TEHRAN – Talk of Iranian warfare often brings to mind the country’s long and rich history of conflict. From the campaigns of Cyrus the Great to the fierce resistance against invaders, Iran’s past is filled with stories of valor and combat.

But can pride in the past really help us understand war today? As a gently humorous Persian proverb says: “Suppose your father was a wise man— how much of his wisdom remains in you?” The phrase underscores a key truth: inherited legacy is hollow if not understood, reinterpreted, and embodied in the present.

Contrary to common belief, war is not merely the expression of raw instinct; it is a profoundly cultural act. Conflict only becomes war when instinct is shaped by planning, coordination, and strategy. It is culture that transforms primal aggression into a human pursuit of survival—a pathway between chaos and meaning, between destruction and preservation.

Therefore, evaluating war through a proper, human-centered, and cultural lens is not about counting the dead, but about assessing its effectiveness in preserving life. The claim that “we killed many” is not a valid metric. We’re not wolves or hyenas whose sole aim is slaughter. Even if we are forced to kill, we never lose sight of the true objective: to deter the adversary, dismantle its anti-human war machine, and ultimately safeguard life—not to boost casualty figures. 

The aim is to strike a balance: minimal cost, necessary outcome—not maximal gain at any cost, especially not the cost of human life. Our philosophy on the war economy is also distinct. The goal is not to sustain a flourishing war economy like the American military-industrial complex, but to shrink the war-driven economy to near-zero. This reflects a fundamental difference between Iran’s approach and that of certain regional and global powers toward the very meaning of war.

Iran, unlike Israel, evaluates war based on culture, not damage. This means that Iran intentionally keeps casualties low. This behavior is of particular importance when contrasted with a regime that not only commits genocide but, in its genocidal acts, specifically targets children, families, and influential civilian populations such as medical staff, journalists, and academics. 

The presence of war ethics in Iran’s approach to war comes from a deeply rooted perspective, not from hypocrisy or empty moral posturing. Israeli news sources have published limited images of the extent of destruction caused by Iranian missiles. Even considering these censored images, the intensity of destruction is evident, yet surprisingly, the number of casualties announced by Israeli entities is very low compared to the high volume of destruction. This point clearly demonstrates Iran's fundamental approach to war ethics. In various stages of the twelve-day war, Iran showcased new and somewhat unknown missiles each time, each possessing higher destructive power than the previous ones, yet kept the number of Israeli casualties as low as possible. This approach not only indicates technical capability but also testifies to adherence to ethical principles at the height of conflict.

Israeli propaganda, along with the broader hasbara machine, has largely failed to provide visual evidence supporting claims about attacks on hospitals and residential areas. While Iran’s strike on the Weizmann Institute left the facility in ruins, the only images circulating of hospital damage show little more than broken windows and a fallen ceiling panel—hardly the hallmarks of missile impact. These are not the traces of a missile strike; rather, they represent a flimsy falsehood about hospital targeting.

This divergence in conduct extends beyond the battlefield into the realm of narrative and public perception. Iran, grounded in reality and ethics, seeks to demonstrate the legitimacy of its actions; meanwhile, its adversary relies on propaganda and the manipulation of truth to justify inhumane operations and attribute them falsely to Iran.

Another cultural component that Israel and its aggressive, lawless ally—the United States—are fundamentally unable to grasp or interpret is the concept of “martyrdom.” They often mischaracterize its presence as evidence of a so-called “death cult.” This interpretation is categorically false and arises from a profound lack of cultural depth and historical awareness. The idea of martyrdom predates Islam and is deeply rooted in the culture of first-century Christians. Those who were killed defending the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth—whether by anti-Jesus Jews or by the pagan Roman Empire—were regarded as having offered their deaths as a document, a testimony, affirming the righteousness of the Christian path.

In Semitic languages such as Hebrew, Aramaic, Syriac, and Arabic, the words for “martyr” (shahid) and “witness” (shahed) derive from the same linguistic root. This is because the martyr is considered not a tragic casualty, but a bearer of evidence to be presented in the divine court. In this worldview, martyrdom is not an end, but a testimony and a beginning: a testimony to the truth of the path, and the beginning of a different life in the spiritual and social dimension.

Martyrdom does not stem from a desire for death, but from a deep longing for life. Christian martyrs did not seek death; they sought Chayyim Tov —a good and meaningful life. When, despite this love for life, the adversary imposes death upon you, a conscious cultural calculation known as martyrdom emerges. In such moments, the continuation of an individual's life becomes possible within the broader body of society’s struggle for survival and the pursuit of a good life. The individual transfers all their social capital to the community so that, following the death of their solitary body, their life and effort to protect life persist through the collective spirit.

This is not merely symbolic. Alongside its symbolism, it embodies a vital and functional dynamic. It may be likened to organ donation: through donating their organs, a person grants life to others and continues to exist within them. In the same way, martyrdom allows an individual’s life to flow into the body of society and its ideals.

The Iranian way of war rests upon the concept of martyrdom itself—on the reclamation of individual lives lost to the adversary’s savagery through their reintegration into the collective body of society. Such a worldview dramatically reduces the fear of death while simultaneously amplifying hope for a good life in the future. This approach instills a fearless spirit in Iranian fighters, empowering them to stand with unwavering resolve and profound faith against an adversary focused solely on killing and destruction. This fundamental difference in the philosophy of war influences more than the battlefield: it shapes societal resilience and collective morale. A society that embraces martyrdom responds to the trials and devastations of war with greater cohesion and endurance.

In short, in its war with Israel, Iran has defended not only its territorial integrity and national security, but also culture, ethics, and a dignified, human-centered way of life—standing against primal savagery and the adversary’s deliberate refusal to understand war within a cultural framework. Iran has introduced a new paradigm of warfare to the world: one in which ethics and humanity retain their place even in the most intense moments of military conflict.

This mode of warfare conveys a clear message—not only for Iran, but for all of humanity: war can, and must, be conducted with adherence to ethical and human principles. Such an approach not only preserves human lives, but also safeguards human dignity and noble values. This note is an effort to shed light on the often-overlooked dimensions of this new approach to warfare, and to invite deeper reflection on the nature of war and peace in the modern world. It is a perspective that may inspire alternative approaches to global conflicts—offering a path toward a more just and humane future.