In international politics, the significance of some events does not lie in the scale of the damage they cause, but in where they occur and the message they might convey. From that angle, the recent attacks on oil facilities in the Libyan city of Zawiya are more important than just another security incident in a country whose vital infrastructure has for years been part of political and military struggle.

The Zawiya oil complex was struck by drones, causing fires and damage to fuel storage facilities. The National Oil Corporation warned that operations at the complex could stop if the attacks continue. So far there is no publicly conclusive evidence proving Iranian responsibility, nor has any reliable party claimed the attacks. Therefore, any discussion of an Iranian role should remain in the realm of hypothesis and analysis, not accusation or definitive conclusion.

But the mere proposition of that hypothesis is worth pausing over, because the real question is not just the Zawiya refinery itself, but Libya’s place on the map of the new international struggle and whether North Africa’s energy infrastructure can become part of a regional deterrence game between Iran, the United States, and its allies.

Despite its internal crises and divided political and military institutions, Libya is not marginal in international calculations. It has one of Africa’s largest oil reserves, it sits on the southern shore of the Mediterranean opposite Europe, and it is a crossroads for energy security, migration, maritime security, and influence competition across North Africa and the Sahel. That means any prolonged disruption to Libya’s energy sector need not remain only a domestic matter—especially when a strategic facility like Zawiya is involved.

Here the most interesting hypothesis begins.

If it is later proven that there is a direct or indirect Iranian link to these attacks, the goal may not have been the refinery itself, Libyan oil, or even inflicting a large economic loss on Libya. The more important objective could be sending a political and security message to the United States and its allies: that Western interests are not immune simply because they are located far from the traditional arenas of confrontation in the Gulf and the Middle East.

This idea fits the logic of indirect warfare that has become a key element of Iran’s strategy in recent decades. In this kind of conflict, power is measured not only by the number of missiles or aircraft, but by a state’s ability to expand the field of threat and force its adversary to guard interests across areas much larger than the original theater of conflict.

In other words, even if the United States can protect its bases, ships, and military facilities, the real challenge is its ability to safeguard the network of economic interests, energy assets, and related infrastructure in countries stretching from the Gulf to the Mediterranean and into Africa.

That is why Libya has particular strategic value.

A country fractured by division, weak institutions, and multiple armed actors offers a very different environment from states with strong centralized security institutions. In Libya, a complex security operation can occur without easily identifying who is behind it. Local calculations can overlap with regional and international interests, making it extremely difficult to separate internal conflict from external intervention.

This is precisely what makes a proxy-war hypothesis plausible.

A foreign power does not necessarily need to send troops or announce its presence. It may be enough to have the ability to provide technology, intelligence, training, or funding to a local network capable of carrying out a limited operation, then leave the scene awash in questions and mutual accusations.

But we must also avoid the error of interpreting every Libyan incident as a regional conspiracy. Zawiya itself has seen years of local armed conflict, rivalry over influence and resources, and oil infrastructure in Libya has always been an attractive target for forces seeking to pressure rivals or gain political and economic leverage.

Thus a local explanation remains strong and may ultimately be the correct one.

Even in that case, however, the strategic question does not disappear; it becomes more troubling: why is a vital energy facility in a Mediterranean country susceptible to such attacks in the first place?

This is the point that should capture the attention of Washington and European capitals.

The West’s problem is not only to identify who launched the drone, but to discover that an environment like Libya’s can allow any actor with the necessary technology and organizational capacity to target a strategic facility and create disruption that exceeds the scale of the military operation itself.

From this perspective, the importance of Zawiya in the broader competition among international powers becomes clearer.

Turkey exerts significant political, military, and economic influence in western Libya; Russia views Libya as part of its wider presence in the Mediterranean and Africa; Europe watches the Libyan file through the lenses of energy, migration, and maritime security; and Libya is growing in importance for the United States amid competition over influence and energy and efforts to prevent Washington’s adversaries from establishing a long-term strategic foothold in the region.

In such an environment, an oil facility like Zawiya is more than an economic asset. It sits at the intersection of several international interests, so disabling it can produce political effects far beyond the immediate loss from a burned tank or a halted portion of refining operations.

If the attacks repeat, the cost of insuring oil facilities could rise, investors’ appetite could fall, more fuel imports might be needed, the state’s ability to manage energy supplies could be affected, and local security fragility could turn into a regional problem.

This is where drones find value in modern warfare. They don’t need to occupy a facility or control a city. A relatively small unmanned aircraft can strike a strategic target and leave behind uncertainty and political and security anxiety.

If Iran were behind the operation, that would be precisely what should worry Washington.

Iran would not need to control Libya or establish a military base there. It may be enough to demonstrate that it, or networks linked to it, can reach Western interests in areas far from the traditional centers of conflict.

If Iran is not behind the attacks, the problem is no less serious for the West. On the contrary, it could mean that Libya—because of weak institutions and multiple centers of power—can on its own produce a kind of risk that regional and international actors may exploit in the future.

Therefore the question that should reach the desks of decision-makers in Washington and Brussels is not only: who controls Libya?

The more important question is: who can disable Libya?

Control of a state is not always a prerequisite for influencing it. Sometimes it suffices to have the ability to disable its oil, threaten its ports, target supply lines, or create a persistent state of instability that forces foreign companies to reassess their involvement.

This is the nature of power in the age of gray-zone conflicts.

A state may not need to deploy its army to achieve a strategic objective, nor claim responsibility for an operation. It is enough to prove to an adversary that you can reach a vulnerable point in its apparatus.

From this perspective, Zawiya can be seen as a potential test, not necessarily an Iranian operation.

A test of the Libyan state’s ability to protect its vital facilities; a test of the West’s ability to protect its interests in a country only a few hundred kilometers from Europe; and a test of whether drones have opened a new front in the competition for energy and influence in the Mediterranean.

The coming days and weeks will be decisive in reading the scene. If the attacks stop and remain confined to the realm of local conflict, it will be hard to ascribe an Iranian dimension to them. But if they continue and systematically target fuel tanks, pipelines, power stations, ports, and other oil facilities, the matter will require a very different interpretation.

If technical or intelligence evidence later surfaces linking the weapons or operational networks to Iranian entities or their regional allies, Zawiya will shift from a Libyan security incident to a possible component of a much broader deterrence equation.

Until then, the Iranian hypothesis should be treated with caution—neither dismissed nor exaggerated.

But one fact requires no Iranian proof to be clear: Libya has become part of the Mediterranean’s strategic geography, and the security of its oil facilities is no longer solely a Libyan concern.

If Zawiya is merely a casualty of local conflict, that exposes the fragility of the Libyan state.

If it is a casualty of regional struggle, then Libya has become a new battlefield in a game larger than itself.

And if the attack is proven to have been a message from Iran to the United States, the implication is far graver: that Tehran has, directly or indirectly, extended the concept of deterrence beyond the traditional Middle Eastern arenas, turning an oil facility on the southern Mediterranean coast into a factor in the confrontation between Iran and the West.

Then the real question will not be: why was Zawiya attacked?

It will be this: Has Iran begun to tell Washington that war does not need to reach Tehran, because Tehran can make Washington’s interests reach it?

If that proves true, it would mark a transformation in the nature of the conflict far greater than the fire that burned through a Libyan oil tank.