Talks, Then Bombs: Is Washington Rehearsing the Same Trap on Iran?
US President Donald Trump did not invent the phrase “fake news,” but he undoubtedly transformed it into a political weapon, relentlessly accusing critical media of fabricating unfavorable narratives.
The deeper irony, however, is harder to dismiss. Trump himself has exhibited a persistent disregard for factual consistency. Whether he believes his own claims is ultimately beside the point; what matters is that his record has eroded any reasonable basis for trust.
His war on Iran illustrates this contradiction with striking clarity. Trump has repeatedly spoken of his commitment to a negotiated resolution with Tehran. Yet, at critical junctures—often in tandem with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu—his administration has moved toward escalation, authorizing or supporting strikes even as diplomatic language dominated public discourse.
This is not an isolated contradiction, but a pattern.
Prior to the US-Israeli escalation in June 2025, Washington projected sustained optimism regarding diplomatic progress with Tehran, with messaging centered on possible agreements and ongoing indirect negotiations, reportedly facilitated by regional intermediaries such as Oman.
Yet, during and immediately following this period of diplomatic signaling, the United States and Israel proceeded with large-scale military strikes on Iranian targets, effectively collapsing the very negotiations that had been publicly emphasized.
The same pattern repeated itself on February 28, 2026. In the days leading up to the escalation, and even as discussions were believed to be underway through indirect channels, Trump continued to speak of potential deals and positive diplomatic momentum. However, these signals were swiftly overtaken by coordinated military action, reinforcing the perception that negotiations had once again functioned as a strategic cover for escalation rather than a genuine attempt at resolution.
Prior to earlier escalatory phases, Washington signaled that diplomatic channels remained active, reportedly through intermediaries such as Oman. At the same time, however, the US was expanding its military footprint in the region. The outcome was predictable: negotiations provided the appearance of restraint, while preparations for confrontation proceeded uninterrupted.
A similar sequence unfolded again in late February. Renewed talk of diplomacy coincided with fresh military action, reinforcing the same cycle—dialogue, deadlines, escalation.
Trump has repeatedly issued ultimatums, only to revise, extend, or abandon them altogether. Negotiations, in this framework, are not a pathway to resolution but a strategic instrument—used to buy time, reposition forces, and maintain the initiative.
Iran appears to have recognized this dynamic.
In the earlier phase of escalation, in June, Iranian retaliation was relatively delayed, taking approximately 18 hours to fully materialize following the initial strikes. However, after the February 28 aggression, Iran’s response was significantly faster, occurring within approximately two hours, and was more coordinated in both scale and targeting.
This contrast suggests not only improved operational readiness, but also a clearer strategic understanding of Washington’s use of negotiations as a tactical cover for escalation.
In earlier phases of the conflict, Tehran’s responses were slower, more cautious, and calibrated to avoid uncontrolled escalation. More recently, however, its reactions have become faster and more synchronized, suggesting both increased readiness and a clearer reading of Washington’s strategy.
Now, Trump appears to be returning to the same playbook.
In a recent post on Truth Social, he stated: “I have instructed the Department of War to postpone any and all military strikes against Iranian power plants and energy infrastructure for a five-day period, subject to the success of the ongoing meetings and discussions.”
He further described the talks as “very good and productive” and claimed that there were “major points of agreement” between Washington and Tehran, despite Iranian officials publicly denying that any direct or indirect negotiations are taking place.
Taken at face value, such remarks might suggest a rational recalibration. The broader context certainly allows for that possibility. The war has not gone according to plan.
Iran has demonstrated notable political cohesion, military resilience, and social endurance. Despite sustained attacks on infrastructure, the killing of civilians, and the targeting of senior leadership, the state has maintained strategic continuity. Its responses have not only absorbed pressure but reshaped the battlefield, raising the cost of escalation for its adversaries.
In doing so, Iran has effectively countered what we previously described as Israel’s “gone wild” doctrine and Trump’s so-called “madman” posture—two overlapping strategies rooted in unpredictability, escalation dominance, and psychological pressure. Rather than being destabilized by this approach, Tehran has absorbed it, adapted to it, and ultimately neutralized its intended effect. What was meant to overwhelm has instead been contained, gradually shifting the strategic balance.
What began as an asymmetric confrontation has evolved into a more balanced, and therefore more dangerous, strategic equation.
Iran is no longer merely reacting—it is shaping outcomes.
Meanwhile, diplomatic activity has intensified. Although Tehran denies direct negotiations with Washington, there is little doubt that indirect channels are active. Regional mediation efforts are reportedly involving actors such as Oman, Türkiye, and Egypt, pointing to a complex and multi-layered diplomatic track.
In this light, Trump’s statements could be read as an attempt to create an exit from a war that is steadily turning into a political and military liability. With midterm elections approaching, the domestic cost of a prolonged and inconclusive conflict cannot be ignored.
But Trump and the Gramscian notion of “good sense” rarely intersect.
His record suggests a different interpretation—one in which diplomatic language serves as a tactical cover rather than a strategic shift.
Recent developments reinforce this concern. US and Israeli officials have reportedly explored options involving high-value strategic targets, including Kharg Island in the Persian Gulf, Iran’s primary oil export terminal, where reports suggest possible US consideration of blockade or seizure operations to pressure Tehran over the Strait of Hormuz.
Trump himself has repeatedly threatened Iran’s energy sector, warning that the United States could “obliterate” Iranian power plants and energy infrastructure if Tehran failed to comply with US demands, including reopening the Strait of Hormuz.
At the same time, the inconsistency of Trump’s ultimatums continues to undermine any perception of credible negotiation. Deadlines are imposed, revised, extended, or abandoned with little coherence, reinforcing a sense of calculated unpredictability.
It is therefore entirely plausible that the current overture is not a step toward de-escalation, but a familiar maneuver—designed to manage perception, buy time, and prepare the ground for another phase of confrontation.
Iran, however, is unlikely to be caught off guard again. While the specifics of any forthcoming action may remain unclear, its increasingly rapid and calibrated responses suggest a high level of strategic anticipation.
What is particularly revealing is the parallel messaging emerging from Israeli officials, who have begun to suggest that the war may be nearing its conclusion and that a mutually beneficial agreement is within reach.
This alignment is unlikely to be coincidental. It points instead to a coordinated narrative—one that may serve purposes beyond diplomacy itself.
Whether this signals genuine de-escalation or a prelude to further escalation remains uncertain.
What is already clear, however, are several critical facts: the US-Israeli war effort has encountered serious limitations; Iran has emerged in a far stronger position than anticipated, with tangible leverage in any negotiation; and, ultimately, Trump’s words—no matter how measured or conciliatory they may appear—cannot be taken at face value.
Dr. Ramzy Baroud is a journalist, author and the Editor of The Palestine Chronicle. He is the author of eight books. His latest book, ‘Before the Flood,’ was published by Seven Stories Press. His other books include ‘Our Vision for Liberation’, ‘My Father was a Freedom Fighter’ and ‘The Last Earth’. Baroud is a Non-resident Senior Research Fellow at the Center for Islam and Global Affairs (CIGA). His website is www.ramzybaroud.net
Romana Rubeo is an Italian writer and the managing editor of The Palestine Chronicle. Her articles appeared in many online newspapers and academic journals. She holds a Master’s Degree in Foreign Languages and Literature and specializes in audio-visual and journalism translation.
Trump and Hegseth Cannot Define the Truth of the US-Israeli War on Iran
US Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth appears to have little patience for questions that do not conform to his preferred style of declaring unsubstantiated victories, whether against South Americans or in the Middle East.
In a charged press conference on March 13, Hegseth did more than attack journalists for questioning his unverified claims about the course of the war in the Middle East. He singled out CNN, introducing a troubling dimension to the conversation. “The sooner David Ellison takes over that network, the better,” he said.
Ellison, a close ally of President Donald Trump and a strong supporter of Israel, is widely considered the frontrunner to acquire Warner Bros. Discovery, the parent company that owns CNN. If there was any lingering doubt that such acquisitions are driven by political and ideological considerations, Hegseth’s remarks dispelled it.00
Such statements reflect a broader shift in how the media is viewed by segments of the US ruling class, particularly under the Trump administration. During both of his presidential terms, Trump has invested much of his public discourse not in unifying the nation but in deploying deeply hostile language against journalists who question his policies, rhetoric, or political conduct.
“The fake news media is not my enemy, it is the enemy of the American people,” Trump wrote on Truth Social on February 18, repeating a phrase that has become central to his political lexicon.
Yet American media entered this confrontation with little public trust to begin with, though for reasons that have little to do with Trump’s own political agenda. A 2025 Gallup poll found that only 28 percent of Americans trust the mass media to report the news fully, accurately, and fairly, one of the lowest levels recorded in recent decades.
Historically, this mistrust has coexisted with Americans’ skepticism toward their government – any government, regardless of political orientation. But what is unfolding today appears qualitatively different. The long-standing alignment between political power, corporate interests, and media narratives now seems to be fracturing under the weight of widespread public distrust.
In Israel, however, the situation takes a different form. Mainstream media often mirrors the militant posture of the government itself, translating political belligerence into broad public support for war – whether in Gaza, Lebanon, Iran, or wherever Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu chooses to expand the battlefield.
Public opinion data illustrates this dynamic clearly. A survey released on March 4 by the Israel Democracy Institute found that 82 percent of the Israeli public supported the ongoing military campaign against Iran, including 93 percent of Israeli Jews.
Such figures reflect a media and political environment in which dissenting voices remain marginal and frequently isolated.
“With this kind of media, there’s no point in fighting for a free press, because the media itself is not on the side of freedom,” Israeli journalist Gideon Levy wrote in Haaretz on March 12.
While there is little that can realistically be done to shift the dominant Israeli narrative from within Israel itself, journalists elsewhere carry an immense responsibility. They must adhere to the most basic standards of journalistic integrity now more than ever.
This responsibility does not apply only to journalists in the United States or across the Western world. It applies equally to journalists throughout the Middle East. After all, it is our region that is being drawn into wars not of its own making, and it is our societies that have the most to gain from a just and lasting peace.
Over the past two years – particularly during Israel’s genocide on Gaza – we have seen just how difficult it has become to convey reality from the ground. Journalists have confronted censorship, propaganda campaigns, algorithmic suppression, intimidation, and outright violence.
Yet the consequences of this information crisis are far from abstract. When truth disappears, civilians suffer in silence. Political decisions are justified through distorted narratives. Wars themselves become easier to prolong when the public is denied the facts necessary to challenge them.
For years, many of us warned that if the promoters of war and chaos were not restrained, the entire region could descend into a cycle of deliberate destabilization. If this trajectory continues, our shared aspirations will suffer for generations. Our collective prosperity – already fragile – could be permanently undermined.
This struggle is not merely about journalistic integrity, nor even about truth-telling as an ethical imperative. It is about the fate of entire societies whose futures are deeply interconnected. In our region, we either rise together or fall together.
Governments across the Arab and Muslim world warned against the military adventurism now engulfing the Middle East long before the current escalation. Their warnings went largely unheeded, and the consequences are now unfolding.
At this moment, journalists, intellectuals, and people of conscience must speak the truth in all its manifestations, using every available platform and opportunity.
We reject war. But for wars to end, truth must be spoken openly and without hesitation. Journalists must be allowed to work without fear or intimidation. Media ownership must not become a mechanism of control and censorship.
Politicians and generals risk reputational damage, the loss of office, or perhaps the disappearance of a generous holiday bonus if their wars fail. For the people of the Middle East – and for all victims of war – the stakes are far greater. We risk losing our families, our economies, our homes, and the very possibility of a stable future.
For that reason, gratitude is owed to the courageous individuals who continue to speak truth to power; to those who insist on unity during moments deliberately engineered to produce division; and to those who understand that honest journalism is not merely a profession.
It is a moral obligation.
The Self-Undoing of Israel: Has Zionism Crossed the Point of No Return?
Image by Cole Keister.
Is Israel’s trajectory toward isolation and collapse self-inflicted, and has Zionism reached the point of no return?
Every war led by Benjamin Netanyahu is framed not as policy, but as fate.
“There are moments in which a nation faces two possibilities: to do or die,” Netanyahu declared on October 28, 2023, as Israel expanded its genocide in Gaza.
The wording is familiar. The urgency is always absolute. The implication is unmistakable: Israel is not choosing war. It is forced into it.
For many, the claim is inherently contradictory. How can a state initiate war—and in Gaza’s case, sustain a genocide—while insisting that it is merely defending itself from annihilation? Yet within Israeli political discourse, and across much of Western media, this contradiction is rarely interrogated. It is normalized.
That normalization is not incidental. It is foundational.
Long before the establishment of Israel on the ruins of historic Palestine in 1948—the Nakba, or catastrophe, for Palestinians—the language of existential threat was deeply embedded in Zionist political thinking. Survival was never framed as coexistence, but as triumph. Security was never separated from expansion.
In recent years, that fatalistic language has returned with renewed intensity.
The events of October 7, 2023, brought a sudden end to what had been, for Netanyahu, a moment of unprecedented political triumph. Prior to the Al-Aqsa Flood operation, Israel was not merely secure—it was ascending. A parallel “flood” was underway: normalization.
Arab, Muslim, African, Asian and even Latin American states were steadily incorporating Israel into their political and economic frameworks. The so-called isolation of Israel was collapsing.
Netanyahu was openly celebrating this shift. In September 2023, speaking alongside US President Joe Biden, he said, as reported by Reuters: “I think that under your leadership, Mr President, we can forge a historic peace between Israel and Saudi Arabia,” adding that such a deal would “go a long way first to advance the end of the Arab-Israeli conflict, achieve reconciliation between the Islamic world and the Jewish state.”
Days later, addressing the United Nations, he spoke of “the blessings of a new Middle East,” according to the official transcript of his September 22, 2023, UN speech.
This was not merely political rhetoric. It reflected a broader strategic project: Israel’s integration into the region, not through justice, but through power—through alliances with wealthy Gulf states, economic expansion, and geopolitical repositioning.
The genocide in Gaza shattered that trajectory.
Far from cementing Israel’s regional and global standing, the war has accelerated its isolation. According to a June 2025 Pew Research Center survey, majorities in most of the 24 countries surveyed held unfavorable views of Israel, while confidence in Netanyahu remained low across nearly all regions.
This shift is not limited to the Global South. It reflects a broader erosion of Israel’s legitimacy, even among traditional allies.
In response, Israeli political discourse has returned—almost instinctively—to the language of existential war.
Even when Netanyahu attempts to revive earlier narratives about shaping a “new Middle East,” the rhetoric repeatedly collapses back into warnings of annihilation. This reveals a deeper truth: within Israeli political thinking, the alternative to dominance is not coexistence, but destruction.
Part of this can indeed be explained through the logic of settler colonialism. Expansion is not incidental to settler-colonial projects; it is built into them. Such systems do not merely occupy land. They must continuously secure, reorder and enlarge their control, while presenting indigenous resistance as irrational violence.
Other settler-colonial societies remained colonial in essence while their territorial expansion was curbed by larger geopolitical constraints. Israel has never truly encountered such limits. It has not been meaningfully held accountable. Shielded by unconditional US support and enabled by Western powers that were themselves former or current colonial actors, it has had every structural incentive to continue.
But Israel’s fixation on existential danger even at the height of military superiority points to something deeper. It suggests a political culture haunted by its own origin story.
One possible explanation is moral and historical illegitimacy. Israel knows, at some buried but irrepressible level, that it was founded on the destruction of another people, on expulsion, massacre and erasure. A state built on the ruins of Palestine cannot indefinitely silence the history beneath it.
Still, there is more to the story.
Even before the genocide in Gaza, Israel was gripped by internal debates about its own continuity. In 2023, amid a profound political crisis, President Isaac Herzog warned of a possible “constitutional collapse,” according to Reuters. At the same time, Israeli discourse increasingly invoked the so-called “eighth decade curse,” the notion that Jewish political entities historically falter as they approach their eighth decade.
As noted in various newspapers, Netanyahu has been described as viewing himself as uniquely capable of leading Israel “into its eighth decade and beyond,” reflecting a deeper anxiety about national continuity.
October 7 brought these fears roaring back. So did the emergence of a more assertive regional pro-Palestine camp, particularly within what is often called the Axis of Resistance. True, several Arab regimes remained aligned with Washington and eager to contain the fallout. But in doing so, many only further exposed their own fragility.
From Israel’s perspective, this convergence of pressures reinforces both real and imagined fears—not only to state security, but to the ideological foundations upon which the state was built.
What makes this especially striking is that Israel has failed to secure decisive strategic outcomes in war after war. In Gaza, Lebanon, Yemen and beyond, it has relied on overwhelming force without achieving lasting political resolution.
Here lies the central irony.
Israel’s fears, long framed as hypothetical or exaggerated, are being transformed into tangible risks—not by inevitability, but by Israel’s own actions.
The result is a self-fulfilling trajectory: a march toward deeper isolation, perpetual conflict, and internal uncertainty—driven not by necessity, but by an inability, or refusal, to imagine an alternative.
That march may yet reach its logical end.
The deepest irony is that Israel once had alternatives. It was not fated to choose this path. But a just coexistence—one grounded in equality and historical reckoning—has never been intelligible within Zionist political vocabulary. There, coexistence is recast as disappearance.
And so Israel is not merely confronting a crisis.
It is undoing itself, by its own hand.
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