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THE SAGA OF UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER | Ge0ped

The Trump X post reminded me of a 10th-century Viking fishing village. Back then, what we now know as Copenhagen was just that, a cluster of wooden boats and determined men casting nets into the sea. Over time, that humble village rose meteorically to become the capital of Denmark. Its journey was remarkable, but fate had something darker in store during the 20th century. Nazi Germany, under Hitler, occupied Denmark including Copenhagen.


That same Copenhagen later played host to a critical moment in global history when Franklin D. Roosevelt demanded the 'Unconditional Surrender' of Germany in the final phases of World War II. There’s something deeply human about wanting to offer compromise when a war is nearly won. Victory tempts mercy. The belief that peace can be negotiated through goodwill and understanding is noble but, as history has shown, often naïve. Roosevelt understood this too well. The post-World War I settlement, shaped by ambiguity and humiliation, left Germany with festering wounds.


That unfinished peace laid the psychological and political foundation for Hitler’s rise. So in 1945, Roosevelt chose to draw a final line. No deals, no halfway arrangements, no conditional peace. Only unconditional surrender. His aim was not cruelty but clarity, to ensure that the war ended with no room for future conflict to take root. Fast forward to today, Trump’s tweet calling for the unconditional surrender of Iran seems like a remake of Roosevelt’s bold strategy. But instead of declaring it at an international conference with the weight of global consensus, he chose to post it on X. This wasn't a tactical misstep, rather it reveals something deeper. For Trump, visibility and validation matter more than diplomacy.


Why speak at a G7 summit when a tweet can garner millions of views instantly? But diplomacy isn't a popularity contest. It is a game of strategy, memory, and legitimacy. To assess whether Trump’s approach can replicate Roosevelt’s success, we must revisit the unique historical and psychological state of Germany in the 20th century. Germany’s national identity went through three radical transformations within 75 years. From Bismarck’s industrial monarchy to the short-lived Weimar Republic, then to the Nazi totalitarian state under Hitler. In 1918, the Kaiser's fall triggered a Republican revolution. The Republic was then broken by inflation, resentment, and external constraints imposed by the Treaty of Versailles.


Hitler’s regime capitalised on that instability, offering an illusion of national pride and order. When that order collapsed in 1945, Germany was not just defeated militarily but shattered internally. It was then divided into four zones, each governed by a separate Allied power. That division was not only geographic, it reflected a deeper vacuum in Germany’s identity. This vacuum allowed for something new. Germany, after its defeat, could be integrated into a Western framework. It lacked a fixed civilisational anchor and had no ancient uninterrupted identity that resisted external redefinition. In the absence of a clear sense of self, Germany was ready to accept a new Western identity under American leadership. And it worked, because the German people, battered and bewildered, were seeking stability more than sovereignty. Now consider Iran. Iran is no post-imperial construct shaped by colonial mapmakers.


Look at a map of the Middle East and you will find many nations formed by straight lines, drawn after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. Iran stands apart. It is one of the world’s oldest continuous civilisations, predating even the Islamic conquest. It is not a nation that has simply existed for a few decades. It has endured for millennia. That matters immensely. Its people carry with them not just a national identity but a civilisational one. This identity is not one that disappears with the fall of a regime. It does not collapse like a house of cards when foreign pressure mounts. Even the events of the 20th century in Iran reaffirmed, rather than diluted, this identity.


The 1953 CIA-led coup against Prime Minister Mossadegh, the Shah’s Western-backed autocracy, and the 1979 Islamic Revolution are not just political episodes. They are stories deeply woven into the Iranian psyche. They have hardened the national memory against foreign influence. Regime opponents may dislike the current clerical system, but they are not pining for American intervention. Most of them are proud Iranians first. They do not want Western models imposed upon them. This is what Trump’s tweet fails to grasp. Roosevelt’s demand for Germany’s surrender came with legitimacy, backed by a global war, a multilateral alliance, and the exhaustion of a people willing to start anew.


Trump’s demand, made alone and on social media, carries none of that. It is a broadcast rather than a dialogue, a performance rather than a policy. The idea that such a tactic will force Iran to submit and realign with the West mirrors a dangerous misunderstanding of history. Germany could be rebuilt with American ideals because it lacked a rooted resistance to those ideals. Iran, by contrast, is built on its own. Its historical memory is not one of submission but of survival. From the Achaemenids to the Safavids to the present day, Iran has shaped its sense of self independently. Even the Islamic Republic, for all its flaws, is rooted in an indigenous revolutionary tradition. Attempts to transform Iran through external force or pressure are unlikely to work because they ignore the strength and depth of its identity. There is also a lesson here about the nature of communication.


Roosevelt’s message at Copenhagen was delivered in the context of formal diplomacy. It had the support of institutions, leaders, and a war-weary global population. Trump’s message, reduced to characters on a screen, lacks that institutional backing. He chose visibility over substance, forgetting that the world stage is not the same as a campaign rally. The global order does not change with tweets. In the end, peace requires more than demands. It requires understanding. Understanding of a people’s history, pride, and pain.


Germany was exhausted and confused. Iran is embattled but conscious. It is not a country that can be bent. It is a civilisation that will push back. If we assume that Iran will behave like Germany did after World War II, we will once again misread the map of history and the weight of identity. Trump may have hoped that his post would become a historic statement like Roosevelt’s in 1945. But history cannot be repeated by mimicry, especially not on social media. Roosevelt closed one of the bloodiest chapters of the 20th century. Trump may have only added noise to an already fragile moment. The path to peace with Iran, if it exists, will not be through threats or tweets. It will be through respect, patience, and the recognition that ancient civilisations are not easily rewritten with just a premium subscription to X.

 
 
 

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