Trump says Iran talks frustrate him, opposes nuclear enrichment.
Donald Trump admitted he feels disappointed with Iran nuclear talks, firmly insisting Tehran must not pursue uranium enrichment at all.
The air in Geneva’s diplomatic quarter is usually one of measured calm, but on Thursday, it was thick with the weight of a region holding its breath. Inside a building belonging to the Omani embassy, two delegations sat in separate rooms, communicating through mediators, trying to bridge a chasm that could very well determine peace or war in the Middle East.
For the Iranian team, led by Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi, the stakes could not be higher. Back home, the economy is in freefall, the rial has plummeted, and the streets are still recovering from the Winter Protests of January. The regime is offering what analysts call a “state survival strategy”—diluting its entire stockpile of 60% enriched uranium in exchange for sanctions relief. It’s a gamble, and Araghchi knows it. Yet, as he left the talks, he told reporters that “good progress” had been made.
Across the room, the American delegation—Mideast envoy Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner—sat with a different kind of pressure. President Trump had sharpened his rhetoric, declaring in his State of the Union address that Iran was developing missiles that could hit the US, a claim Reuters later reported was unsupported by US intelligence. But in Geneva, the Americans were reportedly “disappointed.” They had come seeking maximalist demands: zero enrichment, dismantlement of nuclear facilities, and a permanent end to Iran’s program. What they got was flexibility, but not surrender.
By Friday, the diplomatic fog had thickened. In Washington, Trump stood before cameras in Texas and let his frustration show. “I’m not happy,” he said flatly. “They are not willing to give us what we have to have.” His bottom line was unambiguous: “I say, no enrichment.” For a nation that has long declared nuclear technology its sovereign right, that demand is a non-starter.
Yet, just hours later, Omani Foreign Minister Sayyid Badr Albusaidi offered a starkly different picture. Sitting for an interview with CBS News, he spoke of “substantial progress.” Iran, he revealed, had agreed to “never, ever have nuclear material that will create a bomb.” Existing stockpiles would be blended down to the lowest possible level and converted into irreversible fuel. Inspectors from the IAEA would be granted “full access.” “A peace deal is within our reach,” Albusaidi insisted.
The disconnect between Washington’s public frustration and Oman’s private optimism is dizzying. But in diplomacy, perception is often a weapon. While Albusaidi flew to Washington to meet Vice President JD Vance, hoping for “decisive progress,” the military machinery on both sides kept grinding.
The US has amassed a massive armada in the region—two aircraft carrier strike groups, over 150 combat aircraft, F-35 stealth fighters, and reinforced bases in Jordan and Israel. Non-essential staff have been evacuated from Beirut, and travel warnings for Americans in the region have been tightened. In the Persian Gulf, Iran has conducted live-fire drills in the Strait of Hormuz, temporarily closing the strategic waterway to show it can disrupt global oil shipments.
But beyond the military posturing and diplomatic parsing, there are human lives hanging in the balance.
In Tehran, a shopkeeper named Reza watches the news with weary eyes. His son was among the thousands arrested during the Winter Protests. Now, he fears war will swallow whatever is left of his family. “They talk about enrichment and sanctions,” he says, adjusting the bolts of fabric in his small shop. “But we just want to live. We want to eat.
In Washington, a State Department official spends Friday drafting yet another travel advisory. The message is stark: “Do not travel to Iran. U.S. citizens should leave immediately.” The warning cites risks of wrongful detention, road closures, internet outages, and the very real possibility of being caught in a conflict. For the few Americans still in Iran, the advice is chilling: “Find a secure location. Have supplies of food, water, and medication. Avoid demonstrations.”
And in Muscat, the Omani mediators work the phones, trying to keep the fragile thread of communication from snapping. Oman has played this role for decades—the trusted go-between for Tehran and the West. But never has the task felt so urgent. The clock is ticking. Technical talks are scheduled for Monday in Vienna, but the gap between “zero enrichment” and “sovereign right” remains a chasm.
UN Human Rights Chief Volker Turk watched the escalation with visible alarm. “I hope the voice of reason prevails.”
Reason, however, is a fragile commodity in times like these. In Tehran, hardliners in the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps view any concession as humiliation. In Washington, hawks see military force as the only language Iran understands. And in between, millions of ordinary people—Iranian, American, Israeli, Arab—wait in the crossfire of decisions made far from their homes.
For now, diplomacy remains on life support. The Omani foreign minister believes peace is within reach. President Trump is “not happy.” And the people of the Middle East, yet again, hold their breath.