By Abdikarim Haji Abdi Buh

Iran did not wake up to crowds in the streets.It woke up to a country that had already stopped moving.

Before the chants came, daily life shut down. Markets pulled their shutters. Universities suspended classes overnight. Government offices across dozens of cities fell silent. In more than twenty provinces, sudden “public holidays” were declared—not in celebration, but in anticipation.

Only then did people emerge. And when they did, the slogans cut straight to the core of power:
“Down with the dictator.”
“Down with Khamenei.”
“Azadi”—freedom.

What makes this moment different is not simply the scale of unrest, but its context. Iran is confronting its most serious domestic crisis in years at the precise moment when its most important external backer, Russia, appears unwilling—or unable—to intervene meaningfully. The result is a regime facing disbelief at home and diminished leverage abroad.

This is not a protest cycle. It is a system seizure.

The collapse of a bargain

To understand what is unfolding, one must abandon familiar assumptions. This is not a sudden riot. It is not a single-issue protest about prices or fuel. It is the visible collapse of a social contract that has been decaying for years.

For decades, the Islamic Republic survived on a tacit exchange: citizens would endure repression and political limits in return for basic stability—predictable prices, functioning services, water, electricity, and a currency that retained value.

That bargain has now broken.

The rupture began quietly. In late 2025, the Iranian rial plunged to record lows, losing nearly half its value in a year. Inflation surged past 50 percent. Food prices rose more than 70 percent. Medical supplies jumped by half. Savings vanished. Imports became unaffordable.

Yet the streets did not immediately fill. Instead, society withdrew.

Merchants closed shops. Universities shut gates. Entire provinces slowed to a crawl. Government offices and schools across 21 of Iran’s 31 provinces were abruptly closed under the pretext of public holidays—widely understood as an attempt to prevent gatherings before they began.

By the time people marched, the economy had already stopped breathing.

From grievance to rejection

When protests finally erupted, they did not sound like bargaining. They sounded like rejection.

From Tehran to Shiraz, Isfahan to Kermanshah, demonstrators targeted the foundations of the system itself. Calls of “Down with Khamenei” and “down with the dictator” were not appeals for reform. They challenged the legitimacy of the supreme leader outright.

Equally dangerous for the authorities were the chants that followed:
“Don’t be afraid, we are together.”

Fear—the regime’s most reliable instrument—was visibly eroding.

President Massoud Pezeshkian acknowledged the unrest, promising to listen to protesters’ “legitimate demands.” In Iran’s tightly managed political system, such language is rare—and revealing. Analysts say the admission alone underscores the depth of pressure facing the state.

This movement cuts across class and geography. Bazaar merchants, students, urban workers, and middle-class families are all present. Their shared conclusion is stark: the system no longer delivers.

Why the bazaar matters

The protests did not begin online. They began in the bazaars.

In Iran, the bazaar is more than commerce. It is an institution—an economic engine and a political actor. In 1979, bazaaris financed strikes and helped paralyse the Shah’s government. That memory still shapes the regime’s instincts.

When shopkeepers lowered shutters in late 2025, it was not panic. It was defiance.

Merchants say the collapsing rial erased margins and destroyed predictability. Many openly stated they were willing to absorb losses to protest years of mismanagement and a future narrowing for their children.

Closed bazaars mean more than empty streets. They mean no cash flow, no tax revenue, and no illusion of normality. Governments rarely recover when the bazaar disengages.

When infrastructure fails

Economic collapse alone does not bring systems down. Infrastructure failure accelerates the fall.

Across Iran, rolling blackouts and water shortages have collided with record heatwaves. In cities such as Ahvaz, Shush, and Shadagan, temperatures surpassed 50°C while electricity cuts and dry taps became routine.

In southeast Tehran, officials reported that only 23 million cubic metres of water remained in reservoirs once holding ten times that amount. In July 2025, Pezeshkian warned publicly that the water crisis was “far more serious than acknowledged.”

Unlike inflation, infrastructure failure is immediate. No water. No power. No relief from heat. Combined with economic collapse, it becomes politically explosive.

An alliance that cracks under pressure

As domestic pressure mounts, Tehran has leaned heavily on Moscow. On paper, the partnership looks formidable: military coordination, nuclear cooperation, diplomatic cover.

In practice, it has proven transactional.

During a brief confrontation with Israel in 2025, Iran received little tangible support. Promised nuclear cooperation including a reported $25bn power-plant deal remains largely unrealised.

David Jalilvand, a Middle East analyst, told Germany’s DW that Russia has “promised much and delivered little.” Even conservative Iranian officials agree. Mohammad Sadr of the Expediency Discernment Council bluntly described the partnership as “a farce.”

Public sentiment mirrors this view. Many Iranians see the alliance not as protection, but as an elite survival strategy detached from everyday hardship.

Containment without confidence

The state’s response reveals fragility, not control.

There have been cabinet reshuffles and promises of dialogue—paired with heightened security appointments, surveillance, arrests, and helicopter patrols over cities. Social restrictions have been quietly eased in some areas, not as reform, but as pressure release.

Sudden holidays, shutdowns, and emergency measures suggest routine governance has failed.

A collapse from within

For Washington and Tel Aviv, the implications are stark.

For years, debates about Iran centered on airstrikes and deterrence. But the scenes unfolding inside the country suggest a different reality: Iran does not need to be bombed to be weakened. It is eroding from within.

A system hollowed out by economic failure, infrastructure breakdown, and public disbelief cannot be stabilized by missiles or alliances. Military escalation risks reviving nationalist sentiment and rescuing a regime struggling to justify its own survival.

Internal collapse offers no such lifeline.

Iran today stands at a crossroads not because of foreign pressure, but because its people are withdrawing consent from a system that no longer provides stability, dignity, or the basics of life.

History suggests that when a state begins to unravel inward, no external force needs to finish the job. The streets have already delivered the message.

Abdikarim Haji Abdi Buh
Email: abdikarimbuh@yahoo.com