The most dangerous defeats are those sold as victories. Once the guns fall silent, wars are judged not by the scale of destruction but by the quiet establishment of new rules of conflict.

In markets, the problem is not only the loss itself but how that loss is recorded in the books. In politics, however, defeat is far more dangerous—and far more cunning.

There is a harsh paradox in the American-Iranian framework agreement: Donald Trump waged a war to extract from Iran what could have been negotiated before the war, sacrificing gains that were already within reach and leaving Tehran with new cards and new rules for the game.

Before the Middle East slid into war on February 28, the situation was serious, but not as exposed as it later became.

The Strait of Hormuz was open. Iranian oil was under sanctions. Iranian funds were frozen. Through firm diplomacy—not theatrical diplomacy—it was possible to push Tehran toward new negotiations on its 60 percent enriched uranium, reducing enrichment levels, and accepting strict monitoring. Markets had not yet entered the looming disaster zone. Iran still viewed Hezbollah and its other regional arms as bargaining chips and extensions of its influence, a reality that has now become an officially acknowledged component of its regional strategy.

Clausewitz famously said that war is the continuation of politics by other means. What happened here was the reverse: poor politics summoned a major war, only to return to the negotiating table weaker than when it left. The United States raised the ceiling of power and escalated its rhetoric of deterrence, yet failed to convert military superiority into a purely political achievement. That is the difference between winning a battle and winning a war.

Trump's discourse surrounding the agreement obscures simpler questions. Wasn't Hormuz already open? Wasn't Iran already under sanctions? Wasn't Iranian oil already being pursued? Weren't Iranian assets already frozen? If the war ultimately reopened a passage that had been open all along and produced negotiations that could have taken place before the conflict, what kind of victory is that?

Reuters reports indicate that the framework agreement includes reopening the Strait of Hormuz, beginning the release of frozen Iranian funds, and granting exemptions for oil exports in exchange for entering a new phase of negotiations over the nuclear program. Iranian officials are now speaking about the costs of "services" in the strait. The outcome remains the same: the strait now appears to have an owner imposing terms of passage. This is where defeat disguises itself as victory.

With Trump, the real-estate mogul, Iran does not need to occupy territory; it only needs to impose its logic at the negotiating table.

Hormuz is not a geographical detail. Trump allowed Iran to transform it into a choke point for the global energy economy—a lever over inflation, insurance, shipping, elections, central banks, American and Asian economies, Western voters, diesel prices, and household electricity bills.

As in the 1956 Suez Crisis, the defeat was not military but political. The old power could no longer impose a new order. Although the United States today is not a declining Britain, Trump has made it appear so. The world—and America itself—will judge him not by the strike he ordered, but by what follows it.

Iran is now attempting to return to negotiations not as a besieged defendant but as a victimized state with a legitimate right to deterrence. It will argue that it cannot surrender all of its cards after a war that nearly threatened its existence. It will seek recognition of a degree of uranium enrichment, recognition of its role in Hormuz, and recognition of its support for its regional arms.

While the Director General of the International Atomic Energy Agency insists on resuming inspections, he also warns that facts do not disappear in peace declarations. They require cameras, seals, records, inspectors, and continuous verification.

As Trump washes his hands of the Middle East, past experience suggests that negotiation deadlines will stretch into long months. Deadlines become "technical windows," then "further consultations," and eventually "constructive progress despite differences." The familiar cycle of cold and hot conflict returns to the region behind optimistic statements: Iran demands more money and concessions, while Washington claims it is maintaining pressure.

This is where Lebanon, with all its tragedies, enters the picture. Iran now seeks to integrate its regional arms into its broader concept of sovereignty, presenting them as a first line of defense and a legitimate extension of national security. It aims to make Lebanon part of the architecture of the agreement—not merely a burning margin but a card within the new rules of the game. Oh Lebanon, are your wounds not enough?

Tom Barrack and Trump have sown your land with the wind, leaving you to reap the whirlwind.

As in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan, military power can excel at destroying armies, but only politics determines the final victory.

The result is that, without genuine Lebanese will, no authentic Lebanese national solution can emerge to confront Israeli aggression and end the grave Iranian extortion and violation of Lebanese sovereignty.

Trump loves the moment of signing—the photograph, the pen, the grand declarations.

Yet the "deal" that should never have happened approaches the Middle East as though it were merely another real-estate project. In this region, Iran buys time not to construct towers but to dismantle ownership itself and hollow agreements out from within.

The cost of dismantling American diplomacy becomes visible here. Washington no longer speaks through the language of deep institutions but through the language of property developers—from Trump and Witkoff to Kushner and Barrack. Their talents may be suitable for building hotels, but not for building regional peace. Through historical ignorance, diplomatic inexperience, and a limited understanding of conflict and war, they are once again learning that the Middle East is not a region to be priced—it is a region that explodes.

Trump will receive applause. As the saying goes, "Victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan." It will be said that the president stopped the war. Voters will be asked to forget that the strait was already open, that negotiations were possible, that sanctions were already in place, and that Iran had not yet succeeded in bundling together its regional arms, strategic waterways, and nuclear stockpile into a single negotiating package.

Iranian oil will emerge from sanctions. Enriched uranium will remain a source of tension. Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, and Yemen will, to varying degrees, fall under the umbrella of the understanding, whether explicitly mentioned in its text or not. Hormuz will remain in Iran's hand like someone opening a door while continuing to wave the key before your eyes.

American policy increasingly resembles a Sisyphean exercise. Like Sisyphus in Greek mythology, it pushes the rock uphill only to watch it roll back down. Yet there is one crucial difference: each time the rock falls, it grows larger.

In 2018, Trump withdrew from the nuclear agreement because he considered it flawed. After years of sanctions, escalation, and war, he now finds himself confronting an agreement narrower in achievements, broader in concessions, and more accommodating of Iran's naval and regional influence.

That is why Trump's defeat appears as a victory, but it is a far more insidious one.

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed by the writers are their own and do not necessarily represent the views of Annahar.