Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian and Chinese President Xi Jinping shake hands as they meet, in Beijing, China, Sept. 2, 2025. Photo: Iran’s Presidential website/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS

When American and Iranian negotiators first began sketching the contours of a ceasefire framework, the central verification problem was always the same: where does the uranium go? In 2015, the answer was Russia.

Tehran shipped its excess enriched stockpile to Moscow under Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) arrangements that relied, however imperfectly, on a Cold War-era infrastructure of arms control diplomacy between Washington and the Kremlin.

That infrastructure no longer exists. Furthermore, reports emerging from the current round of negotiations suggest Tehran is now considering something far more consequential: transferring its stockpile of 60 percent enriched uranium to China.

If this proposal advances, the United States will not just be managing an Iranian nuclear problem. It will be inheriting a Sino-American verification crisis with no institutional framework, no precedent, and no clear resolution.

The geopolitical logic driving the proposal is straightforward. Russia is no longer a viable custodian. Post-Ukraine, Washington cannot ask Moscow to hold material it has been sanctioning and isolating for three years. The political optics alone would be unworkable for any American administration.

China, by contrast, presents itself as a neutral facilitator. Beijing has positioned itself throughout the Iran nuclear file as a responsible stakeholder, and it has the physical infrastructure, the diplomatic relationship with Tehran, and the incentive to prevent a full-scale regional war that would destabilize its energy supply chains. From a purely transactional standpoint, the proposal has a logic.

But the logic evaporates the moment you ask the next question: how does anyone verify what happens to that material once it crosses into Chinese custody?

The United States and China have no mature bilateral nuclear inspection architecture. The Open Skies Treaty is defunct. New START was a US-Russia instrument. The Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty is dead. The mechanisms that allowed American and Soviet — and later Russian — inspectors to physically enter each other’s nuclear facilities, count warheads, and verify dismantlement simply do not exist between Washington and Beijing.

What exists instead is a relationship defined by technology competition, semiconductor export controls, accusations of intellectual property theft, and a mutual intelligence posture that treats any intrusive access as a potential espionage vector.

This creates a verification void at the heart of any deal that routes Iranian uranium through Chinese territory. The International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) could theoretically monitor the transfer and initial storage, but the IAEA’s authority depends on the cooperation of the host state, and China has never permitted the kind of challenge inspections that would be necessary to verify the long-term disposition of weapons-grade material.

Dilution can be reversed. Containment can be compartmentalized. Without a right of re-entry, without continuous monitoring, and without the ability to conduct snap inspections of Chinese nuclear facilities, any American assurance that the material is neutralized would rest on Beijing’s word alone.

Western intelligence agencies face a compounding problem. Any attempt to conduct independent verification of Iranian uranium stored inside China risks triggering exactly the kind of incident that derails the broader diplomatic framework.

If American or Israeli signals intelligence begins actively penetrating Chinese nuclear storage sites to verify chain of custody, Beijing will characterize it as espionage against its sovereign nuclear infrastructure. The same facilities that might hold Iranian enriched uranium likely sit adjacent to Chinese military nuclear programs. The overlapping geography transforms a nonproliferation monitoring operation into a technology and intelligence confrontation between two nuclear powers.

Israel’s position in this scenario is perhaps the most strategically uncomfortable. For years, Israeli policymakers and the broader pro-Israel policy community have argued that the Iran nuclear file is primarily an Israeli existential problem dressed in international diplomatic clothing. If a deal is struck that relocates Iran’s weapons-grade uranium to China, Israel will be asked to accept a framework in which its most acute security threat is nominally defused, but the material enabling that threat is held by a power with which Israel has significant economic ties, diplomatic complexities, and no binding security relationship. The deterrent calculus does not disappear; it migrates from the Middle East into the triangular geometry of US-China-Israel relations.

There is also the question of what Beijing actually wants. China has never been a disinterested party in Iranian nuclear diplomacy. Storing Iranian enriched uranium gives Beijing leverage over Tehran, leverage over Washington, and a permanent seat at any future table where the Iranian nuclear file is reopened. It transforms a bilateral nonproliferation problem into a trilateral great power asset. That is not a verification solution. It is a strategic acquisition.

The Biden-era JCPOA revival failed in part because of disputes over verification language. The current ceasefire framework should not repeat that mistake by outsourcing the verification problem to a power that has no obligation to solve it. Sending Iran’s uranium to China does not end the nuclear crisis. It relocates it to an address where American inspectors are not welcome.

Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx