Cracks in the Theocracy: Iran’s Power Struggle After the War

 

Iran’s theocracy is cracking: Khamenei’s grip is fading, generals are scheming, ex-presidents are plotting, and a Love Island-style rebellion brews—yet no one knows who’s really in charge anymore.

Once upon a time, Iran’s politics was a one-man show. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, the self-declared shadow of God on earth, ruled with unchecked power. Presidents, clerics, and military chiefs bowed to his command. He chose who ran for office and stacked the system in his favor. But after Iran’s recent 12-day war with Israel, that iron grip has gone limp. The strongman is now a ghost in his own palace.

At 86, Khamenei rarely shows up in public. When he does, his sermons are short and lifeless. The crowd doesn’t roar; it yawns. Everyone is asking the same question: who’s next? Who’s really in charge now? The war with Israel shook the regime, but what followed was an even bigger aftershock—a power vacuum. Inside the regime, different factions are now circling like vultures. Outside, the public is disillusioned, angry, and more disconnected than ever.

At first, the war looked like a unifier. It wrapped the flag around the regime and muffled protests. Binyamin Netanyahu told Iranians to rise up, but they stayed quiet. Unity seemed possible. But once the ceasefire hit on June 24th, that unity cracked wide open. What’s left is a regime with too many voices and no conductor.

Khamenei’s solution? Dress the theocracy in a nationalist costume. During Ashura on July 5th, the most sacred day in Iran’s religious calendar, he told the muezzin to ditch religious chants and sing Ey Iran Iran, a banned anthem from before the Islamic revolution. In city squares, new billboards flash images of ancient Persian heroes, not Shia saints. Khamenei is digging up pre-Islamic pride, hoping to distract from clerical failure. But you can’t polish rust and call it gold.

Meanwhile, Iranian TV now features a racy Persian version of “Love Island,” where unmarried couples flirt and touch. Tehran feels less like the Islamic Republic and more like an audition for secular freedom. Women walk around without headscarves or long coats. The theocratic dress code is fading like old wallpaper, peeling off in patches.

But don’t get it twisted—these are not signs of change. They’re traps in glitter. Khamenei still clings to the same rotten core. This month, he reappointed his crusty old Friday preacher and the 99-year-old head of the Guardian Council—for the 33rd time. The system isn’t evolving. It’s decaying. Executions are up. Political prisoners hoping for amnesty are still locked away. Reformists are vanished from TV screens. It’s not reform—it’s regression in disguise.

While Khamenei puts on his puppet show, real power is shifting behind the curtain. The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), the regime’s elite military machine, is muscling its way forward. During the Israeli strikes, Khamenei vanished into his bunker and let the generals call the shots. That move sparked talk of a military junta. But even the IRGC is falling apart. Israel has clearly infiltrated their ranks, and paranoia is ripping through their command. Instead of a unified army, Iran risks ending up with a bunch of mafia-like warlords—more Al Capone than Ayatollah.

President Masoud Pezeshkian is trying to act like a unifier. He wants to talk with the opposition and welcome back exiles. But nobody’s buying it. Iranians blame him for power outages, water shortages, and a sinking currency. His efforts to lure businesspeople back home have failed. The rial keeps dropping, and so does his credibility. You can’t sell hope when the lights are out and the taps are dry.

Enter the old lions. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Hassan Rouhani are back on the prowl. They both have stronger public support than Pezeshkian. Rouhani, still wearing his clerical turban, seems to think he could be Khamenei’s replacement. He says the war should be a “wake-up call” to rebuild Iran’s foundations. Meanwhile, Ali Larijani, a former speaker of parliament, is playing president already. He—not Pezeshkian—led a key delegation to Moscow to meet Vladimir Putin.

And the voices of dissent are rising. On July 11th, former prime minister Mir-Hossein Moussavi, still under house arrest after 15 years, released a petition for a new constitution. Hundreds of intellectuals signed it. But many young Iranians are done with the old guard—clerics, generals, dissidents, all of them. They want a full reset.

Iran’s foreign policy now reflects its domestic chaos. Once dreaming of regional domination, the regime is now just trying to survive. Some hardliners want to sprint for a nuclear bomb. Others hope China, Iran’s biggest oil customer, might send military help. But with Israel threatening more airstrikes and Russia bogged down in Ukraine, those hopes are fading fast.

And then there’s America. Trump’s involvement in the Israel war rattled Iran’s leadership. Talks on the nuclear deal stopped cold. Still, Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi says Iran is ready to talk again—maybe even sign a non-aggression pact with Israel. That could end sanctions and bring foreign investment back. But there’s one problem: no one can agree on what Iran’s future should be. And no one has the power to decide it.

Right now, Iran feels like a ship with too many captains and no anchor. The Supreme Leader is barely present. The generals are paranoid. The ex-presidents are plotting. The people are restless. And on TV, a fake “Love Island” gives the illusion of freedom while the regime tightens its grip. It’s a political masquerade—where the masks are slipping, the players are scrambling, and no one knows who’s holding the crown. When the throne becomes a carousel, expect chaos, not a king.