Iran analyst
Facing a grinding crisis and mounting calls at home to change course before disaster strikes, Iran’s rulers still speak in a language that suggests they prefer the risks of war to the uncertainties of reform.
Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei on Sunday warned of an enemy plot to impose a harmful “no war, no peace” stalemate on Iran.
He alluded to the widespread fears of renewed conflict but stopped short of addressing them directly.
The “dangerous” limbo—as he called it—will be broken either by peace or by war. Yet peace would require a dramatic shift he has rejected in both word and deed, leaving only one option, even if not stated openly.
Why war seems manageable
For Tehran, war offers a chance to present itself as a power “standing firm against the enemy.”
That narrative rests on two premises: exaggerating the damage inflicted on Israel while recasting Iran’s own losses as “sacrifice” and “resilience.” This ability to redefine reality makes war appear containable, even when the battlefield balance tilts against Iran.
Conflict also strengthens institutions like the Revolutionary Guards and Basij, which dominate not only security but much of Iran’s economy and politics.
External crises bring them bigger budgets, wider powers, and a firmer grip on the state. Sustained tension, even without outright war, keeps them central to decision-making.
Bureaucratically, war simplifies governance.
An external threat sidelines factional disputes, concentrates power in one command center, and allows sensitive decisions to be postponed. In such conditions, obedience to central authority becomes the overriding principle.
Why change is riskier
Unlike war, which has a clear adversary and defined parameters, internal change is unpredictable.
The leadership knows genuine reform could set off a chain of fresh demands that quickly spiral out of control—especially when combined with external pressure. For a system built on concentrated power and tight social control, this is far riskier than conflict it believes it can at least spin through propaganda.
History reinforces this fear.
The Soviet collapse is interpreted in Tehran as the direct result of political liberalization. At home, the reform movement of the 1990s triggered demands that Khamenei deemed intolerable, ending in repression.
These experiences mean even cautious proposals—from economists or technocrats—are viewed as existential threats.
The IRGC and other power centers oppose change not only for security reasons but because their vast economic interests are at stake. Reform would mean redistribution of both power and wealth, making them natural adversaries of any shift.
A managed crisis—or a trap?
From Tehran’s perspective, war is “manageable”: it mobilizes security and propaganda, strengthens key institutions, and produces a narrative of defiance. Change, by contrast, has no clear enemy, no obvious tools of control, and no reliable endpoint.
Yet relying on crisis as a survival strategy carries its own risks.
Each confrontation further depletes Iran’s economic and social capacity. Emigration, a shrinking middle class, and crumbling infrastructure all show that the politics of permanent crisis may deliver short-term cohesion but erodes long-term survival.
The essential question is how long a state can balance on the edge of crisis before that very crisis slips out of control.
The answer is uncertain. What is clear is that the Islamic Republic still believes change, not war, is the greater danger to its survival.
