In the midst of a grinding economic downturn and a swelling wave of mass demonstrations, Iran today stands at a crossroads. Ordinary citizens, fed up with soaring inflation, a collapsed currency and the spectre of repression, have taken to the streets in cities across the country. Their chants, once focused on bread and jobs, have grown into cries against the very foundations of the theocratic state. But as Iranians try to make history on their own terms, an unmistakeable external actor has inserted himself into the drama, Donald Trump.
Trump’s recent warnings to Tehran, that if the regime slaughters peaceful protesters, the United States is “locked and loaded” to respond with significant force, are being touted by his supporters as a courageous defence of freedom. Yet beneath the bombast lies a far more self-interested calculus, one that has little to do with human rights and everything to do with grand strategic posturing. This is not solidarity; this is strategy. And the Iranian people and their struggle, deserve better than to be pawns in a geopolitical chess game.
Trump’s embrace of the Iranian protest movement mirrors, in disturbing ways, his recent actions in Venezuela. There, a shock “operation” that purportedly captured Nicolás Maduro was sold as a blow for democracy, yet it looked instead like a heavy-handed attempt to reshape regional power dynamics and secure access to energy resources. In both cases we see a pattern, lofty rhetoric about liberation paired with exercises of raw power that do more to consolidate U.S. control than to empower the people said to be at the centre of the narrative. These aren’t acts of empathy; they are permutations of a blueprint that views foreign populations not as sovereign actors, but as instruments of U.S. influence abroad.
Let’s be clear, the protests in Iran are real. They are born of genuine grievances, economic despair, political stagnation and a yearning for dignity in daily life. They are Iranians’ own story to write, driven by their own voices. Yet here is the paradox, Trump’s very interventions, his threats of military action, his tariffs, his muscular declarations, might in the end accomplish something quite different from what he intends. They might actually bolster the regime he claims to oppose.
Repressive governments thrive on narratives of foreign threat. From Moscow to Beijing to Tehran, authoritarian leaders understand that the spectre of an external enemy is a potent glue, capable of smoothing over internal fractures. When a foreign power threatens attack, national identity hardens. Citizens who might grumble quietly about bread lines or joblessness can be rallied behind flags and slogans, urged by state media to unite against outsiders. Trump’s bluster provides Tehran exactly that kind of leverage, enabling it to dismiss domestic dissent as not merely criminal but as dangerously influenced by imperial hands.
It’s a cruel irony. A president who claims to champion protesters’ rights may end up strengthening the very regime responsible for crushing them. Hard-liners can point to Trump’s words and say: “See? This is not an organic movement for reform. It is a foreign plot to destabilize us.” In Tehran’s tightly controlled media environment, that message resonates far more effectively than any distant tweet. And once that seed is planted, it’s fertile ground for nationalism, not revolution.
Furthermore, Trump’s selective concern for democratic movements reveals an inconvenient truth: concern for human rights is often unwavering only when it suits broader policy goals. In some moments, Trump has championed freedom abroad; in others, he has overseen crackdowns at home without a peep of similar outrage. This inconsistency suggests that backing for protesters is less about universal principles and more about the projection of power, power that often leaves local populations worse off than before.
Indeed, the Iranian people are acutely aware of this. Decades of U.S. sanctions and geopolitical hostility have left many Iranians suspicious of American motives. To protesters inside the country, Trump is not a liberator; to many, he is a symbol of the very forces that have contributed to their hardship. When you’ve lived under punitive economic pressures and seen foreign intervention touted as a panacea, it’s no surprise that skepticism blossoms instead of gratitude.
That’s the other coin here, while Trump’s threats might alienate Iranians from their own economic suffering and political aspirations, they might inadvertently unite them in resistance. Not just against their government, but against the notion that change must come at the barrel of a foreign gun. Street movements driven by authentic local demand for justice don’t need external champions. What they need are conditions in which they can negotiate peacefully, without the shadow of warplanes or tariffs looming overhead.
In foreign policy, the line between support and interference is thin and Trump’s recent gambits over Iran risk crossing it in ways that could have disastrous consequences. Real solidarity with protest movements is about amplifying local voices, respecting national sovereignty, and using diplomatic pressure judiciously. What we’re seeing instead is the projection of old power politics dressed up as moral clarity.
In the end, it’s worth asking, do we want to be the architects of liberation, or the inadvertent architects of resistance to liberation? Because in Iran today, those two things are not the same. What might unite the Iranian people is not the threat of American bombs, but the common resolve to shape their own destiny, free from the coercion of both their own rulers and foreign patrons. Let’s hope the world gives them that room, rather than another script written on their behalf.
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