Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : The Middle East has been subjected to a destructive and repetitive doctrine that promises peace through regime change but delivers only chaos, fragmentation, and endless war. At the core of this ideology stands Benjamin Netanyahu, whose long-held belief is that Israel’s security and regional dominance require the dismantling of hostile governments rather than coexistence with them. From Iraq to Libya, from Syria to Afghanistan, from Lebanon to Gaza, this toxic philosophy has left entire societies in ruins—yet it is being recycled once again, this time against Iran.
Israel’s current military campaign in Gaza and the West Bank, its permanent occupation of the Golan Heights, its repeated strikes inside Syria, and its confrontations with Lebanon all reveal a broader expansionist vision. However, Netanyahu understands that without neutralizing Iran—the only regional power capable of resisting Israeli military dominance—this vision cannot fully materialize. This is why Iran has been framed as an “existential threat,” and why regime change in Tehran has become a central obsession.
Even before the brief twelve-day escalation in June involving Israel, United States, and Iran, Netanyahu had been relentlessly injecting the idea that once Iran’s leadership is removed, peace will finally descend upon the Middle East. This is the same argument used to push the United States into Iraq, to destroy Libya, to destabilize Syria, and to militarize Afghanistan. Every time this doctrine was applied, conditions worsened—terrorism expanded, refugees multiplied, and regional instability deepened.
At that critical moment, Donald Trump did not endorse regime change in Iran. He resisted plunging the United States into another open-ended conflict. However, Israel did not abandon its objective. Instead, it adopted a two-pronged strategy: destabilization from within and the grooming of a manufactured alternative leadership for Iran.
According to Iranian authorities, the current unrest was not merely spontaneous protest but was instigated, coordinated, and guided by Israeli intelligence networks operating under Mossad. Tehran presented evidence that Mossad-linked operatives were embedded among protest groups, receiving instructions directly from headquarters in Tel Aviv. These instructions allegedly included plans to incite large-scale rioting, burn banks, destroy ambulances, attack police officers, and sabotage mosques and public infrastructure. The objective was not reform but disorder.
Most critically, Iranian officials revealed that even after the country shut down its domestic internet, communications between these operatives and their handlers continued through satellite-based systems, while Iran simultaneously faced hundreds of thousands of cyberattacks targeting its communications infrastructure. This exposed the operation as a coordinated hybrid assault combining street violence, cyber warfare, and psychological pressure.
When this evidence was reportedly shown to President Trump, his initial posture hardened. He openly stated that all options remained on the table. However, the situation shifted when Iran halted scheduled executions and refrained from further mass repression. Trump himself publicly stated that executions had been stopped and that there would be no further oppressive measures against protesters. With that declaration, he effectively poured cold water on Netanyahu’s attempt to maneuver the United States into another Middle Eastern war.
Parallel to the destabilization campaign, Israel simultaneously cultivated a political alternative: Reza Pahlavi, the son of Iran’s former monarch. Pahlavi has lived outside Iran since the age of twelve, spending his entire adult life in the United States. He has no organic political base inside Iran, no demonstrated grassroots support, and no tangible connection to the daily struggles of the Iranian people. For decades, he remained politically irrelevant. Suddenly, amid unrest, he was reintroduced as a “savior.”
Despite living a luxurious lifestyle in the United States without any clearly defined source of income, Pahlavi has been aggressively promoted as a viable leader for Iran. He was invited to Jerusalem, where, in interviews with Israeli media, he openly spoke about historical alignment between Iran, Israel, and the Jewish people. In doing so, he publicly positioned himself as ideologically aligned with Israel’s regional agenda. This appearance confirmed that he has effectively sold himself as a convenient figurehead—offered the illusion of kingship in exchange for political obedience.
This two-pronged Israeli strategy—instigating large-scale unrest while simultaneously presenting a pre-selected alternative ruler—mirrors earlier regime-change playbooks used elsewhere. However, it is fundamentally flawed. Reza Pahlavi does not represent modern Iran. He has no roots in today’s Iranian society, no institutional backing inside the country, and no legitimacy among a population that has lived through revolution, war, sanctions, and resistance. Attempting to impose him as a solution only exposes the artificial nature of the entire project.
More dangerously, an attack on Iran would not resemble Iraq or Libya. Iran controls or influences critical waterways and trade corridors. It possesses strategic depth, hardened military infrastructure, and powerful allies. Any war would immediately draw in Russia and China, turning a regional conflict into a global economic and military crisis. Energy markets would collapse, supply chains would fracture, and the United States would face overstretch and humiliation rather than victory.
While the U.S. mainland may be geographically distant, American military bases across the Middle East and beyond remain well within Iran’s reach. Moreover, if Iran preserves even part of its nuclear infrastructure under such pressure, the eventual consequences for Israel could be far more severe than anything Netanyahu anticipates. A cornered Iran is not a defeated Iran.
At this moment, the United States is already deeply entangled elsewhere—in Venezuela, in the Greenland controversy in the Arctic, amid internal unrest over federal enforcement actions, and as the credibility of NATO and the United Nations continues to erode. Being dragged into another war engineered by Netanyahu would contradict every principle of “America First.”
This is the moment for the United States to free itself from external pressure groups, including AIPAC, and to pursue an independent foreign policy grounded in national interest rather than ideological entanglements. The Middle East does not need another regime destroyed. It needs restraint, realism, and an end to expansionist fantasies that have already devastated an entire region.
History has already judged the regime-change doctrine. The only question now is whether the United States will finally refuse to repeat it.

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : Wars in the modern era are no longer fought only with bullets, missiles, fighter jets, or nuclear deterrence. Increasingly, they are fought long before any kinetic action begins—on a quieter, more deceptive battlefield: the battlefield of perception. Images, videos, and narratives now travel faster than diplomacy, bypassing borders, institutions, and even reason. In this new reality, social media has become one of the most dangerous weapons ever devised—capable of destabilizing societies without firing a single shot.
Over recent weeks, a flood of videos has emerged on social media platforms claiming to show massive demonstrations across Iran. The imagery is dramatic: endless crowds filling wide boulevards, national flags lining streets with striking uniformity, and aerial perspectives suggesting a country on the verge of total upheaval. There is no denial that Iran, like many nations under economic pressure and political strain, experiences dissent and protest. That fact is neither new nor controversial. What demands scrutiny, however, is whether the specific videos being circulated reflect organic reality or constructed spectacle.
Having worked as a news producer during a formative period from the late 1980s into the early 1990s, and having remained engaged with media management and state-level communication thereafter, I approach such material with trained skepticism. In professional journalism, the first rule is simple: never accept the image at face value. Images must be interrogated, contextualized, and tested against known patterns of human behavior, geography, and political reality.
Several elements within the widely shared video https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS5ntmNFQ/ raised immediate concerns.
First, the behavior and structure of the crowd itself. Genuine mass demonstrations are inherently chaotic. Human gatherings fluctuate in density, form pressure points at intersections, and show visible irregularities along sidewalks and side streets. Movement is uneven; space opens and closes unpredictably. In the video under scrutiny, the crowd density remains remarkably uniform across extraordinary depth—from the foreground to the far horizon. There are no visible bottlenecks, no dispersal patterns, no natural thinning at the edges. Such visual consistency is rare in real-world human assemblies and suggests construction rather than spontaneous congregation.
Second, the perspective and scaling appear inconsistent with physical reality. Buildings recede naturally with distance, but the human forms within the crowd retain disproportionate clarity far beyond what optics and aerial resolution would allow. In authentic drone footage, individuals quickly lose definition as distance increases, blending into texture and motion. Here, human figures remain visually distinct deep into the frame, defying the expected behavior of light, distance, and atmospheric interference.
Third, the symbolic repetition is striking. Flags appear at near-identical intervals, with uniform size, color saturation, and orientation. In real protest environments, symbols are irregular: some flags hang limp, others ripple unpredictably; many are partially obscured or tilted at varying angles. Perfect visual repetition is a hallmark of design, not of lived reality.
Fourth, there is an absence of micro-chaos. Even a single frame extracted from authentic protest footage captures motion blur, raised hands, head turns, banners at differing angles, and small disturbances rippling through the crowd. The video in question presents magnitude without motion—an image that appears alive but lacks the subtle disorder that defines real human movement.
Fifth, the information environment itself raises questions. Iran is among the most tightly controlled digital spaces during periods of unrest. Internet throttling, platform disruptions, and communication blackouts are common responses to internal instability. Under such conditions, high-definition, uninterrupted aerial footage does not typically circulate freely or repeatedly. Scarcity, not abundance, defines information flow from closed environments. The sudden frequency and clarity of this material therefore contradict known patterns of access and control.
This contradiction prompted further scrutiny. History provides sobering lessons. Before Iraq was invaded, narratives and visuals prepared global opinion. Before Libya collapsed, selective imagery framed intervention as humanitarian necessity. Before Syria descended into prolonged catastrophe, emotionally charged footage simplified complex realities into moral binaries. In each case, media preceded missiles. Images softened resistance, manufactured urgency, and created justification for actions whose consequences were later measured in human tragedy.
The current moment bears uncomfortable similarities. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has once again openly revived the language of regime change in Iran, addressing the Iranian public directly and encouraging confrontation with the existing state. This rhetoric is not accidental nor unprecedented. It follows a long-established pattern in which internal unrest is amplified externally to legitimize future action.
At the same time, the familiar and highly combustible narrative of Iran’s alleged nuclear ambitions has been reintroduced with renewed intensity. Despite years of inspections, contradictory intelligence assessments, and shifting red lines, nuclear alarmism is once again being used to mobilize fear—particularly within Western political circles. Its function is clear: to draw the United States back into a regional confrontation centered on Israeli security calculations.
Statements from Washington reinforce this trajectory. When American leadership publicly warns that Iran will be struck “where it hurts” if unrest is met with force, such language serves as a signal—not merely to Tehran, but to global audiences. It signals that escalation is conceivable, that internal disorder could justify external intervention, and that public opinion must be conditioned in advance.
Simultaneously, the re-emergence of Reza Pahlavi, son of Iran’s former monarch, as a proposed alternative leadership figure follows a familiar script. His sudden prominence, international exposure, and expressed willingness to lead mirror past efforts to elevate external figures as symbols of legitimacy during periods of destabilization. History shows that such figures often resonate more with foreign audiences than with populations on the ground—but they serve an important narrative function nonetheless.
It is within this convergence—Israeli advocacy for regime change, American military signaling, revived nuclear fear narratives, and the elevation of an external political alternative—that the circulation of dramatic protest imagery must be understood. These visuals do not merely document events; they construct inevitability. They suggest total collapse, universal opposition, and moral urgency—all prerequisites for public acceptance of actions that would otherwise face resistance.
This does not mean dissent does not exist in Iran. It does. But exaggeration, fabrication, and narrative inflation have historically been used to convert limited unrest into justification for catastrophic intervention. The consequences of such manipulation are not abstract. They are measured in destroyed cities, displaced populations, and generations condemned to instability.
Today, wars begin not with sirens but with shares. Not with explosions but with engagement metrics. By the time missiles are launched, the psychological battlefield has already been won.
The responsibility therefore lies with citizens, journalists, and analysts alike to resist reflexive belief. To pause. To question. To distinguish between organic human expression and manufactured spectacle. Justice demands evidence. Peace demands restraint. And truth demands patience.
In the age of instant imagery, seeing is no longer believing. Verification is.

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : Has the United States crossed an invisible threshold—moving from the imperfect discipline of democracy toward the raw logic of imperial power? This question now dominates global debate as policies under Donald Trump continue to unsettle alliances, fracture long-standing norms, and force even America’s closest partners to rethink assumptions that once seemed immutable. What is unfolding is not a series of isolated decisions but a coherent shift in worldview—one that increasingly privileges domination over consent and coercion over cooperation.
At the heart of this transformation lies a philosophy that treats democratic restraint as weakness. Trump’s oft-reported admiration for leaders who rule without resistance—where courts, parliaments, media, and civil institutions do not question authority but obey it—signals impatience with democratic friction. In this vision, speed replaces deliberation, command replaces consensus, and power is measured not by legitimacy but by the capacity to impose outcomes. Democracy becomes inefficient; obedience becomes desirable.
This shift has coincided with a sobering realization in Washington that American dominance is no longer uncontested. Economically, China has narrowed the gap. Diplomatically, the Global South increasingly resists Western pressure. Even allies now challenge U.S. preferences in international forums. Faced with this erosion of influence, the Trump administration has pivoted away from persuasion toward compulsion. The result is a growing perception that the United States is drifting from democratic leadership toward imperial behavior, intoxicated by the belief that kinetic and financial power ultimately outweigh economic interdependence, moral authority, or international law.
Classical political theory defines imperialism not simply as conquest but as a system of expansion through military force, economic extraction, political subordination, and institutional domination. Empires do not merely invade territories; they restructure economies, redirect wealth flows, and hollow out sovereignty. They justify these actions through security narratives or promises of prosperity while concentrating decision-making in a distant center of power. By this definition, imperialism can be territorial, financial, or kinetic—and often all three simultaneously.
For decades, the United States claimed to be an exception. It presented itself as the architect and steward of a rules-based order anchored in institutions like the United Nations and NATO, where formal equality constrained raw power. Under Trump, these constraints have been recast as liabilities. Institutions that limit U.S. freedom of action are dismissed as hostile or irrelevant. Funding is withdrawn, commitments abandoned, and multilateralism treated as an obstacle rather than a principle.
This imperial turn has manifested first through kinetic pressure. Military strikes in Syria, operations in Somalia, actions in Nigeria, and open threats against South Africa—including rhetoric about sanctions and even force under the pretext of protecting white-owned businesses—signal a willingness to punish states that defy U.S. narratives or strategic preferences. These actions reinforce a message long associated with empire: compliance brings tolerance, resistance brings punishment.
Yet imperialism today does not rely on military force alone. Equally powerful is what might be called financial imperialism, and it has become a defining feature of Trump’s second term. Soon after returning to office, the administration imposed sweeping tariffs on countries across the globe—friends and foes alike. Trade agreements, alliances, and shared security commitments offered no exemption. The logic was blunt: access to the vast consumer market of the United States would be weaponized as leverage.
These tariffs function as a form of economic strangulation. Countries dependent on U.S. consumers are forced to renegotiate trade on American terms, align politically with Washington’s preferences, or face severe economic pain. Unlike traditional sanctions, which are often justified through international mechanisms, these measures are unilateral and indiscriminate. They transform consumer demand into a geopolitical weapon, compelling submission not through tanks but through markets. This is economic imperialism in its modern form—control exercised through trade dependency rather than formal occupation.
The effect is cumulative. Kinetic pressure establishes fear, while financial pressure ensures compliance. Together, they recreate the imperial model in a contemporary guise. This pattern is evident in Eastern Europe. During the previous administration, vast sums were transferred to Ukraine under the banner of defending sovereignty. Under Trump, that relationship has been reframed. Assistance has become transactional, aid transformed into debt. Ukraine is now pressed to repay support through access to rare-earth minerals, effectively exchanging natural wealth for protection. This is not alliance; it is tribute enforced by dependency.
Nowhere is this logic clearer than in Venezuela. American oil companies have operated there since the 1940s, extracting enormous wealth while the population remained impoverished. When Venezuela reasserted control over its resources, those companies were expelled. Under Trump, they are invited back. Closed-door meetings with energy executives have reportedly encouraged the repossession of assets, renewed extraction, and export of profits—once again enriching corporations and the imperial center while leaving Venezuelan society poorer. The state loses control; the empire gains wealth. This is classical imperial extraction dressed in modern corporate language.
Territorial ambition has also resurfaced openly. Trump’s statements regarding Greenland, suggesting it would be taken with or without consent, shattered a taboo long thought buried. The justifications—strategic minerals, military positioning, and Arctic shipping routes shortened by climate change—mirror the calculations of nineteenth-century empires. Sovereignty becomes negotiable; consent optional. Utility, not law, determines ownership.
Pressure on Iran, often aligned with the strategic objectives of Israel, follows the same imperial script. Sanctions designed to choke the economy, constant threats of military action, and open discussion of regime change all signal an intent to subordinate an entire nation to external will. Security is the stated rationale; domination is the method.
What makes this moment uniquely troubling is that imperial practices are no longer confined to foreign policy. At home, the expansion of federal power increasingly resembles internal occupation. National Guard units and immigration agencies have been deployed across states without consent, overriding governors and local authorities. Historically, empires consolidate control by placing boots on the ground; political authority follows physical presence. Financial leverage reinforces this control. Federal funding for universities, healthcare systems, social programs, and research institutions is conditioned on political obedience—whether suppressing protests, aligning with official narratives, or endorsing favored foreign policies.
Executive authority has expanded at extraordinary speed. Trump’s prolific use of executive orders has narrowed legislative debate and constrained judicial oversight. Institutions designed to check power—courts, media, academia, welfare agencies—are not abolished but subordinated. Their survival becomes conditional. This is how empires govern: not by destroying institutions, but by bending them.
The global consequences are profound. Once a major power normalizes kinetic, financial, and economic imperialism, imitation becomes inevitable. Europe will feel pressure to secure resources. Russia will justify expansion. India and other regional powers will follow suit. Smaller states, particularly those rich in minerals or strategically located, will exist in perpetual fear—not of chaos, but of orderly extraction sanctioned by power.
The world before January 2025 and the world after January 2026 no longer feel the same. The United States, once a flawed champion of democratic norms, increasingly resembles an empire rediscovering old instincts. History offers a warning that should not be ignored. Imperialism does not stabilize the international system; it militarizes it. It replaces cooperation with fear, law with force, and legitimacy with coercion. And in the end, it corrodes the democracy at its core, leaving behind power without consent and authority without trust.