The real power in Iran had shifted from diplomats to the military.
In the wake of Ayatollah Khamenei's funeral, Iran and the United States find themselves caught between the language of diplomacy and the logic of force — a memorandum of understanding straining under the weight of incompatible interpretations, nationalist grief, and military assertiveness. The Strait of Hormuz, that narrow passage through which so much of the world's energy flows, has become the fulcrum of a deeper contest over sovereignty, leverage, and what peace is actually worth. What began as a fragile opening toward negotiation now risks collapsing into the very conflict both sides claimed to want to avoid.
- Iran's military has effectively displaced its diplomats as the seat of real power, and the religious fervor unleashed by Khamenei's funeral is now translating directly into attacks on shipping in the Strait of Hormuz.
- Trump's decision to call Iranians 'garbage' and 'scum' at a NATO summit — while Iranian forces were exchanging fire with US vessels — poured accelerant onto an already volatile moment of national mourning and defiance.
- The memorandum of understanding meant to chart a path toward peace is fracturing along a fundamental fault line: Iran believes it guarantees continued control of the strait, while the US insists the agreement's entire purpose was to reopen it.
- Iran's chief bargaining chip is eroding in real time — ships are moving through a new southern route, oil prices are falling, and the US revoked a sanctions waiver just 17 days after granting it, stripping Tehran of its one concrete gain.
- Diplomats are attempting to engineer a joint ship-notification system that might preserve a semblance of Iranian sovereignty without a full veto, but Iran's insistence on a universal security fee remains a wall no party is willing to climb.
- With no circuit breaker in sight and the military driving decisions in Tehran, the cycle of strikes and counter-strikes threatens to consume the agreement entirely — and the grim irony is that full-scale war has already been tried, and failed.
The national anthem played at the Grand Hotel Tehran as foreign ministry spokesman Esmail Baghaei took the podium — and what followed was not the measured language of diplomacy. He invoked Ayatollah Khamenei as a second Imam Hussain, casting Trump as a modern Yazid, the seventh-century tyrant. Khamenei's coffin had come to rest at the shrine of Imam Ali in Najaf, but the emotional charge of his funeral had not dissipated. It had simply found new channels.
Into this atmosphere of grief and religious fervor, Trump chose a NATO summit in Turkey to describe Iranians as 'garbage,' 'cancer,' 'devils,' and 'scum,' declaring further negotiations pointless. The timing coincided with Iranian forces exchanging fire with US vessels in the Strait of Hormuz — the latest episode in a pattern of attacks on shipping that had grown routine. Trump left the door slightly ajar for talks, but the broader trajectory was darkening.
Analysts were reaching a sobering conclusion: real power in Iran had migrated from the foreign ministry to the military. The cycle had become self-reinforcing — Iranian attacks on shipping, American strikes on Iran's southern coast, Iranian counter-attacks on US bases in Bahrain and Kuwait — with no mechanism to interrupt it.
At the center of the crisis lay a memorandum of understanding that the two sides were reading in fundamentally incompatible ways. For Iran, the MOU guaranteed continued control of the Strait of Hormuz for at least 60 days, making the new US-Omani southern shipping route a violation of the agreement. For Washington, reopening the strait was the agreement's entire point. Iran had designed the deal to defer nuclear discussions until it received sanctions relief and a Lebanese ceasefire — the strait was its leverage. But ships were now moving, oil prices had fallen, and the US revoked a sanctions waiver it had granted only 17 days earlier, eliminating Tehran's one tangible gain.
Former US national security adviser Eric Brewer argued Trump had accepted a vague agreement that deferred its hardest questions. Scholar Vali Nasr warned the escalation could destroy the MOU entirely, noting that Iran believed the US was using it to wrest control of the strait — a cause Tehran would go to war to defend. Ellie Geranmayeh of the European Council on Foreign Relations identified the sequencing trap: Iran would not relinquish strait leverage before securing broader sanctions relief, while Trump needed the reopened strait to hold off Republican hawks demanding a return to war.
Diplomats were quietly working on a joint ship-notification system that might give both Iran and Gulf states a voice without fully stripping Tehran of sovereignty. But Iran's insistence that all transiting ships pay a security fee — rejected universally — remained an obstacle no technical proposal could easily dissolve. The only thing standing between the present moment and full-scale conflict, observers noted grimly, was the memory of how badly full-scale conflict had already gone.
The national anthem crackled through tinny speakers at the Grand Hotel Tehran as foreign ministry staff stood at attention. When Esmail Baghaei took the podium, he was not the measured diplomat Iran's press corps had come to expect. He spoke of a turning point in Shia Islamic history—one in which the assassinated Ayatollah Ali Khamenei would be remembered a century hence as a second Imam Hussain, the martyred grandson of the Prophet Muhammad. Donald Trump, by this logic, would become a modern Yazid: a tyrant of the seventh century reborn. The funeral procession had ended days earlier, but the wave of religiosity and patriotism it unleashed had not dissipated. It had simply moved on to Najaf, Iraq, where Khamenei's coffin rested at the shrine of Imam Ali. The streets of Iran were returning to routine, but the emotional charge remained electric.
Into this moment of national grief and religious fervor stepped Trump, who chose a NATO summit in Turkey to describe Iranians as "garbage," "cancer," "devils," and "scum." He declared further negotiations pointless. The timing could hardly have been worse. On Tuesday, Iranian forces had exchanged fire with US vessels in the Strait of Hormuz—the latest in a pattern of attacks on shipping that had become routine. It would be easy to dismiss the escalation as mere coincidence: an aggrieved American president lashing out at Europe for supposed free-riding, colliding with a nation gripped by grief and asserting itself as "a brave and resilient nation that harbours no fear of threats or bluster." Trump left the door slightly ajar for talks and mentioned Israel withdrawing from Lebanon, a key Iranian demand. Optimists might have hoped the mood would pass like a dark cloud.
But the evidence suggested otherwise. The real power in Iran, analysts and observers were beginning to understand, had shifted from the foreign ministry to the military. Every confidence-building measure had failed. The cycle appeared locked: Iranian attacks on shipping in the strait, American strikes on Iran's southern coast, Iranian counter-attacks on US bases in Bahrain and Kuwait. There seemed no mechanism to break it.
The core dispute centered on a memorandum of understanding signed between the two countries—an agreement meant to lead toward broader peace talks. Iran and the United States interpreted it in fundamentally incompatible ways. For Iran, the MOU guaranteed continued Iranian control of the Strait of Hormuz for at least 60 days. The recent US-Omani effort to establish a new southern shipping route through the strait was, from Tehran's perspective, a violation of the agreement. "The problem here is that the US is interfering in Iran's business," Baghaei said. For the Americans, the MOU's central objective was reopening the strait itself. An Iranian veto over shipping routes was never part of the deal.
The stakes were not abstract. Iran had designed the agreement specifically to defer discussion of its nuclear program until it received tangible benefits: sanctions relief and a ceasefire in Lebanon. The strait was its leverage. Ships had begun moving through the southern route in recent weeks, oil prices had fallen, and Iran's chief bargaining chip was slipping away. On Tuesday, the same day as the Strait of Hormuz exchange, the US revoked a sanctions waiver on Iranian oil exports—a waiver introduced only 17 days earlier and the one concrete gain Iran had extracted from the deal.
Eric Brewer, a former US national security adviser, suggested Trump was reaping what he had sown. "He accepted a vague agreement that postponed many issues to the future because he was concerned about the economic consequences of continuing the war and doubted further bombing would bring much success," Brewer said. Vali Nasr, author of Iran's Grand Strategy, warned that the current escalation could easily destroy the memorandum entirely. "Iran believes the US wants to use it to gain control of the strait from Tehran—and if that is the case, Iran must be prepared to go to war over this issue," Nasr said. Ellie Geranmayeh of the European Council on Foreign Relations identified the sequencing problem: Iran would not surrender its leverage over the strait before securing broader relief from sanctions. For Trump, the reopened strait was the heart of the agreement. Without it, Republican hawks would demand a return to war.
Diplomats were attempting to construct a joint notification system for ships transiting the strait, one in which both Iran and Gulf Cooperation Council members would have a voice. It would loosen Iranian sovereignty without abandoning it entirely. But behind that technical proposal lay a larger obstacle: Iran insisted that all ships pay a security fee—a demand universally rejected, yet one Tehran seemed unwilling to abandon.
The only thing preventing a return to full-scale conflict, observers noted grimly, was that full-scale conflict had already been tried. And it had failed. Yet the machinery of escalation remained in place, the military now calling the shots in Tehran, and no clear path existed to reverse course.
Notable Quotes
The problem here is that the US is interfering in Iran's business.— Esmail Baghaei, Iranian foreign ministry spokesperson
Iran believes the US wants to use it to gain control of the strait from Tehran—and if that is the case, Iran must be prepared to go to war over this issue.— Vali Nasr, author of Iran's Grand Strategy
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does the timing of Trump's comments matter so much here? Iran's military and the US have been in tension for years.
Because funerals in Iran aren't just personal events—they're national moments. Khamenei's death unleashed a wave of religious fervor and patriotic feeling that was still raw when Trump spoke. He essentially poured gasoline on an already burning fire.
So the military took over decision-making because of that emotional moment?
Not exactly because of it, but the moment created the conditions. The diplomats had been trying to manage the MOU, but every confidence-building measure failed. When Trump revoked the sanctions waiver 17 days after introducing it, it signaled the US wasn't serious. The military saw an opening and took control.
What does Iran actually want from the Strait of Hormuz?
Control of it is their leverage. They designed the entire agreement to defer the nuclear issue until they got sanctions relief. If they lose control of the strait, they lose their bargaining chip. The US opening a southern route undermines that completely.
Can they actually enforce control over a major shipping lane?
They've been attacking ships for weeks. The question isn't capability—it's whether they're willing to escalate further. And with the military in charge, that calculation has changed.
Is there any way out of this cycle?
Diplomats are trying to create a joint notification system, something that gives Iran a voice without absolute control. But Iran also wants security fees from every ship, which nobody will accept. The real problem is that both sides see the strait as their red line, and neither is willing to move first.