Western media coverage of the Iran–Israel–US conflict often functions as a weapon of war, using selective language that frames US and Israeli strikes as “self-defence” while depicting Iranian actions as "provocation". This linguistic framing normalises civilian casualties and helps manufacture public consent for military aggression by dehumanising certain populations.
On 28 February 2026, the United States and Israel launched coordinated air and missile strikes against Iran, targeting military installations, nuclear facilities, and strategic command centres in Tehran and other cities. One of the initial targeted strikes killed Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who had led the country since 1989.
In response to joint strikes by the US and Israel, Iran has responded by launching waves of ballistic missiles and drone attacks against Israel and US-allied states in the Gulf. These strikes have targeted American military bases, naval installations, air-defence systems, energy infrastructure, ports, and strategic facilities across the region.
At a time when the world appears to stand on the brink of what many describe as a possible Third World War, the escalating tensions in the Middle East involving Iran, Israel, and the United States demonstrate that wars are not fought only on battlefields. They are also fought over in another arena: they are fought over through the framing of words, choice of language, and vocabulary. In today’s media ecosystem, the question of what news people read is increasingly shaped not just by the information it provides, but also by the vocabulary it uses to present that information. Language, in other words, has become a weapon of war, which can be as consequential as military strategy itself.
Across much of Western media coverage, particularly in outlets such as CNN, The New York Times and The Washington Post, the vocabulary used to describe military actions often shifts depending on who carries them out. When the United States or Israel launches strikes, their actions are frequently framed as "self-defence", “retaliation”, “deterrence”, or even as an effort to protect “freedom” and “stability”. When countries such as Iran or Venezuela respond militarily, however, their actions are far more likely to be described as “escalation”, “provocation”, or a “threat to regional security”.
On 28 February 2026, The Washington Post shared a news report about the joint U.S.–Israeli strike on Iran that killed the country’s Supreme Leader and several senior officials under the headline “In surprise daytime attack, U.S. and Israel take out Iranian leadership.” The choice of wording and language like "bold daytime attack”, "eliminated", and “toppling down of foreign leaders” used in the report frames the military strike in terms that emphasise the strategic precision, boldness, and effectiveness of the U.S. and Israeli forces, thereby portraying the strike as an act of calculated military success, bravery and courage.
On 2 March 2026, CNN published an analysis by Oren Liebermann titled “Hezbollah just restarted the fight that Israel was waiting to finish.” The headline frames Hezbollah as the actor responsible for reopening the conflict while positioning Israel as responding to aggression. By foregrounding “Hezbollah just restarted” and suggesting Israel was “waiting to finish", the wording implicitly casts Israel in a reactive, defensive role rather than as an initiating force.
On 28 February 2026, early in the morning, the US and Israel launched a wave of air and missile strikes on Iran. A missile struck near the Shajareh Tayyebeh girls’ elementary school in the city of Minab, Hormozgan Province, in southern Iran. The explosion occurred during school hours, when students were inside classrooms. Around 160–170 people were killed, most of them schoolgirls aged roughly 7–12.
A review of dozens of Western news reports showed that coverage frequently relied on qualifiers such as "near", “adjacent to a military base", “near base", “military target likely", and “appears to show a U.S. Tomahawk missile hitting a base next to an Iranian school". This wording consistently emphasised the proximity of a military facility, implying that the intended target may have been the base rather than the school itself.
A video later surfaced showing a US Tomahawk missile flying toward the targeted school. Despite this, the vocabulary used in much of the coverage framed the incident as a possible accident within the context of a military operation. By foregrounding the presumed military target and using language that stressed proximity rather than direct impact on a civilian site, the reporting subtly shifted responsibility away from the attackers and portrayed the deaths of the schoolchildren as an unintended consequence of the strike.
Whose Lives Are Mourned and Whose Are Not?
The philosopher Judith Butler offers a powerful framework for understanding how language shapes the moral landscape of war. In her book Frames of War: When Is Life Grievable?, Butler argues that violence is never presented to the public in a neutral form. Instead, it is mediated through interpretive “frames” created by political discourse, media institutions and dominant systems of knowledge. These frames shape how audiences understand suffering, responsibility and legitimacy during wartime. In other words, they determine how violence is made visible and how it is interpreted. Butler argues that public discourse often decides whose lives are recognised as fully human and whose lives are treated as distant, abstract or expendable. Some deaths appear tragic and morally shocking, while others are treated as expected outcomes of geopolitical conflict. Through these processes, certain lives become publicly “grievable”, while others remain outside the boundaries of collective mourning.
In this sense, modern conflicts are fought not only on battlegrounds but also within systems of representation. The struggle over narrative becomes part of the struggle over power itself. Military actions may determine the immediate outcome of battles, but the language through which those actions are interpreted ultimately shapes how the world understands them.
History offers many examples of how language has helped construct the legitimacy of war. The vocabulary used to describe conflicts has often shaped not only how events are understood but also how they are morally justified. From the framing of the “war on terror” to earlier narratives surrounding Western interventions in the Middle East, political discourse and media coverage have repeatedly relied on particular terms that position some actors as defenders of order and others as sources of instability. Through repetition, such language gradually becomes naturalised, shaping the way audiences interpret violence and responsibility.
The Politics of Language
In contemporary conflict reporting on the US, Israel, and Iran, language plays a decisive role in shaping how violence and responsibility are perceived. When certain populations are repeatedly portrayed through narratives of "extremism", "instability", or "threat", their vulnerability becomes harder for audiences to recognise. Violence inflicted upon them can then be framed as a matter of security policy rather than human tragedy. In such contexts, the suffering of those populations may still be reported, but it rarely carries the same emotional or moral weight as the suffering of others.
Headlines in Western media frequently emphasise Israel’s attempts to counter Iranian influence or prevent security threats from emerging near its borders. When Iran signals retaliation or responds through allied groups in the region, coverage often shifts toward warnings of escalating regional instability. In both cases, the same cycle of action and reaction unfolds, yet the framing of each step in that cycle shapes how audiences interpret responsibility and legitimacy.
In coverage of Iran’s political succession, several major Western outlets quickly adopted descriptors carrying strong ideological implications. A Bloomberg report titled “Iran's New Supreme Leader Fights Trump, Israel and Anger at Home” referred to Iran’s new leader as “Khamenei’s hardline son". Reuters similarly framed the transition through economic anxiety in pieces such as "Saudi Arabia cuts oil output, IEA considers stocks release", reporting that oil prices surged as Iran selected a “hardline leader". The Washington Post's report described the succession as extending “hardline rule", while The New York Times's report introduced the new leader as a “mysterious figure". None of these terms are neutral descriptors. Words such as "hardline", "defiant", or “mysterious” subtly position political developments within a vocabulary of confrontation and unpredictability before readers even reach the body of the article.
This dynamic also echoes a longer intellectual history of how the Middle East has been represented in Western knowledge systems. Edward Said’s concept of Orientalism described how the region was historically portrayed as “irrational”, “volatile” and “fundamentally different” from a supposedly rational and orderly West. Even today, conflicts involving Middle Eastern actors are often interpreted through frameworks that privilege Western interpretations of security and rationality
