Due to the diplomatic deal reached in Geneva, the theocracy running Iran has half a year to decide if its potential nuclear-weapons program would make the regime more, or less, secure.
Sure, if the country keeps its capability to weaponize, it may be harder for regional rivals or Western powers to push for regime change. But internal collapse as a result of strict sanctions and international isolation may be more dangerous.
At least that's the lesson from leaders in Kazakhstan, which relinquished what was then the world's fourth-largest arsenal of nuclear weapons when it split from the Soviet Union in 1991.
Failure to do so would have made Kazakhstan's post-Soviet economic rise impossible because the Central Asian nation would have been "blacklisted," Sergei Berezin, the deputy director general of Kazakhstan's National Nuclear Center told me and nine other journalists in August on a trip organized by the International Reporting Project.
Erlan Idrissov, Kazakhstan's foreign minister, agreed. "Kazakhstan has a right to present itself as a model for dealing with nuclear issues," he said. Reconfirming his nation's support for nuclear power, but not weapons, Idrissov added that "we do not believe the possession of nuclear weapons is a guarantee for your own security. On the contrary, the best security on the long-term basis is sustainable and well-thought social and economic development."
Kazakhstan may model the benefits of being nuclear-free. But even more motivating for Iran may be the example the country established as a victim of the nuclear age.
Soviet leaders, who used Kazakhstan for their own nefarious needs (its gulags held Alexander Solzhenitsyn), conducted 456 nuclear tests in the Semipalatinsk Test Site in northeastern Kazakhstan. The journalists who visited the desolate, toxic test site could see and feel the impact of senseless proliferation.
The site is vast — about the size of Belgium — and deceiving. Wildflowers and grasses grow, and birds flit about the windswept steppes.