In the shadow of stalled diplomacy and expanding uranium enrichment, Saudi Arabia's foreign minister issued a measured but grave warning from Abu Dhabi in December 2022: should Iran cross the threshold into operational nuclear capability, the established order of the Middle East would dissolve, and Gulf Arab states would be compelled to seek their own security on their own terms. The warning reflects a deeper truth about deterrence — that when trust collapses and negotiation falters, nations reach not for dialogue but for equivalence. The region stands at one of those rare historical junctures
Saudi warns of regional arms race if Iran obtains nuclear weapon
If Iran gets an operational nuclear weapon, all bets are off
So Saudi Arabia is essentially saying that if Iran gets the bomb, they'll go nuclear too?
Not quite—or not yet. Prince Faisal said they'd "look towards how they can ensure their own security." That's diplomatic language for: all options are on the table. It could mean nuclear weapons, could mean something else. But yes, the threat is real.
Right, and we should be clear: he didn't say Saudi Arabia would build a bomb. He said they'd act. That's different. We don't know what form that takes.
Why did the nuclear talks break down in the first place?
Multiple reasons. The US left the deal in 2018, so there was already broken trust. When they tried to revive it, Western powers said Iran was making unreasonable demands. Then the focus shifted—Russia invaded Ukraine, Iran had its own domestic crisis with the protests after Mahsa Amini's death. The momentum just evaporated.
And we should note: that's the Western account of why talks stalled. Iran would have a different version of events. We're hearing one side here.
What do the Gulf states actually want?
They want a deal that goes beyond just nuclear weapons. They want it to cover Iran's missiles, drones, and the proxy militias Iran supports across the region. For them, the nuclear issue is only part of the problem.
And that's a much harder negotiation. The original 2015 deal was already complex. Adding all of that makes it exponentially more difficult. That's probably part of why talks stalled.
Is Iran actually building a nuclear weapon?
Iran says no—it says the program is purely civilian. But it just announced it's expanding uranium enrichment capacity, which is technically a step toward weapons-grade material. That's what alarmed the UN nuclear chief.
Enrichment capacity isn't the same as a weapons program. Iran could be doing this for civilian power generation. Or it could be hedging its bets. We don't have certainty here, and that uncertainty is part of what's driving the fear.
What happens next?
If the talks stay stalled and Iran keeps expanding enrichment, the pressure on Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states to act unilaterally will only grow. That could mean a regional arms race.
Or it could mean they pursue other security arrangements—maybe with the US, maybe with other powers. The nuclear weapon scenario is the worst case, but it's not the only possibility.
Il Polso
- US-Iran nuclear talks have been frozen since September, leaving a dangerous vacuum that neither diplomacy nor deterrence is currently filling.
- Iran's announcement of expanded uranium enrichment has alarmed international nuclear monitors and sharpened the urgency of Gulf Arab fears.
- Saudi Arabia's foreign minister warned bluntly that an Iranian nuclear weapon would render all existing regional calculations obsolete, signaling potential pursuit of independent nuclear deterrence.
- Gulf Arab states are pushing for a far broader agreement than the 2015 deal — one that constrains not just Iran's nuclear program but its missiles, drones, and regional proxy networks.
- The entanglement of Iran's alleged drone support for Russia in Ukraine has further complicated negotiations, expanding what was a bilateral dispute into a multi-front geopolitical crisis.
- The trajectory points toward either a comprehensive diplomatic breakthrough that no party currently seems positioned to deliver, or a slow drift toward regional arms competition.
In the shadow of stalled diplomacy and expanding uranium enrichment, Saudi Arabia's foreign minister issued a measured but grave warning from Abu Dhabi in December 2022: should Iran cross the threshold into operational nuclear capability, the established order of the Middle East would dissolve, and Gulf Arab states would be compelled to seek their own security on their own terms. The warning reflects a deeper truth about deterrence — that when trust collapses and negotiation falters, nations reach not for dialogue but for equivalence. The region stands at one of those rare historical junctures where the absence of agreement is itself a kind of decision.
At the World Policy Conference in Abu Dhabi in December 2022, Saudi Arabia's foreign minister, Prince Faisal bin Farhan Al Saud, delivered a warning that cut through the fog of stalled diplomacy with unusual clarity. If Iran were to develop an operational nuclear weapon, he said, the Gulf Arab states would have no choice but to pursue their own security measures — independently, and on their own timeline. "All bets are off," he said. The phrase was not rhetorical flourish. It was a signal that the current architecture of deterrence and negotiation would not survive such a crossing.
The context made the warning more urgent. Indirect talks between Washington and Tehran, aimed at reviving the 2015 nuclear agreement abandoned by the Trump administration in 2018, had collapsed in September. The negotiations had been fragile for months, burdened by Iranian demands Western powers called unreasonable, and further distracted by Russia's invasion of Ukraine and the protests sweeping Iran following the death of Mahsa Amini in police custody. Into this diplomatic silence, Iran announced an expansion of its uranium enrichment capacity — a move that drew public alarm from the UN's nuclear chief.
Saudi Arabia's position on the deal itself was layered with contradiction. Riyadh remained skeptical of the original 2015 framework, yet supported efforts to revive it — provided it became a starting point rather than a final destination. What the Gulf Arab states wanted was something more comprehensive: an agreement that addressed not only Iran's nuclear program but also its ballistic missiles, its drone capabilities, and the network of armed proxy groups it had cultivated across Iraq, Yemen, and Lebanon. When asked about Iran's insistence that its nuclear ambitions were purely civilian, Prince Faisal was measured but unconvinced. "We need more assurance on that level," he said.
A UAE official added further pressure the day before, suggesting that Iran's alleged supply of drones to Russia — denied by both Tehran and Moscow, but politically damaging nonetheless — had created an opening to rethink the entire negotiating framework. What had begun as a bilateral arms control effort was now entangled with questions about Iran's role in the war in Ukraine and its broader military posture. Prince Faisal closed with a sober assessment: the diplomatic path that had seemed within reach just months earlier was receding, and in its place, a different kind of regional competition was beginning to take shape.
In Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia's foreign minister delivered a stark warning about the future of the Middle East. If Iran were to develop a working nuclear weapon, Prince Faisal bin Farhan Al Saud said plainly, the region's calculations would shift entirely. The Gulf Arab states—Sunni-led nations that have watched Iran's military capabilities expand for years—would have no choice but to pursue their own security measures, he suggested, speaking at the World Policy Conference on a Sunday in December 2022.
The backdrop to this warning is a stalled diplomatic process. Indirect talks between the United States and Iran, aimed at reviving the 2015 nuclear agreement that Washington abandoned in 2018, had ground to a halt in September. The negotiations had been fragile for months. Western powers accused Iran of making unreasonable demands. Meanwhile, the world's attention had fractured—pulled toward Russia's invasion of Ukraine and toward the streets of Iran itself, where protests had erupted following the death of a 22-year-old woman, Mahsa Amini, in police custody.
Into this vacuum of stalled diplomacy came fresh concern from the International Atomic Energy Agency. Iran had announced it was expanding its uranium enrichment capacity—a technical step that raised alarms among nuclear experts and diplomats alike. The UN's nuclear chief had publicly voiced worry about what this meant.
Prince Faisal's language was careful but unmistakable. "If Iran gets an operational nuclear weapon, all bets are off," he said. The phrase carried weight: it meant that the current rules of engagement, the current calculations about deterrence and diplomacy, would no longer apply. "We are in a very dangerous space in the region," he continued. "You can expect that regional states will certainly look towards how they can ensure their own security." The implication was clear—if Iran crossed that threshold, Saudi Arabia and its neighbors would pursue their own paths to security, potentially including nuclear weapons of their own.
Yet Saudi Arabia's position on the nuclear deal itself remained contradictory. Riyadh remained skeptical of the 2015 agreement, Prince Faisal acknowledged. But the kingdom supported efforts to bring it back to life—with a crucial condition. Any revived deal, he said, should be "a starting point, not an end point" for negotiations with Tehran. What Saudi Arabia and other Gulf Arab states wanted was something more comprehensive: an agreement that did not merely constrain Iran's nuclear program but also addressed what they saw as Iran's broader military threat. They wanted the deal to cover Iran's missiles, its drones, and its network of armed groups across the region—the proxy forces that had become instruments of Iranian influence from Iraq to Yemen to Lebanon.
When asked directly about Iran's denials that it sought nuclear weapons, Prince Faisal expressed skepticism. "We hear from the Iranians that they have no interest in a nuclear weapons programme, it would be very comforting to be able to believe that," he said. "We need more assurance on that level." Iran maintained that its nuclear technology was purely for civilian use, but the gap between Tehran's assurances and what Gulf Arab states were willing to accept had only widened.
A senior official from the United Arab Emirates added another layer to the pressure. On the day before Prince Faisal's remarks, this official suggested that the current moment—with Western nations accusing Russia of using Iranian drones in Ukraine, and with Iran's nuclear program under intense scrutiny—offered an opportunity to rethink the entire framework of the nuclear deal. Iran and Russia both denied the drone allegations, but the accusation itself had shifted the political terrain. What had been a bilateral negotiation between the US and Iran was now entangled with questions about Iran's military support for Russia, about regional proxy networks, about the full scope of Tehran's capabilities.
The signs, Prince Faisal concluded, were not encouraging. The diplomatic path that had seemed possible just months earlier now appeared increasingly distant. And in that distance, the possibility of a different kind of competition was taking shape—one in which Gulf Arab states might feel compelled to pursue their own military answers to the Iranian question.
Citazioni salienti
If Iran gets an operational nuclear weapon, all bets are off. We are in a very dangerous space in the region.— Prince Faisal bin Farhan Al Saud, Saudi Arabia's foreign minister
We hear from the Iranians that they have no interest in a nuclear weapons programme, it would be very comforting to be able to believe that. We need more assurance on that level.— Prince Faisal bin Farhan Al Saud