Across Iran today, the streets pulse once again with the unmistakable rhythm of revolt. Chants rise after dusk, women remove their headscarves in defiance, students and workers converge despite curfews and batons, and security forces respond with tightening violence. What began as scattered protests has evolved into a nationwide confrontation with the Islamic Republic itself.
The deeper backdrop is long and corrosive: years of economic stagnation under sanctions, entrenched corruption, generational alienation, gender repression, and a revolutionary ideology that has lost its power to persuade large segments of society. The immediate trigger matters less than this accumulated resentment. What matters now is the scale, the persistence, and the terrifying moment Iran has entered: lethal force, killings and mass arrests, and communications blackouts point to a regime preparing to restore “order” through fear. And at the same time Iran’s authoritarian regime is seeking to toe the line between escalating its bloody crackdown and averting possible U.S. military intervention, which US President Donald Trump has repeatedly threatened.
Iran stands at a historical fork. One path leads toward democratic rupture; the other toward bloodshed that could freeze society into silence for years. For those of us who once stood at another such crossroads, this moment is painfully familiar.
The unfolding events in Iran have repeatedly brought my mind back to the five days of nationwide protest in 1989 that culminated in the Tiananmen Democracy Movement at Tiananmen Square. That movement came astonishingly close to forcing political change before it was crushed by tanks and live ammunition. The memory is not theoretical. The killings now unfolding in Iran place me on edge because I know how fragile revolutionary hope can be, how quickly it can be extinguished by overwhelming force. I fear that Iran’s protest movement could suffer the same fate, even as I continue to anticipate and hope for its historic success.
Scholars often speak of social, economic, and cultural preconditions for the democratization of authoritarian regimes. These factors matter, but they rarely decide outcomes in revolutionary moments. Drawing on lived experience from Tiananmen, on decades of post-Tiananmen efforts to advance democratization in China, and on lessons from democratic revolutions across regions and eras, I have come to believe that four concrete conditions determine whether an autocracy like China or Iran has a genuine chance of meaningful democratic change. First, there must be deep and widespread dissatisfaction with the existing political order, accompanied by a clear demand for change. Second, a viable democratic opposition must emerge from that dissatisfaction. Third, a political rift must open within the ruling regime itself, whether among elites, institutions, or the security apparatus. Fourth, there must be effective international support, rooted in universal liberal values and reinforced by strategic calculation, based on a belief that the democratic opposition is credible and viable.
In Tiananmen, we had the first condition in abundance. We also had the third to a surprising degree, as internal divisions paralyzed the Chinese Communist Party at critical moments. We arguably possessed the second condition as well, though in an embryonic and fragmented form. What we decisively lacked was the fourth. Many governments expressed concern and sympathy, but no country, including the United States, believed we were close enough to victory to justify robust support. That hesitation proved fatal.
Iran today clearly satisfies the first condition. The protests cut across class, gender, ethnicity, and generation, signaling a society that has withdrawn its consent from those who govern it. Iran also appears, unusually, to possess a significant measure of the fourth condition. Democratic governments have spoken with an uncommon degree of clarity, and former U.S. president Donald Trump has issued blunt public warnings to Tehran that mass repression will carry consequences. Such external signals matter profoundly, because they shape calculations within authoritarian elites about the costs of violence and the prospects of survival.
Iran may also be on the threshold of the second condition, though this remains uncertain. Courage is everywhere, but coordination is not. What Iran has not yet shown clearly is the third condition: an open and visible rift within the regime. Senior clerics, commanders, and political figures have thus far closed ranks, at least publicly. Without elite defection or institutional fracture, even the most heroic mass protests confront a brutal ceiling.
If international democratic forces genuinely wish to help Iran avoid catastrophe and move toward freedom, their efforts must focus relentlessly on strengthening the second and third conditions. Authoritarian regimes do not collapse simply because crowds gather; they collapse when loyalty fractures. The task, therefore, is to make defection thinkable and repression costly. This requires raising the personal and political price of violence for those who order it, while lowering the risks for those who refuse. Targeted accountability against specific perpetrators, combined with credible assurances that defectors will not be collectively punished, can alter elite calculations. So can sustained efforts to amplify dissenting voices within Iran’s political and religious institutions, transforming private doubt into visible disagreement. Just as important is careful signaling that distinguishes between the regime and the nation, reassuring wavering officials that Iran’s sovereignty and dignity will be respected in any transition.
The second condition, however, is arguably the hardest. A viable democratic opposition does not require a single charismatic leader, but it does require a recognizable leadership core capable of articulating a shared narrative and a plausible post-revolution plan. Iran’s opposition is brave but fragmented, divided by ideology, geography, and mutual suspicion between activists inside the country and those in exile. Without at least a minimally agreed roadmap addressing civil liberties, minority rights, transitional justice, and economic stabilization, revolutionary energy dissipates. History offers harsh warnings about what happens when organization lags behind courage.
The experience of the Arab Spring is instructive. In Egypt, mass demonstrations toppled an autocrat, but the genuine democrats were sidelined during the transition because they were divided and poorly organized. Power was seized first by the well-organized Muslim Brotherhood, and then by an even more organized force, the military, which quickly restored authoritarian rule. Rulers changed, but autocracy endured. Revolutions may overthrow regimes, but organization determines who governs afterward.
At this stage, the international democratic community must do everything possible to deter and minimize a large-scale massacre in Iran, which now appears alarmingly plausible . Such brutality would not only be a moral catastrophe; it would serve as a powerful deterrent against renewed protest for years. Yet history also teaches a grim paradox. While massacres display raw power, they often mark the moment of greatest regime vulnerability. Legitimacy collapses further, elites grow uncertain, and fear travels upward as well as downward. A bloody crackdown, therefore, does not necessarily mean the death of a democratic movement; it may instead open a prolonged and dangerous phase in which international democratic forces must have clear strategies to help keep the movement alive, organized, and viable despite repression.
This was evident in China. When Deng Xiaoping ordered the Tiananmen crackdown, he reportedly left Beijing during the operation, a gesture revealing anxiety rather than confidence. In the aftermath, many Communist Party officials privately questioned how long the “red flag” could last. Desperate to break international isolation, China’s leadership became unusually sensitive to external signals. Less than three weeks after the massacre, U.S. president George H. W. Bushsecretly sent his national security advisor, Brent Scowcroft, to meet with Deng and other leaders. The meeting produced no tangible concessions, but the gesture itself reassured Beijing that Washington intended to maintain normal relations despite the bloodshed. That reassurance mattered enormously.
Subsequent debates in Washington over linking trade to human rights, championed by figures such as Nancy Pelosi and George Mitchell, reflected a deeper strategic reality: given the enormous economic power and international influence of the United States relative to China at the time, Washington possessed substantial leverage to pressure Beijing through trade and market access to improve its human rights record and move, however haltingly, toward political liberalization. The collapse of that effort, when President Bill Clinton reversed course, demonstrated how quickly such leverage can be surrendered. The lesson is concise and sobering: early reassurance to repressors entrenches repression.
Applied to Iran, this lesson suggests both caution and resolve. From current U.S. statements, including Trump’s unusually direct warnings, it appears unlikely that Washington will repeat precisely the same mistake. Yet another danger remains. Support for Iran’s democratic movement must center on helping Iranians achieve freedom and self-government, not on advancing foreign economic interests. If democracy is framed as a tool of external gain, it will be perceived as unpatriotic and will fail. No democratic movement that alienates its own people’s sense of national dignity can succeed.
Iran’s uprising exists within a narrow and perilous window in which history accelerates. Mass dissatisfaction is clear, and international attention is unusually strong. Whether this moment leads to freedom or to tragedy will depend on organization, elite fractures, and principled international support. The shadow of Tiananmen looms not as destiny, but as warning. If democracies act wisely—deterring massacre, enabling unity, making defection possible and centering on the welfare of the people of Iran—Iran’s democracy movement may cross a threshold that China’s could not. If they falter, repression will harden, and an entire generation will pay the price.
Jianli Yang