This chapter analyzes the history of preventive attacks against nuclear programs. It identifies when nuclear latency invites military conflict. It includes four detailed case studies: US-considered use of military force against Iran, the North Korea Nuclear Crisis, Israel’s preventive strike against Syria, and the US-considered use of force against Syria.

This chapter presents case studies from ten countries: Argentina, Brazil, Egypt, India, Iran, Japan, Pakistan, South Africa, South Korea, and Spain. These cases show that many world leaders believe that nuclear latency provides greater international influence.

As the recovery of the rich history of the expansive Byzantine Commonwealth pushes forward, we must renew our emphasis on the sturdy multi- and cross-cultural foundation upon which it was constructed. Christian Caucasia was a charter member of the Byzantine Commonwealth, but its social fabric and cultural orientation remained locked on the Iranian world for centuries to come. The fundamentally Iranic, or Persianate, nature of Christian Caucasian society is a reminder of the intense cross-cultural connections of Rome-Byzantium and Iran across late antiquity and into the medieval period.

The chapter explores Iran’s policy in West Africa through two very different relationships; those with Senegal and Nigeria. Senegal was identified early in the 1970s as a country that Iran would pursue a special relationship with. This political partnership was facilitated by the strong personal bonds developed between the two sets of leaders, which were shaped by their francophone backgrounds. The president of Senegal, Léopold Sédar Senghor, in particular, shared a close bond with Empress Farah Pahlavi, and spoke eloquently about the inherent similarities between his philosophy of Négritude and Iran’s Iranité. On the other hand, Iran’s relationship with Nigeria was very pragmatic. Iran’s ambassador there, Shāhrokh Firuz, found himself frustrated by the rigidity of Iran’s policy, and the lack of freedom he had to explore new opportunities for Iran, not only in Nigeria, but also other countries in the region. These two relationships provide fascinating insights into Iran’s strategy in arguably the only part of Africa in which it had no immediately obvious security or strategic interests. The chapter explores what drove these relationships, and what each side gained from them.

In his search for allies who would help him challenge Nasserism and other radical movements, the shah found a companion in the emperor of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie I. This chapter investigates the early years of this relationship and some of the issues that prompted the two sides to cooperate – including common security concerns in the Red Sea, threats to the global monarchical institution, and the challenges that decolonisation presented to conservative regimes in the Global South. Ethiopia provided Iran with its first ally in sub-Saharan Africa, but it was not until the Summit Conference of Independent African States in Addis Ababa in 1963 that Iran began seriously to consider its future role in Africa. Several emissaries from Africa had already visited Iran, for example from Nigeria and Cameroon, and in 1964, a report was published by the Imperial Court on the opportunities Africa could present to Iran. Subsequently, the decision was taken to deepen ties with the continent as a matter of urgency. Because Addis Ababa was the de facto diplomatic capital of Africa, it was perceived as a bridge to the rest of Africa.

During his visit to Ethiopia in 1968, the shah spoke to representatives of the Organisation of African Unity about his commitment to combatting colonialism and racial discrimination. It is surprising, therefore, that not long after the shah had returned to Iran, his diplomats began to discuss with South African diplomats the establishment of political relations between the two countries. The chapter explores the origins of this engagement and examines what drove the two sides together in this period. At the United Nations and other international forums, the shah and his diplomats spoke out in harsh terms against discrimination, racism and human rights violations in Southern Africa. But in spite of this public condemnation, the shah developed and maintained strong security and economic ties with apartheid South Africa. The chapter questions to what extent the shah was able to maintain his position as a champion of independence and human dignity, while enjoying such friendly ties with the apartheid regime.

Chapter 3 considers the development of the infamous martyrdom operations, or "suicide bombings," in the late twentieth century. Beginning by considering postcolonial experiences of Shi’i Muslims in 1980s West Asia, I argue for approaching two contexts of conflict—Lebanon and Iran—in tandem, due to their joint recognition of the Guardianship of the Jurisprudent Ayatollah Khomeini. Evaluating the ideological contributions of Shi’a history and Persian art forms, I trace the way the concepts of jihad—struggle in the way of God—and shahid—martyrdom—increasingly take martial shapes during the period, leading to the figure of the istishhadi who gives their life in an attack on the enemy. Both the explosive tactics of Hezbollah and the human wave attacks of Iran’s Basij forces are linked by the conception that willing self-sacrifice paves the way to realizing a divine kingdom on earth and filtered through the lens of Husayn’s battle at Karbala. Finally, I show the connection between the words of these martyrs and contemporary Shi’i authorities to the idea of commanding right and forbidding wrong, and the need to live life according to divine law regardless of the consequences.

This chapter explores the relationship between Iran and Egypt during the 1950s and 1960s, placing it in a regional context. The two countries forged close ties during the 1930s, when the Iranian crown prince, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, married Egyptian Princess Fawzia Faud. Shared histories of colonial interference shaped the friendship between Egypt and Iran during the oil nationalisation crisis, yet in the years after the 1952 coup in Egypt, which brought down the monarchy and ultimately brought Nasser to power, Egypt and Iran’s paths diverged. At the Bandung Conference in 1955, while Nasser was inspired by the prospects of Afro-Asian solidarity, the shah’s government was concerned with the need for moderation, and to maintain close ties to the West. One year later, after the nationalisation of the Suez Canal, Nasser became the leading voice of pan-Arabism, which the shah viewed as a major threat both to regional security and to his reign. This divergence in perceptions of their places in the Global South ultimately led to a break in relations between Iran and Egypt. This chapter examines in detail the events that led to this fracture, and the ultimate emergence of Nasser as the shah’s main adversary.

Understanding Stalin's foreign policy requires examining his shifting approach to the unfolding Cold War. Up until 1945, he sought great power cooperation in Europe, but later rejected compromise with the United States for fear of exposing Soviet weakness. Stalin’s failed gambit for influence in Iran and Turkey showed the limitations of heavy-handed bullying of neighboring countries: in both cases, he had to retreat and retrench. Meanwhile, in Greece, Stalin shifted opportunistically from a cautious noninvolvement to increasing support for the Communist insurgency. But his Balkan strategy was complicated by an unexpected quarrel with Yugoslavia’s Josip Broz Tito, fueled by Stalin’s jealousy and mistrust. Stalin’s realization in 1947 that left-leaning coalitions that he sponsored across Eastern Europe were not electable marked a turning point towards confrontation with the West. Stalin began to prioritize security over legitimacy. This logic led him towards an attempt to dislodge the Allies from divided Berlin, resulting, by 1949, in a complete division of Europe.

Chapter 28 considers Persian influences on Goethe and the reception of his work in modern Iran, the first Persian translations of Goethe having appeared in the 1920s. The chapter emphasises the importance of Middle Eastern sources – especially the Persian poet Hafez – for Goethe’s writing. It then divides the Persian reception of Goethe into three phases. In the first, his status as a world great was the focus; in the second, his writings were portrayed as a reflection of either Persian poetry or Islam, while the recent third phase takes Goethe on his own terms.

In recent years, we have witnessed increases in the frequency and intensity of spontaneous protests by Iranians from all walks of life. For the status quo to continue, therefore, the state will need to rely on ever greater coercive means to ensure the compliance of the different social actors, or, at the very least, their ambivalence. With Khamenei’s advanced age, and the rising cost of keeping the status quo going, both politically and in human life, a continuation of Khameneism as it has taken shape over the past decade or so, especially beyond Khamenei, seems highly unlikely in the long run. Even if the Revolutionary Guards become politically more powerful, which in the immediate aftermath of Khamenei’s death seems highly likely, the possibility of a stale, archaic state ruling over a dynamic society appears untenable in the long run. The state will have no alternative but to modify some of its austere approach toward society if it is to survive.

In today’s Iran, state–religion relations exhibit three key features. An obvious feature is the deep basis of the state in innovative interpretations of Shia jurisprudence. The Islamic Republic is based on the system of the velayat-e faqih, generally translated in English as the “guardianship of the jurisconsult.” As a concept, the notion of the velayat-e faqih had existed in Shia thought for some time before Ayatollah Khomeini elaborated on it in his 1970 book by the same name. Khomeini’s contribution lay in his innovative interpretation of the velayat-e faqih as a supreme political leader who oversaw not just religious affairs, as previous theologians had theorized but was in overall charge of all affairs of the entire community, profane and political as well as religious. Today, Khomeini’s conception of velayat-e faqih underlies the institutional and political foundations of the Islamic Republic. The Iranian political system is far more ideologically informed, and hence ideological, than may at first meet the eye.

As 2001 began, Australia’s relationship with West Asia could be characterised as one between perfect strangers. Despite regular military forays into the region, largely in support of the USA, and a burgeoning commercial relationship, the region had never been considered part of Australia’s primary area of strategic interest nor had political relations between the Australian Government and its regional counterparts ever really moved beyond occasional visits and diplomatic courtesies. Meanwhile, to the extent that Australia entered the consciousness of regional elites and the broader population, it was mainly as a supplier of primary products, such as sheep and wheat, and as a steadfast, if somewhat lower-profile, ally of the USA. In effect, there was a degree of mutual, if largely happy, ambivalence between Australia and the region.

Chapter 6 looks at Naipaul’s travel writings on India and on Islam. To Naipaul, the novel, the novel of the long twentieth century, no longer gets at “difficult social and human truth.” The novel, having lost its dynamism is no longer the correct or even legitimate form for the expression of the heightened, sensitive, and expansive human imagination. In its place, suggests Naipaul, the forms that will re-shape our ideas of the world, are “biography, art history, cultural history, perhaps even history.” The travel form, as a historical undertaking, however, cannot be simply a factual survey of an unfamiliar place; it must be about things seen and people met, with writing matching the experience to be transmitted. The turn away from the novel produced works that were original and challenging, even if, at the level of social anthropology, they may be seen as throwbacks to ethnographic narratives of imperialist writers like James Anthony Froude. A close reading of the travel books, however, shows the persistence of the ironic temper, without that proactive or politically determined piety which has been the hallmark of much contemporary ethnographic writing.