As Taiwan enters a nine-day Lunar New Year holiday, much of daily life will slow to idle speed. The world, however, does not pause. While global attention remains fixed on Russia's war in Ukraine, another potential flashpoint looms in the Middle East: the possibility of U.S.–Iran confrontation—and the far more unpredictable question of what might follow inside Iran itself.
If Ukraine risks stagnation, Iran risks rupture.
The worst outcome in Eastern Europe may be a prolonged war of attrition. In Iran, however, the consequences of regime instability could be explosive. A regional war would shake global energy markets. A regime collapse could redraw the political map of the Middle East. For some observers, that possibility carries hope: perhaps Iran could transition from theocracy to democracy. For others, it invites a more complicated question—what political force would actually fill the vacuum?
In protest chants and social media posts, one name has resurfaced: Pahlavi.
For many outside Iran, the Pahlavi name evokes a fallen monarchy—modernizing, Western-aligned, yet ultimately undone by authoritarian excess and social alienation. Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi styled himself “King of Kings” and staged lavish celebrations of imperial glory. But grandeur could not conceal widening inequality, political repression, and a secret police apparatus feared across the country. In 1979, the monarchy collapsed under the weight of revolution, replaced by a Shiite theocracy that promised justice but delivered its own form of repression.
More than four decades later, the Islamic Republic's experiment is visibly strained. Economic sanctions, political rigidity, and repeated crackdowns—most notably during the 2022–2023 “Woman, Life, Freedom” protests—have eroded the regime's legitimacy. It is therefore unsurprising that some Iranians, particularly younger generations disillusioned with clerical rule, look backward in search of alternatives.
But nostalgia is not the same as political viability.
Reza Pahlavi, the exiled crown prince, has positioned himself as a potential unifying figure for Iran's fragmented opposition. Educated in the West and fluent in the language of secular democracy, he presents himself as a modern reformist rather than a restorationist. He has supported democratic transition, spoken against repression, and built networks abroad through initiatives such as the Iran National Council and the Phoenix Project of Iran.
Yet his political calculus carries inherent contradictions.
First, Iran's opposition remains deeply divided. Monarchists are only one strand among liberals, republicans, leftists, ethnic minority movements, and reform-minded Islamists. No single figure commands broad consensus. The idea that a symbolic crown can unify a complex, pluralistic society may underestimate the depth of Iran's political fractures.
Second, history casts a long shadow. The Shah's rule was not merely ceremonial. It relied on the secret police SAVAK, harsh repression of dissent, and a political culture that equated stability with control. While many Iranians may resent the current regime, resentment does not automatically translate into forgiveness of past authoritarianism. Political memory in Iran is layered and contested.
Third—and perhaps most delicate—is foreign policy.
Reza Pahlavi has openly courted Western support, particularly in the United States and Israel. He has urged Washington to take a firmer stance against Tehran and has even visited Israel—an unprecedented move for an Iranian opposition figure. Strategically, this may be pragmatic: external pressure could weaken the clerical establishment. Politically, however, it is perilous.
Iranian nationalism runs deep. Any perception that regime change is externally engineered risks delegitimizing the very alternative it seeks to empower. A transition framed as foreign-backed intervention may reinforce the regime's narrative of resistance rather than accelerate its collapse.
Regime implosion, if it comes, will not resemble a clean constitutional transition. It would unfold amid institutional breakdown, factional competition, and regional turbulence. In such an environment, symbolic legitimacy is insufficient. Political organization, domestic credibility, and broad-based coalition-building matter far more than dynastic memory.
Iran is a civilization-state with a history spanning millennia. It is the world's only Persian-majority nation and the largest Shiite country. Its population exceeds 88 million. Its geopolitical weight is undeniable. The country possesses the potential for renewal—economic, political, and cultural.
But potential alone does not determine outcomes.
The reemergence of monarchist sentiment reflects dissatisfaction with the present, not necessarily a mandate for restoration. Iran's future will depend less on royal lineage and more on whether a credible, inclusive political alternative can emerge from within its society.
Monarchy may symbolize stability in moments of chaos. Yet symbols cannot substitute for democratic legitimacy.
Nostalgia can inspire. It cannot govern.
*The author is a senior media professional and professional translator.
