From Invocation to Mobilization:
Mojtaba Khamenei’s First Nowruz Address Under Conditions of War
By Yvette Hovsepian Bearce, PhD
Introduction
On March 20, the first day of the Persian New Year, Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei delivered his first Nowruz address, which was read on national television by a state broadcaster rather than delivered in his own voice. The context of the speech is critical. It comes in the midst of an ongoing war between Iran, the United States, and Israel. It follows the assassination of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and several senior figures and comes at a moment when Iran’s new leader has yet to appear publicly before the nation.
The tone of the message is, at first glance, measured and conciliatory. Mojtaba extends greetings not only to the Iranian people but also to the broader Muslim world, including regional states affected by the ongoing conflict. Yet this outward posture coexists with a continued harshness toward what the Islamic Republic defines as the jebhe-ye estekbar (“Arrogance Front”), which refers to the enemies of Iran—primarily the United States and Israel.
Beyond its ceremonial function, the speech reveals a more substantive priority. While Mojtaba names the year 1405 as the year of economic focus, the underlying emphasis of the address points toward mobilization—not as rhetoric, but as a governing logic under conditions of war. In the context of sustained military pressure, his language echoes earlier revolutionary calls—most notably those of Ayatollah Khomeini—for societal participation in defense. The message signals not only resilience, but preparation: a call for readiness, for participation, and for the continued integration of society into the state’s defensive structure.
Rhetorically the address follows the established pattern of his father’s Nowruz messages—opening with a religious invocation, assigning a thematic direction to the year, and concluding with a prayer. Substantively, it remains within the ideological framework of Khameneism. Yet the tone reflects a leader at the beginning of his tenure—one navigating war, transition, and visibility while attempting to establish the regime’s authority beyond the direct public presence of state institutions or disciplinary personnel in charge of enforcing citizens’ ideological and political loyalty to it.
It is within this tension—between continuity and constraint, reassurance and mobilization—that Mojtaba Khamenei’s first Nowruz address must be understood. This framing becomes visible from the very opening of the address.
Invocation
Mojtaba Khamenei opens his first official Nowruz address with a deliberate and strategic choice: a well-known Arabic supplication centered on transformation (tahvīl). While often assumed to be Qur’anic in tone, this invocation is in fact a traditional prayer recited at the turn of the Persian New Year, reflecting the fusion of Islamic language with Iranian cultural practice and its established place within Nowruz ritual.
In the name of God, the Most Compassionate, the Most Merciful.
O Turner of hearts and eyes,
O Regulator of night and day,
O Transformer of conditions and states—
transform our condition into the best of conditions.
At one level, the supplication is familiar, even expected. It has been consistently invoked by Ayatollah Ali Khamenei as a framework for inner and spiritual renewal, marking the new year as a moment for moral and religious reorientation.
However, within the context of the current U.S.–Israel war against Iran—marked by the assassination of Ayatollah Khamenei and other key Iranian leaders, Mojtaba Khamenei’s transition into supreme leadership, and broader national uncertainty shaped by war and economic hardship—the function of this prayer becomes more specific.
Mojtaba’s emphasis on tahvīl—the transformation of one’s condition—moves beyond the personal realm and takes on a distinctly political meaning. It becomes a call for the transformation of Iran’s present political condition into a more favorable one. In this reading, the invocation is not merely a prayer for personal renewal, but a petition for divine intervention in the political trajectory of the state. The desired outcome is implicit: movement toward strength, stability, and ultimately victory for the Iranian nation in its confrontation with the jebhe-ye estekbar.
Nowruz Greetings Beyond Iran
Like his father, Mojtaba Khamenei begins his message with a Nowruz greeting addressed not only to the Iranian nation, but also to the broader Muslim community worldwide, particularly on the occasion of Eid al-Fitr (the Islamic festival marking the end of the fasting month of Ramadan). He marks the convergence of two significant celebrations—the religious holiday of Eid and the ancient Persian New Year—thereby bridging the Islamic and national identities of the state and establishing common ground between Iran and the wider Muslim world. As with Ali Khamenei, this pattern is not deployed either casually or coincidentally.
The convergence of these two occasions creates a sense of shared space—religious, cultural, and political—between Iran and the broader Muslim world. It signals commonality and, more importantly, a form of collective orientation.
In this sense, the greeting does more than acknowledge. It prepares. As with his father, Mojtaba situates his audience—domestic and regional—within a shared framework before turning to the more consequential themes of the address. The gesture is subtle, but strategic.
The Narrative of “Imposed War”
Mojtaba then shifts his focus to the “victories” of what he calls the “fighters of Islam.” These references are not general. He situates them within a sequence of conflicts framed as “imposed wars”—a terminology long used by both Ayatollah Khomeini and Ayatollah Khamenei to describe external aggression against the Islamic Republic:
- the June 2025 war, a U.S.–Israel military campaign targeting Iranian facilities;
- the January 2026 “coup,” referring to domestic protests;
- and the ongoing war beginning February 28, 2026, resulting in the assassination of his father.
Within this framework, Mojtaba turns the attention of his audience—both domestic and global—to what he presents as the sustained hostility of the “enemies of Islam” toward the Islamic Republic.
Yet his tone does not remain confined to loss. It shifts toward resilience. These events are not framed as moments of weakness, but as evidence of the strength of the Iranian people and the endurance of the Islamic Republic.
At the center of this narrative is a key claim: the enemy has repeatedly miscalculated Iran. Rather than turning the population against the regime, external pressure has produced the opposite effect. The people, he argues, have remained present, engaged, and resilient.
What becomes clearer as he moves across these conflicts is not only the persistence of this response, but its meaning. The expectation that pressure would fracture the relationship between state and society is presented as fundamentally flawed. Instead, Mojtaba frames this continued presence as evidence of cohesion—suggesting that what has been tested has not broken.
Mobilization and the Basij
This emphasis is significant and carries important implications for both Iran and its adversaries. Mojtaba presents defense as extending beyond the state, the military, or the security apparatus to society itself.
He evokes a form of national mobilization reminiscent of the early years of the Islamic Republic during Iraq’s invasion of Iran when Ayatollah Khomeini called for mass participation in defense of the country. This included the formation of Basij forces, a volunteer paramilitary network established after the revolution and later incorporated into the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, with a presence in neighborhoods, mosques, and public spaces across the country.
Within this framework, the defense of the Islamic Republic is not—and has never been—confined to formal military institutions. It is woven into the social fabric of the country. The people have never been simple observers of conflict, but participants in it.
In this sense, during the largest war Iran has faced since its inception, Mojtaba’s language can also be read as an indirect call for continued societal mobilization in the face of ongoing external threats, including the participation of both younger and older generations in the defense of the country. Supporters of the regime are familiar with this language; they understand what their new Supreme Leader is signaling.
Constructing the Enemy
At the same time, while Mojtaba portrays the Iranian people as resilient, he characterizes the enemy as weakened in both judgment and capacity. Through language that suggests confusion, miscalculation, and disorientation, he presents the adversary as unable to fully comprehend or effectively respond to what he frames as the enduring strength of the Iranian people.
The enemy, despite its visible force, is portrayed as weakened—its actions marked by miscalculation and an inability to achieve its objectives.
This contrast serves a dual function: it delegitimizes the enemy while reinforcing confidence of the domestic audience.
Taken together, these passages do more than recount events. They construct a narrative. War is reframed as imposed aggression. Protest becomes foreign-backed coup. Loss becomes martyrdom. And the response—rooted in unity, faith, and resistance—is presented as both necessary and enduring. In this way Mojtaba Khamenei is not simply describing what has happened. He is shaping how these events are to be understood—and how the nation is expected to respond to them.
Religion and War: Jihad
Within the ideological framework of the Islamic Republic, Mojtaba’s language reflects a familiar but significant formulation: the linkage between internal and external jihad. Internal jihad refers to spiritual discipline; external jihad refers to the defense of the nation.
This is not new. Both Khomeini and Khamenei consistently emphasized jihad as encompassing spiritual discipline alongside active struggle in defense of Islam. Yet within the context of war, this relationship takes on a more immediate and consequential meaning.
Internal jihad—understood as the cultivation of faith, discipline, and moral commitment—does not remain confined to the personal realm. It produces the kind of believer who is prepared, and in fact obligated, to respond to external jihad. In this sense, the internal becomes preparatory. It forms the foundation for action.
External jihad, framed as the defense of the nation and the Islamic state, is thus not presented as a separate or optional dimension. It is the extension of religious commitment into action. To be a “true” believer, within this framework, is not only to cultivate the self, but to defend the system that embodies Islam.
In this formulation, religious devotion and national defense converge. Faith is not separate from war; it is realized through it.
War becomes duty. Faith becomes mobilization.
Unity as Legitimacy
Mojtaba emphasizes the visible unity of the Iranian people, pointing to key public moments such as Quds Day demonstrations—held on March 13, 2026—as evidence of alignment between society and the state. Quds Day—established by Ayatollah Khomeini in 1979 and observed annually on the last Friday of Ramadan—is framed by the Islamic Republic as a day of solidarity with Palestinians and opposition to Israel. In practice, it functions as a state-organized mass mobilization event, bringing large numbers of people into public space through rallies that carry both ideological and political messaging.
Within the ideological framework of the Islamic Republic, unity is not an abstract concept. It must be demonstrated.
In times of war, this takes on heightened significance. National unity becomes a form of proof—evidence that the system retains the support and presence of its people despite external pressure and internal strain. It is not merely asserted; it is performed in public space. Mass gatherings and visible participation become political acts that signal strength both to a domestic audience and to external adversaries.
At the same time, this narrative exists alongside a more complex internal reality. Iran has, in recent months, witnessed significant anti-government protests, including large-scale unrest in January. Mojtaba acknowledges internal diversity—religious, intellectual, and political—but, following the language of his father, reframes it as evidence of cohesion rather than division. Differences, in this formulation, do not negate unity; they are subsumed within it.
This reframing is not neutral. It signals that unity remains the central priority of the state under conditions of war. In this context, the emphasis on cohesion carries implications for governance: the preservation of unity is closely tied to the maintenance of internal order and security.
For those familiar with the ideological language of the system, the message is clear. Unity is not passive. It requires participation—and it must be preserved. This, in turn, suggests that the state will take the necessary measures to contain internal challenges that could disrupt this outward display of cohesion.
In this formulation, the strength of the Islamic Republic is not presented as resting solely on military capability, but on the visible alignment of its people. Public demonstration and performance of allegiance becomes legitimacy.
Victory and Divine Reliance
In the midst of war, Mojtaba shifts toward a language centered on victory. Yet this victory is not framed as the product of military capability alone. It is presented as contingent—dependent on divine will.
This is a familiar feature of the Islamic Republic’s ideological language. References to God, divine favor, and phrases such as inshallah (God willing) are not merely expressions of belief; they are embedded within a broader framework that links faith to action. Within this framework, reliance on God does not replace struggle—it intensifies it.
In moments of war, this relationship becomes more pronounced. Reliance on the divine draws the believer inward, toward faith, discipline, and conviction, but it simultaneously directs that inward struggle outward. Internal commitment becomes the basis for external action. Faith, in this sense, prepares, justifies, and sustains engagement in war.
At the same time, this language carries another layer. By placing the outcome of the war in the hands of God, Mojtaba implicitly acknowledges the limits of material power. The scale of the confrontation—against militarily superior adversaries—introduces a condition in which victory cannot be fully secured through human means alone.
This dual movement is significant. On one level, it reinforces ideological commitment, calling those who identify with the state toward deeper engagement. On another, it reflects a quieter dimension of leadership under pressure: an awareness that the outcome of the conflict ultimately lies beyond human control.
Victory, in this formulation, is not guaranteed through strength alone. It is hoped for, invoked, and entrusted to divine will—making jihad a critical component of this war.
National Security and Social Control Under Stress
Turning to Nowruz, Mojtaba frames the arrival of the new year within a highly controlled social context. While acknowledging the renewal and joy associated with the holiday, he places it alongside a prolonged period of mourning following the death of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khamenei. The nation, therefore, enters Nowruz not in a moment of normalcy, but under the overlapping conditions of grief, war, and uncertainty.
His guidance to the public is specific. He does not call for the suspension of Nowruz, but he asks that celebrations remain local. Travel should be limited. Visits should be mindful. Special attention, he emphasizes, must be given to families who have lost loved ones in the recent conflict—particularly the families of the “martyrs.” He speaks of loss in personal terms, noting that these losses are not distant for him. They are close. They have affected his own circle as well.
Within this context, his guidance is not merely cultural or social. It reflects a concern with managing society under stress. The emphasis on localized visits and restrained gatherings suggests a preference for limiting large-scale public movement—except in forms that are structured, organized, and controlled by the state. In ordinary circumstances, Nowruz is marked by extensive travel, mass gatherings, and nationwide mobility. In the current environment, such movement carries different implications.
The country is not only engaged in an external war, but also facing the possibility of internal instability. Under these conditions, the regulation of public space becomes a matter of national security. Where people gather, how they move, and how they interact become part of the state’s broader effort to maintain control and prevent disruption.
Without stating it directly, Mojtaba’s language reflects an awareness of these risks. The call for restraint can be read as an effort to minimize vulnerability during a period in which both external escalation and internal unrest remain possible.
In this sense, the guidance surrounding Nowruz extends beyond tradition. It becomes part of a broader strategy: to maintain social cohesion, limit exposure to instability, and preserve internal order while the state remains engaged in an ongoing and uncertain war.
Policy Framework of the New Leadership
National Resilience and Continuity
In the first of his policy-oriented remarks, Mojtaba begins not with directives, but with acknowledgment. He expresses gratitude to those who, in his words, have remained present and active in public life—within neighborhoods, mosques, and local communities—while continuing to carry out their social and economic roles under increasingly difficult conditions. He refers not only to state institutions, but to a broader range of actors: production units, service providers, and individuals who, beyond formal obligation, have given assistance to others, often without compensation.
At the same time, this expression of gratitude operates at another level. Within the context of internal strain and recent unrest, it also points—implicitly but unmistakably—to those responsible for maintaining internal stability. The language is broad, but the audience it reaches includes the security apparatus that has ensured the continuity of order during a period of heightened vulnerability.
This language is familiar. It echoes the rhetorical pattern long used by Ayatollah Khamenei, particularly in moments of national tension, where expressions of gratitude serve a function beyond recognition. They reaffirm continuity. They signal that the mechanisms of governance and daily life remain intact despite disruption.
Within the current context, this takes on added significance. The country is navigating multiple layers of instability: an ongoing war, the loss of its Supreme Leader, and a transition of authority that has yet to fully stabilize in the public sphere. Mojtaba himself remains largely unseen, and his presence has been mediated through statements rather than direct engagement.
Against this backdrop, acknowledgment becomes a form of reassurance. By highlighting the continued functioning of social and economic life, he communicates that the state has not been paralyzed. Its institutions remain active. Its personnel remain in place. Daily life continues to move forward.
At the same time, this message extends beyond a domestic audience. It signals outward—to adversaries and observers alike—that despite military pressure and internal disruption, the Islamic Republic retains its operational capacity.
In this sense, resilience is not presented as an abstract ideal, but as something that must be demonstrated. The state endures through its ability to continue functioning—visibly and consistently—even under conditions of war and heightened internal turmoil.
Media and Psychological Warfare
Mojtaba turns in his speech to Iran’s media and what he describes as the enemy’s ongoing psychological war against the Islamic Republic. He warns that this form of warfare targets the minds and perceptions of the Iranian people with the aim of weakening national unity and, ultimately, undermining national security.
This is not a new claim. For decades, Ayatollah Khamenei framed media as a central arena of conflict, arguing that external actors seek to influence the thoughts and attitudes of Iranian society—particularly its younger generations. Mojtaba’s language reflects a continuation of this doctrine rather than a departure from it.
Within this framework, Mojtaba turns inward. Addressing domestic media directly, he cautions against emphasizing internal weaknesses, warning that such narratives may inadvertently enable the enemy’s objectives. The concern he raises is not about disagreement or diversity of thought, but about how these are expressed and circulated under conditions of war.
The implications of this directive are significant. When internal critique is framed as a potential pathway for external threat, the management of information becomes a matter of security. In such a context, the role of media shifts. It is expected not only to inform, but to preserve cohesion.
For those familiar with the ideological language of the Islamic Republic, this message is clear. The regulation of narrative becomes essential. What is said, how it is said, and what is amplified all carry strategic weight. This, in turn, places pressure on journalists, commentators, and media institutions, as the boundaries of acceptable discourse are more tightly defined in relation to national security concerns.
In this sense, media functions as a tool of warfare—operating not on the battlefield, but within the psychological, social, religious, and political communicative space of the nation.
The Economy as a Strategic Front
Mojtaba Khamenei then turns to what emerges as the most consequential policy domain: Iran’s economic conditions. Following the established practice of his father, he designates the Persian year 1405 as the year of “Resistance Economy in the Shadow of National Unity and National Security.” This naming is not a casual use of language. It functions as a directive, signaling the central priority expected of all branches of the state.
For Mojtaba, as for his father, the economy is not treated as a matter of welfare alone. It is presented as a central component of national defense. The improvement of livelihoods, infrastructure, and production becomes both a response to external pressure and a condition for internal stability. Economic performance, in this sense, is directly tied to the survival and continuity of the Islamic Republic.
What he signals, more directly, is that the outcome of this broader confrontation will not be determined on the battlefield alone, but within the economic life of the country itself. In this formulation, economic recovery is elevated to the level of military defense. It becomes a parallel front—one that requires immediate attention and coordinated action across all state institutions.
The emphasis on “resistance economy”—a concept developed and repeatedly emphasized by Ayatollah Khamenei—remains central. It refers to an economic model grounded in self-reliance, internal capacity, and the ability to withstand sustained external pressure, particularly sanctions. Under current wartime conditions, this concept takes on renewed urgency.
Alongside this strategic framing, Mojtaba briefly adopts a more personal tone. He refers to direct interactions with ordinary Iranians—across different social settings, including informal encounters in public spaces—as a way of understanding the economic pressures faced by the population. This reference serves a dual purpose. It attempts to narrow the distance between leader and society at a moment when his public presence remains limited, while also reinforcing the legitimacy of his economic focus by grounding it in lived experience.
At the same time, Mojtaba signals the need to mobilize economic resources in ways that sustain the state’s operational capacity. In a prolonged conflict, financial strength becomes inseparable from military endurance. This includes not only strengthening domestic production but also navigating external constraints in order to secure revenue and maintain the economic flow of goods and services.
Within this context, Iran’s strategic assets—most notably its energy resources and control over critical transit routes such as the Strait of Hormuz—take on heightened importance. These are not simply economic factors; they become instruments through which the state can generate leverage, sustain revenue, and support its broader war effort.
In this sense, Mojtaba’s message extends beyond economic management. It is a call for militant economic activation. The economy is no longer a background condition of governance—it is a decisive front in the conflict itself.
Regional Policy and the Muslim World
Finally, Mojtaba turns to Iran’s regional relations. He revisits a point made in his earlier statement of March 12: that Iran’s policy toward its neighbors is fundamental and existentially intentional.
He emphasizes a set of shared foundations—Islam, the presence of holy sites, diasporic Iranian communities, and, in some cases, shared ethnic, linguistic, and strategic ties. These elements are presented as the basis for stronger regional relations and crucial for collective resistance to the jebhe-ye estekbar.
Within this framework, Mojtaba presents Iran’s relationship with its neighbors as grounded in shared identity and mutual interest. Unlike his earlier message, where conciliatory language was largely absent, this address reflects an attempt—at least rhetorically—to stabilize and reaffirm regional ties. Iran is positioned not as a source of division but as part of a broader Islamic and regional community.
At the same time, this framing redirects attention from Iran’s active role in the regional dimension of the current conflict, including its targeting of U.S. and Israeli interests across parts of the Gulf. As with his father, Mojtaba presents Iran as a central and stabilizing actor—one that maintains a strategic position while navigating ongoing tensions. While he does not explicitly claim leadership of the Muslim world, as Ayatollah Khamenei at times suggested, his language reflects a similar orientation.
This becomes more evident in his references to regional disputes. By calling for improved relations between countries such as Pakistan and Afghanistan, and by addressing developments involving states such as Turkey and Oman, Mojtaba implicitly positions Iran as a regional actor with both the authority and responsibility to mediate and guide. In doing this, he reinforces an underlying principle of the Islamic Republic: Iran is not merely a participant in regional affairs but a state with a broader role in shaping the direction of the Muslim world.
He concludes by addressing recent attacks in other countries, including Turkey and Oman, explicitly denying any involvement by Iran or forces affiliated with the “Resistance Front.” Instead, he attributes these incidents to external actors seeking to create division between Iran and its neighbors. This reinforces a familiar narrative in which regional instability is the product of adversarial intervention rather than the actions of the Islamic Republic itself.
Mojtaba’s regional message extends beyond diplomacy. It reflects a continued emphasis on Muslim unity as both an ideological principle and a strategic objective—one that, implicitly, calls for greater alignment among regional actors in opposition to a common enemy.
Mojtaba Khamenei closes his message by invoking a Qur’anic verse centered on the eventual empowerment of the oppressed over their oppressors. The choice is deliberate. It situates the present conflict within a theological framework in which outcome is not determined solely by material capability but by divine will.
Yet the tone is not one of certainty. It is conditional. Victory is not presented as immediate or guaranteed. It is tied to endurance, to faith, and ultimately to human responsiveness to divine will.
For a leader at the beginning of his tenure—speaking in the midst of war, loss, and internal turmoil—this closing does more than reaffirm ideological continuity. It reveals a moment of uncertainty, expressed through the language of faith.
In the new Supreme Leader’s invocation of contingency, lies the most revealing dimension of Mojtaba Khamenei’s first Nawruz address.
Conclusion
Mojtaba Khamenei centers his first Nowruz address on mobilization, not as an abstract concept, but as an activated condition. His speech focuses on mobilization as a process already underway and as something he can draw upon and reinforce.
Many Iranians, both within the country and in the diaspora, have come to see external military pressure on the regime’s core institutions as a possible pathway to its collapse—even when that pressure carries significant cost. Yet this is only one side of the equation. The same pressure that is intended to weaken the state can also activate a different response: one rooted not in support for the regime as such, but in defense of the nation, identity, and a deeply embedded ideological framework.
What is at work here is not merely state-driven mobilization, but the activation of a revolutionary-Islamic structure that has been cultivated over decades—one that, under conditions of war, can mobilize segments of the population with conviction and endurance. Mojtaba’s language, particularly in its quieter references to participation, presence, and resistance, reflects this reality. The people are not positioned as observers. They are the defense of the nation and of the Iranian people.
This dynamic is not theoretical. It is historical. It is remembered. It is learned early. It is carried forward. During the early years of the Iran–Iraq War, thousands of young men—many barely beyond childhood—responded to similar calls for mobilization. The memory of those moments remains embedded within the social and psychological fabric of the country. That legacy has not disappeared. It is being reactivated.
What makes the present moment particularly consequential is not only the scale of the conflict, but the generation now witnessing it. Children—those who are watching, listening, and absorbing—are being formed within this environment. They are being given a language of resistance, a narrative of threat, and a framework through which conflict is understood. Even if political outcomes shift, the internalization of these ideas does not easily recede.
Consistent with Iran’s revolutionary ideology is a core assumption: you can bomb cities. You can destroy infrastructure. You can assassinate leaders. But you cannot destroy an ideology. It is this belief that sustains the system under pressure and enables the continuation of Khameneism across generations.
Ideology does not exist in visible form. It does not collapse when structures collapse. It embeds itself—in memory, in experience, in identity. And when it is reinforced by loss, humiliation, and sustained external pressure, it does not weaken. It hardens. It deepens. It becomes less negotiable.
In this sense, Mojtaba Khamenei’s address is not only a continuation of Khameneist language or revolutionary ideology. It is an indication of how that ideology functions under pressure. Military action may degrade capacity, but it can also strengthen the very forces that allow the system to endure.
The outcome of the current conflict, as Mojtaba himself suggests, may ultimately lie beyond human control. But the conditions being created—within society, within memory, and within the next generation—are already taking shape.
And it is there, within those conditions, that the longer-term implications of this war will be determined—and where the endurance of the Islamic Republic will ultimately be decided. Not on the battlefield alone, but within the society it is shaping and the ideology it continues to reinforce.
Implications for U.S. Policy
Following the pattern established by his father, Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei uses the Nowruz address not only as a ceremonial message, but as a vehicle for signaling policy direction. Read in the context of ongoing war, his language provides insight into how the Islamic Republic is likely to position itself as the conflict continues.
Several implications emerge.
First, Iran’s leadership is unlikely to adopt a conciliatory posture under pressure. The emphasis on resilience, unity, and the repeated miscalculation of the enemy suggests that strength—both real and projected—will remain central to its approach. This applies particularly to the role of the military and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps which function not only as security institutions but as ideological pillars of the state.
Second, Iran will continue to rely on its strategic assets to generate leverage under conditions of constraint. This includes its economic positioning and its control over key transit routes such as the Strait of Hormuz. While not explicitly stated, the broader framework of resistance economy and sustained confrontation suggests that such tools will remain central to its strategic calculus.
Third, Iran is likely to continue presenting itself as a central actor in regional affairs—one that is positioned not as a source of instability, but as a stabilizing force within the Muslim world. Mojtaba’s emphasis on shared identity and regional engagement reflects an ongoing effort to frame Iran as a critical intermediary and political anchor in the region.
Fourth, the management of internal cohesion will remain a priority. The emphasis on unity, the regulation of media, and the framing of internal dissent within the context of external threat indicate that the state will continue to prioritize narrative control and the visible alignment of society with the system.
Finally, the conditions described in Mojtaba’s address point toward continued societal mobilization. The integration of population, ideology, and defense—reflected in references to participation, public performance of loyalty, and endurance—suggests the expansion of Basij forces within a broader security apparatus.
At the same time, the structure of the Islamic Republic reflects a system designed for continuity under pressure. Leadership may be disrupted, but the institutional and ideological framework remains intact. As reflected in the logic of the system itself, the removal of individuals does not dismantle the structure through which it operates.
Taken together, these elements suggest that external pressure, rather than producing immediate collapse, may reinforce the internal mechanisms that allow the Islamic Republic to endure. Any policy approach that assumes cumulative weakening under pressure risks overlooking the system’s capacity for adaptation, mobilization, and ideological consolidation under conditions of war.
