Why the Iran ceasefire may have shifted the dynamics back in Trump's favor

Diplomacy between Washington and Tehran has not yet unraveled, despite JD Vance’s theatrical departure from last week’s talks in Islamabad. Trump now signals that the two sides could reconvene within days in the Pakistani capital. Whether negotiators return to the table or continue their exchanges through quieter, remote channels before the ceasefire lapses, one reality appears to have shifted: Trump has clawed back a measure of momentum—and with it, leverage—over Iran, largely by virtue of the ceasefire. Here’s why.

Trump entered this moment politically cornered and strategically constrained. Surging gasoline prices were inflicting acute domestic pain, eroding his standing at home. More critically, he faced a barren escalation ladder. Each conceivable move—strikes on Iran’s oil infrastructure, attacks on civilian targets, the seizure of Persian Gulf islands, or covert operations to capture enriched uranium—carried the near-certainty of forceful Iranian retaliation. Such responses would not merely match his escalation but compound it, deepening his economic exposure, amplifying political risk, and entangling him further in a perilous and unwinnable strategic bind.

Nor could he simply extricate the United States from the conflict on his own terms. Absent an understanding with Tehran, Iran retained both the capacity and the incentive to continue targeting Israel and vulnerable U.S. assets across the Gulf. Trump needed Iran’s permission to get out of the war.

The ceasefire, however, has subtly altered that equation. Trump may no longer need a formal nod from Tehran to step back. If he disengages now—without a comprehensive agreement—Iran will almost certainly maintain its grip over the Strait of Hormuz, a strategic setback for Washington. Yet Tehran is unlikely to resume direct military operations against U.S. targets in the Persian Gulf. To do so, in the absence of renewed American strikes, would cast Iran as the aggressor, inviting severe and potentially coordinated repercussions—not only from Washington but from wary global powers such as Russia and China.

Moreover, the balance of needs has tilted. Iran now appears to need an agreement more than the United States does. Trump has already secured his central objective—the escape from a war he was ill-advised to begin—while Iran, despite accruing leverage through its command of the Strait, remains far from realizing its broader ambitions: meaningful sanctions relief, a definitive and enduring end to hostilities, and perhaps even the contours of a more stable, constructive relationship with Washington.

Tehran’s decision to dispatch its largest, most senior, and most expansive delegation to Islamabad for direct talks with the American vice president reflected a striking confidence—that it occupied its strongest negotiating position vis-à-vis the United States since 1979. Yet to convert that moment of perceived ascendancy into little more than a cessation of U.S. bombardment would fall short of its aspirations. Even if Washington were to acquiesce to Iran’s control of the Strait, such an outcome would pale against the far more consequential gains Tehran believes are within reach.

Instead, Iran needs to translate this leverage not only into a durable end to the war, but ideally, into a new peace: One that delivers sweeping sanctions relief and inaugurates a more stable, mutually defined economic and political relationship with Washington. Such an arrangement would serve as a bulwark against renewed conflict. The economic imperative is especially stark: sanctions relief is indispensable to reconstruct a country now burdened with damage running into the hundreds of billions of dollars.

As I have argued before, sanctions relief is not merely an economic demand—it is a strategic necessity. Without it, Iran risks a condition of chronic erosion, a slow but steady weakening that would leave it exposed. That vulnerability, in turn, could invite further attacks. It was, after all, the misperception of Iranian weakness that helped open the window for initial strikes.

But Trump does not, in any fundamental sense, require any of this. The United States can endure without a formal agreement with Iran and without the benefits of an economic relationship with Tehran. To be sure, a negotiated settlement would better serve long-term American interests: the nuclear constraints Trump seeks can only be credibly secured at the negotiating table. Abruptly abandoning diplomacy while leaving Iran in undisputed control of the Strait would also unsettle key regional allies. Yet these are strategic preferences, not immediate necessities.

Trump’s calculus is far more transactional and far less patient. He can point to the damage already inflicted on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure and conventional forces, proclaim a hollow victory, and disengage. He has already emphasized that the United States no longer depends on Persian Gulf oil, insulating it from the direct economic consequences of Iran’s toll regime. As a result, the burden shifts outward: the Strait becomes a problem for European and Asian powers—countries that Trump has noted declined to rally to his side when he sought their help in prying the waterway from Tehran’s grip.

The window now open offers Tehran a chance to convert battlefield leverage into lasting strategic gain. To let it close would mean forfeiting not just incremental progress, but the possibility of reshaping its economic and geopolitical position. By contrast, the United States, having already secured a tenuous exit ramp through the ceasefire, has less at stake in the short term. Walking away, therefore, is politically and strategically easier for Trump than for his Iranian counterparts. Both can live with diplomatic failure, but Tehran has more gains to lose.

How Tehran chooses to navigate this narrowing corridor—whether it presses its advantage or overplays its hand—will be interesting to see.