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By Elnur Enveroglu and Qabil Ashirov | AzerNEWS

The recent 12-day military confrontation between Iran and Israel not only intensified tensions across the Middle East but also reverberated well beyond the region, affecting neighbouring states and sensitive border zones. This is largely due to Iran’s vast territorial reach, which shares frontiers with numerous countries susceptible to the fallout of such escalations.

In this context, Azerbaijan occupies a particularly delicate position. It is both a neighbour and regional partner of Iran, while also maintaining close diplomatic, economic and military ties with Israel—a dynamic that renders the situation even more sensitive, depending, of course, on one’s perspective.

Towards the end of the conflict, some political actors attempted to exploit this complexity by levelling unfounded accusations at Azerbaijan, claiming it facilitated Israeli strikes against Iran. However, such claims lacked any substantive military or technical evidence. While Iran’s official diplomatic channels have generally taken a measured approach, certain domestic elements within the Islamic Republic framed the issue narrowly as a binary Iran–Israel confrontation, thereby mischaracterising Azerbaijan’s position.

It is fair to ask: why would Azerbaijan ever consent to a scenario that endangers a neighbouring country like Iran?

Historically, Azerbaijan has never allowed third-party states to use its territory for military operations against another. Moreover, Baku has always prioritised the security of its borders and the internal stability of neighbouring countries, understanding that smaller nations are often disproportionately impacted by regional instability. A brief glance at modern history confirms this. For Azerbaijan, the prospect of a mass influx of refugees from a destabilised Iran—a nation of over 90 million people—is nothing short of alarming.

But this concern transcends mere security or economic calculations. The Azerbaijan-Iran relationship is underpinned by deep historical and cultural ties that stretch back millennia. These shared bonds often blur the lines between the two cultures. As one of Azerbaijan’s founding intellectuals, Mammad Amin Rasulzadeh, once observed: “Azerbaijan’s oral literature may be called wholly Turkic, but its written literature is almost entirely Persian.”

The Azerbaijan-Iran relationship has never been confined to culture alone. From religion to politics, their shared legacy runs deep. During the Achaemenid era, Persian kings would travel on foot to Atropatene (modern-day Iranian Azerbaijan) to receive divine blessings. While the monarch may have been ethnically Persian, the priest who legitimised his rule hailed from Atropatene—modern Azerbaijan. Even today, the Supreme Leader of Iran is of Azerbaijani descent, a symbol of continuity in spiritual authority.

Iran prides itself on a civilisational legacy spanning over two millennia. Yet it is crucial to acknowledge that much of what we today consider the essence of Iranian identity has been shaped by Azerbaijanis. From the Khwarazmian dynasty to the early 20th century, Iran was ruled by Azerbaijani elites. The Safavid dynasty, founded by Azerbaijanis, not only propagated Shiism but unified the Iranian state under a single religious-political identity—an early manifestation of soft power.

Despite these profound connections, Azerbaijan-Iran relations over the past 30 years have been marked by highs and lows. In the early stages of the Karabakh conflict, Iran extended support to Azerbaijan, as evidenced by the arrival of Afghan fighters, Iranian generals visiting Baku, and Iranian forces striking Armenian positions to allow Azerbaijani civilians safe passage from Zangilan.

Unfortunately, Iran failed to maintain this principled stance, later pivoting toward Armenia and pursuing expansionist policies that even extended to interference in Azerbaijani affairs. This abrupt shift in posture has prompted a difficult question: why would Iran turn its back on a historic ally?

The answer lies within Iran’s internal contradictions. While Iran and Azerbaijan are heirs to a shared civilisation, ultra-nationalist and chauvinist factions within Iran are unwilling to concede Azerbaijan’s rightful place in that heritage. These same factions reflexively blame Azerbaijan for Iran’s internal woes, including military setbacks, security breaches, or diplomatic embarrassments.

This was evident once again during the recent Iran-Israel clashes, when fringe Iranian media attempted to implicate Azerbaijan. The accusation? That Israeli drones and aircraft launched attacks on Iran from Azerbaijani territory. These claims are baseless, and for several key reasons:

First, the disinformation campaign originated in Russian media—at a time when Moscow-Baku relations have cooled. The question naturally arises: why did these allegations surface long after the hostilities had ended?

Second, Azerbaijan’s historical and societal structure renders it ill-equipped to absorb mass refugee inflows. The experience of 1987–1990 is instructive: over half a million displaced persons arrived from Uzbekistan, Armenia and Georgia. Between 1987 and 1993, Azerbaijan saw five changes of government—highlighting how internal stability can unravel under demographic pressure. A new war in Iran, where over 30 million ethnic Azerbaijanis and numerous other minorities reside, could easily result in a refugee crisis of unprecedented scale for Azerbaijan.

Third, only days ago, Iran’s President visited Khankendi, holding warm, publicised discussions with President Ilham Aliyev. Would such diplomatic gestures be conceivable if Iran genuinely believed Azerbaijan had abetted Israeli military actions?

Fourth and most decisively, Israel's advanced drone and missile systems—produced by defence giants such as Elbit Systems, Israel Military Industries, and Rafael—are well-documented and trackable via satellite. Aircraft movements of this nature would not escape detection, particularly in a region under constant surveillance.

Military analysts, such as Ramil Mammadli, underscore that Israel’s arsenal of UAVs (Hermes, Eitan, Heron, Harop) is fully capable of long-range operations without needing Azerbaijan’s airspace. Observation and reconnaissance drones in particular are lightweight, fuel-efficient and can remain airborne for extended periods.

Moreover, the conflict has revealed that modern warfare is evolving. Israel’s recent strikes involved not only remote aerial assets but also embedded networks within Iran—highlighting a shift towards hybrid warfare, where proxy agents and covert operations play as vital a role as conventional arms.

Iran’s own law enforcement bodies have corroborated these developments, publishing footage of drone workshops and weapons caches within Iranian territory. Numerous arrests and even capital sentences have followed—pointing clearly to an internal security breach, not external aggression.

From every angle—military, diplomatic, or cultural—the Iran-Israel conflict has had an unsettling impact on both the Middle East and the South Caucasus. For Azerbaijan, the prospect of a nuclear-armed confrontation just across the border is deeply distressing. The presence of over 50 million ethnic kin within Iran adds emotional weight to national security calculations.

Ultimately, this crisis has once again demonstrated that war benefits no one. De-escalation and diplomatic engagement are the only viable paths forward. By fostering regional stability and economic integration, countries like Azerbaijan can better shield themselves from the turbulence of geopolitical rivalry.