Author: Prof. Engr. Zamir Ahmed Awan, Founding Chair ，Global Silk Route ，Research Alliance (GSRRA)，Sinologist – Diplomat – Analyst - Advisor ，(E-mail: awanzamir@yahoo.com).

The failure of the Islamabad peace talks is more than a diplomatic disappointment. It is a dangerous setback at a moment when the region, and indeed the wider world, could least afford one. After 21 hours of direct negotiations in Pakistan between the United States and Iran, the delegations left without a deal, even as a fragile two-week ceasefire remained in place and global markets stayed on edge. The breakdown has already revived fears that the ceasefire could unravel before its scheduled expiry on April 22, with potentially grave consequences for regional security, energy markets, and ordinary people far beyond the Middle East.

What makes this failure so painful is that Islamabad represented a rare opening. These were among the highest-level direct U.S.-Iran contacts in decades, facilitated by Pakistan at a time of active war, rising casualties, maritime disruption, and extraordinary mistrust. Islamabad offered something that battlefield logic never can: a face-saving off-ramp for all sides. It was a venue where power could have yielded, at least partially, to prudence. Instead, the process ended where too many Middle Eastern crises end—without closure, without a durable framework, and without relief for civilians who are already paying the cost of strategic stubbornness.

It is not hard to see why the talks mattered so much. The war had already shaken the global economy. Reuters reported that the conflict and uncertainty around the Strait of Hormuz had disrupted economic stability and pushed oil prices higher. Associated Press likewise noted that the war and maritime tensions had roiled global markets. This is not an abstract matter for traders or policymakers. Every spike in oil prices feeds into transport costs, electricity bills, production expenses, and eventually food and household inflation. The whole world becomes a victim of prolonged conflict in such a chokepoint. A war fought in one region quickly enters the daily life of families everywhere.

That is why the collapse of the talks feels so irresponsible. Washington says the negotiations failed because Iran would not accept sweeping U.S. terms on nuclear issues. Tehran says the Americans came with excessive and unlawful demands and failed to build trust. The record available so far shows that Iran’s position, whatever one thinks of every detail, was not simply a rejection of diplomacy. Reuters reported before the summit that Iran had set out preconditions centered on an immediate end to strikes, guarantees against renewed attacks, compensation for damage, and a lasting settlement rather than a temporary pause. Reuters also reported that Iran had formally rejected a simple ceasefire formula because it wanted a permanent end to war and a broader protocol for maritime security, sanctions relief, and reconstruction. That is a hard position, certainly, but it is not the same as an unserious one.

This matters because too much public debate still treats diplomacy as a test of who can impose terms, rather than who can build a workable peace. If one side arrives seeking surrender language while the other arrives seeking security guarantees, the chances of success are always thin. To many outside observers, that is exactly how Islamabad ended: not because diplomacy was impossible, but because the gap between maximalist demands and durable compromise remained too wide. Iran’s negotiators appeared to be arguing for a comprehensive settlement; the United States appeared to be insisting first on a far-reaching strategic concession. When diplomacy is burdened with conditions that look politically impossible for the other side to accept, failure becomes self-fulfilling.

There is also a civilizational point worth stating plainly. Iran is not a transient actor, nor a state that can be bullied into strategic erasure. It is an ancient civilization with a long political memory, strong national institutions, and a deeply rooted sense of sovereignty. That does not make Tehran infallible, but it does mean that any lasting peace must take Iranian security concerns seriously rather than dismiss them as obstacles to be brushed aside. Diplomacy works only when it recognizes the dignity, historical consciousness, and bargaining logic of all parties involved. A country with Iran’s depth and identity was never likely to accept humiliating terms under pressure and call that peace. That should have been obvious from the outset.

Another striking feature of the Islamabad process was the breadth of support for continued diplomacy. The United Nations sent envoy Jean Arnault to the region to support what it called a durable end to the conflict and explicitly backed a peaceful settlement. Reuters reported that the U.N. stressed the importance of maintaining the ceasefire and preserving freedom of maritime movement. Associated Press reported that the EU, Oman, and Russia all urged continued dialogue after the talks failed. Reuters also reported that Pope Leo used the moment of the talks to denounce the “madness of war” and call for peace through dialogue rather than rearmament. And Reuters reported that the Pakistani plan itself emerged amid outreach involving Pakistan, China, and the United States. In short, Islamabad was not a lonely diplomatic experiment. It was the focal point of a wider international hope that a larger regional fire might still be contained.

That broad support makes the failure more serious, not less. When the international system—from the U.N. to regional mediators to major powers and moral voices—leans toward negotiation, the burden on the principal parties becomes heavier. They are not merely representing themselves; they are responding to a world pleading for restraint. Islamabad was a chance for Washington to demonstrate that military pressure would be followed by political realism. Instead, the collapse of the talks has created the opposite impression: that military force was easier to deploy than diplomatic flexibility. Whatever battlefield achievements the United States may claim, it still has not produced a durable political outcome. That is not strategic success. It is, at best, suspended instability.

And who benefits from suspended instability? Not the people of Iran. Not the people of the United States. Not Pakistan, which invested heavily in mediation. Not the world economy. The principal beneficiaries are the hawks and the hardliners—those who thrive when fear replaces diplomacy. In that sense, many critics will conclude that the failed talks amount to a political win for the Israeli security line, which has long preferred coercion over compromise. That does not mean Israel alone caused the failure. But it does mean that every collapsed negotiation strengthens those who argue that force, not diplomacy, should define the region’s future.

This is where Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s own legal and political context becomes impossible to ignore. Reuters reported this week that Netanyahu’s corruption trial, which had been interrupted under emergency conditions during the war, was set to resume once the state of emergency was lifted. Reuters also reported that Netanyahu then requested a further delay, citing the ongoing regional security situation. He denies wrongdoing in the underlying corruption case, and it would be improper to reduce a complex war to one man’s courtroom troubles. Yet it is also true that critics in Israel have long accused him of benefiting politically from prolonged states of conflict and emergency, an accusation he has denied. In public life, perception matters. A region kept permanently on the edge of war also keeps accountability permanently blurred.

None of this means diplomacy is dead. It means diplomacy must restart before the ceasefire expires and before new escalatory moves make the next round even harder. The ingredients of a serious framework are not mysterious. First, there must be a clear extension of the ceasefire, monitored and publicly reaffirmed. Second, the parties need a sequencing formula: verified de-escalation, reciprocal security guarantees, and a credible timetable for political and technical talks. Third, any agreement must deal honestly with the Strait of Hormuz, because freedom of navigation is a global interest, but it cannot be addressed through threats alone. Fourth, the nuclear file must be handled with realism: non-proliferation and verification on one side, recognition of peaceful civilian rights and sovereign dignity on the other. Fifth, broader regional concerns, including sanctions relief, reconstruction, and the conflict spillover into Lebanon, cannot be treated as side notes. A narrow deal may produce a pause. Only a comprehensive one can produce stability.

Pakistan, to its credit, has shown that diplomacy is still possible even in the darkest circumstances. The fact that the talks happened at all was an achievement. The fact that they failed does not erase that achievement; it only increases the urgency of a second attempt. Islamabad should not become a symbol of a missed opportunity. It should become the place where the world learned that there is still no military substitute for political courage.

There is still time. The ceasefire has not yet expired. International support for diplomacy still exists. The U.N. still wants a durable settlement. Regional actors still want de-escalation. Markets still react nervously because they know what renewed war would mean. Most importantly, ordinary people still want what they have always wanted: peace with dignity, security without humiliation, and a future not held hostage by the calculations of the powerful. That is why negotiations must resume, and why any honest observer should insist that diplomacy—patient, comprehensive, and serious diplomacy—is the only way forward.

(ASIA PACIFIC DAILY）