In Tehran, workers are demolishing what remains of nuclear scientist Ahmadreza Zolfaghari’s home, a building damaged beyond repair in Israel’s surprise strike against Iran’s political, military, and nuclear elite.
Zolfaghari, who worked at Shahid Beheshti University’s Faculty of Nuclear Engineering and edited a nuclear energy journal, was deemed a target by Israel. He was found dead in the rubble alongside his wife and adult son. The attack also destroyed three adjacent buildings, killing at least five other people, including an 11-year-old child. A blue banner hanging from one damaged structure reads: “A piece of the body of Iran.”
Workers with sledgehammers navigate unstable floor struts, sending dust into the air as loose masonry crashes below. Their precarious task serves as a metaphor for a nation in shock—neither at war nor at peace, but in need of reconstruction. Following the Israeli attack, which killed over 1,000 Iranians, some sociologists suggest a new form of nationalism is emerging.
Outwardly, Tehran is changing rapidly and in ways that defy Western perceptions. Roughly a third of women in the capital now go without the hijab, a choice made not only by the young but by entire families. A punitive new chastity law passed by religious conservatives was rejected by reformist President Masoud Pezeshkian on the pragmatic grounds that enforcement could spark an uprising.
The shelving of the measure has emboldened women. Police, who once forced women into vans for being “unchaste,” now largely permit individual choice. The city’s vibrant evening streets feel more like Beirut than Kabul. Observers say that Mahsa Amini, the young Kurdish woman whose death in police custody in 2022 ignited the “women, life, freedom” protests, did not die in vain.
Cultural sociologist Nematollah Fazeli argues a deeper change is underway. He points to an “everyday nationalism” reflected in a resurgence of epic poetry, popular podcasts on Iranian history, and widespread conversations about national identity.
“Before the war, we loved Iran, but it was not a very conscious feeling,” Fazeli explained. “After the war, it became a central point of our discourse. People are talking about their nation, their identity, their geography and their history. There is a desire to be together and to express the commonality of being Iranian.”
He stresses, however, that this patriotism is distinct from support for the state. “The Islamic Republic ideology is not a nationalist ideology,” he said. “Despite their frustration with the government, the people stood up against foreign aggression; not to defend the Islamic Republic, but to defend Iran.”
This sentiment is visible elsewhere. A teacher, Mohammad Faze, noted his students adding the Iranian flag to their social media profiles, while popular singers who previously criticised the regime, such as Homayoun Shajarian, have made public declarations of love for the country. Some officials have acknowledged this outpouring. Abdolkarim Hosseinzadeh, the vice-president for rural affairs, told journalists, “We may not think alike… but in Iran, there is no doubt about our friendship, patriotism and love for our homeland.”
The debate now gripping Iran is how the government will respond to this public resilience, which one official called a “blitz spirit.” Aliakbar Velayati, an adviser to Iran’s supreme leader, argued, “The people have proven themselves, and now it is the turn of the officials. Outdated methods will no longer suffice.”
But translating these sentiments into policy is proving difficult in a deeply polarised society. A plan by singer Shajarian to hold a free concert in Tehran’s Azadi Square collapsed amid a political dispute over whether the event was a moment of public relief or state propaganda.
Conservatives see the social cohesion, inadvertently forged by Israel’s attack, as a validation of the supreme leader’s ideological foreign policy. Reformists, however, argue it would be a mistake to interpret this patriotism as an endorsement of the status quo. “How can we be so complacent when the currency has fallen 25% in the past week, poverty is everywhere, the official media is a lie and no one knows if another war is around the corner?” one commented.
Reformists hope for a paradigm shift. Former prime minister Mir-Hossein Mousavi, under house arrest for 15 years, issued an open letter demanding a new constitution. The Reform Front, an umbrella group of moderates, called for a voluntary suspension of domestic uranium enrichment in exchange for lifting sanctions. Former president Hassan Rouhani advocated for a new national strategy, including diversifying the media, modernising Iran’s defences, and reducing hostility toward the US. They have been joined by 180 economists urging systemic reform and 78 former diplomats pressing for a foreign policy that can lift sanctions without delay.
Resistance to change remains strong. The security apparatus has launched a crackdown involving road checks and, according to Amnesty International, as many as 20,000 arrests. Conservatives also pushed through a draconian law to block online content. When the Reform Group criticised the move, the head of the judiciary, Gholam-Hossein Mohseni-Eje’i, condemned their statement as being “in line with the enemy’s wishes” and hinted at prosecution, a remark designed to intimidate reformists.
Caught between these conflicting tides is President Pezeshkian, who has made consensus his watchword. His caution frustrates the reformists who helped elect him a year ago, but he is acutely aware of the limits of his power and the conservative forces aligned against him.
A government spokesperson, Fatemeh Mohajerani, defended Pezeshkian’s commitment to persuasion, noting that consensus-building takes time. She said progress is being made on issues like removing filters from social media sites such as Telegram and X, a process she claimed was interrupted only by the war.
Pezeshkian’s room to manoeuvre is restricted by widespread anger over the war and the looming threat of reimposed UN sanctions. Many Iranians, regardless of political affiliation, believe Europe is effectively endorsing Israel’s bombing campaign by moving toward “snapback” sanctions. The perception that the US allowed the attack to happen during negotiations has created a deep distrust that plays into the hands of anti-Western factions.
“It is very difficult to make the case within domestic Iranian politics that negotiations are beneficial,” said Reza Nasri, an international lawyer close to the reformist camp. “People feel ‘we went to negotiate and we got bombs, so why should we do that again?’ The most likely outcome of imposing snapback sanctions is that Iran will exclude Europe from all future negotiations altogether.” Nasri added that for many, Iran’s right to enrich uranium is no longer about energy or deterrence, but “all about retaining a symbol of dignity.”
Speaking near the graves of those killed in the war at the Hemmat Tajrish mosque, teacher Mohammad Faze acknowledged that society is on edge. “My nature is not to be 100% certain about anything, but if this war comes again we will be ready,” he insisted. “It is deep in the Iranian heart we will not surrender, and we will not be humiliated.”
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