The Review: Middle East Edition II

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The Yemen Conflict: Proxy War, Sectarianism and Reshaping Sovereignty in the Middle East

By: Daghan Jacob Gonulluoglu

Introduction

Over the course of the last decade and a half, the Yemen conflict has developed into one of the most multifaceted and externally influenced conflicts in recent memory. Despite being initially framed as a civil war with what started as a domestic quarrel between the Houthis (alongside loyalists to former President Ali Abdullah Saleh), and the internationally recognized government of Abd Rabbuh Mansour Hadi, it has developed into a complex domestic conflict involving global actors. Following the intervention of the international Saudi-led coalition in the spring of 2015, Yemen has become the main battleground of the Saudi-Iranian rivalry, a long-standing regional power struggle that has continuously been shaped by geopolitics, sectarianism, and counterterrorism. The Houthis’ opposition to Hadi and the Saudi-led coalition made them ideal partners in Iran's mission to curb the Saudi-dominated regional order. The conflict's gradual fragmentation has simultaneously opened it up for further intervention from other external actors such as the United Arab Emirates (UAE) and the United States to exert their own influence and pursue their own strategic priorities within the Middle East. 

This article will carefully analyse the Yemen conflict through the lenses of both the balance of power theory, grounded in realist thought, and constructivist discourse surrounding identity politics. The realist point of view of the conflict showcases the strategic interests involved in the decision-making for each of the parties (power maximization, security dilemmas…), while the constructivist lens sheds light on the role of sectarian differences as tools for the justification of prolonged intervention in the conflict. Examining the combination of both of these factors within the context of the conflict allows for a more complete understanding of why the conflict in Yemen has dragged on without reaching a concrete resolution, likely prolonging the war into the foreseeable future. 

Therefore, how does the Yemen conflict showcase the interaction between realist power balancing and mobilisation of constructivist identity politics in shaping the Middle Eastern regional order? My argument is that the Yemen conflict is both a geopolitical and ideational struggle. Saudi Arabia and Iran seek to fulfill their strategic goals through their proxies in Yemen, while using pre-existing sectarian narratives (Sunni vs Shia, Arab vs Persian) in order to garner support from different regional groups, allowing them to legitimize their interventionist practices. At the same time, the UAE and the US’ work in the background also contributes to the fragmentation of Yemen's sovereignty, redefining the parameters of what truly makes a so-called “failed state”. 

In order to illustrate my argument, I will first briefly provide background to Yemen's political collapse, before outlining the theoretical framework of the central concepts of realism and constructivism. I will examine how they can be used to analyse the conflict through two distinct dimensions: regional power maximization and the role of sectarianism in fueling interventionist logic. Finally, I will discuss the role of external actors in redefining the “failed state” in the context of the Yemen conflict. 

Background: Yemen's collapse

Despite discourse coming from the GCC and US State Department, Yemen’s state collapse was far from sudden, reflecting decades of political unrest. The 1990 unification of the Northern and Southern parts of the country following the Cold War left many political tensions unresolved and contributed to the growth of regional inequalities (UN Foundation, n. d.). Former President Ali Abdullah Saleh attempted to cling to power through alliances with certain tribal groups and political coercion.

In 2011, Arab uprisings as part of the wider Arab Spring led to the resignation of President Saleh through negotiations with the United States and neighbouring Gulf countries, and the establishment of the transitional government of Abd Rabbuh Mansour Hadi. Despite this, the long-standing grievances remained, such as concerns over the reduction of fuel subsidies and the North-South divide (UN Foundation, n. d.). The Houthis, having noticed the country's unstable situation, capitalized on this opportunity and captured the capital Sana’a in 2014, marked as a pivotal moment in the conflict.

In 2015, the Saudi-led coalition intervened with the objectives of reversing the Houthi military conquest of Yemen, restoring Hadi’s leadership in Sana’a, and curbing perceived Iranian influence (Sharp, 2020). However, the intervention accelerated the state's fragmentation. With the emergence of new armed groups (Southern Transitional Council), and further involvement of external actors such as the UAE, Yemen became a battleground in which regional and international players pursue their strategic objectives largely without the intervention of the Yemeni sovereign authority.  

Theoretical Framework: Realism and Constructivism in the Yemen Conflict

In the realm of international relations literature, the concept of realism pertains to the idea that states act as short-term power maximisers in order to ensure their survival within the anarchic international order. In other words, the priority for states is to either maintain or increase their share of world power (Mearsheimer, 1995, p. 82). According to Halliday (as cited in Guimaraes, 2022, p. 236), regional and global powers do not necessarily operate in the same way within the anarchic system. According to Waltz (as cited in Guimaraes, 2022, p. 236), in order to curb any potential threats, regional powers in the Middle East resort to forming coalitions or bilateral alliances as to prevent the appearance of a hegemon in the region with the aim of ensuring the balance of power and maintaining their security. 

Here, it is important to distinguish between offensive and defensive interpretations of realism. Mearsheimer’s perspective (offensive) would lean towards Saudi Arabia consistently seeking power maximization, rather than only looking to contain threats (Mearsheimer, 2001, pp.30-32). On the other hand, Waltz’s outlook (defensive) suggests SA’s main motivation is to ensure the maintenance of regional security over influence expansion (Waltz, 1979, pp. 126-127). Riyadh’s actions suggest a hybrid of both, with the intervention first being framed as defensive, but their coalition's conduct (blockade of Yemeni ports, targeting of civilian infrastructure) suggesting otherwise.  

The Houthis taking control of significant portions of Yemeni territory, culminating in their seizure of Sana’a in 2014 (a move that Iran was actually against) and their advancement southward into the capital Aden, was perceived in Riyadh as a strategic threat. The move was particularly significant in light of Saudi Arabia’s long-standing rivalry with Iran (Sharp, 2020, p. 3). Yemen’s proximity to SA’s southern border and near the Bab al-Mandab strait further amplified these concerns. Saudi officials viewed a Houthi-controlled Yemen as a potential extension of Iranian influence that would undermine Saudi Arabia’s regional security environment (Nasser, 2025).

Iran’s involvement in Yemen, while more limited in comparison to Saudi Arabia, also conforms to realist logic. Tehran’s initial support for the Houthis was rather small compared to its commitments elsewhere in the region, although this has significantly changed with the breakout of the Israel-Palestine conflict in October 2023, with Iran seeing the Houthis as essential in their efforts to curb US-backed Israeli war efforts. By providing political backing, training, and increasingly sophisticated weapons systems (UAVs, SAMs, drone boats, sea mines, etc.), Iran has been able to pressure Saudi Arabia indirectly and force Riyadh into a conflict with a seemingly unpredictable end-point (Sharp, 2020, p. 6). From a balance-of-power perspective, Yemen thus functions as a peripheral but symbolically powerful arena in which Iran can challenge Saudi regional dominance without engaging in direct confrontation.

However, realism alone cannot fully explain how this rivalry is sustained or legitimised. Constructivist perspectives, particularly those stemming from identity politics, are essential for understanding the role of sectarianism in shaping the conflict’s political sphere. Constructivism emphasises that state interests are ever-evolving because they are socially constructed through shared ideas, identities, and narratives (Wendt, 1992, p. 391–395). In the Middle East, sectarian identities have played a key role in building the necessary narratives for justifying prolonged states of violent struggle, a strategic phenomenon that is evident to how both Saudi Arabia and Iran have utilized sectarian discourse in Yemen (Ezbidi, 2023, pp.3-5). The Saudi-Iranian rivalry transcends the material through competing identity claims, meaning that shifts in regional balance of power can have great ideological consequences for both parties (Gause, 2014, pp.6-9). 

Importantly, sectarianism in Yemen should not be understood as the main and inherent cause of conflict. Yemen’s Zaydi Shia tradition has historically coexisted with Sunni communities with relatively limited sectarian tension. In most cases, sectarian identities become politically relevant not because of theological differences, but because they can be easily manipulated to serve certain agendas set by the political elites (Rebok, 2024, p. 9). In Yemen, Saudi Arabia has increasingly framed the Houthis as an extension of Iranian Shiism, despite significant doctrinal differences, in order to portray the conflict as part of a broader Sunni–Shia struggle.

This process aligns closely with what Hashemi and Postel describe as “sectarianisation”: the purposeful mobilisation of sectarian tropes in order to justify strategic geopolitical practices (Hashemi and Postel, 2017, pp. 3–7). In the case of the Yemen conflict, sectarian narratives have served to legitimise prolonged military intervention by framing it as a defensive struggle to protect Sunni Islam against sectarian opponents. This framing has resonated domestically within Saudi Arabia and regionally among Sunni-majority states like the United Arab Emirates, facilitating coalition-building and sustaining public support for the war. 

Iran has similarly engaged in identity-based framing, portraying the Houthis as partners in opposing Saudi Arabia and the Western-aligned regional order. While Iran’s material support to the Houthis remains limited relative to Saudi Arabia’s military expenditure, Iran’s relationship with the Houthis has strengthened over the last few years. For example, Iran has increasingly provided advanced weaponry to the Houthis to protect Iranian ships in the Red Sea, giving them room to evade sanctions on oil shipping (Robinson, 2025). Despite this, Iran does not want to risk military escalation with Saudi Arabia, due to Riyadh’s greater ability to project power in the region. That being said, the symbolic value of the creation of a so-called “Shia alliance” narrative is significant. By positioning itself as a defender of marginalised Shia groups, Iran enhances its regional ideological influence and reinforces its identity as a counter-hegemonic power.

The interaction between realist and constructivist dynamics is therefore central to the persistence of the Yemen conflict. Material power competition explains why Saudi Arabia and Iran are invested in Yemen, but sectarian narratives explain how this competition is sustained and normalised. For Saudi Arabia, military withdrawal could signify a surrender to the “Shia threat”. Identity politics becomes a tool that each party uses to justify their use of military violence within the region, transforming a geopolitical rivalry into a struggle for power and survival. Consequently, the idea of sustained peace becomes politically costly. Each act of military intervention is increasingly justified as a way of continuing an existential struggle. The conflict is then locked into a self-reinforcing cycle of intervention and escalation, creating a feedback loop that helps explain the resistance to diplomatic resolution..

External involvement and state failure

While the Saudi–Iranian rivalry is the main geopolitical involvement in the Yemen conflict, additional external actors have further complicated Yemen’s political landscape, while also questioning the dominant definition of a failed state. Rather than merely responding to Yemen’s institutional collapse, these global and regional players have actively contributed to the fragmentation of sovereignty, transforming Yemen into a space where one said group cannot be singled out as the one responsible for problems in regards to the conflict. 

The United Arab Emirates represents a particularly important case, especially recently. Despite the fact that it has historically shared formal ties with the Saudi state, the UAE has pursued its own strategic objectives, including countering Islamist movements and securing maritime trade routes along the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden. To achieve these goals, Abu Dhabi has aided local militias, particularly in southern Yemen, including the Southern Transitional Council (STC). This support has conflicted with the internationally recognised Yemeni government, producing rival centres of power within the same territorial landscape (Crisis Group, 2020, pp. 11-13). It has also significantly soured its relationship with Riyadh. In late December 2025, Saudi Defence Minister Khalid bin Salman accused the UAE of threatening Saudi national security after the STC advanced into oil-rich areas in Yemen before being pushed out by Saudi forces (The Guardian, 2026). In January 2026, the UAE eventually decided to withdraw its own forces from Yemen after Saudi airstrikes on UAE shipments to the STC in the port of Mukalla. The STC announced its dissolution soon after despite some officials disagreeing with the decision, indicating a rift within the group that could potentially spiral into a completely different entity. 

This trend reflects a broader shift in how sovereignty operates in contemporary conflicts. Rather than reinforcing central state authority, external actors increasingly work through proxies and strategically empower local actors who align with their interests. As a result, sovereignty becomes fragmented and prone to external interference, exercised through networks of patronage rather than through unified state institutions. 

The United States’ involvement in Yemen further showcases this transition. US policy has been shaped primarily by counterterrorism concerns, particularly the perceived threat posed by Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) and the Yemeni branch of the Islamic State. Through drone strikes, intelligence sharing, and security cooperation with coalition partners, the United States has embedded Yemen within a global counterterrorism framework that operates largely separately from the Yemeni political institutions. Furthermore, allegations made by human rights groups have emerged against the US government and Saudi Arabia over the transfer of military equipment to local Yemeni militias, possibly violating end-user provisions in arms sales agreements (Amnesty International, 2017). While these operations are justified as necessary for global security, they contribute to a governance framework in which external actors exercise coercive power without accountability to local populations. 

Collectively, these interventions challenge conventional understandings of state failure. The traditional definition of the “failed state” is characterised by the collapse of a local government with an inability to provide its population with security and basic services. Yemen’s collapse is not simply the result of internal weakness or poor governance, but of a process in which state fragmentation serves the interests of external actors. Yemen’s war economy and security landscape benefit from a range of domestic and external actors, pushing the idea of long-term management of the conflict rather than a lasting peaceful resolution (UNDP, 2024).

Yemen therefore exemplifies a shift from state failure as an unintended outcome, to state failure as the intentionally orchestrated result of interference (Clausen, 2019, p. 488). The “failed state” label often dismisses the extent of powerful external actors' contribution to producing the very same state collapse they claim to be addressing (Bilgin and Morton, 2004, pp. 172-175). Sovereignty is no longer defined by effective territorial control, but by the ability of external actors to operate through local proxies, security partnerships, and identity-based narratives. This reframing has profound implications for how proxy wars are fought and sustained in the Middle East.

Conclusion:

This article argued that the Yemeni conflict is an example of how realist power balancing interacts with constructivist identity politics in shaping the Middle Eastern regional order. Iran and Saudi Arabia form bilateral alliances and build coalitions to pursue power maximization, but they use sectarian narratives to justify their actions. Yemen's political landscape is further fragmented by the involvement of external actors, such as the United States and the United Arab Emirates, weakening Yemeni sovereignty. Therefore, Yemen's state failure cannot solely be attributed to domestic failures. It is the result of intersecting security governance practices, identity constructions, and geopolitical aspirations. 

It is impossible to fully comprehend Middle Eastern conflicts using only material or ideational frameworks. Rather, the Yemeni conflict highlights the necessity of a nuanced approach that takes into account the identity-based and strategic aspects of contemporary proxy conflicts. Yemen will continue to be a place where regional order is unstable and sovereignty is redefined as long as regional powers use the country as a playground for geopolitical competition (aided by largely baseless sectarian narratives) and external actors continue to prop up and back local proxies for strategic gain. Such dynamics could lead to a political future with unconsolidated state sovereignty, dictated by foreign powers rather than national institutions. Regionally, the events in Yemen can continue to spill over into neighbouring countries, undermining the prospect of a stable regional order. Yemen also highlights the limitations of proxy-based engagement, and the need for international intervention doctrines to be geared towards de-escalation, limitation of foreign interference, and support for mutually beneficial agreements over regional competition.  

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The Colonisation of Kurdistan

By: Isabel Koh

Introduction 

Kurdistan is a distinct geographical region encompassing 40-45 million Kurds (Washington Kurdish Institute, 2026) and spanning four countries: Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Turkey. Kurdistan is a rare case of international colonialism (Middle East Research and Information Project, 2020) –– it is a single entity partitioned and ruled by four different colonial powers. Unlike classical colonialism where a colonial power exploits a faraway colony, Kurdistan’s position is unique. Its inter-state colony status implies that it is being controlled by multiple neighbouring states who systematically erase Kurdistan and subjugate its vision of self-determination through systematic violence embedded in their policies. Internal and settler colonialism as analytical frameworks, this essay argues that the two tools are not ad hoc, frenzied responses to security challenges. Instead, they are the foundational mechanisms through which all four states maintain their nationhood. Ultimately, I argue that these two seemingly contradictory models –– control and erasure –– are but complementary tactics to achieve a single, overarching imperative: national colonialism. 

Historical context 

After the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, Kurdistan did not inherit independence despite fighting alongside the Allies in WW1 in the hopes of attaining it (Eskander, 1999). Instead, the victorious Allies powers carved it up into four segments, erasing it and establishing a pattern of external domination that exists till this day. In 1916, the Sykes-Picot Agreement between Britain, France, and Russia divided Kurdistan into regions of British and French influence without consulting the Kurds (Muir, 2020). This pattern of Kurds having no autonomy at the hands of imperial powers continues throughout history. While the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres explicitly recognised the Kurdish right to self-governance (American Society of International Law, 2020), the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne which replaced the former excluded any reference to Kurdish sovereignty because the balance of power had shifted in Turkey’s favour and the Kurds were not represented at the talks (Fikra Forum, 2023). The Kurds were effectively dispersed across Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Turkey, leaving them as a minority group in all these states (Forum Affairs Forum, n.d.). The shift from the Treaty of Sèvres to Lausanne represents a colonial strategy replicated throughout Kurdistan’s history –– the principle of self-determination is initially recognised, but subsequently denied in practice.

The Treaty of Lausanne’s partition of Kurdistan creates a multi-layered subjugation that persists today. Instead of having one single colonial power to resist, Kurds face a coordinated multi-state system, where all four states have aligned against Kurdish attempts for self-determination.

Military as a Colonial Instrument 

Militarisation serves as a colonial instrument to keep the colony fragmented. Kurdistan’s partition is not merely an artefact of the past; it is still actively being enforced today. Rather than being a mere tool of the states, it is the foundational institution through which the states assert authority and dominance over Kurdish territory. 

The states’ militarisation of the borders serves as an active instrument of partition, fundamentally preventing Kurdish unification and continuing to fracture Kurdish identity. Turkey’s construction of a 204‑kilometre‑long security wall along its Iranian border in Van province to prevent illegal migration and terrorist infiltration is equipped with surveillance cameras and air defence systems (Türkiye Today, 2025).. Similarly, Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) has been constructing a 600km long security wall within the Kurdistan region, with part of its construction materials being excavated from mountains in the Kurdistan region (Kurdu, 2025). The wall will bisect Kurdish communities and limit locals’ ability to graze cattle and move freely across the land (Menmy, 2026). The militarisation of Iran’s borders ultimately turns the mundane daily activities of Kurds into crimes of border transgression.

Militarisation in Kurdistan extends beyond physical destruction to environmental destruction. Scholars argue that destroying an indigenous people’s ecological lifeline such as farmland and livestock is ecocide that dismantles the tangible foundations on which the culture survives, and hence also functions as ethnocide. Turkey launched drone, artillery, and air strikes on Kurdish-held territories in northern Syria during harvest season, setting thousands of hectares of wheat and barley fields ablaze (North Press Agency, 2022). Turkish strikes are ecocidal warfare, squeezing northern Syria’s agricultural capacity dry. More fundamentally, they detach Kurdish communities’ ancestral and economic connection to their land, rendering it uninhabitable and uprooting them into other places where Kurdish self-governance is harder to sustain (Shivhare, n.d.). Environmental destruction thus de-territorialises Kurdish existence by diluting their presence in Kurdish regions and erases their political life. 

Moreover, militarisation is not limited to the ground. It has evolved into techno-colonialism, which combines traditional colonial exploitation with digital infrastructure through  surveillance systems and data infrastructures (Madianou, 2019). This vertical occupation allows for a constant panopticon of surveillance, which Foucault introduces as a diagram of power in which visibility becomes a threat –– the subject, after all, “becomes the principle of his own subjection” (foucalt.info, 1975). When Kurdish airspace is saturated with drones, the population knows that even the smallest sign of Kurdish political life will be targeted by these drones. This constant uncertainty morphs into a panoptic sky (White, n.d.), where Kurdish civilians restrict their own daily movements and political organisation –– not because of actual strikes, but due to the ever-nagging possibility of being detected and killed from above (The Society Pages, 2013). 

Turkey embodies this panoptic sky: Its drones and warplanes across Iraq and Syria stifle Kurdish regions and threaten to make any visible expression of Kurdish political life a target. In the first half of 2024, Turkey carried out at least 345 drone bombardments on Kurdish regions, killing 11 civilians (Zayadin, 2024) and wreaking havoc on life-supporting infrastructure such as power plants and dams (Syrians for Truth and Justice, 2025). Every air strike is a harrowing reminder that innocuous activities such as gatherings can be interpreted as a threat and destroyed from above. Iran reproduces the same logic. In January 2024, the Islamic Revolutionary Guards launched 11 ballistic missiles at the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, Erbil, and killed four civilians in the process, under the façade of targeting Israeli intelligence (Alkhshali, et. al., 2024). Such panopticon surveillance indicates that states view Kurdish territory as a theatre for projecting their military might with impunity.

Taken together, these practices do not merely destroy physical infrastructure –– their panoptic view strangles any life of Kurdish political movement. More than that though, lies a darker reality where people learn to curtail their daily movement and gathering, ultimately becoming Foucault's most unsettling prediction –– the principle of their own subjection. 

Internal and settler colonialism 

Internal Colonialism (Control): 

Internal colonialism occurs where “dominant core regions within a nation-state exploit peripheral areas economically while culturally and politically conveniently ousting them” (Rai, et. al., 2025). It follows four criteria (Blauner, 1969): 

1. Using forced, involuntary entry to incorporate the colonised society;

2. Indigenous culture and social organisation are affected in ways which are more than mere ‘natural’ occurrences like contact and cultural exchange;

3. Colonising authority implements a strategy that limits, alters, or eliminates native values, beliefs, and lifestyles;

4. Members of the colonised group are administered by representatives of the dominant power; and racism is the foundation, where the colonised group is seen as inferior based on ethnic identity, and are oppressed and subjugated. 

Kurdistan fits all four criteria, thus exemplifying internal colonialism. 

Firstly, forced incorporation is not merely historical; it actively plays out today. In Iraq’s Kurdistan Region of Iraq (KRI), after 92% of Kurds voted for independence in the 2017 referendum (British Broadcasting Corporation, 2017), the Iraqi army launched a military offensive on the region and overran Kurdish forces (British Broadcasting Corporation, 2017). Therefore, Kurdish inclusion in Iraq is maintained by military force, not democratic consent. Moreover, the Turkish government has systematically removed democratically-elected Kurdish leaders from power based on shaky foundations such as terrorism charges, while replacing them with appointed trustees (kayyum) (Onursal, 2025), forcibly imposing the coloniser’s bureaucrats onto the colonised. This is part of Turkey’s playbook of strategically removing Kurdish leaders after sidelining or neutralising the Kurdish political movement (Onursal, 2025). Kurdish leaders are caught in a quagmire: speaking out would jeopardise negotiations between both sides, while remaining silent would risk losing legitimacy and support among Kurdish voters (Onursal, 2025). 

Secondly, destroying Kurdish culture is codified in deliberate state policy. Language erasure is entrenched in policies, where in Turkey, broadcasting in Kurdish was illegal until 2002 (Aboutaam, 2024), and in 2024, traffic signs in Kurdish were removed in Kurdish-majority provinces of Diyarbakır and Mardin (Başar, 2024). The Kurdish language remains heavily repressed, with its mere usage criminalised in several contexts. In Syria, linguistic erasure is evident in state practices such as refusing to register citizens with Kurdish names (Burkett, 2024). Although Kurdish language classes began to be offered in 2011 following the outbreak of the Syrian civil war (Bodette, 2026), the language has yet to be fully legitimised. It continues to be subordinated through the systematic exclusion of Kurdish as a medium of instruction in schools and through reports of Syrian teachers exhibiting violence toward Kurdish students (Syrians for Truth and Justice, 2024).. Economic blockades as social control are also weaponised against Kurds. Through withholding funding earmarked for Kurdistan, including budget cuts, punitive trade restrictions, and blockades on oil exports (Saeed, 2025), Iraq utilises economic strangulation to force Kurdistan into depending on the central state for survival. Such coercive methods are meant to cripple Kurdistan economically and strip it of its autonomy.

Thirdly, all four states hold administrative control over Kurdistan to exclude it from power. Kurdistan is not treated as an equal, but an ethnic problem to be controlled. It has a distinct administration status and is governed differently. Turkey has decreed “special security zones” in Hakkari and Tunceli zone that restrict access to visitors and villagers in some cases to counter PKK forces, effectively depopulating these zones US Department of State, 2024). Moreover, Iraq’s disputed Sinjar region has lacked a unified civil administration since the 2014 Yazidi (an ethnically Kurdish, religious minority group) genocide perpetrated by the Islamic State (Ibrahim, Ismael, 2025). It is governed by militias; although a Yazidi mayor was elected in 2024, the appointment was due to the influence of Iraq’s Popular Mobilisation Forces (PMF), rather than consultation with the Yazidi (US Commission of International Religious Freedom, 2025).

Finally, racism forms the bedrock of state policy. The official denial of Kurdish experience is codified in national policies. In the 20th century, Turkey banned the words ‘Kurd’ and ‘Kurdish’, instead referring to them as ‘Mountain Turks’ to portray them as Turks who had simply lost their Turkic identity over time (Washington Kurdish Institute, n.d.). In the process, Turkey could reframe their policies as benevolent re-Turkification rather than ethnic cleansing. Instead of outright negating the Kurdish experience, Turkey could frame their policies in a more palatable ‘restoring of Turkishness’. More foundationally, Ba’athism was explicitly constructed to exclude Kurds from the Arab nation (Geopolitical Studies Group, n.d.). Even after Syrian dictator Assad’s fall in 2024, the sentiment that Kurds should not have the right to exist remains persistent (Jasim, 2025).

Internal colonialism is not superficial or random policy. Rather, it is a tool in a coordinated state effort to eradicate Kurdish political existence. States utilise internal colonialism when they can extract benefits from Kurds, such as labour, resources, and military manpower. However, when internal colonialism fails to assimilate or suppress the Kurdish movement, the state switches strategies to settler colonialism, systematically erasing Kurds. 

Settler colonialism (erasure): 

Kurdistan cannot be classified wholly under settler colonialism –– yet, the model remains an important framework for examining how colonial projects escalate from control to erasure when assimilation fails. 

Patrick Wolfe describes settler colonialism as an ongoing “structure rather than an event” (Wolfe, 2006) where settlers come to stay. Settler colonialism is fundamentally eliminatory and aims to eradicate native societies before instituting a new colonial society on the land (Wolfe, 2006).

The geography of settler colonialism is not random. While the main mechanism of Kurdistan’s exploitation is internal colonialism, the colonial states strategically select zones of maximum strategic benefit to practise population displacement and replacement, such as in Syria’s oil-rich Afrin (İşleyen, 2025). This culminates in a patchwork system, where the same colonial mindset manifests in different modalities, in different regions. 

Syria engages in clear-cut settler colonialism, where throughout 2018 to 2020, Turkey-backed armed groups have settled the families of Syrian National Army (SNA) fighters and non-Kurdish Syrians in Afrin, to the extent that the Kurdish population in Afrin decreased from 98% to 35% by 2020 (Rudaw, 2020). The 2024 Turkish-Syrian National Army offensive in Northern Syria displaced an estimated 120,000 Kurds by force as part of a broader offensive to displace Assad’s regime (Ali, 2024): This offensive embodied the colonial logic of physically removing a group to prevent future return. 

Iraq utilises a hybrid settler colonialism model. The state is trying to reverse Kurdish demographic gains through "Arabisation," but the process is contested and incomplete. In November 2025, Kurdish farmers in Kirkuk reported that Arab settlers, backed by the Iraqi army, were actively taking over their fields through wrongful use of illegal contracts (The New Region, 2025).

However, in Turkey and Iran, internal colonialism dominates, but with settler-colonial elements (cultural erasure, depopulation). While there is no mass and explicit displacement of Kurds in Iran, the state uses crackdowns and secret executions, with over 330 Kurdish civilians and activists arrested in a single month, to stifle and even annihilate Kurdish political society –– the heart of its independence movement (Kurdistan Digest, 2025). Turkey’s strategic depopulation of the Kurds, in which it bans them from their own land (Radpey, n.d.), illuminates a settler-colonial anxiety: the fear of the native (Shalhoub-Kevorkian, 2015). It faces a looming demographic crisis, with birth rates generally plummeting while remaining higher in Kurdish communities (Krzyżanowska, 2024). Thus, its forcible depopulation and assimilation of Kurds is driven by its fear that Kurds will eventually outnumber Turks. 

Ultimately, settler colonialism emerges in strategic regions where the state prioritises replacement over exploitation. Turkey and Iran are not aberrations, but the conclusion of a systematic vision built on the denial of Kurdish sovereignty. When internal colonialism reaches its limits and Kurds start to organize and demand autonomy, the state escalates to settler colonialism. 

National Colonialism 

Such a response is the inevitable outcome of national colonialism, which is the drive to create mono-national states in pluralistic territories (Amini, 2025). National colonialism oscillates between internal colonialism (exploitation and control) and settler colonialism (displacement, eliminatory violence) (Amini, 2025), depending on which tactic best serves the colonial power. 

When Kurds accept subordination without protests, internal colonialism suffices, and the state extracts value from them while maintaining the facade of national unity. However, when they threaten the state’s fundamental identity by organising and asserting self-determination, internal colonialism fails, the state escalates to eliminatory settler colonialism. 

However, the patchwork modality results as the state simply cannot pursue total and complete replacement without shattering the national structure itself. Therefore, it pursues a complementary approach, maintaining internal colonialism in the inner regions of its territory (Diyarbakır in Turkey, Sanandaj in Iran, Kirkuk in Iraq) where the political repercussions of elimination are too severe. Yet, in the borderlands and peripheral Kurdish regions, explicit ethnic cleansing and forced depopulation occur. 

Thus, both internal and settler colonialism serve the same overarching goal of maintaining a mono-national identity, while deploying different tactics based on opportunity and context. 

Resistance and the Structural Limits of Reform 

One might argue that if colonialism were merely a matter of reversible policies, reforms would easily resolve the conflict. However, closer examination reveals a worrying pattern across all the states: when granted, concessions are superficial and overturned when Kurds use them to demand genuine sovereignty. Therein lies the deeper, structural problem: What is causing this violent cycle is not insufficient rights, but the diametrically opposed aims between Kurdish political existence and a dominant, mono-national state ideology. 

In 2002, Turkey passed laws allowing for Kurdish language courses and broadcasting (Arslan, 2015), which, prima facie, was seen as integrative. Yet, such reforms were merely superficial and paid lip service. By 2024, these classes were essentially non-existent in most schools due to bureaucratic red tape and lacking state support (Arslan, 2015). This culminated in the aforementioned removals of Kurdish-language traffic signs in Kurdish-majority regions (Bianet, 2024). While Turkey tolerates Kurdish as a cultural language restricted to the private spheres of one’s home and community, any attempt to move beyond that station and establish it as a language of governance or education is suppressed. Ultimately, granting Kurds the right to speak Kurdish is not a genuine concession –– in fact, it is a colonial strategy of cultural containment that does not challenge the political status quo.  

Despite Iraq’s 2005 constitution recognising the KRI as a federal region with autonomy (Geopolitical Studies Group, n.d.), the conditional nature of KRI’s autonomy was illuminated in 2017, when the Iraqi army invaded KRI after Kurds voted for independence (British Broadcasting Corporation, 2017). Autonomy only exists at Iraq’s discretion –– when KRI becomes a potential sovereign entity and hence a threat, Iraq uses military might to crush it. To Iraq, federalism is a mere temporary management arrangement, not a permanent power-sharing one it wishes to uphold. 

Though Syria’s Assad regime initially tolerated the emergence of a Kurdish-led autonomous region (AANES) which acted as a buffer against ISIS and Turkey-backed militias (Landis, 2012), it launched an ongoing settler colonial project (Ali, 2024) against the Kurds once it started viewing Kurds as an existential threat. Thus, Kurdish self-governance is met with hostility and elimination policies once it morphs into an existential threat and no longer serves strategic purposes to Syria. 

During the reformist era of Iranian president Mohammed Khatami and later Hassan Rouhani, Iran promised to implement Article 15 of the constitution which allowed for regional languages to be used in media and schools (Bradost, 2024), cultivating hope that Iranian nationalism could include Kurds. Yet, such reforms never manifested. In 2025, the Iranian parliament rejected a proposal for regional languages to be included in society, solidifying the complete exclusion of Kurdish language in Iranian society (gov.uk, 2025). Ultimately, when Kurds push for limited rights which are promised but unfulfilled, the state views them through the lenses of separatist movements, and uses legislative and military force to crush them.

In essence, every concession follows the same pattern of the state promising concessions, which increase Kurds’ political power to demand autonomy, causing the state to panic and ultimately repress them. This cycle will repeat until the state’s national structure changes fundamentally. Concessions are not the solution, but the mechanism through which the state drives subjugation. 

Conclusion 

The colonisation of Kurdistan does not call for humanitarian or military reforms. Neither does it require diplomatic negotiations. It is a structural issue rooted in the very belief of a mono-national identity which systematically excludes the Kurds. All forms of colonialism and mechanisms of repression are symptoms of the inevitable logic of national colonialism. 

The only resolution to national colonialism is decolonisation –– reimagining the political structures which undermine Kurdish sovereignty. Yet, the states that rule Kurdistan show no willingness to grant it independence. As long as they continue defining their nationhood through the negation of Kurdish independence, they will continue violently imposing a mono-ethnic identity onto a pluralistic, diverse entity –– and so, the colonisation of Kurdistan continues. 

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Why hasn’t the Iranian regime collapsed? Assessing the strengths of the Islamic Republic regime through political economy and institution analysis

By: Ed Green

The war in Iran does not appear to be approaching a resolution. High-level peace negotiations between the US and Iran in Islamabad recently collapsed as Iran refused to give its highly enriched uranium and the pursuit of its nuclear weapons programme. Neither did Iranian negotiators agree to cease funding militant groups across the Middle East, nor did they agree to fully open the Strait of Hormuz to allow for the unimpeded passage of maritime traffic. The failure of negotiations is unsurprising; Iranian leaders have little appetite to make concessions to the US when a continuation of the conflict and long-term disruption to global energy flows will only increase Iran’s leverage. What is more surprising is the wider geopolitical implications: the US and Israel launched a war against Iran believing they could seamlessly induce regime change, only to find that very regime entrenched, emboldened, and holding all the cards in peace negotiations.        

In his announcement marking the launch of Operation Epic Fury on 28 February, President Trump encouraged the Iranian people to topple the remnants of the besieged regime: “When we are finished, take over your government – it will be yours to take” (American Rhetoric, 2026).  Similarly, Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu laid out how the war was intended to “strike the terror regime hard and create conditions that will enable the brave Iranian people to cast off the yoke of this murderous regime” (Times of Israel, 2026). Evidently, the US and Israeli administrations anticipated that the decapitation of the Islamic Republic regime and the elimination of its coercive apparatus would be an enabling condition for a new regime to emerge, ideally more aligned with those countries’ interests.

Indeed, leaders in the US and Israel were not alone in believing that the Islamic Republic is a moribund entity. For example, in the beginning of March, the esteemed historian and Iranologist at the University of St Andrews, Ali Ansari, argued in the Wall Street Journal that Iran remained on the verge of revolution even amid American and Israeli bombardment (Kaufman, 2026). He rallied against social scientists and international-relations scholars who “have become so wedded to their templates that they can’t see”, arguing that instead “revolutions are impossible before they happen and inevitable after they happen”. 

Voices cautioning against the possibility of successful regime change in Iran were sidelined in the run-up to the conflict, particularly those of academics and members of the intelligence community. Regional analysts’ and political scientists’ pessimistic forecasts of the possibility of regime change in Iran tended to stem not from historical case studies but rather from structural considerations pertaining to country-specific institutions and political economy, as well as global developments that have made authoritarian regimes more resilient since the end of the Cold War, among other factors. 

As of the time of this article’s writing, interpretations stressing the underlying strengths of the Islamic Republic regime appear to have prevailed. Even after the assassination of Supreme Leader Ali Khamanei and dozens of the regime’s top brass, the authoritarian institutions constructed over the Islamic Republic’s 47-year existence appear to be holding firm without signs of significant elite fracture that would threaten the regime’s viability. The appointment of Ali Khamenei’s son, Mojtaba, as the country’s new Supreme Leader, suggests the regime is successfully navigating the crisis to project an image of continuity, contrary to many onlookers’ expectations of rapid collapse.

This article seeks to provide one answer for how the Islamic Republic regime has continually defied expectations and has retained a grip on power throughout countless challenges. In particular, it will focus on how the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), the Basij militia, and the growth of a sprawling ‘shadow state’ have worked in tandem to preserve the regime and prevent elite fracture amid repeated crises of legitimacy and waves of protest. This article will take advantage of theoretical frameworks developed in studies of authoritarian regimes, particularly Gerschewski’s ‘three pillars’ model (2013), to argue that the institutions and political economy upholding the Islamic Republic’s power are entrenched and self-reinforcing.

Ultimately, while the January uprising and the ongoing conflict may significantly reconfigure Iran’s regime, it is unlikely that its authoritarian core will collapse or be dismantled.

Growth of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the Iranian ‘Shadow State’

The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, often shortened to IRGC or Pasdaran, from the Persian Pasdaran-e Enqelab-e Islami, is the sprawling military and security organisation that has emerged as the ‘praetorian guard’ of the Islamic Republic. Its power stems not just from its military capabilities, but from its dominant position in Iran’s political and economic system.

The IRGC was created by a decree of Ayatollah Khomeini in early May 1979. From the outset, the IRGC was founded with the goal of protecting the Islamic Revolution from counter-revolutionary and oppositional forces. 

The fledgling Islamic Republic feared that the regular army or Artesh was disloyal and would attempt to topple the regime, a fear which would eventually come to pass in the Nojeh coup attempt of 1980. To counter disloyalty, the IRGC was created as an ideologically pure militia that would be loyal to the principles of the Islamic Revolution and velayet-e faqih, or clerical rule. Strict recruitment and vetting procedures ensured absolute loyalty to Khomeini and prevented infiltration from oppositional groups such as the Marxist Mojahedin-e Khalq (MEK). The IRGC proved instrumental to consolidating the power of the fledgling Islamic Republic in its violent suppression of ethnic uprisings and the marginalisation of anti-clerical opposition forces. The irregular status of the IRGC was eventually codified into law in December 1979, with Article 150 of the new Iranian Constitution entrusting the IRGC with the role of “guarding the revolution and its achievements”. Thus, from its inception, the IRGC’s willingness to use violence and coercion was borne from an ideological loyalty to the principles of the Islamic Revolution and clerical rule.

The Iran-Iraq War transformed the IRGC from an informal revolutionary militia into a sophisticated military institution. When Iraq invaded Iran in September 1980, the Artesh was beleaguered by revolutionary purges, distrust, and the flight of experienced officials. The Artesh’s operations against the Iraqi army were marked by caution and a limited capacity to conduct counter-offensives. In contrast, the IRGC was praised for its assertiveness, flexibility, and willingness to engage in high-casualty operations. This enabled the IRGC to turn the tide of the war against Iraq. By 1984, the IRGC developed its own dedicated ground forces, navy, and air force, rivalling, if not superseding the Artesh in terms of capabilities.

Various forms of elite bargain ensured that the power of the IRGC would continue to grow after the Iran-Iraq war, despite the closing window for military activity. 

Hashemi Rafsanjani, Iran’s president from 1989 to 1996, cooperated with the IRGC by granting the Guards privileged access to privatised state resources and post-war reconstruction activities. In return, the IRGC supported Rafsanjani’s privatisation agenda against the protests of the Islamist-leftists. The ‘Reconstruction Jihad’ during the Rafsanjani presidency enabled military personnel and equipment to be repurposed for productive ends and relief operations, allowing the IRGC to expand into the civilian economy. This was done against the provisions of the Constitution, which technically privileged the Artesh in post-war reconstruction. This bargain with the civilian leadership allowed the IRGC’s primary engineering arm, Khatam al-Anbiya (also known as Ghorb), to become the leading contractor for enormous state-sponsored construction projects, ranging from hydrocarbons to telecommunications.

Importantly, the IRGC also entered a symbiotic relationship with the clerical leadership. Ali Khamenei, who became Supreme Leader after the death of Ruhollah Khomeini in 1989, lacked the spiritual authority and widespread support of Khomeini, making his position insecure at a critical juncture of leadership transition. Khamenei offered the IRGC a major stake in the Iranian economy and political autonomy, and in return, the Revolutionary Guards would use their coercive capabilities to support Khamenei’s regime. This alliance appeared to endure Khamenei’s entire 36-year tenure as supreme leader.

Enjoying patronage from both the clerical and civilian ruling circles, the IRGC consolidated what has been referred to as a ‘military-bonyad complex’ (Valadbaygi 2013). On one hand, the IRGC’s economic power stems from its enmeshment with the system of bonyad. The bonyads are para-governmental charitable organisations that fall under the direct supervision of the Supreme Leader. These foundations originated in the nationalisation of assets belonging to the Pahlavi monarchy and their redistribution to the “downtrodden” or mostazafan after the revolution. As parastatal organisations, the IRGC and the bonyads constitute a ‘revolving door’, facilitating movements of personnel and capital between institutions, and solidifying client-patron relationships that has helped to build a “deep state” composed of military and security personnel and regime loyalists.

The growth of the bonyads since 1979 mirrors the growth of the IRGC, reflecting the significant degree of institutional design that has entrenched the power of these parastatal organisations. During the Iran-Iraq War, the bonyads exploited their privileged access to state resources to become semi-private monopolies and essential suppliers to the regime. During the Rafsanjani presidency, as part of the elite compromise with the IRGC, the bonyads were exempted from privatisation measures and operated without institutional oversight or accountability measures, allowing them to continually expand and diversify into new sectors such as telecommunications and energy. Under the populist presidency of former IRGC commander Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the constitution was reinterpreted to permit non-governmental entities to manage up to 80% of shares in major state sectors, permitting the transfer of state assets to the bonyads and major players in the military-industrial complex. As a consequence of the policies and decisions privileging the operations of parastatal organisations, it is estimated that over half of Iran’s GDP is currently controlled by the bonyads and the IRGC (Valadbaygi 2013).

In practice, the IRGC’s relationship with the bonyads and the shadow state has proved instrumental in the further consolidation of parastatal power. The IRGC has exploited the unaccountability of the bonyads to conceal transactions and establish front companies that have enabled the IRGC to circumvent international sanctions. This is most evident in Iran’s continued oil exports. In December 2024, Western officials estimated that the IRGC controlled over half of Iran’s oil exports through its operation of a shadow fleet and shell companies facilitating shipments to China (Saul and Hafezi 2024). The oil revenue facilitated by the IRGC has been the lifeline sustaining Iran’s fiscal stability amid strict international sanctions.

The monopolistic powers of the IRGC and the parastatal organisations over much of Iran’s economy, as well as their financially self-sufficient nature, have naturally translated into growing political power over the clerical system. IRGC veterans now populate the highest echelons of government. Since the 2000s, the proportion of IRGC members in the Iranian parliament (Majles) has precipitously increased, while the number of clerics has decreased. Similarly, IRGC veterans comprised over half of Masoud Ahmadinejad’s first cabinet (Hen Tov and Gonzales 2010). This trend of rewarding IRGC members with state positions, in a sense reflecting the Guards’ preponderance in the country’s economy and security sectors, continued under the Raisi administration (2021-2024). 

The IRGC’s growing involvement in Iranian politics

Concurrent with this trend of increasing representation in state positions, the IRGC has frequently called the shots and overturned directives of Iran’s civilian leadership in domestic policy. Similarly, the IRGC has forcefully intervened on multiple occasions to prevent lucrative state contracts from being issued to foreign consortia rather than IRGC-affiliated entities. For example, in 2004, the IRGC blocked the runway of Imam Khomeini Airport in Tehran with armoured vehicles after the government issued its construction contract to a Turkish firm. 

More crucially, the IRGC and its local volunteer militia wing, the Basij, have also been instrumental in brutally suppressing protest movements and preventing challenges to the theocratic system, in effect carrying out the organisation’s founding principle – loyalty to the revolution and the supreme leader. The IRGC’s tactics in suppressing protests range from intimidation, for example, in 1999, when the IRGC threatened to shoot student demonstrators and call for the resignation of reformist president Khatami, to wanton violence, such as was seen in the aftermath of the January 2026 uprising, where the highest estimates place the crackdown’s death toll at 36,500 (Iran International 2026). 

The interests of the IRGC have also been seen to guide Iran’s belligerent foreign policy. The IRGC’s expeditionary force, the Quds Force, has been instrumental in training and equipping the Iran-aligned ‘axis of resistance’ proxy militias across the Middle East, from Hizbullah in Lebanon to the Houthis in Yemen. The aim of this ‘forward defence’ policy is to focus potential conflict with the United States and Israel in locations across the Middle East and away from Iran proper. The IRGC also sees economic opportunities for self-enrichment in conflicts it has provoked and exacerbated: in Syria, the IRGC worked with the Assad regime to secure lucrative post-war reconstruction contracts totalling in the hundreds of billions of dollars (Valadbaygi 2013). 

The IRGC has also consistently derailed attempts to moderate Iran’s foreign adventures and engage in rapprochement with the West. Iran’s pariah status under strict sanctions counterintuitively benefits the IRGC, since sanctions maintain the illicit trade channels that have enriched the IRGC. Moreover, a weak and sanctioned Iranian economy creates an environment conducive for monopolistic organisations like the IRGC to manipulate the scarcity of resources, ultimately further entrenching its dominant position in Iran’s political economy. 

The IRGC’s increasing confidence in dictating Iranian foreign policy in its own interests can be seen in the Guards’ interventions against the 2015 diplomatic deal signed with the West, or the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA). The JCPOA successfully lifted sanctions on Iran in return for a cessation in its nuclear weapons programme. A leaked phone call from 2021 records former Foreign Minister Javad Zarif complaining about the IRGC’s controversial interventions in Syria, as well as the Quds Force commander Qassem Soleimani’s visit to Russia, which was likely timed to undermine the signing of the JCPOA. Zarif’s complaints hint at the true balance of power which puts Iran’s civilian ministries in an inferior position to the IRGC and the shadow state. Similarly, the IRGC became an intractable obstacle in the attempted revival of the JPCOA in 2022, whereby the Guards and hardliner allies refused to proceed in negotiations without the US de-designating the IRGC as a Foreign Terrorist Organisation, which was a red line for the Biden administration. Time again it is evident how the IRGC has exploited its dominant economic and security position within the Iranian regime in return for a domestic and foreign policy that suits its own interests.

Over time, the IRGC has transitioned from a revolutionary militia, ideologically devoted to the principles of the Islamic revolution and velayet-e faqih, into the core of a sprawling shadow state. This ‘military-bonyad complex’ has complete financial and political autonomy and has recentred authority away from the traditional civilian/clerical dichotomy into a constellation of parallel and unaccountable bodies centred around the person of the Supreme Leader. This transformation has taken place mainly due to deliberate institutional design and elite bargains, which have entrenched the power of the regime’s authoritarian core, as well as global dynamics and historical contingencies (Valadbaygi 2013).

The Islamic Republic and the ‘three pillars’ of regime survival

Judging by a historical overview of the growing preponderance of the IRGC and the shadow state alone, the Islamic Republic would most likely follow its current trajectory and remain a repressive pseudo-democracy under the thumb of the IRGC and the Basij militia. However, as events in Syria highlight, authoritarian regimes are still liable to collapse, often at unexpected moments. The recent mass uprisings and the current war with the US and Israel make the possibility of regime collapse in Iran a salient question.

To help assess the stability of Iran’s authoritarian regime, this article will test Iran against Gerschewski’s ‘three pillars’ theory of regime survival (2013). As part of the ‘renaissance’ of autocracy studies, Gerschewski’s model helps to incorporate important concepts such as strategic repression, co-optation, formal institutions, and legitimation into our understanding of the durability of authoritarian regimes. Importantly, the model stresses reciprocal relationships between the pillars, which illuminates how varying strategies of power reproduction can work to stabilise or destabilise the pillars of regime support.

The first pillar explaining the stability of autocratic regimes is legitimation, which is the process of gaining active support or passive obedience from the subjects of the regime. This is further divided into specific support, or the regime’s ability to deliver popular demands such as economic growth, and diffuse support, which pertains to what the regime represents, be it a religious doctrine or charismatic leadership. There is a strong case to be made that the Islamic Republic has exhausted its specific support, given the parlous state of the Iranian economy and its repressive cultural policies, such as the mandatory hijab, which seem to run contrary to the values of Iran’s increasingly educated and secular population. Indeed, discontent at these measures has sparked increasing unrest in recent years, particularly in 2022, which was sparked by the killing of Mahsa Amini by morality police for allegedly improperly wearing her hijab, and in 2025-26, which was sparked by the Tehran bazaari’s discontent over skyrocketing inflation and currency depreciation. 

As for diffuse support, there is a case to be made that Shia Islam is an increasingly transparent veneer for the self-enrichment of the regime’s elites and the perpetuation of their own power. Through the ‘expediency principle’ (mashlahat-e nezaam), the state can override Shari’a law if deemed necessary for the survival of the regime. Challenges to the regime’s political authority are frequently couched in religious terms, with protestors executed for having committed a ‘crime against god’ (moharebeh). The IRGC’s preferential economic treatment and resultant monopoly were also partly justified through religious arguments, as well as its foreign adventures. Moreover, the doctrine of velayet-e faqih has never achieved orthodoxy among the wider Shia community, with many clerics viewing it as a political usurpation of the mullah’s spiritual role. Tellingly, a 2024 survey found that around 73 percent of Iranians advocate for the separation of religion and state, with 85 percent of respondents saying they have become less religious over the last five years (Iran International, 24 Feb 2024). Considering these tensions, alongside the increasingly secular values of the Iranian citizenry, the religious legitimating element of the Islamic Republic may be a growing liability in terms of its long-term survival.

However, it is important to recognise that if around 73 percent of Iranians wish for a secular government, then 27 percent of the population would logically support the theocratic status quo. This religious base provides strong diffuse support for the regime. This religious base also provides the IRGC and Basij militia with a continuous supply of recruits for its brutally coercive apparatus of state violence. Moreover, war with Israel and the US may intensify nationalistic feelings in a ‘rally around the flag’ effect outside of this comparatively small base. Thus, while the Islamic Republic lacks legitimacy in the eyes of the majority of its subjects, it can likely continue to rely on a conservative, religious, and nationalist base with whom its legitimacy remains strong.

The continued crackdowns committed by the IRGC and Basij suggest that the repression pillar sustaining the Islamic Republic regime also remains strong. Gerschewski (2013) distinguishes between low-intensity repression, which involves subtle coercion such as surveillance and the infringement on civil liberties, and high-intensity repression, which involves violence such as mass arrests and killings. High-intensity repression is often effective in the short term as it increases the costs of mobilising against the regime. However, it poses long-term problems in that it weakens the other pillars of legitimacy and co-optation. The IRGC and Basij’s extreme crackdown has demonstrated how, for the regime’s coercive apparatus, no cost is deemed to be too high. Indeed, weakening the repression pillar would be exceptionally difficult. The regime’s repression has so far succeeded in preventing the formation of a coherent opposition able to mobilise against the system. 

Furthermore, as previously discussed, the IRGC is not a conventional army reliant on public funds, but instead a self-sufficient conglomerate existing outside of the state that is loyal only to the Supreme Leader, and more importantly, its own interests as an organisation. What is usually the nail in the coffin for autocracies, elite defections, is unlikely to occur in a parastatal organisation whose continued wealth and existence is wholly dependent on the status quo. Moreover, considering that the regime’s legitimacy has already been severely weakened, it is unclear whether further damage to the legitimacy pillar caused by high-intensity repression would have any real impact on regime stability. This makes it likely that the Islamic Republic’s repression pillar remains, and will continue to remain, extremely strong.

The final pillar, co-optation, pertains to the cost-benefit calculus that ties strategically important actors to the regime elite, as well as the maintenance of elite cohesion. Co-optation can occur through formal channels, for example, through parliaments and political parties, as well as informal channels, such as clientelism and patronage. Successful co-optation strengthens the repression pillar by minimising the chances of elite defection, reducing the possibility of charismatic opposition leaders arising, and lowering the costs of repression. 

The remarkable stability of the Islamic Republic, even during war conditions and the assassination of Khamenei and many other top brass, suggests that the regime’s elite remains unified and its mechanisms of co-optation continue to operate. The vast interpersonal network that binds the office of the Supreme Leader, the IRGC, the Basij, and the parastatal organisations, attests to the strength of the regime’s informal channels of co-optation. Furthermore, given that the IRGC may ultimately control around half of Iran’s GDP and is financially self-sufficient, the necessity of co-opting economic elites unaffiliated with the regime’s patronage networks is low. While some intra-regime conflicts regarding the war’s conduct have been aired in public, for example, the IRGC and other regime figures strongly rebuked President Pezeshkian’s apology over attacks on the Gulf states (Shankar, 2026), it is clear that de facto power lies with the IRGC and the shadow state, rather than Pezeshkian, who has been criticised as a ‘puppet’ of Ayatollah Khamenei (Taghati, 2024). 

Moreover, in a perverse path-dependency dynamic, the IRGC and Basij militia’s high-intensity repression of January 2026 may have strengthened the regime’s ability to co-opt elites by painting the entire system complicit in the largest massacre in Iran’s modern history. Thus, the co-optation pillar of the Iranian regime – that is to say, the IRGC and the shadow state – also appears to be strong and coherent.

Conclusion

This article has sought to map the strengths and weaknesses present in Iran’s authoritarian regime through a historical political economy and institutional analysis, as well as an evaluation of the Islamic Republic system through the theoretical model of the ‘three pillars’ of regime survival. On all counts, apart from specific legitimacy, Iran’s regime appears robust, entrenched, and self-reinforcing. This argument has since been vindicated by US intelligence reports, which concluded that the regime would not fall even with US and Israeli joint kinetic action (Banco and Landay, 2026).

Alternative explanations that argue for the high possibility of regime collapse often fall into the trap of historical determinism that ignores contemporary, country-specific factors that have entrenched authoritarianism in Iran, as well as mistakenly viewing Iran’s regime through its constitutional design, split between quasi-democratic civilian and clerical institutions, rather than the de facto political domination of a sprawling shadow state led by the IRGC. This unaccountable shadow state was intentionally constructed over the course of the Islamic Republic’s history as an elite bargain to entrench the power of the Supreme Leader and the IRGC. The potential capability of any protest movement or ethnic militia to unilaterally dismantle this authoritarian structure is highly doubtful.

What is more likely is that the IRGC and its affiliated entities will eventually subsume the theocratic element of the regime, which has long suffered from intractable legitimacy problems. The subsequent establishment of a military-led state helmed by the IRGC may turn to nationalism as an alternative source of legitimacy, or resort to the tried-and-tested method of brutal mass killings to entrench its power, solely relying on the pillars of coercion and co-optation. The controversial appointment of Ayatollah Khamenei’s son, Mojtaba Khamenei, as Iran's new Supreme Leader, suggests that this subordination may be currently underway, as the IRGC drove through its chosen candidate without regard to the desires of the clerics in the Assembly of Experts, who were allegedly threatened into silence (Iranwire, 2026). This year’s protests, massacres, and the war with Israel and the United States, are certain to transform Iran from the clerical regime established in 1979, perhaps beyond recognition. However, whatever path Iran takes from this point, the core of its authoritarian regime is unlikely to disintegrate.