Briefs from Tehran to today
Making sense of the Israel-Iran conflict and a ceasefire that may not mean peace
When I first landed in Tehran in 2014, the city was buzzing—not with noise, but with quiet anticipation.
Whispers in diplomatic corridors and murmurs over street-side tea all circled back to one thing: the nuclear talks then-President Barack Obama was brokering with Iran.
I was there reporting on then–South African Foreign Minister Maite Nkoana-Mashabane’s official visit.
She met with her Iranian counterpart Mohammad Javad Zarif and paid a courtesy call on President Hassan Rouhani. But the real story was unfolding just beneath the surface: a potential nuclear deal that could reshape Iran’s relationship with the world.
Tehran, even then, felt paradoxical.
It was a country that seemed cut off—sanctioned, isolated, and constrained. Yet it also radiated a certain quiet resilience, a determination to survive and assert its dignity in a world that often dictated its terms. Iran was actively courting South African business at the time, though the weight of Western sanctions made those overtures largely symbolic.
By mid-2015, the nuclear deal—formally known as the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA)—was being celebrated globally as a major diplomatic breakthrough.
For a brief moment, it felt like the world was inching closer to peace through dialogue rather than destruction.
Fast forward a decade, and that optimism feels like a faded postcard from a parallel universe.
Last week, the world watched, stunned, as Israel launched a preemptive strike on Iran on June 12, triggering what has become known as the “12-Day War.”
The US soon entered the fray, deploying 17 Massive Ordnance Penetrator bombs and dozens of cruise missiles against Iran’s nuclear sites at Natanz, Fordow, and Esfahan. It was a show of force unseen since the height of the Iraq War.
Iran’s retaliation was swift and calculated. Fourteen missiles were launched at the U.S. Central Command base at Al Udeid in Qatar.
While there were no casualties, the political impact was seismic. Suddenly, the region was once again on the brink of something catastrophic.
Then came Donald Trump.
He announced a ceasefire in the most Trumpian way:
“CONGRATULATIONS TO EVERYONE! It has been fully agreed by and between Israel and Iran that there will be a Complete and Total CEASEFIRE (in approximately 6 hours from now, when Israel and Iran have wound down and completed their in progress, final missions!)”
And then, true to form, he logged off—metaphorically and literally.
But the ceasefire was short-lived. Within hours, Israel had violated the agreement, dispatching fighter jets for another round of strikes.
Trump, when he woke up was furious!
“We’ve got two countries that have been fighting so hard and for so long, that they don’t know what the f*** they’re doing.”
In the background, diplomacy tried to reassert itself.
Qatar played a critical role, with Prime Minister Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al-Thani urging restraint.
He later said, “Washington and Doha defused an unseen economic and ecological bomb,” an ominous reference to what might have happened if escalation continued unchecked.
Will it hold?
Dr Oscar van Heerden, speaking to The Debrief Network, put it succinctly on The Debrief Network: he is not holding his breathe.
“Donald Trump has proven to be someone who says one thing and does another.”
Watch the full video here and follow @thedebriefnetwork on Instagram
What followed Trump’s cease-fire callwas vintage Trumpism. At the NATO summit on Wednesday, he claimed victory, boasting that he had “eliminated Iran’s nuclear weapons.”
Never mind that U.S. intelligence assessments suggest the strikes only delayed Iran’s nuclear program by a few months and failed to destroy its core components.
“It was called obliteration,” Trump declared. “No other military on Earth could have done it.”
This version of reality may give in to Trump’s strongman persona, but it has little to do with the facts on the ground.
Because here’s the truth: while a ceasefire may be in place, there is no peace.
As the dust settles—at least for now—three competing narratives are emerging to explain this latest episode in Middle Eastern brinkmanship.
1. The Western security doctrine:
This view holds that Israel’s preemptive strike was justified. Intelligence suggested Iran was enriching uranium to levels required only for nuclear weapons. From this perspective, the strike was defensive, necessary, and aligned with longstanding U.S. and Israeli security objectives.
2. Netanyahu’s political gambit:
A more cynical but widely held view argues that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu engineered this conflict to extend his political shelf life. Locked in domestic turmoil and facing war crimes allegations at the International Criminal Court, Netanyahu needed a distraction—and he found one. Some observers argue he finally found a willing partner in Trump to execute a strategy he’s been pursuing for over two decades.
3. The Gaza diversion theory:
This line of thought suggests the attack on Iran was a strategic pivot away from Israel’s actions in Gaza, where allegations of genocide and war crimes are intensifying. By shifting global attention, Israel recalibrates the narrative from oppressor to embattled defender.
Each of these interpretations carries a kernel of truth. But they all underscore the same grim reality: war remains a deeply political act, and the consequences fall hardest on ordinary people.
In all the bombast and diplomacy, it’s easy to lose sight of the human cost.
I keep thinking about the people I met in Tehran more than a decade ago who appeared so thoughtful, resilient and hopeful.
I wonder how they’re doing now—after the bombs, after the chaos, after yet another chapter of geopolitical trauma.
Iran will take years to recover. Gaza may take lifetimes.
And yet, I sense a shift. The world is beginning to see through the performative militarism, the political sleight of hand and the faux triumphs shouted from podiums.
The smoke is clearing—and what remains is the sobering recognition that real peace cannot be bombed into existence.
And so we wait—not for peace, necessarily, but for the next move on this increasingly unstable chessboard.
Qaanitah, thank you for sharing your reflections on Tehran, especially your memories of hope in 2014. But I felt an important voice was missing: the Iranian people today.
While your piece beautifully humanises them, it stops short of acknowledging something crucial.
Many Iranians, despite hardships, continue to support the Islamic Republic. Not out of blind loyalty, but because they’ve seen what “Western diplomacy” often really means: regime change, sanctions, and double standards.
In moments of crisis, like the recent bombardments, national unity tends to deepen, not dissolve. Many Iranians view the Islamic Republic’s resistance not as warmongering, but as survival. That nuance matters.
It’s easy to critique militarism and we should, but let’s not erase the legitimacy and strategic calculation behind Iran’s responses. Or assume that only the West has the right to ‘defend’ itself.
Peace matters. But peace must also be dignified, not dictated.
Thank you for opening the door to these conversations.