Iran International
The competing narratives surrounding the latest US-Iran standoff have become so stark that even basic questions—who is deterring whom, who wants talks and who fears escalation—now produce entirely different answers depending on which capital is speaking.
On Monday, President Donald Trump said he had halted plans to attack Iran following requests from Qatar, Saudi Arabia, the UAE “and some others in the region.”
The same day, Iran’s state television claimed Trump had backed down from threatening military action “at least five times in recent weeks” because he feared Iran’s “firm response.”
On Tuesday, Trump again underscored the volatility of the standoff, saying the United States “may have to give them another big hit” and claiming Tehran was “begging” for a deal.
Rahman Ghahramanpour, a Middle East politics expert, told Tehran-based Khabar Online that both Tehran and Washington increasingly see the confrontation as a “competition over resilience,” with each believing renewed brinkmanship could strengthen its negotiating position.
Khabar Online journalist Mohammad Aref Moezzi described the current dynamic as a familiar “neither war nor peace” scenario: sustained pressure and confrontation without a clear decision to escalate into full conflict or pursue a comprehensive agreement.
Both sides, he argued, still believe they can force concessions without paying the cost of war.
For Iran’s leadership, the overriding objective remains survival and persuading Washington to abandon any notion of regime change.
Ghahramanpour argues that Tehran is trapped in a struggle for survival while Washington faces what he calls a “credibility trap.” The United States wants a visible strategic victory; the Islamic Republic increasingly treats simple endurance as success.
Despite striking numerous military targets in Iran, Washington has yet to achieve a major political breakthrough. In the United States, particularly amid partisan rivalries, that is often framed as a failure for Trump. In Iran, the same reality is presented as proof the Islamic Republic withstood American pressure.
He also noted that many in Israel believe Trump’s presidency may represent the best opportunity to secure full US cooperation against Iran, adding to pressure for a more decisive confrontation before political circumstances change.
The widening gap between Iranian and American perceptions has effectively frozen negotiations.
Although some hardliners in Tehran advocate pre-emptive action, the government appears unwilling to be seen as the side that starts a war.
Washington, meanwhile, continues tightening sanctions and maintaining pressure while also signaling that military action remains an option if diplomacy stalls.
Another Iranian scholar, Ali Asghar Zargar, told Fararu on Tuesday that neither side benefits from the current deadlock.
He described the standoff as a mix of attrition, geopolitical rivalry and competing political narratives in which Iran remains under heavy pressure while the United States has yet to achieve its core objectives.
Zargar also argued that Washington cannot realistically use the Strait of Hormuz as a unilateral pressure tool given the global dependence on the waterway, warning that the longer the impasse continues, the greater the risk of escalation or miscalculation.
What increasingly unites both Iranian and American analysts is the sense that the current stalemate may be unstable, and that neither side has yet found a credible path out of it.
On May 19, 2024, a helicopter carrying Raisi disappeared in the mountains of Iran’s East Azarbaijan province. The final Iranian inquiry blamed bad weather, dense fog and atmospheric conditions, not sabotage.
But the image was too powerful to ignore: a leadership convoy moving through poor visibility, losing sight of itself, then trying to project a state still in control.
That is the better way to read Raisi’s death – as metaphor, not conspiracy.
The crash did not change Iran because Raisi ruled Iran. He did not. Real power sat above him, with Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, the Revolutionary Guard, the security state and the regional networks Tehran had built over decades.
Raisi mattered because he showed how continuity was supposed to look. He was loyal, hardline, severe and predictable; a figure once widely discussed as a possible successor to Khamenei.
Raisi was not the Islamic Republic’s future. He was its rehearsal for a future that never arrived.
In May 2024, the system still seemed to have a succession plan, a regional shield and the patience to wait out its enemies. Two years later, almost every pillar that made Tehran look untouchable has been tested or broken.
The countdown had already begun on October 7, 2023.
Hamas’s attack on Israel opened a war that pulled Iran’s wider network into motion: Hezbollah in Lebanon, militias in Iraq and Syria, the Houthis in Yemen. For years, this was Tehran’s doctrine of strategic depth.
After October 7, that depth became a target map.
By April 2024, Iran and Israel had moved from shadow war into direct confrontation. Then, one month later, Raisi’s helicopter fell out of the fog.
The state answered with the familiar theater of mourning: coffins, black flags, portraits, clerics and commanders. The message was continuity.
But after Raisi, the funerals began to tell another story. One by one, they marked not continuity, but exposure: a system losing the people, places and networks that had made it feel protected.
His death forced a snap election. Masoud Pezeshkian, a reformist in tone, won the presidency after a first round marked by record-low turnout. The system gained a softer face, but not a new center of power.
Then came the first great humiliation of the post-Raisi era.
Ismail Haniyeh, Hamas’s political leader, came to Tehran for Pezeshkian’s inauguration. Hours later, he was killed in the Iranian capital.
This was not only the killing of a Hamas leader. It was a message that even the patron’s capital was no sanctuary.
That became the sentence for what followed.
In September 2024, Hezbollah’s pagers and radios exploded across Lebanon and Syria, turning the group’s own communications into weapons against it. Days later, Hassan Nasrallah was killed in Beirut.
A movement built on secrecy and underground command had been pierced from inside and struck from above.
Then Hamas leader in Gaza Yahya Sinwar was killed. Hamas remained, Hezbollah remained, the slogans remained. But the axis was bleeding leaders, territory, routes and confidence.
The deeper break came in Syria.
Bashar al-Assad’s fall in December 2024 was not just the loss of another Islamic Republic's ally. It damaged the geography of Iranian power: the route to Hezbollah, the Mediterranean opening, and the Qasem Soleimani-era claim that weak states could be turned into Iranian depth.
By June 2025, the war had moved to Iran itself.
Israel struck Iranian nuclear and military sites during the 12-Day War. The United States then hit the most fortified parts of the nuclear program.
For years, nuclear ambiguity had been Tehran’s shield. In 2025, it became a battlefield.
Outside pressure then met the inside front.
The protests that erupted in late 2025 and early 2026 were driven by economic collapse, repression and the old demand for a different political order. By January 8 and 9, the state answered with mass violence and an internet shutdown.
The Islamic Republic could still shoot, jail and terrify. But it could no longer persuade enough of its own people that it had a future.
Even shocks beyond the Middle East began to feel part of the same weather. The US capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro in January 2026 mattered less as an Iran story than as an atmosphere: another anti-American ruler, once protected by sovereignty and distance, suddenly exposed.
Then, on February 28, 2026, the war reached the institution at the heart of the Islamic Republic’s power: the supreme leadership.
Ali Khamenei was killed in US-Israeli strikes. For a state built around velayat-e faqih, this was not only the death of a ruler. It was the breaking of an aura.
Mojtaba Khamenei was named Supreme Leader days later. The appointment was meant to project continuity. Instead, it made the Islamic Republic look smaller, more closed and more dynastic.
The revolution born against monarchy had passed its highest office from father to son in wartime.
And then came the strangest funeral of all: the one that could not settle itself.
Iran postponed Khamenei’s state funeral. Months later, even his burial remained unclear. For a Shiite revolutionary state that has always known how to turn death into power, the delay was astonishing.
The republic of funerals had lost command of its most important ritual.
The old model had four layers. At home, fear contained society. In politics, elections gave the state a civilian mask. In the region, proxies kept enemies away from Iran’s borders. At the strategic level, missiles, nuclear ambiguity and the Strait of Hormuz made the cost of attack seem unknowable.
Since Raisi’s crash, every layer has been damaged.
Fear has produced revolt. Elections have exposed emptiness more than legitimacy. Regional depth has been penetrated. Syria has fallen away. Hezbollah and Hamas have been battered. The supreme leader’s office has lost its aura of untouchability.
Hormuz remains Iran’s strongest card. But it also shows the trap. The strait gives Tehran leverage over oil, shipping and global markets; it also keeps Iran at the center of a crisis it cannot easily end.
This is not the story of a regime that has already fallen. The Islamic Republic still has prisons, missiles, commanders and a long memory for survival.
But it is also not the story Tehran wants to tell.
Two years ago, Raisi’s death was wrapped in the language of martyrdom and continuity. The state said nothing vital had been lost.
Yet what followed revealed how little room the Islamic Republic had left for error.
The crash did not start the chain. October 7 had already started the clocks. But Raisi’s death gave the years after it their image: fog, poor visibility, a convoy losing contact, and a state insisting the road ahead was clear.
Two years later, Iran is still falling through that fog.
The question is no longer whether the Islamic Republic can survive another crisis. It has survived many.
The question is whether it can survive the loss of the things that made survival possible: distance, fear, succession, sanctuary and the belief that time was on its side.
