Squandered Opportunity: Neoclassical Realism and Iranian Foreign Policy 9780804795081

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Squandered Opportunity

Squandered Opportunity Neoclassical Realism and Iranian Foreign Policy

Thomas Juneau

Stanford University Press Stanford, California

Stanford University Press Stanford, California © 2015 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system without the prior written permission of Stanford University Press. Printed in the United States of America on acid-free, archival-quality paper Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Juneau, Thomas, author Squandered opportunity : neoclassical realism and Iranian foreign policy / Thomas Juneau. pages cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. isbn 978-0-8047-9305-6 (cloth : alk. paper) 1.  Iran—Foreign relations—1997– .  2.  Iran—Politics and government—1997– .  3.  Political realism.  I.  Title. ds318.9.j87 2015 327.55—dc23 isbn 978-0-8047-9508-1 (electronic) Typeset at Stanford University Press in 10/14 Minion

2014036171

I wish to dedicate this book to my wife, Marie-Hélène, and to our two sons, R é m i and P h i l i p p e

Contents

Figures and Tables, viii Acknowledgments, ix



Introduction

1



1 Neoclassical Realism

17



2 From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

35



3 Power

55



4 Domestic Pathologies

81



5 Iran’s Policy in Iraq

104



6 Iran and the Arab-Israeli Conflict

139



7 Iran’s Nuclear Program

169

Conclusion Notes, 231 Bibliography, 242 Index, 263

203



Figures and Tables

Figures

I.1 Capabilities Shape Intentions 1.1 Rose, Rathbun, Specificity and Generalizability

5 20

Table

5.1 Deaths in Iraq

viii

129



Acknowledgments

I would first and foremost like to thank Brian Schmidt for the extraordinarily valuable feedback and support he gave me throughout the research and drafting process of this book. I also thank Farhang Rajaee and Mira Sucharov, as well as Elinor Sloan and Brian Rathbun, for their advice. I also express my deepest gratitude to all my superiors at the Department of National Defence with the Government of Canada, where I worked from 2003 until July 2014: Harky Smith, Claude Leblanc, Ben Lombardi, Vincent Rigby, James Groen, Michael Margolian, Martin Green, Col. Brian Irwin, Jean-François Morel, and Yves Goulet. Without their help, the inevitable but unfortunate bureaucratic resistance could very well have blocked my dream of pursuing a path combining academia and the civil service. In fact, to be able to have a foot in both the government and academic worlds for all those years was as gratifying an experience as it was fruitful. It is a balance I hope to pursue, in one form or another, in the coming decades. I also want to thank all of my former colleagues, in Defence and elsewhere in the security and intelligence community, for innumerable arguments over the years on whether Iran is pursuing a nuclear bomb or whether the U.S. or Israel, or both, will attack Iran. These have been invaluable in helping me refine my views on Iran and its role and ambitions in the Middle East. It is partly thanks to those discussions that I steadily evolved toward the conclusion of this book—that Iran has broadly failed to achieve its foreign policy goals since 2001. I particularly wish to thank Sam Razavi, a former colleague with whom I co-edited a book on Iran in 2013 (Iranian Foreign Policy since 2001: Alone in the ix

x  acknowledgments

World, 2013). The extensive work that went into preparing this book, as well as our many discussions around shawarma, have been essential in shaping my thinking on Iranian foreign policy. Even though I joined the Graduate School of Public and International Affairs at the University of Ottawa only three weeks before submitting the final manuscript for this book, I strongly wish to thank the school for having welcomed me in its family. I especially want to thank Peter Jones for his invaluable advice and encouragement over the years. Never again will he pay for coffee in my company. As I move on to my new career at the University of Ottawa, a special thought goes to professors Gérard Hervouet and Jean-Sébastien Rioux, whose advice and support during my masters studies at Laval University in Québec City—and ever since—have been invaluable. At Stanford University Press, I wish to thank James Holt, editorial assistant, and Geoffrey Burn, executive editor (security studies, international relations, and politics), for their support, advice, and exemplary professionalism throughout the process of transforming the manuscript into a book. I also thank John Feneron, Martin Hanft, and Mary Mortensen for their help at various stages of the production process. Finally, I wish to thank Marie-Hélène Chayer, my lovely wife, for her encouragement and patience (and exceptional editorial skills). As usual, the responsibility for any mistake or omission is mine.

T.J.

Squandered Opportunity



Introduction

The Islamic Republic of Iran faced a highly favorable strategic environment after 2001. A combination of regional and international factors, especially the removal of hostile regimes in neighboring Afghanistan and Iraq, along with the inflow of hard currency resulting from high oil prices, improved the country’s regional standing and led Tehran to assertively expand its interests abroad. Iran, moreover, possesses the necessary assets to position itself as one of the Middle East’s most powerful and influential states by dint of its geography, natural resources, and population. Yet despite these favorable dynamics, Iran failed to seize the opportunity to establish itself as the dominant regional power in the Persian Gulf and as an indispensable player in the Middle East, as its ambition. How can one account for Iran’s underwhelming performance? How can one explain that faced with this advantageous set of circumstances, Iran failed to fulfill its ambition to become the dominant power in the Persian Gulf and a leading power in the Middle East? This book develops and applies a new variant of neoclassical realism to shed light on the causes and consequences of Iran’s suboptimal performance between 2001 and 2009.1 It will show that rising power drove Iranian assertiveness, as most variants of realism would predict, but that because of the intervention of key domestic pathologies, Iran’s foreign policy deviated from structurally induced, optimal outcomes. This led to important, negative consequences. Enter Theory

How can different theoretical approaches account for Iran’s suboptimal foreign policy between 2001 and 2009? Offensive realism argues that security in the anarchic international system is scarce. States live in uncertainty, as they can never be certain about their 1

2  Introduction

neighbors’ intentions; they must assume that these intentions are, or could become, aggressive. As a result, states—especially great powers—are driven by the system to maximize their power: achieving regional hegemony is the best way to guarantee survival (Mearsheimer, 1990, 2001). States are not reckless expansionists, however. Rather, they are “opportunistic aggressors” seeking to “increase their power at acceptable cost and risk” (Walt, 2002, p. 207). Offensive realism rightly emphasizes that Iran, with its power rising, sought to expand its interests abroad. It cannot, however, account for specific choices. Moreover, its sweeping emphasis on power maximization misses out on other aspects of Iranian behavior. According to defensive realism, anarchy drives states to compete for security, with the intensity of this competition shaped by the offense-defense balance, or the relative ease or difficulty of conquest (Van Evera, 1999). Because this balance often favors defense, states can usually maximize their security by adopting defensive postures. Stephen Walt’s balance-of-threat theory (1987, 1996) is often recognized as one of defensive realism’s main applications. According to Walt, states do not balance against power, as structural realism predicts, but against threat, which he defines as a composite of capabilities, geography, and perception of intentions. Defensive realism correctly claims that Iran, perceiving an acute threat from the United States and its allies, seeks to maximize its security by counterbalancing: internally, by pursuing the development of asymmetric military capabilities and its nuclear program, and externally, by developing ties with Hezbollah in Lebanon, Hamas in the Palestinian Territories, and groups in Iraq. Defensive realism, however, neglects the importance of Iran’s power; if Iran’s power had not risen after 2001, its predictions would not be significantly different, since its explanatory emphasis rests on Iran’s threat perception. Its focus on security explains certain dimensions of Iranian foreign policy but misses out on revisionist and power-maximizing aspects. Constructivists argue that international pressures are indeterminate: because politics are a social construction, structure acquires meaning through shared understandings among states. The social dimensions of international politics matter: norms, rules, and language, in particular, are neglected by realists. A key insight of constructivism is that identity, or collectively held values, beliefs, and assumptions, shape preferences and interests (Katzenstein, 1996; Wendt, 1999). A constructivist reading of the Islamic Republic’s foreign policy emphasizes the development of its identity through its interaction with others. In particular, the United States—the “Great Satan”—has shaped what the clerical regime has

Introduction 3

become through catalytic events such as the embassy hostage crisis of 1979–81 and American support for Iraq during the Iran-Iraq war of 1980–88. For constructivists, opposition to the United States is ingrained in the Islamic Republic’s identity; it is the prism through which its leaders view the world. This explains why, for example, Iran supports like-minded groups such as Hezbollah and Hamas. This explanation is beset by a crucial flaw, however: Iran’s identity did not measurably change between 2001 and 2009, yet its assertiveness did. Identity is therefore not the key driver of its changing foreign policy.2 Liberalism consists of a broad family of theories, most of which agree that to understand foreign policy, one must peer inside the black-box of the state. For some, notably proponents of the democratic peace hypothesis, regime type is the key variable (Russett and Oneal, 2001). For others, the preferences of domestic actors and the institutional settings in which they operate are essential (Moravcsik, 1997). Domestic politics have long been recognized as having an impact on Iran’s foreign policy. In recent years, as hard-liners associated with former president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (2005–13) gained influence to the detriment of reformist and pragmatic factions, foreign policy tilted in a hard-line direction. The problem with this approach, however, is that it cannot account for the divergent implications of tilts in the balance of factional power in the 1990s and 2000s. In the late 1990s, the country’s power stagnated, while reformist fortunes were on the rise; foreign policy tilted but did not decisively shift in their preferred direction. In the 2000s, as hard-liner fortunes waxed and reformists were marginalized and as Iran’s power rose, Iran’s foreign policy took on a much more assertive form. Changes in the balance of factional power, in other words, account for tilts in foreign policy; changes in the international balance of power can cause major shifts. Overall, constructivism, liberalism, and offensive and defensive realism account for important trends in Iranian foreign policy. Each, however, has flaws that prevent it from developing a comprehensive explanation. Most important, they cannot account for the suboptimality of Iran’s foreign policy; they have no explanation for its failure to seize the opportunity it faced or for the consequences it suffers as a result. Neoclassical Realism and Its Strategic Analysis Variant: A Way Ahead

For neoclassical realists, power is the chief determinant of foreign policy; it shapes the incentives and constraints imposed on states. A framework relying

4  Introduction

solely on structural factors is underspecified, however; it explains the international context in which a state operates but says little about the content of its foreign policy. Neoclassical realists thus posit that to better understand foreign policy, one must take domestic factors into consideration. These intervening variables act as transmission belts, filtering systemic pressures and converting them into actual foreign policy choices. In addition, neoclassical realism, in some of its applications, is a theory of mistakes: it provides a framework differentiating between ideal, optimal foreign policy—which responds solely to structural pressures and incentives—and actual, suboptimal choices, which arise following the filtering effect of domestic pathologies. Structural realism, in other words, rightly predicts that states faced with a window of opportunity are subjected to strong incentives to expand their interests abroad. Structural realism, however, broadly explains why states jump through the window (power is a permissive cause) but lacks the tools to explain how and with what consequences. Neoclassical realism thus provides a comprehensive framework combining the permissive cause, power, with proximate causes (domestic factors). Neoclassical realism has contributed significant advancements to the realist paradigm, but it is beset by two weaknesses. First, there have been few efforts to develop its internal logic, as the literature is dominated by case studies.3 Second, despite its professed emphasis on richness, neoclassical realism has focused on sweeping historical cases, often covering decades, leading it to neglect important day-to-day aspects of state behavior. The strategic analysis variant introduced here builds on the strengths of neoclassical realism while remedying these weaknesses. It seeks to develop case studies that are more relevant to consumers of academic research: comprehensive, detailed explanations of the causes of foreign policy (the “why”), the conduct (the “what” and the “how”), and the consequences of choices (the “so what”). The strategic analysis variant is positioned at one end of a continuum marking the degree of specificity and accuracy sought in the study of foreign policy. This continuum is built around a core tenet of realism, that capabilities shape intentions (see Figure I.1). At the other extreme—where generalizability and parsimony are favored—a sparse structural realist framework predicts that faced with a power vacuum, a state will seize opportunities to expand its interests abroad. To attain greater accuracy, it is possible to add layers of complexity by integrating domestic factors as intervening variables; this is what neoclassical realism offers. At this point, around the middle of the continuum, the analyst

Introduction 5

Structural realism

Neoclassical realism

(Parsimony/generalizability)

Dependent variable

Basic principles

Strategic analysis variant

(Specificity/accuracy)

Focus on international outcomes: the international system abhors a vacuum; balances of power recurrently form

States faced with a window of opportunity will jump through it because of structural pressures

Capabilities shape intentions; structure shapes and shoves

Intervening variables act as filters

How? When? Strategies and tools? Ends pursued? Specific interests? Consequences?

Build on structural and neoclassical realism, but: Broader scope More complex view of power Increase number of intervening variables Increase specificity of intervening variables Dynamism and pathdependency Increase policy relevance

F i g . I . 1 : Capabilities Shape Intentions

has the tools to study the “big picture”: how power shapes the parameters of foreign policy and how domestic factors specify choices. Some may still be left wanting by the broad level of generalizability offered by structural realism and conventional versions of neoclassical realism. To satisfy their needs, at the other end of the continuum, the strategic analysis variant thus increases specificity and accuracy while remaining within the confines of realism by proposing the following innovations:

• Fragmenting state power in its component parts to better understand how subtle shifts in specific elements of power affect particular aspects of foreign policy; • Defining power broadly, with less focus on territory and conquest; • Increasing the number and specificity of intervening variables to better reflect their filtering impact on foreign policy;

6  Introduction

• Better systematizing foreign policy by conceptually separating it into four parts: power, security, and influence-maximization; actual and ideal national interests; foreign policy strategies; and the consequences of suboptimal behavior; • Rejecting the debate about whether states seek to maximize power, security, or influence. Rather, at any given time, a state seeks to maximize all three; on a day-to-day basis, in a complex world, the pursuit of these ends cannot be neatly disaggregated; • Better systematizing actual and ideal foreign policy and clarifying why and how states suffer consequences as a result of gaps between ideal and actual versions; • Taking into consideration the dynamism and path-dependency of the causal chain. The result, a rich but theoretically informed explanation of foreign policy, accounts for the different ends pursued by a state through a combination of strategies and tools, while also providing a framework to analyze the consequences of those actions. The objective is to increase its relevance to consumers of academic products, be they diplomats or statesmen, members of the media or the business community, NGOs, or the general public. Squandered Opportunity: Iran’s Suboptimal Foreign Policy

Iran’s foreign policy since 2001 has been suboptimal: Tehran has made mistakes that are proving increasingly costly. Yet the assessment that a state’s foreign policy has been suboptimal must be based on a comparison between actual behavior and an ideal or optimal baseline. Structural realism provides such a toolset to define a state’s ideal interests. Indeed, there is a growing tendency to view structural realism as a normative theory, prescribing how states should behave, as opposed to explaining how they actually behave (Glaser, 2010). The national interest thus exists in two variants: the ideal, explaining which combination of ends a state should pursue, and the actual, what it actually pursues. The ideal version is a prescriptive or normative baseline derived from Waltzian structural realism. Neoclassical realism is based on the recognition that in practice, states often do not pursue their ideal interests. The actual interests they pursue, though broadly shaped by their position in the international system, arise from the distorting effect of domestic political processes that lead

Introduction 7

them to deviate from ideal outcomes. This distinction between ideal and actual interests positions neoclassical realism as a theory of mistakes, explaining how states should behave and how they actually behave, and with what implications. Yet structural realism incorporates different variants with sometimes contradictory prescriptions of ideal behavior. The challenge is therefore to identify which strand offers the best prescriptions of optimal behavior. The strategic analysis variant rejects the notion that theories have sweeping explanatory power. Rather, competing theories have different strengths and weaknesses, making them more or less useful depending on context. According to this cookie-cutter approach, theories should be chosen on the basis of the optimal complementarity between their strengths and the research problem at hand. As a rising power faced with a window of opportunity and surrounded by hostile states—especially, in Tehran’s view, the hegemony-seeking United States—Iran should behave like an offensive realist. That is, the scope conditions of offensive realism—a world of scarce security and of revisionist, hegemony-seeking powers—are more consistent with Iran’s circumstances. Defensive realism is less applicable: Iran does not perceive that security is plentiful, and neither can it be labeled as having a status quo bias. Iran’s ideal foreign policy should therefore follow the prescriptions of offensive realism: to maximize its security, it should aim to become the dominant power in the Persian Gulf and an indispensable player in the Middle East. By dint of its location, its large and well-educated population, and its abundant hydrocarbon resources, Iran can aspire to such a regional role. This is necessary to ensure the survival of the regime and protect the country’s territorial integrity. Yet despite the favorable strategic environment it faced after 2001, Iran did not fulfill its ambition: there was a gap between this ideal interest and what it actually achieved. That is the central puzzle of this book: to explain why, how, and with what consequences Iran’s foreign policy has been suboptimal. The starting point to any realist account is power. Power refers to the possession and control by a state of usable assets that it can bring to bear upon its foreign policy. Those capabilities—both tangible and intangible and viewed in relative terms—represent incentives and constraints that push and pull states in certain directions and not others. Between 2001 and 2009, Iran’s power increased: it faced a window of opportunity.4 This sudden advantage was largely created by factors exogenous to Iran: the collapse of rival regimes in Afghanistan and Iraq in 2001 and 2003, primarily, and the large decline in U.S. regional legitimacy that followed. Other factors, especially the rise in oil prices and

8  Introduction

the success of allies such as Hamas and Hezbollah, also helped. However, this power advantage suffers from critical flaws and is unlikely to be sustainable. A significant proportion of the growth in Iranian power was accounted for by unconventional elements: asymmetric military capabilities, the regional attractiveness of Iran’s rejectionist model, and alliances with nonstate actors. At the same time, hard aspects of Iran’s power—wealth and conventional military capabilities—stagnated, and in some cases declined. In addition, many factors that caused the window to open will evolve in a manner unlikely to be so advantageous to Iran. This is the peculiar condition of Iranian power: rising unconventional elements and stagnating conventional ones, and questionable sustainability in the longer term. Such is the structural context driving Iranian foreign policy. These systemic pressures are then filtered through domestic processes acting as transmission belts between the international distribution of power and the foreign policy outcome. Intervening variables explain the conversion from the possible—the range of feasible outcomes shaped by power—to the actual, the foreign policy choices. Iranian foreign policy is shaped by three intervening variables: status, regime identity, and factional politics. Each, on its own, explains specific aspects; taken together and in combination with power, they provide a comprehensive account. The status intervening variable is premised on the relationship between a state’s status aspiration and its perception of the status ascribed to it by the international community. In Iran’s case, there is an important discrepancy between its aspiration to regional power status and its perception that the status ascribed to it is unbecoming of what it believes is its rightful place in the regional order. Iran, as a result, suffers from a status discrepancy. Status discrepancy is a source of revisionism. Revisionism, however, is indeterminate; to argue that a state is revisionist does not explain specific choices. To achieve greater specificity, two more intervening variables are introduced. The second consists of the Iranian regime’s rejectionist identity, whereby the Islamic Republic opposes the U.S.-dominated regional order, but as a limited aims revisionist that works mostly from within the system. Identity, in this sense, specifies state interests by narrowing the range of feasible options, ranking alternatives and shaping the implementation of decisions. The third intervening variable further specifies choices by positing that policy outcomes broadly reflect the balance of power among the regime’s main factions. This balance constantly evolves but remains within the bounds of the Islamic Republic’s dominant discourse. As the balance

Introduction 9

of factional power steadily tilted in favor of conservatives and hard-liners after 2001, so did foreign policy tilt in their preferred direction. Power, aspirations, and regime identity, in sum, shape a set of options for the country’s foreign policy; to determine which are selected, factions fight it out among themselves. This causal chain—power, status, identity, and factional politics—explains how the framework shifts from analyzing the possible to the actual, from available courses of action to choices. Power shapes the parameters in which foreign policy operates. Iran’s power increased after 2001, but the peculiar nature of this increase made certain options more likely while eliminating others. Status discrepancy then shifts the parameters toward revisionism. Regime identity narrows the band in which choice is possible, specifying the rejectionist nature of Iran’s revisionism. As the factional balance increasingly favored conservatives and hard-liners, foreign policy further tilted toward their preferences. This framework explains the causes and consequences of Iran’s suboptimal foreign policy—the dependent variable—in three areas: Iraq, the Arab-Israeli conflict, and nuclear policy. Iran has major interests in Iraq; geography ensures that the security of each is dependent on the power and ambitions of the other, irrespective of the dominant ideology in Baghdad or Tehran. Thus when the United States invaded Iraq in 2003, Iran’s security became acutely threatened; unlike in the case of the Arab-Israeli conflict, which does not directly threaten its security, strong structural pressures shaped Iran’s responses. There was, as a result, less scope for Iranian agency: intervening variables have less explanatory power than in the other cases because structural pressures were more intense, pushing and shoving Iran more compellingly. Iran suffers from a status discrepancy in Iraq: it wants to play a role but is denied the opportunity. Iran is thus dissatisfied with the post-Saddam Iraqi order. Regime identity specifies the rejectionist nature of this revisionism by acting as a lens through which the world is interpreted, threats are evaluated, and options are assessed. As the factional balance within the regime increasingly favored hard-liners and conservatives, policy tilted toward their preferred outcomes. Iran’s quest to maximize its influence in Iraq met with some successes; it reached its peak around 2006–7, after which it plateaued and initiated a gradual decline. When measured against its ideal interests, Iran partly accomplished many objectives. In the face of the threat arising from the U.S. military presence and the possible disintegration of Iraq, Iran partially succeeded in establishing itself as an indispensable player in Iraqi affairs and was instrumental in the

10  Introduction

establishment of a stable and relatively weak Iraqi government devoid of anti-Iranian biases. Nonetheless, Iran’s performance has been suboptimal, albeit to a lesser extent than in the other areas. This smaller discrepancy was due to the more limited role played by domestic pathologies in distorting Iranian policies; Iran benefited from less agency, as a result of which there was less deviation from optimal, structurally induced outcomes. Iran’s rising power has pushed it toward greater assertiveness in the Arab-Israeli conflict, as predicted by structural realism. Iran’s peculiar power context represented strong but ambiguous circumstances, however, leaving significant scope for domestic pathologies to distort foreign policy. Iran’s status discrepancy, first, drives its revisionist impulse. Regime identity then narrows the band in which choice is possible, specifying the rejectionist nature of Iran’s revisionism: Iran, dissatisfied with the regional order, opposes the management of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Factional politics provides the third step explaining why Iranian foreign policy tilted toward assertiveness, revisionism, and rejectionism: as the factional balance increasingly favored hard-liners and conservatives, foreign policy further tilted toward their preferred outcomes. There is, solely on the basis of structural pressures, limited security for Iran to maximize in the Arab-Israeli conflict. Given Iran’s actual interests, however, its penetration of the Arab-Israeli theater has been a fundamental pillar of its security-maximization. In particular, Iran’s ties to rejectionist groups have acted as strong deterrents against potential attack by Israel. Iran has gained some influence in the Arab-Israeli conflict. It chalked up some successes not in terms of changing the rules of the game to its benefit, but rather by preventing its adversaries from modifying those rules. There are, however, strong constraints limiting Iran’s influence. Tehran has a narrow set of tools, with its main assets being the appeal of its rejectionist model and its ties to other rejectionist actors. This limits the breadth of the impact it can have on the conflict and is insufficient to shape the regional order in the revisionist direction it prefers. Crucially, these constraints are growing, a trend that will continue into the future. Iran’s actions, moreover, have led to negative consequences: its rejectionism, in particular, has contributed significantly to its isolation. Iran’s nuclear program leads to paradoxical results. Structural signals—rising power but continued weakness relative to the United States and its regional partners—have been strong but ambiguous. There was therefore scope for greater agency, since structural pressures did not push and shove Iran as compellingly as in the case of Iraq. Domestic pathologies have thus been able to

Introduction 11

exert a significant impact on nuclear policy. Iran again suffers from a status discrepancy: it wants to join the nuclear club and reap the prestige and power associated with that enhanced status but is denied the opportunity by the United States and its allies. Iran is, as a result, dissatisfied with the nuclear order. Rising power and status discrepancy explain why Iran is assertive and revisionist and aims to acquire the tools befitting a regional power. It does not say more, however; some regional powers have acquired nuclear weapons, while others have renounced their nuclear ambitions. The regime identity variable then explains how Iran’s range of feasible options was further narrowed toward rejectionism. Finally, as the factional balance within the regime increasingly favored hardliners and conservatives, policy tilted toward their preferred outcomes. The Islamic Republic has been able to gain some influence thanks to its nuclear program, more than in the Arab-Israeli conflict but less than in Iraq. Most important, the program promises future benefit, in particular because of its value as a bargaining chip. Paradoxically, however, the Islamic Republic suffers significant—and mounting—consequences as a result of its nuclear choices. Primarily because of international opposition to the nuclear program, Iran’s economy is increasingly strangulated by a steadily harsher sanctions regime. Overall, Iran did have some success in maximizing its power. In all three cases, specific elements of its power increased between 2001 and 2009, in some cases significantly. Its performance, however, has been undeniably suboptimal: its power in 2009 remained well below its potential and certainly not at the level befitting a regional power. Similarly, Iran succeeded in maximizing aspects of its security, especially when viewed from a narrow, short-term perspective. Most important, Iran was not attacked by the United States or Israel, partly because of its development of an arsenal of deterrent assets. On many other fronts, however, Iran’s security deteriorated and, if current trends continue, the situation will worsen. Iran is more isolated and mistrusted by most of its neighbors than at any point since the early revolutionary years in the 1980s. Heightened tensions with the United States and its allies also make the risk of misperception and escalation high. Iran was able to increase its influence to some extent. The combination of the peculiar nature of its power, however, with the intervention of domestic pathologies intervening in its foreign policy-making process distorts its influence-maximization efforts and prevents Iran from reaching its potential. Iran has not developed the assets necessary to positively shape outcomes; it has primarily developed the means to negatively influence regional

12  Introduction

developments. When it has the assets to shape outcomes positively, it has only a superficial ability to do so. These failures have had important negative consequences. In Iraq, strong structural pressures pushed Iran to maximize its influence in a more optimal manner; it suffered fewer consequences and reaped important gains. In the Arab-Israeli conflict, however, lower structural pressures allowed domestic processes to hijack policy-making, leading to a highly suboptimal outcome: major consequences and limited gains. The nuclear case situates itself in between: the consequences of its nuclear policy have been severe and are set to worsen, but the potential benefits are significant. The overall situation will worsen, not improve, for the Islamic Republic: its power is likely to decrease in coming years. As a result, the suboptimality of its foreign policy will deteriorate, while the consequences it suffers as a result will worsen. Questions and Hypotheses

Neoclassical realist studies are based on two questions: an empirical question seeking to shed light on a specific foreign policy issue, and a nomothetic one developing a law of international politics. This can be illustrated by Fareed Zakaria’s study of U.S. foreign policy at the turn of the twentieth century. Zakaria asks a specific question on the “dominant cause that explains the course of late nineteenth century American foreign policy” (1998, p. 8) and a generalizable one (Under what conditions do states expand their interests abroad?). Zakaria provides a detailed answer to the empirical question, while proposing insights but no firm answer to the nomothetic one. In this context, this book seeks to answer the following questions: Q1: How can the causes and consequences of the suboptimal performance of Iranian foreign policy between 2001 and 2009 be explained? Q2: Under what conditions does foreign policy reach suboptimal outcomes, and what are the consequences of such suboptimal foreign policy choices? The answer to these questions will be provided by exploring three hypotheses. These hypotheses are not specific propositions to be quantitatively tested, but proposals exploring the causes and consequences of suboptimal behavior and guidelines shaping the analysis: H1: The stronger the structural pressures on a given state, the more its foreign policy will be shaped by structural constraints and incentives;

Introduction 13

conversely, the weaker the structural pressures, the more foreign policy will be exposed to deviations from optimal outcomes because of the intervention of domestic processes. The first portion of this proposition corresponds to the condition described by structural realism: state behavior is, or should be, shaped by the international distribution of power, with domestic processes playing a limited role. The outcome is optimal behavior. There is an inherent tension, however: does this represent an ideal whereby structural realism, as a normative theory, describes how states should behave? If so, how to account for the fact that states sometimes do not behave in accordance with this prescription? There is, as such, a need for a theory of mistakes differentiating between ideal behavior, as prescribed by structural realism, and actual behavior, resulting from the mixed effect of structural and domestic forces. This corresponds to the second half of H1: the frequent conundrum, which structural realism often cannot explain, whereby a state’s foreign policy deviates from structurally induced, optimal outcomes because of the intervention of domestic pathologies. This was the case for Iran. H2: Faced with a window of opportunity, a state benefits from an unusually high degree of agency. A state faced with a window of opportunity is subjected to strong structural pressures and incentives to rapidly expand its interests abroad. But faced with a vacuum, a state faces strong but ambiguous signals. The message from systemic pressures is to jump through the window, without specifying how: in which issue-area to pursue which interests more assertively, using which strategies and tools. The state thus faces an unusual amount of choice. The paradox is that for states facing a window, power is an active driving force but is also highly permissive, given that there is much scope for domestic factors to shape foreign policy. Neoclassical realism is thus appropriate for the study of the behavior of a state confronted with a window, as it is well suited to examining situations in which both power and domestic factors have a large explanatory role. H3: When a state faces a window of opportunity, there is likely to be a mismatch between its capabilities and intentions. When a state faces a window of opportunity, pushed and pulled by strong but ambiguous structural factors, domestic actors need time to adapt to the new context. Leaders, for example, are likely to misread a rapidly shifting distribu-

14  Introduction

tion of power or, carried by hubris, may be pushed to pursue goals beyond their reach. Decisions will then poorly reflect structural pressures and therefore lead to consequences. In the mid to longer term, capabilities and intentions are likely to realign, as large gaps are unsustainable beyond the short term. Yet for the time they last, discrepancies between capabilities and intentions can have major implications. In particular, a state whose intentions exceed its capabilities is likely to over-reach, especially if it harbors revisionist ambitions. Methodology

Neoclassical realists offer few methodological innovations, though they emphasize the use of tools neglected by other realists. They make particular use of case study research, process-tracing, and analytical narratives. Alexander George and Andrew Bennett define case studies as “the detailed examination of an aspect of a historical episode to develop or test historical explanations that may be generalizable” (2004, p. 5; see also Eckstein, 1975; Yin, 2003). The case study approach features appropriate strengths, such as its ability to examine proposed causal mechanism in great detail, accommodate complex causal relations, and achieve high levels of conceptual clarity. A common criticism of this method is that it is atheoretical and ad hoc. Zeev Maoz, for example, argues that case studies “have become in many cases a synonym for freeform research where everything goes” (2002, p. 165). Neoclassical realism, however, rejects such criticism: it uses case studies to develop and apply theoretically inspired frameworks based on laws and core assumptions. George and Bennett (2004) define process-tracing as the method seeking to identify and trace links between causes and observed outcomes by focusing on sequential processes. On the basis of one or a few cases, process-tracing investigates and explains the decision process by which initial conditions are translated into outcomes. An analytical narrative, finally, is the “organization of material in a chronologically sequential order and the focusing of the content into a single coherent story, albeit with subplots” (Stone, 1981, p. 74). Narrative analysis is compatible with most theoretical orientations, but it is not devoid of theoretical assumptions. In this sense, the development of narratives is a logical implication of the use of process-tracing and case studies. This book is a work of theoretical development and empirical synthesis. Its value-added is to precisely define key variables, explain their relation to each other, and integrate them into a detailed, internally coherent and theoretically

Introduction 15

informed analysis of Iranian foreign policy. This represents an improvement on the available literature, which is dominated by single-factor explanations or by the ad hoc integration of variables. Plan

Chapter 1 proposes a comprehensive statement for the strategic analysis variant of neoclassical realism. Chapter 2 follows by detailing the conceptualization of the variables explaining Iranian foreign policy. The following five chapters then operationalize the causal chain. Chapter 3 operationalizes the independent variable, power. Chapter 4 operationalizes the three intervening variables (status, identity, and factional politics), explaining how each manifests itself in the Iranian context. Chapters 5 to 7 provide an in-depth examination of Iran’s foreign policy, the dependent variable, in three issue-areas: Iraq, the Arab-Israeli conflict, and the nuclear program. The conclusion synthesizes the results by explaining how, despite some successes, Iran’s foreign policy has been suboptimal. As a result, Iran suffers from consequences; moreover, this bleak assessment is likely to deteriorate, not improve. The framework outlined in the first two chapters is essential: it guides the empirical study that follows and therefore structures the answers to the research questions. The reader not interested in theory and curious solely about Iranian foreign policy, however, will be able to skip directly to Chapter 3.

1

Neoclassical Realism

Neoclassical realism is a strand within the realist paradigm devoted to the development of rich accounts of foreign policy. It situates the chief determinant of state behavior at the level of the international system by arguing that relative power shapes intentions. It adds that to obtain more specific explanations of foreign policy, one must open the black box of the state and incorporate domestic-level variables that act as filters between systemic pressures and policy choices. This chapter proposes a framework for a new variant of neoclassical realism that it labels neoclassical realist strategic analysis. The resulting applications to foreign policy puzzles locate themselves closer to the border between theory and practice and are more directly useful to readers seeking to better understand current foreign policy problems. The chapter begins by reviewing neoclassical realist literature. The second section then introduces the variant, with the objective of better developing its internal logic. Neoclassical Realism

The ascendency of structural realism launched by Kenneth Waltz’s Theory of International Politics in 1979 pushed realist scholarship toward the production of highly parsimonious accounts of international politics. Structural realism is not a theory of foreign policy: its dependent variables are aspects of international politics such as wars and the recurrence of the formation of balances of power. Much of structural realism is therefore characterized by a high degree of indeterminacy with regard to foreign policy: it explains how structural pressures and incentives push and pull states in certain directions, but it does not, and neither does it aim to, hold as its central object of study states’ external behavior. Moreover, most structural realist studies feature a high level 17

18  Neoclassical Realism

of abstraction, with a built-in bias favoring parsimony and generalizability at the expense of accuracy and specificity. But to those who “consume” the work of academics—government officials, diplomats, members of the media or of the business community, NGOs, and the general public—this twin focus on international outcomes and generality leaves unanswered a key question: how to explain “why state X made a certain move last Tuesday” (Waltz, 1979, p. 121). An abstract explanation of the European balance of power in the nineteenth century does not satisfy the immediate need for explanations of current foreign policy choices with which practitioners deal on a daily basis. Neoclassical realism emerged in the 1990s as an attempt to remedy structural realism’s focus on broad outcomes of international politics. Despite some efforts at reaching higher levels of accuracy, however, neoclassical realism remains geared toward the production of high-level, historical foreign policy case studies. While these have made a significant contribution to realism, there is another direction that neoclassical realism can take: toward the production of more detailed case studies of current foreign policy puzzles. Before developing the internal logic of the strategic analysis variant, however, it is necessary to trace the evolution of neoclassical realism to better situate how and why the strategic analysis variant is relevant. Evolution and Typology

Gideon Rose argues that because structural realism is a theory of international politics, “much of the daily stuff of international relations is left to be accounted for by theories of foreign policy.” Whereas theories of international politics take as their dependent variable patterns of outcomes of state interaction, theories of foreign policy “seek to explain what states try to achieve in the external realm and when they try to achieve it” (1998, p. 145). Such theories, according to Rose, have been neglected by realists. In response, neoclassical realism draws upon “the rigor and theoretical insights of the neorealism (or structural realism) of Kenneth N. Waltz, Robert Gilpin, and others without sacrificing the practical insights about foreign policy and the complexity of statecraft found in the classical realism of Hans J. Morgenthau, Henry Kissinger, Arnold Wolfers, and others” (Taliaferro et al., 2009, p. 4). According to neoclassical realists, the scope and ambition of a country’s foreign policy is driven first and foremost by its place in the international system and specifically by its relative power. This is why they are realist. They argue further, however, that the impact of power on for-

Neoclassical Realism  19

eign policy is indirect and complex, because systemic pressures must be translated through intervening levels at the unit level. This is why they are neoclassical. (Rose, 1998, p. 145)

Neoclassical realism proposes a causal chain with three steps: the independent variable (the state’s relative power), the intervening variable (the domestic-level “transmission belt,” through which systemic pressures are filtered), and the dependent variable, or foreign policy. Neoclassical realists indeed are left wanting by the assumption that states are unitary actors, whereby systemic pressures are directly translated into actions. In the long term, behavior usually converges with predictions based on structural factors. In the short term, however, divergences are common and are accounted for by domestic-level factors. These intervening variables that “channel, mediate and (re)direct” systemic pressures (Schweller, 2004, p. 164) represent one of the main innovations of neoclassical realism. The results, neoclassical realists claim, are more accurate—though more restricted in scope and less parsimonious—accounts of state behavior. A debate has emerged in recent years over whether neoclassical realism should be viewed as a theory of mistakes or a theory of foreign policy. Proponents of the first view start from the premise that states are free to “do any fool thing they care to, but they are likely to be rewarded for behaviour that is responsive to structural pressures and punished for behaviour that is not” (Waltz, 2003, p. 53). The system points states in the direction of an optimal foreign policy, yet in practice, states regularly deviate from this ideal, pushed in other directions by domestic pathologies (Snyder, 1991). Brian Rathbun (2008) has thus argued that neoclassical realism is a theory of mistakes: it explains how domestic factors distract from a baseline, optimal foreign policy as understood by structural realism. According to the Rathbunian approach, neorealism provides a theory of optimal foreign policy; neoclassical realism is a logical and necessary extension that supplements structural realism with a theory of actual foreign policy. Some analysts then use the optimal version of foreign policy to make policy recommendations. Even if such proposals are not achievable, they serve as yardsticks against which to assess a state’s actual foreign policy and as blueprints for policies that can strive for this optimal outcome. Christopher Layne (2006) illustrates this approach by arguing that U.S. foreign policy since the 1940s has been based on a grand strategy of extraregional hegemony, an approach he considers mistaken. In his view, the United States should rather adopt a strategy of offshore balancing. He explains this mistaken grand strategy, or the devia-

20  Neoclassical Realism

Specificity, accuracy /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Dueck 2009 Christensen 1996 Rathbunian

Layne 2006

Rosian Zakaria 1998

Lobell et al. 2009

Schweller 1998

Wohlforth 1993

Generalizability, parsimony

Fi g . 1 . 1 : Rose, Rathbun, Specificity and Generalizability

tion from the structurally induced ideal, by the intervention of domestic factors specific to the United States that he labels the “Open Door”: the set of Wilsonian and liberal beliefs in free markets, democracy, and freedom that permeate U.S. policy-making. Another approach, consistent with Rose’s view of neoclassical realism as foreign policy analysis and further detailed by Lobell, Ripsman, and Taliaferro (2009), contents itself with explaining foreign policy puzzles. The Rosian approach faults structural realism for being underspecified. It agrees that power is the prime determinant of foreign policy. This does not, however, explain why states make certain decisions and not others; rather, it identifies a range of possible choices. Rosian neoclassical realists therefore integrate domestic variables in their causal chain to increase accuracy and specificity to explain the residual variance between structural realism’s broad predictions and actual state conduct. This view thus eschews any discussion of suboptimality and is not well equipped to provide policy recommendations. These two approaches form a spectrum, ranging from the Rathbunian idealtype to the Rosian opposite. In addition to the Rosian/Rathbunian continuum, neoclassical realism encompasses various points along a second spectrum, that of specificity/accuracy versus generalizability/parsimony. All neoclassical realist works have two functions, explanatory and nomothetic: to explain foreign policy events and to contribute to theory building by proposing and testing generalizable hypotheses. At the specificity end, case studies contribute to the development of more contingent, less parsimonious laws, while the explanatory function has greater weight. At the generalizable end, the nomothetic goal

Neoclassical Realism  21

gains in salience, while the explanatory function loses in accuracy. At the specificity end, instead of seeking to explain “a small number of big and important things” (Waltz, 1986, p. 329), neoclassical realism seeks to explain a large number (n) of smaller things (t). Neoclassical realism is flexible with this balance: some case studies seek a larger n of smaller ts, while others pursue a smaller n of larger ts. Neoclassical realist strategic analysis positions itself in the shaded area in the top portion of Figure 1.1, seeking greater specificity and accuracy (larger n, smaller t) than what much of neoclassical realism has done so far. It can include any form of research along the Rosian-Rathbunian spectrum. Capabilities Shape Intentions

Power, according to realists, is the main driver of foreign policy; that capabilities shape intentions is a core belief of realism. Neoclassical realism believes, moreover, that the link between capabilities and intentions is a starting point and not a rigid causal relationship. The relation between capabilities and intentions has been central to realist thought throughout the ages. Thucydides best articulated it when he argued that “the powerful do as they can and the weak suffer what they must” (1972). The shift in relative power between Athens and Sparta constrained each city-state’s margin of maneuver; domestic factors—factions, individuals, political culture—then further specified choices. Hans Morgenthau did the most to put the law at the center of modern realist thought. For him, the second principle of political realism—interests defined in terms of power—explains “the astounding continuity in foreign policy,” regardless of motives or ideology (1993, p. 5). Morgenthau therefore posited that the amount of “power available determines the limits of foreign policy” (p. 159). For example, because Britain has never been able to produce more than a fraction of its required food, keeping strategic sea lanes open has historically been a key interest. Power thus shapes a range of parameters for state behavior, the context within which foreign policy can occur. A state’s relative power shapes the boundaries or range of possible external actions, the margin of maneuver within which the state can act on the international scene. Power, however, is a necessary but not sufficient condition; how, why, and when a state makes decisions within this range, which specific strategies and tools it adopts, and with which consequences, is explained by the intervention of domestic variables. These intervening variables shape what is done within those parameters, narrowing the space for state action from the possible to the actual.

22  Neoclassical Realism

Power: The Independent Variable

The concept of power is “perhaps the most fundamental in the whole of political science: the political process is the shaping, distribution, and exercise of power” (Lasswell and Kaplan, 1950, p. 75). Yet despite power’s centrality, its definition remains contested.1 Beyond its definition, its measurement, its impact on politics, and the impact of politics on it are also contentious. In International Relations, realists are known as the theorists of power politics. For Thucydides, “what made war inevitable [between Athens and Sparta] was the growth of Athenian power and the fear which this caused in Sparta” (Book I, 23). The first half of this proposition—that shifts in relative power lead to war—has since been claimed by realists as a founding tenet of the paradigm. The three key elements of power, according to Thucydides, are military, economic, and territorial (I, 1–19). Contemporary classical realists have maintained power at the center of their explanations of international politics. E. H. Carr’s conceptualization of power in The Twenty Years’ Crisis (2001) is ambiguous, however. He argued that power could be divided into three categories. Military power is supremely important, since “the ultima ratio of power in international relations is war” (p. 102). Economic power also matters, though only “through its association with the military instrument” (p. 105). “Power over opinion,” or the art of persuasion, is the third component. Power for Carr is an instrument but also an end in itself: states fight wars for the sake of acquiring power relative to their rivals (p. 104). Yet Carr is not consistent in his use of the term. That power can be both a means and an end is not problematic, as it is defensible to argue that states use power assets to acquire more power. On most occasions, he discusses power as the possession of assets that allow a state to seek influence. In other instances, however, Carr views power as a relation. In particular, power over opinion seems to refer to the ability of states to change the “opinion” of others through the use of instruments such as propaganda (p. 120). For Morgenthau, international politics, “like all politics, is a struggle for power” (1993, p. 29). He proposed a more systematic analysis, but, as with Carr, there is ambiguity with his use of the term. He defines power as “man’s control over the minds and actions of other men” and as a “psychological relation between those who exercise it and those over whom it is exercised” (p. 30). Yet Morgenthau also equates power with the possession of assets (ch. 9). These include tangible and intangible resources: geography, natural resources, indus-

Neoclassical Realism  23

trial capacity, military preparedness, population, national character, national morale, the quality of diplomacy, and the quality of government. Waltz’s Theory of International Politics (1979, p. 131) marked a watershed by establishing the dominance of structural realism. Intriguingly, Waltz spent little time explaining how he conceived of power. He equates power with the possession of fungible material resources, which he lists as population and territory, resource endowment, economic capability, military strength, political stability, and competence. On this basis, he argues that it is possible to obtain a rough ranking of states’ power; power is “simply the combined capability of a state” (1990, p. 36). Mearsheimer, the figurehead of offensive realism, is more specific: he views power as the possession of relative material capabilities. He distinguishes potential power, based on size of population and level of wealth, from actual power. The key component of actual power is a state’s land forces; air and sea power and nuclear weapons matter to the extent that they support armies (2001, pp. 55–137). Defensive realists, finally, argue that the offense-defense balance, the “relative ease of aggression and defence against aggression,” has a large effect on international outcomes (Van Evera, 1998, fn. 1). The offense-defense balance, for Van Evera, is an aggregate of military technology and doctrine, geography, social structure, and diplomatic arrangements (1998, pp. 16–22; see also Jervis, 1978; Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998). Neoclassical realism builds on this tradition of power analysis. Although neoclassical realists have not offered a fundamentally different way to understand the concept, they have made refinements that have contributed to a more nuanced understanding of power and therefore of foreign policy. Overall, neoclassical realists conceptualize power in terms of the possession of specific assets and as a means to realize outcomes. One of the key contributions of neoclassical realism has been to refine the distinction between potential and actual power. Many structural realists acknowledge this distinction but few discuss it in detail. Mearsheimer, arguably the most prominent realist to make the distinction, identifies this as the difference between latent and actual power. However, he proposes only a brief discussion of the efficiency of the conversion of wealth into power (2001, pp. 79–81), referring to a mobilizing function that transforms latent into actual military power (p. 62). He also accepts that states have different rates of success in translating latent into effective power, acknowledging that this is a process that structural realism cannot explain systematically (pp. 9–10). Neoclassic-

24  Neoclassical Realism

al realists identify this as an important oversight. Zakaria (1998), Schweller (2006), and Taliaferro (2006) argue that a country’s state apparatus cannot be assumed to have automatic access to all the nation’s capabilities. The power that can be brought to bear in the pursuit of foreign policy—state power—is thus a function of what the state can extract from society’s total resources, or national power. For Zakaria, U.S. foreign policy before 1889 was one of “imperial understretch” because the executive “presided over a weak, divided and decentralized government that presented [it] with little usable power” (p. 55). It was only when changes in state-society relations increased usable power that the state was able to adopt and implement a more expansive foreign policy. Neoclassical realists who have accounted for the mobilization and extraction of resources by the state incorporate this conversion process as an intervening variable. For these authors, it is, in military terms, akin to a force multiplier: a strong conversion process helps a state punch above its weight, while a weak ability to mobilize resources can impede a state from fulfilling its potential. States vary in their ability to tap resources; unlike strong states, weak states do not have the capacity to take advantage of available resources. But the amount of power that shapes foreign policy is usable power, not the latent form. It is therefore a contradiction to argue that even though usable power is the independent variable, it actually takes final shape only as an intervening variable. As such, it is more appropriate for neoclassical realism to incorporate the conversion process, whereby latent power is converted into usable power, into the independent variable, because power is the sum of usable assets that can be brought to bear upon foreign policy. The Filter: The Intervening Variable

Intervening variables act as filters or transmission belts between the international distribution of power and the foreign policy outcome, explaining the conversion from the possible—the range of feasible outcomes—to the actual, the foreign policy choice. They are domestic political processes determining how usable power is translated into foreign policy, or how the opportunities and constraints shaped by power are translated into actual choices. Structural realism is underspecified in its explanations of state behavior; structure determines the range of possible action, but states in similar environments may respond differently while states in different environments may behave similarly. In the first case, states are faced with similar choices, but domestic factors push them to adopt different policies. In the second, states are faced

Neoclassical Realism  25

with different ranges of choice. It is possible, however, that domestic factors, though operating under different constraints, could lead them to adopt similar policies. Capabilities are thus a necessary but not sufficient condition to explain behavior; power provides the context but not the how, why, and when of choices. Relative power, in other words, is a permissive cause: it explains the opportunities and constraints states face. Domestic factors are then needed as proximate causes; they specify choices within this range of feasible choice. There are antecedents in realism for a comparable role for domestic variables. For Morgenthau, there is room for greater specification beyond the relationship between power and interests. The “kind of interest determining political action in a particular period of history,” he specifies, “depends upon the political and cultural context within which foreign policy is formulated” (1993, p. 11). Foreshadowing Rathbun, he adds that the “contingent elements of personality, prejudice, and subjective preference, and of all the weaknesses of intellect and will which flesh is heir to, are bound to deflect foreign policies from their rational course” (p. 7). Bringing in domestic variables is also consistent with aspects of Waltz’s writings. Waltz accepts that domestic factors impact foreign policy, for example by arguing that state behavior “varies more with differences of power than with differences in ideology, in internal structure of property relations, or in governmental form” (1986, p. 329; italics added). Elsewhere, he specifies that to integrate the domestic level of analysis is “fully in accord with, rather than a departure from, realist assumptions” (ibid., p. 331).2 Waltz, finally, posits that explanations of international outcomes can potentially be located at three levels of analysis: the first (the individual), the second (the state), and the third (the international system). He concludes that third-image theories best account for international outcomes. Interestingly, the last sentence of Man, the State, and War (1959) is as good a description of neoclassical realism as there is: “The third image describes the framework of world politics, but without the first and second images there can be no knowledge of the forces that determine policy” (p. 238). Power shapes the range of possible courses of action, but it does not explain why specific choices are made. Intervening variables perform this task: they explain choices within these parameters, specifying strategies and tactics and explaining the content, timing, and consequences of policies. Neoclassical realism thus places agency downstream from structure: choice is possible only within a structurally determined bandwidth shaped by power. Intervening variables have a constricting effect on these parameters: they narrow the range of choice

26  Neoclassical Realism

relative to the effect of upstream variables. A certain identity, for example, can remove from consideration within foreign policy–making circles options possible solely on the basis of capabilities, while leading decision-makers to favor other options.3 Neoclassical realists propose four types of intervening variables: ideas, individuals, identity, and institutions. In practice, overlap is possible; a leader’s psychology, for example, falls under both ideas and individuals. The ideas variable regroups factors associated with perceptual, psychological, or cognitive biases that push leaders to pursue specific goals and reject others within the range of available options shaped by their state’s power. Structural realism’s assumption that a black-box corresponding to the state correctly assesses the distribution of power and directly translates it into policy is problematic. As a result, neoclassical realists “posit an explicit role for leaders’ pre-existing belief systems, images of adversaries, and cognitive biases” in their assessments of the distribution of power, of their state’s place in it, and of the resulting policy options (Taliaferro, 2000/01, p. 141). For Wohlforth, “[d] ifferences in perceptions of power must be regarded as the rule rather than the exception” (1993, p. 310). He claims that during the Cold War, shifts in capabilities were regularly interpreted differently by the superpowers, leading to different responses and hence to crisis. In the longer term, as perceptions converged, tension was followed by detente until the next period of diverging perceptions. Neoclassical realists have proposed a variety of other ideational intervening variables. According to Layne (2006), for example, the mix of liberal ideology and Wilsonian values of democracy, free markets, and openness has a major impact on U.S. foreign policy. Second, Daniel Byman and Kenneth Pollack (2001) show how taking into consideration individual leaders’ idiosyncrasies, such as risk tolerance, leads to more accurate accounts of key decisions. Although Paul Kennedy is not a neoclassical realist, his study of the impact of Kaiser Wilhelm on Germany’s foreign policy is almost textbook neoclassical realism and illustrates how a nuanced intervening variable increases explanatory leverage. For Kennedy, the prime determinants of Germany’s changing foreign policy in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were consistent with structuralist historians’ work: economic expansion, primarily, but also broad domestic social trends. Kennedy admits, however, that “neither the economic expansion nor the domestic problems per se ‘compelled’ or ‘determined’ an external policy of colonial annexations, naval expansion, and the ultimate resort to war” (1982, p. 146).4 The

Neoclassical Realism  27

structuralist argument is, by its nature, general. It explains “why Wilhelmine Germany was expansionist at a certain time, but it has much less explanatory power when we move on to the equally important questions of what sort of expansionist policies were chosen, and why, and with what effects” (p. 151; italics added). Kennedy argues that he can reach this greater level of specificity by incorporating as an additional variable the preferences of the Kaiser. The third type includes variables accounting for a state’s identity. Randall Schweller disagrees with neorealism’s assertion that states with comparable international positions respond similarly to systemic pressures. This oversimplification leads at best to underspecification, and at worst to inaccuracy. Schweller (1994) argues that neorealism’s assertion that states predominantly balance against greater power is proven wrong by the bandwagoning propensities of limited-aims revisionist states, which are more likely to ally with unlimited aims revisionist great powers to share the spoils of eventual changes to the international order. On this basis he criticizes neorealism’s “status quo bias” whereby all states are assumed to be security-maximizers. He argues (1996) that the failure to account for the revisionist aims of power-maximizing great powers misses out on the prime movers in international politics. Schweller’s approach harks back to the writings of classical realists: Morgenthau, for example, distinguished imperialist from status quo powers, and Henry Kissinger revolutionary from status quo states. Identity—the dominant values, beliefs, and assumptions in the polity—thus acts as a filter by rendering certain choices inconceivable, despite their feasibility. It also contributes to the definition of the national interest, by shaping the perception of external events and the process through which policies are developed and implemented. Domestic institutions, the fourth category, also act as constraints or enablers for the policy-making process. Institutions deflect systemic pressures by narrowing the range of choice shaped by upstream stages in the causal chain. Norrin Ripsman (2009), in particular, studies the impact of interest groups such as business lobbies and ethnic groups on foreign policy. These actors seek, in some circumstances successfully, to penetrate state institutions such as the legislature to shape the foreign policy–making process. Foreign Policy: The Dependent Variable

The foreign policy outcome is the third stage in the causal chain and here again, neoclassical realists offer an important innovation. For defensive realists, the dominant pattern of state behavior is security-maximization; states may

28  Neoclassical Realism

pursue a number of other aims, but security is by far the most important. For offensive and classical realists, states are power-maximizers; the best way for a state to ensure its security and to pursue other goals is to be the most powerful in the system. For neoclassical realism, states are primarily influence-maximizers (Schmidt, 2005). According to Rose, “[N]eoclassical realists assume that states respond to the uncertainties of international anarchy by seeking to control and shape their external environment . . . . [As] their relative power rises states will seek more influence abroad, and as it falls their action and ambition will be scaled back accordingly” (1998, p. 152). Neoclassical realists often quote Robert Gilpin: when a state’s power increases, it will try to “increase its control over its environment . . . . [It] will try to expand its economic, political, and territorial control; it will try to change the international system in accordance with its own interests” (1981, pp. 94–95). The objective of states is to “increase their influence over the behaviour of other states [through] the use of threats and coercion, the formation of alliances, and the creation of exclusive spheres of influence” (p. 24). Neoclassical realists, however, have done little to conceptualize influence. Similarly, the concepts of consequences and national interest are widely used, but have not been systematically conceptualized. There is, in sum, scope for solidifying neoclassical realism’s framework for the dependent variable, which will be done in the next chapter. Layne’s work on U.S. grand strategy represents one of the most comprehensive applications of neoclassical realism: all three variables are operationalized and linked, while he provides one of the clearest specifications of the foreign policy outcome. Layne defines power in terms of an aggregate of economic and military capabilities and as a means of shaping specific political outcomes. Through its grand strategy of extraregional hegemony, the United States has sought since the 1940s to “expand its political and territorial control” (2006, p. 30). The U.S. has thus sought to create an open international environment conducive to the pursuit of its interests. In the process, Washington has taken on the role of hegemonic stabilizer, developing a vested interest in the stability and liberalization of other countries. This particular interest is the result of the combination of specific variables: preponderant power and a unit-level filter, the “Open Door.”

Neoclassical Realism  29

The Strategic Analysis Variant: Foundations and Features

Neoclassical realism has focused on broad historical cases studying the behavior of Western and great powers. It has not sought to explain what “state X did last Tuesday,” has not focused on non-Western, non–great powers, and has mostly emphasized broad aspects of foreign policy, especially war. Despite its objective of seeking richness and accuracy, it has mostly developed sweeping accounts of foreign policy, often covering decades, while it has continued using broad indicators of power that neglect more nuanced conceptions and their effects on foreign policy. The strategic analysis variant proposed here seeks to build on the strengths of neoclassical realism while remedying these weaknesses. Neoclassical realism marked a shift away from the study of international outcomes toward a focus on foreign policy, and toward less parsimony and generalizability. The strategic analysis variant pushes this shift further. The nomothetic function remains, but the laws that can be derived are more contingent while the explanatory objective takes greater salience. It can also be used either for foreign policy analysis— the Rosian approach—or to study dysfunctional behavior (the Rathbunian approach). It seeks to develop case studies that are more current and therefore relevant to consumers of academic research: comprehensive explanations of the causes of a state’s foreign policy (the why), the actual conduct (the what), and the consequences of specific choices (the “so what”). This second section provides the foundations of the strategic analysis variant, discussing its core assumptions and key features.5 Core Assumptions

Realists of all stripes have proposed a variety of core assumptions for the paradigm, failing to agree on a common set. Robert Keohane (1986, pp. 164–65), for example, identifies three as forming the hard core of the research program: state-centricity, rationality, and the centrality of power. For Gilpin (1986, pp. 304–5), the assumptions of political realism are the conflictual nature of the anarchic international system, the group as the essence of social reality, and the primacy of power and security in human motivation. Mearsheimer (2001, pp. 29–32), finally, proposes five assumptions explaining the behavior of great powers: the international system is anarchic, great powers inherently possess some offensive military capability, states can never be certain about other states’

30  Neoclassical Realism

intentions, survival is the primary goal of great powers, and great powers are rational actors. Neoclassical realism is based on four core assumptions. The first three are acceptable to most realists; it is because it accepts them that it is firmly embedded within the realist tradition. Neoclassical realism, however, differentiates itself by relaxing and qualifying them. First, the international system is anarchic; there is no central authority to enforce agreements or to come to the protection of units under duress. International politics are therefore characterized by constant distributional conflicts for control over scarce material and social goods. Neoclassical realism endorses this assumption but relaxes it. It accepts Waltz’s argument that “in the absence of a supreme authority, there is then constant possibility that conflicts will be settled by force” (1959, p. 188). But like Stephen Brooks (1997), neoclassical realism views conflict in terms of probability and not possibility; when the probability is low, states can focus on matters other than security, even while keeping an eye on future conflicts. Self-help is the default priority to which states revert when they must, but it is not permanent. The second assumption establishes the conflict group as the fundamental unit in international politics. In previous eras, this unit took the shape of city-states, empires, or tribes; for the past few centuries, it has been the sovereign state. As Waltz argues, “[S]tates . . . set the terms of the intercourse . . . . When the crunch comes, states remake the rules by which other actors operate” (1979, p. 94). Importantly, this says nothing about the extent to which the state is a unitary actor; most structural realists make this assumption, but neoclassical realists reject it. Third, the centrality of power in international politics is assumed. Neoclassical realism is built around the foundational law that capabilities shape intentions. A state’s place in the international system, or its relative power, is thus assumed to be the chief determinant of state behavior. Again, this common realist assumption is qualified, as neoclassical realism calls for flexibility in the operationalization and measurement of power. Moreover, power does not monopolize explanatory strength. It shapes state behavior, but factors at the domestic level have a downstream causal role. Neoclassical realism stakes a middle ground in the debate on rationality. For many, such as Keohane (1986, p. 165), states are rational actors who carefully calculate the costs and benefits of the options they face.6 Others disagree. For Waltz (1986, p. 118), states are pushed and pulled by structure; either they follow the pressures and incentives of the system or they suffer consequences; this does

Neoclassical Realism  31

not assume that they behave rationally. Neoclassical realism accepts a qualified rationality assumption, or confined rationality, as its fourth core assumption. It agrees with Waltz that systemic pressures create opportunities and constraints, pushing states to act within a set of parameters; this does not assume that they are rational. However, within this space created by systemic constraints, states seek to maximize certain ends, assessing risks and opportunities by ranking choices on the basis of cost-benefit calculations. The assumption of confined rationality includes a greater role for agency than structural realism. It does so, however, allowing for suboptimal behavior when domestic pathologies impede optimal value-maximization.7 Core Features

Most realists assume a chronologically and conceptually linear relationship between causes and outcomes, while variables are assumed to be static, in the sense that their values are constant. This may be appropriate for broad assessments of international politics or foreign policy, but is problematic for those studies seeking to explain “what state X did last Tuesday.” In the latter case, the complex interaction between different variables of shifting value cannot be overlooked. To better take into consideration this fluidity and complexity, two key characteristics of the neoclassical realist causal chain are its dynamism and path-dependency. For structural realists, the independent variable, the international distribution of power, does not change often; slight variations in one state’s power have no bearing on it. Neoclassical realism, however, brings in a dynamic quality to the interaction between cause and outcome. International and domestic variables explain unit behavior, but they also mutually affect each other through a feedback effect, leading variables to constantly evolve. Because power is fluid, so is its effect on intentions; as a result, the range of possible state action constantly shifts. The causal effect on foreign policy of a given intervening variable, moreover, can lead to components of power being maximized to the detriment of others; this, in turn, changes power’s causal effect. Similarly, an intervening variable can have an impact on another intervening variable, further modifying the operation of the chain. Path dependency is sometimes implicit in studies of international politics, but rarely explicit; it is certainly undertheorized. Walt, for example, argues in a study of alliance formation under unipolarity that U.S. leadership today is the “artefact of . . . particular historical circumstances” (2009, p. 100). There remains much debate on the definition of path dependency. A broad defin-

32  Neoclassical Realism

ition “refers to the causal relevance of preceding stages in a temporal sequence,” meaning “that what happened at an earlier point in time will affect the possible outcomes of a sequence of events occurring at a later point in time.” By contrast, a narrower definition incorporates the concept of increasing returns: “[O]nce a country or region has started down a track, the costs of reversal are very high” (Pierson, 2000, p. 252). Path dependency can be understood as the locking in of the range of feasible action as prior decisions constrain future options. Robert Jervis (1991/92, p. 44) compares this to roads intersecting. As one path is chosen, turning back and changing directions becomes increasingly costly. This locking in of future options is neither permanent nor fixed; the narrowing of the range of choice because of past decisions can be changed, either by the state in question or by exogenous factors. Such change can be sudden or gradual. In the case of sudden changes, the state “jumps” from one path to a new one. This can occur in the wake of a revolution, which can alter a state’s identity, as was the case of Iran following the 1979 Islamic Revolution. This is rare; more frequent are gradual adjustments as power and intervening variables evolve with time. As these change, the range of possible actions shifts gradually. For structural realists, power is by far the most important variable. This insistence on a single-factor explanation, however, puts them in a minority in the discipline. For most scholars of political science, no single variable can explain a complex case; instead, an eclectic combination of variables increases leverage. Neoclassical realism thus agrees with Walt that “no methodological laws are broken when a scholar draws on more than one theoretical tradition when seeking to explain some particular phenomena” (2002, p. 199). It favors this “cookie-cutter” approach but restricts it to its selection of intervening variables: neoclassical realism insists that one causal variable, power, is primus inter pares. It thus provides a hierarchical eclecticism. Although it rejects monocausal accounts and parsimony, it does not go as far as those who favor complex multicausal accounts. In this sense, neoclassical realism is a via media between unicausal and multicausal explanations.8 Realists agree that international politics are complex. Neoclassical realism, however, gives this recognition greater pride of place. Power is imprecise and changing; opportunities are ambiguous and fluid. States are the main units, but they are complex aggregates of multiple domestic actors, with foreign policy the result of a messy process driven by international and domestic causes. States vary in their goals, and these cannot be reduced to a single end, while foreign

Neoclassical Realism  33

policy cannot be reduced to a single strategy. Neoclassical realists thus argue that mid-range or contingent theory, with its narrower claims and emphasis on context, is more useful than grand theorizing. This, of course, has been criticized. Barry Buzan and Richard Little posit that “it is impossible to know when we should stop adding new dimensions of reality to an analysis conducted from this point of view” (2000, p. 46), while Anders Wivel argues that neoclassical realism’s rejection of parsimony and generalizability risks “leaving the reader confused” (2005, p. 357). Neoclassical realism trusts the analyst to add the appropriate levels of complexity on the basis of his or her specific needs. In this, it agrees with Hedley Bull’s view of the “classical approach” to international theory: it is “characterized above all by explicit reliance upon the exercise of judgement” (1969, p. 20). Neoclassical realism thus situates itself at the crossroads between international relations and diplomatic history. It blends the “accuracy and descriptive completeness of narratives about particular events” of the historian’s methodology (Kiser and Hechter, 1991, p. 2) with political science’s focus on theoretically oriented explanations. It disagrees, however, with political scientists who believe that broad covering laws explain the recurrence of sweeping classes of events. Limited, contingent generalizations are possible, in the context of detailed explanations of individual episodes with unique features. Theoretical Progress

Schweller (2003, p. 344), the only neoclassical realist to have discussed theoretical evaluation, defined success as an approach’s popularity in its field. The framework proposed here rejects this view of theoretical progress. Rather, it focuses on another test: how useful is the framework for explaining or shedding light on contemporary phenomena in international politics? Explanatory potential, in other words, is the end sought. The strategic analysis variant must therefore be able to answer an important question: why move further on the specificity/accuracy spectrum and sacrifice generalizability and parsimony? In short, it does so to increase its relevance to consumers of academic products by positioning itself at the border between theory and applied political analysis. For neoclassical realism, theory must be a means to an end and not an end in itself; the end should be to shed light on political phenomena. Too much work in International Relations, however, views, explicitly or implicitly, theory as an end in itself rather than as a means. This is reflected in the incentive structure of the field, where theoretical publications are more highly valued. Neoclassical

34  Neoclassical Realism

realism calls for more problem-driven research and criticizes the field for having veered too much toward theory-driven research.9 Indeed, much research views consumption within the discipline as its objective. As Alexander George wrote, “[M]ost university professors seem to write largely for one another and have little inclination or ability to communicate their knowledge in terms comprehensible to policymakers” (1993, p. 7). Theory should instead be viewed as a tool, while the field of International Relations should view itself as providing a service. Like any service industry, it has clients, who are those who require tools to better understand the world: the public, governments, NGOs, businesses, the media, and so forth. In fulfilling this service, academia has a niche; its voice is a distinct one among many others participating in the public debate. This niche is for detached, objective, well thought-out, culturally aware, historically and theoretically informed analysis and advice. It thus differs from other voices providing similar services, such as journalists, think-tanks, or civil servants. To illustrate this, it is possible to draw a parallel between theory and intelligence. Like theory, intelligence is not an end in itself; it is a means to an end, which is to feed into the policy-making and implementation processes. Intelligence analysis must produce reports tailored to the needs of its clients, or else it is not fulfilling its mandate. This involves identifying those clients and their needs; building appropriate capabilities; performing this function; and monitoring performance to remedy weaknesses and survey evolving client needs. In academia, a poor understanding of this need to fulfill a service is illustrated by Wivel’s criticism of the alleged ad hoc integration of variables and low parsimony of neoclassical realism. Because of this, “decision-makers seeking advice may be disappointed” (2005, p. 357). While in some cases, statesmen do seek general statements, in many others they are wary of simple, if not simplistic, worldviews based on black and white assessments (for example, state A balances; B has revisionist aims). As George wrote, “[T]oo strict a pursuit of . . . parsimony is inappropriate for developing useful policy-relevant theory and knowledge. The policymaker has to deal with complex situations that embrace many variables; he or she will get more help from ‘rich’ theories” (1997, p. 51). Neoclassical realism is well positioned to perform what policy-relevant, contingent theories should do: to conceptualize actual or potentially successful foreign policy strategies by identifying the variables associated with their success and explaining the logic underlying their operation.

2

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

Chapter 1 laid out the foundations of neoclassical realism. This chapter conceptualizes the three steps in the causal chain—power, domestic-level filters, and foreign policy—with the objective of explaining how they will be operationalized in subsequent chapters to explain Iran’s failure to seize the opportunities it faced after 2001. Power

Power refers to the possession and control by a state of usable assets that it can bring to bear upon its foreign policy. Those capabilities, both tangible and intangible and viewed in relative terms, shape the opportunities and constraints faced by states; they represent incentives and pressures that push and pull states in certain directions and not in others. For neoclassical realism as for realism in general, it is relative not absolute power that is the chief determinant of foreign policy. If state A’s power remains constant in absolute terms but that of its neighbors diminishes, A gains. Neoclassical realism departs from other realist approaches, however, by rejecting a zero-sum view of power. Robert Gilpin, for example, argues that “in power terms, international relations is a zero-sum game” (1975, p. 34), a position supported by John Mearsheimer (2001, p. 18). For neoclassical realism, A may gain in power in a domain that is important to its interests but that matters less for B, its rival. This gain in A’s power may lead to a loss for B, but it is not automatic that the ratio is 1 to 1. Neoclassical realism rejects conceptualizations of power based on one or a small number of indicators favored by many structural realists, and calls instead for a detailed conceptualization of power. It agrees that military power is the ultima ratio of international politics, but in many cases this is of limited 35

36  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

use. Brazil’s military might is important, but other components of its power— such as its growing economy and population, or the attractiveness of its model (especially that of former president Lula)—also matter. Moreover, simpler indexes relying on broad indicators such as GDP or military power tend to be more reliable for great powers than for lesser powers. Less separates weaker states in terms of their relative power; more nuanced frameworks are needed to distinguish them. Neoclassical realism therefore favors a comprehensive view of power incorporating nonmilitary and nonmaterial components. Indeed, realists have too often exaggerated the effectiveness of military power and neglected nonmilitary elements. Such military-focused definitions and the usually implicit assumption that the scope that matters most is the ability to win wars lead to the neglect of other important components of power and their impact on outcomes other than war. Neoclassical realism also departs from many structural realist accounts by emphasizing the importance of nonmaterial elements of power. This again harks back to classical realists, who did not restrict themselves to material components. For Hans Morgenthau, “[W]hile military strength and political power are the preconditions for lasting international greatness, the substance of that greatness springs from the hidden sources of intellect and morale, from ideas and values” (1969, p. 176). Neoclassical realism also proposes contingent, contextual analyses of power, a complex conceptualization explaining how a range of capabilities impact specific aspects of state behavior. Doing so inhibits the development of parsimonious theories but favors accuracy. Indeed, the nature and not just the amount of power shape intentions. Two states with a roughly equal amount of aggregate power will not necessarily benefit from similar opportunities and be subjected to similar constraints, all other things being equal. If A has a strong and open economy while B spends a greater proportion of its smaller GDP on its military, their foreign policies will differ. There is usually an implicit assumption among structural realists that power is fungible.1 For Kenneth Waltz, the more powerful a state is, the more its power is fungible; for strong states, power is “highly” fungible (1986, p. 333). Neoclassical realists depart from their structural forebears and agree with classical realists that power has limited fungibility. Assets useful in one issue-area may not be equally useful in another, because there is no standardized measure of value that serves as a means of exchange for power resources in the political sphere, like money in economic exchanges. In international politics, “the owner of a political power resource, such as the means to deter atomic attack, is likely

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 37

to have difficulty converting this resource into another resource that would, for instance, allow his country to become the leader of the Third World” (Baldwin, 1979, pp. 165–66). Overall, this approach to power analysis does not make it possible, nor does it aim, to derive a numerical value or composite indicator of power. Instead, it leads to a nuanced picture of a state’s capabilities as a first step in studying its foreign policy. This harks back, again, to the historicist and interpretive work of classical realists. Neoclassical realism rejects as counterproductive attempts to build an aggregate indicator: how components of power are weighed against each other is context dependent. The Elements of Power

The next step is to introduce the elements that constitute power. These are geography, population, military power, economic power, alliances, popular mood, and appeal. Geography, especially location and size, has a major bearing on the opportunities and constraints faced by a state. The English Channel, for example, has historically played a central role in Britain’s power by protecting it against invasion, a luxury that Continental European powers never enjoyed. Conversely, the absence of physical barriers can weaken a state by increasing its vulnerability, as the history of Poland illustrates. That said, geography’s impact on power is contextual: the same feature can decrease vulnerability in some circumstances but strengthen it in others; open plains, for example, can serve as a conduit for both attack and defense. Importantly, geography matters in relative terms: a state’s intentions are shaped by its own geography and by the geography of states with which it interacts. As Morgenthau (1993, p. 139) argued, a populous country is not necessarily a great power, but a country cannot be a great power without a significant population. A large population is thus a necessary but not sufficient condition for great power status. Similarly, to be a regional power, a state must have a larger population than most of its neighbors, though the correlation is less clear (Uzbekistan, population 30 million, aspires to regional power status, while Nigeria also does, with 130 million). Population also plays a key role in shaping aspirations: the greater the population, the more the polity will aspire to what it perceives as an appropriate status. Four dimensions of population shape power. First, rates of growth matter: a growing population reinforces the perception of an important and rightful

38  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

place in the system. Second, age distribution affects the salience of population as a component of state power. A younger population implies a larger and more productive workforce and a greater pool of military manpower. Yet as with many components of power, this is a double-edged sword: a large, young population, if unemployed and frustrated, can be a source of weakness. Third, the level of urban population can be associated with a shift away from an agricultural economy. It may be less relevant for great powers today, as their populations have been urbanized for decades, but it is useful for non-Western, lesser powers, many of which maintain large rural populations. Again, this can be a source of weakness if large numbers of slum dwellers create instability. Fourth, ethnic cohesion, or the number and size of ethnic groups and their integration in and identification with the polity, also matters. A high number of dissatisfied ethnic communities, in particular, creates vulnerabilities and constraints. The defense budget in absolute terms, as a percentage of GDP or as a share of global military expenditures, is the most frequently used indicator of military power. It is useful to build a rough rank ordering of states; it says little, however, about the nature of a state’s capabilities. Breakdowns according to services (army, navy, air force, special forces) provide additional information, as can breakdowns with respect to salaries, operations, maintenance, procurement, and R&D. Information about trends is also useful, as rising budgets imply growing power and aspirations. Policy, doctrine, organization, and training also have a major impact on the efficiency of military assets. Neoclassical realism can thus take into consideration the use, especially among non-Western lesser powers, of unconventional or asymmetric assets. This can allow less conventionally powerful states to attain greater influence under specific circumstances. After budgets, manpower is the best indicator of military power. Breakdowns according to service, proportion of combat or deployable troops, ratio of regular to reserve troops, preparedness and educational levels further refine measurement. The loyalty of troops also matters. Conscript armies can have lower motivation and loyalty and higher desertion rates, whereas smaller and better motivated professional armies are likely to perform better on the battlefield. A large army can be powerful simply by dint of its size, but equipment is also essential. Equipment is assessed on the basis of its quality, quantity, firepower, mobility and ability to project (the ability to transport troops and equipment away from centers of mobilization, especially strategic and tactical lift), pre-

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 39

paredness, communication and control, logistics, and infrastructure (bases, housing facilities, and training installations). The possession of nuclear weapons or of a breakout capacity (the ability to produce a functional nuclear bomb at short notice) increases a state’s power. The impact on foreign policy can be significant but is context specific. In addition to its deterrent value, nuclear capability can embolden a state and provide it with the means to behave with greater assertiveness. The nature of this capability also affects state power (for example, level of progress, ambiguity surrounding its status, the ability to protect nuclear sites, availability of indigenous sources of uranium or plutonium). The quality of military leadership, as Morgenthau argued, “has always exerted a decisive influence upon national power” (1993, p. 138). Leadership affects battlefield performance and morale and shapes the opportunities and constraints faced by a state. Daniel Byman’s and Kenneth Pollack’s study (2001) of the influence of leaders on foreign policy provides valuable examples of how military genius (in the case of Napoleon) or foolishness (Hitler) can amplify or decrease state power. Finally, the defense industrial base can have a positive effect on power, but has drawbacks. A strong defense industry protects the state from unreliable suppliers and reduces the possibility of a cutoff in supplies while opening up export opportunities, a valuable source of earnings and influence. At the same time, self-sufficiency can be costly if it implies sacrifices in other areas and leads to the production of costlier, less efficient weapons. For many realists, economic power matters mostly to the extent that it allows states to afford large military forces (Mearsheimer, 2001, pp. 60–67). Broad indicators such as GDP, GDP per capita, share of world GDP, and growth rates provide important starting points. But in the context of the more fine grained role of power used here, wealth has an independent effect on aspects of foreign policy, notably by enabling other components of power. Natural resources, a key source of latent power with geography and population, include food, energy, and water. Countries with poor resource endowments will never be able to eliminate critical vulnerabilities but can, with reliable supplies, compensate. The export of critical resources also matters, both as a source of earnings and as an opportunity to penetrate foreign markets. Energy and water are particularly essential. Oil is a source of hard currency for exporting states, whereas importing states are sensitive to the stability and reliability of supply.2 Other sources of energy—such as gas, coal, and nuclear

40  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

power—also matter, as will, increasingly, alternative sources (thermal, wind, and biofuels). Water provides hydroelectric power and can be exported, whereas it is a source of leverage for states controlling upstream flows or aquifers. Poor economic governance can weaken a state. This can arise from the weakness of the private sector, corruption, inflation, or mismanagement. On their own, these weaken long-term prospects. But they also matter indirectly. For example, concentration in one sector makes a state vulnerable to sanctions, while corruption feeds popular discontent. On the other hand, having a strong industrial base is a necessary but not sufficient condition for great power status. Industrial capacity, in particular, is necessary for war-making potential. Infrastructure, next, makes possible economic growth, whereas infrastructure deficits impede military efficiency. A strong transportation network, in particular, is critical to homeland defense. Great powers demarcate themselves in part by their mastery of the most sophisticated technologies, but lesser powers can gain an edge by more modest accomplishments. Trade ties, finally, contribute to aggregate wealth, but also contribute to power through their diversity, which can affect leverage over trade partners. Asymmetric trade dependence—if state A is considerably more dependent on state B than vice versa, either in general or for a critical resource—can be an important element of power. Alliances also contribute to state power; as Stephen Walt writes, the “primary purpose of most alliances is to combine the members’ capabilities in a way that furthers their respective interests” (2009, p. 88). Allies provide deterrence, political and diplomatic support, legitimacy, strategic depth, and bargaining power. This contribution, however, is fluid and difficult to assess. As a general rule, states derive less power from alliances than from internal sources. The nature of allies’ resources must be taken into consideration alongside the strength, reliability, and durability of the alliance. Importantly, allies include nonstate actors, a factor usually ignored by alliance theories. In addition, because it is relative power that matters, counteralliances must be taken into consideration. A state may have weak ties to weak allies, but this is not necessarily a disadvantage if it faces disorganized rivals. Popular mood refers to the population’s support for, and identification with, the government. It is an intangible element that cannot be measured accurately with a single indicator, but it can be assessed using opinion polls (when reliable ones are available) and field reporting. Popular mood can affect foreign policy through a variety of mechanisms. If it is volatile, it can cause states to

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 41

be inward-looking and concentrate on regime protection, or it can encourage adventurism abroad. An unpopular regime may be constrained for fear of the spark that could provoke an explosion among a volatile population, or it may adopt scapegoating strategies to deflect its unpopularity toward external threats. A popular government can be emboldened, having to worry less about protecting its domestic arrears. In times of war, unpopular regimes may have difficulty mobilizing resources and be vulnerable to uprisings. Finally, the resources that constitute the appeal or attractiveness of a state include political culture and ideology, the values it stands for, and its political system. If these elements appeal to other states and peoples, they represent valuable assets that can be leveraged in the pursuit of the state’s interests. This bears similarities with Joseph Nye’s concept of soft power, which is “the ability to get what you want through attraction rather than coercion or payments. It arises from the attractiveness of a country’s culture, political ideals, and policies” (Nye, 2004, p. x). Nye, however, defines the concept in relational terms. As with other elements of power, therefore, distinguishing appeal as an asset (what Nye refers to as “soft power resources”) from influence allows for greater conceptual clarity. An important mechanism is “value identification,” or the extent to which the values embodied by state A resonate in other polities. When they do, it becomes more costly for other states to adopt policies opposed to or competing with those of A. This increases A’s ability to influence outcomes. It can be a tool for A to pressure rivals by manipulating its appeal to their populations, making it costlier for them to choose a course competing with A’s. Finally, appeal must also be viewed in relative terms: A’s situation can be stable, but if developments in B cause A’s appeal among B’s population to change, A’s power may rise. Intervening Variables

The incorporation of domestic processes as filters between systemic pressures and foreign policy represents one of the key innovations of neoclassical realism. To build more accurate accounts of foreign policy, two additional steps can be taken: to incorporate a greater number of intervening variables and to develop more specific and nuanced versions of these domestic-level filters, an analytical strategy that adds layers of complexity but increases leverages.3 Three intervening variables bring greater accuracy to the explanation of Iranian foreign policy: status, regime identity, and factional politics. This section conceptualizes them, while Chapter 4 applies them.

42  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

Status

The first attempt to introduce the concept of status in international theory was by David Singer and Melvin Small (1966). They viewed status as a rank attributed to a state by other states. This rank could be correlated to capabilities, but not automatically. To operationalize status, Singer and Small took into consideration the number and rank of diplomatic representations accredited to a state, assuming that this reflected the host nation’s status in the international community. Their work spawned an important research program, yet their approach was problematic. In particular, their measurement was crude and rigid, while their framework proposed a rank ordering of states but did not explain how status shapes behavior. Throughout the 1970s, other authors introduced the concept of status inconsistency. The distinction was between a state’s achieved status—its military and economic capabilities—and its ascribed status, the prestige others accord it. A status inconsistency, or rank disequilibrium, exists when there is a gap between achieved and ascribed status. Under such conditions, a state is likely to seek to change the status quo, possibly through violence. Maurice East (1971) and Michael Wallace (1973) found strong correlations between status discrepancies and the onset of wars. Even though such studies marked an advance on the work of Singer and Small, East and Wallace remained limited to identifying correlations through large-N studies and did not provide explanations of state behavior or of the onset of war. Moreover, their focus on war neglected other outcomes. Dissatisfied states with limited aims, for example, seek to change the prevailing order but not overthrow it violently. Research on status waned in the late 1970s, but interest has resurfaced recently. Among realists, William Wohlforth has proposed hypotheses linking polarity and status competition. Building on social identity theory, he posits that humans have high motivation for a positive self-image; this is an important driver of conflict that theories of war neglect. He suggests that “narrow and asymmetrical capabilities gaps foster status competition” (2009, p. 56), while clear hierarchies are more conducive to peace. In particular, he proposes that a unipolar distribution of power dampens “status competition, reducing or removing important preconditions” for war (p. 52). Status belongs to the ideational category of intervening variables. Status is a social concept: it is derived from social identity theory as its causal effect, especially in the case of ascribed status, is premised on shared understandings among states. Status refers to a position, recognized by others, in a social hier-

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 43

archy. The status variable proposed here is premised on the relationship between a state’s aspiration and its perception of the status ascribed to it by the international community. The first element consists of the status to which a state aspires: whether it considers, for example, that its rightful place in the international order is that of a great or regional power. This builds on a weakness with Wohlforth’s framework. For Wohlforth, the variable that matters is “status dissonance,” the gap between achieved status (power) and ascribed status. But this presumes that achieved status is aligned with ambition. What if a state accepts that its ascribed status is below its potential? In such a case, according to Wohlforth, there is a status dissonance, but this state may well not be dissatisfied.4 By incorporating aspirations, leverage is increased: the existence of a discrepancy between aspirations and ascribed status better explains dissatisfaction. The second factor in the status variable is the perception by that state of the “place in the pecking order” ascribed to it by other states. The role of the hegemon in a unipolar system or of great powers in bi- or multipolar systems is essential in shaping ascription. This is what Thomas Volgy and Stacey Mayhall refer to as ideological adherence: actors who “profess an ideological affinity with the hegemon, or accept its leadership, should receive greater recognition than those with similar economic or military capabilities, but with ideological or political orientations that are ‘troublesome’ to the hegemon” (1995, p. 69). It is the state’s perception of the status ascribed to it that matters, not the reality of this ascription. Aspiration is a unit-level factor, whereas ascription (the status ascribed to one state by members of the international community) is a systemlevel factor. Status is a unit-level driver of foreign policy and cannot arise as the combination of a unit-level factor with a systemic one. The status variable is therefore the result of the combination of two unit-level factors, a state’s status aspirations and its perceptions of the status ascribed to it. The relationship between aspiration and ascription gives rise to three scenarios. When there is congruence, the state is likely to be satisfied and favor the status quo. When ascribed status exceeds aspirations, the state is likely to heavily favor the status quo, as any change to the prevailing order is likely to be disadvantageous. When aspirations exceed ascribed status, a situation known as a status discrepancy, the state is likely to be dissatisfied with the international order and favor a revisionist foreign policy.5 Intervening variables lead decision-makers to favor certain options over others. With status, the foreign policy apparatus will dismiss options that,

44  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

though feasible, are perceived as unbecoming of the aspired status, while options viewed as appropriate for the aspired status are favored. In particular, a state aspiring to be a regional or great power and which does not consider that it is being given such recognition may seek to act like one. This can be illustrated by Wohlforth’s discussion (2009, p. 50) of the Soviet Union’s recurring attempts to act like a global power equal to the United States, craving the recognition that would entail. In many cases, Moscow’s intentions were beyond its means, leading it to take risks and suffer consequences. Regime Identity

Status discrepancy leads to dissatisfaction, but how this is translated into policy depends on other factors. A dissatisfied state can adopt limited or unlimited aims, through violent or nonviolent means, and it can seek to change the rules by working from within the system or by aggressively opposing the status quo. To achieve greater specificity, one must thus incorporate additional variables. Iran’s rising power pushes it to pursue its interests abroad with greater assertiveness. The regime’s status discrepancy then drives its revisionism. The regime’s identity specifies the rejectionist nature of these interests. The regime identity intervening variable builds on the strengths of two commonly used variables, national identity and strategic culture, while remedying their weaknesses. Broad national identity variables suffer from two flaws. “Identity,” first, has often been criticized for being vague and amorphous, for incorporating such a wide array of features—norms, beliefs, cultural symbols, and so forth—so as to make it unwieldy and imprecise (Abdelal et al., 2006). Moreover, societies may be fragmented and a government may be characterized by cognitive beliefs divergent from those of significant sectors of its population. Using a broad national identity variable therefore potentially leads to the analytical problem of a discrepancy between dominant societal beliefs and those beliefs held by the elite that actually impact foreign policy. Others have preferred to focus on the concept of strategic culture to explain how dominant beliefs and norms shape foreign policy. Alastair Iain Johnston defines strategic culture as an “integrated system of symbols . . . which acts to establish pervasive and long-lasting strategic preferences by formulating concepts of the role and efficacy of military force” in international affairs (1995, p. 46). Defined that way, strategic culture provides a tool to explore how “cultural, ideational, and normative influences” impact the actions of the ruling elite (Glenn, 2009, p. 523).

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 45

Like national identity, however, strategic culture is problematic in a neoclassical realist framework. It is, first, also too broad and vague. Some definitions include as the components of strategic culture geography, climate, resources, history, national experience, military organization and doctrine, and the country’s political structure, as well as social factors such as generational change.6 Like national identity, the variable therefore becomes too unwieldy, defined so broadly as to become unfalsifiable. Some of these elements, moreover, such as geography and resources, are already included in power. Incorporating strategic culture as an intervening variable would therefore lead to redundancy in the causal chain. In addition, like a broad national identity variable, strategic culture is also underdetermined on its own, in the sense that it cannot account for the fundamental causal effect of power. At the same time, both variables undeniably have a causal impact on fine-grained policy choices. To maximize their relevance, identity and strategic culture therefore need to be defined more precisely, thereby removing the problems arising from their unwieldiness and from redundancy with other variables. Once integrated in the neoclassical realist causal chain—in which the causal effect of power predominates, but in which other relevant variables can be incorporated—overall explanatory leverage is increased through greater accuracy and specificity. The resulting regime identity variable acts as a lens through which the world is interpreted: threats are evaluated, options are assessed, and interests are defined through this cognitive filter, pushing states toward certain assessments of the external environment and toward certain responses. The regime identity variable can thus be viewed as providing self-schemas, mental representations that allow individuals to overcome the inherent deficits in short-term memory and other information-processing capacity by organizing an otherwise overwhelming amount of incoming stimuli into categories based on prior experience. (Chafetz et al., 1998, p. 8)

Regime identity shapes how the foreign policy apparatus assesses and elaborates, within the range of options shaped by power, a smaller number of responses by reducing the universe of possible actions to a smaller set of conceivable ones. Such a conception of identity acts as a cognitive filter that renders certain alternatives less desirable, despite their feasibility; its causal effect is similar to a prism which limits attention to less than the complete range of possible courses of action. This is consistent with Judith Goldstein and Robert Keohane’s argument that an idea “limits choice because it logically excludes

46  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

other interpretations of reality or at least suggests that such interpretations are not worthy of sustained exploration” (1993, p. 12). This filtering effect is particularly salient for states facing a window of opportunity: because the range of choice is unusually wide and therefore underspecified, the effect of the identity variable can be causally powerful. Identity also influences the ranking of options. States faced with choices conduct a cost-benefit analysis, but do not do so in an ideational vacuum: they bring to this evaluation process a cognitive background, a worldview steering the ranking of available options.7 Finally, identity shapes the implementation of foreign policy, by influencing the choice of strategies and tactics, the rhetoric used, the timing of decisions and the degree or intensity of policies (the extent to which an objective is pursued). Like power, the causal effect of identity is permissive, as it does not dictate specific behaviors. Its causal effect implies that certain choices are made possible but not certain, and others less likely but not impossible. It disposes the unit toward certain directions, but does not inexorably drive it to make specific decisions. The combination of this filtering effect with the effect of other variables gradually narrows the range of feasible options, moving from a broad universe of choices to a narrower set of responses. Identity tends to be stable, since “international actors tend to change their concepts about their roles only reluctantly and with difficulty” (Chafetz et al., 1998, p. 12). Moreover, dominant ideational elements tend to become embedded in formal (such as bureaucracies and political parties) and informal (rules and norms) institutions over time (Berman, 2001, pp. 237–41). As a result, such formal and informal institutions are also difficult to change. This entrenchment of identity constrains policy—for example, by limiting the terms of political debate or through the built-in biases of these institutions and their shaping of policy-making. This contributes to explaining the path-dependency of the causal chain: identity has a strong causal effect that is difficult to reorient. Importantly, when this policy is suboptimal, the resulting negative consequences are perpetuated. Factional Politics

Domestic political bargaining plays a central role in shaping foreign policy. Robert Gilpin, for example, posits that “the state may be conceived as a coalition of coalitions whose objectives and interests result from the powers and bargaining among the several coalitions composing the larger society and political elite” (1981, p. 18). Graham Allison’s study of U.S. decision-making during

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 47

the Cuban missile crisis remains the landmark attempt to systematize the role of bureaucratic politics. According to Allison (1969, p. 707), foreign policy is best understood as an outcome that does not arise by “rational choice but by the pulling and hauling” that characterizes bureaucratic politics. Decisions result from a complex game of compromise, competition, and coalition-building as organizations with varying interests constantly bargain together. Approaches emphasizing domestic politics, however, often fail to account for the dominant causal effect of the international system. A state whose relative power is transformed will see important changes in its foreign policy, whether its domestic politics change or not; on the other hand, a state operating in a stable international structure but with a changing balance of internal power among ruling factions will see its foreign policy tilt only toward the preferences of the empowered elite. The causal effects of power and bureaucratic politics should therefore be seen as complementary. Bipolarity (which Allison ignores) shaped the range of choice available to the United States during the Cold War. Bureaucratic politics then steered Washington to choose certain alternatives over others. Importantly, the bureaucratic variable helps explain decisions at a higher level of precision. Belonging to the fourth category of intervening variables, domestic institutions, “factional politics” consists of the balance of power among regime factions involved in the making of foreign policy and is the third intervening variable after status and identity. It is similar to Allison’s bureaucratic politics, but differs in two key respects. It refers, first, to factional and not bureaucratic competition. In addition, Allison used bureaucratic politics as an autonomous driver of foreign policy, whereas here factional politics is integrated in a causal chain. To explain its causal effect, the variable must be broken down into four component parts: the state as the battlefield for factional competition; the structure or rules of this competition; the actors; and policy as an equilibrium point. The state is a strategic battleground in which factions fight it out to steer policy; as Allison posited, the “apparatus of each national government constitutes a complex arena for the intra-national game” (1971, p. 144). The state provides the political space where policies are debated, adopted, implemented, and reviewed. For neoclassical realists, the state stands at the intersection between international and domestic politics; it is the final transmission belt through which upstream structural pressures are translated into policy. Lobell, Ripsman, and Taliaferro (2009, p. 25) conceptualize the state as “epitomized by a national

48  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

security executive” composed of senior officials charged with making foreign policy. The “degree of consensus among the foreign policy executive (FPE) and key societal supporters about foreign threats” then shapes constraints and inducements on foreign policy performance (Lobell, 2009, p. 45). Policy is thus the outcome of a bargaining process between the FPE and domestic interest groups such as the media, public opinion, business leaders, and ethnic groups (Ripsman, 2009, pp. 179–80). Lobell, Ripsman, and Taliaferro assume that the FPE is a unified decision-making entity (see Lobell, 2009, p. 56). As a result, their focus on the balance of interests between the FPE and societal actors leads them to neglect possible disagreements within what they define as monolithic. Yet in Iran, major policy differences among key factions within the FPE result in constant bargaining processes that significantly shape the country’s external behavior. Defining the third intervening variable as “factional politics,” on the other hand, incorporates into the causal chain the impact of such elite bargaining on foreign policy. This is, moreover, consistent with the spirit of the strategic analysis variant of neoclassical realism and its objective of adding additional levels of specificity to obtain greater accuracy. Such a move is also consistent with the second core assumption of neoclassical realism, positing the primacy of the conflict group. Neoclassical realists, however, relax this assumption, accepting that although states are the key actors in the international system, they are not unitary. The state, instead, is composed of a web of formal and informal institutions in which a range of factions constantly interact to hash out compromises and to shape decisions. The second dimension of this intervening variable concerns the structure of factional competition. One must first identify a leader, usually the primus inter pares, an individual more influential than others but unable to steer the process on his own. Beyond this leader, power structures must be analyzed. In the United States, for example, there is a considerable literature studying the role of the president in shaping foreign policy. In his classic study, Richard Neustadt (1960) argues that the president is a “superpower” among lesser but still powerful actors. Other players, such as Congress and various bureaucratic units, influence presidential choice by bargaining among themselves through the regularized channels that bring issues to the president’s attention. The third component consists of the identification of the factions. In most cases, actors gain that status by virtue of their position in the executive, the bureaucracy, the legislature, or the judiciary. An actor’s title, however, is not

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 49

sufficient to explain its influence or its preferences. The military, for example, is not necessarily the most hawkish bureaucratic player in its support for the use of force. Where you sit, in other words, does not automatically determine where you stand or the influence you carry.8 Allison views the key actors in the bureaucratic game as the main government departments. Here, however, the basic unit of analysis is the faction. In Iran, actors outside the bureaucracy play important roles, as do subunits within government departments. These informal or subagency actors often reach positions of influence by virtue of their capabilities or expertise as much as through loose alliances. The influence of key factions may be understood on the basis of concentric circles of importance, with an inner circle participating actively in deliberations (with the top authority, such as the U.S. president or the Iranian supreme leader, leading the process), with successive tiers of outer rings also involved. The latter may, for example, be invited to participate in specific circumstances only or may simply have less bearing on decision-making. Policy development and implementation, finally, loosely reflect the balance of factional power. Factional pulling and hauling occurs within parameters shaped by upstream variables. In Iran’s case, factional bargaining occurs within bounds set by the regime’s identity: key actors debate issues, make decisions, and implement them within bounds that loosely establish what is feasible. The causal effect of factional politics, as a result, completes the transformation along the causal chain from a wide range of possible choices, shaped by power, to a more specific explanation of policy, once the effects of status, identity, and factional politics have been incorporated. Foreign Policy

The third stage of the causal chain, the foreign policy outcome, includes four components: national interests; power, security, and influence-maximization; foreign policy strategies; and consequences. The national interest is the aggregate of what a state pursues in a specific issue-area or in general; it is the actual or desired end-goal of foreign policy. Influence-maximization and national interest are intimately linked, but are not the same: the first refers to a pattern of state behavior, the second to the content of state preferences. To a state threatened with invasion, all that matters is survival; its interest is security. At the other extreme, a secure state can focus on the pursuit of other interests. Influence-maximization as a heuristic tool allows the analyst to study how such interests are pursued.

50  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

It would be logically inconsistent for neoclassical realism, however, to argue that there is a universal national interest for states. Instead, it agrees that “the ambitious attempt of Structural Realist theory to deduce national interests from system structure via the rationality postulate has been unsuccessful . . . . [I]nterests are underspecified by examining the nature of the international system and the position of various states in it” (Keohane, 1986, pp. 190–91). Rather, interests are context-dependent (they can be understood only through empirical investigation), contingent (of limited generalizability), and complex (incorporating a variety of ends). The Rathbunian approach further refines realist conceptions of interests by differentiating actual from ideal interests. While actual interests correspond to what a state is pursuing, ideal interests correspond to those objectives that a state should pursue if it responded solely to structural pressures and incentives. Ideal interests are a prescriptive or normative baseline derived from Waltzian structural realism. The starting point for making this distinction is the recognition that, in practice, states often do not pursue ideal interests. The actual interests they instead pursue, though broadly shaped by their position in the international system, arise from the distorting effect of domestic political processes that lead states to deviate from ideal outcomes. The further a state deviates from its optimal interests, the more it suffers consequences. This distinction between ideal and actual interests positions neoclassical realism as a theory of mistakes or of suboptimal behavior. Such a theory integrates two pillars: a theory of actual foreign policy explaining observed behavior, and an ideal baseline, a yardstick against which to compare reality. That is, it combines a normative theory of ideal behavior with a framework explaining actual behavior. The result is a theory of mistakes, a comprehensive framework comparing how states should behave with how they actually behave. Charles Glaser’s Rational Theory of International Politics (2010) supports such a view of structural realism as a theory of optimal behavior, an ideal baseline according to which state behavior should follow the pressures and incentives of the international system. Rathbunian neoclassical realism combines this baseline with a framework explaining actual behavior—the causal effect of power is filtered through domestic processes—to produce a comprehensive theory of mistakes. Once ideal interests have been established and the gap between actual and ideal identified, the analyst can move backward to propose strategies appropriate to the pursuit of the ideal version. Ideal interests can

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 51

therefore serve as a theoretically derived yardstick against which to evaluate actual policy. How far is it from the ideal? How can the distance between actual and ideal foreign policy—suboptimality—be explained, that is, by the intervention of which intervening variables? One obvious problem that arises here is structural realism’s failure to agree on a universal definition of the national interest. Most prominently, offensive and defensive realists fundamentally disagree on how states should read the signals of the international system. For offensive realists such as John Mearsheimer, states should be power-maximizers; in a world where security is scarce, the optimal way for states to ensure their survival is to strive for regional hegemony. Defensive realists, however, argue that states should be security-maximizers: because they believe that security is more plentiful, the optimal way for states to ensure their security is to adopt defensive postures rather than offensive ones. Offensive and defensive realism therefore imply significantly different prescriptions of ideal behavior. Neoclassical realism addresses this dilemma by rejecting the notion that one strand of realism systematically works best. Rather, it posits that in the complex realm of international politics, eclecticism, rather than rigid adherence to a single approach, best provides the analyst with the tools to shed light on state behavior. It is therefore up to the analyst to determine whether the scope conditions of offensive or defensive realism best apply. For Iran, surrounded by states with which it holds adversarial relations, the scope conditions of defensive realism are not present: it does not perceive security as being plentiful. Instead, the optimal behavior for Iran should follow the prescriptions of offensive realism: irrespective of the identity of the regime in Tehran, Iran should pursue regional hegemony as the optimal approach to maximizing its security. Iran’s ideal interest, in other words, is that it should behave like an offensive realist. Neoclassical realism also rejects the view that states, on any given Tuesday, actually pursue only one end. Instead, it accepts that states seek to maximize different ends; which ends and in which proportions must be determined empirically. To argue, for example, that state A maximizes its security by balancing may be true in some general circumstances. However, even when there is a preponderance of balancing behavior, neoclassical realism recognizes other behaviors: security and power become so entangled that it is not possible to distinguish day-to-day policies aiming to maximize one or the other. As Stephen Brooks argues (1997, p. 450), everyday decisions constantly involve trade-offs between the two. Neoclassical realism believes that at any given time, states are

52  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

likely to pursue both power and security. It agrees, in sum, with Gilpin that “it is the mix and trade-offs of objectives rather than their ordering that is critical to an understanding of foreign policy” (1981, p. 22). Neoclassical realists, first, agree with Morgenthau that whatever “the ultimate aims of international politics, power is always the immediate aim” (1993, p. 29). States have a variety of aims, but power is always an immediate concern; the preponderance of this concern relative to other ones varies. As Brooks argues, “[S]tates pursue power because doing so allows for maximum flexibility in achieving the nation’s instrumental interests” (1997, p. 462). Power is thus an end in itself, and also a means necessary for the pursuit of other ends. Furthermore, pursuing power can be done in an infinite number of ways; some components of power can be maximized in certain circumstances and not others. States, for example, often maximize specific elements of power but not geographic ones, forgoing conquest or expansion. Power is an end and a means to other ends, the first and most important of which is security.9 In a world of distributional conflict for control over scarce goods, states require power to pursue security; the more secure they are, the more they can then afford to pursue other ends. Neoclassical realism accepts that states may pursue other ends, such as moral values, depending on their specific circumstances. Waltz opened the door to the consideration of other ends when he wrote that only “if survival is assured, can states safely seek such other goals as tranquillity, profit and power” (1979, p. 126). Similarly, he wrote that beyond security, the aims of states are endlessly varied (p. 91). “Influence-maximization” is a heuristic tool explaining the strategies and tactics that states adopt and implement to maximize the various ends they pursue. It is on another plane than power, security, and other ends, encompassing them. It can be defined as such: to maximize influence is to adopt and implement policies seeking the alignment of the international environment with national interests. The international environment includes the distribution of power—thus the importance of power-maximization—but also the distribution of norms and economic patterns. To maximize influence is to create, change, or maintain the “rules of the game,” which include, but are not restricted to, institutions, such as international organizations, treaties and norms (their formation, evolution, and operation), alliance patterns, agenda-setting, and so forth. It is about increasing the quantity and quality of a state’s options and reducing those of rivals. This can be understood as seeking to maximize the width of the band of choice afforded to each state on the basis of its relative

From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain 53

power and to ensure that its room for maneuver within this space, its agency, is as unconstrained as possible. This definition encompasses different types of influence. Some states develop the means to shape the external environment, to persuade others, and to coerce them. Conversely, states can also develop the ability to block, to deny opportunities, and to spoil developments. The former is positive, the latter negative influence. Obviously, states can possess the means to pursue both; the greater a state’s power, the more it will wield combinations of policies situated all over this spectrum. The extent to which a state has the ability to maximize positive or negative influence depends largely on the amount of its power, but also on its nature: a state with certain capabilities will exert more or less positive or negative influence. Influence can also be measured on the basis of its breadth and depth. A state has broad influence when it can shape developments in a large number of issue-areas, while its influence is deep when it is particularly strong in specific issue-areas. Both breadth and depth, and also positivity and negativity of influence, are shaped by the amount and nature of power; how this relationship between power and influence plays out is further specified by intervening variables. Neoclassical realism, third, provides tools to disaggregate foreign policy into its constituent parts by distinguishing the strategies adopted by states. The only neoclassical realist to have done so is Randall Schweller, who identified eleven strategies in his study of tripolarity (1998).10 Neoclassical realism’s value-added is to link the choice of strategies with the causal effect of particular combinations of upstream variables, providing a comprehensive explanation and not solely a descriptive account. Neoclassical realists also delve into the details of a state’s tactics by breaking down a strategy into components dealing with subissue-areas or specific countries. The study of the consequences of ill-advised behavior, fourth and finally, is a long-standing concern for realists. Morgenthau, for example, argues that states that neglect or wrongly apply the principles of realism suffer “political and military defeat and even extinction, while nations that [apply] them most consistently and consciously [enjoy] unrivalled power” (1963, p. 81). The classic example of the consequences of not following structural imperatives remains Thucydides’ account of the annihilation of the Melians after they refused to submit to the much stronger Athenians. The Rathbunian approach to neoclassical realism builds on these precedents by positing that states which do not behave in accordance with the incentives

54  From Power to Foreign Policy: The Causal Chain

and constraints of the international system—ideal interests—suffer consequences. The nature of those consequences varies. States risk annihilation if they adopt radically suboptimal behavior. In lesser cases, they risk defeat in war, while marginally suboptimal choices can lead to minor costs. According to Christopher Layne (2006), for example, systemic constraints should push the United States toward a restrained grand strategy of offshore balancing; the intervention of a set of domestic factors, the “Open Door,” has led the U.S., for the past sixty years, to adopt a grand strategy of extraregional hegemony. As a result, the United States has engaged in unnecessary military interventions and avoidable wars and is at growing risk of overexpansion. Consequences arise when actual interests diverge from the ideal, structurally induced version. In those instances, a state’s capabilities—its place in the international system, which should be the sole driver of its foreign policy—become inconsistent with its actual interests because of the intervention of domestic pathologies. There are five distinct scenarios in which capabilities and intentions may differ, which correspond to policies of over-reach (ambitions outweigh capabilities), understretch (capabilities exceed ambitions), refusing to let go (capabilities and ambitions are declining, but capabilities are declining faster), accelerated retrenchment (capabilities and ambitions are declining, but ambitions are declining faster), or Hail Mary (capabilities are declining, but ambitions suddenly spike). Iran’s case after 2001 corresponded to the first: its ambition—to emerge as the dominant power in the Persian Gulf and an indispensable power in the broader region—exceeded its capabilities. It failed, in other words, to generate the power necessary to achieve its ambition. As will be analyzed in Chapters 5 through 7, Iran’s pursuit of goals beyond its means, or this discrepancy between its capabilities and its intentions, led it to suffer mounting negative consequences.11

3

Power

Iran’s power increased suddenly after 2001. This window of opportunity was created by the convergence of a number of factors: the collapse of two neighbors that had served as checks on Iranian power projection, Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003; the rise of key allies, especially Hezbollah, Hamas, and various groups in post-Saddam Iraq; the drop in U.S. legitimacy and the rise in Iran’s appeal; and the rise in oil prices. This power advantage is unlikely to be sustainable in the longer term, however. This chapter will show that Iranian decisions led to short-term gains at the expense of longer-term costs, and that those factors which caused the window to open will evolve in a manner likely to be disadvantageous to Iran. Moreover, even though Iranian power increased, it remains well below its potential. In addition, a significant proportion of Iranian power arises from unconventional and intangible elements: asymmetric military capabilities, the appeal of Iran’s rejectionist model, and alliances with nonstate actors. At the same time, hard aspects of Iran’s power—wealth and conventional military capabilities—stagnated, perpetuating existing weaknesses. This duality between rapidly rising unconventional elements of power and stagnating conventional ones forms the foundation for analyzing Iran’s foreign policy: because Tehran has maximized certain elements of power, such as unconventional military assets, at the expense of more conventional ones, such as military power projection capabilities, it has tended to gradually box itself into a corner by accumulating a narrow band of power that restricts the influence it can achieve. Iranian Power, 2001–9

As outlined in Chapter 2, power corresponds to the relative, usable assets that a state can bring to bear upon its foreign policy. This definition has a number of 55

56  Power

implications. First, power matters in a relative context; state A’s assets impact its foreign policy to the extent that they are weighed against those of other states with which A interacts. Second, power refers to assets that are usable—in this sense, it is distinct from latent or potential power. Third, power is defined in terms of the possession of specific assets, and not as A’s ability, as Robert Dahl wrote, to “get B to do what B would otherwise not do” (1957). Fourth, power is multidimensional: it is not restricted to military power and wealth, but also includes intangible assets. Fifth, power is dynamic: it is not static but constantly changes. The elements of power, in this view, are: geography, population, military capabilities, economic assets, alliances, popular mood, and appeal. Geography

Iran’s geography—its location, which Geoffrey Kemp refers to as “strategic real estate” (2007, p. 213) and its position as a mountain fortress—affords it significant opportunities while constraining its options. The heart of Iran is a mountainous plateau surrounded by plains to the southeast and west, the waters of the Caspian Sea to the north, and the Persian Gulf to the south. Toward the west, the Zagros mountain range constitutes a barrier against invasion and faces the fertile plain of the Mesopotamian basin. A part of this plain extends into the southwest corner of Iran, the province of Khuzestan—the country’s most vulnerable area by dint of its exposure to the Mesopotamian plains, oil wealth, and Arab minority. Much of the central plateau consists of two uninhabitable deserts, the Dasht-e Kavir and the Dasht-e Lut. This combination of size, mountains, and central wastelands makes it difficult to conquer Iran; only the Mongols led by Genghis Khan’s grandson Hulagu and arriving from the flatter northeast managed the feat, as did Alexander the Great and the Arab invaders, the latter two arriving from the west. On the other hand, armies descending from the Iranian plateau have conquered Mesopotamia at least seven times (Bulliet, 2007, p. 11). The Mesopotamian plains have thus historically acted as a funnel for Iranian engagement toward the West. This geography defines the context of Iranian power projection. Partly because its heart lies in mountains and its ports on the Caspian Sea, the Persian Gulf, and the Gulf of Oman are vulnerable, Iran has never been a maritime power. Iran also shares land borders with seven states (Iraq, Turkey, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan) and maritime borders with six Persian Gulf states (Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Qatar, UAE, Oman) as well as with Russia and Kazakhstan in the Caspian Sea. This gives it a direct

Power 57

stake in developments in the Middle East, the Persian Gulf, the Caucasus, Central Asia, and South Asia. Population

With about 80 million people (as of 2014), Iran is the sixteenth most populous country in the world. Its population is larger than that of France, comparable to that of Egypt and Turkey, and exceeds the combined populations of Iraq and the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries (Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, the UAE, and Oman). During the war with Iraq in the 1980s, 400,000 males reached conscription age every year, more than double the number in Iraq. This played a major role in allowing the young Islamic Republic to withstand vicious assaults by the superior Iraqi military. Population trends also matter, as anticipations of population growth create expectations of growing power. In the 1980s, the government encouraged high birth rates, arguing that a large population was a sign of strength. Birth control policies instituted in the 1990s were successful, with population growth falling to 1.6 percent by the late 1990s and remaining stable since that time. As a result, Iran’s population increased by only 14 percent between 2001 and 2009, less than in many of its neighbors with higher birth rates or large influxes of foreign workers. Nonetheless, Iran’s population could reach 100 million by 2030. This plays an essential role in driving the Iranian elite’s ambition to reach regional power status. The number of ethnic groups and their level of satisfaction also matter, as instability in ethnic areas weakens a state by diverting resources or creating vulnerabilities for external intervention. At a minimum, each minority in Iran suffers from discrimination. Ethnic Persians, who represent slightly more than half the population, dominate the economy and government, creating resentment in minority areas. In recent years, there has been a recrudescence of ethnic unrest, though it remains well below the levels of the 1970s and 1980s. Yet few members of minorities have secessionist ambitions; most demand only greater opportunities and respect for their rights, while groups demanding secession are weak and divided. But the possibility of instability could in the future represent a handicap; potential unrest in ethnic regions is a latent source of weakness. Military Power

Iran’s military power increased after 2001. As with its overall power, however, this rise suffers from critical flaws. Primarily, Iran’s military remains con-

58  Power

ventionally weak; it would be hard pressed to invade even the weakest of its neighbors. Iran’s military forces suffer from important capability and structural weaknesses that are unlikely to be resolved in the foreseeable future, largely because of sanctions, resource constraints, and institutional inertia. Iran’s military strengths instead lie in its important and growing unconventional capabilities, which allow it to adopt policies of deterrence, denial, interdiction, and spoiling. These capabilities include the country’s missile arsenal, its ability to inflict damage to military and commercial fleets in the Persian Gulf, and its improving ability to implement its doctrine of passive defense. Iran, in sum, does not possess the military power befitting a regional power, while the nature of its military strength contributes to the brittle foundation and unsustainable nature of its power. Iran’s defense budget more than doubled after 2001, reaching $10.6 billion in 2010.1 This large increase in absolute terms allowed Iran to fund its procurement of asymmetric capabilities. Despite this increase, however, the 2010 budget remained lower as a proportion of GDP than it had been during the last years of the shah’s reign (3 percent versus more than 6 percent). Looking at the regional context presents an even bleaker picture. Even though in proportional terms the increase in Iranian defense spending has outpaced that of GCC countries (125 percent versus 101 percent), collectively the latter spent ten times more on defense in 2013 ($99 billion versus $9.5 billion). This has been a long-standing trend; between 1993 and 2008, GCC states took delivery of $135 billion worth of arms, compared with just under $6 billion for Iran (in fact, Kuwait alone received almost twice as much as Iran; see Cordesman, 2010a, p. 39). The fundamental principle underlying Iran’s defense posture is the recognition that it is no match for U.S. military power. Its strategy is primarily defensive and reactive, emphasizing homeland defense, missile-based deterrence, and retaliation through unconventional means. Its primary objective is to develop retaliatory and asymmetric capabilities that would raise the cost of a U.S. and/or Israeli attack, an approach referred to in Iran as “passive defense.”2 This approach also seeks to convince regional U.S. allies to limit their cooperation with Washington out of fear of being destabilized by Iranian retaliation. These retaliatory capabilities include the ability to impede maritime traffic in the Persian Gulf; ties with insurgent or terrorist groups throughout the region; the ability to strike U.S. military facilities in the region with shortrange surface-to-surface missiles; emphasis on air defense and ballistic missile capabilities; and a focus on guerrilla warfare. Iran has expanded its arsenal of

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missiles, acquired fast speedboats capable of swarming large surface combatants, and indigenously produced thousands of motorcycles equipped with light artillery (Milani, 2009, p. 50). Demonstrating its ability and showing its resolve to use these capabilities is important. Iran’s military regularly engages in widely publicized exercises during which senior leaders boast of—often exaggerated— achievements. In addition, Iranian and regional media regularly quote Iranian officials signaling their resolve to use such capabilities if attacked.3 Recent changes to the command structure reflect doctrinal changes, with organization increasingly geared toward the use of irregular forces and asymmetric capabilities. This culminated in 2007 when Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei named Ali Jaafari, an expert in asymmetric warfare and ballistic missiles, as commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). The IRGC now also controls the Baseej, a paramilitary militia of about 100,000 with a mobilization capacity variously estimated between a few hundred thousand and 5 million. It is subdivided into approximately seven hundred local battalions that are used increasingly for internal security (as seen in the turbulent wake of the June 2009 elections; Farhi, 2009). It is composed largely of rural, lower-class young men who receive privileges in exchange for membership (such as employment opportunities and a stipend). Despite such improvements, the armed forces are poorly integrated and organized and “relatively combat-ineffective” (Katzman, 2010). The separation between the IRGC and the Artesh, the regular armed forces, first, is an important impediment. Even though both technically report to the chief of the joint staff of the armed forces, the IRGC maintains a separate chain of command directly to the commander-in-chief, the supreme leader. While the IRGC’s main role is as “guardian of the revolution,” the Artesh is focused on external defense. This functional separation, in practice, is blurred: though the Artesh maintains a marginal domestic role, the IRGC has gradually expanded its capabilities for external operations. Even though quantitatively the Artesh still has an advantage, much of its equipment dates to the shah’s era. The IRGC’s acquisition of new weapons system, in contrast, exceeds that of the Artesh, while the Guards have primary responsibility for the unconventional capabilities now at the center of defense doctrine. Overall, despite some improvements, poor coordination and communication, competition for resources, and mistrust all hamper potential battlefield performance. Between 2001 and 2009, the manpower in Iran’s armed forces barely changed, increasing from 520,000 to 523,000. Yet when state B collapses, the

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power of state A, its neighbor, vastly increases in relative terms, even if A’s power has not changed in absolute terms. This is what happened to Iran after 2001, twice. The collapse of the Taliban in Afghanistan in 2001 and of Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq in 2003 were followed by the establishment of fledgling governments that were weaker and less hostile to Iran. The collapse of the Iraqi army in 2003 in particular created a large vacuum. In 2002, Saddam’s armed forces included nearly 400,000 regular troops and, among other major weapons systems, 2,600 main battle tanks (MBTs), compared with Iran’s 1,500; and aircraft numbers comparable to Iran’s (for Iraq, 310 combat aircraft and 493 total aircraft; as with Iran, however, these suffered from serious reliability and serviceability issues). Although the Taliban fielded an army of only about 50,000, their hostile relation with Iran ensured the presence of an eastward check on Iranian power. With the Iraqi and Afghan militaries still in the process of reconstruction, the constraining role of Iran’s two neighbors has not been replaced. This role could have been replaced by the suddenly strong presence of U.S. troops. In August 2002 there were fewer than 30,000 U.S. troops surrounding Iran, with about 21,000 in various countries of the Persian Gulf and 7,500 in Afghanistan; in 2007, this number peaked at more than 225,000 following the surge in Iraq.4 Yet U.S. difficulties in Iraq and Afghanistan boosted Iranian power by tying down U.S. forces, putting them at risk of overstretch, offering them as potential targets for Iranian retaliation in case of a U.S.-Iran confrontation, and hurting U.S. regional appeal and boosting Iran’s. Crude numbers are misleading, however, as they do not assess quality. Of the 523,000 troops in Iran’s active armed forces, about 220,000 are eighteen-month conscripts who receive limited training and are underequipped. Iran’s reserve forces of around 350,000 also suffer from poor training, equipment, and leadership (Cordesman, 2007a, p. 5). A large proportion of Iran’s military equipment, acquired in the 1970s from Western suppliers, suffers from severe shortages of spare parts, poor maintenance, and low reliability and serviceability rates. More recent acquisitions, such as Russian and Chinese tanks, armored vehicles, and fighter jets, have higher levels of operational readiness but still suffer from various deficiencies. Recently, the development and acquisition of new capabilities have focused on asymmetric warfare, in particular missile forces and naval assets. The downside of this approach has been an inability to compensate for major flaws in aging conventional capabilities. As a result, Iran’s limited conventional strength is weakening. It does not pose a conventional threat to its neighbors because of

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the poor offensive capabilities of its ground forces and the limited offensive and support capability of its air and naval forces. Since the fall of Saddam’s army, Iran has had the largest land force in the region. In terms of equipment, however, its quantitative advantage is limited, and in qualitative terms it suffers from growing weaknesses. Iran maintains a numerical advantage in artillery and, to some extent, in MBTs. Yet its roughly 1,600 tanks include shah-era vehicles of limited serviceability (including more than 400 American M-47 and M-60 and British Chieftains); Iran, as a result, has roughly 800 medium- to high-quality MBTs (Cordesman, 2010a). One of the main weaknesses of the Iranian military is its limited mobility, which seriously constrains its ability to project power. That said, one of the few conventional capabilities that improved between 2001 and 2009 was its stock of armored vehicles, with the acquisition of 600 armored personnel carriers and infantry fighting vehicles. Moreover, Iran’s ground forces are still dominated by infantry units with towed, and therefore less mobile, artillery: it has a limited number of self-propelled artillery units (about 310). Compounding this weak mobility is a lack of firepower, as most of its towed artillery and mortars consist of light systems of limited range and accuracy. GCC states, by contrast, have lower numbers of more advanced and mobile, often self-propelled, artillery. Similarly, more than 95 percent of Iran’s roughly 900 multiple rocket launchers are light versions (either 107 or 122mm); by contrast, Saudi Arabia possesses 60 units of the much more advanced ASTROS II system, while Kuwait possesses 27 300mm launchers. Iran’s fleet of combat aircraft remained stable between 2001 and 2009 at just over 300. Roughly two-thirds, however, are F-4, F-5, and F-14 jets acquired from the United States in the 1970s; many are not operational, and others have a 50 to 60 percent serviceability rate. They suffer from spare parts shortages, while the force has difficulty ensuring adequate training for its pilots. More recent Chinese and Russian acquisitions, including about 10 Su-25K, 20 MiG-29A, and 20 Su-24MK, have higher rates, of about 70 to 80 percent, but more limited capabilities (Cordesman, 2007a, p. 8). As a result, Iran’s air force consists of a hodgepodge of aircraft from different eras and countries, using different systems. Iran therefore has a limited strike capability against its neighbors or regional U.S. interests. As with its naval and ground forces, the air force is unable to sustain long-distance or complex operations. Even though it has slightly more than 100 transport aircraft, many of these, including about 20 Hercules tactical transport aircraft, were acquired in the 1970s and also suffer from low serviceability and reliability. The air force, furthermore, has only 4 aging tank-

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er aircraft and remains weak in terms of intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance capabilities. Having witnessed the devastation wrought by the U.S. Air Force in Iraq in 2003, Iran put air defenses at the center of its strategy of deterrence. Iran’s air defenses remain limited, however, and still rely on aging, more or less obsolescent systems (Cordesman and Wilner, 2012b, pp. 45–49). The main improvement since 2001 has come with the acquisition of the longer-range, more reliable SA-15 and SA-22 bought from Russia since 2007. Iran also improved the dispersion and protection of its air defenses, as it assumes that eventual U.S. or Israeli air strikes could try to suppress them prior to targeting nuclear or military sites. Overall, however, the country’s air defenses still suffer from poor communication and integration, obsolescence, lack of maintenance and spare parts, and limited range, accuracy, and reliability (Raas and Long, 2007, pp. 20–23). As long as Iran does not possess the Russian-made SA-300 it has long sought but so far failed to obtain, it is highly vulnerable to air strikes by an advanced air force.5 Iran’s navy includes 3 Kilo-class submarines of limited readiness, reliability, and capability, 4 obsolete missile frigates, and 3 obsolete gun corvettes.6 The 7 surface combatants have received limited upgrades since the revolution, while much is unknown about the Russian-acquired submarines. Overall, the navy is hard-pressed to conduct and sustain even minimal operations, including amphibious operations of more than one brigade (Cordesman, 2007a, p. 9). These capabilities have not changed much since 2001; if anything, age has taken a greater toll. In qualitative and quantitative terms, they are inferior to GCC navies (which have increased their number of total surface ships and principal surface combatants by more than 50 percent), let alone to the U.S. Fifth Fleet, stationed in Bahrain. One of the areas in which the Iranian military most improved is that of unconventional naval warfare. Heavy emphasis is now placed on mine warfare, antiship cruise missiles, and fast boat swarming. The objective is to be able to engage—or to be perceived as being able to engage—successfully in sea denial operations against regional navies and commercial traffic. Frigates and corvettes are therefore equipped for mine warfare and mine countermeasures, while Iran has a growing stockpile of mines that it can lay through helicopters and small surface vessels (Cordesman and Wilner, 2012b, pp. 56–67). Importantly, Iran has acquired several hundred coastal defense cruise missiles with at least a few dozen batteries. Recent acquisitions have been of greater preci-

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sion and range, especially the C-801/802 systems acquired from China in the late 1990s, which bring the Strait of Hormuz and swaths of the Persian Gulf within range. In addition, Iran acquired small mobile launchers that it can deploy along its coast as well as on islands and oil platforms (Talmadge, 2008, pp. 100–5). Moreover, Iran has increased its patrol and coastal combatants from 56 to more than 213, including Chinese-made fast missile boats. Iran also boosted its commando forces able to target Gulf oil installations, while it acquired hundreds of small, fast vessels capable of swarming enemy ships or commercial tankers. These can either be laden with explosives or manned with individuals carrying MANPADS or other weapons, including short-range antiship cruise missiles (Haghshenass, 2008, pp. 12–13). That said, the use of these capabilities remains constrained by limited coordination, command-and-control, and over-the-horizon targeting capabilities. As a result, despite its lack of conventional naval power, Iran can potentially inflict significant damage to Gulf maritime traffic. Its ability, in particular, to impede traffic in the Strait of Hormuz, one of the most important maritime chokepoints in the world through which 20 percent of daily global oil production transits daily, is a key pillar of Iran’s deterrent posture. Through asymmetric means—mine-laying, antiship cruise missiles, swarming, attacking oil infrastructure with missiles or commando raids, harassing commercial shipping—Iran could impose, or threaten to impose, a war of attrition. There is disagreement, however, on Iran’s ability to durably impede traffic in the Strait, ranging from merely slowing traffic for a short period to blocking it for longer periods, possibly months (for a review, see Talmadge, 2008). Having recourse to such tactics would be a last resort, as the closure of the Strait would cost Iran its oil export revenue, along with that of its Gulf neighbors. Furthermore, the rise in oil prices that would likely follow could potentially cost Iran much sympathy, including from China. The escalation of hostilities would also likely push Arab Gulf states closer to the U.S. Iran’s ballistic missile capability, central to its doctrine of asymmetric warfare, has also markedly increased. Having acquired technology from China, North Korea, Pakistan, and Russia, Iran now has the capacity to produce missiles indigenously and has one of the largest inventories in the region. This includes 18 mobile launchers for 200–300 Shahab-1 (300km range) and 100–200 Shahab-2 (300 to 500km range), and a variety of other short-range battlefield and surface-to-surface missiles (SSMs), many of which reached initial operating capability in 2001 and 2002 (Cordesman and Wilner, 2012a).

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Around 2002 or 2003, Iran introduced into service the Shahab-3, with a range of about 1,300km (thus able to reach Israel), which heavily borrowed from the North Korean Nodong-1. By 2012, it had between 6 and 20 launchers and between 25 and 100 missiles in inventory, some of which are thought to be able to carry nuclear warheads or cluster bombs. Much effort has also gone into improving the infrastructure to house, protect, and launch those missiles (Cordesman, 2010b). Iran is developing longer-range SSMs but has still not succeeded in fully operationalizing the Shahab-4 (2,200km range, capable of carrying at least one nuclear warhead; tests are thought to have begun in 2004 but operational capability is not expected for a few more years) and Shahab-5 (range of 3,000 to 5,000km). Iran also tested its Sajjil missile in 2008, which has an estimated range of 1,500 to 1,800km and is reportedly able to carry a oneton payload. Unlike the liquid-propelled Shahab, the Sajjil is a multistage, solid-fueled missile, and therefore more technologically advanced (International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2009). Yet until the Sajjil reaches operational capability, which is not expected in the near term given ongoing technical hurdles and insufficient foreign assistance, the Shahab-3 constitutes Iran’s main missile capability. Work on an intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) capable of reaching the United States is ongoing (see Cordesman and Wilner, 2012a), but flight tests—let alone operational capability—are not expected for many more years (Inside Defense, 2014). Iran’s missiles, moreover, remain of unproven but probably low reliability, accuracy, and mobility (Department of Defence, 2010, p. 11). In addition, the country’s limited number of launchers constrains its ability to overwhelm the superior air defenses of many of its neighbors. Despite improvements in indigenous capabilities, Iran remains dependent on other countries, especially Russia and China, for technological parts. Iran’s arsenal is, in sum, more consistent with deterrence and intimidation than offensive intentions. Limited accuracy restrains Iran’s ability to aim for tactical targets such as the military bases of the United States or its allies, and limits it to diffuse targets such as cities. But because such attacks would lead to a high number of civilian (largely Muslim) casualties, Iran could be reluctant to use them. In the 1980s, as embargoes made procurement increasingly difficult, Iran created the Defence Industries Organization as part of an effort to develop its self-sufficiency. It now has some indigenous defense industrial capacity, focused on lighter weapons and increasingly on unconventional assets. Iran has also invested large resources into attempting to reverse engineer major plat-

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forms, such as U.S.-made F-5 fighter aircraft acquired in the 1970s. The result, the Saeqeh, has reportedly started flying but does not appear near operational capability. This striving for self-sufficiency brings some benefits by building domestic expertise, limiting reliance on external suppliers, and creating jobs (about 50,000 according to Ward, 2009, p. 310). On the other hand, it makes for more costly and less reliable equipment (such as the Iranian-produced Zulfiqar tanks, 150 of which were introduced in 1994), while Iran is far from having eliminated its need for external suppliers. Russia, in particular, has tremendous leverage over Iran through its sale of military and nuclear material. Iran’s limited ability to procure advanced weapons systems from abroad and to produce high-quality equipment therefore acts as a serious constraint on its military power. The fourth round of UN sanctions adopted in 2010 prohibiting the sale of offensive weapons systems to Iran will only accentuate the country’s inability to improve its conventional capabilities. Most of Iran’s neighbors are highly anxious in the face of an increasingly assertive Iran, and are particularly concerned with the prospect of a nuclear-capable Iran. Israel, in response, has expended large resources in developing the capabilities necessary to strike at Iran’s nuclear facilities—by acquiring longrange strike aircraft, especially the F-15 and the F-16; by purchasing laser-guided penetration munitions able to strike hardened or buried targets; and by increasing training for long-range air-to-air refueling (Raas and Long, 2007, pp. 15–23). Given the complexity of mounting such an operation (because of distance, Israel’s limited air-to-air refueling capability, and the fact that Iranian nuclear sites are dispersed throughout the country, in many cases in urban areas or in hardened bunkers) and the poor state of Iranian air defenses, it is generally assessed that Israel would have the capability to launch a limited number of air strikes against a small number of key sites, probably two or three.7 Only the United States would have the ability to launch a comprehensive operation combining fighter and bomber aircraft and cruise missiles (Cordesman, 2007b). Concerned with Iran’s growing asymmetric assets, many of its neighbors have been racing to acquire protective capabilities. GCC states have spent billions on homeland security, especially on critical infrastructure protection, chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear preparedness, border protection, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance, and air and missile defenses. They have also acquired advanced fighter aircraft (which increased by 29 percent between 2001 and 2009 and now have a 2:1 quantitative advantage over Iran, and an even greater qualitative one). Even though their number of

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combat aircraft was similar in 2009 (312 for Iran, 280 for Saudi Arabia), the Saudi Air Force has a strong qualitative edge, given that its aircraft, especially its 154 U.S.-acquired F-15s, are largely superior to the aging mix of Iranian fighters. GCC air defenses have improved even more, nearly doubling between 2001 and 2009 and with more on order. In 2007, in particular, the UAE and Kuwait agreed with the United States on the purchase of advanced Patriot batteries. The UAE, moreover, has acquired 34 fast interceptor vessels for the defense of ports and offshore infrastructure (Oxford Analytica, 2007). This trend of improving GCC military capabilities will accelerate in coming years, as a succession of major arms deals are delivered. Saudi Arabia, in particular, is set to receive in the next decade, among other advanced weapons systems as part of a $60 billion package, 84 F-15 combat aircraft, upgrades to its Patriot systems, offshore patrol vessels, and 900 Joint Direct Attack Munitions kits (Knights, 2010a). That said, GCC power must be nuanced. Its militaries are top-heavy and reliant on advanced technology, yet they possess very limited combat experience. Lingering suspicion, furthermore, hinders regional cooperation. Economic Power

Iran is endowed with abundant hydrocarbon resources and a large, well-educated population. The important rise in oil prices in recent years, moreover, led to a massive inflow of hard currency. Yet the Iranian economy is also beset by important structural weaknesses, and the situation is deteriorating. The work force’s inability to absorb the ever larger number of youth reaching working age, high inflation, declining oil exports, the accumulated effects of subsidies, corruption, a bloated public sector and the glacial pace of reform—all contribute to the development of significant constraints on long-term growth. In sum, behind a facade of growth and easy access to cash, the economic component of Iranian power is brittle, and its long-term sustainability is clouded by important structural flaws. In 2001 the Iranian economy was struggling to recover from twenty difficult years marked by the shocks of the revolution and the war with Iraq. The 1990s, under the presidency of Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani (1989–97), were dubbed the “era of reconstruction” and saw some success in rebuilding a shattered economy. The fall in oil prices to $10 per barrel in 1998–99 was painful, however, contributing to Iran’s briefly experiencing negative growth. As a result, per capita income in 2001 was lower than prior to 1979. After 2001, a massive inflow of hard currency because of rising oil prices provided Tehran with the funds

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to rapidly increase spending. This allowed the regime to mask, temporarily, the economy’s weaknesses. The numbers are staggering: during Ahmadinejad’s first term (2005–9), oil revenues were 44 percent higher than they were during the eight years of Khatami’s tenure (1997–2005) and almost double the amount during Rafsanjani’s tenure (1989–97), while exports between 2001 and 2009 exceeded $360 billion. The Iranian economy thus grew at a solid pace between 2001 and 2009, as GDP increased by 81 percent and GDP per capita by 58 percent. Yet with the exceptions of Iraq and Afghanistan, the Iranian economy did not grow much more than that of most of its neighbors. In fact, the country’s share of world GDP weakened relative to GCC countries and Turkey and barely gained compared with Pakistan. Iran’s hydrocarbon reserves constitute its main source of actual and potential economic power, as it boasts the world’s second largest combined reserves of oil and natural gas. These reserves, however, are underexploited, one of the chief reasons why Iranian power remains below its potential. Iran sits atop 136 billion barrels of oil, or 11 percent of the world’s reserves, and 948 trillion cubic feet of natural gas, or 16 percent of world reserves. Between 2001 and 2009, oil production marginally increased from slightly under to just over 4 million barrels per day (bpd). Much more worrisome is that as domestic consumption increases by 5 percent per year, reaching 1.8 million bpd in 2009, exports have been decreasing from a high of 2.754 million bpd in 2005 to 2.36 million bpd in 2009, a trend that is expected to continue. Iran’s oil and gas sector is in need of a massive infusion of capital and technology to reverse declining production in aging fields. This deterioration is due to the damage suffered in the war with Iraq, sanctions, a shortage of skills, and the country’s tough laws limiting foreign investment. Illustrating this weakness is the fact that Iran in recent years has had to import about 40 percent of its gasoline at an annual cost of $6 billion, a number that has been progressively rising. Now the world’s second biggest importer of gasoline after the United States, Iran regularly announces gasoline-independence programs, but little success has been achieved. Beyond its hydrocarbons, Iran is not well endowed in natural resources. It does not rank among the top five or ten producers of any of the world’s main agricultural and mineral goods. Iran’s economy suffers from important structural weaknesses: a bloated public sector, the overwhelming importance of oil, draining and inefficient subsidies, and corruption, while the country remains under a damaging sanctions regime. As a result, inflation between 2001 and 2009 reached an average

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of 15 percent, though it had considerably decreased from its highs of around 50 percent in the 1990s. Worryingly for Tehran, it is expected to remain in double digits for the foreseeable future. Unemployment figures are hard to estimate but are also well into double digits. Government subsidies for energy and basic necessities represent a serious drain on public finances and encourage waste and smuggling. According to official figures—which, if anything, underestimate their ineffectiveness—the richest 10 percent benefit from 43 percent of energy subsidies, and the poorest 10 percent from only 7 percent (Amuzegar, 2005, p. 56). An IMF study evaluated total subsidies at a staggering 27 percent of GDP in 2007/8, a number that progressively increased as oil and gas prices rose. The IMF estimates that subsidies for petroleum products (11 percent), gas (9 percent), and electricity (2 percent) cost the central government more than $60 billion in forgone revenue in 2007/8 (Kramarenko et al., 2008, pp. 26–29). Partly as a result, energy consumption rose by 10 percent a year between 2000 and 2005, five times the world average; Iran’s per capita energy consumption by 2005 was 64 percent higher than the world average (Amuzegar, 2005, p. 60). In fact, one estimate put the energy waste in Iran at $30 billion per year (Amuzegar, 2009, p. 47). In one of the most significant economic reforms since the 1980s and after years of debate, the government cut subsidies in 2011 and increased cash handouts to families. It is unlikely, however, that these efforts will do more than marginally improve the situation. Subsidies allow the regime to buy stability in the short term, but they mortgage the country’s future. The oil windfall allowed Ahmadinejad to pursue his vow to improve social justice by increasing both subsidies and civil service wages. His expansionist fiscal policy may have allowed him to buy off supporters, especially among key constituencies such as the rural poor, but it perpetuated the economy’s structural deficiencies. Corruption also prevents the economy from achieving its potential and hampers long-term development. In 2009, for example, Iran ranked 142 out of 183 in the World Bank’s Ease of Doing Business table, and in 2007 Iran ranked 131 out of 179 countries in Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index. In recent years, moreover, key regime individuals or entities—especially the IRGC—have increased their stake in the economy. This makes for important distortions and for increasingly powerful vested interests in the status quo as these actors take advantage of sanctions and international isolation to gain control of sectors of the black market and of cross-border smuggling. Compounding these distortions is the excessive concentration of the economy in the hydrocarbon sector. Oil exports

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accounted until 2011 for about 80 percent of export earnings and 60 percent of state revenue. As a result, Iran’s economy is structured as in a typical rentier state, exporting natural resources and importing manufactured products.8 Sanctions, finally, deal another blow to the economy. In combination with other factors, they contribute to an unstable climate that does much to repel investors. The hydrocarbons sector, in particular, produces to only about twothirds of its potential, while the aviation sector is crippled by its inability to acquire spare parts. Iran’s industrial capacity is weak. Every five-year plan published by the government since 1979 proclaimed the goal of strengthening and diversifying the country’s manufacturing base. There has been some progress, for example in the development of the automobile industry, but overall Tehran has failed in its goals of diversifying the economy and increasing non-oil exports. Iran’s poor infrastructure also constrains economic growth. In particular, the country’s power generation capacity struggles to supply the 7.5 percent annual increases required to avoid power shortages, while the country’s road network of 80,000km suffers from poor maintenance and a shortage of highways. In addition, a poor regulatory climate, corruption, weak infrastructure, sanctions, and political uncertainty severely discourage foreign investment. Between 2001 and 2007, Iran received an average of $573 million in yearly inward flows of foreign direct investment; with a similar population Turkey’s yearly average for the same period was $8.7 billion. Trade ties increase aggregate wealth and contribute to power through their diversity. In recent years, a trend of trade diversification has intensified. Before the revolution, the top five importers of Iranian oil were Japan, Italy, the UK, West Germany, and France. In 2008, they had become Italy, South Korea, China, India, and Japan (Milani, 2009, p. 54). Trade with GCC states, moreover, increased by 500 percent between 2000 and 2007, jumping from $1.7 billion to $8.7 billion. Trade with the Muslim world also increased. In 1979, 5 percent of Iran’s imports and 2 percent of its exports were with the Muslim world; by 2005, the numbers had risen to about 23 percent and 12 percent (Maloney, 2008, p. 62). This costs the West leverage in its relations with Iran. The commercial interests of Iran and China (which became Iran’s main commercial partner in 2007, overtaking Germany) have become increasingly complementary in recent years. Iran is an attractive market for energy-thirsty China, while Iran’s international isolation opens up business opportunities for Chinese state-owned companies.

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Popular Mood

Popular mood in Iran is hard to assess. Government polls are unreliable, while independent polling is difficult to carry out. That said, some polling is available and academic and journalistic writing and anecdotal reporting provide an overview of popular feelings. The mood in Iran is a mix of discontent with apathy and fear of uncertainty; the chaos in neighboring Iraq and the painful memory of the distortion that followed the 1979 revolution make even most reformist sympathizers wary of rapid change. At the same time, there remains, especially in rural areas and in poorer classes, significant support for the regime. Overall, popular mood in Iran did not change significantly between 2001 and 2009. Simmering dissatisfaction remains among many sectors of society, chiefly the urban middle class and ethnic minorities. Popular mood thus contributes to the brittle and unsustainable nature of Iranian power and could very well constrain Iranian foreign policy in the coming years should popular unrest spread. Frustration at the economic situation is “the greatest source of outrage” among the general population (Sadjadpour, 2007b). The exploding youth bulge, in particular, is a growing source of tension, as the government cannot keep up with basic services. Furthermore, one of the promises of the revolution was to reduce the inequality that was a major source of frustration under the shah. Yet while the revolutionary regime did meet with some successes in improving services and reducing poverty, it did not succeed in fighting inequality, which deteriorated in the first years of the revolution and has remained stable since. As a result, a poll in 2005—conducted by the Iranian government—found that 44 percent of young Iranians would emigrate if they could (Slavin, 2005). Frustration at the political situation is also considerable. Most analysts agree that a majority of Iranians are unsatisfied with the regime and would want at least some change (Hourcade, 2009, p. 58), though they are split between those who seek to reform the system and those who would want to see the advent of a new regime. Most, however, are anxious about the upheavals a new revolution would create. As a result, there is much apathy, especially among the young, reformist-sympathizers and minorities. Alliances

The growing power of Iran’s allies and their increasingly close ties to Tehran were important contributors to the opening of the window of opportunity faced by the Islamic Republic between 2001 and 2009. Yet Iran remains bereft of

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strong, reliable state allies, though it has developed close ties to powerful nonstate actors in Lebanon, the Palestinian Territories, and Iraq. But even though Iran will likely maintain close ties to many of these actors for the foreseeable future, the net benefit it derives from these alliances is likely to decrease, notably as some of these groups become increasingly powerful and seek greater autonomy from Tehran. Iran and Syria have maintained strong cooperation for three decades. Syria is the lesser player, but its power grew from a nadir in the first half of the 2000s. In the wake of the 2003 invasion of Iraq, some in the United States viewed Damascus as “low-hanging fruit,” ripe for overthrow (The Economist, 2009), while in 2005 Syrian forces were booted out of Lebanon. Syria’s position, however, improved after 2006 as the United States was bogged down in Iraq and as Damascus’s allies Hezbollah and Hamas were strengthened. Moreover, after some uncertainty upon acceding to power in 2000, President Bashar al-Assad consolidated his position domestically. Bilateral relationships with Russia and China contribute to Iran’s power by providing a counterweight to U.S. efforts to weaken and isolate Tehran. In particular, Russian and Chinese opposition to strong action against Iran at the Security Council has consistently watered down sanctions resolutions. There are, first, a number of common interests between Iran and Russia. Primarily, Russia sells weapons and nuclear material to Iran. Although trade was limited to $3 billion in 2009, these two industries are struggling and are critical to Russia, while they fulfill crucial Iranian needs. The Islamic Republic, for its part, refrains from supporting Muslim minorities in Russia. Many sources of tension remain, however, that prevent the establishment of a more solid partnership, such as historical grievances concerning past Russian and Soviet policies in Iran and high levels of mutual mistrust. China and Iran also share common interests, especially their opposition to U.S. preponderance in the Middle East and their suspicion of Western interference. Like Russia, China views a nuclear-armed Iran as contrary to its interests. However, Beijing does not view the issue with the same urgency as the United States. Like Russia, China therefore has a policy of hedging and calibrating: by delaying and weakening sanctions but ultimately agreeing to them, it gains in its relations with Tehran (gaining leverage, making Iran dependent, improving its commercial position) and with the West (keeping it bogged down in the dispute, balancing against U.S. preponderance). China, always concerned with domestic stability, also wants to ensure the continuation of its tacit under-

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standing with Iran whereby the latter refrains from interfering with Muslim minorities in China. In recent years, Iran has found willing partners in Latin America. The rise of leftist regimes opposed to the United States in Venezuela and, to a lesser extent, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Nicaragua has provided Tehran with opportunities to develop new partnerships. Frequent tours by Ahmadinejad provided leaders with platforms to boast of their “anti-imperialist” credentials and make grandstanding promises of collaboration. Actual cooperation, however, is constrained by limited resources on both sides and a lack of shared interests. As a result, Iran’s relations with these countries are more aptly characterized as an “axis of annoyance” (Farhi, 2008a). That said, this should not be entirely dismissed, as the power of Iran and Venezuela is partly due to their image as leaders of the “resistance” to U.S. dominance of their regions. Providing each other with support and provoking the United States in its backyard are essential to their appeal. The power Iran derives from its alliances stems largely from its ties to nonstate actors. Since 1979, Iran has provided political, military, financial, and ideological support to a number of regional groups. Many but not all are or were Shia, but all share Iran’s rejection of the regional order or are dissatisfied with their domestic status. Lebanese Hezbollah is Iran’s most important nonstate ally. Iran played a central role in the birth of Hezbollah in the 1980s but diminished its support in the 1990s as the civil war in Lebanon subsided and as Iran focused its energies on domestic reconstruction. Iran’s presence in Lebanon increased again after 2001. The exact nature of Iranian support is unclear, but at a minimum it consists of tens of millions of dollars in cash and weapons, as well as training, advising, and political support. The U.S. Treasury has estimated that this adds up to between $100 and $200 million annually (2007a), in addition to supplemental amounts for relief and reconstruction in the wake of the 2006 war of around $150 million (2007b). Hezbollah’s military power increased after 2001. It demonstrated during its 2006 war with Israel that it is able to field small, mobile, well-trained, and wellequipped units. Hezbollah’s elaborate and hardened network of observation posts, tunnels, and bunkers, its secure communications system (able to resist Israeli jamming and interception measures), and its arsenal of short- and midrange rockets, underground platform launchers, and antitank guided weapons (ATGMs) confirmed its ability to engage the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF). During the 2006 war, Hezbollah fired around four thousand rockets, roughly

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a quarter of its arsenal. Most were Katyushas with a 20km range, but it also for the first time fired longer-range rockets, mostly obtained from Iran and Syria, such as the Fajr-3 (45km range) and the Fajr-5 (75km). Hezbollah also has in its arsenal the Zelzal-2, with a range exceeding 200km; it did not use it, however, probably to limit the risk of escalation (Blanford, 2006). Hezbollah’s use of Russian- and Iranian-made ATGMs, destroying fourteen MBTs (Ben-David, 2006a), surprised the IDF. Hezbollah even struck an Israeli ship off the coast of Lebanon with a C-802 Chinese-designed, Iranian-modified antiship cruise missile (Blanford, 2006). Its air defense capabilities also severely restricted the IDF’s ability to use helicopter gunships for close air support. Hezbollah suffered large losses during the 2006 war, with more than half of its arsenal of longer-range rockets destroyed. Thanks to resupplying from Iran and Syria, procurement has since focused on weapons that had most success during the war, such as advanced ATGMs and Zelzal rockets (Ben-David, 2006b). Some estimate that the Lebanese militia held, by 2009, as many as forty thousand rockets, perhaps three times as many as it had prior to the 2006 war (Department of Defence, 2010, p. 8). Hezbollah’s political standing also improved. The withdrawal from Lebanon by Israel in 2000 and Syria in 2005 created a vacuum that allowed Hezbollah to emerge as the most powerful political party in Lebanon. With Iranian support, Hezbollah provides medical care, education, electricity, and clean water, whereas after the 2006 war it was actively involved in rebuilding destroyed infrastructure, again with Iranian support. Because of their close association, Hezbollah’s gains are partly gains for Iran; as one analyst labeled it, the 2006 war represented a “strategic bonanza” for Iran (Maloney, 2008, p. 33). In the wake of the 2006 war, for example, Hassan Nasrallah, Hezbollah’s leader, was pictured in the Lebanese media genuflecting in front of Iran’s supreme leader. Iran also increased its ties to two Palestinian groups, Hamas and Islamic Jihad (IJ), after 2001. Again, a confluence of events led to a vacuum into which Iran stepped. The petering out of the peace process, the perception of a shift in U.S. policy in favor of Israel, and the al-Aqsa Intifada (2000–5) created widespread resentment in the Palestinian Territories. Decreased support from traditional backers, chiefly Egypt and Saudi Arabia, also contributed to the window of opportunity. Iran, first, increased its ties to Hamas. The numbers are again unclear; Chubin (2009, pp. 188–89) estimated annual Iranian support to Hamas in 2009 at $150 million. That said, Iran’s support is dwarfed by past support that Hamas (and other Palestinian organizations) received from Arab states,

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charities, and individuals. It is only in recent years that Iran has emerged as a key donor. Iran and Syria, with Hezbollah as an intermediary, have provided military training to Hamas since 1993, with a focus on suicide operations and the manufacture and use of rockets (Department of Defence, 2010, p. 9). Hamas has gradually increased its rocket stocks, though this arsenal remains of low accuracy and reliability (Jane’s World Insurgency and Terrorism, 2010a). By late 2008, at the time on the onset of Operation Pillar of Defence, Israel’s attack on the Gaza Strip, Hamas was estimated to possess around three thousand rockets. The large majority were Qassams with a range of 20km, while it also has a small number of Chinese-made Grad-type rockets with a range approaching 40km (Ben-David, 2009). Hamas is also well stocked in small arms, explosives, and RPGs. Hamas’s political standing also improved after 2001. After Israel’s unilateral withdrawal from Gaza in 2005, Hamas stepped into the vacuum and claimed credit for having expelled Israel. Following elections in 2006, it gained control of the Palestinian Legislative Council, allowing Ismail Haniyeh to become the first Hamas prime minister of the Palestinian Authority. Hamas’s refusal to recognize Israel, to commit to nonviolence, and to respect previous agreements caused Gaza to become more isolated, further opening the door for Tehran. In 2007 Hamas took over Gaza, violently expelling Fatah. As support from Arab states decreased, Iran further increased its support (Slavin, 2008, p. 10). Hamas’s contribution to Iranian power should not be overestimated, however. During Operation Cast Lead, the Israel-Hamas war of December 2008 to January 2009, observers were surprised by Hamas’s poor military performance. It launched only one ATGM, while it managed to penetrate Israeli armored vehicles only once with RPGs. Hamas lay thousands of mines and IEDs and did breach a number of tanks, but this resulted in no casualties for the IDF (BenDavid, 2009). In general, Hamas’s military and technological sophistication remains low, especially when compared with that of Hezbollah. Tehran has emerged as a major benefactor of Islamic Jihad, over which it has more influence than over Hamas. IJ relies on a core of fifty to two hundred members and a military wing (the al-Quds Brigades) probably not exceeding one thousand (Strindberg, 2006). It has a minimal capability to launch rockets with short ranges and low accuracy. Very little is known on its structure and budget. The main source is believed to be Iran, while Syria, money laundering, and private donations also contribute. Iran, largely through Hezbollah, provides it with training, especially in the use of suicide bombings (Jane’s World

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Insurgency and Terrorism, 2010b). IJ is the Palestinian group closest to Iran ideologically and most dependent on Iran, which gives Tehran great leverage. The group therefore contributes significantly to Iran’s power by increasing its ability to spoil the peace process. Iran has supported a number of groups in Iraq since 2003. At its height, one estimate put Iran’s direct financial assistance at $150 to 200 million per year (Wehrey et al., 2009, p. 108). Iran provided sniper rifles, improvised explosive devices (IEDs), explosively formed penetrators (EFPs, a more powerful variant of IED that can penetrate thick armor), small arms, rockets, mortars, rocket-propelled grenades, and antiaircraft weapons. Iran also offered strategic and operational guidance, while it reportedly brought fighters to Iran for training, in some cases by Hezbollah (Department of Defence, 2010, p. 3). The Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq (ISCI) has evolved as one of Iran’s main allies. Iran has supported its militia, the Badr Brigade, which numbered about fifteen thousand in 2003 and is now largely integrated into Iraqi security forces. Support for Muqtada al-Sadr, the leading Shia Iraqi voice opposing the United States, has also benefited Iran. Sadr’s sixty thousand–strong militia, JAM, enormously gained in strength between 2003 and 2007, while the Sadrists play an important kingmaker role in parliament. The Sadrists act to keep in check moderate Shia voices with interests potentially diverging from those of Iran, such as Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani’s quietism. Such ties provide Iran with a powerful deterrent. It is unlikely that all groups receiving Iranian assistance would automatically respond to Tehran’s calls to target U.S. interests in the event of a U.S. or Israeli strike on Iran. Some of them could assess that their stake in a stable Iraq is greater, leading them to reject calls for retaliation. Yet the threat that at least some, or possibly factions within them,9 would strike at U.S. interests was strong, especially at the height of instability in 2006–7. Iran’s gains from these alliances were magnified by the absence of a counterpoise, thanks to weak cooperation among regional states suspicious of Tehran’s intentions. Although most Arab states were to varying degrees alarmed at the prospect of a rising Iran, they were constrained by popular opposition to pro-U.S. policies, intra-Arab mistrust, and lack of regional leadership. Iran, furthermore, showed itself skillful at dividing its neighbors. GCC states, in particular, fear Iran and became even more mistrustful in the wake of the collapse of Saddam’s regime. At the same time, they fear that they could be victims of a confrontation between Iran and the United States or Israel and are therefore wary of overly provoking Tehran.

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Appeal

As will be discussed in the next chapter, Iran is a revisionist state: it is dissatisfied with the U.S.-dominated regional order. It therefore projects a model of resistance and rejection. Iran leads the charge with its rhetoric decrying the illegitimacy of Israel, championing the Palestinian cause, opposing U.S. hegemony, calling for Muslim unity, and criticizing Arab leadership “servile” to U.S. and Israeli interests. Iran’s appeal to populations across the Middle East significantly increased after 2001.10 The model itself did not change much, but the appeal to regional populations of Iran’s rejectionism increased in the wake of the war on terror, the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, and the war in Lebanon in 2006. These events led to a surge of popular opposition to U.S. and Israeli policies and resentment of their dominance of the regional order, fueled by popular perceptions of Arab leaders’ failure to reflect their citizens’ views. This positioned Iran to seize opportunities, much like the consequences of the military vacuum caused by the collapse of Iraq and Afghanistan. Polls are difficult to conduct in the Middle East. Evidence from available data suggests, nonetheless, that many in the Arab world are frustrated by their leaders’ stance toward the Arab-Israeli conflict and sympathetic to at least some of the rhetoric emanating from Tehran. In general, Arab publics do not share their leaders’ views of Iran as a threatening, aspiring regional hegemon (Wehrey et al., 2009, ch. 5); rather, the United States and Israel are consistently perceived as greater threats. In one poll, 77 percent of those surveyed in six Arab countries (Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, the UAE) believed that Iran has the right to a nuclear program; strikingly, of those 77 percent, 70 percent also believed that Iran is seeking nuclear weapons. Moreover, 57 percent thought that a nuclear-armed Iran would be a positive outcome for the Middle East (Telhami, 2010). A poll conducted in the wake of the 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah found that among respondents in the same six Arab states, large majorities identified the United States (72 percent) and Israel (85 percent) as posing the greatest threat to their security, with only 11 percent identifying Iran (Zogby International, 2007). Another poll, conducted in August 2006, found that Ahmadinejad was the third most popular politician in Egypt, after Hassan Nasrallah and Khaled Mesh’al (Kian-Thiébault, 2007, p. 28). The fact that these polls were conducted in the aftermath of the 2006 war probably biases the results, as they tapped into widespread anger; polls conducted during quieter times suggest that pro-Iran feelings are strong but not as high. This sug-

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gests, however, that Iran’s ability to tap into Arab popular frustrations to pursue its objectives is strongest during times of crisis. Other polls have shown that negative attitudes toward the United States, especially toward its regional policies, worsened after 2001 (Pressman, 2009, pp. 163–64). A Zogby International poll (2007) found that 80 percent of those surveyed in six Arab countries had unfavorable or very unfavorable views toward the United States, with 70 percent specifying that their views were based on U.S. policy, not values. Similarly, a poll taken in late 2006 and early 2007 found that 79 percent of respondents in four Muslim countries (Egypt, Morocco, Pakistan, and Indonesia) agreed that U.S. policy seeks to “weaken and divide the Muslim World.” An average of 74 percent also supported the objective of getting the United States to withdraw its forces from the region, while large majorities of over 70 percent support other objectives such as “standing up” to the United States (World Public Opinion, 2007). The appeal of Iran’s rejectionism contributes to its power because it provides Tehran with opportunities to constrain the margin of maneuver of Arab states aligned with the United States.11 Iran knows, for example, that U.S. and/or Israeli strikes on its nuclear installations would be unpopular among many in the Arab world, despite the fact that most Arab regimes are opposed to the prospect of a nuclear-capable Iran. This forces Arab capitals to play a delicate balancing act of opposing Iran’s nuclear ambitions while not appearing to support U.S. policies. By vocally criticizing their “subservience” to the Great Satan, Tehran can thus pressure its Arab neighbors. The latter calculate that it is in their interest to support some U.S. policies, but they must temper their actions to avoid inflaming already volatile populations. Through its pressure, Iran can shape this calculus, making it more costly for U.S.-aligned Arab regimes to take strong action against Iran. This reduces their margin of maneuver, while increasing Iran’s. Iranian Power: Short-term Gains, Longer-term Pain

The Iranian case highlights the need to adopt a broad definition of power, not limited to wealth and hard military capability. The elements that accounted for the increase in Iranian power, in addition to the collapse of rival neighbors and the inflow of oil money, were asymmetric military capabilities, appeal, and the power of nonstate allies. Iran’s economic and conventional military power is weak; in fact, the gap with its neighbors has widened. Iran’s military lacks power projection capabilities and suffers from low levels of maintenance and readiness, while its economy is stagnant and structurally weak. There is, as a

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result, a duality in Iran’s power: a rise in unconventional elements and stagnation at a relatively weak level for most conventional aspects. The Iranian case also shows the necessity of focusing on relative and not absolute power. Many elements of Iran’s power did not change much in absolute terms, but did when assessed in a relative context. This was largely a consequence of three factors: the overthrow of hostile regimes in Afghanistan and Iraq and the drop in U.S. appeal in the region. The latter raises the importance of viewing the appeal aspect of power in relative terms, something that may be less intuitive than for the military and economic components. Overall, Iran’s power grew after 2001. But to stop the analysis at this point yields only the general conclusion that greater power leads to the more assertive pursuit of interests abroad; it does not say anything about the nature of those interests, neither does it explain the underwhelming nature of Iran’s influence and its failure to reach its potential. The strategic analysis variant of neoclassical realism therefore further posits that the nature of capabilities shapes the kinds of interests a state pursues. Part of the growth in Iranian power was accounted for by intangible and unconventional elements. Moreover, conventional aspects of power—wealth and hard military capabilities—may have grown in relative terms, but in absolute terms stagnated, perpetuating existing disadvantages. This duality between rising unconventional elements and stagnating conventional ones is essential to understand Iranian foreign policy. The analysis also suggests that short-term gains were bought at the expense of longer-term costs. Iranian power in 2009 had risen from its 2001 level, but the issue of the sustainability of those capabilities is crucial. The factors that caused the window to open will evolve in a manner unlikely to be continually so advantageous to Iran. Iraq and Afghanistan could eventually stabilize and gain in strength, Turkey and Egypt could increasingly claim a regional leadership role, Hezbollah could further entrench itself in Lebanon and become more autonomous, the peace process could progress, thereby removing valuable spoiling opportunities, or, inside Iran, popular mood or ethnic unrest could deteriorate. It is by no means a given that all or even many of those will occur, but any combination would lead to losses for Iran. Even the rise in Iran’s unconventional military capabilities bears long-term costs. It has led concerned Gulf states to invest in homeland and air defenses and in conventional capabilities and to seek protection under the U.S. regional security umbrella (the United States, for example, is accelerating its installation of missile defenses in the Gulf; see Sanger and Schmitt, 2010).

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High oil prices have also been crucial to Iran’s rising power. In all likelihood, oil prices will remain high for the foreseeable future. The windfall, however, has provided Iran with only a limited relative advantage, as many of its neighbors also benefited from it. As Iraq continues along its recovery, it will itself benefit from comparable and perhaps greater oil revenues. Moreover, Iran failed to seize the opportunity to reform its economy, which remains structurally flawed. Partly as a result, the IMF calculates that though Iran’s economy grew between 6 and 8 percent per year from 2002 to 2007, growth stalled afterward. Under the combined impact of sanctions and mismanagement, growth was negative in 2012 and 2013 (–5.6 and –1.7 percent, respectively), while the Fund forecasts that on current trends, growth will average only about 2 percent per year between 2014 and 2019. Because of the country’s youth bulge, such stagnant growth will result in growing youth unemployment—and therefore in growing social tension. As with other elements of power, in addition, the growth in Iran’s appeal was brittle. The violent repression of popular protests by security forces in the wake of the controversial 2009 elections tainted Iran’s image, especially as uprisings against autocratic regimes spread throughout the region after 2011. Moreover, Iran’s appeal arises from its ideology, its rejection of the U.S.-dominated regional order. But Iran remains a Shia and Persian country in a region dominated by Sunni Arabs. This remains an important brake on its ability to prevail in the struggle over hearts and minds. Even more so, among the region’s Shia Arabs, many who identify to some extent with Tehran’s foreign policy reject the velayat-e faqih, Iran’s system of clerical government. At the same time, regional events in coming years will likely constrain Iran’s ability to use the regional appeal of its image to advance its interests. Such possible constraints include the growing regional leadership of Turkey, a mildly Islamist but successful and prosperous democracy, and the rehabilitation, even if only partial, of the United States in the wake of the nadir suffered by its credibility after the Iraq war. The emergence of a more democratic and independent Egypt would carry similar implications. Iran’s power also remains well below its potential. Consultation of three classic indicators of power—geography, population, and natural resources— suggests that Iran has considerable potential power. Iran’s geography consists of strategic real estate, its population is among the largest in Central Eurasia, and it has the world’s second largest combined reserves of oil and natural gas. Iran can thus plausibly aspire to an important regional role. Yet even these three

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features do not by themselves give Iran priority status as the regional power. Its population is comparable to that of Turkey and Egypt and only half that of Pakistan. Its natural resources are considerable but comparable to those of Saudi Arabia and less than those of the four tiny Gulf petro-monarchies combined. Iran is relatively resource-poor beyond hydrocarbons. Furthermore, its weak conventional military capabilities, its structurally flawed economy, and its lack of reliable, strong state allies prevent Iran from reaching its potential. As will be discussed in the case study chapters, because neoclassical realism posits that influence stems from power, Iran’s influence is also brittle and unsustainable and, crucially, below its potential. The peculiar nature of its rising capabilities, in sum, does not provide Iran with much positive influence. Its toolkit emphasizes asymmetric and retaliatory assets instead of conventional power projection, sea denial instead of sea control. Iran can intimidate or threaten, it can spoil or deny, it could massively increase the cost for the United States or regional states to adopt certain positions or to undertake certain actions. Yet its ability to reach more constructive goals, let alone to defeat an enemy on the battlefield, is inherently limited and well below its potential.

4

Domestic Pathologies

Chapter 2 conceptualized the three steps in the neoclassical realist causal chain. The following chapter operationalized the first step, the independent variable, by analyzing Iranian power. This chapter fulfills the second stage by operationalizing the three intervening variables: status, regime identity, and factional politics. Status

Iran has historically aspired to be a regional power. Iran’s leaders, whether from the Islamic Republic or its predecessors, have believed in a “historical sense of imperial mission” (Chatham House, 2006, p. 8). Indeed, “more than any other nation, Iran has always perceived itself as the natural hegemon of its neighbourhood” (Takeyh, 2006, p. 61). Iran’s elite, and many among the population, also harbor a unique awareness of, and pride in, their millennial history and a strong sense of distinctiveness: Iran sits as a Shia and Persian island in a sea of Sunni Arabs, Turks, and South Asians, while, unlike many of its neighbors, it has never been colonized. This aspiration to regional power status implies a desire to be treated as such. There is a strong perception among the leadership, however, that the country’s rightful status is being denied by the United States and its allies. Iran therefore suffers from a status discrepancy as a result of the differential between its aspirations and the status it perceives the international community ascribes to it. Iran is thus dissatisfied, a key driver of revisionism. Aspirations: High

Throughout Iran’s history, it has been a constant goal of the country’s elite to pursue regional power status. Many Iranians strongly hold the belief that 81

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their country is entitled to a paramount status among Middle Eastern nations, by dint of history, culture, geography, and, more recently, wealth of natural resources; regional leadership, as a result, is natural. The Islamic Republic, it is important to emphasize, does not differ from its predecessors in terms of these ambitions.1 Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi (1941–79), who claimed continuity in the greatness of Iranian monarchy going back twenty-five hundred years, sought to make Iran the preeminent regional power (qodrat-e mentaqe’i), which he was convinced was his country’s natural position.2 Convinced that a “great civilization” (tamaddon-e bozorg) must have strong armed forces, the shah aimed to make Iran’s military the fifth most powerful in the world. Flush with oil cash, he initiated a spending binge on advanced Western equipment, including 250 F-4 fighter aircraft. He was also determined to build a blue water navy, with which he intended to dominate the Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean. Overall, between 1970 and 1977, defense spending rose from $1 billion to $9.4 billion; by 1978, defense expenditures amounted to more than 15 percent of the government budget. The extraordinary pace of this modernization program came at a high cost: the armed forces were unable to absorb such advanced technology because of their lack of infrastructure and expertise, thus becoming dependent on external technical assistance (Saikal, 2009, pp. 154–61). The shah’s ambitions also had an important diplomatic aspect. In accordance with the Nixon Doctrine, through which the United States sought to devolve regional leadership responsibilities to local allies, the shah sought to position Iran as the guarantor of Persian Gulf security. He also had the ambition to transform Iran, within twenty-five years, into one of the world’s five most prosperous nations. The leaders of the Islamic Republic also came to power harboring regional aspirations; unlike the shah, however, the nascent revolutionary state viewed these ambitions through a pan-Islamic and anti-American prism. Like their predecessors, Iran’s new leaders also bore a sense of entitlement, with Khomeini viewing Iran as the leader of a new pan-Islamic unity. This ambition was enshrined in the Islamic Republic’s constitution: Article 11 states that the government should “exert continuous efforts in order to realize the political, economic and cultural unity of the Islamic world.” For R. K. Ramazani (2004, p. 555), such ambitions recall the “pretension to universality” that had driven the regional aspirations of Persian dynasties in the previous twenty-five hundred years. The hard choices forced by the war with Iraq (1980–88), the death of Kho-

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meini in 1989, and the presidencies of the moderate Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani (1989–97) and the reformist Mohammed Khatami (1997–2005) led Iran to gradually abandon the objective of exporting the revolution. Foreign policy became increasingly pragmatic, focused on maximizing the traditional ends of power and security. Iran thus aspires to be the dominant regional power in the Persian Gulf (its subregional complex) and a pivotal power in the Middle East (the regional complex). It wants to be an indispensable regional power without which regional political, security, and economic issues cannot be properly managed. This aspiration is not new, and it is specific neither to the Islamic Republic nor to its hard-line factions: rather, it is in continuity with the past. Moreover, this aspiration is widespread: all factions, from hard-liners to reformists, agree that Iran is entitled to regional power status.3 Senior figures make frequent references to these ambitions. Mohsen Rezaee, a former commander of the Revolutionary Guards and an influential regime insider, succinctly expressed them in 2007: “It is our principle and indisputable right to become a regional power” (quoted in Milani, 2009, p. 55). Saeed Jalili, the country’s hardline nuclear negotiator from 2007 to 2013, argued in 2008 that regional powers such as Iran are emerging as the unipolar era is closing down (Fars News, 2008). In fact, the 2005 20-Year Economic Perspective committed Iran to becoming the economic, scientific, and technological power in the Middle East by 2025. Iran’s leaders also regularly call for the international community to recognize Iran as a regional power. The IRGC commander between 1999 and 2007, for example, Major General Yahya Safavi, claimed in 2006 that the United States had “no option” but to recognize Iran as a regional power (Fars News, 2006). Perception of Status Ascription: Low

Iran’s perception of low-status ascription goes back decades: Iranian leaders are convinced that Western powers have systematically worked to prevent the country’s emergence as an independent regional power. The oil nationalization crisis of 1953, in particular, persuaded many that Britain and the United States refused to see Iranian power grow, as it would lead Tehran to pursue an independent foreign policy.4 International support for Iraq—which was the aggressor and used chemical weapons against Iran—during the 1980–88 war had a similar effect. More recently, the George H. W. Bush administration’s security plan for the Middle East in the wake of the 1991 war to expel Iraq from Kuwait purposely excluded Iran, despite promises from Washington that no regional state would be excluded.5

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The Islamic Republic’s perception of the status ascribed to it by the United States, the dominant regional power, is the most important element shaping its overall perception of status ascription. Tehran perceives that U.S. policy denies it a role in the management of regional affairs and seeks to undermine the Islamic Republic. Rezaee’s affirmation of Iran’s ambitions was quoted above; in the same speech, he added that the United States “would like to prevent us from playing such a role” (quoted in Milani, 2009, p. 55). Ali Larijani, the Speaker of parliament and a former nuclear negotiator, refers to this as the “theory of denial”: the United States cannot tolerate an independent power in the Middle East, instead seeking “the presence of a totally obedient ally” in Iran (2007). Iran thus perceives the United States as encircling it through its partnerships with Israel and “subservient” Arab regimes, its efforts to block Iran’s nuclear development and to constrain its influence in Iraq, and its refusal to grant Iran a say in the management of the Arab-Israeli conflict. As an author from a regime-affiliated think tank writes, the “majority of Iranians are not satisfied with their current role in the region nor in the international system. Western policies—perceived or real—aimed at restricting and isolating Iran intensifies this sense of frustration” (Ghahremanpour, 2011, p. 56). According to this narrative, sanctions, for example, serve the purpose not only of preventing Iran from developing nuclear technology but also of keeping it weak and isolated. Khamenei regularly makes the point in his speeches, claiming that “what the United States . . . expects from our nation and government is submission and surrender to its hegemony, and this is the real motive for U.S. claims regarding weapons of mass destruction, human rights or democracy” (quoted in Sadjadpour, 2008, p. 14). Regional states are also unwilling to recognize Iran as a paramount regional power. Arab Gulf states, in particular, view Iranian aspirations through a historical lens: it was the shah who seized islands from the UAE in 1971 and who “was seen as an arrogant and overbearing leader who considered himself the natural leader of the area” (El-Hokayem and Legrenzi, 2006, p. 2). Resistance to Iranian aspirations have only grown in recent years. Indeed, Tehran is convinced that GCC states, supported by the United States, seek to marginalize Iran. This acute insecurity intensified after 2001 as U.S. forces encircled Iran and reinforced security cooperation with Gulf states (Kamrava, 2013). Saudi Arabia, in particular, harbors a deep mistrust of Iran and has been the most active in working to deny Iran a status commensurate with its aspirations. The five small Gulf petro-monarchies are also opposed to Iran’s ambitions and sus-

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picious of its intentions, but are at the same time fearful of being caught in the crossfire of a U.S.-Iran confrontation. They therefore hedge their bets, seeking cordial relations with Tehran while increasing security cooperation with the United States.6 A Status Discrepancy

Iran’s aspirations exceed its perception of ascribed status, a situation known as status discrepancy: Iran perceives that the international community denies it the regional power status it feels entitled to. Iran is therefore dissatisfied with the regional order and its place within it, which explains why it favors a revisionist foreign policy. To maximize its influence—to seek the alignment of the external environment with its interests—Iran adopts policies that are generally consistent with its frustration at being denied the status it aspires to. Iran seeks to reshape the prevailing order but not to overthrow it violently; as Shahram Chubin emphasizes, Iran is “a revisionist state of status, not territory” (2009, p. 166). In their pronouncements, Iranian leaders regularly call for such a reshaping of the international order. In a 2007 speech, for example, Ali Larijani called for a “review and redefinition” of the “analytical and management tools” of the prevailing order. A key element of this preferred order is, of course, a lesser role for the United States and its allies, which Iran perceives as rivals with a competing vision of the regional order, one that is hostile to Iranian aspirations. A Rejectionist Identity

Iran’s rising power led it to adopt a more assertive foreign policy. Compounding this was the country’s status discrepancy, which drives the revisionist dimension of its foreign policy. Revisionism, however, represents an indeterminate pressure on foreign policy: demonstrating that a state is revisionist is a necessary but insufficient step to explain its behavior. A state suffering from a status discrepancy can harbor limited or unlimited revisionist aims, but it can also choose to acquiesce to its inferior status ascription. If it chooses to pursue revisions to the order, it can adopt violent or peaceful means. The second intervening variable therefore incorporates the regime’s identity as a further transmission belt between systemic pressures and foreign policy outcomes. This identity is rejectionist: Iran is a limited-aims revisionist rejecting the U.S.-dominated status quo. Revolutionary Iran has built its identity as the champion of the resistance to, and rejection of, the U.S.-dominated order. This

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identity further modifies the parameters shaped by upstream variables; it acts as “a complex of ideological blinders” that “serve to distort Iran’s appreciation of its environment” (Chubin, 2000, p. 11). In the early years of the Islamic Republic, this revisionism was close to harboring unlimited aims: Iran sought to export the revolution, through violent means in some cases. It supported armed opposition groups throughout the region, especially but not exclusively Shia ones, with the objective of subverting neighboring regimes. With time, Iran has evolved into a limited-aims revisionist no longer seeking to violently export its revolution. As a limited-aims revisionist, it does not reject the building blocks of the prevailing order—the nation-state—and it accepts many of its premises. What it rejects is the domination of this order by the United States and its partners, Israel and pro-U.S. Arab states. It wants to change the status quo and shape a revised order in which its aspirations are recognized. Iranian identity has historically rested on the twin pillars of nationalism and religion. Under Pahlavi rule, the Islamic component was downplayed as the shah promoted an assertive Persian nationalism. The 1979 revolution, on the other hand, emphasized the Islamic component. As the ideological stridency of the early revolutionary days gradually gave way to more pragmatism, regime identity has come to consist of a more balanced product of religion and nationalism: by the 1990s the regime accepted that its culture was “Iranian-Islamic” (Hunter, 1992, p. 95). In practice, it is difficult to disentangle the causal effect of both components, as they are closely intertwined: the interpretation of Shiism by the Islamic Republic has become heavily “Iranicized,” while nationalism has been influenced by religion. Prickly Nationalism

The nationalism pillar of the regime’s identity consists of four elements: opposition to hegemony, an acute perception of insecurity, a sense of historical grievances and victimhood, and a strong belief in self-reliance. Opposition to hegemony, imperialism, and colonialism has been a dominant theme in Iranian political thought since the nineteenth century. From the reformist Islamism of Jamal al-Din al-Afghani to the secular nationalism of Mohammed Mossadeq, Iranians of all political stripes have fervently opposed meddling by foreign powers. As one commentator notes, “[A]nti-Westernization and anti-imperialism have become two of the fixed hallmarks of the modern Iranian intelligentsia’s identity discourse” (Boroujerdi, 1997, p. 4). A central theme, in particular, is the “protection of the country’s Islamic norms and val-

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ues against the corrupting and corroding influences of Western modernity” (Kamrava, 2008, p. 10). Khomeini claimed that the international system, based on might, is fundamentally unjust. He rejected both the contemporary world order that he perceived as imposed by the West and the domestic order under the shah, dominated by modernization and Westernization. In Khomeini’s view, these domestic and external orders were linked, given U.S. support for the shah and the shah’s role as America’s regional sheriff. Khomeini’s writings and speeches were laced with denunciations of the oppressive essence of the West. In 1981, for example, he argued that “our triumph will come when all forms of foreign control have been brought to an end” (1981, p. 252). His worldview was premised on a struggle between the haves (mustakbareen) and have-nots (mustaz’afeen), the powerful and the oppressed. His antihegemonic views drew on Marxist thought, through his emphasis on class conflict and his insistence that the downtrodden were humiliated and exploited by capitalist forces. Like other elements of its identity, opposition to hegemony is embedded in the Islamic Republic’s constitution: Article 152 states that Iranian foreign policy is based on “rejecting any form of hegemony,” while Article 153 affirms that “it is forbidden for any hegemonic power to dominate Iran’s natural resources, economy, army, and other pillars of the state.” Independence, Khomeini argued, could come only through resisting hegemony (Ramazani, 1986, pp. 27– 29). This antihegemonic bent pushes Iran to oppose the United States and its allies, chiefly Israel, the “mini-Satan,” and conservative Arab states allied with Washington. In Khomeini’s view, these oppressive regimes serve as agents of U.S. imperialism and, as such, should be opposed. Iran’s rejectionism is also driven by an acute perception of insecurity and vulnerability and a sense of strategic loneliness, born of the complex interaction of history, geography, religion, and ethnicity.7 Iran is “married to a sense of insecurity derived from persistent invasion by hostile forces” (Takeyh, 2006, p. 61). As Khomeini often claimed, “[T]he world is against us” (quoted in Abrahamian, 1993, p. 122). In his speeches he often insisted on the “hopelessness and impotence of the world of Islam,” referring to historical wrongs suffered by Muslims at the hands of imperialist forces assisted by servile local rulers (Moin, 1999, p. 154). This acute perception of insecurity is born from an intense historical sense of grievance, humiliation, and victimhood. Iranian history since the nineteenth century has witnessed a pattern of victimization at the hands of external pow-

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ers that has left a profound scar in the Iranian psyche: Successive conquests of Iran started over two thousand years ago with Alexander the Great, followed by the humiliating Arab conquest of Iran under early Islam, the Mongol hordes of Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, the powerful armies of the Seljuk Turks, the humiliating Afghan invasion, and finally capped by British and Russian domination and even occupation of Iran. These conquerors and many other invaders have seized control of Iran for long periods of time, inflicting severe psychic scars on the Iranian nation. (Fuller, 1991, p. 18)

More recently, after Iraq invaded in 1980, the international community turned a blind eye and supported the aggressor, Iraq. When Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, however, the international community, led by an assertive United States, demanded through the UN Security Council an unconditional withdrawal. When Saddam refused to budge, the United States led a military campaign to eject him from Kuwait. Such double standards, in Iranian perceptions, illustrate the injustice of the U.S.-dominated order and the hypocrisy of the West. A 2006 letter sent by Ahmadinejad to German chancellor Angela Merkel illustrates this sense of grievance. Drawing a parallel between the German and Iranian experiences, the Iranian president wrote that our people have also suffered from the interventions by some of the victors of the war after World War II. For many years they interfered in our internal affairs and did not want to see our nation conquer the pinnacles of progress and perfection. They had their eyes on our natural wealth, above all on our energy resources. To secure their own interests, they overthrew the legally constituted government of the time, installed a dictatorial regime and supported it to the end. Later, they supported Saddam in the war imposed on our people and observed no humanitarian boundary in their support for the Iraqi dictator.

The pursuit of self-reliance has also been central to Iranian political thought for decades. Major thinkers such as al-Afghani, Jalal Al-e Ahmad, and Ali Shari’ati as well as prominent politicians such as Mossadeq and Khomeini advocated ridding Iran of foreign influence and pursuing independent foreign and economic policies. The Islamic Republic’s nationalism still puts strong emphasis on self-reliance in the political, cultural, economic, and security spheres, as witnessed by its efforts to develop an indigenous weapons industry. Jalal Al-e Ahmad (1923–69) was critical in shaping the Islamic Republic’s emphasis on self-reliance. He popularized the concept of gharbzadegi, usually translated as “Westoxification” or “Weststruckness,” but perhaps more aptly rendered by

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the French equivalent proposed by Yann Richard (2006, p. 282), “Westernitis” (occidentalite).8 Gharbzadegi laments the dependency of underdeveloped nations on the West and its technology. It is a “less systematic, Iranian version of dependency theory propounded by such other Third Worlders as Andre Gunder Frank” (Hanson, 1983, p. 13). At its core, it is about alienation: it rejects the cultural Westernization of the Pahlavi regime and its dependency on the West. Al-e Ahmad, who attributed the West’s domination primarily to its advanced technology, argued that Pahlavi Iran, by obsessively seeking modernization and Westernization, had lost its identity and become but a shell of its original self. Westernitis is thus a disease from which Iran must be cured. His solution is not to reject development but to gain scientific and economic autonomy: for Al-e Ahmad, “until we build the machines ourselves, we will remain Weststruck” (quoted in Rajaee, 2007, p. 103). Khomeini put this theme at the forefront of his vision for an Islamic Republic. For him, the chaos, corruption, and weakness of the Pahlavi and Qajar eras were created, in part, by Iran’s loss of sovereignty to great powers. Like Al-e Ahmad, Khomeini believed that self-reliance was necessary to build an Islamic and just society: “[We] must become isolated in order to become independent” (quoted in Ramazani, 2001, p. 216).9 Politicized Shiism

Shia beliefs and mythologies form important foundations of the Islamic Republic’s ideology. Its historical sense of grievance, for example, is heavily influenced by Khomeini’s interpretation of the Shia as dispossessed, betrayed, and humiliated by the powerful and corrupt. Islam becomes a tool of resistance; it is, as Khomeini often argued, the champion of all oppressed people. This is why clerics must lead the country, as they are best positioned to form a government able to resist hegemony and imperialism. One of Khomeini’s most important innovations was thus to transform Shiism “from a conservative quietist faith into a militant political ideology” (Abrahamian, 1993, p. 3). This thinking owed much to the writings of Seyyed Jamal ad-Din Asadabadi, known as al-Afghani (1838–97). Al-Afghani pioneered the view of Islam as a means of resistance by presenting “a comprehensive theory of a modernized Islam able to withstand Western imperialism” (Martin, 2003, p. 101). Just as Al-e Ahmad is crucial to understanding the Islamic Republic’s views on self-reliance, so are Ali Shari’ati’s writings central to revolutionary Iran’s politicized Shiism. Shari’ati (1933–77), who obtained a doctorate in sociology in France, viewed himself as part of the global movement of Third World peoples

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struggling against imperialism and oppression. He translated, for example, Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth and was inspired by revolutionaries such as Ho Chi Minh and Che Guevara (Gheissari, 1998). In his view, Western domination paralyzed the development of non-Western peoples, including Muslims. The result was an eclectic blend of revolutionary Shia theology and Marxism with elements of postcolonialism and Third World anti-imperialism. This mix promulgated a rejection of Western influence through a revolutionary Islamic ideology emphasizing social justice. Khomeini never openly endorsed him—Shari’ati’s anticlericalism would have made this awkward—but he built on his interpretation of Shiism as a mobilizational ideology. Social justice was at the forefront of Khomeini’s thought. For him, Islam is above all a religion of justice, while the essence of the Prophet’s message resides in the building of a just community. The pursuit of justice, moreover, is influenced by the dominant self-perception of many Shia as the historical victims of oppression at the hands of a series of conquerors. The need to struggle against injustice is thus central to the Islamic Republic’s narrative. Khomeini, for example, denounced the enslavement of Iran by the 1964 Status of Forces Agreement between the shah and the United States, which granted U.S. personnel extraterritorial privileges on Iranian soil. As a result, thundered Khomeini, an “American cook can now assassinate our religious leaders or run over the Shah without having to worry about our laws” (quoted in Abrahamian, 1993, p. 21). Martyrdom has also gained a central place in revolutionary narrative. Imam Hussein, the son of Ali and grandson of the Prophet, challenged the Omayyad dynasty’s claim to the succession of the Prophet. The assassination of Hussein and the massacre of his followers by the Sunni caliph Yazid in 680 at Karbala in modern-day Iraq have since offered a template of suffering, self-sacrifice, and resistance to oppression. Ali’s supporters became the Shia (or partisans of Ali) and, in their cosmology, have been persecuted by the Sunni ever since. In the Islamic Republic’s narrative, the United States (or Iraq in the 1980s) is Yazid, while Iran is Hussein. For Khomeini, martyrdom could mean to physically give one’s life for the Islamic Republic, as thousands of volunteers did in the 1980s in the war with Iraq, but also self-sacrifice and righteous struggle (jihad) against injustice and oppression. Crystallization of Regime Identity

Identity construction is the product of a complex process in which constant interaction, often marred by hostility, with internal and external “others” plays

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a central role. The founders of the Islamic Republic opposed two hegemonic forces, one internal, the shah’s regime, and an external, the United States. This struggle initially took shape in the 1960s and 1970s as Khomeini developed a vision for an Islamic Iran in opposition to the U.S.-allied shah. For Khomeini, the shah and the United States were intertwined: Pahlavi Iran, in its efforts to secularize and Westernize Iran, was making the country into a U.S. satellite, while “American Islam” was being imposed on Iranian masses. For Khamenei, the “corrupt Pahlavi regime, for 50 years of its rule, with the aid of the westoxified, was able to let gharbzadegi influence this territory”; it was only through the Islamic Republic that Iran was able to achieve independence (quoted in Holliday, 2011, p. 83). The “us” became Islamic and Iranian, whereas the “them” was the encroaching foreigner and its Iranian puppet, the corrupt, ungodly, and Westernized shah. There was, in sum, a conscious effort to define the new Iran in opposition to the shah. The rejectionist identity also developed through its opposition to an external other, the American “Great Satan.” The thought of Al-e Ahmad did much to give birth to the dominant view of the U.S.-led West as the hegemonic force that had to be resisted. The oppressed, the victims of imperialist aggression, must rise up under Iran’s Islamic leadership against the “global arrogance” and its allies, “Western lackeys” such as Israel and the Arab monarchies of the Gulf. Khomeini and his successors have since repeatedly manipulated hostility to the United States, arguing gloomily that a decline in attachment to the revolutionary cause would be interpreted in the West as weakness. The rejectionist identity was further crystallized on 5 November 1979, when hundreds of students stormed the U.S. embassy in Tehran and took hostage sixty-five American diplomatic personnel. The hostage crisis served as a catalytic event, allowing Khomeini to marginalize secular and moderate factions, mobilize the population, and shape the new regime’s institutions on the basis of his preferences. The contest of wills between Tehran and the United States allowed Khomeini to frame the revolution as a confrontation between “a rapacious, satanic United States and the sublime theocracy” (Takeyh, 2006, p. 24). The hostage crisis thus established hostility to the United States and a confrontational stance as a key foundation of Iranian foreign policy. On 22 September 1980, Iraq attacked Iran, launching an eight-year war that produced more than 1 million casualties. Again, Khomeini skilfully adapted his narrative, changing the debate from one between the old and new regimes— the despotic shah versus the fledgling revolution—to one pitting loyalty to the

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Islamic Revolution against the threat of invasion by Iraq. With U.S. and Arab backing, the UN Security Council at the time declared the invasion to be a “situation” and not a “war,” avoiding having to declare Iraq the aggressor. The resulting call for a cease-fire (which was ignored by both parties) implicitly allowed Iraqi forces to remain on Iranian territory. From Tehran’s perspective, this amounted to support for Iraq’s aggression. Moreover, throughout the war, Iraq benefited from support from the West and the Soviet bloc, cementing revolutionary Iran’s acute perception of insecurity and its sense of strategic loneliness, while confirming its belief in the necessity of self-reliance. Factional Politics

Students of Iran have long recognized the impact of domestic politics on the country’s foreign policy.10 Factional politics on their own, however, cannot account for broad foreign policy trajectories. It is Iran’s rising power that shapes the country’s behavior: benefiting from a window of opportunity, Iran assertively sought to seize the openings it faced. Iran’s status discrepancy then explains why this assertiveness took on a revisionist hue. The regime’s identity further shapes choices, pushing them toward rejectionism. Factional politics provides the third step explaining why Iranian foreign policy further tilted toward assertiveness, revisionism, and rejectionism. Specifically, the balance of factional power tilted toward the right as reformists and moderates were marginalized and as the main locus of struggle shifted to the growing conflict between hard-liners and traditional conservatives. The Rules of Factional Politics

The chaotic web of elected and unelected, formal and informal institutions of the Islamic Republic can be viewed as an arena, a battlefield in which factions compete for influence on policy-making. This competition is not unconstrained; it occurs within the bounds of the Islamic Republic and under the leadership of the system’s ultimate arbiter, the supreme leader. He is the most powerful individual in the Iranian system, the balancer-in-chief: he is not an authoritarian decision-maker but a consensus-builder who takes decisions partly on the basis of what he sees as a rough average of the views of the regime’s competing power centers. A wide array of actors and bodies have the formal or informal ability to shape decisions. Titles go only so far; the ability of an individual or an organization to shape decisions depends as much on his formal position as on informal factors such as his belonging to an influential

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faction, his revolutionary credibility, and his ability to strike alliances (Moslem, 2002). This system is double-headed. The president, who leads the republican dimension, is elected directly by the population, heads the cabinet, and controls some of the bureaucracy, while the elected parliament (the Majles) holds legislative and regulatory powers. In parallel is Khomeini’s radical innovation of the velayat-e faqih, or rule by the guardian jurisconsult, constituting the unelected, Islamic dimension. True power is held by the leader, who controls the armed and security forces, the judiciary, and a network of clerical and semiclerical bodies charged with overseeing various aspects of national affairs. The president is a major player in domestic economic policy and in the day-to-day management of the country’s affairs, but is only one player among many in shaping and implementing foreign and security policy. Only those who accept the supremacy of the leader are allowed to engage in the pulling and hauling to influence decisions. As Rajaee (2007, p. 157) has argued, all factions must profess an Islamic identity and loyalty to the system and the leader, and display a “practical commitment” to the principles of the constitution. Khomeini guaranteed the perpetuation of his vision by embedding it into formal and informal institutions. The constitution, in particular, calls for the creation of an elaborate web of norms and laws ensuring that factional competition remains within the bounds of the system. Article 115, for example, stipulates that to qualify for the presidency, one must adhere to the velayat-e faqih. Article 26 further illustrates how the system shapes boundaries from which politics must not stray. It enables the “formation of parties, societies, political or professional associations, as well as religious societies . . . provided they do not violate the principles of independence, freedom, national unity, the criteria of Islam, or the basis of the Islamic Republic.” Left unspecified, however, are the instructions for day-to-day governance. Policy-making thus consists of the factions fighting it out to shape decisions. The supreme leader—the rahbar-e enqelab and the vali-e faqih, the ruling jurisconsult—is the most powerful man in Iran. Although he does not possess absolute power given the fragmented nature of the system, he has final say on matters of state, and his voice is the most powerful in steering debate on major issues. As such, he must consult with key power centers and take their opinions into consideration. The leader is the arbiter; both Khomeini (leader from 1979 until his death in 1989) and Khamenei (who succeeded Khomeini in 1989) have ensured that no faction would come to completely dominate. In their view, this

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is necessary to ensure a relative peace within the regime and thus guarantee the perpetuation of the Islamic Republic. Khomeini’s management style aimed at establishing guidelines, leaving it to the factions to fight it out to develop and implement policies within these bounds. He would usually intervene late in the process of factional struggle, to approve decisions or, when he deemed it necessary, to tip the scale. Khomeini’s undisputed personal, political, and religious authority allowed him to build such a role for the leader. Although Khamenei does not possess his predecessor’s charisma and legitimacy, he still plays the role of balancer-in-chief, albeit less forcefully. Khamenei makes the key decisions, usually after major power centers have reached a consensus. This does not imply that he is completely above the fray. In particular, given his weakness relative to his predecessor, Khamenei has perceived a greater need to align himself with some factions in order to shore up his position. Khamenei’s preferences are close to those of the traditional conservatives. As a result, his default position is usually to support policies consistent with this group’s preferences. The leader embodies the regime’s identity; he enforces the bounds within which factional politics occur. Article 57 of the constitution grants him absolute power, stating that the “powers of government in the Islamic Republic are vested in the legislature, the judiciary, and the executive powers, functioning under the supervision of the absolute religious leader.” Both the constitution and tradition grant the leader a wide array of levers through which he can arbitrate and steer factional competition, with the most important being his ability to appoint and dismiss officials. He is also the commander-in-chief of the armed forces and controls the security and intelligence services, who are accountable to him and not to the president or cabinet. It has also become accepted—though Ahmadinejad tried to contest this—that Khamenei has the final say on the choice of ministers responsible for foreign affairs, defense, and intelligence and security. The leader also controls the judiciary, nominating its head. Through his control of state radio and television and the network of Friday prayer leaders, he also shapes public discourse. He appoints the heads of, and indirectly controls, bonyads, the sprawling religious foundations that control significant chunks of the Iranian economy. The Guardian Council is the main enforcer in ensuring, on behalf of the leader, that factional competition remains within the bounds of the velayat-e faqih. It includes six clerics appointed by the leader and six nonclerical jurists appointed by the head of the judiciary (himself appointed by the leader). The

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council serves as a de facto upper chamber thanks to its power to veto laws passed by the Majles, while it also has the responsibility to supervise elections. Vetting thus serves “as a means of demarcating the broad contours of permissible political criticisms and actions” (Farhi, 2008b, p. 2). The Supreme Council for National Security (SCNS), the end of the funnel of the process of factional competition, is where key decisions on foreign and security policy are taken. The SCNS regroups the president, key ministers, senior officers from the IRGC, the military and the security services, other senior insiders, and representatives of the leader. It prepares the ground for decisions by the leader by providing a forum for debate, and then coordinates the implementation of those decisions. Factionalism between 1979 and 2001

The early years of the Islamic Republic saw the assortment of movements that had contributed to the revolution struggling among each other to shape the post-shah order. By 1981 groups opposed to the Islamic Republic, chiefly liberals, secularists, communists, and Islamic Marxists, had been eliminated or marginalized. As Khomeini established himself as the dominant figure of the new order, a range of groups, subordinate to his leadership and accepting the principles of the velayat-e faqih but diverging in their interpretation of its meaning, started engaging in intense struggles. The first faction, the radical left, included revolutionary clerics and socialist-leaning, religious laypersons. It was led by Prime Minister Mir-Hossein Musavi (1981–89) and Speaker of Parliament Mehdi Karrubi (1989–92). It favored a strong role for the state in the economy and wealth redistribution. Unlike its reformist heirs of the 1990s, the radical left favored restrictive social policies and opposed pluralism. With many of its members sympathetic to Third Worldist ideologies, the left favored the export of the revolution and an aggressive foreign policy opposing the United States. The right wing was dominated by socially and politically conservative clerics, religious traditionalists, leading members of the bazaar, and pious technocrats. It was led by Rafsanjani, the powerful speaker of the Majles (1981–89), and Khamenei, the president from 1981 to 1989, and included many powerful clerics. On economic issues, the right believed in a more limited state role while it held conservative social views. Its views on foreign policy were not monolithic; even though its members agreed with the revolution’s rejection of the U.S.-dominated order, many favored more restraint than leading leftists. Each wing controlled different parts of the sys-

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tem: the left held parliamentary majorities from 1980 to 1992 and controlled key positions in the executive, while the right held the speakership of parliament, the presidency, and controlled many unelected institutions. Divergences on foreign policy were strong, with Khomeini’s decisions often reflecting a fragile balance. Following Khomeini’s death in 1989 and the weakening of the authority of the leader’s office under Khamenei, factional competition intensified and evolved into a more important variable shaping foreign policy. Rafsanjani’s presidency (1989–97) thus witnessed four trends: the rise of pragmatic conservatives, growing ties between Khamenei and the traditional right, the demise of the radicals, and the emergence of the reformists. This period saw the emergence of a pragmatic conservative faction that distanced itself from traditional conservatives. Moderates were and still are led by Rafsanjani and include technocrats and business associations, and benefit from support among middle and educated classes. Rafsanjani has systematically tried to position himself at the center of the spectrum, often competing with the leader for the role of kingmaker. Rafsanjani’s initial priority was economic reconstruction in the wake of the war with Iraq. In his view, cementing the Islamic Republic’s legitimacy had to come not through ideological crusades but improved economic conditions. Most moderates favor integration in the international economy and support technical and financial cooperation with the West. Although they pay lip service to the Islamic Republic’s rejectionism and are opposed to U.S. preponderance in the Middle East, they support a normalization of Iran’s foreign relations. Rafsanjani thus succeeded in improving relations with Iran’s Persian Gulf neighbors and to a lesser extent with Europe, but never made headway in improving relations with the United States. The main locus of factional struggle during Rafsanjani’s presidency was between moderate and traditional conservatives. The latter faction, which has generally been the most powerful since 1989, still dominates the regime’s most powerful bodies, especially the Guardian Council and the Assembly of Experts. Traditionalists benefit from support among the lower middle class, lower-ranking clergy, and small bazaar merchants. They hold conservative views on religious, social, and economic issues. For most of its members, the position of the vali-e faqih—which embodies God’s sovereignty and acts as its regent on earth—takes precedence over popular sovereignty. Traditionalists accept in theory a free market economy, though in practice they have increasingly come to espouse a crony capitalism favoring their supporters. They support a rejec-

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tionist foreign policy but most, especially Khamenei, are risk averse and fear destabilizing the regime. They are hostile to Western influence and are intensely mistrustful of the United States. Khamenei, moreover, “believes that any Iranian moves towards compromise will be seen as a sign of weakness and will encourage the United States to exert even greater pressure” (Green et al., 2009, p. 8). The second trend affecting the factional balance in the 1990s was the rapprochement between Khamenei and traditionalists. Lacking the authority of his predecessor and contested in some clerical circles, the supreme leader sought to bolster his position by shoring up his right flank. Khamenei thus gradually built a support base throughout lower and conservative clerical ranks, the security and intelligence bureaucracy, and religious foundations. Through his control of appointments, he installed loyalists throughout the system, in particular in the upper echelons of the IRGC. The third trend was the successful effort by Khamenei and Rafsanjani to push the radicals aside, purging them from parliament, the judiciary, and key ministries. The revision of the constitution in 1989 abolished the position of prime minister, which had been held by the left since 1981, and gave many of its powers to the president. Rafsanjani, elected president in 1989, was thus able to gain control of the cabinet. The new constitution, in addition, gave absolute authority to the leader. The reformist movement subsequently rose from the ashes of the radical left. It was led by Mohammed Khatami, elected to the presidency in 1997, who was supported by former radicals, including Musavi and Karrubi. The reformists believed that the Islamic Republic was losing legitimacy; elected institutions had to be empowered to prevent collapse. Reformists, crucially, sought to change and improve the velayat-e faqih from within, not to overthrow it. Like their predecessors from the radical left, reformists favor redistributive economic policies and a loosening of social restrictions. While most reformists are intensely nationalist, have no love for U.S. foreign policy, and agree that Iran is being denied its rightful status, they also believe that it is in the country’s interest to reintegrate the international community and embrace globalization. For reformists, the United States should not be an enemy, but neither should it be a friend; it should, instead, be a rival. Khatami viewed foreign policy as an extension of domestic politics: a more pluralist Islamic Republic would be more respectful of international norms. Reformists rapidly took control of most elected institutions. The confirmation of their rise came with Khatami’s massive victory in 1997 with more than 70 percent of the vote, while they also dominated municipal and Majles

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elections in 1999 and 2000. That said, they failed to broaden their coalition to other societal sectors, such as trade unions. More critically, reformists failed to gain a foothold in unelected institutions, as conservatives kept control of the most important pillars of the foreign policy and security apparatus. Conservatives indeed perceived the reformists’ popularity as a threat. Many thus rallied behind the leader to constrain the reformist agenda. The Guardian Council, for example, vetoed 111 of 297 bills proposed by the Majles between 1997 and 2004, while the judiciary restricted press freedom and civil society activism. The IRGC leadership was overhauled, with first-generation leaders replaced by a younger generation of Iran-Iraq war veterans selected on the basis of their loyalty to Khamenei. The leader also increased the Guards’ funding and gave them greater authority to intervene in economic and political affairs. Khamenei, moreover, strengthened the authority of the SCNS. Dominated by conservatives and accountable to the leader, the council established itself as the key decision-making body for foreign and security policy, including for the nuclear program, while the Foreign Ministry, where reformists had gained much influence, was limited to implementing decisions. The Rise of the Hard-Liners

Between 2001 and 2009, the balance of factional power shifted rightward, in two phases. Conservatives, perceiving an acute threat to their position after 1997, first led an assault against the reformists. By leading this charge, the leader opened a new space to his right, which a young cabal of hard-liners enthusiastically filled. Between 2001 and 2005, reformists were thus progressively marginalized. Second, in the wake of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s accession to the presidency in 2005, the conservatives gradually split as the main locus of factional competition shifted to the struggle between traditionalists and this new generation of hard-liners. These developments built on an important trend begun in the 1990s: the congealing of a new faction, variously labeled hard-liners, the radical right, principlists, or neoconservatives. Many hard-liners had been in their twenties and thirties during the revolution, and were in their forties or fifties by 2005, often veterans of the IRGC, the Baseej, or the intelligence apparatus. They came of age fighting in the Iran-Iraq war, which significantly shaped their worldview. In the 1990s, benefiting from the generous support that the Islamic Republic offered its veterans, they set the stage for their emergence, obtaining advanced degrees, setting up newspapers, establishing think-tanks, and building alliances

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with hard-line clerics. As they rose through the ranks of the security services in the 1980s and through local, provincial, and national administrations in the 1990s, many adopted hard-line positions and developed a sense of entitlement given their wartime sacrifices. Faced with growing reformist ambitions in the late 1990s, the leader started leaning on these young hard-liners, especially from the IRGC and the Baseej, opening the door for their rise. Ahmadinejad, president from 2005 to 2013, was born in 1956, the fourth child of a poor family. A devout and hard-working student, the young Ahmadinejad identified with Khomeini’s message, joining the IRGC in 1986. Although his role during the war remains controversial, it appears that he served along the northern frontier in Kurdish areas. Some reports also claim that he was a Baseej instructor (Hassan, 2008). He was subsequently governor in small cities in the northwest and then governor-general of Ardebil Province from 1993 to 1997. He ran unsuccessfully on a hard-right list for the municipal and Majles elections of 1999 and 2000, until he was chosen as mayor of Tehran in 2003. During his two-year tenure, Ahmadinejad gave hints of his future policies as president, adopting populist measures to please the urban poor and ensuring that many city contracts were awarded to the IRGC and its allies. Ahmadinejad’s power base could be split into three categories. First was his network of allies that he appointed throughout the bureaucracy.11 These individuals, most of whom belonged to his generation of civilian hard-liners, formed the core of his patronage network (Alfoneh, 2011a). The second pillar of his power base consisted of traditionalists who jumped on the hard-liner bandwagon after 2005. These individuals—clerics and nonclerics, military and nonmilitary—viewed the election of the firebrand president as an opportunity to marginalize their common enemies, the reformists and pragmatic conservatives. Although they identified with some of Ahmadinejad’s ideas, they disagreed with many others and, increasingly, were repelled by his confrontational style. Third, through his denunciations of the corruption of the old guard and his calls for social justice, Ahmadinejad built a support base among lower and rural classes in which his image of piety and modesty struck a chord among many (Baktiari, 2007). He also benefited from widespread disillusionment with the reformists’ failures, leading many of their supporters to disengage from politics. Hard-liners occupy space to the right of traditionalists. They accept many of the traditional conservatives’ views on foreign policy, but take them in a more assertive and confrontational direction. Hard-liners are fervently ideological.

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They advocate a return to what they perceive as the original principles of the revolution, arguing that older clerics have become corrupt and lax and calling for first-generation clerics to step aside. They also believe in the revolution’s promise of fighting for the oppressed and favoring social justice. Hard-liners are intensely committed to a self-image of Iran as a regional power. Moreover, they emphasize, more than other factions, Iran’s sense of victimhood at the hands of what they denounce as a bullying West. As the factional balance of power tipped in their favor, as a result, Iran increasingly suffered from an acute status discrepancy, further driving its revisionism. They are both highly pious and aggressively nationalist. They reject Rafsanjani’s efforts to better integrate Iran into the global economy, arguing that this would inevitably lead to the enslavement of Iran to Western powers. Instead, they favor defiance and the assertive pursuit of what they perceive as Iran’s rightful place as the preeminent power in the Persian Gulf and as a pivotal power in the Middle East. Rejecting Khatami’s softer tone, they also adopted stridently confrontational rhetoric. They support an aggressive rejectionist stance against perceived Western encroachment. Like other factions, they are intensely distrustful of the United States but have taken to new heights the conviction that the “Great Satan” poses a permanent threat to the Islamic Republic. Factional Politics, 2001–9

The conservative backlash began as early as 1999, with the security services launching waves of assassinations of reformist intellectuals and forcing the closure of reformist publications. State broadcasting “spared no effort in portraying the reformists as incompetent,” feeding the narrative that the movement was failing to live up to its promises (Ansari, 2007b, p. 27). The 2003 municipal elections signaled the beginning of the end. In Tehran, benefiting from a low turnout of 15 percent as disillusioned reformist sympathizers abstained, conservatives won and appointed Ahmadinejad as mayor. If there was still any doubt on declining reformist fortunes, the 2004 Majles elections dispelled it. The Guardian Council excluded two thousand reformist candidates, including sitting deputies, so that reformists were able to contest only 102 of 290 constituencies. As a result, conservatives seized more than half the seats and gained the speakership, which went to a Khamenei loyalist, Gholam-Ali Haddad-Adel. By the end of its second term in 2005, Khatami’s presidency had been completely hamstrung. Major initiatives were systematically blocked, and even routine administrative tasks were often a challenge.

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The militarization of politics also intensified after 2001. In the 1990s, to prevent veterans from becoming disillusioned, Rafsanjani allowed the IRGC and its allies to participate in postwar reconstruction. The Guards’ engineering arm, Khatam ol-Anbia, obtained billions of dollars in contracts, usually in unfair processes, in sectors ranging from construction to telecommunications and hydrocarbons. The IRGC was also granted control over some border posts and ports, allowing it to gain a foothold in the smuggling business. After the growth of its economic role during the Rafsanjani era, the Khatami period saw the expansion of the Guards’ political and domestic security responsibilities (Vatanka, 2010). As the leader felt his position threatened by reformist ambitions, he sought to bolster the conservative position by further expanding IRGC responsibilities. By 2005, the Guards had evolved into the country’s most important security institution, supplanting the ministries of the Interior and of Intelligence and Security, playing a central role in countering the reformists, and further extending their economic reach. In addition, the IRGC obtained control of the country’s ballistic missile and nuclear programs and, through its elite Qods Force, of asymmetric operations abroad (Hen-Tov and Gonzalez, 2011, p. 50). In the 2004 Majles elections, IRGC veterans or candidates with ties to the Guards won at least a third of all seats; of 152 new MPs, 91 had a background in the IRGC (Green et al., 2009, p. 13). Three presidential candidates in 2005, moreover, were veterans: Ali Larijani, Mohammed Baqer Qalibaf, and the eventual winner, Ahmadinejad. The conservative consolidation intensified after 2005. For the first time since 1989, most main bodies of the Islamic Republic—the supreme leadership, the judiciary, the Guardian Council, the presidency, parliament, and the IRGC— were in the hands of traditional conservatives and hard-liners. Only a few organs, especially the Assembly of Experts and the Expediency Council, were not, as they were led by Rafsanjani (though not under his full control). Yet the 2005 election also marked the splintering of the conservatives from two to three factions (pragmatic and traditional conservatives, and now also hard-liners)—as the reformist threat dissipated, so did unity among conservatives. Indeed, though Ahmadinejad’s position appeared strong after his election in 2005, his power base was brittle. He never, in particular, succeeded in building a large support base among the clergy. Ahmadinejad did benefit from support from within the Baseej, where there is much sympathy for his populism (International Crisis Group, 2007a). The Baseej mobilized the vote for him in 2005 and 2009 through their large networks and were thanked with increased

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benefits (such as stipends and free education) and access to government contracts (Aryan, 2008). Many in the top ranks of the IRGC also declared their support for Ahmadinejad, agreeing with the leader’s view that conservative power would be best served by his election. The leader and the president, in return, supported the continued rise of the IRGC and its veterans and allies. Ahmadinejad also rapidly set out to purge the bureaucracy. Like Khamenei, Ahmadinejad was distrustful of what he viewed as a bureaucracy dominated by Rafsanjani and Khatami loyalists. Ahmadinejad’s first cabinet illustrated this changing dynamic, as nine of his initial twenty-one ministers were IRGC veterans. About forty ambassadors as well as senior officials in the foreign ministry, many of which were sympathetic to the reformists, were forcibly retired or pushed aside. One analyst also identified security backgrounds to at least one-third of governors appointed by Ahmadinejad in his first term (Alfoneh, 2008). The relationship between the IRGC and the president was more one of convenience than a marriage based on a harmony of interests, however. The senior ranks supported the president after 2005 largely because the leader tied his fortunes to those of hard-liners. In fact, though many commanders agreed with some of Ahmadinejad’s views, most remained loyal primarily to the leader. The years 2006 and 2007 thus saw the height of hard-line power. There was little political space between hard-liners and traditionalists, as both perceived their interests converging, in part as a result of their common opposition to moderates and reformists. These years also saw the height of Iranian power, as discussed in Chapter 3. It is therefore not a coincidence that 2006 and 2007 also saw the height of Iranian influence, as will be seen in the following chapters. But many traditionalists increasingly came to view the hard-liners’ growing ambitions and hubris as a threat. As other rising factions had done before— moderates in the mid-1990s and reformists in the late 1990s—the hard-liners sought to displace the traditional conservatives and chew away at their prerogatives. There was, in response, a backlash by the old guard. Moreover, the president’s confrontational approach rankled defenders of the status quo who did not appreciate his recklessness. Hard-liners also adopted anticlerical positions. Ahmadinejad and many of his allies, in particular, claim to believe in the impending return of the Mahdi, a blasphemous claim for most in the clergy. More concretely, such a claim denies the clergy’s special status, an important component of its legitimacy.12 In the third iteration of a familiar pattern, traditional conservatives thus steadily rallied around Khamenei against the ambitions of a president and his allies. Gradually those on the right flank of the tradition-

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alist faction—such as Ayatollah Ahmed Jannati, the chairman of the Guardian Council—at least partially withdrew their support. Ahmadinejad also lost support in the IRGC and, to a lesser extent, the Baseej, where, as soon as fissures started appearing between the president and the leader, commanders openly displayed their loyalty to the latter. Elections for municipal councils and the Assembly of Experts in December 2006 marked the beginning of the reversal of hard-liner fortunes, with Ahmadinejad’s allies losing every municipal council they held while traditionalists made gains. Similarly, in August 2007 the leader replaced the commander of the IRGC, Yahya Rahim Safavi, with Mohammad Ali Jaafari. Safavi had openly supported the president, causing questioning among the leader’s allies and within the IRGC. Jaafari was instead known to be fiercely loyal to the leader (Sepehri, 2007). In addition, Ali Larijani, a loyal Khamenei supporter, resigned in 2007 as nuclear negotiator because of his conflict with Ahmadinejad and became Majles Speaker. Under his leadership, the legislature regained its role as a check on the executive, as it had been when conservatives dominated it under the Khatami administration. The staunchly traditionalist judiciary—in which Ahmadinejad never gained influence—also progressively assumed a greater role in opposing the executive, especially after 2009, when Khamenei nominated as its head another Larijani brother, Sadeq.

5

Iran’s Policy in Iraq

Iraq is the country most directly affecting Iran’s security, by dint of their long and porous border. The two countries fought a vicious war in the 1980s, a conflict that still leaves an enduring legacy on Iranian politics. When the United States invaded Iraq in 2003, Iran’s security therefore became acutely threatened. Because massive structural pressures suddenly shaped Iran’s approach toward its neighbor, its response was less distorted by domestic processes than in the case of the Arab-Israeli conflict and the nuclear program. Iran thus had greater success in maximizing its power, security, and influence and suffered fewer negative consequences. Iran’s power, nonetheless, was constrained, albeit to a lesser extent, limiting its ability to maximize its influence. This chapter applies the third step of the neoclassical realist framework, the dependent variable or the foreign policy outcome, to Iran’s involvement in Iraq. Chapter 3 demonstrated that Iran faces a window of opportunity, a rare configuration whereby a state faces a sudden power advantage. Realists believe that when its power grows, a state seeks to expand its interests abroad; it becomes increasingly assertive. For neoclassical realists, states are influence-maximizers; they pursue these interests by seeking to expand their influence over their external environment. How they do so—which tools and strategies they use, which objectives they pursue—is shaped by the intervention of intervening variables, as discussed in the previous chapter. Historical Competition between Iran and Iraq

Bilateral ties between Iran and Iraq have historically been characterized by a recurring struggle for power and influence. At their worst, competing ambitions led to total war from 1980 to 1988. At a minimum, the two have vied for influence in the Persian Gulf and, to a lesser extent, in the broader Middle East. 104

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After independence from Britain in 1932, Iraq was ruled by the Hashemite monarchy that, after World War II, shared the West’s antagonism toward Arab radicalism and Soviet designs in the Middle East. The 1950s therefore saw a rare period of limited cooperation between Iraq and Pahlavi Iran. Both were members of the Baghdad Pact, signed in 1955 and regrouping U.S. allies in the Middle East. In the following years, Baghdad and Tehran cooperated on a number of issues, including against each other’s separatist movements and against the Soviet Union (Fuller, 1991, pp. 34–57). A coup in 1958 overthrew the Hashemites, sending a shockwave through the northern shore of the Persian Gulf. The successor regime, led by Abdul-Karim Qassem and a radicalized officer corps, proved hostile to the shah. For the new regime, which withdrew from the Baghdad Pact, Pahlavi Iran was an adversary to pan-Arabism and a reactionary relic of the past propped up by the West. Bilateral irritants rapidly grew. Iraq’s aggressive nationalists dismissed a 1937 treaty that regulated the use of the Shatt al-Arab, the waterway marking the southern tip of the border between Iraq and Iran. Qassem’s strident pan-Arabism also led him to make claims to the Iranian southwestern province of Khuzestan, where Iran’s Arab minority lives. Qassem’s regime lasted only five unstable years, however, with a new military coup in 1963. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, Saddam Hussein gradually emerged as the undisputed strongman of Iraq. The 1967 Arab-Israeli war, and the resounding defeat of Egypt and Syria at the hands of Israel, created an opening for Iraq. The collapse of the Nasserist vision of an Egypt-led pan-Arabism in combination with oil-fueled growth positioned Iraq as a leading Arab power. By dint of its position on the eastern flank of the Arab world, Iraq also claimed the leadership of the resistance to the pro-U.S. shah. Without becoming a Soviet client state, Iraq also developed closer relations with Moscow. As a result, for the shah, who saw Soviet expansionism and Arab radicalism as the main threats to Iran, Iraq was a direct rival. Tension mounted in the 1970s. In addition to the still-unresolved Shatt al-Arab dispute, the conflict shifted to the Kurdish front. In the early 1970s, Baghdad was facing renewed violence with its long-dissatisfied Kurdish minority. Perceiving a weakness, the shah—with cooperation from Israel—started supporting Iraqi Kurdish factions. In 1975 the combination of Iranian support for Iraqi Kurds and growing Iranian power forced Saddam, also preoccupied by turmoil within the ruling Ba’ath Party, to accept the Algiers Accord, settling bilateral border disputes and granting Iran greater control over the Shatt al-Ar-

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ab in exchange for the termination of its support for the Kurds. The late 1970s were subsequently a period of growing power and ambition for both. Benefiting from the oil shock of 1973, they accelerated the pace of state-building and economic modernization and indulged in spending binges of military kit, with purchases originating from the Soviet bloc in Iraq’s case and from the West for Iran. The 1979 Revolution overthrew the shah and led to the establishment of the Islamic Republic. Ayatollah Khomeini’s theocracy harbored an ideology diametrically opposed to that of the shah, but its values still clashed with those of Saddam. The new regime propagated a radical message of revolutionary fervor and opposition to secular regimes—whether U.S.-allied conservative monarchies such as Saudi Arabia, or USSR-backed ultranationalist Arab republics, such as Iraq. Border clashes intensified, while rhetoric on both sides attacked the other. There was, in sum, a combustible mix of power, aspirations, ideology, and personality at play. Hostilities were launched on 22 September 1980, when Iraq invaded Iran. In the first two years of the war, Iran was on the defensive, as most of the fighting occurred on its territory. It recovered, however, and by June 1982 it had expelled Iraqi forces. Instead of settling for a return to the status quo ante by accepting a cease-fire that Saddam was ready to settle for, Khomeini invaded Iraq, expecting Arab Shia in the south to rise against Baghdad. To Tehran’s dismay, however, Iraqi Shia masses did not ally with Iran. The fighting bogged down, forcing the two sides into a bloody stalemate lasting another six years, during which the smaller but militarily superior Iraqi army resisted massive onslaughts by the larger Iranian military. In total, both sides suffered more than 1 million casualties and saw their economies devastated.1 Iran’s inability to achieve its objectives after 1982 illustrates an important trend in its foreign policy: its frequent adoption of goals beyond its means. After 1982, the young Islamic Republic sought the elimination of Saddam’s regime, an objective militarily beyond its capabilities. This ensured the prolongation of a costly stalemate for six more years. As it struggled to emerge from postrevolutionary chaos, the Islamic Republic faced domestic insurgencies and the fracturing of the revolutionary coalition. At the same time, Arab states fearful of Iranian intentions, especially Saudi Arabia and its Gulf neighbors, bankrolled Iraq’s war effort while the United States, France, and others in the West sold advanced weaponry to Baghdad. The U.S. also provided Iraq with intelligence. Iraq, moreover, used chemical

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weapons against Iranian troops (and against its own population; see Hiltermann, 2004). By 1988 Iran’s armed forces were demoralized because of high rates of casualties, and its population was exhausted and restless. These difficulties, along with growing pressure from moderates within the regime, led Khomeini to accept a cease-fire. During the 1990–91 Gulf War, Iran adopted a policy of active neutrality: it condemned the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait at the same time that it denounced the U.S.-led coalition. When Saddam launched a brutal repression of a Shia uprising in southern Iraq in 1991, a cautious Islamic Republic still struggling to recover from a brutal decade of revolution and war remained on the sidelines. This was the “symbolic burial of the revolutionary phase of Iranian foreign policy” (Milani, 2005, p. 32). Regional dynamics also changed in the aftermath of the Gulf War. Prior to 1990, the United States had often played the role of offshore balancer, supporting regional allies such as Saudi Arabia and, before 1979, the shah’s Iran to balance against its regional rivals. After 1991, the United States maintained a stronger military presence in the Gulf as it established a policy of dual containment against both Iran and Iraq. The 1990s were marked by relatively low tension between Iran and Iraq, largely as a result of the weakness and inward focus of both. Under President Rafsanjani (1989–97), Iran sought detente with its neighbors and focused on economic reconstruction, while Iraq struggled to survive under the weight of successive wars and international sanctions. The northern and southern portions of Iraq, moreover, fell under Western-imposed no-fly zones, while its oil production was well below capacity and the Kurdish region became de facto autonomous. A weak Iraq obviously benefited Iran: it prevented Saddam from threatening its neighbors and allowed Iran to focus its energies elsewhere. Iran, in sum, has major interests in Iraq; geography ensures that the security of each is significantly affected by the power and ambitions of the other. Rising power leads either to seek to expand its sphere of influence, which can only be done at the expense of the other. Importantly, this is the case irrespective of the dominant ideology in Baghdad or Tehran. The Opening of a Window: Iranian Power and Iraq

Power is the chief driver of foreign policy, and Iran’s policy in Iraq is no exception. Iran’s power increased after 2001; as a result, its behavior displayed greater assertiveness. This power dynamic serves as the permissive cause of Iran’s foreign policy, shaping the broad range of feasible options. Neoclassical

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realism takes the analysis further by breaking down the impact of the finegrained structure of Iran’s power. Specifically, four features of Iran’s power shaped its assertiveness in Iraq: • the window of opportunity faced by Iran; • the peculiar nature of its power; • the increasing salience of specific components of Iran’s power, especially alliances; • the ongoing asymmetry between Iran’s power and that of its rivals, especially the United States. The window of opportunity from which Iran benefited after 2001 extended to the Iraqi front. As discussed in Chapter 3, this window was in large part the result of the collapse in 2003 of Iraq, which for decades had acted as a check on Iranian influence. Of note, in this issue-area, unlike in the Arab-Israeli context, Iran’s power has been more broad based; more elements of its arsenal of assets have driven its influence. On its own, geography implies that the fates of Iran and Iraq are inseparable: they share a long and porous border of about 1,300km. This border, portions of which consist of mountain areas and is excessively difficult to control, has historically been Iran’s “first line of defence” (Ehteshami, 2003, p. 124). Proximity leads to interdependence: instability in one can spill over in the other, while the regional ambitions of either inevitably affect the other, irrespective of the nature of the regimes in Baghdad and Tehran. As Ali Yunesi, then minister of intelligence and security, said in 2004, for Iran, “Iraq is the most important country in the world” (quoted in Taremi, 2005, p. 28). In addition, the situation of Iran’s Kurdish and Arab minorities, both located along the border with Iraq, remains vulnerable to developments in Iraq. As a result, preserving the territorial integrity of Iraq is a priority for Iran: the formal or de facto breakup of Iraq would be detrimental to Iran. The window of opportunity faced by Iran extended to the economic realm as the Iraqi economy was shattered by decades of sanctions and war. In addition, few international businesses were willing in the early years of the U.S. occupation to invest in Iraq because of the poor security situation, the weakness of the rule of law, and weak infrastructure. Iran’s penetration of Iraq thus included a strong trade component. A 2009 State Department memo released by Wikileaks explained how the combination of geographic proximity, cultural and religious ties, and the willingness to take risks favored, in the early

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post-Saddam years, Iranian companies: “With annual trade [in 2009] estimated at $4 billion (up 30% since 2008) and comprised mostly of Iranian imports (approximately 48% of Iraq’s imports are Iranian goods), Iran continues to jockey for economic domination in Iraq . . . aimed at fostering greater Iraqi economic dependency on Iran” (State Department Memo, 2009). Iran’s ties to a variety of groups, mostly but not solely Shia, were the most important component of its power in Iraq after 2003. The Supreme Council for Islamic Revolution in Iraq (SCIRI), first, was founded in 1982 by Baqer and Abdul-Aziz al-Hakim, the sons of a prominent Iraqi ayatollah. From its base in Iran and with support from the IRGC, SCIRI and its military wing, the Badr Brigade, emerged as one of the main Iraqi opposition groups. It fought against Saddam during the Iran-Iraq war and continued opposing Baghdad from Iran until 2003 (International Crisis Group, 2007b, pp. 3–5). In the early post-Saddam years, SCIRI supported the establishment of a federal Iraq with a weak center and powerful autonomous regions. In this sense, its position was closest to Iran’s among major Iraqi parties (Marr, 2006, p. 15). SCIRI renamed itself the Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq (ISCI) in 2007, largely to avoid criticism by Iraqi nationalists that it was an Iranian pawn. Hezb al-Da’wa (the Party of Islamic Calling) was founded in the 1950s as a religious alternative to the Iraqi Communist Party. Traditionally, Da’wa favored the establishment of a Shia Islamic Republic in Iraq, which led Saddam in 1980 to make membership a crime. Da’wa was thus a natural partner for the Islamic Republic of Iran. The relationship has been complex, however. Its leaders, for example, were angered by Tehran’s efforts to establish SCIRI in 1982. Nonetheless, Iranian support has been crucial. Iran, in particular, pushed for a Da’wa leader, Nuri al-Maliki, to become prime minister after the December 2005 elections. Muqtada al-Sadr, the son of a prominent dissident cleric murdered by the Saddam regime, emerged as one of the most powerful actors in post-invasion Iraq. His strident nationalism, anti-American rhetoric, and defense of Shia causes in combination with his network’s provision of social services allowed him to gain much support among lower classes of urban Shia. His popularity grew particularly after he launched his chaotic but effective militia, Jaysh alMahdy (JAM), against U.S. troops in 2004. Between 2003 and 2007, the JAM, which was supported by Iran, included up to sixty thousand fighters. The JAM, which was involved in attacks against U.S. and coalition forces, Iraqi forces, and Sunni civilians and was responsible for some of the worst acts of sectarian

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violence, was disbanded in 2008 following joint campaigns by Iraqi and U.S. forces that forced Sadr to prolong his exile in Iran. A few months later, he announced the transformation of his movement into a nonviolent socioreligious organization, the Mumahidoun (“those who pave the way”). He did, nevertheless, maintain a small, Iran-supported militia, the Promised Day Brigade (Jane’s Islamic Affairs Analyst, 2010). “Special groups” came to refer to militias supported by Iran and engaged in violent acts against foreign and Iraqi forces and, in some cases, civilians (Knights, 2007b). Some were splinter factions from the JAM, while others emerged from various criminal or terrorist networks. Because of their small size, they were often more dependent on their Iranian patron, with two of the most important being Kata’ib Hezbollah and Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq.2 Kata’ib Hezbollah (KH), or Hezbollah Brigades, was supported by the Qods Force as an elite unit of about four hundred fighters among the most experienced in Iraq and receiving some of the IRGC’s most sensitive equipment (Knights, 2010a). Lebanese Hezbollah played a key role in channeling Iranian support to KH, as it did for other special groups, because of its knowledge of Arabic and its experience in dealing with some of the weapons being transferred, especially EFPs (Katzman, 2010, p. 4). KH operated primarily in Shia areas in and around Baghdad and conducted multiple attacks against U.S. forces, primarily using RPGs and IEDs (Strouse, 2010). Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq (AAH), or the League of the Righteous, emerged in 2006 as a breakaway faction from the JAM led by a former spokesman for Sadr. AAH fighters are thought to have received training in Iran including in the use of mortars, rockets, sniper tactics, intelligence gathering, kidnappings, IEDs, and EFPs (Knights, 2007a). The two main Kurdish groups, the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) and the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), have historically maintained a pragmatic level of cooperation with Iran. In particular, the Kurdish militias, the Peshmerga, fought on the Iranian side during the Iran-Iraq war while Tehran also hosted Kurdish exiles and refugees. Communication and occasional cooperation continued after 2003. That said, the KDP and the PUK maintain much closer ties to the United States and are mistrustful of Iranian intentions, not least because of the Islamic Republic’s repression of its own Kurdish minority. Iran is also believed to have provided a small amount of support to a few Sunni groups, including al-Qaeda affiliates (Rubin, 2007). Little is known about this. According to some accounts, Iran’s support included the provision of safe havens and basic training (Pound, 2004). It is possible to assess, nonetheless,

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that this support, whatever its level, did not make a difference in the balance of forces, unlike Iran’s support for Shia groups. Iran likely did this to hedge its bets and keep open channels of communication with as wide a variety of groups as possible. The nature of the window of opportunity faced by Iran—the fine structure of its power—is peculiar. In particular, the window was not of Iran’s making: it arose primarily as a result of the collapse of Iraq and of U.S. difficulties in occupying the country. Thus as Iraq stands up, the window gradually closes. In addition, the assessment of Chapter 3—that Iran’s rise resulted from a growth in unconventional elements of power and a stagnation of conventional ones, that there is a brittle foundation to this rise, that short-term gains were bought at the expense of long-term costs, and that Iran’s power remains below its potential—applies to Iraq, though to a lesser extent than with the nuclear program and the Arab-Israeli conflict. Indeed, conventional elements of power, such as economic penetration and alliances with political parties, played a more salient role. The lesser distortion in this case is largely due to the stronger structural pressures on Iran and, therefore, to the more limited role played by domestic factors in distorting Iran’s policy. Power is measured in relative terms and, in this sense, Iran faced a regional vacuum in Iraq. Most important, the collapse of Saddam’s Iraq in 2003 was more responsible than any other factor for opening the window. The complete nature of this collapse in combination with the instability that followed the U.S. invasion ensure that it will be years before Iraq can pose a conventional threat to Iran (Mausner et al., 2012, pp. 79–81). The Iraqi Army, for the foreseeable future, will remain focused on domestic security and will take years to transition into a conventional force capable of facing foreign threats and mounting external operations. Nonetheless, from a quantitative perspective Iran remained weak relative to the United States given the massive increase in American military power in the Middle East after 2001. As a result of U.S. deployments in Afghanistan, Iraq, the Persian Gulf, and Central Asia, Iran became more encircled than it had ever been by hostile forces. This explains why, for a short period after 2003, Iran’s perception was one of weakness. As U.S. troubles mounted, the pendulum shifted, and Iran emerged in a position of relative strength. Narrowing the Options: Domestic Processes

Power shapes the broad parameters of a state’s foreign policy, but it is indeterminate. States confronted with a window of opportunity face a paradox:

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power becomes an active driving force (the change in relative power has a strong impact on foreign policy, driving a state to behave more assertively), but it is also permissive, given that there is significant scope for domestic factors to shape policy. Power is thus a necessary but insufficient cause driving Iran’s rejectionism: intervening variables—domestic political processes that determine how usable power is translated into policy, how opportunities shaped by power are translated into choices—are brought in as proximate explanations, narrowing the range of options to explain how and why rejectionist policies were adopted. Structural realism, in other words, does not specify which assets Iran is going to prioritize in post-Saddam Iraq. It is at this stage that the analysis shifts to neoclassical realism by bringing in intervening variables to mitigate the indeterminacy of structural analysis. Even though domestic factors had an impact on Iran’s policies, there was less scope for Iranian agency in the Iraq theater—that is, intervening variables have less explanatory power than in the other two case studies. This is largely because structural pressures—mostly emanating from the massive U.S. military presence next door as well as the risks of insecurity in Iraq spilling over—were more intense and therefore pushed and shoved Iran more compellingly. Iran’s rising power pushes it toward greater assertiveness in Iraq, as predicted by structural realism. Its status discrepancy then drives its revisionist impulse. That is, the status variable narrows the margins defining Iran’s window of opportunity toward revisionism; it eliminates from consideration more moderate or conciliatory options and increases the likelihood of confrontational policies being adopted. As an aspiring regional power, Iran claims a seat at the table in the management of Iraqi affairs. As a neighbor with a long and vulnerable border and given past hostilities, Iran is also preoccupied by instability on its western flank. In this sense, Iraq is different from the Arab-Israeli conflict: Iran has legitimate security concerns. Irrespective of the nature of the regime in Tehran, which comes in as the next variable, an ambitious Iran will seek influence in a chaotic Iraq. Iran’s aspirations must be juxtaposed to its perception of the status ascribed to it by leading members of the regional order. The United States, the Middle East’s dominant external power, refused to grant Iran a say in the management of post-Saddam Iraqi affairs (Barzegar, 2010). The U.S., for example, was unhappy with the close relation between Ibrahim al-Jaafari, the first Iraqi prime minister, in 2005, and Tehran. This was a key factor in Washington’s decision to withdraw support for al-Jaafari after the December 2005

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elections (Ignatius, 2008). Compounding this, regional powers—Saudi Arabia and Turkey, as well as smaller Arab states—also opposed its ambitions in Iraq. Regional actors, in sum, refused to grant Iran a say in managing a major source of insecurity on its western flank. Iran thus suffered from a status discrepancy: it wanted to play a role in Iraq but was denied the opportunity to do so. Tehran is, as a result, dissatisfied with the regional order as it concerned Iraq. While its rising power drove Iran’s assertiveness, this status discrepancy pushed it toward revisionism. As a revisionist state, Iran opposed U.S. domination of Iraqi affairs and what it saw as the subservience of Arab regimes. What shape did this revisionism take? The combination of rising power and status discrepancy explains Iran’s assertiveness and revisionism in Iraq. Regime identity then narrows the band in which choice is possible, specifying the rejectionist nature of Iran’s revisionism by acting as a lens through which the world is interpreted, threats are evaluated, options assessed, and interests defined. Elements of the nationalism pillar of regime identity, first, have had varying degrees of influence. The war with Iraq has had a major impact on the regime’s identity, shaping the Islamic Republic’s institutions and political culture (Hiltermann, 2010a). Opposition to hegemony, in particular, was essential as a mobilizational tool in the lead-up to the revolution. Its importance was magnified in the 1980s, given the support that Baghdad—which started the war—received from Western and Arab states. Iran, in this context, viewed the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003 as the unilateral abuse of power by an arrogant hegemon seeking to dominate the Middle East. The Iraqi theater emerged as a prime opportunity for Iran to move beyond rhetoric and concretely oppose what it viewed as the hegemonic designs of the “Global Arrogance.” The Iran-Iraq war also consolidated the acute perception of insecurity and the sense of strategic loneliness prevalent among Iran’s leadership. Most Arab states supported Iraq politically, while Arab states of the Gulf provided Iraq with billions of dollars in lines of credit, allowing Saddam to purchase weaponry from China, Russia, and France. Iran has not forgotten the international community’s silence in the face of Iraqi use of chemical weapons and of the heavy bombardment of Iranian cities by Iraqi missiles. In the post-2003 context, Tehran again felt victimized. It assisted the United States in stabilizing post-Taliban Afghanistan yet was “rewarded” by being listed as a member of the axis of evil alongside Iraq and North Korea. Iran also made gestures after 2003 supporting stabilization and reconstruction in Iraq

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but believed that the U.S. never recognized this. Its war with Iraq also proved in the minds of the Islamic Republic’s leaders that it could not trust any state or international organization, even when faced with aggression. Finally, the religious component of identity—the support for politicized, revolutionary Shiism—also played a role in shaping Iran’s approach, albeit to a lesser extent. A common dissatisfaction with the regional order is what primarily drives Iran’s choice of allies: Iran developed ties to SCIRI and Da’wa as much because of their opposition to Saddam as because of a common Shia faith. Overall, its rejectionist posture implies that Iran opposed the U.S. presence in post-Saddam Iraq. This translated into support for like-minded groups— mostly but not exclusively Shia—who, in many cases, attacked U.S. interests. Regime identity further colors Iran’s approach, adding to the assertiveness and revisionism derived from the two upstream variables, power and status. A crucial feature of Iran’s rejectionism is that even though its origins are rooted in ideology, over time it evolved to allow Iran to reap benefits: this approach allowed Iran to adopt a regionally popular position as leader of the rejectionist front and to position itself as an indispensable actor in Iraq. Rejectionism, however, has not come without consequences. Factional politics provides the third step explaining why Iranian foreign policy further tilted toward assertiveness, revisionism, and rejectionism. Specifically, as the factional balance of power within the regime increasingly favored hard-liners and conservatives, policy tilted toward their preferred outcomes. Early on, the Iran-Iraq war played an important role in drawing lines between factions and in establishing the system whereby factional struggles shape policy. Rafsanjani emerged in the 1980s as the leading pragmatic voice within the regime, positioning himself between radical leftists and conservatives as more sensitive to the costs of the war. Khomeini, the regime’s balancer-in-chief, was initially more sympathetic to the views of the conservatives, who were found mostly among clerical circles and in the IRGC leadership. As the costs of the war mounted, the influence of pragmatic elements grew, eventually swaying the leader. Factions agree on the broad parameters (shaped by upstream variables) of the Islamic Republic’s foreign policy. Within those bounds, however, there is constant jockeying to shape specific aspects of policy. Beyond basic convergences, factions disagree on the means to reach these ends and on how far and violently Iran should translate its rejectionism into action. In Iraq, factions agree on the following:

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• Iran, as a regional power and given the two countries’ shared history, should play a central role in Iraq; • An Iraqi state that does not harbor aggressive policies toward Iran is fundamental; • Democracy, or at least a broadly representative system, is the best way to achieve this outcome given Iraq’s Shia majority; • Seeking to export the Islamic revolution to Iraq is neither feasible nor desirable; • Iran must oppose U.S. influence in Iraq. Hard-liners and traditional conservatives rapidly took control of Iraq policy after the U.S. invasion. The Ministry of Intelligence and Security (MOIS) and the IRGC, especially its elite Qods Force, became the dominant actors in setting and implementing Iraq policy. Iran’s first two ambassadors to post-Saddam Iraq, Hassan Kazemi-Qomi and Hassan Danaifar, for example, were IRGC veterans. The vacuum in the country after 2003 provided, in their view, a golden opportunity to position Iran as the dominant power in Iraq. Iraq, they also believed, represented the main theater for the clash of hegemonies between the declining power, the United States, and the rising regional power, the Islamic Republic. Hard-liners were also more sensitive to the security threat emanating from Iraq, particularly because of the U.S. presence (Moaveni, 2003). They favored, in response, the assertive use of covert assets and the development of ties to like-minded groups, including those able to use violence against U.S. interests and against Iraqis opposed to their views. Traditional conservatives share many views on Iraq with hard-liners and cooperated extensively with them through their strong presence in the IRGC and other security agencies and around the leader. One key distinction was the traditional conservatives’ greater concern with disorder. While hard-liners were willing to aggressively seize opportunities in Iraq, traditional conservatives were more mindful of the need to avoid jeopardizing Iranian security by overly provoking the United States or antagonizing neighbors or Iraqi actors (Nasr, 2008). Moderate conservatives were steadily marginalized after 2003 and had limited influence on Iraq policy. They did have some say, especially in the early years of the U.S. occupation, when Iran’s approach was more cautious. One of Rafsanjani’s main allies, for example—Hassan Ruhani, elected president in 2013—was secretary-general of the Supreme Council for National Security until 2005. Moderate conservatives put more emphasis on the recognition of some

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convergence of interests between Iran and the United States and therefore pragmatically believed that Iran’s interests would be best served by working with the U.S. in the pursuit of a stable Iraq. Like reformists, they believed that Iran should engage regional states, including in displacing U.S. influence. As argued by Mohammed Baqer Qalibaf, the mayor of Tehran and twice a presidential candidate, “[Iran’s] position in the region should not be one of opposition, but friendly competition with other powers” (Siamdoust, 2008). Until their eviction from the presidency in 2005, reformists pushed for cooperation with the United States in Iraq (Milani, 2010). By the time of the U.S. invasion, however, their voice was barely heard in foreign policy debates, as they were limited to little more than the role of spokespeople for the regime through the presidency and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. By 2005, when Ahmadinejad reached the presidency, their marginalization was nearly complete. Foreign Policy National Interests

Ideal national interests are those interests that a state should pursue if it responds solely to structural pressures and incentives. Iran has very important ideal interests in Iraq, much more than in other issue-areas. These are to: • ensure the survival of the Islamic Republic and protect its territorial integrity. Crucially, this can be threatened by developments in Iraq; • become the dominant power in the Persian Gulf and an indispensable player in the Middle East. This implies establishing itself as the dominant external player in Iraq. • Iran should support the establishment of a stable and relatively weak Iraqi government that would be neither hostile nor threatening to Iran. A state’s actual interests are derived on the basis of the combination of its power and the impact of intervening variables. In Iraq, Iran’s actual interests are to: • establish itself as the regional leader of the rejectionist front opposing the U.S. occupation; • oppose and counter the U.S. ability to manage Iraqi affairs. In the long term, it was in Iran’s interest for the U.S. military to withdraw. In the shorter term, after 2003, its interests were in raising the cost to the United States of its presence and in preventing the United States from using bases in Iraq as a launching pad to attack Iran;

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• maximize its security by developing deterrent assets in Iraq that can raise the costs for the United States and Israel to attack Iran. • In the short term, support managed chaos: aim to create enough instability to bog down the United States and increase the cost of its presence in Iraq, but not so much as to lead to the collapse of Iraq. • In the longer term, support the establishment of a friendly Shiadominated state with a central government strong enough to ensure the country’s territorial integrity and stability but not so strong as to present a threat to Iran. • Oppose the influence of rival regional powers, especially Saudi Arabia and Turkey. This distinction between ideal and actual interests leads to the identification of two gaps. The first gap, between ideal and actual interests, is smaller than in the other two issue-areas. Nonetheless, even this smaller discrepancy contributes to suboptimal outcomes, which will be discussed below. The second gap, related to but distinct from the first, arises from the difference between capabilities and intentions, or between power and actual interests; it corresponds to hypothesis H2 proposed in the Introduction. In Iraq, Iran’s intentions exceeded its capabilities: it did not have the means to reach its ambitions. This is, however, a smaller gap than in the other issue-areas: Iran had significant capabilities to bring to bear in Iraq in the pursuit of its interests. Yet these were not sufficient—in part because of the intervention of domestic pathologies in its foreign policy-making process—to achieve broad and deep influence. Power-maximization

Power is the immediate concern of states; it is both an end and a means to the maximization of other ends. Maximizing power contributes to a feedback loop: because power is the chief driver of foreign policy, having more of it further drives Iran’s assertiveness. Power is also a means to other ends: possessing more creates better opportunities to influence the regional order. Chapter 3 detailed the peculiar nature of Iran’s power. Iran’s foreign policy toward Iraq illustrates the implications of this conclusion, though to a lesser extent than in the other two issue-areas. In its approach to Iraq, Iran sought to maximize a broader set of elements of its power than elsewhere, though it still focused to some extent on unconventional aspects. Overall, Iran achieved significant successes in maximizing its power in Iraq after 2003. Constraints emerged gradually, however, while many of the factors that were central to

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Iran’s power-maximization efforts were either not of its making or temporary, or both. As a result, Iran reached the peak of its power in Iraq in 2006–7. As in the case of the Arab-Israeli conflict, alliances have been the most important element of Iran’s power-maximization in Iraq. Virtually every major Iraqi Shia party or militia had some ties to Iran. As the power of some of those groups rose, Iran benefited. Initially, both before the invasion and immediately afterward, Iran focused on supporting traditional allies, especially SCIRI and Da’wa. Quickly, however, Tehran recognized the benefits of diversifying its assets. As a result, it extended support to the Sadrists, a variety of special groups and, to a lesser extent, Sunni and Kurdish groups. This support reached its peak around 2006–7, when—not coincidentally—Iran’s influence also peaked. This support has been diverse, a key reason why Iranian influence became so strong. It included logistical, financial, and military support to militias and financial, logistical, and political support to political parties. Iran systematically hedged its bets: it supported parties and militias that, in some cases, opposed and even fought each other. The precise amount of Iranian support is unclear, given its covert nature. The purpose here, however, is not to uncover specific details of this support but rather to understand the motives behind Iran’s actions, the methods it used, and the outcomes and their consequences. Broadly, some estimates suggest that at its height, Iranian support amounted to $150 to 200 million per year (Wehrey et al., 2009, p. 108). This included direct cash hand-outs, the supply and sale at discount prices of military kit, and training. The power of many of those allies rose, driving the maximization of Iran’s power. It is important to emphasize that most of these groups were allies, not proxies of Iran. Some of the smaller ones, especially among the special groups, were highly dependent on Iran and therefore closer to proxies; in those cases, gains in their power more closely led to corresponding gains in Iranian power. The more influential of these groups, however, had agendas of their own, overlapping with, but distinct from, Iranian interests. In those cases, the net benefit to Iranian power was real but often overestimated. More important, this space between Iran and its most powerful allies progressively grew. ISCI, first, played a powerful role in the coalition governments that ruled Iraq after the U.S. transfer of power and initially remained close to Tehran. The two sides regularly consulted each other and shared many interests. Both, in particular, pushed for the development of a federal Iraq with significant devolution to regions, in particular to a large Shia super-region encompassing

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most of the country’s south. According to a 2009 U.S. State Department cable released by Wikileaks, Iran may have been funding ISCI with as much as $70 million per year.3 In the weeks and months following the invasion in 2003, Iran supported the infiltration into Iraq of thousands of members of the Badr Brigade, ISCI’s militia, who helped secure portions of southern Iraq (Barr, 2003). Many elements from Badr later joined the Iraqi security forces, particularly the army and the Interior Ministry’s special forces and intelligence units (Knights, 2010b), a move supported by Iran. This was a key element in the institutionalization of Shia dominance of the post-Saddam state apparatus. Da’wa, unlike ISCI and the Sadrists, did not have a militia; as such, its relationship with Tehran was political. After the invasion, this lack of armed support limited its potential. This led Ibrahim al-Jaafari, one of its leaders, to be a compromise candidate as prime minister in 2005, and then in 2006 Nuri alMaliki, another of its leaders, as both appeared less threatening to the larger parties. Maliki, however, subsequently steadily built his power base, including in the military and security services. Maliki and Iran had a close working relationship. Tension, however, grew as Maliki’s power rose. Each viewed the other as a necessary ally but also as a threat: Tehran watched with concern as Maliki became increasingly powerful, while Maliki was often angered by Iranian support for other groups, especially militias. Recognizing that being perceived as too close to Iran hurt ISCI, Maliki and Da’wa made constant efforts to appear independent. Many Da’wa leaders, for example, were followers of Ayatollah Mohammed Hussein Fadlallah, a Lebanese cleric, until his death in 2010, unlike SCIRI leaders, who had as their model of emulation Ayatollahs Khomeini and Khamenei. The Sadr movement grew progressively stronger after 2003. Sadr’s decision, supported by Iran, to join the broad Shia alliance for the December 2005 elections, in particular, positioned Sadr as a king-maker, a role he would maintain in subsequent years. Sadr and the JAM grew especially powerful during the civil war of 2006 and 2007, expanding their control over sectors of Baghdad (International Crisis Group, 2008, p. 2). Ties between Iran and Sadr deepened as the latter’s power grew, with tactical cooperation developing on many fronts. According to some reports, at its height Iranian support may have reached up to $80 million per year (Wehrey et al., 2009, p. 117) and included weapons, communications technology, and logistics. In addition, an estimated one thousand JAM fighters allegedly received training in Iran (Rahimi, 2007). Deepening ties to Sadr allowed Tehran to jump on the bandwagon of Iraqi politics’ rising star, even though there

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were fundamental differences between them. Sadr, in particular, supported a strong centralized system and is aggressively nationalist, while many in the Iranian leadership were annoyed by his unpredictability and volatility. Iranian support for special groups also reached a peak in 2006–7. The main driver of this element of Tehran’s strategy was the growing realization that Sadr and his JAM were increasingly uncontrollable, while the Badr Brigade, ISCI’s militia, was integrating the political process and therefore less willing to engage in sectarian or anti-American violence at Iran’s behest. AAH, in counterpart, opposed Sadr’s cease-fires with United States and Iraqi forces (Knights, 2010c). In large part thanks to Iranian support and training, special groups were able to put significant pressure on U.S. forces (U.S. Department of Defense, 2010, p. 37). One of their signature operations was to launch mortar and rocket attacks against U.S. bases, increasing costs in terms of force protection (Londono, 2008). Their other signature tactic was the use of EFP roadside bombs. Only special groups regularly possessed and used this technology, which was often made in Iran and smuggled into Iraq specifically to attack U.S. assets. EFP use by insurgents started in 2004 and increased in tempo throughout 2005. The use of EFPs by special groups against U.S. troops reached a peak of about sixty per month in 2007, declining to an average of seventeen per month in 2010 (Knights, 2010c). In addition, the number of warheads per attack also increased, from one or two initially up to nine by 2007 (Knights, 2007a). EFPs have been associated with hundreds of U.S. combat deaths. Economic penetration was another key pillar of Iran’s policy toward Iraq. Iran actively increased and diversified its economic presence by pursuing opportunities in the commercial, investment, infrastructure, energy, tourism, and media sectors. As a result, trade between the two neighbors grew significantly after 2004, from under $200 million in 2003 to $4 billion in 2009 (Dagher, 2010). Iranian exports to Iraq primarily included cheap consumer goods, cars, fresh produce and processed foodstuffs, and construction materials. By 2010, Iran also supplied 750MWs of electricity to Iraq, corresponding to almost 10 percent of Iraq’s needs (Razzouk and Ajrash, 2011). Iraq’s limited exports to Iran included oil products and raw materials. The balance of trade heavily favored Iran. Primarily, Iraq’s main export, oil, reaches Iran in limited amounts. After the U.S. invasion, in addition, the Coalition Provisional Authority, the temporary U.S. administration, suspended most tariffs and duties on Iraqi imports. Iran’s protectionist policies, such as tax breaks to exporters and heavy import tariffs, further skewed the balance

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of trade by allowing cheap Iranian goods to flood Iraq, especially in the south. Tehran also expended significant energy on strategic investments aimed at boosting trade and creating Iraqi dependencies. For example, during a March 2008 visit to Iran—the first visit to Iraq by an Iranian president under the Islamic Republic—Ahmadinejad announced that Iran would provide $1 billion in credits for Iranian exports to Iraq. This was in addition to the $1 billion credit announced in 2005, which had largely been used to support the construction of a new airport in Najaf, opened in 2008, with a capacity to see the transit of twenty thousand Iranian pilgrims per month. The appeal dimension of Iran’s power-maximization efforts in Iraq, which is less prominent than in the other case studies, consisted of three pillars: rejectionism, the quest for Iraqi hearts and minds, and the Qom vs. Najaf competition. As in other areas, first, Iran sought to gain support through its efforts to stand up to the United States. Outreach and broadcasting have been key tools to achieve this. Iraqis in post-Saddam Iraq, for example, were exposed to Iranbacked television and radio channels in Arabic and Persian, such as Al-‘alam, Iran’s response to Al-Jazeera. Iran’s broadcasts follow the Islamic Republic’s editorial line: they were critical of the U.S. occupation and displayed gory images of victims of U.S. actions. Then CIA director George Tenet (2004) in fact decried such “outreach programs” during a 2004 testimony to the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. Immediately after the U.S. invasion, Iran sought to win Iraqi hearts by positioning itself as a benevolent power intent on supporting them. Within weeks, truckloads of Iranian goods started arriving, providing medical care, kerosene (as much as 2 million liters a day), and cooking gas.4 Especially in the south, Iran funded social and welfare programs (Ramazani, 2011). Iran also flooded Shia regions with Iranian-made religious and academic books in Arabic—for example, through the organization of book fairs (Allawi, 2007, p. 310). Iran, moreover, supplied Iraq with electricity from its own power grid. At the height of its influence, Iran provided 200MWs daily to southern Iraq, 150MWs to eastern Iraq, and 120MWs to Kurdish areas. Tehran has had to be mindful of the competition between the holy cities of Karbala and Najaf in Iraq and Qom in Iran. Qom, the main seminary city in Iran, has significantly gained in importance since 1979. Senior Iranian clerics keep offices there, while the security services actively recruit from its conservative seminaries. Karbala and Najaf are two of Shiism’s holiest sites: Karbala is the site of the battle where Hussein, the Prophet’s grandson, was martyred at the

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hands of Yazid, the Sunni caliph, while Najaf is the location of the tomb of Ali, the Prophet’s son-in-law whom the Shia consider to be the rightful successor to the Prophet. It is also in Najaf that the main Shia seminaries in Iraq are found. Under Saddam, Najaf and Karbala were closed to the world. This benefited Qom, which the Islamic Republic promoted as a key center of Shiism. After 2003, as Najaf and Karbala sought to regain their status, a new fault line appeared around their views on the relationship between the political and spiritual realms. Even though many clerics in Qom do not support the Islamic Republic’s model of governance, the velayat-e faqih, this is the model promoted by Iran. In Najaf, senior clerics are proponents of the quietist approach, according to which the clergy should refrain from interfering in day-to-day politics. This model enjoys more support among Shia clergy and the Shia in Iraq and elsewhere. Najaf has thus been gradually regaining the upper hand as the prime seat of Shiism since 2003. In particular, none of the main Shia parties in Iraq support the velayat-e faqih model. Only SCIRI did in theory, but it formally abandoned this goal when it renamed itself ISCI in 2007. Instead, Iran has sought to increase its presence in Najaf and Karbala. Up to 3 million Iranian pilgrims visit in the holy month of Ashura, with Iran having invested $20 million in infrastructure such as hotels for pilgrims, hospitals, and roads. Iran’s power-maximization in Iraq was greatly facilitated by the minimization of the power of its rivals. Most importantly, Iraq’s power collapsed in 2003 and despite significant strides in its reconstruction, remained low. This was essential: had the Iraqi state not collapsed so utterly in 2003, the window would have been far less inviting for Iran. In addition, the massive U.S. military presence on Iran’s western flank could have represented a major constraint on Iranian power projection; instead, the United States became bogged down, opening further opportunities for Iran. In addition, as was the case in the Arab-Israeli theater, Arab states stepped into the Iraqi vacuum only tentatively and reluctantly. As a result, for the first time in decades, there was after 2003 no Arab state capable of balancing against Iran—a role traditionally performed by Iraq, Egypt, or Saudi Arabia. In addition, inter-Arab cooperation—historically more symbolic than real—achieved new lows in terms of their joint approach to the situation in Iraq (Lynch, 2009). Security-maximization

Power is an end in itself and a means to other ends, the first of which is security. When a state’s security is threatened, its maximization is of utmost

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concern. This was the case for Iran in Iraq after 2003: it had genuine security concerns emanating from two main fronts and a lesser third one: the presence of U.S. troops, the potential implications of state collapse, and the presence of Iranian opposition groups. Unlike in the Arab-Israeli conflict, which does not directly threaten Iranian security, these are real structural pressures shaping Iran’s responses. There was, as a result, less scope for the intervention of domestic variables. In Iraq, Iran’s actual and ideal interests are more closely aligned; Tehran benefits from less agency. Neoclassical realism, in other words, has some explanatory power, but less than in the other two issue-areas. Offensive realism, on its own, would have provided an incomplete answer to the puzzle of Iran’s behavior here, but nonetheless a more satisfactory one than in the other two issue-areas. As argued in Chapter 3, deterrence is a fundamental pillar of Iran’s defense posture; both doctrine and capabilities are geared toward deterring an attack from a conventionally superior enemy and, if necessary, retaliating using unconventional and asymmetric assets. In recent years, it is in Iraq that this posture has been most relevant given the very real security threat Iran faced. Its key assets to maximize its security are ties to violent militias. Iran seeks to raise the costs for the United States of taking steps against Iranian security. In particular, had the U.S. or Israel attacked Iran while American troops were in Iraq, the United States would have been exposed to Iranian retaliation. U.S. interests— troops and bases, the embassy and consulates, government personnel—could potentially have been targeted, either by increasing the use of means already deployed by Iranian allies such as roadside bombs, sniper attacks, assassinations, and mortar attacks, or through the novel use of short-range surface-to-surface missiles launched from Iran or by allies inside Iraq. In addition, Iran could have destabilized Iraq by pushing some of its allies to reduce or terminate their cooperation with the United States or the central government. More broadly, Iran systematically encouraged its allies in Iraq to distance themselves from the U.S. and to refrain from adopting positions favorable to U.S. interests. Indeed, a pro-U.S. regime in Baghdad would have been detrimental to Iranian security, as it could have supported U.S. efforts to contain Iran and could have been used as a launching pad for an attack on Iran. Tehran also feared that a pro-U.S. Iraq that increased its oil production once released from U.S. and UN sanctions would displace Iran as OPEC’s second-largest producer (after Saudi Arabia) and would promote U.S.-friendly policies within OPEC. Iran expended significant efforts to maximize its security relative to actual

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and potential instability in Iraq. In the most extreme hypothetical cases—scenarios that were not far-fetched at the height of violence in 2006—the breakup of Iraq or its collapse into prolonged civil war would have been highly threatening. In less extreme cases, insecurity in Iraq could spill over into Iran through refugee flows, drug or weapons smuggling, and the boiling over of minority frustrations, especially in Iran’s Arab and Kurdish areas. At the same time, a certain level of instability in Iraq did benefit Iran by bogging the United States down and offering targets for retaliation. As such, Iran sought to adapt its Iraq policy to maximize its security on two levels. It sought to calibrate its support for violent militias, not too much to the extent that Iraq would have been overly destabilized but enough to disrupt U.S. interests. At the same time, Tehran also sought to hedge its bets by playing different militias against each other, stepping in as mediator when necessary and ensuring that parties emerging as winners had prior relations with Tehran. A third, less prominent aspect of Iran’s efforts to maximize its security concerns an Iranian opposition group in Iraq, the Mujahedeen-e Khalq (People’s Mujahedeen, or MeK). The MeK emerged in the 1970s as an opposition movement blending Islamism and Marxism. It was a member of the revolutionary coalition that toppled the shah, but disagreements with Khomeini quickly emerged. It lost in its power struggle with the new regime and was forced to seek refuge in Iraq. As an opponent of Tehran, the MeK was supported by Saddam and fought on his side in the 1980–88 war (Abrahamian, 1992). By 2003, about three thousand of its members still lived in Camp Ashraf northeast of Baghdad, which came under American control after the invasion. The MeK, which still seeks the overthrow of the Islamic Republic, has marginal support inside Iran, however. Iran is convinced that Washington is using the MeK to destabilize the Islamic Republic and views the neutralization of the group as a priority, but its requests for surviving MeK members to be disarmed and extradited were rejected by the United States and then by Iraq. After the camp was transferred to Iraq in 2009, the U.S. and the UN convinced the MeK to accept a move to a temporary base near Baghdad, with the hope of relocating individual members in third countries as refugees. Even though the Maliki government has not been sympathetic to the MeK, it has also refused to deport them to Iran. Influence-maximization

Iran’s quest to maximize its influence in Iraq has been relatively successful. It reached its peak in 2006–7, at which point it plateaued and initiated a gradual

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decline. Iran’s influence in Iraq, more than in the other two case studies, has been multifaceted, exhibiting breadth and depth as well as positive and negative aspects. In order to dissect Iran’s influence in Iraq, it is possible to identity five phases: • 2001–3: Preparation for war; • 2003–4: Heightened concern in Iran that it could be next and that instability in Iraq could affect it negatively; • 2005: During this transition year, Iran becomes more emboldened and starts seeing growing chaos in Iraq as both threat and opportunity; • 2006–7: The peak of Iranian influence; • 2008–9: Decline of its influence as constraints emerge. From September 2001 to March 2003, Tehran officially pursued a policy of “active neutrality” with regard to the prospect of a U.S. attack against Iraq. In practice, it maintained contacts with the Saddam regime and, indirectly, the United States, while it increased its support for the Iraqi opposition (Samii, 2005). Tehran had mixed feelings about the possible overthrow of Saddam. On the one hand, the prospect of ridding itself of its long-standing foe promised benefits. On the other, Iran was concerned with the prospect of unchecked U.S. power and feared encirclement given the recent U.S.-led overthrow of the Taliban and the mounting U.S. military presence in the Persian Gulf. Before the war, the optimal scenario for Iran was perhaps the peaceful disarmament of Iraq, which would have avoided a U.S. military presence while further weakening Saddam. During the invasion in March 2003, Iran did not cooperate with the United States as much as it did in Afghanistan in 2001, but it refrained from activities that could have hurt the U.S. Tehran, in particular, ensured that the IRGC as well as its Iraqi allies did not actively oppose the United States (Pollack, 2005, pp. 354–55). Iran’s caution resulted from its weakness. It recognized before the invasion the potential for major instability in post-Saddam Iraq and assessed that this could damage its interests. At the same time, it understood that a pluralistic Iraq would better position the long-oppressed Shia majority with which it had close ties. Most important, it assessed that it was not in a position of strength relative to an emboldened United States. Given its limited opportunities, its best course of action was to do no harm while developing the assets required to protect its interests. Iran thus reactivated its ties with opposition groups, especially SCIRI and Da’wa and, to a lesser extent, the Kurds. It also encouraged its allies

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to participate in post-Saddam Iraq. In late 2002 and early 2003, for example, Iran hosted conferences of Iraqi opposition groups. Relative weakness drove Iran’s caution, yet domestic processes also mattered. Iran, in particular, developed ties, as is its usual modus operandi, with dissatisfied groups. The Iraqi National Accord, for example, led by ‘Iyyad Allawi and close to the United States, had only very limited ties to Iran (Samii, 2005, p. 32). The exception was the Kurds, whose limited ties to Iran were nonetheless dwarfed by their closer relations to the U.S. Overall, Iran’s ability to shape events was low: there was little it could do to influence the sclerotic Saddam regime or U.S. determination. Rather, Tehran was preparing the grounds to be able to exert its influence under various scenarios. During the first twenty months after the invasion, from March 2003 until December 2004, Tehran had two major concerns: that it could be the next target of a U.S. attack and that instability in Iraq could spill over. In Iraq, this period was marked by a deterioration of security with a mounting insurgency, a nascent but increasingly fractured political process, and the gradual realization in Washington that the situation was slipping beyond its control. There was genuine fear in Tehran that having swiftly removed hostile regimes in Afghanistan and Iraq, an emboldened United States would attack Iran next (Taremi, 2005, p. 32). Tehran also feared that the U.S. would install a puppet regime in Baghdad, contributing to the U.S. strategy of containing and isolating the Islamic Republic. The United States was also boosting its military presence in the Persian Gulf and Afghanistan. Iran’s fears of encirclement and threat perceptions were therefore most acute. Given this weakness, Tehran still had only limited options and remained cautious. But as its position steadily improved, it continued to quietly build a diversified network of assets, though it was still keeping it for the most part unoperational. Iran’s influence was growing but still limited as it refrained from using the full range of its assets. Rather, its emerging influence came from what it was not doing: its restraint was “critical in keeping the situation from spiraling out of control. If the Iranians had wanted to cause chaos in Iraq, they easily could have done so” in the months after the invasion (Pollack, 2005, p. 355). At this point, some level of disorder was beneficial to Iran, as it kept the United States bogged down and diverted its resources, yet Iran believed that too much chaos would be detrimental to its interests because it could hinder the stabilization of post-Saddam Iraq and encourage the U.S. to prolong its presence. Iran therefore supported the U.S.-backed political process, for example by endorsing the

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transfer of power to the Iraqi Interim Government in June 2004 and encouraging its allies to do the same. Yet Iran also steadily increased its support for groups involved in attacking U.S. and coalition forces. It was also at this time that U.S. and British authorities began accusing the IRGC of training and supporting Iraqi insurgents (Sanger, 2004; Adams and Khalaf, 2005). In July 2004, for example, two Iranian intelligence officers were arrested while allegedly trying to plant explosives in Baghdad (Samii, 2005, p. 40). During this phase, Iran still generally encouraged its allies to forgo violence to allow elections to proceed. It encouraged SCIRI and Da’wa to join the political process and pushed SCIRI’s armed wing to avoid inflaming the situation. It also called on the United States to transfer power to Iraqis as rapidly as possible and to withdraw. Tehran’s goal was to support conditions that would shape an Iraq free of U.S. forces with like-minded Shia groups in power, believing that elections would hasten the withdrawal of U.S. forces and lead to the establishment of a Shia-dominated, Iran-friendly regime (Taremi, 2005, p. 37). An incident in February 2004 illustrated Iran’s growing but mostly unused ability to intervene. After Iraqi police arrested a group of Iranians in Fallujah, a Sunni-dominated city north of Baghdad, Iran-backed insurgents mounted a sophisticated attack on police stations to free them (Filkins, 2004). Similarly, in April 2004, fighting erupted between the JAM and U.S. forces in Najaf. Along with Iraqi Shia leaders, Tehran tried to convince Sadr to stand back. The United States, however, opposed Iran’s attempts, seeking to deny Iran a legitimate status in Iraqi affairs (Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, 2004). These two events demonstrated that the Iranians now had sufficient capabilities on the ground to shape events and that, if Tehran desired, it could oppose U.S. objectives. In sum, during this phase, Iran’s weakness and the threat it faced still drove it toward caution, leaving little space for domestic pathologies to distort policy. Iran thus suffered few consequences, given that its foreign policy largely followed structurally induced pressures. Throughout 2005, as chaos increased and U.S. difficulties mounted, Iran came to see the situation more as an opportunity and less as a threat and became more assertive. Its policies became driven less by fear and increasingly by rising power and the opportunities this created. During this period, the situation in Iraq deteriorated as the insurgency mounted. The likelihood of a U.S. attack on Iran decreased, even though it did not disappear. The most important element driving Iran’s power was the support it provided its growing number of allies. These allies, moreover, were consolidating their positions. The Badr Brigade,

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for example, was integrating the new Iraqi security forces (International Crisis Group, 2007b, p. 10). Iran still supported the democratic process, and in fact mostly worked in the same general direction as the United States (Milani, 2005, p. 35). Increasingly, however, Iran used its assets to oppose the U.S. Iran supported the January 2005 interim parliamentary elections, recognizing that they would lead to a Shia majority and that the ensuing stability would pressure the United States to withdraw (Karimi, 2005). In what would become a pillar of its approach, Iran strongly pushed its Shia allies to come together under a common umbrella. Iran’s efforts—along with the crucial support of Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, the leading Shia cleric in Iraq—contributed to the formation of the United Iraqi Alliance (UIA), regrouping the key Shia parties. The UIA won 48 percent of the vote and 140 out of 275 seats and formed a coalition government with the two main Kurdish parties, which together gained 75 seats. SCIRI and Da’wa were the most popular parties, with SCIRI sweeping Baghdad’s municipal seats and dominating swaths of the south.5 The December 2005 parliamentary elections saw the Shia parties running together again on a common list, with Muqtada al-Sadr joining them. This time they won 46 percent of the seats, or 128 out of 275. The Kurds won 53 seats, while the main Sunni Party, the Islamic Action Front (Tawaffuq), was third with 44. Nuri alMaliki, from Da’wa, became prime minister. Iran played an instrumental role in keeping the UIA together, still recognizing that a united Shia bloc led by actors who shared many of its objectives was in its best interest. Throughout 2005, Tehran increasingly positioned itself as a power broker in Iraqi politics, as the one actor capable of brokering agreements. Tehran, for example, through Brigadier General Qassem Soleimani, the Qods Force commander, played a key mediatory role in the negotiations leading to the formation of the interim government after the 2005 elections (Eisenstadt, 2010, p. 152). Another trend that took shape during this period was Iran’s fast-growing ties to Sadr. Initially, Iran viewed Sadr as a strident nationalist, an unpredictable hothead and an obstacle to Shia unity. Sadr’s successes in the January and December 2005 elections, however, pushed Iran to reconsider its reluctance to deal with him. Iran capitalized on Sadr’s growing popularity and on their common interests—opposition to the United States and an ideology promoting downtrodden Shia masses—and started providing him with light weaponry and training (Rahimi, 2007). The height of violence in Iraq and, not coincidentally, the peak of Iranian influence were reached in 2006–7. Sectarian violence was at its peak, intensi-

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T a b l e 5 . 1 : Deaths in Iraq Year

Victims

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

2011

12,104

11,374

15,779

28,621

25,129

9,463

4,758

4,053

4,087

Source: www.iraqbodycount.org

fying in the wake of the bombing in February 2006 of the al-Askari shrine in Samarra, north of Baghdad.6 A wave of reprisal attacks followed, especially in mixed areas in and around Baghdad, causing Iraqi civilian deaths to reach a peak in 2006 and 2007 (see Table 5.1). The political process was fractured, as nascent institutions, especially the security services, became arenas for a violent factional struggle. Iraq’s descent into chaos resulted in the United States being bogged down, which benefited Iran; at the same time, Iran’s efforts over the years to develop assets bore fruit. It is during this phase that Iran most actively supported the widest array of entities, ranging from political parties to violent militias, and provided them with a range of support including cash, weapons, training, and political backing. Iran’s power was maximized to its peak. It is therefore during 2006–7 that Iran succeeded the most in shaping the Iraqi order according to its preferences and in setting the terms of the regional debate. Iran’s allies reached the peak of their power and influence during this period. SCIRI and Da’wa were firmly entrenched as key actors in the government. Maliki, the prime minister, was consolidating his authority. It is also during this period that Sadr reached the peak of his influence in and around Baghdad (International Crisis Group, 2008, p. 7), especially after he succeeded in exerting better control over his militia. Where the state was often absent from poor urban areas, moreover, the Sadrists provided security and basic services. It is also during 2006 and 2007 that Tehran and the Sadrists, realizing their common interests, pragmatically papered over their differences and cooperated most closely, for example with JAM fighters going to Iran for training (ibid., p. 15). This cooperation was a win-win situation for both. The combined threat of the United States and of growing efforts by Da’wa and ISCI to marginalize him drove Sadr closer to Tehran, eventually pushing him toward exile in Iran. For Iran, the benefit was an unruly but powerful ally who had both the capability and the will to pressure the U.S. and other Iraqi actors, especially at a time when SCIRI and its militia were increasingly joining the political process and therefore less willing to play spoiler. Nonetheless, tensions and suspicion remained high: many among the nationalist Sadrists were distrustful of Iranian intentions, while Tehran realized how unreliable the Sadrists could be (ibid.,

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p. 16). Iran’s strategy, as a result, was to hedge its bets by pursuing ties to individual leaders within the JAM, encouraging some of them to break loose while keeping strong channels with the leadership. This phase also marked a peak in the activities of special groups. U.S. forces, for example, captured in December 2006 two Qods Force operatives in Baghdad, finding on them “detailed weapons lists, documents pertaining to shipments of weapons into Iraq [and] information about importing modern, specially shaped explosive charges into Iraq” (Raghavan and Wright, 2006). Similarly, U.S. forces discovered in early 2007 a cache containing more than one hundred Austrian-made Steyr HS50 .50-caliber sniper rifles that had initially been legally purchased by Iran from an Austrian firm in 2006. These rifles were able to “pierce all body armour from up to a mile and penetrate armoured Humvee troop carriers” (Harding, 2007). Iran reached two key objectives during this phase. First, it played a key role in supporting the formation of a government dominated by a broad Shia coalition, ensuring the domination of Iraqi politics by its allies. Second, again in part through Iranian intervention, the United States reached the peak of its troubles in Iraq, a key element to the maximization of Iran’s power, security, and influence. There were, in addition, growing tensions among main Shia groups. As it became increasingly difficult for them to remain together under a common umbrella, Iran repeatedly stepped in to broker compromises and, in some cases, cease-fires. Karbala, for example, saw violent clashes between the JAM and the Badr Brigade at various points in 2007, leading to dozens of casualties. In October, Iran brokered a ceasefire between Abdul-Aziz al-Hakim and Muqtada al-Sadr and ensured that the signing ceremony was held in Tehran under the watchful eye of the leader (Slavin, 2008, p. 18). The final phase, in 2008–9, saw a plateau and the beginning of a decline in Iran’s influence as a result of the convergence of different factors, some of which had begun to emerge in 2007. These trends led to an improvement in the situation in Iraq, after the lows of 2006–7. Given that insecurity until then had benefited Iran, the steady improvement narrowed Iran’s opportunities. The first of these factors was the “surge,” the U.S. decision to increase its troops from 120,000 to a peak in October 2007 of 166,000. Most of these new troops were deployed in and around Baghdad, contributing to an improvement in the security situation. Around the same time, many Sunnis turned against al-Qaeda in Iraq and other Sunni insurgents, cooperating with U.S. forces and the government in what became known as the Sunni Awakening. Around mid-

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2008, observers also noted a decline in the activities of Shia militias and in the support they received from Iran.7 In early 2007, many of Iran’s allies in Iraq, especially Da’wa and ISCI, had asked Tehran to reduce its support for militias, assessing that the costs of the latter’s activities exceeded the benefits. For many Shia leaders, the Karbala fighting of 2007 had been the final straw. Iran subsequently streamlined its support to a smaller number of special groups, especially KH and AAH (Knights, 2010c). As a result, there was a “marked decline” in the number of explosive devices brought into Iraq from Iran, which contributed to the decline in attacks against U.S. forces (Barnes, 2008). A parallel development was the continued strengthening of the Iraqi government and its security forces, which were increasingly able to take on militias. Under pressure from Baghdad and U.S. forces, Sadr also declared a ceasefire in 2007 and eventually disbanded the JAM to better focus on political activities (though he stood up the Promised Day Brigades, a smaller, more disciplined successor to the JAM). Iraqi security forces, moreover, were increasingly successfully working with U.S. forces in confronting militias. At the same time, many Iranian allies were either seeing their position weaken or were growing more distant from Tehran. Maliki was centralizing power in his hands and increasingly pursuing his own interests. In many cases these still coincided with Iran’s, but not necessarily. Iran’s other main ally, ISCI, was also showing growing signs of independence. In 2007, for example, it launched a media campaign to suggest that it was gravitating toward Najaf and away from Qom (Visser, 2011). In addition, ISCI’s position was vulnerable, especially after its leader, Abdul-Aziz al-Hakim, died in 2009. His son ‘Ammar took over but did not achieve his father’s authority, including over the Badr Brigade. ISCI also performed poorly in the 2009 elections, partly because of the unpopularity of its association with Iran (Knights, 2010c). This environment was less permeable to Iranian penetration. Operation Charge of the Knights in March 2008 illustrated these changing dynamics in which Iranian influence was reduced, though still strong. Maliki had come to see Shia militias as threats as much to the state as to Sunnis and the United States (Takeyh, 2011). He therefore launched a massive, largely successful, effort to defeat the JAM and other militias in southern Iraq, especially in Basra, where they controlled many areas. Crucially, Iraqi units involved in the fighting were largely made up of Badr militiamen (Katzman, 2010, p. 3). The JAM lost large arms caches and strategic terrain, and many of its commanders were either killed or captured or fled, mostly to Iran. The operation initially caught Iran off

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guard and ran counter to its interest in Shia unity (Nasr, 2008). Tehran turned around, however, and came out in support of the operation (The Economist, 2008). Negotiations between Iraq and the United States leading to the Strategic Framework Agreement (SFA) and the Status of Forces Agreement (SoFA) of 2008 were another turning point. Both illustrated the limits of Iran’s influence and the growing autonomy of Iraqi authorities, in that Tehran did not obtain what it wanted while Baghdad made clear that it was negotiating on the basis of its own interests. The SFA established the parameters for bilateral relations and authorized the U.S. military presence until its withdrawal by the end of 2011. The SoFA established the rules and procedures for U.S. forces and specified the timeline for their withdrawal, calling for their phased pulling out from cities in 2009, with a transfer of responsibility to Iraqi security forces and ending with the withdrawal by December 2011. Iran opposed both deals and intensively lobbied Iraqi politicians to reject them (Hendawi and Abdul-Zahra, 2008). When it realized that agreements were unavoidable, Iran sought instead to dilute them and opposed any longterm U.S. military presence. In particular, it lobbied Sadr to refuse to accept any U.S. presence beyond 2011. Iran failed to derail the agreement but was comforted by the inclusion of two clauses, one preventing Iraqi territory from being used as a base for an attack on a third country and another setting the timetable for the withdrawal of U.S. forces. In response to the announcement that deals had been reached, Iran nonetheless launched critical attacks against Iraqi politicians who supported them. Ali Larijani, the Speaker of the Majles, referred to the SoFA as a capitulation, a loaded term in Iran (Islamic Republic News Agency, 2008). Iran also supported Sadr’s opposition to the SoFA, encouraging him to mobilize his movement in protest. The January 2009 provincial elections were another landmark, as they saw the partial fragmentation of the Tehran-backed Shia coalition. Maliki, frustrated by his partners in the UIA, split from ISCI and formed his own Da’wa-led coalition, State of Law (SoL). Maliki’s nationalist and law-and-order rhetoric appealed to many, leading SoL to gain the most seats (126 out of 440) and finish first in most Shia-majority governorates. Iran’s closer allies, by contrast, fared relatively poorly: ISCI and its partners gained only 52 seats and did not finish first in any Shia province. The Sadrists, moreover, finished third in many provinces, winning only 2 of 35 seats in Basra. In a sense, the split was a loss for Tehran, as for years it had pursued a unified Shia coalition (Hiltermann, 2010b). Yet

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despite its failure to keep the Shia united, Tehran was able to take advantage of growing disunity among Shia parties by positioning itself as a mediator. Although Iran remained influential in Iraq during 2008–9, its ability to shape outcomes decreased. This phase also saw the growing militarization of its influence. Its conventional allies were increasingly integrating the political process and as such becoming less responsive to Tehran’s interests and more to those of their constituents. Even ISCI, long Iran’s closest ally, was increasingly independent, while there were rising tensions between ISCI and its militia, the Badr Brigade. Tehran remained closer to Badr, while it maintained close ties, and in some cases growing ties, to a variety of special groups. As a result, militias became increasingly prominent in Iran’s arsenal of assets. This narrowed its options for the future. Exploiting the Window? Dissecting Iran’s Influence in Iraq

To maximize its influence, a state must improve the quantity and quality of its options. It must widen the parameters in which it makes foreign policy choices, and reduce the quantity and quality of its rivals’ options. This margin of maneuver is shaped by a state’s place in the international system, but a state can ensure that its room for maneuver within this space—agency—is as unconstrained as possible. Influence is thus about maximizing this space while reducing the margin of rivals by raising the costs of undertaking certain actions deemed, in this case, against Iran’s interests. Iran had significant success in maximizing its influence in Iraq, in large part because, unlike in the other issue-areas, domestic factors played a lesser role in negatively distorting its ability to affect outcomes. Real, hard structural pressures and incentives focused Iran toward a stronger effort aimed at maximizing its influence. As it has done in other theaters, a pillar of Iran’s approach in Iraq was to systematically hedge its bets. This allowed Iran to ensure that it would back winners by initially supporting a large number of groups. Iran also frequently supported the formation of splinter groups when it feared that an ally was growing autonomous or less reliable. For example, as ISCI and the Badr Brigades gradually integrated the political process and many of their members joined the Iraqi security forces, Iran supported the formation of radical splinter groups. These groups were smaller, more dependent on Iran and thus more likely to act on the basis of Iran’s interests. This strategy allows Iran to keep access to a range of options: as its allies increasingly integrated the political process, they

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were less interested in committing violent acts. Iran’s ties to Sadr illustrate the benefits of this approach. Sadr and Iran shared an interest in opposing the U.S. presence in Iraq, even though they disagreed on other issues such as federalism, and even though Sadr was a difficult partner. Supporting Sadr and enhancing his ability to damage U.S. interests therefore enhanced Iranian influence. In addition, rivalry between Shia groups allowed Iran to consolidate its position as an indispensable power-broker. Iran’s actions in Iraq also significantly constrained the U.S. margin of maneuver. Ties with armed groups provided Iran, in particular, with retaliatory tools in the event of a U.S.-Iran or Israel-Iran military confrontation. This did not eliminate the possibility, but constrained Washington’s possible courses of action by raising the cost of an attack: Washington had to take into consideration the possibility that its interests in Iraq would be targeted and that there would be enhanced troubles in Iraq. Iran and the U.S., in addition, had conflicting visions: the United States sought an Iraq that would be a secular, pro-U.S. democracy and a bulwark against Iran, whereas Iran sought to prevent this. Tehran therefore systematically sought to block or hinder Iraqi actors who could support U.S. objectives, such as ‘Iyyad Allawi, while it supported those who were more sympathetic to its own vision. There were, for example, reports of Iran-backed special groups conducting assassination campaigns against Iraqi officials (Knights, 2010c).8 By supporting groups engaged in kidnappings, assassinations, and attacks on U.S. forces, Iran also hoped to influence local and regional perceptions of the war by demonstrating that the U.S. occupation, and in later years the surge, were failing. Similarly, attacks by Iran-backed groups at the time of the U.S. withdrawal from cities and then from the country between 2009 and 2011 sought to shape the perception that the United States was withdrawing under pressure. A U.S. intelligence analysis released by Wikileaks in 2010, for example, assessed that the Baghdad branch of KH carried out an EFP attack in June 2009 that wounded ten U.S. soldiers with the purpose of claiming that they had “fought the occupiers and forced them to withdraw” (quoted in Gordon and Lehren, 2010). Similarly, Iran’s provision of the technology, ingredients, and training for EFPs raised the cost to the United States of engaging in ground operations. EFPs, which are quick to deploy, highly accurate and lethal, and simple to assemble, accounted for only about 1 percent of roadside bombings against U.S. forces but had the highest lethality rate of any type of attack (Knights 2007a).

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Even though little is publicly known about the origins of EFPs, it is widely believed that at least originally, the technology, materials, and know-how were provided by Iran, either directly or via Lebanese Hezbollah, to select Iraqi special groups.9 Their use had a significant impact on U.S. operations. Insurgents often targeted strategic routes, such as Route Topeka south of Basra, linking Kuwait to Iraq. U.S. and international troops had to adopt costly force protection measures such as reducing the use of lightly armored vehicles, and were forced to put greater emphasis on aerial movements. This also made contact with Iraqis more challenging. The pervasive threat of kidnappings had the similar effect of reducing the margin of maneuver of U.S. diplomats and aid workers, limiting their ability to operate in more remote areas and the time they could spend outside fortified bases and compounds (Sly, 2011). It also forced civilian personnel to travel with heavy security detachments, implying additional costs and difficulties in reaching out to Iraqis.10 Consequences of Iran’s Policies in Iraq

Iran’s policy in Iraq has been less distorted by domestic factors largely because of the intensity of structural pressures. The costs of its choices, as a result, have been moderate, while it has achieved some successes. H1 is validated: weaker intervention by domestic pathologies leads to fewer consequences. H2 is also validated: faced with a window, Iran had the luxury of choosing among a number of options in deciding how to approach Iraq; in this case, it made better choices. Finally, a milder version of H3 is validated: because there was less distortion by intervening variables, Iran’s over-reach was less pronounced. Iran has had success in maximizing many elements of its power in Iraq. Its economic penetration met with short-term successes, as did the development of its alliances. To some extent, these will last: Iran will remain one of Iraq’s top trading partners, and the balance of trade will likely remain favorable to Iran. Most Iraqi Shia groups are likely to maintain close ties with Tehran for the foreseeable future, while Iranian allies such as ISCI, Da’wa, and Sadr will remain dominant actors. That said, Iran’s power in Iraq is still suboptimal, even though the distortions are weaker than in the other issue-areas. As the main Iraqi political parties became autonomous and focused on serving the interests of their constituents, support for violent militias came to occupy an increasingly prominent role in Iran’s arsenal. This narrows its options and confronts it with the consequences, such as Iraqi resentment, of supporting violence. Similarly, Iran’s weak economy constrains its ability to penetrate the Iraqi market: it

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has mostly been able to flood southern Iraq with cheap goods. Finally, as Najaf gradually regains its place as the center of Shiism, the limited appeal to Iraqis of Qom and of its activist model of clerical governance is increasingly apparent. Iran also had much success maximizing its security in Iraq. Primarily, it succeeded in developing significant retaliatory capabilities that likely played an important role in deterring the United States from attacking Iran. In addition, Iran supported Iraq’s territorial integrity and the formation of a reasonably strong central government in Baghdad. That said, other decisions have had a deleterious impact on its security. Iran’s active role in Iraq, first, was an important determinant in driving the suspicions of most Arab states toward the Islamic Republic’s ambitions. This, in turn, worsened Iran’s isolation.11 In addition, the rivalry between Iran and the United States in Iraq led to a permanent risk of escalation. Because of Iran’s rejectionism, its past support for subversive groups, and the growing prominence of hard-liners, its moves to maximize its power and security in Iraq were consistently perceived as threats by its rivals. Conversely, because of Iran’s identity—especially its acute perceptions of insecurity and its antihegemonic disposition—gestures by the United States in Iraq were easily misperceived in Tehran. Iran’s security dilemma, as a result, steadily deteriorated. Iran’s influence has not been optimal, but it has been less suboptimal than elsewhere. Iran has a broader set of tools to influence outcomes in Iraq, especially compared with its narrow arsenal in the Arab-Israeli conflict. Iran developed ties with a variety of groups, providing them with a wide array of support. The appeal element of its power, however, was less useful than in the other two case studies, while its lack of conventional military power and the weakness of its economy constrained its influence. In the case of some of its assets, Iran also had significant depth: it had a major ability to block or hinder developments not to its liking. This arose mostly from its network of partners and its proximity to Iraq. Crucially, Iran bears limited costs in the short term when it raises the cost for its adversaries of taking certain courses of action. In the long term, however, it again increasingly suffers consequences. Some states develop the means to shape their external environment, to persuade others, as well as to coerce them. Conversely, states also develop the ability to block or deny opportunities and to spoil developments. The former is positive and the latter negative influence. In Iraq, much more than in the Arab-Israeli conflict, Iran has been able to shape the emerging post-Saddam order according to its preferences. By supporting like-minded Shia groups and

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prodding them to cooperate, Iran has played a major role in consolidating the dominance of Shia parties. This, in turn, ensured that Iran’s key interests in Iraq were fulfilled: that a nationalist, anti-Iran Iraq would not emerge and that neither would a pro-U.S. Iraq. At the same time, its support for the political process helped ensure that Iraq would not collapse. Tehran also succeeded in blocking or frustrating many of Washington’s objectives and hindered its ability to shape the nascent Iraqi order. Domestic pathologies were responsible for this suboptimality. The Islamic Republic’s aspirations compound its security dilemma. According to William Wohlforth and David Kang (2009, p. 9), status competition is more ripe for spiraling dilemmas than power competition because of its ambiguity. Iran’s assertiveness in Iraq is thus easily misinterpreted and arouses mistrust. The Islamic Republic’s identity similarly magnifies the suboptimality of its performance. Its revisionism pushes its rivals, and even neighbors who hold no particular grudge, to be wary of Iran’s intentions and, in some cases, to balance against it. Factional politics, meanwhile, induce paralysis and confusion in policy-making and encourage the proliferation of mixed signals. Even though the acute security threat emanating from Iraq did succeed in focusing minds in Iran—more than in other issue-areas—and therefore to narrow the differences between factions, it remains that the Islamic Republic’s muddled decision-making system led to policy contradictions, hampering the pursuit of its interests. In particular, Iran was in the awkward situation of supporting the development of a stable if decentralized and relatively weak central government in Baghdad while also supporting violent militias that attacked not only U.S. forces but also Iraqi civilians and officials. This “lack of coordination” in Iran’s approach to Iraq (Eisenstadt et al., 2011, p. 5) became, by 2008 and 2009, more problematic as leading Shia politicians in Baghdad, including some who had traditionally been close to Tehran, came to believe that Iran’s support for militias carried more costs than benefits (Nasr, 2008).  In sum, Iran fared relatively well in Iraq in terms of maximizing its power, security, and influence, at least when compared with its performance in the Arab-Israeli conflict and the nuclear program. When measured against its ideal interests, Iran partly accomplished many key objectives. In the face of the threat arising from the U.S. military presence and the possible disintegration of Iraq, Iran had significant successes in maximizing its security. Iran also partially suc-

138  Iran’s Policy in Iraq

ceeded in establishing itself as an indispensable player in Iraqi affairs. Finally, Iran was instrumental in the establishment of a stable and relatively weak Iraqi government devoid of anti-Iranian biases. Nonetheless, Iran’s performance in maximizing its power, security, and influence has been suboptimal, albeit to a lesser extent than in other issue-areas. This smaller discrepancy was due to the more limited role played by domestic processes in shaping Iranian policies; Iran benefited from less agency, as a result of which there was less deviation from optimal, structurally induced behaviors. This less suboptimal dynamic arose because of the stronger effect of structural pressures. The gap, however, will increase—leading to more suboptimal Iranian behaviors—in coming years, as will be discussed in the conclusion.

6

Iran and the Arab-Israeli Conflict

The issue of Palestine is the “most important” problem the Islamic world faces, according to Iran’s supreme leader, Ali Khamenei (BBC News, 2006). Why would the most powerful man in Iran make this claim about a region with which Iran shares no border and with which it has limited economic ties? Why does the Islamic Republic harbor such hostility to Israel, a state that, by cold realpolitik logic, could instead be an Iranian ally, as was the case in the past? Is this hostility rooted in ideology, power—or both? Iran’s Historical Involvement in the Arab-Israeli Conflict

At the UN in 1948, Iran voted against the proposed partition of Palestine, arguing that only a binational state would secure peace between Arabs and Jews. Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, who had succeeded his father in 1941 and had yet to turn thirty, subsequently did not formally recognize Israel. He did, however, extend de facto recognition in 1950. Two dilemmas have since defined the place of Israel in Iran’s regional policy. The first arises from the need for Iran to balance its relations with Israel and with Arab states. The shah systematically sought to keep his close ties to Israel as low profile as possible so as not to damage his ambition of making Iran a regional power. The Islamic Republic, conversely, has sought to exploit Israel’s regional status to establish itself as the leader of the rejectionist front. The second dilemma arises from the necessity for Iran to ensure a balance of power between Israel and its Arab rivals to oppose the emergence of potential rivals. The Arab-Israeli conflict has thus been a useful tool for Iran to pursue its ambitions and to oppose those of regional competitors. With the onset of the Cold War, Iran and Israel faced two common threats: 139

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Soviet expansionism in the Middle East and radical Arab states, led by Nasser’s Egypt and, in the 1970s, Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. Recognizing the difficulty of reaching peace with surrounding Arab states, David Ben Gurion, Israel’s first prime minister, adopted the “doctrine of the periphery,” pursuing close relations with non-Arab states on the Middle East’s periphery—Turkey, Ethiopia, and Iran. By the late 1950s, Iran and Israel had thus become close partners. The convergence of many of their interests was best illustrated by their support for Iraqi Kurds in the 1960s and 1970s, weakening Iraq by forcing Saddam to divert resources to internal struggles. At the same time, the shah, realizing that overt ties would harm his regional image, often, to Israel’s irritation, sought to hide the closeness of these relations and refused to formally recognize the Jewish state. Iran’s efforts to ensure a balance of power between Israel and its Arab rivals are illustrated by the 1967 war. Iran initially viewed Israel as a bulwark against radical Arab states. Tehran therefore did not want to see a weakened, let alone a defeated, Israel, as this would allow radical Arab states to turn their attention to Iran. At the same time, a dominant Israel would become a competitor for Iran, a scenario Tehran also wanted to avoid. After the 1967 war, it is the latter scenario that Iran started fearing, as Israeli assertiveness began to concern the shah. Bilateral cooperation therefore continued, but with growing reluctance on Iran’s part. A serious deterioration was prevented by the rising aggressiveness of a common enemy, Saddam’s Iraq. Iran’s objectives in its bilateral relation with Israel have systematically been subordinated to its broader regional ambitions, whether under the shah or the Islamic Republic. The specific nature of these objectives has been shaped by domestic variables, which explains the divergent nature of Iran’s objectives before and after 1979. But the chief driver of Iran’s foreign policy, in this issue-area as in others, has been power. One of the pillars of the Islamic Revolution was its opposition to Israel and, more broadly, to what it viewed as U.S. imperialism. Rhetoric coming out of Tehran immediately after the revolution was thus hostile to Israel, but initially it was mostly bark with limited bite, as demonstrated by Trita Parsi (2007). Indeed, despite the emergence of ideological divergences between Iran and Israel, some common interests persisted: the United States wanted to secure the release of hostages in Lebanon, and it believed that Iran had leverage; Israel wanted to re-establish its ties to Iran because it still perceived a need to balance against Arab states, particularly Iraq; and Iran, at war with Iraq, needed access to U.S.

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weapons and spare parts, which the United States had stopped providing after the hostage crisis. In this context, contacts continued between Iran and Israel throughout the 1980s, with Israel still selling weapons and spare parts to Iran, such as tires for Iran’s fleet of American-made F-4 fighter aircraft (Miglietta, 2002, p. 158). Despite Iran’s pro-Palestinian rhetoric, its relations with the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), especially its leader Yasser Arafat, were strained. Khomeini, in particular, did not appreciate Arafat’s secular Arab nationalism and never forgave Arafat for siding with Baghdad during the Iran-Iraq war, while Arafat was not interested in submitting to Khomeini’s revolutionary aspirations. Although both sides pragmatically saw the benefits of trying to hide these tensions, Arafat’s decisions to recognize Israel’s right to exist, to call for negotiations, and to renounce terrorism cemented Tehran’s desire to shift its support to Palestinian actors who shared its rejectionism. The 1990s witnessed major changes in the regional environment and therefore in Iranian policy toward Israel. The end of the Cold War, first, marked the waning of the threat of Soviet expansionism in the Middle East, making Iran less useful for Israel and the United States as a bulwark against Moscow. The massive losses suffered by Iraq in the wake of its expulsion from Kuwait in 1991 by a U.S.-led coalition, moreover, partially removed the Iraqi factor from the regional balance of power, creating a vacuum on Iran’s western flank. For Israel, this contributed to reducing the attractiveness of keeping open channels with Iran. As the regional balance shifted, the competition for influence between Iran and Israel intensified, which led Iran’s interest (becoming a regional power) and identity (aggressively opposing Israel) to align more closely. Iran increasingly positioned itself as the champion of the Palestinian cause and as the leader of the rejectionist front opposed to Israel, opposing the 1993 Oslo Accords and the peace process that followed and increasing its support for frontline rejectionist groups. On 28 September 2001, the leader of the opposition in Israel, Ariel Sharon, visited the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. This provocative gesture marked the beginning of the Second or Al Aqsa Intifada and the end of the Ehud Barak government’s efforts to negotiate peace with the Palestinians at Camp David. Even though the talks collapsed under the weight of their own tensions and not as a result of Iranian spoiling, Iran felt vindicated. Yet in the months following the terrorist attacks of September 2001, there had been some hope that Iran’s hostile relations with the West would change as Iran and the United States

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found a common interest in defeating the Taliban and stabilizing Afghanistan (Pollack, 2005, pp. 343–74). The possibility of a rapprochement even caused some in Israel to fear that the United States would increasingly focus on defeating Sunni terrorism by working with Shia Iran and distancing itself from Tel Aviv (Ansari, 2006, pp. 181–95). The Karine A controversy formally launched hostilities between Israel and Iran in the post-9/11 world. On 3 January 2002, the Israeli navy intercepted in the international waters of the Red Sea the Karine A, a ship loaded with Iranian-made rifles, machine guns, mortars, rockets, ammunition, and antitank mines. Israel and the United States accused Iran of arming the Palestinian Authority clandestinely, which Tehran denied (Blanford, 2002; for a perspective skeptical of the Israeli accusations, see Whitaker, 2002). The incident did much to freeze the detente that had begun between Washington and Tehran in late 2001. Any hope of rapprochement was voided when, on 29 January 2002, during his State of the Union address, President George W. Bush included Iran as a member of the “Axis of Evil” alongside North Korea and Iraq. This undermined attempts by Iranian reformists to promote engagement with the West, and confirmed hard-liners’ view that the United States was not interested in compromise (MacFarquhar, 2002). The Opening of a Window: Iranian Power and the Arab-Israeli Conflict

Iran’s power increased after 2001; as a result, its behavior displayed greater assertiveness. This serves as the permissive cause of Iran’s foreign policy, shaping the broad range of feasible options. Neoclassical realism takes the analysis further, by breaking down the impact of the fine-grained structure of Iran’s power. More specifically, four features of Iran’s power have shaped the country’s assertiveness in this issue-area: • the window of opportunity faced by Iran; • the overall peculiar nature of Iran’s rising power; • more precisely, the increasing salience of two components, appeal and alliances; • despite the rise in Iran’s power, the ongoing asymmetry between Iranian and Israeli power. The window of opportunity from which Iran benefited after 2001 extended to the Arab-Israeli front. Iran’s allies surrounding Israel—rejectionist Palestinian

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groups, Hezbollah, and Syria—all had a string of successes that benefited Iran to varying degrees. The appeal of Iran’s rejectionist posture also played out particularly well in the Levant. Tehran, in addition, benefited from a relative vacuum that allowed it to penetrate the Arab-Israeli conflict deeper as Arab states retreated from their support to Palestinian groups. Yet this window was peculiar: it did not result from the rise in Iran’s wealth or conventional military capabilities but rather from the stagnation or drop in power of its rivals and from increases in unconventional aspects of its own power. In absolute terms, conventional aspects of Iran’s power stagnated and, in some cases, decreased. Iran’s growing power thus has brittle foundations, and its long-term sustainability is questionable. This assessment sets the stage for the rest of the discussion of Iran’s policy toward the Arab-Israeli conflict, given that the peculiar nature of Iran’s power constrains its options and leads to important consequences. The window was shaped by the rise in Iran’s appeal, which particularly benefited from Tehran’s vocal opposition to Israel and its denunciations of U.S. support for Israel and of what it labels as Arab acquiescence to Israeli and American domination of the regional order. The 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah illustrates most aptly the rise in Iran’s appeal. Both Iran and Hezbollah succeeded in portraying themselves as the winners of the war, boosting their status in Arab public opinion (MacFarquhar, 2006). The window was further shaped by the good fortunes of Iran’s allies. Syria has been a key Iranian ally since the early 1980s. Even though it was their common opposition to Iraq that initially drew them together, similar worldviews cemented their alliance. Both also felt acutely isolated: revolutionary Iran was at the height of its war with Iraq, while Syria felt exposed by Egypt’s recent peace with Israel, its difficult relations with Iraq, and Turkey’s growing ties to Israel. Syria’s power grew from 2001 to 2009, though the trend was not without bumps. Israel’s military withdrawal from southern Lebanon in 2000 cemented Syria’s hegemonic position in Lebanon, as did the steady rise of Hezbollah. That said, improvements in Hezbollah’s domestic standing gave it greater autonomy relative to Damascus. Another Syrian loss came in 2005, when its military was forced, under the weight of popular protests, to withdraw from Lebanon. Syria nonetheless remained the most powerful external actor in Lebanon by dint of its extensive security presence and of the economic ties linking the two countries. Hezbollah emerged as a valuable Iranian ally throughout the 1980s and 1990s, especially as the peace process was petering out. Indeed, Hezbollah’s

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harassment of Israeli forces in southern Lebanon—with Iranian support— contributed to the disruption of the peace process. Israel’s withdrawal from Lebanon in 2000, moreover, gave freer rein to Hezbollah to operate in the south of the country, making it more powerful and valuable as an ally. The Israeli withdrawal also offered Iran the opportunity to claim a victory and to boost its regional appeal. Its increasingly strong alliance with Hezbollah thus became one of Iran’s most valuable tools to oppose Israel. The political and military fortunes of Hamas also improved after 2001, again benefiting Iran. As many Arab states who had traditionally bankrolled Hamas withdrew their funding, a window was created for Iran to step in and, by becoming a chief benefactor to the group, to reap benefits through the regional prestige this cooperation produced. That said, many within Hamas—a Sunni Arab group linked to the Muslim Brotherhood—and among its supporters remained uncomfortable with the association with Iran (Allin and Simon, 2010, p. 58). Iran’s other Palestinian ally, Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ), is a small group that views the use of violence as the only means of opposing Israel. It holds strict Sunni fundamentalist views but shares with Iran a strong rejectionist stance. As was the case with Hamas, PIJ’s gradual loss of Arab support in recent years, mostly because of its violent rejectionism, allowed Iran to position itself as PIJ’s main benefactor. In fact, of Iran’s main recipients of support, only PIJ can reliably be considered an Iranian proxy. This does not mean that it blindly obeys orders from Tehran, but its almost complete dependence on Iran for funds and weapons implies that it is not an autonomous actor to the same extent as Hamas and Hezbollah. Power, of course, is measured in relative terms. Among other regional powers, however, Egypt and Saudi Arabia have been more inward-focused in recent years, while their relations with the United States and, in Egypt’s case, with Israel, restrict their margin of maneuver. The collapse of Iraq after 2003, moreover, removed it from the regional power equation. The balance between Iran and Israel, as a result, directly shapes their bilateral dynamics. On this level, Israel benefits from major advantages. Its conventional military is largely superior, it is widely believed to possess one to two hundred nuclear warheads, and its close ties with the United States provide it with security guarantees and access to some of the most advanced technologies. Its economy is also much more dynamic than Iran’s and, again, benefits from U.S. support. In sum, as a rising power, Iran has sought to play a greater role in one of the most politically charged regional issues, the Arab-Israeli conflict. A rising Iran

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has also come to see Israel as a direct competitor. Traditionally, however, Iran and Israel have not posed a threat to each other, as they do not share a common border and are not economic rivals. Iran’s primary sphere of influence, moreover, is the Persian Gulf, while it is the Levant for Israel. Why is it, therefore, that as Iran’s power expanded after 2001, it so assertively sought to expand its interests in the Levant? Narrowing the Options: Domestic Processes

Power shapes the broad parameters of foreign policy; it shapes what is feasible, a menu of possible courses of action. But it is indeterminate: additional variables are necessary to build a more specific explanation. In terms of Iran’s policy toward the Arab-Israeli conflict, a structural condition—a window of opportunity—represented a strong but ambiguous set of circumstances pushing the country toward greater assertiveness. The paradox is that for states confronted with a window of opportunity, power is an active driving force (the change in relative power has a strong impact on foreign policy) but is also permissive, given that there is much scope for domestic pressures to shape foreign policy. Structural realism, in other words, does not tell us why a significant proportion of Iran’s energies have been invested in the Levant. It is at this stage that the analysis shifts to neoclassical realism by bringing in domestic factors. Intervening variables—domestic political processes that explain how the opportunities and constraints shaped by power are translated into actual choices—are thus brought in as proximate explanations, narrowing the vast range of options to explain how and why rejectionist positions were adopted. As an aspiring regional power, Iran claims a seat at the table of the Arab-Israeli conflict, the most politically charged issue in the Middle East. As an aspiring pivotal player, Iran also sees Israel as a rival: Israel is one of the most militarily powerful states in the Middle East and is the region’s only nuclear power. In this context, irrespective of the identity of the regime in Tehran— which comes in the equation as the next variable—a rising Iran is likely to see its interests clash with those of a dominant Israel. Iran’s aspirations must be juxtaposed to the status ascribed to it by leading members of the regional order. The United States, the Middle East’s dominant external power, refuses to integrate Iran into the region’s security architecture and to grant it a say in the management of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Compounding this, the Middle East’s key regional powers—Israel, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Turkey—are all close to the U.S. and are either hostile to Iran or, at the very least, opposed to its

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regional ambitions. The dominant actors in the Arab-Israeli conflict, in sum, refuse to grant Iran any say in the management of the conflict. Iran thus suffers from a status discrepancy with regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict: it wants to play a role but is denied the opportunity by the region’s dominant powers. Iran is, as a result, dissatisfied with the regional order. While its rising power drives Tehran’s assertiveness, this status discrepancy pushes it toward revisionism. As a revisionist state, Iran opposes the U.S. domination of the peace process and its management of the conflict. It also opposes Israel’s position as the dominant regional military power and what it sees as the subservience of Arab regimes to U.S. interests and their unwillingness to confront Israel. What shape will this revisionism take? The combination of rising power and status discrepancy tells us that Iran will be an assertive and revisionist power with regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict. The regime identity variable then narrows the range of feasible options, specifying the rejectionist nature of Iran’s revisionism by acting as a lens through which the world is interpreted, threats are evaluated, options are assessed, and interests are defined. Opposition to hegemony, first, has been central: in the Islamic Republic’s narrative, Israel is an outpost of U.S. imperialism, occupying the heart of the Middle East. Iran has thus consistently sought to position itself as the vanguard of the resistance to and rejection of Israel. Khomeini started expressing this opposition early as he and his allies opposed the shah’s ties to Israel. One of the slogans of the revolution, for example, was “Today Iran, tomorrow Palestine.” Once in power, one of Khomeini’s first acts was to shut down the Israeli mission in Tehran and replace it with a PLO mission and, later, to declare the last Friday of the month of Ramadan as Al-Qods, or Jerusalem, day. Khomeini expressed his support for the Palestinians in the context of his ambition to lead the oppressed of the world: “We are on the side of the oppressed . . . . Palestinians are oppressed by the Israelis, therefore we side with them” (Tousi, 2011). The second element of the nationalist pillar of the Islamic Republic’s identity, an acute perception of insecurity, should not have a strong causal impact given that Israel poses no direct threat to Iran. In practice, however, the regime’s worldview emphasizes the threat posed by the United States and Israel. In the regime’s narrative, the threat is ontological: the Greater and Lesser Satans oppose the Islamic Republic because of what it stands for. Iran indeed perceives Israel and the U.S. as actively interfering in its affairs and undermining its stability. Iran has also long suspected the People’s Mujahedeen of Iran, an opposition group, of having close ties to Israel, by, for example, providing it

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with information concerning Iran’s nuclear program (for background on the Mujahedeen, see Goulka et al., 2009).1 The second half of the Islamic Republic’s identity, the religious component—more precisely, a politicized interpretation of religion used as a mobilizational tool—has also played an essential role in shaping its approach to the Arab-Israeli conflict. In fact, the Arab-Israeli conflict has been essential to Iran’s efforts to position itself as a leader of the Muslim world and not solely as a Shia power. Iran depicts Israel as an illegitimate state at the heart of the Muslim Middle East, occupying the third holiest site of Islam in Jerusalem. Israel—an alien body “planted in the heart of the Islamic world” by “oppressive” Western powers2—is a threat to Muslims and its existence is antithetical to Islam. For Khomeini, it is therefore the duty of every Muslim to oppose Zionism and Israel, “that cancerous growth in the Middle East” (Khomeini 1981, p. 276) and to “prepare themselves for battle against Israel” (quoted in Takeyh, 2006–7, p. 84). Before the revolution and in the hectic years of the early 1980s, Khomeini genuinely sought to unify Muslims under the leadership of Iran. Later, however, as pragmatism gradually gained a more prominent role in shaping Iran’s foreign policy, such rhetoric came to primarily serve as a rallying cry to maximize the country’s appeal in its quest for regional leadership. Many of the Islamic Republic’s allies—especially rejectionist Palestinian groups and Syria—are not adherents to Twelver Shiism like Iran, and neither do they accept its theocratic doctrine. In this sense, the nationalist element of the regime’s identity and identification with other status-discrepant actors has been more important in shaping alliance choices, with one exception. Iran saw in Hezbollah a potential partner because both shared an acutely dissatisfied status: its Shia constituents had long been the dispossessed of Lebanon, where the Sunni and Christians had long dominated. But Iran’s initial efforts to create Hezbollah were also driven by their common Shia faith and by centuries of religious and personal bonds. Thus, in the wake of the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon and in the midst of the Lebanese civil war, Iran saw in a variety of poorly organized Shia groups a potential asset: Shia, but also downtrodden and opposed to Israel. It therefore set out to regroup them under one group, Hezbollah, and to train, finance, and equip it. Overall, its rejectionist posture implies that Iran, dissatisfied with the regional order, openly and in some cases violently opposes the management of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Regime identity thus further colors Iran’s approach to the conflict, adding to the assertiveness and revisionism derived from the

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two upstream variables, power and status. A crucial feature of this rejectionism is that even though its origins are rooted in ideology, over time it evolved to allow Iran to reap strategic benefits: leadership of the rejectionist camp has led Iran to position itself as a central player in the conflict. In this context, the Islamic Republic’s strategic and ideological interests have increasingly come to coincide. As two rival regional powers, it is normal for Iran and Israel to oppose each other as competitors. Before 1979, however, Iran’s target of influence was the Persian Gulf first, and it then sought to expand its interests east and south, including to the Indian Ocean, and less toward the west and the Levant. Competition with Israel was therefore less direct. The Islamic Republic’s identity, however, calls for Iran to seek influence in the Muslim world and to champion the Palestinian cause, putting it on a confrontational path with Israel. Factional politics provides the third step explaining why Iranian foreign policy further tilted toward assertiveness, revisionism, and rejectionism. Specifically, as the factional balance of power within the regime increasingly favored hard-liners and conservatives, foreign policy further tilted toward their preferred outcomes. Factions all agree on the parameters of the Islamic Republic’s foreign policy. Within those bounds, however, there is constant jockeying for position and for shaping and managing specific aspects of policy. Specifically, each faction agrees that Iran, as a regional power, should play a central role in the Arab-Israeli conflict. They disagree, however, on the extent to which Iran should be a spoiler and how violently it should translate its rejectionism into action. The rise of the hard-liners, starting in the late 1990s, had a direct impact on Iran’s policy toward Israel. Hard-line elements seek a return to the pillars of Khomeini’s revolutionary dogma, and the Arab-Israeli conflict is one of their favored areas in which to pursue their goals. President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, in particular, adopted aggressive rhetoric questioning the Holocaust and raising the injustice of the plight of the Palestinians. He also repeatedly predicted the disappearance of the Jewish state (see, for example, Associated Press, 2006). The rise of a new generation of IRGC leaders has similarly affected Iran’s approach to the Arab-Israeli conflict (Kaye et al., 2011, p. 75). This matters, since senior IRGC leadership are key players in policy toward the Arab-Israeli conflict. The Qods Force and its leader, Brigadier General Qassem Soleimani, in particular, play a central role through their extensive ties to like-minded actors (Alfoneh, 2011b). For traditional conservatives, Israel is an illegitimate occupier of Muslim lands. Many reject the overly confrontational rhetoric espoused by hard-liners,

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but do so more out of their preference for caution than because of any significant disagreement on substance. Traditional conservatives were thus alarmed with the efforts by reformists and moderates to make positive noise with respect to the Arab-Israeli conflict in the 1990s, largely because of their close identification with the rejectionist posture, which they view as a central pillar of the Islamic Republic. During his two terms as president (1989–97), Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani believed that a lessening of diplomatic tensions was necessary for Iran to focus on economic reconstruction. His efforts targeted mostly relations with GCC states and Europe, where he achieved some success. More tentatively, he also reached out to the United States and, indirectly, to Israel. Rafsanjani had suggested as early as the late 1980s that Iran would not be opposed to a mutually satisfactory solution between Israel and the Palestinians (Hooglund, 1995, p. 88). For Rafsanjani, detente with the U.S. was a priority, yet he understood that a precondition was a lessening of tensions with Israel. That said, Rafsanjani’s hands were tied. During his two mandates, conservatives perceived that a lessening of tensions with Europe and GCC states may have been a strategic necessity, but rapprochement with the United States and Israel was too much to ask. Reformists gradually recognized that Iran’s opposition to the peace process resulted only in further isolation. When Mohammed Khatami acceded to the presidency in 1997, he thus tried to change Iran’s approach. Many reformists favored the “Malaysian option”: opposing formal recognition and Israel’s policies, but supporting an implicit acceptance of a two-state solution and an end to support for violent rejectionist groups.3 Reformists believed that Iran should respect an eventual Palestinian decision to make peace. As Khatami argued, “[A]ny step for the realization of a real and just peace in the Middle East is positive and we will honour what the Palestinian people accept” (Al-Bawaba News, 2002). Reformists also favor putting greater emphasis on the suffering of the Palestinian people and on criticism of Israel’s policies, instead of aggressively questioning Israel’s right to exist (Parsi, 2007, p. 265). Support for the Malaysian approach was strong throughout the Khatami administration. Many moderate conservatives allied to Rafsanjani who were still present in technocratic circles also tended to lean toward this approach. In practice, however, they were constrained by the fact that many organs of the state were controlled by conservatives who were responsible for the rejectionist elements of the Islamic Republic’s foreign policy. Ultimately, the reformists’ institutional control over the foreign and security policy apparatus was mostly

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limited to the weak Ministry of Foreign Affairs. As such, reformists succeeded in ensuring that rhetoric toward Israel was toned down, but they did not change the Islamic Republic’s basic posture. Seeking but Failing to Exploit the Window: Foreign Policy National Interests

Ideal national interests are those interests that a state should pursue if it responds solely to structural pressures and incentives. Iran has limited ideal interests with regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict, given that it does not share a border with Israel, the two states have limited economic ties, and Iran, as a Persian-majority state, has less of a stake than Arab states. In general, Iran’s ideal national interests are to: • ensure the survival of the regime and protect the country’s territorial integrity. Crucially, this is not threatened by the Arab-Israeli conflict; • to become the dominant power in the Persian Gulf and an indispensable player in the Middle East. With regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict, this implies seeking a seat at the table in the management of one of the most politically charged issues in the region. A state’s actual interests are derived on the basis of the combination of its power and the impact of key intervening variables. With regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict, Iran’s actual interests are to: • establish itself as the leader of the rejectionist front; • maximize its security by developing deterrent assets that can raise the costs for the United States and Israel to attack; • counter the influence of Israel and the U.S. and their ability to manage the Arab-Israeli conflict; • minimize and oppose the influence of rival regional powers. This distinction between ideal and actual interests leads to the identification of two gaps. The first gap, between ideal and actual interests, arises because Iran’s ideal interests do not call for an active role in the conflict, whereas in practice Iran is highly assertive. The second gap, related to but distinct from the first, arises from the difference between capabilities (Iran’s power, the independent variable) and intentions (its actual interests); it corresponds to the second hypothesis (H2) proposed in the Introduction. Iran’s intentions exceed

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its capabilities: it does not have the means to match its ambitions. There is a considerable gap between Iran’s grandstanding promises of opposing Israel and what is, in reality, modest support for a handful of rejectionist groups and, as a result, no more than a real but limited ability to spoil developments. This distorting effect contributes to the emergence of suboptimal outcomes and consequences. Power-maximization

Chapter 3 detailed the peculiar nature of Iran’s power. Iran’s foreign policy with regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict illustrates the implications of this assessment. Iran mostly seeks to maximize specific elements of its power—the appeal of its rejectionist model and its alliances to like-minded rejectionist entities— while it does not maximize more traditional aspects of its power, especially its conventional military capabilities and wealth. As a result, Iran’s opportunities to influence the Arab-Israeli conflict are severely, and increasingly, constrained by the narrow set of tools it possesses. Iran’s maximization of its appeal is central to its efforts to gain influence. This derives directly from the causal effect of the regime identity variable. As described by Gholam-Ali Haddad-Adel, a former speaker of the Majles and a close ally to the supreme leader, “Iran is powerful and popular in the region because it defends the independence of nations and opposes the United States’ dominance in the region” (quoted in Saad-Ghorayeb, 2011, p. 12). Opposing Israel and the peace process indeed allows Iran to maximize its appeal in the Arab and Muslim world by gaining prestige as the leader of the rejectionist bloc. Supporting Palestinian groups also allows Iran to portray itself as a champion of all Muslims, and not only of the Shia, and to transcend the Persian-Arab divide. Iran was also able to maximize its appeal by being perceived as challenging Israel militarily, albeit indirectly. In itself, the perception of a challenge to Israel’s vaunted military superiority dents Israel’s prestige. Again, Iran benefited from a regional vacuum as it sought to maximize its appeal. Throughout the 1990s, partly as a result of the Oslo process, Arab states became less vocal in their opposition to Israel. Jordan joined Egypt in signing a peace treaty with Israel, while most Arab states—with exceptions, such as Syria—came to recognize the legitimacy of Israel de facto. Increasingly, regional debates focused on the nature of the Jewish state—its borders, its relationship with the Palestinians and other Arab states, and issues such as Jerusalem, water, and security—and less on Israel’s existence. This gradual

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shift was confirmed at the 2002 Arab League Summit when Arab states endorsed Saudi Arabia’s peace plan, offering to exchange recognition of Israel for withdrawal from occupied territories. As most Arab states either signed peace treaties with Israel or stopped actively opposing it, Iran and Syria emerged as the main states actively opposing Israel. This has had a direct causal effect on Iran’s ability to maximize its power: by staking out a position popular with the Arab street, which is frustrated by what it perceives as Arab leaders’ acquiescence to Israeli and U.S. policies, Iran has adopted an approach widely perceived in the Middle East as just and legitimate. As Khamenei and other senior figures repeatedly emphasize, there is an “unfortunate” gap between the policies of most Arab states and the preferences of their populations, as a result of which Arab leaders “don’t have the same voice as their nations” (BBC Monitoring, 2008). In this context, Iran stepped up its support for violent rejectionist groups after 2001 and was able to reap benefits from doing so. As Daniel Byman has argued, an important motivation for states to support terrorist groups is to “exploit this association to enhance their political status at home and their influence abroad.” For Byman, states are particularly likely to seek to enhance their prestige abroad through support to terrorist and insurgent groups when leaders “believe their influence abroad and political power at home derive in part from their moral or ideological sway over their neighbours’ or others’ populaces—thus making prestige a strategic and domestic political concern as well as an ideological one” (2005, pp. 42–43). To maximize its appeal, Iran also regularly hosts well-publicized international conferences of rejectionist actors. Iran first organized a counterconference in October 1991 during which rejectionist and radical groups gathered in protest at not being invited to the Madrid peace conference. Iran’s initiative marked an important turning point in its approach to the peace process. Its opposition to Israel had been increasingly vocal throughout the 1980s, and Tehran was already actively supporting Hezbollah. But the Madrid conference raised the prospects of the widespread regional acceptance of Israel, of a Syria-Israel peace, and of the consolidation of U.S. regional dominance in the wake of the 1990–91 Gulf War and the collapse of the USSR. As Iran assessed that normalization of the Arab-Israeli conflict would be detrimental to its interests, its leaders vociferously expressed their opposition not only to the United States and Israel but also to Arab leaders who participated in the Madrid event, charging them with treason to the Palestinian cause. Khamenei, for example, predicted

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that Arab leaders would be “hated by their nations” merely for attending (quoted in Takeyh, 2009, p. 170). Iran regularly repeated the experience of hosting such conferences. In April 2001, for example, it hosted its second “Support the Palestinian Intifada” conference, attended by Palestinian rejectionist groups and parliamentarians and Hezbollah (Dinmore, 2001). Other such conferences were organized in 2002 and 2006 (Brandenburg, 2010, p. 172). The ascent to power of the hard-liners saw a significant increase in the Islamic Republic’s efforts to maximize its regional appeal. Ahmadinejad burst onto the world scene in 2005 with his speech at the infamous “World without Zionism” conference in Tehran, where he asked: “Is the killing of innocent Jews by Hitler the reason for their support to the occupiers of Jerusalem? If the Europeans are honest they should give some of their provinces in Europe—like in Germany, Austria, or other countries—to the Zionists and the Zionists can establish their state in Europe” (BBC News, 2005). There is an ongoing debate over the translation of what he said, and, more important, over how it should be interpreted. Many, especially in Western media, reported that later in this speech he called for Israel to be wiped off the map. A more appropriate translation, according to others, would be that he approvingly quoted Khomeini predicting that the “Zionist regime” would eventually be erased from the pages of time. The point here is not to wade into the semantics about what exactly Ahmadinejad or others from the regime have said about Israel over the past thirty years.4 Rather, the more relevant question is to understand why he was saying this, and to what effect. Overall, such statements, and more broadly his stand on the Palestinian issue and his opposition to Israel and the United States, allowed Ahmadinejad’s personal appeal in the Arab world to reach a peak in 2006 and 2007 (Fleishman, 2007). Iran’s support for like-minded rejectionist groups, themselves popular among large segments of the population in the Middle East, is also central to its efforts to maximize its appeal. Iran’s well-publicized financing of Hezbollah’s vast array of welfare programs significantly boosts its image. In large part thanks to Iranian financial assistance, Hezbollah has set up over the years a network of schools, hospitals, agricultural cooperatives, and mosques. One analyst has claimed that “without Iran’s political, financial, and logistical support,” Hezbollah would not have been able to develop its organizational and military capability (Saad-Ghorayeb, 2002, p. 14). This brought two major benefits to Iran: it allowed it to penetrate the Arab-Israeli conflict, and, by garnering popular support throughout the region, to claim a leadership role.

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The 2006 and 2008–9 wars illustrate how Iran maximized the appeal element of its power. The widespread perception across the Middle East that Hezbollah won the 2006 war—by virtue of having resisted the air and ground Israeli assault, a feat unequaled by Arab armies in the past—made Hassan Nasrallah, its secretary-general, a hero among Arab populations. Iran’s well-known support for the Lebanese militia thus allowed Tehran to score a major public relations success (Murphy and Naguib, 2006). Adding to these strategic gains, within one year of the war, by one estimate Iran had rebuilt 48 mosques and churches, 64 power stations, 149 schools, 504 roads, and 19 bridges in Lebanon (Refai and Daragahi, 2007). Similarly, the 2008–9 Gaza war, during which Israel launched an attack against Hamas, provided an opportunity for Iran to score more public relations points. The war elicited strong reactions on the Arab street, which were compounded by what many in the region perceived as acquiescence or passivity on the part of most Arab regimes. Iran, on the other hand, aligned its rhetoric with the feelings of the majority. Khamenei, for example, labeled as traitors those Arab states allied to the United States and, in his view, Israel, criticizing their complicity, indifference, and hypocrisy (Khamenei 2008). Similarly, Foreign Minister Manochahr Mottaki criticized Egypt for being a traitor to the Palestinian cause, an accusation that struck a chord among the Egyptian population frustrated by what it perceived as its government’s complicity in Israel’s policies toward Gaza (Saad-Ghorayeb, 2009). In addition, shortly after the war, Iran hosted a conference of rejectionist actors, at the same time as Egypt was hosting an international conference in Sharm al-Shaykh regrouping Western and Arab leaders (Dareini, 2009). Alliances were also essential to Iran’s efforts to maximize its power: many of Iran’s allies also benefited from favorable circumstances between 2001 and 2009. As a close ally and, in many cases, a benefactor, Iran’s power also indirectly benefited. Again, intervening variables contribute to explaining how these allies played a central role in Iran’s power-maximization. The status variable, first, matters, given that it is a shared status discrepancy that initially created conditions pushing Iran to join forces with these like-minded actors. As argued by Khaled Mesh’al, the Hamas leader, “Just as Islamic Iran defends the rights of the Palestinians, we defend the rights of Islamic Iran. We are part of a united front against the enemies of Islam” (Brandenburg, 2010, p. 173). Moreover, in seeking to maximize its power through its alliances, Iran again benefited from a regional vacuum. In particular, the gradual decrease in the level of assistance from Arab states to rejectionist Palestinian groups allowed Iran to step in. By

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replacing Arab states as the chief benefactor of Hamas and PIJ, the Islamic Republic was again able to reap benefits from their enhanced power. Hezbollah’s status in Lebanese domestic politics has gradually risen since its creation. The militia-cum-party progressively consolidated its position as one of the most powerful actors in Lebanon in the wake of Israel’s withdrawal from southern Lebanon in 2000, for which Hezbollah took credit, after an eighteen-year occupation. Events in 2005 and 2006 then led to its emergence as arguably the most powerful actor in Lebanon. The Cedar Revolution in 2005, which led to the forced withdrawal under street pressure of the Syrian military from Lebanon, provided Hezbollah with more space to emerge as the key power-broker in the country (Yacoubian, 2007). It also made Hezbollah more directly dependent on Iran—a net gain for Tehran—and less on Syria. Other gains for Hezbollah allowed Iran to maximize its power. The Lebanese militia suffered heavy losses at the time of its war with Israel in 2006, but within months was believed to have replenished its stocks. In fact, according to some assessments, by 2007 its operational, logistical, and intelligence capabilities were superior to what they had been prior to the war (Saab, 2010). Hezbollah’s regional appeal was also maximized in the wake of the 2006 war, when polls showed that two of the most popular leaders in the Arab street were Hassan Nasrallah, its secretary-general, and Ahmadinejad (Murphy, 2006). A bout of street fighting in 2008, during which Hezbollah trounced its main rivals, cemented its status as the dominant actor in Lebanon. This episode marked a turning point for Iran’s ability to benefit from Hezbollah successes, however. Hezbollah is increasingly entrenched in Lebanon and is therefore becoming more accountable to its domestic constituents. In addition, even though Iranian support remains crucial, Hezbollah is diversifying its sources of support. It is increasingly benefiting, in particular, from its control over criminal networks and remittances from expatriate Lebanese. As a result, even though Hezbollah’s power is still rising, the net gains for Iran are diminishing given that the Lebanese party is increasingly independent. The growth in Hamas’s power after 2001 was also essential to Iran’s power-maximization. In the context of the Second Intifada (2000–4), there was greater receptivity among Palestinians for Hamas’s rejectionist message. The Israeli withdrawal from Gaza in 2005, moreover, created a vacuum, allowing Hamas to further consolidate its position as the dominant actor in the Strip. Its surprise electoral victory in Palestinian legislative elections in 2006 also benefited Iran. In addition to strengthening the position of Hamas, the elections

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led to the drying up of funds from the international community, including from some of the Palestinians’ traditional Arab donors. Tehran then rescued the Palestinian Authority, which appeared on the verge of bankruptcy. According to some reports, Iran pledged up to $250 million in support (Brandenburg, 2010, p. 173). Subsequent events continued to benefit Iran, especially Hamas’s takeover of Gaza through its expulsion of Fatah in 2007 and its ability to resist Israeli attacks during the 2008–9 war. Overall, alliances played a major role in Iran’s efforts to maximize its power. They helped Tehran cement its position as an indispensable player in the Arab-Israeli conflict by dint of its role as the chief supporter of Palestinian groups and defender of the Palestinian cause. Concretely, they allowed Iran to obtain more direct access to Israel through Gaza and Lebanon. But despite its relations with these groups, Iran understands that it must calibrate its policies, as providing its allies with too much support would increase their independence vis-à-vis Tehran, and therefore reduce Iran’s influence on them. Security-maximization

Power is both an end and a means to other ends, the first of which is security. When a state’s security is threatened, its maximization is an utmost concern, whereas a state can focus on the pursuit of other ends when it perceives itself as secure. In the case of the Arab-Israeli dispute, there is, solely on the basis of structural pressures, little security for Iran to maximize. That is, according to Iran’s ideal interests, developments in the Arab-Israeli conflict do not threaten its security. Given Iran’s actual interests, however, its penetration of the Arab-Israeli conflict has been a fundamental pillar of its security-maximization. In particular, Iran’s ties to rejectionist groups have acted as strong deterrents against a potential attack by Israel or the United States. Iran’s security-maximization efforts are first and foremost shaped by the massive power differential arising from the military superiority of Israel and the U.S. In the case of a strike by either or both, there is simply little that Iran could do to defend itself by conventional means. Air strikes against Iran’s nuclear installations became a distinct possibility after the U.S. invasion of Iraq— or at least, the threat was repeatedly raised in the United States and Israel. In such an event, Iran’s air defenses and its fleet of fighter aircraft would have been overwhelmed. As such, the optimal strategy for Iran to maximize its deterrence has been to raise the costs of an attack by building an array of unconventional retaliatory tools. The possession and regular threat of using these assets

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does not remove the possibility of an attack. It does, however, signal to Israel that the costs would be high. This also increases the costs for the U.S., given that Washington knows that an Israeli attack could lead to Iranian retaliation against both Israeli and American interests. As Mohsen Rezaee, a former IRGC commander and still an influential figure within the regime, put it, “Israel and the US knew that as long as Hamas and Hezbollah were there, confronting Iran would be costly” (Slackman, 2006). Similarly, GCC states oppose Iran’s nuclear ambitions and, more broadly, Tehran’s quest to maximize its regional influence. In this sense, they recognize a common interest with Israel, despite their opposition to many of the latter’s positions. As such, to maximize its security, Iran seeks to raise the costs for these states of supporting—or even not publicly opposing—Israel by demonstrating its ability to strike at its Gulf rivals, especially their oil infrastructure. On the Arab-Israeli front, Iran’s ability to maximize its security through its arsenal of retaliatory assets derives from the alliance component of its power. Primarily, the resistance that Hezbollah, Hamas, and PIJ have offered in the past and could potentially offer in a future confrontation between Israel and Iran acts as a strong deterrent. Iran’s alliance with Syria, which considerably strengthened after 2001 as both countries faced growing isolation, is the other essential element of Tehran’s efforts to maximize its security. The alliance includes a large defensive component, as it allows both countries to better position themselves to neutralize Israeli power projection. Originally, in fact, the alliance was primarily defensive when it was born in the early years of the IranIraq war. The partnership has been consolidated in recent years. In particular, the two countries signed a mutual defense pact in 2006 (the content of which has not been released) and an additional military cooperation agreement in 2007. Intelligence cooperation, for example, was strengthened (Yacoubian, 2007). The 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah was a landmark event for Iran’s security-maximization. An important objective behind Israel’s decision to launch a massive air and then ground campaign after Hezbollah kidnapped Israeli soldiers was the neutralization of Iran’s option to use Hezbollah as a deterrent (Norton, 2006, p. 64). The strong performance by Hezbollah, however, surprised not only Israel but even Iran, as the intensity of Hezbollah’s fighting and the group’s resilience raised doubts about Israel’s ability to oppose, let alone defeat, Hezbollah (on the military dimensions of the conflict, see Exum, 2006). By resisting Israel’s initial aerial assault, Hezbollah forced Israel

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to launch a land invasion, which the Israeli civilian and military leadership had been reluctant to undertake. This exposed the Israeli Defence Forces to Hezbollah’s advanced and well-honed guerilla tactics. Hezbollah was thus able to take advantage of its knowledge of southern Lebanon’s geography, to make use of its network of bunkers, tunnels, and fortified positions, and to showcase its ability to use unconventional tactics and weapons, much of which had been provided by Iran (Harel and Issacharoff, 2008). It remains a contentious issue as to who won the war. As an increasingly autonomous and entrenched actor in the Lebanese political scene, Hezbollah is becoming more accountable to its constituents. As such, the heavy price inflicted by Israel on the Lebanese population will force Hezbollah to think harder before seeking a renewed round of hostilities with Israel. Yet the war demonstrated that Israel had underestimated Hezbollah and overestimated its own ability to defeat the Lebanese militia. It also demonstrated that in addition to its conventional military superiority, other areas of Israel’s mythical superiority had been overestimated. In terms of intelligence, in particular, the war demonstrated that even though Israel had good information (for example, it destroyed much of Hezbollah’s long-range rockets in the first hours), it was still suffering from serious tactical deficiencies. Compounding this, the strength of Hezbollah’s own intelligence capabilities—such as its knowledge of the location of specific Israeli military locations and its ability to target them—surprised observers (Jane’s Terrorism and Security Monitor, 2006). The implications of the 2008–9 Gaza war on Iran’s ability to maximize its security have been more ambiguous, for two reasons. First, the war was less difficult for Israel, as the military capabilities of Hamas are more limited than Hezbollah’s. Moreover, to the extent that Hamas offered strong resistance and thwarted Israel’s goals, the precedent of strong resistance in the context of an asymmetric conflict had been set in 2006. Nonetheless, like the 2006 war but on a lesser scale, this conflict demonstrated that Israel did not possess the capability to decisively eliminate or even weaken Hamas, like Hezbollah an Iranian ally. Overall, Iran has carefully calibrated its relations to rejectionist groups, as it understands that crossing certain lines would reduce its security. In particular, transferring too high a quantity and, more important, a quality of strategic weapons—such as chemical and biological weapons—could provoke an Israeli, and possibly U.S., response. It would also annoy Sunni Arab states, further pushing them to band against Iran. At the time of the 2006 war, in particular,

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Tehran was careful to avoid an escalation of the conflict that could have led to its own entanglement as well as that of the United States. The chief of staff of the armed forces, Major General Hassan Firozabadi, for example, emphasized that Iran would “never” militarily join the fighting (Tabaar, 2014). Iran’s assertiveness can be viewed through the lens of alliance theory. According to Glenn Snyder, when B, an ally of A, takes clear and firm steps to confront a common adversary, A will grow more assertive. According to Snyder’s interpretation of the dilemmas of alliance management (2007), B’s belligerent gestures toward adversaries common to A and B reassure A of the durability of the alliance. This emboldens A, encouraging it to attempt riskier moves (1984). Fred Lawson has shown that Syria’s steps to confront common adversaries followed this pattern, contributing to Iran’s growing assertiveness. In this sense, Syria’s improving position and its growing intransigence and assertiveness relative to Israel and the United States acted as a reassurance for Iran, in turn driving its own assertiveness. More generally, the growing power of Iran’s allies and their moves to confront common foes—Israel and the U.S., and to a lesser extent moderate Arab states—contributed to driving Iran’s assertiveness. Influence-maximization

As a result of its rising power and as predicted by most variants of realism, Iran’s assertiveness in its approach to the Arab-Israeli conflict increased after 2001, as witnessed by the evolution of these key indicators: • The use of inflammatory rhetoric against Israel rose in both tone and frequency; • Iran increasingly adopted an uncompromising stand; • Its activism grew: in particular, it supported its allies more aggressively, both materially and politically, and it encouraged them to also behave more assertively; • It became more emboldened, as witnessed by its willingness to take more risks and to behave more confrontationally. The Islamic Republic’s ability to influence the Arab-Israeli conflict progressively grew after 1979. In the 1980s, it was marginal and limited to its aggressive rhetorical opposition to Israel and its growing support for Hezbollah. In the 1990s, it grew as the Oslo Accords and the nascent peace process provided Iran with the openings to act on the basis its rejectionist interests. The 2000s saw the culmination of this trend, as the window of opportunity faced by Iran allowed

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it to reach the height of its influence. Iran’s influence in the Arab-Israeli conflict grew, not so much in terms of changing the rules of the game to its benefit but rather by preventing its adversaries from modifying these rules. Iran’s efforts to maximize its influence can be measured on the basis of two indicators: its ability to set the terms of the regional debate and its ability to align the regional environment with its preferences. Tehran, first, had some success in setting the terms of the regional debate on the issue of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Using rhetoric as a tool, it became increasingly able to raise the costs for its rivals of taking positions opposed to its rejectionism. In this sense, Tehran has been able to influence the terms of the debate by dominating the regional public sphere thanks to the popular appeal of its ideas of resistance and rejection. This allowed Tehran to shame other actors—primarily conservative Sunni Arab monarchies and republics aligned with the United States—by raising the cost for them of adopting stances widely perceived by their populations as passive or acquiescent. Iran and its allies made growing use of the media to improve their public messaging and shape the regional debate. Iran, for example, provided considerable support to help Hezbollah establish and run Al Manar, its well-oiled television station. This “station of resistance” is one of the Lebanese militia’s most useful tools to reach out to the Arab world and disseminate its ideas. Al Manar’s funding, estimated at about $15 million for 2002, comes at least in part from Iran (Blanford, 2001). Iran also had success in shaping the public debate through its efforts to debunk the myth of Israel’s military invincibility. In the minds of many in the Middle East, the myth of the IDF’s status as a superior fighting force acted as a powerful deterrent and as a key factor convincing Arab leaders to seek either peace with Israel (in the case of Egypt and Jordan) or a de facto accommodation (most others). The fact that Hezbollah, in part thanks to Iranian support, was not defeated by Israel during the 2006 war damaged this myth. Illustrating the changed terms of the regional debate, the Winograd Commission, tasked by the Israeli government to analyze Israel’s inability to defeat Hezbollah, admitted that a “semi-military organization of a few thousand men” was able to resist “the strongest army in the Middle East” for a few weeks and succeeded in “seriously” disrupting life in Israel.5 Iran’s efforts to align the regional and, to a much lesser extent, international environments on the basis of its preferences has been the second key feature of its influence-maximization. At this level, however, Iran mostly failed. Instead, it had some success, largely through its opposition to the peace process, in pre-

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venting its rivals from shaping the regional environment on the basis of their own interests. Iran was able to play such a spoiler role by establishing footholds surrounding Israel and by making inroads into Palestinian and Lebanese politics. As long as conflict between Israel and the Palestinians continues and as long as frustrations among Palestinians and the broader Arab public stay high, opportunities remain for Iran to feed on local grievances. Iran’s support for Hezbollah illustrates how support for a terrorist group allows Iran, as its sponsor, to maximize its influence. In particular, Hezbollah’s attacks against U.S. and Western troops and its constant harassment of Israeli troops significantly contributed to the departure from Lebanon of the former and to the withdrawal of the latter to a narrow security zone in southern Lebanon. In this sense, Iran, through its support for Hezbollah, was able to raise the costs to unbearable levels for U.S. and Western troops to remain in Lebanon and for Israel to occupy swaths of the country—two developments that Iran assessed to be against its interests. Why does Iran assess that its influence is maximized through opposition to the peace process? The Islamic Republic calculates that progress toward a two-state solution and normalization of Israel’s relations with the Arab world would cost it regional influence. Should Syria, for example, make peace with Israel, Iran would lose an essential platform to project its power in the Levant and gain direct access to its nonstate allies. Similarly, should Israel and the Palestinians make peace, a number of Palestinian groups (though perhaps not all) would at the very least end violent resistance toward Israel (without necessarily recognizing it). Iran’s ability to penetrate the Levant and oppose Israel would be hindered. Moreover, a reduction in Israel’s isolation would remove constraints on the projection of its power, increasing Israel’s power relative to Iran. Through the same logic, Iran benefits from a lack of progress in the peace process. Because the conflict is an emotional issue in the Middle East, its perpetuation ensures a permanent pool of resentment and frustration that Iran can tap. This is a powerful asset for Iran, which it uses against Israel, neighboring Arab regimes—widely perceived as passive or acquiescent by their populations—and the United States, the “Global Arrogance” in opposition to which the Islamic Republic has partly built its identity. Tehran, in sum, feeds the perception that it alone (with its few allies) is actually doing something about a situation that a large regional majority decries. The conflict is therefore an essential tool for Iran to pressure its competitors for regional influence, Israel and Arab states such as Saudi Arabia and Egypt.

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Iran uses two assets to pressure its rivals: rhetoric and support for like-minded rejectionist groups. Exploiting the appeal dimension of its power, Iran has consistently used rhetorical attacks on Palestinian and Arab leaders when they appeared willing to engage in or support talks with Israel. This serves as a means of firing up popular opposition to eventual compromises, raising the costs for Iran’s rivals of adopting positions diverging from Iran’s interests. In September 2010, for example, Ahmadinejad attacked Mahmoud Abbas, president of the Palestinian Authority, for being willing to offer concessions to Israel: “Who gave [him] the right to sell a piece of Palestinian land? The people of Palestine and the people of the region will not allow them to sell even an inch of Palestinian soil to the enemy. The negotiations are stillborn and doomed” (Brandenburg, 2010, p. 173). Similarly, as the Second Intifada exploded in 2000, Iran dispatched Imad Mughnieh, the international operations commander for Hezbollah and a close ally of the Qods Force, to support Hamas and PIJ in launching operations against Israel. A major Hamas suicide bombing referred to as the “Passover Massacre” on 27 March 2002 was later alleged to have heavily relied on Hezbollah guidance (Moore and Anderson, 2002). In this sense, Iran encouraged its allies to violently oppose Israel, significantly contributing to scuttling the peace process. The 2008–9 war between Israel and Hamas provides another example of the gains Iran makes from working against the peace process. Iran provided many of the weapons used by Hamas in the attacks that eventually triggered Operation Cast Lead, Israel’s onslaught onto the Gaza Strip in December 2008 and January 2009. This included 122mm rockets and heavy mortars in addition to IEDs similar to those used against U.S. forces in Iraq (Allin and Simon, 2010, p. 88). Iran did not create the tensions that led to the onset of this new phase in the Arab-Israeli conflict. By arming and supporting Hamas, however, Iran is strengthening it vis-à-vis the militarily superior Israel, further entrenching the conflict. This is consistent with Iran’s efforts to block regional developments it deems contrary to its actual interest. Failing to Fully Exploit the Window: Dissecting Iran’s Influence

In order to maximize its influence, a state must improve the quantity and quality of its options; it must widen the range or parameters in which it makes foreign policy choices and reduce the quantity and quality of options facing its rivals. Influence, in this sense, is about maximizing this space and, simultan-

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eously, reducing the margin of rivals by raising the costs of undertaking certain actions deemed against its own interests. Iran’s traditional modus operandi to increase the range of its margin of maneuver is to create options by developing assets that it will have the possibility to use in the future. Whether Iran actually uses these assets or not is only part of the equation; the fact that it is known by its rivals that it could use these assets improves its position and constrains its rivals. What matters is the perception by these rivals that Iran has, or could have, the opportunity to apply pressure on them in the future. The ambiguity surrounding Iran’s precise capabilities and intentions and those of its allies—will Iran attack Gulf oil infrastructure in retaliation to an Israeli attack? Will Hezbollah strike Israel on behalf of Iran should the United States or Israel strike Iranian nuclear installations?—further constrains others’ options. Iran has succeeded in constraining Israel’s range of options through its support for rejectionist groups. As a result, Israel cannot act as freely as it could in the Gaza Strip and in Lebanon because of the military power of Hamas and PIJ and, to a greater extent, Hezbollah. Israel needs to act with more caution and restraint, aware of the violence these groups could inflict. Support for rejectionist groups in Israel’s periphery obliges Israel to confront and occasionally fight them. This inevitably decreases Israel’s regional appeal and increases Iran’s. It also diverts Israeli assets to this fight and acts as a drag on its economy—which again benefits regional rival Iran. This is what Iran’s approach seeks to achieve, as argued by Ali Akbar Velayati, a key advisor to the supreme leader and a former foreign minister (1981–97): “Israel will not be able to step out of line in the region as long as the Lebanese Hezbollah exists” (quoted in Saad-Ghorayeb, 2011, p. 11). Iran’s vocal opposition to Israel and the United States, both through its rhetorical denunciations and its support for rejectionist groups, also allows Tehran to constrain the margin of maneuver of its rival Arab states. The Islamic Republic’s rejectionist stance attracts much support throughout the Middle East. It is an important asset that Tehran has not shied from using to pressure conservative Sunni Arab states close to the United States such as Saudi Arabia and Egypt. This raises the cost for them of supporting, even if only partially and discretely, U.S. and Israel initiatives. As explained by Trita Parsi, “In the eyes of many Arab states, the power of Iran’s rhetoric has made public opposition to Iran equivalent to acquiescence in or even approval of the Israeli and U.S. stance on the Palestinian issue” (2007, p. 4).

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The 2006 war illustrates this conception of Iran’s influence-maximization. The conflict demonstrated Israel’s inability to defeat Hezbollah and the latter’s potential—not fully exploited during the war—to target civilian populations and disrupt life in Israel. In this sense, the war raised the costs for Israel of an eventual attack on Iran by highlighting Hezbollah’s power. In fact, by some accounts, Hezbollah has since even further increased its ability to strike deep inside Israel through its improved arsenal of mid-range rockets, increased intelligence capabilities within Israel, and new commando units trained to conduct sabotage missions deep inside Israel—for example, against industrial sites and civilian populations (Saab, 2010). Hezbollah has made it clear that it would not hesitate to use these assets should Israel target Lebanese civilians. In this sense, through its provision of some of these capabilities to Hezbollah, Iran has succeeded in reducing Israel’s margin of maneuver. To be sure, there is a valid debate as to who won the war. By some indicators, the 2006 war was a success for Hezbollah. In particular, its objectives were largely defensive, whereas Israel’s intentions were mostly offensive. On this count, Israel failed to reach most of its objectives, while Hezbollah succeeded. Israel did not achieve its declared military goals: the elimination, or at least the severe weakening, of Hezbollah’s military capabilities, pushing Hezbollah north of the Litani River, and freeing its captured soldiers. Hezbollah, on the other hand, scored a major coup solely by surviving the Israeli onslaught, a feat that Arab national armies were not able to achieve in previous Arab-Israeli wars, and managing to inflict damage to the IDF.6 Hezbollah’s successful strike of an Israeli vessel during the war with a C-802 missile illustrates Iran’s ability to constrain Israeli options. On 14 July, an Iranian-made version of a Chinese radar-guided antiship missile struck an Israeli warship off the Lebanese coast, leaving four Israeli personnel dead. Without direct Iranian support, Hezbollah would not have been able to acquire and use such an asset (Ben-David, 2006c). The knowledge that Hezbollah possesses such a missile and is willing and able to use it limits Israel’s ability to operate off the Lebanese coast. This is a direct challenge to its naval dominance of the south-eastern Mediterranean Sea. It does not deny Israel access to the area but raises the costs of operating there. It forces future Israeli maneuvers to operate farther from the coast and obliges the Israeli navy to invest more in intelligence and protective measures. Similarly, Hezbollah’s surprise ability to penetrate Israeli main battle tanks with antitank guided missiles during the war (Ben-David, 2006a) imposed an additional constraint on Israel’s future

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margin of maneuver in Lebanon, by limiting its ability to circulate with heavy armor. Consequences of Iran’s Rejectionism

Iran’s policy toward the Arab-Israeli conflict has been significantly affected by domestic processes, validating H1. H2 and H3 are also validated: facing a window, Iran benefited from an unusual amount of choice and, as a result of its decisions, it vastly over-reached. The costs of these choices have been high: support for rejectionist actors and repeated efforts to spoil the peace process have been key drivers of the international community’s efforts to oppose Iran. The first category of consequences results from Iran’s poor job at maximizing its power. Partly as a result of regime identity, Tehran chose after 2001 to deepen its ties to rejectionist groups and to further maximize its use of the appeal of its rejectionism. On the other hand, Iran failed to invest in conventional military power and reform its economy. This deficiency has been consequential. Iran’s opposition to Israel has driven, alongside its nuclear program, U.S. efforts to impose a crippling sanctions regime. That, in turn, has caused massive damage to Iran’s economy. Iran’s oil and gas sector, in particular, suffers from underinvestment, causing a deficiency of at least 2 million barrels per day in oil production compared with output under the shah. A quick counterfactual exercise suggests that, over the past thirty years, Iran’s economy—and therefore its power—would have become much stronger had it not been for this shortfall. The sanctions also constrain Iran’s military procurement, preventing it from accessing Western markets. Iran’s conventional military power, as a result, has steadily declined since 1979. This narrows its options and pushes it toward the maximization of unconventional assets, which, in turn, reinforces its tendency to adopt rejectionist policies. Iran’s security has been maximized in some aspects in this issue-area, largely by developing a fearsome arsenal of retaliatory tools in the event of an Israeli or U.S. attack. Partly as a result, the United States and Israel have refrained from directly attacking: indeed, the fear of Iranian retaliation is one of the most important constraints on Israel and the U.S. Yet beyond this important but narrow ability to deter an attack, Iran is severely constrained in the extent to which it can maximize its security because of its acute isolation, while high levels of tension in its relations with its adversaries leave it under the permanent threat of misperceptions and crisis escalation. Rejectionism alienates Iran from most of its neighbors and increases its diplomatic isolation, while contributing to the

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regional U.S. military buildup. Arab counterbalancing against Iran is only partial and is well below the wishes of the United States and Israel, yet every single Arab state (and Turkey) with the exception of Syria is highly suspicious of Iran, opposes its ambitions, and refuses to accompany it in its opposition to Israel. Iran’s ability to maximize its power and security is heavily constrained because of the intervention of domestic factors, as a result of which both are well below their potential. Iran’s ability to maximize its influence is therefore also severely constrained and suboptimal. This leads to over-reaching: Iran does not have the means to reach its objective of being a leading power in the Middle East. Iran’s propensity to over-reach is well documented; neoclassical realism provides a framework to systematize it. Graham Fuller, for example, described a historical “Persian tendency to overreach itself—to allow ambition, rhetoric, and extravagant goals to outrun capabilities and means, frequently leading to national disaster” (1991, p. 14). This suboptimality can be measured by dissecting the breadth and depth of Iran’s influence and its heavily constrained ability to positively shape outcomes. Iran has only a narrow set of tools to influence the Arab-Israeli conflict; its ability to maximize its influence suffers from limited breadth. It does not, for example, have extensive economic tools or conventional military assets that would allow it to diversify its ability to shape events. Instead, its main tools are its ties to rejectionist groups and the appeal of its own rejectionist model. This limited arsenal paints Iran into a corner. Its influence is heavily constrained: it can score points by provoking adversaries and raising costs for them to take certain courses of action. In the limited breadth of its influence, however, Iran does have depth: it has a significant ability to block or hinder developments not to its liking. Crucially, Iran bears few direct costs in the short term when it raises the cost for its adversaries to take certain courses of action. In the long term, however, it increasingly suffers consequences from its actions. In other issue-areas, particularly in Iraq, Iran is able to exercise some positive influence. This has not been the case in the Arab-Israeli conflict. Iran sometimes succeeds in blocking or frustrating the ambitions of its opponents and preventing them from shaping the regional order on the basis of their own interests. Israeli and U.S. interests are double: to maintain their dominance of the regional order and, to varying extents, to find a solution to the Arab-Israeli conflict that suits their interests. Iran has actively opposed these objectives, with some success. Its influence has therefore largely been negative. Iran hopes to reshape the regional order on the basis of its interests but in practice, with

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regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict, it succeeds only in resisting U.S. and Israeli interests. Its ability to change the order on the basis of its revisionist ambitions is very limited given the vast power asymmetry. In this sense, H3 is validated: Iran’s ambitions have not been matched by its capabilities. The 2006 war illustrates this conclusion. Hezbollah considered that it achieved a “divine victory” simply because it resisted an Israeli attack. Hezbollah was able to score public relations points in the region and, by ricochet, so was Iran. Yet the long-term gains for Iran are not clear. Israel’s poor tactical performance forced a soul-searching effort that has already led to improvements in preparation for a next round. Hezbollah, moreover, with its growing accountability to its constituents in Lebanon, will perceive a greater cost to its domestic standing from a new round of fighting given the Lebanese population’s exhaustion. Hezbollah did not succeed in changing the regional order; it only blocked changes based on the interests of its rivals. Again, the outcome for Iran was only a short-term gain. The Islamic Republic’s acute isolation since its birth in 1979 is the result of the effect of the three intervening variables. The regime identity variable, in particular, has led to the adoption of policies alienating Iran from most of its neighbors and the West. In fact, Iran has accomplished the surprising feat of creating a common interest between Israel and most Arab states. Factional politics also contribute to suboptimality by contributing to confusion in the decision-making process. The intensity of factional infighting contributes to an environment in which there is limited strategic thinking. Foreign policy is often ad hoc and improvised, and, because different factions control various organs of the policy apparatus, factional struggles lead to contradictory and poorly coordinated decisions. This further perpetuates the suboptimal status quo. According to Mehran Kamrava, internal rivalries undermine “the state’s ability to engage in direct and proactive diplomacy. Instead, Iranian diplomacy frequently finds itself in a reactive posture, often merely responding to circumstances and conditions as they emerge instead of creating opportunities or, even less, setting the agenda” (2007, p. 98).  There are strong constraints limiting the influence that Iran can exert on the Arab-Israeli conflict. That is, the peculiar nature of Iran’s power constrains its potential to maximize its influence. As a result, Iran has only a narrow set of tools with which to influence the Arab-Israeli conflict, with its main assets be-

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ing the appeal of its rejectionist model and its ties to other rejectionist actors. This limits the breadth of the impact it can have on the management of the conflict and its future direction, and it is insufficient to shape the regional order in the revisionist direction it envisions. These assets, however, are sufficient to allow Iran to raise the costs for its rivals to shape the regional order on the basis of their own interests. Crucially, and as will be discussed in the conclusion, constraints on Iran’s power and influence are growing, not receding, a trend that will likely continue into the future. Overall, the results of this analysis of Iran’s ability to influence outcomes in the Arab-Israeli conflict suggest support for both H1 and H2. Faced with a window of opportunity, Iran benefited from an unusually high degree of agency, as per H1, but it mostly squandered that opportunity because of choices it made. As a result, its ability to maximize its power, its security, and its influence remains constrained. This chapter also provides support for H2, which proposed that states faced with a window of opportunity were likely to develop mismatches between their capabilities and intentions. In this case, Iran’s ambition vastly exceeded its reach.

7

Iran’s Nuclear Program

In 2002, an Iranian opposition group revealed that Iran was more advanced with its covert nuclear program than had been previously assumed. Since then, Iran and the United States have been engaged in an increasingly tense standoff. The U.S., supported by many in the international community, is suspicious of Iran’s claim that the program is solely for peaceful, electricity-generation purposes. Citing Tehran’s refusal to answer questions about past activities with a weapons dimension, Washington has pushed hard for the international community to adopt an increasingly harsh sanctions regime with the purpose of forcing Iran to compromise. In addition, the United States, along with Israel, has regularly stated that “all options are on the table” to resolve the issue, implying that military force could be used as a last resort. Why is Iran pursuing its nuclear ambitions, despite the tremendous and mounting economic and diplomatic costs it suffers as a result? This case features paradoxical results. Driven by the window of opportunity it faced, Iran chose to incrementally but steadily progress along the nuclear path; this promises important benefits, but also leads to significant consequences. The Origins of the Nuclear Program

The nuclear program was launched in 1957 with an agreement between Pahlavi Iran and the United States on the peaceful use of nuclear energy. Washington’s support arose in a context of growing ties with Tehran, which it viewed as a bulwark against Arab radicalism and Soviet designs in the Middle East. The U.S. initially provided Iran with a 5MW research reactor that became operational in 1967.1 The shah also signed cooperation agreements with other Western countries, allowing Iranian students to attend universities in the United 169

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States and Western Europe. Iran also signed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) in 1968 and ratified it in 1970. The oil shock of 1973 massively increased Tehran’s revenues and boosted the shah’s ambitions, leading him to formally declare his objective to produce nuclear energy for domestic consumption to free up hydrocarbons for export. The shah also announced the creation of the Atomic Energy Organization of Iran (AEOI), while two German companies began but never finished a civilian nuclear power reactor in Bushehr, in southern Iran. The U.S. and Iran signed a $15 billion agreement for the construction of eight reactors in 1975 and the U.S.-Iran Nuclear Energy Agreement in 1978. The United States also granted Iran most-favored nation status for spent fuel reprocessing that year. The shah’s intentions were unclear. He never stated that he was seeking nuclear weapons, and in any case by the 1979 revolution he remained far from building one. Yet some suspected him of using the cover of a peaceful program to hide his pursuit of weapons. For proponents of this view, such an ambition would have been consistent with his growing regional aspirations (Entessar, 2009, pp. 26–28). Others have argued that his intention was to reach a latent capability. His foreign minister, Ardeshir Zahedi, for example, claimed in 2004 that the shah’s strategy was “aimed at creating what is known as surge capacity, that is to say to have the know-how, the infrastructure, and the personnel needed to develop a nuclear military capacity within a short time without actually doing so” (2004). Immediately after the revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini ordered the suspension of all work on the nuclear program, which he viewed as a Western-inspired relic of the monarchy. As U.S.-Iran ties deteriorated, Washington also suspended all cooperation in the nuclear field and pressed its allies to do the same. In addition, the Bushehr power plant, which was still in early stages of construction, was severely damaged during the war with Iraq. Yet by the mid1980s, Khomeini decided to reinitiate work on the nuclear program. The war with Iraq was the key driver behind this decision, as it forced Iran’s new leaders to reconsider their disdain for modern technology. In particular, Iraq’s use of chemical weapons to deter Iran’s human-wave assaults led to horrendous casualties on the Iranian side and sapped morale in the military and the population (Hiltermann, 2005). In addition, Soviet, Arab, and Western support for Iraq and reports of a covert Iraqi nuclear program increasingly worried pragmatic elements in the Iranian leadership. Iran had to replace its Western suppli-

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ers, however, who refused to return to shah-era contracts, while many scientists had fled the country. Iran made slow but steady progress throughout the 1990s (Chubin, 1995). The swift U.S. victory against Iraq in 1991 convinced many in Tehran that the huge power asymmetry between the United States and Iran made the Islamic Republic vulnerable. In addition, negotiations between the U.S. and North Korea demonstrated the value of a nuclear program as a bargaining chip. In this context, Iran developed its uranium mining industry and its uranium conversion ability, while continuing research into enrichment. It also sought to develop a heavy water reactor for plutonium production and began to buy information and materiel clandestinely, such as centrifuges, from the A. Q. Khan network (Corera, 2006, pp. 59–86). Tehran and Moscow also agreed that Russia would complete the construction of Bushehr and train AEOI personnel. In August 2002, the National Council of Resistance of Iran, the political wing of the Mujahedeen-e Khalq (MeK), revealed the existence of a fuel enrichment plant at Natanz and a heavy water research reactor in Arak. Even though it was known at the time that Iran had an embryonic program, this showed that it had made more progress than previously suspected. The revelation showed, in particular, that Iran had installed 160 centrifuges at Natanz. In response, the United States requested that Iran’s file be transferred from the IAEA to the UN Security Council so that punitive measures could be adopted.2 Iran, however, has denied that its program had a military dimension. A member of the NPT, it has long claimed that it is entitled to the peaceful use of nuclear energy. Before moving on, it is useful to provide a brief overview of a nuclear program. The first component is the fuel cycle, or the steps taking uranium from its natural to its enriched form. Uranium must be mined and milled into yellowcake, a semiprocessed ore then converted to uranium hexafluoride, the gaseous feedstock sent into centrifuge cascades for enrichment. In its natural form, 99.3 percent of uranium consists of the U238 isotope, while 0.7 percent is U235. The latter is the end product of the fuel cycle; it must therefore be separated from the former. When enriched to 3.5 percent, low-enriched uranium (LEU) is used in power plants for electricity generation. This first step in the enrichment process is the most complicated; when a state masters enrichment to 3.5 percent, it has made a giant stride. Uranium enriched to 19.75 percent can be used in research reactors and for the generation of medical isotopes. Iran started in 2010 to enrich to this level. Enrichment to 90 percent produces weapons-

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grade or high-enriched uranium (HEU).3 Being able to produce HEU is far from sufficient to produce a nuclear bomb, however. The other steps consist of weaponization, converting the HEU into a metal sphere, mating this sphere with weapons components (such as a detonator), and fitting this into a means of delivery. This involves a series of complex steps, many of which Tehran has yet to master. In addition, weaponization is not necessarily a clear line that a state crosses; some states, such as North Korea, are thought to possess only a small number of very crude devices, while others possess varying numbers of advanced and diverse means of delivery.4 The Opening of a Window: Iranian Power and the Nuclear Program

Iran’s power serves as the permissive cause for its foreign policy, shaping the range of feasible options. Neoclassical realism takes the analysis further by breaking down the impact of the fine-grained structure of this power. Three features have shaped Iran’s assertiveness: the window of opportunity, the peculiar nature of its rising power, especially the ongoing asymmetry between Iran’s limited power and that of its rivals, and the regional context. The window of opportunity Iran faced after 2001, first, extended to the nuclear issue. This permissive context drove Iran’s assertiveness, presenting it with a golden opening to seek to reap benefits as it progressed along the nuclear path. This window, as in the other two case studies, has been peculiar, however. The first feature of Iran’s power driving its nuclear program is its conventional military weakness. This is unlikely to improve soon: because of sanctions and limited resources, Iran will not come close to catching up with the U.S. regional military presence or with the superior military power of regional U.S. allies. Should the United States or Israel launch air strikes against Iran, in particular, Iran’s air defenses and air force would be unable to offer serious resistance, especially against an American attack. GCC states would be hard pressed to mount a serious offensive against Iran, but that is not their intent. What matters is that their capabilities, especially defensive but also their air forces, have been improving in recent years. In addition, Iran is surrounded by nuclear-armed states. The United States, of course, maintains a nuclear arsenal of about 5,000 warheads, including the capability to launch them on intercontinental and submarine-launched ballistic missiles. Israel, in addition, is widely assumed to possess one to two hundred warheads. Israel possesses a triad of delivery vehicles: Jericho I, II, and III missiles (with ranges of 1,200,

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1,800 and 4,800–6,500km), specially fitted F-15 and F-16 fighter aircraft, and Dolphin-class submarines. Israel also has a growing missile defense capability. Iran, in addition, is surrounded by three regional powers possessing nuclear weapons. Russia, with which Iran has long maintained a relationship strained by suspicion, maintains a stockpile of about 10,000 warheads (though this number is declining and many are not operational). Even though India’s stockpile of about 80 to 100 warheads is not a major factor in Iran’s strategic calculations, it still contributes to Iran’s sense of encirclement and injustice at international efforts to deny it nuclear technology (Pant, 2013). Pakistan, finally, also does not weigh heavily in Iranian calculations. Yet Iran remains suspicious that Pakistan could either collapse or that it could be taken over by a Sunni extremist regime that would then be in control of 90 to 110 warheads.5 Narrowing the Options: Domestic Processes

This power dynamic shapes the opportunities and constraints faced by Tehran. Despite its rising power, Iran remained significantly weaker than the United States and its allies in conventional and nuclear terms. Tehran therefore faced strong but ambiguous structural signals—rising power but continued relative weakness. As in the other case studies, the paradox is that for states confronted with a window of opportunity, power is an active driving force (the change in relative power has a strong impact on foreign policy), but is also permissive given that there is much scope for domestic factors to specify the direction of foreign policy. Yet this context does not explain why Iran’s leadership chose to pursue the nuclear option the way it did; the country had other options that could have been less costly. Power, in sum, is a necessary but insufficient cause: intervening variables are necessary proximate explanations to explain how and why rejectionist positions were adopted. In this case, there was significant scope for agency: structural pressures were strong but indeterminate and therefore did not push and shove Iran in specific directions as compellingly as in Iraq. Iran’s rising power pushes it toward greater assertiveness in the nuclear standoff, as predicted by structural realism. Its status discrepancy then shifts the parameters in which its foreign policy operates, driving its revisionism by eliminating from consideration moderate or conciliatory options and increasing the likelihood of confrontational and aggressive policies being adopted. As an aspiring pivotal player in a highly insecure environment, it is not surprising that Iran would consider pursuing a nuclear program. Initially, it was

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in the pursuit of power, security, and influence that the shah launched the program. Under the Islamic Republic, Iran has viewed itself as a great power; it has therefore pursued the nuclear technology consistent with this self-image. The prestige associated with mastering nuclear capability weighs heavily in Iranian calculations and in “facilitating the historical ambition of Iranians to be a regional power” (Ghahremanpour, 2011, p. 63). Illustrating the importance of status-seeking, the Islamic Republic’s narrative systematically focuses “on enhancing Iranian national pride and making Western countries recognize the Islamic Republic’s legitimacy as an independent actor and as their equal” (Baktiari, 2010, p. 20). Iran’s aspirations must be juxtaposed to its perception of the status ascribed to it by leading members of the regional order. For many in Iran, U.S. efforts to prevent the Islamic Republic from progressing with its nuclear program are largely about limiting its power (Barzegar, 2010, p. 98). As argued by Iran’s leader, “Colonial countries are quite aware of the fact that in order to keep a country under their political and economic dominance, they should bar its scientific progress” (quoted in Sadjadpour, 2008, p. 11). More specifically, Khamenei believes that the United States does not “want an Islamic and independent country to achieve scientific progress and possess advanced technology” (ibid., p. 23). According to this dominant narrative, its adversaries seek to deny Iran the status and power associated with mastering nuclear technology to keep it backward and prevent it from challenging the regional order.6 Iran thus suffers from a status discrepancy: it wants to join the nuclear club and reap the prestige and power associated with this enhanced status but is denied the opportunity by the United States and its allies. Iran is, as a result, dissatisfied with the nuclear order—the possession of the nuclear bomb by what it views as an exclusive cartel dominated by the U.S. that seeks to perpetuate its hegemony by denying nuclear technology to states contesting this system. Iran, moreover, opposes another pillar of this order, what it sees as the subservience of Arab regimes to U.S. interests. As a result, while its rising power drives Tehran’s assertiveness, this status discrepancy pushes it toward revisionism.7 This remains underspecified, however; some regional powers have acquired nuclear weapons, others have reached a latent capability, while a few such as Brazil have renounced their nuclear ambitions. To explain how Iran’s range of options was narrowed toward rejectionism, the regime identity variable is brought in. The nuclear program embodies key elements of the Islamic Republic’s rejectionist identity. As Kayhan Barzegar argues, the regime’s nuclear diplomacy

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“has rested on framing the entire debate as an issue of nationalism: focusing on independence and resistance to foreign aggression, and issues of justice and inalienable rights pertaining to the double-standards of Western states” (2009, p. 28). These aspects of identity were significantly shaped by the war with Iraq, during which the Islamic Republic’s leaders learned two lessons from the silence and, in their view, the complicity of the international community: to avoid strategic vulnerability and to mistrust great powers and international treaties (Hiltermann, 2004). As Rafsanjani once stated, “[T]he war taught us that international laws are only drops of ink on paper” (quoted in Hiltermann, 2005). Demands that it forgo advanced nuclear capabilities are therefore viewed by many in Iran through the prism of decades of humiliation at the hands of external powers. U.S.-led efforts to roll back Iran’s nuclear program, from Tehran’s perspective, are thus consistent with the “Great Satan’s” efforts to deny the Islamic Republic the status it aspires to. Iran is also surrounded by U.S. forces, U.S. allies, and nuclear powers. Its key rivals are superior in conventional military terms and either have the nuclear bomb or are allied to the nuclear-armed United States. Iran’s security predicament is, objectively, difficult. Yet because of its identity, the Islamic Republic magnifies U.S. actions, perceiving even minor acts as direct assaults. This acute perception of insecurity is a key driver of its foreign policy: Iran’s responses to threats or to perceived slights are magnified, pushing it to over-react. The Islamic Republic’s strong sense of historical grievances and victimhood similarly occupies an important place in its nuclear narrative. The bargain at the core of the NPT calls for non-nuclear states to forgo the acquisition of nuclear weapons; in exchange, nuclear-haves pledge to support have-nots in their efforts to develop nuclear power for peaceful purposes. For Tehran, the United States has not respected this bargain. Instead, the U.S. bullies Iran by denying it technology and shackling it with an increasingly crippling sanctions regime to keep it weak, while Israel and Pakistan, not NPT signatories, have acquired nuclear weapons. The Islamic Republic thus views itself as the victim of double standards. The pursuit of self-sufficiency has also been important for Iran’s nuclear program (Chubin, 2006, pp. 17–23). Iran insists on achieving autonomy in mastering the fuel cycle as witnessed by its efforts to develop an indigenous uranium mining industry and the infrastructure necessary to train its own cadre of engineers and scientists (Boureston and Ferguson, 2004). The regime also

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describes the program as essential for the country’s economic development and its efforts to reach scientific self-sufficiency (Baktiari, 2010, p. 25). Iran’s case, in fact, is unique in the history of nuclear proliferation: with the exception of the original two nuclear states, the United States and the USSR, all other states have acquired nuclear capabilities with significant external support. Iran has received some—from Russia for Bushehr and the A. Q. Khan network—but this pales in comparison to the support that others received from a variety of patrons and suppliers. The religious component of identity has not played a central role. In fact, senior leaders regularly denounce the possession or use of nuclear weapons as un-Islamic.8 There have been numerous reports that Khamenei has issued an unpublished fatwa stating that nuclear weapons are against Islamic law and that therefore the Islamic Republic will not acquire them (Press TV, 2012). Senior officials also repeatedly claim that on religious, strategic, and moral grounds, the Islamic Republic will never acquire a nuclear bomb. For example, a former foreign minister under Khatami, Kamal Kharrazi, argued in a speech to the 2005 NPT Review Conference that Iran was opposed to nuclear proliferation on religious grounds (quoted in Bahgat, 2006, p. 133). Some analysts argue that this, in itself, virtually guarantees that the Islamic Republic, as a theocracy with claims to religious and moral leadership, is sincere in its claim that it is not pursuing nuclear weapons (Zakaria, 2009). This is debatable, however. Fatwas can change as circumstances evolve; the Islamic Republic would not violate religious principles if, hypothetically, leading clerics issued a fatwa justifying the production and stockpiling of nuclear weapons on the basis of a changing threat environment. As the factional balance of power, the third intervening variable, increasingly favored hard-liners and conservatives, nuclear policy tilted toward their preferred outcomes. Factions broadly agree on a number of objectives, shaped by upstream variables, with regard to the nuclear program: • Iran should continue developing its nuclear program, and it has an inalienable right to peaceful nuclear energy (Gheissari and Nasr, 2005); • The country should pursue a latent nuclear capability (Jones, 2009); • The acquisition of nuclear technology is a matter of power, security, and prestige; • The nuclear program is a fundamental element in Iran’s arsenal to oppose U.S. power and influence; U.S. efforts to deny Iran the technology should be resisted.

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Beyond these convergences, factions disagree on tactics and on how far Iran should translate its rejectionism into action. In addition, factions diverge on the cost-benefit calculations they make with regard to the gains and risks associated with confronting much of the international community in the nuclear stand-off (Kamrava, 2007, p. 95). The influence of hard-liners has risen in recent years. Their standard-bearer, Ahmadinejad, had limited formal say in strategic foreign and security policy issues, including the nuclear program. He did, however, by the force of his personality and his tactical cunning, insert himself into the nuclear decision-making process. The rise of hard-liners, especially in the security apparatus, has magnified the impact on policy of specific aspects of regime identity, especially its acute perception of insecurity and its sense of victimhood. These features have been emphatically put forward by Ahmadinejad. At the UN in September 2005, for example, he claimed: For eight years, Saddam’s regime imposed a massive war of aggression against my people. It employed the most heinous weapons of mass destruction including chemical weapons . . . . Who, in fact, armed Saddam with those weapons? What was the reaction of those who claim to fight against WMDs regarding the use of chemical weapons then?9

Hard-liners believe that the nuclear standoff best illustrates the “clash of hegemonies” between the declining power, the United States, and the rising power, the Islamic Republic. Hard-liners thus favor a confrontational approach and are much less concerned with the costs of sanctions. Ahmadinejad, for example, has compared the nuclear program to a “train with no brakes” (Reuters, 2007). Hard-liners vociferously criticized what they saw as the reformists’ weak approach to negotiations with the West between 2003 and 2005. In their view, this humiliated Iran by offering concessions without receiving anything in return. They mistrust the U.S., which they are convinced is not interested in granting any legitimacy to the Islamic Republic. Instead, the United States, in their view, seeks regime change; the nuclear dispute is merely a pretext to weaken the Islamic Republic. Traditional conservatives share many views with hard-liners and cooperated extensively with them through their strong presence in the IRGC and other security agencies and in key positions around the leader. Like hard-liners, they are acutely sensitive to security threats to the Islamic Republic. In their view, it is crucial for Iran to acquire deterrent capabilities and be self-reliant. One key distinction is the traditional conservatives’ greater concern with uncertainty.

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While hard-liners are willing to aggressively progress with the nuclear program, traditionalists are more mindful of the need to avoid overly provoking the United States and antagonizing neighbors (Nasr, 2008). The leader, who is close to the traditional conservatives, is cautious but determined to, at the very least, reach a latent capability. The decision to move beyond this stage and build a functional bomb would ultimately be his. In his view, this would primarily be a deterrent against external attack and not a means to destroy Israel (Nader, 2012). The leader is excessively suspicious of the West and its intentions. He is convinced that compromise would be viewed by the U.S. as capitulation and would invite further pressure (Sadjadpour, 2007a, p. 126). Between 2003 and 2005, he struck a balance between various factions by acceding to reformist demands for diplomatic flexibility while supporting conservative and hard-line pressure to continue progress along the nuclear path.10 Over the years, he supported increasingly intransigent positions while keeping the door open to talks and ensuring that progress remained incremental. Moderates had an important say until 2005. One of Rafsanjani’s main allies, Hassan Ruhani (who became president in 2013), for example, was secretary-general of the Supreme Council for National Security until 2005. They were gradually marginalized after 2005, however, though not to the same extent as the reformists. Moderates put more emphasis on economic factors and are sensitive to the costs of isolation. To some extent like the reformists and some traditional conservatives, moderates also believe that an overly confrontational policy drives states with which Iran can cooperate, especially Russia and China, closer to the United States and encourages the adoption of multilateral sanctions. Overall, they view the nuclear program as an end in itself but also as a valuable bargaining chip to be used in what they see as inevitable negotiations with the U.S. Until their eviction from the presidency, reformists pushed for more cooperation on the nuclear issue. By 2005, however, their voice was barely heard, as they were limited to little more than the role of spokespeople for the regime through the presidency and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Reformists support the nuclear program but view the country’s pursuit of nuclear energy as a bargaining chip and as a means toward regional power status, and not as an end in itself. Like moderates, they are also sensitive to the costs of isolation. As such, they believe that greater cooperation with the IAEA and a less confrontational stance could alleviate some of the West’s suspicions and allow the country to proceed with the program.

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Foreign Policy

Because there is much uncertainty concerning Iran’s nuclear capabilities and intentions, it is not possible to study the topic without making a certain degree of inference. This is problematic, given that different assessments have implications for efforts to understand the place the nuclear program occupies in the broader framework of Iran’s foreign policy. That said, it is possible to construct with moderately high confidence a picture of Iran’s technical progress and of its leaders’ intentions. The declassified portions of the U.S. government’s 2007 National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) on Iran’s nuclear program, though controversial, have been accepted as reliable by a majority of observers. The NIE assesses “with moderate-to-high confidence that Tehran at a minimum is keeping open the option to develop nuclear weapons.”11 This is a latent, threshold, or virtual capability, whereby a state aims to acquire the knowledge and technology to build a nuclear bomb but stops short of doing so. It instead keeps the option of making the decision in the future, should it assess that circumstances warrant it. It would then require anywhere from a few weeks to a number of months (Hymans, 2010). This assessment has been repeated by U.S. officials on many occasions. For example, James Clapper, the director of national intelligence, wrote in the January 2012 Worldwide Threat Assessment that “we continue to assess Iran is keeping open the option to develop nuclear weapons in part by developing various nuclear capabilities that better position it to produce such weapons, should it choose to do so. We do not know, however, if Iran will eventually decide to build nuclear weapons” (2012). As of 2014, Iran was probably one to two years away from being able to build a crude nuclear device. From there, it would likely require another two to three years to produce and assemble a vehicle that could efficiently deliver the weapon to a target. Even this assessment must be caveated, however. First, it assumes continued political will. Even though this is possible, it is not assured. Second, it assumes that Iran will be able to surmount the many technological hurdles it still faces, which is by no means guaranteed. These challenges arise mostly from Iran’s isolation and from sanctions, which make it difficult to acquire essential parts. Third, it assumes that the United States or Israel do not attack during this period, which could delay Iran’s progress by perhaps one to three years.12 This is consistent with IAEA reports on Iran’s nuclear progress. The UN’s nuclear watchdog has not concluded that Iran violates its obligations under the

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NPT. That said, it has concluded that it cannot categorically state that Iran is not pursuing nuclear weapons because Tehran refuses to answer questions concerning past activities and denies IAEA inspectors the opportunity to interview some of its scientists. In November 2009 (and its assessment did not change subsequently), the IAEA indeed maintained that as long as Iran did not comply with its demands, the agency was “unable to verify that Iran’s program is for exclusively peaceful purposes.”13 National Interests

Ideal national interests are those interests that a state should pursue if it responds solely to structural pressures and incentives. In general, Iran’s ideal interests are to: • ensure the survival of the regime and protect the country’s territorial integrity; • become the dominant power in the Persian Gulf and an indispensable player in the Middle East. Structural realism is inconclusive on Iran’s ideal interests with regard to nuclear policy. On the one hand, Kenneth Waltz (2012) has argued that Iran should acquire nuclear weapons. According to Waltz, this would allow Iran to maximize its security in the context of its rivalry with the United States and Israel. In addition, Waltz believes that this outcome would be good for regional stability, as it would lead to a more even balance of power between Israel and Iran. On the other hand, a structural realist reading could also argue that a less aggressive approach would avoid Iran’s having to face many of the negative consequences—especially sanctions and isolation—that it suffers as a result of its choices. With regard to the nuclear program, Iran’s actual interests are to: • maximize its security by developing deterrent assets that can raise the costs for the United States and Israel to attack; • establish itself as the leader of the rejectionist front by challenging the nuclear order; • counter U.S. influence and raise the costs for Washington to oppose its nuclear ambitions; • counter the influence of U.S. regional allies, especially Israel and the Gulf Arab states, by raising the costs for them of opposing Iran’s nuclear ambitions.

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This distinction between ideal and actual interests leads to the identification of two gaps. There is, first, a gap between Iran’s ideal and actual interests. Most strikingly, the nuclear program has a contradictory effect on Iran’s security: on the one hand, the development of a virtual deterrent is central to its security-maximization efforts, but at the same time, its challenge to the nuclear order is costly, leading to mounting sanctions. This distorting effect, as will be discussed later, leads to increasingly suboptimal outcomes. The second gap, related but distinct, arises from the difference between Iran’s capabilities and its actual interests. In this issue-area as in others, Iran’s intentions exceed its capabilities: it does not have the means to reach its ambitions. Power-maximization

Iran’s efforts to maximize its power through its nuclear program illustrate the implications of the peculiar nature of its power: Iran achieved some successes, but at major and mounting costs. Mostly, it made incremental but major progress toward mastering the fuel cycle. It has yet to enrich to weapons-grade levels, but it has mastered enrichment to lower levels, by far the most difficult step. It still, however, faces significant hurdles before it could successfully weaponize HEU. Iran, first, progressed in developing its nuclear infrastructure. Construction began in 2001 at Natanz, Iran’s main enrichment facility. The plant has an above-ground planned capacity of 50,000 centrifuges, enough to produce large quantities of enriched uranium—that is, consistent with a peaceful program—and a smaller underground section. Iran also inaugurated a uranium conversion facility in Isfahan and a heavy water plant at Arak, both in 2006. Iran’s human resources have also grown. According to an Iranian academic, by 2005 there were “4 departments in Iranian universities in the nuclear area . . . eight nuclear research centres . . . and 450 post-graduate students (mostly engineers) in the nuclear field.” There are, in addition, plans to double or triple these numbers (quoted in Kibaroglu, 2006, p. 218). The number of installed centrifuges also grew between 2001 and 2009. According to an August 2009 IAEA report on Iran’s implementation of its safeguards obligations—and therefore measuring Iran’s progress at the closure of the timeframe studied here—as of August 2009, there were 8,308 centrifuges installed in Natanz, of which 4,592 were enriching.14 This marked a significant increase: the first 164 centrifuges started spinning in 2006 (Albright et al., 2009). That number, however, is far from sufficient for a national-scale

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electricity-production program, a fact which significantly contributes to suspicions about Iran’s intentions. One thousand centrifuges of the IR-1 type Iran has predominantly installed (the poorly performing P-1 model, obtained from Pakistan clandestinely) can produce enough HEU for one bomb in two to three years; about 3,000 can therefore produce, in theory, enough HEU for one bomb in one year. However, tens of thousands of centrifuges spinning permanently are necessary to produce large amounts for electricity. The IAEA first reported that Iran produced 3.5 percent LEU in Natanz in February 2008. By June 2009, Iran had produced 1,508kg, an amount sufficient, if further enriched, for one and a half nuclear weapons. Iran also started enriching to 19.75 percent in 2010. This is, according to Iran, necessary to feed into the Tehran Research Reactor for the production of medical isotopes. The economic rationale of the nuclear program is a source of controversy. On the one hand, Iranian leaders claim that for a middle-income country with a fast growing population, it makes sense to develop domestic energy production to free oil for export. The country’s population has doubled since the revolution to about 80 million and could rise to 105 million by 2050. As a result, demand for electricity increases by 7 percent per year while supply has not kept up, leading to periodic shortages.15 This constrains economic growth and risks angering an already volatile population (Crane et al., 2008, pp. 59–79). Compounding these challenges, Iran’s oil export capacity is decreasing, a trend that will intensify. Domestic consumption, in particular, increases by 8 percent per year, while production has stagnated since 1979 because of sanctions and mismanagement. Export capacity, as a result, has been steadily decreasing. For a country in which about 80 percent of foreign exchange and half of government revenue come from oil exports, this is a major concern. According to the Iranian leadership, the diversification of energy production is therefore essential to prosperity and security (Dreyfuss, 2009). On the other hand, some facts contradict this economic argument: Iran is not installing enough centrifuges to produce the amounts of LEU needed for a nuclear power program, and there are no concrete plans to build more nuclear power stations.16 Moreover, the emphasis on enrichment and heavy water production at an early stage—before the country’s first and only reactor in Bushehr even came online—is odd. It would make more sense for Iran to acquire LEU for its reactors on the open international market. This would allow it to produce energy without raising suspicions. In addition, Iran claims that it wants to master enrichment in order to be self-sufficient. But complete

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self-sufficiency is impossible, given that it does not possess sufficient natural reserves of uranium. The nuclear program is also an essential tool for Iran to maximize the appeal of its rejectionist model. Even though reliable polling data are hard to come by, evidence suggests that, especially at the peak of Iran’s regional appeal in 2006–7, Arab public opinion held positive views of Iran’s nuclear program. In particular, it was perceived as a counterbalance against Israel’s military and nuclear superiority and as a protest against Western double standards (Wright, 2006). As Osama al-Ghazaly Harb, a liberal Egyptian activist, has written, “[T]he­ issue in the mind of an average Arab appears simple: by what logic is the Israeli nuclear weapon accepted—indeed disregarded—at the same time that Iran is deprived of a nuclear weapon?” (2008). Tehran reaps rewards because of the “risk and daring nature of the program, in the face of international opposition and technological hurdles” (Farhi, 2010, p. 8). The prestige stemming from mastering such an advanced technology, associated with an elite group of countries, thus plays a fundamental role in Iran’s appeal-maximization. Iran could also maximize its power through the gains its nonstate allies would potentially make should the Islamic Republic reach threshold capability. It is highly unlikely that Iran would transfer weapons, or even crude radiological devices, to Hezbollah or Hamas. Such a transfer would leave a return address, would almost certainly ensure Israeli and probably U.S. retaliation, and would lead to increased regional balancing against Iran. Moreover, a transfer would empower these allies relative to Iran, causing Tehran to lose influence over them and in particular over how they would use the devices. Nonetheless, its nonstate allies could become more assertive and emboldened, especially in their confrontations with Israel, knowing that they would be acting at least partly under the Iranian nuclear umbrella. The nuclear program also allows Iran to maximize its power by strengthening popular mood. There are no reliable polls on the extent of support for the country’s nuclear program. Many analysts have argued, however, that anecdotal evidence and some surveys suggest that there is strong support among Iranians for the nuclear program and, specifically, for Iran’s right to acquire such a prestigious technology (Farhi, 2010). These authors emphasize the majority of the population’s approval for the quest for nuclear technology on nationalistic grounds (Farhi, 2008c). This boosts the regime’s position by solidifying its domestic standing and by providing it with a valuable tool to ostracize those who criticize nuclear policy.

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Security-maximization

Power is an end in itself and also a means to other ends, the first of which is security. When security is threatened, its maximization is an utmost concern. In Iraq, Iran’s security was seriously threatened, while it is not by the Arab-Israeli conflict. Iran’s nuclear program situates itself in between. Although it does not respond to an immediate security threat, as in Iraq, it is driven in part by Iran’s insecurity. Originally, the nuclear program was driven by the shah’s desire to maximize Iran’s power and influence. When it was revived in the 1980s, security was the main driver given the country’s difficult war with Iraq. As Iraq was gradually marginalized as a threat in the 1990s, hostile relations with the vastly more powerful United States and its regional allies emerged as the key driver. The U.S.-led overthrow of Saddam’s regime, in particular, caused tremendous anxiety in Tehran. Even though the program predates 2003, the sudden increase of the U.S. regional military presence and the ease with which Saddam’s army— which had brought Iran to the point of exhaustion a few years before—was defeated, in combination with threats against the Islamic Republic emerging from the United States and Israel, convinced many in Tehran of the imperative of improving the country’s deterrence. The leadership, moreover, maintains an acute perception of threat relative to U.S. intentions: most top figures are, to varying extents, convinced that the United States does not merely seek to change Tehran’s policies but also to change the regime itself. Iran pushed forward with two pillars in its efforts to maximize its security. More narrowly, it has sought to improve infrastructure security, in particular to protect sites against air strikes. Iran has learned from Israel’s experience targeting the Iraqi nuclear program (the Osirak strike in 1981) and a reactor in Syria (2007). On both occasions, Israel was able to destroy a single, poorly defended facility. As a result, Iran has hardened its facilities and built new ones underground, while dispersing installations throughout the country. The two most crucial sites, the enrichment facility in Natanz and a newer one in Fordo near Qom, have been built to protect them from air attack (Zanotti et al., 2012, pp. 33–34). In Natanz, the active centrifuge hall is deep underground and has been hardened, while the Fordo plant is under a mountain. Facilities responsible for important steps along the fuel cycle have also been dispersed. Some sites, moreover, have been built in densely populated areas, such as a research center in Tehran. Partly because of these efforts, strikes by the United States or Israel could only set Iran’s nuclear program back by, at most, two to

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three years, and perhaps less. As a result, because of its smaller air force and the challenging logistics associated with attacking Iran (distance, refueling, suppressing air defenses, and so forth) Israel would not have the capability to target more than a small number of sites in an air campaign. Second, the pursuit of a threshold capability is an essential means to achieving one of the Islamic Republic’s main actual interests, ensuring regime survival. Rushing to build a bomb would be detrimental on many fronts. It would possibly invite a U.S. or an Israeli strike. Or, if it did not and Iran succeeded in building and testing a crude device, it would suffer serious consequences. It would possess a major deterrent, which would bring major benefits. But it would push its Arab neighbors to balance more strongly against Iran and pursue greater security ties with the United States. It would also invite a prolonged and strengthened U.S. military presence in the region. It would anger Russia and China, which would decrease the extent to which they would be willing to protect Iran at the UN. In any case, Tehran understands that armed with a handful of crude nuclear weapons, it would stand no chance in a confrontation against Israel, let alone the United States. Israel is thought to possess one to two hundred nuclear warheads, including some that can be launched by submarine, and its silos are in hardened and deep bunkers. As such, Israel would be able to launch a massive second strike on Iran in the event of an Iranian first strike, given that Iran would still be years and massive investments away from having a reliable second-strike capability. On the other hand, a cautious approach is more consistent with the maximization of its security. Iran thus cooperates selectively with the IAEA, offering tactical compromises when international pressure heats up and threatening to stop cooperation when it feels in a stronger position. This allows it, as will be discussed below, to drive wedges between the United States and its partners, forcing a dilution of pressure. A threshold capability, moreover, would provide the Islamic Republic with a virtual deterrent. Influence-maximization

As with the security it maximizes through its nuclear program, an assessment of Iran’s influence partly relies on potential: Iran gained some influence thanks to its nuclear program, but more important, it hopes to gain more if or when it achieves threshold capability. Overall, Tehran had some short-term success in setting the terms of the regional debate on the nuclear issue, manipulating to its benefit the widespread regional perception of double standards. Iran, however, had very limited suc-

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cess in aligning the regional environment on the basis of its preferences. To dissect the role of the nuclear program in Iran’s foreign policy, it is possible to identify four phases: 2002–4 (caution and patience); 2005 (gradual turnaround); 2006–8 (height of assertiveness and confrontation); 2009 (transition). The first phase (2002–4) was characterized by Iran’s relatively weak position and by a continuing role for moderates in nuclear decision-making. As in the Iraq case, nuclear policy initially displayed a level of conciliation that decreased afterward. The United States was emboldened by its successes in overthrowing Saddam and the Taliban. Even Iranian hard-liners were shocked by the U.S. military’s ability to swiftly overwhelm these two long-standing foes of Iran, while the U.S. now encircled Iran militarily. In the wake of the 2002 revelations on its nuclear program, moreover, Iran found itself under significant international pressure. Reformists and moderates still held positions of influence, even though the conservative backlash begun a few years earlier was gathering pace. Sensitive to international pressure, moderates favored a more conciliatory approach. Yet in the last years of the Khatami administration (1997–2005), conservatives and hard-liners increasingly stymied the reformists, in general and with regard to nuclear policy. Assessing its position to be weak, Iran appeared willing to talk, but the Bush administration imposed harsh preconditions and refused to join EU negotiations with Iran. The 2002 revelations did not imply that Iran had done anything illegal under the NPT, which does not forbid members in good standing to develop nuclear technology for peaceful purposes, which Iran claims is its sole intent. The concealment of these activities, however, and a growing number of unanswered questions concerning specific activities possibly related to weaponization raised suspicions. In this context, Iran accepted IAEA inspections in February 2003 (Albright, 2003). The subsequent June 2003 agency report stated that though Iran was not in violation of the NPT, it “had failed to meet its obligations under its Safeguards Agreement with respect to the reporting of nuclear material, the subsequent processing and use of that material and the declaration of facilities where the material was stored and processed.”17 A November report then provided further detail on Iran’s violations of its Safeguards Agreement.18 Assessing Iran’s position to be vulnerable and perceiving a need to pursue good relations with the international community, reformists and pragmatists pushed Iran to agree in October 2003 to temporarily and voluntarily suspend enrichment activities and accept to implement the NPT’s Additional Protocol

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(AP).19 Iran also committed to ratifying the AP, though it never did. Iran thereafter cooperated to some extent with the IAEA until early 2006. During this period, it provided the agency with information on many of its activities and made some documentation available to inspectors.20 This more conciliatory approach became a source of domestic contention: for hard-liners, any concession, especially if it involved submitting Iran to unequal international treaties, was unacceptable. Iran also accepted to initiate talks with France, Germany, and Great Britain, known as the EU3.21 For Tehran, this was an opportunity to defuse tensions and appease the United States, then emboldened by its overthrow of Saddam. For the Europeans, discussions were an opportunity to smooth wounded transatlantic relations in the wake of the Iraq war and an attempt to defuse U.S.-Iran tensions. In this context, EU3 foreign ministers visited Tehran in October 2003, launching a series of dragged-out negotiations. Yet in addition to frustrating both sides, the process led to accusations in Washington that Iran was playing for time, pretending to negotiate while progressing with its program. The EU3 and Iran finally agreed to a temporary deal in November 2004, the Paris Accord. Tehran accepted, on a voluntary basis, to extend its suspension of enrichment and reprocessing activities and to allow unimpeded IAEA inspections. In return, the EU3 recognized Iran’s right to peaceful nuclear technology and offered a package of incentives, including security guarantees, economic cooperation (including support for Iran’s application for WTO membership), and a guaranteed supply of fuel for Iran’s reactors. The Europeans viewed this as a first step, hoping that the suspension could be made permanent in exchange for further concessions. These hopes collapsed, however, when Washington rejected the accord. This was a significant blow to pragmatists and reformists in Iran as it confirmed, in the view of hard-liners, that the United States was not interested in diplomacy. Hard-liners thus increasingly worked to hamper the objectives of reformists and pragmatists. After 2004, for example, the conservative-dominated Majles refused to ratify the AP. Two events illustrate Iran’s caution born of its weakness and the declining but still important influence of moderates. In March 2003, Tehran sent a letter to the United States through the Swiss embassy in Tehran (which represents U.S. interests), offering to negotiate on all outstanding issues between the two countries, from the nuclear program to support for groups such as Hezbollah. It is not clear whether Iran was truly interested in discussing these issues or if this was another tactic to temporarily defuse tensions. In any case, the United

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States did not respond. Whether genuine or not, the letter suggested that a weak Iran, fearful of an aggressive U.S. and with the reformists still influential, was willing to consider rebuilding bilateral relations. Possibly also indicative of this conciliatory posture, the 2007 NIE assessed that Iran halted in 2003 work on its nuclear weapons program, specifying that it probably did so partly as the result of a cost-benefit calculus in which growing international pressure weighed heavily. “Halting,” in this context, did not refer to a permanent cessation but to a strategic pause as Iran maintained the ability to relaunch weaponization work (Lewis, 2012). In the meantime it could progress on other aspects of the program not directly, in a narrow sense, part of a weapons program but essential to an eventual nuclear weapon capability. Was Iran sincere in its approach to negotiations? At the very least, moderates were sensitive to Iran’s weak position. Conciliation may have only sought to deflect pressure, a tactic Iran increasingly used in subsequent years. Yet it is also possible that it was genuinely interested in at least exploring what the playing field was in order to better understand what concessions the United States would be willing to make. In either case, the result was that Iran was playing for time. By dragging out talks with the EU and allowing the IAEA to conduct inspections, it succeeded in defusing tensions and containing U.S. impulses while continuing its progress.22 The year 2005 saw the consolidation of conservative and hard-line power, as illustrated by Ahmadinejad’s accession to the presidency in 2005. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, until then dominated by reformists, was marginalized and relegated to the less glamorous role of implementing decisions. As this balance shifted in favor of conservatives and hard-liners, so foreign policy tilted toward their preferences. As a result, 2005 saw a gradual shift toward a more confrontational and assertive posture: Tehran became more confident that it could afford to make progress in mastering the fuel cycle while deflecting or mitigating international pressure. This phase saw talks with the EU3 drift and eventually collapse. Iran made a proposal following up on the Paris agreement in March 2005 in which it offered some concessions (Farhi, 2010, p. 11). Tehran would have restricted itself to producing limited amounts of LEU, which would have been entirely converted into fuel rods for reactors (which are very difficult to reconvert and further enrich); it would have limited, initially at least, the number of centrifuges in Natanz; and it would have granted the IAEA extensive inspections. The interesting aspect of this offer is that it marked the beginning of a trend of Tehran asking for

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more and more from the West in exchange for steadily fewer concessions. The EU3 initially did not respond, in part because the United States insisted on zero enrichment in Iran. In addition, President Khatami had become fatally weakened, making it clear to the EU3 that he was powerless to push through a deal. To the surprise of most observers, the little-known and hard-line Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was elected president in 2005. In the wake of their takeover of the Majles in 2004, conservatives now controlled most levers of power. Illustrating this shift in the internal balance of power, the lead nuclear negotiator, Hassan Ruhani, a moderate close to Rafsanjani, was replaced by Ali Larijani, a traditional conservative personally and ideologically close to the leader. Hardliners, convinced that negotiations were a “fruitless exercise,” rejected the conciliatory approach favored by moderates and instead sought confrontation (Ansari, 2006, p. 229). The rise of conservatives and hard-liners in combination with the country’s growing power led to major changes in nuclear policy. Illustrating this shift was its response to the EU3’s proposal in August that offered technical assistance in exchange for a commitment from Iran to severely limit its nuclear activities. Iran rejected the offer, marking the end of two years of talks. On 1 August, Iran notified the IAEA that it intended to resume uranium conversion, removing the seals to the Esfahan facility later that month.23 In September, the IAEA reported that it could not ascertain what Iran’s intentions were, expressing concern at gaps in its understanding.24 It also found Iran in noncompliance with its Safeguards Agreement, setting the stage for the IAEA board of governor’s referral of the Iranian case to the UN Security Council in early 2006. The marked change in tone and approach was vividly illustrated by Ahmadinejad’s speech to the UN General Assembly in September 2005 during which he denounced the “nuclear apartheid” imposed on non-nuclear states.25 An emboldened Iran, in sum, was not willing anymore to continue talks with the Europeans, realizing that its position was improving and that, in any case, any agreement without U.S. involvement had little chance of success (Ansari, 2006, p. 223). The stage was set, in late 2005, for the standoff to increase in intensity. In a move unlikely to have occurred without the leader’s approval, for example, in November 2005 the Majles passed a bill requiring the government to cease voluntarily implementing the Additional Protocol. The third stage (2006–8) witnessed the height of Iranian assertiveness. Iran’s power had been steadily improving, reaching its peak. As hard-liners and conservatives completed the consolidation of their control over most

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elected and unelected levers of power, the space for debate on the nuclear issue narrowed. Reformist and moderate voices favoring compromise, or at least continued negotiations, became marginalized. For example, Ahmadinejad worked hard to stymie the work of Ali Larijani, the chief nuclear negotiator. Even though Larijani is a card-carrying conservative, he was a rival to the president and disagreed with Ahmadinejad’s bellicosity. Larijani was replaced in 2007 by Saeed Jalili, who was closer to the president. The rise of Jalili, sometimes described as a proponent of monologue rather than dialogue, aptly symbolized the regime’s increasing lack of risk-aversion and its preference for a more confrontational approach (Posch, 2007). Similarly, in late 2007, Ahmadinejad shuffled Abbas Araghchi, the deputy minister for foreign affairs responsible for international and legal affairs, who had established a good working relationship with his European counterparts, and sent him off as ambassador to Japan. Between 2006 and 2008, Iran increasingly adopted an intransigent and belligerent posture, shrugging off threats of sanctions and military strikes. The confrontation reached a new stage in February 2006 when the IAEA board of governors voted by twenty-seven to three with five abstentions to refer Iran’s file to the UN Security Council because of its failure to comply with its Safeguards Agreement. Only Cuba, Syria, and Venezuela voted against; unlike in September 2005, when they had abstained, Russia and China voted in favor (Hoagland, 2006). Prior to this vote, Iran had threatened that referral to the Security Council would lead to the suspension of all voluntary compliance and the resumption of enrichment. Immediately after the vote, Tehran acted on its threat and announced that it would no longer observe the AP and shortly afterward resumed enrichment. Illustrating Iran’s changed tone and greater assertiveness, in April 2006 Ahmadinejad triumphantly celebrated the enrichment to 3.5 percent of a small amount of uranium. With this step, he claimed, Iran had joined “the club of nuclear countries,” bringing it closer, in his view, to nuclear self-sufficiency (Vick and Linzer, 2006). The first Security Council resolution came in July 2006. Resolution 1696 did not impose sanctions but demanded that Iran suspend enrichment and reprocessing activities within one month, vowing “appropriate measures” under Article 41 if it failed to comply. Instead of complying, in August Ahmadinejad inaugurated with much fanfare the heavy water plant in Arak. Tehran responded at the same time to a package offered by the EU3 in June with a rambling twenty-page letter, offering history lessons but no concrete answer.

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It did, however, keep the door open to more talks (Albright and Shire, 2006a). Through this professed willingness to prolong the talks, the letter gave weight to Russian and Chinese opposition to further sanctions, allowing Iran to temporarily avoid further punishment. This tactic illustrated Iran’s growing attempts to play for time and drive wedges among the P5+1 by dragging out negotiations while continuing its progress. Indeed, Iran was steadily accelerating its rate of enrichment: between August and November 2006, it increased sixfold the uranium hexafluoride it fed in what were then embryonic centrifuge cascades (Albright and Shire, 2006b). As a result of Iran’s failure to comply with UNSCR 1696, the United States convinced the Security Council to unanimously adopt Resolution 1737 in December 2006, after much bargaining. This first package of UN sanctions banned the supply, sale, or transfer to Iran of materials that could potentially be used for its nuclear and ballistic missile programs. The resolution also called on member states to freeze the assets of twenty-two individuals and corporations associated with these programs. Iran’s growing assertiveness in 2006 was illustrated by its approach toward the IAEA, which grew increasingly intransigent. Tehran refused to answer a number of questions on past activities linked to sensitive aspects of its nuclear program (including the procurement of dual-use technologies), refused to grant it interviews with key individuals, and blocked access to important buildings.26 In August 2006, for example, Iran denied inspectors access to underground facilities in Natanz despite repeated requests (Albright and Brannan, 2006). Upping the ante, in March 2007 it stopped implementing a Safeguards Subsidiary Agreement which requested that it notify the IAEA when building new nuclear facilities.27 As tension rose and as rumors of a U.S. or Israeli attack on Iran intensified, Washington convinced the Security Council to adopt tougher sanctions in March 2007. In addition to adding names on the asset freeze list, Resolution 1747 prohibited members states from procuring combat equipment or weapons systems from Iran. The United States sought to obtain a ban on exports of such items to Iran but had to settle for a call for vigilance and restraint. In a first step toward tightening financial sanctions, the resolution also called on member states and global financial institutions to refrain from entering in new financial agreements with the Iranian government. In August 2007, Iran and the IAEA agreed to a work plan to resolve ongoing questions. After months of repeated IAEA visits, some outstanding

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issues were considered resolved by the agency, yet a variety of questions on past procurement and R&D activities remained unanswered, especially concerning what came to be known as the “alleged studies.” This refers to a package of information passed on to the IAEA by an unidentified member country in 2005 that allegedly provides details on past clandestine activities by Iran, including high explosives testing and the re-engineering of a nuclear-capable missile re-entry vehicle. Tehran has systematically dismissed these as forgeries (Dareini, 2011). Tensions continued to ebb and flow but gradually rise in the second half of 2007 and in 2008. Iran’s diplomatic position was boosted by the December 2007 NIE, which stated that it had halted work on the weapons dimension of its nuclear program in 2003. Because the dominant perception of the NIE was that the “Iranian threat” was less than previously thought since the weapons dimension had been halted, the NIE undermined what in the fall of 2007 had been a growing consensus behind further sanctions (The Economist, 2007). Iran, as a result, felt further emboldened to continue along its path, also increasingly believing that U.S. troubles in Iraq prevented Washington from attacking. Tehran also assessed that further sanctions were unlikely to bite much more than previous ones, which it did not consider very harmful. In this context, an IAEA report in February 2008 concluded, once again, that Iran had not satisfactorily answered all of its questions.28 From February to May 2008, the IAEA thus continued pressing Iran to clarify outstanding issues, with Iran providing a 117-page answer in May. This response, however, only engaged in criticism of the West and dismissed the accusations as forgeries. This, in the agency’s view, failed to answer its questions, as Iran “continued to conceal nuclear activities” by not providing required information.29 U.S. efforts to push for new sanctions were hampered by the NIE. Yet given that the previous sanctions dated from March 2007, the Bush administration decided to continue seeking a new resolution in order to keep the pressure on Tehran, eventually succeeding with the adoption of Resolution 1803 in March 2008. With several council members doubtful of the need for new sanctions, however, the new sanctions contained mostly suggested measures and few mandatory actions. The resolution, for example, called on states to voluntarily limit their dealings with Iranian financial institutions and authorized inspection of air and sea cargo traveling to and from Iran. The latter two provisions, even though they were nonbinding, did serve as a basis for future unilateral sanctions by the United States and like-minded allies. That the U.S. could not con-

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vince the Security Council to adopt tougher sanctions was considered by Iran as an indication of its strong position and of U.S. weakness. Indeed, by 2008, Iran felt emboldened enough to impose increasingly tough preconditions to talks with the P5+1. This marked a significant change from previous years, when Tehran had at least agreed to sit down. By contrast, by 2008 Iran insisted that it would join negotiations only after sanctions were lifted and its right to enrichment recognized. In July, for example, the Bush administration finally agreed to become directly involved in multilateral talks with Iran, sending Undersecretary of State William Burns to Geneva. The P5+1 proposal offered a broader package of incentives, including energy, agricultural, economic, and political carrots. The talks failed, however, as Iran rejected the request that it suspend or freeze enrichment activities. With tensions mounting but with the Bush administration in its final days, Washington could convince the Security Council only to adopt a new resolution reaffirming the three earlier rounds of sanctions. Adopted in September 2008, Resolution 1835 did not impose new penalties on Iran, largely because of Russian and Chinese opposition. By late 2008, Iran’s position appeared, on the surface, strong. The United States had failed to convince the Security Council to adopt the crippling sanctions regime it hoped for, while with the end of the Bush administration the threat of an attack seemed to decrease. Gradual but negative changes in Iran’s posture were simmering beneath the surface, however. Unilateral sanctions, first, piled on Iran after 2009, while the next round of UN sanctions, adopted in June 2010, shocked Iran by their severity. In addition, as will be discussed in the conclusion, a growing number of regional trends increasingly started playing against Iran. The first half of 2009 saw the nuclear standoff enter a transition phase during which no new sanctions were adopted and little movement occurred at the IAEA. Regionally, Iran’s influence was reaching a plateau and showing signs of decline. In the United States, a new president elected in November 2008, Barack Obama, had committed to engage Iran. In his speech in Cairo in June 2009, Obama claimed that “any nation, including Iran, should have the right to access peaceful nuclear power if it complies with its responsibilities under the Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty,” while in his inaugural address in 2009 he committed to extend a hand to the Islamic Republic if only it would “unclench its fist.” Iran’s response was complicated by its own presidential election of June 2009. In the months prior, the country’s attention was monopolized by what

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emerged as a surprisingly contentious campaign in which a reinvigorated reformist movement mounted a strong challenge to the conservative order. The election thus emerged as a debate about the nature of the Islamic Republic, pitting in the second round Ahmadinejad against Mir-Hossein Musavi, a former prime minister associated with the reformists. Foreign policy was therefore not a dominant issue in the campaign (Kamrava, 2010). The incumbent Ahmadinejad was declared the winner amid widespread accusations of fraud. The elections were then followed by months of protests, with millions pouring onto the streets. The opposition Green Movement was eventually tamed, largely through violent repression. As a result of this postelection turmoil, the country’s foreign policy was paralyzed for months. Even when it became clear by the fall of 2009 that the Green Movement had been repressed, at least temporarily, the regime was reluctant to engage in important foreign policy initiatives, fearful of shocks to a fragilized system. The Obama administration’s efforts therefore reverted, by 2010, to the strategy of using sanctions to pressure Tehran to compromise. Exploiting the Window? Dissecting Iran’s Nuclear Policy

Iran had some success in maximizing its influence with its nuclear program; it was not able to gain as much influence as it did in Iraq, but it did so more than in the Arab-Israeli conflict. Its incremental but steady progress along the nuclear path has played a central role in its efforts to maximize its influence. Aiming for a threshold capability as opposed to formally building and testing a crude device provides Iran with some of the benefits of nuclear power while avoiding many of the costs. Pursuing this stage, first and foremost, contributes to Iran’s efforts to position itself as the dominant regional power in the Persian Gulf and an indispensable player in the broader Middle East. A nuclear-capable Islamic Republic, in particular, would be in a stronger position to pursue its rejectionist interests. It would be better positioned to act with less fear of retribution from its rivals, who would be more reluctant to resist Iran and risk pushing it over the last hurdle toward the bomb. This is the “stability-instability paradox”: once locked in a relationship of mutual deterrence with Israel and the United States (even though the latter two would possess vastly superior nuclear arsenals), Iran would feel safer in pursuing lower levels of violence with less fear of penalties (Jervis, 1984, p. 31).30 Proponents within the regime of a more confrontation-

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al foreign policy would be emboldened. Hard-liners would be able to use the argument of the country’s virtual deterrent to oppose more cautious factions arguing against actions that would destabilize the Islamic Republic. Iran has systematically used its progress to attempt to improve its position in negotiations with the EU-3 and later with the P5+1. During the negotiations leading up to the Paris Agreement of November 2004, for example, Iran accelerated enrichment, hoping to raise the price of eventual concessions (Al-Jazeera, 2004). It has repeatedly engaged in similar tactics since. As Iran makes further progress, moreover, its bargaining leverage increases: the further it progresses, the greater is its asking price to forgo some of its gains. The goalposts, in other words, are moving backward. Early on, indigenous enrichment in Iran was the red line for the West. Discussions with the EU3 in 2003, for example, raised the possibility of Iran completely forgoing enrichment. With time, the red line evolved to weaponization; enrichment to low levels became de facto, if not formally, accepted as inevitable. In August 2012, for example, media reports suggested that a P5+1 offer in the spring allowed Iran to retain some enrichment capability at 3.5 percent if it agreed to turn over its 20 percent LEU and renounce further enrichment to that level (Sanger, 2012). In exchange, Iran would also have accepted a severe IAEA inspection regime. In addition, the ambiguity of Iran’s approach—its adversaries can only infer what its intentions and capabilities are—adds to its influence. When a state openly possesses a specific number of nuclear warheads, its deterrent is known to all, allies and rivals alike. A virtual capability, however, is not precisely defined. It can imply that a state is as close as a few days from a crude device, or as much as months away. Other states do not know how Iran will respond to provocations—what exact capabilities it can bring to bear, and when. The nuclear program also boosts Iran’s influence through its impact on its alliances. Iran’s nonstate allies, especially Hamas and Hezbollah, will benefit once Iran reaches a virtual capability through what François Heisbourg refers to as “aggressive sanctuarization” (sanctuarisation aggressive; 2007, p. 68). In this view, more assertiveness by Hamas or Hezbollah, under Iran’s nuclear umbrella, would become less costly as their fear of retaliation would decrease. Iran would also perceive that it would have a greater margin of maneuver to support them and to encourage them to increase their opposition to Israel. Iran’s support for these groups, as a result, becomes more beneficial and less costly: Iran can gain from their greater assertiveness, while its rivals will be more reluctant to penalize Tehran.

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Efforts to maximize influence also seek to set the terms of the debate on a given issue. Iran had some success in this respect but less than in the other two issue-areas. Its efforts focused on depicting, for domestic and regional audiences, negotiations with the international community as American bullying designed to prevent Iran, a Third World nation, from acquiring advanced technology in order to keep it weak. Tehran regularly highlights that under the NPT, it is entitled to the peaceful use of nuclear energy and that the IAEA has never demonstrated that its program has a military dimension. In doing so, Iran consistently appeals to the “downtrodden,” by vocally accusing the United States of denying Iran its rights. For Tehran, the double standards whereby others, especially Israel, are given free rein represent nuclear apartheid, an argument that resonates among many in the region. Iran intensified its use of this tactic as its position improved and as hard-liners and conservatives consolidated their power after 2005. At a summit of the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) in Cuba in 2006, for example, the 118 member states reaffirmed, in their final statement, “the basic and inalienable rights of all states to develop research, production and use of atomic energy for peaceful purposes.” The statement also called for the nuclear dispute involving Iran to be resolved through “negotiations without preconditions,” implicitly supporting the Iranian position. The statement also called for the establishment of a nuclear-weapons-free zone in the Middle East and called on Israel to join the NPT, two other Iranian positions. Similarly, the 2008 NAM summit statement reaffirmed Iran’s rights under the NPT. These two instances were described by Iran as diplomatic victories. Ultimately, however, they were illustrative of much in Iran’s foreign policy: Tehran succeeded in inserting its preferred wording in statements, but these were immediately shelved and had no discernible effect on the nuclear dispute itself. Influence also arises from a state’s ability to constrain the range and quality of its rivals’ options. A nuclear-capable Iran would significantly constrain U.S. options; the very nature of nuclear weapons “alters the range of options available to states” (Harknett, 1998, p. 50). As long as Iran stops at a threshold capability, the United States could still attack the Islamic Republic without fear of nuclear retaliation. That said, given that Iran’s key nuclear facilities are deep underground and in hardened bunkers, the U.S. would have no guarantee, despite its advanced and growing bunker-buster capabilities, that it would be able to eliminate, or even permanently damage, the program. Moreover, the knowledge that Iran has acquired cannot be destroyed. The likelihood that Iran

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would reinitiate its nuclear program and decide to acquire a nuclear deterrent would also increase. This matters because the closer Iran is to threshold capability at the time of a hypothetical attack, the more the attack would be costly to the United States. The more the program would be advanced, the more an attack would have to be comprehensive to achieve its objectives. Yet the larger the scale of an attack, the greater the cost to the U.S. in terms of the likelihood and extent of Iranian retaliation (and therefore of regional destabilization), of a larger and more sustained increase in oil prices and of the negative impact on U.S. legitimacy. While achieving a virtual deterrent would provide Iran with future benefits, the pursuit of a latent capability in the meantime also allows it to constrain U.S. options. For the United States, negotiations with the other members of the P5+1 have been costly: they have exposed divisions with the Europeans and forced difficult negotiations with Russia and China. The latter two, in particular, have been able to drag out talks and force a dilution of sanctions. Among other consequences, this shuts the West out of the Iranian market while allowing Russian and Chinese companies to increase their access. Moscow and Beijing, more generally, know the high price that Washington attaches to the Iranian nuclear issue; they are therefore able to extract concessions in exchange for agreeing to further sanctions against Iran. Iran’s progress, finally, also constrains Israel’s margin of maneuver. The closer Iran approaches to a virtual deterrent, the costlier it becomes for Israel to attack. In fact, given the smaller size of Israel’s capabilities relative to America’s, Israel’s ability to damage Iran’s nuclear program is diminishing. A nuclear-capable Iran also challenges Israel’s regional military superiority. Even though Iran would require decades to reach Israel’s alleged nuclear capability of one to two hundred warheads, even a latent capability would dent Israel’s invulnerability and its nuclear monopoly in the Middle East. In addition, a nuclear-capable Iran would constrain Israel’s leverage with Palestinian groups and Hezbollah, in the sense that its deterrent would be weakened and its ability to pressure them constrained. Finally, a nuclear-capable Iran would challenge Israel’s prestige as the most technologically advanced country in the region and its myth of invincibility. Consequences of Iran’s Nuclear Program

In Iraq, strong structural pressures pushed Iran to maximize its influence in a more optimal manner; it suffered fewer consequences and reaped im-

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portant gains. In the Arab-Israeli conflict, lower pressures allowed domestic processes to hijack the policy-making process, leading to a highly suboptimal outcome: major consequences and limited gains. The nuclear case situates itself in between: the consequences suffered by Iran have been severe and are worsening, but the potential benefits are significant. Strong international pressures—the massive power imbalance with the United States and its allies—have driven Iran’s nuclear program. The pursuit itself has provided and will possibly provide Iran with significant benefits: reaching threshold capacity will provide it with important gains, as has the pursuit of a virtual deterrent in the meantime. The manner in which it has gone about this pursuit, however, has been suboptimal: despite gains, Iran has suffered increasingly harsh consequences. The first category of consequence results from Iran’s suboptimal performance at maximizing its power. Iran has had some success: it is making slow but steady progress along the nuclear path. But the paradox is that the sanctions imposed on Iran in large part because of its nuclear progress are so damaging that the net impact on its power is increasingly negative. As a result of these pressures, Iran’s power is well below their potential. Sanctions, first, hamper progress in the nuclear program itself. In fact, given the status of the program when it was revealed in 2002 and Iran’s financial and human resources, it could very well, in theory, have produced nuclear weapons by 2012 (Albright et al., 2012, p. 12). Indeed, over this ten-year period, Iran has not even been able to install and successfully operate ten thousand centrifuges, less than 20 percent of the planned capacity at Natanz. This slow progress is partially the result of a decision to proceed cautiously, but it is made worse by sanctions. Successive rounds of UN sanctions, in particular, restrict Iran’s “ability to procure and import materials from other countries that contribute to the sensitive nuclear and missile programs” (Esfandiary and Fitzpatrick, 2011, p. 145). This has contributed to slowing its progress “by restricting Iran’s ability to import goods that would enable it to rapidly expand enriched uranium production” (ibid., p. 147). Similarly, media reports of a campaign of sabotage by American and Israeli intelligence suggest that assassinations, clandestine work to penetrate Iran’s access to international smuggling networks, and cyber warfare also slow Iran’s progress. This allegedly contributed to the limited growth in the number of centrifuges that the program operates and to Iran’s difficulties in operating more advanced centrifuges.31 Iran’s military, in addition, has been significantly weakened by the sanctions,

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which prevent it from acquiring spare parts for its many U.S.-acquired weapons systems dating from the shah’s era. This leads to decreasing rates of serviceability and operational readiness. The 2010 UN sanctions, in addition, ban the sale of major offensive weapons systems to Iran. Beyond the sanctions, Iran has found it increasingly difficult to access the international arms market. Russia, for example, has refused to sell it the S-300, an advanced air defense system that would vastly improve Iran’s defense (Katz, 2013). Iran’s economic power is similarly well below its potential. In combination with mismanagement and corruption, multilateral and unilateral sanctions have piled up on Iran over the years, increasingly strangulating its economy, which suffers from inflation, unemployment, stagnation, and a lack of diversification. The most striking indicator of this unfulfilled potential is the level of oil production: output remains lower than before the revolution, depriving state coffers of tens of billions of dollars per year. The picture, moreover, is deteriorating, not improving, as will be detailed below. This harms foreign policy through a feedback loop: the further Iran progresses along the nuclear path, the tougher the sanctions, the weaker its economy, and therefore the smaller the resource base forming the foundation of its power. Iran’s progress along the nuclear path has also had negative implications for the power it derives from alliances. Iran is not allied to Russia and China in a formal sense. Yet Moscow and Beijing share common interests with Tehran, especially in their opposition to U.S. preponderance. They are therefore willing to cooperate on specific issues to stymie U.S. goals. Russia and China, however, assess that the prospect of a nuclear-armed Iran would go against their interests. As a result, the more Iran approaches nuclear capability, the less Russia and China are willing to cooperate with Iran. Iran’s performance in maximizing its security has met with some success; it is, in particular, getting closer to a virtual deterrent. Again, however, shortcomings outweigh successes: Iran’s progress has had negative implications for its security. The most obvious one, the risk of an attack by the United States or Israel, has been avoided so far in part because of Iran’s efforts to maximize its security in Iraq and in the Arab-Israeli theater. As long as it does not achieve a full nuclear deterrent, however, the specter of air strikes will remain a major threat to Iran’s security. In addition, the ambiguity surrounding Iran’s nuclear status increases the risk of misperceptions and escalation, worsening its acute security dilemma. This will be especially sensitive in coming years as Iran approaches a latent capability, an unstable stage during which uncertainty worsens the risk

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of misperception (Betts, 1987, p. 211). The IRGC’s growing power within the regime and its control of the nuclear and missile programs and of external terrorist operations further increase the risk of misperception. As Scott Sagan has argued, “[To] have your nuclear guardians and your terrorist supporter organizations be one and the same is a recipe for disaster” (in Sagan et al., 2007, p. 141). Along with support for rejectionist groups, Iran’s pursuit of nuclear capabilities has been the most important factor driving its isolation. Most Arab states, especially in the GCC, have been particularly anxious. Their main fear is not so much that a nuclear-armed Iran would attack them but rather that nuclear capability would embolden Tehran to behave more assertively (Khaitous, 2009) and that the balance of power would tip in Iran’s favor. Saudi Arabia has been vocal in public and in private diplomatic exchanges with the United States about its fear of a nuclear Iran dominating regional politics.32 Similarly, regional states fear that Iran’s allies, especially Hamas and Hezbollah, would also adopt more assertive stances, feeling emboldened and protected by Iran’s nuclear umbrella. As a result, Iran’s nuclear program leads most regional states to balance increasingly firmly against it. In particular, GCC states are massively investing in defense capabilities and have increased security cooperation with the United States, which, among other implications, has led to a rising U.S. presence in the Gulf. Iran has reaped some gains in shaping its regional environment through its nuclear program. The more Iran has progressed, however, the more it has suffered consequences given growing opposition to its ambitions. As a result, many of Iran’s objectives have been defeated or their pursuit hampered. In particular, one of its most important actual interests is to remove or block U.S. regional influence. But a nuclear-capable Iran would guarantee a long-term U.S. presence in the Gulf. Many regional states, especially from the GCC, would be more dependent on the United States for their security than before, ensuring that Washington would remain Iran’s de facto neighbor. Iran has therefore again over-reached, primarily by failing to anticipate that such a comprehensive sanctions regime would come about. For years, Tehran believed that the international community needed its oil and that it would be able to use wedge strategies to divide China and Russia from the West, and the EU from the U.S. But increasingly harsh UN sanctions alongside unilateral ones by the United States and its allies show that despite tactical successes, the strategy failed: short-term gains were bought at the expense of significant, and mounting, longer-term pain.

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The nuclear program has not allowed Iran to positively shape its environment, and is unlikely to do so in the future. As has been the case in other issueareas, Iran has mostly developed the assets that allow it to exert negative influence. Even though the program is not a spoiling tool to the same extent as some of its assets in Iraq or the Palestinian Territories and Lebanon, it has allowed Iran to blackmail the international community and to manipulate the fear its program induces to force them to offer concessions. Domestic pathologies again drive this suboptimality. The Islamic Republic’s status aspirations, first, contribute to its over-reaching. Iran strives to become a regional power but has not been able to reach this status. In addition, Iran’s status claims are easily misinterpreted and cause widespread suspicion. Its nuclear intentions are thus more easily perceived negatively, arousing resistance. The Islamic Republic’s identity also plays a central role in inducing and entrenching suboptimality. Rejectionism helps lock Iran in a spiral of sanctions and isolation: as long as it rejects the regional order, the United States and its allies will remain opposed to Iran’s ambitions. Iran and the U.S. are thus trapped in a “paradigm of enmity,” pushing them to constantly assume the worst about the other (Parsi, 2012). This pushes Iran into a series of miscalculations, pointless provocations that often bring the country close to conflict with the United States and Israel. Factional politics, finally, also contribute to suboptimality. As in the other cases, factional infighting helps create an environment in which there is limited strategic thinking, since much energy is devoted to tactical gains. Different factions controlling various organs of the foreign policy apparatus often work at cross-purposes, leading to contradictory decisions. Because factions agree only on a lowest common denominator—that the country should continue progressing along the nuclear path—but not on ultimate aims, there consistently is a lack of coherence.  Iran’s nuclear program encapsulates many themes central to its foreign policy, such as its challenge to the prevailing order, opposition to hegemony, acute insecurity and perception of double standards, and growing assertiveness. Structural pressures in this issue-area, as in Iraq but unlike in the Arab-Israeli conflict, are strong, arising from the massive power imbalance between Iran and its main rivals, the United States and its regional allies. But unlike in Iraq, these pressures and incentives are ambiguous, allowing for domestic processes to exert a significant impact on nuclear policy. In this context, the Islamic

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Republic has been able to gain some influence thanks to its nuclear program, more than in the Arab-Israeli conflict but less than in Iraq. Most important, the nuclear program promises future benefits. Paradoxically, however, the Islamic Republic suffers significant—and mounting—consequences as a result of its nuclear choices.



Conclusion

The Islamic Republic of Iran faced a favorable strategic environment after 2001. It failed, however, to seize the opportunity and establish itself as the dominant regional power in the Persian Gulf and as an indispensable player in the Middle East, as is its ambition. Why? Neoclassical realism, as a theory of mistakes, provides a framework to answer this question by exploring the causes and consequences of Iran’s suboptimal foreign policy. Trends Are Playing against Iran: The Window Is Closing Down

Iran had some success in maximizing its power. In all three issue-areas, specific elements of its power increased, in some cases significantly. Its performance, however, has been suboptimal: its power remains well below its potential and certainly not at the level befitting a regional power. A significant proportion of the growth in Iranian power was accounted for by unconventional elements: asymmetric military capabilities, the regional attractiveness of its rejectionist model, and alliances with nonstate actors. At the same time, hard aspects of Iran’s power—wealth and conventional military capabilities— stagnated, entrenching existing weaknesses. Short-term gains, in addition, were often bought at the expense of longer-term costs, while many of the factors that caused the window of opportunity to open are evolving in a manner unlikely to be advantageous to Iran. As a result, Tehran tends to gradually box itself into a corner by accumulating a narrow toolkit of assets that increasingly restrict the influence it can achieve. Similarly, Iran succeeded in maximizing aspects of its security, especially when viewed from a narrow, short-term perspective. Most important, Iran was not attacked by the United States or Israel. While this was the result of a number 203

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of factors, Iran’s development of an arsenal of deterrent and retaliatory assets was partly responsible. Furthermore, as Iran has progressed along the nuclear path, it has been getting steadily closer to the acquisition of a virtual deterrent. On many other fronts, however, Iran’s security has deteriorated, and, if current trends continue, the situation will worsen. Iran is significantly more isolated diplomatically than it was in 2001 and is more mistrusted by most of its neighbors than at any point since the 1980s. Heightened tension with the United States and its partners also makes the risk of misperception and escalating conflict high. Iran was also able to increase its influence to some extent. But the peculiar nature of its power severely restricts its potential. Iran could be a highly influential player in the Middle East by dint of the breadth and depth of its potential power assets, especially its geography, population, and wealth of hydrocarbon resources. The combination of the peculiar nature of its power, however, with the intervention of domestic factors in its foreign policy–making process distorts its influence-maximization and prevents it from reaching its potential. Iran, in particular, has not developed the assets necessary to positively shape outcomes; it has primarily developed the means to negatively influence regional developments. The Islamic Republic also often favors tactics over strategy, preferring to make short-term gains and punting down the road the acknowledgment that longer-term costs are mounting. Moreover, its focus on confrontation and past grievances often leads it to neglect its ideal interests. Iran’s foreign policy, in sum, is increasingly handicapped by self-imposed constraints. The suboptimality of Iran’s performance in maximizing its power, security, and influence has led it to suffer consequences. And the situation is likely to get worse, not better: its power is likely to decrease in coming years. As a result, the gap between its capabilities and intentions will widen and the suboptimality of its foreign policy will deteriorate. One of the most important elements of the window of opportunity faced by Iran was the military one. Iran was conventionally weak in 2001, it did not improve its assets in subsequent years, and is unlikely to do so for the foreseeable future because of sanctions preventing it from importing offensive systems and its limited ability to manufacture advanced weapons domestically. The window arose, rather, after the collapse of the Saddam and Taliban regimes, which had acted as checks on Iranian power. The Afghan and Iraqi armies, however, are gradually rebuilding, albeit haltingly. Iraq’s armed forces remain focused on domestic threats. Land forces primarily consist of light infantry, while the small

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marine corps and navy are focused on infrastructure protection and maritime security (Elliott, 2008; Navy Times, 2008). Baghdad, however, is expanding its capabilities. It has begun, in particular, investing in heavier artillery and armor and in fighter aircraft to transform its army into a more conventional one (Thompson, 2009). In 2012, for example, it took delivery of the last of 140 U.S.made M1A1 Abrams tanks, an advanced capability superior to Iranian armor (Al-Arabiya, 2012). The Iraqi army’s partial collapse in the face of a Sunni insurgency in 2014 highlights the long way the Iraqi state has to go before it acquires significant power-projection capabilities. Yet as the Iraqi military rebuilds, it will gradually reacquire the ability to act as a bulwark against Iran. Iran’s economy is stagnating, dependent on oil revenue and beset by corruption and mismanagement. The situation, moreover, is worsening. In particular, the costs of sanctions are mounting, pushing Iran’s economy further below its potential. Yet as late as 2008, after the passage of what was then the latest round of UN sanctions, Iran was confident that the United States would not be able to build consensus around more stringent ones. Up to then, Tehran saw that the sanctions had been diluted in the Security Council, especially because of Chinese and Russian opposition but also because of European concerns that tougher penalties would lead to a rise in oil prices. Again, Iran miscalculated. Having seen its offer of engagement rebuffed in 2009, the Obama administration mounted a renewed diplomatic offensive. Resolution 1929, passed in June 2010, significantly tightened the noose around Iran, requiring member states to prevent the transfer of missile-related technology, calling on states to inspect suspect ships to or from Iran, and enhancing previous travel bans. It also urged states to adopt tougher financial measures, including against the IRGC and its satellite companies. The resolution also banned member states from selling offensive weapons systems to Iran. The United States and its like-minded allies have also unilaterally adopted increasingly harsh sanctions. The U.S. started sanctioning Iran at the time of the hostage crisis in 1979–81. Later, the Iran-Libya Sanctions Act of 1996 penalized foreign companies making large investments in Iran. More than any other measure, this has damaged Iran’s oil production capacity. The George W. Bush administration adopted a series of additional measures after 2005, including severe asset freezes. Under the Obama administration, unilateral sanctions have reached new heights in terms of their extraterritoriality, depth, and breadth. The Comprehensive Iran Sanctions, Accountability, and Divestment Act (CISADA) of 2010, in particular, significantly expanded prior restrictions. CISADA

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gives the president the power to penalize non-U.S. firms for selling refined petroleum products to Iran, leading many major oil firms to reduce their dealings with Iran. Additional measures bar the banks of other countries that engage in transactions with Iranian banks (including the central bank) from the U.S. financial system and impose penalties to non-U.S. firms selling insurance to Iranian shipping companies. This has made it increasingly costly for Iranian businesses to access the international financial and banking systems. Even trade in goods not covered by sanctions has become difficult, since payment channels are increasingly costly and sometimes impossible to access (Faucon, 2012). Since 2011, the EU has also adopted unilateral sanctions that have surprised Iran by their severity. Most strikingly, as of July 2012, Brussels banned European refineries from importing Iranian oil. Some of the 600,000bpd that Iran used to export to Europe were redirected to Asia, but not all (McQuaile, 2012). The EU also adopted restrictions similar to U.S. ones, including some banning the selling of insurance for the shipping of Iranian oil.1 As a result of the accumulation of sanctions, oil production has decreased since 2012. Daily output fell under 3 million bpd in 2013, its lowest level since 1990 and less than half of levels before the revolution. Exports were down by about 50 percent: Iran has since had an export capacity of only around 1 million bpd remaining, down from an average of 2.3 million in 2011. This costs Iran up to $60 billion dollars per year, or $5 billion per month. The riyal, the Iranian currency, moreover, lost half its value against the U.S. dollar in 2012. Inflation, which has been in double digits for years, will remain high for the foreseeable future, possibly above 20 percent. Food prices, in particular, rose in 2012, causing growing discontent. Unemployment and underemployment, also already high, are rising. Precise figures are hard to come by, but some estimates put unemployment above 20 percent. Iran’s industrial sector is also facing a growing crisis, as imports become increasingly costly because of the falling riyal and exports increasingly difficult because of an ever more limited access to international banking. In this difficult context, the Iranian economy grew by only 3 percent in 2011 and, most critically, experienced negative growth of –1.9 percent and –1.3 percent in 2012 and 2013, respectively, while the IMF expects slow growth (between 1 and 2 percent) between 2014 and 2018—far below the rates required for Iran to be able to prevent rising youth unemployment. As a result, prolonged stagflation, the combination of stagnating growth and high inflation, is a real threat (Harris, 2011). Economic penetration was an important component of Iran’s influence in

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Iraq, but again, trends are negative. Iraq’s economy is growing increasingly fast despite continuing insecurity. It grew by an average of about 7.5 percent between 2011 and 2014, while the IMF expects growth to fluctuate between 6 and 9 percent from 2015 to 2019. Oil production has been rising and is set to further increase, boosting government revenues.2 As a result, Baghdad adopted a 2011 budget projecting expenditures of $82 billion and of $100 billion for 2012 (Special Inspector General for Iraq Reconstruction, 2012, pp. 82–84). Iranian exports were able to penetrate the Iraqi market after Iraq’s economy collapsed in 2003 and competition was minimal. But as Iraq’s economy rebuilds, some Iranian exports will be crowded out by more competitive local goods and imports. Furthermore, the dumping of subsidized Iranian products such as foodstuffs and consumer goods undercut sectors of the Iraqi economy, particularly in agriculture and manufacturing in the south (Chon, 2009), causing resentment among some Iraqis (Arango, 2011). Other regional states will also gain greater access to Iraq’s market as the country stabilizes and its economy grows. Turkey, in particular, has been steadily expanding its presence in Iraq. Whereas Iran and Iraq compete on the oil market, the Iraqi and Turkish economies are more complementary, with Turkey potentially serving as a conduit for Iraqi oil exports to the West. In a symbolic slap to Iran, a Turkish consortium outbid an Iranian group and won an $11 billion contract to renovate Sadr City, the Baghdad slum where the Sadrists are influential (Kane, 2011, p. 10). The appeal of Iran’s rejectionist model will not disappear; there will remain a large pool of dissatisfied public opinion in the Middle East that a rejectionist actor can tap into. Yet Iran’s voice was, for years, the leading one opposing the United States and Israel. A variety of factors, however, are gradually eroding Iran’s ability to leverage this tool. The Arab uprisings have put forth competing templates for change, as has the rise of Turkey and its model blending democracy and Islam. Iran’s leaders initially tried to portray the uprisings as an “Islamic Awakening” inspired by their own revolution. They have failed, however, their credibility damaged by the repression of Iran’s own opposition, particularly in the wake of the contested 2009 elections, and their support for the Assad regime. Data compiled by Zogby Research Services, for example, showed that approval of Iran’s regional role by Arab publics plummeted after its peak in 2006. Starting in 2011, Tehran’s support for the Assad regime in Syria has proved particularly damaging (Slavin, 2013). Confirming the continued downward trend in Iran’s appeal, a poll conducted by the Pew Research Centre (2013) found that majorities in predominantly Muslim countries have nega-

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tive opinions of Iran, including 81 percent in Jordan, 78 percent in Egypt, and even 55 percent in the Palestinian Territories. Iran is thus increasingly viewed as projecting a model of “intolerance, economic malaise and confrontation” that holds little appeal (Sadjadpour, 2011). More specifically, there are growing constraints on Iran’s appeal in Iraq. Although Iran’s opposition to the U.S. invasion was popular in the Middle East, Arab publics gradually came to negatively perceive Iran’s meddling in Iraq. A 2009 poll, for example, found that only 12 percent of Iraqis found that Iran was playing a positive role in their country, against 68 percent who believed it played a negative role (ABC News, BBC, and NHK, 2009).3 The rise of Najaf as a Shia holy city will also likely be at the partial expense of Qom. The quietist model of governance prevalent in Najaf, in particular, has more supporters across the Shia world than does the activist velayat-e faqih of the Islamic Republic. Tehran’s failed efforts to promote Ayatollah Mahmoud Shahrudi, a former chief of Iran’s judiciary, as a successor to the aging Ali Sistani, the most senior Shia cleric in the world, are telling. Despite former Iraqi prime minister Maliki’s reported support for Shahrudi—Maliki and Iran had a common interest in undermining Sistani—the campaign faced resistance from clerical circles in Najaf and from Iraqis (Peterson, 2011). More broadly, there are increasingly frequent anecdotal reports of a nationalist backlash in Najaf and Karbala at the growing Iranian presence in Iraq’s holy cities (Latif, 2009). After an Iranian company obtained a contract to restore Karbala’s historic center, for example, locals took to the streets in protest (Hiltermann, 2010b). The final element responsible for the opening of the window of opportunity for Iran after 2001 was the creation of a vacuum in the regional balance of power, as many of Iran’s competitors were either weakened or temporarily retreated from confronting it. This drove, first, Iran’s penetration of Iraq, as regional powers initially only timidly sought to get involved in post-Saddam affairs. But these powers are gradually, though slowly and reluctantly, expanding their presence in Iraq. Saudi Arabia, for example, announced in 2012 that it would reopen its embassy in Baghdad (Iraq Oil Report, 2012). Turkey, in addition, is steadily expanding its commercial presence, particularly in the north. Even though the inherently competitive nature of the Iran-Turkey relationship—both perceive themselves as dominant regional powers—tends to be somewhat tempered by their trade dependence (Iran is a key source of natural gas for Turkey) and a mutual desire to avoid escalation, Ankara’s growing presence in the Middle East can only occur, to some extent, at the expense of

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Tehran’s influence (Barkey, 2012). This regional vacuum also played a large part in propelling Iran to the forefront of the Arab-Israeli conflict, as Arab powers were weakened, disorganized, or inward-looking after 2001. This vacuum will not be so advantageous in the future. Turkey and Qatar have adopted an increasingly prominent regional role, while post-Mubarak Egypt may attempt to reclaim its former position as the dominant Arab power. Saudi Arabia may still be reluctant to actively engage in Arab-Israeli affairs, but it has adopted assertive positions in other conflicts (especially Libya, Bahrain, and Syria). How this emerging configuration will play out in the Arab-Israeli theater is unclear. What is likely, however, is that there will be enhanced competition for influence among regional powers, none of which share more than limited interests with Iran while all have close, and often very close, ties to the United States. This will reduce the space for Iran to penetrate the conflict. Iran’s Influence: Also on the Wane

Iran’s power, in sum, will continue to decrease in coming years. This prognostic has a direct, and negative, impact on the potential influence it can achieve and therefore on its ability to fulfill its regional ambitions. In Iraq, first, Iran, having reached the peak of its influence in 2006–7, saw its ability to shape events there steadily decline afterward. It is possible that the 2014 events— whereby the Islamic State (IS) swept through northwestern Iraq, leading Iran and the US to ramp up their involvement in Iraq—will cause either a slowdown or even a temporary reversal in Iran’s declining fortunes. Nevertheless, longer-term trends continue to suggest that Iranian influence in Iraq is, as elsewhere, on the wane. Despite the takeover of the northwestern quadrant of Iraq by the Islamic State, a coalition of Sunnis dominated by the successor to al-Qaeda in Iraq along with remnants of the Baath regime and tribes resentful of the central government’s Shia-centric policies, the trend of growing constraints on Iran’s power in Iraq continues. It is certainly the case that the brutal realization that the Iraqi military was much weaker than thought—by some accounts, one-quarter of its combat battalions collapsed in June 2014 (Knights et al., 2014)—implies that its role as a growing counterpoise to Iranian military power projection is weaker than previously thought. Yet the Iraqi military—fueled by a steadily growing $17 billion defense budget, larger than Iran’s—will continue to rebuild itself, with U.S. assistance. More generally, many of Iran’s Iraqi allies continue to gradually become

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more autonomous and therefore less responsive to Tehran’s interests. Ties to these groups therefore present diminishing returns, a trend likely to continue. For Iran, the decline of ISCI is especially worrisome: not only is ISCI one of the main vehicles for its influence but, more damagingly, its loss of popularity has been partly attributed to its ties to Tehran, illustrating how Iraqi nationalism is a growing bulwark against Iranian influence. The Iraqi parliamentary elections of 2010 illustrated Iran’s declining influence. Iran tried but failed to push its main Shia allies to run as a unified block. Instead, Da’wa led its State of Law coalition, while ISCI and the Sadrists led the Iraqi National Alliance. After the elections, Iran continued to encourage its allies to unite. But as negotiations progressed, it became apparent that what was driving the calculus of ISCI, Da’wa, and Sadr was not Iranian pressure but local factors.4 The more ISCI, Da’wa, and the Sadrists integrate the political process—similarly to Hezbollah—the more they develop interests of their own and need to respond to their constituents. They also diversify their support, becoming less dependent on Iran. As a result, Iran’s ability to steer them to take into consideration Iranian interests continues to diminish. ISCI, for example, has cooperated with the United States and evolved into a moderate party, shedding its more radical objectives (International Crisis Group, 2007b). Iran’s core objective in Iraq is the emergence of a stable—neither too strong nor too weak—central government that is not hostile to Tehran. With the rise of the Sunni insurgency in 2014, Iran’s most fundamental concern thus became the maximization of its security, as no other factor can threaten Iran as much as the risk of the collapse of central authority in Iraq and the fragmentation of the country. Indeed, the IS represents a major threat to Iran. It is vehemently opposed to Iran and aggressively anti-Shia. In addition, moves by the Kurdistan Regional Government in northern Iraq toward greater autonomy also threaten Iranian interests by increasing the risk of fragmentation. Beyond these immediate security concerns, Iran’s most important priority in Iraq is to keep a broad Shia coalition in power. At the same time, Iran recognizes that overly exclusionary sectarian policies by a Shia-dominated government in Baghdad ultimately work against its interest. Tehran thus understands that to defeat the IS, Sunnis—at least moderate ones—must be brought into the political process. In this context, Iran’s response to the 2014 events was to send Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) Qods Force advisers to support Iraqi security forces and Shia militias and provide them with advice and intelligence. According to media reports, Iran has also been flying surveillance drones over

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Iraq and has provided hundreds of tons of military equipment and supplies (Gordon and Schmitt, 2014). As is its usual approach, Iran has also hedged its bets by supporting both government forces and militias. In addition, illustrating its pragmatism in the pursuit of its objectives, Tehran readily jettisoned its support for Nuri al-Maliki, instead backing as prime minister in 2014 the less confrontational Hayder al-Abadi. Iran’s ability to penetrate a collapsed Iraqi state was most salient in 2006–7 as the combination of instability and the vulnerability of U.S. troops offered opportunities and potential targets. The withdrawal of U.S. forces and the stabilization of Iraq, however, led to a loss of retaliatory targets and the elimination of one of the chief sources of the appeal of Iran’s rejectionist message. Moreover, as the Iraqi state progressively gained in strength, it became less permeable to Iranian penetration. Iran has also become increasingly forced to rely on armed militias to exert its influence as traditional parties have kept ties to Tehran but more and more look to satisfy the interests of their constituents, which do not systematically align with Iran’s. Historical sources of friction between Iran and Iraq, as such, are likely to re-emerge. Many in the Iraqi population and security forces, moreover, are suspicious of Iran’s ambitions. The rise of the IS does not fundamentally alter this trend. Iran started remobilizing the militias it used to support to help Baghdad counter the Sunni insurgency, especially Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq and Kata’ib Hezbollah (Smyth, 2014). These groups are powerful, as they field some of the most efficient forces in Iraq. To some extent, they allow Iran to increase its influence, thanks to the indispensable military support the militias represent. This gain is limited, however. Indeed, Maliki and Iraqi authorities understand that Iran’s foremost interest in Iraq is security. Baghdad therefore understands that Tehran will not withdraw its support if it is displeased with Iraqi policies. This reduces Iran’s leverage. Association with Iran, moreover, remains a vote-loser, so groups receiving Iranian support will continue to play down their ties. Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq, for example, has worked in recent years to reorganize itself from an Iran-dependent militia into a political party, but its long-standing ties to Iran may well play against it (Sly, 2013). Overall, it is likely that Iraq will remain unstable for the foreseeable future, with a Sunni insurgency that cannot be defeated by the central government, but that also cannot expand the areas under its control beyond predominantly Sunni areas in northwestern parts of the country. This implies that Iran’s security will remain threatened by developments in Iraq, chiefly because of the rise of the IS. This will make Iraq more permeable to Iranian influence, but not as

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much as at the height of the civil war in 2006–7. These developments have also renewed Iranian fears of the return of a long-term, sizable U.S. presence in Iraq. In fact, one reason why Tehran hesitated in the summer of 2014 to increase its engagement is the fear that this would provoke the United States to deepen its own (Peterson, 2014). In sum, the events of 2014 will have marked, at most, a partial reversal of Iran’s declining influence in Iraq. Iran remains the external actor with the most influence in Iraq and it will probably make some shortterm gains, by increasing the weakened Baghdad government’s dependence on and its need for Iranian support. In the longer term, however, the broader constraints on Iranian influence in Iraq remain. Iran’s ability to influence the Arab-Israeli conflict has been limited. To the extent that it was able to shape outcomes, it was through its ability to deny and spoil. Yet this influence is set to further diminish. Recent years offered Iran a golden set of strategic circumstances and the opportunity to rectify, at least partly, the power imbalance that advantaged Israel. Iran failed, however, to seize this opportunity. The imbalance will therefore continue, with important implications. In particular, because the gap between its declining capabilities and its rejectionist intentions will widen, Iran will be even more dependent on denial and spoiling tactics. Alliances have been the most significant asset for Iran’s ability to influence the Arab-Israeli conflict. Its most important alliances, however, are likely to provide it with diminishing returns. Hezbollah’s power is not declining, but the movement is increasingly autonomous and entrenched in Lebanon. Its priorities are shifting: it must first satisfy the interests of its constituents. Even though it is still reliant on Iran’s support and shares its rejectionist ideology, it has also expanded its sources of support, reaching out to the Lebanese Diaspora and increasing revenues from smuggling. As a result, Iran’s ability to leverage its ties to Hezbollah to gain regional influence is declining. The war in Syria is reinforcing this trend. The weakening of Iran’s only state ally, and its possible eventual defeat, represent a loss for the Islamic Republic. Even if the Assad regime survives, it will be weakened and inward-focused; it will not be able to act as a check on the projection of Israeli power as in the past. The war has also been very costly for Hezbollah. It has lost at least dozens, if not hundreds, of fighters, while its regional legitimacy has suffered—it is less viewed as the chief frontline resistance against Israel, and more as the lifeline of a regime that oppresses Sunnis. Hezbollah’s power has certainly increased on some fronts. It has gained highly valuable fighting experience that will make it

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into a much tougher opponent in its next confrontation with Israel. In addition, it has allegedly received more advanced weaponry from Syria and Iran since the onset of the war in 2011, including, according to some media reports, dozens of advanced Russian antiship missiles, the Yakhont (though it is not clear if it received launchers). This would significantly increase its capability to impede the Israeli navy’s ability to operate near Lebanon (Stuster, 2014). It would be consistent, however, with the overall negative trend affecting Iran’s influence: Tehran is increasingly reliant on its spoiling and denial assets, while its already limited positive influence is further declining. There are also growing limits to Iran’s ability to benefit from its ties to Hamas. Attitudes toward Iran among Palestinians are ambivalent. Even within Hamas, there is discomfort with receiving assistance from Iran, a Shia and Persian state with which the Muslim Brotherhood (from which Hamas is an offshoot) has historically had tense relations. In addition, though there is sympathy for Iran’s rejectionism and gratefulness for its support, other aspects of the Islamic Republic’s policies cause unease. The conflict in Syria, in particular, has widened this chasm by putting Hamas in an increasingly untenable position. As a Sunni Arab organization, Hamas leans toward the Syrian opposition, in which Sunni Islamist movements are strongly represented. Hamas has, as a result, sided—albeit cautiously—with the opposition, with most of its leadership leaving Damascus for Cairo and Doha. Angered by Hamas’s refusal to side with Assad, Iran has reportedly decreased its support (Ghaddar, 2013). Hamas faced a number of other growing constraints in 2013 and 2014. The combination of the Israeli blockade with growing Egyptian pressure, especially in the wake of the forced removal from power by the military of the Muslim Brotherhood government in July 2013, has significantly damaged Gaza’s already shattered economy. Egypt, in particular, has made a major effort to close tunnels to Gaza, until then the strip’s main lifeline (see International Crisis Group, 2014a). Saudi Arabia and the UAE have also declared the Brotherhood a terrorist organization, putting further distance between themselves and Hamas. This damages Iran’s ability to pressure Israel, and forces it to rely on more violent groups, especially Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ). Unlike Hamas, PIJ has kept its headquarters in Damascus and has not broken ties with the Assad regime (Akram, 2013). In addition, PIJ has been receiving more and better weapons from Iran since the latter decreased its support to Hamas (International Crisis Group, 2014a, p. 10). As a result, PIJ has been able to increase its resistance to the Israeli occupation, and therefore its local prestige. In addition,

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thanks to new infusions of Iranian cash, it has increased its provisions of social services such as clinics and schools, seeing its support and visibility grow. Although popular support for PIJ remains narrower than for Hamas, the group is not burdened by the responsibilities of power, while Hamas—which has governed Gaza since 2007—gets blamed for poor services and an increasingly difficult economic situation (Rudoren, 2014). These dynamics in Gaza represent a loss for Iranian power: they further narrow and militarize Iran’s set of options as distance grows with Hamas and as Tehran becomes more reliant on PIJ, a smaller group limited to spoiling and denial. The nuclear program represents an intriguing case. On the one hand, the further Iran has progressed along the nuclear path, the more it has suffered negative consequences. On the other hand, there are potential gains for Iran either if it agrees to a negotiated solution or if it reaches threshold capacity or, even more, the bomb. It is in this context that Iran’s nuclear program was, by 2013, approaching a crossroads. For years, the standoff had muddled along, with neither a U.S. nor Israel attack, nor a deal resolving the crisis. Yet this continuation of the status quo is not indefinitely sustainable, as Iran was steadily reducing the time it would need to build a bomb should it make the decision to acquire one. Indeed, according to the IAEA’s August 2013 report, Iran’s total production of LEU had by then reached 9,704kg (enough for seven or eight bombs if further enriched), thanks to 15,416 installed IR-1 centrifuges, with 9,166 of them enriching. Iran had also installed more than 1,000 IR-2 models, though these higher-performing versions had yet to begin enriching. Illustrating its steady progress, Iran began in 2010 to enrich uranium to 19.75 percent, allegedly for the production of medical isotopes at the Tehran Research Reactor. By August 2013, it had produced 178kg, approaching the roughly 250kg necessary for one bomb if further enriched (Albright et al., 2013). The election of a veteran from the moderate faction, former nuclear negotiator and Rafsanjani ally Hassan Ruhani, to the presidency in June 2013 provided the spark that catalyzed the launch of serious negotiations. Thus after years of on-again, off-again but ultimately failed attempts at finding a solution, Iran and the P5+1 agreed in November 2013 to a Joint Plan of Action, an interim agreement establishing parameters for negotiations on a longer-term, comprehensive deal. The deal froze and partly rolled back Iran’s nuclear program. In exchange, it provided Iran with modest, temporary, and reversible sanctions relief, worth about $7 billion.5 How can one explain Iran’s decision to enter into serious negotiations? In-

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deed, it appeared in early 2014 that Tehran was sincere in its efforts to reach a comprehensive deal. Iran, in particular, had by mid-2014 largely complied with its many obligations under the interim agreement. According to a June 2014 IAEA status report, Iran had stopped enriching beyond 5 percent, diluted most of its 20 percent enriched material, halted many of its activities of greatest proliferation concern, and answered some of the IAEA’s long-standing questions about past weapons-related activities.6 Some have explained Iran’s actions through a liberal prism, by focusing on the evolution of the balance of factional power. According to this view, the election to the presidency of a moderate, Hassan Ruhani, and the marginalization of hard-liners, largely discredited after Ahmadinejad’s ineffective two terms, has been the main cause of the shift in the country’s foreign policy (Farhi, 2014). There is some truth to this, but such an explanation neglects the structural drivers of Iranian foreign policy. Neoclassical realism, on the other hand, offers a comprehensive and nuanced explanation: the most important driver of Iran’s willingness to compromise on its nuclear program has been its growing weakness. First and foremost, as discussed above, Iran’s economy has been massively damaged by the increasingly suffocating sanctions regime. Improving the country’s economy was a key Ruhani campaign promise; according to him and his moderate and reformist allies, economic growth can only follow a lifting of sanctions. Reformists and moderates, as explained in Chapter 4, have also been traditionally more attuned to the damages caused by the Islamic Republic’s diplomatic isolation, which has continued to steadily deteriorate. Illustrating Iran’s alarming loneliness, Russia and China broadly stuck with the United States and its European allies in 2013 and 2014. Moscow and Beijing, for example, publicly called on Tehran to accept a reduction in its number of centrifuges. This infuriated Tehran, apparently blocking its hopes of driving a wedge within the P5+1 (Fitzpatrick, 2014). Russia’s interests, in this context, have been to continue its long-standing opposition to the emergence of a nuclear-armed Iran, while safeguarding—and, it is hoped, boosting—its commercial interests in Iran, notably by ensuring that Iranian purchases of nuclear technology and materials after an eventual comprehensive deal would be from Russia. It is also important to recall that Iran’s objective with its nuclear program has not been to build a nuclear weapon, but to reach the threshold or virtual stage, to have mastered many of the steps necessary to build a bomb, positioning it to build one in a relatively short time should it decide to do so. By 2013, Iran was steadily getting closer to this stage. It is therefore plausible that

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the regime—aware of the massive damage wrought by years of accumulated sanctions—decided to basically claim victory, having developed an advanced nuclear program. One of Iran’s main objectives in the negotiations is therefore to obtain the right to keep the technology and infrastructure of its nuclear program—and thus to remain at the virtual or threshold stage. This is why Iran tries to keep as much capacity as possible, though ultimately the specific number of centrifuges it eventually keeps is secondary; what matters is that it maintains the ability to enrich. Iran also wants to see its status as a nuclear-capable state formally recognized. In this sense, whatever the shape of an eventual agreement, it has won, given that during the failed negotiations of previous years, the United States initially refused to recognize the possibility that Iran could maintain any enrichment capability. For its part, the P5+1’s main objective in the negotiations is to reach an agreement which would include constraints on Iran’s nuclear program that would lengthen as much as possible Iran’s breakout time, it is hoped to more than one year. The United States and its partners aim to achieve this, in particular, by limiting Iran’s number of centrifuges and by imposing a strict monitoring and verification mechanism. At the time of this writing in late 2014, Iran and the P5+1 have made significant progress but have yet to reach a deal. In an atmosphere of cautious optimism but continued suspicion, they have agreed twice to prolong the initial six-month period to negotiate a comprehensive deal, first by an additional four months until November 2014 and subsequently by another seven months until June 2015. It therefore remains speculative to discuss the implications of a final agreement, given that its details are still unknown, and that it remains possible that talks could collapse. Should both sides agree to a comprehensive deal, Iranian power would, in some ways, be boosted. Most important, some sanctions would be lifted, which would undeniably benefit Iran’s economy. It is important to remember, however, that any gains Iran would make from a resolution to the nuclear standoff would only allow it to recoup losses it incurred because of its own behavior. And it would only partially recover these losses and would not make net gains, as it would remain under sanctions and isolated. Indeed, the text of the Joint Plan of Action is clear in stating that only “nuclear-related sanctions” are to be lifted after a comprehensive agreement, while the United States has emphasized that non-nuclear sanctions—imposed over the years because of its concerns over Iran’s support for terrorism and its violations of human rights—would remain in place. To the extent that there will be sanctions removal, moreover, it will be a lengthy and highly complex

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process that is likely to take years; it will therefore not be a short-term panacea for Iran’s battered economy (Rosenberg, 2014). In addition, sanctions have only been one of the causes of Iran’s poor economic performance. The others— mismanagement, corruption, a bloated public sector, in particular—will not change as a result of a comprehensive agreement. Iran, moreover, would remain the main geopolitical competitor for Israel, Saudi Arabia, and other Arab states of the Persian Gulf even after a comprehensive deal. Its regional ambitions would be unchanged, and they would still provoke suspicion as well as balancing responses. For these rivals of Iran, the nuclear program has been a symptom, not a cause, of Iranian ambitions. If anything, some regional states would be more concerned at the prospect of an Iran unshackled by the removal of some sanctions. Moreover, the U.S. security architecture in the Gulf and the Middle East, partly aimed at containing Iran, would remain in place. In sum, the argument of this book—the underperformance of Iran’s power and therefore the underwhelming nature of its regional influence—would still stand, even after a comprehensive agreement with the P5+1. In the meantime, many obstacles to a comprehensive agreement remain, including Iran’s future uranium enrichment capacity, the status of existing installations, especially Arak and Fordo, the monitoring and inspections regime, ongoing concerns about Iran’s past weapons-related activities, and the length of the deal. In addition, Iran and the P5+1 would need to agree on a highly complex process of sanctions relief; the United States wants it to be slow and gradual, and only partial, while Iran insists on a rapid and comprehensive lifting of sanctions. It is therefore plausible that talks could collapse. This could lead, to simplify, to one of two scenarios. Israel or the United States—or both—could eventually decide to launch strikes against key sites of Iran’s nuclear program. This would not be sufficient to completely eliminate the program, as some installations would survive the attack and, crucially, so would technical knowledge. It would, however, set progress back, but at most by two to three years. It would, moreover, entrench the position of hard-liners in the Islamic Republic and could push them to launch a dash to a nuclear bomb. This would, essentially, bring us back to pre-2013 conditions, with Iran and the P5+1 facing again a fork between negotiations and an attack. Should the United States and Israel choose not to strike, Iran could eventually test a nuclear device and possibly assemble a small number of bombs. This would have a dual effect. On the one hand, sanctions would intensify. It is highly unlikely, as Iranian leaders suggest,

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that the international community would only temporarily punish the Islamic Republic and soon forgive it, as happened to India after its first nuclear test. Iran, unlike India, is already isolated; this would only reinforce its loneliness. All the consequences discussed here would be magnified. On the other hand, the benefits of reaching threshold capacity would be magnified, especially in terms of security-maximization. Neoclassical Realism and Iran’s Foreign Policy

The chief value-added of neoclassical realism is to explain the causes and consequences of Iran’s suboptimal foreign policy. This section takes stock of the results of the case studies and reflects on key aspects of the strategic analysis variant. Validation of the Three Hypotheses

It is useful, first, to recall the three hypotheses proposed in the introduction and to explain how they have been validated. H1: The stronger the structural pressures on a given state, the more its foreign policy will be shaped by structural constraints and incentives; conversely, the weaker the structural pressures, the more foreign policy will be exposed to deviations from optimal outcomes because of the intervention of domestic processes. Consequences arise because of the intervention of domestic pathologies, which neoclassical realism labels as intervening variables. They are responsible for deviations from optimal, structurally induced behavior. Their intervention follows a continuum: the stronger the salience of the intervention of domestic factors in distorting a state’s response to structural pressures, the more that state’s ability to maximize its power, security, and influence is suboptimal. This, in part, explains why Iran performed better in Iraq and less optimally in the other two issue-areas. In Iraq, structural pressures arising from the combined presence of the U.S. military with the possibility of the collapse of Iraq were at their highest. There was, as a result, less scope for agency—that is, for domestic processes to hijack the foreign policy–making process. Iran thus had more success achieving optimal results. At the other extreme, in the Arab-Israeli conflict, Iran faced little structural pressure, leading to more scope for choice. Because of the distorting intervention of domestic pathologies, these choices proved, and will increasingly prove, consequential. It therefore follows that the stronger

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the impact of intervening variables, the stronger the deviation from the ideal and the stronger the consequences.7 The validation of H1, finally, supports the view of structural realism as a normative theory—accounting for how states should behave—and of neoclassical realism as a theory of mistakes, accounting for the gap between ideal and actual foreign policy. H2: Faced with a window of opportunity, a state benefits from an unusually high degree of agency. This hypothesis is also validated. A window of opportunity—a sudden power advantage—is a strong but indeterminate set of structural pressures and incentives. The state facing a window benefits from an unusually high degree of agency, given that the band of choice in which it can make choices rapidly widens. Iran faced an unusual amount of choice after 2001; it could choose along a wide spectrum ranging from more cooperation and even friendship with the United States—as was discussed in the early years—to outright aggression and bellicosity. In Iraq, for example, Iran flirted with cooperation early on but settled on coexistence. Gradually, it tilted toward confrontation but refrained from all-out aggression. Because it benefits from more agency, the state facing a window is also more likely to suffer greater consequences if it makes wrong choices. This was the case for Iran: it squandered many opportunities because of poor decisions. H3: When a state faces a window of opportunity, there is likely to be a mismatch between its capabilities and intentions. As per H2, a state facing a window of opportunity faces an unusual amount of choice. A greater level of intervention by domestic processes is therefore likely. Consequently, the definition of the national interest is more likely to be distorted and to deviate from its ideal. Five scenarios can arise: overreach (intentions exceed capabilities; both are rising), understretch (capabilities exceed intentions; both are rising), refusing to let go (both are declining, but capabilities are declining faster), accelerated retrenchment (both are declining, but intentions are declining faster), and Hail Mary (capabilities are declining, intentions are rising). Each of these leads to suboptimal behavior and therefore consequences. In Iran’s case, intentions exceeded capabilities, sometimes by a wide

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margin. As a result, its foreign policy suffered from overreach: it did not have the assets necessary to achieve its ambitions. Rationality and Suboptimality

Neoclassical realism accepts a qualified rationality assumption, which it labels confined rationality. Power pushes and shoves states to act within a set of parameters; this does not imply that they are rational. But within this range of “manipulable choice,” states evaluate risks and opportunities as they purposely seek to maximize certain ends. The assumption of confined rationality allows for suboptimal behavior, which arises when domestic pathologies impede optimal value–maximization within the range of feasible state action. It is this distinction between rationality and optimality that positions the Rathbunian version of neoclassical realism as a theory of mistakes. States are rational because they make decisions, within a confined space shaped by structural factors, on the basis of cost-benefit calculations. Neoclassical realism delves into this space to understand what state X did last Tuesday. This implies studying the process whereby leaders weigh the pros and cons of possible choices, and choose and implement what they deem the most advantageous option. Although the process is rational, however, there is no guarantee that the choice of option or the implementation will be optimal. This is why neoclassical realism is a theory of mistakes: it explains how and why choices are rational but not necessarily optimal. Iran’s failure to seize the opportunities it faced after 2001 illustrates this distinction. Iran faced an unusually high degree of choice as it weighed the pros and cons of feasible options, but it did a poor job in making these cost-benefit calculations. Failure occurred at two levels: the actual interests it defined were skewed, deviating significantly from ideal, structurally induced interests, while the pursuit of these interests was often botched. As a result, Iran’s performance has been suboptimal, even though it is a rational actor that sought to maximize its interests. That is why a rationality assumption is necessary: Iran consciously determined which specific ends it would pursue, and then sought to maximize them. But that is also why rationality must be distinguished from optimality: Iran’s definition and pursuit of these interests was suboptimal. Complexity

Another value-added of the strategic analysis variant of neoclassical realism is its willingness to reflect the complexity of international politics through its rejection of sweeping generalizations in favor of a more eclectic framework.

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The account of Iranian foreign policy proposed here demonstrates that explanations based solely on defensive realism—states are security-maximizers—or offensive realism—they are power-maximizers—are inadequate. Rather, a comprehensive and accurate account must recognize that Iran pursues power, security, and influence concurrently. The relative salience of each depends on context. In Iraq, security has been a greater priority given the acute threat to Iran. But even here, Iran expended significant resources to also pursue power and influence. Iran’s support for nonstate actors in the region also illustrates the inadequacy of sweeping concepts. Such support allows Iran to maximize its security (the possibility that some of these groups could retaliate should the United States attack Iran serves as a deterrent) and its power (they provide Iran with tools for pressuring neighboring regimes, while they also allow Iran to maximize its appeal: almost alone in the region, Iran is positioning itself as the champion of “oppressed Muslims” and supporting Hezbollah or Hamas). Similarly, Iran’s pursuit of its nuclear program cannot be labeled as exclusively power, security, or influence-maximization. For offensive realists, Iran’s objective is clear: it is maximizing its power by pursuing this capability, despite the costs it incurs. For defensive realists, it is about acquiring a powerful deterrent, whether virtual or real. Neoclassical realism, on the other hand, sides with much of the proliferation studies literature, which accepts that proliferation cannot be accounted for by a single causal factor, be it the pursuit of power or security, but rather by a complex combination (Solingen, 1994; Levite, 2002/3). Security is usually the top concern of would-be nuclear powers, but other considerations cannot be ignored, especially power, prestige, and influence. Dynamism and Path-dependency

Dynamism and path-dependency are key features of neoclassical realism’s causal chain: the interaction among variables explains why neoclassical realism’s explanatory power is greater than the sum of the explanatory power of individual variables. These features clarify how and why Iran’s performance has been suboptimal: dynamism explains how the causal impact of domestic pathologies distorting Iran’s foreign policy is magnified, while path-dependency explains how certain variables lock Iran in a suboptimal status quo. The dynamism of the causal chain arises because growing power and the rising fortunes of hard-liners, through a feed-back loop, magnified the causal effect of the status and regime identity variables. Iran’s rising power acted as

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a force multiplier: because it pushed Iran to behave more assertively, power had a leverage effect on specific components of downstream variables. Iran’s anti-imperialism, historical grievances, and acute perceptions of insecurity saw their causal effect magnified by the window faced by the country even though the regime’s identity did not change. In other words, Iran’s enhanced power provided it with an unusually large set of opportunities—as per H2, it faced a high degree of agency—and, as the country’s leaders determined how to deal with this wide array of choices, the explanatory power of status and identity was magnified. Traditional conservative and hard-line factions in the Islamic Republic are associated with specific aspects of status and identity. They have more ambitious regional aspirations and harbor a greater status discrepancy; thus as the factional balance of power tilted in their favor, the regime’s overall status discrepancy grew more acute. Conservatives and hard-liners also identify with the more rejectionist elements of the regime’s identity. They favor a strident nationalism and have particularly acute threat perceptions vis-à-vis the United States and its allies. Their mistrust of the West is strong, and they are convinced that Iran’s independence is under threat. As a result, the causal impact of these aspects of status and identity were magnified as their positions improved after 2001, further tilting foreign policy toward rejectionism. In addition, the causal effects of the variables reinforce each other, locking in certain options through a mechanism of path-dependency. This does not imply that change is impossible, but policy cannot be reversed without unusually high costs. This is another value-added of neoclassical realism: to explain continuity in the parameters shaping foreign policy. As a consequence of path-dependency, it is difficult for Iran to change the suboptimal status quo: rejectionism is embedded in Iranian institutions and political culture. This makes it difficult for the leadership to make important changes. The regime, in particular, has invested so much in defining itself as the champion of the resistance against “imperialist aggression” that an important reorientation would incur significant costs to its legitimacy. Change can therefore only come after much factional strife and when cost-benefit calculations become severely weighed negatively. The decision to stop the war with Iraq illustrates this. The regime had partly constructed its identity around the war against Saddam, in its narrative an infidel supported by corrupt Arab monarchies and the United States. The decision to end the war only came when the costs had become overwhelming, and after moderates

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succeeded in convincing Khomeini. Similarly, Iran became willing to engage in genuine negotiations with its nuclear program in 2013 when two similar conditions were met: the accumulated costs—through sanctions and diplomatic isolation—of continuing the program were accumulating and starting to threaten the very existence of the Islamic Republic, and the election of a moderate to the presidency signaled a shift in the balance of factional power (on the election, see Ehteshami and Zaccara, 2013). Along with his allies in reformist and moderate circles, notably former president Rafsanjani, President Ruhani has been very vocal in criticizing the Ahmadinejad administration’s economic mismanagement and in insisting that the country’s economic situation was dire with, in particular, a level of stagflation not seen since the revolution’s early years (Harris, 2013). The end pursued by moderates and reformists is not to challenge the rejectionist posture of the Islamic Republic; rather, they have come to believe that the survival and legitimacy of the regime can be guaranteed only by a serious improvement to the country’s economic situation, which in turn can come only through a lifting of the sanctions (Menashri, 2013). Factional politics also contribute to path-dependency. The system features a self-reinforcing tendency: to be a participant in the managed competition of factional politics, one must accept its rules. Those who challenge them are excluded from the arena of factional competition. Thus factional struggles perpetuate regime identity by reinforcing the bounds of this system. Moreover, adherence to the rules, such as confrontational rhetoric toward Israel, is seen as proof of loyalty; concessions to Israel are tantamount to abandoning the revolution. This difficulty in reverting prior decisions adds hurdles to an eventual resolution of the Iran-Israel stand-off. This, in turn, reinforces the consequences of suboptimal choices: because changing course is difficult, the negative repercussions of prior decisions become entrenched. Iran’s steadfastness in continuing along the nuclear path despite mounting costs can thus also be partly explained by path-dependency. Identity inhibits or enables specific aspects of policy; it narrows the range of available options. Tehran has worked so hard over the years to associate the nuclear program with the revolution’s rejectionism that concessions would be costly. It has become captive of its own rhetoric given the public support that its extensive politicization of the dispute has created (Kane, 2006). Renouncing the right to enrichment, for example, would be perceived domestically by many as reneging on core values of the revolution.

224  Conclusion

Foreign Policy Strategies

Neoclassical realism provides tools to disaggregate foreign policy into its constituent parts by linking the choice of specific strategies with the causal effects of particular combinations of upstream variables. With regard to Iraq, the Arab-Israeli conflict, and its nuclear program, Iran has used six strategies: spoiling, opposition, balancing, hedging, playing for time, and wedging. The adoption of spoiling strategies emerges as rational for a revisionist and rejectionist state with weak conventional assets. Stephen Stedman defines spoilers as actors “who believe that peace emerging from negotiations threatens their power, worldview, and interests, and use violence to undermine attempts to achieve it” (1997, p. 5). This is an apt categorization of Iran’s approach to regional developments: it seeks to block outcomes that it assesses would go against its interests. Iran made the most use of spoiling strategies in the Arab-Israeli conflict. It regularly threatens to spoil progress in the peace process, given that it assesses that this would increase its isolation. In Iraq, the threat of Iranian spoiling constrained the U.S. margin of maneuver. In particular, Iran clearly communicated, and the United States understood, that a U.S. or Israeli attack risked reprisals in Iraq that could destabilize the country and undo U.S. rebuilding efforts. Some states are “reluctant to embrace Pax Americana”; as a result, “those that feel threatened by US primacy and would like to find ways to keep American power in check” are likely to adopt strategies of opposition to resist U.S. power (Walt, 2005, p. 110). A pillar of Iran’s posture is indeed its opposition to the dominance of the Middle Eastern order by the United States and its allies. This results in Iran’s adopting strategies opposing the status quo by seeking, for example, to reframe the public debate on the American and Israeli roles. As with spoiling, strategies of opposition arise from the combined effect of multiple variables. As a rising and ambitious power whose desired status is denied, Iran opposes the status quo. As a rejectionist state, the Islamic Republic opposes the United States and its regional role. Further tilting policy toward strategies of opposition was the rise of hard-liners, who harbor a preference for such approaches. In Iraq, Iran used strategies of opposition to challenge the U.S., working to bog it down and emphasizing the American powerlessness to stabilize the country. The nuclear program, by its nature, is also central to Iran’s efforts to oppose the dominant order. States can seek to offset the power of an adversary or of a coalition of adversaries by internal and external balancing. The former involves shifting ad-

Conclusion 225

ditional indigenous resources toward generating more power, while the latter occurs when a state develops closer cooperation with allies with the aim of countering a common rival (Waltz, 1979, p. 168). American preponderance in the Middle East, in this sense, invites balancing. The three intervening variables act as triggers; they explain why Iran and not Saudi Arabia or Egypt balances against American power. Iran engages in balancing to constrain the United States, to reduce its margin of maneuver and that of its allies, especially Israel, with the aim of limiting their influence.8 The nuclear program, of course, is textbook internal balancing: to shift internal resources toward the production of more power. In both Iraq and the Arab-Israeli theater, Iran engages in external balancing by supporting like-minded groups. The Islamic Republic often hedges its bets by diversifying its ties to likeminded groups. If one partner defects, for example if it integrates the mainstream political process or is defeated, Iran has other options. By developing ties to a variety of Palestinian groups, Iran limits the costs of losing one of them. For example, it is possible that Hamas will continue distancing itself from Iran and develop closer ties to Muslim Brotherhood–linked movements in Egypt and elsewhere. In that case, Iran would still have its ties to Islamic Jihad through which to pressure Israel. In Iraq, Iran developed ties with a wide array of groups, providing flexible combinations of political, financial, and military support. As ISCI’s fortunes have declined, Iran has been able to look elsewhere for partners. The nuclear program, finally, can be seen as a giant hedge. By aiming for threshold capacity, Iran keeps open the option of acquiring the nuclear bomb in the future, should it assess that circumstances warrant it. Ariel Levite defines nuclear hedging as “a national strategy of maintaining, or at least appearing to maintain, a viable option for the relatively rapid acquisition of nuclear weapons, based on an indigenous technical capacity to produce them within a relatively short time frame” (2002/3, p. 69). The pursuit of a virtual deterrent thus allows Iran to hedge against an unpredictable future. In addition, though the main thrust of Iran’s efforts is based on uranium enrichment, it has been working in parallel to develop its ability to master the plutonium route, thus not putting all its eggs in the uranium basket. In some circumstances, Iran has displayed strategic patience by playing for time. This has occurred primarily when Iran, viewing its position as weak and confident that its power would improve in the not-too-distant future, chose temporary restraint. In those cases, it took its time to further develop assets that would be useful later. In the early years of the U.S. occupation of Iraq, Iran most-

226  Conclusion

ly refrained from provoking the United States and requested of its Iraqi allies that they do the same. At the same time, it actively worked to increase its presence in Iraq. As its power grew, Iran increasingly sought to reap the benefits of its earlier patience. Throughout the various rounds of negotiations on its nuclear program, Iran also systematically stalled, playing for time as it continued to progress along the nuclear path. To do so, Iran has regularly reopened or questioned past agreements, asked for clarifications, or manipulated the ambiguity of agreements. A sixth strategy has been to drive wedges between the United States and other states. Timothy Crawford defines wedge strategies as “a state’s attempt to prevent, break up, or weaken a threatening or blocking alliance at an acceptable cost” (2011, p. 156). Wedging allows the divider state to constrain its adversaries’ margin of maneuver by reducing the strength of opposing coalitions. Iran has proved tactically strong at driving wedges. By offering minor concessions to the IAEA, for example, Tehran has manipulated the reluctance of the Europeans, Russia, and China to impose sanctions and their desire to avoid escalation. This sought to drive a wedge between the United States and other Security Council members by selectively accommodating the latter in order to divide them from the U.S. Such tactics constrained the United States, raising the costs of its efforts to punish Iran by forcing Washington to increase payoffs to convince others to vote in favor of and implement sanctions. In the Arab-Israeli conflict, Iran raises the cost of Arab states’ alignment with the U.S. by manipulating the appeal of its rejectionism, similarly driving wedges between the United States and its regional allies. By raising the cost for Arab states of adopting pro-U.S. policies, Iran succeeded in diluting U.S. efforts to isolate the Islamic Republic. Yet more often than not, it bought short-term gains at the expense of longer-term pain, as its divisive tactics have progressively painted it into a corner, worsening its isolation and failing to avoid the buildup of sanctions. Iran, in sum, uses different combinations of strategies depending on circumstances, a variation that neoclassical realism can explain on the basis of the evolution of the causal equation. As its power rose and as conservatives and hard-liners consolidated their position, Tehran increasingly made use of more confrontational and belligerent strategies, such as opposition, balancing, and wedging. The assessment that Iran’s power is increasingly constrained therefore has implications for its future strategies. With an increasingly limited margin of maneuver, Iran is likely to be pushed toward greater reliance on spoiling. This, in turn, is likely to intensify the consequences of its policy choices, given that spoiling strategies annoy Iran’s neighbors and worsen its isolation.

Conclusion 227

Moving away from Rejectionism

The Rathbunian approach to neoclassical realism includes a prescriptive dimension: by differentiating between ideal and actual foreign policy, it proposes a theoretically informed framework to develop an optimal foreign policy proposal, an ideal yardstick to aim for. In practice, Iran’s performance has been suboptimal because of the intervention of domestic pathologies, leading to negative consequences. Ideally, its foreign policy would broadly follow structural incentives and bend to structural pressures. Its ideal interests are to: • ensure the survival of the regime and protect the country’s territorial integrity. The most immediate threat to this interest in recent years has come from Iraq; here, Iran should work toward the establishment of a stable and relatively weak Iraqi government that would not be hostile to Iran. In the longer term, Iran remains vulnerable given its geography. To mitigate this, developing a nuclear capability is an option; • become the dominant power in the Persian Gulf and an indispensable player in the Middle East. With regard to the Arab-Israeli conflict, this implies gaining a seat at the table in the management of one of the most politically charged issues in the region. With regard to Iraq, this implies establishing itself as the dominant external player in Iraqi affairs. But by no means does this necessarily imply that Iran should become allied— let alone subservient—to the United States. As an aspiring regional power, clashes of interests are likely. High levels of hostility with the region’s preponderant power and its many allies, however, prevent Iran from maximizing its security and influence. Iran has not been pursuing these ideal goals; domestic pathologies have caused its foreign policy to deviate significantly, with major consequences. To remedy this and pursue a more optimal foreign policy, Iran should seek to reduce the distortions caused by the peculiar nature of its power and by the strong causal effect of specific domestic processes. Iran should begin by maximizing the more conventional elements of its power. Because power is the chief driver of foreign policy, the peculiar nature of Iran’s power severely limits its options, constraining it even before the distorting effect of intervening variables is taken into consideration. By developing more conventional assets, Iran would gradually diversify and broaden the range of options at its disposal; it would remove itself from the corner it has painted itself into. This would, in time, allow it to maximize its security and

228  Conclusion

influence more optimally. The first step would be to reform and diversify its stagnant and oil-dependent economy; as long as it remains underdeveloped, Iran will not be able to assume a strong regional leadership position. Tehran should also invest more in conventional military power. Even though it would require massive, and probably unrealistic, investments to be able to balance against the military power of its regional rivals for the foreseeable future, its military feebleness remains an acute weakness. Iran is unlikely to completely forgo ties to like-minded groups such as Hezbollah and Hamas, but it could reduce its military support and encourage their further integration in the political process of their respective homelands. In the short term this would be costly, as it would reduce their value as deterrents and as assets to pressure Israel and the United States. In the longer term, however, this promises benefits by decreasing tensions with the U.S. and its regional allies. More generally, one option could be for Iran to position itself as a rival to the United States and Israel, but not as an aggressive rejectionist. Among other benefits, this could increase the value for Russia and China of cooperating with Iran in their common opposition to U.S. preponderance. Resolving the nuclear standoff by reaching a comprehensive agreement with the P5+1 is an essential step in this direction; without such a deal, Iran is condemned to remain isolated and suffocated by sanctions. In sum, moving away from rejectionism would promise significant benefits and give Iran the opportunity to fulfill its ambitions. Its security would be more optimally maximized; it would remove the threat of an attack, its isolation would be reduced, and its acute insecurity dilemma would be mitigated. More optimal influence-maximization would follow. How can the United States and the international community help Iran “conventionalize” its power and positively influence the causal impact of the intervening variables? In general, other states tend to overestimate their ability to shape Iran’s policy-making; change will largely come from within. That said, some initiatives could help tilt Iran’s foreign policy in a more optimal direction. The danger, of course, is that misguided intervention can, as it has in the past, have the opposite effect—for example, by empowering hard-liners and indirectly contributing to a tilt in foreign policy in a suboptimal direction. The first and probably most crucial step would be to support the evolution of Iran’s power in a more conventional direction so that the distorting effect of its peculiar nature would be reduced. In particular, support for the integration of Iran into the international economy could, among other benefits, diversify and strengthen Iran’s economy. In fact, EU3 and later P5+1 packages regularly

Conclusion 229

offer economic incentives such as WTO membership; further efforts in this direction, in the long run, would help Iran develop its economy and ultimately achieve a more optimal foreign policy. The international community can also attempt to influence the causal effect of intervening variables. This is a value-added of neoclassical realism: by breaking down the causal chain, it reveals such inflection points. Iran’s regional power aspiration will not change—it is a historical continuity that will remain whatever the nature of the regime. Recognizing this aspiration would therefore reduce Iran’s status discrepancy, chipping away at its revisionist impulses. To do so could imply providing Iran with the space to adopt a role commensurate with its aspirations—for example, by involving it in current efforts to solve the Syrian crisis or in efforts to broker Arab-Israeli peace. The ability of external actors to influence the causal impact of the regime’s identity is limited. But better recognizing the origins and salience of some of its component parts, such as Iran’s acute perception of insecurity and its sense of historical grievance, could contribute to appeasing its more rejectionist implications. This could be done, for example, through symbolic gestures of reconciliation. Finally, efforts to shape the factional balance of power could help empower more moderate factions—though this would be risky, given that overt intervention in their support risks marginalizing them.



Notes

Introduction

1. The events of 11 September 2001 serve as a starting point, as they marked the beginning of a series of events, starting with the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan in late 2001, that led to an increase in Iran’s power. The period under consideration stops in June 2009, at the time of the country’s controversial presidential election. Because the years 2001 to 2009 are marked by a clear and positive trend in the growth of Iran’s power, its inability to seize this opportunity to expand its influence abroad is a circumstance worth exploring. After 2009, Iran’s power stopped rising; it stagnated and even started decreasing. Its inability to maximize its influence after 2009 is therefore less of a puzzle. 2. Constructivism is useful, however, to explain the formation of regime identity. This is consistent with the division-of-labor argument, proposed by Jeffrey Checkel (1998, 346): constructivism is ideal for explaining identity and interest formation, but once interests are stable, rationalist approaches are better adapted to study the pursuit of those interests. 3. The main efforts to better ground neoclassical realism are Rose (1998), Schweller (2003), Rathbun (2008), and Lobell, Ripsman, and Taliaferro (2009). 4. A window of opportunity occurs when a state is faced with a sudden shift in the international or regional distribution of power. A window can be created by the collapse of an adversary, a technological breakthrough, massively differential growth rates, victory in war, extraordinary individual leadership, or a new alliance pattern. Chapter 1

1. For example, for Waltz, the definition of power remains “a matter of controversy” (1986, p. 333), while John Mearsheimer writes that “there is considerable disagreement about what power is and how to measure it” (2001, p. 55). 2. Similarly, microeconomics explain the outcomes of the interaction of firms but cannot specify what individual firms do. For this, one must look into factors specific to firms such as internal culture, leadership, or efficiency (Tellis, 1996, p. 76). 231

232 Notes to Chapters 1–2

3. Stephen Brooks and William Wohlforth (2000/01) illustrate this mechanism in their study of how the Soviet Union chose options from a range of available choices in the 1980s. The USSR’s margin of maneuver was shaped by its smaller and declining power relative to the United States. This rendered some responses available and others impossible. The intervention of domestic variables—ideational factors—explains the choice of policies of retrenchment and engagement, as opposed to, for example, more aggressive or less cooperative policies had hard-liners prevailed instead of Gorbachev. 4. The inclusion of domestic social change differentiates Kennedy’s account from neoclassical realism. 5. For simplicity’s sake, when I refer to neoclassical realism, I refer to its strategic analysis variant. 6. Legro and Moravcsik (1999) and Mearsheimer (2001) also posit that rationality is a realist assumption. 7. Neoclassical realists accept that states perform such calculations in an environment marked by uncertainty and incomplete information, what Keohane labels ‘bounded rationality’ (1984). This impacts cost-benefit assessments; many neoclassical realists take this into consideration at the level of the intervening variable, especially by taking perceptions of power into consideration. 8. Rose (1998) proposes that neoclassical realism forms a “via media” because it incorporates within a realist framework variables associated with constructivism and liberalism such as ideas or leaders. It is debatable, however, whether this really positions neoclassical realism in the middle ground, since it firmly stays within the realist camp. It is more accurate to argue that neoclassical realism favors eclecticism within a realist framework. 9. For similar criticism regarding the discipline of political science as a whole, see Green and Shapiro (1994). Chapter 2

1. Robert Keohane defines fungibility as the proposition that different power resources “can be used to achieve results on any of a variety of issues without significant loss of efficacy. Power in politics becomes like money in economics” (1986, p. 167). 2. Abundance in oil or other natural resources can be a double-edged sword, as the literature on the resource curse shows (Karl, 1997). Use of the oil weapon—the threat or actual cutoff of oil exports—is also relative. The importing state will be hurt if supplies are cut, but so too will the exporting state, for which oil is often the main, if not the only, source of hard currency. 3. There is no inherent restriction to the number of intervening variables of a given application. Most neoclassical realists have used one, but some have used two: Zakaria (1998), for example, incorporates perceptions and state strength. 4. This is the case with Germany and Japan: both have significant power but are not

Notes to Chapter 2 233

ascribed by the international community a status commensurate with their potential. This discrepancy is not a source of revisionism for either, contrary to what Wohlforth posits. 5. Many neoclassical realists have successfully used perceptions as an intervening variable. This raises a question: Why is status, a new intervening variable for neoclassical realism, chosen instead of perceptions? An inflated self-assessment can lead a state to behave as if it had greater power than it actually has. As Wohlforth has demonstrated, this can lead to greater assertiveness but is unsustainable in the longer term; perceptions and reality of power must eventually converge (1993). Intuitively, this could seem to apply to Iran. Two problems arise, however. First, perceptions are inherently difficult to measure (see Morgenthau, 1993, ch. 10). Moreover, status has greater explanatory strength: by explaining how aspirations exceed ascription, the variable introduces the concept of a status discrepancy, which drives revisionism and assertiveness. Inflated perceptions, on the other hand, explain assertiveness but not revisionism. 6. For a review, see Lantis and Howlett (2013). 7. This is why the assumption of confined rationality matters: states do not evaluate the entire universe of feasible options, but only evaluate a smaller set of options as shaped by the causal chain; that is, some plausible options are dismissed without being considered because of the causal impact of intervening variables. 8. For example, the military is among the leading players in the U.S. government opposing strikes against Iran. Thus Allison oversimplifies when he writes that “propensities and priorities stemming from position are sufficient to allow analysts to make reliable predictions about a player’s stand in many cases” (1971, p. 167), and that, in many cases, “the stance of a particular player can be predicted with high reliability from information about” his position (p. 176). 9. Because Western powers tend to be internally stable, realism, with its Western and great power bias, misses out on the fact that often the main priority for less internally secure regimes is survival in the face of internal as much as external threats. There is a large literature on this matter; see David (1991) and Ayoob (1995). The useful arguments these authors make, however, remain poorly integrated into realism. This is not the focus here, but is an area for fruitful research: how to integrate the intertwined internal and external goals of fragile states for which regime survival is an overarching priority. Perhaps neoclassical realism’s concept of influence-maximization—the ability to shape the external environment—could be expanded to include the internal environment. One may even extend this logic to democracies, by positing that regime survival—winning elections—can be a foreign policy priority that could be subsumed under “gaining control over the internal environment.” 10. Six strategies are in response to threats (balancing, bandwagoning, binding, distancing, buckpassing, and engagement), five to opportunities (jackal bandwagoning, piling on, wave of the future, contagion, and holding the balance) (Schweller, 1998, pp. 65–83).

234 Notes to Chapters 2–3

11. An interesting area for future research is to study successful consequences. Realists typically assume that consequences are negative, with the ultimate one being disappearance. But what happens if a state behaves exceptionally well, beyond expectations? Waltz, for example, refers to Bismarck’s foreign policy as “diplomatic virtuoso,” which shifted the balance of power in Germany’s favor (1986, p. 343). How and why does this happen? Which intervening variables must intervene? What is the ideal combination of power elements? In a study of America’s domestic “power-creation” mechanisms during the Cold War, Aaron Friedberg (2000) argues that a specific set of domestic factors—U.S. institutions and ideology—help explain America’s superior performance relative to the Soviet Union in terms of extracting resources from its society. Chapter 3

Note: Large parts of this chapter are reproduced with permission from Juneau, T. (2013) “Iran: Rising but Unsustainable Power, Unfulfilled Potential,” in Juneau, T., and Razavi, S. (eds.) Iranian Foreign Policy since 2001: Alone in the World. London: Routledge, pp. 18–39. 1. Iran does not publish official defense budget figures. Numbers used here are mostly derived from the Military Balance, generally trusted as the most reliable source on military data. A number of military-related expenditures may not be fully taken into consideration in these figures, especially those associated with the nuclear program and paramilitary forces. 2. As stated by Ali Jaafari, the commander of the IRGC: “Asymmetrical warfare . . . is [our] strategy for dealing with the considerable capabilities of the enemy . . . since we are still at a disadvantage in comparison” (quoted in Cordesman, 2009). 3. For example, Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, threatened U.S. interests “worldwide” (Karimi, 2006), whereas then IRGC commander Safavi warned in 2005 that U.S. bases in Iraq were “within our reach,” and that Iran would “hand them bone breaking blows” (Agence France Presse, 2005). Similarly, the IRGC ground forces commander at the time, and overall commander today, Ali Jaafari, warned that any U.S. or Israeli attack would be met by “astonishing” retaliation (Eqbali, 2005). 4. This included 160,000 in Iraq, 35,000 in Afghanistan, and around 30,000, mostly support troops in other regional states. 5. In 2007 Iran agreed with Russia on the delivery of the advanced SA-300 longrange air defense system, but in 2010 Moscow canceled the contract. The SA-300 would have significantly augmented Iran’s air defenses and rendered eventual air strikes by Israel much more complex. The United States would not have faced an insurmountable challenge, but the bar would have been raised. 6. Although the Iranian media regularly reports on the country’s indigenously built Jamaran destroyer, it is not yet fully operational. 7. Not surprisingly, assessments differ, especially on three aspects: the operational

Notes to Chapters 3–4 235

difficulties associated with reaching key sites, the durable impact on Iran’s nuclear program, and the political and military repercussions (extent of Iranian retaliation; diplomatic fallout; impact on oil prices). Some evaluate the feasibility as “extremely low” (Ripley, 2007), while Albright et al. (2008) argue that “an attack is unlikely to significantly delay Iran’s mastery of enrichment.” Raas and Long, however, assess that Israel now possesses the “capability to destroy even well-hardened targets in Iran” with “a reasonable chance of success” (2007, p. 30). 8. In 2005, for example, 64 percent of Iran’s imports consisted of equipment goods (Coville, 2007, p. 68). 9. This explains Iran’s recurring strategy of encouraging the splintering of pro-Iran, radical factions among groups it supports when it is concerned—often correctly—that the integration of these groups in the political process leads to moderation and to distancing from Tehran. Iran adopted such a strategy with radical factions that splintered from JAM (Rahimi, 2007). 10. This does not imply, however, that Arab populations identify with Iran’s system of government. In fact, few in the Middle East outside Iran support the adoption of the velayat-e faqih system for their own country. 11. Logically, then, Iran would suffer a loss in power should Arab states adopt policies better reflecting their populations’ desires. Chapter 4

1. Graham Fuller (1991) agrees: though much changed with Iranian foreign policy after the 1979 revolution, it is important not to understate important elements of continuity. 2. His 1961 autobiography, Mission for My Country, articulates this vision in detail. 3. For an overview of the sources of Iran’s aspirations and how they are entrenched among its elite, see Ansari (2007a). 4. In 1953, Mohammed Mossadeq, Iran’s nationalist prime minister, was overthrown by a U.S. and UK-backed coup that allowed the shah to consolidate power and transform the country into an increasingly absolute monarchy. Mossadeq’s efforts to steer Iran away from its dependence on the UK and, increasingly, the United States (especially his attempt to nationalize the oil company) had previously drawn the ire of London and Washington (Kinzer, 2003). 5. Secretary of State James Baker made this promise in his testimony to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on 7 February 1991. 6. Cables released by Wikileaks confirm this view: Gulf monarchies, in private, are hawkish in their opposition to Iran. See “Abu Dhabi favours action to prevent a nuclear Iran” (10 April 2006); “Omani official wary of Iranian expansionism” (7 August 2008); “Kuwait wary of Iranian influence” (2 August 2009). For an overview, see Sanger, Glanz, and Becker (2010).

236 Notes to Chapters 4–5

7. Like aspirations, this is a perennial characteristic of Iran that is not specific to the Islamic Republic. In his classic study of elite political culture under the shah, Marvin Zonis (1971) argued that two of the most important characteristics of the leadership were its tendency to mistrust and pervasive feelings of insecurity. Similarly, another classic study posits that a “lively and persistent feeling” of insecurity is “the dominant characteristic of modern Persian history” (Upton, 1960, p. 27). 8. Al-e Ahmad did not coin the term; his 1962 book bearing the name, however, did most to popularize it. See Boroujerdi (1996) for more on his thought. 9. References to self-reliance are rife in the Islamic Republic’s constitution. Article 52 states that the “foreign policy of the Islamic Republic of Iran is based upon the rejection of all forms of domination . . . the preservation of the independence of the country in all respects and its territorial integrity . . . non-alignment with respect to the hegemonist superpowers.” Article 82 further prohibits the hiring of foreign advisors unless absolutely necessary. State economic documents also emphasize the importance of self-reliance; see, for example, the Third Development Plan, 2000–5, discussed in Amuzegar (2005). 10. See Baktiari (1996); Rajaee (1999); and Arjomand (2009). 11. As presidents Rafsanjani and Khatami had done, Ahmadinejad appointed allies throughout Iran’s sprawling bureaucracy. He replaced most of the country’s 30 governors-general, 290 of its 340 governors, and one-third of its district managers early on, for example (International Crisis Group, 2007, p. 4). Loyalists and allies were also appointed to senior positions in key ministries (though many key positions remained under the purview of the supreme leader’s office). 12. Iranians are Twelver Shia, the main branch of Shiism (smaller branches include the Zaydis, who are Fiver Shia and are found mostly in Yemen, and the Ismailis, who are Sevener). Twelvers believe that the 12th Imam, a direct descendent of Ali, the Prophet’s son-in-law, went into hiding in 874. His return will lead to the establishment of a perfect Islamic society. Ahmadinejad and many of his allies argue that they have a duty to prepare for this return, which they view as imminent, while the traditional clergy condemn such beliefs as unorthodox. Chapter 5

1. On the war and its consequences, see Potter and Sick (2004). 2. Iran supported a number of other, smaller militias that were either splinters from JAM, still loosely associated with JAM, or independent, such as the Sheibani Network. 3. “Iran Attempts to Manipulate Iraq Elections,” available at www.guardian.co.uk/ world/us-embassy-cables-documents/234583 (accessed 25 June 2012). 4. At its height in 2007, Iran’s provision of cooking gas reached 1,000 tons daily, about 20 percent of Iraqi demand (Partlow, 2007). 5. The main Sunni parties boycotted the elections. 6. The al-Askari shrine is one of the most important sites for Shia Muslims. It is

Notes to Chapters 5–6 237

where the Tenth and Eleventh Imams are believed to be buried along with the mother and aunt of the Twelfth Imam, the Mahdy or Hidden Imam. 7. On these trends, see the 2009 report by the U.S. Department of Defense (2009), “Measuring Stability and Security in Iraq.” 8. Reports released by Wikileaks also show how Iranian-sponsored assassinations became a worry for the United States. See a March 2007 report suggesting that Iran pushed JAM to target Ministry of Industry officials (www.nytimes.com/interactive/ world/iraq-war-logs.html?gwh=CA1695C48BCCB3003CE13AF4C8D43C36#report/9262 EF18–98EF-6825–9B0FDA8A806087DD). 9. A number of U.S. intelligence reports released by Wikileaks contained detailed investigations into the Iranian origins of EFPs and into the smuggling routes that brought them from Iran into Iraq. See, for example, “Intel Report: Investigation into DBE Find on 10 Nov 05 Near Iranian Border.” For a few of those documents, see www.nytimes.com/ interactive/world/iraq-war-logs.html?gwh=F714D67CCF4CB2EEA0F77B7047069774. 10. A number of U.S. government reports released by Wikileaks in 2010 show how seriously U.S. forces took the threat of kidnapping by militias, especially by JAM units. See, for example, “Kidnapping Threat Rep by JAM IVO in Baghdad,” dated 22 December 2006 (www.nytimes.com/interactive/world/iraq-war-logs.html?gwh=2E77E1E19B44DE46694CA5DD6241BC8C#report/ABD1B1E9-D673–93B1–757861100C0728BC). 11. One of the most perceptive analyses of how regional power dynamics played out in post-Saddam Iraq was written by Christopher Hill, then the U.S. ambassador to Iraq, in a cable written on 24 September 2009 released by Wikileaks in 2010 (see “The Great Game, in Mesopotamia,” available at www.guardian.co.uk/world/us-embassy-cablesdocuments/226620 [part I] and www.cablegatesearch.net/cable.php?id=09BAGHDAD2561 [part II]). Chapter 6

1. The other two pillars of the nationalist element are less salient. Iran does play the victimhood card, defining itself as a victim of U.S. imperialism, but less so in its approach to the Arab-Israeli conflict (though it does systematically depict the Palestinians as victims). The self-reliance is also marginal here; in fact, Iran relies on allies in this issue-area. 2. For these quotations and others, see the database of sayings of Khomeini, especially Part II, ch. 5, at http://server32.irna.com/occasion/ertehal/english/saying/. 3. For a detailed statement of this position, see the interview granted by Iran’s then ambassador to the UN, Javad Zarif, a prominent reformist close to Khatami, to Houshang Amirahmadi of the American-Iranian Council in 2004 (AIC Insight, 2004). 4. For a compilation of anti-Israel rhetoric from Islamic Republic leaders, see Teitelbaum (2008). On the debate surrounding the translation of Ahmadinejad’s statements, see Kessler (2011).

238 Notes to Chapters 6–7

5. The report was highly critical of the performance of the IDF. It is available at www.cfr.org/israel/winograd-commission-final-report/p15385; the quotation is from point 11. 6. One key success for Israel, nonetheless, was defensive. The war was very costly for Hezbollah and for the Lebanese population, which may increase the militia-cum-party’s reluctance to engage in a renewed conflict with Israel in the future. Israel, in this sense, may have succeeded in improving its deterrence. Chapter 7

1. For background, see Burr (2009). 2. The NPT rests on a bargain between nuclear haves and have-nots. According to Article II, non-nuclear states agree “not to manufacture or otherwise acquire nuclear weapons.” In exchange, nuclear states agree, as per Article IV, that all parties to the treaty have an “inalienable right” to “develop research, production and use of nuclear energy for peaceful purposes” (paragraph 1). In addition, nuclear haves agree to support havenots in their efforts to acquire and use nuclear energy for peaceful purposes (paragraph 2). 3. The uranium route is the one Iran has favored so far. A second method, on which Iran has worked but is much less advanced, is the plutonium route. 4. On technical aspects, see Côté (1996) and a glossary by Henderson and Heinonen (2012). 5. For a primer on the nuclear capabilities of the United States, Israel, Russia, India, and Pakistan, see their country profiles from the Arms Control Association (www.armscontrol.org/countryresources). 6. This is an accusation regularly made by the leadership. In a speech in February 2012, for example, the leader argued that “the sanctions have been there since the beginning of the Islamic Revolution, but the nuclear issue is a recent development. Therefore, the main problem is that there is a nation that is determined to become independent, a nation that is not prepared to give in to oppression” (Iran Primer, 2012). 7. The NPT is, in a sense, a cartel of satisfied powers who resist efforts to change the status quo. Iran, in this view, is a dissatisfied rising power seeking to revise the nuclear order. See Martin Wight’s argument (1978, p. 211) that great powers are typically in favor of disarmament as they seek to maintain their positions. 8. There is a debate on this matter. For some Shia scholars, the indiscriminate killing wrought by WMD renders their possession and use forbidden; for others, their use may be justified in extreme circumstances if the survival of the realm is at stake (Khalaji, 2011). 9. For a transcript of the speech, see www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/library/news/ iran/2005/iran-050918-irna02.htm (accessed 21 July 2012). 10. As argued in Chapter 5, this is an equilibrium similar to the one struck in Iraq in

Notes to Chapter 7 239

the early years after the U.S. invasion, when Iran maintained a low profile while developing assets on the ground. 11. For the public version of the NIE, see www.globalsecurity.org/intell/library/reports/2007/nie_iran-nuclear_20071203.htm (accessed 28 July 2012). 12. Another caveat is that this assessment is based on incomplete information. Such predictions, in fact, have been wrong in the past. In 1984, for example, the respected defense magazine Jane’s predicted that Iran could be within two years of having the bomb. 13. “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement and relevant provisions of Security Council resolutions 1737 (2006), 1747 (2007), 1803 (2008) and 1835 (2008) in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 16 November 2009 (GOV/2009/74). 14. “Report on the Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement and Relevant Provisions of Security Council resolutions 1737 (2006), 1747 (2007), 1803 (2008), and 1835 (2008), in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 28 August 2009 (GOV/2009/55). 15. See the U.S. Department of Energy’s Energy Information Agency, Iran section (www.eia.gov/countries/country-data.cfm?fips=IR&trk=m). 16. See Wood et al. for an analysis of the economic rationale of the nuclear program. According to these authors, when “evaluated on the basis of its economic rationale, certain elements of Iran’s nuclear program are highly questionable” (2007, p. 90). 17. “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 6 June 2003 (GOV/2003/32), 7. 18. “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 26 November 2003 (GOV/2003/75). Each non-nuclear weapon state party to the NPT agrees with the IAEA to a Comprehensive Safeguards Agreement, under which it must accept safeguards on all peaceful nuclear activities on its territory. The IAEA has a corresponding right and obligation to monitor these activities. 19. The Additional Protocol requires its adherents to provide enhanced access to IAEA inspectors to sites and individuals as well as more detailed declarations on nuclear-related activities. 20. See the IAEA’s report from 8 November 2011, which provides a historical overview of the possible military dimensions of the nuclear program (“Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement and relevant provisions of Security Council resolutions in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” GOV/2011/65). 21. For a comprehensive chronology of successive talks between Iran and the EU3 and later the P5+1, see Davenport (2012). 22. In a parting reflection on his time as chief nuclear negotiator under Khatami, Hassan Ruhani suggested that the dragged-out negotiations had provided Iran with more time to progress along the nuclear path, providing Iran with more leverage (quoted in Ansari, 2007b, p. 50). 23. IAEA, “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 11 August 2005 (GOV/2005/64).

240 Notes to Chapter 7 and the Conclusion

24. IAEA, “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 24 September 2005 (GOV/2005/77). 25. For a transcript of the speech, see www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/library/news/ iran/2005/iran-050918-irna02.htm (accessed 21 July 2012). 26. In a February 2006 report to the board of governors, the agency’s director-general argued that even though the inspectors had “not seen any diversion of nuclear material to nuclear weapons,” the agency was not “in a position to conclude that there are no undeclared nuclear materials or activities in Iran.” “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 27 February 2006 (GOV/2006/15). 27. For a detailed list of the IAEA’s unanswered requests, see Cordesman and Wilner (2012a, pp. 77–79). 28. “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement and relevant provisions of Security Council resolutions 1737 (2006) and 1747 (2007) in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 22 February 2008 (GOV/2008/4). 29. “Implementation of the NPT Safeguards Agreement and relevant provisions of Security Council resolutions in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” 8 November 2011 (GOV/2011/65), 3. 30. Similarly, B. H. Liddell Hart argues that “to the extent the H-bomb reduces the likelihood of full-scale war, it increases the possibility of limited war pursued by widespread local aggression” (1960, p. 23). 31. Since mid-2009, the number of functioning centrifuges at Natanz has stagnated between eight and ten thousand. On Stuxnet—the first major known cyber-attack, which is reported to have destroyed about a thousand centrifuges and delayed the program by up to one year—see Farwell and Rohozinski (2011). There have been frequent media reports since mentioning the possibility of additional current or future attacks. There have been regular reports concerning the sabotage campaign. In November 2011, for example, a huge explosion demolished parts of the Bid Ganeh missile facility southwest of Tehran, killing a senior officer known as the “godfather” of Iran’s missile program (Borger and Dehghan, 2011). On the Israeli and U.S. covert campaigns, see Melman and Raviv (2012) and Albright et al. (2012, pp. 12–17). 32. U.S. government cables released by Wikileaks in 2010 confirmed the hostility and mistrust of Arab states toward Iran and the fear elicited by its nuclear ambitions. For an overview, see Black (2010). Conclusion

1. Given that European insurers underwrite the insurance policies of about 95 percent of the global tanker fleet, this has been particularly damaging. 2. In fact, Iraq passed Iran in 2012 as OPEC’s second producer. Although Iraq is unlikely to meet its ambitious targets of producing 12 million barrels per day (bpd) by

Notes to the Conclusion 241

2017, it is very likely that its production will continue its steady increase. This is bound to increase competition between the two. 3. For a list of polls producing similar results, see Eisenstadt et al. (2011, p. 16). 4. ‘Iyad Allawi’s Iraqiyya coalition, with mostly Sunni support, finished first with 91 seats, State of Law second with 89, and the INA third with 70. 5. For background on the nuclear negotiations and details on the interim agreement, see International Crisis Group (2014b). 6. See the IAEA’s spring 2014 progress report, Status of Iran’s Nuclear Program in Relation to the Joint Plan of Action, 20 June 2014, available at http://isis-online.org/uploads/ isis-reports/documents/gov-inf-–14.pdf (accessed 2 July 2014). 7. This refined understanding of consequences raises questions. Is there a spectrum of consequences, from negative to positive, depending on the nature of intervening variables? Rathbunian neoclassical realism argues that domestic processes distort foreign policy, causing it to deviate from optimal, structurally induced outcomes. Do different intervening variables lead to worse consequences than others for states in similar structural circumstances? This represents a fruitful avenue for future research by performing comparative studies of two or more states occupying similar positions in the international system but with different domestic processes impacting foreign policy. Is one suffering worse consequences? Similarly, can the intervention of particular domestic factors, such as democratic values, lead to better outcomes, or positive consequences? 8. See Walt (2009, esp. p. 102) for more on how U.S. rivals adopt regional balancing strategies to constrain American influence.



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Index

Abadi, Hayder al-, 211 Abbas, Mahmoud, 162 AEOI, see Atomic Energy Organization of Iran Afghanistan, 60, 113, 141–42 Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud: background and career, 99, 100; bureaucratic appointments, 99, 102, 236n11; economic policies, 68, 223; grievances against West, 88; hardline faction, 3, 98, 99–100, 102–3, 188; on Holocaust, 148, 153; Iraq visit, 121; Israel and, 148, 153; Khamenei and, 94; Latin American travel, 72; nuclear program and, 177, 190; Palestinians and, 162; popularity in Arab world, 76, 153; power base, 99, 101–3; presidential elections, 101–2, 189, 193–94; public opinion on, 155; relations with clergy, 102–3; religious views, 102, 236n12; rivals, 190; UN speeches, 177, 189 Al-Afghani (Seyyed Jamal ad-Din Asadabadi), 88, 89 Al-e Ahmad, Jalal, 88–89 Al-Hakim, Abdul-Aziz, 109, 130, 131 Al-Hakim, Baqer, 109 Al-Jaafari, Ibrahim, 112–13, 119 Allawi, ‘Iyyad, 126, 134, 241n4 Alliances: managing, 159; power-

maximization and, 221; state power and, 40 Alliances of Iran: Arab-Israeli conflict and, 142–44, 154–56, 157–59, 162, 163, 212–14; diversification, 225; future of, 228; Iranian power and, 70–75; with Latin American countries, 72; nuclear program and, 183, 195, 199, 200; with Palestinian Islamic Jihad, 144, 155, 162, 213–14; security-maximization role, 123, 157–59, 221; with Syria, 71, 143. See also Hamas; Hezbollah; Shia groups, in Iraq Allison, Graham, 46–47, 49 Al-Qaeda, 110–11, 130 Appeal, as element of power, 41 Appeal of Iranian policies: decline, 207–8; in future, 207; in Iraq, 121, 208, 211; maximization, 151–54; media use, 160; nuclear program and, 183; opposition to Israel, 143, 144, 151–54, 160, 226; in region, 76–77, 79, 143, 144, 147, 207–8, 221; religious component, 147 Arab countries: Ahmadinejad’s popularity, 76, 153; balance of power with Israel, 139, 140; de facto recognition of Israel, 151; foreign policy, 77; popular mood, 76; public opinion of Iran, 76–77, 207–8; relations with Iran, 163, 166; support 263

264  index

of Iraq, 113, 122; U.S. allies, 58, 66, 84, 107, 226. See also Gulf Cooperation Council countries; and individual countries Arab-Israeli conflict: Malaysian approach, 149; Oslo Accords, 141, 159; peace processes, 141, 143–44, 146, 151–53, 159; war (1967), 105, 140. See also Palestinian Territories Arab-Israeli conflict, Iranian policy: assertiveness, 142, 145, 146, 159; conferences, 152–53, 154; consequences, 165–67; domestic factors, 12, 145–50, 166; history, 139–42; influence, 10, 159–61, 166–68, 212–14; influencemaximization, 159–64, 166; international reactions, 165–66; Iranian power and, 142–45, 209; of Khomeini, 146, 147; national interests of Iran and, 139, 140, 150–51, 161, 227; power-maximization, 151–56, 165; rejectionism, 141, 142–43, 146, 147–48, 151, 152, 165–66; rhetorical attacks, 159, 160, 162, 163; security-maximization, 156–59, 165–66; spoiling strategy, 224 Arab League Summit, 152 Arab Spring (2011), 79, 207 Arafat, Yasser, 141 Araghchi, Abbas, 190 Armed forces, see Militaries Arms, see Weapons Artesh, see Military, Iranian Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq (AAH), 110, 120, 131, 211 Assad, Bashar al-, 71, 212 Assembly of Experts, 96, 101, 103 Athens, 21, 22, 53 Atomic Energy Organization of Iran (AEOI), 170, 171 Badr Brigade, 75, 109, 119, 120, 127–28, 130, 133. See also Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq Baghdad Pact, 105

Balance-of-threat theory, 2 Balancing strategy, 224–25 Barak, Ehud, 141 Baseej militia, 59, 98, 99, 101–2, 103. See also Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Ben Gurion, David, 140 Bennett, Andrew, 14 Britain, relations with Iran, 83, 235n4. See also European Union Brooks, Stephen, 30, 51 Bull, Hedley, 33 Burns, William, 193 Bush, George H. W., 83 Bush, George W., 113, 142, 192, 193, 205 Buzan, Barry, 33 Byman, Daniel, 26, 39, 152 Capabilities and intentions, 13–14, 21, 54, 204, 219–20 Carr, E. H., 22 Chemical weapons, Iraqi use, 83, 106–7, 113, 170, 177 China: arms sales to Iran, 61, 62–63; arms sales to Iraq, 113; nuclear program negotiations, 197, 215; relations with Iran, 71–72, 199, 228; trade with Iran, 69, 197 Chubin, Shahram, 73, 85 CISADA, see Comprehensive Iran Sanctions, Accountability, and Divestment Act Clapper, James, 179 Cold War, 26, 139–40, 141, 152 Complexity, 32–33, 220–21 Comprehensive Iran Sanctions, Accountability, and Divestment Act (CISADA), 205 Conservatives: in Majles, 95, 189; nuclear program and, 186, 188, 189; power, 98; pragmatists, 96, 99, 114, 115–16. See also Factional politics; Moderates; Traditional conservatives

index 265

Constructivism, 2–3, 231n2 Corruption, 40, 66, 68 Crawford, Timothy, 226 Cyberattacks, 198, 240n31 Dahl, Robert, 56 Danaifar, Hassan, 115 Da’wa, see Hezb al-Da’wa Defence Industries Organization, 64 Defense budgets: of Gulf Cooperation Council countries, 58, 65–66, 200; as indicator of military power, 38; of Iran, 58, 82, 106; of Iran’s neighbors, 58, 65–66, 106; of Iraq, 106, 113, 209 Defense industries, 39, 64–65. See also Weapons Defense strategy, deterrence as, 123, 156–57, 165, 184 Defensive realism, 2, 7, 23, 27–28, 51. See also Realism Domestic actors, as intervening variable, 26–27. See also Factional politics Domestic factors: foreign policy impact, 6–7, 8, 218–19; as intervening variables, 4–5, 24–27, 41–49, 218–19, 241n7; in nuclear program, 10–11, 173–78, 201; in policy toward Arab-Israeli conflict, 12, 145–50, 166; in policy toward Iran, 111–16, 135, 137; in rejectionism, 222; types, 26–27; in U.S. foreign policy, 19–20, 26 Domestic institutions, 27 Domestic pathologies, see Domestic factors Domestic politics: effects of sanctions, 206; foreign policy impact, 3; Green Movement, 194; popular mood, 40–41, 70. See also Elections; Factional politics Drones, 210–11 East, Maurice, 42 Economic growth: conditions promoting,

40; effects of sanctions, 206, 215, 223; energy demand and, 69, 182 Economic power: assets, 23, 39–40; effects of sanctions, 165, 199; importance, 22; of Iran, 66–69, 79, 199, 205, 228 Egypt: Gaza Strip and, 154, 213; governments, 213; polls, 76; power in region, 144, 209; public opinion of Iran, 208; war with Israel (1967), 105 Elections: of 1997, 97; of 2004, 100, 101; of 2006, 103; of 2009, 79, 193–94, 207; of 2013, 214, 215, 223; Majles, 97–98, 99, 100, 101; municipal, 100, 103; presidential, 93, 97–98, 101–2, 189, 193–94 Electricity: exports to Iraq, 120, 121; subsidies, 68. See also Nuclear program Elites: foreign policy decisions, 48; historical awareness, 81–82; regime identity and, 44 Energy: nuclear, 169–70, 182–83, 187; sources, 39–40; subsidies, 68. See also Gasoline imports; Oil Ethnic groups: foreign policy influence, 27; integration of, 38; in Iran, 57, 70, 108, 110 Europe, relations with Iran, 69, 149 European Union (EU): negotiations on Iranian nuclear program, 186, 187, 188–89, 190–91, 195; sanctions on Iran, 206 Expediency Council, 101 Exporting revolution, 86, 95 Exports, see Oil; Trade Factional politics: between 1979 and 2001, 95–98; between 2001 and 2009, 98–103; Arab-Israeli conflict and, 148–50, 167; balance of power, 3, 114, 189, 229; competition, 92, 95–96, 98, 100, 102, 167, 201; foreign policy

266  index

consensus, 83, 114–15, 148; foreign policy impact, 92, 114–16, 137, 148–50, 167, 201; as intervening variable, 8–9, 10, 11, 46–49, 114–16, 167; in Iran, 3, 49, 92–103; nuclear program and, 176–78, 186, 187, 189–90, 201, 217; pathdependency and, 223; radical left, 95–96, 97, 124; rules and boundaries, 92–95. See also Conservatives; Hardline faction; Moderates; Reformists; Traditional conservatives Fadlallah, Mohammed Hussein, 119 Fanon, Frantz, 90 Fatah, 74, 156 Firozabadi, Hassan, 159 Food prices, 206. See also Inflation Foreign direct investment: constraints, 69; in Iraq, 121 Foreign policy, Iranian: after Islamic Revolution, 106, 107; antihegemonic, 87; components, 49–54; decisionmaking, 92–93, 95, 98; factional politics intervening variable, 8–9, 10, 11, 49, 114–16, 167; in future, 12, 228–29; goals, 83, 86, 106; hypotheses, 12–14, 135, 165, 168, 218–20; ideal, 7; ideal interests, 51, 116, 117, 150, 180–81, 220, 227; optimal, 227–29; pathdependency, 223; performance, 1, 6, 11–12, 227; of Rafsanjani, 83, 96, 100, 107, 149; reformist views, 97; relations with Israel, 139, 140–41, 146–47; under Ruhani, 214–15; of shah, 84, 105, 139, 140, 146; structural pressures, 8, 10, 12– 13, 218; suboptimal performance, 1, 7, 78, 203–4, 212; theoretical frameworks, 1–12. See also Alliances; Arab-Israeli conflict; Iraq, Iranian policy; Power and foreign policy; Revisionism; U.S.Iranian relations Foreign policy strategies, 28, 53, 54, 224–26, 233n10. See also Power and foreign policy

France, arms sales to Iraq, 113. See also European Union Fuller, Graham, 166 Gasoline imports, 67, 205–6. See also Oil Gaza Strip: Egypt and, 154, 213; Hamas power, 155, 156, 214; Israeli attacks, 74, 154, 156, 162; Israeli blockade, 213. See also Hamas; Palestinian Territories GCC, see Gulf Cooperation Council Geography: of Iran, 56–57; Iran-Iraq border, 108; power and, 37; strategic culture and, 45 George, Alexander, 14, 34 Germany, imperial foreign policy, 26–27. See also European Union Gilpin, Robert, 18, 28, 29, 35, 46, 52 Glaser, Charles, 50 Goldstein, Judith, 45–46 Great powers: aspiring, 44; economic power, 40; economies, 40; Iran’s selfimage as, 174; populations, 37–38; power-maximization, 2, 27; realist view, 29–30. See also Regional powers; Status Green Movement, 194 Guardian Council, 94–95, 96, 98, 100, 103 Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries: air defenses, 66; defense spending, 58, 65–66, 200; homeland security spending, 65; military power, 65–66, 172; navies, 62; populations, 57; relations with Iran, 75, 84–85, 149, 157, 200; trade with Iran, 69; U.S. military in, 84, 200; weapons systems, 61. See also individual countries Gulf War (1991), 83, 88, 107, 141 Haddad-Adel, Gholam-Ali, 100, 151 Hamas: Iranian support, 73–74, 144, 154– 55, 162, 213, 225; Iran’s nuclear program and, 195, 200; power, 71, 74, 144, 155–56, 214; suicide bombings, 162; Syria and,

index 267

213; war with Israel, 74, 154, 156, 158, 162; weapons, 74 Haniyeh, Ismail, 74 Harb, Osama al-Ghazaly, 183 Hard-line faction: conflicts with other groups, 92, 98, 102–3; foreign policy strategies, 224; foreign policy views, 99–100; influence on foreign policy, 3, 114, 115, 148, 177; marginalization, 215; nuclear program and, 176–78, 186, 188, 189, 217; regional power aspirations, 83, 222; rise of, 98–99, 101, 148, 153. See also Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud; Factional politics Hedging strategy, 225 Heisbourg, François, 195 Hezb al-Da’wa (Party of Islamic Calling): elections, 127, 128, 210; founding, 109; Iranian support, 114, 118; leaders, 109, 119, 128, 129, 132; power, 129; relations with Iran, 109, 119, 131 Hezbollah: autonomy from Iran, 212; disruption of peace process, 143–44; Hamas and, 74, 162; intelligence, 158, 164; Iranian support, 72–73, 147, 153–54, 161; Iran’s nuclear program and, 195, 200; Iraqi Shia groups and, 110, 135; Islamic Jihad training, 74; power, 71, 72–73, 143–44, 155, 158, 212–13; public support, 143, 155; social services, 73, 153; Syria and, 155; television station, 160; war in Syria, 212–13; weapons, 72–73, 164–65, 213 Hezbollah, war with Israel (2006): consequences for Iran, 154, 158–59, 167; costs, 155, 238n6 (ch 6); Israeli military performance, 157–58, 160, 167; victory claims, 143, 154, 158, 167; weapons, 72–73, 164–65 Hezbollah Brigades, see Kata’ib Hezbollah Hussein, Saddam: defense spending, 113; fall, 60; Kurdish groups and, 140;

Kuwait invasion, 88, 107; opposition groups, 109; relations with Iran, 105–6, 124, 125; rise of, 105 IAEA, see International Atomic Energy Agency Ideas, as intervening variable, 26 Identity: construction, 90–91; as intervening variable, 27; national, 44. See also Regime identity Ideological adherence, 43 IDF, see Israeli Defence Forces IJ, see Islamic Jihad IMF, see International Monetary Fund Imperialism, 86, 87–88, 140, 146 India, nuclear weapons, 173 Individuals, as intervening variable, 26–27. See also Leaders Inequality, 70, 87, 99, 100 Inflation, 66, 67–68, 206, 223 Influence: constraints, 167–68; of Iran, 80, 209–15; negative, 166–67, 201, 204; power and, 53; types, 53, 136 Influence-maximization: Arab-Israeli conflict, 159–64, 166; definition, 52–53; Iranian performance, 11–12; in Iraq, 9, 12, 124–33, 136–37; national interests and, 49; nuclear program, 185–94, 195–98 Institutions, as intervening variable, 27. See also Factional politics Interest groups, 27, 48 International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), 171; inspectors, 180, 186, 187, 191, 240n26; Iran’s approach to, 178, 185, 186–87, 189, 191, 192; negotiations with Iran, 191–92; reports on Iran’s nuclear program, 179–80, 181, 182, 186, 189, 192, 214, 215; Safeguards Agreements, 181, 186, 189, 190, 191, 238n18 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 68, 79, 206, 207

268  index

International Relations, 33–34. See also Realism Intervening variables, 24–27, 41–49. See also Domestic factors; Factional politics; Regime identity; Status Iran: constitution, 82, 87, 93, 94, 97, 236n9; defense budgets, 58, 106; economic power, 66–69, 79, 199, 205, 228; ethnic minorities, 57, 70, 108, 110; geography, 56–57; history, 81–82, 86, 87–88; Islamic Revolution, 32, 86, 106, 140; military power, 57–66, 165, 172, 228; monarchy, 82, 86; population, 57, 79– 80, 182; velayat-e faqih, 79, 89, 93–95, 122, 235n10. See also Foreign policy; Nuclear program Iraq: civil war, 75, 119, 120; defense spending, 106, 113, 209; economy, 108–9, 207; elections, 109, 112–13, 119, 128, 132–33, 210, 241n4; government, 9–10, 116, 119, 126–27, 128, 130, 131; Gulf War (1991), 83, 88, 107, 141; instability, 75, 108, 111, 117, 123–24, 125, 126, 211–12; Kurds, 105, 107, 110; Kuwait invasion, 83, 88, 107; monarchy, 105; no-fly zones, 107; nuclear program, 170; oil production, 107, 207, 240–41n2; political parties, 109, 118, 128, 132, 135, 136–37, 210; as regional power, 105; sectarian violence, 109–10, 118, 119, 124, 127–29, 129 (table), 130, 209. See also Hussein, Saddam; Shia groups, in Iraq Iraq, Iranian policy: allies, 75, 125–28, 129–34; appeals for public support, 121; assertiveness, 107–8, 112, 113, 114, 127– 28, 137; conflicts with U.S. interests, 134–35; consequences, 134, 135–37; denied role by other regional powers, 112–13; domestic factors, 111–16, 135, 137; goals, 115, 116–17, 210; influence in Iraq, 9–10, 117, 118, 125, 133–34, 136–37, 209–12; influence-maximization, 9, 12, 124–33, 136–37; national interests

of Iran and, 9–10, 107, 116–17, 227; performance, 10, 135–38; as power broker, 128; power dynamic, 107–8, 111, 112; power-maximization, 117–22, 135– 36; promotion of Shia government, 127, 128, 130; security-maximization, 117, 122–24, 136, 210–11, 221; special groups, 110, 118, 120, 130, 134–35; strategies, 224; structural pressures, 104, 112, 123, 135, 218; window of opportunity, 107–11. See also Iraq-Iran relations Iraq, U.S. war in: deaths, 120, 134; invasion, 60, 111, 119, 122, 125; Iranian reactions, 113–14, 125; Iranian support of opposition groups, 75, 109–10; occupation, 108–10, 114, 115, 116, 122, 123, 129, 134; security threat to Iran, 9, 184; surge, 60, 130–31, 134; withdrawal, 132, 134, 211 Iraqi Communist Party, 109 Iraqi military: Badr Brigade members, 119, 127–28, 131; collapse in 2003, 60, 111; Operation Charge of the Knights, 131–32; rebuilding, 111, 131, 204–5; weakness in 2014, 209; weapons, 60, 106, 113 Iraqi National Accord, 126 Iraqi National Alliance, 210 Iraq-Iran relations: after Islamic Revolution, 106; Algiers Accord, 105–6; ambassadors, 115; Baghdad Pact, 105; border, 108; historical competition, 104–7; Kurdish factions and, 105; pilgrimages, 122; in post-Saddam era, 108–11, 112–25, 126–36; with Saddam regime, 124, 125; security threats to Iran, 9, 112, 115, 116, 123–24, 184; Shatt al-Arab dispute, 105–6; trade, 108–9, 120–21, 135–36, 206–7; U.S. influence, 112–13. See also Iraq, Iranian policy Iraq-Iran war (1980-88): beginning, 106; casualties, 91, 106, 170; chemical

index 269

weapons use by Iraq, 83, 106–7, 113, 170, 177; end of, 107, 114, 222–23; Iranian military force, 57; Iranian objective, 106; Iranian regime identity and, 113, 114, 175, 222–23; Khomeini’s reaction, 91–92, 114; Kurdish groups, 110; nuclear power plant damaged, 170; Shia groups opposing Saddam, 109; stalemate, 106; veterans, 98–99; Western and Arab support of Iraq, 88, 92, 106, 113 IRGC, see Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps IS, see Islamic State ISCI, see Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq Islam: regime identity and, 114, 147, 176; view of nuclear weapons, 176, 238n8. See also Shiism Islamic Republic of Iran, see Iran Islamic Revolution, 32, 86, 106, 140; exporting, 86, 95 Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC): Ahmadinejad and, 101–2, 103; Baseej militia and, 59, 98, 99, 101–2, 103; economic activities, 68, 99, 101; evolution, 101, 102; foreign policy influence, 115; Iraqi Shia groups and, 109, 110, 127, 210–11; Khamenei loyalists, 97, 98; leaders, 59, 83, 114, 148, 234nn2–3; nuclear program control, 101, 200; Qods Force, 101, 110, 115, 128, 130, 148, 210; sanctions on, 205; weapons systems, 59 Islamic State (IS), 209, 210, 211–12 Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq (ISCI): in coalition government, 118, 132; evolution, 210, 225; founding, 109; goals, 122; Iranian support, 75, 109, 118–19, 131, 133. See also Badr Brigade; Supreme Council for Islamic Revolution in Iraq Isolation of Iran: costs, 178, 215; effects of Iraq policies, 136; factors in, 167;

increased, 11, 136, 165–66, 204; nuclear program and, 10, 200; reducing, 228; self-reliance, 89; as U.S. strategy, 84, 126 Israel: air defenses, 173; arms sales to Iran, 141; balance of regional power, 139, 140, 144; capabilities to strike Iran, 65, 156–57, 165, 172–73, 184–85, 197, 234–35n7; foreign policy, 139–41; intelligence, 158; Iranian policies, 139–41, 144–45, 146–47, 149–50, 163; Karine A interception, 142; Lebanon occupation, 143–44, 155; military, 65, 144, 145, 157–58, 160, 164–65, 167; navy, 164, 213; nuclear weapons, 144, 172–73, 175, 197; Osirak strike, 184; power, 144, 145, 146; as regional power, 145, 146, 148, 197; relations with Iran, 139, 140– 41, 146–47; war with Hamas, 74, 154, 156, 158, 162; weapons systems, 65. See also Arab-Israeli conflict; Hezbollah, war with Israel; Palestinian Territories Israeli Defence Forces (IDF), 72–73, 74, 158, 160, 164 Jaafari, Ali, 59, 103, 234nn2–3 Jalili, Saeed, 83, 190 JAM, see Jaysh al-Mahdy Jannati, Ayatollah Ahmed, 103 Jaysh al-Mahdy (JAM): attacks on U.S. forces, 127; clashes with Badr Brigade, 130; defeat by Iraqi forces, 131–32; disbanding, 110, 131; Iranian support, 119, 129–30; leaders, 130; relations with Iran, 120; splinter groups, 110, 235n9, 236n2; strength, 75; violence, 109–10 Jervis, Robert, 32 Johnston, Alastair Iain, 44 Jordan: peace treaty with Israel, 151; public opinion of Iran, 208 Kamrava, Mehran, 167 Kang, David, 137

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Karbala, Iraq, 121–22, 130, 131, 208 Karine A, 142 Karrubi, Mehdi, 95, 97 Kata’ib Hezbollah (KH), 110, 131, 134, 211 Kazemi-Qomi, Hassan, 115 KDP, see Kurdistan Democratic Party Kemp, Geoffrey, 56 Kennedy, Paul, 26–27 Keohane, Robert, 29, 30, 45–46 KH, see Kata’ib Hezbollah Khamenei, Ali: on Arab-Israeli conflict, 152–53, 154; factions and, 93–94, 96–97, 98, 102–3, 178; fatwa on nuclear weapons, 176; military commanders and, 59; Nasrallah and, 73; nuclear program and, 174, 176, 178, 189; on Palestine, 139; as president, 95; on sanctions, 238n6 (ch 7); on shah’s regime, 91; supporters, 97, 98; on United States, 84, 234n3; view of West, 178 Khan, A. Q., network of, 171, 176 Kharrazi, Kamal, 176 Khatami, Mohammed: on Arab-Israeli conflict, 149; foreign policy, 83; nuclear negotiations and, 189; opponents, 100; presidency, 97–98, 100, 101, 102, 186 Khatam ol-Anbia, 101 Khomeini, Ruhollah, Ayatollah: Arafat and, 141; clerical government, 93; death, 82–83, 96; factions and, 93–94, 95–96, 114; foreign policy, 106, 146, 147; hostage crisis and, 91; Iraq-Iran war and, 91–92, 222–23; on Israel, 153; leadership, 91; on martyrdom, 90; nuclear program and, 170; opposition to shah, 91; power, 94; regional power aspirations, 82; on self-reliance, 89; on social justice, 90; war with Iraq, 106–7; worldview, 87 Kissinger, Henry, 18, 27 Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), 110 Kurds: in Iran, 108, 110; in Iraq, 105, 107,

110, 118, 126, 128, 140, 210; Peshmerga, 110 Kuwait: Iraqi invasion, 83, 88, 107; weapons systems, 61, 66. See also Gulf Cooperation Council countries; Gulf War (1991) Larijani, Ali, 84, 85, 101, 103, 132, 189, 190 Larijani, Sadeq, 103 Latin America, Iranian allies, 72 Lawson, Fred, 159 Layne, Christopher, 19–20, 26, 28, 54 Leaders: factors in decisions, 26–27; foreign policy roles, 48; military, 39; state power and, 39 League of the Righteous, see Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq Lebanon: Cedar Revolution, 155; civil war, 72, 147; Israeli forces, 73, 143–44, 155; religious groups, 147; Syrian forces, 71, 73, 143, 155. See also Hezbollah Levite, Ariel, 225 Liberalism, 3 Little, Richard, 33 Lobell, S., 20, 47–48 Madrid peace conference, 152 Majles (parliament): conservative control, 189; elections, 97–98, 99, 100, 101; Guardian Council vetoes, 95, 98; nuclear program and, 187; power, 103; powers, 93; speakers, 95, 103, 132, 151 Maliki, Nuri al-, 109, 119, 128, 129, 131, 132, 208, 211 Manufacturing, 69. See also Defense industries Maoz, Zeev, 14 Martyrdom, 90 Marxism, 87, 90, 124 Mayhall, Stacey, 43 Mearsheimer, John, 23, 29–30, 35, 51 MeK, see Mujahedeen-e Khalq Mesh’al, Khaled, 76, 154

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Militaries: Afghan, 60; equipment, 38–39, 59; Israeli, 65, 144, 145, 157–58, 160, 164–65, 167; leadership, 39; manpower, 38, 59; U.S., 60, 77, 84, 107, 111, 126, 200, 234n4. See also Defense budgets; Iraqi military; Navies Military, Iranian: aircraft, 60, 61–62, 64–65, 82, 141; air defenses, 62, 65, 156, 172, 184, 199, 234n5; asymmetric capabilities, 58–59, 60, 62, 63; command structure, 59; conscription, 57, 60; effects of sanctions, 165, 198–99; equipment, 60, 61; manpower, 59, 60; navy, 62–63, 82; passive defense doctrine, 58–59; under Shah, 82; strengthening, 228; supreme leader as commander-in-chief, 94; veterans, 98–99, 101; weaknesses, 57–58, 59, 60–62, 63, 64, 204. See also Iraq-Iran war (1980-88); Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Military power: assets, 23; defense budgets as indicator, 38; of Gulf Cooperation Council countries, 65–66, 172; of Hezbollah, 72–73; importance, 22, 35–36; of Iran, 57–66, 165, 172, 228; of United States, 65 Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Iran, 102, 116, 149–50, 178, 188 Ministry of Intelligence and Security (MOIS), Iran, 101, 115 Ministry of Interior, Iran, 101 Moderates: conflicts with conservatives, 96; economic policies, 223; foreign policy views, 115–16, 149; Iraq-Iran war and, 222–23; nuclear program and, 178, 187, 188, 190; strengthening, 229. See also Factional politics; Reformists MOIS, see Ministry of Intelligence and Security Morgenthau, Hans J., 18, 21, 22, 25, 27, 36, 37, 39, 52, 53 Mossadeq, Mohammed, 235n4

Mottaki, Manochahr, 154 Mughnieh, Imad, 162 Mujahedeen-e Khalq (People’s Mujahedeen, MeK), 124, 171 Mumahidoun, 110 Musavi, Mir-Hossein, 95, 97, 194 Muslim Brotherhood, 144, 213, 225 Najaf, Iraq, 121–22, 127, 131, 136, 208 NAM, see Non-Aligned Movement Nasrallah, Hassan, 73, 76, 154, 155 National Council of Resistance of Iran, 171 National identity, 44. See also Regime identity National Intelligence Estimate (NIE), U.S., 179, 188, 192 National interests: actual, 6–7, 50, 116–17, 150, 180–81, 220; Arab-Israeli conflict and, 139, 140, 150–51, 161, 227; foreign policy and, 49–52; ideal, 6–7, 50–51, 116, 117, 150, 180–81, 220, 227; of Iran, 116–17, 180–81, 220; nuclear program and, 180–81; policy toward Iraq and, 116–17, 227 Nationalism: of hard-liners, 100; Iranian, 86–90, 91, 100, 113, 146–47, 174–76; nuclear program and, 174–76; Persian, 86; self-reliance, 88–89, 236n9 Natural resources, 39–40, 45, 66, 80, 232n2. See also Oil Navies: Iranian, 62–63, 82; Israeli, 164, 213; U.S., 62 Neoclassical realism: case studies, 4, 18, 20, 21; compared to other realism variants, 4–5, 5 (fig.), 33; confined rationality assumption, 31, 220; debates on, 19–20; empirical and nomothetic questions, 12, 20–21; evolution, 18–19; foreign policy as dependent variable, 18–19, 27–28; ideal and actual interests, 6–7; methodologies, 14; power concept,

272  index

23–24, 35–37; relationship to structural realism, 18, 19–20, 24–25; strengths and weaknesses, 4; as theory of mistakes, 4, 7, 19, 50, 219, 220; typology, 19–21, 20 (fig.). See also Domestic factors; Power and foreign policy Neoclassical realist strategic analysis: case studies, 4, 29; causal chains, 8–9, 19, 31, 35, 221–22, 229; choice of theoretical framework, 7; compared to other realism variants, 4–5, 5 (fig.), 21; core assumptions, 29–31, 48, 220; core features, 31–33; explanations of Iranian foreign policy failures, 78, 203, 218–23; objectives, 4, 6, 29, 33; optimal foreign policy, 227–29; relevance, 6, 33, 34; theoretical progress, 33–34; valueadded, 5–6, 53, 220–21, 222, 229. See also Power and foreign policy Neorealism, see Structural realism Neustadt, Richard, 48 NIE, see National Intelligence Estimate Nixon Doctrine, 82 Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), 196 Nonstate actors, see Hamas; Hezbollah North Korea, 63, 64, 171, 172 Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT): Additional Protocol, 186–87, 189, 190, 239n19; Iranian membership, 170, 171, 179–80; nuclear power development under, 171, 175, 186, 196, 238n2; Safeguards Agreements, 181, 186, 189, 190, 191, 238n18 Nuclear program of Iran: assertiveness, 10–11, 172, 173, 188, 189–90, 191; consequences, 12, 181, 197–202, 214, 216, 217–18, 223; defense against air strikes, 184–85; domestic factors, 10–11, 173–78, 201; factional politics and, 176–78, 186, 187, 189–90, 201, 217; foreign policy impact, 194–95, 200–202; future of, 228; goals, 170, 171, 176, 178, 182–83, 215–16; influence-

maximization, 185–94, 195–98; interim agreement, 214–15; international negotiations, 177, 187–89, 190–91, 193, 195, 197, 214–17, 228–29; international reactions, 169, 174, 175, 178, 186; Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps control, 101, 200; Israeli strike on Osirak, 184; latent capability for weapons development, 170, 176, 178, 179, 188, 194–95, 196–97, 199–200, 215–16, 225; Natanz enrichment plant, 171, 181–82, 184, 188, 191, 198, 240n31; national interests of Iran and, 180–81; origins, 169–71; peaceful use claimed, 171, 176, 182–83, 186, 196; policy phases, 186–94; potential weapons production, 217–18; power dynamic, 172–73; powermaximization, 181–83, 198–99, 221; power plants, 169–70, 182–83, 187; public support in region, 76, 77, 183; research, 181, 192; Russian assistance, 65, 71, 171, 176, 215; sabotage, 198, 240n31; security-maximization, 181, 184–85, 199–200, 221; self-sufficiency, 175–76, 182–83; sites, 65, 184; technical progress, 171, 179–80, 181–82, 190–91, 195, 198, 214; U.S. assistance, 169–70; U.S. intelligence on, 179, 188, 192; virtual deterrent, 181, 185, 195, 197, 198, 204, 215–16, 225; vulnerability to air strikes, 65, 156–57, 196–97, 199–200, 217, 234–35n7. See also Sanctions Nuclear programs: components, 171–72; goals, 221; hedging strategy, 225; of Iraq, 170; of North Korea, 171, 172; rights of states, 196; of Syria, 184 Nuclear weapons: deterrence function, 39, 184; foreign policy impact, 39; of India, 173; Islamic view, 176, 238n8; of Israel, 144, 172–73, 175, 197; Khan network, 171, 176; missile systems, 63– 64; of Pakistan, 173, 175; production process, 171–72; public support in

index 273

region, 76, 183; of regional powers, 173, 174; of Russia, 173; of United States, 172 Nye, Joseph, 41 Obama, Barack, 193, 194, 205 Offensive realism, 1–2, 7, 23, 28, 51. See also Realism Oil: domestic consumption, 67, 182; exports, 182, 206, 232n2; gasoline imports, 67, 205–6; Iranian production, 67, 165, 182, 199, 205, 206; Iraqi production, 107, 207, 240–41n2; prices, 7–8, 55, 63, 66–67, 79, 205; reserves, 67; revenues, 66–67, 68–69, 79, 82, 106, 170, 182 Opposition strategies, 224 P5+1 countries: divisions among, 191, 197, 215; economic incentives for Iran, 193, 228–29; Joint Plan of Action, 214; negotiations with Iran, 193, 195; objectives, 216–17 Pahlavi, Mohammed Reza, Shah: foreign policy, 84, 139, 140; modernization, 87; nationalism, 86; nuclear program, 169–70; opposition to, 91; regional power aspirations, 82, 84; relations with Iraq, 105; relations with Israel, 139, 140, 146; relations with United States, 82, 87, 90, 91, 169–70 Pakistan: arms sales to Iran, 63; Khan network and, 171, 176; nuclear weapons, 173, 175 Palestinian Authority, 74, 142, 155–56, 162 Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ), 73, 74–75, 144, 155, 162, 213–14 Palestinian Legislative Council, 74 Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), 141, 146 Palestinian Territories: intifadas, 141, 155, 162; public opinion of Iran, 208. See also Arab-Israeli conflict; Gaza Strip; Hamas

Paris Accord, 187, 195 Parsi, Trita, 140, 163 Path-dependency, 31–32, 221, 222, 223 Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK), 110 People’s Mujahedeen of Iran, 146–47 Perceptions, as intervening variable, 232n3 (ch 2), 233n5 Persian Empire, 81, 82, 86 Peshmerga, 110 PIJ, see Palestinian Islamic Jihad Playing for time strategy, 225–26 PLO, see Palestinian Liberation Organization Pollack, Kenneth, 26, 39 Popular mood: in Arab countries, 76; foreign policy impact, 40–41; in Iran, 70; in Iraq, 183; nuclear program and, 183; polls, 70, 76. See also Public opinion Population: age distribution, 38, 57; growth rates, 37–38, 57, 182; of Iran, 57, 79–80; power and, 37–38; urban and rural, 38 Power: actual and potential, 23–24; assets, 22–23; balancing, 224–25; context, 37; definitions, 22–23, 35, 55–56; elements, 37–41; as end and means, 52; fungibility, 36, 232n1; of Iran, 11, 55–56, 77–80, 203, 221–22; leverage effect, 221–22; neoclassical realist view, 21–22, 23–24, 28, 35–37; nonmaterial elements, 36; over opinion, 22; pursuit of, 52; relative, 18–19, 21, 22, 28, 35, 78, 111–12; soft, 41; of states, 7; territorial, 22; windows of opportunity, 1, 7–8, 55, 92, 208–9; zero-sum view, 35. See also Economic power; Military power Power and foreign policy: causal chain, 8–9, 19, 31, 35, 221–22, 229; changes in relative power, 111–12; conventional assets, 227–28; foreign policy strategies and, 54, 226; intervening variables, 24–27, 41–49; Iran-Iraq relations,

274  index

107–8, 117–22; neoclassical realist view, 3–4, 7, 18–19, 23, 28, 29; structural realist view, 2, 13, 32, 111–12; successful states, 234n11 Power-maximization: alliances and, 221; Arab-Israeli conflict, 151–56, 165; by great powers, 2, 27; importance, 51–52; Iranian performance, 11, 203; nuclear program, 181–83, 198–99, 221; relations with Iraq, 117–22, 135–36 Presidents, Iranian: bureaucratic appointments, 236n11; elections, 93, 97–98, 101–2, 189, 193–94; roles, 93, 94, 95, 97. See also individual names Prices, see Inflation; Oil, prices Promised Day Brigade, 110, 131 Proxies, 118, 144. See also Alliances of Iran; Special groups Public opinion: on Ahmadinejad, 155; in Arab countries, 76–77, 207–8; power over, 22; of United States, 77. See also Appeal; Popular mood PUK, see Patriotic Union of Kurdistan Qalibaf, Mohammed Baqer, 101, 116 Qassem, Abdul-Karim, 105 Qatar, 209 Qods Force, 101, 110, 115, 128, 130, 148, 210. See also Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Qom, Iran, 121, 122, 131, 136, 208 Radical left faction, 95–96, 97, 124. See also Factional politics Rafsanjani, Ali Akbar Hashemi: criticism of Ahmadinejad, 223; foreign policy, 83, 96, 100, 107, 149; lessons from war with Iraq, 175; as Majles speaker, 95; pragmatism, 114; presidency, 66, 97, 101, 102 Rajaee, Farhang, 93 Ramazani, R. K., 82 Rathbun, Brian, 19, 53

Realism: classical, 22, 25, 27; core assumptions, 29–30; defensive, 2, 7, 23, 27–28, 51; offensive, 1–2, 7, 23, 28, 51; power, 22, 35, 36. See also Neoclassical realism; Structural realism Reformists: economic policies, 223; election of 2009, 79, 193–94, 207; foreign policy, 3, 97, 116, 149–50; marginalization, 3, 99, 100, 116, 178, 188; at Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 102, 116, 178, 188; nuclear program and, 177, 178, 186, 188, 190; regional power aspirations, 83; rise of, 3, 97–98. See also Factional politics; Khatami, Mohammed; Moderates Regime identity: effects, 167; as intervening variable, 8, 9, 10, 11, 44–46; of Iran, 85–92, 113, 146–48; nationalist, 146–47; nuclear program and, 174–76, 201, 223; religious component, 114, 147, 176; Shiism and, 89–90; supreme leader and, 94; war with Iraq and, 113, 114, 175, 222–23. See also Nationalism; Rejectionism Regional power, Iran as: Arab-Israeli conflict and, 145–46, 148, 150; aspirations, 7, 81–83, 100, 112–13, 148, 227, 229; assets, 1, 7, 79–80; as dominant external player in Iraq, 9, 115, 116, 128, 212, 227; factions and, 222; in future, 229; nuclear program and, 173–74; rivals, 79, 117, 145, 146, 148, 208– 9, 217; window of opportunity, 1, 7–8, 203, 208–9. See also Nuclear program; Status discrepancies Regional powers: Egypt as, 144, 209; Iraq as, 105; Israel as, 145, 146, 148, 197; nuclear weapons, 173, 174; populations, 37; Saudi Arabia as, 144, 209; Turkey as, 79, 208–9; United States as, 107, 152, 224, 225. See also Status Rejectionism: appeal of, 76; in ArabIsraeli conflict, 141, 142–43, 146, 147–48,

index 275

151, 152, 165–66; consequences, 136; in constitution, 87; domestic factors, 222; drivers, 9; in future, 228, 229; Iranian power and, 77, 148; of Khomeini, 87; opposition strategies, 224; as regime identity, 8, 85–86, 87, 91, 146, 147–48, 222; of U.S. presence in Iraq, 114, 211. See also Appeal Revisionism, status discrepancy and, 10 Revisionism of Iran: appeal of, 76; ArabIsraeli conflict and, 146; consequences, 137; domestic factors and, 114; foreign policy impact, 85–86; limited aims, 86; rhetoric, 76; status discrepancy and, 8, 81, 85, 112, 113 Revolution, see Islamic Revolution Revolutionary Guards, see Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Rezaee, Mohsen, 83, 84, 157 Richard, Yann, 89 Ripsman, Norrin, 20, 27, 47–48 Rose, Gideon, 18–19, 20, 28 Ruhani, Hassan, 115, 178, 189, 214–15, 223, 239n22 Russia: arms sales to Iran, 61, 62, 63, 65, 71, 199, 234n5; arms sales to Iraq, 113; nuclear program of Iran and, 65, 71, 171, 176, 197, 199, 215; nuclear weapons, 173; relations with Iran, 71, 197, 215, 228. See also Soviet Union Sadr, Muqtada al-: conflicts with other groups, 130; disbanding of JAM, 110, 131; exile in Iran, 110; interests shared with Iran, 134; political party, 128, 210; power, 75, 109, 119–20; relations with Iran, 75, 119–20, 127, 129, 132 Sadr City, 207 Sadrists: Iranian support, 118, 129–30, 210; in parliament, 75, 132, 210. See also Jaysh al-Mahdy Safavi, Yahya, 83, 103, 234n3 Sagan, Scott, 200

Sanctions: dilution, 197; domestic political effects, 206; economic costs, 11, 69, 165, 199, 205, 206, 215, 223; effectiveness, 198–99, 200; international, 169, 178; Iranian perceptions, 84; potential removal of nuclear-related, 216–17; strengthening, 205; temporary relief, 214; unilateral, 84, 165, 175, 192, 200, 205–6, 216, 226 Sanctions, UN: in 2006, 191; 2008 resolutions, 192–93; in 2010, 199, 205; arms sales prohibited, 65; economic costs, 205; effectiveness, 198–99, 200; Russian and Chinese views, 71 Saudi Arabia: Air Force, 65–66; embassy in Iraq, 208; Hamas and, 73–74, 213; peace process and, 152; power in region, 144, 209; relations with Iran, 84, 200; weapons systems, 61, 66. See also Gulf Cooperation Council countries Schweller, Randall, 24, 27, 33, 53 SCIRI, see Supreme Council for Islamic Revolution in Iraq SCNS, see Supreme Council for National Security Security Council, see United Nations Security Council Security-maximization: alliances and, 123, 157–59, 221; Arab-Israeli conflict, 156–59, 165–66; importance, 27–28; Iranian performance, 11, 203–4; nuclear program, 181, 184–85, 199–200, 221; power and, 52; relations with Iraq, 117, 122–24, 136, 210–11, 221 Security threats: from Iraq, 9, 112, 115, 116, 123–24, 184; Islamic State as, 210, 211–12; Israel as, 146–47; perceived, 222 Shahrudi, Mahmoud, Ayatollah, 208 Shari’ati, Ali, 88, 89–90 Sharon, Ariel, 141 Shia groups: Arabs, 79; in Lebanon, 147.

276  index

See also Hamas; Hezbollah; Islamic Jihad Shia groups, in Iraq: autonomy from Iran, 209–10; Iranian support, 86, 109–10, 114, 118–20, 124, 125–28, 129–32, 210–11, 225; militias, 75, 109–10, 118, 119, 124, 129–32, 211, 236n2; opposition to Saddam, 107, 109, 114; political parties, 128, 130, 132–33, 136–37, 210, 211; political power, 75, 119, 127, 128, 130; tensions among, 130, 134, 210; during war with Iran, 106, 109. See also Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq Shiism: al-Askari shrine, 129, 236–37n6; holy cities, 121–22, 136, 208; Iranian interpretation, 86, 89–90; Iranian leadership, 147; martyrdom, 90; nationalism and, 86–87; origins, 90; political roles of clergy, 122; politicized, 89–90, 114, 147; Twelver, 147, 236n12 Singer, David, 42 Sistani, Ali, Grand Ayatollah, 75, 128, 208 Small, Melvin, 42 Snyder, Glenn, 159 Social identity theory, 42 Social justice, 90, 100 Soft power, 41. See also Appeal SoL, see State of Law Soleimani, Qassem, 128, 148 Soviet Union: foreign policy decisions, 232n3 (ch 1); as great power, 44; Middle East expansionism, 139–40, 141, 169; relations with Iraq, 105, 106. See also Russia Sparta, 21, 22 Special groups, 110, 118, 120, 130, 133, 134–35 Spoiling strategies, 224 State of Law (SoL), 132, 210, 241n4 States: as influence-maximizers, 28; as international actors, 30; rationality, 30–31, 220, 232n7

Status: ascribed, 42, 43, 83–85; aspirations, 43, 81–83; definition, 42–43; as intervening variable, 8, 9, 10, 11, 42–44, 233n5. See also Great powers; Regional powers Status discrepancies: between achieved and ascribed status, 42, 43; assertiveness in Iraq, 112–13; correlation with war onset, 42; as driver of Iran’s dissatisfaction, 81, 85, 100; factional politics and, 222; Iran as regional power, 8, 9, 10, 11, 83–85, 145–46; nuclear program and, 10–11, 173–74, 201; reducing, 229; revisionism and, 8, 10, 81, 85, 112, 113 Stedman, Stephen, 224 Strategic analysis, see Neoclassical realist strategic analysis Strategic culture, 44–45 Structural realism: compared to other realism variants, 4–5, 5 (fig.), 24–25, 27, 31; criticism of, 27; domestic factors, 24–25; explanations of state behavior, 24–25, 26–27; ideal interests, 6; interests, 50, 51; on Iranian nuclear program, 180; as normative theory, 6, 219; power and foreign policy, 2, 13, 32, 111–12; power concept, 23, 36; relationship to neoclassical realism, 18, 19–20, 24–25; scholarship, 17–18 Submarines, 62 Sunni groups: Iraqi, 118, 128, 130, 209; in Lebanon, 147; Palestinian, 144; in Syria, 213. See also Hamas Supreme Council for Islamic Revolution in Iraq (SCIRI), 109, 114, 118, 122, 127, 128, 129. See also Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq Supreme Council for National Security (SCNS), 95, 98, 115, 178 Supreme leaders, 92, 93–94. See also Khamenei, Ali; Khomeini, Ruhollah Syria: civil war, 212–13; forces in Lebanon,

index 277

71, 73, 143, 155; foreign policy, 159; nuclear program, 184; power, 143; relations with Iran, 71, 143, 157, 207; support of Hamas, 74; support of Hezbollah, 73; support of Islamic Jihad, 74; war with Israel (1967), 105 Taliaferro, Jeffrey, 20, 24, 47–48 Taliban, 60, 113, 141–42 Tehran, mayors, 99, 100, 116 Tenet, George, 121 Territorial power, 22 Terrorist groups, 152, 200. See also Special groups Thucydides, 21, 22, 53 Trade: with China, 69, 197; diversification, 69; economic power and, 40; effects of sanctions, 206; with Gulf Cooperation Council countries, 69; with Iraq, 108–9, 120–21, 135–36, 206–7. See also Oil; Sanctions Traditional conservatives: Ahmadinejad and, 99; conflicts with other groups, 92, 96, 98, 102–3; foreign policy views, 96–97, 148–49; Khamenei and, 94, 96– 97, 103; nuclear negotiators, 189, 190; nuclear program and, 177–78; power, 96, 101, 115; regional power aspirations, 222. See also Conservatives; Factional politics Transparency International, Corruption Perceptions Index, 68 Turkey, 79, 207, 208–9 UAE, see United Arab Emirates UIA, see United Iraqi Alliance Unemployment, 68, 79, 199, 206 United Arab Emirates (UAE), 66, 84, 213. See also Gulf Cooperation Council countries United Iraqi Alliance (UIA), 128, 132 United Nations (UN): Ahmadinejad’s speeches, 177, 189; Palestine issue, 139.

See also International Atomic Energy Agency United Nations Security Council: Iranian nuclear program and, 171, 189, 190–91; Iran’s strategies, 226; Iraq-Iran war and, 92; Kuwait invasion and, 88; sanctions on Iran, 71, 191, 192–93, 198–99, 200, 205 United States: allies in Middle East, 58, 66, 84, 107, 226; Arab-Israeli peace process and, 146; arms sales to Saudi Arabia, 66; domestic factors in foreign policy, 19–20, 26; foreign policy strategies, 28, 54; Gulf War (1991), 83, 88, 107, 141; military forces in countries near Iran, 60, 77, 84, 107, 111, 126, 200, 234n4; military power, 65; navy, 62; nuclear weapons, 172; presidents and foreign policy, 48; public opinion of, in Middle East, 76, 77; as regional power in Middle East, 107, 152, 224, 225. See also Iraq, U.S. war in U.S.-Iranian relations: Afghanistan war and, 113, 141–42; Arab-Israeli conflict and, 145–46; arms sales in 1970s, 61, 64–65, 140, 199; ascribed status of Iran, 83–84; Bush’s “axis of evil” speech, 113, 142; constructivist view, 2–3; coup against Mossadeq, 235n4; fear of U.S. military power, 58, 125, 126, 146, 156–57, 172, 175, 184; in future, 228–29; Gulf War (1991) and, 83, 107; hostage crisis, 91, 140; Iraq invasion and, 125; Israel and, 140–41; Mujahedeen-e Khalq and, 124; nuclear energy cooperation, 169–70; nuclear program negotiations, 193, 197, 216; Obama’s policies, 193, 194; offer of negotiations (2003), 187–88; oil nationalization crisis, 83; paradigm of enmity, 201; in post-Saddam era, 113–14, 115–16; Rafsanjani’s policies, 149; reformist views, 97; regional context, 60, 76, 224,

278  index

225; relative power, 111; resentment, 84, 175; sanctions on Iran, 84, 165, 175, 192, 200, 205–6, 216, 226; with Shah, 82, 87, 90, 91, 169–70; Status of Forces Agreement, 90; tensions, 11, 204; trade, 69. See also Nuclear program; Rejectionism U.S.-Iran Nuclear Energy Agreement, 170 Van Evera, Stephen, 23 Velayat-e faqih, 79, 89, 93–95, 122, 235n10 Velayati, Ali Akbar, 163 Volgy, Thomas, 43 Wallace, Michael, 42 Walt, Stephen, 2, 31, 32, 40 Waltz, Kenneth, 17, 18, 23, 25, 30–31, 36, 52, 180 Weapons: effects of sanctions, 199; of Hezbollah, 72–73, 164–65, 213; Iranian imports, 61, 62–63, 64–65, 71, 130, 140, 141, 199, 234n5; mines, 62, 63; missiles, 58–59, 62–64, 101, 164, 213; production, 64–65; Soviet, 106; tanks, 65; from West, 61, 64–65, 130, 140, 199

Weapons of mass destruction, see Chemical weapons; Nuclear weapons Wedge strategies, 226 Wilhelm II, Kaiser, 26–27 Windows of opportunity: agency and, 13, 219; in Arab-Israeli conflict, 142–43, 145, 159, 209; capabilities and intentions mismatch, 13–14, 54, 204, 219–20; domestic factors and, 145, 219; Iran’s rising power, 1, 7–8, 55, 92, 208–9; in Iraq, 107–11; meaning, 231n4; nuclear program, 172; realist views, 4; squandered opportunity, 1, 7, 203, 212, 219 Winograd Commission, 160 Wivel, Anders, 33, 34 Wohlforth, William, 26, 42, 43, 44, 137 Wolfers, Arnold, 18 World Bank, Ease of Doing Business rankings, 68 Yunesi, Ali, 108 Zahedi, Ardeshir, 170 Zakaria, Fareed, 12, 24