The Supreme Leader’s Soldiers and Trump’s Envoys
The Iranian Revolution was born on a heated fault line with the “Great Satan.” Ayatollah Khomeini’s approval of the seizure of American hostages at the U.S. Embassy in Tehran was akin to blowing up the bridges between the two countries. The first real shot in this long conflict came with the bombing of the U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut in 1983.
Iranian fingerprints—sometimes obvious, sometimes concealed—would repeatedly surface in embassy bombings and hostage-taking operations. The United States responded by preventing Iran from achieving victory over Iraq during the bitter war between the two countries. The American response escalated further when Donald Trump ordered the killing of General Qassem Soleimani, commander of the Quds Force, near Baghdad Airport.
For years, Iran challenged the United States while carefully avoiding direct confrontation. Trump altered the rules of the game when American aircraft struck Iranian nuclear facilities, before joining Israel in seeking to punish Tehran for, in their view, drowning negotiations in ambiguity and endless maneuvering.
Observers recalled these episodes yesterday as they watched the arrival of participants at what might be called the “Swiss test.” They also remembered that Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf emerged from the very apparatus that confronted America and unsettled its neighbors across the Middle East. A former commander of the Revolutionary Guards’ Air Force, Ghalibaf advanced through several influential positions before becoming Speaker of Parliament. Abbas Araghchi likewise volunteered for service in the Revolutionary Guards during the Iran-Iraq War before rising through the ranks of diplomacy.
Observers also noted that J.D. Vance was born a year after the Marine barracks bombing, that Jared Kushner was born two years after Khomeini’s revolution, and that Steve Witkoff was practicing real-estate law when Khomeini returned to Tehran.
The negotiations will undoubtedly be difficult, especially if Trump continues to bombard them with social media posts and last-minute threats. The talks will also require extensive Pakistani and Qatari mine-clearing efforts.
Opening Middle Eastern files in the Swiss resort of Bürgenstock does not mean that Swiss winds will magically sweep away the burdens carried by those files and their custodians. Switzerland bears little resemblance to the Middle East, a region weighed down by a heavy legacy of conflicts and animosities. Switzerland chose neutrality as a national doctrine and reaped its rewards even as Europe plunged into two devastating world wars. Moreover, modern Switzerland represents a profound commitment to coexistence among different ethnic groups, languages, and dialects.
Contemporary Switzerland is founded on accepting the right to be different under the rule of law. Erasure is forbidden, coups are unthinkable, and the Swiss Confederation does not produce a charismatic leader who imposes his will on the constitution. Its system leaves no room for militias or armed factions. The cantons do not tamper with their established borders, and the final word always belongs to the ballot box.
The Middle East is different. Its crises revolve around existence and borders. Its maps sometimes spill beyond neighboring frontiers. It is a region of competing interests and competing identities, where old ambitions frequently disguise themselves in new clothing.
From afar, the peoples of the Middle East watch the Swiss gathering. They ask what made such a meeting possible and what persuaded adversaries to sit beneath one roof, communicating through proposals instead of drones and through clauses instead of landmines.
Naturally, another question emerges: has America changed, or has Iran? Or have both countries simply realized the dangers of continuing down the path of war?
Has the U.S. administration concluded that Iran’s greatest weapon is its ability to absorb losses after decades of living under sanctions? Has Washington become convinced that toppling the Iranian regime is impossible without a ground war whose costs would be impossible to predict, and that Israel miscalculated when it wagered on regime change?
Conversely, has Tehran benefited from the White House’s lack of patience, particularly after the global economy was shaken by the closure of the Strait of Hormuz and amid concerns over the U.S. midterm elections? Has Iran concluded that its revolutionary dream of expelling America from the Middle East is unattainable? And that the “major blow” scenario envisioned by Yahya Sinwar during the “Al-Aqsa Flood” operation did not break Israel’s back, but instead intensified its aggressiveness and brutality?
Most likely, Iran recognized Donald Trump’s reluctance to return to war and sought to capitalize on the leverage created by the closure of the Strait of Hormuz when it placed a ceasefire on all fronts—including Lebanon—at the top of the memorandum of understanding.
Iran’s insistence on beginning with the “Lebanese clause” is highly significant. First, it serves as a message of support to Hezbollah, which launched a support war on Iran’s behalf and paid for it with extensive destruction across southern Lebanese villages.
The message also suggests that Iran, having lost its “border” with Israel through Syria, is unwilling to lose its “border” with Israel through southern Lebanon as well. Tehran quickly demonstrated its ability to use a ceasefire in southern Lebanon as a mandatory gateway to discussing all other provisions and even went so far as to threaten the renewed closure of the Strait of Hormuz until a ceasefire there was secured.
Netanyahu reportedly received the “Lebanese clause” with a degree of astonishment and refrained from openly expressing his anger, aware of how difficult it can be to predict Trump’s reactions.
There is nothing surprising about that. Boarding Trump’s train requires accepting his exclusive control of leadership, built upon the principles of “America First” and, increasingly, “Trump First.”
Partnership in war does not necessarily mean partnership in peace. When you fight using another country’s weapons and ammunition, it becomes difficult to determine when that ally will decide to apply the brakes—perhaps before the train reaches the station you had hoped for.
Netanyahu had hoped to break Hezbollah’s back and make its disarmament a permanent feature of any settlement. Instead, he found himself confronting a different set of American calculations. He yielded to pressure from the White House, perhaps convinced that many more landmines remain buried in the negotiations ahead.
Those mines concern the future administration of the Strait of Hormuz, highly enriched uranium, and frozen Iranian assets. In addition, the memorandum does not address Iran’s missile arsenal and its limitations, nor Tehran’s relationships with the network of allied groups extending from Lebanon to Yemen through Iraq.
The journey between the Supreme Leader’s envoys and Trump’s envoys will not be an easy one.
The war has been long. Blood has been spilled, and billions of dollars have remained frozen. It is also a battle of images and narratives: the image of Iran and the image of the “Great Satan.”