On April 26, 2026, within a single day, three lines tightened simultaneously around the Strait of Hormuz: Iran submitted "ceasefire conditions" through Pakistan, Washington proclaimed "victory is in sight" in front of the cameras, and London raised alarms over the crew members trapped at the entrance of the strait and the soaring cost of living.

That morning, Iranian Foreign Minister Amir-Abdollahian arrived in Islamabad and, after consultations with the Pakistani side, officially handed over Iran's conditions for ending the war through Pakistan. The terms Iran proposed were strictly tied to Hormuz: new legal regimes must be implemented in this waterway, reparations must be paid, guarantees against "military aggression" must be made, and the current naval blockade must be lifted. Moreover, Tehran deliberately drew a line—these conditions were unrelated to the Iranian nuclear issue; how the war would end would be accounted for separately.

At the same time, on the other side of the world, Trump sat in front of the cameras at Fox News, delivering an entirely different message. He told the host that the war with Iran would soon be over and that America would be victorious; if Iran wanted to negotiate, they could call the U.S., and he "hoped Iran would be smart." On the same day that Iran included the rules of Hormuz in their ceasefire conditions, the U.S. President was painting a scene of "certain victory and open negotiations" for domestic viewers—on one side was an attempt to rewrite the order of this waterway, and on the other was a narrative of self-assured victory in both the battlefield and the negotiation table, with two conflicting logics colliding.

London took a third perspective. On that day, Trump spoke with British Prime Minister Starmer about the situation in the Middle East. Trump emphasized the urgent need to restore shipping in the Strait of Hormuz; the British side warned through a single source: this globally critical energy passage had been blocked for several weeks, trapping a large number of crew members at sea, and this situation was seriously impacting the global economy and the cost of living for the British public. On the same day, Iran sent out strong signals: the Strait of Hormuz would not return to its previous state under any circumstance—even if the war ended, this waterway could not simply "go back to normal."

Thus, all the discourse of that day ultimately converged on the same narrow waterway: Iran aimed to reshape Hormuz with ceasefire conditions, America sought to force its opponent to yield under the narrative of "victory in sight," and the UK was compelled to confront the chain reaction of weeks of blockade impacting the global economy and domestic prices. Hormuz was no longer just a navigational route on a map; it was thoroughly tied to the nerve endings of the world economy—with each trapped ship and every message about the blockade and unblocking quickly amplifying into volatility in global risk assets through energy prices and risk aversion sentiments. The endgame of this war was turning into a gamble over who would write the rules of Hormuz and who would bear the costs for the global economy.

The Chain Reaction of Hormuz Being Choked Off

On the map, the Strait of Hormuz is merely a long, narrow waterway, but in the real world, it is a fortress that binds Gulf oil and gas to global markets. A large amount of energy transportation from the Gulf must exit through this narrow passage, connecting ports, refining facilities, and factories spread around the world through an invisible maritime artery. In peacetime, this artery is just background; once choked off, everyone realizes that their electricity prices, oil prices, and even the shelves in supermarkets are tied to it.

The blockade lasted for several weeks, and this artery began to visibly clog. The British single-source statement said, "a large number of crew members are trapped"—this was not an abstract shipping metric, but rather individual ships stuck at sea, with sailors unable to return home. Shipping schedules were disrupted, goods remained stranded at sea, and the world of shipping, which originally calculated costs by the minute, was forced to count the "days stuck here." The British warnings became more direct: such a blockade was not merely a red line on a nautical chart; it would have serious repercussions for the global economy and would soon reflect on the cost of living for the British public—from energy bills to daily expenditures, any fluctuation could be exacerbated.

As the blockade extended from days to weeks, the center of pressure began to shift. Initially, it accumulated on shipowners, shipping companies, and crew members, but then it shifted onto the tables of various governments. Against this backdrop, on the same day, Trump spoke with British Prime Minister Starmer about the Middle East situation, emphasizing “the urgent need to restore shipping in the Strait of Hormuz,” while the British side reminded him that this blockade had already left a mark on crew members, the global economy, and the cost of living in the UK. Hormuz was no longer just the front line of warships and missiles, but also the front line of voter bills and inflation figures.

But the signals from Iran were equally clear. The Iranian side warned that this waterway would never return to its previous state under any circumstances. This statement, which almost could be marked on a bulletin cover, resonated with the conditions Amir-Abdollahian handed over in Pakistan—internally, it was a message to the domestic audience and allies that sacrifices and blockades would not return Hormuz to a "business as usual" scenario; externally, it stated that any ceasefire proposal that merely requested a "return to pre-war status" would not be accepted by Iran.

Thus, the focus of this war's game was quietly shifting. On the surface, both sides were vying for the moment when the guns would cease; substantively, Iran was contesting every daily voyage post-ceasefire—who would determine "aggression," who would define "legal passage," and who would bear the compensatory costs triggered by this blockade. Iran wrote these into conditions and submitted them through Pakistan, intentionally rebranding Hormuz from an “international public waterway” into a long-term bargaining chip: once the global economy was forced to pay the price of a weeks-long blockade, it would have to respond on the issue of a new legal regime.

From this perspective, the warning that “the waterway will not return to its previous state” is not just an emotional declaration but a forecast for future negotiation positions. Iran is using the end of the war to lock in a new starting point for Hormuz: even if the blockade is ultimately lifted and the waterway reopens, it will operate under a newly negotiated set of rules. This waterway is no longer the Hormuz of past significance but a "new Hormuz" shaped by war, reparations, and security pledges—in Tehran's eyes, this is the bargaining chip worth risking a high-stakes confrontation for.

Trump’s Narrative of Victory and Call for Dialogue

On the same day that Tehran attempted to lock in the end of war with "new Hormuz," Washington was also vying for narrative control. On April 26, 2026, Trump sat in the Fox News studio, recounting this ongoing war as if it were a script with a predetermined ending—“it will soon end,” “America will achieve victory.” In his version, the battlefield was merely a transitional shot towards inevitable victory, and what was truly for domestic viewers was the imminent "triumphant conclusion."

The intent behind this statement isn't hard to decipher: on one hand, it pushes the timeline forward—war is not a bottomless pit, but rather “already in the final stage”; on the other hand, it locks the outcome into a single option—it's not a ceasefire, nor a compromise, but a "victory for America." For an American society still bearing costs, this narrative serves both as consolation and setup: any future ceasefire agreement will be framed as a natural extension of this "inevitable victory," rather than a forced concession.

Yet in the same interview, he casually tossed out a line: “If Iran wants to negotiate, they can call the U.S.,” adding, “I hope Iran is smart.” This statement subtly connected his earlier high-profile declaration of victory to an exit strategy: the battlefield is not the only stage; the telephone line is equally a battlefield he is willing to be recorded on.

From a postural standpoint, this reflects a typical "dual-track script":

● Externally, he maintains military pressure with language of "victory in sight," telling allies and domestic audiences that the U.S. will not stop leveraging until victory is achieved;

● Toward Iran, he deliberately leaves what seems like an easy-to-dial number, superficially ceding the initiative to them—if they’re “smart,” they can switch the flames of war to the negotiation table with a single call.

This combination is not contradictory but an intentional design of tension. Military pressure creates an atmosphere of “time not being on Iran’s side,” while the telephone invitation presents a seemingly lower-cost exit option—provided Tehran must accept entry under a narrative of American-defined victory.

On the same day, Trump also spoke with British Prime Minister Starmer, emphasizing the urgent need to restore shipping in the Strait of Hormuz, while London warned that the blockade had lasted several weeks, severely impacting crew members, the global economy, and the living costs of the British public. This background noise was also absorbed into his victory narrative: externally claiming that the U.S. is “responsibly promoting an end” under the expectations of allies and the global economy, internally explaining that swiftly ending the war and reopening Hormuz is a result of the U.S. “successfully pressuring and forcing the opponent to concede.”

Within this narrative structure, the timing of the ceasefire and the rhythm of negotiations were recoded: the earlier the signal of "victory in sight" is released, the easier it becomes to package any subsequent compromises as favorable conclusions; while the "anytime call" seemingly gives the rhythm to Iran—but as long as Tehran delays in "making the call," Washington can continue telling a story of an Iran being repressed, being dragged into a time trap.

Equally importantly, research briefs specifically remind that currently, publicly available information is limited to both sides’ public statements, and creating a direct call log between Amir-Abdollahian and Trump is prohibited, indicating that at the factual level, we are seeing only two parallel public tracks—Iran submitted conditions through Pakistan, while Trump set a “victory + call” framework before the television cameras. How the real exchange of chips unfolds remains uncertain, but the narrative's stakes are clear: Tehran is attempting to define the rules of the game with "new Hormuz," while Trump is trying to define who gets to call a halt with "inevitable victory + open negotiations.”

The UK and Pakistan: Gatekeepers of the Waterway in a Tight Spot

When Tehran and Washington present their respective “endgame narratives” before the cameras, the real stakeholders monitoring the waterway were squeezed into the wings of the stage.

For the UK, the primary issue in this crisis was not who would write the last line of the ceasefire document on the battlefield, but whether the lifeline of the Strait of Hormuz could be restored quickly. During Trump's conversation with British Prime Minister Starmer on the same day, he emphasized the urgent need to restore Hormuz shipping; the British single source warned that weeks of blockade had trapped a large number of crew members at sea, bringing severe consequences for the global economy and the living costs of the British public. For this old maritime power, such warnings represented both anxiety regarding the waterway itself, and an early defense against rising domestic prices, energy bills, and voter sentiments.

Thus, we observe a typical “gatekeeping” posture: the UK continually redirects the conversation back to the urgency of “restoring shipping,” rather than calling out who should "win" or "surrender" on the battlefield. In discussions with Trump, the publicly known emphasis is on restoring the flow of the Hormuz, rather than drawing a politically flashy conclusion to the war. The UK’s concerns in this game resemble how to minimize the spillover impacts of the blockade on its own society and economy, rather than aiming to dominate the script for the outcome of the Iran war.

If the UK stands at one end of the waterway, watching the sea, then Pakistan stands at the other end, holding an invisible hotline. On April 26, 2026, Iranian Foreign Minister Amir-Abdollahian chose to negotiate in Pakistan, submitting Iran's conditions for ending the war through the Pakistani side—this action itself placed Islamabad at a critical point in the communication chain. Iran wishes to reshape the order around Hormuz with new legal regimes, reparations, guarantees against further military aggression, and lifting the naval blockade, yet is unwilling to directly enter the "telephone" line that Trump mentioned. Instead, it chose to navigate through Pakistan, indicating that Islamabad is seen as one of the few channels still acceptable to both sides.

Pakistan's uniqueness lies in that it is not directly under the gunfire of Hormuz while being deeply embedded in the complex security and religious political networks of the region. For Iran, submitting conditions through Pakistan provides a means of maintaining “indirection” with the U.S., avoiding being drawn into a direct bilateral negotiation while the battlefield isn’t truly ceased; for the U.S. and its Western allies, as long as the conditions are delivered through Pakistan, this can still be framed as “regional nations mediating,” rather than having to “bow to negotiate” under pressure with Tehran. It is within this structure that Pakistan is positioned as a potential mediator—not because anyone officially bestowed it with the title of "mediator," but merely due to the limited channels available in reality.

However, being at a key node does not equate to a transparent process. Research briefs explicitly stated that official responses or subsequent arrangements from the Pakistani side regarding this mediation have yet to be disclosed. In other words, what Amir-Abdollahian said in Islamabad, how the Pakistani side understood and relayed these conditions, and whether the information delivered to the West is truncated or exaggerated—all of these remain unknown. We only see a rough arrow on the roadmap—“Tehran → Islamabad → West”—without visibility to every twist within that arrow.

This creates a highly asymmetric visibility for the entire mediation process: Trump can declare on television that the war "will soon end" and the U.S. will achieve victory; Iran can publicly emphasize that its conditions are unrelated to the nuclear issue and warn that Hormuz will not revert to its previous state; the UK can issue alarm bells over the impact of the blockade on crew members and living costs. Yet the intermediary line carrying these narratives—those papers held by Pakistan—remains almost completely invisible at the institutional level.

Thus, on either side of Hormuz, now choked off, one finds the UK anxious over shipping and livelihood while Pakistan passively plays the role of condition transmitter. The former worries about when ships can resume operations, while the latter holds the key to when conditions can be transmitted; and between them is a “mediation black box” constructed of silence and absence, leaving all expectations about ceasefires and resumption of shipping hanging in limbo.

Multiple Outcomes and Risk Assets in the New Order of the Waterway

Above this “mediation black box,” three different embryonic outcomes have vaguely emerged: one is the "return to the past" that the market most desires to believe in, yet is least compatible with the reality; one is the "new rules" that Iran is trying to forcibly write in; and another is the "long-term tense standoff" that all participants are reluctant to openly acknowledge, yet is most likely to slip into after prolonged waiting.

First, let's look at the illusion of "returning to the old order." The U.S. and the UK repeatedly stressed that shipping through Hormuz must be restored promptly, with Trump announcing on Fox News that this war “will soon end” and America will achieve victory, while throwing out a line to Iran that "if you want to negotiate, call." For Washington and London, the most ideal scenario is: the blockade is lifted, the fleet resumes passage, economic and British living pressure eases, and then packaging all of this as a “crisis effectively contained.” However, on the same day, Iran clearly warned that under no circumstances would this waterway revert to its previous state, submitting conditions via Pakistan bundling an end to hostilities with “new legal systems,” “reparations,” “ensuring no further military aggression,” and “lifting the naval blockade,” and deliberately cutting it from the nuclear issue. The old order signifies that Iran would have to retreat significantly on these conditions, which contradicts its current public posture, making "a complete return to pre-blockade order" seem more like a soothing narrative for Western politicians rather than an actionable option.

The “new rules compromise” is the real endgame that Iran is targeting. The conditions submitted through Pakistan essentially aim at rewriting the power structure of the Hormuz waterway using the outcome of the war: a new legal regime, a transfer of war costs appearing in the form of “reparations,” a political assurance of “no further military aggression,” and a formal text lifting the blockade. Iran’s lines are clear: the flames of war can be extinguished, but the old order of the waterway must not revive as it was; Hormuz must remember this crisis. The red lines of the U.S. and the UK are equally clear: shipping must resume, pressures on the global economy and UK living costs must ease, yet the process cannot be interpreted as “ceding dominance of the waterway to Iran.” Between these two red lines, the truly operational compromise area may likely be reduced to procedural, linguistic, and symbolic spacings—such as addressing the demand of “no further military aggression” with some vague wording, and approaching the topic of “new legal regime” through technical and procedural arrangements, while concealing the most sensitive power struggles in clause details. However, the specific details of the conditions submitted through Pakistan still remain undefined, and research briefs have also emphasized banning the filling of specific content, which leaves all imaginings about the "new rules" at a mere outline level.

If this intermediate pathway is hard to quickly form, the situation could easily slide into a third state: long-term tense standoffs. Research briefs categorize mediation progress, ceasefire conditions, mine clearance, and other key information as “to be validated,” meaning every step toward peace is fraught with uncertainties. Iran insists the waterway shall not return to the old state, while the U.S. and UK prioritize “restoring shipping” as their primary political task. In the absence of reliable mediators and transparent mechanisms, Hormuz is likely to enter a “repeated block—repeated open” gray cycle: neither a nominal long-term blockade nor a stable free flow, but rather swaying between sporadic conflicts, localized controls, political pressures, and brief relaxations. This instability itself constitutes a sustained threat to the global economy—research briefs have already seen the Hormuz blockade as a risk source with serious consequences for the global economy, and this crisis only lays that risk more intuitively before the world.

Under different outcomes, the emotional trajectories of the global economy and risk assets will also be forced to switch tracks accordingly. If a form of “rapid resumption” emerges—whether symbolically returning to the old order or hastily constructing a vaguely framed new rule—the expectations of short-term fluidity in energy passages will directly alleviate market anxieties over supply disruptions, reducing certain risk premiums, leading the global macro sentiment to shift from risk-averse mode back to “tentative optimism.” In this environment, risk assets are overall more likely to rebound driven by favorable news, and narratives around crypto assets will lean towards “technological growth” rather than “wartime refuge,” speculative sentiments rising, although volatility will still exist, stemming more from conventional gambles on future interest rates and growth prospects. However, since Iran has clearly rejected the old order, any seemingly smooth return to shipping carries the shadow of unclear clauses and questionable implementation, leading to a “wait-and-see” state regarding market confidence in peace—any fluctuations in news will quickly manifest in price retracements and heightened volatility.

If the process of constructing “new rules” prolongs, it means Hormuz will be in a protracted state of “politically undecided and economically barely operational.” For the global economy, this transforms a one-time shock into a continuous risk factor: even if the waterway remains open most of the time, participating countries will still need to pay premiums for potential frictions and localized disruptions. This structural uncertainty is likely to cause some enterprises and financial institutions to adopt a more conservative posture in investment, transportation, and pricing, suppressing medium- to long-term risk appetites. For risk assets, this translates into a “pulling market” scenario: whenever mediation shows signs of progress, prices attempt to recover upward; once conditions collapse or one side makes a hardline statement, the mood immediately reverses. In such an environment, crypto assets find themselves in a contradictory position: each time the real world appears riskier, a portion of people see it as an exit from traditional financial systems; yet, the same dangers make liquidity more cautious, rendering it more vulnerable in sell-offs, making direction hard to predict, though it can be relatively certain that volatility will amplify, and news will continue to dominate short-term price trajectories.

If the situation ultimately slides into a long-term tense standoff, the Strait of Hormuz will no longer just be a geographical passage but will become a persistent “fault point” in the global economic system. Energy transport will be periodically disrupted, and global supply chains must repeatedly adjust, forcing the world to recalibrate future prices and growth expectations amidst a series of shocks. In this narrative, the main theme of risk assets is no longer a singular bull or bear market, but a cycle of high-frequency, intense emotional fluctuation: the market will continuously replay the script in the cycle of “conflict escalation—risk aversion heats up—policy intervention—brief relaxation.” Crypto assets find themselves in a paradox: whenever the real world appears more dangerous, it is viewed by some as a route to escape the traditional financial system; however, that very danger also makes liquidity more cautious, treating it as a sell-off tool, exhibiting emotional elasticity far exceeding that of traditional assets.

Among these three paths, the bottom lines and compromise zones of the U.S., UK, and Iran will determine the short-term likelihood of ending the war and restoring shipping. Iran has submitted conditions through Pakistan, bundling “new legal systems,” “reparations,” “ensuring no further military aggression,” and “lifting the naval blockade,” and emphasized that they are unrelated to the nuclear issue; on the same day, the U.S. President declared the war would soon be over and that America would win, while keeping an open posture toward negotiations; the British Prime Minister highlighted the urgency of restoring Hormuz shipping in conversations with Trump, while a British single source warned of the harm of weeks of blockade on crew members and the global economy as well as the living costs in the UK. Iran's bottom line is to write its security and rules demands into the end of the war; the bottom lines for the U.S. and the UK are to avoid “losing Hormuz” in domestic political narratives, while also needing to provide an account for the economy and public livelihood. Under this reality constraint, the emergence of some form of ceasefire and partial resumption in the short term is not impossible, but research briefs categorize mediation progress, ceasefire conditions, and other key information as “to be verified,” indicating that any optimistic expectations are built on incomplete information.

The true direction of future order in Hormuz depends on how these three outcomes are sewn together: whether it results in a one-off abrupt closure, gradually growing a new set of rules through negotiations, or continuously tying the global economy to a waterway that might go cold at any time through ongoing trial and error. For risk assets, this isn't just a distant geopolitical game, but a functioning emotional amplifier—every negotiation, every word spoken, will be drawn into the price, leading the world to continually reassess how much "the new order of Hormuz" is truly worth.

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