A superpower unwilling to accept a hundred casualties is not a superpower
A sixty-day ceasefire between Washington and Tehran has settled over the Middle East like a pause between sentences — necessary, but not yet meaningful. The agreement commits both sides to negotiations on Iran's nuclear program and sanctions relief, yet the deeper architecture of regional grievance — missile arsenals, militant networks, shattered trust among Gulf states — remains entirely untouched. History offers little comfort here: the last major nuclear accord took eighteen months to build and was abandoned in a single decision. What has been signed is not a peace, but an interval, and the region's people know the difference.
- A fifteen-week conflict left Gulf states physically damaged and psychologically unmoored, their foundational belief in American protection quietly dismantled by Washington's unwillingness to absorb casualties or economic pain.
- Israel watches the ceasefire with alarm, pointing to Gaza as proof of the pattern: a year after Trump's earlier deal, nearly a thousand Palestinians are dead, Hamas is still armed, and reconstruction has not begun.
- The Strait of Hormuz — carrying roughly a fifth of the world's oil and gas — has reopened, but Iran has already demonstrated it can close it again, and the agreement says nothing about the ballistic missiles or militant networks that make that threat credible.
- Gulf states now scramble for a new strategic footing, united only in the conclusion that the United States cannot be counted on, but deeply divided on what should replace that assumption.
- Analysts across the board describe the deal as a Band-Aid: in sixty days there may be positive headlines, but no breakthrough — only the temporary quiet of an era in which the old thresholds have already been crossed and the old rules no longer hold.
The ceasefire arrived the way held breaths do — with relief that something had stopped, and doubt that it would last. In Kuwait, still recovering from weeks of Iranian drone strikes, a Jordanian engineer named Iyad Joumma put it plainly: the deal might give the region time to recover, but only if both sides were willing to confront the actual sources of their anger. Most experts agreed that willingness was nowhere in sight.
The interim memorandum of understanding offered sixty days without fighting, during which negotiators would attempt to resolve Iran's uranium enrichment, the sanctions architecture, and billions in frozen assets. When the Guardian consulted a dozen analysts after news broke, none believed it would amount to more than a temporary reprieve. Neil Quilliam of Chatham House called it a Band-Aid. The agreement required Washington to lift its naval blockade and Tehran to allow free passage through the Strait of Hormuz — but said nothing about Iran's ballistic missiles or its support for Hezbollah, Hamas, the Houthis, and allied militias across Iraq.
Israel was dismayed. Gaza had already demonstrated the pattern: nearly a thousand Palestinians killed since Trump's earlier ceasefire, more than sixty percent of the territory under Israeli occupation, Hamas still armed, reconstruction stalled. Alia Brahimi of the Atlantic Council saw it clearly — ceasefires had become cover for continuing military objectives, with past atrocities unexamined and a viable Palestinian future not even on the table.
For the Gulf states, the wound was as much psychological as physical. Kuwait, Bahrain, the UAE, and Qatar had absorbed Iranian strikes and watched their assumption of American protection dissolve. Danny Orbach of Hebrew University was blunt: a superpower unwilling to accept a hundred casualties was not a superpower at all. H.A. Hellyer of RUSI noted that while Gulf states had reached consensus — the US could not be relied upon — they had no agreement on what came next.
Quilliam's forecast was measured and grim: the deal would hold, oil would flow, there would be positive headlines in sixty days. But there would be no breakthrough. Iran had shown it could absorb punishment and strike back. Every threshold that was supposed to prevent escalation had already been crossed. The region had entered a new era — one in which temporary peace was simply the interval between conflicts.
The agreement between Washington and Tehran arrived in the Middle East like a held breath—necessary, but nobody quite believed it would last. In Kuwait, which had endured weeks of Iranian drone strikes during the fifteen-week conflict, a Jordanian engineer named Iyad Joumma captured the prevailing mood: relief mixed with skepticism. The deal might give the region time to recover, he said, but only if both sides were willing to confront the actual sources of their anger. That willingness, most experts suggested, was nowhere in sight.
The interim memorandum of understanding, set to be signed by Iranian and American representatives on Friday, offered a narrow pathway: sixty days without fighting, during which negotiators would attempt to resolve some of the most intractable questions—Iran's uranium enrichment, the architecture of sanctions, the release of billions in frozen assets. It was, in essence, a framework for further talks. But when the Guardian consulted a dozen analysts and regional experts after news of the potential ceasefire broke, none believed the agreement would amount to anything more than a temporary reprieve. Neil Quilliam, a Middle East specialist at Chatham House in London, was blunt: it was a Band-Aid, and conflict would likely return.
The obstacles were substantial and familiar. The 2015 nuclear agreement had taken eighteen months of painstaking negotiation, only to be discarded by Donald Trump during his first presidency. The current deal committed Washington to lift its naval blockade of Iran and required Tehran to allow unrestricted shipping through the Strait of Hormuz—a waterway that normally carries roughly a fifth of the world's oil and liquefied gas. Iran had closed it early in the war, demonstrating the leverage geography could provide. But the agreement said nothing about Iran's ballistic missile arsenal or its financial support for what analysts called the Axis of Resistance—a loose network of militant movements including Hezbollah in Lebanon, Hamas in Gaza, the Houthis in Yemen, and various militias across Iraq.
Israel was particularly dismayed. A ceasefire had been imposed in Lebanon as part of the deal and was, for now, holding. But Gaza offered a cautionary tale. Nearly a thousand Palestinians had been killed since Trump brokered an end to that war a year earlier. Israel now occupied more than sixty percent of the territory. Hamas retained its weapons. The projected second phase of reconstruction had stalled entirely. Alia Brahimi, an analyst at the Atlantic Council in Washington, saw the pattern clearly: ceasefires had become cover for continuing military objectives. The past—the war crimes—went unexamined. The present—how to disarm armed groups—remained unresolved. The future—a viable Palestinian state—was not even on the table.
The Sunni Arab states of the Gulf faced a different reckoning. Kuwait, Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar had all absorbed Iranian strikes. The physical damage to ports, refineries, and civilian infrastructure would take months or years to repair. But the psychological wound cut deeper. These states had built their prosperity and diplomatic influence on the assumption of American protection. That assumption had shattered. When Washington decided it could not absorb significant casualties, could not weather months of economic disruption or domestic political cost, it sent a message that reverberated across the region: the superpower was not willing to pay the price. Danny Orbach, a military historian at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, was caustic: a superpower unwilling to accept a hundred casualties was not a superpower at all.
Gulf states would now scramble to contain what they saw as a newly emboldened Iran. But they disagreed on strategy. H.A. Hellyer of the Royal United Services Institute in London noted that while there was consensus on one point—the United States could not be relied upon—there was little agreement on what came next. The Arab world had legitimate grievances about how Iran projected power and influence across the region, and none of those grievances were being addressed in the interim deal.
Quilliam sketched the likely near-term future: the agreement would hold. In sixty days, there would probably be positive headlines. Oil and gas would flow again. But there would be no major breakthrough. The Strait of Hormuz could be closed again. Iran had demonstrated it could absorb punishment and strike back. All the previous thresholds—the lines that were supposed to trigger escalation—had already been crossed. The region had entered what Quilliam called a new era, one in which the old rules no longer applied and the temporary peace was simply the interval between conflicts.
Citas Notables
The agreement's success will depend on the ability of the parties involved to address the root causes of the tensions— Iyad Joumma, Jordanian engineer in Kuwait
It's just a big Band-Aid and future conflict is likely to come at some point— Neil Quilliam, Middle East expert at Chatham House
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does everyone keep calling this a Band-Aid? What would a real solution look like?
A real solution would have to address why these conflicts started in the condition. The nuclear program, yes, but also the ballistic missiles, the funding of militant groups, the historical grievances. This deal just says both sides will keep talking. It doesn't actually resolve anything.
So the sixty days is just theater?
Not entirely. It buys time for infrastructure to be repaired, for people to stop dying. That matters. But unless something fundamental shifts in how these actors see each other's legitimacy, the ceasefire is just a pause.
What about the Strait of Hormuz? That seems like the real leverage point.
Exactly. Iran proved it can disrupt global oil supplies with a few strikes. That's not theoretical anymore. Everyone knows it now. That's why the Gulf states are so frightened—they're realizing the US can't protect them from that kind of pressure.
Is Israel's concern about the missiles and militant funding justified?
Yes, but it's also the thing that makes a settlement nearly impossible. Israel wants structural change—the end of the Axis of Resistance. Iran isn't going to agree to that. So you have two sides with incompatible demands, and a ceasefire that doesn't touch either one.
What happens when the sixty days end?
Nobody knows. That's the honest answer. The optimists think momentum from talks might carry forward. The pessimists—and there are more of them—think we're just waiting for the next trigger.