History rhymes: Israel's strike on Iran and its echoes of the Six Day War

Early summer in Israel is more than the beach and matriculation exams. It is also a recurring period of preemptive clarity, decisive action, and fateful military gambits.

The Osirak reactor strike in 1981? Also June. And now, in June 2025, history has repeated – or at least echoed – itself, as Israel launched a preemptive strike on Iran’s nuclear facilities. Call it coincidence, call it doctrine, but once again, as the temperatures rose, so did Israel’s readiness to act.

Not all of these summer operations ended the same way.

Some – like the 1967 war and the Entebbe raid, carried out just four days into July 1976 – entered the canon of national triumph.

Others – like Lebanon in 1982 and again in 2006 in a war that started on July 12 – began with clarity, unraveled into complexity, and ended without closure.

Of all the summer campaigns Operation Rising Lion echoes, the one it most closely resembles is the Six Day War.

Many who were not in Israel at that time have wondered what it must have felt like to live through those six dramatic days – to witness history unfolding in real time.

We all got a taste of that feeling over the last two weeks: tremendous military achievements – stunning military victories of biblical proportions – playing out day by day.

And while the goals and circumstances surrounding the wars were vastly different, this latest clash with Iran bears striking similarities to the Six Day War – in its preemptive logic, lightning pace, and the way it may reshape Israel’s strategic environment. But there are also vast differences.

The war of June 2025 wasn’t about tanks rolling through the desert or capturing territory. It was a hi-tech campaign fought from the air, as Israel pounded Iranian targets from the sky, and in the air, as Israeli missile interceptors hunted ballistic missiles and drones. Still, it invites comparison with the June ’67 war – not only to assess what has changed but also to recognize what has endured in Israel’s security mindset.

Here are three key similarities – and three critical differences – between then and now.

When Israeli jets entered Iranian airspace on June 13 and bombed Natanz and other nuclear sites, many pointed to the Begin Doctrine – the principle, articulated by prime minister Menachem Begin after Israel’s 1981 strike on Iraq’s Osirak reactor, that Israel will not allow any hostile regime to develop weapons of mass destruction.

But the roots of that doctrine of anticipatory defense go back further – to June 1967, when Israel launched a preemptive strike against Egypt in response to a massive Egyptian military buildup in the Sinai, the expulsion of UN observers, the closure of the Strait of Tiran, and explicit threats of annihilation from Arab leaders. Then, as now, Israel acted to neutralize a growing threat before it could fully materialize, relying heavily on the element of surprise.

There was one key difference. In 1967, the US urged Israel not to preempt, and Israel fought that war alone. President Lyndon Johnson warned that if Israel struck first, it would stand alone.

In 2025, not only did the US give Israel the green light, but after Israel did much of the heavy lifting – clearing the skies and bombing numerous strategic installations – Trump came in to administer the coup de grâce by dropping bunker-buster bombs on Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan.

On June 5, 1967, in Operation Moked, Israeli jets destroyed most of Egypt’s air force on the ground, catching the planes lined up wingtip to wingtip. Israel effectively won the war in those opening hours.

A similar dynamic played out in 2025. Within hours of launching its strike, the Israel Air Force had neutralized Iran’s remaining air defenses, clearing a corridor from Israeli territory through Syria and Iraqi airspace and into Iran.

From that point on, Israeli aircraft maneuvered over western Iran – including Tehran – with relative freedom.

For years, skeptics questioned whether an Israeli airstrike against Iran’s installations was even operationally feasible.

How would Israeli planes reach Iranian targets, given the distance and the refusal of countries like Saudi Arabia and Jordan to allow overflight?

The collapse of the Assad regime in Syria changed that calculus.

It opened a corridor – a veritable aerial highway into Iran – through eastern Syria and western Iraq.

In 1967, few imagined that Israel could destroy the Egyptian Air Force – as well as much of the Jordanian and Syrian air forces – by noon of the first day.

In 2025, few believed Israel could fly more than 1,000 sorties into Tehran and back. Both operations upended conventional wisdom.

Israel’s military actions both in 1967 and 2025 reshaped the regional balance of power and altered how Israel’s neighbors viewed the Jewish state’s strength and resolve.

The Six Day War ended with Israel controlling vast new territories and demonstrating a level of military prowess that shocked the Arab world.

It made clear that Israel could not be pushed into the sea and that it was here to stay, with growing military dominance.

The 2025 campaign may have a similar effect. After years of Iranian threats and doubts about Israeli deterrence post-October 7, the IDF executed a meticulously planned, complex, high-risk operation deep inside Iranian territory.

The strike reaffirmed that Israel has both the will and the capacity to act decisively, even when the odds are long.

In both 1967 and 2025, Israel reminded the region – and Israelis themselves – that it should not be underestimated.

But for all the parallels, the differences between the two wars – in objectives, aftermath, and the world in which they unfolded – are equally as revealing.

After the Six Day War, Arab leaders convened in Khartoum and issued their famous “Three Noes”: no peace with Israel, no recognition of Israel, no negotiations with Israel.

It was a clear message – military defeat would not lead to diplomatic acceptance.

The aftermath of the 2025 war looks very different. Rather than triggering a new wave of rejection, Israel’s strike – carried out in coordination with the US – appears to have accelerated quiet conversations about expanding the Abraham Accords.

Some Gulf states, including the UAE and Bahrain, did not openly condemn Israel’s actions, instead issuing carefully worded statements urging restraint and emphasizing the need to avoid escalation.

Others – long wary of Iran’s regional ambitions – are reportedly exploring next steps toward normalization, with analysts suggesting that the Abraham Accords could soon be expanded to include Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states.

Without Iran breathing down their necks, even Lebanon and Syria have been mentioned as possible – though highly improbable – candidates.

The 1967 war redrew the map and hardened Arab intransigence. The 2025 war may not change borders, but it is redrawing alliances.

In the Six Day War, the global powers loomed large but operated primarily through proxies and diplomatic pressure.

The Soviet Union had heavily armed and advised Egypt and Syria, while the United States, though sympathetic to Israel, stayed hands-off militarily during the actual fighting.

Both superpowers intervened diplomatically after the war – the Soviets to halt Israeli advances toward Damascus, and the Americans to contain escalation and maintain regional balance.

The 12-Day War, on the other hand, saw direct military coordination between Israel and the US.

Washington didn’t just provide diplomatic cover and rhetorical support; it actively participated in striking Iran. This turned it into a joint operational effort and demonstrated a deep strategic partnership in action, not just in words.

This marks a significant evolution from Cold War-era caution and indirect involvement to full-fledged collaboration against a shared adversary.

The logic wasn’t containment of Soviet influence; it was preventing Iran from developing a nuclear bomb.

And unlike in 1967, when the Soviet Union threatened intervention to stop Israeli advances, today’s rival powers to the US – Russia and China – offered little more than statements of condemnation.

Their limited response highlights just how much the global balance of influence in the Middle East has shifted.

Israel not only roundly defeated enemies intent on its annihilation in 1967, but it did even more than that: it secured much-needed breathing room.

When it was over, Israel emerged with territory that provided long-sought strategic depth.

No longer confined to what Abba Eban famously called the “Auschwitz borders,” Israel now controlled the Sinai, Gaza, Judea and Samaria, east Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights – territory that fundamentally changed its doctrine of defense.

Territory was the metric of success in 1967. The map changed, and with it, the sense of vulnerability that had defined Israel up until then.

In 2025, by contrast, the objective wasn’t strategic depth but to set back a nuclear program – not by occupying land, but by targeting capability.

It set out to delay, degrade, and – with US help – dismantle critical components of Iran’s nuclear program. The battle was over facilities, not front lines; over nuclear timelines, not territory.

WARS RARELY repeat themselves in exact measure, but there are often striking similarities. Or, as Mark Twain once reputedly said, history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.

The war of June 2025 is not the Six Day War – not in its context, not in its conduct, and not in its consequences.

But it does tap into a familiar Israeli instinct: to act early, to act decisively, and to tackle a threat before it metastasizes.

What the Six Day War achieved with tanks and territory, the 12-Day War sought to accomplish with precision munitions.

One changed Israel’s borders; the other reaffirmed its redlines. And just as 1967 forced the region to reckon with Israel’s permanence, 2025 may force it to reconsider Israel’s reach – and its resilience.