In the nuclear negotiations that culminated in 2015, the Iranian Mohamed Javad Zarif deployed a diplomacy with a velvet glove over steel bones: smiling, ironic, perfectly adapted to English after spending years in the United States, he cultivated with U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry an almost personal relationship, prolonging meetings and walks that seemed to bring positions closer. But a scene repeated with almost theatrical precision: upon returning to the table, the tone changed, the jokes ended, and Tehran's hardline stance reappeared intact, not moving an inch, based on three points: sanctions, enrichment, and sovereignty.
Zarif turned closeness into an instrument, not a weakness: he gained time, discovered the rival's strategy with his confidence, defused tensions, and forced the interlocutor to invest mountains of political capital while reserving any progress for the moment it could be presented at home as a victory. This is the scenario that the United States faces: negotiation with the lever of the Strait of Hormuz activated and the ability to endure more economic pain than its rivals.
A Persian proverb encapsulates the essence of the Iranian negotiating school well: "Muddy the water and you will catch fish better". Donald Trump and his negotiating team, composed of real estate developer Steve Witkoff and his son-in-law, businessman Jared Kushner, face one of the toughest and most demanding diplomatic traditions in the world, not so much for its aggressive forms but for the consistency of its method: strategic patience, calculated ambiguity, and an almost systematic refusal to accept agreements that cannot be presented as a victory.
Yesterday, Trump instructed his advisors to prepare the extension of the U.S. blockade of the Strait of Hormuz for as long as necessary to bring the Iranians back to the negotiating table, although the truth is that the Iranians never withdrew, but wanted to negotiate on their own terms, which is what a country does when it is convinced it has won.
In closed rooms in Vienna, Geneva, or New York, Western diplomats have learned that they do not face an interlocutor seeking to close a deal quickly, as Trump desires, but an exhausting game of chess in which each move is discussed a thousand times from various angles.
How do they differ from Russian or Chinese negotiators? The Iranian rarely says no; they prefer to surround the answer, stretch time, introduce nuances that open new layers of discussion, and force the other party to spend political capital in the effort as the clock ticks.
Iran relies on patience, ambiguity, and resilience: it prolongs processes, avoids closed definitions, and seeks to prevent the adversary from achieving a visible victory. The Iranian does not mind not gaining anything tangible if the rival gains even less. For them, the important thing is how you sell the result to your own public.
There are many examples: former Iranian Foreign Minister Kamal Kharrazi was described as a master of elegant ambiguity, capable of closing agreements flexible enough for each party to interpret them in their favor, advancing without being tied down. Abbas Araghchi, the current Foreign Minister, represents a more sober and disciplined version: soft-spoken, constant repetition, and a strategy of attrition that sets positions until the adversary eventually gives in. The late Ali Larijani mastered the art of reopening seemingly closed agreements, introducing nuances that forced a renegotiation without ever rejecting it outright. Together, they all reflect the same logic: advance without closing, resist without breaking, and use time as the primary tool.