In a choreographed sequence that blended the grandeur of Versailles with the secrecy of a remote exchange, the United States and Iran brought their three-month war to a formal halt late on Wednesday. President Donald Trump signed a physical copy of the 14-point Islamabad Memorandum of Understanding during a G7 dinner hosted by Emmanuel Macron, while his Iranian counterpart, Masoud Pezeshkian, countersigned from an undisclosed location in Tehran. Pakistan’s prime minister, Shehbaz Sharif, added his signature as mediator, and both governments declared the document immediately in force. A planned ceremonial gathering in Geneva was cancelled; instead, delegations from Washington, Tehran, Islamabad and Doha will convene in Switzerland on Friday to begin translating the framework into detailed technical rules, from the monitoring of enriched uranium to traffic protocols in the Strait of Hormuz.

The memorandum itself is an exercise in sequencing rather than resolution. It mandates an immediate and permanent cessation of hostilities on all fronts, including Lebanon, and commits both sides to refrain from the threat or use of force. Iran pledges to reopen the Strait of Hormuz, the chokepoint whose closure had sent oil prices spiralling and rattled the global economy, while the United States undertakes to begin lifting its naval blockade. On the nuclear file, Tehran agrees in principle to dilute its stockpile of highly enriched uranium under future supervision, in exchange for the eventual removal of the international sanctions that have asphyxiated its economy. All of this is to be negotiated within a 60-day window, leaving the most intractable questions—the ultimate fate of Iran’s nuclear programme, the scope of sanctions relief, and a reconstruction bill that some estimates place at $300 billion—for a final accord that remains entirely aspirational.

Viewed from Washington, the deal allowed Trump to claim a personal diplomatic victory, boasting to reporters that he had outperformed Barack Obama while simultaneously warning that Iran would be “bombed to hell” if it violated the terms. European capitals, particularly Paris, welcomed the prospect of stabilising energy markets, and oil prices fell sharply on the news. In Tehran, the mood was one of defiant vindication: Pezeshkian hailed a “historic document” and a “message from a powerful Iran,” while officials framed the outcome as proof that American military objectives had failed. Pakistan, which hosted the secretive back-channel talks in April, presented its mediation as a triumph of regional diplomacy. Yet across the Middle East, the reception was far more ambivalent. Israeli and Gulf analysts warned that the accord risks legitimising and emboldening the Islamic Republic, freezing a conflict without dismantling the networks of militias and missile capabilities that underpin its regional influence.

The coming 60 days will test whether the memorandum is a genuine path to a durable peace or merely a structured pause. Negotiators must design verification mechanisms for Iran’s nuclear commitments, define the sequencing of sanctions relief, and address the reconstruction of war-shattered infrastructure in Iran and Lebanon—all under the shadow of deep mutual mistrust. Trump’s threat of overwhelming force in the event of non-compliance underscores the fragility of the moment. For a global readership, the central question is whether the diplomatic energy that produced this improbable ceasefire can now be converted into a settlement that reassures Iran’s rivals, satisfies non-proliferation concerns, and prevents the Strait of Hormuz from again becoming a lever of economic coercion.