Through the afternoon haze, the mountainous coastline of Iran is just visible, a mere twenty-odd miles across the water. This undulating dark line on the horizon holds a vast presence in my mind, shaped by family history and personal experience. Half a century ago, my mother's family fled the clerical revolution. Two decades back, I studied Persian there. Now, from a boat in the Strait of Hormuz, I observe a nation at a critical juncture.
The Choke Point of Global Energy
The scene appears deceptively serene. Beneath a hard, clear sky, the deep blue water is hemmed in by scorched mountains. In the shipping lanes, tankers the size of aircraft carriers move in single file, their hulls heavy with the oil and liquefied natural gas that powers the world. This narrow channel, just 96 miles long and 21 miles wide at its narrowest, forces through a fifth of global oil and a vast share of its gas. The eastbound lane carries Gulf oil to Asia; the westbound flow heads for Europe and America.
The geopolitical truth is stark: this is one of the most important places on earth. Its closure, even briefly, would trigger instant shock—spiking prices, convulsing markets, and government panic. The mechanics for causing such chaos are brutally simple for Tehran. A scatter of naval mines in shallow waters, mobile anti-ship missiles hidden in cliffs, or swarms of drones and fast-attack craft could seize or damage tankers, rendering the passage unsafe. The global reaction would be immense, but if the regime's fanatical leadership believed their end was near, would they care?
A Regime Imploding from Within
This external power belies a profound internal decay. The Islamic Republic is imploding. Its legitimacy has bled out; its authority now rests not on belief but on the rope, on rape, truncheons, and prison cells. My diagnosis is that the rot is terminal. Death may not be imminent, but it is coming.
This view is echoed by Reza Pahlavi, son of Iran's late Shah, who has lived in exile since the 1979 revolution. At a recent Washington news conference, he declared, 'The Islamic Republic will fall – not if, but when.' He has campaigned for decades for intervention to oust the theocracy and offered himself as a figurehead for a transition to democracy, vowing, 'I will return to Iran.'
But the path to that end will be bloody. Dying regimes are often at their most dangerous in the long twilight between losing public consent and actual collapse. They still possess the guns and command the men willing to use them. The past weeks have been devastating, with streets turned into killing fields. Even by the regime's conservative estimates, between two to three thousand protesters have been killed, with opposition sources like Iran International putting the figure closer to 12,000.
In Tehran, protesters faced batons and tear gas with little more than courage. In provincial towns, the conflict tipped towards open war, with people using knives, machetes, and hunting rifles, forcing the state to respond with live rounds fired into faces and chests. The wounded were hunted in hospital wards, turning places of healing into annexes of state terror. In a chilling practice, families of victims were later billed for the price of the bullet used to kill their loved one in exchange for the body to bury.
Global Stakes and Western Response
The state now governs as an occupying force in its own cities, trying to hammer its splitting foundations back into place with violence. For the West, the temptation is to treat Iran's internal crisis and its external menace as separate issues. This is an illusion. A state that survives by terror at home will project that terror outward. The prison-yard rope and the shipping-lane mine are parts of the same kit.
Backing the Iranian people is thus both a moral duty and a strategic imperative. The regime's restraint in the Strait of Hormuz is telling. For all its bluster, it has never dared to close the vital artery, knowing the catastrophic blowback that would follow. This is a regime that luxuriates in killing at home and through proxies abroad, but is too cowardly to strike major powers directly.
The recent drama involving former US President Donald Trump underscored the volatile dynamic. Trump issued unambiguous promises of support to protesters and warnings against executions, specifically mentioning 26-year-old protester Erfan Soltani. For a moment, intervention seemed imminent, with US forces evacuating bases and airlines cancelling flights. Then, Trump announced a 'credible source' had informed him the killing had stopped and executions were off the table—for now. The temperature dropped abruptly. Whether this is a genuine climb-down or a tactical feint remains unclear.
The tools available to pressure the regime are significant. They include targeting the individuals running the killing machine—judges, prison chiefs, Revolutionary Guard commanders—with sanctions and travel bans. The Guard's vast business empire can be throttled. Future internet blackouts can be pierced with satellite technology. Deterrence can be reinforced with naval and air power in the Gulf.
The question of how long a dying system can sustain itself through fear alone depends not just on Iran's actions, but on the West's. As 2026 dawns, Iranians are fighting for a future free from Islamist barbarism. Their struggle, borne of immense courage amidst deep sadness, is not just their own. It is a fight for a democratic order where Iran's talents can serve humanity. Their hope must be our hope. Never forget it.
