Why I Have Come to Support Nuclear Deterrence Today

Reconsidering a Position After More Than Two Decades

Over the past several decades, I have written repeatedly about Iran’s nuclear program, the danger of war, the arms race, regional security, and nuclear weapons. Anyone who places my writings from the early 2000s alongside what I write today will encounter two positions that appear, at first glance, to contradict one another. In the past, I explicitly opposed Iran acquiring nuclear weapons. I believed that the country’s security could be ensured not through nuclear arms, but through reducing tensions, negotiations, regional security arrangements, international law, and the pursuit of a world free of weapons of mass destruction.

In 2005, I wrote explicitly:

“Our country has no need for nuclear weapons, and its security cannot be guaranteed through the acquisition of atomic weapons and weapons of mass destruction—not today, nor at any time in the near or distant future.”

I no longer hold that view.

But this change in my position is not the result of any newfound attraction to nuclear weapons, acceptance of nuclear war, or indifference to their catastrophic consequences. I am the same person who, years ago, wrote and translated works about Hiroshima and Nagasaki, nuclear winter, radioactive contamination, the danger of accidental nuclear war, and the possibility of the destruction of a significant part of human civilization. My concern about the inhumane nature of nuclear weapons has not changed. What has changed is my assessment of the world in which we live and of the means capable of guaranteeing a country’s security in such a world.

To understand this change in perspective, we must consider a fundamental factor that perhaps did not receive sufficient emphasis in my earlier writings: the structure of global power has changed.

Much of my generation’s political formation took place in a world that, despite all its dangers and violence, possessed a certain international balance of power. During the Cold War, two major nuclear powers—the United States and the Soviet Union—confronted one another. This balance was extraordinarily dangerous and repeatedly brought the world to the brink of nuclear catastrophe. Yet at the same time, it imposed real constraints on the behavior of the great powers.

Neither superpower could act without calculating the likely response of the other. Every intervention, every war, and every major geopolitical change had to be assessed within the framework of a broader balance of power. Many countries, even without independent nuclear arsenals of their own, lived directly or indirectly within this structure of strategic balance.

For this reason, I too believed at the time—and for many years afterward—that it would gradually become possible to build a world in which countries could ensure their security without nuclear weapons and even without resorting to war. I believed that the United Nations, the Security Council, international treaties, global public opinion, the peace movement, and multilateral agreements could gradually replace the logic of raw power.

But the end of the Cold War set the world on a different course.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the bipolar global balance disappeared, and for a time the United States became the unrivaled power in the international system. From that point onward, an idea gradually gained strength within American security and strategic thinking: the emergence of a new peer competitor—a power capable of someday playing a role comparable to that of the Soviet Union—should not be allowed.

This logic was not confined to preventing the rise of a rival superpower. During the same period, the concept of “rogue states” acquired a special place in American political and security discourse. Countries that refused to accept Washington’s preferred order increasingly came to be treated not as states possessing independent interests and rights, but as security problems to be contained, weakened, or, in some cases, subjected to political transformation.

The world thus entered a different phase.

The Iraq War was, for me, one of the decisive turning points in reconsidering my earlier assumptions. A country was invaded on the claim that it possessed weapons of mass destruction—a claim that was later shown to have had no factual basis. The structure of a state was shattered, hundreds of thousands of people became victims, and an entire society was plunged into years of violence, insecurity, and disintegration.

Before Iraq, Afghanistan had been invaded. Then came Libya—a country that had abandoned its weapons-of-mass-destruction programs and sought normalization with the West, only to see its government collapse several years later following foreign military intervention, plunging the country into a crisis whose consequences endured for years.

Syria, too, became the arena of civil war, competition among regional powers, and foreign intervention.

These experiences gradually forced me to confront a serious question:

If international law and political agreements cannot prevent the destruction of a country, what ultimately guarantees the security of a nation?

During the same period, Israel’s behavior was increasingly shaped by this transformation in the global balance of power. Israel possesses overwhelming military superiority, an undeclared nuclear capability, and the strategic backing of the United States. Over time, it acquired considerably greater freedom of military action throughout the region.

The Gaza war following October 7 is perhaps one of the most shocking examples of this transformation. In Gaza’s extremely small and densely populated territory, enormous levels of bombardment and destruction occurred, wiping out a large portion of urban infrastructure and ordinary civilian life. Regardless of any numerical comparison with Hiroshima and Nagasaki, witnessing destruction on this scale in the twenty-first century—and witnessing the inability of international institutions to stop it—raises a fundamental question for me: if international law and institutions cannot stop a devastating war at the very moment when they are needed most, what must a country rely upon to prevent itself from ever being placed in such a position?

For Iran, this question has become far more urgent.

For years, I believed that the danger of war against Iran could be eliminated through negotiation, agreements, mutual commitments, and international mechanisms. In my earlier writings, I repeatedly argued that if continuing part of the country’s nuclear program provided a pretext for war, compromise should be chosen in order to prevent war and protect Iran.

But the experience of recent years has confronted me with a question to which I once gave a different answer:

If retreat, negotiation, and agreement still cannot guarantee that the stronger party will refrain from using military force in the future, then what will prevent war?

Today’s world is no longer the world of Cold War balance.

Russia remains a major military and nuclear power, and China has become one of the world’s greatest economic and military powers. A return toward some form of multipolarity is also clearly visible. Yet for many countries, China and Russia do not currently provide the kind of strategic balancing role or security umbrella that the Soviet Union once provided within the old bipolar order.

As a result, many countries effectively live in a world characterized by a profound asymmetry between great powers on one side and states lacking credible security guarantees on the other.

This is the point at which my view gradually began to change.

I once believed that the world was moving toward an order in which law would replace force. Today, with far greater regret than before, I have come to understand that law without the power to enforce it may, at the moment of crisis, remain nothing more than words on paper.

An agreement provides security only so long as violating it carries a substantial cost for the other side.

A resolution is effective only when there is power to enforce it.

A treaty constitutes a security guarantee only when the other party knows that violating it will bring real consequences.

And peace cannot be sustained merely by declaring a desire for peace. Peace becomes more durable when neither side believes that it can impose its will upon the other through war at an acceptable cost.

This is precisely why I now view nuclear deterrence differently than I did in the past.

I still abhor nuclear weapons. I still hope for a world without them. I still believe that if universal, mutual, verifiable disarmament backed by genuine enforcement mechanisms became possible, abandoning these weapons would be the best option for Iran and for humanity as a whole.

But I can no longer base Iran’s security on the world I wish existed.

Decisions about Iran’s security must be made in the world that actually exists.

And the world that exists is one in which old balances have collapsed, international rules have repeatedly retreated before military power, war and regime change remain instruments of foreign policy, and no foreign power offers a permanent and unconditional guarantee of Iran’s security and territorial integrity.

This is why my question has changed from the one I asked two decades ago.

My primary question is no longer:

Are nuclear weapons horrific and inhumane?

My answer remains yes.

The question I ask today is:

In a world without an enforceable system of collective security, what can deter a vastly more powerful adversary from launching a war that threatens Iran’s existence, territorial integrity, and vital infrastructure?

It is my answer to this question that has changed.

What has changed is my understanding of the conditions capable of preventing military power from being used against a country.

What Assumption Was My Previous Position Based On?

My earlier writings rested on one fundamental assumption: I believed that national security could be ensured through a combination of political and legal mechanisms—negotiation, international agreements, the United Nations, the Security Council, the International Atomic Energy Agency, global public opinion, and the establishment of a nuclear-weapons-free regional order.

In a 2004 article, I explicitly argued that the international community could resolve disputes peacefully by respecting international law and recognizing the United Nations as the highest global authority.

From that perspective, it was logical for me to conclude that Iran should not pursue nuclear weapons. I even believed that if continued uranium enrichment increased the risk of military attack, enrichment should temporarily be suspended in order to protect the country’s scientific, industrial, and nuclear facilities from destruction.

In 2007, my central concern remained the prevention of war. I argued that even if a majority of the population supported the nuclear program, no policy that led the country toward war and the destruction of its infrastructure could be justified.

My position at the time therefore arose from a very clear principle:

Preserving the country is more important than any nuclear program.

That principle remains valid for me today.

But the question now is this: what should be done if abandoning or restricting a defensive capability still cannot protect the country from attack?

The Seeds of My Changed View Were Already Present in My Earlier Writings

When I reread my older writings today, I realize that even while opposing nuclear weapons, I had already identified an issue that would later become central to my change of position.

In 2011, I wrote:

“Countries generally seek nuclear weapons when they feel insecure. They must be given sufficient assurance that neither they nor their sovereignty are threatened by any foreign power, and that they therefore have no need for nuclear weapons.”

Today, I believe this sentence contains the key to understanding the entire issue.

If a country possesses genuine security assurances, the argument against nuclear weapons is extremely powerful.

But what if no such assurance exists?

What if a country is constantly threatened with military attack?

What if major military powers declare that, if necessary, they will bomb that country’s vital facilities?

What if political agreements cannot prevent an attack?

What if resolutions, treaties, and international institutions lack sufficient enforcement power?

Under such conditions, the choice is no longer between “peace” and “the nuclear bomb.”

It becomes a choice between effective deterrence and permanent vulnerability to powers possessing overwhelming military superiority.

What Was My Main Mistake?

My mistake in the past was less a moral one than an error in assessing the structure of global power.

I was overly optimistic about the possibility of an international order based on law, institutions, and collective guarantees.

The fundamental problem is that international law, unlike domestic law, lacks an independent and universal enforcement authority.

Within a country, law has meaning because institutions exist to enforce it: the police, the courts, and public authority.

No comparable independent authority exists in the international system.

The great powers not only play a major role in defining the rules of that system; in some cases, they themselves decide whether those rules will be enforced.

This is where the gap between a “legal guarantee” and a “security guarantee” becomes apparent.

A resolution can recognize a right, but it cannot necessarily stop a missile or a bomb.

An agreement can establish obligations, but if the stronger party regards the cost of violating those obligations as negligible, that same agreement can be broken.

In my more recent writing, I have therefore reached the conclusion that in an international environment lacking effective enforcement power, a country’s security cannot depend solely upon the commitments of others.

Deterrence Is Not the Same as Warmongering

One of the most important reasons for my previous opposition to nuclear weapons was that I viewed them primarily as “weapons of mass destruction.”

That description remains entirely accurate.

What I had paid less attention to, however, was the distinction between the use of nuclear weapons and their deterrent function.

The logic of deterrence is built precisely upon not using these weapons.

Its purpose is not to conquer another country, occupy territory, alter borders, or achieve victory on the battlefield.

Its purpose is to create circumstances in which an adversary, before launching a war, concludes that the cost of attacking will exceed any conceivable benefit.

In my recent writing, I have defined the concept this way:

The primary purpose of a nuclear weapon is not to use it; its purpose is to prevent war or to prevent an attack that threatens the existence of the country. Its logic is to make war an unacceptable option in the rational calculations of a potential aggressor.

This distinction has become decisive for me.

I do not support “nuclear war” today.

I support creating conditions that reduce the likelihood of war.

The Apparent Contradiction Between Pacifism and Deterrence

One might ask how someone who has spent years writing against war and nuclear weapons can now defend nuclear deterrence.

My answer is that the underlying motivation has not changed.

In the past, I opposed nuclear weapons because I believed that their absence reduced the likelihood of war.

Today, I have come to support nuclear deterrence because I believe that, under present conditions, the absence of an ultimate deterrent may increase the likelihood of war.

The central objective therefore remains the prevention of war.

What has changed is the means I consider effective in achieving that objective.

What Does Historical Experience Tell Us?

In deterrence theory, simply possessing a weapon is not enough. Deterrence exists when the adversary believes that a military attack cannot completely eliminate the targeted country’s ability to respond.

In my 2026 writing, I identified three components of deterrence: genuine capability, the credibility of the defensive threat, and the survivability of retaliatory capability after a first strike.

This logic has repeatedly manifested itself in relations among nuclear powers.

At the height of the Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union were ideological and geopolitical enemies, yet both understood that direct war could lead to mutual destruction.

India and Pakistan have profound historical and territorial disputes, but the existence of nuclear capabilities on both sides of the border has dramatically increased the potential cost of an existential war.

North Korea, too, has justified its nuclear program primarily through the logic of preventing foreign attack and regime change. I have cited these examples in my recent writings as illustrations of the deterrent function of nuclear weapons.

None of these cases proves that nuclear weapons make the world safe. Such a claim would be false.

They do, however, demonstrate that there is an important difference between a vulnerable power and a power capable of deterrence.

Iran, Israel, and the Region’s Nuclear Imbalance

Another important issue that appeared even in my earlier writings was Israel’s nuclear monopoly in the region.

Years ago, I wrote that Iran and the Iranian people should not be forced to bear the cost of preserving Israel’s nuclear monopoly and military hegemony in the region by being deprived of their own scientific and technological capabilities. Even then, I argued that Israel’s concern was not simply the possibility of an Iranian nuclear attack; the more important issue was the emergence of a power capable of challenging Israel’s military monopoly.

Thus, even in my earlier writings, the problem of an imbalance of power was present.

At the time, however, my solution was a nuclear-weapons-free Middle East.

From an ethical and aspirational standpoint, that remains the best solution.

If Israel, Iran, Pakistan, and all regional and global powers could eliminate their nuclear weapons under a reliable, verifiable, and enforceable system, I would unquestionably prefer such a world.

But politics cannot be based solely on the world we wish existed.

We must also confront the world as it is.

When one side possesses nuclear capability and is also backed by a major nuclear power, while the other side has no reliable security guarantee, demanding unilateral disarmament—or demanding that the weaker party remain vulnerable—effectively preserves the existing imbalance of power.

Would Nuclear Deterrence Solve All of Iran’s Problems?

Certainly not.

No weapon can substitute for a rational foreign policy, a strong economy, political legitimacy, national cohesion, good relations with neighboring countries, and active diplomacy.

A weak country suffering from internal crises does not become powerful simply by possessing a bomb.

Nor can nuclear weapons prevent every form of warfare, sabotage, assassination, sanctions, or limited conflict.

Claiming otherwise would not constitute a serious defense of deterrence; it would be an exaggeration.

Nuclear deterrence becomes decisive in only one domain:

preventing a war that threatens the country’s existence, territorial integrity, or vital infrastructure.

At that level, a potential aggressor must be convinced that a rapid and low-cost victory is impossible.

The Danger of an Arms Race

One serious argument against a nuclear-armed Iran is that Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Egypt, or other regional states might follow the same path.

This danger cannot be ignored.

But my response is that a regional arms race already exists in various forms.

Moreover, one country acquiring nuclear capability does not necessarily mean that all its neighbors will immediately do the same. Countries may instead seek security guarantees or a “nuclear umbrella” from allied powers. I also discussed this possibility in my 2026 writing.

The danger must therefore be managed, but it cannot, by itself, answer the question of Iran’s security.

Is This Change of Position a Contradiction?

I do not consider it a contradiction.

Changing one’s position when realities and one’s assessment of them have changed is a natural part of political thought.

Insisting upon a position that new evidence and experience have called into question is not intellectual consistency; it is intellectual rigidity.

I have no desire to deny my earlier writings.

On the contrary, they are part of my intellectual journey.

Concern about war, defending the Iranian people, opposition to foreign aggression, and the defense of the country’s independence and territorial integrity were central to those writings.

Those same concerns remain decisive for me today.

But I have now reached the conclusion that peace is not merely the product of good intentions; peace also requires a balance of power.

From the Ideal of Disarmament to Realistic Deterrence

The hope for a world without nuclear weapons remains, for me, a humane and worthy aspiration.

No rational human being can feel secure in a world where thousands of bombs capable of destroying human civilization remain ready for use.

But we must distinguish between a political ideal and a national security strategy.

If all the world’s nuclear powers were willing to undertake complete, mutual, verifiable disarmament backed by enforceable guarantees, Iran would have no need for nuclear weapons.

But until such a world exists, no country can reasonably be asked to base its security and survival upon the promises of others.

I wrote in the past that countries pursue nuclear weapons when they feel insecure, and that the way to prevent proliferation is to provide credible security guarantees.

Today my question is very simple:

Where is that credible security guarantee for Iran?

If no such guarantee exists; if international institutions cannot prevent aggression; if political agreements can be violated; if military powers can launch attacks without facing an unacceptable cost, then a country is compelled to possess its own means of deterrence.

Conclusion

I am still horrified by nuclear war.

I still believe that the use of these weapons could produce one of the greatest catastrophes in human history.

I still regard a world free of nuclear weapons as far safer than the world in which we live today.

But I now distinguish between nuclear weapons as instruments of war and nuclear capability as an instrument for preventing war.

This is where my position has changed.

In the past, I believed that Iran’s security could be ensured through international law, negotiations, agreements, and political guarantees. For that reason, I regarded the acquisition of nuclear weapons as not only unnecessary, but as something that could itself increase the danger of war.

Today, I believe these mechanisms are effective only when they are backed by the power necessary to guarantee compliance.

An agreement without enforcement is not security.

A resolution without the ability to prevent aggression is not deterrence.

Expressions of solidarity after a country has been devastated are no substitute for security.

Deterrence becomes real when the other side knows, before beginning a war, that it cannot launch that war without paying an unacceptable price.

For this reason, after more than two decades of opposing nuclear weapons, I have reached the conclusion that, under the present structure of global power—and until a reliable system capable of guaranteeing collective security comes into existence—Iran requires a credible ultimate deterrent to prevent an existential war.

I do not want the bomb for war.

If I now defend nuclear deterrence, it is precisely because I do not want Iran once again to become a battlefield for those who believe they can decide the fate of our country without paying an unbearable price.

My ideal has not changed: peace, independence, and the preservation of Iran.

What has changed is my understanding of the conditions necessary to protect that ideal.

Preserving our beloved Iran is a responsibility shared by us all.

Reza Fani Yazdi
September 3, 2026 — 12 Shahrivar 1405