Washington and Tehran may be closer to military confrontation than at any time in recent years, yet they are not on the brink of a conventional war. The most likely outcome of the current crisis is neither a United States invasion of Iran nor a comprehensive regional war, but a limited and carefully calculated strike aimed at reshaping the mechanisms of negotiation rather than ending them.
In recent weeks, a striking paradox has emerged. On one hand, the United States has significantly strengthened its military presence in the Middle East, while Iranian officials insist they will not yield to pressure. On the other hand, both sides continue to speak simultaneously about negotiations. This apparent contradiction does not reflect confusion but rather a familiar logic in international politics: war, or the threat of it, as a bargaining tool.
According to the bargaining model of war, military force is not used solely to defeat an adversary, but to alter perceptions regarding cost, resolve and future intentions when diplomacy alone fails to produce credible commitments. What is unfolding is not the collapse of diplomacy, but its militarisation.
Notably, this dynamic coincides with ongoing quiet talks in Oman, where Iranian and American negotiators are probing each other’s red lines and the extent of potential concessions. These discussions do not contradict the current escalation but form part of it. In negotiation logic, diplomacy and military pressure often proceed in tandem rather than sequentially.
From Washington’s perspective, Iran appears weaker today than at any time over the past decade. Over the last two years, the regional deterrence structure commonly referred to as the Axis of Resistance has visibly eroded. Hezbollah has come under significant pressure, Hamas has been largely dismantled as a military force, and the Assad regime in Syria has collapsed. Iranian airspace itself was breached during last year’s twelve day war with Israel, shattering long held assumptions about the invulnerability of Iran’s defences.
At the same time, Iran retains considerable missile and drone capabilities and may have even expanded parts of its arsenal. During the most recent conflict, Iranian missiles partially penetrated Israel’s Iron Dome system. However, deterrence is not only about equipment but credibility. That credibility, particularly Iran’s ability to inflict substantial losses on multiple fronts, has diminished.
This perception has fuelled intense debate within Washington over how to exploit the moment.
One camp argues that the timing is favourable to escalate pressure. In their view, Iran is strategically encircled and more flexible than usual. Negotiations should therefore be used not to preserve the status quo, but to extract maximum concessions regarding the nuclear programme, the missile arsenal and regional allies. Some voices within this camp go further, openly advocating regime change as an achievable objective if sufficient force is applied. Their reasoning is direct: Iran’s deterrent power has declined, its allies are weakened, and its leadership is vulnerable. They question why the United States should extend a lifeline to the Islamic Republic at a moment of apparent weakness, rather than pursue broader gains.
The second camp offers a different reading. Yes, Iran is under pressure, but precisely for that reason negotiations may succeed. This group stresses that former US President Donald Trump has consistently opposed large scale military interventions and what he describes as “endless wars”. From this perspective, the present moment presents an opportunity for Trump to declare victory without entangling the United States in a new Middle Eastern conflict. Reaching an agreement under pressure would allow Washington to constrain Iran while reinforcing Trump’s longstanding narrative that strength, not war, delivers results.
However, Trump faces a dilemma partly of his own making. His repeated pledges to support Iranian protesters and his portrayal of Iran’s leadership as illegitimate have raised expectations domestically and internationally beyond the scope of nuclear diplomacy. These commitments have narrowed his room for manoeuvre. Doing nothing risks appearing weak, yet launching a comprehensive war contradicts his core political identity.
Here emerges Trump’s corrective strategy of “peace through strength”. Within this logic, military force is not an end in itself but a tool to impose negotiations on favourable terms. Limited and decisive measures are intended to deter adversaries, reassure allies and demonstrate resolve, without drawing the United States into prolonged conflict.
This helps explain why American decision makers view a limited strike, rather than invasion, as the more attractive instrument. A calibrated strike aligns with this framework far more than restraint or full scale invasion. It projects firmness, satisfies hardline domestic voices, preserves Trump’s image as opposed to endless wars and, crucially, reshapes the negotiating environment before entering more serious talks. A limited strike becomes more likely if Iran refuses to offer concessions necessary for Trump to claim success.
The American operation in Venezuela has reinforced this logic. Although not identical, it normalised the idea of targeting a sovereign leader, weakening a longstanding international taboo. Yet the sequence there differs from what could occur in Iran. In Venezuela, Washington reportedly pursued quiet talks with figures within the regime before moving against President Maduro. In Iran, the sequence could be reversed: public negotiations first, followed by a strike targeting leadership, then renewed talks with second tier figures. The Venezuelan precedent has nonetheless resonated in Tehran, suggesting that targeting the apex of state leadership is no longer unthinkable or prohibitively costly.
A full invasion of Iran would be strategically irrational. The costs would be enormous, regional repercussions uncontrollable, and domestic support uncertain. While the United States possesses the capability to invade, it lacks a compelling political and strategic justification. The Iraq model remains deeply instructive. Few in Washington believe they could manage Iran’s size, population and internal complexity without descending into prolonged instability.
Beyond immediate military and political costs, invading Iran would constitute strategic self harm within the broader context of great power competition. A prolonged ground war would divert American military, financial and political resources away from its primary strategic focus: competition with China. Such a conflict would likely drive global energy prices upward, increase domestic inflation, strain alliances and weaken Washington’s ability to project power in the Indo Pacific. From Beijing’s perspective, a Middle Eastern quagmire would serve as strategic distraction, constraining American attention while China strengthens its position in Taiwan, the South China Sea and critical supply chains. Even an initially successful invasion would not guarantee regime collapse given Iran’s flexible and networked political structure, but would almost certainly entangle the United States in a costly stabilisation effort with diminishing returns. For policymakers increasingly wary of strategic overextension, invasion is not merely undesirable but fundamentally misaligned with long term American priorities.
Military planners and political leaders recognise this reality, which is why the debate has shifted away from invasion towards more precise applications of force.
In the scenario being discussed in Washington, the most probable option is not occupation but a decapitation strike. Such an operation would target a limited set of objectives: the Supreme Leader, senior military and political figures, selected nuclear facilities, missile infrastructure and command and control centres. This would likely be followed by a strategy of escalation dominance, similar to the approach adopted after the assassination of Iranian military commander Qassem Soleimani in 2020, aimed at deterring Iran from escalating retaliation into full scale war. The objective would not be to destroy Iran’s capabilities entirely, which is impossible, but to demonstrate overwhelming control over escalation.
Under this anticipated scenario, the message would be unmistakable: the United States can strike at the heart of the Iranian system, absorb a limited response and continue to control the escalation ladder.
Crucially, restraint would follow. The strike would be designed to conclude swiftly, signalling that Washington seeks negotiating leverage rather than open war.
From a bargaining perspective, this is the central point. A leadership targeting strike reshapes the balance of resolve, raises the cost of defiance and opens the door to renewed negotiations under altered conditions.
Iran’s response remains the most uncertain variable. Tehran may opt for a limited and symbolic reaction calibrated to preserve deterrence and domestic credibility without sliding into uncontrolled escalation. Such a response could involve indirect action through regional partners, or limited missile and drone strikes, signalling resolve without direct confrontation with American forces. This approach aligns with Iran’s traditional preference for ambiguity and gradual response.
Alternatively, Iran may reject the logic of American escalation dominance altogether. In this scenario, Tehran could conclude that restraint invites further pressure and respond in ways that deliberately widen the conflict and challenge Washington’s ability to control its pace and scope. This might include targeting American assets across multiple regional theatres, threatening maritime routes or accelerating nuclear activities to shift strategic calculations.
The danger lies precisely here. Negotiation through force is inherently unstable. Even when both sides seek to avoid comprehensive war, miscalculation, misreading of resolve or domestic pressures can push them beyond intended limits. When violence becomes a means of communication, signals can easily be distorted and deterrent measures perceived as provocations. In such a climate, the line between calculated escalation and uncontrollable conflict becomes exceedingly thin and visible only in retrospect.
This is why the current moment is so volatile. The likely sequence is not negotiation followed by force, but force first and negotiation after: a strike occurs, the United States demonstrates escalation dominance, Iran responds, and then serious negotiations begin once both sides believe the bargaining space has been recalibrated.
In this sense, a strike would not represent the failure of diplomacy but a harsh precondition for its return. The central question is no longer whether force will be used, but whether it can be employed without unleashing a conflict neither side intends to fight yet both would struggle to contain.
Such is the paradox of negotiating through power. It is invoked to avoid war, yet it brings it closer. Iran and the United States now operate within a narrow corridor where every signal carries weight, every misstep has cost and the margin for error is rapidly diminishing.
