Many Folds Of The Persian Carpet

In the narrow alleys of Alibeyköy district in the Turkish metropolis of Istanbul, 78-year-old exiled Iranian, Hassan Moradi, sits silently on a worn wooden stool, gazing at the city’s skyline.

His eyes, once bright with the fervour of the Iranian Revolution, now carry the dullness of disappointment. “I blinked with hope in 1979,” he says, his voice heavy with memory. “But that hope… it has long since dried up.”

As Israeli missiles rained down on Iran, many exiled Iranian dissidents like Moradi—victims of the Islamic Republic’s repression—now find themselves gripped by fear and sorrow. Though they have spent years denouncing the regime, they are now raising their voices against what they see as a new threat: foreign military intervention that could devastate the nation they dream of reclaiming.

Recalling the hopes that Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini generated back in 1979, Moradi said he was among the millions who poured onto the streets of Iran’s cities that fateful winter, demanding an end to the tyranny of the Shah.

Like countless others, he believed that Iran stood on the brink of freedom. “We wanted dignity, justice, and independence. Instead, we inherited another period of ruthlessness—only this time draped in the robes of religion.”

The Islamic Revolution of 1979 was no ordinary political transition. It was a seismic upheaval that overthrew the Pahlavi monarchy—a dynasty backed unwaveringly by the US and other Western powers. For decades, those powers had treated Third World nations as little more than chess pieces, supporting strongmen like Mohammad Reza Shah, who served their geopolitical interests, regardless of what ordinary people wanted.

The Shah’s dreaded intelligence service, SAVAK, was the brutal enforcer of this system. “It was savage,” Moradi recalls. “People would vanish into its dungeons. Torture was routine.” The cruelty of SAVAK helped fuel the anger that boiled over in 1979.

Journalists who witnessed those days captured the euphoria and unity on the streets. John Simpson of the BBC, who travelled with Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini on his return to Tehran, later described the extraordinary scenes. “The excitement of the crowd was something I had never seen before. It was as if all of Iran had come out to welcome him home. People wept, chanted, and embraced strangers. The Ayatollah was more than a leader. He was a symbol of hope, of deliverance from tyranny.”

That hope was shared across a broad coalition—Islamists, secular nationalists, communists, trade unionists, students, and women’s rights groups. “We were together in those days,” says Parvin Yazdi, a former student activist now living in exile. “Our goal was to end the Shah’s rule, to rid ourselves of foreign domination. We didn’t realise how quickly our dreams would be stolen.”

They all express surprise at the naivety of the West, which had tried to project Reza Pahlavi, the son of the last shah of Iran, as the alternative to the current Iranian regime. Pahlavi was prominent on Western news networks, cheering Israel’s attacks and calling for their expansion. Exiled since 1979, he called the bombardment a “golden opportunity”. Unlike him, most opposition activists abroad viewed the strikes with dread and accused the son of the former shah of siding with forces that endanger Iran’s very existence.

“You cannot try to save your homeland by standing behind enemy tanks,” said Mehdi Aminzadeh, an exiled political analyst. “We cannot say we need help from Israeli planes to destroy the Islamic Republic.”

A senior Turkish journalist, Mehmet Öztürk, who covered the Iranian Revolution in 1979 and was stationed in Tehran during the 1980s, reflected on the tumultuous aftermath of the Shah’s fall. “As soon as the monarchy collapsed, a fierce power struggle erupted,” he recalled. “Leftist groups like the Tudeh Party and the Fedayeen, along with nationalists such as Abolhasan Bani-Sadr—who went on to become president—were swiftly and systematically pushed aside.”

Öztürk noted that, till this day, it is not the remnants of the Shah’s dynasty, but these nationalists and Leftists who continue to resist the clerical regime. “They oppose the regime, but they stand just as firmly against Western interference,” he observed.

“Iranians are fiercely nationalist. They may have deep disagreements with their rulers, but they close ranks when facing foreign powers. The recent Israeli attack has breathed new life into the clerics, who had been grappling with mounting internal dissent for various reasons,” Öztürk added.

By the mid-1980s, Iran had become a tightly controlled theocracy. The constitution enshrined Velayat-e Faqih—rule by the Supreme Jurist—placing ultimate power in the hands of the Supreme Leader. From the judiciary to the media, from education to culture, every institution was brought under clerical oversight.

The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), formed to protect the revolution, evolved into a sprawling power centre controlling vast parts of the economy, politics, and foreign policy. “It’s a state within a state,” notes Narges Tabrizi of the SOAS University of London. “The IRGC ensures no serious challenge can emerge—inside or outside government.”

Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, backed by Western and Gulf powers, invaded Iran in 1980. The eight-year Iran-Iraq war killed over a million people and devastated the country. Yet, it also helped the regime consolidate power. “In the name of national survival, all dissent was crushed,” says Yazdi. “You couldn’t criticise without being accused of aiding the enemy.”

It was during and after this war that Iran began building what would later be called the Shia Crescent, forging alliances with Shia movements across the region. From Lebanon’s Hezbollah to Iraq’s militias, Iran extended its influence, setting off alarm bells in Sunni-majority Gulf states.

“The Gulf monarchies saw this as a direct challenge to their security and legitimacy,” explains Hossein Alizadeh, a former diplomat and international affairs analyst. “Iran’s revolutionary message threatened not just geopolitics, but the very survival of regimes like Saudi Arabia’s.”

Inside Iran, the regime’s grip only tightened. The Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance policed books, films, and music. Universities were Islamised, and curricula rewritten. The judiciary enforced harsh penalties for “un-Islamic” behaviour. Elections existed, but candidates were screened by bodies like the Guardian Council to ensure loyalty to the system.

“It’s a managed democracy,” says Moradi, as he sat to have sips of Turkish tea at an Istanbul café. Economically, sanctions imposed by the US and its allies further isolated Iran, but it also strengthened the hardliners. “The common people suffered, not the elite,” Moradi says bitterly. “They used sanctions to justify their failures.”

When the West did engage, it often did so clumsily. Efforts to promote regime change focused on exiles like Reza Pahlavi, the Shah’s son, rather than supporting grassroots movements inside Iran. “They didn’t want our democracy. They wanted their man back on the throne,” he said.

In 2022, the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini in the custody of the morality police sparked the largest protests in Iran in years. Amini had been detained for allegedly wearing her headscarf improperly.

The outrage spread like wildfire, cutting across ethnic, religious, and class lines. Women led the charge, burning their hijabs, cutting their hair, and confronting security forces. “Women, life, freedom” became the rallying cry—echoing on the streets of Tehran, in Kurdish villages, and in Iranian communities abroad.

For all its internal divisions, Iran remains remarkably united in the face of external attacks. Israeli strikes on nuclear scientists, facilities, and infrastructure have often drawn condemnation across the political spectrum. Although now 78 years old and facing a host of cases back home, Moradi wanted to fly to Tehran to fight against foreign invasion.

Elahe Ejbari, a women’s rights activist based in Germany, condemned Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s claim that Israel’s war is aimed at the regime, not the people. “The country that brought disaster to Gaza is going to help Iran?” she wrote. “We are no different from those people.”

Similarly, Fatemeh Haghighatjou, a former Iranian lawmaker now in the US, warned that Israel’s campaign is not about neutralising missiles or nuclear sites. “Israel’s goal is [destroying] the territorial integrity of Iran,” she said.

Inside Iran, voices like Sadegh Zibakalam—an outspoken critic of the regime who has faced repeated prosecution—also rejected the strikes. “How can I join the enemy in this situation?” he asked. “The same enemy bombing our cities?”

The fear is personal as well as political. “I oppose Ali Khamenei with all my being,” said a 24-year-old woman who is part of the ‘Women, Life, Freedom’ movement. “But now I can’t think about the regime. I fear for my life and country. Nobody wants a repetition of Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan in Iran.” For many, the war has shifted focus from activism to survival. A young activist fleeing with her elderly mother to the Caspian coast summed it up: “I can’t think about activism under the sound of drones and missiles. I don’t support the targeting of civilians anywhere.”

Student leader Alireza Ghadimi reflected on the irony of history repeating itself: “Our campus was a hub of protest in 1979 and 1999. Now it shakes with bombs, not chants for freedom. This war is silencing the very people it claims to save.” This nationalist reflex has frustrated foreign powers hoping that external pressure would topple the Islamic Republic. Instead, it has often strengthened hardliners who present themselves as defenders of the nation.

Forty five years after Khomeini’s return, Iran stands at a crossroads. The revolutionary generation is ageing. The young are restive. The economy is battered, but the regime’s grip remains firm—for now.

“The spirit of the revolution was betrayed long ago,” Moradi says quietly. “But the spirit of resistance… still lives. The question is, who will lead it next time, and what will they build?”

It is time for Iran’s leadership—bruised and shaken by foreign strikes—to turn this peril into an opportunity. The regime must abandon its fixation on Shia-exclusive alliances and proxy militias that have brought ruin to Syria, Lebanon, and beyond. Instead, it should pursue genuine political reform, offering Iranians a whiff of freedom and fresh air after decades of suffocation at the domestic front.

At the recent foreign ministers’ meeting of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) in Istanbul, it appeared Iran was quietly emerging as a fulcrum of resistance to Western hegemony. Even envoys of staunch US allies were seen gravitating towards Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi, expressing private solidarity. With Saudi Arabia long having stepped back from leading the Muslim world and Pakistan’s influence fading, the stage is set. Iran—alongside Turkey—has a rare chance to chart a new, unifying course, build regional partnerships, friendly alliances and meet its people’s yearning for dignity, peace, and progress.

(Views expressed are personal)

Iftikhar Gilani is a journalist currently based in Ankara, Türkiye.

This article is part of Outlook Magazine's July 11, 2025 issue, Making Bombing Great Again. It appeared in print as 'Many Folds Of The Persian Carpet'