It is a curious thing, watching two old adversaries agree to shake hands while keeping their fists balled in their pockets. This Sunday, the United States and Iran are expected to sign a deal that has been months in the making. Yet the mood in Tehran is not celebratory. It is wary, doubtful, as if the ink on the page might turn to blood before it dries. And here in London, the diplomatic corps has been put on high alert, bracing for the fallout of a peace that feels anything but secure.
For those of us who cover the human side of geopolitics, this is not a story of handshakes and press conferences. It is a story of trust, or the lack of it. The Iranians I have spoken to, via contacts in the diaspora, describe a population exhausted by sanctions and wary of American promises. 'We have been burned before,' one told me. 'Why should this time be different?' On the streets of Tehran, there is no jubilation. Just a cautious hope that the price of bread might finally stop climbing.
On the British side, the high alert signals something deeper: a recognition that this deal, whatever its merits, could unravel quickly. The diplomatic corps is not preparing for a celebration. They are preparing for contingencies, for the moment when one side accuses the other of cheating, for the protests that might follow if the deal does not deliver immediate relief.
Class dynamics play a quiet role here. In Iran, the burden of sanctions has fallen hardest on the working class, those who queue for hours for subsidised goods. The elite, with their connections and offshore accounts, have weathered the storm. If the deal brings economic relief it will be the poor who feel it first, or who feel its absence most acutely. In London, the alert status reminds us that British diplomats, mostly drawn from the upper middle classes, are now bracing for a crisis that could reshape the Middle East.
There is a cultural shift at play too. For decades, the US-Iran relationship has been defined by antagonism, a script that both sides knew by heart. This deal represents an attempt to rewrite that script, but old habits die hard. Iran's clerical leaders still refer to America as the 'Great Satan'. American politicians still rail against the 'rogue regime'. Signing a piece of paper does not erase 40 years of mistrust. It just gives it a new stage on which to perform.
On Sunday, the cameras will capture the smiles, the firm handshakes, the careful choreography of diplomacy. But if you look closer, you will see the tension in the jawlines, the flicker of doubt in the eyes. This is a deal signed with reservations, a marriage of convenience rather than love. And in the world of international politics, convenience is a fragile foundation.
For ordinary people, the deal means little until the sanctions are lifted and the economy improves. Until then, it is just another headline, another promise from distant leaders. The diplomatic corps will watch, ready to respond. And the rest of us will wait, hoping that this time the script has a happy ending. But we have seen enough endings to know not to bet on it.
