The Streets of Iran Are Burning, and So Is the Myth of Stability
Estimates of the human cost of the unrest vary dramatically; U.S.-based monitors such as HRANA report at least 2,571 people killed, while some outlets and activist networks have cited far higher figures, including claims of around 12,000 deaths.
Iran’s streets have seen this story before, yet each time it unfolds, the emotional toll deepens and the global stakes sharpen. The latest wave of protests, met with live ammunition, internet blackouts and mass arrests, is not merely another episode of domestic unrest. It is the culmination of a long historical arc in which power has repeatedly been secured through force, legitimacy eroded by fear, and the promise of dignity deferred for generations. What is unfolding now feels less like a sudden rupture and more like an exhausted society reaching the limits of endurance.
Iran’s modern trauma is inseparable from foreign intervention and authoritarian consolidation. The 1953 overthrow of Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh, orchestrated by the foreign intelligence, did more than remove a democratically elected leader; it rewired the relationship between state and society. It taught Iranians that sovereignty could be bargained away and that popular will could be crushed with outside help. When the Shah fell in 1979, the revolution promised independence and justice, yet it replaced one form of unaccountable power with another. The Islamic Republic built its legitimacy on resistance to imperialism, but over time that resistance hardened into a security state that treated dissent as treason.
The cost of this trajectory is measurable, not abstract. The Iran–Iraq War alone claimed an estimated 500,000 lives, draining the country’s human capital and militarising politics for a generation. Decades later, sanctions, mismanagement and corruption have hollowed out the economy. Inflation has surged above 40 per cent in recent years, youth unemployment remains stubbornly high, and the national currency has lost the bulk of its value since the collapse of the nuclear deal. These are not just statistics; they are the daily pressures that pushed shopkeepers, students and workers into the streets chanting that their lives mattered more than distant wars in Gaza or Lebanon.
The response has been brutally familiar. Human rights organisations report dozens killed in days, with security forces using military-grade weapons against unarmed crowds. Hospitals have allegedly been raided, bodies removed, and families intimidated into silence. Internet shutdowns have attempted to erase evidence in real time. Such strategies may restore surface calm, but they deepen the legitimacy crisis gnawing at the core of the state. It’s been described as the current unrest as the most serious challenge to Iran’s rulers since the Iran–Iraq War, precisely because it cuts across class, gender and geography.
This is where the regional and global stakes sharpen. Iran today is not an isolated polity; it is a central node in Middle Eastern geopolitics. Its proxies stretch from Lebanon to Yemen, its missiles and nuclear programme sit at the centre of international negotiations, and its internal stability directly affects energy markets and regional security. Yet the reaction of neighbouring states has been conspicuously muted. Gulf capitals, once quick to amplify unrest in rival states, have largely chosen silence. This is less indifference than calculation. A collapsing Iran would not deliver neat strategic gains; it could unleash refugee flows, embolden militias and trigger escalation across multiple fronts.
Significantly, Riyadh and Doha have moved quickly to contain escalation rather than stoke it. Saudi officials have privately and publicly signalled that they will not allow their territory or airspace to be used for strikes on Iran, while Qatar — host to important U.S. facilities — has pushed a public and behind-the-scenes diplomatic line urging restraint and de-escalation. Both capitals have been part of a Gulf effort to persuade Washington to refrain from military action that would risk widening the conflict and undermining regional stability.
Oman stands out as a quiet exception. With a track record that includes facilitating the 2015 nuclear talks and brokering ceasefires in Yemen, Muscat has cultivated a reputation for discreet mediation. Its diplomacy draws on pragmatism rather than grandstanding, and it understands Iran’s political psychology intimately. Whether such behind-the-scenes engagement can temper the current crisis remains uncertain, but it underscores a broader truth: regional actors see containment and de-escalation, not confrontation, as the least bad options.
Western responses have oscillated between condemnation and caution. Joint statements from European capitals urging restraint are morally necessary yet politically thin. Washington’s rhetorical support for protesters’ rights sits alongside an acute awareness of history. The memory of Iraq and Afghanistan looms large, reinforcing the fear that overt intervention would only validate Tehran’s narrative of foreign conspiracy. International law further constrains action. Iran is a signatory to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which it is plainly violating, yet enforcement mechanisms are weak when major powers are divided, and vetoes loom at the UN Security Council.
The contradiction is stark. A state that demands recognition as a responsible regional power simultaneously treats its own citizens as internal enemies. This tension corrodes trust beyond Iran’s borders. It complicates any revival of nuclear diplomacy, fuels scepticism in European parliaments, and reinforces arguments in Washington and Jerusalem that coercion, not engagement, is the only language Tehran understands.
For Australia, which traditionally tries to balance human-rights advocacy with multilateral diplomacy, the crisis is particularly awkward. Canberra has already moved beyond statements: it expelled Iran’s ambassador, suspended its embassy in Tehran and announced steps to list the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps as a terrorist organisation. Those measures respond to acute national-security concerns at home, but they also constrain Australia’s options — making it harder to publicly press for human-rights improvements without being accused of escalation or of stoking Tehran’s siege narrative.
Comparisons offer sobering lessons. Egypt’s 2011 uprising toppled a president but entrenched military rule. Syria’s protests slid into a catastrophic war. Iran’s situation is distinct, yet the pattern is familiar: when regimes rely solely on force, they may survive, but they do so by hollowing out the social contract. Iran’s own history is instructive here. The Constitutional Revolution of the early 20th century briefly established limits on royal power before foreign interference and internal repression snuffed it out. Each failure to institutionalise accountability has left a residue of cynicism that resurfaces in moments like this.
What, then, is left? The language of sovereignty cannot indefinitely justify the killing of citizens. Nor can the language of resistance mask economic decay and political exclusion. International actors, including Australia, should press for independent investigations into the killings, targeted sanctions against those directly responsible, and protection for civil society actors. At the same time, broad punitive measures that worsen humanitarian suffering should be avoided. History shows they strengthen hardliners and fracture societies further.
Invasions have broken this region before, and Iranians know it. That is why the demand rising from Iran’s streets is not for foreign salvation, but for dignity at home. The answer cannot be more bullets. It must be restraint, release, and dialogue—before the social contract collapses beyond repair. The Gulf states, too, face a choice: to remain silent, or to quietly insist—through the OIC or trusted mediation—that Islamic governance cannot be sustained by bloodshed. History will remember who chose stability through courage, and who mistook silence for prudence.
Ultimately, Iran’s future cannot be dictated from outside. The chants heard on its streets make that clear. They speak of reclaiming agency, not inviting occupation. The most constructive role for the international community is to keep the space for that agency open: by documenting abuses, amplifying Iranian voices, and refusing to normalise violence as governance. Stability purchased through blood is illusory. A region already stretched by conflict cannot afford another society pushed past the breaking point.
Iran’s agonising journey is far from over. Whether this chapter becomes another entry in a long ledger of repression or the beginning of a painful recalibration will depend on choices made in Tehran. The world is watching, not with the expectation of easy solutions, but with the understanding that what happens in Iran will reverberate well beyond its borders, shaping the moral and strategic landscape of the Middle East for years to come.
The responsibility for stabilising the neighbourhood now sits with the Gulf itself. The GCC states — with the diplomatic reach, economic levers and proximity to Tehran that others lack — must use every tool short of force to prevent spillover: coordinated mediation, credible humanitarian channels, explicit guarantees against the use of Gulf territory for strikes, and a unified diplomatic message that violence is illegitimate wherever it comes from. If Gulf capitals choose leadership over passivity, they can help preserve regional order without inviting foreign boots on the ground; if they do not, the failure will be theirs to answer for.
The hour for Gulf leadership is not a moment to be deferred — it is a mandate
The Tag Team Fails in Iran
Reprinted from John’s Substack:
The mainstream media in the West is committed to portraying the protests in Iran as strictly an internal affair. The people of Iran, so the argument goes, spontaneously rose up against their government because they were in desperate straits due to their leaders’ corruption and mismanagement of the economy, as well as their oppressive policies. Virtually all the protestors in this story were peaceful, but their protests were met with government violence. Outside forces had little to do with causing the protests.
This interpretation of what happened in Iran is wrong and contradicted by an abundance of evidence. None of this is to deny that there were many peaceful protestors who had legitimate grievances against the government, but that is only part of the story.
If fact, what happened in Iran is an attempt by the Israeli & American tag team to overthrow the government in Tehran and break apart Iran, much the way the US, Turkey, and Israel fractured Syria. The playbook in Iran is one we have seen before. It has four elements.
First, the US has long been working to wreck the Iranian economy with sanctions. Indeed, President Trump redoubled those efforts after moving into the White House last January (2025). His aim was to bring “maximum pressure” to bear on Iran’s economy and he did just that. There is no question that Iran’s leaders mismanaged their economy in certain ways, but Western sanctions did far more damage than government ineptitude. The ultimate goal of the sanctions, of course, is to inflict so much pain and punishment on the Iranian people that they rise up and overthrow their government.
Second, the tag team went to work in late December 2025 to foment and support violent protests that would precipitate a violent government response, which would hopefully set off a spiral of violence that the government could not control. To be more specific, there is clear evidence that Mossad agents were on the ground in Iran and surely there were CIA operatives working alongside them. They worked closely with local agitators — the rioters who were bent on destruction and assassination — to turn the peaceful protests into violent protests, which would then lead the government to turn to violence. There is abundant video footage of the agitators at work.
Moreover, the tag team sent many thousands of Starlink terminals into Iran before the protests began. Should the government shut down the internet and the phone system – as expected – the Starlink terminals would allow the protestors to communicate among themselves and with the outside forces helping them.
Unsurprisingly, Trump was cheering on the protestors, saying on 13 January 2026: “Iranian Patriots, KEEP PROTESTING – TAKE OVER YOUR INSTITUTIONS!!!… HELP IS ON ITS WAY.” Trump’s first CIA director, Mike Pompeo, said on 2 January 2026: “Happy New Year to every Iranian in the streets. Also, to every Mossad agent walking beside them.” And just as the protests were beginning in late December 2025, Mossad sent a message in Farsi to Iranians saying: “Go out together into the streets. The time has come. We are with you. Not only from a distance and verbally. We are with you in the field.”
Third, the Western media played along with the tag team and purveyed the story that the protests were principally a response to the policies of an evil government in Tehran, not because of outside interference. Moreover, the protests were peaceful and it was the government that initiated the violence. Naturally, Israel and the US were portrayed as the good guys. This propaganda was not only designed to win over support for the protests in the West, but also to influence events inside Iran by fostering the narrative that the regime was brutal in the extreme, yet the protestors were destined to topple the government.
Fourth, the US military (and maybe the Israeli military) was primed to attack Iran once the protests had reached critical mass, finishing off the regime and creating chaos in Iran that would hopefully break the country apart.
But the strategy failed, mainly because the Iranian government was able to shut down the protests quickly and decisively. A key element in the government’s success was shutting down Starlink, which made it extremely difficult for the protestors to communicate with each other and the outside world. Once that happened, the protests were doomed and both Prime Minister Netanyahu and Trump understood that the tag team could not use military force to deliver the coup de gras. The Iranian regime had survived.
In short, the tag team’s regime change campaign failed. Israel and the US lost this round to Iran. Of course, the results are unlikely to be portrayed this way in the Israeli or Western media.
These recent events have relevance for the 12-Day war between Iran and the tag team that took place 13-24 June 2025. That conflict is usually portrayed in the West as a great victory for Israel and the US. However, that is not an accurate description of the outcome of that earlier conflict. It was Israel more than Iran that wanted to end the 12-Day war, because Israel was burning through its inventory of defensive missiles while Iran was becoming increasingly adept at using its large inventory of ballistic and cruise missiles to pound Israel. In fact, some argued at the time that Iran should not have agreed to a ceasefire, because it was gaining the upper hand over Israel. That outcome does not look like an Israeli victory to me.
Relatedly, it is apparent from news stories in the West and from Israel itself that Netanyahu asked Trump not to bomb Iran last week (14 January 2026) because he feared that Israel did not have sufficient forces to defend itself from an Iranian counterattack. In other words, Israel is as exposed today to Iran’s missiles as it was when the fighting stopped on 24 June 2025. This is more evidence that Israel did not triumph over Iran in the 12-Day war or in the recent attempt at regime change.
A final point on the 12-Day war. One might argue that although Israel got the short end of the stick in its direct engagement with Iran, the US attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities on 22 June 2025 was a resounding success, which carried the day for both members of the tag team. Trump, after all, claimed that the US military had “completely and totally obliterated” Iran’s nuclear facilities. The Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) disagreed shortly after the attack, assessing that that it had not obliterated Iran’s nuclear program, but instead had set it back by only a few months. Trump and his allies trashed the DIA’s assessment and that was the last we heard from that intelligence organization about the effects of the US strike.
I find it curious that there is virtually no meaningful information in the public record about what the US attack on 22 June 2025 did to Iran’s nuclear infrastructure – especially its installations that enrich uranium – as well as the 400 kilograms of uranium that Iran had enriched to 60 percent. One would think that if everything had been destroyed, as the president claims, the tag team would be advertising that fact and backing up its claims with at least some data. Moreover, one wonders why the tag team is so anxious to attack Iran again if a stunning victory was achieved in the 12-Day war. One also ponders what Iran is doing these days in terms of developing or repairing its nuclear enrichment facilities. These are especially important matters because what the tag team has done to Iran – and is likely to continue doing – gives Iranian leaders a powerful incentive to acquire a nuclear deterrent.
The bottom line is two-fold: 1) the tag team failed to overthrow the regime in Iran, although it surely has not given up on that goal; and 2) there is good reason to think that Israel and the US did not win the12-Day war.
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