In late February 2026, United States and Israel initiated major combat operations against Iran in an operation the U.S. government describes as aimed at eliminating Iran’s offensive missile capability and ensuring Iran “will never have nuclear weapons.” Official briefings from Marco Rubio and Pete Hegseth emphasised missiles, missile production, naval forces, and preventing a nuclear weapon; they did not frame the war as a formal regime-change campaign.
At the same time, U.S. messaging has been inconsistent enough that many observers interpret “regime change” as at least an implied (and sometimes explicit) objective. Public reporting indicates Donald Trump spoke of “freedom” for Iranians as a goal immediately after the strikes began, while later public justifications focused on Iran’s nuclear and missile programmes. This ambiguity matters for nuclear incentives: when leaders believe an outside power seeks to remove them, the perceived value of a nuclear deterrent rises sharply (security-driven proliferation logic).
The war has also coincided with a profound leadership shock. Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei was killed during strikes, and his son Mojtaba Khamenei was selected as Supreme Leader by a clerical body amid strong pressure and backing from the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. Reuters reporting describes the succession as being driven by the IRGC’s urgency and leverage, overriding resistance inside the clerical-political establishment.
The immediate implication for nuclear decision-making is not that “Mojtaba personally wants a bomb”, but that the wartime balance of power can shift further toward the security apparatus that controls strategic programmes (missiles, drones, intelligence, and many coercive tools of internal control). External war plus internal militarisation is a classic environment in which nuclear choices become more permissive—particularly if leadership believes survival is at stake.
What “getting the bomb” would require in practice
Nuclear weapons are not “one thing.” A state needs (1) weapons-usable fissile material (typically highly enriched uranium or plutonium), (2) a workable weapon design and manufacturing capability (“weaponisation”), and (3) a credible delivery option (aircraft or missiles). Military strikes can damage physical infrastructure, but they cannot erase accumulated expertise—and they often cannot reliably account for material already produced.
On the material side, “highly enriched uranium” is commonly defined as uranium enriched above 20% U‑235, and 60% enriched uranium is close to weapons grade (roughly 90% U‑235). For safeguards purposes (not a bomb blueprint), a widely used benchmark is the International Atomic Energy Agency “significant quantity” for HEU—often cited as 25 kg of contained U‑235—used in designing detection timeliness goals.
The most important current uncertainty is not whether Iran knows how to enrich uranium—it does—but whether the international community can verify where Iran’s stockpiles and key equipment are, and whether damaged facilities can be reconstituted quickly. In a February 2026 report to the IAEA Board, the Agency described how, after attacks on Iranian nuclear sites in June 2025, it stopped verification activities at the start of the attacks and withdrew inspectors for safety by the end of that month; Iran then signed a law suspending cooperation with the Agency. The same IAEA report says Iran has not provided declarations, reports, or access regarding facilities affected by attacks, and the Agency therefore cannot fulfil safeguards obligations at those locations or verify whether activities there have been suspended.
The IAEA also reported observing “regular vehicular activity” around the entrance to the Isfahan tunnel complex where uranium hexafluoride enriched up to 20% and 60% U‑235 was stored for multiple declared facilities—an observation that underscores why material-accounting and inspection access are central to risk. Separate reporting in early March 2026 cites IAEA estimates that Iran’s last verified stockpile included ~440.9 kg of uranium enriched up to 60%, and that a substantial portion likely remained stored in the Isfahan tunnel complex; the same reporting notes that if further enriched, that amount could be sufficient for roughly ten nuclear weapons by common IAEA yardsticks.
Even with ample enriched uranium, making a deliverable weapon is not instantaneous, and assessments vary about how quickly Iran could produce a crude device versus a reliable, missile-deliverable warhead. Analyses since the current fighting began stress that conventional strikes may not be able to guarantee elimination of Iran’s nuclear capability, especially when stockpiles and deeply buried structures are involved.
Why a surviving regime would be more inclined to pursue nuclear weapons
The best-supported answer from open-source research is that, if the current ruling system survives the war, it becomes more likely than before to move from “threshold” capability toward at least a rapid weapons option—and possibly an actual bomb—primarily for deterrence and regime survival, with “revenge” and “blackmail” as secondary logics rather than core drivers. This is a probabilistic claim: there is no public document that proves an Iranian decision has been made, and Iran’s leadership deliberations are opaque.
Several evidence streams point in the same direction:
First, the “security model” of proliferation predicts that states seek nuclear weapons when they fear powerful adversaries and doubt other means of deterrence. Scott Sagan’s widely cited framework explicitly links nuclear acquisition to threats and vulnerability, while also highlighting “domestic politics” (bureaucratic interests) and “norms” (status/identity) as reinforcing pathways. A war that includes leadership decapitation attempts, repeated strikes, and open talk—sometimes explicit—about the desirability of political change in Tehran is structurally the kind of shock that heightens both security and domestic-politics pressures.
Second, U.S. intelligence reporting before the current war already assessed that Iran was not building a nuclear weapon, but also that internal pressure to reconsider had been rising. In its unclassified 2025 Annual Threat Assessment, the U.S. intelligence community stated it “continue[s] to assess Iran is not building a nuclear weapon” and that the Supreme Leader had not reauthorised the programme suspended in 2003, but that pressure had “probably built” on him to do so and that public discussion taboos around nuclear weapons had eroded—empowering advocates within decision-making circles. If that erosion was observable before the February 2026 escalation, it is difficult to argue credibly that a major war would reverse it; if anything, war tends to harden nationalist and security-elite preferences.
Third, Iranian officials and advisers have already been testing the rhetorical ground for conditional weaponisation. A Reuters report from 2021 quoted Iran’s intelligence minister warning that sustained pressure could push Iran to seek nuclear weapons “like a cornered cat.” In 2024, public reporting described warnings from a senior adviser that Iran could change its nuclear doctrine if its existence were threatened. These statements do not prove intent, but they demonstrate that the leadership circle has been normalising the idea of a nuclear option as a response to existential threat—precisely the narrative a surviving regime might now embrace.
Fourth, the wartime consolidation of the IRGC’s role is a key “domestic politics” accelerant. The IRGC operates Iran’s ballistic missile arsenal and oversees the Quds Force, and it has long been central to regime security and coercive power. Reuters’ reporting on Mojtaba Khamenei’s installation explicitly describes the Guards as elevating him rapidly and overpowering clerical/political opposition—an indicator of the security apparatus’ dominant position in crisis governance. If the IRGC becomes even more decisive inside the political system, it becomes more plausible that the faction which most benefits from a maximal deterrent posture (and controls the tools to implement it) gains influence over nuclear risk-taking.
Finally, there is a recurrent strategic lesson many policymakers and publics draw—rightly or wrongly—from recent history: regimes without nuclear deterrents can be attacked, while regimes with nuclear deterrents are harder to coerce. Analyses of attacks on nuclear programmes note that bombing can delay and disrupt, but it can also strengthen a target’s motivation to eventually acquire the deterrent that would prevent future strikes. In early March 2026, a prominent foreign-policy analysis argued that a wounded Iran could emerge even more determined to weaponise residual capability to deter future attacks—an assessment consistent with this broader literature.
Why the regime might still stop short of an overt bomb
Saying “more likely than before” is not the same as saying “inevitable” or “imminent.” There are several powerful reasons a surviving regime might still choose to remain a threshold state rather than cross the bright line of building and declaring nuclear weapons.
A threshold posture can deliver some deterrent benefit without incurring the maximum political and military costs associated with weaponisation and testing. Analysts have described how Iran has, for years, advanced technical capabilities while refraining from crossing the final step—using ambiguity, signalling, and enrichment leverage as bargaining power. From a regime-survival perspective, “latency” (the ability to build quickly) may look like a safer equilibrium than an announced nuclear arsenal, because it reduces the likelihood of an all-out international response while still complicating an adversary’s military planning.
War also changes the technical calculus. If Iran’s enrichment infrastructure and procurement networks have been badly damaged and heavily surveilled, leadership might fear that an overt dash would be detected and struck again before completion—especially if weapons-grade enrichment (90%) or weaponisation work creates unmistakable signatures. Assessments since the June 2025 strikes emphasise that some deeply buried sites and stored material may be beyond easy conventional destruction, but also that surviving sites are watched closely, and access/movement of material poses operational risks.
There is also a normative/religious constraint debate. Iranian leaders long invoked a prohibition on nuclear weapons; outside analysts disagree on how binding or durable that prohibition is, and some argue it is politically reversible. The crucial point for this question is that a post-succession system dominated by security imperatives could discount that norm; but it could also keep using the language of prohibition while quietly maintaining a fast option—again favouring latency over declaration.
What would indicate a real decision to build weapons
Because Iran can expand capability without “weaponising,” warning indicators matter. None of these alone would prove a bomb is being built, but several together would strongly suggest movement from threshold status to weapon acquisition.
One indicator would be formal legal-political steps to reduce constraints: limiting safeguards cooperation further, refusing access at additional declared sites, or escalating beyond current patterns of non-cooperation. The IAEA has already described major gaps in access to attacked facilities and the resulting inability to verify material and activities there. A more dramatic step—such as expelling inspectors entirely or withdrawing from the NPT—would be an especially strong signal, and arms-control analysts already flag Iran as among the most likely candidates to take such steps if tensions worsen.
A second indicator would be technical moves that are hard to justify under civilian rationales, such as enriching to 90% U‑235, producing or stockpiling weaponisation-relevant forms of uranium in ways inconsistent with declared needs, or restricting access while simultaneously accelerating covert procurement and testing activities. Arms-control reporting stresses that 60% enrichment has “no practical civilian application” at Iran’s scale and that knowledge gained from advanced enrichment cannot be fully reversed—meaning the technical path remains open if leadership chooses it.
A third indicator would be delivery-system integration steps that suggest intent to field a usable deterrent—changes in missile re-entry vehicle design, new testing patterns, or evidence of warhead miniaturisation efforts. Even states that can produce a crude device may seek credible deliverability to maximise deterrent value, and Iran’s missile forces are central to its overall deterrence strategy.
Judgement: yes, more likely—mostly for deterrence, not apocalypse
If the governing coalition behind Mojtaba Khamenei and the IRGC survives the current war in recognisably similar form, the balance of evidence suggests Iran would be more likely to pursue nuclear weapons capability than it was before—but the most plausible motivation would be deterrence against future attack and coercion, not an eagerness to launch a nuclear first strike.
The deterrence argument is the strongest because it aligns with (1) observed shifts in Iranian elite discourse (“cornered cat” warnings; doctrine-change hints), (2) U.S. intelligence assessments that pressure to reconsider has been building inside the system, and (3) the war experience itself—especially if leaders perceive that non-nuclear deterrents (missiles, proxies, regional escalation) did not prevent devastating attacks.
This conclusion is also consistent with the logic emphasised by The DEFCON Warning System, which, in its public nuclear-risk briefings, framed the initial campaign objective as preventing advancement or reconstitution of an Iranian nuclear weapons programme and highlighted the continuing nuclear escalation risks in the conflict environment. While the DEFCON Warning System is explicit that it is not a government body and its assessments are its own, its framing closely matches the core deterrence-driven concern: war can increase the perceived “need” for a nuclear backstop even when strikes damage infrastructure.
The “revenge” motive is real as a political emotion, but nuclear weapons are slow, strategic instruments; they are generally more useful for preventing future coercion than for satisfying immediate retribution. The “nuclear blackmail” concept is also often overstated: nuclear weapons can enable intimidation and risk-taking, but they do not automatically translate into reliable coercive leverage, and they come with steep countervailing risks—especially against nuclear-armed opponents.
Finally, the scenario of Iran obtaining nuclear weapons “to destroy Israel” is the least consistent with survival logic. Iranian leaders have used eliminationist language about Israel’s future and have framed “destruction of Israel” as a political goal in various ways over time. But actually using nuclear weapons against a nuclear-capable state would invite catastrophic retaliation and could end the regime itself; even hardline systems typically treat nuclear weapons as tools to preserve the state, not commit national suicide.
Bottom line: a surviving Iranian ruling system—especially one more dominated by the IRGC after a wartime succession—would likely see greater value in a nuclear deterrent or near-deterrent than it did before the war, making Iran more likely to move toward weaponisation or a credible rapid-breakout posture. Whether it crosses the final line would depend on how secure (or insecure) the regime feels after the fighting, how much of its material and industrial base remains intact, and whether it believes another round of strikes or an eventual invasion is the real endgame.
