After Iran: Who'll be the last US ally to jump?
Open the Polymarket trades now on Australia’s first locations to be hit in the next U.S. war in Asia, and you’re onto a winner.
An attempt to neutralize Iran, rather than walk away and accept defeat, will crystallize a set of alliance realities that have, until now, remained partially obscured. The U.S. alliance system is no longer credible.
The first reality concerns the basic logic of security. For decades, alliances with the United States have been framed as protective arrangements. Hosting U.S. forces deterred attack, raised the costs of aggression, and embeded states within a wider system of stability. What the Iran conflict has begun to demonstrate, however, is that this logic has inverted. U.S. military presence no longer simply deters—it attracts. Bases, logistics hubs, and forward-deployed assets become immediate targets in any escalation. Geography dictates involvement. States do not choose to enter the conflict; they are entered into it by virtue of hosting American forces.
This is not an abstract theoretical point. Iran has already demonstrated an ability to project retaliation beyond its borders, through missiles, drones, and proxy networks. Even limited exchanges have shown that the footprint of U.S. power doubles as a map of potential targets. If the war resumes, this dynamic will intensify. The distinction between ally and battlefield will blur further. For governments, the political implications are severe. It becomes harder to argue that the alliance enhances security when the most visible effect of that alliance is to draw conflict onto national territory.
Eastern Europe’s NATO member states sit next to Russia, South Korea and Japan sit astride China, and Australia, while distant enough, holds onto an ever-present irrational fear that it’s about to be invaded by China. Geography creates targets.
The second issue is political trust. Alliances are not sustained by capability alone; they depend on the belief that decisions will be made with some regard for shared interests. What the Iran episode has revealed is a pattern of volatility that undermines this belief. The conflict itself emerged in the shadow of ongoing negotiations, collapsing the assumption that diplomacy and escalation are sequential or mutually constraining. Since then, the rhythm has been erratic: threats, strikes, pauses, renewed threats. Deadlines are issued and revised (maybe in line with dodgy stock and Polymarket trades - but that’s another story). Unpredictability and a stone-cold disinterest in diplomacy has become a feature of U.S. behavior.
For allied states, the deeper problem is not just exposure to risk, but the inability to know when or how they might be pulled into conflict. Escalation no longer follows a sequence that can be read or prepared for; it arrives abruptly, driven by opaque decisions made elsewhere. Washington’s public signals are as much about positioning trades—whether in energy markets or prediction platforms—as they are about preserving peace. Strategic planning for allies is now guesswork, and the alliance shifts from a source of stability to a conduit for volatility.
This erodes the political foundation of the alliance. Trust does not collapse overnight, but it degrades with each instance in which allies are exposed to decisions they did not shape and cannot control. A renewed war would accelerate this process, compressing what might otherwise be a gradual shift into a much sharper reassessment.
Eastern Europe’s NATO member states will complain, South Korea and Japan will be polite and suffer, and Australia, distant enough, will pretend all is going well. Geography creates targets, but doesn’t confer agency.
The third and most consequential issue concerns capability. The credibility of the U.S. alliance system has long rested on the assumption of overwhelming military superiority—the idea that, when necessary, the United States can impose outcomes decisively. The Iran conflict complicates this image. It has shown that even against a regional power, outcomes are not straightforward. Iran has retained the capacity to retaliate, to contest key domains, and to impose costs that cannot be easily dismissed. The Strait of Hormuz, rather than being secured, has become a space of contestation. Operations have encountered friction. Escalation carries visible risk.
More important still is the broader strategic context. Iran does not operate in isolation. It exists within a system in which China provides economic, diplomatic, and indirect strategic support. This does not translate into overt intervention, but it does shape the environment in which the United States operates. Constraints emerge—not as absolute barriers, but as accumulative limits that complicate decisive action.
For allies, the implications follow directly. If the United States cannot translate force into clear outcomes against a regional power operating under constraint, what confidence can be placed in its ability to manage conflicts involving more capable, better-positioned adversaries like a less constrained Russia or China?
An attempt to neutralize Iran, rather than walk away and accept defeat, will crystallize these realities.
You won’t be defended, instead you’ll be targeted; you won’t contribute to planning, instead we’ll make money of Polymarket trades; you won’t be defended against a regional power, let alone a major adversary.
This does not mean that alliances will suddenly dissolve, but they will change. Allies will hedge more actively, seek alternative partnerships, and place greater emphasis on autonomy. The alliance may persist in form, but its substance will thin.
An attempt to neutralize Iran, rather than walk away and accept defeat, will not destroy the alliance system in a single moment but it will close off its future.
What I wonder is who will jump first? NATO may not have to jump. It could well have its fate sealed with the U.S. storming out in a Trump toddler tantrum. South Korea is already planning and won’t let itself be caught unprepared, and Japan will do much the same. Australia, oh Australia... it’ll just keep moving itself closer to the frontlines in any future conflict with China. Open the Polymarket trades now on Australia’s first locations to be hit in the next U.S. war in Asia, and you’re onto a winner.