If Iran's regime fell tomorrow, Iranians wouldn't be united on what comes next

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From 2015 to 2018, I spent 15 months doing research work in Mashhad, Iran's second-largest city. As an anthropologist, I was interested in everyday life in Iran outside the capital Tehran. I was also interested in understanding whether the ambitions of the 1979 Revolution lived on among "ordinary" Iranians, not just political elites.
I first lived on a university campus, where I learned Persian, and later with Iranian families. I conducted hundreds of interviews with people who had a broad spectrum of political, social and religious views. They included opponents of the Islamic Republic, supporters, and many who were in between.
What these interviews revealed to me was both the diversity of opinion and experience in Iran, and the difficulty of making uniform statements about what Iranians believe.
When Israel's strikes on Iran began on June 13, killing many top military commanders, many news outlets — both international and those run by the Iranian diaspora — featured images of Iranians cheering the deaths of these hated regime figures.
Friends from my fieldwork also pointed to these celebrations, while not always agreeing with them. Many feared the impact of a larger conflict between Iran and Israel.
Trying to put these sentiments in context, many analysts have pointed to a 2019 survey by the GAMAAN Institute, an independent organisation based in the Netherlands that tracks Iranian public opinion. This survey showed 79 per cent of Iranians living in the country would vote against the Islamic Republic if a free referendum were held on its rule.
Viewing these examples as an indicator of the lack of support for the Islamic Republic is not wrong. But when used as factoids in news reports, they become detached from the complexities of life in Iran. This can discourage us from asking deeper questions about the relationships between ideology and pragmatism, support and opposition to the regime, and state and society.
The news reporting on Iran has encouraged a tendency to see the Iranian state as homogeneous, highly ideological and radically separate from the population.
But where do we draw the line between the state and the people? There is no easy answer to this.
When I lived in Iran, many of the people who took part in my research were state employees — teachers at state institutions, university lecturers, administrative workers. Many of them had strong and diverse views about the legacy of the revolution and the future of the country.
They sometimes pointed to state discourse they agreed with, for example Iran's right to national self-determination, free from foreign influence. They also disagreed with much, such as the slogans of "death to America".
This ambivalence was evident in one of my Persian teachers. An employee of the state, she refused to attend the annual parades celebrating the anniversary of the revolution. "We have warm feelings towards America," she said. On the other hand, she happily attended protests, also organised by the government, in favour of Palestinian liberation.
Or take the young government worker I met in Mashhad: "We want to be independent of other countries, but not like this."
In a narrower sense, discussions about the "state" may refer more to organisations like the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and the Basij, the paramilitary force within the IRGC that has cracked down harshly on dissent in recent decades. Both are often understood as being deeply ideologically committed.
Said Golkar, a US-based Iranian academic and author, for instance, calls Iran a "captive society". Rather than having a civil society, he believes Iranians are trapped by the feared Basij, who maintain control through their presence in many institutions like universities and schools.
Again, this view is not wrong. But even among the Basij and Revolutionary Guard, it can be difficult to gauge just how ideological and homogeneous these organisations truly are.
For a start, the IRGC relies on both ideologically selected supporters, as well as conscripts, to fill its ranks. They are also not always ideologically uniform, as the US-based anthropologist Narges Bajoghli, who worked with pro-state filmmakers in Tehran, has noted.
As part of my research, I also interviewed members of the Basij, which, unlike the IRGC proper, is a wholly volunteer organisation.
Even though ideological commitment was certainly an important factor for some of the Basij members I met, there were also pragmatic reasons to join. These included access to better jobs, scholarships and social mobility. Sometimes, factors overlapped. But participation did not always equate to a singular or sustained commitment to revolutionary values.
For example, Sāsān, a friend I made attending discussion groups in Mashhad, was quick to note that time spent in the Basij "reduced your [compulsory] military service".
This isn't to suggest there are not ideologically committed people in Iran. They clearly exist, and many are ready to use violence. Some of those who join these institutions for pragmatic reasons use violence, too.
In addition, Iran is an ethnically diverse country. It has a population of 92 million people, a bare majority of whom are Persians. Other minorities include Azeris, Kurds, Arabs, Baloch, Turkmen and others.
It is also religiously diverse. While there is a sizeable, nominally Shia majority, there are also large Sunni communities (about 10-15 per cent of the population) and smaller communities of Christians, Jews, Zoroastrians, Baha'is and other religions.
Often overlooked, there are also important differences in class and social strata in Iran, too.
One of the things I noticed about state propaganda was that it flattened this diversity. James Barry, an Australian scholar of Iran, noticed a similar phenomenon.
State propaganda made it seem like there was one voice in the country. Protests could be dismissed out of hand because they did not represent the "authentic" view of Iranians. Foreign agitators supported protests. Iranians supported the Islamic Republic.
Since leaving Iran, I have followed many voices of Iranians in the diaspora. Opposition groups are loud on social media, especially the monarchists who support Reza Pahlavi, the son of the deposed Shah.
In following these groups, I have noticed a similar tendency to speak as though they represent the voice of all Iranians. Iranians support the shah. Or Iranians support Maryam Rajavi, leader of a Paris-based opposition group.
Both within Iran, and in the diaspora, the regime, too, is sometimes held to be the imposition of a foreign conspiracy. This allows the Islamic Republic and the complex relations it has created to be dismissed out of hand. Once again, such a view flattens diversity.
Over the past few years, political identities and societal divisions seem to have become harder and clearer. This means there is an increasing perception among many Iranians of a gulf between the state and Iranian society. This is the case both inside Iran, and especially in the Iranian diaspora.
Decades of intermittent protests and civil disobedience across the country also show that for many, the current system no longer represents the hopes and aspirations of many people. This is especially the case for the youth, who make up a large percentage of the population.
I am not an Iranian, and I strongly believe it is up to Iranians to determine their own futures. I also do not aim to excuse the Islamic Republic — it is brutal and tyrannical. But its brutality should not let us shy away from asking complex questions.
If the regime did fall tomorrow, Iran's diversity means there is little unanimity of opinion as to what should come next. And if a more pluralist form of politics is to emerge, it must encompass the whole of Iran's diversity, without assuming a uniform position.
It, too, will have to wrestle with the difficult questions and sometimes ambivalent relations the Islamic Republic has created.
Simon Theobald is a postdoctoral researcher at the Institute of Ethics and Society at the University of Notre Dame Australia. This piece first appeared on The Conversation.