Lyse Doucet: Under Fragile Ceasefire, Iranians Wonder If US Deal Can Be Done
As spring prompts almond trees to burst into floral bloom across the snow-draped hills of northwest Iran, a tentative pause in hostilities has eased the flow of traffic along key highways. This respite has drawn more Iranians back to their homeland, offering a fleeting glimpse of normalcy amid ongoing conflict. At a Turkish border crossing, a grey-haired banker shared his experience of staying with his son in Turkey for a month, recounting how the airstrikes in his northern city primarily targeted military installations rather than civilian areas.
While some travelers focus on immediate concerns, others reflect on broader geopolitical tensions. An elderly woman in a headscarf, her face etched with concern, lamented the toll on Iranian youth—both from the bombardments that struck residential neighborhoods and the Basij paramilitary forces patrolling the streets. “It’s all in God’s hands,” she whispered, gazing upward as if seeking reassurance.
Contrasting perspectives emerge as the journey continues. A young woman in a bright red puffer jacket and knitted hat asserted, “Of course, the ceasefire won’t hold. Iran will never surrender control of the Strait of Hormuz.” Later, upon entering the Islamic Republic of Iran, a man nearby remarked on Trump’s relentless focus: “He’ll never leave us alone; he wants to swallow us whole!”
Throughout the 12-hour drive to Tehran, the capital’s only accessible route since airports remain closed, the sight of bridges spanning the road under spring sunlight evokes thoughts of Trump’s threats. Last Wednesday, he warned Fox Business News that “we could destroy every one of their bridges in an hour,” alongside power plants, though he added, “we don’t want to do that.” The main bridge between Tabriz and Tehran, damaged by missile fire the previous week, now forces vehicles onto winding rural roads, a stark reminder of the conflict’s reach.
The targeting of civilian infrastructure has sparked legal scholars to voice concerns over potential breaches of international humanitarian law and accusations of war crimes. Despite US and Israeli claims that their strikes focus on military targets, the flattened barracks of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) near Tabriz serve as evidence. A large flag draped over its ruined pillars resembles concrete teeth, a haunting symbol of the war’s devastation.
At a roadside restaurant—a centuries-old caravanserai with vaulted stone ceilings and stained-glass windows—the memory of Trump’s April 7 warning lingers: “A whole civilisation will die tonight.” The scene contrasts with the diverse expressions of Iranian identity visible along the route, where some women wear veils and others, regardless of age, go bare-headed. This reflects the enduring influence of the 2022-2023 Woman, Life, Freedom protests, which continue to shape the nation’s cultural landscape.
Amid these challenges, Iran’s theocracy grapples with urgent priorities. New banners now line highways, displaying portraits of the country’s three supreme leaders since the 1979 revolution: Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who was assassinated in the war’s initial attacks on February 28, and his son Mojtaba Khamenei, reportedly severely injured in that strike. Though largely absent from public view, Mojtaba is said to be involved in shaping a new political and security strategy, addressing both the war’s aftermath and long-standing disputes over Iran’s nuclear programme, as well as newer issues like the Strait of Hormuz.
Behind closed doors, a US delegation led by Vice-President JD Vance met with Iranian officials in Islamabad. The 21-hour session, involving Parliamentary Speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf and other hardline representatives, aimed to navigate the complexities of a fragile ceasefire and potential diplomatic progress. Yet, the path to resolution remains uncertain, as tensions persist and the war’s impact continues to shape both the land and its people.
