Developing an Understanding of Iran’s Nuclear Ambitions

Putting aside for the moment the unanswered question of whether Iran intends to militarize the nuclear capability that it appears likely to acquire any time soon, what exactly is driving Iran’s nuclear ambition?

It is not the place of this blog to document the turbulence in Persia from the demise of the Safavid Dynasty in 1792 through to the Anglo-American Coup of 1953, but suffice to say it is a history that is marked by outside interference and conspiratorial exploitation. Lets not forget that the 1979 revolution was fuelled by a deep-seated and popular suspicion of other powers, allied to the belief that the Shah was influenced by successive American administrations.

While we in the West tend to have a short historical memory when dealing with Iran, Iranians have a long and painful historical memory which continues to frame its world view. The quest for political independence allied to a suspicion of other powers has fuelled not only a virulent Anti-Americanism, but also an endless quest for security. The pursuit of nuclear weapons provides the ultimate guarantee against foreign interference. The removal of Gaddafi last year can only have reinforced that view.  

The need for protection is equally informed by regional considerations. The traumas of the Iran-Iraq war, which saw the use of chemical and biological agents, continues to be debated in Iran’s universities, coffee shops, and papers. Iranians believe that such weapons are decisive and that if it is to escape similar attacks in the future then it needs a significant means of retaliation. It is no-coincidence that the decision to reactive Iran’s nuclear programme was taken following the end of the Iran-Iraq war. There is a ‘never again’ logic here that needs to be recognised.

Although the 2003 Gulf War neutralised the threat posed by Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, the manner of his departure allied to ongoing concerns about Iraq’s long-term development continues to unsettle Iran. The manner of US withdraw from Iraq and the prospect of US withdraw from Afghanistan offers some relief, but the overall turbulence of the last decade has done little to allay Iran’s anxiety of being encircled.

What then are we to make about Iran’s attitudes to Israel? Tehran remains opposed to the peace process and continues to support anti-Israeli terrorist organisations like Hezbollah and Hamas. There is an argument, however, that Iran’s portrayal of Israel as a threat to its security is primarily motivated by domestic considerations.

Despite heated political rhetoric by senior religious clerics that reveals ideological differences between Iran and Israel, both countries have been careful in the past to control their low intensity conflict. Israel’s continued existence is certainly an ideological affront to many Iranians, but it is not an existential threat that demands the production of nuclear weapons.

As important as any threat posed by Israel is the perceived Western hypocrisy in allowing Israel a nuclear arsenal while denying Iran a similar capability. This has fuelled a feeling of victimization that has been aggravated by developments in Pakistan and India.

The lack of any sanction following the May 1998 testing, allied toPakistan’s emergence from the cold following 9/11, leads many Iranians to argue that if Pakistan can earn international and regional deference from its nuclear capability, then Iran must follow suit.

Two points in this debate need highlighting. First, there is the common held view that the Non Proliferation Treaty is overtly restrictive and that its implementation has been far from balanced. Second, there is a cultural dimension which grates at the very thought of a country so inferior and backward as Pakistan possessing such advanced weaponry. Iran’s nuclear programme is as much about national prestige and regional standing as strategic interest.

A few years back Nasser Hadian, a scholar at the Nixon Centre, seemed to capture much of what appears missing from current debates. Hadian’s analysis continues to be relevant today. He writes:

Iran’s anarchical regional environment has all the ingredients of a strategic nightmare: hostile neighbours, a lack of great power alliances, a 25 year face off with the greatest superpower in history, living in a war infested region, contending with ethno-territorial disputes on its borders, competing with a dominant Wahhabi trans-regional movement that theologically and politically despises Iran and coping with nearby nuclear powers (Pakistan, India and Israel). In many ways, Iran is located in the middle of the uncontrollable centre that has been created by post-Cold War and post 9-11 world politics.

Understanding what drives Iran’s nuclear ambition is of crucial importance if the international community is to develop policies that might resolve the current impasse. All too often we portray Iran’s nuclear program as irrational and ideologically driven. Such analysis is misguided and ill-informed and merely reflects our own prejudices and irrationality regarding the Muslim world in general and Iran in particular.

Understanding that Iran’s actions and behaviour are rational, or at the very least not entirely irrational, should help in thinking through whether a nuclear armed Iran poses an existential threat to Israel and whether the conventional doctrines of nuclear deterrence and containment might have any traction in the context of the Middle East.

None of this is to say that the international community is wrong in trying to prevent Iran from realising its nuclear ambitions, that would be a stupid position to hold, but it does suggest that we need to be a little clearer than we have been to date in our public reasoning. It also raises the question of whether there are further steps that can be taken to address some of the security concerns that Iran holds. Such a strategy might not work, but given the current dangerous impasse it is surely worth trying.  Isn’t it?

Taking a More Sympathetic Look at Iran’s Nuclear Ambitions

Every day carries yet further news about Iran’s nuclear programme and the international effort to prevent Iran crossing the nuclear threshold. If news reports are to be believed – and we know they rarely should be – we are slowly but surely drifting into a military conflict with Iran.

Much of the accompanying political analysis appears to fall into one of three inter-related categories. First, when might Iran cross this threshold? Second, what would be the regional impact of such a development? Third, what would be the consequences of taking pre-emptive military action to thwart Iran’s nuclear ambitions? These are all important questions, but they are essentially second order questions.

It’s regrettable that little consideration has so far been given to the a priori question of why Iran wants a nuclear weapons programme. Where this issue is addressed it is usually done so in a cack-handed way that paints Iran as a demonic theocratic state intent on wiping Israel from the face of the earth as it pursues its relentless quest for regional and global domination.

Exploring Iran’s motives is important ethically and politically. If ethics is an exercise in sympathy, then trying to see the world through Iranians eyes might help in understanding how rational an actor Iran is. Are there certain non-punitive measures that can be taken to address whatever is driving Iran’s behaviour? Any conclusion we reach as to Iran’s rationality will obviously impact on whether and in what way it might be possible to live with a nuclear Iran.

At another level analysing what drives Iran’s nuclear ambitions might help to better answer the much overlooked question of why the West fear’s Iran’s nuclear ambitions. If, lets assume for a moment, Iran’s nuclear programme is driven by a need to develop a credible deterrence posture against a range of threats, then questions will naturally arise as to whether our own fears are rational or based on historical prejudice and political misunderstanding.

All of this leads me to question whether by better understanding what drives Iran’s nuclear programme we might be better placed to scrutinise the efficacy of our own response? This is a question I’m likely
to return to over the next few weeks, so if you have any thoughts do let me know.

Greece and its Anti German Sentiment

A pilgrimage to the Holy Land, followed by a series of meetings in Brussels and a week of General Synod have all contributed to a packed work agenda that has allowed little time for blogging.

Today’s edition of the The Times explores how swinging budget cuts in Greece have provoked a surge in anti-German sentiment reviving memories of the Second World War. This anti-German sentiment should not be dismissed as being representative of a minority radical fringe.

During my recent visit to Brussels, one of my Greek friends, who is well-educated and typically middle class, stunned me into silence when she complained that her country’s current travails show that Germans are predisposed to hate the Greeks.

At the moment politicians don’t appear to be tapping this sentiment for their own electoral fortune, but with Greece’s coalition government struggling to hold itself together, let alone the country, this could change all too quickly if and when Greece goes to the polls.

None of this is to say that Greece shouldn’t introduce structural reforms to its economy or cut its bloated public sector, but Europe’s leaders need to recognise that the £130 billion bailout is not a generous act of solidarity it is just more austerity. Just as Greece needs to rebalance its economy so too does Europe need to rebalance its rescue package for Greece.

The Reluctant Pilgrim – The Journey from Bethlehem to Jerusalem

My last blog explored how walking in the footsteps of Jesus can deepen one’s spirituality while at the same time equipping one with the tools to encounter today’s reality. This particular blog continues this reluctant pilgrim’s journey south from Jericho to Bethlehem and then onto Jerusalem. 

Having been stilled by the desert like beauty of Jericho, Jerusalem’s urban sprawl and Bethlehem’s enclaved chaos shocks the senses. Holding together the spiritual journey while also negotiating the present reality comes under increasing strain.

To visit Bethlehem and then Jerusalem is to be torn from the birth place of Jesus to the site of his betrayal and violent death. Grappling with the question of why Jesus’ death occurred in the way that it did, while navigating security check points isn’t easy. 

Knowing that Jerusalem at the time of the Passover would have been equally as mad only makes me think that Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem was either ill-timed or perfectly and intentionally choreographed to achieve maximum impact.

With all this leaving me a little uncomfortable, I find more secure and familiar territory by visiting a couple of social welfare projects in Bethlehem part financed by the Friends of the Holy Land. The Friends are the guardians of a fund that the Archbishop of Canterbury launched in July of last year to support the living witness of Christians in the Holy Land.

Both St Martha’s House, a social day centre for elderly women, and the School of Joy for Slow Learners, a school for children with learning disabilities, testify to the Church’s ability to act as an architect of resilience even in the most fragile of places. They are examples of the Christian virtues of love, faith and hope lived out in action.  

Many of the threads of this reluctant pilgrim’s journey come together when walking the Stations of the Cross in Jerusalem’s Old City. Walking the Via Dolorosa is to bridge the past and the present with the promise of the empty tomb.

A Palestinian Christian in Bethlehem remarked that even though he can’t walk the Stations of the Cross in Jerusalem’s Old City, each day he walks a Via Dolorosa of ritual checkpoint humiliation and hostility without growing weary or losing heart. The promise of the empty tomb remains powerfully relevant today. 

If this reluctant pilgrim has learnt anything over the last few days it is that holiness is not about being other than and separate from the world, it means being at the centre of things but reassured in the knowledge that whatever the challenges and stumbles one isn’t travelling alone.

Preliminary Reflections of a Reluctant Pilgrim

In an earlier blog I questioned whether it is possible to hold together a journey though the historical landscape of Jesus and its 21st Century reality?

Since arriving in Tel Aviv on Friday, this reluctant pilgrim has visited a number of religious sites associated with Jesus’ early ministry. Each encounter has been accompanied by a reading of the relevant scriptural text with subsequent reflection. The composition of this particular group of pilgrims is such that the calibre of historical explanation and theological reflection has been particularly challenging and insightful.

The methodology underpinning this pilgrimage allows one to enter into the complex and messy neighbourhood in which Jesus lived. By drawing near in one’s relationship with Christ one is at the same time challenged to reflect on how his teachings speak into the contemporary neighbourhood, whether that is the Holy Land of today or one’s own home reality in the UK.

A visit then to the Monastery of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes at Tabgha becomes more than an occasion to stand in silent awe on the alleged site where Jesus fed the five thousand. It is also to be reminded of how Jesus speaks to those who are dispossessed, the marginalised, the infirmed and the aged. One is left hungry for justice.

Visiting the baptism site of Jesus on the banks of the River Jordan one is hit by a series of juxtaposing images. Winding slowly south, this small bulrushed stream of a river links the Sea of Galilee to the Dead Sea and in so doing it acts as a natural boundary between the East Bank of Jordan and the West Bank of Palestine.

If baptism is the act of being made human as God intended then it is somehow strangely odd – maybe even oddly appropriate – that this particular baptismal site is approached through a militarised zone. Sitting by the water’s edge, with Jordan but a few elusive steps away, the wholeness of what it means to be truly human as Christ intends contrasts sharply with the fragmented and contested surrounding environment.

Standing on the edge of Wadi Qelt looking out across to the Mount of Temptation one is reminded that we all have our weaknesses – that’s after all an essential part of what it means to be human. Listening to a Palestinian Arab Christian – who also happens to be an Israeli citizen – grapple with the biblical text concerning the temptation of Jesus, is to be reminded of how even in the most pressing of circumstances the Christian virtues of love, faith and hope can help in resisting an all too tempting spiral into despair. This is not passive collusion with the status quo but a subversive act of rebellion against natural behaviour.

[As an aside here, did you know that the Greek term for robber also translates as insurgent in which case the crucificion scene takes on a whole added meaning. Thank God for New Testament Scholars] 

Seen from this perspective, the role of the Church is one of living out these virtues in a Christ like way such that it nourishes and supports those most in need. There have been opportunities along the way to see some of this work in practice whether that is the community health care centre attached to St Margaret’s Nazareth or the rehabilitative and restorative work of the ancient monastery of St Gerasimos. Such work merely reflects back on what it means to be made human as Christ intended.

None of this I dare say is original stuff – not least because it merely draws on the insightful reflections of others – but it might go some way in explaining how one can visit the Holy sites in a way that makes it impossible to be divorced from the current reality.

As our happy band of pilgrims journeys south to Bethlehem and then on to Jerusalem I suspect that this understanding of Christian discipleship that has emerged these past days is likely to be tested to the full.

The Reluctant Pilgrim – What does one pack when doing a pilgrimage to the Holy Land?

What do you pack when undertaking a pilgrimage to the Holy Land? Hair shirt or tin hat?

As I prepare for a week-long pilgrimage to the Holy Land this question is becoming ever more pressing. As a result I’m feeling slowly suffocated by the cavernous empty space of my suitcase which leads me to gently kick myself for deciding to embark on this visit.

My deliberations as to what to pack points I suspect to a deeper anxiety about how one actually prepares for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I am not sure what worries me most, the fact that I’m a pilgrim virgin and hence have no point of reference for any of this or that the destination is the Holy Land rather than say Lourdes.

I’ve visited the Holy Land on numerous occasions on work over the years, but never as a pilgrim. My visits have normally been fact-finding missions entailing meetings with a range of religious, civil society and political actors as well as visits to various Church based projects on the grounds. My preparation for these visits usually entails plenty of advance reading and meetings with relevant stakeholders here in the UK.

I’m sure that over the years I’ve unwittingly walked all the Stations of the Cross in Jerusalem, but I’ve never done so intentionally as a pilgrim. Even if I had walked them in one go, I’m not sure that my experience would constitute an act of pilgrimage. I’ve always been intrigued and respectful of those who journey long distances to travel such a path, but I’ve generally found their experiences closed off to and somewhat separate from my own encounters with the region.

The prospect of sailing on the Sea of Galilee possibly singing kumbaya as Israel faces an existential threat from Iran while the Palestinian quest for statehood recedes yet further into the horizon makes me feel distinctively queasy. I should stress here that since I know those responsible for organising this pilgrimage this scenario is most unlikely.

As I reflect further on the week ahead, I wonder whether my unsettleness stems from the tension that might exist between the spiritual and the contextual.

Is it possible to undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem without in turn reducing the city to a religious theme park?

Is it possible to walk faithfully through the meandering streets of the Old City of Jerusalem, as our Lord once did, while also engaging with the indigenous Christian communities of the region for whom Jerusalem remains a living but contested holy city?

How when visiting the Mount of Beatitudes does one read the Sermon on the Mount? I suspect that a Arab Palestinian Christian reading might be different from mine or for that matter those that I travel with. Same words – different meaning. How does one negotiate and make sense of all of this?

I have little doubt that my forthcoming pilgrimage to the Holy Land will lead me to see the region in a different way and that’s no bad thing, but it still doesn’t help me tackle the looming question of what to pack. Maybe it’s best just to put the suitcase away and to travel lightly with the old trusty rucksack and in so doing be open to whatever new experiences come my way.

I suspect that so long as I have a Bible and my computer to hand I should be able to survive and make sense of whatever lies ahead.

Europe and the Primacy of Domestic Politics

Faced with the growing fragmentation of Europe and the prospect of failed and failing states within its borders, Europe’s politicians appear incapable of providing the necessary political leadership to navigate the EU through its current economic ills.

Mainstream political commentators might lament David Cameron’s pandering to the Euroskeptical tendencies within his own party, but wherever you look in Europe today the primacy of domestic politics and the pre-occupation with safeguarding national interest is increasingly constraining Europe’s ability to resolve the Euro crisis.  The old concepts of mutual interest and solidarity that provided Europe with its strength, cohesion and effectiveness seem very much in short supply. 

Each and every round of European summitry merely highlights the disconnect between the EU’s decision making and market expectation. This merely fuels the case for further down grades in the credit ratings of Euro zone members. I’m not a betting man but, with another summit scheduled for the end of this month, last week’s down grades by Standard and Poor probably won’t be the last.

Prevailing political wisdom holds that Euro’s leaders will slowly but surely come to grips with the crisis because the prospects of a Euro zone break up are to horrifying to contemplate. That’s fine up to a point but the more protracted the crisis becomes the more costly - economically and politically - the solution, which in turn makes it harder to sell to a sceptical electorate.

At the moment at least paying for the mistakes of others remains a politically unpalatable solution for constituencies across Europe. All of this makes me ask, where are the Churchills, Monnets, Adenauers, Giscards, Schmidts, and Delors of today?