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What happened
The U.S.-Israeli strikes against Iran began on 28 February 2026, one day after Oman-mediated talks ended, and major combat continued until a Pakistan-brokered ceasefire on 8 April after nearly six weeks of war. Since then, the ceasefire has held only fitfully: Washington and Tehran have still exchanged fire, messages have continued through Pakistani mediation, and the latest U.S. position remains that any durable settlement must reopen the Strait of Hormuz without Iranian tolls or veto power.
Washington’s public case for war mixed a real nuclear concern with disputed claims of imminence. Before the war, the IAEA reported that Iran still possessed 440.9 kg of uranium enriched to 60% and that the agency could not fully verify some affected facilities because access was missing. At the same time, Reuters reported that U.S. intelligence did not show Iran was about to attack American forces first, undercutting part of the administration’s public justification. IAEA Director General Rafael Grossi responded by saying that diplomacy remained the only durable way to ensure Iran did not acquire a nuclear weapon.
The way Washington fought
Militarily, the opening was anything but hesitant. General Dan Caine said the final order went out on 27 February; cyber and space units moved first; then more than 100 aircraft launched a synchronised wave on 28 February, and more than 1,000 targets were hit in the first 24 hours. CENTCOM said the targets included IRGC command-and-control sites, air defences, missile and drone launch sites, and military airfields, calling the campaign the largest regional concentration of American military firepower in a generation.
The campaign also had a coercive-maritime layer. The early strikes killed Iran’s supreme leader and other top officials; later, the United States imposed a blockade on traffic entering or leaving Iranian ports after Iran closed the Strait; and in May CENTCOM said it escorted destroyers through Hormuz and struck launch sites after Iranian missiles, drones and small boats attacked the transit. This was not a paper war. By 5 April, 13 U.S. service members had been killed and more than 300 wounded, while a downed F-15 forced a major rescue mission deep inside Iran.
That matters because it clears away one easy misunderstanding. The United States did not look weak because it failed to hit Iran. It hit Iran very hard. The problem is that tactical violence and strategic success turned out to be two different things. Even after repeated bombardment, Iran still had bargaining power, still had a grip on Hormuz, and still had not accepted the political terms Washington wanted.
Why the pressure campaign lost leverage
The main reason is that battlefield damage did not produce a political decision. CSIS analysts argue that Washington entered the war with broad and shifting goals: stopping the nuclear programme, degrading missiles, curbing Iran’s regional reach, and at least implicitly encouraging regime change. By the ceasefire, Iran’s system was bloodied but still in place; Reuters reported that hardliners looked more entrenched, the Strait closure had become a real deterrent, and Iran still possessed more than 400 kg of highly enriched uranium. The IAEA, meanwhile, was still unable to provide assurances about non-diversion at affected sites.
Iran’s real counterstroke was economic rather than symmetrical. The Strait of Hormuz normally handles more than one-quarter of global seaborne oil trade and about one-fifth of world oil and petroleum product consumption, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. By late May, Reuters reported that daily traffic had fallen from a pre-war 125–140 vessels to roughly 10, and ADNOC’s chief said full flows might not return until the first half of 2027 even if the conflict ended immediately. In practical terms, Iran found a way to make the costs of continued U.S. pressure visible to the whole world, not just to the Pentagon.
That shock translated into American political limits. Reuters reported in April that the war had exposed Trump’s economic pressure point, with higher petrol prices, inflation worries, and falling approval ratings pushing Washington towards a deal. A Reuters/Ipsos poll later found that two out of three Americans thought Trump had not clearly explained why the country went to war. In other words, U.S. military power remained formidable, but the White House’s willingness to keep paying the domestic price of using that power looked finite.
That is why the post-ceasefire pattern has mattered so much. Trump has repeatedly escalated his language — calling Iranian proposals “garbage”, saying the ceasefire was “on life support”, claiming he was an hour away from a new strike, giving deadlines of “two or three days” or “a few days”, and then pausing again after a new Iranian proposal and appeals from Gulf leaders. Limited U.S. retaliatory strikes did resume on 7 May, so it is wrong to say Washington did nothing; but it has not returned to the kind of large-scale campaign it keeps threatening. For Tehran, the lesson is obvious: American threats are real, but American deadlines are negotiable.
This is the credibility problem. Chatham House and Reuters analysts have both argued that the United States has not looked militarily incapable; it has looked politically unwilling to pay the full price of turning tactical dominance into strategic control. In coercive diplomacy, that distinction is crucial. If the other side believes you can hit, but not sustain the consequences of hitting, time starts to favour the defender.
The U.S.-Israeli strikes against Iran began on 28 February 2026, one day after Oman-mediated talks ended, and major combat continued until a Pakistan-brokered ceasefire on 8 April after nearly six weeks of war. Since then, the ceasefire has held only fitfully: Washington and Tehran have still exchanged fire, messages have continued through Pakistani mediation, and the latest U.S. position remains that any durable settlement must reopen the Strait of Hormuz without Iranian tolls or veto power.
Washington’s public case for war mixed a real nuclear concern with disputed claims of imminence. Before the war, the IAEA reported that Iran still possessed 440.9 kg of uranium enriched to 60% and that the agency could not fully verify some affected facilities because access was missing. At the same time, Reuters reported that U.S. intelligence did not show Iran was about to attack American forces first, undercutting part of the administration’s public justification. IAEA Director General Rafael Grossi responded by saying that diplomacy remained the only durable way to ensure Iran did not acquire a nuclear weapon.
The way Washington fought
Militarily, the opening was anything but hesitant. General Dan Caine said the final order went out on 27 February; cyber and space units moved first; then more than 100 aircraft launched a synchronised wave on 28 February, and more than 1,000 targets were hit in the first 24 hours. CENTCOM said the targets included IRGC command-and-control sites, air defences, missile and drone launch sites, and military airfields, calling the campaign the largest regional concentration of American military firepower in a generation.
The campaign also had a coercive-maritime layer. The early strikes killed Iran’s supreme leader and other top officials; later, the United States imposed a blockade on traffic entering or leaving Iranian ports after Iran closed the Strait; and in May CENTCOM said it escorted destroyers through Hormuz and struck launch sites after Iranian missiles, drones and small boats attacked the transit. This was not a paper war. By 5 April, 13 U.S. service members had been killed and more than 300 wounded, while a downed F-15 forced a major rescue mission deep inside Iran.
That matters because it clears away one easy misunderstanding. The United States did not look weak because it failed to hit Iran. It hit Iran very hard. The problem is that tactical violence and strategic success turned out to be two different things. Even after repeated bombardment, Iran still had bargaining power, still had a grip on Hormuz, and still had not accepted the political terms Washington wanted.
Why the pressure campaign lost leverage
The main reason is that battlefield damage did not produce a political decision. CSIS analysts argue that Washington entered the war with broad and shifting goals: stopping the nuclear programme, degrading missiles, curbing Iran’s regional reach, and at least implicitly encouraging regime change. By the ceasefire, Iran’s system was bloodied but still in place; Reuters reported that hardliners looked more entrenched, the Strait closure had become a real deterrent, and Iran still possessed more than 400 kg of highly enriched uranium. The IAEA, meanwhile, was still unable to provide assurances about non-diversion at affected sites.
Iran’s real counterstroke was economic rather than symmetrical. The Strait of Hormuz normally handles more than one-quarter of global seaborne oil trade and about one-fifth of world oil and petroleum product consumption, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. By late May, Reuters reported that daily traffic had fallen from a pre-war 125–140 vessels to roughly 10, and ADNOC’s chief said full flows might not return until the first half of 2027 even if the conflict ended immediately. In practical terms, Iran found a way to make the costs of continued U.S. pressure visible to the whole world, not just to the Pentagon.
That shock translated into American political limits. Reuters reported in April that the war had exposed Trump’s economic pressure point, with higher petrol prices, inflation worries, and falling approval ratings pushing Washington towards a deal. A Reuters/Ipsos poll later found that two out of three Americans thought Trump had not clearly explained why the country went to war. In other words, U.S. military power remained formidable, but the White House’s willingness to keep paying the domestic price of using that power looked finite.
That is why the post-ceasefire pattern has mattered so much. Trump has repeatedly escalated his language — calling Iranian proposals “garbage”, saying the ceasefire was “on life support”, claiming he was an hour away from a new strike, giving deadlines of “two or three days” or “a few days”, and then pausing again after a new Iranian proposal and appeals from Gulf leaders. Limited U.S. retaliatory strikes did resume on 7 May, so it is wrong to say Washington did nothing; but it has not returned to the kind of large-scale campaign it keeps threatening. For Tehran, the lesson is obvious: American threats are real, but American deadlines are negotiable.
This is the credibility problem. Chatham House and Reuters analysts have both argued that the United States has not looked militarily incapable; it has looked politically unwilling to pay the full price of turning tactical dominance into strategic control. In coercive diplomacy, that distinction is crucial. If the other side believes you can hit, but not sustain the consequences of hitting, time starts to favour the defender.
