USA and Iran: some comments about a very complex negotiation

 

Power Without Credibility: The Improvisations of the US–Iran Crisis

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General Published on: 26 Jun 2026

Despite their political complexity, contradictions, and turbulence, the ongoing negotiations between the United States and Iran can be assessed positively. Following months of direct combat, a memorandum of understanding has been signed and a framework for a ceasefire established, with Pakistan and Qatar now acting as mediators. However, the crisis remains unresolved, and an objective analysis of its various dimensions reveals important lessons for international relations.

When the US initiated attacks against Iran in close coordination with Israel, they expected a swift resolution and the total surrender of their adversary. The outcome was quite different. Iran retaliated, disrupted traffic in the Strait of Hormuz, and demonstrated that it would not be defeated without imposing significant costs upon its attackers. The elimination of the Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, at the onset of the conflict did not precipitate the collapse of the Iranian regime that Washington had anticipated. The tactic of 'decapitating' the leadership proved fallible, contradicting certain military doctrines. Iran appointed a new leadership and maintained its capacity for resistance.

This demonstrated a failure on the American side to accurately evaluate the context, resulting in a severe impact on the political credibility of the White House—something far more difficult to rebuild than new arsenals. Credibility is not measured by the scale of military offensives. It stems from political coherence, adherence to commitments, and the trust a power inspires—above all, amongst its allies.

The withdrawal of the US from the JCPOA (the 2015 nuclear agreement), the chaotic departure from Afghanistan, and the erosion of pacts in Iraq were not isolated acts. To these, one might add the ambiguities surrounding aid to Ukraine and the future of NATO. All of this forms a pattern—and it is these patterns that other governments study when deciding upon the future of their defence alliances. For the Gulf States, the 2026 conflict confirmed the trend: an alliance with Washington is a matter of convenience and circumstance. These nations are now seeking to diversify their partnerships in order to reduce their strategic exposure. This is the direct consequence of a loss of trust.

The negotiations do not aim to secure a peace treaty. At best, the ongoing discussions will serve to maintain the status quo. For many, this will be perceived as a victory for Iranian strategy. In that event, the fear that kept numerous countries aligned with Washington will be weakened. When governments observe that a superpower presenting itself as the guarantor of their security cannot fully dictate its will to a country such as Iran, they may conclude that the time has come to seek alternatives.

The recent ASEAN summit with Russia in Kazan exemplified this shift. ASEAN member states—including Timor-Leste—signed a comprehensive cooperation plan with Russia extending to 2030, encompassing the realm of regional security. Despite reservations regarding Moscow’s conduct in Ukraine, Southeast Asian nations refused to accept the Western narrative that portrays Russia as a pariah state. The message emanating from ASEAN was unequivocal: they do not intend to subordinate their interests to a Western-led order that they view as increasingly incoherent and self-centred. When the conflict closed the Strait of Hormuz, Asian nations suffered genuine economic losses—and their interests were ignored by Washington.

For China, the lessons are equally apparent. Should Beijing employ its power in the South China Sea or Taiwan in a manner perceived by its neighbours as threatening, it could provoke a reaction akin to that faced by the US—allies becoming increasingly sceptical and reticent. China, much like the US, tends to conflate dominance with leadership. However, dominance imposes submission; leadership generates commitment. And it is commitment that endures.

Russia has realized to its own cost, and by observing the US in the Middle East, that a great power entangled in a protracted conflict suffers reputational damage and loses allies. To counter isolation and preserve influence, it is adopting various initiatives and attempting to forge new alliances—the Kazan summit and operations in the Sahel being prime examples.

There exists, however, an institution created precisely to limit instability and promote cooperation: the United Nations. The UN was born from the recognition that lasting peace cannot depend upon a single power acting of its own accord. A common framework is required—with shared rules, obligations, and consequences. A framework that establishes boundaries and allows the weakest to rely on something more solid than the goodwill and volatile moods of the powerful.

Military actions outside the rules of International Law do not merely damage the reputation of their perpetrators: they undermine the very system intended to ensure peace. Every time a power acts as though its highly subjective reading of the facts overrides universal norms, it weakens the institution upon which everyone relies.

Revitalizing the United Nations is not an idealistic ambition; it is a strategic necessity. It is vital to reiterate this truth. A UN with genuine authority to mediate conflicts and hold great powers accountable is not an obstacle to legitimate interests—it is the only reliable substitute for the continuous cycle of trust erosion that the crisis of 2026 has once again highlighted.

The verdict that emerges for those who observe international relations with a critical and independent mind is this: power exercised without principles, in an improvised manner, is like a disoriented weather vane, incapable of indicating the true course. A peace imposed by force and economic pressure is no peace at all—it is merely an interlude until the next confrontation. Lasting peace rests upon the recognition that all States, however diverse, strong or weak they may be, possess an equal right to security and sovereignty, and that the world must be governed by law, not by the will of the strongest.

The Straits and the competition between USA and China

 

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Hormuz, Malacca, and the Straits of Power

By Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General

Published: 30 April 2026

There are places on maps that, in times of peace, seem like mere details—curiosities. Yet, when rivalry between great powers intensifies, these details become strategic. The Straits of Malacca and Hormuz, Bab el-Mandeb (the Red Sea), and the Indian Ocean routes are now at the heart of global politics: it is through these passages that the economy flows—and it is there that Washington and Beijing test the limits of their competition.

American foreign policy has revealed an emerging pattern: an increasing focus on so-called ‘choke points’—the maritime passages through which energy, commodities, and influence circulate. Control over these points projects both force and deterrence. Consider Hormuz. The figures speak for themselves: the International Energy Agency (IEA) estimates that, by 2025, over 20 million barrels per day will have transited the strait—approximately a quarter of the world’s maritime oil trade.

For the United States, a robust presence in these corridors is not merely about maritime security; it is also a means of protecting its vital interests in the event of a severe crisis.

This is why the ‘Malacca Dilemma’ remains a strategic obsession for Beijing. China depends heavily on maritime routes that traverse this narrow, congested corridor, which is difficult to replace without colossal costs—precisely the type of vulnerability any state seeks to reduce when anticipating a prolonged period of competition.

The Strait of Malacca, though exceedingly long, is only a few kilometres wide at its narrowest point. From an energy perspective, the US Energy Information Administration (EIA) classifies Malacca as a vital choke point: in the first half of 2025, an estimated 23 million barrels of oil per day will have transited the strait. It is this volume—and the immense difficulty of diverting shipping to more expensive alternatives through more treacherous seas south of Indonesia (the Sunda and Lombok waters)—that makes Malacca a national security priority for China and several Asian states.

And it is not merely energy. It is also the container ships, carrying every conceivable type of cargo, and the infrastructure of telecommunications. The Strait of Malacca is a critical corridor for digital connectivity, possessing a high density of subsea cables that link Asia to a significant portion of the globe.

In this context, the agreements and joint exercises between the United States and Indonesia gain a special significance. For Washington, Indonesia is crucial because it sits at the hinge between the Pacific and the Indian Oceans, and its territory defines one side of the strait. For Jakarta, cooperation with the US is useful: it bolsters capabilities, signals autonomy, and helps manage frictions with China—including recurring incidents in border waters—without abandoning its tradition of non-alignment.

The Chinese response to all of this has been simultaneously maritime and continental.

The growth of the Chinese Navy—now the world’s largest by number of vessels—follows a simple logic: if trade is conducted primarily by sea, then national security must also be sea-based. Hence the investment in the naval sector, in the capacity to operate further from its shores, and in port partnerships that, even when presented as commercial, may have military utility in crisis scenarios.

The ‘New Silk Road’ reinforces this strategy: it multiplies connections with the outside world. Projects such as the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor, logistical links through Myanmar, and the pursuit of navigation through the Arctic in coordination with Russia seek to create exits that circumvent Malacca and reduce exposure to the control of rival powers. Furthermore, on the technological level, Chinese dominance in critical segments of certain value chains—for example, in the processing and refining of rare earths, where it remains globally dominant—functions as an instrument of leverage to prevent extreme situations and the risk of shocks.

The result is a rivalry that leaves less and less room for naivety—and which turns the straits into the strongholds of the geopolitical chessboard.

There is, however, a global legal framework worth recalling: the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and the principle of freedom of navigation. This framework regulates transit through straits used for international navigation and limits arbitrary interference. Rules do not eliminate rivalry, but they increase the political, economic, and reputational costs when restrictions lack acceptable justification.

Summit diplomacy, however theatrical it may seem, matters. The White House has signalled that Donald Trump is slated to visit Beijing in mid-May to meet with Xi Jinping. The meeting will not change geography, but it may help clarify ‘red lines’ and reduce the risk of misunderstandings in an environment where the temptation to ‘test’ the other to the limit is constant. Trump’s trip serves as a test: not of the end of competition, but of the will to define its boundaries. In an interdependent world, the stability of routes is a common interest—even when the rivalry is structural.

If Washington and Beijing transform the straits—and commercial interdependencies—into instruments of permanent pressure, international relations will enter a far more dangerous phase: that of generalised insecurity. In such a scenario, the concern with deterrence becomes a daily occurrence. A miscalculation will, inevitably, be more likely and certainly catastrophic.