In a development that has sent tremors through the world of international diplomacy and pub arguments alike, the UN’s nuclear chief has confirmed a new inspection deal with Iran. Let us pause to marvel at the sheer ontological novelty of this announcement. For years, we were told Iran was mere months from a bomb, a phrase so elastic it could stretch from here to the moon. Now, suddenly, we have an inspection deal. What changed? Was it the three-martini lunch in Vienna? The subtle threat of UK intelligence? Or perhaps the realisation that a nuclear Iran is a useful bogeyman for the military-industrial complex, and a little transparency spoils the fun.
The UK intelligence role in this ‘critical war framework’ is, of course, the elephant in the room. But not just any elephant. This is a three-piece-suited, monocle-wearing elephant with a briefcase full of redacted files and a membership to the Athenaeum. The intelligence agencies, those bastions of omniscience who failed to predict everything from the Falklands to the fall of the Berlin Wall, are now central to a framework for war. Warmongering by committee, then. It is a beautiful thing. The British civil service, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that the best way to ensure peace is to have a solid plan for a conflict that may or may not be necessary. It is like installing a fire escape in a house that hasn’t been built yet, and then setting it on fire to test the escape.
Meanwhile, the Iranian regime, a gaggle of mullahs with a penchant for existential poetry and missile systems, has presumably agreed to let inspectors poke around in return for sanctions relief and a vaguely worded promise of ‘normalisation.’ Normalisation for Iran means being able to join the international community, which is a bit like being let into a casino only to find the house has already won. But Iran, ever the dramatic partner, will likely play along, granting access to certain sites while hiding its real capabilities in a complex network of tunnels under a mosque in Isfahan. The inspectors, earnest types with degrees in physics and a tendency to wear beige, will nod and write reports that will be ignored by everyone except the think tank commentariat.
And so we arrive at the heart of the matter. The deal is a prelude to war, a war that will be justified by the very intelligence framework now being ‘critical.’ We will bomb Iran, not because it has nuclear weapons, but because it might have them, or might get them, or might share them with someone who might. The UK, loyal poodle to the American eagle, will contribute a few Tornados and the occasional SAS unit, all while pretending to be a mediator. The irony is exquisite: the inspectors are the hinges upon which the door to conflict will swing.
But let us not be too cynical. Perhaps the deal will hold. Perhaps inspections will reveal Iran’s complete and total innocence, and the West will admit it was all a terrible misunderstanding. Perhaps pigs will fly out of my arse and form a parliamentary select committee on aviation reform. The point is, the cards are stacked. The framework is in place. The gun is loaded, and it is pointed at Iran. The safety catch? That is what the inspectors are for.
