“Revolutions are the only political events which confront us directly and inevitably with the problem of beginning.” Hannah Arendt — On Revolution
The debate surrounding Reza Pahlavi’s role in Iran’s opposition has intensified in recent months, with supporters and critics arguing passionately over his legitimacy and potential leadership.
After more than four decades in which the Islamic Republic has systematically weakened, co-opted, or eliminated alternative centers of political power, Mr. Pahlavi has emerged — for many — as the most visible opposition figure. Whether one supports or opposes him, his prominence is no longer in question.
At the same time, Iran faces acute strain. The national currency has collapsed. Rolling blackouts and water shortages have made daily life increasingly difficult. The regime’s regional posture has weakened, and the brutal suppression of protests in December 2025 reinforced its willingness to preserve power at any cost. Externally, heightened military tension in the Persian Gulf underscores the volatility of the moment.
In a previous essay, I argued that a liberal democracy is unlikely to emerge automatically from the collapse of the Islamic Republic. History suggests that sudden rupture rarely produces institutional maturity. But improbability is not inevitability — and unpredictability is not an excuse for unpreparedness.
Moments of regime change do not arrive on a schedule. They arrive abruptly, often chaotically. When they do, there is little time to design institutions from scratch. The political order that follows will be shaped by the ideas already circulating and the expectations already formed.
Debates about leadership are therefore no longer theoretical. They are urgent. But urgency alone is not enough. The quality of the debate matters as much as its intensity.
When Democracy Becomes a Slogan
Revolutions begin with passion. Stable states are built with design.
Today, democracy is invoked passionately. But design — the architecture that makes democracy endure — receives far less attention.
The word “democracy” is invoked daily — in protests, in diaspora debates, in manifestos. Yet beneath the urgency lies an uncomfortable question: do we mean the same thing when we say it?
While the public calls for democracy and the opposition debates personalities, few pause to define what democracy actually means beyond the ballot box.
Across the political spectrum, many reduce democracy to elections alone. The debate revolves around who should lead, who has legitimacy, who would win a referendum. But this narrows a complex political architecture to a single procedural moment: voting.
In moments of transition, that reduction is not harmless. It determines whether change produces stability — or simply replaces one form of domination with another.
So we must ask:
Is democracy merely majority rule? Or is it something more — something that shapes not only who governs, but how power is exercised, limited, and shared?
Democracy vs Liberalism — The Missing Distinction
Terms and conditions. Pomp and ceremony. Null and void. Some words are so often paired that they begin to feel inseparable.
The same is true of democracy and liberalism. We say “liberal democracy” so frequently that the two concepts merge in our minds. But they are not the same — and they do not automatically produce one another.
This is the uncomfortable part:
There are liberal democracies — systems where competitive elections coexist with strong institutional limits, protected rights, and genuine pluralism. Norway, Switzerland, and the United States are commonly cited examples.
There are illiberal democracies — systems where elections are held and governments can claim electoral legitimacy, but courts weaken, media freedom shrinks, and institutional checks erode. Hungary under Viktor Orbán is widely described in this way. Orbàn often refers to “illiberal state” as his project for Hungary.
And there are liberal but non-democratic systems — states that maintain rule of law, administrative integrity, and economic freedoms, yet restrict full political competition. Singapore is often cited as such a case.
These are not theoretical categories. They exist simultaneously in the contemporary world.
The implication is unsettling:
Elections can exist without liberalism. Liberal order can exist without full democracy.
The ballot box alone does not guarantee freedom. And freedom alone does not guarantee political rotation.
- Democracy answers one question: Who rules?
- Liberalism answers another: What are they forbidden from doing?
- Pluralism answers a third: Can those who lose continue to exist politically?
Liberal democracy is not automatic. It is constructed — a deliberate fusion of electoral legitimacy, institutional restraint, and protected opposition.
When democracy is reduced to majority rule alone, power concentrates. When liberal safeguards are absent, losing feels dangerous. And when pluralism is weak, disagreement becomes existential.
This is not a semantic distinction. It is the difference between a system that rotates power — and one that merely transfers control.
Designing Against Ourselves: A Lesson from the American Founding
“If men were angels, no government would be necessary.” James Madison — Federalist Papers
When the American colonies declared independence in 1776, they did not begin by searching for a perfect leader. They began with a more unsettling question: how do we prevent ourselves from recreating tyranny?
Their debates centered not on personality, but on structure: separation of powers, checks and balances, judicial independence, federalism.
They feared two dangers equally:
The tyranny of one and the tyranny of the majority.
The Constitution did not assume virtuous leaders. It assumed ambition and imperfection. Its architecture was designed to restrain power — even when that power claimed democratic legitimacy.
The American experience is not a template for Iran. The contexts differ profoundly. But one principle remains relevant: durable systems are built on distrust of concentrated power, not trust in individuals.
Before rallying around personalities, political actors must clarify the institutions that will outlast them.
In moments of uncertainty, clarity about structure builds more trust than confidence in character.
Iran: Destiny Disrupted
“Every story depends on where you begin it.” — Tamim Ansary, Destiny Disrupted
Iran’s modern political story has been marked not by steady institutional accumulation, but by interruption.
The Constitutional Revolution introduced rule of law but lacked time to mature. The Pahlavi era prioritized modernization but did not cultivate sustained pluralist competition. The 1979 Revolution mobilized mass participation but consolidated ideological supremacy.
Across these phases, Iran experienced elections and revolutionary legitimacy. What it did not experience was a prolonged period in which liberal constraints, minority protections, and routine power rotation became embedded habits.
Political culture is shaped by repetition. Societies learn liberal democracy not from theory, but from lived practice: losing without fear, criticizing without reprisal, seeing institutions restrain power.
In Iran, losing power has often meant exclusion. That memory does not fade easily.
The result is a paradox: deep suspicion of concentrated authority — and simultaneous gravitation toward visible personalities when crisis strikes.
This is not a moral failure. It is structural inheritance.
The Present Debate: Risk of Self-Fulfilling Fear
Against this backdrop, today’s debate becomes clearer.
Reza Pahlavi’s prominence generates both hope and caution. The caution among many elites is understandable. The lesson of 1979 is painful: coalition without safeguards can empower domination.
But a different risk now emerges.
Reluctance among political elites — driven by historical memory and fear of renewed concentration of power — has coincided with growing popular support for Pahlavi among segments of society driven by desperation, exhaustion, and, for some, nostalgia. These two currents are moving in parallel, but not together.
When elites hesitate to engage structurally and instead remain distant, while public frustration pushes toward a visible figure as a symbol of rescue, the space for negotiated institutional guarantees narrows.
The result can be paradoxical.
Caution meant to prevent domination may leave institutional design underdeveloped. Popular support, formed without parallel structural negotiation, may solidify around personality rather than constraint. The gap between elite hesitation and popular urgency can produce precisely the concentration of authority that caution seeks to avoid.
In this way, fear can become self-fulfilling — not because caution is wrong, but because fragmentation weakens the leverage necessary to bind leadership early.
The relevant question is therefore not whether support should be unconditional, nor whether caution should disappear. It is whether both energy and skepticism can be redirected toward one goal: binding institutional commitments before authority consolidates.
The choice is not between blind support and principled caution. It is between leaving the field to emotional momentum — or shaping it through architecture.
Majoritarian Transition and the Illusion of Safety
“The tyranny of the majority is now generally included among the evils against which society requires to be on its guard.” John Stuart Mill — On Liberty
In upheaval, elections feel like safety. The ballot box promises clarity.
But in polarized societies emerging from ideological rule, elections alone can intensify existential fear.
When power is centralized and institutions are weak, electoral victory concentrates authority in a single center. Majority rule becomes indistinguishable from dominance.
The illusion lies in assuming electoral legitimacy restrains itself. It does not.
Both uncritical majoritarianism and excessive fragmentation are dangerous. The first assumes victory will be benign. The second prevents collective leverage to design constraints.
The real choice is between architecture before authority — or authority before architecture.
Pluralism as the Only Durable Exit
“The question is not, ‘Who should rule?’ but ‘How can we organize political institutions so that bad or incompetent rulers can be prevented from doing too much damage?’” Karl Popper — The Open Society and Its Enemies
If ballot-box transition alone is unstable, what endures?
Pluralism — not as rhetoric, but as structure.
Pluralism ensures that no political force can permanently eliminate its rivals. It guarantees opposition survival regardless of electoral outcomes. It protects minorities beyond temporary majorities.
Instead of withholding support over personality or granting it unconditionally, political actors can insist on structure:
Clear constitutional guarantees. Entrenched rights. Defined limits on transitional authority.
These are not anti-leadership demands. They are pro-system demands.
A coalition built around institutional commitments is stronger than one built around emotional alignment. It transforms caution into leverage rather than paralysis.
Pluralism is not a luxury in transition. It is the only durable exit.
Conclusion: Architecture Before Allegiance
Iran does not have the luxury of abstract debate.
Economic strain is real. Social exhaustion is real. Instability is real. In such moments, clarity becomes a civic duty.
Democracy is not merely voting. Liberal democracy is majority rule restrained by durable guarantees — rights that cannot be revoked by temporary enthusiasm, institutions that do not bend to ambition, pluralism that protects opponents as much as supporters.
Without liberal constraints, democracy becomes procedural. With them, it becomes stable.
The debate around Reza Pahlavi — and around any potential leader — should therefore shift. Support or opposition should hinge not on symbolism or promises of elections alone, but on structure.
Adjust support according to one simple standard: not whether a leader can win, but whether they commit to being bound.
- Bound by a clear bill of rights.
- Bound by limits on executive power.
- Bound by guaranteed space for opposition.
- Bound by a defined and time-limited mandate.
Anything less leaves too much to trust.
Caution is understandable. But caution that withholds cooperation until perfection appears risks preventing the safeguards it seeks.
Demand constitutional clarity before offering allegiance.
Ask not only what a leader promises to do — but what will restrain them once they can do it.
Because in transitional moments, allegiance to personalities is fleeting. Architecture endures.
And in the end, it is the architecture — not the architect — that determines whether Iran’s next chapter becomes another rupture, or the beginning of a durable republic.