The sense that Iran has crossed a point of no return is not formed only inside its borders; it is increasingly shaped by how internal unrest intersects with external political signals, particularly from the United States. Over the past months, as protests have deepened and diversified across Iranian society, another layer has quietly entered the equation: the expectation—spoken aloud in some circles, whispered in others—of possible US interference or backing, explicitly promised in rhetoric associated with **Donald Trump**. This matters less because of any immediate operational reality and more because of what it does psychologically and symbolically inside Iran. Revolts are not driven only by material conditions; they are sustained by belief, timing, and the perception that history might finally be tilting in one’s favor.
Trump’s posture toward Iran, both past and prospective, has been unusually blunt by diplomatic standards. His earlier presidency normalized direct confrontation with the Islamic Republic, from the “maximum pressure” sanctions campaign to open talk of regime illegitimacy. When similar language reappears—signals of renewed pressure, hints of backing popular unrest, or suggestions that Washington would not oppose radical internal change—it functions as a form of external validation. For many Iranians already alienated from the regime, this does not necessarily translate into trust in the US, but it does reinforce the idea that the regime is isolated, contested, and no longer protected by a global consensus of caution. That shift, subtle but real, can lower the psychological barrier to sustained dissent.
This external signaling amplifies an already fragile internal legitimacy crisis. Protest movements tend to escalate when participants believe repression may carry diminishing returns for the state. Even rumors or speculative expectations of US support—whether through diplomatic pressure, sanctions enforcement, information warfare, or symbolic recognition of protesters—can embolden crowds and widen participation. In Iran’s case, where past uprisings were often crushed amid a sense of international indifference, the perception that Washington might actively legitimize unrest alters the emotional calculus. People who might otherwise remain cautious begin to feel they are acting within a broader historical moment rather than as isolated dissidents destined to be forgotten.
At the same time, this factor introduces a dangerous paradox. External endorsement, especially from the United States, is a double-edged sword in Iran. The regime has long relied on the narrative of foreign interference to delegitimize internal opposition, branding protesters as agents of hostile powers. Trump’s overt rhetoric risks feeding that narrative even as it energizes the streets. Yet what feels different now—this is the quiet crack in the old formula—is that accusations of US backing no longer automatically discredit protestors in the eyes of the public. Years of economic failure, repression, and ideological exhaustion have weakened the regime’s ability to weaponize nationalism and anti-imperial memory as effectively as before. When legitimacy is already hollow, pointing to an external enemy loses its mobilizing power.
What emerges is a feedback loop: domestic unrest invites international commentary; international commentary reinforces domestic belief that change is plausible; that belief sustains unrest despite repression. This is why some analysts describe the revolt as irreversible—not because collapse is imminent, but because the mental barrier of “nothing will ever change” has been breached. US interference, or even the promise of it, does not create the revolt, but it can act as an accelerant, lending a sense of inevitability to processes that were already unfolding from within.
Still, inevitability should not be confused with outcome. External signals can legitimize public unrest without guaranteeing its success, and they can just as easily provoke harsher crackdowns. The regime retains coercive strength, and geopolitical realities rarely align cleanly with revolutionary hopes. Yet once a population internalizes the idea that the world is watching—and might even quietly approve—the old equilibrium becomes impossible to restore. That, more than any single protest or policy statement, is what makes the current moment in Iran feel structurally different, heavier, and strangely irreversible, even as its final shape remains unwritten.
