Lyse Doucet: Under fragile ceasefire, Iranians wonder if US deal can be done

Lyse Doucet: Under Fragile Ceasefire, Iranians Question U.S. Deal

As the journey to Tehran unfolds, the roads are quiet, a rare calm amid ongoing conflict. The northern plains, flanked by snowy mountain ranges, now see almond trees in full bloom, their white flowers contrasting with the muted tones of a fragile truce. This temporary pause has allowed more people to return to their homes, but the war’s shadow lingers. A grey-haired banker, standing in the departure hall of a Turkish border crossing, recalls the months he spent with his son in Turkey. “The airstrikes in my city targeted military sites,” he says, “not residential areas or civilian infrastructure.” His words reflect the five-week war that ended with a two-week ceasefire, now nearing its conclusion.

At a roadside café, an elderly woman in a headscarf expresses her concerns. “I worry about the young,” she says, her face creased with unease. She speaks of the damage inflicted on neighborhoods and the presence of Iran’s Basij forces, whose patrols have become a symbol of unrest. “It’s all in God’s hands,” she murmurs, gazing upward as if seeking reassurance. Nearby, a young woman in a bright red puffer jacket and knit hat is less reserved. “The ceasefire won’t last,” she declares. “Iran will never let go of the Strait of Hormuz.”

“Of course, the ceasefire won’t hold,” declared a young woman in a bright red puffer jacket and a knitted hat. “Iran will never give up its control of the Strait of Hormuz.”

Travelers’ paths are now altered by the collapse of the main bridge connecting Tabriz to Tehran. This 12-hour detour, forced upon vehicles, underscores the war’s reach. On Wednesday, President Trump warned that his administration could obliterate every bridge in Iran within an hour, alongside power plants, while hinting at a desire for restraint. “We don’t want to do that,” he said, but his threat lingered.

Along the route, remnants of the conflict are evident. A flattened barracks of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps stands on the outskirts of Tabriz, its skeletal structure draped with a large flag. Nearby, other military and police facilities, as well as factories, have been struck. The vision of Trump’s apocalyptic warning on 7 April—”a whole civilisation will die tonight”—echoes as travelers pass a centuries-old caravanserai, its stone ceilings and stained-glass windows a testament to Iran’s enduring heritage.

Despite the war’s toll, the country’s current state is marked by visible shifts. Some women wear veils and scarves, while others, of all ages, go bare-headed—a legacy of the 2022-2023 Woman Life Freedom protests. Yet, in this moment, Iran’s theocracy faces more immediate challenges. New banners now stretch across highways, displaying portraits of three supreme leaders since the 1979 revolution: Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who was killed in the war’s opening strikes on 28 February, and his son Mojtaba Khamenei, reportedly seriously injured in the attack and absent from public view since.

Behind the scenes, negotiations are ongoing. A US delegation, led by Vice-President JD Vance, met Iranian officials in Islamabad for 21 hours. The talks centered on resolving longstanding tensions over Iran’s nuclear program and addressing new geopolitical issues, including control of the Strait of Hormuz. The outcome of these discussions remains uncertain, even as the war’s devastation continues to shape the nation’s landscape.