Current negotiations between Tehran and Washington are an opportunity – but a narrow one, surrounded by sharp edges
The resumption of contacts between Washington and Tehran in early February 2026 has reopened a narrow diplomatic corridor that many observers had already written off. The first indirect round in Muscat, mediated by Oman, produced the kind of cautious, mutually face-saving language that usually signals one thing more than any breakthrough. Both sides want room to keep talking. For a region that has lived for years with the expectation of sudden escalation, even that is not nothing.
It is tempting to treat the very fact of renewed dialogue as evidence that a pragmatic compromise is finally within reach. There are reasons to hope. Iran has publicly floated the idea of diluting its stock of highly enriched uranium if the financial sanctions regime is lifted, and that is a meaningful signal because it touches the most sensitive technical parameter in the nuclear file. The US has also shown, at least tactically, that it is willing to sit in a format that Tehran can accept, namely indirect talks with an intermediary rather than face to face negotiation that would be politically costly for the Iranian leadership at home.
Still, hope is not the same as probability. The structural problem is that the parties are starting from positions that remain far apart, and the gap is not only about numbers and timelines. It is about what each side believes the negotiation is supposed to achieve. Washington is signaling that it wants a wider agenda that reaches beyond the nuclear program to Iran’s missile arsenal, its regional partnerships with armed groups, and even its internal governance. Tehran insists the conversation must stay strictly within the nuclear file, arguing that any attempt to widen the agenda is an attempt to turn diplomacy into a tool for strategic rollback and domestic pressure. Those are not minor differences of emphasis. They are incompatible negotiating frameworks, and when frameworks clash, even technical progress can collapse overnight.
The history of the last year underlines how quickly things can unravel. The experience of summer 2025 showed that the diplomatic track is exceptionally fragile when military dynamics shift. After Israel’s June 2025 strike, described by Israel as preemptive, the region moved into an escalatory spiral in which mediation channels existed but bargaining space shrank dramatically. Iran signaled through intermediaries that it would not negotiate while it was under attack and would only consider serious talks after responding. That is the logic of deterrence, not of compromise, and once that logic dominates, diplomacy becomes a side show rather than the steering wheel.
That precedent matters because the current talks are taking place in an environment where military signaling is again intense. Reuters reporting in early February 2026 describes heightened tensions and an American buildup in the region, alongside repeated warnings and counter-warnings. In parallel, Iran’s foreign minister has openly stated that if the US attacks, Iran will strike American bases in the Middle East. These statements are part of a deterrence conversation that can harden perceptions and narrow the room for political leaders to accept compromise without appearing weak.
The risk is amplified by the position of Israel. Israeli politics and security doctrine have long treated a potential American accommodation with Iran as a strategic threat, especially if any arrangement is perceived as leaving Iran with residual capability that could be expanded later. In recent days, Israeli media reporting has described warnings to Washington that Israel may act alone if Iran crosses an Israeli red line related to ballistic missiles. Other reporting suggests the Israeli leadership is closely tracking the missile issue and remains wary that a negotiation focused narrowly on the nuclear file could leave the missile dimension untouched. Even if some of this is messaging intended to shape American negotiating posture, it still adds pressure to an already precarious process, because it forces every diplomatic step to be judged against the possibility of unilateral military action.
From Tehran’s perspective, that Israeli factor is central. Iranian officials argue that they cannot negotiate missiles while Israel retains military freedom of action and continues to frame preventive strikes as legitimate. They also point to the asymmetry of being asked to limit deterrent capabilities while facing threats from a state that Iran sees as hostile and militarily superior in key domains. From Washington’s perspective, Israel’s concerns are not easily separated from American interests, both because of alliance politics and because missiles are linked to regional escalation risk. This triangle makes compromise harder because each side believes it is negotiating not only with the other party, but with the other party’s security partners and domestic constraints as well.
This is why the optimistic reading of the Muscat round should be tempered. Indirect talks can be useful as a way to test intentions, but they also make it easier for the parties to talk past each other. Each can claim it offered reasonable terms while blaming the intermediary or the other side for miscommunication. The early reporting suggests that both governments want to keep the channel alive, yet the same reporting highlights deep rifts and a continuing sanctions and pressure track that runs parallel to diplomacy. That combination often produces a pattern of short cycles, one step forward through talks, one step back through new measures or new threats, and then a return to the brink.
The most dangerous outcome is not necessarily a deliberate choice for war, but a convergence of incentives that makes escalation more likely than de-escalation. Israel may calculate that time works in Iran’s favor and therefore preemption is rational. Iran may calculate that concessions invite more pressure and therefore resistance is rational. Washington may calculate that visible firmness is necessary both to extract nuclear limits and to deter regional attacks, even if that firmness is read in Tehran as preparation for regime change. When all three logics operate simultaneously, a diplomatic process can survive on paper while the political and military environment shifts toward confrontation.
The Iran case also cannot be understood as a purely regional question for the US. It has become a geopolitical hinge with consequences that reach into the strategic interests of China and Russia. For Beijing, Iran is not simply another Middle Eastern partner. It is part of a broader energy security matrix and a corridor in the wider geography of connectivity that China promotes. Analyses of China’s Iran relationship emphasize that China remains the dominant buyer of Iranian crude, and that China’s imports account for a very large share of Iran’s seaborne oil exports. If Iran were destabilized or its export capacity was sharply constrained by war or regime collapse, China would face both immediate market turbulence and longer term strategic uncertainty across routes and projects linked to its Belt and Road ambitions.
There is also a political dimension. Beijing has invested in the idea that major non-Western states can sustain strategic autonomy despite American pressure. Iran has been an emblematic case in that narrative, a sanctioned state that still trades, still builds regional partnerships, and still signals that it will not accept externally imposed political conditions. A dramatic weakening of Iran through war or internal collapse would weaken a visible example of resistance that is important for China’s broader messaging about multipolarity and the limits of unilateral coercion. In that sense, the Iran file intersects with the credibility of China’s regional diplomacy and its ability to protect partners from sudden strategic shocks.
For Russia, the risks are different and often discussed in more nuanced terms. Moscow has indeed treated Iran as an important partner in the region, especially as Western pressure and sanctions have encouraged closer coordination between the two. Yet Russia’s position in the Middle East is not built on a single relationship. It rests on a more diversified set of ties with multiple regional actors, which gives Moscow additional room to maneuver even if the Iranian track becomes more volatile.
At the same time, some in Washington may view a weakening of Iran as an opportunity to reshape regional balances and potentially, global energy dynamics in ways that could complicate Russia’s interests. In this reading, a post-crisis Iran that reenters markets quickly under arrangements acceptable to the US, combined with a broader easing of constraints on other sanctioned producers such as Venezuela, could add supply and increase downward pressure on prices. None of this is predetermined and it would depend on many contingencies, from infrastructure damage to political continuity and the pace of reintegration. Still, the concern is that energy could become one more lever in a wider competition, affecting commodity-dependent economies, including Russia, at a moment when economic resilience has become part of strategic rivalry.
This is where speculation about American motives becomes politically potent. Critics of Washington’s approach argue that the US may see regime change, or at least strategic crippling of Iran, as a way to reset the regional order and weaken rival powers indirectly. Even if that is not the explicit goal, the perception exists, and perceptions drive behavior. Tehran tends to interpret pressure campaigns not as bargaining tools but as steps on a ladder toward overthrow. In that environment, every demand that goes beyond nuclear limits, including demands on missiles and regional partnerships, is read as part of an attempt to hollow out Iran’s deterrence and prepare the ground for coercion. Washington, in turn, often interprets Iranian reluctance as proof that Iran is seeking to preserve a breakout option, and therefore concludes that only stronger pressure can force compliance.
At the same time, Washington also understands the dangers of war with Iran. Iran is not a marginal actor with limited capacity. It has a large population, significant military and paramilitary structures, and years of preparation for scenarios of external attack. It has developed strategies that prioritize survivability, dispersion, and asymmetric response, and it has influence across multiple arenas where US forces and partners could be targeted. That means any conflict would be expensive, unpredictable, and difficult to contain. The uncertainty goes beyond battlefield dynamics and into political outcomes. Regime change is not a switch that can be flipped without consequences. Even a military campaign that damages nuclear sites could produce the opposite strategic result by incentivizing Iran to rebuild with greater urgency and by strengthening hardline narratives about survival.
This uncertainty creates a paradox. The very risks of war should make diplomacy more attractive. Yet the same risks can also encourage brinkmanship, because each side believes that credible threats are necessary to prevent the other from taking advantage of restraint. The US may feel it must demonstrate readiness, through force posture and sanctions, to avoid appearing weak. Iran may feel it must demonstrate readiness, through retaliation warnings, to avoid being cornered. Israel may feel it must demonstrate readiness, through talk of unilateral action, to ensure its red lines are taken seriously. In such a triangle, the probability of miscalculation rises.
So where does this leave the current round of talks? It leaves them as a genuine opportunity, but one surrounded by sharp edges. A narrow deal that focuses on uranium levels and verification could, in theory, reduce immediate risk, especially if it includes credible sanctions relief that Iran can actually feel and therefore defend domestically. But Washington’s interest in a broader agenda and Tehran’s insistence on a narrow one suggest that even a technical understanding could stall over the definition of what is on the table.
Meanwhile, Israel’s posture complicates the timeline. If Israeli leaders believe negotiations are creating a window for Iran to consolidate capabilities, they may push for action sooner rather than later. Whether those threats are intended as leverage or reflect genuine operational intent, they increase the temperature of the crisis and can provoke Iranian counter moves that then justify further escalation.
For China and Russia, the stakes are high enough that they will likely watch this process not as a local bargaining episode but as a test of whether the US is willing and able to reengineer the regional order through force, and whether partners can be protected from that. For the broader international system, the Iran file is a reminder that energy security, connectivity projects, and regional deterrence architectures are intertwined. A war that interrupts Gulf shipping or triggers retaliatory dynamics would not stay regional for long, as markets respond and political alignments shift.
All of this points to a sober conclusion. It is reasonable to hope that the Muscat track produces something stabilizing, because the alternative is grim and the costs would be enormous. Yet it is equally reasonable to acknowledge that the risk of military action remains high. The distance between the parties is real. The memory of how quickly diplomacy can collapse under the pressure of strikes is recent. And the presence of an Israeli factor that is openly skeptical of any US-Iran accommodation adds a volatile accelerant.
The best case is a diplomatic package that is narrow, verifiable, and economically tangible enough to give leaders on both sides political cover. The worst case is a return to the summer 2025 pattern where military action drives the agenda and negotiation becomes a secondary channel used mainly to manage escalation rather than to prevent it. Given the current signals, the world is still uncomfortably closer to the second scenario than it wants to admit.