The Revolution At Crossroads: What Michel Foucault Got Wrong And Right About Iran 

In late February 2026, Iran's supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, was killed in a major airstrike carried out by Israel with U.S. support. The attack targeted his compound in Tehran, and Iranian state media confirmed his death, describing it as martyrdom. The country entered 40 days of official mourning, but the mood on the streets was mixed. Some people grieved deeply, while others quietly celebrated or joined protests calling for change. Soon afterward, Iran's leadership appointed his son, Mojtaba Khamenei, as the new supreme leader. This sudden shift has left Iran in a state of uncertainty amid ongoing regional conflict, economic hardship, and growing public unrest.

This dramatic turning point invites us to revisit a surprising chapter from nearly fifty years ago. In 1978 and 1979, the well-known French postmodernist philosopher Michel Foucault openly supported Iran's revolution against the Shah. People still debate his reasons, his hopes, his successes and failures, and whether his perspective has any meaning today as the Islamic Republic faces one of its most serious crises. Foucault was a thinker famous for challenging ideas about power, control, and freedom. He argued that modern Western societies, with their focus on science, rules, and consumerism, had lost a vital sense of deeper meaning and spirit. He viewed capitalism as a system that treated people like parts of a machine, leaving little room for true individuality or soul.

In the fall of 1978, Foucault travelled to Iran twice as a special reporter for an Italian newspaper. He arrived shortly after a tragic event known as Black Friday, when government forces opened fire on protesters in Tehran, killing many. He expected to see a frightened and broken city. What he found instead was extraordinary courage. Crowds of ordinary people from every background—factory workers, university students, shopkeepers, women wearing headscarves—marched together in huge numbers. They were united in their demand to end the Shah's rule. The Shah's government, heavily supported by the United States, had forced rapid Western-style modernisation that many Iranians felt destroyed their traditions and ignored their needs.

Foucault was deeply moved by this sense of unity. In one of his reports, he described "an absence of fear and an intensity of courage, or rather, the intensity that people were capable of when danger, though still not removed, had already been transcended." He believed he was witnessing something very rare: an entire society acting with one powerful shared purpose. He gave this phenomenon a name: the "collective will." In an interview he explained, "The collective will is a political myth with which jurists and philosophers try to analyse or to justify institutions. It's a theoretical tool: nobody has ever seen the 'collective will', and personally, I thought that the collective will was like God, like the soul, something one would never encounter." Yet in the streets of Tehran and other cities, he saw this supposed myth become real. Ordinary Iranians showed such coordinated determination that it felt almost miraculous.

What made the movement so powerful in Foucault's eyes was its deep connection to religion. The revolution drew strength from Shia Islam, with its long tradition of stories about sacrifice, standing up to unjust rulers, and seeking justice. Intellectuals like Ali Shariati had combined these religious ideas with modern calls for equality and freedom from wealthy elites. Foucault did not see Islam as backward or oppressive. Instead, he viewed it as a living source of energy and hope. He wrote, "Islam, in that year of 1978, was not the opium of the people precisely because it was the spirit of a world without a spirit." Here he was responding to a famous phrase by Karl Marx, who once called religion the "opium of the people" because it could make suffering bearable and prevent revolt. Foucault turned that idea around. In a world that felt empty and materialistic, Iran's religious spirit gave people purpose, courage, and the will to fight for change. Faith became a tool for awakening, not for sleep.

Foucault hoped the revolution would lead to a completely new way of living and governing. He spoke of "political spirituality"—a form of politics that would help people reshape themselves and resist control in fresh ways. He imagined an "Islamic government" that would draw on the pure values of the early days of Islam while also looking creatively toward the future. He even described Ayatollah Khomeini in a very limited way, seeing him mainly as a symbol of refusal rather than a future ruler. "Khomeini says nothing, nothing other than no, to the shah, to the regime, to dependency," Foucault wrote. "Finally, Khomeini is not a politician. There will be no Khomeini party; there will not be a Khomeini government." In his view, the true force was the people's shared spirit, not any single leader creating a rigid system.

Foucault's articles did have some positive effect at the time. Published in major European newspapers, they presented the Iranian protesters as courageous people resisting unfair power, not simply as religious extremists. This helped gain sympathy among some Western intellectuals and leftists. It also encouraged cooperation between different groups inside Iran during the revolution.

However, the outcome was very different from what Foucault hoped. After the Shah was overthrown in early 1979, Ayatollah Khomeini and his supporters quickly took full control. The new government carried out executions of many opponents, including former allies on the left. Strict rules were imposed, especially on women and personal freedoms. Foucault was horrified by the violence. He sent a private letter to the interim prime minister criticising the killings, then largely stopped writing or speaking about Iran. The vision of open, creative spirituality had been replaced by a strict theocratic system that continued for decades under Khamenei.

Was Foucault right or wrong to support the revolution? On the final result, he was mostly wrong. He was overly optimistic and did not pay enough attention to the dangers. He underestimated how religious passion could be turned into a tool for new forms of control and repression. In his later writings he became more cautious about sweeping criticisms of capitalism, suggesting he had learned from the experience. Yet he was right about something important. The 1979 revolution really was a major break from ordinary history. It showed how deeply people can come together when they feel their spirit and dignity have been crushed. He insisted on trying to understand such events fairly. In one reflection he said, "The first condition for approaching [Islam] with a minimum of intelligence is not to begin by bringing in hatred." This was a call for open-minded listening rather than instant judgment.

Today, in March 2026, after Khamenei's death, Iran stands at a crossroads. His son Mojtaba now holds the position of supreme leader, but protests and demands for change continue. Many Iranians want less control by clerics and more personal and political freedom. Foucault's story serves as both a warning and a reminder. Revolutions can release great hope, but they can also create new forms of suffering if not handled carefully. His biggest mistake was idealizing the movement without seeing its risks clearly. His greatest strength was urging the world to pay attention to the real feelings and aspirations of ordinary people, even when those feelings are expressed through religion or unfamiliar traditions.

As Iran navigates this new chapter of mourning, conflict, and possible transformation, Foucault's experience teaches a simple but powerful lesson: big changes need both passion and caution. True freedom grows from careful listening and thoughtful action, not just from fire and slogans.