The changing logic of power, fear, and intent
History sometimes constructs events not in chronological order, but in a way that contradicts logic itself. Cause and effect swap places, the beginning hides within the end, and the end becomes the delayed explanation of the beginning. When I read about such events, I always feel the same way: as if effects give birth to causes, not causes to effects.
Iran's nuclear program is one such instance…
In the 1960s–70s, during the era of Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, Iran was one of the closest allies of the United States. The technology brought to Tehran within the framework of "Atoms for Peace" promised more than just energy. It was an expression of a grander ambition: modern state-building, the reign of rationality, and the idea that the future could be managed. Reactors were being built, personnel trained, and the infrastructure of the future was being established. This was not merely a transfer of technology, but a transfer of a model of thought.
However, technology itself is neutral; it is human intent that makes it civilian or dangerous. Because technologies are innocent; it is human will that imbues them with guilt or innocence. Its essence remains unchanged; what changes is the narrative built around it. Technology is merely potential; it is will that directs it. It has always seemed to me that humans believe they control technology, but in reality, the possibilities created by technology narrow human choices.
When Ruhollah Khomeini appeared on the scene in 1979, this trajectory was broken. The religious leader opposed this project. His stance was clear: Nuclear weapons are incompatible with Islam. This idea did not merely sound like a religious decree. It was, at the same time, the declaration of another epistemology, another model of legitimacy.
It was more of a political statement than a religious stance. What was rejected was not nuclear technologies, but the Western world behind them. The Ayatollahs renounced this legacy. But there is no such thing as "definitive rejection" in history. Every rejection inherently holds the possibility of future acceptance – history has shown this repeatedly.
For a moment, it seemed as if history would cut this line here. But when the Iran-Iraq War began, the Leader was confronted with another truth: that it is not ideology but power that defends and protects a country.
For a country struck by chemical weapons, the argument "it is forbidden" (haram) was no longer sufficient. At that moment, state thinking changed. Thus, the program once rejected as "not Islamic" quietly returned, but with a different intent. It is precisely at this point that it becomes clear that the distance between theoretical principles and real danger is shorter than we imagine. The ontology of the state changes here: it begins to act not by the logic of ideas, but by the logic of survival. And it is precisely at this point that necessity silences ideology.
The US had initiated the nuclear program, and Khomeini had opposed it. What continued it, however, was an entirely different political logic. As a result, the same technology emerged with three different intents...
This confronts us with a more difficult question: the question of who owns technology is actually the wrong question. Because technology belongs to no one. It is merely a line traversed by various wills. At one point, it is a tool of modernization. At another point, it is an object of ideological rejection. Later, it transforms into a choice dictated by necessity.
Looking at this chain of events, I clearly see one thing: what changes is not technology, but humanity itself. Now, attempts to classify Iran's nuclear program as a "threat" or a "means of defense" when discussing it are, in fact, nothing more than simplifying the problem. Because this program is neither the former nor the latter. It is an expression of a more fundamental reality:
A closed structure where power gives rise to fear, fear transforms into necessity, and necessity, in turn, creates power.
Within this structure, ethical categories weaken, and ideological boundaries become flexible. What was impossible yesterday appears inevitable today. What was once called "not Islamic" becomes a national necessity tomorrow.
And it seems to me that history is nothing more than the same story being rewritten in different languages, with different intentions.
