STORY: From the Strait of Hormuz to Bahrain—four days that nearly blew everything up

The Ever Lovely and the Start of the Incident

The Singapore-flagged container ship Ever Lovely was sailing through the Strait of Hormuz when an IRGC explosive drone struck it. No injuries were reported. But the incident triggered a chain reaction: the International Maritime Organization suspended its plan to evacuate ships stranded in the strait. Shipping companies began rerouting their vessels.

The IRGC’s rationale was clear, even if unstated: to force ships to use Iranian waters rather than those of Oman, thereby establishing de facto “exclusive control” over maritime traffic by Tehran. A multinational force supervised by the U.S. Navy had announced that it would develop a route along Omani waters for incoming and outgoing traffic. Iran interpreted this as a violation of the MoU: any attempt to establish an alternative arrangement without Iranian supervision was unacceptable.

Iran’s Position on the Strait

Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi was explicit: “Any attempt to establish new arrangements or arrangements separate from those currently in place by the Islamic Republic of Iran will only complicate matters, delay the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, and increase tensions.” ” Iran claims that the Strait of Hormuz—which normally carries one-fifth of the world’s oil and natural gas—is under its “full supervision and management” for the next 30 days.

This is an extraordinary claim that strikes at the very foundations of international maritime law. The Strait of Hormuz is an international shipping lane located in the territorial waters of Iran and Oman. For Iran to claim exclusive sovereignty over traffic through it is a direct violation of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). But in the Persian Gulf of June 2026, international law is not the sole arbiter of reality.

Iran says the Strait of Hormuz belongs to it. The world says it is an international waterway. In a normal world, the latter position would prevail. In the world of 2026, with the U.S. military bombing Iranian targets and the IRGC attacking merchant ships, “normal” is an abstract concept.

CENTCOM’s Response

On Saturday, June 27, U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) announced that the U.S. Navy and Air Force had “conducted strikes last night against 10 Iranian military targets at multiple locations in and near the Strait of Hormuz. ” The targets included surveillance infrastructure, communication systems, air defense sites, drone depots, and mine-laying capabilities. The affected locations included Sirik, Bandar-e Lengeh, and Qeshm Island.

The United States is presenting these strikes as a direct response to the Iranian drone attack on the Kiku—a Panama-flagged oil tanker carrying more than two million barrels of crude oil and owned by Qatar’s national energy company—another key mediator in the U.S.-Iran negotiations. The IRGC had also struck the Kiku earlier on Saturday, as it was passing near the Strait of Hormuz.

The Kiku and the Brutality of Iran’s Message

The fact that Iran chose to strike an oil tanker belonging to Qatar—the country hosting its own peace negotiators with the United States and various regional factions—is a signal of calculated brutality. Either the IRGC deliberately ignored the diplomatic implications, or it was fully aware of them and chose them precisely to demonstrate that diplomatic relations will not protect anyone if Iran decides to attack.

Qatar, which had condemned Iran’s attacks on Bahrain and Kuwait while stressing the need to “spare the region the consequences of unjustified attacks,” found itself in the untenable position of being both a mediator and a target. This stance is revealing of the IRGC’s strategy: to sow confusion, maximize pressure on all regional actors, and show that no one is out of reach.

Striking a Qatari oil tanker when Qatar is your peace mediator is either strategic stupidity or deliberate cruelty. I lean toward the second option. The IRGC does not make mistakes of this kind. It makes choices. And this choice says something about the Revolutionary Guards’ relationship with diplomacy: it is a tool to be used when convenient, and sabotaged when it is not.

The Attack on the Fifth Fleet and Ali Al Salem

On Sunday, June 28, following the U.S. strikes the previous night, the IRGC escalated directly: ballistic missiles and drones were launched against the Ali Al Salem Air Base in Kuwait and against the U.S. Fifth Fleet at Salman Port in Bahrain. This is the first time Iran has directly attacked these U.S. bases in this series of escalations—a line has been crossed that changes the nature of the conflict.

The immediate results were, on the whole, less catastrophic than the sequence of events might have led one to fear. In Kuwait, air defenses intercepted Iranian drones and two missiles—no casualties or damage reported. In Bahrain, Iranian strikes damaged a residential building near the international airport—no fatalities. The building that was hit was not adjacent to the Fifth Fleet headquarters. In Qatar, a Qatari national died after being struck by shrapnel resulting from military operations in the region.

The Reaction of the Arab Gulf States

The reactions from the Arab Gulf states were unanimously harsh. Bahrain denounced “a dangerous escalation that reveals that what Tehran is doing is not an isolated or temporary act, but a deliberate approach and a systematic pattern of repeated aggression.” Kuwait called the attacks a “flagrant violation of its sovereignty.” The United Arab Emirates speaks of a “clear violation of sovereignty” and a “threat to their security and stability.” Jordan refers to a “dangerous escalation and a flagrant violation of international law and the United Nations Charter.”

Oman—which shares the waters of the Strait of Hormuz with Iran and has traditionally served as a secret channel of communication between Tehran and Washington—calls for restraint and favors dialogue. It is Oman that, in the coming weeks, would likely be the first country to attempt to mend what the IRGC has torn apart.

When Oman calls for restraint, it is a signal that the private channels are still open. This small country has a long history of discreet mediation in conflicts between Washington and Tehran. If anything can save the June 17 agreement from complete collapse, it is likely to be Oman’s quiet work—not public statements.

“Iran will cease to exist”

Donald Trump’s public reaction is, in its own way, characteristic. He accuses Iran of violating the agreement and warns that there is a point at which the United States could “be forced to finish the job militarily.” ” He writes on social media: “If that happens, the Islamic Republic of Iran will no longer exist!” This is a threat of total annihilation couched in absolute terms—the kind of statement that, coming from a U.S. president, would logically cause oil prices to rise and those in the Persian Gulf to fall by several levels.

But the Trump administration is simultaneously sending a more measured signal: nothing has been canceled, and technical discussions remain scheduled for the coming days. This dual message—apocalyptic rhetoric and diplomatic continuity—is the Trump administration’s characteristic modus operandi when dealing with Iran. It creates maximum uncertainty, which may be calculated, or may simply reflect an inherent unpredictability.

Sixty days that feel like fewer

The June 17 agreement provided for 60 days to negotiate the details. Within ten days, the IRGC had attacked three merchant ships and two U.S. military bases. Pakistan was still acting as mediator. The technical talks were still “on track,” according to Washington. But the countdown had accelerated dramatically.

The Tehran Stock Exchange, in reaction to the escalation, had lost more than 100,000 points, falling to around 5 million points. Ordinary Iranians—those who have nothing to do with the IRGC’s calculations—were paying the price for the volatility triggered by their own military. This is not the first time this situation has arisen in Iran. It will not be the last.

The Tehran Stock Exchange plummeting by 100,000 points: this is the concrete reality of what the IRGC is doing to its own citizens. Every military escalation destroys yet another fraction of the savings of ordinary people who just want to live their lives. The Iranian regime uses its population as an economic shield as much as a political one. And the people know it.

Araghchi vs. the IRGC

The crisis of June 2026 exposed a tension that observers of Iranian politics are well acquainted with: the rift between the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—represented by Araghchi, who had negotiated the MoU with the United States—and the IRGC, which ultimately answers to the Supreme Leader and not to the president. The IRGC did not ask Araghchi for permission to attack the Kiku or U.S. bases. It acted on its own—and then forced the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to publicly defend its actions.

Araghchi complied, reiterating that the Strait of Hormuz would remain under Iran’s “total surveillance and control” for the next 30 days. But he also stuck to the line regarding the Qatar talks scheduled to resume—signaling that the door to diplomacy was not closed. It is this double-speak—aggressive in substance, open in form—that makes Iranian policy so difficult to analyze from the outside.

The Threat of a Complete Halt to Negotiations

The IRGC—through its statements, not its diplomatic actions—threatened a “complete halt” to negotiations if the United States continued its strikes. This threat is both credible and strategically unlikely: credible because the IRGC has the capacity to sabotage any diplomatic opening, and unlikely because Iran has a vested interest in the lifting of sanctions for its crisis-stricken economy.

The question at the end of this week was therefore: Was the threat of a halt a bluff by the IRGC to extract U.S. concessions regarding the Strait? Or was it a serious declaration of intent by those within the Iranian regime who prefer confrontation to normalization? The answer to this question would determine whether the June 17 agreement could survive the week of June 26–28.

I do not claim to be able to read the IRGC’s intentions. No one outside Tehran really can. But I can observe the pattern: every time Iran comes close to an agreement with the West, internal actors find a way to torpedo it. Since 1979, this dynamic has cost Iran a generation of economic and political development. This is not an expression of sympathy—it is a statement of fact.

One-fifth of the world’s oil is at stake

The Strait of Hormuz is, under normal circumstances, the transit route for about one-fifth of the world’s oil and natural gas. When traffic through it is disrupted, the effects ripple through all industrial economies that depend on hydrocarbon imports—from Europe to Asia, including emerging economies whose economies are still heavily reliant on fossil fuels. The week of June 26–28 disrupted this vital artery without completely closing it off.

The multinational task force overseen by the U.S. Navy reported that 89 ships had transited with its assistance—below the historical average of 138 ships per day. Traffic had increased in the 72 hours leading up to the report but remained low. Marine insurance companies had raised their premiums. Commodity traders watched crude oil prices nervously. Russia—whose oil revenues were indirectly benefiting from higher prices linked to instability in the Gulf—was watching the escalation with the quiet satisfaction of someone profiting from the chaos of others.

Russia as an Indirect Beneficiary

An analysis by CIMSEC (Center for International Maritime Security) documented how the partial closure of the Strait of Hormuz benefited Russian oil revenues: the disruption of supplies from the Persian Gulf drove up oil prices, partially offsetting the impact of Western sanctions on Russian exports. This is no strategic coincidence: Russia has documented interests in keeping Iran in a confrontational stance with the West, and it has the means—arms sales, technology transfers, and diplomatic support in the Security Council—to sustain this relationship.

The convergence of Russia, Iran, China, and North Korea as a bloc aimed at destabilizing the Western order is not a conspiracy theory. It is a reality documented in Western intelligence reports for several years. The crisis in the Strait of Hormuz is just one example among many.

Russia, which benefits from the chaos in the Persian Gulf while waging a war of attrition in Ukraine: this is not abstract geopolitics. It is real money, real weapons, and a real strategy. And the West—busy managing each crisis separately—struggles to see the big picture. Russia, Iran, and China see the big picture very clearly.

An arc of crisis stretching from Lebanon to the Gulf

The events of June 26–28, 2026, are not an anomaly—they are the latest chapter in a series that has been unfolding for months, if not years. U.S. and Israeli operations against Iran began on February 28, 2026, according to the timeline documented by available sources. The exchange of strikes had intensified on several occasions. The June 17 agreement was an attempt at a ceasefire—a ceasefire that the IRGC made very difficult to maintain as early as the following week.

Lebanon, Yemen, Iraq, and now directly Kuwait and Bahrain: the geography of the confrontation between Iran and its adversaries has expanded. Each expansion of the battlefield complicates the mapping out of possible agreements: a ceasefire on one front does not necessarily halt fighting on another. And Iran—or rather, the IRGC—uses this geographical complexity as leverage in negotiations: demanding concessions on all fronts simultaneously, knowing that the West cannot coordinate coherent responses across so many theaters.

Regional stability as an abstract concept

The Arab Gulf states—Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Bahrain, and Kuwait—have divergent interests but a common fear: being caught in a direct conflict between the United States and Iran on their own territory. The fact that Iranian ballistic missiles flew over Bahrain and Kuwait on June 28—even without causing any casualties—is a political trauma for governments that had spent decades building balanced relationships with their two major neighbors.

The destabilization of the Persian Gulf has direct consequences for Ukraine as well: a West mired in a crisis with Iran devotes less attention and fewer resources to the war in Europe. Moscow has calculated this. Beijing has calculated this. And the IRGC—regardless of the actual autonomy of its decisions—objectively contributes to this calculation.

I think of Zelensky every time I read news about a crisis in the Middle East. Not as some philosophical digression, but because every crisis that diverts Western attention from Ukraine is good news for Putin. The world’s political attention is not infinite. And the West’s enemies know this better than we do.

Pakistan and the Resumption of Talks

Despite the escalation on June 26–28, the U.S.-Iran technical talks scheduled for Tuesday, June 30—with Pakistan acting as mediator—had not yet been officially canceled at the time of these events. The Trump administration had maintained its position: the talks were continuing. Pakistan had stated that the talks would resume. Iran—through Araghchi, not the IRGC—had not formally walked away.

This maintenance of diplomatic appearances, despite Iranian ballistic missiles flying over Bahrain and Kuwait, attests to the extraordinary pressure both sides feel to keep a path toward de-escalation open. Iran needs sanctions to be lifted. The United States needs stability in the Gulf. These mutual needs are stronger than the IRGC’s provocations—at least for now.

Talks in Qatar

Resumption talks were scheduled in Qatar in the days following the crisis. Qatar—despite the fact that its own oil tanker, the Kiku, had been attacked—maintained its position as a facilitator. This is a remarkable display of geopolitical pragmatism: Doha understands that its role as a mediator affords it security and influence that are worth the price of the humiliation of an attack on its oil infrastructure. The Gulf states operate at the levels of power dictated by their geography.

Resolving the crisis—if there were to be a resolution at all—would require these discreet channels and these mediating states. Not through Trump’s declarations about the end of Iran. Not through the IRGC’s threats to completely halt negotiations. But through anonymous diplomats in meeting rooms in Doha, Islamabad, or Muscat. This is how regional crises are managed—or not managed.

I note with interest that the mediators in this conflict—Pakistan, Qatar, and Oman—are not liberal democracies. They are authoritarian or semi-authoritarian regimes that have calculated that their national interest lies in regional stability. Sometimes, crisis diplomacy requires working with what exists, not with how we’d like the world to be. It’s uncomfortable. It’s real.

Western Attention Resources in Question

When the Persian Gulf is ablaze, Ukraine is not the top priority on the front page. Crisis meetings at the White House, the Pentagon, and the State Department are dominated by maps of the Strait of Hormuz and the trajectories of Iranian missiles. Political and diplomatic time is a scarce resource. And in late June 2026, a considerable portion of that resource was absorbed by a crisis in the Gulf that the IRGC had, whether deliberately or not, chosen to provoke.

The connection is not abstract: the Patriot systems defending U.S. bases in Kuwait and Bahrain are the same systems Ukraine needs to defend Kyiv and Kharkiv. The munitions used in the intercepts on June 28 are drawn from global stockpiles that include allocations for Ukraine. Waging war on two fronts—even at vastly different levels of intensity—places strain on supply chains that were not designed to handle two simultaneous conflicts.

Ukraine’s Resilience Despite Distractions

Zelenskyy and his team have developed expertise in managing global attention. They know their country is not always at the top of the agenda. They have learned to maintain diplomatic and communications pressure under all circumstances. The week of June 26–28 did not change Ukraine’s position on the ground—fighting continued, arms deliveries were still being negotiated, and the NATO summits in Ankara remained on the calendar.

But Ukraine is a country at war that depends on the continued support of partners whose attention is simultaneously drawn to multiple crises. This reality is a structural vulnerability that its enemies—Russia, Iran, and, to a lesser extent, North Korea—consciously exploit. The proliferation of regional crises is a strategy, not a coincidence.

I want to believe that the West can manage multiple crises simultaneously without exhausting its attention and resources. But I know it’s harder than it seems. And I know that every time the Middle East erupts, Putin sleeps a little better. That’s not a reason to ignore the Gulf—it’s a reason to address Ukraine and the Gulf with the same sense of urgency.

The Moscow-Tehran-Pyongyang Axis

The relationship between Russia and Iran is not a formal alliance. But it is functional: Russia has supplied Iran with military equipment, missile technology, and diplomatic support in the Security Council. In return, Iran has supplied Russia with Shahed drones that have terrorized Ukrainian cities for months. North Korea has supplied ammunition and shells that have replenished Russian artillery batteries on the front lines. These arms flows have been documented, sanctioned, and yet continue nonetheless.

The CIMSEC analysis documenting Russia’s gains from the partial closure of the Strait of Hormuz adds another dimension to this convergence: Russia benefits economically from every crisis in the Gulf. This benefit does not need to be coordinated to be real. It is enough for each actor to act in its own interest for the whole to produce a coordinated destabilizing effect vis-à-vis the West.

The Cumulative Effects of Planned or Accidental Destabilization

Whether one believes in explicit coordination between Moscow, Tehran, Beijing, and Pyongyang or explains it through a convergence of interests without formal coordination, the result is the same: the West is simultaneously facing a war in Europe, a crisis in the Persian Gulf, China’s military buildup, and North Korean provocations. Every crisis the West must deal with diverts resources from the others. And the West’s resources—in political attention, ammunition, and defense systems—are not infinite.

The response to this reality cannot be withdrawal. That would be handing a free victory to those seeking to wear down Western resistance. The response must be an increase in capacity—industrial, diplomatic, institutional—to manage multiple crises simultaneously without losing track of any of them. This is easier said than done. But it is the only response that makes strategic sense.

I often return to this image: the West as a ship’s captain who must keep an eye simultaneously on Ukraine to starboard, Iran to port, China ahead, and Russia astern. Every quarter-hour spent looking in one direction is a quarter-hour lost for the others. The art of grand strategy lies in not letting any of these actors take advantage of the moments when our attention is elsewhere.

What Saved the June 17 Agreement

By the end of the week of June 26–28, 2026, the June 17 agreement was being put to the test but was not dead. Pakistan continued to mediate. Qatar kept its channels open despite the Kiku attack. The Trump administration stated that technical discussions were continuing. Iran—through its Ministry of Foreign Affairs—had not formally withdrawn.

What saved the agreement—if indeed it was saved—was the asymmetry of costs. Iran cannot afford, economically speaking, a return to the pre-agreement situation: sanctions, U.S. and Israeli military pressure, and the collapse of the rial. The United States cannot politically afford a direct military conflict with Iran in the midst of a campaign to support Ukraine and growing tensions with China. This mutual asymmetry is the fragile glue that held the agreement together despite everything.

What This Story Cannot Yet Tell

This narrative ends on June 28, 2026. It cannot recount what happened next—whether the technical talks in Qatar took place, whether the agreement held, whether the IRGC reoffended, or whether the Strait of Hormuz was reopened on Iranian terms or international terms. This narrative is a snapshot of an ongoing crisis, not a story with an ending. And in Middle Eastern crises, never-ending stories are the rule, not the exception.

What I can say is that four days of missiles, drones, attacked oil tankers, and bombed U.S. bases have brought home an uncomfortable truth: the Middle East of 2026 is a powder keg that multiple actors, with multiple agendas, are simultaneously setting ablaze. And in this context, maintaining effective diplomacy requires nerves of steel, courageous mediators, and a stroke of luck that no one can guarantee.

I am a columnist, not a fortune-teller. I don’t know how this story ends. What I do know is that every time Iranian missiles fly over Bahrain, the world becomes a little more unstable. And that instability in the Persian Gulf never fails to have consequences for Ukraine, for Europe, for all of us.

The Significance of Four Days in the Long Run

Those four days, from June 26 to 28, 2026, may be nothing more than a footnote in the history of the U.S.-Iran crisis. Or they may be remembered as the moment when an escalation nearly became irreversible—and did not, thanks to anonymous diplomats who worked behind the scenes while generals brandished their missiles. History will tell which of these two narratives is true.

What is certain is that the June 17 agreement has survived a severe test. That the IRGC has demonstrated its ability to undermine its own government’s diplomacy. That the Arab Gulf states have been reminded of the brutality of their geopolitical neighborhood. And that the West has had to, once again, manage two simultaneous crises—in Europe and the Middle East—with resources that are not infinite.

What the narrative must retain

Accounts of military crises run the risk of focusing on the drama—missiles flying, bases burning, Trump’s apocalyptic statements. They sometimes overlook the invisible players: the Pakistani and Qatari diplomats who keep channels of communication open, the U.S. Coast Guard sailors who escort merchant ships under the radar, the Iranian negotiators trying to rein in their own military. These players matter just as much as the generals. Often even more.

The Strait of Hormuz has not been completely closed. The June 17 agreement did not collapse—at least not during the week of June 26–28. These “non-events” may be the most important part of the story. They show that despite the IRGC, despite the ballistic missiles, despite Trump and his threats of total annihilation, de-escalation mechanisms held. Fragile, imperfect, under threat—but they held.

In crisis journalism, we report on the explosions. We rarely report on what didn’t explode. But “what didn’t explode” may be the real story of June 2026 in the Persian Gulf. The agreement held. Modestly, precariously, uneasily—but it held. That is worth noting.

The Strait of Hormuz as a Geopolitical Mirror

The Strait of Hormuz is a geographical chokepoint where global tensions converge. It is 33 kilometers wide at its narrowest point. The economies of dozens of countries depend on this narrow passage. If Iran were to turn the tap, the world would tremble. This is not a metaphor. It is geopolitical reality.

Iran knows what it controls. The United States knows what it cannot allow to be controlled. And caught between these two incompatible logics, diplomats, mediators, and naval officers are trying to find a path that preserves Iranian sovereignty, freedom of international navigation, and the stability of an oil market on which the entire world still depends. It’s an impossible task. And yet, it’s being done.

For Ukraine, for Europe, for us

The Gulf crisis of June 2026 is a stark reminder that modern wars are no longer confined to isolated theaters. They echo one another, feed off one another, and spread. Ukraine is fighting Russia with shells that come from North Korea. Iran is attacking with drones that resemble the Shaheds sent to Kyiv. China controls the rare earth metals used to manufacture defenses against these drones. Everything is connected.

Understanding these connections is the duty of anyone who wants to understand the world of 2026. This account is just one fragment of that picture. A fragment from June 26 to 28, in the Persian Gulf, during four days that could have changed everything—and that may not have changed anything at all. That’s how crises work. And that’s how the world keeps turning, despite everything.

I conclude this account with a thought for the merchant seamen sailing through the Strait of Hormuz right now—whether under military escort or not. They aren’t in the press releases. They aren’t part of the negotiations between Washington and Tehran. They are caught in the thick of a geopolitical conflict in which they did not choose to be potential victims. And amid all this geopolitics, we must remember that there are human beings aboard these ships.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist