
Empires do not export democracy; they export obedience. That is the moral alchemy at the heart of imperial power—where domination is laundered into virtue and coercion is repackaged as goodwill.
This time, if regime change cannot be achieved, regime destruction will suffice: civil war, fragmentation, and the shattering of a multi-century project for a unified, sovereign Iranian state. So far, however, events have refused to follow the script.
Before regime change can be sold, a people must first be simplified. Iranians are said to despise their government. Venezuelans are declared desperate for liberation. These claims are repeated with absolute certainty, never substantiated with evidence, and always freighted with consequence.
No society on earth is an ideological monolith. Who has ever encountered a country governed by unanimity? No one. Such uniformity would be unnatural—indeed, pathological. Yet when war planners and their media support structures go to work, entire nations are suddenly portrayed as echo chambers: robotic, instinct-driven, stripped of contradiction, dissent, and agency. Humanity must be suspended before bombs can fall without moral friction.
Of course, there are Iranians who oppose their government. There are also Iranians who support it. This is not exceptional; it is human. What is exceptional is the demand that we believe Iranians have ceased to behave like humans precisely at the moment their country enters the crosshairs of U.S. and Israeli power.
It is both an intellectual fraud and a moral transgression for any non-Iranian to claim authority over the political will of Iranians. No outsider possesses the right to dictate how a people conduct their internal affairs. That right belongs to them alone, as a matter of sovereignty and dignity. What does demand scrutiny—indeed, resistance—is the moment Western governments begin mobilizing public opinion for war, laundering aggression through the language of concern and care.
The true audience for this critique is not Tehran, but our own societies—where narratives are engineered, consciences anesthetized, and citizens prepared, yet again, for catastrophe marketed as humanitarian rescue.
We are repeatedly asked to accept a convenient fiction: that “democracy” in Iran would yield a government neatly aligned with U.S.–Israeli strategic interests. This claim collapses under even the lightest scrutiny. Israel—because of its occupation, its genocidal policies, and its industrial-scale slaughter of Palestinians—is deeply unpopular not only across the region, but across the world. A genuinely democratic Iran, responsive to its people rather than to foreign patrons, would almost certainly reflect that reality. And that, precisely, is the problem.
Real democracy is dangerous to the empire. It cannot be tolerated where public opinion runs decisively against U.S. militarism and Israeli impunity. This is why “democracy promotion” so reliably culminates not in self-determination, but in monarchies, dictatorships, or compliant client states. The script is familiar: liberation rhetoric first, domination machinery close behind.
Oppose U.S.–Israeli regime change in Iran, and the response is predictable. You are accused of silencing Iranian protesters, dismissing dissent, or denying agency. The charge is dishonest—deployed because honesty would unravel the case. This is not an attempt to instruct Iranians on their choices; it is a warning to Western audiences about what they must not endorse. In the present climate, any call by the war-mongering propaganda apparatus for regime change inevitably feeds a lavishly funded machine designed to condition public opinion for war.
Once, defiance of imperial overreach was a mark of patriotism. Today, it is mocked as naïveté, while submission to power is dressed up as moral responsibility. The moral compass has been turned on its head.
So, the question remains: what happened to the nation that once claimed to stand for law, human rights, and peace?
The answer is written plainly—in every regime-change lie, in every people reduced to abstractions, in every war sold as salvation. An empire that confuses domination with virtue must always dehumanize those in its path, because only by denying the humanity of others can it live with the crimes it commits in its own name.
Javed Akbar is a freelance writer with published works in the Toronto Star and across diverse digital platforms.









