There are wars that begin as a demonstration of power but very quickly turn into a test of endurance. That is precisely the trap into which the United States is being drawn ever deeper today in its confrontation with Iran. Washington, according to the architects of coercive pressure, was supposed to show Tehran the limits of its capabilities: destroy its military infrastructure, knock the nuclear trump card out of the hands of the Islamic Republic, force the regime to accept American terms, and open the way to a new balance in the Middle East. But reality has proved far harsher. Instead of a quick capitulation, the United States has encountered an adversary that not only has not collapsed, but has also found a way to turn its own vulnerability into a strategic instrument of pressure.
Today, the central question is no longer whether there will be another round of negotiations. The central question is whether America is ready for a long war with a state that has spent decades learning how to live under sanctions, under the threat of attack, under economic pressure, and in a state of ideological mobilization. President Trump may call Iran’s response “completely unacceptable,” may threaten, may speak of a ceasefire as a mechanism kept on “life support,” but none of that changes the main point: Tehran is no longer playing the old game. According to recent reports, the American-Iranian ceasefire is indeed balancing on the edge of collapse, while oil markets are already reacting to every signal from Washington and Tehran as a harbinger of a new round of escalation.
Iran’s strategy has changed because the very nature of the conflict has changed. While Washington spoke the language of ultimatums, Tehran shifted to the language of systemic blackmail, in which the battlefield extends far beyond military facilities. This is no longer only about missiles, nuclear centrifuges, strikes on bases and installations. It is about oil, shipping, inflation in the United States, political pressure on the White House, the fear of allies, China’s irritation, the anxiety of European capitals, and the nervousness of markets. And in this new architecture of conflict, Iran, paradoxically, has gained room for maneuver.
The Strait of Hormuz: The Narrow Throat of the Global Economy That Has Become Tehran’s Big Stick
For decades, Washington viewed the Strait of Hormuz as a geographic given: strategically important, but ultimately a controllable segment of the global energy system. Tehran saw it differently: as the last argument of a state that may be weaker than the United States in aviation, naval power, technology, and finance, but that has the ability to strike at the nervous system of the global economy. That is exactly what has happened. Once Iran turned Hormuz from an export route into a political weapon, the war ceased to be a Middle Eastern war. It became a global one.
A critically important share of the Persian Gulf’s oil and gas flows passes through Hormuz. Any disruption of movement in this narrow corridor immediately affects prices, tanker insurance, logistics, inflation expectations, and the political ratings of Western governments. Recent reports show that Iran is not merely threatening the strait. It is expanding the very concept of the zone of control, describing Hormuz as a much broader operational arc, not merely as the classic narrow maritime corridor.
This is the new level of Iran’s calculation. Tehran understands that it cannot defeat the United States in a conventional war fought by American rules. But it can make the war too costly, too nervous, too politically toxic, and too long. Iran does not need to destroy American power. It is enough for Tehran to raise the price of America’s involvement in the conflict every single day.
That is why Hormuz today is not only geography. It is a psychological operation. It is a signal to the markets: there will be no calm. It is a signal to America’s regional allies: your security depends not only on American aircraft carriers. It is a signal to Europe and Asia: if Washington continues the war, it is not only the White House that pays for it, but the entire world. It is a signal to the American voter: gasoline, food, logistics, air travel, and inflation are not tied to abstract foreign policy, but to decisions made in Washington.
That is precisely why recent fluctuations in oil prices matter no less than battlefield reports. Brent and WTI remain under heavy pressure because of uncertainty surrounding the ceasefire, the threat of new disruptions, and the broader fear of prolonged destabilization. In the United States, the energy factor is already hitting the domestic economy: April’s inflation spike, according to the Associated Press, was linked to rising gasoline prices against the backdrop of the war and the crisis around Hormuz.
This is strategic asymmetry. The United States can carry out hundreds of strikes against Iran. But Iran can strike at the wallet of the American consumer, at the nerves of the Federal Reserve, at President Trump’s ratings, and at the stability of global trade.
A Regime with Nothing to Lose Becomes More Dangerous Than a Regime That Wants a Deal
For decades, Western policy toward Iran was based on the assumption that pressure would sooner or later lead to a rational compromise. Sanctions, diplomatic isolation, military threats, cyberattacks, strikes against Tehran’s allies, domestic discontent, declining living standards - all of this, Washington believed, would create demand inside the Iranian system for a deal. At one point, that logic did have a basis. There were forces in Iran prepared to talk to the West. They were not liberal democrats in the Western sense. But they understood the cost of isolation, wanted sanctions relief, and sought a formula for preserving the regime without eternal confrontation.
The problem is that these forces kept losing for years. Every failed negotiation, every new round of sanctions, every American retreat after an Iranian concession strengthened the hard-line argument: Washington cannot be trusted. From the perspective of Iranian conservatives and security circles, the nuclear issue was never the real reason for the pressure. It was merely a convenient pretext. The real objective, in their view, was the weakening, isolation, and, if possible, dismantling of the Islamic Republic.
That is why the figure of Mohsen Rezaei, placed at the forefront in the original text, is so important. He symbolizes not merely toughness. He symbolizes the evolution of the regime from a cautious search for compromise to the conviction that compromise with the United States is impossible. When a man who once could speak of a “different approach” and a fundamental change in relations with America now becomes the voice of abandoning “strategic patience,” this is not merely a personal transformation. It is a diagnosis of the entire system.
The Iranian elite, having passed through the war with Iraq, sanctions, the assassination of commanders, domestic protests, international isolation, and now direct conflict with the United States and Israel, does not think in terms of short-term diplomacy. It thinks in terms of the survival of a revolutionary state. For this elite, defeat does not mean a decline in GDP. Defeat means the loss of power. And if the stakes are that high, the readiness to endure destruction becomes far greater than Washington expects.
Why Bombs Do Not Break the Iranian System but Cement It
American strategic culture often overestimates the ability of military force to change an adversary’s political behavior. This is not a new mistake. It was visible in Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, and Syria. The American military machine knows how to destroy infrastructure, eliminate facilities, suppress air defenses, kill commanders, and bring down economic nodes. But destruction does not always equal political results. Especially when the adversary has already built destruction into its own ideology of resistance.
For decades, the Iranian regime has told its society that America wants not a deal, but submission. That Israel and the United States seek not to limit the nuclear program, but to destroy sovereignty. That sanctions are not an instrument of diplomacy, but a form of war. That the West uses human rights, nuclear oversight, and regional security as different languages of the same policy of pressure. One can argue with this worldview as much as one wants. But after direct strikes on Iran, it became, for a significant part of the Iranian political system, not a propaganda formula, but confirmed experience.
This is where Washington encountered the blowback effect. Strikes intended to intimidate may have strengthened those who always said: “We warned you.” The death of senior figures, the destruction of facilities, strikes on infrastructure and civilian areas, if perceived inside the country as external aggression, often do not instantly decompose the regime, but instead give it a temporary mobilizing resource. Even part of a society that is opposition-minded may step back from internal struggle for a time if an external attack is perceived as a humiliation of the country, not merely as a strike against the ruling class.
This does not mean that the Iranian regime has become popular. It means that war changes the hierarchy of priorities. In peacetime, a citizen may hate corruption, repression, and economic catastrophe. Under external strikes, he may simultaneously hate the regime and still not want a foreign power to win. Washington too often fails to understand this duality. It looks for a simple picture: the people against the regime, America against dictatorship, an external strike as a catalyst for internal liberation. But Middle Eastern history has repeatedly shown that external pressure often allows authoritarian systems to present themselves as the last bastion of national dignity.
That is why the thesis that Iran can be “bombed into capitulation” looks like a dangerous illusion. Facilities can be bombed. Severe damage can be inflicted. A program can be slowed. The price of Iranian policy can be raised. But the capitulation of a regime born of revolution, hardened by war, and raised in the culture of a besieged fortress requires more than military power. It requires a political strategy, and Washington does not appear to have one today.
Khamenei’s Death Did Not Become the End of the Regime. It May Have Become the End of Moderation
One of the riskiest mistakes external observers make is assuming that the removal of a supreme leader or the death of key figures automatically opens the road to internal fragmentation. In theory, that is possible. In reality, revolutionary and security-based systems often respond to such a loss not with liberalization, but with contraction. Power concentrates in the hands of those who control weapons, intelligence services, the ideological apparatus, and networks of loyalty. In Iran’s case, that primarily means circles linked to the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps.
After Khamenei’s death, as described in the original material, Washington’s expectations of a split inside Tehran were not fulfilled. On the contrary, the surviving leadership appears more homogeneous, more security-driven, more connected to the experience of the Iran-Iraq War, and less inclined toward diplomatic experimentation. In this sense, the transition from the old supreme leader to a new power structure does not necessarily weaken the system. It may cleanse it of the last remnants of internal pluralism.
Such a regime becomes less flexible, but also less susceptible to pressure. It negotiates worse, but mobilizes better. It has greater difficulty selling compromise to its own society, but finds it easier to explain war. It is less capable of strategic normalization, but more inclined toward the logic of “either we withstand this, or they destroy us.” For diplomacy, this is a nightmare scenario. Negotiations require not only pressure, but also an interlocutor capable of accepting a concession as a victory, not as betrayal.
If there is no longer a strong group in Tehran capable of convincingly selling compromise to the elite, then even a favorable deal becomes politically dangerous. Any retreat from part of the demands can be presented as weakness before America. Any restriction on the nuclear program as a surrender of sovereignty. Any opening of Hormuz without major American concessions as the loss of the main lever. In such an atmosphere, maximalism ceases to be mere rhetoric. It turns into a mechanism of survival inside the regime.
The 2015 Nuclear Deal as a Ghost That Has Come Back to Haunt Washington
The entire current drama is inseparable from the fate of the 2015 deal. Back then, Iran agreed to serious restrictions: reducing enrichment, dismantling a significant share of its centrifuges, shipping out uranium stockpiles, and accepting enhanced IAEA inspections. For supporters of the deal, it was a way to bring Iran’s nuclear program under control. For its opponents, it was a dangerous delay that did not eliminate the infrastructure of Iran’s nuclear potential itself. But whatever one’s view of the agreement, one central fact remains: the U.S. withdrawal from the deal destroyed faith in the durability of American commitments.
From Tehran’s perspective, the lesson was simple: even if Iran signs a document, accepts restrictions, and allows inspections, the next U.S. administration can cancel everything. That means the problem lies not only in the terms of the deal. The problem lies in America’s very ability to guarantee political continuity. For a regime that thinks in decades, this is critically important. Why give up strategic assets in exchange for a promise that can disappear after an election?
Today, President Trump is effectively facing the consequences of his own first term. He wants to secure from Iran a tougher deal than the one he himself once destroyed. But why should Tehran believe that a new deal would be more reliable than the old one? Why should it believe that giving up part of its nuclear capabilities would not become the opening move in a new phase of pressure? Why should it believe that, after concessions, there will not be a new list of demands - missiles, regional allies, domestic political structure, ideology, security institutions?
This is Washington’s strategic problem. It wants Iran to behave like a rational negotiating party, while for years it has been proving to Iran’s hard-line circles that rational concessions do not bring security. This does not justify Iranian policy. But it does explain why Tehran today prefers toughness.
America’s Main Mistake: Confusing Pressure with Strategy
Sanctions are a tool. Airstrikes are a tool. A naval blockade is a tool. Diplomatic threats are a tool. But a set of tools is not, by itself, a strategy. Strategy answers the question: what political outcome are we trying to achieve, and by what path are we prepared to secure it? In the Iranian case, Washington has for years been unable to give a clear answer.
The United States wants Iran not to have nuclear weapons. But does it want to limit the program or destroy the regime? Does it want to negotiate with the Islamic Republic or force its capitulation? Does it want to restore inspections or permanently dismantle the entire nuclear cycle? Does it want a regional deal or regime change? Does it want to reopen Hormuz or redraw the entire balance of power in the Middle East?
As long as these objectives are mixed together, negotiations are doomed to distrust. Iran hears not an offer, but a sentence with a delay. The United States sees in Iran’s response not bargaining, but blackmail. Both sides read the worst intentions into each other, and every new escalation confirms their suspicions.
President Trump is especially vulnerable to this trap because his political style is built on maximum pressure, sharp language, a personal display of strength, and the expectation of a quick deal. But Iran is not a real estate project and not a trade dispute. It is a state with a multilayered historical memory, the trauma of foreign intervention, revolutionary ideology, a military apparatus, and a regional network of influence. It cannot be forced into submission with a single threat and one television-ready political gesture.
Moreover, when Trump speaks of “unconditional surrender” and then offers negotiations, he himself destroys the space for a deal. For the Iranian leadership, the issue then becomes not the price of a concession, but the preservation of face. The regime can survive sanctions. It can survive strikes. But public humiliation before the United States is more dangerous to it than economic damage. That is precisely why Washington’s maximalist rhetoric often does not bring capitulation closer, but makes it impossible.
The Israeli Factor: When Tactical Success Does Not Equal Strategic Victory
Israel’s calculation regarding Iran is understandable: prevent Tehran from acquiring nuclear weapons, destroy military infrastructure, weaken regional networks of influence, and show that the price of threatening Israel will be unacceptable. From a military standpoint, many Israeli actions may look effective. But the strategic question is more complicated: what happens the day after the strike?
If a strike destroys a facility but strengthens Iran’s decision to become a threshold nuclear state, it provides a temporary delay, but not a final solution. If a strike weakens a specific commander but strengthens the IRGC as an institution, the effect becomes ambiguous. If the war increases U.S. dependence on the Israeli logic of escalation, Washington loses room for maneuver. If U.S. regional partners begin to fear not only Iran, but also the unpredictability of American-Israeli actions, the entire alliance system becomes nervous.
Iran, for its part, uses the Israeli factor as an ideological amplifier. For Tehran, the war with Israel and the United States is not two separate lines, but one unified narrative of resistance. This allows the regime to bind domestic repression, external mobilization, religious rhetoric, and national sovereignty into a single political package. The wider the front of the war, the easier it is for Tehran to argue that the issue is not a nuclear deal, but the existence of the state.
This is the danger of a prolonged war: it radicalizes every participant. Israel demands guarantees Iran is not prepared to give. Iran demands recognition and compensation the United States is not prepared to accept. The United States demands restrictions that Tehran considers capitulation. Every step that was supposed to bring the end closer becomes an argument for continuing.
The Chinese Shadow: Why Washington No Longer Controls the Whole Chessboard
Another difference between the current crisis and earlier U.S.-Iranian rounds is the role of China. For Beijing, the conflict around Iran is not only a Middle Eastern problem. It is about energy, trade, global inflation, the security of sea lanes, competition with the United States, and the opportunity to show that Washington is no longer capable of managing crises single-handedly. According to recent reports, President Trump’s trip to China is taking place against the backdrop of the Iranian crisis, while markets are assessing even diplomatic signals between Washington and Beijing through the prism of possible de-escalation.
Iran understands this. The more the conflict affects the global economy, the more states want not an American victory, but an end to turbulence. This gives Tehran diplomatic space. It may be under sanctions, isolated, and economically exhausted, but if its actions can drive up global energy prices and disrupt maritime trade, it remains a player that must be taken into account.
In this sense, Iran’s bet is simple: outlast America’s political patience and wait until external players begin pressuring not only Tehran, but also Washington. Europeans will fear the energy consequences. China will calculate the costs to trade. The Persian Gulf states will fear the transformation of the region into a permanent risk zone. American consumers will look at gasoline prices. Financial markets will demand predictability. And the longer the crisis lasts, the more the question “how do we punish Iran?” will be replaced by the question “how do we stop the damage?”
Why Tehran Believes It Can Outlast Trump
The Iranian system knows how to endure. That is not a compliment, but a political fact. It has survived the war with Iraq, international isolation, sanctions, mass protests, assassinations of high-ranking figures, economic degradation, currency collapse, and social fatigue. This does not mean it is eternal. But it does mean that betting on its rapid collapse is extremely risky.
President Trump operates in political time. He needs results, approval ratings, the effect of strength, and control over the domestic agenda. The Iranian regime operates in siege mode. Its horizon is different. It can allow society to suffer if it believes the alternative is political death. It can sell poverty to the population as resistance. It can suppress protests as enemy operations. It can explain inflation as the result of war. It can turn sanctions into proof of its own righteousness.
In addition, Iran sees Trump’s weak points. For an American president, high gasoline prices are not a foreign policy detail, but a domestic threat. Inflation is not an economic term, but an electoral danger. A prolonged war is not simply a military operation, but a political trap. Especially if it does not deliver a quick victory, has no clear end, and reminds American society every day of the cost of a foreign adventure.
That is why Tehran may believe that time is not working only against it. Yes, its economy is suffering. Yes, sanctions are destructive. Yes, blockade and strikes are dangerous. But if the war simultaneously hits the American consumer, global markets, U.S. allies, and Trump’s political reputation, then endurance becomes a weapon. The war turns into a contest not of armies, but of nervous systems.
Iran’s Overconfidence: The Second Source of Catastrophe
But it would be a mistake to portray Iran exclusively as a cold-blooded strategist. Tehran has its own dangerous illusion as well. The hard-line circles of the Islamic Republic may overestimate the strength of their cards. Hormuz is a powerful lever, but excessive pressure on global energy could turn against Iran not only the United States, but also those players that today do not want American escalation. China, India, Europeans, and the Persian Gulf states are all interested in stable routes. If Tehran crosses the line, it risks turning potential mediators into irritated opponents.
There is also an internal danger. The regime can suppress the opposition, but it cannot endlessly cancel social reality. Hyperinflation, unemployment, declining living standards, shortages, war fatigue, repression, internet restrictions, deaths - none of this disappears from society. It accumulates. An external war can temporarily mobilize, but if it becomes endless, mobilization turns into exhaustion.
The hard line often makes its greatest mistake precisely when it begins to treat its own resilience as proof of invulnerability. Iran can survive pressure, but that does not mean it can endlessly expand the conflict without consequences. It can blackmail the world with Hormuz, but it cannot fully control the global reaction. It can hope to outlast Trump, but it cannot guarantee that another escalation will not lead to a strike after which no one will be able to stop.
That is why the current situation is dangerous because of double overconfidence. Washington believes force will compel Iran to yield. Tehran believes the price of war will force the United States to retreat. Both sides may be partly right. And both may be fatally wrong.
Negotiations Are Still Possible, but the Old Deal Will Not Return
Formally, the diplomatic path is not closed. Moreover, precisely because the war is becoming too costly, negotiations may return. But they will no longer be negotiations held in the old atmosphere. After strikes, the deaths of leaders, threats, blockade, Hormuz, the oil shock, and public humiliation, both sides will bargain not only over the clauses of an agreement, but also over the symbolism of victory.
The United States will need to show that Iran has been constrained, that its nuclear program has been placed under control, that shipping has been restored, and that American power has worked. Iran will need to show that it has not capitulated, that it has preserved its technological potential, secured the lifting of some sanctions, gained recognition of its rights, and forced Washington to speak to it as an equal. These two political needs are difficult to reconcile, but not impossible.
The likely formula, if it emerges at all, will resemble not capitulation, but a painful exchange: phased restoration of shipping, limits on enrichment, enhanced inspections, partial unfreezing of assets, sanctions relief, security guarantees for maritime routes, regional consultations, and an end to public rhetoric about regime change. But such a formula requires something from Trump that is politically difficult for him: admitting that maximum pressure did not produce maximum victory.
Iran will also have to make concessions. But a concession is possible only if it is packaged as a victory of resistance, not as defeat. That is why the language of negotiations will matter almost as much as their substance. Words like “capitulation,” “dismantlement,” “punishment,” and “regime change” kill diplomacy before it even begins. Words like “limitations,” “guarantees,” “phasing,” “sovereignty,” and “security of navigation” create room for bargaining.
For now, however, both sides are speaking a language that leads to another war.
Why a Long War Is Now More Likely Than a Quick Victory
A long war is becoming likely not because someone necessarily wants it. It is becoming likely because all sides have already invested too much in their own maximalist positions. Trump cannot easily retreat without looking weak. Iran cannot easily concede without looking broken. Israel cannot calmly accept a partial deal if it believes that deal leaves Tehran with nuclear potential. America’s regional allies fear Iran, but they also fear a war that would destroy the economic predictability of the Persian Gulf.
This is how a conflict is born that no one fully controls. A ceasefire becomes a pause, not peace. Negotiations become a stage for mutual accusations. Markets become a barometer of fear. Hormuz becomes a lever of pressure. Strikes become a way to maintain reputation. Sanctions become a substitute for strategy. And diplomacy turns into an attempt to catch up with events that have already moved ahead.
In such a war, there is no elegant exit. There are only bad options and even worse ones. Continuing the strikes may destroy more facilities, but strengthen Tehran’s resolve. A full blockade may strangle the economy, but blow up energy markets. Regime change may sound attractive to hawks, but no one knows who or what would come afterward. Compromise may stop escalation, but it will be presented by Trump’s opponents as defeat. Iran’s unconditional capitulation looks unlikely, while America’s unconditional retreat is politically impossible.
That is why the conflict is entering its most dangerous phase: a war of attrition, where victory ceases to be a clear category. The winner is not the one who looks stronger on the map, but the one who can withstand pressure longer. Not the one with more aircraft, but the one better able to absorb pain. Not the one who speaks more loudly about strength, but the one who knows how to turn crisis into a resource.
America Is Walking in the Dark Again
The strongest metaphor in the original text is the image of America once again walking through the Middle East in the dark. It is an extremely precise description. Washington acts powerfully, loudly, and expensively, but it does not always clearly understand where the exit is. It knows what it does not want: an Iranian bomb, a closed Hormuz, the humiliation of allies, the growing influence of the IRGC. But it has not convincingly formulated what exactly it wants instead, or what political order it is prepared to recognize after the war ends.
If the goal is to limit the nuclear program, a deal is needed. If the goal is regime change, an entirely different strategy is needed, with enormous risks and unpredictable consequences. If the goal is to open Hormuz, an international coalition and a diplomatic mechanism are needed. If the goal is to punish Iran, then the war can continue indefinitely, but punishment is not the same as a solution. Right now, all these goals are mixed together. That is why there is a sense of strategic darkness.
Iran is also walking in the dark. Its toughness may bring tactical dividends, but it may also lead to a catastrophic collision. Hormuz may provide leverage, but it may also provoke an international reaction. The nuclear threshold may provide deterrence, but it may also trigger another strike. Internal mobilization may strengthen the regime, but it may also turn into an explosion of exhaustion. A regime that believes it has nothing to lose sometimes begins risking what it still has left.
But at this moment, it is the United States that looks like the side that underestimated the depth of the trap. It began the conflict as pressure on Iran and ended up facing pressure on itself. It wanted to speak from a position of absolute strength, but now has to take into account oil prices, inflation, China, allies, Hormuz, and the political fatigue of its own society. It wanted to force Tehran to choose between concession and destruction, only to discover that Iran can offer a third option: dragging out the war long enough for destruction to become a shared problem.
An Ending Without an Ending: Why the Main Question Is No Longer Victory, but Price
A long war with Iran will not look like a classic campaign with a clear start date and end date. It will consist of pauses, strikes, threats, oil spikes, secret talks, public insults, regional attacks, diplomatic mediators, and the constant risk of collapse. It will exhaust everyone, but in different ways. Iran economically and socially. The United States politically and strategically. Allies through fear. Markets through uncertainty. The world through the realization that one narrow strait can hold the global economy hostage.
That is why the question “why is the United States moving toward a long war with Iran?” has a hard answer. Because Washington entered the conflict without an agreed final objective. Because maximum pressure destroyed trust in compromise. Because Iran’s hard-liners received proof of their own correctness. Because Hormuz turned a regional war into a global economic crisis. Because President Trump wants results faster than reality can deliver them. Because Tehran believes it can outlast the American political system. Because both sides have invested too much in the rhetoric of strength to easily return to the language of concessions.
This does not mean peace is impossible. But it does mean that peace will now cost more. For the United States, it will require abandoning the illusion of capitulation. For Iran, abandoning the illusion of blackmail without consequences. For Israel, recognizing that a military strike cannot replace a political architecture. For the international community, being prepared not merely to watch the crisis, but to build a mechanism to contain it.
For now, however, the logic is different. America is making noise in the dark. Iran is answering from the dark. Hormuz is tightening around the throat of the global economy. Oil is becoming the nerve of politics. And the war that was supposed to show the limits of Tehran’s power is increasingly showing the limits of Washington’s strategy.