In a move that has sent shivers of cautious optimism down the spines of diplomats and tremors of unbridled fury through the think tanks of the neocon set, America and Iran have apparently agreed to not blow each other to smithereens for the foreseeable future. The deal, as it stands, is a masterpiece of bureaucratic ballet, a pas de deux of paperwork designed to keep the centrifuges from spinning out of control while simultaneously allowing both sides to save face. But as any seasoned observer of the geopolitical circus knows, the devil is not just in the details; he is the ringmaster, the lion tamer, and the man who cleans up the elephant dung.
For the United States, the deal is a pragmatic surrender to reality. The economic sanctions that have been strangling Iran for decades have been about as effective as a paper umbrella in a hurricane. They have not brought the mullahs to their knees but have instead driven them to innovate new and exciting ways of smuggling oil, evading financial surveillance, and generally making the West look like a petulant child throwing a tantrum at the dinner table. The deal promises to bring Iran back into the fold of global commerce, and for the US, this is a chance to put a leash on Tehran without having to resort to military action that would be the foreign policy equivalent of self-immolation. What Washington gets is a respite, a chance to focus on other crises like the ongoing saga in Ukraine or the slow-motion car crash that is the domestic political scene.
For Iran, the deal is a lifeline. Years of sanctions have turned the country into a cage of economic misery. Inflation is rampant, the currency is a joke, and the average Iranian spends more time worrying about how to afford chicken than contemplating the finer points of Shia theology. What Iran gets is a gush of cash, the unfreezing of assets, and the chance to trade with the world without having to resort to bartering with oil tankers that change flags more often than a NATO warship. More importantly, the deal provides a modicum of international legitimacy, a seat at the table of nations rather than being the pariah staring in from the cold.
But here is where the trouble begins, as all good satires start with a flaw in the premise. Both sides, you see, are pathological liars. The US cannot be trusted to keep its end of the bargain because Congress is a herd of feral cats that responds to nothing but the whim of the moment. Any president who signs a deal with Iran knows full well that the next occupant of the White House might tear it up like a bad cheque. Iran, for its part, cannot be trusted because its political structure is a Rube Goldberg machine of competing factions, and the Supreme Leader's approval is about as solid as a promise from a drunk uncle. The deal requires both sides to act against their most deeply ingrained instincts: the US to refrain from meddling, and Iran to refrain from lying.
And let us not forget the other actors in this drama. Israel sees the deal as an existential threat, the prime minister of which is likely already drafting a speech about comparing it to the Munich Agreement. Saudi Arabia views it as a betrayal, proof that America has gone soft and that they must now cosy up to Russia and China. The Gulf states are hedging their bets, and Europe is doing what it does best: trying to please everyone and pleasing no one.
So, what do they get? The United States gets a temporary solution to a problem that will not go away. Iran gets a life support system for a regime that is rotting from within. Both get a chance to fail again, spectacularly, in the full glare of the world's cameras. It is a deal that smells of gin and desperation, a cocktail of hope and cynicism that leaves a bitter aftertaste. And like all good cocktails, you have to wonder if the hangover will be worth it.
