Revolutionary movements rarely call themselves revolutions.
Revolutionary movements rarely call themselves revolutions. Observers usually affix such labels to them after the fact. Instead, revolutions typically ignite when disenfranchised peoples take to the streets to reject an autocratic regime. Iran today is experiencing such turmoil.
Over the past two weeks, Iranians throughout the country, from diverse social classes and backgrounds, have protested economic mismanagement, water and power shortages, and, most recently, an internet and communications blackout, signaling a profound crisis of legitimacy for the Islamic Republic of Iran. A sharp drop in the value of the Iranian currency, the Rial, against the dollar sparked the protests. Thousands have died and been wounded in clashes with government security forces. The demonstrations and chants in the streets reveal the depth of people’s anger and show that these grievances are not just about prices or policy failures, but a resounding rejection of the existing political system in Iran.
The turmoil in Iran follows a storied tradition of revolutions. The French Revolution, the Haitian Revolution, and the Bolshevik Revolution all arose from unique sets of sociopolitical circumstances, yet they shared common features: a regime stripped of legitimacy and a populace undaunted and set to defy it. In 18th-century France, ingrained inequalities exposed the drawbacks of monarchical rule, leading to the revolt of the Third Estate. In Saint-Domingue, enslaved peoples fought back when their inhumane subjugation after centuries of violent colonial rule made the status quo untenable. In 1917, the Russian Romanov dynasty fell because of the combined pressures of war, famine, and political paralysis.
Iran’s protests strike congruent cautionary notes. Corruption, economic duress, and the absence of human rights have pushed people to the brink. Pathways for change have narrowed to near irrelevance. The state’s crackdown through violence, arrests, information blackouts, and executions confirms that its power rests on coercion, not consent.
Crucial differences set apart the current uprisings from past revolutions. Iranian demonstrators are fighting for their rights in the digital age, even as the state attempts to sever those connections. This tumult is less overtly ideological than some previous revolutions. Though unpredictable, this movement is increasingly tied to the rising figure of Reza Pahlavi – the son of a deposed and controversial monarch, and therefore, a representative of the ancien régime.
For decades, Reza Pahlavi was dismissed by Western academics and analysts, with some justification. They viewed the monarchy as an anachronism incompatible with Iran’s contemporary revolutionary ethos. Yet his growing popularity, despite lingering controversies, signals a profound disconnect between the claims of many pundits abroad and the sentiments of protestors in the streets. Pahlavi’s appeal, in part, also lies in his symbolic status as the total repudiation of the very dogma that birthed the Islamic Republic.
This dissonance stems from competing frameworks. Many analysts and academics in the West (usually left-leaning)—some of whom were staunch supporters of the Islamic Revolution themselves or children of revolutionaries—often interpret Iranian politics through ideology and the two extreme ends of the political spectrum. They have frequently argued that monarchist nostalgia is marginal, atavistic, ultranationalist, and sentimental. Some attribute more sinister motives, given the emergence of “Make Iran Great Again” (MIGA) supporters and their overt alignment with the Trump administration. The MIGA/MAGA association has fueled suspicions that monarchist sympathies are not merely nostalgic but embedded in shifting geopolitics, raising concerns about foreign interference in Iran from the United States and Israel, as demonstrated in the twelve-day war last June. Such political divides deepen the polarization within the Iranian diaspora and complicate efforts to build a unifying opposition narrative.
In addition, Iranian (and Iranian-American) leftist intellectuals and activists who profess to embrace progressive politics have sometimes skewed conversations about Iran in policy circles. They cling to statist narratives of the Islamic Revolution, even as they reject the outcomes of 1979, and often dismiss, in reductionist fashion, alternative viewpoints as Westernized, pro-monarchist, Islamophobic, or ultranationalist, and therefore illegitimate. Their outsized influence in liberal establishments and the media has dominated academic circles and framed policy assumptions, reinforcing a binary that privileges revolutionary ideals over pragmatic possibilities. These voices—many acting as political and academic gatekeepers to exclude dissenting thinkers—have long advocated for reform from within, but, at the same time, they have marginalized and silenced other progressive perspectives that demand a fundamental political overhaul in Iran, without reverting to monarchy. The persistence of their ideological, revolutionary filter highlights a profound disconnect between an entrenched and vocal
faction of the diaspora in the West and the lived experiences of people inside Iran, whose survival and stability have been badly compromised in favor of dogma and political doctrine. Iranian demonstrators are acting on pragmatism and desperation—reaching for any alternative to a regime that has badly failed them. This gap between so-called expert narratives and popular demands has only added to the frustrations of people in Iran.
At the same time, other opposition figures, notably Nobel laureate Narges Mohammadi and several prominent activists, are proffering alternative leadership and calling for human rights and democratic reform. However, these voices have not galvanized the public in the same way, reflecting uncertainty about how to unify the movement and deliver tangible results. This uneven reception highlights the fragmented nature of Iran’s opposition and the challenges of consolidating leadership during a chilling moment of crisis.
Revolutions sometimes find leaders amidst crises. This may be one of those instances in Iran, given the complexity of its current political environment. Revolutions also incite foreign nations to action. It would be naïve to think that foreign governments are watching the Iranian protests with disinterest. While the regime’s supporters call out Israel and America for their meddling in Iran and the region, especially after Israel’s unprovoked attack on Iran during nuclear negotiations, their criticism of Russian and Chinese involvement remains subdued. Meanwhile, Beijing has responded cautiously to the protests, prioritizing its self-interests, whereas Russia has sharpened its tone in response to President Trump’s entreaties to the Iranian people.
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The afterlives of revolutions — whether in France, Haiti, or Russia – were not unambiguously hopeful. The French Revolution brought the Reign of Terror along with citizens’ rights. Haiti gained freedom but suffered crushing isolation. Russia’s revolution supplanted one manifestation of imperial rule with another. Revolutions do not come with guarantees. However, they reinforce one crucial point: States cannot rule without the consent of the people.
Iran’s uprising will chart its unique course, and it may still confront violence and suppression. To whitewash this transformative moment, however, is to misconstrue the nature of cataclysmic political change. Revolutions—including the 2022 Woman, Life, Freedom movement that laid the groundwork for today’s protests—emerge when a collective consciousness decides that the system in charge has forfeited its right to represent them.
For Iran, that moment, unmistakably, is now.