More than a month into the war, Iran no longer appears to view its position in the Strait of Hormuz as a temporary lever to influence the course of the conflict or to extract short-term concessions. Instead, it is increasingly treating it as a longer-term strategic asset – one that can be carried into the postwar environment and used to shape its outcome. In this emerging framework, control over the strait serves three interrelated purposes: it provides a source of economic leverage at a time when Iran faces the prospect of costly postwar reconstruction; it creates opportunities for political recognition, as states are compelled to engage directly with Tehran to secure passage; and it offers a mechanism for redefining regional dynamics on terms more favorable to the Islamic Republic.

Seen in this light, Iran’s current approach helps explain why it is unlikely to respond to external pressure by simply reopening the strait and restoring prewar conditions. Doing so would mean relinquishing what has become one of its most effective instruments of leverage at precisely the moment when that leverage is most valuable. Instead, Tehran appears to be pursuing a different objective: stabilizing its position, translating wartime control into longer-term advantage, and, if necessary, exchanging that advantage only for gains that extend well beyond the immediate cessation of hostilities.

From Chokepoint to Strategic Asset

At the outset of the war, the Strait of Hormuz was framed primarily as an instrument of escalation. Iranian messaging emphasized the possibility of full closure, the use of mines, and the disruption of global energy flows as a means of deterring further attacks and imposing costs on the United States and its partners. In that phase, the strait functioned largely as a latent threat that could be activated if pressure on Iran crossed certain thresholds. The objective was not to transform the status of the waterway but to use it as leverage within the broader logic of deterrence and retaliation.

Over time, however, both Iranian behavior and official rhetoric began to shift. Rather than moving toward a full closure of the strait, Tehran adopted a more calibrated approach. Shipping was not uniformly blocked but selectively restricted. Certain vessels were allowed to pass, often after signaling neutrality or engaging directly with Iranian authorities, while others – particularly those linked to the United States and its partners – faced the risk of missile and drone attacks. This was not simply a matter of operational constraint or caution. Instead, it reflected a deliberate choice to replace the binary logic of open versus closed with a more flexible system of controlled access.

This shift carries important strategic implications. A full closure of the strait would have imposed immediate and dramatic costs on Iran itself, but it would also have been difficult to sustain and potentially too escalatory in ways that could narrow Iran’s room for maneuver. By contrast, selective control allows Tehran to maintain continuous pressure while preserving optionality. It enables Iran to calibrate its actions, reward or penalize specific actors, and adjust the level of disruption without committing to a single, irreversible course.

More importantly, this approach has begun to alter how the strait is conceptualized within Iranian strategic thinking. The emphasis is no longer primarily on the ability to shut it down, but on the ability to manage it. The distinction between the two concepts is important. Closure is inherently temporary and simply a tool of crisis. Management, by contrast, implies duration. It suggests the possibility of shaping the rules governing transit, defining who can pass and under what conditions, and, over time, embedding those practices in a more formalized framework.

Recent political and legal messaging reinforces this interpretation. Discussions in Iran’s parliament about establishing a structured regime for transit – including the imposition of fees and the differentiation between categories of vessels – point to an effort to move beyond ad hoc wartime measures. Similarly, the emerging emphasis on coordination with Oman reflects an attempt to ground this approach in the geography and legal status of the Strait of Hormuz, where the two countries share responsibility as coastal states. In this context, references to sovereignty and territorial waters are part of a broader attempt to recast the strait not as an international passage, but as a space subject to greater regional control.

These developments suggest that Iran is no longer treating Hormuz as a temporary bargaining chip to be activated and then set aside. Instead, it is beginning to treat it as a strategic asset in its own right. It can generate ongoing leverage and potentially outlast the war that brought it to the forefront. This evolution also helps explain a broader shift in Iran’s hierarchy of tools. For years, the country’s nuclear program occupied the center of its bargaining position vis-à-vis the United States and its partners. Today, control over the Strait of Hormuz offers a different kind of leverage: one that is immediately visible in global markets, continuously exercisable, and less dependent on prolonged negotiation cycles and diplomatic processes.

In this sense, the transformation of Hormuz reflects a significant reorientation in how Iran understands power and leverage in the context of prolonged confrontation. Rather than relying solely on capabilities that can be traded away in partial agreements, Tehran appears to be prioritizing instruments that can be sustained, adjusted, and, if necessary, reactivated over time. The Strait of Hormuz, in its current form, fits that logic.

Economic Leverage and the Politics of Recognition

While the first shift – transforming Hormuz from a chokepoint into a managed asset – is conceptual, the second is functional. Iran is not simply holding the strait; it is beginning to extract layered benefits from that position. These benefits are not limited to wartime coercion. Instead, they extend into the economic and political domains in ways that reinforce one another and, taken together, help explain why Tehran is unlikely to relinquish its current leverage without substantial returns.

The most immediate dimension is economic. The war has imposed significant costs on Iran’s infrastructure and industrial base, and Iranian policymakers are already thinking in terms of reconstruction. In this context, control over the Strait of Hormuz offers a rare opportunity. Unlike many of Iran’s other assets, it generates leverage continuously rather than episodically. By maintaining selective disruption rather than full closure, Tehran can continue exporting its own oil while benefiting from elevated global prices. At the same time, the emergence of a system in which states and companies seek assurances or arrangements to secure passage creates the potential for additional revenue streams. Proposals in the Iranian parliament to impose transit fees on vessels passing through the strait reflect this logic. The objective is essentially to convert geographic position into a predictable source of income.

This economic dimension is closely tied to a second layer, namely the gradual production of political recognition. As conditions in the strait have tightened, an increasing number of actors have found it necessary to engage directly with Iran to ensure safe passage. In practice, this has meant dealing with institutions that remain politically contested in the international arena, particularly the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). Even where formal positions have not changed – where sanctions remain in place or designations persist – the operational reality is different. States that require access to the strait are, in effect, acknowledging Iran’s role in governing it.

This form of recognition is incremental and often informal, but it is strategically meaningful. It normalizes a pattern of interaction in which Iran is treated not merely as a disruptor, but as an authority whose cooperation is necessary for the functioning of a critical global transit route. Over time, such patterns can reshape expectations about legitimacy. They also create incentives for external actors to maintain working relationships with Tehran, even in the absence of broader political agreements.

The third layer is bargaining power, which emerges from the combination of economic leverage and political recognition. Because Iran’s current position in the Strait of Hormuz is effective but difficult to replicate under normal conditions, it is perceived in Tehran as a unique and time-sensitive opportunity. This has direct implications for how Iranian policymakers approach the prospect of negotiation. Any return to the prewar status quo – meaning unrestricted passage without Iranian conditions – is unlikely to be offered as an initial concession. Instead, it is more likely to be treated as an end state, contingent on the achievement – and fulfillment – of broader objectives, from sanctions relief to security assurances.

In this sense, the Strait of Hormuz functions as a form of strategic insurance. It provides Tehran with a mechanism not only to extract gains, but also to hedge against unfavorable outcomes. Relinquishing control prematurely would remove one of the few instruments through which Iran can impose costs beyond its immediate geography. It would also risk returning the strategic environment to a configuration in which Iran has fewer tools to deter renewed pressure or attack.

There is also a forward-looking element to this calculation. Iranian officials appear aware that the current configuration of leverage may not be permanent. External actors are already exploring ways to mitigate dependence on the Strait of Hormuz, whether through alternative routes or coordinated security arrangements. Once such mechanisms are fully developed, Iran’s ability to exercise similar control could diminish. This reinforces the perception that the present moment offers a narrow window in which leverage is at its peak. The logical response, from Tehran’s perspective, is to stabilize that leverage, formalize it where possible, and, if it is to be traded away, ensure that it is exchanged for gains commensurate with its strategic value.

These dynamics suggest that Iran’s approach to Hormuz is not driven by a single objective. Rather, it reflects an attempt to align economic necessity, political positioning, and strategic bargaining within a single framework. The result is a model of leverage that is more durable than the crisis-driven tactics of the past, and one that is likely to shape Tehran’s negotiating posture for as long as the current conditions persist.

Using Hormuz to Redefine the Persian Gulf Order

Beyond attempts to extract economic and political gains, Iran’s approach to the Strait of Hormuz is also about reshaping the regional environment in which those gains will be sustained. In this sense, the strait is being used as a tool to influence alignments across the Persian Gulf and to renegotiate the broader terms of regional security.

A central objective appears to be preventing the emergence of a unified Gulf position against Iran. Throughout the war, Tehran has demonstrated a pattern of differentiated engagement with regional actors, combining pressure with selective accommodation. This has been particularly evident in its approach to maritime access. Rather than imposing uniform restrictions, Iran has allowed passage for certain states while constraining others, effectively creating a system in which access to the strait is conditioned on political behavior. The result is a dynamic in which Gulf states must weigh their strategic relationships – not only with the United States, but also with Iran – against the practical requirements of maintaining trade and energy flows.

Oman occupies a distinct place within this framework. As the only other coastal state bordering the Strait of Hormuz, Muscat provides Iran with a potential partner in conferring legal and political weight to any future arrangements governing transit. The ongoing discussions between Iranian and Omani officials are therefore significant in what they signal about Tehran’s intentions. By emphasizing the “exclusive right” of the two coastal states, Iran is advancing a view of the strait that places greater authority in regional hands, as opposed to treating it as a space governed primarily by international norms shaped by external powers.

At the same time, Iran’s calibrated flexibility toward other regional actors suggests an effort to manage tensions rather than escalate them indiscriminately. The decision to permit the passage of certain shipments – such as Saudi oil destined for Pakistan while both countries were engaged in diplomatic efforts to end the war – illustrates how control over the strait can be used to reward specific forms of engagement. This approach allows Tehran to maintain pressure while leaving open channels for selective cooperation, thereby complicating the formation of a cohesive regional front.

This strategy also connects to a longer-standing Iranian objective of reducing the role of external military powers in the Persian Gulf. By demonstrating that maritime security in the Strait of Hormuz can be contested – and, at least in part, managed – by regional actors, Iran strengthens its argument that the presence of outside forces is not a stabilizing necessity but a source of instability. In this framing, the current situation becomes evidence that regional states must ultimately take greater responsibility for their own security arrangements, potentially on terms that are more accommodating of Iranian interests.

At the same time, Iranian policymakers appear aware that this leverage is not without limits. Alternative export routes developed by countries such as Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates offer partial means of bypassing the strait, and over time these could be expanded. Yet such alternatives are unlikely to fully replace the role of Hormuz, particularly given its importance not only for oil, but for broader commercial and logistical flows. Even where dependence can be reduced, the strait will remain a central node in the global trading system and, therefore, a persistent source of influence for whichever actor is able to shape access to it.

It is this combination of immediate leverage and enduring relevance that underpins Tehran’s current approach. Control over the Strait of Hormuz allows Iran to operate simultaneously on multiple levels: to influence regional alignments, to contest external military presence, and to embed itself more deeply in the practical functioning of global energy and trade networks. In doing so, it is attempting not simply to respond to the pressures of the current war, but to redefine the environment in which future confrontations would take place.

For that reason, even in the event of negotiations, Iran is unlikely to treat the strait as a preliminary concession. As mentioned before, it is more likely to hold this leverage in reserve until the later stages of any diplomatic process, using it to secure outcomes that extend beyond an immediate ceasefire. These would likely include sanctions relief, compensation for wartime damage, and some form of assurance against the recurrence of conflict. Even then, the underlying logic of Iran’s position suggests that the possibility of renewed restriction would remain part of its strategic toolkit.

In this sense, the Strait of Hormuz is no longer simply a theater of the current war. In fact, it has become one of the war’s most consequential stakes and, for Tehran, one of its most valuable instruments for shaping what comes after.

For decades, Iranian officials had framed their military doctrine as a hybrid one, combining deterrence by denial – built on layered defenses and strategic depth through nonstate allies and proxies – with deterrence by punishment, centered on the threat of massive missile retaliation. In practice, however, the balance leaned toward denial, in the context of a “forward defense” approach, while the punitive component often suffered from a credibility gap. The new language is different. It points toward a sharper emphasis on punishment, backed not only by actual capabilities but also by a greater willingness to employ them in ways designed to impose direct and visible costs on adversaries.

That shift was almost immediately reflected in how Tehran responded to U.S. threats of escalation. When President Donald Trump threatened to target Iran’s electricity infrastructure unless the Strait of Hormuz was reopened within 48 hours, Iranian reactions were rapid and expansive. Within hours, the Khatam al-Anbiya Central Headquarters warned in a statement that any such strike would trigger retaliation against energy, technological, and water infrastructure across the region. The statement outlined a systematic response in the form of a potential full closure of Hormuz, attacks on regional energy and ICT infrastructure, and even the designation of U.S. financial institutions as legitimate targets.

These threats are more than just improvised escalatory rhetoric. In fact, they reflect a broader pattern that has emerged over the course of the war. In this new framework, Iran is no longer simply attempting to absorb pressure and retaliate in kind. Instead, it is trying to redefine the terms of the conflict by expanding the battlefield, targeting the enabling infrastructure behind U.S. and Israeli operations, and linking escalation in one domain to costs in others. The result is an evolving strategy that seeks to turn military asymmetry into strategic leverage. This strategy appears to be adaptive and increasingly coherent, but also more expansive and more dangerous.

From Retaliation to Attrition

At the outset of the war, Iran’s military response did not center primarily on Israel alone, but on the broader architecture that guaranteed U.S. and Israeli military dominance. Iranian assessments consistently framed the conflict as more than a bilateral confrontation, instead portraying it as a system-level contest in which the effectiveness of Israel’s military capabilities depended on a network of regional bases, radar systems, and integrated air defenses overseen by the U.S. Early strikes therefore focused on degrading that network, targeting U.S. installations in Iraq and the Persian Gulf, as well as assets linked to early warning and interception. There was a sequential and cumulative logic at play here: disrupt detection, complicate interception, and only then increase the effectiveness of follow-on strikes.

This approach reflected a clear identification of the war’s center of gravity. Rather than attempting to overwhelm Israel directly – an objective constrained by geography and layered air defenses – Iran sought to weaken the enabling infrastructure that underpinned Israel’s operational freedom. In doing so, it effectively expanded the battlefield while avoiding a purely frontal conflict. The emphasis on U.S. regional assets also carried a political message that, unlike in the Twelve-Day War of June 2025, the U.S. is considered the central party to the war, rather than merely an actor supporting and enabling Israel from the margins.

This initial phase was not only about shaping the battlefield, but also about buying time. Faced with sustained bombardment and the risk of leadership decapitation, Iran’s immediate priority was survival. Here, the strategy was primarily about ensuring continuity, i.e., maintaining command structures, preserving launch capabilities, and preventing a breakdown of internal control. The early pattern of strikes, often calibrated and intermittent, reflected these constraints as much as it did strategic intent.

Over time, however, the character of the campaign shifted. As the war entered its second and third weeks, Iranian actions and messaging converged around a different organizing principle: attrition. Rather than seeking a rapid end to the conflict through retaliatory escalation, Tehran appeared to reject the logic of a short war altogether. Iranian commentary increasingly emphasized that a quick ceasefire would merely restore the prewar balance, allowing the United States and Israel to regroup and strike again under more favorable conditions. From this perspective, prolonging the conflict and increasing the costs for the adversaries over time was seen as a strategic necessity.

This shift toward attrition operated on several levels. Militarily, Iran aimed to stretch and deplete adversary resources – most importantly interceptor systems – by sustaining a tempo of missile and drone attacks that, while not decisive in isolation, imposed cumulative pressure. Politically, it sought to raise the costs of continued operations for Washington by expanding the set of targets and signaling a willingness to escalate beyond the immediate battlefield. Strategically, it aimed to demonstrate resilience and signal that, even under sustained pressure, the Islamic Republic could absorb losses, adapt, and continue to function.

What is important to note here is that attrition in the Iranian conception is not synonymous with passivity. Instead, it is framed as an active process of cost imposition over time. The primary goal is to alter the adversary’s cost-benefit calculation by making the continuation – and especially the repetition – of such wars increasingly untenable. In this sense, Iran’s evolving strategy reflects a redefinition of how it perceives strategic victory. In other words, success is no longer measured by battlefield outcomes alone, but by whether the war produces a new strategic equation in which the cost threshold for attacking Iran has been raised.

The result is a campaign that is deliberately prolonged, structurally expansive, and designed to operate under conditions of asymmetry. It does not eliminate Iran’s vulnerabilities, nor does it guarantee success. But it does represent a coherent attempt to turn those vulnerabilities into a different kind of leverage, centered on the notions of resilience and endurance.

Regionalizing the Battlefield, Preserving the State

What began as Iran’s effort to degrade military enablers of the war quickly evolved into a broader attempt to redistribute the costs of war across the region and beyond. Nowhere was this more evident than in the growing centrality of maritime and energy domains. The Strait of Hormuz, long treated as a latent deterrent, became an active instrument of coercion and cost imposition. Iranian statements increasingly framed the strait as leverage to condition the behavior of adversaries. The message they were trying to send was that the war against Iran would not remain confined to Iranian territory and would reverberate through global energy markets.

However, the logic also extended beyond the Strait of Hormuz. The Iranian retaliatory framework increasingly included regional oil and gas infrastructure and energy companies with ties to the United States. This new pattern became particularly evident after the targeting of Iranian oil storage facilities in Tehran and other cities. By connecting attacks on Iran’s energy infrastructure to retaliatory strikes on similar infrastructural assets, Tehran sought to create a deterrent mechanism based, on the one hand, on the credibility of retaliatory threats and, on the other hand, on vertical escalation. In other words, retaliating in kind in terms of the type of targets involved, while responding one step beyond the threshold set by adversaries in terms of the scale of attacks and the resulting damage.

Yet Iran’s efforts at escalation control outside its borders were only one side of the equation. Equally important were Tehran’s attempts to preserve internal coherence under sustained pressure. The targeting of senior commanders, political figures, and key infrastructure posed a direct challenge to the regime’s ability to maintain centralized control. Iran’s response, which had been designed before the war, was to adapt command structures through increased decentralization. This included pre-delegation of authority, greater autonomy for provincial and operational units, and a more flexible command architecture capable of functioning even in the absence of senior leadership.

This approach is rooted in longstanding doctrinal concepts within the Islamic Republic’s armed forces, especially the so-called mosaic doctrine. However, the scale and intensity of its implementation in this war are notable. In doing so, Iranian leaders effectively prioritized continuity and flexibility over cohesion and control. By dispersing decision-making and operational capabilities, the Islamic Republic reduced its vulnerability to decapitation strikes and ensured that military and security functions could persist even under severe disruption. This was particularly important given the dual nature of the threat environment. The Islamic Republic was not only engaged in an external conflict but also faced the risk of internal destabilization, including popular uprisings, unrest, sabotage, and potential insurgent activities.

As a result, the state’s wartime posture has been characterized by a form of layered resilience. External operations are designed to impose costs and expand the battlefield, while internal measures aim to prevent fragmentation and maintain control. These two dimensions are mutually reinforcing. The ability to sustain external pressure depends on internal stability, while the demonstration of external capability helps deter internal challengers and signal regime durability.

Overall, this phase of the war reflects a strategic shift from a relatively contained model of conflict toward a more systemic one. Iran is not simply fighting on multiple fronts; it is attempting to connect those fronts into a coherent framework of escalation and deterrence. The battlefield, in this sense, is no longer defined by geography alone, but by the range of domains – military, economic, and political – through which costs can be imposed and controlled.

A Strategy of Adaptation, but Not of Escape

Iran’s wartime strategy, therefore, has demonstrated a notable degree of adaptability. Confronted with compound internal and external pressures, the Islamic Republic has adjusted both its operational patterns and its strategic framing in ways that reflect a pragmatic reading of its constraints. The shift toward attrition, the expansion of the battlefield to the region, and the growing emphasis on deterrence by punishment all point to a leadership that has internalized the limits of conventional confrontation and is seeking alternative pathways to strategic effect.

One of the clearest strengths of this approach is its resilience under asymmetry. Iran is not attempting to match the United States and Israel in terms of precision, air superiority, or technological dominance – it simply cannot. Rather, it is exploiting areas where it can still generate leverage, including missile and drone saturation, geographic chokepoints, regional networks, and the political sensitivity of energy markets. The strategy is cumulative by design. Individual strikes may have limited impact, but over time they are intended to strain defensive systems, impose costs, and set new redlines and escalation thresholds. In this sense, Iran’s objective is less about battlefield victory than about altering the adversary’s expectations of what a “manageable” war looks like.

There is also a learning dynamic at work, especially given Iran’s prior experience with the Twelve-Day War. Iranian forces have adjusted launch patterns, diversified platforms, and modified operational tempos in response to interception rates and the pressure of the enemy’s air superiority. The increasing dispersion of assets and delegation of authority, as mentioned earlier, is one important element of this, which guarantees continuity at the operational level. This has allowed Iran to absorb shocks that might otherwise have disrupted its campaign, reinforcing the broader message that the system can endure sustained attack without collapsing.

However, these strengths come with significant limitations. The strategy is resource-intensive and depends on Iran’s ability to sustain a steady tempo of operations under conditions of attrition. Missile and drone inventories are not infinite, and the infrastructure required to deploy them remains vulnerable. While decentralization enhances resilience, it also creates risks of miscalculation and uneven execution, particularly as experienced coordinators are removed from the system. The loss of figures capable of linking political, military, and diplomatic dimensions – roles that are difficult to replace quickly – can weaken strategic cohesion even if operational continuity is preserved. The reported missile strikes toward Turkey, which were strongly denied by the Iranian armed forces as having been planned, were an indication of how things can go wrong to a very dangerous extent.

The regional dimension of the strategy also carries costs. By expanding the target set to include energy infrastructure and economic assets across the Persian Gulf, Iran increases pressure on adversaries but also deepens tensions with neighboring states. While Tehran appears to calculate that these states will ultimately seek to avoid entanglement and may even pressure Washington to de-escalate, the immediate effect is a more volatile regional environment in which misperceptions can lead to rapid escalation. The very mechanism that is meant to distribute costs can, under certain conditions, amplify them in unpredictable ways.

Perhaps the most fundamental challenge, however, lies in the scope of Iran’s objectives. By framing the war as an opportunity to “change the equation” rather than simply end hostilities, Tehran has set itself an expansive and somewhat open-ended goal. This does provide strategic direction, but it also raises the threshold for what can be considered a satisfactory outcome. The longer the war continues, the greater the pressure to demonstrate that the costs imposed are sufficient to justify the sacrifices incurred.

Looking ahead, several trajectories are plausible. The most likely is a continuation of the current pattern: sustained, calibrated attrition combined with periodic escalation in maritime and regional domains. A second possibility is a broader activation of partner/proxy fronts and asymmetric tools, further stretching the battlefield and complicating adversary responses. A third, more dangerous path would involve a sharper escalation cycle, in which attacks on critical infrastructure – on either side – trigger increasingly expansive retaliation. Tehran has already made threats of horizontal escalation in response to the potential targeting of its electricity infrastructure. This would mean a response that not only targets similar facilities around the region, but also other civilian infrastructure from water to information and communications technology.

In all scenarios, the underlying logic remains consistent. Iran is attempting to compensate for conventional weakness by widening the scope of the conflict and intensifying the costs of participation. This strategy has made it harder to coerce or quickly defeat the Islamic Republic. But it has not provided a clear exit. If anything, it risks locking all parties into a more prolonged and combustible confrontation, in which adaptation can sustain the war, but not necessarily resolve it.

The war changed that calculation. Faced with simultaneous external pressure, domestic fragility, and the sudden loss of the figure who had long served as the regime’s ultimate arbiter, Iran’s political and security elites had to move quickly to close ranks. In that sense, the choice of Mojtaba Khamenei was about something more than succession. It was primarily about stabilizing the system at a moment when uncertainty posed a strategic risk.

Mojtaba’s elevation thus reflects a broader logic that has long shaped the Islamic Republic in moments of crisis: when confronted with existential pressure, the regime tends to favor continuity over experimentation. By choosing the son of the late leader, who is deeply embedded in the system’s security and bureaucratic networks, the elite signaled that preserving institutional cohesion and ideological continuity would take precedence over any attempt to redefine the structure of power.

War and the Narrowing of Choice

Under normal circumstances, the question of succession in the Islamic Republic would likely have unfolded over a longer period and through a more complex process of elite bargaining. For years, different figures had been mentioned as potential successors to Ali Khamenei – ranging from senior clerics to political insiders – but none clearly dominated the field. The absence of a universally accepted candidate meant that the system retained some room for maneuver. In a peacetime setting, this could have allowed the regime’s power centers to negotiate a compromise, test different options, or even consider institutional adjustments, including the possibility of extending the role of an interim leadership council.

The outbreak of war fundamentally altered this landscape. Under conditions of intense external pressure and domestic fragility, the regime’s tolerance for uncertainty narrowed sharply. The Islamic Republic was already confronting a profound crisis of legitimacy at home. Only weeks earlier, the country had witnessed the largest wave of protests in the history of the Islamic Republic, followed by one of the most severe crackdowns in recent decades. Thousands were killed as the state moved to suppress the unrest. The scale of the protests and the violence of the response left the regime’s social legitimacy at its lowest since 1979. At the same time, Iran found itself engaged in a direct confrontation with the world’s most powerful military.

In such an environment, prolonged uncertainty at the top of the system carried significant risks. The longer the succession question remained unresolved, the greater the possibility of elite fragmentation, policy incoherence, and strategic miscalculation. Wartime conditions thus magnified the vulnerabilities the regime was already experiencing and deepened its sense of insecurity. The system required coordinated messaging, clear chains of command, and a single authority capable of arbitrating disputes within the political and security establishment.

A recent controversy involving President Masoud Pezeshkian illustrated how quickly the absence of such authority could create problems. Statements by Pezeshkian – who at the time was also a member of the interim leadership trio – apologizing for Iranian attacks on neighboring countries and suggesting they might stop triggered immediate controversy inside the system. Senior military commanders and other members of the political elite quickly moved to clarify the official position, emphasizing that attacks would continue as long as U.S. forces remained present in the region. The episode highlighted the risks of uncoordinated messaging during wartime and reinforced concerns within the elite about the dangers of a leadership vacuum.

Meanwhile, the Assembly of Experts – the body responsible for selecting the new Supreme Leader – was grappling with a broader strategic dilemma. Beyond identifying a successor, a key question was whether the Islamic Republic should preserve its existing institutional architecture or move toward some form of structural transformation. Over the years, Iranian analysts had outlined several possible scenarios for the post-Khamenei period: the emergence of a collective leadership council, the appointment of a largely symbolic figurehead while the security establishment governed behind the scenes, or even a gradual transition toward a more overtly military-dominated system.

Each of these possibilities, however, would have required time, negotiation, and potentially constitutional revision. None was easily compatible with the urgency imposed by war. Institutional experimentation in the midst of a national-security crisis risked deepening elite divisions and undermining the coherence of the state apparatus.

In the end, the regime opted for the safest path available, namely preserving the institution of the Supreme Leadership and the doctrine of velayat-e faqih that underpins it. Once that decision was made, the range of viable candidates narrowed considerably. The system needed a figure who could assume authority quickly, reassure the bureaucratic and security elite, and embody continuity at a moment of acute pressure.

Mojtaba Khamenei’s candidacy benefited directly from these conditions. For years, his name had circulated in discussions about succession, but his prospects were often viewed as uncertain, not least because dynastic succession sits uneasily with the ideological and religious foundations of the Islamic Republic – at least as Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini had originally envisioned it. Under wartime conditions, however, the calculus shifted. Mojtaba’s deep familiarity with the networks surrounding the office of the Supreme Leader, as well as his longstanding ties to key elements within the security establishment, made him a figure capable of minimizing uncertainty at the top of the system.

In this sense, contrary to what some observers argue, Mojtaba Khamenei’s rise was probably not – or at least not primarily – the product of a long-prepared dynastic transition. Instead, it was the result of a wartime narrowing of political choice. Faced with mounting internal and external pressures, Iran’s ruling elite concluded that preserving institutional continuity – and rapidly restoring a clear center of authority – outweighed the risks associated with elevating a controversial successor.

The Security Elite and the Logic of Absolute Continuity

If war narrowed the range of institutional options, the balance of power within the Islamic Republic ultimately shaped the outcome. In a sense, the question of succession was never seen as only about clerical qualifications or ideological symbolism. It was also very much about which faction of the state would define the post-Khamenei order.

Within the interim leadership structure, Pezeshkian was widely regarded as the weakest figure. Institutionally associated with the reformist camp, his position nonetheless reflected a longer-standing strategy pursued by moderates and reformists within the system: securing the presidency in order to gain a seat in any interim leadership arrangement that might emerge after the death of Ali Khamenei. The expectation was that such a position could provide leverage in shaping the succession process. In this context, figures such as former president Hassan Rouhani, Hassan Khomeini – the grandson of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini – or other clerics with relatively moderate reputations were often viewed as preferable alternatives. Their selection would have preserved the institutional structure of the Islamic Republic while potentially softening its political orientation.

Other centers of power within the state approached the question from a very different perspective. For actors embedded in the judiciary, the security establishment, and particularly the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), the priority was safeguarding the system’s existing configuration of power. Figures such as Chief Justice Gholam-Hossein Mohseni-Eje’i and acting IRGC chief commander Ahmad Vahidi were closely aligned with this view. So too was Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, the speaker of parliament and a former Guards commander, who had long been associated with networks supportive of Mojtaba Khamenei.

These alignments were less about ideological affiliation than about institutional interests. Over the past two decades, the security establishment – above all the IRGC – has become the most powerful pillar of the Islamic Republic. Its influence extends across the military sphere, the intelligence apparatus, and large segments of the economy. From the perspective of these actors, the succession question was fundamentally about preserving a political environment in which their authority and networks would remain intact.

Mojtaba Khamenei offered a solution that few other candidates could match. Although he lacked the formal clerical stature of some senior religious figures, he possessed a different set of advantages. For years he had operated close to the center of power, maintaining ties with key elements of the security establishment and gaining deep familiarity with the extensive bureaucratic apparatus surrounding his father’s office. That apparatus – built over decades by Ali Khamenei – functions as one of the central coordinating nodes of the Iranian state. A successor already embedded in its networks would minimize disruption at a sensitive moment.

Equally important, Mojtaba represented continuity not only at the institutional level but also in terms of elite composition. His elevation reassured those within the system’s security core that the basic distribution of power would remain unchanged. By contrast, alternative candidates – particularly those associated with more pragmatic or reformist circles – carried the possibility, however limited, of reshuffling the balance among competing factions of the state.

The broader strategic environment further reinforced this preference for continuity. Iran’s ruling elite was confronting an unprecedented combination of pressures: a major external conflict, deep domestic discontent, and growing uncertainty about the durability of the regime’s social base. Under such conditions, experimentation at the top of the system appeared risky. Institutional change – even if limited – could easily trigger new rivalries or weaken the cohesion of the security apparatus on which the regime increasingly depends.

The support of the Islamic Republic’s ideological core also weighed heavily in this calculation. Although the regime’s overall popularity has eroded significantly, it continues to rely on a committed base of supporters who view the system not primarily as a provider of economic and social benefits but as a project grounded in religious and revolutionary principles. Any move toward overt institutional transformation, such as abandoning the doctrine of velayat-e faqih or replacing the Supreme Leader with a collective authority, would risk alienating this constituency.

In that context, Mojtaba Khamenei’s candidacy offered a powerful symbolic advantage. As the son of the late leader and a member of a family deeply associated with the Islamic Republic’s ideological narrative, he could serve as a bridge between the regime’s security elite and its loyalist base. His selection reassured the former that their institutional position would remain protected while signaling to the latter that the revolutionary project would continue uninterrupted.

For these reasons, Mojtaba’s rise reflected more than the outcome of elite maneuvering. It embodied what might be called the logic of absolute continuity: the preservation not only of the Islamic Republic’s institutional framework but also of the coalition of actors that has sustained it for decades. In the midst of war and internal crisis, that logic ultimately prevailed over alternatives that might have promised adjustment but carried the risk of destabilizing the system’s core.

Continuity at Home, Coherence Abroad

Mojtaba Khamenei’s elevation is significant primarily because of the kind of continuity it represents. His appointment preserves both the institutional architecture of the Islamic Republic and the configuration of power that has come to dominate it over the past two decades. In that sense, the transition signals not only the survival of the system but also the consolidation of its increasingly securitized character.

Domestically, Mojtaba was arguably the only figure capable of representing such complete continuity. Alternative candidates such as Rouhani or Khomeini could have preserved the structure of the Islamic Republic while introducing a somewhat different political tone and longer-term orientation. Mojtaba’s selection, by contrast, suggests that both the structure and the governing logic of the system will remain largely unchanged. Given the regime’s current circumstances – war, sanctions, and the aftermath of brutal internal repression – the prospects for meaningful reform appear limited. Economic restructuring remains constrained by sanctions and isolation, while significant political liberalization would risk further weakening a regime that already faces deep social discontent.

Under these conditions, the leadership’s immediate priority is likely to remain consolidation rather than reform. Mojtaba’s close ties to the security establishment suggest that governance will continue to rely heavily on the instruments of control that have come to define the Islamic Republic in recent years. At the same time, the leadership may seek to reinforce internal cohesion through selective elite restructuring. It remains unclear whether Mojtaba will continue relying on the older generation of officials who worked closely with his father or gradually promote a younger cadre within the security apparatus. Within the IRGC, younger commanders have increasingly voiced criticism of the so-called old guard, often combining a more hardline loyalty to the system with a somewhat more nationalist outlook. Such tensions could translate into changes at the upper levels of the military and security hierarchy as Mojtaba consolidates authority.

Beyond Iran’s borders, the logic of continuity carries additional significance. The Islamic Republic’s regional strategy relies heavily on a network of allied actors within the Axis of Resistance. For these groups, the Iranian Supreme Leader is not just a political figure but also a central ideological reference point. The Khamenei name carries considerable symbolic weight across this network, and Mojtaba’s status as the son of a leader widely portrayed as a “martyr” strengthens that symbolic capital. Even though he does not possess the same level of religious authority as his father, his identity and lineage make him uniquely capable of preserving a degree of ideological coherence among these actors.

This continuity also sends an important signal to Iran’s external partners. Russia and China moved quickly to acknowledge Mojtaba’s appointment, framing it as compliant with Iran’s constitutional arrangements. For Tehran, maintaining the confidence of these powers is particularly important at a moment of confrontation with the West. Both Moscow and Beijing play critical roles in providing diplomatic cover – especially in international institutions such as the United Nations Security Council – and in sustaining Iran’s economic and strategic partnerships. By selecting a successor closely associated with the Islamic Republic’s existing strategic orientation, the Iranian leadership reassured these partners that Tehran’s broader geopolitical alignment would remain stable.

There is also a certain irony in the outcome. The external pressure applied by the United States and Israel may have helped produce the very scenario they would have preferred to avoid. War compressed the regime’s decision-making process and elevated the value of continuity over transformation. Moreover, President Donald Trump’s public statement rejecting Mojtaba as an acceptable successor inadvertently strengthened the internal argument in his favor. Within the ideological logic of the Islamic Republic, the candidate most openly opposed by external adversaries can easily be framed as the most suitable guardian of the revolutionary project.

Power Preserved – for Now

Mojtaba Khamenei’s ascent underscores a recurring pattern in the Islamic Republic’s political evolution: crises tend to consolidate the system rather than transform it. Moments that might otherwise open space for institutional reconsideration instead push the regime’s elite toward greater cohesion and reliance on the structures that have historically sustained their rule. In this case, the combination of external confrontation, domestic unrest, and elite uncertainty did not produce a reconfiguration of power. Instead, it reinforced the centrality of the very institutions and networks that have long defined the system.

This outcome also highlights the adaptive logic of the Islamic Republic. Although its ideological framework often appears rigid, the regime has repeatedly demonstrated a capacity for pragmatic decision-making when survival is at stake. By selecting a figure embedded in the state’s security and bureaucratic core, the leadership effectively prioritized governability over doctrinal consistency and stability over innovation.

Whether this strategy will succeed in the long term remains uncertain. Absolute continuity may stabilize the system in the short run, but it also postpones unresolved structural tensions within Iranian politics and society. For now, however, the message of the transition is clear: confronted with one of the most consequential crises in its history, the Islamic Republic chose not to redefine itself but to preserve the order it already knows.

Statements issued by both U.S. President Donald Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu reinforce this interpretation. While framed in the language of self-defense and the elimination of imminent threats, their remarks have pointed toward a broader objective of removing what they describe as the existential danger posed by the very regime of the Islamic Republic. References to supporting the Iranian people, dismantling the regime’s security apparatus, and enabling political change inside Iran indicate that the operation is intended not merely to degrade military capabilities but also to reshape Iran’s political order. As such, official messaging and early targeting patterns strongly suggest that the campaign represents the opening phase of a war whose underlying logic is regime change.

Any assessment at this stage must remain provisional. Only a few hours have passed since the first strikes, and reliable information about damage, casualties, and operational success remains limited. Yet even in these early moments, observable patterns in both the conduct of the attacks and Iran’s initial response provide important clues about how each side understands the conflict. The emerging picture points to competing efforts to alter each other’s strategic calculations. On the one hand, there is a U.S.-Israeli attempt to produce rapid political paralysis in Tehran; on the other hand, an Iranian strategy aimed at denying the adversary a quick victory and imposing costs sufficient to deter deeper American involvement.

The Emerging Pattern of War

Even at this early stage, the pattern of the opening strikes provides important clues about how the United States and Israel understand the war they have initiated. The available evidence suggests that the operation is not designed as a limited punitive action intended to impose temporary costs. Rather, the targeting sequence and operational tempo point toward the opening phase of a structured campaign aimed at rapidly weakening Iran’s governing and military capacity, thereby creating conditions for sustained pressure in subsequent stages.

The most notable feature of the first wave of attacks is its apparent decapitation logic. Early reports indicate strikes against locations associated with senior political and military leadership as well as core security institutions in Tehran. The timing of the operation reinforces this interpretation. Unlike previous strikes that were conducted during nighttime hours, the attacks were launched during daylight and at the start of the Iranian workweek, when administrative and military organizations were likely fully active. The objective appears to have been to compress Iran’s response time and create confusion at the highest levels of command during the war’s opening moments.

This targeting pattern aligns closely with the political messaging accompanying the strikes. Statements by both the U.S. and Israel have framed the campaign not only in terms of neutralizing military threats but also in terms of eliminating the systemic danger posed by the Iranian regime. When viewed alongside the early focus on leadership and institutional nodes, these statements suggest that the campaign seeks to paralyze governance as much as to degrade military capability. In this sense, the operational design reflects an effort to create political shock.

At the same time, the geographic distribution of strikes indicates that the campaign extends beyond leadership targeting. Attacks reported in southern Iran, including against facilities linked to the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), point toward a parallel objective of suppressing air defenses and preparing operational corridors for later phases of the war. From a military perspective, degrading defensive systems in southern regions would be a prerequisite for sustained air operations approaching from the Persian Gulf. The early focus on these targets therefore suggests that the current phase is preparatory rather than final. The war, in other words, appears structured to unfold sequentially rather than through a single overwhelming blow.

Closely connected to this effort is the apparent focus on Iran’s missile infrastructure. Israeli sources have circulated evidence indicating that missile launchers were among the initial targets, implying an attempt to limit Iran’s principal means of retaliation from the outset. If Iran’s launch capabilities can be reduced early – either through direct strikes or through persistent surveillance enabled by weakened air defenses – the balance of escalation would shift significantly. Iran’s ability to impose sustained costs depends heavily on the survivability of its missile forces; targeting them early creates a race between Iranian retaliation and US-Israeli suppression efforts.

Another defining feature of the opening phase is the integration of non-kinetic operations alongside military strikes. Reports of cyber disruptions affecting Iranian official media outlets and communications systems suggest that the campaign is unfolding across multiple domains simultaneously. Such actions are consistent with an effort to amplify uncertainty, disrupt coordination, and shape internal perceptions during the initial shock period of the war. Rather than treating military operations as isolated events, the campaign appears designed to impose systemic strain across political, informational, and military spheres at once.

Equally important, however, is what has not yet occurred. There is, so far, little evidence of a sustained large-scale air campaign involving continuous fighter jet operations over Iranian territory. At the moment, the initial objective appears to be the creation of permissive operational conditions such as degraded defenses, disrupted leadership networks, and constrained retaliatory capacity, before escalating to more intensive aerial operations. Reports suggesting preparations for several days of continued strikes reinforce the impression of a multi-phase campaign conceived in advance.

Overall, the early pattern of war points toward a strategy centered on regime paralysis through cumulative pressure. Whether this approach succeeds will depend primarily on the resilience of Iran’s command structures and their ability to absorb the shock without losing coherence.

Iran’s Response Strategy

Tehran’s initial response suggests a fundamentally different understanding of the conflict than that of its adversaries. Rather than seeking immediate escalation dominance or decisive retaliation, Iranian behavior in the first hours of the war points toward a strategy centered on endurance, calibration, and regime preservation. The emerging pattern indicates that Iranian decision-makers view the confrontation less as a military contest to be won outright than as a political struggle over time, costs, and strategic perception – above all in Washington.

A central feature of Iran’s apparent approach is the effort to alter U.S. strategic calculations rather than defeat American or Israeli forces directly. Official statements issued after the strikes have combined retaliation with continued references to political solutions. By responding militarily while avoiding rhetoric that forecloses negotiation, Tehran appears to be signaling resolve and restraint at the same time, seeking to impose costs without legitimizing an unlimited escalation. In this framework, survival itself constitutes victory. In other words, if the Islamic Republic endures the campaign and preserves its governing structures, the central objective attributed to Washington and Tel Aviv, i.e., regime change, would fail regardless of battlefield outcomes.

The scale and rhythm of Iranian missile activity so far are consistent with this logic. Although missiles have been launched toward Israel and against U.S. bases across the region, retaliation has remained comparatively measured. This may partly reflect operational disruptions caused by the initial strikes, particularly if missile launchers and supporting infrastructure were successfully targeted. Yet it also aligns with a deliberate strategy of controlled escalation. By avoiding massive initial strike waves, Iran preserves its arsenal and maintains the capacity to sustain pressure over time. In Tehran’s view, continuous, calibrated attacks create persistent uncertainty for adversaries while reducing the risk of triggering a dramatically expanded U.S. military response.

Underlying this approach appears to be an assessment of American political constraints. Iranian decision-makers may calculate that the United States, despite initiating the campaign, remains sensitive to the risks of a prolonged and unpredictable regional war. Under such assumptions, extending the duration and complexity of the conflict becomes strategically advantageous. Rather than attempting to match U.S. and Israeli military power symmetrically, Iran seeks to deny them a rapid or decisive outcome. But as noted earlier, it ultimately depends on whether Iran can sustain its offensive capabilities long enough amid ongoing strikes aimed at neutralizing them.

Equally important is the domestic dimension of Iran’s response, which has unfolded in parallel with external military actions. Reports of Basij deployments across urban districts and the rapid establishment of internal security measures suggest that regime stability is being treated as an immediate priority. The Supreme National Security Council (SNSC) has also encouraged residents to leave major cities, including Tehran. This is a notable departure from the Twelve-Day War, in which officials sought to project defiance and discourage population movement. The shift indicates that Iranian leaders anticipate sustained strikes and are attempting to reduce the risk of concentrated urban unrest just over a month after the bloody crackdown on public protests that resulted in the deaths of thousands of people.

These measures reflect a broader assumption in Tehran that the military campaign is inseparable from an attempt to destabilize the regime internally. Statements from U.S. leadership encouraging political change inside Iran reinforce this perception. Consequently, internal security and external defense have effectively merged into a single strategic problem. Managing public order, limiting panic, and preventing the reemergence of protest movements become as critical as maintaining missile launches or air defenses.

At the same time, assessing the effectiveness of Iranian retaliation remains complicated by severe informational constraints. Wartime censorship and controlled reporting – particularly regarding damage inside Israel – limit reliable evaluation of outcomes. The absence of confirmed large-scale effects does not necessarily indicate limited impact, just as Iranian claims cannot be independently verified. Early narratives of success or failure therefore risk reflecting information management rather than operational reality.

As such, Iran’s early conduct suggests preparation for a prolonged confrontation rather than a short escalation cycle. The Islamic Republic’s leadership seems to recognize that the decisive question of this war is not how forcefully it responds in its opening hours, but whether it can prevent the rapid collapse its adversaries appear to seek.

Regionalization and the Geopolitical Chessboard

From its opening hours, the conflict has shown clear signs of expanding beyond the immediate Israel-Iran theater. This regional spillover reflects deliberate strategic choices, particularly by Iran, about how to distribute pressure and shape the behavior of third parties. The emerging pattern suggests that Tehran is attempting to widen the battlefield geographically while still managing escalation politically. This balance will largely determine whether the war remains limited or evolves into a broader regional confrontation.

Iran’s strikes against U.S. military installations across the Persian Gulf constitute the most significant indicator of this expanding scope. Reports of attacks targeting bases in Bahrain, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar indicate that Tehran is treating the American regional presence as a legitimate battlefield. Unlike earlier confrontations, in which Iranian retaliation often carried a symbolic or carefully choreographed character, the current response appears intended to demonstrate that any state hosting U.S. forces will inevitably be drawn into the conflict’s consequences. Even if many facilities had been evacuated in anticipation of retaliation, the political message remains the same; that the Islamic Republic views the war as an existential confrontation and is prepared to impose costs wherever American power is regionally embedded.

At the same time the focus of the attacks has remained primarily on U.S. military assets rather than host-country infrastructure, allowing Tehran to frame its actions as directed against Washington rather than against Gulf states. In fact, Iran has strong incentives to avoid pushing regional states into open alignment with the United States and Israel, particularly at a moment when several Gulf countries remain reluctant to be drawn into a war whose outcome and duration are deeply uncertain.

The selective nature of escalation becomes clearer when considering the absence – or initial absence – of attacks against some other actors. Turkey, a NATO member with significant military capabilities, represents a qualitatively different target whose involvement would dramatically raise the stakes of the conflict. Similarly, earlier restraint toward Saudi Arabia appeared linked to Tehran’s interest in preserving, or at least not fully reversing, the fragile regional rapprochement that had emerged in recent years. Yet reports indicating the expansion of strikes toward additional Gulf locations highlight how quickly such restraint could erode if Iranian leaders conclude that regime survival is directly threatened.

For Gulf states, these developments create an acute strategic dilemma. Prior to the war, several sought to limit exposure by signaling reluctance to facilitate attacks on Iran, hoping neutrality would reduce the likelihood of retaliation. Early events challenge that assumption. If Iran targets U.S. bases regardless of official positions – whether due to suspected logistical cooperation or the existential framing of the conflict – the protective value of neutrality diminishes. Over time, this dynamic could paradoxically increase incentives for closer coordination with Washington.

Meanwhile, the activation of Iran-aligned non-state actors suggests that regionalization is already underway even without formal state participation. Announcements by armed groups in Iraq and expected renewal of Houthi activities in the Red Sea indicate the emergence of multiple pressure fronts capable of complicating U.S. and Israeli planning. Such decentralization makes escalation harder to control and increases the risk that the conflict becomes structurally prolonged.

Conclusion

Only hours into the conflict, definitive judgments remain premature. Yet the early trajectory of the war already reveals a fundamental strategic moment. The United States and Israel appear to be pursuing a campaign designed to create rapid political paralysis and, ultimately, regime change in Iran. Tehran, by contrast, is responding with a strategy aimed at denying a decisive victory through selective escalation, preserving internal stability, and widening the conflict just enough to impose mounting costs without necessarily triggering uncontrollable escalation.

The central question now is whether the Islamic Republic can absorb the initial shock and maintain governing capacity. If it does, the war is likely to become longer, more regional, and far less predictable than its architects may have intended. The coming days will therefore determine whether this conflict evolves into a short campaign of regime collapse or the beginning of a protracted struggle reshaping the Middle Eastern order.

In early February, it was announced that the former senior IRGC commander – who has served as defense minister and as secretary of the Supreme National Security Council (SNSC) – had been appointed secretary of the newly established Defense Council. The body was formed after the 12-day war with Israel to formulate and coordinate military-defense policy. Although its membership was publicly known, no information had been released regarding its secretary. It later emerged that Shamkhani’s appointment, first reported by the Shamkhani-affiliated Nour News, dated back at least a month and had not been intended for public disclosure.

Both the revelation of the news and its timing – just before a new round of diplomatic talks between Iran and the United States and amid rising concern over renewed military confrontation – lent the development particular political significance. This was reinforced by Shamkhani’s renewed public presence since late 2025, during which he has commented on both military and diplomatic issues. In late December, he hinted at the possible introduction of a preemptive element into Iran’s military strategy, warning that Tehran would treat credible signs of threat as part of the threat itself and act accordingly. This position was echoed days later in an official Defense Council statement.

At the same time, Shamkhani intervened in debates over negotiations, outlining the parameters of a desirable agreement: talks, he argued, should remain strictly confined to the nuclear file, and even there Iran would not agree to transfer highly enriched uranium abroad. Appearing in military uniform for the first time in years, he also emphasized Iran’s readiness for war should diplomacy fail. The sequence is therefore difficult to interpret as coincidental, raising the question of what Shamkhani seeks through his recent political and media maneuvering.

What Does Shamkhani Represent?

Shamkhani’s recent positioning is best understood within the institutional architecture he now occupies. The Defense Council, though a relatively new body that may appear ad hoc at first glance, is far from symbolic. Its creation followed the severe blows Israel inflicted on Iran’s command structure and military infrastructure during the June 2025 war and reflected a growing perception within the Islamic Republic’s leadership that survival under sustained military pressure requires tighter, routinized coordination. In essence, the council is designed as a platform linking operational military considerations with high-level political decision-making. By publicizing his role at its head, Shamkhani appears intent on underscoring his function as the connector between these two spheres at a moment when the risk of war is once again rising.

What renders this role particularly consequential is that such a bridging function had traditionally been associated with the secretary of the SNSC – a position Shamkhani himself held from 2013 to 2023 and now occupied by another veteran elite figure, Ali Larijani. Historically, the Defense Council – then known as the Supreme Defense Council – operated during the Iran-Iraq War but was dissolved afterward. Its re-establishment in summer 2025 initially placed it institutionally under the SNSC rather than parallel to it. At the time, its membership was said to include the heads of the three branches of government, the SNSC secretary, senior commanders from the Artesh and IRGC, the intelligence minister, and the commander of the IRGC’s Khatam al-Anbia Central Headquarters, with Shamkhani and another former SNSC secretary Ali Akbar Ahmadian participating as representatives of the Supreme Leader.

According to some Iranian sources, however, the council’s status was soon revised. At the insistence of parliamentary speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, and with Ayatollah Khamenei’s approval, it was rendered independent of the SNSC, with Shamkhani appointed as secretary. For procedural reasons, and to avoid signaling internal frictions, this institutional adjustment was not publicized. Shamkhani’s recent media visibility suggests he may have other plans.

Here, the role of Ghalibaf – himself an IRGC commander turned politician – is especially significant. The partnership between the two figures is longstanding. Since Shamkhani’s tenure at the SNSC, their cooperation in limiting and sidelining common rivals has been evident. The 2020 parliamentary legislation known as the “Strategic Action Law to Lift Sanctions and Protect the Rights of the Iranian Nation,” which constrained Hassan Rouhani’s negotiating flexibility over reviving the 2015 nuclear deal (JCPOA), emerged from Shamkhani-Ghalibaf coordination. While framed as safeguarding sovereignty, the law effectively curtailed diplomatic maneuverability and eliminated opportunities for Rouhani and the moderate/reformist camp to secure political rehabilitation – an objective the two men can be said to have successfully achieved.

A similar convergence now appears in their support for elevating the Defense Council’s institutional weight. Parliamentary backing for strengthening the council’s role carries distinct significance, particularly amid escalating external tensions and uncertainty surrounding Iran’s political trajectory after Khamenei. Against the backdrop of unprecedented domestic unrest, mounting external pressure, the risk of war, and intensifying elite competition in a prospective post-Khamenei order, the question of the Islamic Republic’s future has become more urgent than ever. In this environment, the long-time allies’ parallel control – one over the legislative branch, the other over a central military decision-making body – suggests a form of collusion aimed at expanding and consolidating power. In the same vein, it appears plausible that neither figure views other influential political actors, such as Larijani and President Masoud Pezeshkian, any more favorably than they once viewed Rouhani. This can explain why Shamkhani has once again begun weighing in on nuclear diplomacy as well, despite the fact that this file formally falls under the institutional mandate of the SNSC.

Controversy, Recovery, and Strategic Utility

When assessing Shamkhani’s current role and prospective ambitions, it is impossible to ignore a series of political controversies in which he has been entangled over the past year alone. Under normal circumstances, and in a normal political system, such controversies would likely have produced durable marginalization. The Islamic Republic, however, operates according to its own internal dynamics.

In July 2025, the U.S. Treasury announced a major sanctions action targeting a shipping and oil network controlled by Shamkhani’s son, Mohammad Hossein (aka Hector). The network was described as profiting from sanctions evasion and illicit oil exports, with the designation explicitly referencing Ali Shamkhani’s own earlier sanctioning in 2020. The episode once again spotlighted a structural contradiction within the Islamic Republic: segments of the political elite who espouse hardline diplomatic positions have simultaneously benefited from the very sanctions regime they publicly condemn, cultivating corruption networks embedded in sanctions-based commerce.

Several months later, in October 2025, leaked footage of a luxury wedding tied to Shamkhani’s family circulated widely online. The imagery was interpreted as emblematic of elite privilege at a time of acute economic hardship for ordinary citizens and, more broadly, as evidence of the leadership’s perceived detachment from the Islamic Republic’s professed ideological austerity.

Perhaps the most consequential controversy, however, concerned the circumstances surrounding injuries Shamkhani reportedly sustained during Israeli strikes at the outset of the Twelve-Day War in June. Initial reports claimed he had suffered severe wounds, including amputation. Yet his subsequent appearance on state television revealed no visible signs of major injury. As the only senior figure said to have survived Israel’s targeted strikes on the night of June 13, his case triggered a wave of online speculation, ranging from claims that he had prior knowledge of the attacks to suggestions of undisclosed protective arrangements.

Despite these episodes, Shamkhani did not retreat from the regime’s inner circle. He maintained proximity to the Supreme Leader’s office, continued to appear in high-level policy settings, and has now re-emerged with formal institutional anchoring within a crisis-governance structure. This pattern suggests that his intra-regime network may be too deeply embedded to sustain meaningful political damage. Simultaneously, from Ayatollah Khamenei’s perspective, Shamkhani appears to retain functional utility within the system’s upper decision-making echelons.

That utility extends beyond domestic institutional roles into foreign policy. Shamkhani, himself an ethnic Arab from Khuzestan, played a visible part in facilitating the Iran-Saudi rapprochement of 2023, demonstrating his capacity to operate as a security interlocutor on sensitive regional diplomatic tracks. His engagement with Iran-Saudi diplomacy, however, stretches back more than two decades. In 2004, he received Saudi Arabia’s highest medal, the Order of Abdulaziz Al Saud, from King Fahd in recognition of efforts to advance bilateral relations. Few Islamic Republic politicians possess comparable personal – rather than merely institutional – political capital across the Arab world.

Nor is this reach confined to the Middle East. Networks linked to his extended political and familial orbit have intersected with Russia-connected commercial and logistical channels operating within sanctions-shaped sectors. As early as 2024, a Bloomberg report indicated that a Dubai-based company tied to Hector had been involved in transferring missiles, drone components, and dual-use goods across the Caspian to Russia, with payments facilitated through Russian oil barter arrangements. These linkages suggest that Shamkhani likely commands supportive networks within Russia as well and enjoys influence in certain political and commercial circles there.

Taken together, these episodes point to a political actor mastered the art of adaptive survival. Despite internal rivalries and recurring controversies, Shamkhani has preserved access to domestic security platforms while cultivating, or at minimum sustaining, external diplomatic and commercial vectors. This dual capacity of resilience under strain coupled with continued strategic utility creates the structural conditions under which renewed centrality becomes not only possible but functional to the system he serves.

Shamkhani’s Longer Game

The cumulative pattern outlined here carries implications that extend beyond the restoration of an individual’s systemic role amid the Islamic Republic’s struggle for survival under mounting pressure. Rather, these trajectories – and especially the announcement of Shamkhani’s return to the apex of military-security decision-making – suggest preparation for structural relevance in a post-Khamenei reality, in which the regime’s security institutions and personalities could attempt to engineer a managed transition toward a more overtly security-authoritarian order.

As noted earlier, the most decisive variable at the present moment is timing. From this perspective, nearly all strategic decisions – or deliberate non-decisions – within the Islamic Republic, from institutional restructuring to the repression of protesters to negotiations with the United States, must be interpreted through the lens of factional competition over shaping the post-Khamenei order. In such an environment, Shamkhani’s chairmanship of the Defense Council, combined with his alliance with Ghalibaf, his extensive domestic financial, political, and security networks, and his working relationships with foreign actors, places him in a favorable position to help manage political transition in ways that preserve entrenched elite interests and ensure regime continuity.

From this vantage point, Shamkhani is not merely an individual actor but a representative of a broader current of thinking within the Islamic Republic’s inner security circle, which some observers inside Iran have described as an emergent “Bonapartist” tendency. The concept denotes the possible ascent of a military figure who, drawing on coercive institutional backing, could assume political primacy after Khamenei and steer the system toward a less overtly ideological yet equally – if not more – authoritarian configuration. In this specific case, however, a more precise comparative parallel may lie in the post-Soviet Russian trajectory, where former communist security elites reconstituted themselves as nationalist power brokers and institutionalized authority within a reconfigured authoritarian state.

It is conceivable that Shamkhani’s – and, by extension, Ghalibaf’s – close ties with Russia have exposed them to institutional lessons drawn from that experience, potentially informing their strategic outlook – though available evidence remains insufficient to assert this definitively. As I argued in an earlier piece, a classic coup scenario led by the IRGC – or by the Islamic Republic’s armed forces more broadly – remains unlikely for a range of personal, institutional, and ideological reasons. Regime transformation centered on hybrid military-political figures, however, is far more plausible.

Such transformation, if it materializes, would likely proceed through securitized institutional reconfiguration rather than overt seizure of power: the expansion of existing councils, redistribution of executive authority, and consolidation of crisis-management platforms. In this framework, the decisive question is not who captures the state from outside the system, but who reorganizes authority from within. Shamkhani’s recent positioning suggests an effort to occupy precisely that organizing space. Whether as coordinator of a security-weighted transitional structure, guarantor surrounding a successor, or central broker during a period of heightened conflict risk, he appears to be cultivating indispensability across multiple contingency pathways.

Important uncertainties nevertheless remain. Do the converging internal and external pressures on the Islamic Republic leave sufficient temporal space for such a project – if indeed it exists – to unfold? Might figures such as Shamkhani have already developed quiet channels beyond traditional partners like Saudi Arabia and Russia in pursuit of tacit U.S. acquiescence to a managed endogenous transition? And within the broader geopolitical equation, what role might Israel and other regional actors such as Turkey play?

For now, these questions remain open and only time will provide answers.

In public commentary, debates over venue are often framed in tactical terms, whether Iran is trying to buy time or influence the other party’s agenda and planning. Such considerations are certainly part of the picture. But focusing on them alone risks overlooking a deeper pattern. For Iran, the choice of mediator and venue has long been tied to how it seeks to structure diplomatic engagement with adversaries. Different settings create different negotiating environments. They affect who is involved, what issues enter the room, and how easily discussions can expand beyond their original mandate. In periods of crisis diplomacy, Tehran has therefore approached mediator selection with particular care, treating it as a strategic decision about how negotiations should be framed and contained rather than simply where they should take place.

This analysis builds on my forthcoming book chapter that examines Iran as a target state of mediation, written as part of an edited volume on middle power mediation by Dalia Ghanem and Dalia Dassa Kaye. The research explores how Iran has responded to different mediation efforts over time – from nuclear diplomacy to the China-mediated rapprochement with Saudi Arabia in 2023 – and identifies recurring patterns in how Tehran evaluates and engages mediators. Rather than focusing solely on the intentions or capabilities of mediating states, it shifts attention to the calculations of the state being mediated, including what it seeks to protect, what it seeks to avoid, and under what conditions it considers mediation acceptable.

Seen through this lens, the move from Turkey to Oman is not primarily about procrastination or symbolism. Instead, it reflects Iran’s effort to keep the agenda narrowly focused, prevent the entry of regional and military files into the talks, and manage both reputational exposure and escalation risks. Venue choice, in this sense, becomes a way to influence who participates, what is discussed, and how far negotiations can expand beyond the initially agreed issues. These considerations have become more acute as military signaling and political pressure have intensified to an unprecedented degree. Understanding why Oman is often acceptable to Tehran, and why other potential mediators, such as Turkey or Qatar, are treated more cautiously, offers a window into how Iran approaches diplomacy when the stakes are high and the margins for error are narrow.

Why Oman Comes First: Iran’s Long View of Mediation

At the most basic level, Iran has consistently distinguished between mediation that facilitates dialogue and understanding and mediation that creates new forms of leverage or aligns with hostile agendas. Oman has been viewed, over time, as falling into the former category. Unlike traditional or emerging regional powers that seek to translate mediation into political influence or regional standing, Muscat has generally confined its role to enabling communication, transmitting messages, and helping parties develop constructive initiatives and explore options without imposing its own agenda. Oman is also seen as a genuinely impartial regional actor that, despite maintaining close relations with the United States, does not represent American interests in any formal capacity, nor does it host permanent CENTCOM bases. These factors have traditionally positioned Oman as a credible mediator in Iran’s view.

A second, closely related factor is discretion. The Islamic Republic’s leadership has repeatedly shown sensitivity to the domestic and regional optics of diplomacy, especially with the United States. Channels that attract attention too quickly, or that create the impression of public bargaining before any concrete understanding has been reached, raise the political cost of engagement. Oman’s mediation style has historically offered Tehran a way to test possibilities quietly while preserving room for maneuver if talks stall or collapse. This is not about secrecy for its own sake, but about reversibility. This is an important consideration for a state that remains deeply skeptical of U.S. intentions and wary of being seen as negotiating from a position of weakness.

Consistency also plays a central role in Iran’s preference for Oman. Over the years, Muscat has remained engaged across different phases of tension and détente, and through changes in leadership in both Tehran and Washington. For Iran, this continuity reduces uncertainty. A mediator that disappears when negotiations become politically difficult, or that sharply reconsiders its position in response to external pressure, presents additional risks. Oman’s value lies partly in the expectation that the channel will survive setbacks, crises, and pauses. Experience has reinforced this expectation.

These characteristics – credibility, discretion, and consistency – intersect with a broader Iranian concern about strategic autonomy. Tehran does not approach mediation as a substitute for direct diplomatic engagement, nor as a pathway to dependency on external actors. Instead, it seeks mediators that allow it to manage vulnerabilities without surrendering control over outcomes. In this sense, Oman’s limited ambitions as a mediator have been an asset rather than a liability. By keeping the scope of its role narrow, Muscat has made itself more acceptable to a state that is highly sensitive to perceived encroachments on sovereignty.

As such, Oman is viewed as a mediator whose incentives are sufficiently aligned with de-escalation and stability, and whose behavior has been predictable enough to make engagement worthwhile.

Why Not Others?

If Oman represents the type of mediation Iran finds most acceptable, the cautious way Tehran approaches other potential intermediaries becomes easier to understand. The Islamic Republic does not reject mediation categorically; rather, it differentiates among mediators based on how their involvement might shape the scope and political meaning of negotiations.

Qatar represents an example of conditional and bounded acceptance. Over the past decade, Doha has played a useful role in facilitating indirect communication between Iran and the United States, particularly on technical, humanitarian, and de-escalatory files. Its partnership with Washington, combined with good working relations with Tehran, has made it an effective conduit for transactional arrangements such as prisoner exchanges, financial transfers, or time-bound understandings. A clear example was the 2023 U.S.-Iran understanding, facilitated by Qatar, that transferred roughly $6 billion in Iranian oil revenues frozen in South Korea into restricted humanitarian accounts in exchange for the release of detained U.S. citizens.

From Iran’s perspective, however, Qatar’s strengths also define its limitations. Because Doha is seen as closely embedded in the U.S. regional security architecture, mediation through Qatar is often viewed as more exposed to American preferences and pressures. As a result, Iran has tended to treat Qatari facilitation as suitable for bounded, issue-specific diplomacy, but less appropriate for comprehensive political or nuclear negotiations where agenda control becomes significantly more important.

Turkey presents a different, though equally constraining, set of considerations. Unlike Qatar, Ankara is not primarily evaluated through the lens of alliance proximity to Washington – though it is, of course, a NATO member. Iran views Turkey mainly as a strategically autonomous regional power with its own ambitions, rivalries, and geopolitical priorities. This does not make Turkey an adversary. Indeed, the two countries maintain functional working relations and cooperate on a range of bilateral and regional issues. However, Turkey’s longer-term ambitions as a regional power create uncertainty from Tehran’s standpoint. Mediation hosted or convened by Turkey therefore risks embedding negotiations within a broader regional diplomatic theater in which Ankara’s own political positioning and agenda-setting impulses could come into play.

The earlier reports that upcoming talks might take place in Istanbul hinted at precisely such considerations. Istanbul was not simply a neutral meeting point. Instead, it carried the prospect of a more public, regionally oriented diplomatic format. For Tehran, this raised familiar concerns of agenda expansion beyond the nuclear file, increased visibility before substantive progress, and the possibility that mediation could evolve into political brokerage. Even if unintended, such dynamics would complicate Tehran’s effort to keep negotiations narrow, controlled, and reversible.

The Deeper Function of Venue

The choice of venue in Iran-U.S. diplomacy may initially appear to be a secondary detail lacking independent significance. In practice, however, it performs a core political function, namely shaping what negotiations can realistically address, who can influence them, and how much room each side has to adjust positions without appearing to retreat. This matters in the current moment because the diplomatic track is unfolding alongside military signaling and heightened regional friction. These conditions make linkage more likely and, for Tehran, more dangerous.

The central risk Iran seeks to manage is that nuclear talks become linked to a broader agenda and evolve into a gateway for wider bargaining over missiles, regional partnerships, or even domestic human rights issues. Once negotiations expand in that direction, the number of stakeholders increases, the list of demands grows, and the probability of breakdown rises. For Tehran, this alters the structure of the game. A narrow negotiation creates space for incremental trade-offs, or steps that can be framed domestically as reversible and proportionate. A broad negotiation, by contrast, invites maximalist expectations, turns the process into a public test of resolve, and empowers external veto players.

In this context, moving talks to Muscat is best understood as an attempt to reduce the number of variables Iran cannot control. A discreet venue lowers the political cost of exploratory engagement and limits the scope for public blame if talks stall. As noted earlier, a mediator with a limited, facilitative posture helps prevent the conversation from becoming a platform for agenda-setting. And a channel with a record of consistency reduces the risk that diplomatic engagement will collapse at the first shock. Taken together, these are viewed in Tehran as practical tools for managing vulnerability under pressure.

This is also why the confusion and contradictory messaging surrounding the talks matter. When negotiations unfold amid uncertainty about timing, format, or even whether they will occur, states have incentives to hedge, probe, and preserve bargaining space. Iran’s emphasis on venue and mediation can be read as part of this broader hedging behavior. In other words, it seeks a setting where engagement does not automatically translate into commitment, and where the process itself does not become an additional burden.

From this perspective, venue politics is not a sideshow to diplomacy. It is, instead, a form of diplomacy.

Process Is Not Outcome

The shift from Istanbul to Muscat highlights how process design can itself become an arena of contestation. Yet agreeing on a venue or a mediator does not, in and of itself, resolve the structural drivers of U.S.-Iran tensions. At best, it creates conditions under which diplomacy can function; it does not guarantee that diplomacy will succeed. The current ambiguity surrounding whether talks will proceed, in what format, and with what scope serves as a reminder that the channel remains fragile and exposed to military incidents and shifting domestic calculations on both sides.

Understanding Iran’s preference for certain mediators, and its caution toward others, is therefore not about legitimizing its diplomatic conduct or endorsing its negotiating posture. It is about explaining the strategic logic through which Tehran seeks to manage pressure, contain risk, and preserve autonomy while engaging an adversary it fundamentally distrusts. Venue politics, in this sense, reflects a defensive diplomatic instinct rather than procedural obstructionism.

Whether Muscat can once again sustain a workable channel remains to be seen. Diplomacy may advance in small steps, stall amid renewed escalation, or collapse under the weight of expanded demands. For now, the risk of confrontation persists alongside the search for de-escalation, and this makes the management of mediation a central feature of the unfolding crisis.

In Tehran, however, the current moment is seen not in isolation but as the culmination point in an ongoing process. For the Iranian security elite, this is not a sudden deterioration triggered by the massacre of protesters across the country, but the continuation of a process that began with – and never ended after – the Twelve-Day War. From this perspective, that war concluded with a fragile pause rather than a settlement. The post-war period was therefore never treated as de-escalation, but as an interlude in a longer confrontation whose form, not substance, would evolve.

This reading shapes how Tehran interprets external pressure and its own options. Iranian leaders do not believe they are being dragged toward war by accident. They believe they are operating in a confrontational environment that was anticipated in advance, and for which preparations – military, organizational, and political – have been underway for months. The strategy now unfolding rests on the assumption that by raising the perceived costs of military action and demonstrating readiness to absorb and respond to pressure, the Islamic Republic can eventually restore deterrence and secure its survival in the current phase of confrontation. Whether that assumption holds is far less certain.

An Unfinished War

From Tehran’s perspective, the Twelve-Day War did not bring closure to the confrontation with Israel. It merely clarified the terms of a longer struggle. The fighting ended with a fragile pause rather than a settlement. There were no formal arrangements, no agreed red lines, and no mechanisms to prevent recurrence. Most importantly, the core strategic files that had driven the confrontation, namely Iran’s nuclear program and its missile capabilities, remained more or less intact. For Iranian decision-makers, this outcome all but guaranteed that pressure would continue and that another round, in some form, was likely.

This assessment shaped how the post-war period was interpreted inside the system. It was not treated as de-escalation, nor as a return to stable deterrence. Instead, it was understood as a transitional phase or a temporary lull during which the confrontation would shift arenas. The expectation was not immediate renewed fighting, but continued attempts by Israel and the United States to compensate for unmet objectives through other means, such as economic pressure, political isolation, covert action, and, when conditions allowed, renewed military force.

Seen through this lens, recent U.S. military moves has been taken seriously in Tehran. Naval deployments, changes in force posture, and heightened readiness are not interpreted as bluff or routine coercive diplomacy designed to extract concessions. They are understood as preparations for a contingency, i.e., steps taken in advance of a conflict that is already assumed to be unresolved. This interpretation was already prevalent before the outbreak of protests in Iran and has only hardened since.

Economic pressure fits into the same framework. The reactivation of UN sanctions through the snapback mechanism in September 2025 reinforced the belief that the confrontation had not ended, but had merely changed form. In Tehran, sanctions are not viewed as a separate diplomatic track or a bargaining tool detached from military considerations. They are treated as another instrument in an ongoing conflict, aimed at weakening Iran internally and narrowing its strategic options ahead of a future showdown.

In other words, Iranian leaders do not divide the past year into discrete phases of war, crisis, and diplomacy. They see a continuous process in which the arena shifts – from missiles and air defenses to sanctions, internal pressure, and naval signaling – while the underlying conflict remains the same. This is why the current moment is interpreted not as a post-crisis environment sliding unexpectedly toward escalation, but as a pre-war phase in a confrontation that, in Tehran’s view, never truly paused.

Protests, External Pressure, and the Logic of Massacre

The scale and brutality of the regime’s response to the protests cannot be understood by looking at domestic unrest in isolation. Iranian elites have long treated public protest as a chronic, if destabilizing, feature of the system – dangerous but ultimately manageable through repression, selective concessions, and time. What made this wave significantly different was its timing. It unfolded against the backdrop of sustained external pressure and an unresolved military confrontation, activating a long-standing fear inside the system: convergence.

Here, convergence refers to the simultaneous escalation of internal fragility and external threat. The leadership is acutely aware of structural domestic vulnerabilities, form economic deterioration to environmental stress, declining social cohesion, and eroding public trust. None of these factors is new, and none on its own is treated as existential. External military pressure, ranging from the threat of direct action to grey-zone activities, has likewise been absorbed in the past through deterrence signaling and controlled responses. The red line, in Tehran’s assessment, lies not in either domain separately, but in their interaction.

The core concern, particularly in the aftermath of the Twelve-Day War, was that mass protests could coincide with, or invite, renewed military action. In such a scenario, the state would face simultaneous demands on its coercive capacity, decision-making bandwidth, and political legitimacy. Internally, unrest would stretch security forces and disrupt command and control. Externally, a strike conducted at a moment of perceived weakness could degrade military assets and amplify a sense of vulnerability. In this vein, pro-regime analysts warned that while the system can survive domestic unrest or an external attack, it may not survive both at the same time.

It is in this context that the massacre of protesters must be understood analytically; not as an aberration, nor as a spontaneous overreaction, but as a deliberate choice to eliminate what the leadership perceived as a strategic vulnerability. Thousands were killed as the state moved to crush mobilization rapidly and decisively. This was not simply an attempt to restore order; it was an effort to foreclose a scenario in which a foreign attack would come while people were actively protesting in the streets. In that sense, repression functioned as a form of pre-emption on the home front.

The violence also carried a signaling function. Domestically, the regime sought to convey that perceived destabilization would be met with unlimited force. Externally, it was intended to demonstrate that the regime would not hesitate, even at extreme cost to its citizens and its own legitimacy, if it believed its survival was at stake. Taken together, the message was that any strategy premised on leveraging internal unrest to weaken the Islamic Republic ahead of a military strike rests on a misreading of the system’s thresholds.

Rhetorical Escalation, Pre-emption, and Mixed Signaling

At the core of the Islamic Republic’s current posture is a diagnosis that has gained traction across much of the security establishment; that pressure persists because the United States believes Iran has been weakened. From this perspective, the experience of the Twelve-Day War, the cumulative impact of sanctions, and the eruption of large-scale protests have combined to produce a perception in Washington that Iran’s capacity to absorb further coercion is limited. Iranian officials increasingly frame this perception itself as the problem to be addressed. As long as U.S. decision-makers believe that military action can be undertaken at relatively low cost, the logic goes, pressure will not ease.

This assessment helps explain the escalation in Iranian rhetoric in recent weeks. Warnings that even a limited strike would be treated as an all-out war are not expressions of eagerness for confrontation. Instead, they reflect an effort to restore deterrence by eroding the distinction between limited and large-scale uses of force. The objective is to deny the United States a menu of supposedly manageable options and to signal that any military action would carry risks exceeding its anticipated benefits. In Tehran’s view, ambiguity and restraint in past crises were misread as weakness and therefore, sharper signaling is now intended to “correct” that reading.

Alongside its rhetoric, Iran has moved to adapt its deterrence posture in practical ways. Since the war, there have been efforts to decentralize missile command structures, build redundancy into command-and-control systems, and disperse political and military decision-making authority. These steps are intended to ensure survivability under attack and preserve the ability to respond even if central nodes are degraded. The underlying assumption is not that conflict can be avoided altogether, but that it must be absorbable. In other words, the state must be able to sustain pressure and retain retaliatory capacity over time.

Yet this effort to restore deterrence has unfolded under conditions of evident strategic stress, reflected in mixed and at times contradictory signaling. A Defense Council statement on January 6 suggested that Iran would not wait for threats to fully materialize before acting. The language was widely interpreted as gesturing toward pre-emptive strikes. At the same time, the Foreign Ministry has publicly rejected the idea that Iran would act preemptively, emphasizing defensive intent and openness to diplomacy. The January 26 statement by the Khatam al-Anbiya Central Headquarters of the IRGC, asserting that Iran would not start a war but would not allow threats to reach the stage of action, has further blurred the line between deterrence and pre-emption.

This ambiguity reflects an unresolved internal debate. Within Iranian policy circles, dilemmas associated with pre-emptive action have been widely discussed: the difficulty of achieving surprise, the likelihood of rapid international isolation, the risks posed by gaps in air defense, and the uncertainty of domestic support in the aftermath of renewed conflict. While waiting carries its own dangers, striking first carries others. These debates, alongside contradictory statements by different state bodies, suggest the absence of a settled consensus.

Overall, while Iran is recalibrating its deterrence posture in anticipation of confrontation, it is doing so without full institutional alignment on escalation thresholds or strategy. Decision-making is therefore taking place in a compressed environment shaped by fear of weakness, heightened signaling, and internal disagreement. Under such conditions, the principal risk is not deliberate escalation but miscalculation. Actions designed to deter could instead narrow the space for control and coordination when it matters most.

The Naval Bet and Its Limits

If confrontation escalates, Iranian planners increasingly see the naval domain as the most plausible arena in which to impose costs without triggering immediate strategic collapse. This assessment rests on two assumptions. First, despite damage to land-based assets, Iran retains residual asymmetric capabilities at sea. Second, the United States remains heavily reliant on naval power for any regional military campaign, making maritime space a natural point of friction.

However, this will not necessarily translate into classic scenarios of escalation such as the full closure of the Strait of Hormuz. Iranian thinking has largely moved away from such maximalist options, which are widely understood to be politically costly and difficult to sustain. Instead, the preferred model could be sustained and selective disruption. This would include harassment, pressure on shipping and naval movements, and controlled actions designed to raise operational and economic costs over time rather than deliver a single dramatic shock. Recent remarks by Mohammad Akbarzadeh, deputy commander of the IRGC Navy, that the Islamic Republic applies “smart control” over the Strait of Hormuz should be understood in this context.

Here, the experience of the Houthis in Yemen looms large in Tehran’s strategic imagination. Iranian officials and analysts have repeatedly pointed to the Houthis’ ability to impose persistent costs on U.S. and allied forces. The lesson drawn is not that asymmetry guarantees victory, but that it can alter U.S. calculations by turning confrontation into a prolonged, messy, and politically unattractive endeavor. In this vein, Ali Akbar Velayati, senior advisor to Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, said recently that “if Trump believes an action he has initiated may end in failure, he will quickly back down.” Such statements appear to be informed by the experience of the May 2025 U.S.-Houthi ceasefire, which followed a campaign that failed to break the Yemeni movement.

Yet this lesson risks being overlearned. Iran is not the Houthis. Unlike a non-state actor operating from relatively insulated territory, the Islamic Republic has just emerged from violent unrest that exposed deep internal fragilities. Its political system, economy, and social fabric are far more vulnerable to prolonged external pressure. A sustained naval campaign would therefore carry higher internal costs and sharper risks of destabilization than those faced by the Houthis.

Moreover, this logic assumes a degree of control over escalation that may not exist. Israel remains a wild card, capable of acting in ways that override U.S.-Iran assumptions about proportionality and endurance. In such an environment, a strategy built on calibrated disruption could quickly be overtaken by dynamics that neither side fully intends, or can easily contain.

Prepared, but Exposed

The Islamic Republic is not approaching the prospect of war from a position of complacency or denial. The leadership is preparing for confrontation under the assumption that the strategic environment has already crossed into an existential phase, in which restraint is no longer seen as stabilizing and hesitation is treated as an invitation to further pressure. In that sense, the system is ready to go all in if it believes its survival is at stake.

Yet readiness should not be confused with strategic advantage. The Twelve-Day War underscored a fundamental constraint that no amount of organizational adaptation can fully resolve: technological asymmetry. Iran’s losses during that conflict were driven in large part by its inferiority in intelligence, surveillance, precision strike, and air defense relative to Israel. Against the United States, those asymmetries would be deeper and more consequential. Even a well-prepared strategy of decentralization, redundancy, and asymmetric response may be disrupted before it can be fully operationalized.

This vulnerability interacts dangerously with Iran’s evolving deterrence logic. Sustained pressure – whether through naval disruption, economic strangulation, or selective military action – could reinforce the arguments of those inside the system who favor pre-emptive action as the only remaining way to break the cycle. At the same time, the lack of consensus over escalation thresholds, combined with mixed signaling and compressed decision-making, raises the risk that actions intended to deter could instead accelerate confrontation.

What is increasingly clear is that the Islamic Republic no longer views the current standoff as a manageable crisis at the margins. It sees a confrontation that touches the core of regime survival and is prepared to absorb extreme costs in response. Whether such a posture would preserve the system in the event of a major war with the United States is deeply uncertain. What is far more certain is that a conflict shaped by asymmetry, existential stakes, and mutual misreading would generate severe and lasting consequences well beyond Iran itself, destabilizing a region already operating at the edge of strategic tolerance.

Taken together, these dynamics have created fertile ground for arguments that the IRGC – already deeply embedded in Iran’s political, economic, and security structures – might ultimately dispense with the clerical leadership and seize power directly. At first glance, this interpretation appears plausible. The IRGC commands the state’s primary coercive institutions, dominates key economic sectors, and has expanded its influence steadily over the past two decades. Yet this line of reasoning is incomplete.

In fact, while the renewed coup narrative reflects genuine instability and elite uncertainty, it fundamentally misreads the role of the IRGC and the architecture of power in the Islamic Republic. The central question is not whether the IRGC could overthrow the system it has helped build, but how power is structured, mediated, and constrained within that system; especially under conditions of succession and crisis. Understanding that distinction is essential for assessing Iran’s political trajectory in the period ahead.

A Parallel Force Designed Against Coups

The IRGC was established in the immediate aftermath of the 1979 revolution, as an ideologically loyal force separate from the regular army, which revolutionary leaders deeply distrusted as a potential source of counterrevolution or coup. Until the end of the Iran-Iraq War, the IRGC had not fully developed into a conventional military institution. Although it gradually acquired clearer command structures during the war, it lacked fully standardized ranks and professional hierarchies. As such, it was conceived primarily as a parallel, regime-protective force rather than as an independent center of political authority, with the specific function of safeguarding the new revolutionary order from internal and external threats.

Over time, the IRGC evolved from an ideologically driven revolutionary force into a central pillar of state power. Following the end of the Iran-Iraq War, it underwent deep institutional entrenchment, expanding its role across security, politics, and the economy. This was not a sudden transformation but a gradual process, which was shaped by repeated moments of internal unrest and external pressure. One early indicator of the Guards’ growing political role came during the 1999 student protests, when senior IRGC commanders warned President Mohammad Khatami that failure to restore order would compel them to act. The episode signaled the emergence of the IRGC as an actor willing to intervene during domestic crises.

The 2009 Green Movement marked a more decisive turning point. In its aftermath, the IRGC’s domestic security function expanded substantially, particularly through the strengthening of its intelligence and counter-intelligence apparatus. From that point onward, the Guards became even more deeply embedded in regime survival strategies, playing a central role in repression, surveillance, and internal threat management.

Yet despite its power, the IRGC is not a monolithic actor. It functions as a federation of semi-autonomous power centers, including the Quds Force, Aerospace Force, Intelligence Organization, Basij, and Ground Forces, each with distinct operational mandates and institutional interests. These branches are coordinated through formal horizontal structures, but are ultimately held together by vertical loyalty to the Supreme Leader. Mechanisms of ideological and political control, parallel mandates, and multi-layered chains of command function as internal constraints that reduce the likelihood of unified action outside the system’s established hierarchy.

Taken together, these structural features complicate claims that the IRGC is poised to execute a classic military coup. An institution built as a parallel power center, embedded within the system and bound by multiple layers of internal coordination and external loyalty, is structurally oriented toward preserving the existing order rather than overturning it.

Leadership Attrition and the Problem of Authority

Ali Khamenei remains the central arbiter of Iran’s political system not because factionalism is absent, but because it is meant to remain contained within the system. His authority functions as the final coordinating mechanism among competing elites – clerical, political, and security-based – whose rivalries are real but bounded. Just as importantly, Khamenei continues to anchor the regime’s ideological reference point for mobilization. This role has taken on renewed significance under protest pressure, as the Islamic Republic increasingly relies on a hardened core constituency for social mobilization. The roughly 13 million voters who backed ultra-hardliner candidate Saeed Jalili in the 2024 presidential election – around 20 percent of the electorate – constitute a committed ideological base that remains loyal to the system even under deteriorating economic conditions. Maintaining cohesion among this segment requires a unifying figure with revolutionary and religious authority, a role no single person or institution can currently replicate.

At the same time, the IRGC has undergone a process of elite thinning that complicates its political capacity. Over the past several years, the Guards have lost senior commanders who combined military authority with political weight and elite networking power. Qasem Soleimani, while primarily responsible for external operations, was not detached from domestic politics. More recently, the removal of senior figures such as Hossein Salami, Amir Ali Hajizadeh, Mohammad Hossein Bagheri, and Gholam Ali Rashid has further narrowed the pool of commanders capable of bridging coercive power and elite bargaining. The cumulative effect has not been to make the IRGC more coup-prone, but rather to leave it with fewer consensus brokers, a more professionalized, military-bureaucratic senior leadership, and a greater dependence on the Supreme Leader’s office and formal consensus-building frameworks such as the Supreme National Security Council (SNSC) for political coordination.

The death of former president Ebrahim Raisi fundamentally reshaped this landscape. Raisi had been widely viewed as a leading contender for succession, enjoying clear backing from Khamenei and serving as a focal point for continuity within the system. His sudden removal reopened a succession process that had appeared increasingly managed. Indeed, Khamenei’s son, Mojtaba, has also long been discussed as a potential successor, and elements within the Supreme Leader’s inner circle actively promote his candidacy. Yet structural obstacles, including his limited clerical credentials and persistent resistance to dynastic succession, constrains his prospects.

Within this succession environment, informed sources pointed to a clear but contained division inside the IRGC while Raisi was still alive. One camp – associated most visibly with former IRGC chief commander Mohammad Ali (aka Aziz) Jafari – viewed Raisi as the preferred continuity candidate. A second camp, including figures such as former Guards commander and current parliament speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, leaned toward Mojtaba Khamenei as the real center of gravity in succession politics. This alignment was never public and never confrontational, but it mattered, as it demonstrated that the IRGC was not unified behind a single succession outcome even as it remained loyal to Khamenei himself.

Raisi’s death abruptly upended this structured rivalry. With the removal of a candidate who appeared to have Khamenei’s backing, the succession landscape became far more opaque, depriving the system of a focal point around which elite consensus could coalesce. In this vacuum, recent post-12-Day War institutional moves are revealing. Efforts to strengthen the role of the SNSC and the establishment of a Defense Council point toward an emerging logic of councilization; a mechanism designed to manage leadership uncertainty and wartime contingencies by dispersing authority rather than concentrating it in a single successor. This shift suggests that, rather than preparing for a decisive handover or a power grab, the system is experimenting with collective governance as a way to postpone and contain succession conflicts under conditions of sustained external and internal pressure.

Pragmatism Without Rebellion

Over the past decades, the IRGC has become increasingly embedded in Iran’s political economy. That embeddedness has encouraged a measure of pragmatism – less in the sense of ideological moderation than as an effort to reconcile competing economic imperatives inside the system. The Guard’s expanding commercial footprint has produced divergent material interests that compel continual adaptation. Sanctions, smuggling, and other informal economic activity can generate profits for IRGC-linked networks, but the IRGC’s involvement in large-scale infrastructural and commercial projects simultaneously creates a dependence on predictability, capital mobility, and a degree of internal and external stability to protect accumulated wealth. These overlapping and sometimes contradictory incentives generate internal divergences over strategy and risk management, but not over regime survival.

Generational change reinforces this dynamic. Younger cohorts within the IRGC, especially at mid-level command and technical positions, were not shaped by the Iran-Iraq War but by the post-2003 regional developments, the Arab uprisings, the Syrian conflict, and the fight against ISIS. Their worldview tends to be more Iran-centric and security-nationalist than ideologically universalist. They prioritize deterrence, regional influence, and state capacity, often drawing lessons from state collapse and proxy warfare in areas like Syria rather than revolutionary mythology. This produces a form of operational pragmatism, i.e., greater attention to costs, sustainability, and tactical flexibility, without implying ideological moderation or political liberalization.

This pragmatism – and the distinct worldview it reflects – has at times translated into criticism of the revolutionary old guard on issues ranging from their economic involvement to foreign policy risk-taking. However, it does not amount to coup intent. Even if such criticism were to harden into dissatisfaction, the young guard lacks the internal and external conditions necessary to convert it into coordinated political action. Senior command positions remain concentrated in the hands of revolutionary-era officers whose authority is tied to the existing order, while younger cohorts have yet to develop the political networks or public profiles required to act independently. Any attempt to move outside established channels would therefore risk organizational fragmentation, elite resistance, and backlash from the regime’s own social support base. Adaptation thus occurs within the system’s boundaries rather than against them.

Succession, IRGC Consolidation, and Regime Transformation

At the core of the renewed coup debate lies a misreading of how power struggles unfold in the Islamic Republic. Succession, not rebellion, is the central fault line shaping elite behavior. The IRGC does not need to overthrow the system to influence outcomes. It has long done so through institutional positioning, veto power over unacceptable options, and bargaining within the regime’s tightly constrained political arena. These mechanisms are more effective and less risky than any overt seizure of power.

The persistence of coup narratives stems largely from an analytical tendency to treat the IRGC as a unified military actor standing apart from the political system. In reality, the Guards are a central pillar of regime governance, deeply embedded in its ideological foundations, institutional arrangements, and political economy. Their influence derives precisely from this embeddedness.

In this sense, Ali Alfoneh’s notion of a “creeping coup” offers a more useful corrective than predictions of an abrupt military takeover. Over the past decades, governance in the Islamic Republic has become increasingly securitized, with the IRGC expanding its role across security, economic management, and politics. This process has not displaced clerical authority; rather, it has integrated military-bureaucratic power into the existing order, creating a system in which the Guards are central to governance but remain bound by political and institutional constraints.

The critical distinction, then, is not between coup and no coup, but between rupture and transformation. A classic military coup against the Supreme Leader remains unlikely for structural reasons. Yet a post-Khamenei order in which power is reconfigured through negotiated, institutional, and incremental processes – further entrenching the position of the IRGC and the broader military-security elite within the state – is not only plausible, but already taking shape.

As such, the post-Khamenei trajectory is likely to encompass a range of outcomes rather than a single rupture. At one end of the spectrum, existing councils and security-oriented coordination mechanisms could harden into the effective center of the political system, anchoring authority in collective leadership dominated by the military-security elite. At the other, a political heavyweight from the old guard – such as Ghalibaf – could emerge as a focal point, providing continuity and coordination while managing a gradual reconfiguration of authority away from clerical primacy. Between these poles lies a hybrid scenario in which formal leadership is weakened or symbolic, while substantive authority is exercised through institutionalized bargaining among security, clerical, and political elites. In all cases, these dynamics point toward regime transformation rather than sudden systemic collapse.

That shift can be traced to January 8-9, which constituted a clear inflection point in the regime’s handling of the unrest. Prior to that date, the authorities appeared to pursue a strategy of protest management rather than full securitization. Demonstrations were already spreading, yet there was no nationwide internet shutdown, coercive measures remained comparatively localized, and senior officials – particularly within the administration of President Masoud Pezeshkian – publicly acknowledged what they described as legitimate economic grievances, signaling at least rhetorical openness to adjustment.

This posture changed following coordinated nationwide protests on January 8 and 9. The mass mobilization – widely seen as the largest since the 2009 Green Movement – appears to have altered the regime’s threat perception. The decisive factor was not the persistence of unrest, but its scale, synchronization, and visibility, which collectively suggested diminishing confidence in the state’s ability to contain protests through selective pressure.

In response, authorities immediately moved to shut down internet access nationwide and security forces escalated to widespread use of live fire. Official rhetoric hardened in parallel, shifting away from socio-economic language toward an explicitly securitized framing. January 8, therefore, did not merely inaugurate a new protest cycle. It also marked the point at which the state concluded that protest management had failed and that coercive securitization was necessary.

Reframing Unrest: From Protest to “Terrorism” and “Hybrid War”

Following the January 8 inflection point, the state did not merely escalate coercion, but it also redefined the nature of the unrest itself. In official discourse, the category of “protest” largely disappeared, replaced by a composite narrative that framed events as terrorism, separatism, and a foreign-orchestrated campaign of hybrid war. This reframing was neither ad hoc nor confined to a single institution. Rather, it emerged rapidly and coherently across the regime’s political, security, and media apparatus.

At the core of this narrative is the explicit linkage between domestic unrest and the recent 12-day war with Israel. Senior officials and state media have repeatedly presented the protests as a continuation of that conflict “by other means,” rather than as a separate internal crisis. This language was evident in statements following Ali Khamenei’s January 9 speech, which struck a defiant tone and portrayed protesters as actors who “destroy their own country” to satisfy US President Donald Trump. Subsequent statement by the Supreme National Security Council (SNSC) explicitly referenced the 12-day war while warning that security forces were prepared to confront plots allegedly orchestrated by the United States and Israel.

Within this framework, protesters are increasingly described not as civilians but as terrorists. Official rhetoric has shifted to labels such as “rioters,” “destroyers,” and, soon after, to explicit comparisons with ISIS. State-affiliated outlets, particularly Tasnim News Agency, promote claims of armed cells, attacks on civilians, and what they describe as “ISIS-style operations” in Tehran and other cities. Iranian state television has gone further, characterizing the unrest as a “ground invasion,” a formulation that fully aligned domestic demonstrations with wartime threat perceptions.

A third layer of the narrative invokes separatism and civil-war analogies, most notably Syria. Coverage of protests in Kurdish-majority regions in the west and among the Baloch population in the southeast has emphasized alleged ethnic militancy backed by foreign powers. By invoking Syria as a cautionary model, officials suggest that failure to suppress unrest decisively could lead to state collapse and civil war.

Taken together, these discursive shifts underscore that narrative construction has been central, not auxiliary, to repression, providing ideological justification, mobilizing loyalist forces, and situating domestic violence within a broader war paradigm.

Institutional Convergence and Loyalist Mobilization

Despite signs of longer-term elite uncertainty, the immediate response to the protests has been characterized by strong short-term convergence across the Islamic Republic’s key institutions around a war-centric interpretation of unrest. Rather than competing narratives or visible hesitation, the dominant pattern since January 8 has been one of rapid alignment in both language and posture, reinforcing the shift from protest management to coercive repression.

This convergence has been evident across the formal power structure. The Supreme Leader set the tone, which was quickly echoed by the Supreme National Security Council and the intelligence arm of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). Parliamentary leadership followed suit. Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, the speaker of parliament, explicitly framed the unrest as part of a multi-front confrontation – economic, cognitive, security, and military – with the United States and Israel, warning that foreign military action would trigger retaliation against Israeli and American targets.

The securitized framing has extended beyond the IRGC. The regular army, i.e., the Islamic Republic of Iran Army, issued a communiqué reaffirming loyalty to the Supreme Leader and describing the unrest as a foreign-backed plot linked to the recent war. Within elite political circles, Ali Larijani, secretary of the SNSC, went further, labeling protesters a “semi-terrorist” group and arguing that Iran remains in a state of war, rendering domestic unrest both illegitimate and dangerous. Clerical figures reinforced this logic. Ayatollah Mohsen Araki, a member of the Assembly of Experts publicly raised the possibility of jihad should the United States or Israel move against Iran or its leadership. Even the “reformist” president Pezeshkian, echoed the same narrative.

This institutional alignment has been paired with active efforts to mobilize core loyalist constituencies, particularly the Basij. State narratives portraying protesters as terrorists and agents of civil war are clearly directed at ideologically committed segments of society, encouraging participation in repression. Electoral data offer a rough sense of this base: in the most recent presidential election, approximately 13 million voters supported the ultra-hardline candidate Saied Jalili, suggesting a sizable pool of regime loyalists that officials appear intent on activating.

The result is a repression effort that is institutionally supported rather than fragmented, at least in the short term, reducing internal constraints on coercion even as broader strategic uncertainties persist.

Deterrence, Preemption, and Narrative Closure

The war framing adopted since January 8 is not merely rhetorical. It serves three interlocking strategic purposes: reinforcing deterrence, facilitating domestic control, and shaping the post-crackdown narrative. Taken together, these functions help explain why references to external conflict and preemption have intensified alongside internal repression.

First, preemption rhetoric has emerged as a logical extension of the war narrative, rather than as an abrupt escalation. Senior officials have repeatedly invoked an earlier statement by the Defense Council, which warned that Tehran would act preemptively if it concluded an attack was imminent. This line was echoed publicly by conservative analyst Saadollah Zare’i, who argued on state television – prior to the mass protests and internet shutdown – that Iran would strike first if it perceived hostile intent. Ghalibaf later reinforced this logic as he repeated the defense council’s statement word for word. Importantly, these statements remain declaratory, consistent with Iran’s established deterrence signaling. Yet their repetition in the context of internal unrest indicates that preemption has become more thinkable as a contingency, even if not imminent.

Second, external escalation rhetoric serves a domestic function. By situating protests within a wartime framework, the leadership seeks to suppress mobilization by signaling that street politics are incompatible with national survival. They also hope that wartime logic could enable rally-around-the-flag dynamics, particularly among ideologically committed constituencies, and lower internal resistance to extreme coercive measures.

Third, the war narrative is instrumental in preparing post-crackdown narrative closure. State-affiliated outlets, especially Tasnim News Agency, have emphasized what they describe as “martyrs” among security forces and framed civilian deaths as the result of ISIS-like terrorist attacks. Iranian state television also actively promotes this narrative. Combined with the internet blackout, this framing is designed to ensure that once protests subside, responsibility for violence can be attributed to “terrorists” rather than state forces.

These dynamics do not make external escalation inevitable. They do, however, compress the regime’s perceived options, expanding the scope of repression at home and increasing the salience of high-risk deterrent signaling abroad.

War Framing as Strategy and Its Limits

The Iranian leadership’s response to the protests reflects a deliberate choice to prioritize war framing over political accommodation. Faced with mass, coordinated mobilization and heightened anxiety about external threats, the state has treated domestic unrest less as a socio-political challenge than as an extension of an ongoing conflict with the United States and Israel. In the short term, this approach may expand the regime’s coercive capacity. By invoking wartime logic, authorities lower internal constraints on repression, mobilize loyalist forces, and justify extraordinary measures that would have been harder to sustain under a protest-management paradigm.

At the same time, it is important to note that this framing is not entirely new. Claims that protests are foreign-instigated, driven by hostile agents, or aimed at destabilizing the state have accompanied nearly every major episode of unrest since at least 2009, and even earlier. What distinguishes the current moment is not the rhetoric itself, but the strategic environment in which it is deployed. Unlike previous protest waves, these narratives are unfolding in the immediate aftermath of a direct military confrontation, amid genuine concern within the leadership about the possibility of further external escalation. Under such conditions, familiar discursive tools acquire materially different consequences.

War framing narrows the regime’s available exit options. It reduces space for de-escalation, increases the political cost of compromise, and renders high-risk scenarios – such as exceptionally broad crackdowns or preemptive external action – more conceivable, even if not imminent. None of this determines outcomes. The current trajectory does not make escalation inevitable, nor does it foreclose the regime’s ability to reassert relative control. But it does compress choices, binding domestic repression and external signaling more tightly together.

As such, the main issue is not whether war framing can serve the regime as a short-term survival strategy, but how the strategic trade-offs it imposes on a system that has chosen coercion under conditions of heightened external risk shape the longer-term trajectory of events.

By January 9, large-scale demonstrations have taken place in multiple cities, representing some of the most significant urban mobilizations seen in years. The government’s response has escalated accordingly, culminating in a near-total internet shutdown that has effectively severed the country’s connection to the outside world and disrupted even state-affiliated online platforms.

As in previous protest cycles, these events have revived familiar questions about the stability of the Islamic Republic. Are these demonstrations merely another episode of unrest that the state can suppress and absorb, or do they represent a more fundamental challenge to the system? Answering these questions requires moving beyond day-to-day reporting and protest counts. It is important to identify how and why this wave of protests differs from earlier episodes of unrest, and what those differences reveal about the current political, economic, and security environment in Iran.

1. The Nature of the Trigger: From Policy Shock to Macroeconomic Rupture

This is not the first time economic grievances have driven protests in Iran, but it is the first time unrest has been catalyzed by a widely shared perception of systemic economic breakdown rather than a discrete policy decision or a narrowly defined shock. Previous protest waves illustrate the distinction clearly. In 2009, mass mobilization was rooted primarily in a political dispute over electoral legitimacy. The 2017-18 protests were economically motivated, but largely diffuse, localized, and concentrated in smaller cities, reflecting long-standing grievances rather than an acute rupture. In 2019, unrest erupted in response to a specific and sudden policy decision, namely the fuel price hike, which immediately altered household costs and triggered a violent confrontation between society and the state. The 2022 protests, by contrast, were driven by social and political demands centered on women’s rights, personal freedoms, and state authority over daily life.

What distinguishes the current wave is the nature of the economic trigger itself. The rapid collapse of the national currency has been widely experienced not as another episode of inflation – something Iranians have long endured – but as the loss of a monetary anchor altogether. Savings have been wiped out, prices have become unpredictable, and future planning has become nearly impossible for large segments of society. This has affected not only lower-income groups, but also the middle classes, professionals, and merchants whose economic calculations depend on stability rather than subsidies.

This kind of macroeconomic rupture undermines more than livelihoods. It erodes confidence in the state’s basic capacity to govern and manage the economy. By cutting across social classes and economic sectors, it also creates conditions for broader social mobilization than protests driven by single issues or isolated policy shocks.

2. The Bazaar Factor and the Erosion of a Foundational Regime Pillar

The role of the bazaar is significant not because of its size alone, but because of its historical and political weight within the Islamic Republic. The 1979 revolution was built in large part on a durable alliance between the clerical establishment and the merchant class, an arrangement that provided the new regime with financial resources, social legitimacy, and an effective mobilization network. Over time, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and the broader security apparatus replaced the bazaar as the regime’s primary pillar of stability. Yet the bazaar retained both symbolic importance and practical economic influence, particularly as an intermediary between state policy and society.

In the current protest wave, merchant closures, strikes, and market disruptions have emerged as an early and recurring feature, in some cases preceding large street demonstrations. These actions are not simply expressions of economic distress. They function simultaneously as a form of pressure on the state and as a political signal that a traditionally regime-aligned constituency is either unwilling or unable to absorb further economic shocks. Unlike spontaneous street protests, bazaar closures require coordination and collective decision-making, indicating a level of organization and shared grievance.

This shift matters for several reasons. First, it suggests erosion – if not outright loss – of a traditional support base that once helped stabilize the system during periods of crisis. Second, it raises the economic and political cost of repression, as coercion alone cannot easily force markets to function or restore confidence. Finally, bazaar participation allows protest dynamics to persist even when street mobilization is temporarily suppressed, complicating the state’s ability to contain unrest through conventional security measures alone.

3. Urban Mass Mobilization and the Shadow of 2009

Any comparison with 2009 must be made with caution. The demonstrations of 15 June (25 Khordad) 2009, when hundreds of thousands of people flooded the streets of Tehran, remain unmatched in sheer scale and remain a benchmark in the collective memory of the Iranians. There is no firm evidence that the current protests have reached that numerical magnitude. Nonetheless, the real value of the comparison lies less in numbers than in form.

What distinguishes the current wave from the protests of 2017-18, 2019, and even 2022 is the reemergence of large, largely peaceful demonstrations in major urban centers. Tehran and Mashhad have again become central theaters of protest, rather than peripheral or secondary sites. Participation appears visibly cross-class, encompassing students, professionals, merchants, and wage earners, rather than being concentrated primarily among economically marginalized groups or specific social constituencies.

This matters because the form of protest directly shapes the state’s response options. Peaceful mass mobilization in major cities places significant strain on the regime’s long-standing framing of unrest as the work of “rioters” or foreign-backed agitators. It also alters the cost-benefit calculus of repression. Heavy force against large, nonviolent crowds in central urban areas carries higher political risk, both domestically and internationally, than suppressing fragmented or localized unrest. As a result, urban mass mobilization constrains the range of tools available to the state in ways that recent protest waves did not.

4. Geography and Sequencing: From the Periphery to the Core

The geographic trajectory of the current protests is unusual and important. In their initial phase, demonstrations were concentrated in western provinces and smaller cities, comparatively marginalized areas that have traditionally been more prone to unrest and more heavily securitized. This early concentration shaped the way the protests were interpreted within regime-aligned circles. Commentators close to the government quickly framed events through a security lens, linking unrest in provinces such as Ilam and Kermanshah to their proximity to borders, strategic military infrastructure, and missile bases. These interpretations were often presented as evidence of foreign instigation.

It would be a mistake, however, to treat this framing as mere propaganda. It reflects genuine anxieties rooted in long-standing security doctrine and recent wartime experience. Peripheral unrest near sensitive military geography has always carried a different strategic weight for Tehran than protests confined to central urban districts.

What makes this wave distinct is how quickly that initial geography became politically irrelevant. Within days, protests diffused to the capital and other major cities, undermining the idea that unrest could be contained at the margins. As the protests moved to the core, economic grievances rapidly acquired overt political dimensions, and participation broadened well beyond the regions that initially drew security attention.

The speed of this transition is critical. It marks the collapse of the familiar localized unrest containment model, in which protests are isolated geographically and suppressed before they reach the political and economic centers of gravity.

5. Governing Under Two Pressures: Domestic Unrest and External Threats

One of the most consequential features of the current moment is that Iran is confronting sustained domestic unrest while simultaneously preparing for the possibility of renewed external conflict. This combination is rare in the post-revolutionary period. The last time the Islamic Republic faced comparable two-front pressure was during the early years of the Iran-Iraq War, when external invasion coincided with internal instability in several regions. That experience left a lasting imprint on Iranian security thinking, reinforcing a core principle: domestic order must be preserved during periods of external confrontation, and internal unrest should not be allowed to create strategic vulnerability.

The present context runs directly against that logic. The June 2025 war between Iran and Israel ended not with a formal ceasefire, but with an informal and fragile pause that remains politically and militarily ambiguous. Since then, both sides have continued to signal preparedness for another round of confrontation. Israeli officials have openly suggested the need to “finish the job,” while Donald Trump’s rhetoric has reinforced the perception in Tehran that U.S. backing for Israeli action remains a serious possibility. Against this backdrop, domestic unrest takes on a different strategic meaning.

It is important to distinguish between the Iranian government’s public narrative and its underlying concerns. Official discourse emphasizes foreign instigation and external manipulation of protests, but the deeper fear is not that outside powers will intervene to rescue protesters or engineer regime change directly. Rather, the concern is that sustained internal instability could lower the threshold for external actors to exploit the situation militarily, e.g., by striking nuclear, missile, or other strategic assets while Iran is politically and socially distracted.

This dual pressure helps explain several features of the state’s response. It sheds light on the apparent reluctance, at least initially, to deploy the IRGC on a massive scale for domestic repression and instead, rely more heavily on police and internal security forces in major cities. It also helps explain the severity of the current internet shutdown – as opposed to first few days of the protests – which appears aimed at coordination among protesters and regaining strategic control at a moment of heightened vulnerability.

6. No Economic or Diplomatic Off-Ramp

Even if the current protests are eventually suppressed, the structural drivers that produced them remain largely unresolved. Unlike some earlier episodes of unrest, the Islamic Republic today lacks a clear economic or diplomatic off-ramp that could plausibly stabilize conditions in the short term. Sanctions continue to constrain state revenue and access to global markets, while entrenched corruption and governance failures limit the effectiveness of domestic policy responses. At the same time, diplomatic channels that might ease economic pressure appear largely blocked, with no credible prospect of near-term sanctions relief.

This absence of an exit strategy has important implications. Repression can buy time, but it cannot restore purchasing power, stabilize the currency, or rebuild public confidence in economic management. Without a realistic path toward economic relief, the state is left managing symptoms rather than causes. This, in turn, increases the likelihood that unrest will recur, even if the current wave is temporarily contained.

The contrast with previous protest cycles is notable. In earlier moments of crisis, unrest coincided with ongoing diplomatic engagement, policy reversals, or temporary economic buffers that allowed the state to diffuse pressure. Today, those mechanisms are largely absent. The result is a narrower set of options for crisis management and a heavier reliance on coercion in a context where coercion alone is unlikely to deliver lasting stability.

7. Elite Fragmentation and the Succession Question

The current protest wave intersects with an unusually sensitive moment in the Islamic Republic’s elite politics, shaped by the growing immediacy of the succession question. Ali Khamenei’s age, persistent rumors about his health, and heightened security concerns during and after the recent conflict have intensified long-standing debates over leadership transition. Reports that Khamenei was less accessible even to senior officials during wartime have reinforced perceptions – within elite circles and beyond – that continuity at the top can no longer be taken for granted.

Against this backdrop, signs of heightened factional signaling have become more visible. Political figures who had been sidelined in recent years – like former president Hassan Rouhani – have reemerged in public discourse, offering commentary and positioning themselves as relevant voices without explicitly declaring political ambition. At the same time, ultra-hardline factions have sought to consolidate their influence. This reflects an environment in which multiple camps appear to be hedging against uncertain outcomes.

This contrasts with previous protest waves, when elite factions, despite deep internal rivalries, tended to close ranks in the face of mass unrest. The overriding imperative was regime survival, and internal disputes were temporarily subordinated to that goal. Today, cohesion appears thinner. While there is no clear evidence of organized elite defection, the persistence of factional maneuvering during a period of nationwide unrest could suggest a more fragmented political landscape.

Recent claims that certain factions are reaching out to foreign powers for support should still be treated as unverified and speculative. Nonetheless, even the perception of elite uncertainty can weaken crisis response. When cohesion at the top is in question, the regime’s ability to project confidence and decisiveness in the face of mass mobilization is diminished.

8. Opposition Symbolism and the Pahlavi Factor

One of the most visible features of the current protest wave is the prominence of slogans and calls associated with the pre-1979 monarchy and with Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi, marking the first time since the establishment of the Islamic Republic that a foreign-based political figure has demonstrably contributed to large-scale street mobilization inside the country. His calls for demonstrations appear to have functioned as a timing and coordination mechanism, helping to concentrate protest activity and encourage turnout at critical moments.

This development, however, should not be misread as evidence of ideological consolidation or the emergence of a unified opposition leadership. Participation in demonstrations following Pahlavi’s calls does not necessarily indicate broad support for the restoration of monarchy or endorsement of a specific political project. For many protesters, invoking Pahlavi serves a tactical purpose of signaling unity, amplifying numbers, and increasing pressure on the state rather than articulating a shared vision of Iran’s political future.

The significance of the matter lies in the distinction between mobilization capacity and leadership. Effective opposition movements require coalitions that bridge ideological, social, and organizational divides. At present, such a coalition remains absent. Pahlavi’s symbolic role may help overcome coordination problems in the short term, but it does not resolve deeper questions about representation, strategy, or future governance.

This ambiguity matters because it shapes both protest dynamics and regime calculations. Symbolic unity can sustain momentum temporarily, but without organizational depth and political cohesion, it may not translate into lasting structural challenge. The current prominence of Pahlavi therefore reflects both a new mobilizing tool and the enduring fragmentation of Iran’s opposition.

Conclusion: What We Can Say – And What We Cannot

Taken individually, none of the elements shaping the current protest wave is entirely unprecedented in the history of the Islamic Republic. What makes this moment distinctive is their convergence. A macroeconomic rupture that has destroyed confidence in basic economic management coincides with visible bazaar participation, renewed urban mass mobilization, and an unusually unfavorable external security environment. At the same time, the absence of a clear economic or diplomatic exit, coupled with growing uncertainty surrounding elite cohesion and succession, has narrowed the regime’s room for maneuver.

These factors collectively increase the political and strategic significance of the current unrest and raise the risks associated with both repression and inaction. They do not, however, predetermine outcomes. The Islamic Republic retains coercive capacity, and the protests have not yet produced an organized alternative capable of converting mass mobilization into a decisive political challenge. The central question, therefore, is not whether collapse is inevitable – and it may be – but how compounded constraints and vulnerabilities are reshaping the state’s ability to manage crisis, project authority, and contain instability over time.