Trump claims advance knowledge of Israel's Iran strikes while pursuing nuclear talks

Donald Trump arrived at his Friday phone call with Reuters carrying a peculiar claim: he and his team had known all along that Israel was about to strike Iran. He said he'd tried to stop it, tried to save Iran from what he called humiliation and death, all while pursuing a nuclear agreement with Tehran. Yet now, with the strikes complete, he was calling them excellent and very successful.

For months, Trump had pressed Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to hold back, to give diplomacy room to breathe. At the same time, he'd threatened to bomb Iran himself if nuclear talks collapsed. It was a high-wire act of public bluster and private maneuvering—the kind of negotiation Trump has made his signature move. On Thursday, before the strikes began, he'd told reporters the attack seemed likely but he didn't want to say it was imminent. By Friday, after Israeli warplanes had hit Iranian nuclear facilities, ballistic missile factories, and military commanders, Trump was reframing the whole sequence as something he'd anticipated and, ultimately, endorsed.

The strikes themselves were devastating. Israel had warned the operation would be prolonged, designed to prevent Tehran from building an atomic weapon. Trump said he wasn't sure anymore whether Iran even has a nuclear program left. "It was a devastating blow," he told Reuters. When asked if the United States would back Israel against Iranian retaliation, Trump said yes without hesitation. He claimed not to be worried about a regional war breaking out, though he offered no details on why. "We've been very close to Israel," he said. "We are by far their number one ally."

But underneath the show of support lay a more complicated picture. Trump had spent months trying to negotiate with Iran, asking them to stop enriching uranium in exchange for sanctions relief and a path back to international standing. Iran had refused. Trump had given them sixty days to strike a deal. That deadline had passed. On Monday, before the strikes, he'd told reporters flatly: "They seek enrichment. We cannot have enrichment." By Friday, he was saying he'd known the window was closing, that he'd done everything he could to prevent the attack but also that he'd seen it coming.

The diplomatic track, if it ever existed, now hung by a thread. The United States had scheduled a sixth round of nuclear negotiations with Iran for Sunday in Oman, with Trump's special envoy Steve Witkoff set to meet an Iranian delegation. Trump said he wasn't sure the meeting would happen. "They're not dead," he said of the talks, a strange way to describe diplomacy. "We have a meeting with them on Sunday. I'm not sure that meeting will take place, but we have a meeting with them on Sunday."

Over the weekend, Trump had gathered his national security team at Camp David. He'd spoken with Netanyahu on Monday about Iran, then again on Friday after the strikes. His National Security Council had convened in the Situation Room to discuss the operation. No details of those conversations emerged. What was clear was that Trump had positioned himself as both the restraining hand and the ultimate supporter—the man who'd tried to stop the war while blessing it once it came.

The question now was whether anything remained to negotiate. Iran had shown no willingness to abandon uranium enrichment, the one thing Trump said was non-negotiable. The strikes had been meant to set back Tehran's nuclear program by years, perhaps to create an opening for talks. Instead, they seemed to have closed the door. Trump was still talking about deals, still saying it wasn't too late. But the calendar had moved past his deadline, the bombs had fallen, and the Iranians were left to decide whether to respond or to sit down at a table that might no longer exist.