Yesterday began with Donald Trump issuing genocidal threats against Iran on social media and ended—just ten hours later—with the announcement of a 14-day ceasefire, on Iran’s terms. Even by the volatile standards of Trump’s presidency, the whiplash is extraordinary. What, then, have the two sides actually agreed to—and what might it mean?
In a subsequent post, Trump asserted that Iran had agreed to keep the Strait of Hormuz open during the two-week pause in hostilities. Negotiations, he added, will proceed over that period on the basis of Iran’s 10-point plan, which he described as a “workable” foundation for talks.
Those 10 points are:
1. The US must fundamentally commit to guaranteeing non-aggression.
2. Continuation of Iran’s control over the Strait of Hormuz.
3. Acceptance that Iran can enrich uranium for its nuclear program
4. Removal of all primary sanctions on Iran.
5. Removal of all secondary sanctions against foreign entities that do business with Iranian institutions.
6. End of all United Nations Security Council resolutions targeting Iran.
7. End of all International Atomic Energy Agency resolutions on Iran’s nuclear program.
8. Compensation payment to Iran for war damage.
9. Withdrawal of US combat forces from the region.
10. Cease-fire on all fronts, including Israel’s conflict with Hezbollah in Lebanon.
The United States has not, of course, signed on to all ten points. But the mere fact that Iran’s framework will anchor the negotiations amounts to a significant diplomatic victory for Tehran. More striking still, according to the Associated Press, Iran will retain control of the Strait during the ceasefire and continue—alongside Oman—to collect transit fees from passing vessels. In effect, Washington appears to have conceded that reopening the waterway comes with tacit recognition of Iran’s authority over it.
The geopolitical consequences could be profound. As Mohammad Eslami and Zeynab Malakouti note in Responsible Statecraft, Tehran is likely to leverage this position to rebuild economic ties with Asian and European partners—countries that once traded extensively with Iran but were driven out of its market over the past 15 years by U.S. sanctions.
Iran’s calculus is not driven solely by solidarity with Palestinians and Lebanese. It is also strategic. Continued Israeli bombardment risks reigniting direct confrontation between Israel and Iran—a cycle that has already flared twice since October 7. From Tehran’s perspective, a durable halt to its conflict with Israel is inseparable from ending Israel’s wars in Gaza and Lebanon. This is not an aspirational add-on; it is a prerequisite.
The forthcoming talks in Islamabad between Washington and Tehran may yet falter. But the terrain has shifted. Trump’s failed use of force has blunted the credibility of American military threats, introducing a new dynamic into U.S.-Iran diplomacy.
Washington can still rattle its saber. But after a failed war, such threats ring hollow. The United States is no longer in a position to dictate terms; any agreement will have to rest on genuine compromise. That, in turn, demands real diplomacy—patience, discipline, and a tolerance for ambiguity—qualities not typically associated with Trump. It may also require the participation of other major powers, particularly China, to help anchor the process and reduce the risk of a relapse into conflict.
Above all, the ceasefire’s durability will hinge on whether Trump can restrain Israel from undermining the diplomatic track. On this point, there should be no illusions. Senior Israeli officials have already denounced the agreement as the greatest “political disaster” in the country’s history—a signal, if any were needed, of how fragile this moment may prove to be.
Even if the talks collapse—and even if Israel resumes its bombardment of Iran—it does not necessarily follow that the United States will return to war. There is little reason to believe a second round would produce a different outcome, or that it would not once again leave Iran in a position to hold the global economy hostage. In that sense, Tehran has, at least for now, restored a measure of deterrence.
One final point bears emphasis: this elective war was not only a strategic blunder. Rather than precipitating regime change, it has likely granted Iran’s theocracy a renewed lease on life—much as Saddam Hussein did in 1980, when his invasion enabled Ayatollah Khomeini to consolidate power at home.
The magnitude of this miscalculation may well puzzle historians for decades to come.
