Winners, losers — and fragile currency trust

Winners, losers — and fragile currency trust | Daily Tribune

Despite significant damage, Tehran has projected resilience, retaining elements of its ballistic capability and maintaining influence over the Strait of Hormuz, one of the world’s most critical energy chokepoints. The symbolism is potent: a once-open artery of global commerce is now subject to geopolitical leverage.

Equally significant is the shift in perception. Iran is no longer seen merely as a sanctioned state on the defensive, but as a strategic actor capable of shaping regional outcomes. Its alignment with regional actors, including Yemen, raises the specter of its extended influence into the Red Sea.

More telling, however, is the quiet diplomatic recalibration now underway in Europe. Germany, France, Italy and Spain have begun initiating discreet bilateral lines of communication with Tehran — moves that appear to proceed with greater autonomy rather than strictly within the collective framework of NATO or in lockstep with Washington.

This does not yet amount to a strategic break with the United States, but it signals something subtler and more consequential: the hedging instinct. Faced with energy insecurity, migration pressures, and economic spillovers, European states are rediscovering the necessity of direct engagement with actors they cannot afford to ignore. For Tehran, this is validation. From isolation to selective courtship, Iran is increasingly treated not merely as a problem to contain, but as a player to engage.

The United States, however, is not without its own ledger of gains. Militarily, it has once again demonstrated the reach and sophistication of its arsenal, reaffirming its status as the world’s preeminent defense power. In conflicts such as this, battlefield performance doubles as a global advertisement. Allies take note; procurement decisions follow.

There is also an economic subtext. Disruptions in Middle Eastern oil flows — whether through real closures or perceived risks — tighten global supply. In such moments, Washington’s strategic advantages come into play: vast domestic production, control over supply chains, and influence over alternative sources, including Venezuela. The primacy of the petrodollar, long debated and challenged, finds renewed reinforcement when energy insecurity elsewhere drives reliance on US-linked channels.

Yet these “wins” are not without consequence — and here, the list of losers expands.

The Gulf states have spent decades crafting an image of stability, prosperity, and futuristic ambition. Cities like Dubai and Abu Dhabi have positioned themselves as safe havens for capital and innovation. That narrative now faces a serious setback. In a region once again associated with volatility, investor confidence wavers, tourism contracts, and long-term diversification plans risk delay.

Beyond the Middle East, the economic aftershocks ripple outward. Energy-importing regions, particularly East Asia, bear the brunt of price spikes. Inflation — once thought manageable — reasserts itself. Supply chains strain, currencies wobble, and growth projections dim. What began as a regional conflict becomes a global economic stress test.

But perhaps the most profound casualty is less tangible: trust.

Diplomacy depends not only on power, but on credibility — the belief that commitments will be honored and negotiations conducted in good faith. That foundation has been shaken. Iran’s experience at the negotiating table, followed by successive military actions despite prior assurances, feeds a narrative of betrayal. From Tehran’s perspective, engagement has yielded vulnerability rather than security.

For the United States, the calculus is more complex. Strategic ambiguity and preemption may serve immediate interests, but they carry long-term costs. When the world’s most powerful nation is perceived as unpredictable — or worse, untrustworthy — the architecture of international negotiation weakens.

This erosion of trust helps explain why ceasefire efforts falter. Talks become less about compromise and more about positioning. Demands replace dialogue. Each side prepares not for peace, but for the next phase of confrontation. What emerges is not resolution, but intermission.

And yet, even in this bleak accounting, there remains space for cautious hope.

History suggests that protracted stalemates, especially those with global economic consequences, eventually force recalibration. The very interconnectedness that amplifies damage also creates incentives for restraint. Energy markets, trade dependencies, and domestic pressures can push adversaries back toward the negotiating table.

For that to happen, however, rebuilding trust must begin — not through grand gestures, but through incremental, verifiable steps. Confidence-building measures, third-party guarantees and renewed multilateral engagement may appear modest. But in a landscape defined by suspicion, small certainties matter.

The lesson of this conflict is not that power is irrelevant, nor that victory is impossible. It is that in an interdependent world, even the winners inherit instability. And in that shared vulnerability lies the only durable foundation for peace.

Hope, then, rests not on idealism but on necessity. The same forces that make this conflict so dangerous may ultimately compel its resolution. The question is not whether the world can afford to rebuild trust — but whether it can afford not to.

And perhaps, beyond strategy and statecraft, there remains a quieter recourse that nations often overlook. Across traditions is a shared humility before forces greater than power itself.

In Christian Scripture, we are reminded: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” In Islam, the Qur’an speaks of a “Home of Peace.” In the Catholic tradition, peace is not merely negotiated — it is prayed for, insisted upon in faith, and lived in action.

In times when trust is broken and certainty elusive, perhaps this shared appeal—to conscience, humility, and prayer — can still guide nations away from the brink.