Over the past week, the United States has positioned two aircraft carrier strike groups near Iran, and rumours abound that the US — either alone or in coordination with Israel — may launch a military attack against the regime in Tehran. President Donald Trump seeks to compel Iran to abandon its nuclear enrichment programme, curtail its ballistic missile production, and end its support for non-state actors such as Hezbollah in Lebanon, Hamas in the Palestinian territories, and the Houthis in Yemen. He also wants Iran to cease being a revolutionary state, in return for which he promises prosperity through trade and investment, particularly in Iran’s abundant oil and gas reserves.
Negotiations between the US and Iran are ongoing, yet Tehran has made clear that any demand it views as a violation of its sovereignty — such as the denial of its right to nuclear enrichment — will be rejected outright. Such refusal may prompt Trump to resort to military action, raising critical questions about the nature of any attack and whether it could meaningfully alter Iran’s behaviour — or, more importantly, threaten the survival of the clerical regime itself. Would an attack accelerate revolutionary change, or would it further entrench the regime and allow it to weather the storm? All indications suggest that the regime is likely to survive. Indeed, this outcome may align with Trump’s preferences, as illustrated by the Venezuela precedent: The kidnapping of President Nicolás Maduro left the regime intact, though under pressure to reform.
Iran was recently convulsed by violent demonstrations that began on December 28. Initially sparked by economic grievances following the dramatic devaluation of the rial, the protests rapidly spread nationwide and evolved into a broader indictment of regime misrule. They mobilised diverse social groups across all provinces, taking on a distinctly national character. The regime responded with a brutal crackdown, resulting in large numbers of deaths. Estimates vary widely, ranging from 5,000 to more than 30,000 killed, with most fatalities reportedly occurring over the two days of January 8 and 9. For now, the demonstrations appear to have subsided. Most significant, however, was that the regime’s core security forces remained unified throughout the crisis, and the state successfully imposed an information blackout by shutting down the internet.
These developments underscore the deeply entrenched nature of the Islamic Republic, with perhaps as much as 20 per cent of Iran’s population of roughly 90 million willing to support and defend the regime. The resulting power imbalance between the state and the rest of society remains such that dissent can still be suppressed. By contrast, the opposition is highly fragmented, lacking a clear leader, coherent ideology, or unified political movement capable of mobilising the country’s disaffected population. Calls during the protests for the return of the former Shah’s son, Reza Pahlavi, highlight this vacuum of leadership and underscore both desperation and disunity. The Pahlavi dynasty is not a credible alternative to the current regime, despite its waning legitimacy in the eyes of many Iranians.
Given this context, how should we understand what President Trump is attempting to achieve in Iran? It is important to recall that Trump’s political formation and economic imagination were shaped in the 1970s, when successive oil shocks in 1973 and 1979 produced one of the most significant transfers of wealth in modern history — from oil-consuming to oil-producing states. In Trump’s worldview, the Arab sheikh and the Iranian shah epitomise global wealth and power, with oil as the ultimate source of military and economic strength. He has been remarkably candid about this logic, notably when he explained that US actions in Venezuela were fundamentally about controlling its vast oil reserves, with allegations of drug trafficking serving merely as a pretext.
Accordingly, when Trump surveys what he perceives as the axis of resistance to American hegemony — China, Russia, North Korea, Iran, Venezuela, and Cuba — he identifies Iran and Venezuela as its weakest links. His strategy appears to be to pressure and separate them through military threats and economic sanctions. Normalising relations with Iran would unleash substantial oil and gas supplies onto global markets, driving down hydrocarbon prices. Trump believes this would stimulate the US economy, particularly ahead of this November’s midterm elections, which the Republicans risk losing. That such transformations are unlikely to occur on such an accelerated timeline seems not to weigh heavily in Trump’s calculations. Nonetheless, this logic appears to animate his approach.
Given the resilience of the Iranian regime and Washington’s clear unwillingness to commit ground troops, can Trump realistically alter Tehran’s policies? The killing or abduction of Ayatollah Khamenei is virtually impossible. While US forces could destroy ballistic missile facilities, such actions would neither topple the regime nor fundamentally alter its behaviour. Trump’s remaining options appear limited: Either to strike a deal with elements of the regime — perhaps within the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps — to remove Khamenei and install a more pliant leadership, following the Venezuela model, or to impose a maritime blockade to halt Iran’s oil exports, hoping to force capitulation through economic strangulation.
Arab Gulf states have publicly signalled their unwillingness to support a US attack on Iran, fearing retaliation, further constraining Trump’s options. The coming days and weeks will therefore be critical as this drama unfolds and Trump attempts to replicate in Iran what he claims to have achieved in Venezuela. I would not wager on Iranian capitulation. On the contrary, external pressure of the kind Washington seeks to apply tends to reinforce Iranian nationalism, which — across social divides — remains convinced that Iran’s weakness stems primarily from imperial intervention rather than internal misgovernance.
The writer is professor, Near Eastern Studies, Princeton University, and senior fellow (nonresident), Centre for Peace and Security in the Middle East, Hudson Institute
