Donald Trump negotiates with himself

Wednesday 8 April 2026

In the theatre of international diplomacy, ambiguity has long been an instrument of statecraft. Carefully calibrated vagueness allows adversaries to save face, to retreat without humiliation, and to advance without provocation. Yet what has emerged in recent months in the dealings between the administration of Donald Trump and the Islamic Republic of Iran is not ambiguity in the classical sense. It is something far more erratic — a form of negotiation conducted not between two states, but within a single mind, performed aloud before a global audience.

The pattern has become familiar. A maximalist demand is issued — absolute capitulation, unconditional compliance, or the implicit threat of overwhelming force. Within days, sometimes hours, the tone shifts. Signals emerge suggesting openness to compromise, or even tacit acceptance of proposals previously dismissed as unacceptable. Iranian intermediaries respond, cautiously at first, probing the edges of what appears to be a shifting American position. Then comes the reversal: the same overtures are denounced, the language hardens, and the cycle begins anew.

This oscillation is not merely rhetorical. It has real consequences for the credibility of negotiations. When a state appears unable to maintain a stable position for more than a news cycle, its adversary is forced to make a calculation not about policy but about personality. The question ceases to be “what does the United States want?” and becomes instead “which version of the President are we negotiating with today?”

Nowhere has this been more evident than in the recent exchanges surrounding a proposed ceasefire framework. Iranian officials — themselves no strangers to strategic opacity — have reportedly circulated two parallel texts outlining their conditions. One version, drafted in English for international consumption, presents a conciliatory posture: commitments to de-escalation, mechanisms for verification, and language designed to appeal to European mediators. The other, articulated in Farsi for domestic audiences, adopts a firmer tone — emphasising sovereignty, resistance, and the preservation of strategic capabilities.

This dual-text approach is hardly unprecedented. States often tailor their messaging to different audiences. Yet in this instance, the divergence between the two versions appears to have been calibrated in anticipation of Washington’s own inconsistency. When confronted with an interlocutor whose position is fluid it becomes rational to produce multiple interpretations of the same agreement, each capable of being invoked as circumstances demand.

In effect Tehran is negotiating not with a coherent American strategy, but with a moving target. And it has adapted accordingly.

The President’s public statements have compounded this uncertainty. On several occasions he has issued threats of such magnitude that they brush against the boundaries of what international law would regard as permissible conduct in war. References to the destruction of cultural sites, or to punitive measures disproportionate to any immediate military objective, are not merely rhetorical flourishes. They carry legal and moral implications that extend far beyond the immediate crisis.

Yet these threats are almost invariably followed by a retreat. The language softens. The emphasis shifts from annihilation to deterrence, from ultimatum to opportunity. And in the aftermath, the President frequently declares success — asserting that his firmness has compelled the adversary to reconsider, that his unpredictability has yielded strategic advantage.

This raises a fundamental question: for whom are these negotiations being conducted?

To view them solely through the lens of US–Iranian relations is to miss a crucial dimension. The primary audience for these performances may not be in Tehran at all, but in the United States itself. American domestic politics exerts a gravitational pull on foreign policy, and in the current moment that pull is particularly strong. The spectre of another protracted conflict in the Middle East weighs heavily on a public already fatigued by decades of war. At the same time, fluctuations in oil markets — and the corresponding rise in fuel costs — translate immediately into political pressure.

Within this context the President’s oscillations take on a different character. The threats serve to project strength, reassuring those who fear that restraint may be interpreted as weakness. The subsequent retreats, framed as tactical recalibrations, signal prudence — a reluctance to commit American forces or resources unnecessarily. Each shift can be presented as a response to evolving circumstances, even when those circumstances are largely of the administration’s own making.

It is in essence a negotiation conducted in parallel: one track directed outward, towards Iran and the international community; the other directed inward, towards voters, markets and political allies. The difficulty arises when these two tracks diverge so sharply that they undermine one another.

For Iran, the lesson is clear. Consistency cannot be assumed. Commitments may not endure beyond the next statement, the next interview, or the next shift in domestic political winds. Under such conditions the rational strategy is not to seek a definitive agreement, but to maintain flexibility — to keep options open, to avoid irreversible concessions, and to exploit moments of American uncertainty.

For the United States however, the costs are more subtle but no less significant. Credibility, once eroded, is not easily restored. Allies may hesitate to align themselves with positions that appear transient. Adversaries may calculate that time is on their side, that persistence will outlast volatility.

This does not mean that unpredictability has no place in diplomacy. There is a long tradition of leaders seeking to unsettle their opponents, to introduce an element of risk that complicates the adversary’s calculations. But such strategies are effective only when they are underpinned by a coherent objective — when unpredictability is a tool, not a condition.

What we are witnessing instead is a form of improvisation elevated to the level of policy. The negotiation becomes a spectacle, the spectacle becomes the strategy, and the strategy becomes indistinguishable from the personality of the individual conducting it.

The title of this essay is not merely rhetorical. The President appears, at times, to be negotiating not with Iran, but with himself — testing positions, abandoning them, reclaiming them in altered form, and declaring victory over the very uncertainties he has created.

Whether this approach will yield a durable outcome remains uncertain. It may produce short-term advantages, moments of tactical leverage, or the appearance of momentum. But diplomacy, like all forms of statecraft, ultimately depends upon a degree of stability — a shared understanding that words, once spoken, carry weight.

Without that foundation, negotiations risk becoming an endless loop — a conversation in which nothing is ever quite agreed, nothing is ever quite rejected, and the only constant is the shifting voice of the speaker.