The postwar succession crisis may open possibilities for change, but only if civil society avoids premature illusions and applies organized, strategic pressure.
One might think that U.S. and Israeli missiles, by killing Ali Khamenei, settled the succession question once and for all. The announcement of Mojtaba Khamenei as successor, made in the middle of the war, reinforced the impression that foreign aggression had effectively paved the way for the transfer of power; a transfer that, in the view of some, would probably have faced far greater resistance and obstacles under normal circumstances.
But in my view, the question of succession and the transfer of power has still not become settled or one-directional; it has merely been postponed under the shadow of war. Especially when it takes on existential dimensions, war can suspend conflicts, setting them aside for the time being under emergency circumstances. Under such conditions, the system’s priority is not resolving internal rivalries, but survival and repelling the external threat. Regardless of the contradictory reports about Mojtaba Khamenei’s status, role, and degree of presence during the war, even if we assume that he played an effective role, one still cannot speak of a stabilized transfer of power. What has taken shape is less a full-fledged succession than a kind of “suspended succession”; a condition in which formal declaration, driven by wartime necessity, has substituted for the real consolidation of authority.
With the end of the war, the cohesion formed under the pressure of threat rapidly begins to crack, and fundamental questions emerge: who really holds power? How, and by whom, were the vital wartime decisions made? Who bears responsibility for the failure of previous policies and for the costs incurred? And, most importantly, which networks and institutions will control postwar resources and privileges? What had been deferred during wartime now returns to the center of the stage, and hidden rivalries appear more openly than before. In such a climate, “survival” alone can no longer serve as the adhesive holding the system together, and conflict over authority, legitimacy, and the distribution of resources inevitably intensifies.
At this point, a key question arises: can the process through which this suspended succession is actually consolidated become an opportunity for political opening, and even for a transition away from authoritarianism? The answer is not simple. Such moments neither guarantee change nor necessarily ensure the continuation of the status quo; rather, they are “moments of possibility.” Which direction this possibility takes depends to a large extent on the behavior of elites, and more importantly, on the way civil society acts and organizes itself: whether society can use the cracks within the ruling order to widen its own breathing space, or whether it will unwittingly help reproduce authoritarian cohesion.
In studies of non-democratic regimes, there is a widely accepted principle: the moment of a leader’s departure or death is one of the most dangerous periods for regime survival. But one must be precise; this change does not in itself mean the beginning of democracy. What happens is the collapse of the “glue of power.” With the leader gone, the trust that kept ruling elites together disappears, fear of the future takes its place, and the possibility of conflict among factions over securing a larger share reaches its peak.
This situation is especially critical in regimes where power has been concentrated around an individual rather than an institution. It may be said that the Islamic Republic is not simply a dictoarship regime based on the authority of a single person (the supreme leader), and that it possesses a complex structure of institutions such as the Revolutionary Guards, the clergy, and various councils. This is true. But the issue is that throughout all these years, these institutions have functioned not independently, but through reliance on a “central balancing point.” Ali Khamenei stood at the apex of power for nearly four decades. During that time, he was not merely a manager, but the “final arbiter” who maintained equilibrium among the security, religious, and political factions. He was the one who prevented internal conflicts from leading to the collapse of the system as a whole. So the question now is not whether these institutions exist; the main question is this: without that powerful arbiter, can these conflicting institutions still cooperate with one another, or will they turn on each other?
Therefore, the succession of Mojtaba Khamenei, or of any other figure under these conditions, is not the “end of the crisis,” but a “stress test” for the entire structure. This is the moment that will reveal whether the system can endure, without that old anchor, against the storm of internal conflicts and social pressures.
In addition to long-standing fault lines and earlier rivalries, the end of the war will create two new fault lines that will act as catalysts for self-interested political maneuvering:
- The divide over “agreement or compromise”: any agreement to end hostilities will not produce a uniform interpretation among the elites. What for one segment of the ruling order is “strategic rationality” and a necessity of survival, for ideological factions and hardline security actors will be seen as “retreat” or even “betrayal.” This divide is crucial because a large part of the regime’s legitimacy has been built around the central signifier of “resistance.” Any softening of that position opens the way to challenge those who pushed the agreement forward. Signs of this tension are visible even now in resistance to the end of the war and in the acute sensitivity to any image of “compromise”; this is the classic pattern of elite division after passing through an existential crisis.
- Competition over postwar resources: agreement with the US does not simply mean the end of war; it marks the beginning of a process of redistributing opportunities. The release of frozen assets, the possible easing of sanctions, and the opening of new trade channels are not “neutral”; within the system, these resources create “winners” and “losers.” At this stage, a series of tension-producing questions emerge:
- Which institution will control foreign-currency resources?
- Which networks will receive the major reconstruction contracts?
- And ultimately, who will dictate the balance of economic power in the postwar era?
In a system where economic power is deeply intertwined with political influence, any financial opening, rather than helping stabilize the situation, can further inflame the flames of internal competition.
We must be direct and precise in analyzing the current moment: although the succession process and the intensification of internal divides inevitably create “new possibilities” for change, the greatest strategic error would be to exaggerate the scale of those divides. The main danger is that, through a mistaken reading, we may overestimate the weakness of the ruling order and fall into the trap of the “illusion of premature overthrow.” Therefore, in order to move beyond this impasse and turn “suspended succession” into a real opportunity, civil society needs to shift from fruitless radicalism toward intelligent and organized pressure. This strategic shift can be expressed through the following proposals:
- Prioritizing accountability over maximalism: focusing on questions that force ruling elites to answer and deepen internal fissures.
- Avoiding unplanned radicalism: refraining from actions whose only function is to justify the total securitization of the public sphere and reproduce the power of the hardliners.
- Targeted, step-by-step pressure: replacing dreamlike confrontations with strategies that wear down different layers of power and deprive them of the ability to carry out unified repression.
- Using internal divisions without merging into factions: making use of internal conflicts to push back the walls of despotism and open a space for the independent breathing room of society.
- Redefining the concept of stability: presenting democracy and the rule of law as the only guarantees of “real stability” and as the only force capable of ending destructive cycles of crisis.
If we have learned only one lesson from the bitter and bloody experience of past crackdowns and from devastating foreign aggression, it is this: dreamlike, unplanned confrontation, and merely beating the drum of violence and regime change, does not necessarily lead to the desired outcome. This reactive approach, more than pushing the regime back, raises the human cost and provides the necessary pretext for the maximum consolidation of the repressive apparatus.
As the flames of war die down, the real conflict will only just begin: a multilayered struggle over political authority, shaken legitimacy, and postwar economic spoils. This inevitable turbulence may open a window for change and for a widening of political space. But this window of opportunity is not very wide, and it will not remain open for long. Success or failure at this juncture depends on the intelligence of civil society in avoiding the trap of all-or-nothing confrontations and focusing instead on targeted and organized pressure.
