How Iranian Informants Were Failed by the CIA

A man waits at a bus station as people walk past a closed shop in the center of Iran's capital Tehran on September 30 2022. (AFP)
A man waits at a bus station as people walk past a closed shop in the center of Iran's capital Tehran on September 30 2022. (AFP)
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How Iranian Informants Were Failed by the CIA

A man waits at a bus station as people walk past a closed shop in the center of Iran's capital Tehran on September 30 2022. (AFP)
A man waits at a bus station as people walk past a closed shop in the center of Iran's capital Tehran on September 30 2022. (AFP)

The spy was minutes from leaving Iran when he was nabbed.

Gholamreza Hosseini was at Imam Khomeini Airport in Tehran in late 2010, preparing for a flight to Bangkok. There, the Iranian industrial engineer would meet his Central Intelligence Agency handlers. But before he could pay his exit tax to leave the country, the airport ATM machine rejected his card as invalid. Moments later, a security officer asked to see Hosseini’s passport before escorting him away.

Hosseini said he was brought to an empty VIP lounge and told to sit on a couch that had been turned to face a wall. Left alone for a dizzying few moments and not seeing any security cameras, Hosseini thrust his hand into his trouser pocket, fishing out a memory card full of state secrets that could now get him hanged. He shoved the card into his mouth, chewed it to pieces and swallowed.

Not long after, Ministry of Intelligence agents entered the room and the interrogation began, punctuated by beatings, Hosseini recounted. His denials and the destruction of the data were worthless; they seemed to know everything already. But how?

“These are things I never told anyone in the world,” Hosseini told Reuters. As his mind raced, Hosseini even wondered whether the CIA itself had sold him out.

Rather than betrayal, Hosseini was the victim of CIA negligence, a year-long Reuters investigation into the agency’s handling of its informants found. A faulty CIA covert communications system made it easy for Iranian intelligence to identify and capture him. Jailed for nearly a decade and speaking out for the first time, Hosseini said he never heard from the agency again, even after he was released in 2019.

The CIA declined to comment on Hosseini’s account.

Hosseini’s experience of sloppy handling and abandonment was not unique. In interviews with six Iranian former CIA informants, Reuters found that the agency was careless in other ways amid its intense drive to gather intelligence in Iran, putting in peril those risking their lives to help the United States.

Such aggressive steps by the CIA sometimes put average Iranians in danger with little prospect of gaining critical intelligence. When these men were caught, the agency provided no assistance to the informants or their families, even years later, the six Iranians said.

James Olson, former chief of CIA counterintelligence, said he was unaware of these specific cases. But he said any unnecessary compromise of sources by the agency would represent both a professional and ethical failure.

“If we’re careless, if we’re reckless and we’ve been penetrated, then shame on us,” Olson said. “If people paid the price of trusting us enough to share information and they paid a penalty, then we have failed morally.”

The men were jailed as part of an aggressive counterintelligence purge by Iran that began in 2009, a campaign partly enabled by a series of CIA blunders, according to news reports and three former US national security officials. Tehran has claimed in state media reports that its mole hunt ultimately netted dozens of CIA informants.

To tell this story, Reuters conducted dozens of hours of interviews with the six Iranians who were convicted of espionage by their government between 2009 and 2015.

To vet their accounts, Reuters interviewed 10 former US intelligence officials with knowledge of Iran operations; reviewed Iranian government records and news reports; and interviewed people who knew the spies.

None of the former or current US officials who spoke with Reuters confirmed or disclosed the identities of any CIA sources.

The CIA declined to comment specifically on Reuters’ findings or on the intelligence agency’s operations in Iran. A spokeswoman said the CIA does its utmost to safeguard people who work with the agency.

Iran's Ministry of Foreign Affairs and its Mission to the United Nations in New York did not respond to requests for comment.

Hosseini was the only one of the six men Reuters interviewed who said he was assigned the vulnerable messaging tool. But an analysis by two independent cybersecurity specialists found that the now-defunct covert online communication system that Hosseini used – located by Reuters in an internet archive – may have exposed at least 20 other Iranian spies and potentially hundreds of other informants operating in other countries around the world.

This messaging platform, which operated until 2013, was hidden within rudimentary news and hobby websites where spies could go to connect with the CIA. Reuters confirmed its existence with four former US officials.

The CIA considers Iran one of its most difficult targets. Ever since Iranian students seized the American embassy in Tehran in 1979, the United States has had no diplomatic presence in the country. CIA officers are instead forced to recruit potential agents outside Iran or through online connections. The thin local presence leaves US intelligence at a disadvantage amid events such as the protests now sweeping Iran over the death of a woman arrested for violating the country’s religious dress code.

The six Iranians served prison terms ranging from five to 10 years. Four of them, including Hosseini, stayed in Iran after their release and remain vulnerable to rearrest. Two fled the country and have become stateless refugees.

Hosseini’s leap to espionage came after he had climbed a steep path to a lucrative career. The son of a tailor, he grew up in Tehran and learned lathing and auto mechanics, he said, showing Reuters his trade-school diploma.

Along the way, teachers spotted Hosseini’s intelligence and pushed him to study industrial engineering at the prestigious Amirkabir University of Technology, he said. Hosseini said a professor there put him in touch with a former student with ties to the Iranian government who eventually became his business partner.

Founded in 2001, their engineering company provided services to help businesses optimize energy consumption. The firm at first worked mainly with food and steel factories, Hosseini said, over time scoring contracts with Iran’s energy and defense industries. Hosseini’s account of his professional background is confirmed in corporate records, Iranian media accounts and interviews with six associates.

Hosseini said the company’s success made his family affluent, allowing him to buy a large house, drive imported cars and go on foreign vacations. But in the years after the election of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who served from 2005 to 2013, his business teetered.

Under Ahmadinejad, a hardliner aligned with the country’s theocratic ruler, Iran’s security forces were encouraged to enter the industrial sector, increasing the military’s control over lucrative commercial projects. Established companies often found themselves relegated to the role of subcontractors for these newcomers, Iranian democracy activists said, shrinking their slice of the pie.

Before long, Hosseini said, all of his new contracts had to be routed through some of these firms, forcing him to lay off workers as earnings tumbled.

“They didn’t know how to do the work, but they took the lion’s share of the profits,” said Hosseini, his voice rising as he recounted the events a decade later. “It was as if you were the head of the company, doing everything from 0 to 100, and seeing your salary being given to the most junior employees. I felt raped.”

At the same time, US rhetoric was ramping up against Ahmadinejad. Washington viewed Iran’s president as a dangerous provocateur set on building nuclear weapons. Hosseini began to feel that his life was being destroyed by a corrupt system, and that the government was too erratic to be allowed to obtain nukes. His anger grew.

One day in 2007, he said he opened the CIA public website and clicked the link to contact the agency: “I’m an engineer who has worked at the nuclear site Natanz and I have information,” he wrote in Persian.

Located 200 miles south of Tehran, Natanz is a major facility for uranium enrichment. Archived web records from Hosseini’s engineering firm from 2007 say the company worked on civilian electrical power projects. Reuters could not independently confirm Hosseini’s work at Natanz.

A month later, to his surprise, Hosseini said he received an email back from the CIA.

Meeting with CIA agents, Hosseini said he explained that his company had several years earlier worked on contracts to optimize the flow of electricity at the Natanz site, a complex balancing act to keep centrifuges spinning at precisely the speed needed to enrich uranium.

Located in central Iran, Natanz was the heart of Tehran’s nuclear program, which the government said was to produce civilian electricity. But Washington saw Natanz as the core of Iran’s push to acquire nuclear weapons.

Hosseini said his firm was a subcontractor of Kalaye Electric, a company sanctioned in 2007 by the US government over its alleged role in Iran’s nuclear development program. He added that he was seeking additional contracts at other sensitive nuclear and military sites.

Hosseini unfurled a maze-like map showing the electricity connected to the Natanz nuclear facility.

While several years old, Hosseini explained, the map’s notations of the amount of power flowing into the facility provided Washington a baseline to estimate the number of centrifuges currently active. That evidence, he believed, could be used to assess progress toward processing the highly enriched uranium needed for a nuclear weapon.

Hosseini said he didn’t know it at the time, but Natanz was already in the crosshairs of US authorities. That same year, Washington and Israel launched a cyberweapon that would sabotage those very centrifuges, infecting them with a virus that would cripple uranium enrichment at Natanz for years to come, security analysts concluded. Reuters could not determine whether the information provided by Hosseini assisted in that cyber sabotage or other operations.

In subsequent meetings, Hosseini said, the CIA asked him to turn his attention to a broader US goal: identifying possible critical points in Iran’s national electric grid that would cause long and paralyzing blackouts if struck by a missile or saboteurs.

Hosseini said he continued to meet with the CIA in Thailand and Malaysia, in a total of seven meetings over three years. To show evidence of his travels, Hosseini provided photographs of entry stamps in his passport for all but his first two trips, for which he said he had used an older, now discarded, passport.

In August 2008, a year after becoming a spy, Hosseini said he met with an older, broad-shouldered CIA officer and others at a hotel in Dubai.

“We need to expand the commitment,” Hosseini recounted the officer saying. The officer handed Hosseini a piece of paper and asked him to write a promise that he would not provide the information he was sharing to another government, a CIA practice intended to deepen a feeling of commitment from an informant, two former CIA officials said.

Another CIA officer in the meeting then showed Hosseini a covert communications system he could use to reach his handlers: a rudimentary Persian-language football news website called Iraniangoals.com. Entering a password into the search bar caused a secret messaging window to pop up, allowing Hosseini to send information and receive instructions from the CIA.

When Hosseini lamented missing his daughter’s third birthday during one of the trips, he said a CIA officer bought him a teddy bear to give to the child. “I felt that I had joined the team,” Hosseini told Reuters.

What Hosseini didn’t know was that the world’s most powerful intelligence agency had given him a tool that likely led to his capture. In 2018, Yahoo News reported that a flawed web-based covert communications system had led to the arrest and execution of dozens of CIA informants in Iran and China.

Reuters located the secret CIA communications site identified by Hosseini, Iraniangoals.com, in an internet archive where it remains publicly available. Reuters then asked two independent cyber analysts – Bill Marczak of University of Toronto’s Citizen Lab, and Zach Edwards of Victory Medium – to probe how Iran may have used weaknesses in the CIA’s own technology to unmask Hosseini and other CIA informants.

The two are experts on privacy and cybersecurity, with experience analyzing electronic intelligence operations. The effort represents the first independent technical analysis of the intelligence failure.

Marczak and Edwards quickly discovered that the secret messaging window hidden inside Iraniangoals.com could be spotted by simply right-clicking on the page to bring up the website’s coding. This code contained descriptions of secret functions, including the words “message” and “compose” – easily found clues that a messaging capability had been built into the site. The coding for the search bar that triggered the secret messaging software was labeled “password.”

Far from being customized, high-end spycraft, Iraniangoals.com was one of hundreds of websites mass-produced by the CIA to give to its sources, the independent analysts concluded. These rudimentary sites were devoted to topics such as beauty, fitness and entertainment, among them a Star Wars fan page and another for the late American talk show host Johnny Carson.

Each fake website was assigned to only one spy in order to limit exposure of the entire network in case any single agent was captured, two former CIA officials told Reuters.

But the CIA made identifying those sites easy, the independent analysts said. Marczak located more than 350 websites containing the same secret messaging system, all of which have been offline for at least nine years and archived.



Midnight Hammer in 2025: Trump Ends Half Measures on Iran

Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi weeps over the coffin of Hossein Salami, commander of the Revolutionary Guard Corps, during the funeral of senior military officials killed in Israeli strikes in Tehran on June 28. AFP/Archive
Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi weeps over the coffin of Hossein Salami, commander of the Revolutionary Guard Corps, during the funeral of senior military officials killed in Israeli strikes in Tehran on June 28. AFP/Archive
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Midnight Hammer in 2025: Trump Ends Half Measures on Iran

Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi weeps over the coffin of Hossein Salami, commander of the Revolutionary Guard Corps, during the funeral of senior military officials killed in Israeli strikes in Tehran on June 28. AFP/Archive
Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi weeps over the coffin of Hossein Salami, commander of the Revolutionary Guard Corps, during the funeral of senior military officials killed in Israeli strikes in Tehran on June 28. AFP/Archive

With Donald Trump back in the Oval Office in early 2025, it took less than a year for his revamped “maximum pressure” campaign to set the pace for Iran.

What began as an argument over reviving the nuclear deal quickly gave way to a far starker reality: war on Iranian soil, for only the second time since the founding of the Islamic Republic, nearly four decades after a conflict whose scars still weigh heavily on the country’s collective memory.

In fact, the clouds of war had been gathering over Tehran well before Trump began his path back to the White House.

Hopes of reviving the nuclear agreement faded, while Iran’s uranium enrichment accelerated, a trajectory that culminated in the 12-day war and exposed the limits of Iranian deterrence in the face of Israeli preemptive strikes later joined by the United States, followed by the reimposition of UN sanctions under the snapback mechanism.

Yet this trajectory did not begin in Washington but in Tehran itself. Months before the US elections, the ruling establishment bet on a “tactical pause” by electing Masoud Pezeshkian, who took office in August 2024 as a reformist president with a less confrontational tone toward the West, presenting himself as a manager of an “economic war,” not a missile adventure.

He selected a foreign policy team seasoned in negotiating rooms, led by Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi, a signal interpreted in the West as early preparation for a new phase of talks and an attempt to lower tensions and recalibrate the nuclear file for two contradictory scenarios: either a Democratic administration under Kamala Harris seeking to carry on the legacy of Obama and Biden, or Trump’s return in a harsher version of “maximum pressure” to close the Iran file on his own terms.

Donald Trump returned to the presidency with familiar charisma to an American scene marked by greater international tension and an open war between Israel and Iran’s proxies, scrambling calculations in Tehran.

The man whose record includes the decision to assassinate Qasem Soleimani was not an unknown figure to the ruling elite, but a tested adversary returning with a full record of withdrawing from the nuclear deal and escalating sanctions.

The assessment, therefore, settled on the view that he would not change his core approach but would seek to expand it: maximum pressure in the economy and finance, accompanied by a clear political message that any Iranian retreat must be tangible across the nuclear, missile and regional files alike.

Under this assessment, Tehran’s room for maneuver appeared to be narrowing, even before indirect negotiation rounds began.

The return of “maximum pressure”

Less than two weeks after taking the oath of office, Donald Trump signed a National Security Presidential Memorandum on Feb. 4, 2025, relaunching the “maximum pressure” policy in a tougher and more detailed form.

The memorandum laid out three main objectives: denying Iran any pathway to a nuclear weapon or intercontinental ballistic missiles, dismantling its networks and proxies designated on Western terrorism lists, and curbing the development of its ballistic missile arsenal and asymmetric capabilities.

At the executive level, the Treasury Department was tasked with applying maximum economic pressure by tightening sanctions enforcement and issuing guidance warning the shipping, insurance and port sectors against dealing with Tehran or its proxies.

The State Department was tasked with amending or revoking previous waivers, collaborating with allies to implement the reimposition of UN sanctions under the snapback mechanism, and reducing Iranian oil exports to zero.

In parallel, the Justice Department was charged with pursuing Iranian-linked financial and logistical networks and front companies operating inside the United States.

In this way, Trump’s long-standing slogan on not allowing Iran to have a nuclear weapon was turned into a comprehensive framework that fused economic pressure, domestic security and diplomacy into a single track aimed at Tehran.

On the Iranian side, the initial response was a mix of denial and caution. Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei did not shut the door on negotiations, but neither did he throw it wide open.

He allowed an indirect negotiating channel to proceed, beginning with a message from Donald Trump delivered by a special envoy, to which Tehran replied with a brief note.

From that channel emerged five rounds of indirect talks between Trump’s team, led by Steve Witkoff, and the Iranian team, headed by Abbas Araghchi, with European and regional mediators participating.

Publicly, Araghchi spoke of a “readiness for responsible talks if Washington honors its commitments,” and of the possibility of reaching a “balanced agreement” that would reintegrate Iran into the global economy.

Behind the scenes, the Iranian team sought to widen its room for maneuver by playing on differences between Washington and some European capitals, and by probing sensitivities within Trump’s own camp, particularly toward its more hardline figures, in the hope that these contradictions could translate into greater flexibility in the terms of a deal.

Five rounds of talks

Despite the diplomatic choreography, the fault lines were clear from the outset and they barely shifted across all five rounds of talks. Each session returned to the same central dispute, underscoring how far apart Washington and Tehran remained beneath the incremental gains recorded on paper.

Washington insisted that Iran be stripped of its stockpile of uranium enriched to 60 percent, near the nuclear threshold, that the International Atomic Energy Agency be restored to a full monitoring role at all sensitive sites, and that any subsequent track include a clear timetable to address the range of Iran’s ballistic missiles and key elements of its regional activity.

Tehran, for its part, clung to familiar priorities: the lifting of oil and financial sanctions as a precondition, guarantees that no future US administration would withdraw from a new agreement, the exclusion of the missile file from any binding text, and rejection of labeling its ties with regional allies as “destabilizing behavior.”

Each round, therefore, ended with much the same outcome: technical progress at the margins of draft texts, and political deadlock at their core.

In the background, Iran’s relationship with the International Atomic Energy Agency was steadily sliding into a more confrontational zone.

For years, the agency has sought explanations for uranium traces found at undeclared sites, as well as the restoration of monitoring cameras and measuring devices that were gradually disabled or removed after Washington withdrew from the 2015 accord.

By 2025, Iran’s stockpile of uranium enriched to 60 percent had reached a level that agency experts said significantly shortens the technical time needed to reach the nuclear threshold, should there be political will.

From the perspective of Western capitals, the program had become a mix of material advances and political opacity. From Tehran’s vantage point, the agency file had become an extension of the “maximum pressure” campaign, this time waged through legal and technical means.

The 12-day war

Along a parallel track, the entire region was still absorbing the aftershocks of Oct. 7, 2023. Hamas’s Al-Aqsa Flood opened the door to nearly two years of high-intensity shadow warfare between Israel and Iran’s proxies, stretching from the Lebanese border to the Red Sea.

With each Israeli strike on convoys or sites linked to the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps in Syria, the traditional deterrence equation lost some of the ambiguity that had long been part of its strength.

Tehran, however, clung to managing the confrontation through proxies and avoiding direct engagement from its own territory until a moment that upended that calculus entirely, the 12-day war.

For the first time on this scale, fire was exchanged directly between Iran and Israel over Iranian soil itself.

This struck the heart of the doctrine entrenched by Qasem Soleimani, which stipulates taking the battle beyond Iran’s borders and keeping proxy fronts alight so that war would not reach the country’s interior.

In the opening days of the 12-day war, Israel carried out a series of focused strikes inside Iran, targeting missile bases and key command centers, along with facilities tied to the enrichment chain and some research and development sites.

In that initial round, the IRGC lost a number of senior field commanders, along with what officials described as “brains” of the nuclear program, physicists, engineers and technical officials, in a blow that hit the military and technical leadership more than the physical infrastructure alone.

Days later, the confrontation escalated further with the launch of an operation dubbed Midnight Hammer, involving stealth bombers and cyber operations that disrupted parts of Iran’s early warning and surveillance systems.

The operation targeted pivotal sites in the enrichment cycle, centers for manufacturing and assembling centrifuges, and sensitive units within the nuclear infrastructure, forcing Iran to suspend some activities for technical and security reasons.

Official rhetoric focused on missiles that struck targets inside Israel and on the “imposition of a ceasefire,” but calmer assessments within decision-making circles were more restrained.

The nuclear program was not erased, but it underwent a severe stress test that showed Iran’s current deterrence posture does not prevent a focused strike on the core of the nuclear project when political and military conditions align.

The military shock accelerated the exposure of fault lines within the ruling elite.

Pezeshkian publicly warned of the “risk of a second war on Iranian soil,” hinting that “the other side has shown its readiness to strike nuclear facilities themselves,” an indirect signal that ignoring the negotiation track now carries rising security costs.

Hardliners, by contrast, argued that any reassessment after the war would amount to “rewarding the enemy” and casting doubt on the value of “resistance” as a strategic choice, rejecting any link between battlefield losses and a return to the negotiating table.

Internal divisions

Against this backdrop, Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei chose to respond to the shock of war by reshuffling advisory circles rather than changing course. He appointed Ali Larijani, a close confidant and former parliament speaker, to head the Supreme National Security Council, and approved the creation of a new “Defense Council” under its umbrella.

The body brings together military commanders and senior government and security officials to provide more integrated assessments of the war, the nuclear program and the negotiating track.

On the surface, the move aimed to broaden consultation after the 12-day war. In practice, it reflected a mix of acknowledgment that earlier calculations had fallen short and insistence on keeping final decisions within a narrow circle that manages both deterrence and diplomacy.

That circle operates within limits set externally by “maximum pressure” and internally by the imperative of preserving regime cohesion.

Postwar differences were not confined to assessing military performance. They spilled into a deeper question: what to do with the nuclear file after Midnight Hammer. In Tehran, one line of thinking began to take shape around deepening what officials describe as “managed nuclear ambiguity.”

The idea stops short of a formal withdrawal from the Non-Proliferation Treaty and instead seeks a gray-zone posture, a large stockpile of enriched uranium, reduced oversight by the International Atomic Energy Agency, and deliberately vague signals about “capability” without an explicit declaration of intent to build a weapon.

Another camp warned that ambiguity without a clear negotiating path could turn from a deterrent into an invitation for further preemptive strikes and the normalization of attacks on nuclear facilities.

Between the two logics, the working position settled into a narrow formula: no readiness for “zero enrichment” concessions demanded by Donald Trump, but no decision to burn bridges entirely.

Instead, a temporary management of the crisis while awaiting shifts in the balance of power.

Return of UN sanctions

Amid this debate, European powers moved to activate the snapback mechanism and restore UN sanctions on Iran, citing noncompliance with its nuclear commitments.

Britain, France and Germany pushed the file to the Security Council, reviving six previous resolutions.

The result left Tehran in an ambiguous position. Legally, international restrictions on arms, missiles and asset freezes returned.

In practice, Iran, along with Beijing and Moscow, continued to treat the landscape as largely unchanged. In Iran’s domestic discourse, the paradox was summed up in a terse phrase: UN sanctions are “present and absent at the same time.”

For banks and investors, however, they were present enough to freeze risk appetite.

By the end of 2025, the toll of Trump’s return weighed heavily on Tehran. Five rounds of indirect talks produced no real breakthrough. The 12-day war exposed gaps in the deterrence system.

UN sanctions returned to the fore. The rial slid to record lows, translating daily into market prices, fuel costs and the food basket.

At the same time, the Iranian leadership held to two fixed points: an explicit rejection of “zero enrichment” as demanded by the Trump administration, and a calibrated refusal to open a full-scale confrontation with the United States and its allies.

In that sense, what Tehran calls “strategic patience” increasingly resembled a state of strategic paralysis.

Between mounting external pressure and a shrinking internal margin for maneuver, Iran entered 2026 unable to return to the negotiating table from a position of strength and unwilling to acknowledge that the cost of staying the course is rising politically, economically and in security terms.

The 12-day war and snapback did not bring the two sides closer so much as reveal a shared belief that time favors each of them. Washington is betting that a battered economy and collapsing currency will eventually force Tehran to accept a harsh deal.

Part of Iran’s elite, meanwhile, is wagering that no US administration will bear the cost of another full-scale war, and that waiting out Trump’s term is cheaper than submitting to his terms.

Reading the year ahead thus becomes an exercise in mapping the boundaries of this paralysis and weighing the open scenarios facing Tehran, between a second war, a managed truce, and a coerced deal imposed under the ceiling of “maximum pressure.”

Three possible paths

From this point, Iran faces three main trajectories in 2026. They are not necessarily mutually exclusive and could overlap over time.

The first is a slow slide toward a second confrontation if efforts to rebuild missile and nuclear capabilities continue under pressure and frictions recur in the Strait of Hormuz, under pretexts such as refusing ship inspections or responding to new sanctions.

In such a scenario, Washington and Tel Aviv could conclude that acting now is less costly than waiting, with any future strike extending beyond facilities and bases to target higher levels of power, in an attempt to strike at the center of decision-making rather than its periphery.

The second path is a renewed wave of protests and social and economic unrest, fueled by a vicious cycle of currency collapse, rising food and fuel prices, and the erosion of a middle class that has historically been the main reservoir for gradual reform.

In this scenario, “maximum pressure” shifts from an external lever to an internal detonator.

The system would face a fraught equation: further hardening on the nuclear and missile files would mean deeper contraction in daily life and broader public anger, while a sudden retreat under Trump’s terms would be read on the street as a belated admission of the failure of the previous course, opening the door to a new protest cycle that is harder to contain and more directly tied to the cost of Iran’s regional project.

The third path, and the most likely in the short term, is an attempt to buy time through an unwritten “mutual freeze.”

That would mean an effective but undeclared slowdown in high-level enrichment, limited windows of technical cooperation with the International Atomic Energy Agency, and tighter control over the tempo of the “axis” to avoid shocks on the scale of the 12-day war. In return, the United States would accept managing the situation on a basis of containment rather than settlement, while keeping US and UN sanctions in place.

This path resolves nothing fundamentally, but allows each side to claim it has not crossed its red lines, even as Iran’s economic attrition continues, deterrence remains incomplete, and the risk of escalation lingers in the background.

Looking back at the year 2025, it can be seen as the moment when Trump’s policies transitioned from a theoretical threat to a concrete reality across Iran’s geography and economy. A joint military strike narrowed the margin of the nuclear program. UN sanctions returned through snapback. Pressure tightened on oil exports and financing networks.

Washington sought to redefine Iran’s place in US strategy as a constrained adversary rather than a rising power. Tehran responded with a mix of nuclear ambiguity, calibrated management of the “axis,” and a bet on time.

Iran thus enters 2026 trapped in a formula set by the “maximum pressure” memorandum: a system that cannot afford a full-scale war, yet cannot easily enter a settlement on its adversary’s terms.

The real challenge is no longer how Tehran emerges from Trump’s shadow, but whether it can, under this tightening vise, produce a third strategy that moves beyond the twin options of slow-motion escalation or passive waiting, before time itself, rather than negotiations or strikes, imposes the shape of the ending.


Nearly 400 Would-be Migrants Rescued Off Greek Island

A woman looks at sunset on Christmas Day, at a southern coastal suburb in Athens, Greece, December 25, 2025. REUTERS/Louisa Gouliamaki
A woman looks at sunset on Christmas Day, at a southern coastal suburb in Athens, Greece, December 25, 2025. REUTERS/Louisa Gouliamaki
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Nearly 400 Would-be Migrants Rescued Off Greek Island

A woman looks at sunset on Christmas Day, at a southern coastal suburb in Athens, Greece, December 25, 2025. REUTERS/Louisa Gouliamaki
A woman looks at sunset on Christmas Day, at a southern coastal suburb in Athens, Greece, December 25, 2025. REUTERS/Louisa Gouliamaki

The Greek coastguard on Friday rescued nearly 400 would-be migrants from a fishing boat and another vessel off southern Crete, ANA news agency reported.

In one operation about 35 nautical miles from the small island of Gavdos, off Crete, a coastguard vessel, a Danish freighter and a helicopter took 365 people off a fishing boat, according to the agency.

Earlier about 30 people were moved onto a Frontex European frontier agency boat, about 25 nautical miles from Gavdos. They were taken to Crete, AFP reported.

Some 39 people on a rubber dinghy were rescued on Thursday just south of Crete.

The sea between Türkiye and Greece and Libya to Greece are popular routes for undocumented migrants trying to reach Europe.

There are many accidents however. Seventeen bodies, mainly Egyptians and Sudanese, were found and another 15 people were believed missing after one their vessel capsized this month.


Israel Becomes 1st Country to Recognize Somaliland as 'Sovereign State'

FILE PHOTO: Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu speaks during a press conference in Jerusalem, December 22, 2025.  ABIR SULTAN/Pool via REUTERS/File Photo
FILE PHOTO: Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu speaks during a press conference in Jerusalem, December 22, 2025. ABIR SULTAN/Pool via REUTERS/File Photo
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Israel Becomes 1st Country to Recognize Somaliland as 'Sovereign State'

FILE PHOTO: Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu speaks during a press conference in Jerusalem, December 22, 2025.  ABIR SULTAN/Pool via REUTERS/File Photo
FILE PHOTO: Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu speaks during a press conference in Jerusalem, December 22, 2025. ABIR SULTAN/Pool via REUTERS/File Photo

Israel on Friday formally recognized Somaliland as an "independent and sovereign state" and signed an agreement to establish diplomatic ties, as the region's leader hailed its first-ever official recognition.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu "announced today the official recognition of the Republic of Somaliland as an independent and sovereign state,” his office said, making Israel the first country to do so.

"The declaration is in the spirit of the Abraham Accords," Netanyahu's office said, referring to several agreements between Israel and Arab countries brokered by US President Donald Trump during his first presidency.

Netanyahu said Israel would seek immediate cooperation with Somaliland in agriculture, health, technology and the economy. In a statement he congratulated Somaliland's president, Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi, praised his leadership and invited him to visit Israel.

Abdullahi, hailed the move, saying it marked the beginning of a "strategic partnership.”

"This is a historic moment as we warmly welcome... the Prime Minister of the State of Israel's recognition of the Republic of Somaliland and affirm Somaliland's readiness to join the Abraham Accords," normalizing relations with Israel, he posted on X.

He said Somaliland was committed to ⁠building partnerships, boosting mutual prosperity and promoting stability across the Middle East and Africa.

Somaliland, which declared independence from Somalia in 1991, has for decades pushed for international recognition, the key priority for Abdullahi since he took office last year.

Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar said the two countries had agreed to establish "full diplomatic ties, which will include the appointment of ambassadors and the opening of embassies.”

"I have instructed my ministry to act immediately to institutionalize ties between the two countries across a wide range of fields," he said in a statement on X.