Hours after Israel bombed Iran’s state television complex, Abdollah Momeni, whose political activism has landed him in Tehran’s notorious Evin prison multiple times, received a call from a senior Iranian intelligence official.
With Iran’s leaders convinced that Israeli prime minister Binyamin Netanyahu was pushing for regime change – a fear exacerbated by the deadly strike on the state TV studios – the official wanted to ensure Momeni was not going to exploit the moment to issue political statements.
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“I said, ‘Are you threatening me? I’ll do whatever I think is for the benefit of my country, and if you want to arrest me, fine’,” he recalls. But the official insisted that he knew Momeni was a “patriot”, adding that after the war “we will come back and enter talks”.
The intelligence agent needn’t have bothered with the call. Rather than prompt Iranians to rise up against the regime – as Netanyahu had urged – Israel’s war against the republic in June momentarily galvanised a polarised society in its opposition to a foreign aggressor. Momeni was among those imbued by a sense of patriotism.
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“I always talked about the importance of Iran, but I never realised how important Iran was to me,” he says.
The sense of wartime solidarity both surprised the autocratic leadership and delivered it a vital boost during its darkest hours. Over 12 days, Israel assassinated its top military commanders and nuclear scientists, destroyed its air defences and, with the brief intervention of the US, bombed its main nuclear sites.
But as the dust settles, Iranians are asking how their leaders will respond to the assault that left the Islamic republic wounded and gripped by a sense of anxiety.
There is consensus across Iran’s social and political divides that the conflict should be a catalyst for change given that Israel’s attack exposed the vulnerabilities of a system facing mounting domestic dissent and international pressure.
Yet the debate taking place both inside and outside the system is about which direction the Islamic regime will take, at a moment when its instinct is to go into self-preservation mode.
Will it respond by attempting to appease a disillusioned populace by further easing some social restrictions, or even go as far as ushering in changes to the theocratic state’s political structure under which the supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, has the final say on all significant foreign policy and domestic decisions?
Or will the key centres of power, notably the elite Revolutionary Guards, use the moment to push for a more militaristic state that doubles down on its hostility to the West and Israel?
“Iran’s leaders are in a tough position. On the one hand, they think about relaxing some restrictions to keep the people unified, but on the other, they worry if they relax them it could lead to the regime’s collapse,” says Mohammad Ali Abtahi, a former vice-president and member of the reformist camp that is loyal to the Islamic republic, but seeks change from within.
“There’s a 20-year gap between the people’s demands and the system. It’s very difficult to merge those two forces overnight.”
Mixed signals
So far, the signals have been mixed as an air of uncertainty hangs over a nation neither in a state of peace nor at war.
The regime is grappling with its own internal dynamics and its weakened position in the region, while also weighing the unpredictability of US president Donald Trump and the threat posed by an emboldened Israel.
The most visible sign of concession to the public has been a further easing of the implementation of the law that forces women to cover their heads with a hijab. It has reached the point where growing numbers of women in Tehran don’t even bother with the pretence of having a scarf slung over their shoulders, while security officials ignore violations of what was for decades considered an untouchable pillar of the Islamic republic’s core values.
But many Iranians have demanded far greater changes, including the release of political prisoners, a softening of the ideological, hardline dominance of state television, and an easing of internet restrictions – measures that would at least inspire hope that more meaningful reform might be possible.
Instead, in the weeks after the war ended, the government drafted a Bill it said was intended to confront “the publication of fake news on social media”, but which critics saw as a pretext to further crack down on internet usage. It later withdrew the legislation after a storm of criticism, hinting at a postwar sensitivity to public opinion.
Separately, president Masoud Pezeshkian last month told a meeting of reformists that his government was prepared to talk to the opposition, saying the country’s problems “need dialogue, not confrontation”.
At face value, it appeared to be a rare olive branch offered by an autocracy that has overseen decades of repression, jailed dissidents and systematically prevented the formation of any structured opposition or alternative to the regime. But most remain sceptical.
“If there was going to be any shift in policy we would have seen better treatment of political prisoners, but we’ve seen nothing,” Momeni says. “It’s too late for change within.”
His own experience has shaped his view. Rather than the “talks” the intelligence official promised, Momeni was summoned by the judiciary after the conflict ended, accused of conspiring with the “opposition” because he signed a postwar statement calling for a referendum on a new constitution.
The 48-year-old was released on bail. And while he opposed the Israeli attacks, he believes it has dealt the Islamic republic a severe blow, with Israel’s ability to strike at will against the regime, killing senior commanders in their homes, undermining its decades-long projection of power through its security apparatus.
“For 20 years, they were telling people, ‘We’ve been doing all these policies for your security’. But we knew the system was no longer effective, it had lost its legitimacy, and with this war, the only thing they had left – security – was lost,” Momeni says.
He is one of the more radical public voices of dissent inside the republic. But long-simmering social and economic grievances have bubbled back to the surface.
The economy, strangled by US sanctions, remains in a dire state, with inflation hovering above 35 per cent.
Worsening water and electricity shortages have twice in the past three weeks caused the government to declare public holidays for Tehran province, home to more than 14 million people. And in a country that boasts some of the world’s largest oil and gas reserves, electricity outages have forced government offices to close in the afternoon.
Many blame their leaders for the problems, citing incompetence, mismanagement and corruption, as well as policies that have for years fuelled hostility with the West and Israel.
“There’s already blame being heard in society,” says Abtahi, the former vice-president. “Reformists and civil society were warning it would come to this point [war].”
Grumblings can be heard across Tehran – in offices, restaurants and the warren of stalls in the capital’s historic bazaar.
Ali Reza, a cafe owner, believes both the Iranian government and Israel misunderstood the reaction of Iranians.
He kept his cafe open as Israeli air strikes struck all around, and when a nearby police station was bombed he and his staff ran to help. “Netanyahu, f**k him,” he says, explaining his decision to keep working despite Israel warning residents of his district to evacuate. Like others, he suspects the Israeli leader wanted to provoke a popular uprising, while even Iran’s leaders were surprised by the wave of nationalism.
Yet he hints at the declining ideological support for the Islamic regime, recalling the outward display of solidarity during Iran’s 1980s war with Iraq. Then, people thronged to the funerals of soldiers.
“I saw how in this latest war with Israel, fewer than 10 people attended the funeral of a martyr,” Ali Reza says.
Although loyal to Khamenei, the 33-year-old complains about police demanding bribes and having “fanatics” and “ineffective” factions in power.
“The same kind of change we needed before the war is what we need after the war ... it’s about a change in mindset,” he says. “They are not bothering women any more. But it’s different this time. They’ve realised people are expecting something bigger to happen.”
Others go further. A university student says he was happy when Israel killed Revolutionary Guards commanders. He is still angry about the brutal crackdown on 2022 protests, which were triggered by the death in police custody of Mahsa Amini after she was arrested for not properly wearing a hijab.
“Change [from the street] will come if the behaviour of the ruling establishment continues,” he says.
The Khamenei question
Much will depend on Khamenei.
For years, Iranian politics has been dominated by the issue of succession and who will replace the 86-year-old who has led the republic through nearly four decades.
The war has now instilled a greater sense of urgency into that succession debate, with the sense that any changes that were already likely after his death could be accelerated.
From a political and social point of view, it’s not possible to continue running the country like this
Analysts say it is no longer simply a question of who should replace him, but also if such an all-powerful role is sustainable. But few believe that any significant political shift will come as long as Khamenei is alive.
Forced into hiding during the war, he has made few public appearances since.
Although he has not closed the door on the possibility of a resumption of nuclear negotiations, Khamenei has leaned into the nationalist spirit when he has spoken, urging unity among rival political factions and raging against Israel and the West.
But he has offered no hints of any political reform. The one key change at the top of the leadership structure has been the appointment of Ali Larijani, a veteran regime official and former nuclear negotiator, to a senior post in the Supreme National Security Council.
Analysts interpreted the elevation of Larijani, a conservative considered politically centrist, as a sign that the regime would take a cautious, pragmatic approach to both domestic and foreign policy, including any resumption of nuclear negotiations with the US.
But there is growing impatience within the system, amid concerns that time is running out to ensure its survival, says Saeed Laylaz, an analyst from the reformist camp.
Analysts even suggest that Khamenei could face increased pressure from within the ruling system to oversee the succession or amendments to the leadership structure to reduce the risks of instability.
“From a political and social point of view, it’s not possible to continue running the country like this,” Laylaz says. “It’s very clear, we have no water, no gas, no hope for the future, no money to pay the salaries.”
He predicts a shift towards what he calls “Bonapartism” – a doubling down on authoritarianism, but less ideological and with more moderate social and foreign policies.
Hardliners, however, think the lessons of the war should convince the regime to go for a candidate who would be even more hawkish towards the West.
“They want to make sure the next leader is going to keep the country safe, and are going to look for a candidate that is strong in that criteria,” says Foad Izadi, an associate professor for American studies at Tehran University, who is close to the hardliners.
He suggests that a new generation of more hardline commanders could emerge after Israel assassinated the republic’s veteran military chiefs.
“The military capacity is less, but the willingness to use it is more,” Izadi says. “They have to show there will be a serious cost, not only to Israel but also to America.”
He takes a similar attitude to any resumption of nuclear negotiations with the Trump administration, saying that the people who have been vindicated are those who opposed talks, pushed for a stronger military and said the US could not be trusted.
“The first [more pragmatic] group got nothing for all their years of negotiations,” he says. “It’s very normal, you’re not only going to have harder rhetoric, you’re going to have a harder mentality.”
The danger, though, with pursuing a harder line is that it further alienates a population worn down by grinding economic hardship and desperate to emerge from isolation.
“If it [the regime] doesn’t resolve its problems with the West and the US, then maybe the public will not show the solidarity next time,” says Momeni. “It’s a fragile situation and people may conclude it is so rigid and totalitarian that it’s not willing to do meaningful negotiations.”
An excuse for hardliners
Even hardliners appear to accept that the leadership has, at least, to show more of what conservatives describe as “tolerance” towards the populace as the war brought home the risks of social unrest at a time of conflict.
Izadi says the war has given hardliners an “excuse” to acquiesce to some social reforms, adding that they “like this unity because they know the idea behind the attack was regime change”.
To make his point, he gestures to a woman not wearing the hijab in a cafe.
“You [conservatives] no longer look at her as someone who is not following Islamic law, you look at her as an Iranian who has been attacked,” Izadi says. “You feel responsible to protect her.”
But there is also another factor that political conservatives are betting will hold society together: fear.
There has long been a sense that Iranians, particularly the middle class, are wary of public upheaval and what might follow. The devastation in Syria after a popular uprising against the Assad regime morphed into civil war is vivid in their minds.
Now, Israel’s assault has added a new layer of fear – that Iran is locked in a war for its survival. “As long as people feel threatened, that will prolong the life of the Islamic republic,” Izadi says.
Life in Tehran has on the surface returned to pre-war normalcy, the streets clogged with cars, cafes and restaurants brimming with customers.
Work has begun on repairing damage caused by Israeli air strikes; walls have been rebuilt at an entrance to Evin prison that was bombed and political detainees returned to their cells; scaffolding has been erected around a multistorey apartment block whose penthouse floor – home to senior regime official Ali Shamkhani – was destroyed; and huge Iranian flags hang from multistorey buildings marking bomb sites.
Yet many worry the June assault was only the first round. Although Israeli and US strikes severely damaged Iran’s nuclear facilities, its programme has not been destroyed, western diplomats say.
Iran says it retains the capability to continue enriching uranium and insists it still has a right to do so, and Trump’s decision to back Israel’s war just as Tehran was engaged in negotiations with the US has hardened the regime’s position on the prospect of resuming talks with Washington to resolve the nuclear stand-off.
As with domestic policy, Tehran’s messaging is mixed.
Iranian foreign minister Abbas Araghchi says Iran is still open to dialogue, but only if the US assures it there will be no military strikes during negotiations. He told the Financial Times that Tehran also wants the Trump administration to agree to compensate Iran for the war damage – an idea Washington swiftly dismissed as “ridiculous”.
Iran’s demands reflect the regime’s desire to project defiance after its battering, but also growing resistance within sections of the establishment who oppose returning to negotiations with Trump, who set the nuclear stand-off in motion during his first term by abandoning a 2015 accord Tehran had signed with world powers.
“People are telling me, ‘don’t waste your time any more, don’t be cheated by them’,” Araghchi says.
But the longer there is no diplomatic solution, the greater the risk of another round of conflict, analysts and diplomats say.
“There could be another cycle [of conflict] because the military operations have not resolved anything,” says a western diplomat. “There’s debate about how severely the nuclear facilities have been damaged, but it’s not so damaged that the programme is destroyed.”
Pezeshkian, who became Iran’s first reformist president in two decades when he was elected last year, has bluntly articulated the regime’s dilemmas.
At the end of last month, he said the government was “badly stuck”, lamenting that his administration has been plagued by one disaster after another.
“As soon as we reach some stability, the “next [disaster] comes.”
Ten days later, he alluded to pressure from hardliners opposed to talks with the US.
“You don’t want to negotiate? Fine. What will you do instead? You want to fight?” he told a gathering of Iranian media. “They [Israel and the US] hit us; if we rebuild [the nuclear sites], they will hit us again. Someone should say what to do. These aren’t issues to be tackled emotionally.” – Financial Times
