To the untrained eye, ceasefires in the Middle East can look a bit like war at a lower intensity. US Central Command spokesman Captain Tim Hawkins has confirmed that American forces conducted what were described as self-defence strikes in southern Iran in order to protect US personnel from Iranian threats during the ongoing ceasefire. Two Iranian vessels were also caught laying mines in the Strait of Hormuz and were subsequently destroyed. A surface-to-air missile site in Bandar Abbas that was reportedly targeting American aircraft was struck. But American officials have stressed that they do not signify the end of the ceasefire.
Meanwhile, Mojtaba Khamenei, the Islamic Republic’s Invisible Leader (previously known as ‘Supreme Leader’) has declared that ‘regional countries will no longer serve as shields for American bases, and the US will no longer have a safe haven anywhere in the region’, adding that ‘chants of “death to America” and “death to Israel” must become prevalent among all Muslim nations. The shaky zionist regime and the cancerous tumour of Israel have also drawn near to the final stages of their ill-fated lifespan.’
Over recent days, the assumption across much of the region had been that Washington is increasingly desperate for an off-ramp. A proposed framework involving the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, phased negotiations over Iran’s nuclear programme, sanctions relief, and wider ceasefire arrangements created an impression that the United States was now primarily interested in stabilisation rather than coercion.
But through all this supposed indecision, what President Trump has also shown is that he is not in a massive hurry to make a deal, but nor is he in a hurry to resume full scale war. The United States has demonstrated that it is willing to continue using force even while diplomatic discussions remain active. The ceasefire may exist, but it does not grant Iran freedom to alter facts on the ground in the Strait of Hormuz. Negotiations can continue, but attempts to leverage maritime disruption will still invite military consequences. Underlying this approach is an assumption that the United States possesses greater tolerance for economic disruption than either Iran or many of America’s regional partners, giving Washington more room to wait, apply pressure and negotiate simultaneously.
Over the past few days, from the outside at least, Iran has appeared increasingly confident in negotiations. Reports suggested demands for asset releases, sequencing changes, and broader ceasefire conditions extending into Lebanon. Concerns intensified in Israel that such an arrangement could leave Tehran with substantial leverage intact while postponing the most difficult questions surrounding enriched uranium, ballistic missiles, Hezbollah and the long-term balance of power. That is the central Israeli anxiety: a ceasefire can end a war, but it can also freeze a problem in place.
For Jerusalem, the concern is that Iran might emerge from negotiations with key pillars of its power structure intact, while international pressure shifts toward restraining Israeli action. The reported discussions around broader regional ceasefires only amplified those fears. Any arrangement that limits Israel’s freedom of action against Hezbollah while leaving major Iranian capabilities unresolved would inevitably be viewed through that lens.
But we must not forget that America is in the hands of a seasoned, high stakes business gambler. As reports increased of the negotiations shifting in Iran’s favour, with several other regional leaders pressing for a permanent end to the war, President Trump called their bluff by introducing a new and unexpected demand. He sought to tie Saudi normalisation with Israel to the wider diplomatic package surrounding Iran and the Strait of Hormuz, demanding during a call with Arab leaders that Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Pakistan, Turkey, Egypt and Jordan all immediately sign up to the Abraham Accords in return for an end to the fighting..
Whether viewed as diplomacy, leverage or transactional bargaining, the logic behind the idea is revealing. The objective would not merely be another symbolic peace agreement. It would be the construction of a political architecture capable of binding the region together.
The significance of the Abraham Accords has always extended beyond bilateral recognition. Their deeper importance lies in connectivity: security cooperation, energy networks, logistics, technology transfers, investment flows, intelligence relationships and infrastructure. Recent discussions surrounding the India-Middle East-Europe corridor, Eastern Mediterranean energy projects, digital connectivity, renewable energy integration and overland transport routes all point in the same direction.
The region increasingly appears to be organising itself around corridors rather than ideologies.
That does not mean ideology has disappeared. Far from it. It means that railways, ports, subsea cables, energy grids, hydrogen pipelines, semiconductor supply chains and investment networks are becoming geopolitical weapons in their own right.
Iran’s challenge is that many of these projects are being designed specifically to reduce dependence on Iranian geography, Iranian energy, Iranian transit routes or Iranian influence. The question is no longer simply who controls territory. Increasingly, it is who controls the routes around that territory.
This is where comparisons to Trump’s business career become useful. While they don’t act as historical templates, they provide illustrations of his strategic techniques.
Comparisons to Trump’s business career are useful
In 1986, the stalled renovation of the Wollman ice rink in Central Park had become a symbol of New York City’s bureaucratic dysfunction. After six years of delays and roughly $13 million spent, the project remained unfinished. With mounting public embarrassment and few alternatives left, city officials turned to Trump to take over the effort. He brought in specialist contractors and completed the renovation within four months, transforming a municipal failure into a reputational victory.
A few years later, the Trump Taj Mahal casino in Atlantic City was drowning in debt and facing financial collapse. Instead of accepting the role of a desperate borrower, Trump persuaded creditors that a bankruptcy would inflict greater damage on them than a negotiated restructuring. The result was a deal that kept the casino operating and demonstrated a recurring instinct in Trump’s career: when confronted with weakness, make everyone else’s exposure to chaos the centre of the negotiation.
While the parallels to Trump’s instincts on the world stage should not be overstated, the underlying habit is recognisable: identify vulnerability, alter the calculation of other players, and make the negotiation revolve around leverage rather than principle. Trump identifies pressure points, determines who has the most to lose, and attempts to rearrange the negotiation around that reality.
Whether Trump’s tactics will work this time remains an open question. The Middle East has a habit of humiliating grand strategies. Infrastructure projects can stall, alliances can fracture, and ceasefires can easily collapse. Regimes that appear isolated can prove remarkably resilient.
The latest American strikes serve as a reminder that beneath the negotiations and the ceasefire lies a much larger contest over who will shape the Middle East’s future.
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