Where Does the Clock Begin? The Politics of Choosing History in the Israel-Iran Conflict
In any conflict, for those who do not automatically take a side, or even for those who are aligned but not entirely comfortable with every action of their side, there comes a moment of assessment. It is a moment of trying to ascertain which party is ever so slightly more inclined towards justice than the other. But justice, as Kam Kedar argues in a profound meditation on historical memory, is not about affiliations, ideologies, technological advancement, or military might. It is about actions viewed through the lens of memory and interpretation. And all of this, in the end, boils down to a single, foundational decision: the point at which one decides the conflict began. The choice of that starting point determines the moral architecture of the entire narrative that follows, shaping who is seen as the aggressor and who as the victim, who is justified and who is condemned. Nowhere is this more evident than in the current, devastating war between Israel and Iran.
For Israel, the logical and strategically useful starting point for its confrontation with Iran is the Iranian Revolution of 1979. Before that moment, Iran was not an adversary. Under the rule of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, Israel and Iran maintained discreet yet meaningful strategic ties. Both nations saw themselves as non-Arab actors navigating a volatile, predominantly Arab regional environment. Cooperation extended across multiple domains, including intelligence coordination, economic exchanges, and limited but significant security collaboration. Iran was a partner, not a threat. The 1979 revolution, however, transformed that relationship with astonishing speed. The Islamic Republic that replaced the monarchy adopted an openly hostile posture toward Israel, refusing to recognise its legitimacy and incorporating vehement opposition to the Jewish state into its very ideological identity.
From Israel’s perspective, the decades that followed appeared to confirm and deepen this threat perception. Iran expanded its formidable missile capabilities, strengthened its regional alliances, and provided substantial support to militant groups across the Middle East, most notably Hezbollah in Lebanon. Over time, growing concerns about Iran’s nuclear ambitions further intensified Israeli strategic anxieties. Seen from this vantage point, Israeli actions—ranging from covert intelligence operations and cyber campaigns to occasional military strikes and the recent assassination of top Iranian leaders—are framed not as acts of aggression, but as necessary measures of self-defence and prevention. If the story begins in 1979, Israel’s policies can be interpreted as the defensive response of a relatively small, vulnerable state confronting a revolutionary, ideologically committed regime that has, for over four decades, consistently questioned its legitimacy and threatened its security. The timeline matters profoundly. Begin the story in 1979, and Israel appears as a state reacting to a persistent, existential threat, rather than one generating the conflict itself.
Iran’s narrative, however, begins much earlier, fundamentally shifting the moral framework. In Tehran’s telling, the story does not start with the Iranian Revolution but with the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 and the regional upheaval that followed. The creation of Israel, backed by Western powers, triggered the 1948 Arab-Israeli War and resulted in the displacement of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians—an event known as the Nakba, or “catastrophe”—that remains deeply embedded in the political consciousness of the entire Middle East. For many in the region, including Iran, this moment represents the foundational grievance of modern regional politics: a historical rupture, a profound injustice, that continues to shape perceptions of sovereignty, legitimacy, and collective memory. Iranian leaders frequently frame their policies within this broader historical context. Their support for groups like Hezbollah and Hamas is presented not as an act of unwarranted aggression toward Israel, but as an expression of ideological solidarity with the Palestinian people and opposition to what they perceive as an unjust regional order, one imposed and maintained by Western intervention and Israeli military dominance.
Within this narrative, Israel’s military actions against Iranian allies—whether in Lebanon, Syria, or elsewhere—are interpreted not as responses to Iranian provocation, but as part of a longer, consistent pattern of Israeli regional expansion and dominance. Iran, in turn, portrays itself as a principled counterbalancing force, a key component of what it describes as a broader “resistance” front against Western imperialism and its local proxy. If the story begins in 1948, the conflict appears less as a bilateral rivalry between two states, and more as a continuation of the unresolved, foundational tensions that have defined the Arab-Israeli struggle for over seventy years. Once again, the starting point reshapes everything. Begin the narrative in 1948, and Iran appears not as the instigator of the conflict, but as a later participant, a supporter of a just cause in a much older, more profound regional dispute. Its actions are framed as resistance, not aggression.
What emerges from these two powerful, competing narratives is a simple yet profound insight: history is rarely neutral in geopolitical argument. States, and the leaders who guide them, consciously and strategically choose the moment at which the story begins. That choice is an act of political power. It determines the moral architecture of the narrative, establishing who is a defender and who is an aggressor, who is acting justly and who is acting illegitimately. Starting the timeline in 1979 emphasizes ideological hostility, modern security threats, and the actions of a revolutionary state. Starting in 1948 highlights questions of territory, displacement, historical grievance, and the foundational injustice of a people dispossessed. Both starting points contain significant elements of truth, as experienced and remembered by the parties involved. Yet neither, on its own, offers a complete account of the deeper, more complex historical forces that have shaped the region for over a century.
Long before Israel existed, and decades before the Iranian Revolution, another pivotal moment had already begun to influence the political future of the Middle East. In 1917, during the First World War, the British government issued a brief but consequential statement known as the Balfour Declaration. In a short letter to Lord Rothschild, a leader of the British Jewish community, Britain expressed its support for “the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people,” while simultaneously asserting that “nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine.” Within this brief, carefully worded statement lies a profound and ultimately unresolved contradiction. The declaration appeared to support two seemingly incompatible aspirations simultaneously: Jewish national self-determination, and the rights and continued existence of the Arab population already living in and cultivating that land. It did so without offering any clear political framework capable of reconciling these competing national visions.
At the time, Britain exercised authority over the region through the League of Nations Mandate for Palestine, established following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire after the First World War. The Balfour Declaration effectively transformed the Zionist movement, which had existed as a political aspiration for decades, into a project backed by the full weight of a major imperial power. Jewish immigration to Palestine increased significantly in the decades that followed, driven both by Zionist ambitions and, tragically, by the mounting pressures of persecution and genocide in Europe. At the same time, the Arab communities in Palestine grew increasingly apprehensive and alarmed, fearing, with justification, that the declaration and the immigration it encouraged threatened their own political future, their demographic majority, and their very existence as a people in their ancestral homeland. The tensions generated by these competing national aspirations intensified during the 1920s and 1930s, erupting in periodic violence and deepening mutual distrust. By the time Britain, exhausted by World War II and unable to resolve the conflict, withdrew from Palestine in 1948, the political landscape had hardened into two rival national movements with fundamentally incompatible visions of sovereignty over the same land.
It would be far too simplistic to suggest that Britain alone “caused” the conflicts that followed. History rarely, if ever, unfolds in such a linear, deterministic manner. The choices and agency of local actors, from Zionist leaders to Arab nationalists, were profoundly important. Yet the Balfour Declaration serves as a powerful illustration of how decisions made by distant imperial powers can reverberate across generations, shaping the very structure of future conflicts. By endorsing the creation of a national home for one people in a territory already inhabited by another, while failing to establish any political structure capable of accommodating both, Britain helped create a deep, structural tension—a foundational fault line—that would define the region’s future. The wars that emerged after 1948, the complex alliances that developed during the Cold War, and even the modern, seemingly intractable rivalry between Israel and Iran, all exist within a political landscape profoundly shaped by those earlier imperial decisions.
Every conflict carries with it a narrative about its origins, and the strategic choice of that starting point often determines who appears justified and who appears responsible. Israel’s 1979 narrative and Iran’s 1948 narrative each tell a different story about responsibility, legitimacy, and self-defence. Each contains powerful elements of truth. Yet each remains fundamentally incomplete, a partial view of a far more complex historical tapestry. In geopolitics, history rarely functions simply as a neutral record of the past. It becomes a living argument about the present, a weapon wielded to justify current actions and shape future outcomes. And as long as the timelines themselves remain contested, as long as there is no shared understanding of where the clock began, the conflicts built upon those competing memories are unlikely to disappear, no matter how many missiles are fired or peace conferences convened. The past, as these narratives show, is never truly past. It is the arena in which the present war is fought.
Questions and Answers
Q1: What is the central argument of the article about how nations frame their involvement in conflicts?
A1: The article argues that nations strategically choose a “starting point” for a conflict, and this decision determines the entire moral framework of their narrative. This choice dictates who is seen as the aggressor and who as the defender, shaping global perceptions of justice, legitimacy, and self-defence. History becomes an argument about the present.
Q2: What is Israel’s preferred starting point for its conflict with Iran, and how does it frame Israeli actions?
A2: Israel’s preferred starting point is the Iranian Revolution of 1979. Before this, the two nations were allies. The revolution transformed Iran into an ideologically hostile state that threatened Israel. From this perspective, Israeli actions are framed as defensive and preventative responses to a decades-long, persistent threat from a revolutionary regime.
Q3: What is Iran’s preferred starting point, and how does it reframe the conflict?
A3: Iran’s preferred starting point is the establishment of Israel in 1948 and the resulting displacement of Palestinians (the Nakba). Iran frames its support for groups like Hezbollah not as aggression, but as solidarity with the Palestinian cause and resistance against an unjust, Western-imposed regional order. Iran appears as a later participant in an older struggle, not the instigator.
Q4: What is the significance of the 1917 Balfour Declaration in this context?
A4: The Balfour Declaration, in which Britain supported a “national home for the Jewish people” in Palestine while promising to protect the rights of the existing Arab population, is presented as a deeper historical root of the conflict. It illustrates how a decision by a distant imperial power created a structural, unresolved contradiction that set the stage for the rival nationalisms and conflicts that followed, including the modern Israel-Iran rivalry.
Q5: What is the article’s concluding message about the nature of historical narratives in geopolitics?
A5: The article concludes that in geopolitics, history is not a neutral record of the past, but a “living argument about the present.” Each side’s chosen starting point contains elements of truth, but is incomplete. As long as these foundational timelines remain contested, the conflicts built upon them are unlikely to be resolved, as the parties are not just fighting over territory or resources, but over the very meaning of their shared history.
