Fukuyama’s recent remarks on the Iran–US understanding were widely reflected in a controversial statement: “This understanding was a total surrender by the US to Iran.” However, if this phrase is read merely as a political attack on Donald Trump, its most important message would be missed.
The significance of Fukuyama’s remarks lies not in their tone, but in the fact that one of America’s most recognized political and international relations theorists evaluates the outcome of a military confrontation through the lens of strategic rationality. In this note, published in Persuasion, Fukuyama explicitly criticizes Trump, writing: “The world’s most powerful country is being run by a useless and ignorant president who imposes enormous costs on other countries, and even on his own people, for his personal interests.” In this relatively short essay, he simultaneously advances several key arguments that together present a different picture of the war and the post-conflict understanding.
His first argument is that the war failed to achieve any of its stated objectives. If the war was launched with goals such as stopping Iran’s nuclear program, ending enrichment, changing the Islamic Republic’s regional behavior, weakening Iran’s political structure, or even regime change, the resulting understanding did not realize any of these aims. According to Fukuyama, all of these issues have merely been deferred to future negotiations—meaning the war did not accomplish what it sought to achieve through force.
His second argument concerns a “return to the starting point.” Fukuyama argues that the outcome of the war is a restoration of the pre-war status quo: a situation in which the Strait of Hormuz was open, no war existed, and disputes could still be pursued through diplomacy. In strategic literature, this is the worst-case scenario for an initiator of war, as massive military, economic, and political costs are incurred without producing a meaningful change in the original conditions.
The third axis of his analysis concerns the relationship between military power and political power. He implicitly challenges the common assumption that military superiority necessarily translates into political coercion. The US and Israel may have held significant hard-power advantages, but this did not lead to the achievement of declared political objectives. This reflects a long-standing distinction in international relations theory between the capacity to destroy and the capacity to compel. A state may inflict heavy damage, yet still fail to impose its will on the other side.
The fourth point is his analysis of why the US backed down. Fukuyama, unlike narratives that portray the understanding as a US diplomatic victory, emphasizes domestic constraints within Washington. From his perspective, rising energy prices, fears of the Strait of Hormuz being closed, economic pressures on American society, the political costs of war, and public opposition to a prolonged conflict forced the White House to accept the agreement. This recalls a fundamental principle of foreign policy: no great power acts solely on military capability; its decisions are shaped by economic, social, and political constraints.
His fifth point may be the most important. He assesses the new understanding as even weaker than the 2015 nuclear agreement. This comparison is not merely a judgment of the text itself; it carries a political implication. Trump long described the JCPOA as “the worst deal in history,” yet, according to Fukuyama, he has now accepted an understanding that imposes fewer restrictions on Iran’s nuclear program and grants fewer concessions to the US than the previous agreement. If this assessment is correct, the logical conclusion is that withdrawal from the earlier deal not only failed to benefit Washington, but also weakened its bargaining position.
On what basis does Fukuyama offer this critique?
Fukuyama’s analysis is not free from political assumptions. He is a strong critic of Trump, and part of his sharp language should be understood within the context of domestic political contestation in the US rather than as purely neutral international relations analysis. However, even if this layer is set aside, the core of his argument remains intact: a war that fails to achieve its political objectives, even if it inflicts significant military damage, cannot ultimately be considered a strategic success.
For Iran, this analysis carries several implications. First, deterrence is not solely the product of military power, but of a combination of defensive capability, economic resilience, internal cohesion, and diplomatic leverage. Second, if the opposing side returns to the negotiating table after using military tools, this return shows that diplomacy remains an inseparable part of the power equation, not a sign of weakness. Third, battlefield success only becomes lasting achievement when it is translated into political, economic, and security gains at the negotiating table.
Perhaps Fukuyama’s most important message is that in international politics, power only becomes meaningful when it can create a new political reality. If, after a costly war, all parties return to the same position they held before the conflict, the central question is no longer who won, but why the war was started in the first place.
From this perspective, Fukuyama’s note is less a critique of Trump and more a warning about the limits of hard power in today’s world, a world in which even the greatest military powers cannot simply rely on force to reshape complex political and identity-based equations in their favor.
NOURNEWS