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"Blocking the Strait of Hormuz to unblock the Strait of Hormuz is peak Trump foreign policy," said one observer.
US President Donald Trump on Sunday announced a military blockade of the Strait of Hormuz as Vice President JD Vance's negotiating team failed to gain the trust of their Iranian counterparts, who have been burned by the United States before and are loath to surrender sovereignty over their nuclear program.
Trump announced in an early morning post on his Truth Social network that, "effective immediately," the Strait of Hormuz—which was open before the president launched his illegal war of choice—would be closed to all shipping. Around 20% of the world's oil passed through the waterway before the war.
"At some point, we will reach an 'ALL BEING ALLOWED TO GO IN, ALL BEING ALLOWED TO GO OUT' basis, but Iran has not allowed that to happen by merely saying, 'There may be a mine out there somewhere,' that nobody knows about but them," Trump wrote. "THIS IS WORLD EXTORTION, and Leaders of Countries, especially the United States of America, will never be extorted."
Blocking the Strait of Hormuz to unblock the Strait of Hormuz is peak Trump foreign policy.
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— Eliot Higgins (@eliothiggins.bsky.social) April 12, 2026 at 6:11 AM
"I have also instructed our Navy to seek and interdict every vessel in International Waters that has paid a toll to Iran," the president continued, referring to one of the concessions reportedly in the cease-fire agreement with Iran that he approved last week. "No one who pays an illegal toll will have safe passage on the high seas. We will also begin destroying the mines the Iranians laid in the Straits. Any Iranian who fires at us, or at peaceful vessels, will be BLOWN TO HELL!"
"Iran will not be allowed to profit off this Illegal Act of EXTORTION," Trump added. "They want money and, more importantly, they want Nuclear. Additionally and, at an appropriate moment, we are fully 'LOCKED AND LOADED,' and our Military will finish up the little that is left of Iran!"
Responding to Trump's post, Medea Benjamin, co-founder of the peace group CodePink, said on X: "So get this. Trump wants to open the Strait of Hormuz by closing the Strait of Hormuz. Blow up the world economy to punish Iran. Make sense?"
Ryan Costello, policy director at the National Iranian American Council, also took to X, writing that "a blockade is an act of war, so Trump is announcing he will reenter the US into a war has been illegal under domestic and international law and has been disastrous for US interests, regional security, and the people of Iran."
Journalist Séamus Malekafzali said on X: "I have legitimately never heard of a more insane, designed-to-backfire policy under this administration; maybe ever. Not only attempting to blockade Iranian ships, but ANY ship that goes through the Strait of Hormuz by paying the toll."
While Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio attended a UFC match in Miami, Vance was left with the task of marathon negotiations with Iranian officials in Islamabad, Pakistan. It was the first direct high-level talks between the two countries since 1979.
“We need to see an affirmative commitment that [Iran] will not seek a nuclear weapon, and they will not seek the tools that would enable them to quickly achieve a nuclear weapon,” Vance told reporters after the talks. “That is the core goal of the president of the United States, and that’s what we’ve tried to achieve through these negotiations.”
Iran’s government was willing to make unprecedented concessions regarding its nuclear program up until the US and Israel began bombing the country on February 28. Every US administration since that of former President George W. Bush—including Trump’s—has concluded that Iran is not seeking to develop nuclear weapons.
Iran gave its assurance that it would not build nukes in the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action it signed in 2015 during the presidency of Barack Obama. Trump unilaterally scrapped the agreement, which was also called the Iran nuclear deal, during his first term despite—some say because of—Iran's full compliance.
So the Trump administration’s two goals in peace talks with Iran are:1. A commitment by Iran not to develop a nuke (This was part of the Obama deal that Trump canceled)2. Opening the Strait of Hormuz. (Was open before war.)
— Judd Legum (@juddlegum.bsky.social) April 12, 2026 at 4:20 AM
Iranian Parliamentary Speaker Mohammad Baqer Ghalibaf blamed the US for the breakdown in talks.
"My colleagues on the Iranian delegation Minaab168 raised forward-looking initiatives, but the opposing side ultimately failed to gain the trust of the Iranian delegation in this round of negotiations," Ghalibaf said on X. The Iranian delegation was named after the town where 168 children and staff at an elementary school were massacred in a US cruise missile strike on the first day of the war.
"Before the negotiations, I emphasized that we have the necessary good faith and will, but due to the experiences of the two previous wars, we have no trust in the opposing side," Ghalibaf explained.
Just hours before Trump announced his decision to bomb Iran in February, Omani Foreign Minister Badr bin Hamad Al Busaidi, the mediator of talks between the US and Iranian governments, said that a “peace deal is within our reach," prompting Iranian officials and others to accuse the Americans of acting in bad faith. Similar accusations were leveled when the US and Israel launched attacks on Iran in the summer of 2025 amid ongoing nuclear negotiations.
"America has understood our logic and principles," said Ghalibaf, "and now it's time for it to decide whether it can earn our trust or not?"
The US and Israel have been bombing Iran for 43 days. They have bombed more than 13,000 targets, assassinated senior political and military figures—including the late Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei—and, according to Iranian medical officials, killed more than 3,000 people, including hundreds of women and children. Israel's concurrent bombing of Lebanon has also killed hundreds of civilians.
Trump has vowed to bomb Iran "back to the Stone Ages" and destroy Iranian civilization, a genocidal threat that comes amid Israel's killing and maiming of over 250,000 Palestinians in Gaza in a war for which it is facing a genocide case at the International Court of Justice and its prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, is wanted by the International Criminal Court for alleged crimes against humanity and war crimes.
Iran, while weakened militarily, appears to be in a position of strategic strength. But to hear Trump say it, Iran is “LOSING, and LOSING BIG!”
"The Iranians don’t seem to realize they have no cards, other than a short term extortion of the World by using International Waterways,” he wrote on Truth Social as Vance headed to Pakistan. “The only reason they are alive today is to negotiate!”
Iranian Foreign Ministry spokesperson Esmaeil Baghaei advised patience, asserting that a diplomatic breakthrough was highly unlikely after just one round of talks.
“Naturally, from the beginning we should not have expected to reach an agreement in a single session," Baghaei said. "No one had such an expectation."
There’s a real risk that the US presidency could advance an economic agenda that prioritizes the interests of the wealthy while sidelining efforts to tackle inequality, strengthen fair taxation, and resolve deepening debt crises worldwide.
In just a year, the wealth of the 10 richest US billionaires increased by $698 billion dollars, while low-wage workers struggled as the Trump administration pushed an inequality-fueling agenda. Now, concerns are growing that the same policy choices—those driving a massive transfer of wealth to the richest—could be projected onto the global stage.
The United States recently assumed the presidency of the G20—a major platform for heads of state and governments to address global economic issues. The presidency is a role that carries significant influence over global economic priorities. There’s a real risk that the US presidency could advance an economic agenda that prioritizes the interests of the wealthy while sidelining efforts to tackle inequality, strengthen fair taxation, and resolve deepening debt crises worldwide.
Instead of focusing the G20 on poverty alleviation, reducing inequality, or dealing with a pending global economic crisis, the US government focus will center on removing regulatory burdens, unlocking energy supply chains, and pioneering new technologies and innovation. This marks a sharp departure from the 2025 theme of “Solidarity, Equality, and Sustainability” and signals a shift toward exporting the Trump administration’s domestic agenda to the global stage.
This all comes at a time when inequality is rising across most countries, and many low- and middle-income nations face mounting debt and stagnant growth.
As the US government so blatantly prioritizes wealthy interests, it is a critical moment for civil society to step forward—organizing and advancing an agenda that breaks decisively from the G20’s all-too-often emphasis on preserving the status quo.
US officials are pitching a “back to the basics” approach—which in reality is a sidelining of issues such as inequality, poverty, labor, climate, and gender. It is also widely anticipated that the Trump administration will restrict avenues for civil society participation.
Current plans suggest a focus on the leaders’ summit and financial track; a reduction in working groups; and formal engagement limited to business stakeholders, excluding civil society organizations, women’s groups, labor unions, and youth representatives. Even acknowledging that past G20 efforts on sustainable development have been uneven, this “back to the basics” approach risks abandoning critical priorities altogether.
Recent G20 presidencies led by Brazil and South Africa demonstrated a different trajectory, placing inequality and debt at the center of global discussions. South Africa’s 2025 presidency elevated the urgency of inequality by commissioning the first-ever G20 report on the issue. Led by professor Joseph Stiglitz, the report described a global “inequality emergency” and proposed the creation of an International Panel on Inequality to guide coordinated action.
Against this backdrop, the Trump administration’s domestic policies, including the 2025 One Big Beautiful Bill Act (OBBBA), represent one of the largest upward transfers of wealth in decades, making it unlikely that current US leadership will champion similar efforts internationally.
Progress on global tax cooperation is also under threat. Brazil’s 2024 presidency achieved a breakthrough agreement to cooperate on taxing high-net-worth individuals. While extreme wealth concentration has increased in recent years, research shows billionaires pay effective tax rates close to 0.3% of their wealth—well below what average workers contribute.
Yet in 2025, the Trump administration has already taken actions that undermine these efforts, including withdrawing from United Nations tax negotiations, pressuring other advanced economies to shield US corporations from global tax agreements, and opposing measures such as digital services and carbon taxes.
Climate action presents another area of concern. G20 countries are responsible for approximately 80% of global greenhouse gas emissions, yet many continue to fall short of their commitments. The US administration’s withdrawal from the Paris Agreement and rollback of domestic climate policies reflect a broader retreat from climate leadership.
The Trump administration’s emphasis on expanding energy supply chains raises the possibility that fossil fuel development could be prioritized over clean energy transitions, particularly if multilateral development banks are encouraged to increase investments in oil and gas projects.
Taken together, these signals suggest that the 2026 US G20 presidency could mark a significant retreat. Rather than building on recent efforts to address inequality, debt, and climate change, it may instead shift the forum toward a narrower agenda that prioritizes elite and corporate interests.
The direction ultimately taken will have far-reaching consequences, not only for the credibility of the G20 but for the future of global economic cooperation. As the US government so blatantly prioritizes wealthy interests, it is a critical moment for civil society to step forward—organizing and advancing an agenda that breaks decisively from the G20’s all-too-often emphasis on preserving the status quo.
Now is the time for people, institutions, and movements to unite and champion bold new forms of multilateral cooperation that serve billions, not billionaires.
Instead of instruments of war, flotillas have become symbols of peace—acts of humanitarian direct action, civil resistance, and cross-border solidarity.
Flotillas have historically been fleets of military vessels—tools of empire designed for swift offensive or defensive operations at sea. The images they evoke are ones of imperial power and looming violence. Just look at the massive US naval buildup that surrounded Iran as part of the recent US attacks.
But peace activists have also developed a new kind of flotilla.
Instead of instruments of war, flotillas have become symbols of peace—acts of humanitarian direct action, civil resistance, and cross-border solidarity. Take the flotillas that have tried to reach Gaza, like the Global Sumud Flotilla. Even though they have been illegally intercepted by the Israeli military, they have educated millions of people worldwide about Israel’s atrocities, activated entire cities to shut down, and offered a beacon of hope to the beleaguered people of Gaza.
As US policy continues to sanction and blockade Cuba—causing immense hardship for the Cuban people—I, along with many others, felt compelled to escalate our own tactics of solidarity by joining the recent flotilla to Cuba as part of the Nuestra América Convoy. Our boat carried 15 tons of aid, part of the more than 40 tons delivered by the convoy.
The US empire is indeed dying, and it is up to us to not just reimagine the better world we need and want, but to actually put that world into practice.
The United States is currently imposing some of the harshest sanctions on Cuba in recent history, compounding a 67-year blockade that has restricted access to medicine, fuel, and food. But in recent months, the US added another dimension: a naval blockade to severely limit fuel imports, leading to a humanitarian crisis.
In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need fossil fuels—we would already have made a just transition to renewable energy. And while Cuba is working at lightning speed to expand solar power, the current reality is stark: People still need fuel to cook, to transport food, to operate ambulances, to power hospitals, and to keep ventilators running.
The international community has responded to this escalation in US economic warfare with intensified solidarity. Hundreds of thousands of people around the world have been mobilizing to send aid and condemn the US blockade. In March, Progressive International, CODEPINK, and The People’s Forum launched the Nuestra América Convoy, bringing together over 600 people from 33 countries. We came with millions of dollars’ worth of aid—from urgently needed medical supplies to longer-term solutions like solar panels.
While many of my friends boarded planes to Havana, packing every inch of their luggage with medicine, hygiene products, vitamins, and art supplies, I traveled to Mexico to meet the flotilla crew. We spent four days at sea together—activists, journalists, organizers. Some had helped organize the Gaza Sumud Flotilla; others had taken part in mass protests in solidarity with Palestine.
Our goal was to deliver much-needed aid to the people of Cuba. But just as important was challenging the dominant narrative—that Cuba’s suffering is the result of its own government, rather than decades of cruel US policy.
Even though the boat was full of journalists documenting the trip, their cameras could not fully capture the sense of community among strangers united by a shared mission. I remember being nervous about the cold and the possibility of seasickness, but within minutes, people were offering ginger chews, acupressure bracelets, and rain gear.
Our departure was delayed due to weather, boat repairs, and the logistics of loading the aid. In the meantime, we stayed with supporters in Mexico who couldn’t join the voyage but found other ways to contribute. We shared a send-off dinner at an Egyptian restaurant whose owner had followed the Gaza flotillas. He told us how proud he was to see a flotilla to Cuba leaving from his small town.
On the boat, we shared cooking, dishwashing, and night watch shifts—standard practice in occupations, encampments, and direct actions where resources are limited but creativity and collaboration are abundant. At sea, a simple breakfast of rice, beans, eggs, guacamole, and toast tastes like a feast. We slept under galaxies of stars, woke to sunrises on the horizon, and at sunset made music with whatever we had—a guitar, a bucket drum, water bottles filled with dry beans.
Meanwhile, I stayed connected to those traveling by plane, watching group chats fill with photos of carefully packed bags and urgent questions: Who can fit more supplies? How many solar batteries can we carry on? The coordination was constant, collective, and inspiring.
The blockade severely limits what goods can reach Cuba. While US citizens can still travel there under certain categories, they face restrictions and often risk questioning upon return. But solidarity is not tourism. It is not about swooping in, taking photos, and leaving. It is about building relationships, listening, and committing to ongoing struggle from our home countries.
We had a beautiful reception from the Cuban people when we landed, and then had the opportunity to speak directly with community groups about current conditions.I learned how they overcome so much by placing value in community over the individual.
The US empire is indeed dying, and it is up to us to not just reimagine the better world we need and want, but to actually put that world into practice. Reflecting on my experience, I started thinking—if we can turn flotillas from a force of evil into vessels of hope and solidarity, then what else can we change? What if we built schools around the world instead of sending bombs? What if, like the Cubans, we funded healthcare over warfare and sent doctors to cure people instead of soldiers to kill them?
You don’t have to board a boat with humanitarian supplies to show solidarity. Flotillas are one tactic, but we need a variety and diversity of tactics right now, and always. You can move forward by showing solidarity to your neighbors at home, as well as to our neighbors 90 miles off our shores. Because what we build together, in community—whether through a peace flotilla or local mutual aid—is stronger than anything built through force.
In Iran as in Laos, you cannot claim to negotiate in good faith while destroying civilian life. And you cannot escape the long shadow of toxins and explosives that outlive every justification offered in their name.
April brings back a memory I cannot shake: the 1973 Pii Mai, or Lao New Year, bombing in Laos. This year, that memory unfolds against the backdrop of the US’ war in Iran that is repeating history—killing civilians, destroying homes and infrastructure, and setting the stage for suffering that will last generations. The war in Iran has already claimed over 1,500 civilian lives, including 217 children.
Like the US war in Vietnam, this new war has regional ramifications. In Southeast Asia, the conflict did not stay within Vietnam—it spilled into Laos and Cambodia, devastating communities that had little say in the war itself. Today, the consequences of the war in Iran are already crossing borders. In places like Lebanon, families are being pushed from their homes as violence escalates and instability spreads, echoing the same kind of regional unraveling we saw decades ago.
Once again, we are confronted with the consequences of sidelining diplomacy and the rules-based order.
As a US Air Force veteran, I’ve witnessed firsthand the devastating human cost of bombing strikes, both at the moment and in the decades to come. From December 1966 to December 1968, I was assigned to the 56th Air Commando Wing at air bases in Thailand, where our primary mission was to interdict the flow of personnel and supplies along the “Ho Chi Minh Trail” through Laos. As a 26-year-old newly promoted captain, I was shocked to discover that nearly all of our missions involved flying over Laos, where we dropped over 2.5 million tons of ordnance over nine years—580,000 bombing runs in total.
A new year should bring hope, but when war arrives, it replaces hope with memory—and its shadow has a way of returning, year after year, long after the headlines fade.
Some of those strikes took place during Pii Mai 1973—just as we recently witnessed US bombing during Nowruz, the Persian New Year.
Today, as the United States wages war in Iran while diplomacy is said to continue, I recognize a familiar contradiction. We are told negotiations are ongoing. We are told peace and safety are the goal. Yet bombs continue to fall, and civilians continue to die.
I have seen where that leads.
Even as negotiations to end the conflict moved forward—including the talks that led to the Paris Peace Accords—the bombing did not stop. In April 1973, after those agreements were signed, US aircraft continued striking Laos, justified as leverage—pressure deemed necessary to secure peace.
On April 16, 1973, the last day of the Lao New Year, American B-52 bombers and F-111 fighters struck the village of Tha Vieng, near the Plain of Jars in Xieng Khouang province, after it was reportedly occupied by North Vietnamese forces. US officials described the operation as a response to a “major violation of the ceasefire.”
President Richard Nixon warned Hanoi to comply—or face consequences. Those repercussions included renewed bombing in the neutral country of Laos during what should have been its most festive and peaceful celebration.
That is not diplomacy but destruction wearing the mask of strategy.
I returned to Laos in 2023, decades after the war, and for the first time I was part of the solution. I didn’t see “targets” anymore—I saw what was left behind. I walked through villages where the war never truly ended, where farmers still dig into soil that can explode beneath their hands, and where families continue to lose children long after the last airstrike. Many of the bombs that were dropped failed to detonate on impact, leaving behind a deadly legacy of unexploded ordnance covering about one-third of the country.
In one remote village, I helped detonate two cluster munitions near a home under construction. That family can now live without fear, but countless others cannot. With roughly 10% of the contamination cleared, the war is not past—it is ongoing, just out of sight.
And then there are the poisons—the part of war that doesn’t explode, but seeps.
Toxic exposure and unexploded ordnance do not just end when the fighting stops—they create multigenerational harm for both civilians and those sent to fight. The US Department of Veterans Affairs now recognizes 19 cancers and other serious conditions as linked to Agent Orange exposure, along with more than 20 conditions tied to burn pits and other toxic exposures from the Gulf War and post-9/11 conflicts. As of 2024, 6.5 million veterans or their dependents were receiving $163.1 billion in disability benefits.
Those numbers are evidence that war reaches far beyond the battlefield. The true costs of war are delayed, dispersed, and often denied until they can no longer be ignored.
And still, we repeat the pattern.
We are told that bombing Iran strengthens our negotiating position. That it brings adversaries to the table. These are the same arguments made during Southeast Asia—arguments that left behind unexploded bombs in Laos and dioxins embedded in human bodies for generations.
If I have learned anything, it is this: You cannot bomb your way to peace. You cannot claim to negotiate in good faith while destroying civilian life. And you cannot escape the long shadow of toxins and explosives that outlive every justification offered in their name.
For me, Laos is not just a part of my history. It is a warning written into the Earth and into the bodies of those still living with what was done there.
I remember what Pii Mai was meant to be—joyful, cleansing, a turning of the page. We are now bombing through another New Year, just as we did in 1973. Today it is Nowruz. Different place, same justification, same consequences. A new year should bring hope, but when war arrives, it replaces hope with memory—and its shadow has a way of returning, year after year, long after the headlines fade.
The question is whether we are willing to listen—or, are we destined to relive it.