When Donald Trump faces a problem with the rest of the world, whether economic, diplomatic, or military, his immediate response is almost always the same: tariffs. When Donald Trump encounters a problem and tariffs or the threat of imposing them are not sufficient or effective, he turns to his second favorite mechanism: "the two weeks". It is his favorite time unit, an essential resource used to buy time, to kick the can down the road, to not commit to anything, but always trying to convey that the White House has everything under control and that there is a plan behind it.
In his year and a half in power, as he did in his first term, Trump has resorted to this idea time and time again. "I will let you know in about two weeks", he said shortly after taking office, regarding promises from Vladimir Putin and whether the Russian leader was someone to trust. He repeated it often in negotiations with Ukraine, about his tax law, just like in 2017 with Obamacare, about the possible opening of coal mines, about an expected plan for large infrastructure construction, about criminal investigations or the sale of TikTok; about peace in Gaza, talks with North Korea or the Taliban. In the rollercoaster of Liberation Day, when he raised a protectionist wall. He mentioned it in the controversy over when he would release his previous years' tax returns, about Covid and treatments and vaccines. And he has invoked it again now in Iran, with a ceasefire that, more than a legal, military, or geopolitical concept, is a fluid entity.
In the two weeks (he used that timeframe before ordering the bombings in the summer of 2025), as in the ceasefire, everything fits. Everything is possible and impossible at the same time. Trump can simultaneously say he is ready to bomb, that perhaps it is the best or only option, and that a great peace deal, the best possible, is imminent. That Iran has violated the agreed conditions "many times" and that the United States has intercepted a ship "with gifts from China," clearly referring to military material, but that everything is going very well, better than ever. Trump can claim that his vice president JD Vance will not go to Pakistan, that he will, that he is already on his way, and that he is not yet, with both sides waiting for the other to make the first move.
The ceasefire that theoretically expired this Tuesday (although Pakistan, Iran, and the United States could not even agree on the time) is not the result of a firm, immovable, defined document, but of a diplomacy of tweets and crossed text messages. When Trump talks about two weeks, it is a flexible, variable, perfectly amendable, adaptable amount of time. An approximate something that builds a framework, but not too rigid.
It is a structure that fits perfectly with his worldview of international politics as an extension of the business world, in which he was born, raised, and with which he became famous and rich. Full of traps, betrayals, tricks. "When the next decision is not obvious, sometimes you just buy time. Two weeks is an eternity in politics, and the truth is that many problems resolve themselves if given time," explained Republican strategist Alex Conant, who worked in George W. Bush's White House.
His method starts with suffocating pressure, after the bombings and the largest naval deployment in 25 years, and mixes in sanctions (or the possible lifting of them). A threat of civilization destruction with the hope of a bright future with business or joint operations, from extracting buried nuclear material since the summer of 2025 to collecting tolls in the Strait of Hormuz. Trump states in all his negotiations that under no circumstances is he willing to backtrack, to extend deadlines, only to systematically extend them later. "How is it working?" he asked his advisors about the reactions to his tweet threatening to "kill an entire civilization" at once, posted hours before announcing a new extension, with nothing changed.
As newspapers report these days, like The Wall Street Journal, Trump improvises much of his social media messages. Sometimes he says the first thing that comes to mind, and sometimes he seeks to confuse, sow doubts and fear, forcing the other side to make missteps, thus weakening their position. He constantly lies, in public and in private, like when he agreed to include Lebanon in the ceasefire but then changed his mind. When he agreed for Iran to lift the blockade on oil tankers, but unilaterally decided that the United States would continue applying theirs. In interviews, he exudes confidence, but in private, he shows concern because Iran is not responding as he expected, like Venezuela, like other rivals and enemies.
The idea of two weeks, developed from his business negotiations, is well thought out, or rather, worked on. It is a short and long timeframe at the same time. It takes some of the daily pressure off the press and Congress and shifts it to the other side because what he demands is unattainable against the clock. Now he proposes a comprehensive agreement with Iran, covering the nuclear issue, something that took the Obama Administration more than two years, not two weeks, to sign.
Unlike all his immediate predecessors, Trump's approach is not linear, perfectly logical, and sequential. A does not necessarily lead to B before reaching C. The president can quickly escalate or soften the rhetoric depending on the context, make sudden changes and alter the final outcome. And more so now that he is enjoying a new communication system. It is no longer just his tweets at any time, but an endless cascade of short interviews of a few minutes, one after another. More than 10 or 15 in a day, sometimes each with a different idea, sometimes contradictory. This introduces even more unpredictability, which he clearly considers his main negotiating advantage. It is no longer about having "the cards," as he always said about Zelenski versus Putin, but about reshuffling the deck in every hand. If there is an agreement, it is his victory. If there is failure, it is always someone else's fault.