Trump might be on the verge of his greatest diplomatic success

Donald Trump’s strategic failure in Iran could – accidentally – become his greatest diplomatic success. His attack on Iran revealed the limits of US power and a new source of leverage for Iran in closing the Strait of Hormuz. Ironically, it is precisely this new Iranian power that Trump could use to extricate himself from a strategic mess of his own making. The US President is in a dilemma. Put aside the bombastic rhetoric, and both sides are stuck. Neither believe they’ve lost; both think they have more to gain. Trump has only two options to break the impasse: Use such overwhelming military power that Iran decides the cost of resistance is too high. Or negotiate – and hope to achieve his aims with the leverage he has. The clear temptation is to escalate and attempt to break the will of Iran’s leadership. America could continue crippling strikes, or, more strategically, attempt to strangle Iran’s exports through an extended blockade or control of Kharg Island, which handles around 90 per cent of Iran’s oil. The question is not whether Trump can inflict further damage on Iran. He can. It is whether doing it produces the outcome he wants. To tip the balance of power in his favour – including reopening the strait – may require Trump to absorb a level of pain and risk he has shown unwillingness to tolerate to date, including rising global oil prices and high numbers of US casualties. Military advantage doesn’t necessarily translate into political leverage either. History suggests caution: Iran has endured decades of sanctions, isolation and military pressure while preserving the core pillars of its foreign policy. Escalation aside, how can Trump get what he wants out of the Iran conflict? The Strait of Hormuz may provide the answer. Before Trump attacked, Iran was simultaneously portrayed as a paper tiger and a formidable regional power able to inflict global costs. But in this conflict Iran has proved that it possessed a powerful source of leverage neither side fully appreciated before the war: by denying safe passage to even a small number of ships, it could close down 20 per cent of the world’s transport of oil and liquid natural gas. It is this strength that may make Iran’s leaders rethink how it provides long-term security to the country. Its nuclear programme has always been about more than the bomb itself – and ensuring no outside power can again decide Iran’s future. The strait could offer Iran a substitute for its nuclear insurance – and Trump a deal that avoids further escalation. The grand bargain, unpalatable as it may be, is that the US accepts Iran’s de facto (not legal) role in maintaining commercial passage through the strait in exchange for abandoning its nuclear programme. In practice, this means the US accepts it will not use military force to reopen the strait. Iran would commit to keeping the waterway open to commercial shipping, while assuming a recognised role in providing maritime services, potentially including “maritime service fees”. Those arrangements would matter more symbolically than economically: they would acknowledge that Iran’s influence over the strait had become part of the region’s security architecture – and that its ability to disrupt Hormuz had become a strategic deterrent in its own right. In return would come the complete, independently verified dismantling of Iran’s nuclear programme, with the US providing phased sanctions relief. Any breach would trigger the automatic return of sanctions and the possibility of renewed military action. The precise legal architecture would be for diplomats to negotiate. The strategic trade is what matters: Iran exchanges its nuclear deterrent for recognition of a new source of regional leverage. This solution won’t be palatable for a number of reasons – but there are limited options. Primarily, allowing Iran to control the strait risks rewarding coercion. Freedom of navigation in international waters is a cornerstone of international law and it could encourage others to follow suit – China’s claim to the South China Sea and around Taiwan would be tacitly strengthened, for example. The concern is legitimate, but the legal reality is already more complicated. International waterways have long involved arrangements around safety, pilotage and maritime services. Chile, for instance, collects fees in the Strait of Magellan, and something similar could be implemented for Iran. In practice, the choice is not between a world where Iran has no influence over Hormuz and one where it does. The war has already answered that question. The choice is whether that influence is exercised through confrontation or through a deal. It may be deeply uncomfortable, but so is nuclear proliferation. It is no idle threat: many in Iran will see US attacks as proof the deterrent is necessary and a nuclear Iran could lead to rapid proliferation across the Middle East. It is better to be in conflict on the law of the sea than at the mercy of the red button. But is such a deal saleable? That often appears to be Trump’s primary metric. Ending Iran’s nuclear programme would be a significant achievement, even if Obama’s administration previously made progress towards it. Crucially, Trump could frame it not as a concession, but as a transaction: America gets its most important objective, so does Iran, and the deal demonstrates the war delivered tangible gains. Trump set out to weaken Iran. Instead, he may have strengthened its negotiating position. That looks like failure. Yet diplomacy has always been about trading what each side values most. If the strait has become Iran’s new source of leverage, then for the first time in years its nuclear programme may no longer be its only insurance policy. Trump’s greatest strategic mistake may have created a realistic basis for a lasting deal. No one should pretend this is a satisfying outcome. Rewarding coercion sets dangerous precedents. But diplomacy is not the art of choosing between good options. It is often the art of choosing between bad ones.