When the Wall Street Journal published its analysis on the daunting task of removing Iran’s enriched uranium stockpiles, it framed the challenge as a technical Everest—steep, perilous, but not unconquered. What the piece got right was the acknowledgment that precedent exists: Libya surrendered its program in 2003, and South Africa dismantled its nuclear arsenal in the early 1990s. What it left unexamined, however, is how the geopolitical architecture surrounding such a deal has fundamentally shifted since those historic precedents, and why any attempt today would require not just technical ingenuity, but a wholesale reimagining of trust in an era defined by fractured alliances and proliferating misinformation.
The information gap lies in the assumption that past successes can be replicated through similar diplomatic mechanics. In 2003, Muammar Gaddafi’s Libya abandoned its weapons program after clandestine negotiations with the U.S. And UK, motivated by sanctions relief and a desire to end international isolation. South Africa’s decision came amid the twilight of apartheid, as the African National Congress negotiated a peaceful transition and sought to shed the pariah status tied to its nuclear capability. Both cases shared a critical ingredient: a regime facing existential internal or external pressure, willing to trade strategic assets for survival or legitimacy. Iran’s current leadership, by contrast, operates under a different calculus. Its nuclear program is not merely a bargaining chip—it is woven into the ideological fabric of the Islamic Republic, framed as a sovereign right and a symbol of resistance against Western hegemony. To expect Tehran to relinquish even a portion of its enriched uranium without a transformative shift in its perception of security is to misunderstand the depth of its strategic conviction.
That said, the technical pathways for uranium removal remain viable—and have been tested. The U.S. Department of Energy’s National Nuclear Security Administration has overseen the secure transport of hundreds of kilograms of highly enriched uranium (HEU) from research reactors worldwide under its Global Threat Reduction Initiative. In 2018, for example, Argentina returned nearly 12 kilograms of HEU-origin spent fuel to the U.S. After decades of use in its RA-3 reactor. More recently, in 2022, Poland shipped 22 kilograms of Soviet-era HEU to the U.S. For downblending—a process that dilutes weapons-grade material to reactor-grade levels, rendering it unsuitable for bombs. These operations rely on specialized casks, rigorous chain-of-protocols, and coordination with the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), which maintains constant surveillance through seals, cameras, and on-site inspectors. As one former IAEA safeguards analyst put it,
The technical know-how to move and neutralize enriched uranium is not the bottleneck. We’ve done this dozens of times. The real variable is political will—on all sides.
Yet even if Iran agreed in principle to surrender its stockpile—estimated by the Institute for Science and International Security to include over 100 kilograms of uranium enriched to 60% U-235, a significant jump from the 3.67% limit under the JCPOA—the ripple effects would extend far beyond Vienna’s negotiation rooms. A successful removal would likely trigger a recalibration across the Middle East. Saudi Arabia, which has openly pursued civilian nuclear capabilities with U.S. And Chinese partners, might accelerate its own enrichment ambitions absent Iranian constraints. Conversely, Israel, which has long viewed Iran’s nuclear progress as an existential threat, could see its strategic rationale for preemptive action diminish—potentially opening space for renewed backchannel talks, albeit under vastly different conditions than the Abraham Accords era. Meanwhile, Russia and China, both invested in Iran’s energy and infrastructure sectors, would likely position themselves as guarantors of any new arrangement, seeking to expand their influence although limiting U.S. Dominance in the Gulf.
Economically, the stakes are equally tangible. Iran’s enriched uranium represents not just a proliferation risk, but a sunk cost of over a decade of centrifuge operation, sanctions evasion, and scientific investment. Any compensation package—whether in cash, sanctions relief, or security guarantees—would demand to offset not only the material value but the perceived strategic loss. The Axios-reported $20 billion cash-for-uranium concept, while speculative, underscores the scale of incentive required to shift a paradigm. For context, that figure exceeds Iran’s entire annual oil export revenue at current prices and production levels. It also dwarfs the combined annual budgets of the IAEA and the U.S. Nonproliferation and Disarmament Fund. Such a sum would not merely buy material—it would attempt to buy a new strategic doctrine.
The path forward, then, is not about reviving old templates but constructing a new framework—one that acknowledges Iran’s security concerns while verifiably addressing proliferation risks. This might involve regional enrichment consortia, where uranium is processed under multinational oversight in a neutral zone, or converting stockpiles into fuel for internationally monitored reactors, such as those proposed for a Middle Eastern SESAME-like facility. History shows that technical solutions exist. What remains uncertain is whether the current era of mistrust can yield the kind of bold, reciprocal diplomacy that once turned swords into plowshares—or at least, into reactor fuel.
