Standing amid the scorched remains of what was once a bustling residential block, Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar made a stark appeal to Europe: “Reimpose the sanctions on Iran. The time for hesitation has passed.”
The backdrop for his call was not a conference room or diplomatic salon, but the pulverised ruins of a Tel Aviv apartment complex, struck days earlier by an Iranian-manufactured ballistic missile. The missile, launched from southern Lebanon by Hezbollah, killed 23 civilians and injured more than 80. Israeli intelligence officials have since confirmed the projectile bore markings of Iran’s Shahab-2 design—part of Tehran’s expanding weapons pipeline to its regional proxies.
Sa’ar, flanked by German Interior Minister Nancy Faeser, wasted no time in linking the atrocity directly to the Islamic Republic. “This is not a local issue,” he said. “It is not just about Israel. Iranian arms are fuelling instability from Kyiv to Yemen, and now Europe must decide whether it will continue its economic flirtation with Tehran, or finally acknowledge the blood price being paid by innocent people.”
A fragile European consensus
Germany has long walked a tightrope on Iran policy. Once a key backer of the 2015 nuclear accord, Berlin was instrumental in attempts to revive the deal under the Biden administration—efforts that ultimately collapsed in 2023. Since then, the EU has maintained a nominal sanctions regime against Tehran, mainly focused on human rights abuses and drone exports. But Sa’ar’s demand marks a push for something far more sweeping: the reinstatement of the full economic sanctions architecture that once crippled the Iranian economy.
Minister Faeser, speaking alongside Sa’ar, was guarded but firm. “We condemn all forms of terrorism, and we will evaluate additional steps in coordination with our European partners,” she said. “Iran’s regional behaviour is increasingly destabilising.”
Her tone was more diplomatic than decisive—perhaps understandably, given that Germany remains one of the EU’s largest importers of Iranian petrochemicals through obscure loopholes and indirect trade.
France, traditionally more hawkish on the Iranian threat, has yet to comment on the Israeli call, while Italy’s new nationalist coalition has voiced broad support for a tougher EU stance. In Brussels, however, officials remain divided.
Privately, one senior EU diplomat told The Telegraph that Sa’ar’s message was “loud and persuasive,” but warned that consensus on major sanctions would be “difficult to achieve without a direct threat to European territory.”
That logic, some in Israel argue, is precisely the problem.
A pattern, not a provocation
“What do they need? Another Vienna synagogue bombing?” asked former Mossad deputy chief Reuven Azar in a separate briefing. “We have shown them Iranian drones in Ukrainian skies, Quds Force operatives in Berlin, now Iranian missiles hitting residential buildings. But still the EU clings to a fantasy that engagement moderates the regime.”
Israel’s government has intensified its international pressure campaign in the wake of the Tel Aviv strike, publishing previously classified images showing Iranian technicians training Hezbollah fighters in southern Lebanon. The military has also released intercepted communications allegedly linking the strike to an Iranian Revolutionary Guard command centre near Damascus.
Tehran, for its part, denies any direct involvement. “These are fabrications intended to justify Israeli aggression against the peoples of the region,” said Nasser Kanaani, spokesman for Iran’s foreign ministry.
Nevertheless, the timing could not be more sensitive. Iran’s domestic political environment has been inflamed by the death of President Ebrahim Raisi last month in a helicopter crash, with hardliners tightening their grip as elections loom. There is little appetite in Tehran for diplomatic concessions.
Europe’s dilemma deepens
For Europe, the missile strike poses a moral and strategic test. On one hand, EU leaders are under growing pressure from Washington and Jerusalem to match rhetoric with action. On the other, European companies—especially in Germany and Austria—have begun quietly re-engaging with Iranian markets, anticipating a future thaw.
This tension was laid bare last week when Austrian Foreign Minister Alexander Schallenberg reportedly told colleagues he was “uncomfortable” with any move that might jeopardise Vienna’s trade position. Meanwhile, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán has signalled he would block further sanctions unless they come with exemptions for energy imports—a stance that undermines EU unity.
The European Commission insists that all options remain on the table. “We are closely monitoring the situation and will take appropriate measures if Iran is found to be directly responsible,” said Peter Stano, the EU’s foreign affairs spokesman. But critics say such statements are already falling behind events on the ground.
A turning point or a missed moment?
In Jerusalem, the mood is shifting. While previous Israeli administrations were content to lobby behind closed doors, Sa’ar’s team has chosen a more confrontational route. “We are not going to watch our people die while Europe dithers over whether to protect its car industry,” said a senior Israeli diplomat bluntly.
For many Israelis, the tragedy of the Tel Aviv strike has become a rallying cry. The country’s Knesset passed a unanimous resolution calling on all Western democracies to designate the Iranian Revolutionary Guard as a terrorist organisation—a move only the United States has fully embraced so far.
Whether Europe follows suit remains uncertain. But the pressure is mounting. As Sa’ar made clear amid the dust and rubble, “Europe must choose: does it stand with those who bury their children, or those who build the missiles that kill them?”
