At a moment when the United States is simultaneously waging an intense war against Iran and speaking of “diplomacy,” the issue is not merely a verbal contradiction; it reflects a deeper structural strategic error. Washington has relied on the assumption that it can combine military superiority with maximum pressure to dictate a political outcome and then consolidate it in the form of a diplomatic agreement. This is what may be called “diplomacy under fire”—a model in which negotiation is not a substitute for war, but its continuation. The problem is this: when confronted with an actor like Iran, such a model almost systematically fails.
The root of this failure lies in a misunderstanding of coercion. Classical theories of coercion show that success depends on the ability to alter the opponent’s calculations, not merely to raise costs. When a state perceives a threat as existential, increasing costs does not lead to surrender; it strengthens the incentive to resist. In such circumstances, “pain,” rather than serving as leverage for concessions, becomes a source of domestic legitimacy and political cohesion. The current U.S. strategy falls precisely into this trap: escalating pressure without offering a credible horizon for threat reduction.
More precisely, Washington is pursuing a form of “coercive diplomacy” that lacks the key element of success—the credibility of the offer. Any negotiation has two components: threat and assurance. The threat raises the cost of non-agreement, while assurance demonstrates the benefits of agreement. Removing the second element turns negotiation into an ultimatum. Ultimatums may work against weaker actors, but they rarely succeed against states that can absorb costs and deploy asymmetric responses.
The consequence of this miscalculation is entry into an escalating cycle known in security studies as the “spiral of tension.” Each strike intended to weaken the adversary provokes a response aimed at restoring deterrence; each response, in turn, justifies the next round of attacks. This cycle not only fails to restore equilibrium but also gradually lowers the thresholds of violence. Along this path, even if neither side seeks a broader war, the internal dynamics of the conflict can push them toward one.
For the United States, the principal danger lies precisely here: losing control over the scope and duration of the war. A conflict with Iran, given its networked and multilayered nature, is not easily containable. Any attempt to deliver a decisive blow is likely to trigger responses that expand the geography of conflict—from energy infrastructure to vital trade routes. This means transforming a manageable war into a crisis whose consequences extend beyond the battlefield and into the global economy.
Yet the issue is not only about costs; it concerns the relationship between means and ends. If the stated goal is to change Iran’s behavior or achieve a durable agreement, military force—absent a credible diplomatic framework—is not only insufficient but potentially counterproductive. War heightens security priorities on both sides and eliminates the political space necessary for compromise. In other words, the deeper the war becomes, the more difficult diplomacy gets.
A fundamental distinction must be clarified here: the difference between “diplomacy for surrender” and “diplomacy for agreement.” The former rests on the assumption that one side can dictate terms; the latter rests on the reality that a durable agreement requires some balance of interests. The history of international relations clearly shows that agreements built on imposition either do not last or cost more to sustain than they yield in benefits. By contrast, agreements that—even minimally—rest on mutual recognition of interests tend to be more stable.
To move toward such an agreement, the United States must undertake a conceptual redefinition: a shift from “victory” to “stability.” In the current framework, victory implicitly means forcing Iran into full retreat. In practice, however, this definition is unattainable and perpetuates the war. If, instead, the objective is defined as de-escalation, the establishment of mutual red lines, and the institutionalization of crisis-management mechanisms, then diplomacy can function as a real instrument.
This shift is not merely rhetorical; it requires a transformation in policy. Genuine diplomacy entails offering credible pathways for de-escalation—pathways that are meaningful for the other side as well. Without such pathways, any proposal for negotiation will be seen as a tactic to buy time or intensify pressure. In other words, the credibility of diplomacy derives not from declaring it, but from designing it.
Domestically, the continuation of this path also faces serious constraints in the United States. Prolonged wars—especially those lacking clear and attainable objectives—rapidly erode political capital. Past experience shows that public support for such wars does not collapse suddenly, but gradually—and once that erosion begins, it is very difficult to reverse. Thus, even from the standpoint of domestic political realism, reliance solely on military means is a high-risk choice.
Ultimately, Washington’s choice is not between “hardness” and “flexibility” but between two forms of rationality: one that relies on unilateral coercion and another that recognizes the limits of power—even superior power. The first path, despite its short-term appeal, is likely to lead to a protracted and endless war. The second, though more complex and requiring concessions, is the only option that can prevent the conflict from turning into a strategic deadlock.
“Diplomacy under fire” contains an inherent contradiction: it seeks to create an imposed peace through the instruments of war. In practice, this contradiction leads to the failure of both: neither a durable peace is achieved nor is the war decisively concluded. If the United States aims to avoid being drawn into yet another endless war in the Middle East, it has no choice but to return to genuine diplomacy: a diplomacy grounded not in coercion, but in balance—not in surrender, but in agreement.
