Iran at a crossroads: A civilisation in revolt, not a theocracy defined by violence

When Iran appears in global headlines today, it is rarely described as a society with memory. It is framed instead as a permanent crisis: a violent theocracy, a regional spoiler, a country locked in protest and repression. What gets lost in this telling is that Iran is not merely a state in turmoil; it is a civilisation once again negotiating the collapse of a political order that no longer reflects the majority of its people.

To understand this moment, we must move beyond moral outrage and revisit the 1979 Islamic Revolution with greater honesty and complexity. It is often reduced to a revolution about Islamic morality, and that reading is not wrong. But it is incomplete.

The revolution was also shaped by economic frustration, class resentment and a broader global mood defined by anti-colonial and anti-imperial movements. From Latin America to Africa and Asia, societies were challenging Western dominance and asserting political sovereignty. The leaders of Iran’s revolution consciously placed themselves within that tradition, a framing the Islamic Republic continues to deploy today.

That anti-imperial narrative remains potent, particularly in a world once again grappling with Western power, military intervention and selective moral outrage. But it should not blind us to the contradictions and failures of the Iranian state over the past four decades.

Tangible social development

It is true that the Islamic Republic oversaw tangible social development in its early decades. Literacy rates rose sharply, particularly in rural areas previously neglected by the state. Infrastructure expanded. Access to healthcare improved.

Perhaps most strikingly, women’s access to education grew dramatically. Iranian women entered universities in unprecedented numbers and became highly represented in science, engineering and medicine. These achievements are real, and denying them weakens serious analysis rather than strengthening it.

Yet none of this justifies the scale of repression that has accompanied them. Progress in education cannot excuse the systematic erosion of women’s rights, the policing of bodies or the silencing of dissent. The state has criminalised ordinary civic demands: free access to the internet, gender equality, freedom of expression and the right to live without fear of surveillance. Year after year, life has become more constrained for ordinary Iranians, not because society demanded it, but because power insisted upon it.

To outside observers, Iranians can come across as Islamophobic, a perception that deeply misunderstands the situation.

Iran’s crisis today is not simply political. It is civilisational. This is one of the oldest organised societies in human history, shaped by thousands of years of culture, poetry, language, science, innovation and political memory. Iranian people know that power rises and falls. Empires collapse. Orders replace one another. This is not abstract history to them; it is lived inheritance.

Long before many Western democracies extended political rights to women, Iranian women were active in civic life and organised movements for education, property rights and suffrage in the early 20th century. This historical memory matters. It undermines the claim that demands for gender equality or personal freedom are foreign impositions. They are not. They are rooted in Iran’s own modern and pre-modern past.

Forced transformation is nothing new

Iranians have lived through forced transformation before. When the Persian Empire fell to Arab-Islamic rule in about 651 CE, Persians were compelled to adapt rapidly to new religious and political authority. But history did not end there. Over time, Persians reasserted control over the state, reshaped governance through Persian culture and language, and redefined Islam in distinctly Iranian terms. That memory of cultural survival runs deep.

In recent years, Iranian identity has resurfaced powerfully, particularly among younger generations who feel alienated from a state they no longer recognise as authentically Iranian. Daily life requires constant self-censorship. Social practices are increasingly policed in ways that feel imposed rather than organic. Women are barred from singing or dancing publicly, despite these being integral parts of Persian cultural expression. What emerges is not religious devotion, but enforced conformity.

Ironically, this has made Iranian society appear hostile to religion itself. To outside observers, Iranians can come across as Islamophobic, a perception that deeply misunderstands the situation and risks alienating Muslim communities elsewhere. What is being rejected is not faith, but coercion. This distinction is critical.

The same complexity applies to the much-debated phenomenon of Iranians supporting Western or Israeli pressure against their own government. To left-leaning and anti-imperial audiences, this can appear contradictory or even disturbing. But it is best understood as an expression of rage and exhaustion.

Many Iranians resent seeing national resources channelled to regional allies and militant groups while they struggle to afford basic necessities. Sanctions have hurt Iran, undeniably, but so have corruption, mismanagement and entrenched nepotism within the state.

For many, the Islamic Republic lost its remaining legitimacy during the 2009 Green Movement. The mass mobilisation for accountability and reform was met with violence, intimidation and denial. Since then, power has been maintained not through consent but through force. The current unrest is not sudden. It is cumulative.

Yet the future remains uncertain. Iran has no unified opposition. Reza Pahlavi, son of the last Shah, is the most internationally recognised figure, but he lives outside Iran and is viewed by many as disconnected from realities on the ground. Some see him as a transitional figure; others see him as a return to a past they reject. Beyond him, there are numerous activists and figures, mostly in exile, with competing ideologies and visions. They are deeply divided.

There is also a deeper historical anxiety that cannot be ignored. Ayatollah Khomeini, the founder of the Islamic Republic, returned to Iran from exile in France with Western acquiescence. Many historians argue that the 1979 Revolution could not have succeeded without it.

The West has never acted primarily in Iran’s interest. A strong, independent Iran has always been viewed with suspicion. A post-Islamic Republic leadership installed through Western backing risks repeating that pattern, producing dependency rather than sovereignty.

And yet, if this regime falls, Iran’s trajectory will almost certainly shift. A post-sanctions Iran, reintegrated into the global economy, could rapidly improve living standards. It may become aligned with Western powers, abandoning its current anti-imperial posture. That alignment may bring freedoms and prosperity, but also new forms of dependency. Perhaps history will repeat itself. Perhaps, decades from now, another generation will rise in resistance to a different kind of domination.

For now, what matters most is recognising the dignity and agency of the Iranian people. They have the right to choose their future, even if that future is imperfect. My hope is for an Iran defined by freedom, cultural confidence and political accountability. An Iran that is no longer embarrassed by incompetence or brutality. A free Iran is one worth believing in.

But hope, in Iran’s case, must always walk alongside memory. DM

Amir Bagherioromi is a strategic communications and campaigns specialist with more than a decade’s experience shaping public narratives, driving media influence and delivering high-impact advocacy across Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. He’s worked with leading global organisations including Oxfam, Unicef, 350.org and Amnesty International and has built a career at the intersection of communications, politics and social justice.