The very public negotiations over Tehran’s nuclear weapons programme have reignited interest in the case of the Gaddafi regime in Libya, which – perhaps surprisingly – voluntarily and eagerly gave up its technology and materials over twenty years ago.
I had some involvement in the Libyan case. While there are major differences that make a similar scenario for Iran highly unlikely, the comparison is nonetheless worth exploring.
In the 1970s, Libya’s brutal and eccentric dictator, Muammar Gaddafi, began acquiring raw materials, technological components, and foreign expertise in an effort to build nuclear weapons and ballistic missiles to deliver them. Libya had signed the 1968 Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, allowing the state to obtain nuclear technology under the pretence of a civil programme – a strategy mirrored by Iraq under Saddam Hussein, and also by Iran.
These efforts continued sporadically for the next two decades and accelerated following the collapse of the Soviet Union, with the widespread availability of cheap technology and know-how. In parallel – like Iraq and the Assad regime in Syria – Gaddafi amassed large stockpiles of chemical weapons, sometimes dubbed the "’poor countries’ weapons of mass destruction (WMD)".
As warnings in Washington and other Western capitals mounted, efforts began to block the Libyan programme. After the 9/11 al-Qaeda attacks, the American security establishment gave greater priority to threats from WMDs originating in the Middle East. Among other actions, the US Navy intercepted a ship en route to Libya, carrying Pakistani-designed centrifuges made in Malaysia capable of enriching uranium for nuclear weapons.
In March 2003, under President George W. Bush, the US launched its invasion of Iraq – largely justified at the time as a means of halting Saddam Hussein’s presumed efforts to restore his WMD capabilities. Later, evidence suggested these threats had been significantly exaggerated. Saddam’s sons, Uday and Qusay, were killed in combat, and Saddam himself was captured a few months later.
These events apparently rattled Gaddafi and his inner circle. In a series of rapid political moves, they signalled their readiness to abandon terrorism and surrender their nuclear technologies and stockpiles. Gaddafi even admitted that Libyan agents had placed the bomb on Pan Am flight 103, which exploded over Lockerbie in 1988, killing 270 people.
Simultaneously, Libyan officials indicated a willingness to dismantle the nuclear weapons programme in order to avoid an American-led attack. This is where I briefly entered the picture.
I was in Europe for one of a series of unofficial dialogues involving Israelis – including academics and journalists – and regional counterparts. As one of the few civilian Israeli experts on nuclear and missile proliferation, I had published research on Iraq, Iran, Libya, and other cases, and was the Israeli participant at International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) conferences on Middle East non-proliferation.
In this context, one of the American hosts quietly invited me and two non-academic Israelis to join a small meeting in a side room to discuss Libya.
There, we met Saif al-Islam Gaddafi, the dictator’s son, accompanied by Mohammad Rashid – known as Yasser Arafat’s “financial adviser” – who was wearing an expensive tailored suit and, if memory serves, flashy white shoes.
Saif, with a shaved head and gold chains, projected the image of a rapper or a short professional basketball player. He was reportedly a doctoral student at the London School of Economics (LSE), which had accepted a large donation from Libya. Following public backlash and an inquiry, LSE declared it would not accept further funds.
Saif did most of the talking, promoting his father’s “peace” vision – namely a one-state solution called Isratine, outlined in Gaddafi’s Green Book. But the real aim of the meeting was not to sell a utopian fantasy. It was to show the Americans that Gaddafi’s sons didn’t want to share the fate of Uday and Qusay, that they were willing to meet Israelis and talk peace, and, most importantly, that they were prepared to do what was necessary to be removed from the nuclear proliferators’ target list.
After the meeting, I wrote a summary explaining that, regardless of where this dialogue was heading, my academic skill set was not suited to the next stage. The process continued without me, and the dialogue with Israeli officials expanded, with clear signals to Washington.
Within months, Gaddafi announced the dismantling of Libya’s nuclear programme under international supervision. He also shared key details on the sources of equipment and expertise, helping disrupt several proliferation networks. In 2004, US military transport aircraft removed vast quantities of documents and equipment, ending Libya’s nuclear ambitions without a shot fired.
This is the model often referenced by Israeli and American officials when discussing Iran. But the circumstances are radically different. The Gaddafi regime was far more isolated and weaker than the Islamic Republic, and Iran’s nuclear programme is vastly more advanced. To replicate the Libyan outcome, the scale and credibility of military threats against Iran would have to be far more serious to compel the regime to reverse course.
Furthermore, the Iranians have likely drawn the opposite lesson: Gaddafi gave up his nuclear deterrent and was later toppled and killed in a UK-led Nato campaign during the 2011 Arab Spring. For Tehran, that might be the best argument against nuclear disarmament.
Still, the precedent exists – however faint – for belated but peaceful Iranian compliance with its legal obligations under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and a host of UN resolutions. However remote the prospects, such an agreement would avoid both an Iranian nuclear bomb and a highly destructive conflict to prevent it.
Gerald M. Steinberg is emeritus professor of political studies at Bar-Ilan University and president of NGO Monitor.
