My parents fled Iran after the revolution as political dissidents, but exile did not end their fight. The struggle for freedom followed them across continents and became part of my childhood.
There are understandably mixed feelings about the unfolding situation in Iran and the destruction it has brought. Innocent people always lose, including the more than 150 schoolgirls killed in the conflict. As an Iranian, the hard truth is that I vehemently oppose both the Iranian regime and war. I also oppose other countries being pulled into this conflict, as it will only deepen the suffering across the region.
The events of recent weeks were celebrated by many Iranians globally. The death of the supreme leader, Ali Khamenei, brought with it a glimmer of hope that this may mark the beginning of the regime’s unravelling. To outsiders, the celebrations may have seemed premature. But his death was symbolic. For 47 years he represented executions; brutal suppression; stonings; the repression of religious and ethnic minorities; the erasure of Kurdish, Baluch, Azari, Lor, Turkish and Arab identities; the persecution of LGBTQI+ communities; and the crushing of women-led resistance.
Some of my earliest childhood memories are of attending anti-regime protests in Melbourne organised by my parents, chanting ‘death to the dictator’. That day has finally come—but why does it feel bittersweet?
It feels bittersweet because it was never about just one man. The chant was always a cry against an entire system of repression. For decades, ‘death to the dictator’ has echoed through the streets of Iran, chanted by political dissidents in the 1980s, by students in 1999, by millions during the 2009 Green Movement, by protesters during Bloody November in 2019, and by young women and girls during the 2022 Women Life Freedom movement.
Each uprising was met with bullets, arrests, torture, executions and internet blackouts. The momentum built, but Iranians were unarmed. The regime was not. There is a structural monopoly on force. For many of us, there is outrage at the thought that Khamenei did not face justice in an international judicial setting. For decades, he operated beyond the reach of international law, avoiding accountability for his role in the mass executions of 30,000 political prisoners in the 1980s; the killing of thousands of Iranians during domestic crackdowns, including more than 30,000 Iranians from 8 to 9 January this year; the violent suppression of domestic protests; the downing of Flight PS752; and the orchestration of attacks on Australian soil. His death has denied justice to the hundreds of thousands of Iranians who were killed, and to the parents and families who have spent decades waiting for justice and accountability.
The death of one man is only the beginning. The Islamic Republic is deeply embedded and institutional. It is an ideological theocracy where power flows through entrenched structures, including the Guardian Council, the Assembly of Experts, the judiciary, clerical networks, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and the Basij militia. The IRGC is not merely a military force; it controls significant sectors of the economy, including construction, telecommunications, energy and infrastructure.
In many revolutions, the tipping point comes when the military defects. This is not easy when the regime provides financial incentives to IRGC agents to maim and kill Iranians. The IRGC influences parliament, media and the economy and has a vested interest in preserving the Islamic Republic. It exists to protect the regime, not the Iranian people. The regime has repeatedly shut down the internet, crushed dissent, and conducted public arrests and executions as deterrence. It will not fall easily. Khamenei’s death does not automatically dismantle the system, and there is a clear succession framework in place.
His son, Mojtaba Khamenei, was announced as the new supreme leader on 8 March. Many Iranians strongly oppose this, fearing it could entrench a dynastic system of oppression by now allowing Mojtaba to inherit power and continue the brutal legacy of his father. For many, this represents not a change in leadership but the continuation of the same authoritarian rule under a different name.
Iranians understand the history of Iraq and what foreign intervention can mean. That is what makes this moment so difficult. You can oppose war and still recognise the brutality of the regime. You can fear instability and still understand why people in Iran have risked everything and supported foreign intervention because they felt they had nothing left to lose. For 47 years, Iranians have resisted. Nothing was working.
Women have lived as second-class citizens under compulsory veiling laws and discriminatory legal frameworks. Ethnic and religious minorities, including Kurds, Baha’is and Baluch communities, have faced systemic repression. LGBTQI+ Iranians have endured criminalisation and violence. Journalists, students, lawyers and activists have been imprisoned for demanding basic freedoms. Children have been killed in the streets. Public executions have continued. Yet other global interests have often overshadowed the needs of the Iranian people.
Iranians are not naive about foreign intervention. But after 47 years of repression and failed attempts at reform, many, particularly those putting their lives on the line in Iran, feel the regime will never collapse on its own. There is unfortunately now no guarantee that Iran will avoid the fate of Iraq or Syria.
No one chooses foreign interference, but now that we have been brought to this point, the plea from many Iranians is simple: allow autonomy and self-determination. Let Iranians determine their own future. The Iranian people must be able to dismantle the system and choose their leaders through free and democratic elections, not leaders connected to the current regime or imposed from abroad.
Real change can come only from the will of the Iranian people themselves The Iranian people are capable of building a democracy. We come from one of the world’s oldest continuous civilisations, with a rich intellectual, cultural and constitutional history. It was Cyrus the Great, the founder of the Persian Empire, who was known for establishing what is widely regarded as one of the earliest human rights charters.
This moment must not become another prolonged occupation. It should be a transfer of space and power back to the Iranian people.
There is also an emotional dimension for many of us in the diaspora. We quietly romanticise what a free Iran might mean. I asked my parents what it meant to them. My mum said she wanted to visit her mother’s grave. She hadn’t seen her in about 40 years. Last year, her mum passed away. I think about being able to stand at my grandparents’ graves. I never met my mother’s parents.
My parents and sister fled Iran as refugees, with my father forced to leave earlier under threat of execution because of his political activities opposing the Iranian regime. He was also a union leader who organised and encouraged large-scale strikes on Kharg Island and spoke out strongly for workers’ rights.
Due to his political activism against the regime, he was targeted by the authorities. After fleeing Iran, my parents and sister were recognised by the United Nations as refugees and were later invited to resettle in Australia as humanitarian refugees under the Hawke government. In the almost 40 years since then, our family has been unable to return to Iran because of our continued opposition to and activism against the regime.
For those who flee as refugees or are known to oppose the government, returning can carry serious risks. Because of this, my mother was never able to see her own mother again, and my siblings and I grew up without ever meeting our grandmother.
For families like mine, Iran has always existed as a memory and an unfinished story. It may be premature to dwell on those dreams. But after 47 years of repression, it is not naive to hold onto hope that this could be the beginning of the end of a system that has denied generations their basic rights.
Iranians are simply asking for the chance to finally reclaim their country and a chance at self-determination. Let this not become another moment where global powers take this opportunity away from the Iranian people and install another dictator or system of dictatorship to serve international or geopolitical interests. Let Iranians decide their future for themselves.