The Wandering State of Iranian Politics
Today's Iranian politics resembles an increasingly tangled knot. Amidst internal and external storms, the compass of governance seems to have lost its needle, spinning erratically in all directions. The current state goes beyond mere diversity or divergence of opinion; our political trajectory resembles the erratic stumbling of an Alzheimer's patient far more than the purposeful stride of a determined statesman.
The echoes of slogans advocating "national consensus" and solidarity following the 12-day war have barely faded before glaring contradictions re-emerge to cloud the domestic political landscape. In days when the country urgently requires cohesion above all else, we are witnessing capricious behaviors that leave onlookers bewildered.
On one hand, to stimulate patriotism and integration, the state turns to ancient history—invoking King Shapur of the Sasanian Empire on billboards in Enghelab Square and honoring national symbols in the hope of creating an umbrella for solidarity. Yet the very next day, on a state television game show, those same cultural and historical symbols are pelted with insults. This oscillation between "instrumental nationalism" and "exclusionary dogmatism" is the first symptom of this systemic disorientation.
This confusion is not confined to the realm of cultural symbols; on the bedrock of reality and legislation, the fracture runs even deeper. Last Wednesday, 155 parliamentarians signed a letter to the Judiciary Chief demanding strict enforcement of the controversial Hijab Law—an initiative that had previously been halted by the Supreme National Security Council due to its explosive societal risks. This means that while the country's highest security body recognized the danger of social unrest, half of the parliament continues to march to a confrontational drumbeat.
The Judiciary Chief, addressing the administrative council of Yazd, responded with empathetic rhetoric toward these demands. Emphasizing crackdowns on restaurants, cafes, and organized movements, and declaring that "the status quo cannot continue," his remarks signaled a coercive posture sharply at odds with the administration's dialogue-oriented approach. Threatening prolonged business shutdowns and penalizing event organizers sends a message that starkly contradicts the signals emanating from the presidential palace.
In sharp contrast, President Masoud Pezeshkian, during his provincial visit to Kohgiluyeh and Boyer-Ahmad, implicitly responded to parliament and the judiciary with conciliation rooted in his consensus ethos: "I am not one to stand against the people. I have repeatedly said that if anyone is to stand in opposition to the people, I will not be in that line. We must sit with the people, converse, and make sound decisions for the future."
It appears that the political faction opposing the administration—which has consistently demonstrated a willingness to employ any lever to paralyze its rival—has now shifted the battlefield to the volatile social arena. Disregarding the looming threats of renewed conflict and external hazards, they seem intent on using the "hijab" issue as a wedge to deliver a knockout blow to the government.
In circumstances where the national economy is grappling with acute distress and foreign relations stand on the precipice of extreme fragility, returning to coercive policies whose failure was conclusively demonstrated in 2022 is nothing short of playing with fire. Any move that sparks public outrage and re-polarizes society will ultimately harm not merely the administration, but the stability of the entire political architecture.
Statesmen must recognize that amidst these turbulent times, the public is closely observing these contradictions, and social patience is not infinite. Insisting on failed remedies when the country desperately requires calm is a textbook example of political wandering—one that, if left unaddressed, will exact an exorbitant price.