The spark that has become a fire in Iran

Recent protests have inflamed several Iranian cities in recent days, erupting from long-standing dissatisfaction with the nation’s Islamist regime. These protesters do not arrive like flash fires. They are slow burns that have finally come into the open.

It is ordinary men and women — students, workers, shopkeepers and mothers — who are raising their voices in public spaces, fully aware of how costly that can be. The scenes feel familiar, yet the anger feels deeper this time. It carries exhaustion, not excitement.

To understand why these protests keep returning, one must look beyond the headlines and into daily life in Iran. The economy has been under pressure for a long time. Prices rise faster than wages. Jobs are scarce.

Young people study hard but see no future. On top of this comes constant control over personal behavior, dress, speech and movement. Life feels managed from above, even in private spaces. When people cannot breathe economically or socially, silence grows heavy. Eventually, it breaks. That is what we are witnessing now.

The protesters are not asking for miracles. They are asking for room — room to live, to choose, to speak and to survive without fear. Many want relief from economic pain. Others want freedom in daily life, especially from forced rules that shape how they dress, walk and behave.

There is also a clear demand for dignity. People want to be treated as citizens, not suspects. Political accountability matters too, but at its core the message is simple: Let us live without being constantly watched and punished.

The Iranian government sees things very differently. From its point of view, the system is Islamic, legal and nonnegotiable. Protests are framed as threats to order, not signs of public pain. Officials often say these movements are pushed or exaggerated by foreign powers. This argument appears again and again.

It allows the state to avoid asking hard questions about itself. By labeling protesters as agents of outside forces, the government avoids admitting that dissatisfaction is real and widespread. Stability becomes more important than reform. Control matters more than consent.

At the heart of this conflict is a basic clash of ideas. Protesters want less control and more choice. The government wants order, ideological authority and continuity. Both sides speak of protection, but they mean different things. One seeks protection from hunger, fear and humiliation. The other seeks protection of a system that does not easily bend. This gap keeps widening, and words alone are no longer enough to hide it.

The unrest has drawn international attention, particularly from the United States. American leaders have publicly expressed concern about civilians and condemned the violence. According to The Washington Post, this signals that Washington is addressing the issue at the highest levels.

On paper, this may look like support for human rights. In practice, it is more complicated. U.S. statements often carry historical weight. For Tehran, they serve as proof of foreign meddling. For protesters, they are a mixed blessing.

Many Iranians do not fully trust foreign voices, even when those voices speak in their favor. Some welcome moral support, hoping it might limit how far the state goes. Others fear it will only make matters worse.

They know that every statement from Washington gives Iranian authorities another excuse to tighten control. For people facing batons and arrests, words from abroad feel distant. Sympathy does not stop tear gas. Speeches do not lower food prices. The struggle remains local, personal and dangerous.

Then there is Pakistan, watching cautiously from next door. Islamabad has chosen a familiar path. In my view, Pakistan’s decision to remain neutral is the most appropriate choice in such a volatile region.

The Middle East and South Asia have already experienced numerous conflicts driven by external interference and hasty interventions, and the wiser course in such situations is restraint.

Stability along its borders and across the region matters deeply for Pakistan. Looking ahead, economic cooperation, energy links and regional connectivity depend on calm relations. Taking sides in another country’s internal unrest could damage long-term interests and create unnecessary friction. From this perspective, neutrality is not indifference; it is a choice aimed at peace.

What makes Iran’s situation troubling is not just the protests themselves, but the refusal to learn from them. Each wave is treated as an exception, not a message. Force becomes the answer again and again.

But force does not erase memory. It only delays the next eruption. A system that depends on pressure to survive eventually cracks under its own weight. History has shown this many times, in many places.

Iran’s leaders often speak of resistance and strength, and the country’s revolution has undeniably shaped its position in the world. But real strength lies in negotiation. It lies in adjusting before anger turns into despair.

People do not disappear when they are ignored. They grow louder, if only for a moment. The causes of these demonstrations will not vanish even if the streets fall quiet again. Hunger is constant. Healing is impossible in the presence of humiliation.

Ultimately, foreign declarations, street demonstrations and even economic penalties do not pose the greatest threat to Iran. The real danger is the belief that control can substitute for consent. People may endure hardship, but they cannot exist indefinitely without dignity.

Iran’s unrest will return until something more fundamental changes, even if the world moves on to the next crisis. Silence may impose order for a time, but it will never bring peace.