MoU's forgotten casualty is the Iranian people

Paragraph 2 of the MOU effectively enshrines the abandonment of the Iranian people by committing both sides to "refrain from interfering in each other's internal affairs."

This clause stands in direct contrast to many of President Trump's previous statements regarding the Iranian people and his repeated condemnations of the regime's brutality.

In 2017, Trump described Iranians as "a proud people" forced to submit to extremist rule. In 2018, he tweeted: "Such respect for the people of Iran as they try to take back their corrupt government. You will see great support from the United States at the appropriate time!"

Following the June 2025 strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities, he posted: "If the current Iranian Regime is unable to MAKE IRAN GREAT AGAIN, why wouldn't there be a Regime change? MIGA."

In January 2026, he urged Iranians to continue protesting and "take over your institutions," adding that "help is on its way." The following month, during major opposition demonstrations, he again appealed directly to Iranians: "When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take."

Today, however, the MOU represents a dramatic reversal of those positions. The agreement abandons a population Trump repeatedly encouraged to reclaim its country and signals that the United States is no longer willing to support internal pressure against the regime.

The contrast is particularly striking because it comes after a period in which Iran was arguably more vulnerable than at any point in decades.

Following military setbacks, economic pressure and growing domestic dissatisfaction, the regime faced mounting challenges both externally and internally. Yet rather than using that leverage to pursue broader political change, Washington appears to have chosen accommodation.

Trump now speaks of Iran's leaders as "very smart" and "strong," describing them as pragmatic negotiating partners. According to PBS NewsHour, a US official said Iran would be rewarded for "acting like a normal country."

That raises a fundamental question: after 47 years of repression, terrorism, hostage-taking, regional destabilization and the deaths of many Americans linked to Iran and its proxy network, is Tehran now being offered normalization without accountability?

The agreement appears poised to provide sanctions relief, access to frozen assets and expanded oil sales. Much of that oil is likely to flow to China. Additional revenue could strengthen the IRGC, reinforce domestic repression and increase support for armed allies such as Hezbollah and Hamas.

Supporters of the agreement argue that diplomacy is preferable to conflict and that negotiated limits are better than perpetual confrontation. Yet history suggests that agreements with the Islamic Republic are only as effective as the enforcement mechanisms behind them and the willingness to use them.

If substantial benefits are delivered before key obligations are fully verified, leverage disappears while risks increase.

This concern is not new. When President Obama declined to support Iran's Green Movement following the disputed 2009 election, many critics viewed the decision as both a betrayal of democratic values and a missed strategic opportunity to weaken the regime from within.

The current debate echoes many of the same arguments. But what Trump has done may prove even more consequential.

After authorizing actions that significantly degraded Iran's nuclear infrastructure, ballistic missile capabilities and military assets, he achieved what many previous administrations were unwilling or unable to attempt.

Yet by rapidly transitioning from maximum pressure to accommodation, he risks transforming a major tactical victory into a strategic mistake.

At the moment Iran appeared most vulnerable and many Iranians seemed most willing to challenge the regime, the United States chose not to prioritize support for opposition movements or increase pressure on the IRGC from within.

Whether such efforts would have succeeded is unknowable, but abandoning them entirely removed a source of leverage that would have, at the very least, strengthened America's negotiating position.

A different strategy would have required a sustained effort to explain to the American people why supporting the aspirations of ordinary Iranians serves both value-based American principles and long-term US security interests.

Genuine stability in the Middle East is unlikely to emerge solely from agreements with authoritarian rulers. Lasting stability comes when governments enjoy legitimacy among their own populations, especially populations that are likely to be among the most pro-American in the Muslim world.

Instead, the administration chose strategic impatience. In doing so, it not only disheartened many Iranians who hoped for greater international support, but also created uncertainty among Gulf allies and Israel.

Several regional and foreign-policy experts argue that Persian Gulf states may now reassess the reliability of American security guarantees and adapt accordingly.

The art of diplomacy is not surrendering hard-won leverage before a final agreement is fully negotiated and enforceable.

A 60-day ceasefire could easily become months of inconclusive negotiations while Iran replenishes its finances, strengthens the IRGC, suppresses domestic dissent and supports regional proxies.

But one thing is already clear: the agreement's most overlooked consequence is not what it says about centrifuges, missiles or sanctions. It is what it says about the people of Iran and American assurances.

For years, American leaders, including President Trump, spoke of supporting Iranians seeking freedom from Islamist authoritarian rule. The MOU signals a different set of priorities.

By pledging noninterference in Iran's internal affairs while offering the regime a pathway toward normalization and economic relief, Washington appears to have chosen engagement with Tehran over support for political change.

Whether that choice ultimately produces peace or merely postpones a larger confrontation remains to be seen. But for millions of Iranians who believed the United States stood with them against their oppressors, the message of this agreement is unmistakable: they are now largely on their own.

They treated Tehran’s subversion as a chronic illness, not a fatal one. The Arab states of the Persian Gulf opted for quiet diplomacy. Tehran opted for proxies and intimidation. This tense balance was always a house of cards.

That house has collapsed.

The recent war between the United States, Israel, and the Islamic Republic changed everything. It did more than degrade Iran’s military. It shattered a long diplomatic illusion. The regime is not just a disruptive actor. It is a direct existential threat. Specifically, it threatens the economic foundations and long-term stability of the Arab states of the Persian Gulf.

Look closely at the targets the regime chose. Before the war, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar all signaled a desire for peace. Some lobbied against escalation. Others kept direct lines open to Tehran. Qatar even acted as a mediator.

None of it mattered. Iranian missiles still struck Qatari LNG infrastructure. They targeted Riyadh, the Saudi capital. The United Arab Emirates, historically a vital economic lifeline for Iran, absorbed the most brutal strikes on its primary commercial hubs.

This was a calculated message. Goodwill is no shield when your economic success is the actual target. Tehran does not just view the Arab states of the Persian Gulf as geopolitical rivals. It views their development as an existential threat to its own legitimacy.

For decades, the regime blamed its economic misery on outside enemies. It preached permanent revolution and resistance. Yet, just across the water, the Arab states of the Persian Gulf chose a different path. They built world-class infrastructure, trade, and global growth.

This contrast is terrifying to the Islamic Republic. Ordinary Iranians look across the Persian Gulf and ask a dangerous question: Why does our country, with far greater natural resources, deliver nothing but poverty?

Tehran has no answer. It cannot match the economic model of its neighbors, so it resorts to economic vandalism. If the regime cannot build prosperity at home, it must destroy it next door to level the playing field.

This reality explains why the conflict has evolved beyond mere proxy warfare. The Arab states of the Persian Gulf are accustomed to dealing with asymmetric threats. They have managed Iranian-backed groups like Hezbollah, Iraqi militias, and the Houthis for years.

The current crisis targets something deeper. It is not a standard security dispute. It is a direct assault on the economic model of the Arab states of the Persian Gulf.

Look at the closure of the Strait of Hormuz. Tehran views this vital waterway as a geopolitical jugular. The regime knows that prosperity in the Persian Gulf relies on global investor confidence, open trade, and energy exports. By shutting the Strait, Tehran is holding the entire region's future hostage. If the Islamic Republic cannot climb out of its own economic grave, it will drag its neighbors down into it.

The old playbook is broken. De-escalation, mediation, and managed coexistence are no longer viable strategies. They hold diplomatic utility, but they cannot replace a core security doctrine. The regime proved it will eagerly strike the very neighbors who tried to contain the flames.

The Arab states of the Persian Gulf are confronting a reality they long sought to defer. The Islamic Republic is not a wild animal that can be tamed or managed indefinitely. It is a systemic threat. History shows that treating an expansionist power as a mere management problem only invites more aggressive escalation.

This shift does not require a reckless rush to war. It does mean the Arab states of the Persian Gulf can no longer remain passive observers while others carry the burden. The United States and Israel have already initiated a confrontation. The implications extend far beyond the regime's nuclear ambitions. Leaving this conflict unfinished is highly dangerous. It merely hands Tehran a life support system, giving it time to recover, rebuild, and repeat its destructive cycles.

A deeper transformation is also underway. The strategic interests of key Arab states of the Persian Gulf now directly align with the aspirations of the Iranian people. The average Iranian derives no benefit from the regime’s foreign adventures. Instead, citizens pay the ultimate price through brutal domestic repression, systemic corruption, and engineered economic ruin. The regime behaves like an absentee landlord, burning its own house down for insurance money to fund foreign militias.

By now, the pattern is undeniable. The Islamic Republic’s hostility is not a temporary phase. It stems from a profound systemic insecurity. A neighborhood defined by stability, economic growth, and global integration acts as a mirror. It exposes the regime’s self-inflicted failures. Tehran simply cannot survive the comparison. The old assumptions are officially dead.

The Arab states of the Persian Gulf are not dealing with a conventional rival. They are facing an existential adversary. This adversary views their prosperity and international alignments as an active threat to its survival.

Neutrality is no longer a shield. The Arab states of the Persian Gulf cannot afford to be passive spectators while their future is decided by others. True security will not come from managing the threat from a distance. It will come from actively building a region where totalitarian vandalism can no longer sabotage human progress.

To achieve this, the Arab states of the Persian Gulf can mobilize three vital partners. The first is the Iranian people, who are eager to liberate themselves from their oppressors. The second is Israel, which faces the exact same existential threat but possesses advanced capabilities to directly confront the regime. The third is the United States, whose strategic support remains entirely irreplaceable.

The Arab monarchies of the Persian Gulf should actively coordinate with this triad, first behind the scenes and then openly. Together, they can finally bring down the Islamist regime in Tehran. Only after the Iranian people establish a representative government can the region breathe and find a true partner for peace, regional security, and shared prosperity in Iran.

The cadence of Trump’s remarks about Iran belongs less to the world of foreign policy than to the culture that shaped him long before politics did: New York real estate, tabloid combat, and public brinkmanship treated as performance art.

The comparison that comes closest may not come from diplomacy at all, but from David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross, that ruthless portrait of American real-estate sales culture, where power belongs not to the wisest man in the room, but to the most psychologically relentless.

In the film’s most famous scene appears Blake, the sleek corporate predator whose confidence and aggression are treated as forms of intelligence. He does not simply sell real estate. He sells power, status, and the fantasy of invulnerability itself.

Trump comes from that exact culture, though he did not invent it. He emerged from it.

It is difficult to understand Trump’s approach to Iran through the traditional frameworks of Republican foreign policy because Trump does not instinctively speak that language. He speaks the language of the deal, more specifically, the language of the New York deal.

To diplomats, consistency creates stability and ambiguity introduces risk. For Trump, unpredictability is leverage. Negotiation is a psychological contest in which pressure, timing, perception, and dominance become instruments of power.

One week, a deal appears close. The next, Tehran faces catastrophic consequences if it refuses American demands. To conventional policymakers, the reversals can appear chaotic. But those familiar with the culture of aggressive American salesmanship recognize the game: create urgency, destabilize expectations, project strength, keep the other side uncertain.

But Trump’s instincts are tied not only to commerce, but to performance.

The United States is approaching the 2026 FIFA World Cup, one of the largest international spectacles ever hosted on American soil. Beginning next June, the tournament will unfold across multiple cities before a global audience measured not in millions, but billions.

That context may help explain the curious patience embedded in some of his recent remarks on Iran.

In a Truth Social post on Sunday, Trump insisted negotiators should “not rush into a deal” because “time is on our side.” Pressure on Iran, he wrote, would remain in place until an agreement was “reached, certified, and signed.”

In other words: “get them to sign on the line which is dotted.”

The negotiations with Iran may therefore be less about immediate resolution than about the management of instability until after the World Cup final, a spectacle Trump instinctively understands.

A regional escalation or collapsing diplomatic process in the weeks leading up to the tournament would threaten precisely the atmosphere Trump values most: the image of American strength, prosperity, and control.

This does not mean the negotiations are insincere or a deal is impossible. But it does suggest observers should be cautious about interpreting every public signal as evidence of imminent breakthrough or collapse.

He is not fundamentally opposed to negotiation with Iran. On the contrary, he appears deeply attracted to the possibility of a grand bargain. What he seeks, however, is not simply a workable agreement, but a visible triumph dramatic enough to dominate headlines and simple enough to market politically.

This may be the most distinctly American dimension of Trump’s foreign policy: the belief that geopolitical success must also function as branding. Trump wants ownership of the moment as much as he wants a deal. He wants the image of resolution itself: Iran returning to the table, concessions publicly framed as victories, history compressed into a photograph.

But history rarely cooperates with theatrical instincts. Foreign policy does not bend as easily as commercial real-estate negotiation because nations are not distressed assets waiting to be restructured.

The Islamic Republic measures survival differently: absorbing pressure can itself become a form of victory.

Salesmanship can generate headlines, pressure, and even temporary breakthroughs. But there are crises in which personality eventually collides with structure. That may be the clearest lesson of Trump’s long and unfinished confrontation with Tehran.

The art of the deal becomes far more complicated when the other side sees the conflict as a question of historical survival, when the only thing both sides have in common is a profound sense of mistrust.

Whether there will be a hostile takeover after the World Cup remains unclear. But one does not need to be a geopolitical genius to recognize the underlying logic of pressure if one understands the culture from which Trump emerged.

As Blake says in Glengarry Glen Ross, “The only thing that counts in this life is to get them to sign on the line which is dotted.”

Over recent months, hardline clerics, parliamentarians, military figures and diplomats have all adopted a similar tone in speeches, television appearances and social media posts: projecting strength through intimidation.

Pro-government religious speakers have threatened domestic critics during large religious gatherings.

Mahmoud Nabavian, a senior lawmaker on parliament’s national security committee, warned Persian Gulf Arab rulers that “none of their palaces would remain intact” in the event of conflict.

Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi has spoken on social media of a “long and painful response” to Iran’s adversaries, while foreign ministry spokesman Esmail Baghaei has adopted similarly confrontational language in diplomatic briefings.

Judiciary chief Gholamhossein Mohseni Ejei has also framed Iran as unwilling to bow to outside pressure, while former Revolutionary Guards commander Hossein Kanaani Moghaddam openly described aggressive rhetoric as a method of confronting enemies.

The increasingly coordinated language across state institutions reflects what analysts describe as a deliberate political strategy rather than isolated remarks.

Religious tradition behind the rhetoric

The approach is rooted in a concept drawn from Islamic tradition that emphasizes victory through fear and intimidation.

The idea has historical and religious significance in parts of the Islamic Republic's revolutionary ideology and was widely used during the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s.

At that time, religious singers and propagandists used emotional chants and battlefield slogans to encourage Iranian fighters and intimidate opponents.

Those performances were largely limited to military fronts and ideological ceremonies.

The same style has now spread into nearly every branch of the Iranian state.

Diplomats increasingly use the language of confrontation rather than negotiation. Members of parliament issue military-style warnings instead of focusing on legislation and economic policy. Judicial officials speak in ideological slogans rather than legal terms.

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Even Iran’s negotiating teams often use the same tone heard in hardline religious gatherings, blurring the line between diplomacy, domestic propaganda and military messaging.

Pressure at home and abroad

The shift reflects the Islamic Republic’s weakening position rather than growing confidence.

Iran continues to face severe economic difficulties, including soaring inflation, unemployment, currency depreciation and repeated public protests.

The government has also struggled to ease international isolation or achieve major diplomatic breakthroughs despite years of regional confrontation.

Therefore, the aggressive rhetoric has become one of the few remaining ways for the leadership to project authority both domestically and internationally.

The strategy appears aimed at two audiences simultaneously: foreign rivals, who are warned of military escalation, and the Iranian public, where activists, journalists and critics continue to face arrests, interrogations and pressure from security agencies.

But the tactic may also carry political costs. Constant threats can eventually signal weakness and anxiety rather than power, particularly to a population already frustrated by economic hardship and political restrictions.

For many Iranians dealing with inflation, internet disruptions and declining living standards, the increasingly dramatic language from officials has become less a source of fear than a sign of a leadership struggling to maintain control.

The first, rooted in the peacetime law of the sea, asserts the enduring right of transit passage. Customary international law, reflected in UNCLOS Articles 38 and 44, imposes a continuing obligation on coastal states not to hamper navigation through a strait upon which one-fifth of the world’s oil depends.

In this view, the IRGC’s mining operations, swarm attacks and threatened tolls violate established norms governing international waterways.

The second perspective prioritises the law of armed conflict. Once hostilities began, the San Remo Manual and Hague Convention VIII became increasingly relevant. Belligerents gain expanded rights to mine, blockade and restrict.

Under this framework, the IRGC may claim some legal justification for defensive measures within its territorial waters. Yet the same body of law imposes strict limits: notification, self-neutralisation, distinction and protection of neutral shipping.

The third school focuses less on legal doctrine than on the practical limits of enforcement. Without a UN Security Council resolution, both sides operate in a grey zone where customary rules are asserted but difficult to enforce amid active hostilities.

Each framework has significant weaknesses. The peacetime approach underestimates how armed conflict alters the legal environment. The wartime framework risks legitimising measures whose consequences extend far beyond the immediate belligerents. The enforcement-focused view accurately describes the absence of central authority but offers little guidance for resolution.

A more coherent framework emerges through triangulation: integrating all three regimes.

Peacetime transit passage supplies the baseline obligation to keep the strait open to neutral commerce. The law of armed conflict supplies limited belligerent rights—proportionate blockades and defensive mining—subject to strict restraints of notification, self-neutralisation and proportionality.

Customary international law, shaped by the global importance of Hormuz, acts as the reconciling principle. It prevents any party from turning one of the world’s critical maritime arteries into a private toll road or permanent minefield.

Within this framework, the IRGC’s mining operations without adequate safeguards, combined with strikes on Persian Gulf Arab infrastructure, exceed legitimate defensive measures.

By attempting to globalise the conflict—compensating for its conventional military weaknesses by widening the economic costs—the IRGC has threatened the security interests of multiple states and strengthened arguments for collective self-defence under Article 51 of the UN Charter.

The US blockade, narrowly directed at Iranian ports and coastal areas while preserving neutral passage, appears to fit more comfortably within belligerent rights. Yet no legal arrangement can ignore the Iranian people themselves. They remain trapped between the repression of the IRGC and the economic pressure of the Hormuz stalemate.

Any workable regime must therefore include verifiable humanitarian channels: inspection mechanisms that protect energy security while ensuring essential supplies reach civilians. As in Iraq after the expulsion from Kuwait, the regime would inevitably divert portions of aid to its networks, yet some assistance would still reach ordinary citizens.

Such a framework cannot rest on American shoulders alone. European states, above all France with its defence commitments to the United Arab Emirates and its capable naval presence, would need to participate. The Combined Maritime Forces operating from Bahrain already provide the foundation for such a multinational mechanism.

Still, triangulation confronts one overriding reality. Safe corridors, mine-clearance verification, ceasefire monitoring and dispute resolution ultimately require a United Nations Security Council resolution. If Russia and China were prepared either to abstain or acquiesce, such a framework could open the path toward a formal armistice convention.

At present, however, the “ceasefire” remains little more than a pause. Despite President Trump’s declaration on April 8, the IRGC continued strikes on Persian Gulf Arab infrastructure until April 9. Absent a formal convention defining duration, obligations and enforcement mechanisms, the fog of war and the fog of law will continue to thicken together.

During the 1956 Suez Crisis, President Eisenhower withheld support from Britain, France and Israel, helping force the operation’s collapse. Today the strategic balance is markedly different: the United States under President Trump enjoys overwhelming military superiority, while Russia and China lack the Soviet Union’s former capacity to directly challenge American power in the region.

Yet many governments and commentators increasingly frame the present stalemate as a strategic success for Tehran despite the immense economic, military and diplomatic damage sustained by the Islamic Republic.

Should the current deadlock persist, the IRGC is unlikely to ease either regional escalation or internal repression. If negotiations prove illusory, President Trump—who has repeatedly spoken of regime change—may face growing pressure from regional allies, particularly Israel and the UAE, to move from rhetoric toward a more explicit strategy aimed at dismantling the current power structure in Tehran.

The Strait of Hormuz is now more than a naval theatre. It has become a test of whether international law and diplomatic statecraft can contain a conflict that the IRGC is actively seeking to globalise.

Even if hostilities continue, the world may soon face a difficult question: whether to construct such a framework now, or wait for both the fog of war and the costs of paralysis to deepen further.