Why Does Every Offer of Peace Give Way to Another Crisis?

Why Does Every Offer of Peace Give Way to Another Crisis?

S. Rouzbeh

The Islamic Republic speaks of peace, sits down at the negotiating table, signs a temporary agreement and declares its readiness to resolve disputes; yet before calm has a chance to take shape, another crisis begins. Merchant ships are targeted, shipping routes restricted, neighbouring countries face threats and attacks, and once again the sound of missiles, drones and military operations overwhelms the language of negotiation.

On 15 June 2026, corresponding to 25 Khordad 1405, US officials announced that Washington and Tehran had signed a memorandum of understanding to end the war and gradually reopen the Strait of Hormuz. The temporary agreement was intended to provide a sixty-day period for negotiations towards a more durable settlement. Its text emphasised a halt to military operations and safe passage for merchant vessels without charges.

But disagreement over the meaning of these commitments quickly emerged. Tehran interpreted the provision on safe passage as recognition of the Islamic Republic’s right to manage the strait, while the United States and the Arab Gulf states regarded it simply as Iran’s commitment to ensure freedom of navigation. A few weeks later, Iran again fired on vessels that did not follow its approved route and declared the strait closed.

On 11 July 2026, corresponding to 20 Tir 1405, a Cyprus-flagged container ship was attacked in the Strait of Hormuz, caught fire and suffered serious damage, with one crew member missing. In response, the United States launched another round of military attacks against Iran. The incident offered a clear example of the gap between diplomatic language and the practical consequences of the Islamic Republic’s behaviour.

The central question is this: why, whenever an opportunity for calm emerges, does the Islamic Republic move towards crisis again?

Can the Islamic Republic Maintain Its Cohesion Without a Foreign Enemy?

The government is now experiencing one of the most difficult periods of its existence. It has lost its former leader; the succession has been marked by uncertainty and disagreement, and an ambiguous virtual presence has emerged. This new arrangement has still not established the political and religious authority the system claims. Even US officials have spoken of internal struggles in Tehran and the difficulty of maintaining an agreement with a power structure whose decision-making is not unified.

Meanwhile, the Islamic Republic’s regional proxies have been weakened, large parts of its military and communications infrastructure have been targeted, and neighbouring countries that tried to mediate have themselves faced attacks and insecurity. Missile and drone attacks on the Arab Gulf states have turned concern about the war spreading into anger and mistrust.

This pattern is not confined to the Strait of Hormuz. The Islamic Republic’s financial, military and political support for Hezbollah and Palestinian armed groups, alongside the actions of Israel and other regional actors, has helped prolong proxy conflicts and increase their cost to the people of Lebanon and Gaza. The people of these areas are not only victims of war; they have become trapped in competition between powers that have turned their land into an arena for settling scores.

In such circumstances, a foreign enemy can serve as political glue. The government can temporarily conceal internal differences, accuse critics of collaborating with the enemy, impose a security climate on the country, and ask its supporters to rally behind the power structure instead of questioning its record. In political science, this pattern is sometimes called

‘diversionary war’:

the use of external conflict or tension to divert public attention from domestic crises, political failures and the government’s problems, and also to shift society’s attention from internal crises towards an external threat.

Given the mass killing of protesters in Dey and the emergence of the Lion and Sun revolution, war can have two different consequences for the Islamic Republic. On the one hand, by creating conditions of war, fear, insecurity and harsher repression, the government seeks to prevent people from continuing their movement and reaching its goal, silencing domestic protests in the name of national security. On the other, continued war may further erode its economic, military and administrative capacity, widen internal divisions and create circumstances in which society can pursue its protest movement more forcefully at a moment of governmental weakness. Whether war ultimately deters society or contributes to further weakening the government and expanding protest is a question requiring more expert examination and discussion.

If War and Tension End, How Will the Government Answer for Its Record?

Perhaps this is where the real danger of peace for the Islamic Republic begins. In calm conditions, not every problem can still be explained by war, sanctions and enemies. The government must answer for hyperinflation, collapsing purchasing power, unemployment, corruption, embezzlement, water shortages, energy imbalances, capital flight and the destruction of economic opportunities.

Iran continues to face serious restrictions within the international financial system, and banking isolation has raised the cost of transfers, trade and investment. The Islamic Republic’s continuing differences with FATF standards, together with banking restrictions, have made money transfers and foreign trade costly and difficult. Many foreign banks and companies avoid working with Iran even without direct sanctions. The result is reduced investment, higher transaction costs and greater pressure on the economy. To display legitimacy and cohesion, the government has spent heavily on funerals and commemorations for its dead personnel and officials: spectacles that are less evidence of genuine public support than attempts to manufacture authority and conceal a crisis of legitimacy.

This situation makes the economy more dependent on intermediaries, opaque networks and structures that foster corruption.

At home, corruption cases, advance sales without delivery, companies unable to return people’s money and gatherings of those who have suffered losses continually come to light. In wartime, the government can push these crises aside; in peace, it must explain, even to its own supporters, what decades of rule have produced beyond repression, executions, regional adventurism and heavy military expenditure.

The nuclear programme is part of the same cycle. Continued enrichment and a refusal to build confidence effectively, regardless of the government’s official justifications, have increased international mistrust and contributed to harsher sanctions and military threats. Here too, rather than reduce uncertainty and open a path towards normalising relations, the Islamic Republic has pursued a policy that reproduces external crisis.

Is This Behaviour a Deliberate Strategy?

Some analysts believe that these actions do not all stem from a single plan to create war, but from competition between the Revolutionary Guards, the diplomatic apparatus, the leadership and multiple centres of power. According to this view, some tensions may result from miscalculation, poor coordination or actions by factions seeking to sabotage negotiations.

This possibility cannot be ignored. But whether crisis arises from a central decision or internal disorder, the consequences are the same: continued tension, greater costs for the public and the postponement of accountability.

War brings death, poverty and destruction to ordinary people, but for a government at an impasse it can offer an opportunity to impose a security climate on society and cover up failure. That is why every offer of peace must be judged against the government’s behaviour, rather than its statements. For the Islamic Republic, calm is not simply the end of conflict; it is the beginning of questions whose answers can no longer be evaded with missiles, censorship and a foreign enemy.