Geneva is once again hosting a new round of nuclear discussions between Iran and the United States—talks that outwardly aim to manage disputes and reduce tensions but that, at their core, face a deeper challenge: a widening gap in narratives and the question of analytical integrity at the level of decision-making in Washington.
With the American political atmosphere still influenced by a series of inaccurate claims following Trump’s annual congressional address yesterday, the Geneva negotiating table is confronting more than technical disagreements—it faces a crisis of perception. Three key points in Trump’s remarks included the claim that Iran is only one week away from producing material for a bomb, numerical claims of 32,000 deaths during the Dey-month unrest, and assertions that Iran seeks to develop intercontinental missiles capable of threatening U.S. territory. Together, these statements presented a picture at odds with technical and on-the-ground realities. Iran, for its part, explicitly described these claims as “incorrect” and “big lies.”
The importance of this issue lies not merely in the inaccuracy of the numbers or analyses but in the origin and transmission of such narratives. In any sustainable diplomatic process, the first requirement is at least a minimal shared understanding of facts. If political decision-making in the United States is shaped by exaggerated or distorted data, negotiations drift away from their technical track and become a field of perceptual gamesmanship.
Within this framework, several possibilities can be considered. The first is that the U.S. president may have received inaccurate information—an indication of malfunction in the channel transmitting technical analysis to the political level. In this scenario, the chief negotiator or the national security team may have erred in conveying data or prioritized political considerations over expert assessments when framing the narrative. Such a situation not only weakens the other side’s trust but also undermines the quality of decision-making inside the United States itself.
A second possibility is the deliberate engineering of a threat narrative. In this scenario, simultaneous exaggeration in the nuclear, domestic security, and missile domains could be viewed as part of a multilayered pressure strategy aimed at strengthening bargaining leverage in Geneva, persuading Congress, and aligning the U.S. domestic climate with tougher policy options. Recasting Iran’s regionally focused missile program as an intercontinental threat to U.S. territory fits this logic—a shift in the perceived level of threat designed to legitimize a maximum-pressure policy.
A third possibility is the influence of external security frameworks. In recent years, assessments of Iran’s nuclear and missile threat in some Western circles have been heavily shaped by Israeli security perceptions. If such perceptions enter decision-making channels in Washington without rigorous expert filtering, it is natural that the official U.S. narrative would tilt in the same direction. In this case, the issue is not simply loyalty to the president but adherence to a particular analytical framework that may diverge from objective data tied to Israel.
From a strategic perspective, the current situation resembles a game of asymmetric information—one in which either a player makes decisions based on incomplete data or deliberately sends exaggerated signals to influence the other side’s calculations. In both cases, the risk of misinterpretation rises. If Tehran interprets these claims as signs of bad faith or an attempt to engineer pressure, the minimal level of trust necessary to advance negotiations will decline. Conversely, if the United States formulates policy based on these heightened narratives, the likelihood of miscalculation in assessing Iran’s response increases.
Today’s Geneva talks are therefore not merely about technical commitments and reciprocal steps; they are also a test of the quality of analytical channels within the United States. The fundamental question is whether decision-making in the United States still rests on expert data and accurate reporting, or whether political considerations, domestic pressures, and exaggerated security narratives have come to dominate it.
More than anything else, the success or failure of this round of talks depends on one variable: a return to reality. Without a shared analytical ground, even the best-drafted agreements will remain fragile. Geneva today is not only a negotiating arena but also a testing ground for the relationship between policy and truth in American decision-making—a relationship that, if not repaired, will leave any agreement vulnerable to strategic instability.