Editor’s Note: Ludovica Castelli’s research interests include Historical International Relations, particularly conceptual history, Middle Eastern nuclear politics, and U.S. nuclear proliferation discourse. She has previously written for Stimson on the Israeli nuclear program and whether there should be a prohibition on attacking nuclear sites in Israel and Iran.
By Barbara Slavin, Distinguished Fellow, Middle East Perspectives
On December 19, 2003, Libya announced that it would dismantle its weapons of mass destruction program, ending a decade-long effort to acquire nuclear weapons. Western capitals hailed the announcement as a diplomatic triumph—proof that adversarial regimes could be persuaded, through pressures and promises, to disarm voluntarily. Yet, what was once framed as the “Libya model” has since become a cautionary tale. Nowhere is this transformation more consequential—or more deeply linguistic—than in the case of Iran.
Over the past weeks, U.S. and Israeli policymakers’ evocation of the Libyan precedent to push for the full dismantlement of Iran’s nuclear infrastructure has been met with outright rejection by Iranian leaders, who have used the comparison to drive home concerns around the perils of trusting and compromising with those they view as duplicitous Western actors, while further securitizing Iran’s nuclear program.
While an initial meeting between the U.S. and Iran in Oman on April 12 may have opened a diplomatic space and another meeting is scheduled for April 19, a long road lies ahead to rebuild the trust and credibility essential for reaching a sustainable and lasting agreement.
A central bug of U.S. diplomacy with Iran has not just been about policy incoherence or shifting red lines. Instead, challenges have been exacerbated by the inability or unwillingness to understand how language, memory, and perceived humiliation shape the strategic calculus of the other side. Without this understanding, crafting a sustainable, long-term nonproliferation policy remains elusive.
Libya, Revisited
Domestic pressures, regime stability risks, and legitimacy issues, together with international compromises, are only some of the factors that can influence the choice to disarm, itself a long, tortuous, and complex process. As much as trust plays an essential role, disarmament entails a considerable gamble.
The Libyan case is a crucial example.
While Libya did dismantle its entire nuclear program, the process proved more a negotiated trade-off than a unilateral capitulation. Libyan officials expected reciprocal steps: the lifting of sanctions, reintegration into the international community, and normalization of political and economic ties. By late 2004, Libyan frustration had grown as expected security assurances and weapons systems failed to materialize, and the process of lifting U.S. sanctions lagged.
In sum, the political and economic rewards Libya anticipated did not match the perceived sacrifice. Libyan leader Moammar Gaddafi’s disappointment centered on the slow speed of the normalization process, including the lagging relaxation of U.S. trade embargoes, military equipment sales, and the enduring stigmatization of Libya as a deviant actor in the global nonproliferation regime. Libya found itself still entangled in a pre-2003 stigma, with its request for international help to develop nuclear power for peaceful uses undermined and constricted.
Gaddafi’s worst fears materialized during the 2011 Arab Spring, when insurgent forces, supported by the U.S. and NATO, overthrew Gaddafi’s regime and killed the Libyan leader. Gaddafi’s execution broadcast a message louder than any press conference: giving up one’s deterrent capacity does not guarantee survival.
Iranian leaders internalized this message early and decisively. In a 2011 sermon, Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei criticized Gaddafi, noting that he had “collected all his nuclear equipment on the heels of empty threats, loaded it onto a ship and handed it over to the Westerners, saying to them: ‘Take it!’ ” This interpretation was later echoed by North Korean policymakers, illustrating the broader impact of Libya’s disarmament.
The Language of Deals and Demands
Despite this history, the so-called “Libya model” has resurfaced in recent years as a peculiar allure in U.S. political discourse. In the context of renewed exchanges between the U.S. and Iranian governments on the issue of nuclear infrastructure, U.S. Senator Tom Cotton has asserted that “the deal President Trump wants with Iran” is one that mirrors Libya’s full disarmament. Israeli officials have also supported this stance.
However, such a comparison may be strategically counterproductive.
As U.S. officials lean on ultimatums and instrumentalize past cases like Libya as cautionary tales for Tehran, Iran sees another interpretation – that aiming for a “Libya model” does not convey a commitment to diplomacy, but rather a preference for coercion. And coercion—particularly when filtered through narratives of betrayal and regime change—tends not to compel concession, but to reinforce resistance. As Iranian foreign minister Abbas Araghchi put it in the run-up to talks in Oman, “[d]irect negotiations would be meaningless with a party that constantly threatens to resort to force… and that expresses contradictory positions.”
The 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) disrupted this pattern. For a brief period, the language of diplomacy prevailed over the rhetoric of domination. The agreement marked a significant diplomatic achievement and a major nonproliferation milestone: Iran agreed to restrict its nuclear program and accept intrusive inspections, while the U.S. and other powers lifted nuclear-related sanctions.
But the Trump administration’s unilateral withdrawal from the deal in 2018—and its subsequent “maximum pressure” campaign—reignited old suspicions. Promises had been broken again. The narrative inside Iran quickly shifted from cautious optimism to vindication of hardline skepticism. Once more, language mattered: “We cannot trust them” became a powerful refrain in Tehran, bolstered by the memory of Gaddafi’s fate and the humiliation of unmet promises.
The Way Ahead
At present, the Trump administration is advancing a phased strategy, giving Iran a two-month window to negotiate a new nuclear agreement. Within the administration, there has been no clear consensus on the preferred approach: some advisors, such as Secretary of State Marco Rubio and National Security Advisor Mike Waltz, have advocated for a posture that keeps “all options on the table,” while Vice President J.D. Vance has opposed direct U.S. military intervention aimed at preventing Iran from crossing the nuclear threshold. These varied policy preferences have extended to the nature of the deal itself: Waltz has called for the “full dismantlement” of Iran’s nuclear program, while Special Middle East Envoy Steve Witkoff has proposed “a verification program” to mitigate fears over weaponization.
RelatedPost
In parallel, Washington has intensified its military signaling in an apparent effort to bolster negotiating leverage. One of the administration’s earliest executive actions authorized the transfer of MK-84 bunker-buster bombs to Israel. Although these bombs lack the capacity to penetrate deeply fortified installations like Iran’s Fordow or Natanz facilities, they could be deployed in joint strikes against above-ground or lightly protected components of Iran’s nuclear program, including centrifuge production sites, ballistic missile assembly centers, or dual-use research facilities.
This posture was further reinforced by the deployment of B-2 stealth bombers to Diego Garcia, a strategically located U.S. base in the Indian Ocean. Analysts speculate that these aircraft could be equipped with GBU-57 Massive Ordnance Penetrators, capable of breaching even Iran’s most heavily fortified nuclear sites through a series of successive strikes. Simultaneously, U.S. forces launched a series of air and naval strikes against Houthi-controlled areas in Yemen—an Iranian-aligned militia—as part of a broader campaign to secure maritime routes and to issue a clear warning to Tehran.
Taken together, these actions have suggested an effort to construct nuclear negotiations around a strong coercive framework—one that combines overt military preparedness with rhetorical flexibility—while overlooking the need for a fundamental narrative shift.
However, the negotiating dialogue continues to evolve in Oman: according to a senior Iranian political source familiar with the talks, U.S. envoy Witkoff recently presented a draft that omitted any mention of “dismantling” Iran’s nuclear program and that did not include an explicit military threat if negotiations fail. If sustained, this shift may be well-received and may facilitate progress in Muscat.
Language matters in diplomacy—not only as a tool of persuasion, but as a reflection of power asymmetries, historical memory, and domestic legitimacy. When it comes to nuclear diplomacy, where power asymmetries are striking, language particularly matters.
Negotiating disarmament is not just about engaging with nuclear capabilities, but also about understanding and navigating the symbolic architecture surrounding a nuclear program. Success will require understanding Iran’s nuclear program not simply as a proliferation threat, but as a symbol—of sovereignty, legitimacy, strength, and national pride. Calls for the program’s full dismantlement, absent recognition of these dimensions, may be seen by key players as a denial of the political and emotional meaning that the nuclear program holds for the Islamic Republic.
If the United States seeks to constructively negotiate with Iran—particularly through direct negotiations—U.S. policy elites must make a concerted effort to recalibrate their diplomatic language. Successful recalibration may require recognizing the weight of historical precedent, including past betrayals and missed opportunities, to embrace a framework in which dialogue is treated not as a concession granted by Washington but as a mutual responsibility. Initial talks in Oman have shown that a shift in narrative can provide a constructive foundation for the start of nuclear negotiations. The real challenge lies in sustaining this narrative to build a solid foundation for securing a lasting agreement.
Ludovica Castelli is Project Manager of the Nonproliferation and Disarmament Programme at the Istituto Affari Internazionali (IAI). In this role, she manages the Programme’s activities within the EU Non-Proliferation and Disarmament Consortium (EUNPDC) and leads research on non-proliferation and disarmament. She is currently a Ph.D. Candidate at the University of Leicester, where she was part of the ERC-funded “Third Nuclear Age” project, and is due to defend her thesis in a month.
Editor’s Note: Ludovica Castelli’s research interests include Historical International Relations, particularly conceptual history, Middle Eastern nuclear politics, and U.S. nuclear proliferation discourse. She has previously written for Stimson on the Israeli nuclear program and whether there should be a prohibition on attacking nuclear sites in Israel and Iran.
By Barbara Slavin, Distinguished Fellow, Middle East Perspectives
On December 19, 2003, Libya announced that it would dismantle its weapons of mass destruction program, ending a decade-long effort to acquire nuclear weapons. Western capitals hailed the announcement as a diplomatic triumph—proof that adversarial regimes could be persuaded, through pressures and promises, to disarm voluntarily. Yet, what was once framed as the “Libya model” has since become a cautionary tale. Nowhere is this transformation more consequential—or more deeply linguistic—than in the case of Iran.
Over the past weeks, U.S. and Israeli policymakers’ evocation of the Libyan precedent to push for the full dismantlement of Iran’s nuclear infrastructure has been met with outright rejection by Iranian leaders, who have used the comparison to drive home concerns around the perils of trusting and compromising with those they view as duplicitous Western actors, while further securitizing Iran’s nuclear program.
While an initial meeting between the U.S. and Iran in Oman on April 12 may have opened a diplomatic space and another meeting is scheduled for April 19, a long road lies ahead to rebuild the trust and credibility essential for reaching a sustainable and lasting agreement.
A central bug of U.S. diplomacy with Iran has not just been about policy incoherence or shifting red lines. Instead, challenges have been exacerbated by the inability or unwillingness to understand how language, memory, and perceived humiliation shape the strategic calculus of the other side. Without this understanding, crafting a sustainable, long-term nonproliferation policy remains elusive.
Libya, Revisited
Domestic pressures, regime stability risks, and legitimacy issues, together with international compromises, are only some of the factors that can influence the choice to disarm, itself a long, tortuous, and complex process. As much as trust plays an essential role, disarmament entails a considerable gamble.
The Libyan case is a crucial example.
While Libya did dismantle its entire nuclear program, the process proved more a negotiated trade-off than a unilateral capitulation. Libyan officials expected reciprocal steps: the lifting of sanctions, reintegration into the international community, and normalization of political and economic ties. By late 2004, Libyan frustration had grown as expected security assurances and weapons systems failed to materialize, and the process of lifting U.S. sanctions lagged.
In sum, the political and economic rewards Libya anticipated did not match the perceived sacrifice. Libyan leader Moammar Gaddafi’s disappointment centered on the slow speed of the normalization process, including the lagging relaxation of U.S. trade embargoes, military equipment sales, and the enduring stigmatization of Libya as a deviant actor in the global nonproliferation regime. Libya found itself still entangled in a pre-2003 stigma, with its request for international help to develop nuclear power for peaceful uses undermined and constricted.
Gaddafi’s worst fears materialized during the 2011 Arab Spring, when insurgent forces, supported by the U.S. and NATO, overthrew Gaddafi’s regime and killed the Libyan leader. Gaddafi’s execution broadcast a message louder than any press conference: giving up one’s deterrent capacity does not guarantee survival.
Iranian leaders internalized this message early and decisively. In a 2011 sermon, Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei criticized Gaddafi, noting that he had “collected all his nuclear equipment on the heels of empty threats, loaded it onto a ship and handed it over to the Westerners, saying to them: ‘Take it!’ ” This interpretation was later echoed by North Korean policymakers, illustrating the broader impact of Libya’s disarmament.
The Language of Deals and Demands
Despite this history, the so-called “Libya model” has resurfaced in recent years as a peculiar allure in U.S. political discourse. In the context of renewed exchanges between the U.S. and Iranian governments on the issue of nuclear infrastructure, U.S. Senator Tom Cotton has asserted that “the deal President Trump wants with Iran” is one that mirrors Libya’s full disarmament. Israeli officials have also supported this stance.
However, such a comparison may be strategically counterproductive.
As U.S. officials lean on ultimatums and instrumentalize past cases like Libya as cautionary tales for Tehran, Iran sees another interpretation – that aiming for a “Libya model” does not convey a commitment to diplomacy, but rather a preference for coercion. And coercion—particularly when filtered through narratives of betrayal and regime change—tends not to compel concession, but to reinforce resistance. As Iranian foreign minister Abbas Araghchi put it in the run-up to talks in Oman, “[d]irect negotiations would be meaningless with a party that constantly threatens to resort to force… and that expresses contradictory positions.”
The 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) disrupted this pattern. For a brief period, the language of diplomacy prevailed over the rhetoric of domination. The agreement marked a significant diplomatic achievement and a major nonproliferation milestone: Iran agreed to restrict its nuclear program and accept intrusive inspections, while the U.S. and other powers lifted nuclear-related sanctions.
But the Trump administration’s unilateral withdrawal from the deal in 2018—and its subsequent “maximum pressure” campaign—reignited old suspicions. Promises had been broken again. The narrative inside Iran quickly shifted from cautious optimism to vindication of hardline skepticism. Once more, language mattered: “We cannot trust them” became a powerful refrain in Tehran, bolstered by the memory of Gaddafi’s fate and the humiliation of unmet promises.
The Way Ahead
At present, the Trump administration is advancing a phased strategy, giving Iran a two-month window to negotiate a new nuclear agreement. Within the administration, there has been no clear consensus on the preferred approach: some advisors, such as Secretary of State Marco Rubio and National Security Advisor Mike Waltz, have advocated for a posture that keeps “all options on the table,” while Vice President J.D. Vance has opposed direct U.S. military intervention aimed at preventing Iran from crossing the nuclear threshold. These varied policy preferences have extended to the nature of the deal itself: Waltz has called for the “full dismantlement” of Iran’s nuclear program, while Special Middle East Envoy Steve Witkoff has proposed “a verification program” to mitigate fears over weaponization.
In parallel, Washington has intensified its military signaling in an apparent effort to bolster negotiating leverage. One of the administration’s earliest executive actions authorized the transfer of MK-84 bunker-buster bombs to Israel. Although these bombs lack the capacity to penetrate deeply fortified installations like Iran’s Fordow or Natanz facilities, they could be deployed in joint strikes against above-ground or lightly protected components of Iran’s nuclear program, including centrifuge production sites, ballistic missile assembly centers, or dual-use research facilities.
This posture was further reinforced by the deployment of B-2 stealth bombers to Diego Garcia, a strategically located U.S. base in the Indian Ocean. Analysts speculate that these aircraft could be equipped with GBU-57 Massive Ordnance Penetrators, capable of breaching even Iran’s most heavily fortified nuclear sites through a series of successive strikes. Simultaneously, U.S. forces launched a series of air and naval strikes against Houthi-controlled areas in Yemen—an Iranian-aligned militia—as part of a broader campaign to secure maritime routes and to issue a clear warning to Tehran.
Taken together, these actions have suggested an effort to construct nuclear negotiations around a strong coercive framework—one that combines overt military preparedness with rhetorical flexibility—while overlooking the need for a fundamental narrative shift.
However, the negotiating dialogue continues to evolve in Oman: according to a senior Iranian political source familiar with the talks, U.S. envoy Witkoff recently presented a draft that omitted any mention of “dismantling” Iran’s nuclear program and that did not include an explicit military threat if negotiations fail. If sustained, this shift may be well-received and may facilitate progress in Muscat.
Language matters in diplomacy—not only as a tool of persuasion, but as a reflection of power asymmetries, historical memory, and domestic legitimacy. When it comes to nuclear diplomacy, where power asymmetries are striking, language particularly matters.
Negotiating disarmament is not just about engaging with nuclear capabilities, but also about understanding and navigating the symbolic architecture surrounding a nuclear program. Success will require understanding Iran’s nuclear program not simply as a proliferation threat, but as a symbol—of sovereignty, legitimacy, strength, and national pride. Calls for the program’s full dismantlement, absent recognition of these dimensions, may be seen by key players as a denial of the political and emotional meaning that the nuclear program holds for the Islamic Republic.
If the United States seeks to constructively negotiate with Iran—particularly through direct negotiations—U.S. policy elites must make a concerted effort to recalibrate their diplomatic language. Successful recalibration may require recognizing the weight of historical precedent, including past betrayals and missed opportunities, to embrace a framework in which dialogue is treated not as a concession granted by Washington but as a mutual responsibility. Initial talks in Oman have shown that a shift in narrative can provide a constructive foundation for the start of nuclear negotiations. The real challenge lies in sustaining this narrative to build a solid foundation for securing a lasting agreement.
Ludovica Castelli is Project Manager of the Nonproliferation and Disarmament Programme at the Istituto Affari Internazionali (IAI). In this role, she manages the Programme’s activities within the EU Non-Proliferation and Disarmament Consortium (EUNPDC) and leads research on non-proliferation and disarmament. She is currently a Ph.D. Candidate at the University of Leicester, where she was part of the ERC-funded “Third Nuclear Age” project, and is due to defend her thesis in a month.
