Monday, June 29, 2026

US–Iran: A ceasefire Washington reads as a concession

The post-war MoU with Iran is being sold as a compromise. In practice, it is a narrow deal shaped by the need to end a war that could not be sustained.

The framework that halted the 2026 war with Iran has been read across much of Washington as a giveaway. Critics on the right treat the memorandum of understanding (MoU) as a reward handed to a country that should have been left to absorb the consequences of the fighting. 

The comparison that has traveled furthest places the sanctions relief alongside the 2015 nuclear accord, as if Tehran has been readmitted to the global economy in a single step.

That reading does not hold. Washington made concessions to end the war and restore traffic through the Strait of Hormuz. The arrangement reflects those priorities. What Iran receives is narrower than the public debate suggests, and much of it remains uncertain in both scope and duration. The terms set out in the MoU fall into three distinct categories.

What Iran actually receives

The first covers the benefits Iran will gain in practice. These amount to access to roughly $12 billion of its own funds held abroad, along with a waiver allowing it to sell oil and oil products during a 60-day negotiating window. 

Iran was already selling that oil, much of it to China, so the waiver does not open a closed market. What it does is narrow the sanctions discount Iran has been forced to accept on each barrel, which has already shrunk to $1 a barrel, and make it easier to bring the proceeds home. The gain is real, but it is counted in margins rather than in any return to the world economy.

There is also a political dimension to this access. The ability to bring funds home without the same level of friction matters for domestic stability, particularly after a period of sustained pressure on the economy. Yet even here, the effect should not be overstated. These are Iran’s own funds, released under conditions that can shift quickly, and the broader sanctions architecture remains intact.

The second category includes concessions that are temporary and reversible. The clearest is the withdrawal of US forces from Iran’s periphery. That move carries weight, but its durability is uncertain. The record of the US President Donald Trump administration weakens confidence in any commitments it makes, and the drawdown was partly inevitable. 

The US cannot sustain that level of deployment in the region indefinitely. Some retrenchment would have come regardless of any agreement.

Even the release of frozen assets can be reversed in practice. Former US president Joe Biden's administration unfroze around $6 billion in Iranian funds, only to refreeze them under domestic and Israeli pressure. Episodes like this have eroded American credibility over time. A concession that can be undone with a signature is discounted before it is even tested, and that discount shapes how Tehran reads the present framework.

Reversibility now sits at the center of the talks. The familiar point that Iran and the US do not trust one another has been repeated for years, but the character of that mistrust has shifted. During the 2013 to 2015 negotiations, Iranian officials questioned whether Washington would uphold its commitments over time. 

What has changed is the character of the mistrust. Iranian officials in that period doubted American fidelity over the long run, whereas they now begin from the assumption that Trump will actively look for ways to abrogate its commitments before the ink is dry on any agreement. 

Diplomatic credibility matters in ways Trump never appreciated. A concession that can be undone with a signature is discounted heavily before it is even weighed, and that discount falls hardest on the parts of this framework that matter most.

The third category concerns what has not been committed at all. The removal of sanctions and the creation of a $300 billion investment fund are not present obligations. They are conditional statements tied to the conclusion of a broader nuclear deal within the 60-day window.

In fact, the $300 investment fund idea, originally proposed by the GCC countries during last year’s negotiations in Oman, is still a highly abstract concept. 

Despite the White House claiming money has been committed, the structure and parameters of the fund are unclear and are likely still in the initial planning phase. Whether a fund like this will attract $300 billion, a figure of unknown providence, or whether it will ever exist at all is highly speculative. 

After the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), despite US assurances and a far better geopolitical climate, global investors were hesitant to even lend Iran money outside of a one-year repayment timeline. They feared that the deal breaking down would prevent Iran from repaying them. It does little for the politics of the agreement that its most eye-catching line items are the ones being held back. 

The nuclear file returns

Less attention has been paid to what Iran may offer in return. Beyond the downblending of its stockpile of highly enriched uranium, the picture remains unclear. That uncertainty is itself part of the story, reflecting both the pace of the negotiations and the political constraints on all sides.

In the round of talks that preceded both the recent war and the earlier 12-day conflict, Iran signaled a willingness to suspend enrichment for a number of years. It also indicated a return to enrichment capped at 3.67 percent under close inspection by the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), along with a zero stockpiling provision. The details are technical, but such a framework would significantly reduce proliferation risks and extend the time required for any potential breakout.

There is no guarantee that the same terms are on the table now. Majlis Speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf stated that “We will not return to pre-war conditions.” Although his remarks focused on the Strait of Hormuz, they have been read more broadly as a signal that Tehran expects a different balance in any renewed agreement. 

Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi has also indicated that “as of now, no decisions have been made” and that Iran's approach to concessions needs to be established by the Supreme National Security Council and achieve the approval of the supreme leader. 

Even so, a deal that includes elements of earlier proposals, such as a multi-year suspension of possibly 10 years or more, and limits on stockpiling, would represent a significant outcome for Washington. It would allow the Trump administration to argue that it secured deeper concessions than those achieved under former US president Barack Obama, even if the path to that outcome has been shaped by a far more volatile set of circumstances.

That claim would not erase the consequences of earlier policy. When the US withdrew from the nuclear deal, it released Iran from constraints on research and development. Iran has since advanced its enrichment capabilities, including the development and deployment of more efficient centrifuges. The objective that once guided American policy, keeping Iran at least a year away from sufficient material for a nuclear weapon, is no longer achievable in the same form.

Comparisons with the Obama-era agreement, therefore, require care. The 2015 deal suspended secondary sanctions on a broad and open-ended basis. It enabled Iran to re-engage with global markets and regain access to assets abroad, estimated at over $100 billion. Trade expanded, financial channels reopened, and Iranian businesses gained room to operate within a more predictable environment.

The current framework does not offer anything comparable. Its economic impact is far smaller and more tightly defined, and it does not alter the underlying structure of sanctions in a lasting way.

A more useful comparison lies with the Joint Plan of Action, the interim agreement that preceded the 2015 deal. The present terms are more generous than the earlier arrangement, for a clear reason. Washington needed to secure the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz and stabilize energy flows. That requirement shaped the concessions on offer, and it explains why the terms appear uneven when measured against broader strategic ambitions.

A deal shaped by limits

There is no certainty that the 60-day window will produce a lasting agreement. The same reversibility that weakens American commitments also limits Iran’s incentives to make binding concessions, and both sides are operating within tight political constraints.

The MoU follows a military campaign that killed senior Iranian figures and thousands of civilians. It emerges from a context in which Washington does not hold decisive leverage, despite its military reach. Any expectation of symmetry in the outcome rests on an assumption that does not match the balance of forces or the costs already incurred.

The agreement should be read in that light. It reflects an attempt to contain the consequences of a war that did not produce a decisive outcome. The decision to pursue the conflict set the parameters within which diplomacy now operates, narrowing the space for more ambitious objectives.

For policymakers in Washington, the question is not how many concessions have been exchanged, but what the arrangement achieves in practice. Goals such as overthrowing the Iranian government, forcing capitulation, or removing Iran from regional influence were never realistic. The present moment offers a narrower opportunity, shaped by the limits exposed during the conflict.

The US has a real opportunity to address the Iranian nuclear issue permanently and reform its relationship with Iran at a time when president after president has made clear that US national security imperatives lie elsewhere in the world. 

Trying to lock up as many Iranian assets in Qatari bank accounts or obstruct Iranian petrochemical sales for as long as possible should not be the measure of diplomatic success.

That requires a degree of consistency that has been lacking in recent years, as well as a willingness to accept outcomes that fall short of maximalist goals.

The MoU does not resolve these questions. It creates space in which they might be addressed, while also exposing the limits of what can be achieved in the current moment. Whether that space is used will depend on decisions that have yet to be made, and on whether both sides are prepared to move beyond the patterns that have defined their relationship for decades.

While Washington Lives in the Past, Iran’s Hormuz Reality Has Arrived

Crescent International

With strikes and counter-strikes continuing to occur between the US and Islamic Iran, the tenuous ceasefire between them teeters on the brink.

The latest strikes occurred in the early hours of June 28 when the US bombed Iranian positions around the Strait of Hormuz while Tehran retaliated by striking US bases in Bahrain and Kuwait.

The US is desperately trying to prevent Iran’s control of the Strait of Hormuz.

On June 25, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio stated: “Let’s suppose that we went crazy and lost our minds completely and decided to agree to have a tolling or a fee mechanism. How would that work? It’s not doable.”

While Rubio has on several occasions demonstrated a poor grasp of the issues, his remarks on how a fee system in the Strait of Hormuz would operate may be the clearest illustration yet of his shallowness.

First, what business does the US, based thousands of miles away, have in what occurs in the Strait of Hormuz?

Second, toll-based transit systems are a routine feature of global maritime commerce, with established waterways around the world using standardized electronic payment and billing mechanisms for commercial shipping.

How would Iran’s fee mechanism work?

Here are a few basic ways it can be constructed.

Iran can easily establish an administrative framework for Hormuz and the mechanics would be relatively straightforward.

Shipping companies could register their vessels with the relevant maritime authority, receive electronic invoices based on factors such as vessel size, cargo type or tonnage, and complete payment through established banking channels before receiving transit authorization.

Frequent commercial operators could maintain prepaid or credit accounts, while occasional users could pay on a voyage-by-voyage basis.

From a purely administrative perspective, there is nothing technically unusual about such a model because similar systems already operate successfully in other major maritime corridors.

Canadian and US authorities charge transit fees for the use of the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Panama charges transit fees for vessels using the Panama Canal.

Transit fees for the Suez Canal are collected by Egypt.

Prior to 1956, the Suez Canal Company was controlled by French and later British interests.

After Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal, the waterway continued to function effectively.

The principal difference was that the revenues no longer flowed into French and British coffers but went instead to Egypt, its rightful recipients.

It should also be noted that Islamic Iran never ratified any treaty that explicitly recognizes the Strait of Hormuz as an international waterway governed by the modern legal regime of transit passage.

However, most importantly, what makes the new setup around the Strait of Hormuz possible is the completely new regional political, economic and social architecture.

The old regional architecture—built around overwhelming US military dominance, a network of American bases, and security arrangements with Washington has collapsed.

Since February 2026, Iran’s impactful military actions against US bases in the region have demolished the myth of American supremacy in the region.

The strategic calculation surrounding the Strait of Hormuz, therefore, cannot be separated from the broader transformation taking place in West Asia.

The question is no longer simply whether Iran has the administrative capability to establish a fee mechanism.

It clearly does.

The deeper question is whether the US and its regional proxies can stop Iran from implementing the new arrangement.

The latest developments show that the US and its surrogates are unable to stop Iran’s implementation of a new regional architecture surrounding the Strait of Hormuz.

The real issue at hand is that the Trump regime is assuming that control equals usability.

Even in a worst-case scenario for Islamic Iran where the US succeeds in establishing military control of the strait, Iran would still retain the ability to launch missiles, drones, and other attacks that will keep the waterway unstable and commercially unusable.

Shipping companies and insurers do not operate based on who controls a map—they operate based on risk.

With the realities outlined above, it is simply a matter of time before the Strait of Hormuz enters a new form of administration.

This transition, howver, is unlikely to occur without another major military escalation, as declining empires often respond to the erosion of their influence by attempting to preserve their position through the use of force.

Add to this the fact that the US is currently led by a “genius statesman” (Trump), and this prediction becomes not a matter of possibility, but a matter of time.

Strait of HormuzGeopolitics

Ending Strategic Silence On Palestinian Children Deliberately Targeted & Killed by Israel

Iqbal Jassat

Zionist Israel's deliberate targeting and killing of Palestinian children and western silence on these crimes compound the suffering of Palestinians (Image ChatGPT)
The latest findings of the UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry expose something far more serious than another chapter in the horrific war on Gaza.

They document what the Commission describes as the deliberate targeting and killing of Palestinian children by Israeli occupation forces, conduct it says amounts to genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes.
What stands out is not only the gravity of the allegations, but the muted response from many of the same political and media institutions that routinely demand wall to wall coverage when children are victims elsewhere.
The Commission’s report, presented to the UN Human Rights Council, concludes that Palestinian children have been deliberately targeted since October 2023.

According to the findings, children account for approximately 30 percent of those killed by Israeli forces during the reporting period.

The Commission states that the repeated use of high payload explosives in densely populated civilian areas demonstrates a pattern that cannot be dismissed as accidental or collateral.
In addition, the report also details the broader destruction of childhood itself.

Beyond deaths and injuries, it documents widespread psychological trauma, displacement, starvation, destruction of schools, attacks on healthcare infrastructure and conditions that have left almost an entire generation of Palestinian children facing long term physical and mental harm.
The title of the findings captures the reality of Israel’s brutality directed at Palestinian children:

The essence of childhood has been destroyed.”
An interesting observation one is able to make is that absent from much of the local and global media coverage is the significance of a UN Commission using language normally reserved for the gravest of crimes under international law.
The story however, is often reduced to another dispute between Israel and the United Nations while indeed the evidence presented by the Commission receives less attention than Israeli objections to the findings.
This familiar pattern transforms allegations of mass atrocities into a debate about process, bias or institutional credibility rather than an examination of the underlying evidence. The focus shifts away from dead children and toward political controversy.

The unfortunate result is that such crucial findings fail to dominate public discourse.

And political establishments that have provided diplomatic cover, military support and political protection for Israel also benefit in the process.
Equally, let’s not ignore media institutions that have spent years framing Palestinian suffering as background noise while treating Israeli security narratives as the primary lens through which zionist atrocities are understood.
There is nothing new about this if we consider that from apartheid South Africa to Iraq, from the ‘War on Terror’ to countless military interventions justified through humanitarian language, the pattern remains remarkably consistent.

The UN Commission’s findings are now part of the public record.

Civil society and human rights activists have to ensure that these findings, especially that Palestinian children have been deliberately targeted and that these actions constitute some of the most serious crimes recognised under international law, are not reduced to mere footnotes.

Iqbal Jassat, Executive Member, Media Review Network, Johannesburg, South Africa

The World Cup of exclusion

A tournament meant to unite has instead exposed the politics shaping access, power, and who gets left out.

As the 2026 FIFA World Cup moves through its opening rounds, the beautiful game has often been overshadowed by disputes over visas, border controls, security measures, and the treatment of players, officials, and supporters. 

Complaints from Iran, the denial of entry to Somali referee Omar Artan, scrutiny of US immigration policies, and concerns over access for fans from several countries have pushed politics to the forefront of the tournament. 

For many observers, the competition has become one of the most politically charged World Cups in recent memory, unfolding against the backdrop of US President Donald Trump's immigration agenda and an increasingly polarized international climate.

Sport has never been separate from politics. It never will be. What stands out here is the volume of scrutiny directed at a country that presents itself as a defender of freedom.

History offers many examples of political leaders exploiting sport for prestige and legitimacy. The 1934 World Cup in Fascist Italy became a propaganda showcase for Benito Mussolini. Argentina 1978, Russia 2018, and Qatar 2022 all generated intense debates over human rights, authoritarianism, and geopolitical agendas. In each case, football became, to some extent, secondary to politics. 

The US, which is hosting the majority of the 2026 World Cup matches, appears set to follow the same pattern.

A tournament shaped by borders

For decades, football authorities have insisted the game can transcend politics. The 2026 World Cup points in the opposite direction.

Intrusive security screening, restrictive visa procedures, harsh immigration policies, and ticket pricing have all fueled criticism. International fans have struggled to obtain entry, while several participating delegations have faced extraordinary restrictions. 

Alfred Archer, associate professor of philosophy at Tilburg University, tells The Cradle

“It is very important to be aware of how the US government is using the World Cup as a showcase of US border power and political control. However, this issue cannot be easily separated from the fact that the World Cup is a global celebration of football, sport, and community.”

It is because the World Cup is such a powerful celebration of football that the US can use the competition so effectively as a showcase for its own power. The many positive associations that people have with the World Cup are a crucial part of how the US government is using the tournament to promote the image it wants to promote for itself.

Archer adds:

“The power that football has to promote wonder and admiration is also being used by the US, and the US government in particular, to normalize its repressive immigration regime, the dismantling of democracy, and the systematic attack on women's rights domestically and its interventionist wars overseas.”

For Archer, the contradiction is functional. The tournament needs to retain its celebratory character for the surrounding policies to be absorbed rather than rejected.

Also speaking to The Cradle, award-winning journalist and scholar Dr James M. Dorsey sees the issue in broader geopolitical terms:

“Trump consistently demonstrated that he has no respect for international law, diplomatic solutions, or established international practices. We have seen this in the cases of Iran, Venezuela, and Greenland, and in this context, we can also understand the controversies surrounding the World Cup.”

Dorsey argues that the US had a unique opportunity to present itself as an open and welcoming host.

“The US, as a host country, had an opportunity to welcome teams and fans from all around the globe, but it decided to take another choice and present itself in a different light.”

War, exclusion, and double standards

The 2026 tournament is marked by another first. A host nation is directly engaged in conflict with a participating country.

Following the US and Israeli attack on Iran in February 2026, the Islamic Republic’s participation became a political controversy in itself. Trump publicly questioned whether Iranian players should attend the tournament.

Iranian officials accused Washington of denying visas and imposing tight limits on the team's movements. Players were required to return to their base in Tijuana, Mexico, after matches rather than remain in the US.

The controversy extended beyond Iran.

Somali referee Omar Artan, Africa's reigning Male Referee of the Year and the first Somali official selected for a World Cup finals, was denied entry despite possessing a diplomatic passport and work authorization.

Iraqi players reported aggressive treatment at customs. Uzbekistan's delegation faced intensive security procedures.

Visa policies generated even greater criticism. Fans from several African countries initially faced a proposed $15,000 bond requirement for tourist visas, while supporters from Iran and Haiti remained effectively excluded. Although some restrictions were later eased, lengthy processing times and bureaucratic hurdles continued to overshadow FIFA's vision of a global football festival.

For Jules Boykoff, a professor at Pacific University, a former professional football player, one of the leading scholars of sport and politics, and the author of the bookRed Card: The 2026 World Cup, Sportswashing, and the FIFA Greed Machine,” these practices reveal something deeper.

“It presents a combination of performative security spectacle and straight-up racism. It's hard to know where one begins and the other ends,” he tells The Cradle.

Sportswashing or normalization?

The tournament has revived debate around sportswashing, the use of major events to soften scrutiny of state behavior.

Boykoff leaves little room for ambiguity:

“The 2026 World Cup is a shining example of sportswashing, when political leaders use sports to deflect attention from chronic social problems at home in order to look important on the world stage and set up political, economic, and diplomatic advancement.”

He also notes that the term has often been applied selectively and sometimes with ethnocentric or xenophobic assumptions.

Dorsey disagrees.

In his view, Trump's behavior actually undermines the sportswashing argument.

The administration's treatment of teams, officials, and supporters from Africa and East and West Asia hardly resembles a coordinated effort to improve the US's image. If anything, Dorsey argues, Trump appears less interested in public relations than in demonstrating power and control.

Archer offers a third reading. In forthcoming work with Kyle Fruh and Jake Wojtowicz in “The Ethics of Sportswashing,” he argues that the issue is not necessarily distraction, but normalization.

“More people might be aware of the oppressive US border regime as a result of the tournament. Rather, it is serving to normalize these human rights abuses so that people do not treat these as wrongful actions that the US government needs to be held accountable for.”

Why is the media softer on the US?

One of the most uncomfortable questions surrounding the tournament concerns media coverage.

Western outlets that relentlessly criticized Russia in 2018 and Qatar in 2022 have often appeared considerably more restrained when discussing immigration crackdowns, exclusionary policies, and political controversies in the US.

Archer believes the discrepancy deserves scrutiny.

“It is certainly true that the term sportswashing has not been used as much by western media outlets in reference to this World Cup as it was for the World Cup in Qatar.”

He suggests several possible explanations.

“One may be fear of reprisals from advertisers or the US government, particularly for US media companies.”

Another possibility, he argues, involves deeper cultural biases.

“Another reason may be a form of implicitly racist double standards, where Arab nations are criticized for using sport in these ways, but western nations avoid such criticisms.”

Whether one agrees with that assessment or not, the contrast is difficult to ignore. 

The politics of the tournament have also extended into how the game itself is structured and consumed. Extended stoppages, including cooling and hydration breaks, have increasingly been aligned with broadcast demands.

Matches are punctuated by longer interruptions that serve both player welfare and commercial scheduling. For critics, the distinction between the two is becoming less clear.

FIFA and the collapse of neutrality

No account of the tournament can avoid FIFA and its president Gianni Infantino.

Expanding the competition from 32 to 48 teams has widened participation, but critics see it as a political move designed to consolidate support among smaller federations and increase the chances for his re-election.

More controversial has been Infantino’s relationship with political leaders.

His decision to award Trump a FIFA Peace Prize during the World Cup draw triggered backlash. Human rights organization FairSquare filed an ethics complaint, while Norway’s football federation backed calls for an investigation.

Since receiving the award, he has attacked Venezuela and Iran, and hinted at a possible invasion of Cuba, annexation of Greenland, and military action in Mexico and Colombia. On top of this, Trump recently referred to Canada as “the 51st state.”

Unlike previous FIFA leaders who maintained some distance from power, Infantino has moved closer to it. Appearances at Mar-a-Lago, in the Oval Office, and at political events have blurred the line between football governance and state authority.

For Dorsey, FIFA crossed a red line long ago.

“This is a mockery of FIFA's proclaimed distance between politics and sports.”

The contradiction is increasingly difficult to ignore. FIFA routinely insists that football and politics should remain separate while simultaneously cultivating relationships with political leaders and selectively enforcing its own standards. 

Football for everyone – except the fans

For critics, Trump’s World Cup has taken on the character of a political spectacle. The tournament reflects a wider shift toward exclusion, securitization, and confrontation.

Boykoff describes the situation as a fundamental paradox.

“This World Cup is a striking paradox in that it includes more teams than ever but excludes most working-class fans from being able to purchase tickets because of the sky-high prices.”

Archer adds:

“This World Cup is completely unaffordable even for average earners in wealthy countries. The fact that many fans are unable to travel or scared of what will happen to them if they do shows just how untenable the idea that the World Cup is a global celebration open to all kinds of people. Instead, it has been transformed into an event that is only accessible to the wealthy.”

The game itself remains larger than any tournament. While elite football grows more distant from ordinary supporters, its meaning is still rooted in local communities.

The question is not whether politics has entered the game. It always has. The question is who the game now serves.