Iran’s Chokehold On Hormuz And The Limits Of Military Force – Analysis
March 23, 2026
RFE RL
By Kian Sharifi
The Strait of Hormuz, a 33-kilometer-wide chokepoint through which roughly a third of the world’s seaborne oil passes, is effectively closed to normal commercial traffic.
Iran has not blockaded the strait with a chain or a fleet. Instead, it has made the waterway ungovernable through a combination of kinetic strikes, mines, electronic warfare, and market fear — creating a closure that is arguably harder to reverse than a conventional blockade.
“I can think of no way to reopen and keep open Hormuz militarily and easily,” Richard Allen Williams, a retired US Army colonel and former NATO Defense Investment Division official, told RFE/RL.
How The Strait Was Closed
The shutdown has four interlocking layers.
The first is physical: more than two dozen drone, missile, and fast-attack boat strikes on commercial shipping since the war began, with Iran demonstrating it can reach vessels hundreds of kilometers from the strait itself, off the coast of Iraq.
The second is mines. According to US intelligence reporting, Iran has begun laying mines in the strait. Its total arsenal is estimated at around 6,000, ranging from crude contact mines to sophisticated seabed devices that respond to acoustic or magnetic signals.
Laying them is easy; it can be done from ordinary fishing boats, indistinguishable from normal Persian Gulf traffic. Clearing them is not. It took the United States and its allies 51 days to sweep 907 mines off Kuwait after the Persian Gulf War, with the advantage of Iraqi minefield maps. Even a limited Iranian mining campaign would mean a closure measured in months.
The third layer is electronic. GPS spoofing and signal jamming affected more than 1,650 vessels on a single day in March, with navigation systems showing supertankers sailing over dry land and cargo ships transiting airports. In a narrow waterway, that level of disruption creates genuine collision risk with no missile required.
The fourth and final layer is financial: War-risk insurers have withdrawn coverage across much of the commercial market. Without insurance, ships don’t move.
Michael Horowitz, an independent defense expert based in Israel, says the threat is structurally asymmetric.
“Just a few attacks per month is enough to increase insurance prices and market pressure,” he told RFE/RL, comparing the situation to the Houthi campaign in the Red Sea. “This is a battle heavily tilted in favor of the disrupter.”
What Washington Is Considering, And Why It’s Hard
The Trump administration is weighing a couple of options.
Tanker escorts — warships accompanying commercial vessels with drone and missile cover — are the lightest footprint but require roughly two warships per tanker and continuous drone patrols overhead.
But the risk is high, according to Horowitz.
“A land-based attacker, even without a proper navy, can be very effective. A US loss would be dramatic and roll back the positive impact of escort missions in an instant.”
Mines compound the problem further. The US mine countermeasure capability in the region, already limited to aging helicopters and troubled littoral combat ships, was weakened further when dedicated minesweepers stationed in Bahrain were decommissioned in late 2025.
Heavier air strikes aimed at Iranian coastal infrastructure are a second option. US Central Command says it has destroyed 16 Iranian minelayers. But Iran’s mobile launchers are designed for shoot-and-scoot operations, and years of dispersal and hardening make systematic degradation from the air enormously difficult.
A third option that has been floated in the media is a ground operation, a Marine amphibious assault to seize or repeatedly raid Iran’s southern coastline.
Williams was blunt about what that means in practice: large forces, mountainous terrain, and 190,000 Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps (IRGC) troops with asymmetric warfare experience. “Difficult, expensive, risky,” he said, “with no assurance of success.”
The Bottom Line
Even an optimistic escort scenario would reduce traffic to 10 percent of normal volume, according to Lloyd’s List Intelligence, with a backlog of over 600 stranded vessels taking months to clear. None of the military options address the insurance and market dimension — and shippers, not the Pentagon, ultimately decide whether tankers sail.
Horowitz sees a negotiated settlement as the most realistic path, but flags two other possibilities: blockading Iran’s own energy exports to pressure both Tehran and its top buyer China, or waiting for the collapse of the Islamic republic. He’s skeptical of the latter.
“The chances of that happening quickly enough for markets to recover are low, to say the least,” he added.
What that leaves is a strait that may stay closed for the foreseeable future, not for lack of military options, but because none of them can do what only a political outcome can.
Alex Raufoglu contributed to this report.Kian Sharifi is a feature writer specializing in Iranian affairs in RFE/RL’s Central Newsroom in Prague. He got his start in journalism at the Financial Tribune, an English-language newspaper published in Tehran, where he worked as an editor. He then moved to BBC Monitoring, where he led a team of journalists who closely watched media trends and analyzed key developments in Iran and the wider region.
RFE RL
RFE/RL journalists report the news in 21 countries where a free press is banned by the government or not fully established.
March 23, 2026
RFE RL
By Kian Sharifi
The Strait of Hormuz, a 33-kilometer-wide chokepoint through which roughly a third of the world’s seaborne oil passes, is effectively closed to normal commercial traffic.
Iran has not blockaded the strait with a chain or a fleet. Instead, it has made the waterway ungovernable through a combination of kinetic strikes, mines, electronic warfare, and market fear — creating a closure that is arguably harder to reverse than a conventional blockade.
“I can think of no way to reopen and keep open Hormuz militarily and easily,” Richard Allen Williams, a retired US Army colonel and former NATO Defense Investment Division official, told RFE/RL.
How The Strait Was Closed
The shutdown has four interlocking layers.
The first is physical: more than two dozen drone, missile, and fast-attack boat strikes on commercial shipping since the war began, with Iran demonstrating it can reach vessels hundreds of kilometers from the strait itself, off the coast of Iraq.
The second is mines. According to US intelligence reporting, Iran has begun laying mines in the strait. Its total arsenal is estimated at around 6,000, ranging from crude contact mines to sophisticated seabed devices that respond to acoustic or magnetic signals.
Laying them is easy; it can be done from ordinary fishing boats, indistinguishable from normal Persian Gulf traffic. Clearing them is not. It took the United States and its allies 51 days to sweep 907 mines off Kuwait after the Persian Gulf War, with the advantage of Iraqi minefield maps. Even a limited Iranian mining campaign would mean a closure measured in months.
The third layer is electronic. GPS spoofing and signal jamming affected more than 1,650 vessels on a single day in March, with navigation systems showing supertankers sailing over dry land and cargo ships transiting airports. In a narrow waterway, that level of disruption creates genuine collision risk with no missile required.
The fourth and final layer is financial: War-risk insurers have withdrawn coverage across much of the commercial market. Without insurance, ships don’t move.
Michael Horowitz, an independent defense expert based in Israel, says the threat is structurally asymmetric.
“Just a few attacks per month is enough to increase insurance prices and market pressure,” he told RFE/RL, comparing the situation to the Houthi campaign in the Red Sea. “This is a battle heavily tilted in favor of the disrupter.”
What Washington Is Considering, And Why It’s Hard
The Trump administration is weighing a couple of options.
Tanker escorts — warships accompanying commercial vessels with drone and missile cover — are the lightest footprint but require roughly two warships per tanker and continuous drone patrols overhead.
But the risk is high, according to Horowitz.
“A land-based attacker, even without a proper navy, can be very effective. A US loss would be dramatic and roll back the positive impact of escort missions in an instant.”
Mines compound the problem further. The US mine countermeasure capability in the region, already limited to aging helicopters and troubled littoral combat ships, was weakened further when dedicated minesweepers stationed in Bahrain were decommissioned in late 2025.
Heavier air strikes aimed at Iranian coastal infrastructure are a second option. US Central Command says it has destroyed 16 Iranian minelayers. But Iran’s mobile launchers are designed for shoot-and-scoot operations, and years of dispersal and hardening make systematic degradation from the air enormously difficult.
A third option that has been floated in the media is a ground operation, a Marine amphibious assault to seize or repeatedly raid Iran’s southern coastline.
Williams was blunt about what that means in practice: large forces, mountainous terrain, and 190,000 Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps (IRGC) troops with asymmetric warfare experience. “Difficult, expensive, risky,” he said, “with no assurance of success.”
The Bottom Line
Even an optimistic escort scenario would reduce traffic to 10 percent of normal volume, according to Lloyd’s List Intelligence, with a backlog of over 600 stranded vessels taking months to clear. None of the military options address the insurance and market dimension — and shippers, not the Pentagon, ultimately decide whether tankers sail.
Horowitz sees a negotiated settlement as the most realistic path, but flags two other possibilities: blockading Iran’s own energy exports to pressure both Tehran and its top buyer China, or waiting for the collapse of the Islamic republic. He’s skeptical of the latter.
“The chances of that happening quickly enough for markets to recover are low, to say the least,” he added.
What that leaves is a strait that may stay closed for the foreseeable future, not for lack of military options, but because none of them can do what only a political outcome can.
Alex Raufoglu contributed to this report.Kian Sharifi is a feature writer specializing in Iranian affairs in RFE/RL’s Central Newsroom in Prague. He got his start in journalism at the Financial Tribune, an English-language newspaper published in Tehran, where he worked as an editor. He then moved to BBC Monitoring, where he led a team of journalists who closely watched media trends and analyzed key developments in Iran and the wider region.
RFE RL
RFE/RL journalists report the news in 21 countries where a free press is banned by the government or not fully established.
March 23, 2026
Observer Research Foundation
By Pratnashree Basu
Caught between mounting tensions in the Strait of Hormuz and shifting signals from Washington, Tokyo finds itself in a particularly delicate strategic position. Japan’s response to the latest crisis in the Strait of Hormuz reveals less about Tokyo’s immediate policy choices and more about the structural constraints that have long shaped its strategic behaviour. In the span of a few days, US President Donald Trump escalated pressure on allies to secure one of the world’s most critical energy chokepoints, and then abruptly reversed course, abandoning his calls for NATO, Japan, and other allies to deploy naval assets to the Strait of Hormuz. The shift highlights Trump’s volatile approach to alliance partnerships, where demands can quickly give way to unilateral assertions of US primacy. For Japan, this deepens uncertainty about Washington’s consistency and reliability.
With Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi concluding her first visit to the White House, the episode has assumed added diplomatic weight. The summit signalled the breadth of issues on the table, even as Hormuz dominated headlines. Reaffirming security cooperation while avoiding explicit Japanese commitments to naval deployment in the Strait was a key part of the discussions, and despite pressure from the United States, Takaichi emphasised that any involvement by Tokyo would have to remain within legal limits.
At the same time, the meeting expanded into economic and technological domains. Both sides discussed defence-industrial collaboration, including supply chain resilience and co-production initiatives. The outcome was deliberately measured, with no major announcements, but reflected a mutual effort to project continuity. A fresh round of Japanese investments in US energy and infrastructure, including nuclear and gas projects, is reportedly on the cards. The summit thus underscored a familiar pattern: close coordination in principle, but calibrated divergence in practice, especially on extra-regional security commitments.
Washington’s pressure stems from disruptions to shipping through Hormuz amid the escalating US–Israel confrontation with Iran. Roughly one-fifth of the world’s oil supply passes through the waterway, and any volatility has an immediate impact on economies reliant on energy imports. Japan, too, is vulnerable, with the strait serving as a vital conduit for its energy security. Reports indicate that Tokyo has already begun drawing on strategic reserves as supply concerns intensify.
Trump has argued that allied cooperation is essential to ensuring safe passage through the Strait. Accordingly, he has pressed NATO and other partners to provide naval assets to escort commercial vessels through the waterway. Framed as burden-sharing, Trump’s push also reflects a broader shift in US alliance management—one that places greater emphasis on visible contributions rather than implicit support.
Japan’s response, however, remained non-committal as Takaichi weighed her options and stated that no decision had been made yet on dispatching escort missions and that the government was still examining the legal and operational parameters of any involvement. This ambiguity is intentional as it enables Tokyo to demonstrate commitment without resorting to a course of action that would be costly from a political or strategic standpoint. While such decisions are both politically sensitive and strategically significant, Japan’s hesitation reflects more than caution; it underscores the enduring tension between alliance expectations, economic vulnerability, and domestic legal constraints.
Article 9 of Japan’s constitution, despite successive reinterpretations, continues to limit the use of force abroad. While Japan has incrementally expanded its security role, particularly through collective self-defence provisions, the deployment of the Japan Maritime Self-Defence Force into an active conflict zone remains contentious. Escorting commercial vessels in Hormuz, where US forces are already engaged militarily, risks blurring the line between defensive support and participation in hostilities.
This legal ambiguity is compounded by domestic political considerations. Japanese public opinion has, in general, supported a more active security role in the Indo-Pacific, particularly in response to China’s ascent. However, there remains very little support for involvement in conflicts beyond the region. A deployment to Hormuz could therefore expose Takaichi’s government to criticism that it is aligning too closely with US military operations in a conflict not directly linked to Japan’s territorial defence.
At the same time, the alliance dimension of the bilateral partnership cannot be ignored. The US–Japan security relationship remains the cornerstone of Japan’s defence policy. Trump’s pressure, which suggests that alliance commitments may be contingent on reciprocal contributions, revives a familiar dilemma: non-participation risks raising doubts in Washington about Japan’s reliability as an ally, while participation risks entanglement in a larger conflict.
Japan has encountered similar dilemmas before, though under less acute conditions. Tokyo’s contributions to maritime security in the Middle East, including the protection of commercial vessels and anti-piracy operations in the Gulf of Aden, have been carefully calibrated to avoid direct combat involvement. Rather than conventional military deployments, these missions were framed as global policing or security initiatives. The current crisis, however, is different. The presence of active hostilities in and around Hormuz alters the legal and political context of any potential deployment.
The significance of Japan’s decision extends beyond the immediate crisis. It raises broader questions about the geographic scope of its security role. For much of the post-war period, Japan’s strategic focus has centred on East and Southeast Asia. However, because global supply chains—especially energy flows—are interconnected, disruptions in distant regions can have immediate economic consequences at home. The Hormuz episode illustrates how vulnerabilities in West Asia can translate into strategic challenges in the Indo-Pacific. Japan’s response may therefore be closely watched as an indicator of how US allies in Asia navigate growing pressure to participate in extra-regional security operations.
What emerges from this episode is not a simple choice between action and inaction, but a more complex process of risk management. Tokyo is attempting to strike a balance between three competing demands: adherence to legal constraints, the protection of economic interests, and the preservation of alliance cohesion. The outcome is likely to be a form of limited participation that signals commitment while avoiding the most immediate risks. How the crisis evolves will determine whether such an approach remains viable. If instability in Hormuz deepens, pressure for more decisive action may grow.
Given these constraints, Tokyo may need to consider intermediate options that fall short of direct escort missions. Such measures would allow Japan to demonstrate a degree of alignment with US objectives while remaining within the bounds of its legal framework. Whether this will be sufficient to satisfy Washington remains uncertain. For now, in the wake of Trump’s swift backtracking on his earlier demands, Tokyo’s approach is likely to prioritise flexibility: keeping options open while avoiding irreversible commitments. This reflects the structural limits within which Japan’s foreign and security policy continues to operate, even as external expectations evolve.
About the author: Pratnashree Basu is an Associate Fellow at the Observer Research Foundation.
Source: This article was published by the Observer Research Foundation.
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Observer Research Foundation
ORF was established on 5 September 1990 as a private, not for profit, ’think tank’ to influence public policy formulation. The Foundation brought together, for the first time, leading Indian economists and policymakers to present An Agenda for Economic Reforms in India. The idea was to help develop a consensus in favour of economic reforms.
Like what your read?
Observer Research Foundation
ORF was established on 5 September 1990 as a private, not for profit, ’think tank’ to influence public policy formulation. The Foundation brought together, for the first time, leading Indian economists and policymakers to present An Agenda for Economic Reforms in India. The idea was to help develop a consensus in favour of economic reforms.
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