The new wave of protests, which began on December 28, marked an epochal turning point for Iran. Within a few days, deep discontent rooted in a prolonged economic crisis turned into a mass mobilization that involved all social strata. Starting with the bazarì—merchants representing one of the most conservative segments of society and long-standing supporters of the clergy of the Islamic Republic—the protests were soon joined by students from Iranian universities. In less than a week, demonstrations had spread to more than four hundred cities, from major urban centers to peripheral areas, transforming widespread discontent into a veritable revolutionary movement. Faced with this surge of protest, on 8 and 9 January, following a call to the population by Reza Pahlavi, son of the former Shah of Iran, millions of people took to the streets.
The response was brutal: repressive forces opened fire on unarmed demonstrators with Kalashnikovs and machine guns mounted on pick-up trucks, amid a total digital blackout imposed by the regime. Within a few days, tens of thousands of protesters, most of them young, were killed. The trauma of those days—bodies lying in the streets, morgues filled with black bags, families forced to search among unrecognizable corpses—marked a point of no return. The massacre, ordered by then Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and justified by portraying demonstrators as infiltrated Western agents and “terrorists”, stands as the gravest crime against humanity in contemporary Iranian history. Violence extended even into mourning. Parents were blackmailed to recover the bodies of their children, forced to sign statements identifying them as basiji militiamen or to pay exorbitant sums to obtain the remains. Yet, during funeral ceremonies, a form of symbolic resistance emerged: families sang and danced on the graves. “You have killed our children, but you have not killed their hopes” has become a phrase of defiance and strength for a people that refuses to surrender. It is against this backdrop that the current phase of the conflict has erupted.
The joint offensive by the United States and Israel has been presented as a response to Tehran’s refusal to accept the conditions put forward by Donald Trump at the negotiating table: a complete halt to uranium enrichment, ballistic missiles limited to a range of under 300 kilometers, dismantling of proxy groups, and recognition of the State of Israel.
Today, the war has shifted to targets that are highly symbolic from an economic standpoint. In recent days, oil storage facilities in several districts of Tehran and in Karaj have been hit, and on Saturday, March 14, Kharg Island was also targeted—a crucial objective. Around 70 percent of the Islamic Republic’s oil exports pass through Kharg, and many tankers dock there to load crude before resuming their route. Striking Kharg not only undermines the regime’s financial capacity; it also sends a clear message about the vulnerability of its main economic lifeline. This is why the Iranian leadership has responded by claiming that the attacks were launched “from Gulf countries”, particularly from the area of the Emirates, asserting its “right” to retaliate. Yet the language used by the regime—from senior military officials to national television hosts—reveals a power under intense pressure, forced to raise the tone of its threats in order to mask its own fragility.
Alongside the airstrikes, Israeli attacks continue with the massive use of drones and micro-drones against security checkpoints across the country. The aim is to gradually erode the repressive apparatus on the ground, straining a system that has invested enormous resources for years in tight control over streets, neighborhoods, and logistical hubs. For the regime, these attacks represent a double defeat: militarily, because they dismantle its security infrastructure piece by piece; symbolically, because they expose its inability to protect the country despite its constant rhetoric of “resistance” and the alleged infallibility of its armed forces. Unsurprisingly, recent days have seen a rise in threats and warnings issued by top figures, with apocalyptic tones echoing across national television talk shows and on websites close to the Revolutionary Guards. The very fact that the leadership feels compelled to constantly threaten its own citizens, promise retaliation, and invoke catastrophic scenarios is yet another sign of profound weakness.
In recent days, Washington has been deploying around 4,000 marines to the region – a clear indication of an escalation that stands in stark contrast to the narrative of an imminent “withdrawal” from the conflict. Donald Trump himself has announced an intensification of airstrikes this week. The promise to “step back” now clearly contradicts reality: freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz and the containment of the Islamic Republic are presented as non-negotiable strategic interests. This shift is perceived with deep ambivalence within Iranian society.
For those segments that have lost faith in the possibility of changing the system from within, external military pressure is seen as an opportunity to weaken the establishment once and for all. For many others, each additional day of war further deteriorates living conditions. Since the beginning of the attacks, the country has been effectively cut off by an internet shutdown; prices of basic goods keep rising; many people have managed to move away from areas most exposed to airstrikes, while many others simply lack the economic means to do so. There is also a less visible yet equally serious dimension: the environmental and health impact of bombings on oil depots. Toxic clouds from fires and contaminated rain continue to fuel anxiety. Many Iranians live in a double bind: on the one hand, hoping that the war will weaken an unreformable regime; on the other, fearing that the price to be paid—in terms of health, environment, and human lives—will become unbearable.
In parallel with the war, the Islamic Republic has gone through its most delicate leadership transition. After the killing of Ali Khamenei, the Assembly of Experts, under pressure from the Revolutionary Guards, appointed his son, Mojtaba Khamenei, as the new Supreme Leader. For years, he has worked behind the scenes with the Guards and the intelligence services, but he did not even hold the title of Ayatollah. Following his appointment, slogans such as “Marg bar Mojtaba”—“death to Mojtaba”—echoed from apartments in Tehran and other cities, signaling a rejection of any continuity with the Islamic Republic’s ruling establishment.
In this context, the prospect that the war might end with an agreement between part of the establishment and Western actors—a deal that would guarantee open energy routes and regional containment in exchange for the survival of a revamped form of the regime—is experienced by much of the population as a nightmare. It would mean being betrayed twice: by their own state and by those abroad who claim to act in the name of their freedom. Yet, despite the trauma of the massacre and the weight of war, Iranian civil society does not appear resigned. Around 60 percent of the population is under thirty: a highly educated, connected generation that has internalized both the memory of past uprisings and the experience of repression, and continues to seek spaces for action – from universities inside the country to a diaspora of more than six million Iranians abroad. Today, Iran is a society suspended between ever harsher repression and an expanding regional war, with one clear certainty: it is not willing to relinquish its desire for freedom.
Cover photo: An explosion erupts following strikes near Azadi Tower close to Mehrabad International Airport in Tehran on March 7, 2026. The United States and Israel launched strikes against Iran on February 28, sparking swift retaliation by the Islamic republic which responded with missile attacks across the region. The war has dragged in global powers, upended the world’s energy and transport sectors, and brought chaos to even usually peaceful areas of the volatile region. (Photo by ATTA KENARE / AFP)