Lyse Doucet: Under fragile ceasefire, Iranians wonder if US deal can be done

Lyse Doucet: Under Fragile Ceasefire, Iranians Wonder if US Deal Can Be Done

Amid the snow-draped hills of Iran’s northwest, spring has begun to coax almond trees into blooming, while a tentative pause in hostilities has allowed more vehicles to traverse the highways. This reprieve, however, has not eased the anxiety of those returning to the country. As we wait in a Turkish border station, a grey-haired banker shares his experience: “I spent a month with my son in Turkey, fleeing the bombardment of our city in the north. The strikes from Israel and the US mostly targeted military sites, not homes or civilian areas.” His words reflect the five weeks of relentless conflict, interrupted by a two-week truce that now faces its expiration.

“I’m a bit scared,” admits an elderly woman in a headscarf, her face creased with concern. “The young are bearing the brunt of the violence—shells falling into neighborhoods, and the Basij paramilitaries patrolling the streets. It’s all in God’s hands,” she murmurs, gazing upward.

Yet others fixate on geopolitical stakes. A young woman in a vibrant red puffer jacket and knitted hat declares: “The ceasefire won’t last. Iran will never surrender control of the Strait of Hormuz.” As we clear Turkish customs and cross into the Islamic Republic, the tension lingers. A nearby man remarks, “Trump will never leave us alone; he wants to swallow us whole!”

The long drive to Tehran, the capital, underscores the stakes. With airports closed, the only route now passes through rural roads, detoured by the destruction of a key bridge linking Tabriz to the city. This bridge, shattered by missile fire a week prior, symbolizes the fragility of the current calm. Trump’s threat on 7 April—that “a whole civilisation will die tonight”—echoes in the minds of travelers, even as they pass through a centuries-old caravanserai, its stone arches and stained-glass windows hinting at a heritage spanning millennia.

The Iran of today is also evident in the blend of traditions we encounter. Some women wear veils, while others, regardless of age, walk without head coverings—a legacy of the 2022-2023 Woman Life Freedom movement. Despite this, strict modesty codes and harsh penalties remain in place. For now, the theocracy’s focus is on more immediate concerns: new banners stretch across highways, displaying portraits of the three supreme leaders since the 1979 revolution. Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei (assassinated in the war’s opening days on 28 February), and his son Mojtaba Khamenei, who sustained serious injuries in the attack and has not publicly appeared since, are central to this narrative.

Trump’s recent escalation of threats—vowing to destroy every bridge in Iran within an hour—contrasts with his assurance that “we don’t want to do that.” Meanwhile, legal experts have raised alarms over the targeting of civilian infrastructure, citing possible breaches of international law. In Tabriz, we spot the ruins of an IRGC barracks, its collapsed pillars bearing a flag like concrete teeth. Other military installations, police stations, and factories have also been struck, highlighting the scale of the conflict.