Some Iranians hoped the war would bring regime change. Now they doubt it

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Already devastated by the violent crackdowns that killed thousands of protesters in January, Iranians who oppose the Islamic regime now say they are wrestling with the repercussions of U.S.-Israeli attacks, now in their second week.

In interviews conducted as they sought shelter from the explosions during the past week, some Iranians who rose up against the regime in more than three years of protests and acts of dissent say they saw the bombardments and missile strikes as a welcome development − at least initially. Many had viewed such a military action as their only hope of ending the brutal 47-year rule of the ayatollahs, and some still do.

But some have been disillusioned by the humanitarian horrors of the seemingly indiscriminate missile attacks and President Donald Trump’s apparent lack of a consistent overarching objective. And a recent deep division between monarchist-leaning and republican-minded protesters has been heightened by statements from Mr. Trump suggesting that he favours neither option, preferring to keep the Islamic regime in place with a more Washington-friendly ruler, just as he has done in Venezuela.

When the military campaign began on Feb. 28, The Globe and Mail set out to interview a sample of people within Iran who had participated in the large-scale “Woman, Life, Freedom” protests in 2022-24 and in the uprisings that began in late 2025 to assess their views about Iran’s future, the merits of the military attacks and the prospects for a different sort of leadership.

Although there were issues with faltering internet and phone lines and understandable fears of retribution for contact with foreign media, The Globe was able to speak with a dozen people in three Iranian cities (and two who had fled the country) over secure voice channels, in either Farsi or English. Five agreed to be quoted. The Globe has been careful to protect their identities, using only their first names and providing limited details about their businesses and locations owing to the still considerable danger posed by Iran’s security forces.

They had all, to some degree, participated in protests, anti-regime activism or pro-democracy activities in recent years. Many were sheltering from missile strikes in windowless parts of their homes or in secure locations.

Mohammad, 45, a furniture shop owner in Shiraz, was among those who could be heard cheering from their balconies as the missiles initially rained down. “I would support Satan himself if he could bring this regime down,” he said. Asked how he endures daily life under missile strikes, he answered: “It’s heavy, but if it removes the Islamic government, it will be worth it.”

“People have done everything they could. So many have been killed, and the regime shows no mercy, not even to children,” said Maryam, 39, a bank worker from Shiraz who fled shortly before the missiles struck. “This massacre [of protesters] has to stop. If Trump can do something to end it, then let him do it.”

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Their initially hopeful mood seemed to reflect an oft-quoted line in a song by Iranian star Ali Azimi that imagines a morning when “we wake up, and THEY are no more.” After many uprisings that have pushed the Islamic Republic back but never toppled it, many described their psychological state in a single word: desperation.

They were encouraged by the initial messages of Mr. Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu calling for a quick and total overthrow of the regime.

But Mr. Trump’s change of tone, which included declaring that he wanted a veto over the choice of the next supreme leader after the assassination of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, has turned some of that optimism into fear.

“If the regime survives, things will be much worse,” Mohammad said. “They’ll take revenge on the people. They will kill them by the thousands.” He described how the security forces “march down the streets, showing off their power,” while state television warns that anyone acting against the regime during the war will be executed “on the spot.”

And by opting for a lengthy and highly destructive air campaign rather than surgical strikes intended to take out the regime’s leaders over a short period, the U.S. and Israel have physically prevented any uprising from occurring.

“People hate them. [The regime] has no credibility,” Mohammad said. “But if people go out now, there will be another bloodshed, like what happened on Jan. 8 and 9. Just before the start of this war, the university students were demonstrating, and people were waiting for any opportunity to restart [the uprising]. But with the war, the regime closed the universities, and there are no more demonstrations. People will not go out under the bombs.”

Many protesters had hoped the military campaign would end the regime and install Reza Pahlavi, the 65-year-old son of the former shah of Iran, as leader. Though Mr. Pahlavi, a U.S. resident, had widely been considered an irrelevant figure within Iran, his popularity rose sharply in 2025, to the point that “Long live the Shah” chants seemed to dominate protests, according to participants. Although an investigation by the Financial Times in February suggested that Mr. Pahlavi’s support was bolstered by a very large-scale, foreign-funded social-media campaign, many protesters nevertheless came to see him as the only viable option for a post-regime government.

Zeinab, 34, an academic from Tehran, said she “would like to see the shah come back … because he’s so much better than this regime.” Like many protesters, she did not consider herself a monarchist but saw Mr. Pahlavi as a provisional leader who could oversee a transition to democracy. “He would be a symbolic leader who would rebuild the country and run it until we hold elections.”

But the early days of the war have been disillusioning for many Pahlavi supporters.

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Farsi social media is now saturated with posts questioning his claims and leadership. Before the uprising, Mr. Pahlavi asserted that 50,000 members of the Iranian armed forces had pledged loyalty to him, and it appeared that the U.S. and Israel would support his ascent. But he now appears to have lost the backing of those powers, and there have been no signs of monarchist support emerging within the military.

Mr. Pahlavi also drew widespread criticism for sending condolences to Mr. Trump after three U.S. soldiers were killed by Iranian missiles, while remaining silent after more than 170 Iranian schoolchildren were killed in a missile attack that struck a school.

The ugly and authoritarian-minded side of Mr. Pahlavi’s movement also became more visible. “We hear a lot about how some of his supporters treat people who disagree with them,” Maryam said. “Even pro-Pahlavi students in Iran threaten others. … We hope that if Pahlavi comes to power, he will keep his promises. But in the end, anyone is better than the mullahs.”

Fardin, a 61-year-old printer from Tehran, said he came to believe Mr. Pahlavi would be no better than the regime and noted that the shah’s son has said nothing to suggest he would seek a transition to democracy. “I’m old enough to remember the shah’s years. Pahlavi is just like his father − he is not interested in democracy.”

Far from provoking an uprising, the intensity of the attacks has made even some ardent anti-regime activists feel helpless against the warring powers. “These days, we don’t really have a say in anything,” Mohammad said. “Trump decides everything. But it looks like he’s left Pahlavi hanging.”

In fact, some protesters lament that the attacks, and Mr. Trump’s dismissal of their concerns, have destroyed the optimism and determination that drove the Woman, Life, Freedom protests.

“We were united. Everyone spoke with one voice,” Maryam said. “Now everything’s fractured. People argue with each other instead of standing against the regime. Even close friends fight over their beliefs.”