Lyse Doucet: Under fragile ceasefire, Iranians wonder if US deal can be done
Lyse Doucet: Under fragile ceasefire, Iranians wonder if US deal can be done
Spring has transformed the northern Iranian plains, where almond trees now bloom in soft clusters amid snow-draped mountains. A temporary halt to hostilities has led to increased movement along roads, as many Iranians return to their country following a brief respite from conflict. A seasoned banker, standing in a Turkish border terminal, shared his experience: “I spent a month with my son in Turkey, watching the cold grip the landscape. In our northern city, the strikes from Israel and the U.S. targeted military sites, sparing residential areas and essential facilities.”
Meanwhile, an older woman in a headscarf expressed concern, her expression marked by lines of worry. “The youth of Iran have endured much—shells falling into bustling neighborhoods, and the Basij militia patrolling the streets with threats,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. “We place our trust in divine will,” she added, gazing skyward.
“The truce is fleeting,” asserted a young woman in a red puffer jacket and knitted cap. “Iran will not relinquish its hold on the Strait of Hormuz. That is our non-negotiable stance.”
As the group navigated Turkish customs, a man nearby remarked on the fragile peace. “Trump’s rhetoric doesn’t leave us alone; he aims to engulf us,” he said, underscoring the tension. The 12-hour drive to Tehran, the sole accessible route due to closed airports, reminded passengers of the president’s threat to destroy every bridge in Iran. During a recent interview, Trump claimed: “We could dismantle all their bridges in an hour, alongside every power plant.”
Yet, the journey was disrupted by the collapse of the main bridge linking Tabriz to Tehran. This infrastructure damage, part of a broader pattern targeting civilian sites, has drawn criticism from legal experts. They highlight potential breaches of international law, questioning whether strikes on military installations have crossed into war crimes. Amid the ruins, a flattened barracks of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps stood as a symbol of the conflict’s reach, its remains draped in a flag.
At a roadside restaurant—a centuries-old caravanserai with ancient stone arches and delicate stained-glass windows—travelers paused. The sight evoked memories of Iran’s long history, even as modern tensions lingered. Some women wore veils, others walked without head coverings, a reminder of the 2022-2023 protests that reshaped societal norms. Despite enduring restrictions, the spirit of defiance remains.
Amid these challenges, Iran’s leadership focuses on consolidating power. Banners across highways now feature portraits of three supreme leaders since the 1979 revolution: Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei—whose assassination occurred early in the war on 28 February—and his son Mojtaba Khamenei, reportedly injured in the attack. Though absent from public view, Mojtaba is said to be shaping a new approach to diplomacy and security, addressing longstanding disputes over Iran’s nuclear program and its control of the vital Strait of Hormuz.
