He loves to show off his muscles and loudly proclaims himself the strongest man in the world. No one can defeat him—he stands in a league of his own.
Then he steps into the ring and promises the audience a quick technical knockout. But the days pass, and nothing happens. The bout has now dragged on for nearly three weeks, and the muscleman is crying out for help.
Donald Trump’s plea over the weekend spread across the world at lightning speed, but no helping hands came back. Britain’s Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, says the UK does not wish to be drawn into a wider war in Iran. Germany says the same: “This is not our war.” France maintains a significant naval presence in the region, yet President Emmanuel Macron stresses that its measures are defensive and that France will not engage in combat operations.
Trump has also appealed to China. Do as I say, or I will cancel my visit to Beijing at the end of March, threatens the overgrown child in the White House. But China refuses. With stoic calm, Chinese leaders signal that they have no interest in becoming entangled in a war started by Trump. For now, China has sufficient oil thanks to its large strategic reserves. Moreover, according to Chinese sources, preparations for the Trump–Xi summit have been marked by American disarray from start to finish.
The Strait of Hormuz is only 39 kilometers wide. Early in the war, Trump claimed it would be easy to keep it open. The formidable U.S. Navy could simply escort oil tankers safely through the strait. But the plan failed because it was too risky. Within hours, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard could deploy thousands of mines, intensify coastal bombardment, and activate its submarines—small, elusive, and highly dangerous.
More than 20 percent of the world’s oil passes through the strait. Under normal conditions, this means dozens of tankers daily, and more than a hundred vessels in total. Escorting all of them would require a vast number of naval vessels and aircraft. Convoys could also make matters more explosive: if Iran attacks even a single ship in an escort, hostilities could escalate rapidly.
Shipping lanes run through narrow corridors—one for incoming traffic, one for outgoing—each only three kilometers wide, with an equally narrow buffer zone in between. This makes oil tankers especially vulnerable to attack.
It is therefore easy to understand why shipowners are cautious. All tankers are insured, but in conflict zones, companies must purchase separate war-risk insurance. As tensions rise, premiums surge dramatically. A modern VLCC supertanker may be worth $120 million. With premiums now at 0.5 to 1 percent of the vessel’s value, each passage can cost between $600,000 and $1.2 million.
If insurers judge the risk too high, they may refuse coverage altogether. In practice, Hormuz can thus be “closed” by the insurance market. During the Gulf War in the mid-1980s, premiums rose so sharply that many ships stopped sailing. The real bottleneck in the strait is therefore not only military risk, but also Lloyd’s of London and other insurers.
As things stand, the United States must largely fight this war alone. Trump triggered it—and he must find a way out.
If Trump chooses to reopen Hormuz by force, the U.S. must defend itself against Iranian mines, submarines, and coastal missile systems. Iran has developed several anti-ship missiles, one with a range of 300 kilometers, capable of covering large parts of the Persian Gulf. The greatest challenge for the U.S. is that these systems are mobile and can be moved by truck—dispersed along the coastline, hidden in tunnels and mountains.
This means that even with superior naval power, the U.S. would also need to control the coastline to ensure full security. But which American soldier is eager to land in Iran and become the first to fight in a large and dangerous ground war?
All signs suggest that Donald Trump may have to give up golf entirely for the next two weeks. The war against the Iranian ayatollahs is entering a critical phase, while challenges are mounting at home. Before the war began, the national average gasoline price stood at $2.90 per gallon. It has now risen to $3.70. That matters—because even though the U.S. imports only 8–10 percent of its crude oil from the Middle East, prices are set on a global market.
When war or instability threatens, prices rise for everyone. Trump’s voters do not like this; they remember his campaign promise to halve gasoline prices.
Nor do the major economies of Asia—or the rest of the world—wish to be drawn into a war with unclear objectives and no defined end. Around 40–45 percent of China’s oil imports pass through Hormuz. For South Korea and Japan, the figures are 70 and 90 percent respectively—and for India, 65 percent. Across South and East Asia, preparations are now underway for tougher times ahead.
Yet they still refuse to support Trump—partly because they have more cautious leadership, and partly because countries such as China and Japan possess substantial strategic oil reserves. Most have enough to cover several months of consumption. The war nonetheless reminds them of the importance of building such reserves in peacetime.
Given the gravity of the situation, it is hardly surprising that Trump has cancelled his visit to China, scheduled for March 31 to April 2. In truth, he had little to gain. President Xi Jinping has consistently warned the United States against provoking war with Iran. On other issues, such as trade and the economy, the two sides remain far apart. Trump’s sudden tariff hikes last year created lasting resentment in Beijing, which still shapes relations today.
China also complains that the United States has not taken preparations for the visit seriously. The lack of planning and coordination clearly reflects the prevailing state of the White House, where much is ad hoc and decisions are made from day to day. Trump often relies on his imagined personal charm to achieve results. This time, he will need something else.
