaneously expanding its relations with an increasing number of Arab and regional states. Yet interpreting Israel's role solely through the lens of military superiority offers only a partial understanding. Israel operates not merely according to the logic of warfare, but according to a long-term security doctrine aimed at reshaping its surrounding strategic environment so that it becomes less threatening and more compatible with its national interests.

Since its establishment in 1948, Israeli strategic doctrine has extended beyond defending its borders. Its central objective has been to prevent the emergence of any regional power capable of challenging its strategic superiority. Consequently, the region has witnessed a succession of policies designed to preserve that advantage—whether through military deterrence, alliance-building, or the management of regional balances in ways that prevent the formation of any axis capable of threatening Israeli security. Over time, this strategic vision evolved from the concept of "defending the state" into the broader concept of "managing the regional environment." From this perspective, security is not achieved solely at national borders; it begins with the nature of political systems, the regional balance of power, and the pattern of relations among the states of the region.

This does not mean, however, that Israel alone is drawing the map of the Middle East or possesses the capacity to impose a new regional order through its own will. The Middle East has always been—and remains—an arena where multiple strategic projects intersect and compete. The United States, Russia, and China all pursue competing interests, while the strategic calculations of Türkiye, Iran, and the Arab states overlap with one another, alongside the domestic dynamics that shape the trajectory of each individual country. Therefore, speaking of an "Israeli Middle East" in an absolute sense oversimplifies an exceptionally complex reality and often reflects an attempt to explain every regional development through a single factor.

Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that Israel is seeking to take advantage of this historic moment of transformation. Whenever the central authority of a neighboring state weakens or the regional balance of power shifts, Israel's strategic room for maneuver expands. This does not necessarily imply an effort to redraw internationally recognized borders. Rather, it reflects a broader objective of creating a strategic environment that prevents the emergence of direct military threats, limits the influence of hostile actors, and opens wider opportunities for political, economic, and security cooperation with its regional surroundings.

Syria perhaps represents the clearest example of this transformation. It is no longer merely a state struggling with an internal crisis; it has become a theater where regional and international projects intersect and a testing ground for the future of the state itself in the Middle East. The Syrian conflict can no longer be reduced to a struggle for political power. It now reflects a much deeper crisis concerning the very nature of the state, the relationship between the center and the periphery, the balance between national identity and ethnic and religious diversity, and the tension between national sovereignty and external intervention. Consequently, Syria's future will be determined neither by Damascus alone nor by regional and international capitals acting independently. Instead, it will emerge from a complex equilibrium between domestic and external forces.

Within this context, the Kurdish question has acquired exceptional strategic significance. It is no longer simply a national issue concerning a people divided among four states. It has become an integral component of regional security calculations, energy geopolitics, and debates over the future of statehood in the Middle East. The Kurdish people inhabit one of the region's most strategically significant geographic corridors, stretching from the Zagros Mountains across northern Iraq and northern Syria to southeastern Türkiye and western Iran. Consequently, any structural transformation of the Middle East will have direct and profound implications for their political future.

However, a realistic reading requires avoiding exaggerations—whether those that portray Israel as the guarantor of the Kurdish future or those that deny the existence of any convergence of interests between the two sides. International relations are not built upon sentiment but upon interests. At various stages, the region has witnessed forms of contact and limited convergence between Israel and certain Kurdish actors. Yet these relationships have remained subject to changing political and security considerations and have never evolved into a permanent strategic alliance or an enduring commitment. Accordingly, the future of the Kurdish question cannot be built upon reliance on any external power, regardless of its influence, but rather upon the construction of a coherent political project, the development of strong institutions, the achievement of the broadest possible internal consensus, and the establishment of balanced relations with regional and international actors alike.

Within this framework, one of the major dilemmas confronting contemporary Kurdish political thought concerns the nature of its relationship with regional transformations. Historical experience has consistently demonstrated that both major powers and regional actors approach the Kurdish question through the prism of their strategic interests rather than through the lens of historical rights or moral principles. Consequently, while a convergence of interests may create a political opening at a particular moment, that window can close as priorities shift. Kurdish history—from the Algiers Agreement of 1975 to the Kurdistan Region's independence referendum of 2017—offers abundant evidence that international politics recognizes no permanent allies, only permanent interests.

For this reason, the Kurdish interest in the emerging Middle East does not lie in becoming dependent upon any particular regional project, whether Israeli, American, or otherwise. Rather, it lies in understanding regional transformations with realism and taking advantage of the opportunities they create without turning them into existential wagers. National rights are not protected solely through external support; they are safeguarded first and foremost through political unity, the construction of democratic institutions, the formulation of a clear constitutional vision, and the ability to establish balanced partnerships with all actors while avoiding the politics of competing regional axes.

Nor can the project of a "New Middle East" be understood without examining the transformations taking place within political Islam. Over the past four decades, political Islam has been among the region's most influential forces, whether through participation in government, opposition movements, or, in some cases, armed organizations. Yet recent years have exposed a profound crisis within this current—not only because of security pressures, but also because of the challenges associated with governing the state, managing the economy, accommodating pluralism, and defining the relationship between religion and politics.

Nevertheless, speaking of the "end of political Islam" is an oversimplification that fails to reflect reality. Political Islam is neither a single organization nor a unified ideological school; rather, it encompasses a wide spectrum of diverse movements and experiences. What appears to be unfolding today is not the disappearance of political Islam but a process of redefining its role within the regional order. Its future influence will depend largely upon its ability to adapt to the nation-state, embrace political pluralism, and respect the principles of the peaceful transfer of power.

Türkiye, for its part, views the emerging Middle East from a perspective that differs significantly from Israel's. Ankara regards its national security as beginning at its southern borders, and it considers any political arrangements in Syria or Iraq that affect border dynamics or the Kurdish issue to have direct consequences for its own internal security. Consequently, Turkish policy will remain a central factor in any regional equation—whether cooperating with Israel on certain issues or competing with it on others.

Iran, meanwhile, seeks to preserve its position as an influential regional power despite the political, economic, and military pressures it continues to face. It is likely to continue repositioning its instruments of influence in response to evolving regional dynamics, because the conflict in the Middle East is no longer merely a contest between states but increasingly a struggle between competing visions for the future of the region as a whole.

The Arab world, meanwhile, is undergoing a profound reassessment of its strategic priorities. After decades during which the Arab-Israeli conflict occupied the center of regional politics, new challenges have emerged relating to economic development, energy security, food security, technological advancement, and domestic stability. This transformation does not imply that the Palestinian question has disappeared from Arab political consciousness. Rather, it indicates that state priorities have become increasingly shaped by considerations of national security and economic development, contributing to a broader reconfiguration of regional relationships.

This brings us to the central question: Can any actor—including Israel—redraw the map of the Middle East?

In my assessment, the answer is that maps are no longer redrawn in the manner they were during the twentieth century. Armies alone no longer determine the destiny of states, nor are military agreements by themselves capable of producing a stable regional order. Today's maps are also shaped by economics, technology, energy resources, trade corridors, artificial intelligence, transnational alliances, and, above all, by the capacity to build resilient state institutions.

For this reason, discussion of a "New Middle East" should not be reduced to the redistribution of military influence. It should instead be understood as a fundamental redefinition of the very concept of the state. States that fail to forge a new social contract, manage their ethnic, religious, and sectarian diversity, and build inclusive political institutions will remain vulnerable to instability, regardless of the extent of the external support they receive.

The Middle East now stands on the threshold of what may prove to be its most complex phase since the Sykes–Picot Agreement. The fundamental difference, however, is that the maps of the future will not be drawn solely in diplomatic chambers this time. They will also be shaped by the ability of the region's peoples to build modern states, strong institutions, productive economies, and political systems founded upon citizenship and the rule of law.

The most important question, therefore, remains: Who is redrawing the map of the region?

The answer is not Israel alone. It is not the United States, nor Türkiye, nor Iran, nor any single power acting independently. The new Middle East will not be the product of one state's will; rather, it will emerge from the complex interaction of international interests, regional balances of power, and internal transformations. Yet those states that possess strategic vision, stable institutions, resilient economies, and the capacity to adapt to changing circumstances will be the ones most capable of shaping this future.

As for those peoples who remain trapped by internal divisions or who place their hopes in others to build their future, they will find themselves the objects of policy rather than partners in its making.

Perhaps the most enduring lesson history offers is that geography is not transformed by force alone, and that maps rarely endure unless they rest upon sustainable political and social equilibria. For this reason, the Middle East's defining struggle is not ultimately about who wins the next war, but about who succeeds in building a state capable of enduring in a world undergoing unprecedented change.

The New Middle East remains an unfinished project, open to multiple possibilities, and its final chapter has yet to be written. Between the rivalry of the great powers, the ambitions of regional actors, and the aspirations of the peoples of the region, the coming years will determine not only the shape of the map but also the very meaning of the state, the identity of the regional order, and the future of the peoples who have inhabited this land for thousands of years.