The Israel, United States and Iran War interrupted Jordan's normally quiet Ramadan with a bang. The Hashemite Kingdom again finds itself stuck in the middle of a disastrous regional conflict with no clear ending. Yet the challenge for Amman has not changed: Maintaining its pro-Western foreign policy as a matter of survival while ensuring that its contradictions do not spark domestic opposition and upheaval.
The conflict's first week brought 119 Iranian missile and drone strikes targeting U.S. military facilities — particularly Muwaffaq Salti Air Base, which hosts a massive American presence. Thus far, 28 Jordanians have been injured by falling debris following aerial interceptions. Sporadic Iranian retaliatory operations are ongoing, including from Iran-linked militant groups in Iraq. Iranian hackers also attempted to sabotage several infrastructure and fuel systems.
Authorities have made clear that the Hashemite Kingdom sits on a war footing. King Abdullah chairs regular crisis meetings, military forces and anti-air defenses remain on full alert and the foreign ministry has declared solidarity with Gulf states hit by Iran. Given the possibility that the war's disruption of Gulf trade and oil production will spike living costs, the government issued customs exemptions for imports, stockpiled food and switched electricity plants to diesel fuel after the interruption of Israeli natural gas supplies. That said, such measures will not save the tourism industry, which constitutes nearly 20% of GDP and may experience a COVID-like contraction this summer.
The preponderant opinion is that Jordan has been dragged into an aimless U.S.-Israeli war due to its pro-Western foreign policy and 1994 peace treaty with Israel.
- Sean Yom
Still, most residents go about their daily routines. Although missile shrapnel and drone debris have peppered some areas, Jordan has not recorded a direct strike on a civilian target. Yet reminders of war nonetheless punctuate daily life — air raid sirens, the periodic closure of Jordanian airspace and national emergency alerts. Certainly, Jordan's geography has always exposed it to regional conflicts. Iranian missiles crossed Jordan's skies in April 2024 and June 2025 en route to Israel. The kingdom has also suffered sporadic Islamic State terrorism and Iraqi militia attacks for a decade. Much earlier, a state of emergency accompanied the run-up to the 2003 Iraq War, when Jordan quietly supported the U.S. invasion.
The current attacks, however, mark the biggest foreign assault on Jordan since the 1970 Black September civil conflict, when Syria mounted an ill-fated incursion. The scale of disruption from this war is therefore unprecedented. To be sure, Jordan is not nearing collapse, nor does it stand on the "brink" of chaos — a common presumption whenever crisis hits. Nonetheless, Jordanian authorities have enacted familiar clampdowns on public discourse. Opposition groups had already faced escalating restrictions, with the Muslim Brotherhood suffering a ban in April 2025. Now, the war has allowed officials to foreclose protests and other public gatherings with shelter-in-place decrees. Moreover, last week, the Media Commission banned any unlicensed dissemination of pictures and information documenting Jordan's "defensive effort."
These developments are not surprising. Legislation like the Anti-Terrorism Law and Cybercrimes Law have long prevented open discussion of national security, royal affairs and other sensitive domains, while also banning critical websites and muzzling journalists. The Media Commission's move reinforces this ecosystem of control, prohibiting any independent reporting of the war while allowing traditional media to frame Jordan's defensive operations through government-sanctioned, patriotic narratives. State-affiliated media sources, from the army-owned Hala Akhbar platform to Al-Mamlaka TV, have saturated audiences with heroic imagery of Jordan as a besieged fortress surviving only through unity and martial courage.
Herein lies Jordan's dilemma: The Hashemite Kingdom finds itself ensnared by a regional inferno because of both its geography and foreign policy.
- Sean Yom
This strategy is familiar. Iran's attacks against the Hashemite Kingdom undoubtedly constitute a crisis and a violation of Jordanian sovereignty. Yet like past national security crises, state regulations have left little room to cultivate meaningful popular debate. Many Jordanian commentators have embraced the government line lambasting Iran, celebrating the military and beating nationalist war-drums. Unsurprisingly, few sympathize with the Islamic Republic, as the two countries have had poor ties since the 1980s. Indeed, long before the conflict, just 19% of Jordanians viewed Tehran's Middle East policy positively, according to the Arab Barometer.
Yet other Jordanians have posed more pointed concerns through social media platforms and private discussions, criticizing the kingdom's alignment with the U.S.-Israeli axis. Jordan's vibrant community of activists and analysts has castigated the war's shifting goals and unclear timeline in Washington and Tel Aviv. They question why Jordanian officials raised vociferous objections not to the illegal U.S.-Israeli attacks on Iran, but instead Tehran's retaliatory measures that followed. Above all, they reject that geography alone — the official and easy explanation — accounts for why Jordan resides in the crossfire.
Instead, the preponderant opinion is that Jordan has been dragged into an aimless U.S.-Israeli war due to its pro-Western foreign policy and 1994 peace treaty with Israel. Both are delicate but crucial issues. Jordan has long sublimated itself as a client state of American hegemony, but it does not lack autonomy or independence. Rather, by tethering its foreign policy to U.S. interests since the late 1950s, the kingdom receives vital stabilizing payoffs. Such benefits include around $1 billion in economic aid and $800 million in military assistance annually, alongside defense treaties anchoring a growing American and Western military presence in Jordan — including NATO's first Middle East liaison office.
In turn, this U.S.-linked foreign policy has encaged Jordan within the Israeli peace accord. Backed and promoted by Washington, the 1994 treaty was inked over tenacious public dissent in the kingdom, given memories of past Arab-Israeli wars and broad support for the Palestinian cause. Powerful pro-Palestine sentiments have long transcended the divide between Transjordanians ("tribal" Jordanians) and Palestinian-Jordanians. Across this communal line, shared antipathy toward Israel has intensified as Jordanians have watched the two-state solution die amid Israeli apartheid, illegal settlements in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, and the Gaza genocide.
Even King Abdullah and senior officials publicly seethe at Israel's militarist policies, including the most recent bombardment of Lebanon. Now, both the Hashemite state and its populace worry that Israel's endgame in Palestine is the full-scale annexation of the West Bank, including the expulsion of Palestinians onto Jordan. For many Jordanians, this nightmare scenario reflects the long-feared "Jordan option," whereby the kingdom becomes the de facto Palestinian state through forced displacement.
Yet Abdullah has no countermoves. He cannot renege the peace treaty, though this would be wildly popular among Jordanians. The accords elevated Jordan's status in Washington — status that brought aid that it would lose by exiting the treaty — explaining the crackdown in 2024 on thousands of demonstrators marching against the Gaza genocide and demanding that the peace treaty be revoked. That mobilization marked Jordan's biggest uprising since the 2011-12 Arab Spring. For the Hashemite regime, citizens walk a thin line between protesting Jordanian foreign policy and criticizing those who make foreign policy — namely, the monarchy.
Herein lies Jordan's dilemma: The Hashemite Kingdom finds itself ensnared by a regional inferno because of both its geography and foreign policy. Iranian drones and missiles penetrate Jordanian airspace daily not because it benefits from war with the Islamic Republic, but because it feels it must support Israeli and U.S. warmongering. In turn, such external commitments engender a security paradox that provokes popular exasperation. The greatest threat to Jordan's stability is now a regional war begun by its peace partner in Israel and Western patron in Washington — two allies meant to bolster its security and stability in the first place.
The views and positions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of DAWN.
