Can Washington survive in a situation of simultaneous crises?
By Abdul Naser Noorzad, security and geopolitics researcher, especially for Sangar
The geopolitical gamble of the United States in Asia, following its withdrawal from Afghanistan, failed to produce the expected results. By handing Afghanistan over to the Taliban and managing the ensuing chaos, Washington sought to turn the country into a hub for entangling its three main rivals — China, Russia, and Iran — hoping to keep them occupied within their own regions: Russia in Ukraine, Iran in the Middle East, and China in East Asia. However, this plan did not work as intended.
What was outwardly presented as “rebalancing” in reality became an implicit acknowledgment of the end of an entire era — an era in which the United States could simultaneously build order, wage wars, and maintain its liberal hegemony. The difference between this approach and previous strategies lies not only in a shift of geography, but in a shift of mindset: from “reshaping the world in its own image” to “managing it from a safe distance.”
In the previous strategy, the main threats were non-state actors — terrorism, extremism, and failed states. Within the framework of “rebalancing,” however, the threat once again becomes classical: great powers. This signifies a return to the logic of hard competition. Accordingly, the geography of threats also changes: West Asia gives way to East Asia, where the future global balance of power is being shaped.
However, this shift turned out to be less a carefully calculated redistribution of resources than a geopolitical gamble. The withdrawal from Afghanistan can be seen not as a retreat, but as a “controlled transfer of instability” — an attempt to draw rivals into the problems of their own periphery. The logic is simple: if rivals are preoccupied, the need for direct presence decreases. But it is precisely here that theory diverges from reality.
Instability, contrary to expectations, is not a controllable instrument. Afghanistan was supposed to become a source of security challenges for others, but in practice, it turned into a wave of regional instability with no borders. Instead of containing rivals, a situation emerged in which all actors — including the United States itself — became entangled.
The “rebalancing” strategy assumed that the United States could distance itself from costly conflicts and focus on containing China. However, reality unfolded differently: Ukraine turned into a war of attrition, tying down U.S. military and political resources in Eastern Europe.
Against this backdrop, the Middle East — and especially Iran, as the third node of this configuration — demonstrates a structural failure in the logic of simultaneously containing rivals. Just as the war in Ukraine drains U.S. resources, and tensions over Taiwan require constant and costly engagement, developments in the Middle East — from rising regional tensions to the strengthening of pro-Iranian forces — have once again turned the region into an active and unavoidable front.
As a result, instead of maintaining focus by “shifting crises” onto its rivals, the United States has effectively become entangled in three simultaneous centers of tension — Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and East Asia. This simultaneity of pressure undermines the very theoretical foundation of “rebalancing.”
In this context, the most sensitive point in this configuration is Taiwan. If East Asia is the heart of the new strategy, then Taiwan is its artery. The United States’ technological dependence on the island transforms it from a purely geopolitical issue into a vital economic nexus. Any disruption at this point would signify not only a regional defeat but a structural shock to American power.
The core problem with the U.S. “rebalancing” strategy is its reliance on avoiding direct confrontation at a time when reality is pushing Washington toward forced intervention. This is the strategy’s central contradiction: if the United States stays out, it risks losing influence; if it steps in, it undermines the very logic of rebalancing.
At a deeper level, this is no longer just about the failure of a single strategy. It reflects the erosion of an entire global order — one that the United States itself helped build, but which is now cracking under the pressure of the same power dynamics it once sought to contain. The old order has not fully collapsed, yet no new one has taken its place — creating a dangerous condition of “transitional instability.”
The alliances meant to anchor this strategy remain underdeveloped. In an era of multi-front competition, partial coordination is not enough. Each new crisis — whether in the Middle East or Eastern Europe — adds strain rather than fitting into a coherent grand strategy.
In the end, the central paradox of rebalancing is stark: a strategy designed to reduce U.S. commitments has instead deepened its entanglement. Rather than managing instability, Washington is increasingly becoming one of its focal points.
If this trajectory continues, the key question will shift. It will no longer be whether the United States can contain China, but whether it can withstand the pressure of multiple, simultaneous crises. And it may be here that “rebalancing” is remembered — not as a solution, but as the opening phase of a gradual retreat.
