Tehran downbeat after Geneva talks, pins hopes on Oman mediation

As Donald Trump’s 10-to-15-day deadline for a “meaningful” deal with Iran enters its decisive phase, Iranian officials appear to be reframing diplomacy as a commercial opportunity rather than a strategic concession.

The Financial Times reported on February 26—as talks were underway in Geneva—that Tehran had offered access to major energy and mineral resources in an effort to steer Washington away from military escalation.

This is a shrewd pitch to the current White House. Trump has long favored foreign-policy outcomes he can present as concrete transactions, and Iran appears to be speaking directly to that instinct.

By holding out the prospect of access to one of the world’s largest underdeveloped energy systems, Tehran is trying to make de-escalation look like a win for American business rather than a concession to an adversary. It is hoping that profit would help create a future constituency for restraint in the United States.

In that sense, the proposal is about more than upstream contracts. It is an effort to reshape Washington’s political calculus.

Iran can make such a pitch because the underlying resource base is genuinely exceptional.

According to the US Energy Information Administration, Iran holds the world’s third-largest proven crude oil reserves and the second-largest proven natural gas reserves. The agency’s most recent country brief notes that full sanctions relief could raise output significantly within months.

Most of Iran’s crude and condensate exports already go to China, underscoring both the scale of the prize and the distortions created by sanctions. Tehran is trying to turn geological weight into diplomatic leverage at a moment of vulnerability.

That is also why the offer should be treated with caution. A regime confident that time is on its side does not place strategic sectors in front of an American president who is openly threatening it.

Trump has warned that “bad things” will happen if no meaningful deal is reached within roughly two weeks. The third round of talks ended without agreement, and major gaps remain over the terms of any settlement. The offer is being made because the central dispute remains unresolved, not because it is close to resolution.

On February 25, the US Treasury sanctioned more than 30 individuals, entities, and vessels tied to Iran’s shadow fleet and networks supporting ballistic-missile and advanced weapons procurement.

That is not the legal environment in which American firms begin planning long-term upstream projects. Even if some restrictions were waived, companies would still face compliance risks, financing obstacles, insurance complications, and the danger that any opening could be reversed by the next administration.

For corporate boards, Iran is not simply a market with upside. It is a sanctions minefield. American firms may also remember how quickly Iranian openings can collapse.

During the JCPOA window, Boeing signed a $16.6 billion agreement to sell 80 aircraft to IranAir, widely seen as a symbol of potential commercial normalization. The reimposition of sanctions after Washington left the nuclear deal turned that optimism into a lesson in sovereign and political risk.

Nor is the Venezuela analogy reassuring. Exxon chief Darren Woods was reported to have called the country “uninvestable” without major legal reforms even after Washington encouraged US companies to return.

If Venezuela appears risky even with direct US political backing, Iran looks far more uncertain.

Iranian officials have said they did not offer to suspend enrichment and that the United States did not explicitly demand zero enrichment in earlier exchanges. Yet Washington’s broader position remains that any agreement must prevent Iran from moving toward a nuclear weapon.

Reuters reported on February 26 that the United States is still seeking strict caps on enrichment and stockpiles, while the Associated Press said Iran remains resistant to shipping enriched uranium abroad.

This is not a minor technical disagreement. No serious US company is likely to regard Iran as bankable while that gulf exists. Investors move when the political architecture is credible, not when it is still being contested in Geneva hotel rooms.

That is why Iran’s “commercial bonanza” matters as leverage but not yet as policy. It is a sophisticated attempt to buy time, flatter Trump’s instincts, and raise the perceived cost of escalation by dangling future profits before Washington.

It may help preserve diplomacy for another round and give the White House an off-ramp it can market as commercially rational rather than strategically soft. But it is not a breakthrough. Oil and mining rights alone cannot override sanctions law, congressional hostility, nuclear mistrust, or the coercive logic that still governs US policy toward Iran.

Tehran is offering treasure. The problem is that the minefield around it remains fully intact.

With officials apparently convinced that the Geneva talks would not satisfy Washington’s demands over Tehran’s nuclear and missile programs, the government rallied more than 500 Iranians—described as celebrities, academics and public figures—to sign a letter headlined “No to War.”

Many signatories were reformist figures of varying prominence, along with individuals whom Iranian lawyer Hassan Assadi Zeidabadi described in a post on X as “employees of the President’s Office, advisers to cabinet ministers, and staff of state-owned companies and government funds presented as political activists.” He called the initiative deceptive.

Published by the government-owned Iran newspaper and echoed by other outlets, the letter urged the public to press foreign powers to halt any planned attack before it materializes.

The appeal for restraint did not stem the flow of bravado from Iranian politicians and military commanders.

Former Foreign Minister Manouchehr Mottaki addressed the United States using slang associated with Tehran’s street toughs (jahel)—a coded signal that “this time, we mean it.” His remarks were widely mocked online.

Hardline MP, Abolfazl Zohrehvand, warned Washington against targeting Khamenei or his son in coarse language. Only days earlier, he had declared: “Trump is not brave enough to attack Iran.”

As the Geneva talks began, several outlets openly acknowledged the risk of conflict.

The official IRNA news agency wrote that “if the negotiations fail, the situation will move toward dangerous ambiguity and a possible military conflict,” adding that “successful negotiation in Geneva is the only way to prevent a new war.”

Headlines in IRNA and Fararu were blunt: “If we do not reach an agreement today, we will be moving toward war.”

Later on Thursday, Oman’s foreign minister, Badr Albusaidi, announced that the third round of talks had concluded and would resume next week in Vienna.

Axios reported, citing a source familiar with the discussions, that chief US negotiators Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner were “disappointed” by what they heard from Iran’s foreign minister during the morning session.

'At any price'

Meanwhile, economic outlets in Tehran spoke of “early alarms of high war risk.” Eghtesad News reported that traders were rushing to convert assets into foreign currency or gold “at any price” to hedge against a potential collapse in talks.

The unease spilled into consumer behavior. Iranians bought gas canisters, candles and emergency supplies amid fears of fuel shortages, power cuts or casualties. Fararu described the rush as a reflection of growing public anxiety.

Universities shifted classes online—officially to contain ongoing student protests, but also as a precaution against possible conflict. According to Nour News, even calm and remote provinces such as Yazd were affected.

Even Kayhan, closely aligned with Khamenei and typically focused on projecting stability, acknowledged that reports of US aircraft carrier deployments had unsettled public sentiment.

Still, it insisted that “although some 40,000 US troops have been deployed to the region, Iran is capable of inflicting serious harm on Israel and the United States, even at high cost.”

​​The oscillation between alarm and defiance points to a system projecting strength while betraying unease—an establishment at once threatening war and visibly anxious about it.

Air superiority is a military condition; regime change is a political outcome. When it comes to discussing imminent American strikes on Iran, people often confuse the two, as if one automatically causes the other. It does not. If anything, Israel’s 2023-25 experiences in Iran, Lebanon and Syria have shown that modern air campaigns can be extraordinarily effective at damaging an adversary’s defensive structures, yet still leave an opponent intact but bloodied, paranoid, and still wielding the coercive machinery that matters.

The Israeli campaign in last summer’s 12 Day War was bold precisely because it did not rely solely on aircraft. It combined waves of targeted strikes with covert sabotage, attacking radar, air defence systems, missile sites, and key individuals in rapid succession, aiming to undermine the regime’s sense of security and its capacity to coordinate a response. That brief conflict highlighted the hybrid nature of Israel’s actions: kinetic operations intertwined with cyber and information effects, intended to disorient command structures as much as to destroy hardware. That combination is exactly why people now discuss toppling the Islamic Republic as if it is merely a matter of scaling up what Israel already demonstrated. However, that conclusion overlooks the fact that Iran learns.

A regime that survives decapitation attempts does not remain unchanged. It adapts, strengthens, disperses, and develops redundancy and pre-planned succession. It modifies communication patterns and no longer appears as a neatly presented target on a staff officer’s PowerPoint slide. After the 2025 strikes, Iran’s senior military leaders publicly acknowledged damage to air defence assets and claimed they had been replaced with systems that were already stored and pre-positioned. On the one hand, this was an admission of vulnerability disguised as a sign of institutional resilience; on the other, it reveals how the regime perceives the next war: not as a single decisive encounter, but as multiple rounds of punishment, where merely surviving becomes a form of victory.

The United States can almost certainly achieve freedom of movement in Iranian airspace. America’s suppression and destruction of enemy air defences exemplify refined and developed capabilities. The question is what that freedom achieves politically, and how long the US can sustain its acquisition.

Begin with the straightforward aspect: the air defence challenge. Iran’s defences are not a single impenetrable dome. They comprise a mix of systems of Russian origin, such as the S-300, domestically developed systems like Bavar-373, and a patchwork of other sensors and missile systems, whose effectiveness relies on proper integration and resilient command and control. Israel’s advantage in 2025 was the capability to disrupt that integration from the start, including through covert operations targeting air defence infrastructure timed to coincide with strikes. As a consequence of Israel’s conflict, the regime will relocate launchers, expand radar coverage, reconfigure software, assume networks are compromised, and operate with that understanding.

This adaptation will not be limited to air defence. The more important story is how Tehran might try to impose costs where US air superiority does not automatically guarantee control: at sea, through proxies, cyber means, and escalation politics. It was reported this week that Iran is approaching a deal to purchase Chinese CM302 supersonic anti-ship cruise missiles. These systems are explicitly designed to challenge naval defences by flying low and fast, and are difficult to intercept. Even if that agreement takes time to finalise, the overall trend is clear: Iran does not need to defeat US airpower to complicate an American campaign; it just needs to make the theatre more dangerous and costly.

That leads me to the often-overlooked aspect: the regime is more than just a few visible leaders. It is a complex network of institutions designed to withstand leadership changes: security services, intelligence agencies, the IRGC’s economic backing, local enforcement bodies, and structures that uphold clerical legitimacy. The Israelis demonstrated they could penetrate deeply and eliminate senior figures, but that very success will drive the remaining cadre underground. For a targeted elite, “not being found” becomes the primary goal. Survival then becomes the measure of their success, and as a result, time becomes their greatest asset.

A fantasy of a rapid collapse clashes with the reality of authoritarian resilience. Authoritarian regimes often plan to outlast their opponents’ attention spans. The regime only needs to endure. The US system, by contrast, is highly sensitive to time: news cycles, polling, congressional chatter, and election schedules. AP-NORC polling this month illustrates this tension well: many Americans see Iran as an adversary and are worried about its nuclear programme, but confidence in President Trump’s judgment on the use of military force is low. That presents a political limitation. It indicates that if the regime does not fall quickly, Washington’s idea of “success” will likely shift from winning outright to “degrading capabilities” and declaring the mission complete.

There are also practical constraints. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs has warned internally about munitions depletion and the complexities of any major Iran operation, highlighting strained stockpiles from other commitments and the difficulty of maintaining extended operations at scale. The US can strike what it wants,but “as long as it wants” is a different assertion, and one that depends on production lines, allied basing, and the willingness of partners to accept retaliation risks. Even if none of these constraints is decisive on its own, collectively they influence the one variable the regime cares about most: duration.

The most likely endgame is not necessarily a liberal revolution with a clear transition plan. A regime can change leadership while remaining deeply repressive. Venezuela serves as a clear warning, demonstrating how minimal leadership change can be when coercive forces and patronage networks remain in place. An Iranian version could simply be a reshuffle that removes some problematic figures, makes symbolic gestures towards de-escalation, and offers Washington a deal aligned with the US electoral cycle.

The alternative is just as troubling. A forced decapitation could result in fragmentation: competing power centres seeking legitimacy, security forces hedging their bets, commanders becoming warlords, and loyalists fighting a counter-revolution in the name of the old order. Civil conflict is not guaranteed, but it remains a risk we must take seriously. Even if a new governing coalition is formed, it might spend its first years fighting remnants of the Islamic Republic’s security forces or, more likely, integrating them in exchange for impunity. Either way, the Iranian people risk being caught between continuity and chaos, neither of which is the moral victory often implied by Western rhetoric.

Iran’s retaliation options are not limited to shooting down aircraft. Tehran can deploy asymmetric means: missile and drone strikes on regional infrastructure, harassment of shipping, blocking the Strait of Hormuz, cyber operations, and proxy violence. It is reported that Iranian military figures have warned of a shift away from “restrained retaliation” in response to any US attack, including the possibility of targeting US assets in the Persian Gulf region. The point is not that Iran can defeat the United States militarily (it cannot), but that it can force Washington to defend a broad perimeter while undertaking an air campaign, and that it can do so in ways that increase the risk of miscalculation and escalation.

There are even darker escalation pathways. If the regime believes it is facing extinction, it might choose options it would normally avoid because they could provoke catastrophic retaliation. We must seriously consider the logic of a cornered state: if the leadership believes the end is near, the temptation to shock, terrorise, or internationalise the conflict increases, or even deploy chemical or biological weapons. The best approach is through deterrence and risk management, but nonetheless, it remains a vital part of the strategic landscape that any serious planner must evaluate.

US military planning will expect sustained, weeks-long operations against Iran if the president orders an attack, on a scale far beyond a one-night “message strike”. Whether this becomes reality depends not only on military feasibility but also on how quickly the White House can turn bombing into a genuine political collapse inside Iran. If that collapse does not materialise, the Trump administration will be tempted to limit objectives: target nuclear and missile infrastructure, punish command nodes, then cease while claiming victory, leaving the regime bruised but still standing. This temptation grows with each week the regime survives, as every additional week of operations turns a war plan into a domestic political liability.

The military outcome of a strike campaign is never uncertain if the question is whether the United States can destroy what it can locate. The more difficult question is whether destroying what they find leads to the political results Washington desires. Airpower can coerce, degrade, terrify, and even trigger internal collapse if the regime is already decaying and an alternative power is ready to take advantage. However, decades of such operations show that air campaigns do not create legitimacy, govern territory, or shape the internal deals that determine who rules when the bombs cease. Aerial dominance does not equate to lasting political control, and “victory” defined solely in terms of target destruction often results in complex, long-term instability.

These are the risks. That said, it is entirely possible that the planned campaign will achieve great success and will lead to a smooth transition to a democratic and free Iran. This is not out of the question. However, the regime has learned that survival is the key to success, and it will now organise itself around staying alive rather than appearing strong. It can adapt tactically more quickly than Western publics can respond emotionally. It can raise costs without securing victory, and even if Washington can destroy the tools of Iranian power from the air, it cannot simply bomb its way to a clean succession.

The United States will be able to break Iranian capabilities. Whether it can break the regime’s grip, and what, exactly, replaces it if it does, is the part that should keep us skeptical of anyone guaranteeing a short war with a neat ending.

For forty-seven years, the Islamic Republic has anchored Iran to an ideology that promised dignity and independence but delivered isolation, economic decay and recurring crisis. What began as a revolutionary project hardened into a theocratic system sustained by confrontation abroad and repression at home.

Today, that closed strategic loop appears to be under strain.

January marked what many observers describe as a point of rupture. Security forces killed, wounded and arrested thousands during a nationwide crackdown whose brutality shocked even a society long accustomed to state violence.

The state crossed a political and social threshold, relying more visibly than ever on coercion to maintain control. Whatever legitimacy the regime ever claimed has gone.

Iran now faces a convergence of pressures: economic exhaustion, widespread public frustration, continued international isolation and a credible threat of force from the United States. The familiar formula—delay and deflect diplomatically, escalate through regional partners and expand military capabilities—no longer guarantees stability.

At the center of this crisis lies ideological overreach that has become financially burdensome and strategically counterproductive.

Tens of billions of dollars (or over $100 billion if we consider the entire economic burden) have been invested in uranium enrichment to preserve what officials describe as a “nuclear option.” Rather than delivering security, this path has triggered successive rounds of sanctions and intensified isolation.

Billions more have gone into hardened missile infrastructure and underground facilities designed to project deterrence beyond Iran’s borders.

Supporters call these systems defensive; critics see them as instruments of coercion that have deepened confrontation without producing durable stability.

The same logic shaped Tehran’s network of allied militias across the Middle East. Built to extend influence and encircle adversaries, this proxy architecture was intended to provide strategic depth at relatively low cost. Instead, it has drawn Iran into repeated confrontations with militaries vastly more powerful than its own and entrenched a cycle of escalation.

At home, the Revolutionary Guard and Basij remain the state’s primary instruments of control. Their central mission has increasingly been the suppression of domestic unrest.

Each protest wave met with force further widens the gap between state and society.Continued reliance on coercion risks destabilizing Iranian society and the wider region.

Meanwhile, the United States has shifted into what appears to be a posture of sustained coercive pressure. Strike aircraft supported by aerial tankers; strategic bombers waiting at home to embark on global strike missions; intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) aircraft; layered air and missile defenses, and a reinforced naval presence including two carrier strike groups near critical waterways signal both capability and resolve.

Washington now possesses credible means to target Iran’s air defenses, command structures, missile forces, naval assets and military and nuclear industries for major effects without repeating the large-scale ground wars of the past.

The message, however, is not that war is inevitable. Rather, it is that Iran’s long-standing brinkmanship strategy may be reaching its limits. It is time for Tehran to decide. This does not necessarily mean surrender, but strategic realism.

In 1988, after eight devastating years of war with Iraq, the Islamic Republic’s founder and first supreme leader Ruhollah Khomeini accepted a ceasefire he described as “drinking from poisonous chalice.” The decision was politically humiliating for many within the revolutionary establishment, yet it prevented further destruction and preserved the state.

Iran may now confront a comparable moment of transformation. Accepting strategic capitulation would not necessarily mean dismantling the state or abandoning national defense. It would mean relinquishing powers and institutions, such as IRGC and Basij, that have contributed to oppression and prolonged isolation, halting uranium enrichment, placing missile programs under verifiable constraints, severing relations with proxy militias as instruments of foreign policy and ending existential rhetoric toward regional adversaries.

In return, Iran could pursue what many of its citizens have long sought: economic recovery, sanctions relief and diplomatic normalization.

Yet, after the events of January 2026, those gains alone may not satisfy public expectations. A growing segment of Iranian society is demanding fundamental political change and a credible path toward secular democracy and free elections in Iran.

The alternative is military attrition layered atop economic fragility and domestic unrest. Infrastructure would degrade further. Isolation would deepen. Public anger would intensify. Repression might temporarily contain dissent but would likely compound long-term instability.

History is ruthless with rulers who mistake ideological stubbornness for strength.

Those ruling Iran still have a narrowing window to prioritize real national interests over ideological expansion. Durable power rests not only in centrifuge halls and missile tunnels, but in legitimacy, prosperity and social cohesion.

For decades, the Islamic Republic framed confrontation as strength and resistance as destiny. Now the shadow of war hangs over Iran. Whether it chooses a peaceful concession of power or renewed escalation with unforeseen consequences may determine not only its own future, but the trajectory of the country and the nation it currently governs.

The path less treacherous for Iran appears clear: stepping back from confrontation and allowing Iranians to choose their future, even if that means the end of an era for those ruling the country.

Negotiators are set to meet in Geneva on Thursday in discussions that could prove decisive, particularly if reports are accurate that Washington has set informal deadlines for progress.

Public messaging inside Iran reflects both anticipation and unease as officials brace for what could be a pivotal round.

Late Tuesday, just before departing for Geneva, Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi struck an optimistic tone.

“We have a historic opportunity to strike an unprecedented agreement that addresses mutual concerns and achieves mutual interests,” he wrote on X. “A deal is within reach, but only if diplomacy is given priority.”

Government-aligned newspapers such as Iran and Etemad described the talks as “an exit route for both sides” and “the last resort to prevent military confrontation.” The phrasing carried urgency — and an implicit acknowledgment of rising stakes.

At the same time, outlets close to security circles worked to downplay the prospect of imminent war.

Tabnak, run by a former IRGC commander, and Nour News, affiliated with senior adviser Ali Shamkhani, dismissed Western reporting on possible US military action as “media terrorism inspired by Trump’s manifesto in The Art of the Deal.” The suggestion was clear: Washington’s threats are part of a pressure campaign, not a prelude to attack.

The heightened tone followed President Donald Trump’s State of the Union address, in which he referenced Iran’s nuclear and missile programs — remarks that reverberated quickly across Iranian media and political circles.

Other commentary reflected a careful hedge. Fararu and Iranian Diplomacy, which is close to the Foreign Ministry, outlined potential military scenarios—from limited symbolic strikes to targeted attacks on infrastructure or senior officials—but argued that the cost of escalation makes a prolonged conflict unlikely.

Official rhetoric has remained firm. ISNA reported that Iran warned the United Nations it would “respond swiftly to any aggression,” including attacks on “all assets and military bases of belligerent parties in the region,” which Tehran would treat as legitimate targets.

Yet markets betrayed public sensitivity to the tension. The dollar climbed to 1,660,000 rials amid the renewed uncertainty.

Among the more measured assessments was an article in Fararu by Mohsen Jalilvand, who argued that “there will be no war,” and that the likelihood of regional countries joining a confrontation is “near zero.”

Still, he acknowledged the impasse. “There is a wide gap between the demands of the two sides,” he wrote, warning that even if sanctions were lifted immediately, “it would take at least 15 years for the country to return to normal conditions.”

His closing note captured the broader sentiment: “We cannot afford excessive optimism.”