On March 1, 2026, Bellingcat geolocated 20 U.S. Tomahawk cruise missiles traversing Iraqi airspace toward Iran, their trajectories marked by low-altitude flights near Kirkuk and the Zagros Mountains. The U.S. Department of Defense declined to comment, while Iraq’s government, via Prime Minister Mohammed Shia al-Sudani, had earlier warned against using its territory for cross-border operations. These missiles, launched from Mediterranean-based destroyers, underscore a strategic calculus: bypassing the Persian Gulf to avoid detection and circumvent potential Iranian air defenses. The U.S. military’s own guidance system for Tomahawks—designed for “evasive routes”—collides with Iraq’s sovereignty, raising questions about implicit or explicit consent from Baghdad.
The broader context is the escalating war between U.S. and Israeli forces and Iran, now in its 13th day. With oil prices surging toward $200 a barrel after Iranian attacks on Gulf oil infrastructure, the U.S. faces a paradox: while it claims to defend regional stability, its Tomahawks travel through third-party states’ skies, replicating Cold War-era overflights but without the same geopolitical equilibrium. The Pentagon’s own acknowledgment of a 168-kid deaths at a school in Iran—later attributed to a flawed AI targeting algorithm—highlights the human cost of unaccountable military technology. Meanwhile, Iran’s nationalist rhetoric, framed as a war on its civilian population, has co-opted anti-American sentiment to consolidate domestic power.
Cross-source analysis reveals a fracturing narrative. Bellingcat’s technical precision contrasts with Democracy Now!’s focus on humanitarian costs and internal Iranian politics, while Middle East Eye and France 24 report on kinetic exchanges between Gulf states and Iran (e.g., UAE and Saudi Arabia intercepting drones). The Associated Press highlights Israel’s escalation into Lebanon and Tel Aviv, creating a multi-front war. Yet Iraqi voices—whether local residents near Kirkuk or diplomats—are absent in all accounts, reducing a contested air corridor to a mere logistical footnote.
The deeper issue is the erosion of sovereignty in asymmetric conflicts. Iraq, which formally opposes U.S. military use of its airspace, lacks the capacity to enforce this stance. Brian Finucane of the International Crisis Group notes that without Baghdad’s blessing, these flights violate international law—yet such violations are routine in conflicts where superpowers exploit diplomatic and territorial gray areas. The U.S. Navy’s reliance on artificial intelligence for targeting (as in the Iran school strike) introduces a moral hazard: algorithms, unembodied and unfathomable, become the arbiters of civilian collateral damage.
What remains absent is clarity on the political will of Iraqi leadership. Sudani’s public rebukes to Washington lack the follow-through seen in 2020, when Baghdad expelled U.S. forces from Ain al-Asad airbase. Why now, with Iranian forces advancing into the Gulf, is Baghdad allowing its airspace to become a battleground? The answer lies in Iraq’s economic dependence on U.S. aid and its precarious balancing act between regional powers. For Iran, the benefit of using Iraq as a proxy target is clear: provoking U.S. retaliation while masking the regime’s own aggression.
Looking ahead, three scenarios emerge. First, Iran may retaliate against U.S. embassies or bases via proxy groups in Iraq or Syria, testing Washington’s red lines. Second, if Iraq formally accuses the U.S. of airspace violations, it could trigger legal challenges through the International Court of Justice—a move unlikely to alter outcomes but symbolic in global governance. Third, the U.S. might pivot to cyberattacks or precision strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities, reducing reliance on airpower in volatile regions.