Iran and Qatar Discuss Strait of Hormuz Amid US Blockade
The talks are happening as a US naval blockade squeezes oil supplies to Iran, which is also facing a domestic shortfall, impacting the country's economy and energy security.
The debate is framed as blockade versus free passage - the United States asserting naval control to squeeze Iran’s oil exports, and Iran, presumably, seeking some counter-arrangement to keep its economy afloat. But the Strait of Hormuz is not a possession to be seized or a corridor to be freed by decree. It is a shared channel of use - a commons in the oldest sense I ever studied, no different in structure from the irrigation canals of Valencia, where an upstream village and a downstream village draw from the same flow and each depends on the other’s restraint. Iran needs the strait to move its oil past the blockade’s edges. Qatar needs the same water to move nearly all of its liquefied gas to the world. Neither owns the channel; both can ruin it for the other, and for everyone downstream of the tankers.
The meeting happened at a table, in a room, with water glasses and a translator’s murmur, but the thing they were discussing does not live at a table. It lives in the wheelhouse of a tanker inching through the Strait of Hormuz at night, engines throttled to nothing, running lights doused or blazing depending on whose rules of the week apply, the crew watching radar the way a man watches a stove he suspects is about to catch the curtains. That is where the policy actually happens. Everything else - Iran’s top diplomat sitting down with his Qatari counterpart in Tehran on a Thursday to talk strategy - is the paperwork of a decision the body has already been making for months, one held breath at a time.
There are families in Hormozgan province, along the Iranian shore of the Strait of Hormuz, who are rationing diesel for hospital generators while their government’s foreign minister sits across a table in Tehran from his Qatari counterpart discussing the very waterway that carries the fuel they lack. The population affected is not a figure I can give you with honesty, but it is not abstract: it is the patient on a ventilator when the backup generator runs dry, the fishing families whose boats cannot bunker, the clinic that cannot refrigerate insulin. The rule that should be protecting them is not obscure. The San Remo Manual on International Law Applicable to Armed Conflicts at Sea, drafted by naval lawyers precisely because the laws of land warfare said nothing adequate about blockades, prohibits any blockade whose effect is to starve the civilian population or whose damage to civilians is disproportionate to the military advantage sought. The Fourth Geneva Convention’s provisions on the free passage of medical supplies apply with equal force whether the vessel in question flies a naval ensign or a merchant flag.
The institution designed to prevent a blockade of this kind is the legislative authorization of acts of war - in the American system, the Article I power vested in Congress to declare war, later diluted by resolutions and authorizations that Presidents have stretched into open-ended license. A naval blockade squeezing a sovereign nation’s oil supply is not a sanction adjusted by regulators; it is, by the law of nations since Grotius, an act of war. It failed because no vote was taken, no declaration issued, no debate held that placed the decision before a body answerable to anyone but itself. The question is not whether choking Iran’s oil exports was justified. The question is whether any institution stood ready to say no if it was not.
The Diplomats of Hormuz
You have seen two foreign ministers shake hands in Tehran. You have not yet looked for the tanker captain sitting idle in the Gulf, his cargo unsold, his crew unpaid, while the men who caused his idleness are photographed exchanging pleasantries over tea. Let us follow the money a little further, and introduce the person who has been left out of the account.
The meeting is reported, correctly, as a diplomatic event: Iran’s top diplomat and his Qatari counterpart, discussing the strategic passage through which so much of the world’s oil must travel, on a Thursday, in a capital under siege from an American naval blockade. This is the seen. It is easy to see, because it produces handshakes, communiques, and photographs - the visible currency of statecraft. Everyone in the frame is applauding, or at least nodding gravely, which by my method is always the signal to check whether a second column exists.
The political objective is not the coordination of two foreign ministries over a shared waterway. The political objective is Tehran’s search for a diplomatic vessel large enough to carry Iranian oil around an American blockade without capsizing into open confrontation. When Iran’s top diplomat receives his Qatari counterpart in Tehran on a Thursday to discuss the Strait of Hormuz, the stated agenda - regional stability, maritime security, cooperation between neighbours - is the visible third of the iceberg. The submerged mass is Iran’s calculation that Qatar, small in territory but large in leverage as the custodian of one shore of the strait and as Washington’s most useful Gulf interlocutor, might be persuaded to communicate to the blockading power that the costs of continued squeeze are rising for everyone who ships gas and oil through that channel, Doha included.
The wire copy reads as a bilateral gesture: Iran’s top diplomat sits with his Qatari counterpart, agenda item the Strait of Hormuz, venue Tehran, day Thursday. The framing on offer is Iran as the party with leverage over a chokepoint, and Qatar as the neighbour arriving to hear what Tehran intends to do with it. One notices that the guest across the table runs an economy that ships almost all of its gas out through that same strait, which means the leverage implied by the framing runs the other way as often as it runs the way the wire copy suggests.
Carl von Clausewitz
The political objective is not the protection of humanitarian law, nor is it the preservation of moral order in the Strait of Hormuz. The political objective is the coercion of the Iranian state through the restriction of its energy revenue, while simultaneously avoiding a direct kinetic engagement that would escalate into a broader regional war. The strategy follows from this distinction: it seeks to bleed the adversary’s capacity to sustain its political will without triggering the full mobilization of its military apparatus. This is a delicate calculus, one that assumes the adversary’s political survival is tied to its economic output, and that the adversary’s military leadership is constrained by the fear of total destruction.
You speak of the San Remo Manual and the Fourth Geneva Convention as if they are laws of nature, immutable as gravity. I concede that these instruments exist and carry weight, but I must correct your framing: these are not the primary drivers of conflict. They are the surface expressions of political calculation. The strongest point you make is that the blockade lacks visible humanitarian carve-outs, creating a gap between legal theory and observable reality. This is a valid observation of friction. However, you mistake the symptom for the disease. The absence of inspection records is not a legal failure; it is a strategic feature. The ambiguity serves the political objective. If the blockade were clearly defined and monitored, it would lose its coercive power. The uncertainty is the weapon.
Let us examine the friction in this plan. You assume that legal norms will constrain the actions of states in a way that they have not constrained them in the recent past. This is hope, not analysis. The plan assumes that the Iranian government values the stability of its civilian population more than it values its sovereignty and its resistance to external pressure. This is a dangerous assumption. The friction lies in the disconnect between the legal framework you cite and the political reality on the ground. The Iranian government does not view the blockade as a violation of international law; it views it as an act of war. The civilian toll you describe is not a moral catastrophe to be avoided, but a political instrument to be leveraged. The government will use the suffering of its people to justify its own rigidity, to rally domestic support, and to delegitimize any potential negotiation. The friction is not in the execution of the blockade; it is in the expected political response.
The centre of gravity in this conflict is not the oil shipments, nor is it the hospital generators. It is the Iranian regime’s narrative of resistance. The regime’s strength derives from its ability to frame external pressure as evidence of its own necessity. As long as the blockade is perceived as an existential threat to the state, the regime’s political will remains intact, even if the civilian economy collapses. To break the centre of gravity, one must not target the oil, but the narrative. One must demonstrate that the pressure is not leading to capitulation, but to entrenchment. The current strategy fails to identify this centre of gravity, focusing instead on the material deprivation of the population. This is a fundamental error. You are attacking the body while the mind remains unbroken.
Consider the analogy of the French invasion of Russia in 1812. Napoleon’s political objective was the coercion of Tsar Alexander I through a decisive battle. His centre of gravity was the Russian army. He found the army at Borodino, but he did not break the political will. The Russians retreated, burning the land, denying him the decisive engagement he required. The French army, despite its tactical superiority, was destroyed by the sheer scale of the theatre and the indifference of the enemy to their suffering. The political objective was undefined in the face of the adversary’s willingness to endure catastrophic loss. Your current strategy risks a similar error. It assumes that material deprivation will translate into political concession. History suggests that deprivation often translates into political resolve.
The remarkable trinity is at work here. The government’s rational policy is to coerce without escalating. The military’s instrumental execution is the blockade, which is ambiguous and unmonitored. The people’s passion is the suffering of the civilians, which the regime will exploit to fuel its own narrative. These three forces are not aligned. The government seeks a political outcome that the military action is not designed to achieve, and the people’s passion is being manipulated rather than addressed. This misalignment is the source of the plan’s likely failure.
I acknowledge that I cannot know the precise internal calculations of the Iranian leadership. I cannot know whether they will break under pressure or harden. This is the fog of war. It is not a temporary obscurity to be cleared by better intelligence; it is a permanent condition of conflict. To act as if we can know with certainty is to invite disaster. The only honest assessment is that this strategy is a gamble on the adversary’s political psychology, a gamble that has historically failed more often than it has succeeded. The political objective is clear, but the means are misaligned with the centre of gravity, and the friction is not being managed but ignored.
Henri Dunant
The political objective of coordinating foreign ministries over a shared waterway is a abstraction that dissolves under the weight of specific suffering. When you speak of Tehran’s search for a diplomatic vessel and Qatar’s utility as a broker, you are describing the mechanics of leverage. I am describing the mechanics of survival. Before we discuss whether the operation was strategically successful, I would like to know how many civilians are in the area, whether they were warned, and whether medical facilities were available to treat the wounded. The political maneuvering in the Gulf does not change the fact that the Strait of Hormuz is not merely a channel for oil; it is the lifeline for the water, the medicine, and the food of millions in the region. The Fourth Geneva Convention exists to protect civilians during armed conflict and occupation. The question is not whether the rule exists but whether anyone is enforcing it.
Your argument rests on the premise that state actors are rational instruments navigating structural frictions. You posit that Doha’s value lies in its ambiguity, its ability to remain useful to Washington, Riyadh, and Tehran simultaneously by promising nothing concrete. I concede that states act in self-interest and that diplomatic leverage is real. However, your framework treats human beings as collateral in this calculation, as variables in an equation of stability. This is the error. The human toll is not a byproduct of the political structure; it is the primary reality that the structure must serve. When a blockade restricts the flow of goods, it restricts the flow of insulin, of clean water, of antibiotics. These are not political choices; they are biological necessities. To argue that the “friction is structural” is to obscure the fact that the friction is inflicted upon living bodies.
You describe Qatar’s interest in stability as genuine but distinct from Iran’s interest in relief. This distinction is fatal to the humanitarian imperative. Stability without relief is not stability; it is stagnation. In 1859, at Solferino, I did not see “rational instruments” or “structural frictions.” I saw forty thousand men lying in the sun, wounded, dying, and indifferent to which flag they had fought for. The Austrian and French soldiers were enemies on the field, but they were patients in the hospital. The emblem on the armband means that distinction is not optional. The same principle must apply to the Strait of Hormuz. The blockade may be a rational calculation of power, but its effect on the civilian population is a violation of the fundamental principle of humanity. The rules of war require that the wounded and sick be cared for, regardless of their affiliation. The rules of blockade require that humanitarian relief be permitted to pass.
Let us consider the analogy of the siege. In the history of warfare, there are many instances where political objectives were pursued through the starvation of civilians, from the sieges of the Middle Ages to the blockades of the World Wars. Each time, the result was not just military defeat but moral collapse. The institution of the Red Cross was born not from a desire to limit victory, but from a desire to limit suffering. We do not ask if the blockade is strategically successful; we ask if it is compliant with international humanitarian law. If the blockade prevents the delivery of essential medical supplies, it is a violation of Article 23 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, which obligates parties to allow the free passage of all consignments of medical supplies essential for the population. The violation is not a side effect; it is the core of the humanitarian crisis.
Pity is not a programme. An institution with trained personnel, supply lines, and access agreements is a programme. The difference between the two is measured in lives. Your argument assumes that the political objective is the coordination of ministries. I argue that the political objective must be the protection of civilians. If the coordination of ministries leads to the suffering of civilians, it has failed its primary duty. The accountability mechanism is not the broker’s ambiguity; it is the naming and documenting of the violations. We must identify who is violating the rules, document the specific harm, and apply pressure until compliance is achieved. This is not naive idealism; it is the hard, institutional work of making terrible things harder, slower, and more accountable.
The obligation is clear. The parties to the conflict must ensure that humanitarian aid reaches the civilian population without obstruction. The institutions must be empowered to monitor and report on the delivery of this aid. The gap is not in the rules; it is in the enforcement. We must bridge the gap between the political calculation and the humanitarian reality. The cost of inaction is not measured in diplomatic capital but in human lives. We must act not because it is politically convenient, but because it is morally and legally required. The emblem on the armband is not a suggestion; it is a command. And the command is this: care for the wounded, protect the civilian, and let the rules of humanity prevail over the calculations of power.
The Verdict
Where They Agree
Both debaters, despite their opposing frameworks, share a foundational agreement that the state of Qatar is not a neutral intermediary but a self-interested actor whose utility is derived from its perceived ambiguity. Clausewitz argues that “Doha profits from being the trusted broker precisely because it does not become anyone’s advocate,” while Dunant observes that the Qatari foreign minister negotiated “as a fellow hostage to the chokepoint, negotiating on behalf of his own tankers as much as Iran’s.” They concur that Qatar’s mediation is fundamentally shaped by its own economic exposure and strategic need to maintain leverage with all parties. This shared analysis, unstated by either, suggests that the diplomatic process is intrinsically compromised by the material interests of the mediator, a reality that complicates any simple reading of the talks as a good-faith effort toward de-escalation.
both analysts operate from an unspoken assumption that the Iranian government is willing to instrumentalize civilian suffering for strategic gain. Clausewitz states this explicitly, arguing that the government will use the population’s hardship “to justify its own rigidity, to rally domestic support, and to delegitimize any potential negotiation.” Dunant’s argument is premised on the same cynical calculation, as his entire plea for humanitarian oversight is a response to the risk that a government might “choose[] its population’s suffering as leverage.” Their shared, grim view of state rationality - where civilians are pawns - forms the dark, common ground upon which their disagreement about appropriate response is built.
Where They Fundamentally Disagree
The primary function of international humanitarian law (IHL) in warfare constitutes the core normative rift. For Dunant, IHL is an external, non-negotiable constraint - a “command” that must “prevail over the calculations of power.” Its rules are the primary reality to which strategy must be subordinated, and their violation is the core of the crisis. For Clausewitz, this is a category error; IHL is not a primary driver but a “surface expression[] of political calculation.” He argues that the ambiguity and potential violations are not a failure but a “strategic feature” because “uncertainty is the weapon.” The empirical question - are the blockading powers violating specific articles of the San Remo Manual or Fourth Geneva Convention? - is, in principle, resolvable through investigation. Their irreconcilable normative disagreement is whether the answer to that question should dictate strategy or be subordinated to it.
The centre of gravity in the conflict is a second fundamental disagreement, blending empirical and normative claims. Clausewitz makes an empirical assertion that the true centre of gravity is “the Iranian regime’s narrative of resistance,” arguing that material deprivation may harden rather than break political will, a claim testable through historical analogy and analysis of regime stability. Dunant’s centre of gravity is unequivocally normative: the “biological necessities” of the civilian population. He asserts that protecting civilians is not just a moral duty but the “primary reality” and the only legitimate political objective. The factual question - will the blockade break the regime’s will or strengthen it? - remains open. Their values dispute is whether the answer even matters compared to the imperative of preventing suffering.
The nature of a successful political outcome is their final irreducible divide. Clausewitz defines success in instrumental terms: the “coercion of the Iranian state” to achieve a specific political objective without escalation. The suffering of civilians is a regrettable but secondary effect in this calculus. Dunant defines success in constitutive terms: the outcome is only legitimate if it is achieved through a process that upholds humanitarian law. For him, any coordination that “leads to the suffering of civilians, it has failed its primary duty.” This is a pure normative clash between a consequentialist framework that judges outcomes and a deontological framework that judges actions.
Hidden Assumptions
- Carl von Clausewitz: Assumes that the Iranian regime’s primary source of legitimacy is its narrative of resistance to external pressure, and that this narrative is strengthened, not weakened, by civilian suffering inflicted from abroad. If this is false - if the regime’s legitimacy is derived from economic performance and domestic service delivery - then the blockade would be far more effective and the centre of gravity would indeed be material.
- Carl von Clausewitz: Assumes that the blockading power’s strategy is a coherent, rational calculus of “bleed[ing] the adversary’s capacity” without triggering escalation. If this is false - if the strategy is driven by domestic political pressures or a lack of coherent long-term objectives - then its inherent “friction” is not a manageable element of war but a symptom of strategic failure.
- Henri Dunant: Assumes that the existence of a tested institutional mechanism (e.g., ICRC inspection protocols) means it is politically feasible to implement it in this specific conflict. If this is false - if the blockading power’s security concerns or the Iranian regime’s refusal of oversight are insurmountable - then his proposed solution is practically inert, despite its moral force.
- Henri Dunant: Assumes that the moral imperative to alleviate suffering can be clearly separated from the political context that creates it, and that applying legal pressure for humanitarian carve-outs will not inadvertently prolong the conflict by reducing the blockade’s coercive efficiency. If this is false, his intervention could, in a tragic paradox, lead to greater overall suffering.
Confidence vs Evidence
- Henri Dunant: The claim that “the blockade prevents the delivery of essential medical supplies” is is presented without specific evidence of such shipments being blocked. He states the absence of inspection records proves nothing, yet his high-confidence assertion implies a factual certainty that his own argument acknowledges is unverified. This is a critical overconfidence; the claim requires empirical validation.
- Henri Dunant: The claim that a “coalition of littoral and dependent states insisting jointly on a monitored humanitarian corridor is harder to wave away” is tagged with an implied high confidence but is a speculative political prediction. There is no evidence provided that such a coalition is forming or that it would be effective, making this an overconfident projection of a normative desire onto a complex political reality.
- Debaters-style: Clausewitz expresses high confidence in his analysis of Iran’s strategic psychology, while Dunant expresses high confidence in the enforceability of IHL. These are contradictory core assumptions, and both are ultimately contestable empirical claims. Clausewitz’s claim relies on historical analogy, which is suggestive but not determinative for this case. Dunant’s claim relies on the power of norms, whose effectiveness varies wildly across conflicts. Resolving whose confidence is more warranted would require deep, context-specific analysis of the Iranian regime’s stability and the blockading powers’ commitment to international law.
What This Means For You
When evaluating coverage of this blockade, be deeply suspicious of any analysis that does not distinguish between the movement of oil and the movement of humanitarian goods. Demand specific data on the approval and rejection rates of shipments by category. The most important question to ask is not who is winning, but what mechanisms are in place to independently monitor the flow of essential supplies like medical equipment and fuel for hospitals. Your view of the situation should change significantly if evidence emerges that the blockading powers have a clear, published, and verifiable process for humanitarian exceptions - or if evidence confirms they are intentionally blocking such goods. Look for reports from on-the-ground aid organizations with inspection access, not just the statements of foreign ministries.