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Last night, the United States launched precision airstrikes on Iran’s nuclear sites, targeting facilities long suspected of fueling both a weapons program and a strategy of regional domination. The strikes marked a dramatic shift in U.S. policy—a direct hit on the core of Iran’s power projection and a possible turning point in a conflict that has been smoldering for five decades.
To understand how we got here—how the Islamic Republic of Iran went from a revolutionary theocracy in 1979 to the nerve center of a vast proxy terror network today—we must revisit the regime’s origins, its ideological mission, and the decades of bloodshed left in its wake. From Lebanon to Iraq, from Gaza to Yemen, and now to its own doorstep, Iran has built an empire in the shadows. And last night, the shadow was struck by fire.
Iran Before the Revolution
Before the black flags, the chants of “Death to America,” and the global network of proxy militias, Iran was ruled by a monarch who envisioned his nation as a modern, Western-aligned powerhouse. Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi led a kingdom at the crossroads of tradition and transformation. Rising to power after World War II, the Shah positioned Iran as a staunch ally of the United States during the Cold War. American and European investors flooded in, oil revenue soared, and Iran appeared—on the surface—to be a rising star in a volatile region.
Determined to drag Iran into the modern world, the Shah launched the White Revolution in the 1960s—a set of sweeping reforms that included land redistribution, expanded voting rights for women, secular education, and ambitious industrialization projects. The goal was to break the grip of the landed aristocracy and the religious establishment, bringing Iran into the twentieth century as a progressive, secular state. These reforms were popular with urban elites and technocrats, but they also created deep rifts across Iranian society.
For many traditionalists and rural communities, the Shah's Westernization campaign felt like a betrayal of Iranian culture and Islamic identity. The reforms challenged clerical authority and displaced many from ancestral lands. Compounding this was the regime’s authoritarian nature: dissent was not tolerated. SAVAK, the Shah's feared secret police, operated with ruthless efficiency—monitoring citizens, torturing political opponents, and silencing any voice of resistance. The political opposition became fragmented and radicalized: Marxists, nationalists, and Islamists all found common cause in their opposition to the crown.
Fueling further unrest was the memory of the 1953 coup, when the Shah—backed by American and British intelligence—overthrew the democratically elected Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh. Mossadegh had moved to nationalize Iran's oil industry, angering Western powers. For many Iranians, this coup confirmed that the Shah was a foreign-installed puppet, more concerned with pleasing Washington and London than serving his own people. Over the next two decades, that narrative hardened into rage.
As this discontent simmered, one man in exile became the voice of the revolution. Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, a radical Shiite cleric forced out of Iran for opposing the Shah’s reforms, began sending recorded sermons back into the country. These speeches—smuggled on cassette tapes—were distributed through mosques and marketplaces, calling on the faithful to rise against tyranny and build an Islamic government based on religious law. Khomeini’s message resonated deeply, especially among the poor, the devout, and those who had lost faith in secular promises.
By the late 1970s, Iran was boiling. Massive protests swept through the streets, paralyzing the government and overwhelming the security forces. The army began to fracture, and the Shah, weakened by illness and isolated from his people, fled the country in January 1979. Just weeks later, Khomeini returned from exile to a hero’s welcome—and a revolution that would upend not just Iran, but the entire Middle East.
The 1979 Islamic Revolution
The return of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini to Tehran in February 1979 marked the beginning of a new era—not just for Iran, but for the balance of power in the Middle East. Greeted by millions, Khomeini stepped off the plane from Paris into a nation already in the grip of revolutionary euphoria. The Shah was gone. The monarchy had collapsed. What came next was something the world had not seen in modern times: a state founded on militant Shiite Islam, with clerics in charge of both mosque and military.
Khomeini wasted no time. He declared the creation of the Islamic Republic of Iran, placing ultimate authority in the hands of the Supreme Leader—a position he claimed for himself. Iran's constitution was rewritten to reflect Shiite theocratic principles. Elections would exist, but power flowed through the Guardian Council and the Supreme Leader, not the people. Revolutionary courts purged the Shah’s remaining allies, silenced opposition voices, and executed perceived traitors. Secular leftists and moderate nationalists who had helped topple the Shah were now sidelined—or eliminated.
But Khomeini’s revolution was never meant to stop at Iran’s borders. He openly called for the overthrow of secular Arab regimes and the export of Islamic revolution across the Muslim world. The West, particularly the United States, was labeled the “Great Satan,” and Israel the “Little Satan.” The revolution had ideological as well as strategic goals: to challenge American influence in the region, inspire Islamic uprisings elsewhere, and position Iran as the heart of a new Islamic order.
One of the first major confrontations came later that year, when Iranian students seized the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and took 52 American diplomats hostage. The crisis lasted 444 days and became a symbol of the new regime’s defiance. The embassy takeover wasn’t just an act of protest—it was a calculated move to consolidate power internally and humiliate the United States on the world stage. It worked. Khomeini became a hero to millions of Muslims disillusioned with Western-backed autocracies.
Meanwhile, the new regime began to build the institutions that would enforce its vision at home and export it abroad. The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) was created as a parallel military force, loyal not to the Iranian state, but to the revolution itself. It would become the tool through which Iran exported its ideology, trained proxies, and later—supported terror.
Inside Iran, the early years of the Islamic Republic were marked by purges, repression, and the forced Islamization of daily life. Women were required to wear the hijab. Western music and films were banned. Education, law, and media were reshaped by religious doctrine. Political dissent was crushed, often violently. But for many Iranians, especially the rural and devout, the revolution was empowering—a rejection of foreign domination and a return to Islamic values.
The 1979 revolution was not just a political transition. It was the forging of a new kind of state: one that fused religious extremism with state power, that wielded martyrdom as a weapon, and that viewed global confrontation not as a risk—but as a religious duty. It was this foundational ideology that would guide Iran’s foreign policy for the next five decades—and bring it into deadly conflict with the United States, Israel, and its neighbors.
Iran-Iraq War (1980–1988): A Turning Point
Barely a year after the Islamic Republic was declared, Iran found itself plunged into a brutal, eight-year conflict that would define a generation and reshape its military and ideological outlook. In September 1980, Saddam Hussein’s Iraq invaded Iran, hoping to capitalize on the post-revolution chaos. Backed by several Arab states and tacitly supported by the West, Iraq believed it could crush the fledgling theocracy and assert dominance over the region. What followed was one of the longest and bloodiest wars of the twentieth century.
The Iran-Iraq War was fought in trenches, on minefields, and in cities turned to rubble. Iraq deployed tanks, artillery, and chemical weapons. Iran, caught unprepared, responded with mass mobilization and religious fervor. The regime conscripted young men and even children, urging them to become martyrs in defense of Islam. Teenagers were handed plastic keys symbolizing entry to paradise and sent across minefields to clear paths for soldiers. It was a war fought not just with bullets, but with ideology.
For the Islamic Republic, the war served several strategic purposes. It consolidated internal power by labeling dissenters as traitors. It gave the regime a narrative of heroic resistance. And it birthed institutions that would become pillars of Iran’s security state—chief among them, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). Initially a militia created to protect the revolution, the IRGC transformed during the war into a powerful military, intelligence, and economic force. It gained experience in irregular warfare, covert operations, and asymmetric tactics—skills that would later be exported across the region.
The war also deepened Iran’s sense of isolation. While Saddam was receiving arms, intelligence, and funding from the United States, the Soviet Union, and Gulf monarchies, Iran was largely cut off. This isolation reinforced the regime’s belief that it could rely only on itself—and fueled its determination to build independent defense capabilities, including missiles and, later, nuclear technology. The war also revealed the value of unconventional tools. Iran began developing relationships with Shiite militias in Lebanon, Iraq, and elsewhere, setting the stage for a vast proxy network that would become one of its most powerful weapons.
By 1988, both sides were exhausted. Hundreds of thousands were dead. Cities were in ruins. Economies were broken. Iran accepted a United Nations-brokered ceasefire, but it did not emerge from the war unchanged. The Islamic Republic was now battle-hardened, deeply ideological, and committed to exporting its revolution by any means necessary. The IRGC emerged from the conflict not just as a defender of the homeland, but as the regime’s sword abroad.
More importantly, the war convinced Iran’s leaders that survival required self-sufficiency, deterrence, and a network of allies that could strike its enemies far from its own borders. That doctrine would soon come into focus—first in Lebanon, then in Iraq, and eventually across the entire Middle East.
The Creation and Use of Proxy Militias
The conclusion of the Iran-Iraq War did not bring peace—it marked the beginning of a new phase in Iran’s strategy: exporting the revolution through proxy warfare. The Islamic Republic emerged from the war with a hardened military wing in the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, particularly the Quds Force, its elite expeditionary branch tasked with unconventional operations outside Iran’s borders. With few conventional allies and a deep distrust of international diplomacy, Iran turned to a doctrine that offered deniability, reach, and devastating impact: building, training, and supplying proxy militias across the Middle East.
The cornerstone of this approach was Hezbollah in Lebanon. Formed in the early 1980s with direct support from the IRGC, Hezbollah emerged during the Israeli occupation of southern Lebanon. What began as a resistance movement quickly evolved into a powerful political and military force—deeply loyal to Tehran. Hezbollah carried out the infamous 1983 Beirut barracks bombing, which killed 241 U.S. Marines and 58 French paratroopers. That attack, orchestrated with Iranian training and logistics, marked the arrival of Iran’s proxy strategy on the world stage.
Hezbollah became the blueprint. Over time, Iran applied the same model in other theaters. In the Palestinian territories, Iran funneled weapons and funds to Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad—Sunni groups that shared its hostility toward Israel. In Iraq, following the fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003, Iran capitalized on the power vacuum by backing a constellation of Shiite militias. These included the Badr Organization, Kata'ib Hezbollah, and Asaib Ahl al-Haq—groups that targeted U.S. and coalition forces with deadly effectiveness.
This is where my own story intersects again. During my tours in Iraq, we learned quickly that some of the deadliest attacks weren’t coming from random insurgents, but from Iranian-trained operatives using Iranian-supplied weapons. Chief among them were copper-lined Explosively Formed Penetrators—EFPs—capable of slicing through the armor of a Bradley or a Humvee like it was paper. These weren’t homemade bombs. They were engineered devices, smuggled in from Iran, and used with deadly precision. IEDs are brutal. EFPs are efficient—and unmistakably Iranian.
Iran didn’t just send weapons—it sent doctrine. Quds Force commanders trained fighters in ambush tactics, sniper operations, intelligence gathering, and psychological warfare. Iranian funds paid salaries, supplied arms, and bought political influence. In Yemen, Iran backed the Houthi rebels against the Saudi-led coalition, transforming what was once a local conflict into a regional one. In Syria, Iran propped up Bashar al-Assad with militias and advisors, helping crush opposition forces and preserve a strategic ally.
This network of non-state actors became what Iran called the “Axis of Resistance”—a loose coalition aimed at confronting U.S. presence in the Middle East and opposing Israel. It gave Iran plausible deniability and allowed it to project power far beyond its borders without risking direct military confrontation. Each time one of these groups attacked U.S. interests, Israel, or Sunni Arab rivals, Tehran could shrug and deny involvement—even as its fingerprints were all over the operation.
But this wasn’t just about ideology. Iran’s use of proxies was strategic. With its conventional military weakened by sanctions and international isolation, proxies gave Tehran leverage. These groups could destabilize governments, threaten shipping lanes, or launch rockets without drawing a direct response against Iran itself. They became both sword and shield—offensive tools and deterrents rolled into one.
By the 2010s, Iran’s proxy empire stretched across four countries. Hezbollah controlled southern Lebanon. Iraqi militias held sway in Baghdad. Houthis launched missiles at Riyadh. And Hamas pounded Israel with rockets. The Islamic Republic had become the central node of an asymmetric warfare network with global implications. This was no longer about defending the revolution. It was about shaping the region through manipulation, violence, and terror.
Regional and Global Implications
By the late 2000s and into the 2010s, Iran’s proxy strategy had evolved from a regional tool of influence into a global threat network with real consequences for U.S. interests, Israeli security, and the stability of the Middle East. Iran’s fingerprints appeared in nearly every major conflict across the region. Its network wasn’t just about ideology anymore—it was a hardened apparatus capable of conducting coordinated attacks, suppressing uprisings, threatening global trade routes, and altering the course of civil wars.
One of the most dangerous consequences of this expansion was the blurring of lines between state and non-state actors. Hezbollah in Lebanon is not just a militia; it holds seats in parliament, controls infrastructure, and effectively runs large portions of the country. In Iraq, groups like Kata'ib Hezbollah and Asaib Ahl al-Haq are technically part of the Iraqi state through the Popular Mobilization Forces—yet they report to Iran and have killed American troops. In Yemen, the Houthis have become the de facto government in the north, launching ballistic missiles and drones at Saudi cities and oil fields. Each of these groups has grown stronger not despite Iranian support—but because of it.
This web of militant alliances gave Iran strategic depth. It allowed Tehran to encircle adversaries and project force asymmetrically. If Israel struck Iranian assets, Hezbollah could rain rockets down on northern Israel. If the United States moved against Iranian interests, militias in Iraq could launch mortars at embassy compounds or ambush convoys. Iran’s adversaries began to realize they were fighting not just a country—but a decentralized, coordinated force capable of launching attacks across multiple borders simultaneously.
For the United States, this meant being drawn into long, complex conflicts in which the enemy didn’t wear a uniform and didn’t operate from traditional battlefields. In Iraq and Syria, American troops were repeatedly targeted by militias trained and supplied by Iran. In the Gulf, Iran used proxy forces and its own naval assets to threaten international shipping, including the Strait of Hormuz, through which nearly a fifth of the world’s oil supply passes. In cyberspace, Iran grew increasingly aggressive, launching attacks against U.S. banks, infrastructure, and even election-related systems.
At the diplomatic level, Iran’s actions undermined efforts for peace and stability across the region. While claiming to defend the oppressed, Tehran often backed the most violent actors in any given conflict. Its support for Bashar al-Assad in Syria helped fuel one of the worst humanitarian crises in modern history. Its backing of Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad undercut Palestinian unity and helped ignite multiple wars with Israel. In every case, Iran leveraged violence for influence.
In response, the United States and many of its allies began labeling Iran’s proxies as terrorist organizations. The Quds Force itself was designated a Foreign Terrorist Organization by the U.S. State Department in 2019—the first time a unit of a foreign government’s military received that label. Sanctions followed, targeting Iran’s banking sector, oil exports, and individuals tied to terror finance. Yet even under extreme economic pressure, Iran doubled down on its proxy network, investing in asymmetric capabilities while letting its domestic economy wither.
And still, the regime’s ideological goal remained unchanged: resist the West, destroy Israel, and export the Islamic Revolution. For decades, that strategy appeared to be working. The cost was high, but Iran had successfully extended its influence from the Mediterranean to the Gulf of Aden. And it had done so without directly going to war with a superpower.
That is, until now.
Nuclear Ambitions and Sanctions
While Iran’s proxy empire gave it reach and leverage, its nuclear program offered something more dangerous: deterrence. From the earliest days of the Islamic Republic, Iran’s leaders understood the power of the atom—not just as a weapon of war, but as a tool of geopolitical influence. And after witnessing the fate of Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi, both of whom were overthrown after abandoning or being denied nuclear weapons, Tehran was more convinced than ever that nuclear capability was the ultimate insurance policy for regime survival.
Iran’s nuclear ambitions began in the 1980s but accelerated in the 2000s, prompting international alarm. The regime claimed it was enriching uranium for peaceful energy purposes, but intelligence agencies, including the IAEA and Western governments, identified secret facilities, hidden stockpiles, and military-related research that painted a more ominous picture. The Natanz enrichment site, the Fordow facility buried deep in a mountain, and the Arak heavy water reactor became focal points of global concern.
In response, the international community imposed layers of sanctions. The United Nations, European Union, and United States all targeted Iran’s banking, oil, and shipping sectors. These sanctions devastated Iran’s economy, cut off vital imports, and isolated the country diplomatically. But they also brought Iran to the negotiating table.
In 2015, the Obama administration brokered the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), a landmark agreement between Iran and six world powers. In exchange for sanctions relief, Iran agreed to limits on uranium enrichment, reductions in centrifuges, and rigorous inspections. For a moment, tensions cooled. Iran’s economy opened slightly, and the West hoped the deal would moderate Iran’s behavior.
It didn’t. Iran’s support for terrorist proxies continued. Missile development ramped up. And after President Donald Trump withdrew from the JCPOA in 2018, citing Iran’s malign activities and sunset clauses in the agreement, Tehran returned to enrichment with a vengeance. The so-called “maximum pressure” campaign followed: reimposed sanctions, targeted strikes, and cyber operations against Iran’s nuclear infrastructure.
Despite international pressure, Iran continued to stockpile uranium at higher enrichment levels and install advanced centrifuges. Israeli intelligence and U.S. defense officials warned that Iran was edging closer to a breakout capability—meaning the ability to build a nuclear bomb in a short timeframe. Negotiations to restore the JCPOA floundered, as trust between the parties eroded and Iran hardened its stance.
In 2025, reports emerged that Iran had begun transferring key enrichment equipment to new, undisclosed locations, some hardened against airstrikes, others buried beneath civilian infrastructure. This movement, combined with Iran’s continued proxy aggression—particularly attacks against U.S. forces and Israel—set the stage for escalation.
Then, on the night of June 21st into the early hours of June 22nd, the world changed. In a coordinated operation involving stealth bombers and cruise missiles, the United States struck Iran’s most critical nuclear sites: Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan. The facilities, long viewed as central to Iran’s nuclear program, were severely damaged or destroyed.
President Trump called the operation a "total success," claiming the nuclear program had been “crippled.” Iranian officials downplayed the damage, saying enrichment assets had been relocated and that the attack violated international law. Independent observers noted that, while radiation leaks were not detected, satellite images confirmed large-scale destruction. Fordow’s mountain-shielded centrifuge halls were reportedly collapsed. Natanz was left a cratered shell.
This was not a proxy attack. This was not a cyber strike. This was a direct blow against the core of Iran’s strategic ambition—and a dramatic escalation of a conflict five decades in the making.
The 2025 Escalation: Israel-Iran & U.S. Involvement
The road to last night’s airstrikes didn’t begin in Washington—it began in Jerusalem. In early June 2025, intelligence leaked that Iran had surpassed the sixty percent enrichment threshold at multiple sites and was installing cascades of advanced IR-6 centrifuges. While Tehran claimed its efforts remained peaceful, Israel viewed the move as an existential threat. The Israeli government had long warned that it would not allow Iran to achieve nuclear weapons capability, and with diplomacy failing, Prime Minister Netanyahu’s cabinet made a fateful decision.
On June 13th, Israel launched a series of precision airstrikes against Iranian facilities at Natanz and Arak. The operation was surgical but dramatic—targeting not only infrastructure, but suspected command centers, enrichment halls, and missile development sites. Iran responded with a wave of rhetorical fury and limited retaliatory missile fire on Israeli positions in the Golan Heights and northern Israel. But the world waited to see whether the United States—long Israel’s most powerful ally—would join the fray.
For several days, Washington remained silent. But then, without advance warning, the U.S. initiated what has since been confirmed as “Operation Midnight Hammer.” B-2 stealth bombers from Diego Garcia, cruise missile strikes from the Mediterranean, and cyber operations targeting Iranian air defense systems were launched in a coordinated campaign. Within hours, three of Iran’s most fortified nuclear facilities—Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan—were hit.
Fordow was the crown jewel of Iran’s underground enrichment program, built deep within a mountain to withstand airstrikes. U.S. weapons designers had long debated how to neutralize it. According to Pentagon sources, the site was struck by the GBU-57 Massive Ordnance Penetrator—a twenty-thousand-pound bunker buster designed for exactly this type of mission. Satellite imagery released hours later showed collapsed tunnels, smoke plumes, and a cratered landscape. Natanz, already damaged in 2020 and 2021 by Israeli cyber and explosive sabotage, was rendered inoperable. Isfahan’s fuel fabrication and conversion facilities were also severely impacted.
President Trump addressed the nation that evening, flanked by senior military and intelligence officials. “Iran’s nuclear weapons program is no more,” he declared. “We acted decisively, surgically, and lawfully. The regime has been warned for years. Tonight, the world is safer.”
Iran, for its part, denied that its program had been crippled. Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei appeared publicly for the first time in months, vowing that “revenge will be absolute and on our terms.” The IRGC was placed on full alert. Reports from Baghdad, Damascus, and Beirut suggested that Iranian proxies were being mobilized. Houthis in Yemen launched a series of missiles toward Saudi Arabia in solidarity. In Iraq, mortar fire struck near the U.S. embassy in Baghdad's Green Zone. Hezbollah raised its alert level in southern Lebanon, and Hamas issued a joint statement condemning the “Zionist-American aggression.”
International reaction was swift. Russia condemned the strikes, accusing the U.S. of recklessness. China called for “maximum restraint” and convened an emergency session at the U.N. Security Council. European leaders were divided—some supported the elimination of Iran’s nuclear capability, others warned that the region now stood on the edge of a wider war. Oil markets spiked overnight. Insurance rates for Gulf shipping doubled. Airspace across the region was partially closed.
In just a matter of hours, a five-decade shadow war had moved into the open. For years, Iran had pushed the limits through proxies, threats, and brinkmanship. Last night, those calculations were shattered by kinetic force. What remains now is a dangerous question: what comes next?
Internal Repression and Strategic Leverage
Beneath the chants of revolution and the rhetoric of resistance, the Islamic Republic of Iran has always maintained power through fear, surveillance, and force. While it has projected strength abroad through militias and missiles, its foundation at home has been a deeply entrenched police state—one that has, for over four decades, enforced ideological conformity and crushed opposition with brutal efficiency. No group has borne the weight of this repression more visibly and more consistently than Iran’s women.
From the earliest days of the revolution, the regime made it clear that the rights and freedoms of women would be radically curtailed. One of Ayatollah Khomeini’s first decrees was the mandatory hijab law, which required all women—regardless of faith, age, or personal conviction—to cover their hair in public. Women who once held professional careers, wore Western clothes, and participated freely in civic life suddenly found themselves relegated to second-class status. The revolution that had promised liberation from tyranny quickly became a vehicle for institutionalized gender oppression.
The regime’s control over women’s bodies became a litmus test of ideological loyalty. Dress codes were enforced not just through law, but through intimidation. “Morality police” patrolled the streets, detaining and harassing women whose attire was deemed insufficiently modest. The legal system gave male relatives and clerical judges sweeping power over women’s choices—marriage, divorce, travel, custody, even education. Women could not leave the country without the permission of a husband or father. Testimony in court was worth half that of a man. In a society that once embraced modernity, these were dark steps backward.
And yet, women pushed back. Quietly at first, and then louder. Over the decades, Iranian women became the face of civil resistance. They pursued education in record numbers, dominated university admissions, and filled the ranks of underground feminist movements. They posted videos removing their headscarves. They filmed encounters with abusive police. They risked prison—and worse—for the simple right to choose how they appeared in public.
The regime responded with violence. One of the most glaring examples came in 2022, when a 22-year-old Kurdish-Iranian woman named Mahsa Amini was arrested by morality police for “improper hijab” and died in custody under suspicious circumstances. Her death ignited a nationwide wave of protests, led predominantly by women and girls. Schoolgirls tore off their headscarves in defiance. Crowds chanted “Women, Life, Freedom” in the streets. For a brief moment, it seemed the regime’s hold was slipping.
But it wasn’t. The protests were met with live ammunition, mass arrests, and a digital blackout. At least 500 people were killed. Thousands were detained. Show trials and public executions followed. The regime made clear that any challenge to its authority—especially one led by women—would be met with the full weight of its security apparatus. What began as a movement for bodily autonomy had revealed the deeper truth: that the Islamic Republic feared not just foreign invasion, but domestic awakening.
Beyond gender, the regime’s repression has extended to every aspect of Iranian life. Journalists, artists, academics, religious minorities, and political dissidents have all faced censorship, harassment, and imprisonment. Ethnic minorities—Kurds, Baluchis, Arabs—are subject to systemic discrimination. Intelligence services monitor online activity, intercept private communications, and maintain files on perceived enemies of the state. Even the moderate voices within the government—those who suggest reform, transparency, or negotiation—are sidelined or purged when they pose a threat to the clerical elite.
And yet, even amid all this, the regime continues to claim legitimacy through resistance. It justifies its iron grip by pointing to foreign threats, especially from the United States and Israel. Every missile strike, every sanction, every assassination attempt is used to reinforce the same message: only the Islamic Republic can protect Iran from external domination. This is where its strategic leverage meets its domestic control. By manufacturing perpetual crisis, the regime sustains a siege mentality that excuses its violence at home.
But after more than forty years, that strategy is showing signs of wear. The gap between the rulers and the ruled has never been wider. The regime may survive each wave of protest, but the dissent grows louder with each cycle. The face of that dissent is not always a politician or an exile—it is often a young woman, standing in a crowded square, holding her scarf in her hand.
That is the true threat to the Islamic Republic—not sanctions, not missiles, not even airstrikes. It is the people it governs, and the courage they continue to show.
The Future of the Islamic Republic
The Islamic Republic of Iran now stands at a crossroads—wounded, defiant, and uncertain. The United States has done what it long avoided: bombed nuclear facilities on Iranian soil. For a regime that has built its mythology around resistance and endurance, the coming weeks will be a test not only of capability, but of survival.
Internally, the cracks are deepening. The Iranian people are exhausted. Years of economic hardship, international isolation, and brutal repression have taken their toll. The 2022 protests following the death of Mahsa Amini ignited the largest unrest since the 2009 Green Movement. Though crushed with violence, the discontent never truly faded. A younger, connected generation—raised on filtered internet and unfiltered anger—remains skeptical of the regime’s promises and increasingly immune to its propaganda. The government will almost certainly use the strikes of June 2025 to tighten control, but it will do so over a population more cynical and volatile than ever before.
Within the leadership, generational tensions are rising. The old guard of clerics—those who came to power with Khomeini in 1979—are aging or dying. The IRGC has grown more powerful, more political, and more ambitious. Some fear a creeping military dictatorship cloaked in religious language. Others worry that any change will bring collapse, not reform. The idea of a popular uprising overthrowing the regime seems distant—but so did the Arab Spring. Iran’s internal future is now bound tightly to its external crisis.
Regionally, Tehran’s hand is weaker, but not broken. Its proxy network remains intact. Its influence in Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, and Yemen persists. But the image of invincibility—the belief that Iran could enrich uranium in hardened facilities without consequence—has been shattered. That psychological blow could open the door to diplomacy, or it could drive the regime to escalate through unconventional means. It depends on how the Supreme Leader calculates the costs of pride versus survival.
Internationally, the regime faces a pivotal choice: continue its current trajectory and risk broader conflict, or recalibrate in the face of overwhelming force. China and Russia may offer rhetorical support, but they are unlikely to risk open confrontation with the West over Iran. European nations, long advocates for negotiation, may now shift closer to the U.S. position if Iran retaliates violently. The global consensus on Iran has never been unified, but the stakes have never been higher.
And then there is the nuclear question. Can Iran rebuild? Almost certainly. Do you know if it can do so in secret? Less likely. Will it try? Almost without doubt. The path forward will be shaped by decisions made in the next few weeks—by how Iran chooses to respond, and how the West chooses to prepare for that response.
The Islamic Republic has survived war, sanctions, isolation, and internal rebellion. But it has never faced a moment quite like this—its nuclear ambitions burned, its pride wounded, its enemies emboldened. What comes next will determine not just the fate of Iran but the future stability of the entire Middle East.
Conclusion
Fifty years ago, Iran overthrew a monarch and declared itself the vanguard of the Islamic revolution. It cast off a Western-backed king, replaced secularism with theocracy, and set out to reshape the Middle East through ideology and force. In the decades that followed, it built a parallel foreign policy based on proxy warfare, destabilization, and terror. From the ruins of southern Lebanon to the streets of Baghdad, from the missile bunkers in Yemen to the uranium halls at Natanz, the Islamic Republic left its mark not through diplomacy, but through blood.
I witnessed it firsthand in Iraq. I saw it in the precision of EFPs, in the uniforms of militia fighters trained by the IRGC, in the faces of Americans wounded by weapons made in Iranian factories. Iran’s war was never declared, but it was always real.
And now, the United States has brought that shadow war into the light. These airstrikes marked the most direct blow to the Islamic Republic’s nuclear program in history. They signaled that patience has its limits, and that red lines can still hold meaning. Whether this operation will end in deterrence or escalation remains unknown. But one thing is certain: the era of unchecked Iranian expansion is over.
The question that remains is not whether Iran will retaliate, but how. Will it double down on its role as a regional spoiler, or will it re-evaluate a strategy that has left it isolated, economically strangled, and vulnerable to precision firepower? The future of the Islamic Republic depends on how it answers that question—and how the world responds in kind.
One chapter of this long war has closed in fire and smoke. The next one is already being written.
About the Author:
Dr. Jason Edwards is a retired U.S. Army officer who served for more than 22 years in both peacetime and war. He began his career as an enlisted soldier and Army Ranger before commissioning as a Cavalry and Armor officer. A devoted military historian, Dr. Edwards specializes in World War II but maintains a deep appreciation for every era of military history. He has published dozens of articles, produced multiple podcasts, and considers himself a “book hound” when it comes to uncovering the stories and lessons of the past. Find his books and more at MilitaryAuthor.me