Does the Iranian experience since 1979 represent a model of political modernity rooted in religion, or is it better understood as a narrative that combines modern populism with traditional social and political structures? That question remains open, because understanding post-revolutionary Iran is a complex undertaking in which doctrine intertwines with nationalism and the Persian heritage, slogans become entangled with interests, and political practice is inseparable from historical legacy. After nearly half a century, the Iranian system appears to have produced not so much a new model of the state as a political narrative that has brought together religion, Persian identity, and the instruments of the modern state. Rather than advancing toward modernity, it represents a retreat aimed at reviving an "empire" that no longer has a place in the present age.
Despite the state's Islamic designation, those who have engaged closely with Iranian society, whether Arab or foreign diplomats who have served there or researchers who have experienced the country firsthand, often observe a striking paradox. Social expressions associated with Ramadan and the holidays of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha are far less visible in major cities than visitors might expect in a country that presents itself as the "Islamic Republic." By contrast, Nowruz, an ancient Persian celebration, occupies a prominent social and cultural place. It is closely tied to the cultural environment in which Zoroastrianism emerged. Even during family occasions such as engagement ceremonies, the tradition of presenting the sofreh, a Persian word that entered Arabic usage, continues. It is a ceremonial table with ancient Persian roots, featuring a variety of foods and symbolic items. In its contemporary form, the only notable addition has been a copy of the Holy Quran. Such details reveal that Persian cultural identity did not dissolve into either the Islamic or the modern revolutionary project. Instead, it has remained one of their principal sources alongside religious discourse. What ultimately emerged is a blend of tensions within an Iranian identity suspended between Persia and Islam.
In politics, the picture is even more complex. The state raises the banner of Islam, yet in practice it largely operates within a specific sectarian framework. Cooperation with Sunni groups has remained limited and exceptional, driven more by tactical considerations than strategic ones. As a result, the notion of a comprehensive Islamic project runs up against a reality in which sectarian affiliation, rather than the broader Islamic nation, has remained the principal instrument for building regional influence.
This raises another question: are we truly looking at a revolution in the historical sense? Compared with the Bolshevik Revolution and the Chinese Revolution, fundamental differences become apparent. Those revolutions began with rigid ideologies but later reconsidered many of their core assumptions when the demands of development, economic realities, and international relations required it. The Iranian Revolution, by contrast, has remained largely faithful to its original narrative. Preserving that narrative has itself become part of the regime's legitimacy, while sustaining the discourse has taken precedence over reassessing its outcomes.
This consistency in the narrative has produced a selective relationship with modernity. Iran does not reject technology. On the contrary, it invests in it and seeks to develop its military, missile, and nuclear capabilities because it recognizes that these are indispensable instruments of modern state power. At the same time, however, it remains wary of many principles of political modernity, including the transfer of power, institutional transparency, judicial independence, human rights, and placing the national interest above ideological considerations. In this way, it has embraced the modernity of means without adopting the modernity of political thought.
Here lies one of the most significant contradictions of the Iranian experience. The state needs industry, science, and technology to confront its adversaries, yet it also depends on the continuation of conflict to justify the persistence of its revolutionary discourse. Tension with the outside world thus becomes part of the system's operating logic rather than merely the product of conflicting interests. Whenever the reasons for confrontation diminish, the narrative must generate new ones to sustain itself.
This contradiction is also evident in the management of international relations. Many who have dealt with Iranian officials in international institutions or during rounds of negotiations have observed a gap between official rhetoric and private conversations. What is said before the media often differs from what is expressed behind closed doors, reflecting a political culture that compels those within the system to conform, even when their private reasoning runs counter to official positions. Likewise, the interpretation of international agreements is often shaped more by the revolution's own reading than by established principles of international law.
Understanding Iran, therefore, requires more than reading its constitution or following the speeches of its leaders. It demands an understanding of the interplay among three elements: the Persian legacy, religious legitimacy, and the requirements of the modern state. These elements do not always function in harmony. Instead, they exist in constant competition, helping explain many of the contradictions that characterize Iranian policies at home and abroad.
The most accurate description of this experience is that it is neither a project of religious modernity nor a complete return to tradition. Rather, it is a political narrative that has brought together religion, nationalism, and populism within a single framework, while making use of modern technology without embracing the philosophy of modernity. This is why, after nearly half a century, the revolution has proved more successful in preserving itself than in building a political model capable of evolving with the times.
Final word: No state has a future when it is torn apart by a divided memory.
