The main danger does not come from the sky; it comes from the street S. Rouzbeh ۱۴۰۴/۱۲/۲۱ S. Rouzbeh argues that the Islamic Republic’s threats reveal fear of domestic unrest and of links between protest inside Iran and the voices of Iranians abroad. The article examines the legal and political context of those threats and the government’s anxiety about protest and public solidarity. S. Rouzbeh – In politics, a loud voice is not always a sign of strength. Sometimes, quite the opposite: a loud voice comes from somewhere fear has taken root. Governments with social support, a degree of legitimacy and clear legal mechanisms usually resort less to vague, noisy threats and rely more on the law, institutions, courts and established procedures. But whenever a government feels that the foundations of public trust have eroded, its ability to persuade has diminished and discontent may spill into the streets, its language shifts from governance to intimidation. In such circumstances, a threat is not merely a security tool; it is also a sign of political anxiety. From this perspective, we should read the Islamic Republic’s conduct in recent days. While the government seeks to define the danger as being in the skies, in an external war and in a foreign attack, its actions as a whole suggest that its main fear lies elsewhere: in the streets, in society, in protest, and in the potential link between domestic discontent and the voices of Iranians abroad. A government that has recently massacred tens of thousands of people without mercy. The recent warning by the Islamic Republic’s judiciary to people inside the country and Iranians abroad that, if they ‘support’ or ‘side with’ the United States and Israel, they may face confiscation of their property and other penalties, is precisely of this kind. The threat was announced publicly on 9 March 2026, showing that the government sees even protest voices from beyond its borders as part of its domestic battlefield. Three central questions arise here: First, is a threat in politics a sign of strength or fear? Second, are the government’s recent threats even consistent with the Islamic Republic’s own laws? Third, why is the Islamic Republic so afraid of a link between domestic protest and the voices of Iranians abroad? The answer to the first question is key to understanding the matter. In stable governance, threats are not usually the principal tool. Governments governed by the rule of law have clear procedures when faced with criminal conduct: a specific charge, a designated authority, due process, the right to a defence and a defined penalty. In such a system, the government has less need to fill the air with political bluster and sweeping warnings, because institutions do their work. A powerful government either enforces the law or takes specific action. It has less need to intimidate society in advance with vague, repetitive language. By contrast, authoritarian governments in crisis often use threats in place of legitimacy and persuasion. Instead of explaining why people should obey them, they try to convey that disobedience comes at a cost. For this reason, a threat often carries one or more of the following signs: fear, an inability to persuade, a crisis of legitimacy, a display of power intended to conceal inner tremors, and sometimes an effort to prepare the ground for repression. If we apply this measure to the Islamic Republic’s conduct, the picture becomes clearer. Reuters reported on 2 February 2026 that officials in the Islamic Republic feared that any foreign attack could reignite domestic protests and even put the government’s stability at risk. The report also said that public anger following previous bloody crackdowns had eroded the deterrent effect of fear. This is a crucial point: a government that still feels compelled to fear people returning to the streets is, in effect, admitting that its main crisis is not only beyond its borders, but within society itself. From this perspective, the government’s other actions also take on meaning: keeping and concentrating loyal, repressive forces in enclosed, controllable and monitored locations. When a government keeps its forces ready not to govern society in the ordinary way, but to contain the streets at a critical moment, this means that, in its mind, a ceasefire or a decline in external tensions is not an opportunity for calm, but the beginning of domestic danger. Such a government anticipates that as soon as external pressure eases, social pressure inside the country may rise again. It therefore concentrates its forces in mosques, government centres, barracks, halls and secure locations so that, if necessary, it can set the machinery of repression in motion more quickly. This is less a sign of authority than an indication that it expects a confrontation with the people. The second question concerns the legal context of the matter. At the heart of the recent threat is the use of the law as cover for political intimidation. The Law on Intensifying the Punishment for Espionage and Cooperation with the Zionist Regime and Hostile Countries Against National Security and Interests, which was drafted after the 2025 Twelve-Day War and subsequently moved towards implementation, sets out very severe punishments for ‘operational action’ and ‘intelligence or espionage activity’, including confiscation of property and even execution. But the problem begins when the government tries to extend this territory from security and intelligence activity into the sphere of opinion, media, protest and political solidarity. Reports published about this law show that its scope has been drawn so broadly and ambiguously that it can also be used to suppress a wide range of political and media activity. This is where the diaspora comes into focus. A blanket, pre-emptive threat against Iranians abroad, using words such as ‘siding with’ and ‘support’, is seriously objectionable in legal terms, even within the framework of the Islamic Republic’s own declared principles. It fails to draw a clear line between espionage, operational action, media activity, the expression of opinion and attendance at a gathering. This approach is not the precise enforcement of the law, but its elastic and political use. Here, the law is no longer a measure of justice, but a legal cloak for political intimidation. What should be considered by a competent court, on the basis of a specific charge and individual proof, is turned into a pre-emptive collective threat against a large community. This itself shows that the government is speaking not from a position of legal confidence, but from one of political fear. The government’s contradiction in its treatment of Iranians abroad reinforces the same conclusion. In 2025, Masoud Pezeshkian spoke openly of Iranians abroad returning ‘without fear’ and even of amnesty, seeking to present the government’s relationship with the diaspora as conciliatory. But now that same government is threatening the same community with confiscation of property and punishment. This shift is not a verbal slip; it reveals the instrumental nature of the government’s view of the citizen. When the diaspora can be a source of capital, expertise, foreign currency and image-building, it is invited back. When it becomes a voice for political, media and human-rights pressure, it is suddenly labelled a security threat. This means the government’s concern is not citizenship rights; it is the extent to which a citizen is politically useful or harmful. But the third question is the most important of all: why is the government so afraid of protests abroad? The answer is clear. These gatherings are not merely symbolic. First, they break the government’s monopoly on the narrative. When Iranians take to the streets in London, Paris, Berlin, Los Angeles or other cities and chant against the Islamic Republic, the official image of a nation standing united behind the government falls apart. Second, these gatherings influence public opinion, the media, parliaments and foreign governments, increasing the political cost of the government’s actions. Third, and perhaps most importantly, they send a message to people inside Iran that they are not alone. The Islamic Republic’s greatest fear is precisely this connection: the link between the streets at home and their echo abroad. Reuters has also recorded this fear: officials in the Islamic Republic are concerned that any external crisis could spark the return of domestic protests. For this reason, we must pause over one fundamental point: here, the threat is not a sign of calm authority but of active anxiety. A government confident of its social support has no need to extend the scope of its threats from the street to the media, and from inside the country to abroad. A confident government has clear laws and enforces them clearly. A worried government resorts to vague threats and displays of force. The first relies on institutions; the second on fear. The first shouts less; the second, more. The Islamic Republic’s recent threats, too, make sense in this context: before they are a display of authority, they are an unwitting admission of fear of society. Conclusion The conclusion is clear. In ordinary circumstances, governments with political stability and institutional legitimacy tend to act, apply the law and follow clear legal channels. Threats—especially when they are vague, sweeping and repeated—are more characteristic of governments that fear society, have become unable to persuade public opinion, or seek to intimidate society psychologically before taking action. The Islamic Republic today, too, finds itself in this position. It fears the street more than the sky. That is why, on the one hand, it threatens the diaspora, while on the other it keeps its repressive forces ready for the moment people return to the scene. And it threatens the people of Iran with text messages and so on. All of this is not a sign of the calm of an established power, but of the anxiety of a government that knows the main danger to it does not come from the sky; it comes from the street. Source: https://srouzbeh.com/en/posts/archive-faf19d05-c3a5-3bd6-b76a-c3574d2e2836 Please credit the author and link to this edition.