Between Hamasstan and Tehran
It is tempting to try to assess what to expect from negotiations between the United States and Iran based on previous rounds between the two sides. But perhaps the better lesson comes from another corner of the Middle East: Gaza.
There, as here, Trump used the exact same threat on the enemy ("to open the gates of hell on them"), and there too Israel suddenly discovered that he was conducting direct negotiations with them. For many, this was proof that Trump had thrown Israel under the bus, that he was unstable, and other worn-out clichés. But the truth was different: Netanyahu's Israel and Trump's United States had the same goals, returning the hostages and demilitarizing Hamas. The gap was over the means. Israel believed in military force as the sole solution; Trump believed negotiations could also work.
The US president was right, to Israel's surprise. He secured the return of all the hostages while the IDF still controlled most of the Strip, leaving demilitarization for later.
As in "Hamasstan," so in Tehran: there is full agreement between Netanyahu and Trump on the end state—no uranium, no missiles, no proxies, and no regional domination. The disagreement lies in whether this can be achieved through talks in Islamabad. "We won't create difficulties on this issue," Netanyahu said this week. "We're already being accused on the fringes of the Republican Party of dragging America into war, why give them reason to think we sabotaged negotiations?"
Where might a gap emerge? If, in this case too, some demands and concessions are deferred to later stages, such as ending cooperation with proxies or dismantling the missile industry. The "fifteen-point document," for example, states that the US would lift sanctions according to a timetable and Iranian compliance, very similar to the Hamas model.
But there is a fundamental difference that complicates this scenario. Hamas is like the creature in Alien, it changes forms: sometimes a government, sometimes an army, sometimes a guerrilla organization. Iran is a state. It cannot, and will not, survive in such uncertainty. It demands its reward here and now: guarantees of no further attacks, that Israel will not strike Hezbollah, that sanctions will be lifted and billions will flow. In other words, not a return to February 28, but an entirely new reality. And that, quite simply, Trump cannot accept.
What's the interest?
"There is a messianic view that says Iran will collapse immediately and peace will come upon us," Netanyahu said this week, as disappointment grew in Israel over reports of a possible end to the war. "But it doesn't work like that. There will be improvement in percentages, not a knockout—not just with Iran, but mainly with the region. The most important thing is that now the whole world understands what we've been saying: Iran is a global threat."
A "new Middle East"? The pessimists will say the world will return to its old habits, the moment the war ends, Qatar will resume pumping anti-Israel incitement through Al Jazeera, and Saudi Arabia will return to its distancing track of recent years. The optimists will tell you that this summer we'll be visiting Tehran—and that we'll get there by car through Saudi Arabia, with a Qatari ship ferrying us across the Persian Gulf.
But perhaps we should let go of the idea that Mohammed bin Salman or Al Thani will suddenly love us, and start thinking in terms of interests. Gulf states publicly insist they have no interest in war and reserve the right to respond (when does "reserving the right" end and responding begin? Asking for a friend), but behind closed doors they are urging Trump to go all the way.
What would reality look like in the UAE or Qatar, states that have invested hundreds of billions over decades branding themselves as global hubs of business and tourism—if, just 150 kilometers away across the Persian Gulf, a volatile neighbor capable of launching missiles at any moment remains? It would be like proposing Kibbutz Misgav Am as a host site for the 2022 World Cup.
In Joe Biden's final year as president, there was much talk of a US–Saudi defense pact. The claim was that Biden conditioned it on normalization with Israel. At the time, MBS was also engaging China, Russia, and Iran, signaling to Washington that he had other options. Those alternatives are far more tempting: they don't demand minority rights, and they have no particular issue with dismembering journalists with a chainsaw. So why side with a distant state across the Atlantic?
It is no coincidence that both Trump and Hegseth have emphasized since the start of the war the strength of the US–Israel partnership and the weakness of other states, which have refrained even from securing the Strait of Hormuz. Whether in coordination between Israeli and American pilots over Tehran or in intelligence cooperation the world has never seen, the message to the Gulf is clear: this is what a US defense alliance looks like.
Meanwhile, Iran is trying to draw in Russia and China, but so far the assistance amounts to little more than a few Chinese defense systems and Russian statements. It is the missiles exploding in Isfahan and Shiraz that are resonating globally.
This cooperation is already shifting Gulf states. A dramatic statement by a UAE presidential adviser effectively buried the Arab League ("they only take aid but offer no support") and signaled a turn toward deeper cooperation with the US and the West. Open participation by the UAE and Qatar in the campaign—not quietly, but openly—would be a major force multiplier. That is what occupies Israel now.
