Why has maximum pressure, contrary to the Western narrative, led less to Washington’s victory than to the necessity of an agreement and crisis management?
The politics of pressure in international relations rests on one basic assumption: raising the costs for the other side should compel it to change its behavior and accept the demands of the pressuring party. But this assumption does not always produce the expected result. Sometimes pressure, especially when it is not accompanied by a credible political solution, generates costs that do not fall only on the target; they also return to the architect of the pressure. In such a situation, pressure turns from a “lever of coercion” into a “source of deadlock.”
The recent crisis between Iran and the United States can be understood from this very angle. The Western narrative tries to portray negotiation as a sign of successful pressure against Iran, but the available evidence offers a more complex picture. Statements by American officials about progress in the talks, concern over the Strait of Hormuz and the energy market, and the imposition of new sanctions against Iran’s financial and oil networks all show that maximum pressure has not yet produced a final political outcome. Therefore, the main question is not whether pressure has been applied or not; the more precise question is whether America has been able to convert this pressure into strategic victory.
In the logic of coercive strategy, pressure is considered successful when a direct and visible relationship is established between rising costs and behavioral change. America’s maximum pressure policy against Iran was also built on this very assumption: sanctions should limit Iran’s economic capacity, military threats should alter Tehran’s security calculations, and diplomatic pressure should narrow Iran’s decision-making space. The ultimate goal of this set of tools is not merely to punish Iran, but to produce a situation in which Tehran sees accepting Washington’s desired agreement as less costly than continuing resistance.
But it is precisely here that the gap between “applying pressure” and “achieving results” appears. Pressure can create costs, but as long as it does not lead to lasting behavioral change or an implementable agreement, it cannot be called a strategic victory. Washington still uses the language of threat, but at the same time it speaks of progress in talks, the possibility of an agreement, and the need to contain the consequences of the crisis. J.D. Vance has spoken of “a lot of progress” in negotiations with Iran, while also emphasizing that both sides want to avoid a return to military conflict; nevertheless, the military option has not been removed from America’s official discourse. This duality shows that America is not merely applying pressure; it is searching for a political exit from a crisis whose continuation has become costly for itself as well.
The Strait of Hormuz is the point at which the Iran-U.S. crisis moves beyond the level of bilateral confrontation and becomes a question for the global economy. Any disruption in this energy chokepoint affects the oil market, fuel costs, supply chains, and the political calculations of Western governments. Reports about the passage of oil tankers through the Strait of Hormuz, at the same time as Trump and Vance speak about the prospects of an agreement, show that control of this route is not merely a technical or maritime issue; it is part of the political equation of the crisis. The importance of the Strait of Hormuz lies precisely here: it shows that pressure against Iran is never entirely one-sided. Washington can impose sanctions and issue threats, but it cannot fully control the geopolitical consequences of the crisis. When the passage of oil tankers, energy prices, and the security of export routes become part of the calculations surrounding an agreement, the narrative of “successful pressure” weakens.
The energy market makes this reality even more tangible. The decline in oil prices after Trump’s remarks about the possibility of a quick end to the war showed that markets are sensitive to diplomatic signals; but analysts’ warnings about the risk of a spike in oil prices if disruption in Hormuz continues show that the crisis has not yet been contained. Reuters has reported the possibility of Brent crude rising to $120, while Wood Mackenzie has warned that if the Strait of Hormuz remains closed, the price could reach around $200. These figures are not merely economic forecasts; they are signs that the crisis can move from the military field into the energy market and the domestic politics of the West.
America’s new sanctions can also be read from this angle. In Washington’s official narrative, new sanctions are usually presented as a sign of resolve and power; but this same narrative can be read in reverse. If maximum pressure had achieved its desired outcome, why would Washington still need to target Iran’s exchange houses, money-transfer networks, oil tankers, and trade routes? The May 19 sanctions against Iran’s financial and oil network and 19 vessels linked to the transport of oil and petrochemicals point less to the end of the crisis than to its continuation: pressure continues because the final result has not yet been achieved.
At this point, the concept of Iran’s resilience becomes important for understanding the future of the crisis. Resilience does not mean definitive victory; it means the ability to absorb pressure, preserve part of one’s strategic capacities, and prevent external pressure from turning into a collapse of calculations. Recent reports show that despite attacks, sanctions, and military threats, Iran continues to pose problems for Washington in three areas: nuclear capacity, missile and drone capabilities, and the ability to affect energy security through the Strait of Hormuz. When a country under intense pressure still preserves these levers, maximum pressure can no longer be easily translated into a one-sided victory; instead, it becomes an attritional process whose costs return to the architect of the pressure as well.
On the basis of this resilience, the most likely outcome of the crisis is neither one-sided surrender nor a comprehensive settlement of all disputes, but movement toward some form of limited agreement or crisis-management mechanism. Such an agreement would likely focus less on resolving the fundamental disputes between Iran and America than on containing immediate costs: reducing the likelihood of a return to war, managing the Strait of Hormuz, controlling pressure on the energy market, and creating a minimal framework for continuing negotiations. The more likely path is a limited agreement to reduce immediate costs, or a managed stalemate in which pressure, negotiation, and control of the Strait of Hormuz continue simultaneously. Nevertheless, the risk of a return to military escalation has not been eliminated; the language of threat still remains in Washington’s calculations, and Iran has also warned that in the event of another attack, the scope of the war could expand beyond the region.
Of course, supporters of pressure argue: Iran is negotiating, therefore pressure has worked. But this proposition is overly simplistic. Negotiation in itself is neither a sign of defeat nor a sign of victory; its meaning depends on the balance of costs and the political needs of both sides. If America were in a position of decisive victory, it would not need to send messages simultaneously about an agreement, the reopening of Hormuz, and preventing the continuation of war. What we see today is not one-sided surrender, but a kind of costly impasse: Washington is trying to maintain pressure, while at the same time it is forced to control the consequences of the very crisis it has helped produce.
The main lesson of the recent crisis is that, in international relations, applying pressure does not necessarily mean winning. Pressure can make the other side’s calculations more difficult, but if it does not lead to a durable political solution, it reproduces the crisis more than it resolves it. America’s policy toward Iran now stands precisely at such a point: on the one hand, it still relies on the language of threat and coercion; on the other, it is forced to search for a political way to contain the consequences of the crisis. From this perspective, the costly impasse is not merely a temporary condition; it is the natural result of a strategy that focused on escalating pressure before designing a path of exit.
