By Ranjan Solomon
GOA – Protests that began in late December over the soaring prices and deepening economic distress in Iran quickly shifted towards violence in some Iranian cities. The casualties are tragic, and the grievances real. But to understand what is unfolding in Iran today, it is essential to look beyond the immediate scenes of unrest and ask a harder question: who is shaping the narrative, and to what end?
Protests driven by inflation, unemployment, and declining living standards are not unique to Iran. They have erupted across much of the world—from Sri Lanka to Peru, France to Pakistan—under the weight of global economic shocks, supply chain disruptions, and post-pandemic stress. Yet Iran’s unrest is rarely treated as part of this global crisis. Instead, it is almost instantly framed as a prelude to the government’s collapse.
That framing is not accidental.
Last week, U.S. President Donald Trump declared that the United States was “locked and loaded” should Iran provoke Washington. The statement was vague, aggressive, and strategically irresponsible—but it was also revealing. It signalled that Iran’s internal difficulties are being watched not with concern, but with anticipation.
Within days, Western media moved rapidly from reporting protests to speculating about the survival of the Iranian state itself. The Times has claimed that contingency plans exist for Ayatollah Khamenei to flee the country should security forces fail to suppress unrest, with Moscow mentioned as a potential refuge. Whether such claims are grounded in verifiable intelligence or not is almost beside the point. Their function is political.
These are not neutral reports. They are part of an ecosystem of information warfare that seeks to create the perception of inevitability: that Iran’s leadership is isolated, the system hollowed out, and collapse imminent. Such narratives are designed to travel—through markets, diplomatic circles, security establishments, and even within Iran’s own elite—amplifying uncertainty and fear.
This pattern is familiar. From Iraq to Libya, from Syria to Venezuela, economic pressure has repeatedly been paired with psychological operations. First comes financial suffocation through sanctions. Then comes social strain—shortages, inflation, unemployment. When protests emerge, they are treated not as social phenomena but as proof of terminal decline. Finally come stories of elite defections, exile plans, or secret negotiations, all reinforcing the sense that the end is near.
Sanctions play a central role in this script. Often described euphemistically as “leverage” or “pressure,” they are in reality instruments of structural harm. They constrict state revenues, weaken currencies, disrupt imports, and erode public welfare systems. The suffering they generate is later cited as evidence of governance failure, creating a self-fulfilling logic that absolves the architects of economic warfare.
Iran has lived under some form of sanctions for decades. The cumulative effect is not merely economic but psychological: uncertainty becomes permanent, planning becomes impossible, and public frustration deepens. To acknowledge this is not to deny Iran’s internal policy failures or political repression. It is to recognise that social anger does not emerge in a vacuum.
Yet Western commentary often collapses this complexity into a single storyline: protests equal illegitimacy; illegitimacy equals collapse. This leap is analytically lazy and historically misleading.
States under sustained external pressure often display a paradoxical resilience. When faced with overt threats, populations may rally—however reluctantly—around national institutions perceived as bulwarks against foreign domination. Iran’s political system, whatever its flaws, has repeatedly demonstrated an ability to absorb unrest without disintegration. To assume that economic hardship automatically translates into the goevrnment’s overthrow is to misunderstand both history and society.
More troubling is how quickly human suffering becomes instrumentalised. The potential deaths of protesters and security forces are cited not to argue for de-escalation or relief from sanctions, but to reinforce calls for “maximum pressure.” The people most harmed by this cycle are ordinary citizens—those who face repression and deprivation while geopolitical actors posture from a distance.
Trump’s “locked and loaded” rhetoric should be read in this light. It is not a response to protests; it is an attempt to shape their meaning. By signalling readiness for force while sanctions continue to bite, Washington reinforces a coercive environment in which unrest is less a warning sign than an opportunity.
The speculation about Ayatollah Khamenei’s supposed exile plans fits neatly into this strategy. Such stories are not meant to be confirmed; they are meant to circulate. They encourage speculation about succession, fractures within the security apparatus, and elite panic. In doing so, they blur the line between reporting and strategic messaging.
This does not mean that dissent lacks legitimacy. It means that dissent is being read through a lens that privileges interventionary logic over sober analysis. The danger is not merely misinterpretation, but miscalculation. When external powers convince themselves that collapse is imminent, restraint erodes. History offers no shortage of examples where such assumptions led to catastrophic outcomes.
The lesson, then, is not to dismiss protests, but to resist their weaponisation. Social anger in Iran deserves to be understood on its own terms—not as a pretext for escalation, nor as a morality play scripted elsewhere. Equally, the role of sanctions and external threats must be acknowledged honestly, rather than erased from the story.
To treat the Iranian people’s suffering as a chess move in a larger geopolitical game is not only unethical—it is dangerously short-sighted.
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