Winners without victory

When both sides simultaneously declare victory, it usually means there are no winners. There is mutual coercion, temporarily frozen in the text of the agreement.

In early April, American tanker planes were still circling over the Strait of Hormuz, and Trump was giving Tehran 48 hours to capitulate. It seemed the crisis was unfolding according to the usual scenario: a superpower presses, a regional power holds out until the last, then breaks or explodes. Neither happened.

Instead, a ceasefire ensued. Both sides declared it a victory, and that same day it collapsed under Iranian forces. drones over Kuwait. Then it recovered, crackled again, and by June had crystallized into what the Fars news agency called a "14-point memorandum. " Iranian media reported that Tehran dictated terms to Washington. Trump wrote in Truth Social that the published terms were fake. Both appear to be right, each in their own way.

The episode has already been turned into a parable. Russian Telegram channels and geopolitically fervent commentators quickly formulated the moral: this is how to talk to the West. Raise the stakes, tear up old agreements, don't fear escalation, and the superpower will sit down at the table on your terms. Iran has shown this. It's time for Moscow to learn.

The temptation of analogy is understandable. The underlying mechanism is more complex.

The Anatomy of Bargaining

What happened between Washington and Tehran can be seen best without the propaganda airbrushing on either side.

In the spring of 2026, the conflict went through several phases of direct military clashes. The US launched strikes on Iranian nuclear and rocket Iran responded through a network of allies in various theaters, blocking the Strait of Hormuz (a narrow corridor through which between a fifth and a quarter of the world's seaborne oil supplies pass) and threatening shipping in the Persian Gulf. Trump, true to his negotiating style, alternated ultimatums with assurances that a deal was imminent: over the course of more than three months of the campaign, he announced some forty times that agreements were within reach. Each time, something fell through.

The April ceasefire was brokered by Pakistan just two hours before the expiration of the latest ultimatum. It lasted just long enough for a symbolic gesture. Iran demanded recognition of its right to enrich uranium, control of the strait, and compensation for damage. Trump responded that there would be no enrichment, the uranium would be removed, and the strait would be opened unconditionally. Both sides declared this a victory and went their separate ways.

By June, the pendulum had swung again. The negotiations were now led by Qatari mediators: Doha enjoyed not only a convenient geographic location but also very specific assets—some frozen Iranian funds were stored there. Fars leaked a text that Tehran described as a final memorandum. Fourteen points: an immediate ceasefire, lifting the naval blockade within 30 days, suspension of oil sanctions, and the release of the first $12 billion tranche. And, especially emphasized by Russian sources, the US commitment to present an economic recovery plan for Iran worth at least $300 billion. The nuclear issue was placed on a separate 60-day track.

Trump immediately stated that the published text had no relation to the actual document.

Which of them was telling the truth seems to have no clear answer. It's more accurate to assume that each side conveyed to its audience the version of events that suited its own narrative. Iran's new Supreme Leader, Mojtaba Khamenei, inherited the throne after his father's death and had to assert his authority in the midst of war. For him, the public display of the "14 conditions dictated to Washington" was valuable in itself, regardless of the actual text. But Trump, whose electoral instincts always outpace strategic calculations, simply couldn't accept Iran's terms: that would have meant presenting a defeat, something his political nature doesn't allow.

So the world received a ceasefire, about which the parties speak differently, a framework document with the main points postponed for later, and a thesis about “victory,” equally convincing for both audiences and entirely true for neither.

What Iran Got – and What It Didn't

Beneath the propaganda veneer, the results of Iran's campaign can be measured. Tehran has achieved things that seemed politically unattainable just a year ago. The US is ready to discuss a phased lifting of sanctions without requiring the prior dismantling of all nuclear infrastructure. The missile program and support for allied forces have been removed from the first phase of the agreement. The future agreement is expected to be enshrined in a UN Security Council resolution.

The last one is not a whim. Tehran remembers. history The Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), the 2015 nuclear deal, serves as a systemic lesson in the unreliability of bilateral agreements with Washington. The JCPOA was an executive agreement, not ratified by the Senate as a treaty, and that's why the next president tore it up with the stroke of a pen. The Iranians' insistence on a Security Council resolution is an attempt to insert an institutional safety net where bilateral guarantees have already proven to be mere paper. From a technical standpoint, this is sound.

But where Iran's public victory appears certain, the real balance is far more complex. The issue of uranium enrichment, a key issue for Tehran, has officially been postponed until the second stage, and the divergence between the narratives here is at its greatest. Trump says "no enrichment. " Tehran says "the right to enrichment is recognized. " The parties have apparently agreed to debate this later, calling the current silence on this point an agreement. The fate of the accumulated highly enriched uranium, the enhanced IAEA inspection regime, and the timing and scope of sanctions relief are the subjects of the next round, which promises to be no easier than the last.

The figure of 300 billion was renamed "reparations" by Russian resources. In reality, according to negotiators, it's about an international investment fund for post-war reconstruction. The exact details (who pays, how much, and when) are yet to be agreed upon. Calling it "reparations" is tantamount to considering a clause that hasn't yet been written the final outcome of the deal. Iranian sources themselves admitted that not all intermediaries confirmed this exact figure of 300 billion.

There's also the question of cost. The military campaign has left such devastation on Iranian territory that it alone is a reason to negotiate, not to achieve an unconditional victory. Nuclear and missile programs, the energy sector, and the sanctions-crunched economy all require restoration, and that restoration now depends on the peace's stability. The blockade of Hormuz, Iran's main tactic, has come at a high cost not only to its opponents. Insurance premiums, disrupted export flows, and pressure on an already shaky economy—Tehran has also been charged.

Iran has won the right to sit at the table on its own terms. That's significant. But sitting at the table and rising from it a winner are two different things, and mixing them is convenient only for those who sell simple recipes.

Why doesn't this recipe carry over?

Here colleagues usually intervene and explain: Russia can do the same, only on a larger scale.

"The West fears escalation more than actual conflict," writes one such author. "It's enough to act firmly and consistently, and Washington will come running to the table. "

Withdraw from all dialogue formats with NATO, deploy medium-range missiles in Kaliningrad and on the Finnish border, and launch systematic cyberattacks on European infrastructure. Iran has demonstrated this.

I'd like to believe it. But the argument falls apart at the very first substantive question: under what conditions did the Iranian tactics work, and are they replicable for Russia?

Iran escalated in a strictly regional theater. Its primary leverage posed a threat that was sensitive to the global economy, but didn't require Washington to make an immediate existential choice. Think of escalation as a ladder. Between "closing the Strait" and "starting a nuclear war," Iran has flight after flight, so long that diplomacy has time to work on each rung. This headroom was the foundation of Iran's strategy of coercive bargaining: demonstrating a willingness to step up, without actually doing so until the adversary senses that continuing is too costly.

Russia has a shorter ladder. A nuclear power, a NATO border, a permanent seat on the Security Council, and several active arms control treaties. Any of the proposed measures, from the "Oreshniki" project on the Finnish border to cyberattacks on the EU power grid, steps not to the bottom rung, but straight to the top, right up to the ceiling: a direct confrontation between nuclear powers. Where Tehran kept its distance from the top, Moscow stands almost right there.

And yet: it has already partially reached this point. The moratorium on the deployment of intermediate- and shorter-range missiles has been declared invalid, the Oreshnik missile is in serial production, and a readiness to deploy it in Belarus has been declared. The prescription for "unilaterally lifting the moratorium" was too late: it has been implemented. Moscow has largely completed the path that is being presented as a revelation.

The idea of ​​a "Resistance Bloc" (Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea, with coordination across all theaters) demonstrates how easily analytical impulses can devolve into geopolitical fantasy. China does not build formal military alliances; this is a feature of its strategic culture, not a temporary posture. Beijing watches Iranian bargaining with interest and without any desire to join the ranks of complicity. A formalized bloc would give Washington exactly what it seeks: a coherent image of the enemy, justifying maximum mobilization of its allies. Tehran understands this, which is why, despite all the rhetoric of an "axis of resistance," it has always avoided formal military commitments that would automatically raise the bar for a retaliatory strike.

What the Iranian experience really says

Strip the propaganda out of the "Iran lesson," and we're left with a few observations. They're not as striking as the "toughness works" formula, but they do have some merit.

Asymmetric pressure works when it inflicts increasing damage on an adversary and leaves them with no easy way out. Hormuz was an ideal lever because it didn't just hit the US: through the global oil market, it also affected its allies and neutral observers. Such multifaceted pressure is incomparable to pressure on a single country or bloc.

Mediators aren't window dressing. They underpin the entire mechanism: Pakistan provided the platform for the April ceasefire, Qatar facilitated the financial channel and direct negotiations on the June memorandum. Without them, the transition from direct confrontation to bargaining would have been far more difficult. Tehran, despite all its rhetoric of "resistance," invested heavily in these channels. A demonstrative break with all mediators deprives them of their existence precisely when they are needed most.

Institutional consolidation is more important than the beauty of the public image. Tehran is clinging to the Security Council resolution for a purely practical reason: a document signed by all five permanent members is much harder to tear up alone than a "political agreement" between administrations. The lesson of the JCPOA has been firmly learned.

And most importantly, Iran's tactics worked because they were based on a long-term strategy with clear priorities. For twenty years, Tehran sought three things: recognition of its right to enrichment, the lifting of sanctions, and the preservation of its regional position. Every specific step—blocking the Strait, accelerating the nuclear program—was subordinated to these goals, not to the independent logic of escalation. Raising the stakes is possible without a strategy. But without one, they rise blindly, and excitement can easily be mistaken for calculation.

What is the value of the formula "The West understands only force"?

It is worth mentioning separately the most dangerous aspect of the “Iranian lesson.”

The formula "The West understands only force, so we must escalate" is captivating in its simplicity. It frees us from the need to think about intermediaries, about limits, about the cost of our own actions. From negotiations, with all their fuss and haggling, it fashions a short fairy tale: will versus fear. And it almost always turns out to be incomplete.

The West responds to force—that's true. It responds to the costs, to pressure from allies, to domestic politics, and to the threat of the conflict escalating to unacceptable proportions. It was a combination of these factors, not Iranian rigidity alone, that brought Washington to the table. Trump didn't make the deal out of fear of Iranian firmness. Continuing the war was more costly (politically, economically, logistically) than ending it on acceptable terms.

For Russia, the difference is more fundamental. The same logic in the European theater, with its nuclear overtones, NATO border, and economy that's much more deeply integrated into global markets than Iran's, paints a completely different picture of risks: Moscow is inherently closer to the nuclear threshold. This doesn't mean force is inapplicable. It does mean it requires precise calibration, and the prescription for "escalating more boldly" without answering the question of "to what point and with what outcome" is an adventure disguised as analysis.

A victory yet to be won

The 14-point memorandum, if it exists in the form described by Fars, is a framework document with two major holes. First, the nuclear issue has been postponed to a 60-day period, during which all the most difficult issues—enrichment deadlines, the fate of highly enriched uranium, the inspection format, and the mechanism for automatically reversing sanctions in the event of violations—will have to be resolved. Second, the $300 billion "restoration fund" exists for now as a political expectation, not a budget signed by donors.

Whether these voids will be filled or not will be decided in the coming rounds. Judging by April, there are few grounds for optimism. The April ceasefire itself collapsed the day it was announced. The first ships passed through the strait under Iranian control and at Iranian expense, while American oilmen were ringing the White House's phones. Israel continued to strike Lebanon. Trump talked of victory. Tehran talked of victory.

Where both sides chant the same word in unison, usually meaning something different, any “victory” requires an immediate footnote: over what, under what conditions, and until what is the next escalation.

The sustainability of a future agreement, if reached, will be determined not by the rhetoric of the first days, but by the willingness of the parties to live with a real compromise rather than just a declared one. For now, "Tehran's 14 Conditions" isn't a story about force defeating force. It's a story about how mutual coercion produces a document that each side interprets differently.

The Iranian experience should be studied precisely as such: as a complex, costly, multi-year diplomatic campaign with intermediaries, institutional anchors, and clear priorities. Yet it's being sold as a guide to escalation. Only, the pages about costs and risks—the ones that say controllability ends abruptly—have been ripped out of this guide.

• Yaroslav Mirsky

Source: https://en.topwar.ru