The Night the Islamic Republic of Iran Buried Itself

On the night of January 8, under the cover of a nationwide internet blackout, the Iranian state began a massacre of its own citizens. Within days, roughly one in every 4,500 Iranians was killed. As the toll of the arrested and injured continues to rise, one thing is certain: on that first evening, by turning its guns on its people, the Islamic Republic buried itself.

For decades, the regime justified its existence through the logic of a divine mandate. Despite its history of executions and human rights abuses, it clung to a narrative of sacred purpose: it was the vanguard against the West and the architect of a pan-Islamic theocracy. That narrative, however stained, provided a semblance of justification and coherence for its rule.

The events of last week have shattered that illusion. Reports from within Iran describe a public in a state of shock. Citizens have begun referring to their leaders as “zombies”—forces existing entirely outside the tent of the Iranian nation. The government waits for the crisis to pass, hoping that by the time that  internet services are restored, the situation will have quieted down.  This is a delusion. When the videos of the IRGC and its proxies killing civilians flood social media, the full extent of the tragedy will be revealed to the world.

The regime’s external edifice is also collapsing. Its network of regional proxies has disintegrated, and the “Axis of Resistance” stands exposed as a mirage. In Syria, where its support for the status quo contributed to hundreds of thousands of deaths, the “export of revolutionary ideals” has been revealed as mere state-sponsored violence. Most significantly, the people of Iran have rejected the dogma of the Ayatollahs. By massacring them, the regime has not only mutilated its own fundamental purpose, it has confirmed its total defeat as its own people are prepared to die to remove it and its toxic ideology.

Stripped of principle, Iran’s leadership risks morphing into a version of the North Korean model—an isolated state where power exists solely for its own sake. The aspirations of the Iranian people could not be more different. They do not look toward Pyongyang’s repression, but toward Seoul’s openness. They demand a future that is liberal, democratic, and technologically advanced.

It did not have to end this way. In the early days of the 1979 revolution, Ayatollah Mohammad Kazem Shariatmadari foresaw the peril of religion seizing political power. A moderate cleric, he warned that the fusion of mosque and state would corrupt both. For this, he was silenced and died under house arrest. His warning now stands as prophecy.

Today, there is no turning back. Just as Europe’s struggle with religious absolutism eventually gave birth to the secular state, Iran’s confrontation with clerical tyranny will not be in vain. After centuries of oscillating between the crown and the turban, Iranians are articulating something new: a rejection of dictatorship in every form. They are demanding democracy, equality, and the rule of law.

Amidst this transition, the exiled Crown Prince, Reza Pahlavi, has emerged as a figure attuned to these desires. He has promised not a return to absolutism, but a constitutional framework to safeguard the transition to democracy. His words resonate with a people longing for normalcy and progress.

The tragedy of the Islamic Republic is that, in weaponizing faith, it destroyed it. Its end will close a political era and open a moral one—the rebirth of an Iran governed by its citizens, “with malice toward none, with charity for all.”