
What many forget—or were never told—is that it was Washington that introduced Iran to nuclear energy. Under Eisenhower’s 1953 Atoms for Peace program, the U.S. not only encouraged Iran’s civilian nuclear development but also supplied Iran its first research reactor in 1967. The Shah even signed contracts with U.S. and German firms for up to 23 nuclear power plants.
In 1975, Vice President Nelson Rockefeller called Iran “a model for atomic development.” Secretary of State Henry Kissinger approved nuclear fuel sales, stating, “We should be building nuclear capacity in Iran now to ensure their reliance on us later.”
The irony writes itself. But let us go through the story fully.
I first set foot in Iran in 1976—not as a tourist, but as an auditor, toiling through dusty oil fields and the polished corridors of petroleum companies, speaking with engineers, accountants, and senior administrators. Over the years, I made regular visits—from auditing and trading to bidding for telecom tenders. During those years, I made friends who would go on to become bureaucrats close to power, diplomats, and even lieutenants in the Revolutionary Guards. One such acquaintance even escorted me to meet former President Rafsanjani to explore trade possibilities.
Many evenings, over saffron tea and unsweetened almonds, I heard—directly and unfiltered— from some who had worked under the Shah(one was an Iyengar from Bangalore, son of a famous person), others had taken guard posts after 1979. They held differing views on governance and religion, but on one issue they were near-unanimous: that America had come as a friend, stayed for the spoils, and then cast Iran as the villain.
Is it true? Let us not speculate—but see what the history tells us.
This is no sweeping condemnation, only a recounting of what I heard from those who had been inside the theatre—before it was called a battleground.
Lest we forget, the National Iranian Oil Company (NIOC) was once a builder of India’s future. Alongside AMOCO, it helped establish Madras Refineries and Madras Fertilizers—a proud Indo-Iranian-American triangle of cooperation in the 1960s and 70s. Back then, Iran wasn’t an enemy—it was a model partner in regional growth.
So how did that turn into what we see today?
That, dear reader, is not a new story in American foreign policy. We saw the same arc in Vietnam, Cambodia, Korea, Iraq, and Kuwait. The characters change, but the plot often reads the same: befriend, leverage, dominate, exit—and if necessary, vilify.
Because in the final cut, America must gain. At whatever it takes.
The atomic story, too, began with a smile. In the 1950s, the United States was eager to promote peaceful uses of nuclear energy under its Atoms for Peace program. Iran, under the Shah, was chosen as a key beneficiary. With U.S. blessing and logistical support, Iran received its first research reactor in 1967, complete with highly enriched uranium.
The collaboration wasn’t just symbolic. By the mid-1970s, Iran had signed deals with U.S. and West German companies to construct up to 23 nuclear power plants. American universities trained Iranian engineers. U.S. companies drew up blueprints. Intelligence and strategic circles in Washington saw Iran not only as a buyer—but a future outpost of nuclear stability under Western stewardship.
In 1975, Vice President Nelson Rockefeller publicly called Iran “a model for atomic development,” while Secretary of State Henry Kissinger coolly observed: “We should be building nuclear capacity in Iran now to ensure their reliance on us later.”
So yes, the irony writes itself. The very reactors and capacities that later provoked global hand-wringing were, quite literally, Made in America—and irony has that the very reactors that President Trump authorized a surprise airstrike—Operation Midnight Hammer—targeting Iran’s Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan nuclear facilities, deploying B-2 stealth bombers, bunker-buster bombs, and Tomahawk missiles were seeded by America with ambitions not fuelled by Tehran, but by none other than Eisenhower and Henry Kissinger.
Throughout the 19th century, Americans were seen in Iran as neutral befriending foreign experts—mill workers, advisers, and even treasurers-general—while Britain and Russia competed for influence. This goodwill translated into cooperation during World War II and the early Cold War: Iran joined the Atoms for Peace nuclear program, and U.S. firms helped build Iran’s oil infrastructure under Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi.
That trust unravelled in August 1953. Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddegh had nationalised British oilfields—paying for it with democracy. In response, the CIA, working with MI6, backed a coup re-installing the Shah and restoring Western oil control—making U.S. firms stakeholders in 40% of Iran’s oil profits.
It worked—briefly. But by empowering a despotic SAVAK, trained by the CIA, America helped sow the seeds of revolution. As a Washington Post summary put it, this “potent symbol of foreign interference” still haunts Iranian sentiment.
When the 1979 revolution toppled the Shah, U.S. support for him became shorthand for imperial arrogance. The notorious “Great Satan” label stuck amid the Embassy hostage crisis. What was once “friendly partnership” now read as “neo-colonial oppressor”—a dramatic rebrand as U.S. media recast Iran as a dangerous theocracy.
But it wasn’t just rhetoric. The Shah, after fleeing Iran, was given asylum in the United States—a move seen in Tehran as the final betrayal. And he didn’t flee empty-handed. According to various estimates, the Shah and his close circle may have moved between $1 to $2 billion out of Iran in the final months of his rule—funds parked in personal and family accounts across Europe and the United States. Adjusted for inflation, that would be a staggering figure for a country undergoing upheaval and sanctions.
Meanwhile, the vast wealth of Iran’s pre-revolution elite, much of it parked in American and European banks, remained frozen or inaccessible to the new regime. These funds, which included both public and private assets, became another chapter in the long story of resentment. And while Ayatollah Khomeini returned from exile to rapturous welcome, Iran’s new rulers began consolidating power around the very vacuum the U.S. had once claimed to stabilise.
The revolution was not merely political—it was a rejection of the entire architecture of U.S.-backed modernisation, perceived by many Iranians as exploitative and imposed. The hostage crisis was not just retaliation—it was a message: Iran would now write its own script.
When the 1979 revolution toppled the Shah, U.S. support for him became shorthand for imperial arrogance. The notorious “Great Satan” label stuck amid the Embassy hostage crisis. What was once “friendly partnership” now read as “neo-colonial oppressor”—a dramatic rebrand as U.S. media recast Iran as a dangerous theocracy.
As historian Adam Johnson and FAIR have argued, the U.S. media steadily built Iran into a villain, weaponizing terms like “Shia Crescent” and giving vocal space to hawks who framed Iran as an existential threat—a narrative that conveniently echoed interventions in Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, and beyond.
Today’s headlines continue to echo those tropes. A recent Time piece notes that U.S. attacks may ironically “reinforce nationalistic unity” inside Iran—reminding Iranians of betrayal dating back to 1953.
As the African proverb goes: “Until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter.” Once you dictate the narrative, you become the de facto author—or villain of your own tale.
U.S. portrayal matters. Whether as “friends helping industrialise” or “imperialists stealing oil,” the power of the pen has shaped public perceptions—and foreign policy—for generations.
For now, Iran remains “villain” in many U.S. stories. Perhaps one day, a new chapter will cast both as pragmatic partners navigating an interconnected century—not adversaries trapped in historical enmity.
Can we glimpse that future? Only if someone re-writes the ending—starting with honesty and leading to engagement, not antagonism.
Too many things have to shift to rewrite this narrative: America must admit its past, and Iran must find the courage to bury it. The Ayatollah, if history permits, must now play the part of a Gandhi—or a Mandela—ushering in dignity through restraint. And Trump? Perhaps he should visit the Confession Cube before preparing that Nobel Peace Prize speech.