ANALYSIS: The Strait of Hormuz, a minefield and a battleground for propaganda — as Trump declares victory before the battle has even begun

Pakistan, an Unlikely Haven for Diplomatic Asylum

Just as U.S. ships are entering the Strait of Hormuz, U.S. and Iranian representatives are sitting down at the negotiating table in Islamabad.

The absurdity of the situation deserves our attention. Pakistan is hosting talks between the United States and Iran as part of a fragile ceasefire. The word “fragile” appears in every news report like an admission of helplessness. A fragile ceasefire is a ceasefire waiting to die. And while diplomats exchange protocols, the commander-in-chief announces on social media that he is sinking enemy ships.

Can one negotiate peace and proclaim military victory at the same time? Historically, the answer is no. But historically, U.S. presidents did not conduct foreign policy via Truth Social.

The dual strategy—or the lack of a strategy

There are two possible interpretations of this simultaneous action. The first: it’s a deliberate strategy of maximum pressure. Showing military strength while negotiating to secure better terms at the table. It’s classic Nixon-Kissinger—the “madman theory” applied to the Persian Gulf. The second interpretation is more troubling: there is no strategy. There is a president who tweets, a Pentagon that carries out his orders, and a State Department desperately trying to bridge the gap between the two.

The fact that Trump posted his tweet a few minutes after the first press reports on the U.S. naval presence—and not before—suggests a reaction to current events rather than coordinated communication. The commander-in-chief isn’t directing the operation. He’s commenting on it.

The Magic Number and Short-Term Memory

Twenty-eight Iranian mine-laying ships at the bottom of the ocean. The claim is sensational. It is also, for now, completely unverifiable. And that is precisely where its political effectiveness lies.

After all, how can one verify that a ship lies at the bottom of the Persian Gulf? Who is going to dive down to count the wrecks? Satellite images can show ships that are no longer docked—but they cannot prove that they have been sunk rather than moved. And Iran, which denies the claim, has every interest in downplaying its losses. We are in the thickest fog of war imaginable: one in which both sides are lying, and the truth lies at the bottom of the sea along with the ships.

What Iran Actually Has—and What That Means

The Iranian Navy and the Revolutionary Guards do indeed operate dozens of fast boats capable of laying mines. The figure of 28 is not absurd in itself. What is suspicious is the precision of the remaining zero. All of them. All 28. Not a single survivor. In the history of naval warfare, the total annihilation of a fleet is an extraordinarily rare event. Even at Midway, even at Leyte, some ships remained.

And yet, this claim serves a specific purpose: to reassure the markets. If all the minelayers are destroyed, the strait is safe. If the strait is safe, oil flows. If oil flows, prices fall. If prices fall, Trump wins. The chain of causality is crystal clear—it’s its veracity that isn’t.

The Anatomy of a Market Panic Disconnected from Reality

U.S. gas prices have skyrocketed even though the majority of the oil passing through the Strait of Hormuz isn’t headed for the United States. Fear is what drives the price, not supply.

Here’s the paradox that no one explains to you on the news. The oil passing through the Strait of Hormuz is mainly destined for Asia—China, Japan, South Korea, and India. Thanks to the shale revolution, the United States is largely self-sufficient. And yet, prices at the U.S. gas pump have skyrocketed. Why? Because oil is a global market. When supply tightens in one place, prices rise everywhere. It’s the law of communicating vessels applied to black gold.

But there’s something even more perverse. Speculators don’t wait for the strait to be closed to bet on a price increase. They bet on the possibility that it might be closed. And every tweet from Trump—whether announcing a victory or a threat—fuels volatility. The president is simultaneously the arsonist and the firefighter of the oil markets.

Who Really Pays the Price for Hormuz

This isn’t an abstract exercise. When gas prices rise by 50 cents a gallon in the United States, it’s low-wage workers who feel it first. Those who drive 45 minutes to get to work in a country without public transportation. Those for whom filling up their tank accounts for 10% of their weekly pay. The geopolitics of the Strait of Hormuz have a direct impact on the wallet of a Walmart cashier in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She doesn’t know where Hormuz is. She knows that filling up her tank costs $20 more.

A constitutional precedent that no one disputes

In any other democratic country, a head of state announcing ongoing military operations on social media—before his own Department of Defense had issued a statement—would trigger an institutional crisis. In the United States, in 2026, this has become the norm.

The Pentagon has not confirmed Trump’s claim about the 28 ships. Nor has it denied it. This silence has become the official language of the U.S. military under this administration: neither confirm nor deny, and hope that the news cycle moves on to something else. U.S. generals have become simultaneous translators of social media posts, trying to turn presidential proclamations into coherent operational orders.

OPSEC Sacrificed on the Altar of Public Relations

There is a concept in the military world called OPSEC—operational security. It is the principle of not revealing the movements of one’s troops to the enemy. It is the ABCs of war. And that is exactly what Trump is doing when he announces that U.S. ships are crossing the strait. Every U.S. ship engaged in mine clearance is a target. Any information about their position is a gift to Iranian forces—or to their allies, the Houthis, Hezbollah, and Iraqi militias—who possess anti-ship missiles.

Trump’s post on Truth Social is, technically, a breach of operational security. But who’s going to tell the commander-in-chief that? Certainly not the generals who want to keep their jobs.

When Trump Criticizes His Allies for Not Following Him in His Own War

The U.S. president has once again criticized NATO for failing to support U.S. operations in Iran. The question isn’t why NATO isn’t following suit. The question is why it should.

Trump has “once again criticized NATO for not supporting U.S. operations in Iran.” This seemingly innocuous statement contains a logical fallacy. NATO is a defensive alliance. Article 5 is invoked when a member is attacked. The United States has not been attacked by Iran—it has attacked Iran. Asking NATO to participate in an offensive war that one has oneself started is like asking one’s neighbors to help put out the fire that one has started.

And yet, this rhetoric works a treat in the U.S. domestic arena. It fuels the “us versus them” narrative—America fighting alone while an ungrateful Europe reaps the benefits of maritime security it refuses to defend. It’s poison for the transatlantic alliance. And that may be precisely the goal.

Europe Watches the Strait Burn—and Weighs Its Options

It would be easy to portray Europeans as cowards. The reality is more nuanced. European capitals are watching the Strait of Hormuz with calculated dread. They know that participating in this U.S. operation would turn them into targets—for Iran, for its allies, and potentially for Russia, which is watching with a predatory smile as America gets bogged down in yet another conflict while Ukraine still waits for weapons.

For here is the ultimate irony: the president who is considering withdrawing U.S. troops from Europe is the same one who criticizes Europe for not sending troops to the Gulf. Trump’s America does not want to defend Europe, but demands that Europe help it attack Iran. Even the most pro-Atlanticist of European leaders are having a hard time swallowing this pill.

The Most Dangerous Operation in Modern Warfare

The word “clearing” used by Trump has the simple brutality of a four-syllable word. It evokes a broom, a mop, and housekeeping. In reality, naval mine clearance is one of the most terrifying and deadly operations in the military repertoire.

A naval mine is invisible. It floats between the surface and the depths, or lies on the seafloor, waiting for a magnetic field, acoustic pressure, or simply the proximity of a metal hull to trigger its detonation. Mine-clearing teams advance meter by meter, using underwater drones, sonar, and a dose of courage that defies belief. A single missed mine, and a 50,000-metric-ton ship ends up with a hole the size of a garage in its hull.

The Strait of Hormuz is 33 kilometers wide. The usable shipping lanes are much narrower—about 6 kilometers in each direction. Clearing these lanes, with strong currents, varying depths, and the possibility that Iran will continue to lay mines despite the ceasefire, could take weeks, even months. Not just an afternoon of tweeting.

The Legacy of the Tanker War—1987–1988

The Americans have already done this work. In 1987–1988, during the “Tanker War,” the United States escorted Kuwaiti oil tankers through the Gulf, which had been mined by Iran. The frigate USS Samuel B. Roberts struck an Iranian mine, tearing a 4.5-meter gash in its hull and injuring 10 sailors. The ensuing Operation Praying Mantis remains the largest U.S. naval engagement since World War II.

Thirty-eight years later, the mines are more sophisticated, Iranian underwater drones are more numerous, and the shipping lanes haven’t changed by a single meter. What has changed is that the commander-in-chief announces operations live on social media.

Symmetrical propaganda—when both sides lie

Iranian state television quickly denied the presence of U.S. ships in the strait. In this information war, lies are the only weapon that costs nothing.

Iran denies it. That’s what Iran does. That’s what all authoritarian states do when they suffer military setbacks. Iran’s denial does not prove that Trump is right. Trump’s claim does not prove that Iran is wrong. We are in a space where the truth has become the first casualty of the conflict.

And in this environment, it is the ordinary citizen—American, Iranian, European—who loses out. Because they can trust neither their president, nor their president’s enemy, nor journalists who cite “anonymous sources” that could serve any agenda. The fog of war is no longer an accidental phenomenon. It is a deliberate strategy on both sides.

What the Iranian denial unwittingly reveals

But there’s an interesting detail in the sequence of events. The Iranian denial came after Trump’s post, not after the news reports. This means that Tehran is reacting to Truth Social, not to Axios. The U.S. president’s social media platform has become, de facto, a diplomatic channel—the most dysfunctional in history, but a channel nonetheless. The mullahs read Truth Social. That single sentence sums up the state of the world in 2026.

The Globalization of High Gas Prices

In Paris, the price of a liter of unleaded gas has surpassed 2.40 euros. In Berlin, truck drivers are blocking the highways. In Rome, the government is considering tapping into strategic reserves. And all of this because of a strait located 6,000 kilometers away, in a war that no one in Europe wanted, sparked by a president whom no European elected.

This is the hidden side of globalization: the interconnection of vulnerabilities. When America bombs Iran, it’s the Walmart cashier who pays the price—but so do the Parisian taxi driver, the Japanese fisherman, and the Indian farmer. The Strait of Hormuz is the optic nerve of the global economy. When it’s struck, the whole world sees blurry.

The Energy Transition Put to the Test

And here is the bitterest irony. For years, advocates of renewable energy have warned that dependence on Gulf oil was a ticking time bomb. They were called alarmists, utopians, and naive. Today, the bomb has exploded. Not figuratively—literally, with sea mines and missiles. Every extra euro at the pump is an argument that Total and ExxonMobil would rather you didn’t hear.

When “Bringing an End to a Civilization” Becomes a Foreign Policy Threat

There is one detail that Defense News mentions in passing, as if reporting on a distant storm. The Military Times reports that Trump—the president who “threatened to end a civilization”—is supposed to guarantee Ukraine’s survival. The juxtaposition is staggering.

A man who brandishes the destruction of a civilization as a rhetorical weapon is simultaneously responsible for global nuclear security, peace in the Middle East, the protection of Ukraine, and the gas prices of 330 million Americans. It’s like handing a flamethrower to a sleepwalker and asking him to guard a forest.

The precedent no one wants to name

Threatening to “bring an end to a civilization” is threatening to commit genocide. There is no other word for it. And when this threat comes from the commander-in-chief of the greatest military power in history, it is not rhetorical. It is existential. The 88 million Iranian citizens living under a regime they did not choose are not geopolitical abstractions. They are human beings—teachers, doctors, children going to school, grandmothers baking bread. To threaten their civilization is to threaten them.

The Department of Defense as a Powerless Interpreter

The Pentagon has neither confirmed nor denied Trump’s claims about the 28 ships. This silence has become a policy.

There was a time when the U.S. Department of Defense was the most reliable source of information on ongoing military operations. Briefings by the Pentagon spokesperson were considered authoritative. The figures were verified, put into context, and presented with the institutional caution befitting a democracy at war.

Those days are gone. Today, the Pentagon scrambles to keep up with Truth Social posts like a breathless interpreter trailing an unpredictable speaker. Official figures—13 dead, 346 wounded—are released discreetly, without fanfare, while the president proclaims total victories on social media. The U.S. military has become the unwitting fact-checker of its own commander-in-chief.

Officers Gritting Their Teeth

Behind the sanitized press releases are admirals and generals staring at their screens with a mix of professionalism and consternation. Officers trained at the Naval Academy in Annapolis, where they were taught that operational security is sacred, are watching their president reveal fleet movements on social media. Commanders of ships engaged in high-risk mine-clearing operations learn via Truth Social that their mission has just been announced to the whole world—and to the enemy.

Troop morale isn’t measured by the president’s posts. It’s measured by the glances exchanged on the bridge of a destroyer at 3 a.m. in the Gulf.

Why Pakistan, and What It Reveals

The choice of Islamabad as the venue for negotiations is no accident. Pakistan shares a border with Iran. It possesses nuclear weapons. It has a complex relationship with the United States—a nominal ally, but in reality a wary partner. And above all, it is one of the few countries in the world capable of speaking to both sides without having the door slammed in its face.

But Pakistan as a mediator is also an unstable Pakistan, the Pakistan of coups, the Pakistan of the ISI and its shadowy dealings. Entrusting Gulf peace to Islamabad is a bit like organizing a temperance meeting in a bar. The intention is laudable. The setting is suspect.

A Ceasefire Hanging by a Thread

And that’s where we get to the heart of the matter. The ceasefire between the United States and Iran is described as “fragile” by all sources. A fragile ceasefire during which the U.S. president announces active military operations. How can an Iranian diplomat negotiate in good faith when, in real time, his adversary is proclaiming on social media that he’s going to sink his ships?

Diplomacy requires a minimum of consistency between what is said at the negotiating table and what is done on the ground. Trump has destroyed that minimum. And with it, perhaps, the last chance for a peaceful resolution.

Destroy the program, or make it inevitable?

Trump claims to have “destroyed” Iran’s nuclear program. The history of nuclear proliferation suggests exactly the opposite. Every country that has been attacked militarily without possessing nuclear weapons learns the same lesson: it must acquire the bomb. Iraq didn’t have the bomb—it was invaded. Libya gave up the bomb—Gaddafi was lynched. North Korea has the bomb—no one is invading it.

If Iran survives this war—and it will survive, because you cannot wipe out a country of 88 million people—the lesson will be set in stone in Tehran: never again without the bomb. Operation Epic Fury may have destroyed centrifuges. It will certainly have cemented Iran’s nuclear resolve for the next fifty years.

The paradox of force—destroying what one claims to prevent

This is the central paradox of the entire U.S. policy toward Iran over the past twenty years. Every military action intended to prevent Iran’s nuclear program makes that program more likely. Sanctions strengthen the regime. Bombings unite the population. Threats to “wipe out a civilization” turn the nuclear program into a matter of national survival.

And yet, this circular logic continues to spin, fueled by Washington think tanks, the military-industrial complex, and a president who confuses force with strategy. Striking is not thinking. Sinking ships is not winning peace.

88 million Iranians who are not their government

In this whole saga of straits, mines, and tweets, there is one player who is consistently absent: the Iranian people.

When Trump talks about “cleaning up the strait” and “sinking Iranian ships,” the subject of every sentence is America. The object is Iran—an abstract, faceless monolith. But Iran is not a monolith. It is 88 million people who, in September 2022, risked their lives in the streets to shout “Woman, Life, Freedom.” People who hate their regime just as much—if not more—than Trump claims to.

These ordinary Iranians are now living under American bombs and under the iron fist of the Revolutionary Guards. They are caught in a vise between two forms of violence—that of their own state and that of the state that claims to “liberate” them. No one has asked for their opinion. No one will ask them.

The Iranian sailors—conscripts, not generals

And what about the sailors on those 28 ships that were supposedly sunk? They are not ayatollahs. They are, for the most part, 20-year-old men from modest families, conscripted into military service they did not choose, serving on dilapidated vessels against the most powerful navy in history. When Trump hails their deaths as a victory, he speaks of human lives as one might speak of points in a video game.

Every sunken ship is a grave. Every grave holds sons, brothers, and fathers. Even in times of war—especially in times of war—this truth deserves to be spoken.

Three Scenarios for the Strait

Scenario 1 — Mine clearance is successful. U.S. ships secure the shipping lanes. Oil begins flowing again. Prices drop. Trump declares victory. The ceasefire turns into an agreement. This is the most optimistic scenario—and the least likely, because it assumes that Iran will accept defeat without retaliating.

Scenario 2 — The incident. A U.S. ship hits a mine. Or an Iranian drone strikes a minesweeper. U.S. casualties rise from 13 to 30, 50, 100. American public opinion shifts. But instead of turning against the war, it turns against Iran with redoubled fury. The escalation spirals out of control.

Scenario 3 — The quagmire. The strait remains half-open, half-mined. Prices stay high. The ceasefire barely holds. The war doesn’t end—it festers. Just like in Afghanistan. Just like in Iraq. Just like everywhere else where America has confused firepower with victory. This scenario is the most likely. And the most devastating in the long term.

What history whispers to those who want to hear it

The Strait of Hormuz has been a hotbed of tension ever since oil began flowing through its waters. It has survived the Iran-Iraq War, the Tanker War, and the crises of 2012 and 2019. It will survive Trump. It will survive this war. The question is not whether the strait will be “cleared”—it will be, sooner or later, because the world needs that oil and no mine can withstand human greed forever.

The question is: at what cost? And who will pay for it?

The Proclaimed Victory and the Real Victory

There’s what Trump writes on Truth Social. And there’s what’s actually happening in the dark waters of the Strait of Hormuz. Between the two lies a chasm that 28 sunken ships—real or imaginary—will never be enough to bridge.

The Strait of Hormuz is not a reality TV set. The mines are not props. The 13 American soldiers who died are not extras. And the negotiations in Islamabad are not a reality TV episode that can be interrupted with a plot twist on social media.

And yet, that is exactly how this war is being waged. Not by strategists, but by communications experts. Not with operational plans, but with social media posts. Not with diplomacy, but with spectacle.

What Remains When the Screen Goes Dark

When the algorithms have forgotten Trump’s post, when the news cycle has moved on to something else, when gas prices have stabilized at a level everyone will find “normal” because we get used to everything—there will still be things that social media cannot erase.

The mines at the bottom of the water will remain. The ones we haven’t found. The ones that wait, patient, metallic, indifferent to presidential statements.

What will remain are the 346 wounded Americans who will learn to live with prosthetics, nightmares, and the nagging question: what was it all for?

There will still be the Iranian families searching for their sons in lists of victims that no one will ever publish.

And there will remain this simple, terrible truth: you don’t clean up a strait with a tweet. You don’t win a war with a post. And you don’t build peace by threatening to annihilate a civilization.

Signed, Jacques PJ Provost