Editor’s Note: Mohammad Mazhari is a Ph.D. student in sociology at Texas Woman’s University. He previously served as editor-in-chief of the Arabic desk at Mehr News Agency (2013–2020) and worked as a journalist for the Tehran Times from 2020 to 2021. He has written for Stimson in the past on the impact of domestic politics on Iranian foreign policy.
By Barbara Slavin, Distinguished Fellow, Middle East Perspectives Project
The 12-day war between Iran and Israel may prove to have been more than just another violent flashpoint in the Middle East. For Iran, the conflict has exposed profound internal shifts that go beyond military strategy or regional alliances. While the Islamic Republic remains structurally intact, its ideological foundations—long anchored in revolutionary Islamism—are showing significant cracks. A new narrative, rooted less in religion and more in nationalism, is gaining ground.
Many analysts focus on the political causes and consequences of the war, which the U.S. joined in its latter phase, including some who thought the attacks could trigger a “Syrian scenario” in which devastating blows from outside combined with internal unrest to cause the regime’s collapse. Others, including well-known Iranian American author Vali Nasr, argued that Israel was not pursuing “regime change” so much as “state collapse.”
Yet Iran’s political structure, for all its fragility, has not collapsed. What has been shaken instead is the ideological scaffolding that has supported the regime since 1979. For decades, the Islamic Republic has defined itself through a revolutionary Shi’ite identity. Iran has framed both domestic repression and foreign policy as a sacred struggle against Western hegemony and Zionism. However, recent social movements, as well as the latest war and the collapse of many of Iran’s Arab partners, have illuminated a profound disconnect between this ideological narrative and the sentiments of ordinary Iranians.
This shift was visible long before the latest conflict. The ‘Women, Life, Freedom’ Movement of 2022, which erupted following the death of a young Kurdish woman in the custody of the so-called morality police, revealed the growing rejection of state-imposed religious norms, particularly among young women. The quiet defiance of mandatory hijab laws has persisted in Tehran and other major cities despite intensified harassment and threats of prosecution. The government’s Hijab and Chastity Bill, intended to codify stricter penalties, has been stalled by the Supreme National Security Council amid fears that enforcement could trigger widespread unrest. On July 30, the government withdrew another controversial bill that would have criminalized the posting of anti-government content on the internet. Society is moving in a direction the state can no longer fully control.
The situation is in stark contrast to the 1980-88 Iran-Iraq War, when the fledgling Islamic Republic leaned heavily on Shi’ite memes, casting fallen soldiers as modern-day martyrs alongside Imam Hussein, the seventh-century hero who perished at Karbala. The state’s religious narrative was critical in rallying a population already weary from post-revolutionary instability and factional conflict.
Indeed, the war started by Iraq served to consolidate the clerical regime’s hold over public sentiment, marginalizing secular and nationalist factions. The narrative of “sacred defense” became the regime’s ideological lifeline. Four decades later, however, the emotional resonance of that language has waned, particularly among the younger generation.
Israel’s attack on Iran unleashed a force long buried under the weight of the Islamic Republic’s pan-Islamic ideological obsessions: Iranian nationalism. In the days following the strikes, cities such as Tehran and Shiraz saw a rise in murals and posters adorned with pre-Islamic national symbols, from Arash the Archer to images of ancient kings. Even more telling, some supporters of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei began circulating comparisons between him and Achaemenid kings —despite the fact that Khamenei himself had previously dismissed Iranian antiquity as a “delusion.”
This resurgence of nationalism was not limited to secular circles. It found its way even into religious rituals and elegies. In a highly symbolic moment, Khamenei personally asked a state-approved Eulogist of the Prophet Muhammad’s Household to recite a patriotic poem—laced with national themes—during a religious ceremony marking Ashura, the most important day in the Shi’ite religious calendar.
Iranian American analyst Mohsen Milani highlighted this on X, referring to the nationalist hero Mohammad Mossadegh, overthrown in a CIA-backed 1953 coup:
“Mossadegh was the hero of secular nationalism; and today, with the nationalization of Muharram and Ashura in Iran, we are witnessing the first signs of a Shi’a-centered nationalism. In post-war Iran, could secular nationalism and Shi’a-centered nationalism unite to open a new chapter?”
The pan-Islamist eschatology long promoted by the Islamic Republic—an ideological vision in which Iran leads a final apocalyptic battle against Israel, uniting the Muslim world under its banner—has been deeply challenged by the war. For years, state propaganda projected a grand finale: Iran would lead the charge, Arab and Muslim nations would rally behind it, and Ayatollah Khamenei would one day lead prayers of victory at Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem.
But the war revealed significant limitations to that vision. Iran stood utterly alone. There was no real Arab solidarity, no tangible support from Russia, China, or even Iran’s supposed allies in the Islamic world. The dream of transnational Islamic unity was laid bare as a fantasy.
At the same time, Iranians made it clear that they are not waiting for American or Israeli soldiers to liberate Tehran.
In one viral video, a child standing in a Tehran metro spontaneously led a chant against the United States, igniting a wave of anti-American slogans from fellow passengers. It was a revealing moment: Iran is not Syria, nor is it Iraq. And Donald Trump has no appetite to play the imperial savior in the Middle East.
Yet, beneath the apparent political stasis, a social transformation is accelerating. The Islamic Republic remains rigid, but the momentum of societal change—ignited by protest movements and now accelerated by external threats—may force the regime to shift. In the face of growing external pressure, the government may have no choice but to offer more concessions to its own people in order to preserve internal unity.
In a notable statement following the Israel–Iran conflict, Ali Akbar Velayati, senior advisor to the Supreme Leader, posted on X:
“National cohesion, as emphasized by the Supreme Leader, may now require changes in the state’s social approach and prioritizing the people’s satisfaction in tangible ways. The people have proven themselves—it is now the authorities’ turn. Expired methods will no longer meet the needs of post-war society.”
Meanwhile, Mohsen Hesam Mazaheri, an Iranian researcher on Shi’ism and Islamic rituals, reflected on the shifting cultural meanings of martyrdom in postwar Iran. He highlighted a thread emphasizing the evolving sociopolitical identity of those honored with the term. During the Iran–Iraq War, he noted, the martyr archetype was sharply defined as male, young, and religious from rural or lower-class backgrounds with visibly pious appearances, older bearded men or veiled women. During the 12-day war, however, martyrs were publicly recognized from a wide range of backgrounds: veiled and unveiled, religious and secular, supporters and critics of the regime. Martyrdom was now shaped by national loss, not sectarian virtue.
It is precisely this synthesis of identities that the late U.S. national security adviser Zbigniew Brzezinski reflected in a 2011 interview at the Center for Strategic and International Studies. In that conversation, he advised U.S. policymakers to avoid policies that might fuse Iranian fundamentalism with nationalism, cautioning that such a combination would prolong the regime’s resilience and complicate prospects for long-term democratic change.
Israel’s missile and drone attacks may have done just that: fused the religious and the national into a shared narrative of victimhood, survival, and unity. The question now is whether this official recognition of pre-Islamic and civic nationalism will translate into meaningful shifts in policy and governance.
The regime faces mounting pressure to revisit its entrenched social controls, from the strict enforcement of compulsory veiling and politically motivated job discrimination to the censorship of music and female performers, as well as tight restrictions on public concerts, independent journalism, and open criticism of the state.
Whether the regime views this moment as an existential threat or an opportunity for renewal remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the war with Israel did not just redraw military lines—it redrew the boundaries of the political imagination of Iranian society.
After the War, Iranians Demand a New Social Contract
By Mohammad Mazhari
Middle East & North Africa
Editor’s Note: Mohammad Mazhari is a Ph.D. student in sociology at Texas Woman’s University. He previously served as editor-in-chief of the Arabic desk at Mehr News Agency (2013–2020) and worked as a journalist for the Tehran Times from 2020 to 2021. He has written for Stimson in the past on the impact of domestic politics on Iranian foreign policy.
By Barbara Slavin, Distinguished Fellow, Middle East Perspectives Project
The 12-day war between Iran and Israel may prove to have been more than just another violent flashpoint in the Middle East. For Iran, the conflict has exposed profound internal shifts that go beyond military strategy or regional alliances. While the Islamic Republic remains structurally intact, its ideological foundations—long anchored in revolutionary Islamism—are showing significant cracks. A new narrative, rooted less in religion and more in nationalism, is gaining ground.
Many analysts focus on the political causes and consequences of the war, which the U.S. joined in its latter phase, including some who thought the attacks could trigger a “Syrian scenario” in which devastating blows from outside combined with internal unrest to cause the regime’s collapse. Others, including well-known Iranian American author Vali Nasr, argued that Israel was not pursuing “regime change” so much as “state collapse.”
Yet Iran’s political structure, for all its fragility, has not collapsed. What has been shaken instead is the ideological scaffolding that has supported the regime since 1979. For decades, the Islamic Republic has defined itself through a revolutionary Shi’ite identity. Iran has framed both domestic repression and foreign policy as a sacred struggle against Western hegemony and Zionism. However, recent social movements, as well as the latest war and the collapse of many of Iran’s Arab partners, have illuminated a profound disconnect between this ideological narrative and the sentiments of ordinary Iranians.
This shift was visible long before the latest conflict. The ‘Women, Life, Freedom’ Movement of 2022, which erupted following the death of a young Kurdish woman in the custody of the so-called morality police, revealed the growing rejection of state-imposed religious norms, particularly among young women. The quiet defiance of mandatory hijab laws has persisted in Tehran and other major cities despite intensified harassment and threats of prosecution. The government’s Hijab and Chastity Bill, intended to codify stricter penalties, has been stalled by the Supreme National Security Council amid fears that enforcement could trigger widespread unrest. On July 30, the government withdrew another controversial bill that would have criminalized the posting of anti-government content on the internet. Society is moving in a direction the state can no longer fully control.
The situation is in stark contrast to the 1980-88 Iran-Iraq War, when the fledgling Islamic Republic leaned heavily on Shi’ite memes, casting fallen soldiers as modern-day martyrs alongside Imam Hussein, the seventh-century hero who perished at Karbala. The state’s religious narrative was critical in rallying a population already weary from post-revolutionary instability and factional conflict.
Indeed, the war started by Iraq served to consolidate the clerical regime’s hold over public sentiment, marginalizing secular and nationalist factions. The narrative of “sacred defense” became the regime’s ideological lifeline. Four decades later, however, the emotional resonance of that language has waned, particularly among the younger generation.
Israel’s attack on Iran unleashed a force long buried under the weight of the Islamic Republic’s pan-Islamic ideological obsessions: Iranian nationalism. In the days following the strikes, cities such as Tehran and Shiraz saw a rise in murals and posters adorned with pre-Islamic national symbols, from Arash the Archer to images of ancient kings. Even more telling, some supporters of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei began circulating comparisons between him and Achaemenid kings —despite the fact that Khamenei himself had previously dismissed Iranian antiquity as a “delusion.”
This resurgence of nationalism was not limited to secular circles. It found its way even into religious rituals and elegies. In a highly symbolic moment, Khamenei personally asked a state-approved Eulogist of the Prophet Muhammad’s Household to recite a patriotic poem—laced with national themes—during a religious ceremony marking Ashura, the most important day in the Shi’ite religious calendar.
Iranian American analyst Mohsen Milani highlighted this on X, referring to the nationalist hero Mohammad Mossadegh, overthrown in a CIA-backed 1953 coup:
“Mossadegh was the hero of secular nationalism; and today, with the nationalization of Muharram and Ashura in Iran, we are witnessing the first signs of a Shi’a-centered nationalism. In post-war Iran, could secular nationalism and Shi’a-centered nationalism unite to open a new chapter?”
The pan-Islamist eschatology long promoted by the Islamic Republic—an ideological vision in which Iran leads a final apocalyptic battle against Israel, uniting the Muslim world under its banner—has been deeply challenged by the war. For years, state propaganda projected a grand finale: Iran would lead the charge, Arab and Muslim nations would rally behind it, and Ayatollah Khamenei would one day lead prayers of victory at Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem.
But the war revealed significant limitations to that vision. Iran stood utterly alone. There was no real Arab solidarity, no tangible support from Russia, China, or even Iran’s supposed allies in the Islamic world. The dream of transnational Islamic unity was laid bare as a fantasy.
At the same time, Iranians made it clear that they are not waiting for American or Israeli soldiers to liberate Tehran.
In one viral video, a child standing in a Tehran metro spontaneously led a chant against the United States, igniting a wave of anti-American slogans from fellow passengers. It was a revealing moment: Iran is not Syria, nor is it Iraq. And Donald Trump has no appetite to play the imperial savior in the Middle East.
Yet, beneath the apparent political stasis, a social transformation is accelerating. The Islamic Republic remains rigid, but the momentum of societal change—ignited by protest movements and now accelerated by external threats—may force the regime to shift. In the face of growing external pressure, the government may have no choice but to offer more concessions to its own people in order to preserve internal unity.
In a notable statement following the Israel–Iran conflict, Ali Akbar Velayati, senior advisor to the Supreme Leader, posted on X:
“National cohesion, as emphasized by the Supreme Leader, may now require changes in the state’s social approach and prioritizing the people’s satisfaction in tangible ways. The people have proven themselves—it is now the authorities’ turn. Expired methods will no longer meet the needs of post-war society.”
Meanwhile, Mohsen Hesam Mazaheri, an Iranian researcher on Shi’ism and Islamic rituals, reflected on the shifting cultural meanings of martyrdom in postwar Iran. He highlighted a thread emphasizing the evolving sociopolitical identity of those honored with the term. During the Iran–Iraq War, he noted, the martyr archetype was sharply defined as male, young, and religious from rural or lower-class backgrounds with visibly pious appearances, older bearded men or veiled women. During the 12-day war, however, martyrs were publicly recognized from a wide range of backgrounds: veiled and unveiled, religious and secular, supporters and critics of the regime. Martyrdom was now shaped by national loss, not sectarian virtue.
It is precisely this synthesis of identities that the late U.S. national security adviser Zbigniew Brzezinski reflected in a 2011 interview at the Center for Strategic and International Studies. In that conversation, he advised U.S. policymakers to avoid policies that might fuse Iranian fundamentalism with nationalism, cautioning that such a combination would prolong the regime’s resilience and complicate prospects for long-term democratic change.
Israel’s missile and drone attacks may have done just that: fused the religious and the national into a shared narrative of victimhood, survival, and unity. The question now is whether this official recognition of pre-Islamic and civic nationalism will translate into meaningful shifts in policy and governance.
The regime faces mounting pressure to revisit its entrenched social controls, from the strict enforcement of compulsory veiling and politically motivated job discrimination to the censorship of music and female performers, as well as tight restrictions on public concerts, independent journalism, and open criticism of the state.
Whether the regime views this moment as an existential threat or an opportunity for renewal remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the war with Israel did not just redraw military lines—it redrew the boundaries of the political imagination of Iranian society.
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