Neither Spectators nor Victims: Iran at a Moment of Decision

“If we do not finish it, we will be finished.”

S. Rouzbeh – In a country where massacres, war, poverty, internet shutdowns and repression weigh daily on people’s lives, can we still speak of national action? Should people return to the streets without thought or protection, or simply sit and wait for America, Israel, Europe or some other external power to decide Iran’s fate? And if neither silence nor impulsive action offers a way out, what is the right course at this dangerous moment?

History has answered these questions time and again: nations crushed beneath the heaviest repression have found a way forward—not by miracle, but through preparation, patience, solidarity and intelligent action. Iran can do so too. This is neither a wish nor a slogan; it is a lesson repeated throughout human history.

These questions are not merely theoretical today. Iran stands at a point where any miscalculation could exact a heavy human toll. In recent years, the people of Iran have repeatedly shown that they have moved on from the Islamic Republic, while the machinery of repression has also shown that it will stop at nothing to stay in power: massacres, arrests, internet shutdowns, threats against families and psychological warfare. For this reason, the central issue is no longer simply “protesting”; it is how protest can be transformed from an emotional, scattered outburst into intelligent, low-cost and effective national action.

It is in this context that we must understand the recent remarks of Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi. In his message of 23 February 2026, he stressed that Iran stands on the brink of a historic transformation and that the “decisive factor” in this transformation is the will and conscious action of the Iranian people. He also said that it is the Iranian people who must play their key role at the right time and prevent scenarios contrary to the nation’s wishes from being imposed on the country.

At its core, this statement rejects two errors at once: passivity and haste. Passivity means imagining that people can do nothing more and that the country’s fate must be left to foreign powers, IRGC commanders, negotiators or behind-the-scenes manoeuvring. Haste means entering the scene without a plan, support, a clear objective or careful calculation, when the government is prepared to suppress any such action. Both are dangerous: one kills society, while the other can set it ablaze.

Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi continued along the same lines in his subsequent messages. He said that the Islamic Republic would not fall merely through the removal of its command structure or the weakening of its repressive apparatus by air strikes, and that it is the “Iranian nation” that must deliver the final blow to the weakened regime. At the same time, he emphasised that the government still has the capacity to repress and that his aim is for the final action to be carried out with the least possible loss of life. He urged people to be patient, protect themselves and wait, fully prepared, for the decisive moment.

So what exactly does this position mean? It does not mean that people should be called into the streets today, without calculation or protection. In the conditions of massacres, internet shutdowns, war and economic pressure, that would be neither courage nor politics; it could mean spending people’s lives on a slogan. When the government stages displays of power at night to ensure its survival, people would only exhaust and wear themselves down. But this does not mean silence and waiting either. Silence is precisely what the Islamic Republic wants: it wants to turn people into weary spectators who follow only the news of war, ceasefires, blockades, negotiations, the dollar, the internet and repression, while seeing themselves as outside the equation.

“No passivity” means that people must not be spectators. Not being a spectator does not always mean being physically present in the streets. Under repression, it means that every citizen, to the extent they can, becomes part of the chain of civil resistance: distinguishing accurate news from lies, refusing to accept the government’s official narrative unquestioningly, talking with family and those around them, not abandoning the victims of repression, keeping hope alive, and not allowing the government to turn people into isolated, frightened and distrustful islands.

“No reckless action” also means understanding that the government sometimes needs raw, scattered and unsupported protest so that it can label it “disorder”, “rioting” or “violence”. The Islamic Republic has experience in engineering the scene of repression: it knows how to lure protest into a trap, reverse the narrative, cast the victim as the culprit and bury the truth in darkness by shutting down the internet. So courage today is not simply about moving forward; it means not abandoning the goal, while choosing a more intelligent, lower-cost method.

In this, preparation is the key. Preparation means that society knows, from today, what to do in a crisis. It is not only political; it is social, psychological, media-related and ethical too. It means that families, friends, neighbourhoods, colleagues and small, trusted groups maintain their ties. It means people know how not to become divided during an internet shutdown, government disinformation, mass arrests or psychological warfare. A prepared society knows how to act calmly, in an orderly, low-cost and effective way, and how to stay in touch with one another.

Solidarity, too, means that the government cannot isolate people. One of the Islamic Republic’s most important tools is the privatisation of fear: making every worker, teacher, student, woman, young person, pensioner, journalist or bereaved family feel alone. Solidarity means breaking that isolation. It means that the pain of each group becomes everyone’s pain. It means society understands that the problems of bread, the internet, compulsory hijab, war, massacres, corruption, rising prices and humiliation are not separate; they all stem from one structure, and that structure must be brought down.

Nor does wearing down the repressive apparatus mean fighting its forces. It means making it harder for the government to kill, lie and manufacture forgetfulness. It means that an agent of repression knows they are being watched. It means the victim’s story is not lost. It means that those in the administrative, security or propaganda apparatus who help repression understand that one day they will have to answer for it. Wearing down the apparatus means raising the moral, political and psychological cost of repression.

History has shown that this path has been taken before. Nations beneath the heaviest boots of tyranny found a way that today serves as a model for freedom-seekers around the world.

The Poles waited nine years in the Solidarity movement, organised underground, kept their social ties alive and waited for the right moment. Not through bullets or unsupported slogans, but through a determination that wore the system down and ultimately brought communism in their country to an end without civil war. In 2000, the Serbs brought down Milošević by the same logic: a civil movement was able to rot the regime’s military and police foundations from within, until the dictator fell without an all-out war. The Filipinos, too, ended Marcos’s dictatorship in 1986 not through violence, but through millions of prepared, united and alert citizens; the army that was supposed to kill gave way before the will of the people.

Each time, the key to victory was the same: neither emotional haste nor passivity, but preparation, solidarity and action at the right moment.

Iran belongs in this tradition too. A people who have lived under repression for 47 years and still protest, still struggle, still write and … still hope are no less capable than the Poles or the Serbs. The ability is here. The will is here. What is needed is to organise that ability along the right path.

Meanwhile, the roles of the United States and Israel must also be viewed realistically. They may put the Islamic Republic under pressure, weaken its military and economic capabilities, or alter regional dynamics; but they pursue their own game on the basis of their own security and national interests. No country will win freedom for Iran in place of the Iranian people. External pressure may crack and weaken the wall, but it is the nation’s task to cross it.

This is where the central sentence takes on meaning: the United States and Israel will not finish this game for us. They may weaken the regime, but the end of the Islamic Republic—if it is to lead to freedom, security, dignity and national sovereignty for Iran—must be brought about by the will of the Iranian people. If the people remain mere spectators, others will decide Iran’s fate.

So the meaning of “neither passivity nor uncalculated action” is this: the people must not be left defenceless to become victims, but neither must they remain spectators. They must stay prepared, preserve social ties, break the government’s narrative, raise the cost of repression, support one another and, at the right moment, turn national action into a broad-based will.

Iran is at a moment of decision today. A society that has stood firm for 47 years, whose children have shed blood in the streets, whose women have led the struggle for freedom, whose young people still have dreams despite all the pressure—this society is not defeated. It is tired, but alive. It is worn down, but unbroken.

The way to salvation lies neither in remaining spectators nor in becoming victims without thought. It lies in preparation, solidarity, vigilance and national action at the right time. Poland was liberated. Serbia was liberated. South Africa was liberated. Iran, too, will be free; by the hands of its own people, at the Prince’s command, at the moment he chooses.

Let us not bring it to an end, or we will be finished.