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.

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 : Across two very different geographies, two very different political systems, and two very different societies, demonstrations are unfolding that strangely mirror each other in spirit while diverging sharply in treatment and global reaction. One is taking place inside the United States, across nearly a thousand cities, towns, and metropolitan centers. The other is unfolding in Iran, a country long accustomed to protests, sanctions, and foreign pressure. Together, they tell a single, uncomfortable story about power, sovereignty, and the selective morality of intervention.
In the United States, protests erupted following a series of aggressive Immigration and Customs Enforcement actions that, according to eyewitness accounts and local officials, have crossed legal and ethical boundaries. These actions were ostensibly aimed at undocumented immigrants, yet in practice they have ensnared legal residents and U.S. citizens alike. The tipping point came after a fatal incident in Minnesota, where an ICE operation ended with the shooting death of a white American woman during a traffic confrontation in snowy conditions.
According to preliminary accounts circulated by local media, ICE agents, masked and operating in unmarked vehicles, attempted to redirect traffic during an enforcement operation. The woman, unable to comply immediately due to icy road conditions, requested time to maneuver safely. She was ordered out of her vehicle, refused out of fear and confusion, and as she attempted to reposition her car, she was shot twice and killed. The incident ignited national outrage not only because of the death itself, but because it crystallized a fear long voiced by minority communities: that federal power is now being exercised without restraint, identification, or judicial oversight.
The reaction was swift and unprecedented. Demonstrations spread from Minnesota to Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, and Washington, D.C., with tens of thousands marching toward federal buildings and, in the capital, toward the White House itself. In New York, protesters gathered near Trump Tower, chanting against what they called “state violence against citizens.” One tearful demonstrator, when asked why he was crying, said he had never imagined living to see a day when the federal government would openly kill its own people and face no immediate accountability.
State and city governments responded with alarm. Governors and mayors in Illinois, California, and New York openly challenged the federal deployment of ICE and National Guard units, pledging to use legal and administrative means to block further operations. Legal scholars noted that ICE actions appeared to violate long-established requirements for warrants, identification, and probable cause. The image of masked agents operating without visible authority evoked comparisons to authoritarian regimes the United States has historically condemned.
Yet this domestic unrest is not occurring in isolation. The same assertive, coercive posture has been projected outward. The world watched in disbelief as the United States escalated its confrontation with Venezuela, culminating in what many international observers described as the effective seizure of a sovereign state’s leadership and economic arteries. By detaining President Nicolás Maduro and asserting control over Venezuelan oil exports, Washington did not merely target an individual but placed an entire nation under de facto custody.
Senior U.S. officials publicly stated that Venezuela’s oil sector would be reorganized under American oversight, with proceeds used to compensate U.S. companies nationalized during earlier Venezuelan reforms. More than six oil tankers were reportedly intercepted or frozen, and oil valued in the billions of dollars was declared subject to U.S. strategic use. Even Chinese and Russian-linked vessels were halted, a move that signaled how far Washington was willing to stretch maritime and economic power.
Strikingly, China and Russia limited their response to measured warnings. Analysts noted that both powers may see strategic advantage in allowing Washington to normalize such behavior, thereby creating precedents they could later invoke in Taiwan or Ukraine. What appears as silence, in this reading, is calculated patience.
A similar logic underpins Washington’s renewed rhetoric about Greenland, an autonomous territory within the Kingdom of Denmark. Statements suggesting U.S. acquisition of the island, justified by security and resource concerns, shocked European capitals. Europe now faces a sobering realization: reliance on American security guarantees does not shield allies from coercion. In fact, it may invite it.
This realization has led to a quiet but significant shift in European thinking. Long-standing assumptions about the permanence of U.S. protection are eroding. As an old diplomatic aphorism goes, being an enemy of the United States is dangerous, but being its friend can be even more so.
Against this global backdrop, Iran presents the third and most instructive case. Protests inside Iran have intensified following economic hardship exacerbated by sanctions and the sharp devaluation of the national currency after the recent twelve-day conflict involving Iran, Israel, and the United States. The war shattered long-held perceptions of Israeli invulnerability and exposed the extent to which regional defense architectures are designed to preserve Israeli security at all costs.
Iranian protests are not new. In 1953, mass unrest, fueled and guided by British and American intelligence, led to the overthrow of Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh and the installation of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. In 1979, another wave of popular mobilization toppled the Shah himself, ushering in the Islamic Republic under Ayatollah Khomeini. Since then, Iran has endured decades of sanctions that have hollowed out its economy while entrenching powerful elites.
Today’s protests are driven by familiar grievances: inflation, unemployment, social restrictions, and fatigue from perpetual isolation. Yet the international response could not be more different from that toward U.S. demonstrations. When Americans protest federal violence, no foreign power threatens intervention. No missiles are readied, no sanctions imposed, no leaders warn that force will be used to “protect demonstrators.”
In Iran’s case, however, senior U.S. officials openly warned that any crackdown would invite retaliation. History suggests that such “retaliation” rarely harms ruling elites and almost always devastates ordinary citizens. Bombs do not discriminate between policymakers and shopkeepers. Sanctions do not skip children.
The moral inconsistency is stark. If sovereignty is inviolable in the United States, it must be inviolable everywhere. If regime change must be organic and driven by citizens in Washington or Minnesota, the same principle must apply in Tehran. Iranians, like Americans, have proven repeatedly that when they truly want change, they can achieve it themselves.
The lesson emerging from these parallel demonstrations is painfully clear. Interference in the internal political, social, and cultural dynamics of sovereign states produces not stability but chaos. It fuels violence, poverty, displacement, and mass migration. It creates cycles of despair that spill across borders and generations.
Peace will not come from dismantling international institutions or bending them to the will of the powerful. It will come from strengthening international law, respecting sovereignty, and allowing peoples, everywhere, to determine their own futures. Until that lesson is learned, the streets of Minnesota and Tehran will continue to echo each other, separated by continents but bound by the same unanswered question: who guards the people when power runs unchecked?