What is being experienced in Iran today is not a crisis of regime, but a cracking of a state ontology. This crack is not merely a fracture created by palaces, mullahs, generals, or foreign intervention plans. It is deeper, older, and more rooted. What is cracking is the very way the state has established itself throughout history as a transcendent subject that speaks before society, above society, and on behalf of society.

​When this ontology dissolves, it is not just an apparatus of power that is shaken. The very ideas of history, legitimacy, and order are displaced. To say “Neither the Mullah Regime, Nor the Shah, Nor the US-Israel” is therefore not an act of neutrality, but an ontological rebellion. This sentence does not merely reject a choice between states; it targets the state-centered political imagination itself.

​The theocratic structure in Iran is not merely a religious regime. The Islamic Republic of Iran does not present itself as an ordinary power. It establishes itself as a historical necessity, a divine order, and a national destiny. Therefore, political obedience here becomes not just a legal obligation, but an ontological one. The state exists not to receive consent from the people, but to reproduce the people within its own regime of meaning.

​Sovereignty is derived not from election, but from transcendence. The figure embodied in this transcendence is not an ordinary politician, but a representative of truth. Ali Khamenei, or Ruhollah Khomeini before him, were not merely rulers. They were the theological body of the state. When this body is criticized, it is not just a leader who is questioned, but the metaphysics of the order.

​However, this ontology did not begin with the Islamic Republic. During the era of Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, the state also established itself as the mandatory engine of modernization. The monarchy argued that centralization was inevitable in order to overcome the nation’s backwardness. Thus, the state spoke not to liberate the people, but to transform them.

​There were ideological differences between the two periods. But what was common was the non-recognition of society as the constituent subject. The state always came before society. Society was able to exist only to the extent that it conformed to the state’s project.

​This continuity is the deepest structural reality of Iranian history. Forms of power changed, dynasties collapsed, revolutions occurred. But the way the state established itself as a transcendent necessity did not change. The state was never the product of a social contract. It functioned always as a destiny placed before society. For this reason, regime changes in Iran are often not changes of state. 

1979 is the most striking example of this. When the streets filled, when neighborhood committees were established, when workers took over factories, history opened another possibility for a brief moment. But this possibility could not become institutionalized. The revolution did not produce a stateless political form. The power vacuum was filled by cadres representing the state reflex. The mullahs did not create the revolution. They filled the void that the revolution failed to build.

​Here, the historical responsibility of the left is revealed. The left confused the overthrow of the monarchy with the overcoming of the state. It was assumed that freedom would come spontaneously with the fall of the Shah. However, the state is not a dynasty, but a logic of power. As long as this logic is not shattered, who manages it is secondary. 

The discourse of anti-imperialism became the ideological armor of this blindness. Anti-USA sentiment rendered domestic domination invisible. Imperialism was read only as foreign intervention. Internal hierarchy and patriarchal domination were subordinated. Thus, the left, without realizing it, became articulated into the state’s regime of meaning.

​Today, saying “Neither the Mullah Regime, Nor the Shah, Nor the US-Israel” is precisely the rejection of this historical error. Because imperial intervention and theocratic authoritarianism are not alternatives to one another. They are oppositions that feed each other. The external threat justifies internal pressure.

Internal pressure produces the justification for external intervention. Calls for monarchical restoration consist of nothing more than re-establishing this cycle with another symbol. The nostalgia for the Shah calls back the transcendence of the state. The bombardment that comes with the promise of democracy derives sovereignty not from the people, but from global strategy. All three suspend the subjectification capacity of society.

​The real fracture was revealed in the resistance led by women. The state’s most intense area of domination became the body. The discipline established over the body is the micro-physics of the political order. Mandatory veiling is not just a matter of clothing. It symbolizes the state’s authority to define life. The assumption is that when the female body is controlled, society is controlled. But when women physically suspend this control, the ontological claim of the state is shaken. Because power operates not only through force, but through the internalisation of the norm. If the norm dissolves, power becomes alienated.

​Therefore, the resistance led by women is not a demand for reform, but a challenge directed at political ontology. What is demanded here is not a better administration. What is demanded is the questioning of the mode of being governed itself. The state’s monopoly over life is being rejected. This rejection is not a romantic call for chaos. It is embodied through horizontal solidarity networks, neighborhood collectives, and non-state forms of relationship. The political appears no longer as a central will, but as a plural practice of construction.

​Imperial intervention does not strengthen this practice. On the contrary, it chokes it. External attack triggers nationalist consolidation. The state reproduces legitimacy once again through the discourse of “national defense.” The distance between society and the state closes. Thus, the possibility of liberation melts away within security paranoia.

​For this reason, opposing imperialism is not defending the regime. On the contrary, it is protecting the society’s own capacity for transformation. Likewise, opposing the regime is not justifying imperial intervention. The radical position is to be able to reject both sides.

​This rejection does not create a vacuum. It opens a new political horizon. Sovereignty is derived not from a transcendent center, but from the immanent relations of life. This is also a break from the classical revolutionary understanding of power. The goal is not to seize the state, but to dismantle the state’s capacity to encompass society. The decentralization of power is the condition of freedom. If the revolution establishes a central authority once again, history repeats itself. This is the tragedy of Iran: every moment of fracture has ultimately produced a new center.

​Now the question is: can it be different this time? If “Neither the Mullah Regime, Nor the Shah, Nor the US-Israel” remains only as a slogan, then no. But if this expression shifts the center of political imagination from the state to society, then yes. For this, the left must also transform its own ontology. A left that does not abandon the desire to seize the state inadvertently reproduces the state logic. Freedom cannot be established with another version of centralization. Freedom is the practice of decentralization.

​Therefore, the radical attitude is to establish the triple rejection not strategically, but as a matter of principle. Neither alongside the theocratic state, nor in the dream of monarchical restoration, nor in the shadow of imperial bombardment. The side is not the states, but life itself. This life can be organized, defended, and expanded within solidarity. But it can only be liberated to the degree that it rejects the transcendence of the state.

​The crack opened in Iran today is not a definitive victory, but it is an irreversible question. The state may still be strong. But it is no longer convincing. And when power loses its credibility, history opens a new door. To pass through that door is not to rebuild the state, but to overcome the idea of the state itself.

​The state is not just an administrative apparatus. It is a regime of being. It is an ontological matrix that determines how people relate to one another, what is possible and what is impossible, which lives are valuable and which lives are expendable. Without deconstructing this matrix, any political transformation remains on the surface.

​What is breaking in Iran today is precisely this matrix. Because the state is now being questioned not only as a force that applies pressure, but as a center that produces meaning. When the capacity to produce meaning weakens, force alone is not enough.

​Although the relationship between Theocracy and Imperialism appears to be an opposition on the surface, it is structurally symmetrical. Theocracy establishes sovereignty through divine representation. Imperialism through the rhetoric of global order and security. But in both cases, the people are not the decision-makers, but the objects of the decision. One speaks in the name of the “ummah,” the other in the name of “stability.” In both, the social subject is suspended. For this reason, even if imperial intervention aims to overthrow the theocratic state, it reproduces its ontological logic: sovereignty comes from above. The people are a being to be saved or disciplined.

​Seeing this symmetry is the starting point of radical politics. Because often leftist movements oscillate between these two poles. They either take a stand behind the regime against foreign intervention or open space for foreign intervention against the regime. In both cases, state-centered thought is not abandoned. Whereas the real issue is not which state will prevail, but the questioning of the state form itself. If the state remains a transcendent center that constantly represents society, the hierarchy continues even if the flag changes.

​The metaphysics of the state is built upon the idea of “necessity.” It is said that without the state there will be chaos, that without central authority society will collapse, that without security freedom cannot live. This discourse produces fear. Fear takes the place of consent. In Iran, this fear has been fed by both the threat of external enemies and the paranoia of internal division. Labels such as “separatism,” “terrorism,” and “foreign agent” fortify the state’s regime of meaning. Thus, even when society voices its own autonomous demands, it is pushed into a criminal position.

​But fear has a limit. If the state constantly has to produce crisis, this state of crisis becomes ordinary after a while. A crisis that becomes ordinary loses its capacity to produce fear. This is exactly what is happening in Iran. Crisis is no longer the exception; it has become the norm. And a crisis that has become the norm erodes the state’s discourse of exceptionalism. When people get used to the extraordinary, extraordinary governance loses its legitimacy.

​At this point, the theoretical meaning of the resistance led by women becomes clearer. The state materializes its existence through the domination it establishes over the body. The body is the first laboratory of discipline. Clothing, behavior, public visibility all are micro-mechanisms of the political order. When women suspend these mechanisms, the metaphysics of the state dissolves at a concrete level. Because the state lives not only by law, but by habit. When the habit is broken, the law is stripped bare.

​Here, revolutionary radicalism diverges from the classical strategy of seizing power. Seizing power carries the risk of reproducing the existing center. The state apparatus transforms the subject that enters it. History is full of examples of this. For this reason, radical politics should aim to deepen decentralization rather than seizing the center. This is not an anarchic dissolution, but a political plurality where multiple centers coexist. Horizontality is not merely an organizational preference, but an ontological necessity.

​The idea of monarchical restoration is the clearest reaction against this plurality. The promise of a strong leader, a strong state, order, and stability becomes attractive in moments of social uncertainty. But the price of order is often obedience. The monarchy resacralizes the state with the claim of historical continuity. This sacredness may be secular. But it is still transcendent. The people fall once again into the position of being represented. Yet, a radical break is not possible without questioning the logic of representation.

​Imperial intervention is another form of representation. This time, there are global powers speaking on behalf of the people. Concepts like “democracy,” “human rights,” and “stability” become the cover for military strategy. But foreign intervention does not strengthen the social subject; it passivates it. Because when salvation comes from outside, the internal constituent will weakens. Therefore, the radical leftist position must simultaneously reject both imperial aggression and domestic authoritarianism. This simultaneity is difficult because both sides present themselves as the only alternative. But the real alternative can be established outside of this duality.

​When the ontological superiority of the state is dissolved, politics is redefined. Politics is no longer the art of governing, but the practice of building together. This practice begins at small scales. In the neighborhood, at the workplace, in the school, on the street. Solidarity networks, collective decision mechanisms, horizontal assemblies. These are not romantic but constituent experiences. As non-state areas expand, the absoluteness of the state narrows. This process may be slow, it may be suppressed, it may retreat. But once experienced, it is not forgotten.

​The most radical aspect of the young generations in Iran is their distance from the state rather than a desire to seize it. This distance is not nihilism, but a new political intuition. This intuition may not yet have gained a theoretical integrity. But it is within the practice. As the gap between the state’s regime of meaning and the society’s experience grows, this intuition strengthens. And this power can go beyond classical revolutionary programs.

​The hardest part of the radical position is accepting uncertainty. A political imagination without a state does not offer definitive guarantees. Questions such as how security will be ensured or how the economic order will be established without a central authority are legitimate. But the guarantee of historical repetition is centralism. The tragedy of Iran is that every crisis has ultimately produced a new center. If a center is not produced this time, a new political form may be possible.

​“Neither the Mullah Regime, Nor the Shah, Nor the US-Israel” is therefore not just a negative slogan. Negativity here is constituent. Rejection opens space. The triple rejection leaves society alone with its own constituent capacity. This is risky. But there is no other way to freedom. Until the metaphysics of the state is shattered, freedom is always postponed.

​Now the issue is to make this ontological break sustainable. If the resistance remains only as a reaction, the state will regroup. But if the resistance transforms into a constituent practice, the transcendence of the state will not return. This is a long struggle. And this struggle is not a choice between states, but a choice between modes of existence.

​The issue is no longer just diagnosis, but a constituent orientation. Because if the triple rejection is not linked to a constituent line, it remains a historical gesture, and the state ontology returns in another guise. When we say “Neither the Mullah Regime, Nor the Shah, Nor the US-Israel,” we are actually rejecting not three separate political forms, but three appearances of a single logic of sovereignty. The transcendent center, the monopoly of representation, and the ideology of necessity. 

This rejection does not force us into a vacuum but forces us to rethink the source of sovereignty. If sovereignty does not belong to the state, to whom does it belong? If order cannot be established without a central authority, how will we explain all the non-state forms of solidarity that have existed until today? If security can only be provided by a military apparatus, why do the most militarized regimes have the most fragile social structures?

​Radical politics begins right here: by seeing everything presented as a necessity as a historical construction.

​In the example of Iran, the state, whether in monarchical or theocratic form, established itself as the necessary carrier of historical continuity. The state existed, and society had to adapt to it. Because the revolution could not reverse this priority relationship, it could not overcome the state. The opportunity now opening up is a political horizon where the state does not come before society. 

This horizon aims not for a change of power in the classical sense, but for the distribution of power. To neutralize the center instead of seizing it, to horizontalize the hierarchy instead of taking it over, to build directly instead of representing. This requires the concept of revolution to be rethought as well. Revolution is no longer storming the gates of the palace, but making the redundancy of the palace visible within social practice.

​At this point, the position of the world left is decisive. The left has historically fallen into two great errors: first, the error that seizing the state apparatus is equivalent to freedom. And second, the error of tolerating domestic authoritarianism against imperialism. These two errors are fed from the same root: the assumption that the state is necessary. If the state is necessary, the issue is reduced to who manages it.

​However, the radical line questions the necessity of the state. This questioning does not mean an abstract theoretical position, but a concrete political stance. To clearly oppose an intervention centered on the US or Israel, but at the same time not to line up behind domestic authoritarianism, not to give credit to calls for monarchical restoration, and to defend the self-organization experiences of the people.

​This simultaneity is difficult because geopolitical language wants to divide everything in two. But the revolutionary attitude is precisely to reject this division into two.

​In terms of the Kurdistan Freedom Movement and the Revolutionary Movement of Turkey, this is an even more vital issue. Because in this geography, the state worked not only as an administrative apparatus but as a constituent power shaping national identity. When the critique of the state remains superficial, the struggle for freedom easily enters the risk of a new centralization. 

However, the horizontal organization practices, collective defense, and solidarity networks developed under the leadership of women have shown that non-state political areas are possible. These experiences are not only a regional strategy but a laboratory for post-state politics. If these laboratory experiences are not expanded and are reduced only to military or diplomatic balances, the historical opportunity will be wasted.

​The ultra-radical position must rely on a few principles programmatically. First, the direct constituent power of the people as the source of sovereignty—that is, a political structure that minimizes the chain of representation and localizes and pluralizes decision-making processes. Second, the shattering of the gendered structure of power. Because until the patriarchal hierarchy is dissolved, the state ontology is not dissolved. Women’s freedom here is not a matter of “rights,” but the center of the reconstitution of the political structure. 

Third, the dismantling of economic centralism. Because the concentration of capital reproduces political centralism. Fourth, the military apparatus ceasing to be a caste separate from society. The evolution of defense into a form open to social control, rather than being delegated to a professional class. Fifth, the definition of national identity not as a singular essence, but as a plural practice of living together.

​These principles cannot be fully realized within the classical state form. Therefore, the transition period will be critical. While the radical line risks conflict with the existing state, it must simultaneously build alternative institutions. Dual power situations are historically short-lived. Either the center wins, or the center dissolves.

​If alternative institutions do not deepen sufficiently, the center will regroup. This is what happened in Iran in the past. Now the lesson is clear: self-organization should not be a temporary tool, but a permanent foundation. Neighborhood assemblies, workers’ councils, women’s collectives, youth networks these should be thought of not as kernels of moments of crisis, but as the core of the new society.

​On the international level, Internationalism must be redefined. Internationalism is not the diplomatic alliance of states. It is the direct solidarity of peoples. The bond between the people’s movement in Iran and the movements in Turkey, Kurdistan, Palestine, or another geography must be established through grassroots organizations, not through governments. Such a network renders both imperial intervention and domestic authoritarianism illegitimate. Because legitimacy is no longer produced from above, but from below.

​The risk here is great. When the state ontology dissolves, the possibility of chaos arises. But the fear of chaos is often the excuse for postponing freedom. The way to prevent chaos is not to strengthen the center, but to deepen social bonds. The stronger the solidarity networks are, the more redundant the center becomes. This process is painful. Regressions may occur. Pressure may increase. But once the ontological threshold is crossed, the return is never complete. Even if the state becomes strong again, it is no longer sacred.

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Ultimately, “Neither the Mullah Regime, Nor the Shah, Nor the US-Israel” is not a policy of balance, but a politics of break. This break is not neutrality, but the courage to position oneself outside the game between states. This courage demands not only criticism but constituent practice. If constituent practice develops, the crack opened in Iran could be the beginning of a regional transformation. If it does not develop, history will close once again with a centralist restoration.

​For the radical left, the task is clear: Not to legitimize the authoritarian state while opposing imperial aggression; not to open space for imperial intervention while opposing the authoritarian state; and to reject not only the past but also the centralist future while opposing monarchical nostalgia.

​To place women’s freedom and horizontal organization at the center of the political program. To take sovereignty from the state and return it to social relations. This may seem difficult and dangerous in the short term. But in the long term, it is the only consistent revolutionary position.

​States can be destroyed, rebuilt, flags can change. But if the idea of sovereignty does not change, domination persists. Therefore, the real revolution is to change the place of sovereignty. From the state to the society. From transcendence to immanence. From representation to direct construction. If this displacement occurs, the triple rejection will not be a historical moment, but the beginning of a new era. If it does not occur, the slogan remains and the center returns.

​The choice is no longer between states, but between ontologies. And this choice cannot be postponed