Exiled Prince Reza Pahlavi said the Islamic Republic’s weakening grip on internal repression is bringing closer the moment when Iranians could once again take control of the streets.
He said in an interview with Iran International aired on Monday that a final call for nationwide demonstrations to end the Islamic Republic would come once the authorities’ coercive apparatus had been sufficiently weakened.
“I think all of us, after 47 years of dealing with this criminal government, are counting the days until this system finally disappears,” Pahlavi said in the interview with Morad Vaisi.
“We want to reach the day after its collapse, when the people of Iran can achieve what they truly deserve: complete freedom and an opportunity to rebuild and prosper.”
Many Iranians, Pahlavi added, are hoping that moment will arrive soon but argued that strategy and timing remain critical.
“Conditions must also be taken into account,” Pahlavi said. “As everyone has seen, this government has no hesitation in suppressing people. It is prepared to see hundreds of thousands killed if that means staying in power. Therefore the movement must proceed intelligently. The final call will be issued at the right moment.”
Opposition strategy focuses on weakening security forces
Pahlavi argued that recent developments had already eroded the Islamic Republic’s ability to rely on its security institutions.
The weakening of the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps and the Basij militia, he said, was central to opposition strategy, describing foreign military pressure and domestic activism as factors that had shifted the balance.
“This campaign delivered a very heavy blow to the structures of repression in the Revolutionary Guards and the Basij,” Pahlavi said.
Beyond external pressure, he talked about what he described as covert organizing inside the country, including activities by a network he called the “Immortal Guard.”
The network, according to Pahlavi, operates inside Iran and carries out coordinated actions intended to undermine the state’s coercive institutions.
“Groups inside the country, members of the Immortal Guard, through organization and coordinated work, have the ability to deliver further blows from within,” Pahlavi said. “Many of the developments we have seen in the country did not occur spontaneously but were the result of organized work.”
He described the network as emerging from within society and said its activities were aimed at protecting civilians while targeting institutions used for repression.
“The Immortal Guard is born from the people themselves,” Pahlavi said. “At this stage it plays a defensive role, helping protect people’s lives and striking institutions that the authorities use to spread fear and violence.”
Appeal to security forces
Pahlavi also used the interview to address members of Iran’s armed forces and police, urging them to distance themselves from the authorities.
“You still have the opportunity to join the people and separate yourselves from the system and its repressive forces,” Pahlavi said. “You can be part of the solution for the future of the country.”
He warned that those who continue to support the government could face accountability if political change occurs.
“Those who choose to remain defenders and guarantors of this system’s survival will have to answer to the people tomorrow,” Pahlavi said.
At the same time, he sought to reassure members of the military establishment that a future political transition would not necessarily exclude them.
“I come from a military family and I myself was a pilot,” Pahlavi said. “I understand the value of those who defend their country. Whether in the army, the police, or the gendarmerie, we need these individuals to maintain the security of the nation.”
Pahlavi said that anyone not involved in violence against civilians should be able to play a role in the future political system.
“As long as someone’s hands are not stained with the blood of the people, there is no reason they cannot serve in the future of the country,” he added.
Plans for transition after collapse
Pahlavi also described planning efforts for a transitional period following the fall of the Islamic Republic, referring to an initiative known as the “Prosperity Project.”
The effort, he said, involves specialists across various fields preparing proposals for how the country could be governed immediately after a political transition.
“The purpose of the Prosperity Project is to ensure that beyond political activists, professionals and experts are also planning for the future,” Pahlavi said.
He cited areas such as the judiciary, economic policy, health care, and education as subjects under discussion.
“For example, legal experts can explain how justice should be implemented during the transition and how officials of the current system should be handled,” he said. “Economists can outline how to rebuild the economy and attract investment.”
Pahlavi said existing state institutions and civil servants would likely continue operating temporarily to prevent administrative breakdown.
“During an emergency transition period, the country will need to be run by the existing institutions and ministries,” Pahlavi said. “These employees must continue their work until we reach the stage where the future political system is determined.”
The long-term political structure, he said, would ultimately be decided by a constituent assembly and national referendum.
Return to Iran
The exiled prince also said he intends to return to Iran as soon as circumstances permit, even if the Islamic Republic still formally holds power.
“I do not know where the first liberated area will be and it may not necessarily be Tehran,” Pahlavi added. “But as soon as conditions allow, I would prefer to be inside Iran among my compatriots.”
He suggested that his presence inside the country could accelerate defections from state institutions.
“My presence in Iran could encourage faster defections among the forces of the Islamic Republic and help them join the people,” Pahlavi said. “I am ready to accept all necessary and calculated risks in order to return to my country.”
National identity and protest movement
Throughout the interview, Pahlavi framed the opposition movement as a national project rooted in Iranian cultural identity.
He argued that the country’s traditions and historical symbols had played an important role in sustaining resistance to the authorities.
“This uprising is a national movement built around our Iranian identity,” Pahlavi said. “From the first days, the Islamic Republic confronted cultural traditions such as Nowruz and Chaharshanbe Suri (fire festival) because Iran itself was not their priority.”
Despite acknowledging the risks involved in confronting the state, Pahlavi said he believes the authorities will ultimately fail to maintain control.
“I have no doubt that this system will eventually disappear and the people will prevail,” Pahlavi said. “The important thing is that we continue our movement according to the calls that are issued and remain committed to rebuilding the country.”
It entered their bodies – in sleepless nights, stomach illness, obsessive counting of the dead, and a persistent sense that something in their relationship to Iran had been permanently altered.
Now, two months later, as the United States and Israel wage war against the Islamic Republic and another far stricter internet blackout grips the country, that earlier rupture is returning with renewed force.
Images of death, the disappearance of communication, and the uncertainty surrounding Iran’s future have reopened a wound many in the diaspora say never fully closed.
A new qualitative study by researcher Nazanin Shahbazi, a PhD student at the University of Manchester, helps explain why.
Based on eight in-depth interviews with politically engaged members of the Iranian diaspora conducted shortly after the January killings and end of internet shutdown, the research explores how people far from the violence nevertheless experienced the uprising and massacre as a personal rupture – one that reshaped their bodies, their sense of time, and even what it meant to say “I am Iranian.”
“The protests, the killings, the internet blackout and the blocked funerals were not separate chapters,” Shahbazi told Iran International. “For the people I spoke with they formed one continuous shock that reorganized their lives.”
Human rights organizations have documented the repression in detail – the shootings, the arrests, the intimidation of families and the pressure placed on relatives of the dead. What those reports cannot capture is how such violence lives on in those who witness it from afar.
“They can tell us what was done to people and roughly how many were killed,” Shahbazi said. “But they can’t show what it feels like to live with that in your body, your sleep, your relationships and your sense of future.”
Body keeps the score
One of the most striking patterns in the interviews is how often the experience of the massacre appeared in the body.
Participants described vomiting after seeing images of burned bodies, sudden weight gain, eczema, IBS flare-ups, breathlessness, grinding teeth and persistent insomnia. Some lost their appetite entirely. Others said their ordinary routines collapsed into constant monitoring of news from Iran.
“When words ran out, people kept returning to their bodies,” Shahbazi said. “Sudden vomiting, weight gained in twenty days, neck spasms or grinding teeth were how they registered what they could not yet fully think or articulate.”
The body, in this sense, became both witness and container.
Political violence was not simply something they analyzed or debated. It was something that settled into digestion, sleep, muscles and skin.
Shahbazi believes those reactions reveal dimensions of suffering that familiar categories like trauma or PTSD sometimes fail to capture.
“Diagnostic labels can flatten experience into symptom lists,” she said. “What people described were very concrete bodily dramas tied to images and events in Iran.”
Safe but summoned
Another recurring theme was the strange moral position created by exile.
The interviewees were physically safe – living in UK, Europe, North America or elsewhere outside Iran – yet many said they did not experience themselves as distant observers.
“I would describe their condition as safe but summoned,” Shahbazi said. “They lived outside the field of bullets but inside a field of responsibility.”
Again and again participants returned to a painful question: why am I here while others were killed?
Exile did not reduce the emotional weight of the uprising. In many cases it intensified it.
“Safety, mobility and an intact body were experienced not simply as privileges,” Shahbazi said. “They were felt as a kind of unpaid debt to those who stayed and faced lethal risk.”
That sense of symbolic debt helps explain why many interviewees described weeks in which work, sleep and daily routines collapsed into constant monitoring of events in Iran.
Some called friends inside the country repeatedly. Others spent hours tracking death tolls or watching newly emerging videos.
They were not simply following the news. They were trying to answer a moral demand they felt placed upon them.
Language at its limit
The scale of the violence also strained language itself. Participants repeatedly reached for extreme words – “catastrophe,” “slaughter,” or “something like a Holocaust” – because ordinary vocabulary seemed incapable of holding what they had seen.
“Everyday language felt too small,” Shahbazi said. “So people borrowed the biggest words they could find.”
Even those words felt insufficient.
Many interviewees hesitated as they spoke, qualifying their descriptions with phrases like “something like” or “nothing else really covers it.”
Numbers became another way of trying to grasp the event.
Several participants described compulsively tracking death tolls or attempting rough calculations of how many people might have been killed.
“Counting was a way of making the killings halfway thinkable,” Shahbazi said.
A different Iranian-ness
Despite the suffering described in the interviews, the research also uncovered something unexpected. Several participants said the uprising had changed how they understood their own identity.
For years, many had associated being Iranian internationally with embarrassment tied to the Islamic Republic’s image abroad. After the protests, that feeling began to shift.
Shahbazi said several participants described a “partial lifting of shame” when saying they were Iranian.
“In its place they spoke about pride in the courage and sacrifices of protesters,” she said.
Some described renewed attachment to Iranian culture, language and land. Others spoke about admiration for the mothers who stood at the forefront of demonstrations.
Shahbazi believes this shift may have political consequences as well.
“It recenters being Iranian around equality, justice and shared humanity,” she said, “rather than around the state’s ideology.”
That transformation remains fragile.
The war now unfolding and the renewed blackout mean that images of violence are again entering Iranian homes and diaspora communities alike.
But if the interviews reveal anything, it is that the event did not remain confined to the streets where it began.
As Shahbazi put it: “For many Iranians in the diaspora, the massacre did not stay on their screens; it cut into their bodies, their sense of time, and even the way they dare to say, ‘I am Iranian.’”