Ali Larijani’s elimination signals a potential turning point in Iran

The elimination of Ali Larijani, the de facto ruler of Iran, alongside that of Gholamreza Soleimani, head of the Basij militia, is not merely another tactical success. It is a strategic turning point—and perhaps something more: an invitation to the Iranian people.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu made this explicit in announcing the operation: Israel acted to destabilise the regime to give the Iranian people the opportunity to remove it. “Now it is your turn,” he told them.

He added a wish to the Iranian people for a new year of freedom. “Our aircraft are hitting the terror operatives on the ground, in the crossroads, in the city squares. This is meant to enable the brave people of Iran to celebrate the Festival of Fire,” Netanyahu said. “So celebrate and Happy Nowruz. We’re watching from above.”

For decades, the Iranian regime has appeared immovable, sustained by repression, fear and a vast machinery of violence. But history teaches us that such systems can collapse suddenly when pressure from above meets courage from below. That moment may now be approaching.

The timing is not incidental. The traditional Zoroastrian fire festival of Chaharshanbe—banned by the regime—offers a symbolic opportunity. Reza Pahlavi has already called on Iranians to go into the streets and light the fires. A gesture that is both cultural and political. A spark that, under the right conditions, can become something larger.

With the removal of Larijani, Israel has struck at one of the regime’s central pillars. After the weakening of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei’s authority, this represents a second decapitation—one aimed not only at military capability, but at the regime’s political core.

It was a daring operation, conducted over a distance of some 2,000 kilometres, based on precise intelligence and, crucially, on the quiet but persistent cooperation of Iranians who seek the end of the regime.

Larijani was no marginal figure. Since August 2025, as head of the Supreme National Security Council, he stood at the centre of the regime’s decision-making apparatus. He helped direct Iran’s regional strategy, including the use of proxies to attack Israel, the relentless pursuit of nuclear weapons, and the rejection of diplomatic efforts that would have halted that program.

He was also deeply implicated in the regime’s internal repression.

For years, Iran’s authorities have crushed dissent with brutality—targeting dissidents, women and members of the LGBTQ community. The mass killings of tens of thousands, carried out in successive waves of repression since 2009, bear the imprint of leaders such as Larijani and his closest collaborators.

Among them was Gholamreza Soleimani, whose militia has long served as the regime’s instrument of terror. Mounted on motorcycles, armed and unrestrained, the Basij have become a symbol of fear for countless Iranian citizens.

Their weakening matters. Reports that hundreds, even thousands, of Basij members have been eliminated in recent operations suggest that the regime’s capacity to intimidate its own population may be eroding. Fear, once total, may now be fractured.

Larijani himself embodied the regime’s duplicity. While publicly calling for the destruction of Israel and the United States, he cultivated the image of a pragmatic figure. His family enjoyed wealth and privilege, with close relatives living and working in the West—even as he oversaw the systematic repression of his own people.

He was a man who spoke the language of moderation while practising the politics of brutality.

His removal leaves a vacuum—not only of power, but of control. And control is the regime’s lifeblood.

Whether this moment will translate into mass action remains uncertain. The Iranian people have risen before, only to be met with overwhelming violence. Even now, arrests continue, communications are disrupted, and tools such as Starlink are targeted in an effort to isolate and silence dissent.

But something has changed. The regime appears vulnerable. Its enforcers are diminished. Its leadership is exposed. And the people know they are not alone.

This is the significance of the current moment. Not simply that a senior figure has been eliminated, but that the balance between fear and possibility may be shifting.

If that shift continues—if courage overcomes hesitation, if the fires of Chaharshanbe are lit despite the ban—then what we are witnessing may not be just another phase of war, but the beginning of something far more consequential.

A revolution, perhaps. Or at least the first real opening toward one. For now, the outcome cannot be predicted. But the message has been sent. It is your turn.