The Things Americans Don’t Understand About Iran — And Why It Matters
I’ve spent a good part of my life studying Iran — its history, its politics, its theology, and its people. I’ve visited there, broken bread there, and sat in rooms where a single misplaced sentence could have changed the course of my life. I don’t pretend to be Iranian, but I do try to speak about Iran with the respect it deserves. That includes honoring the holy city of Qom and the holy city of Mashhad, because in Iran those words carry weight, and I have no interest in being careless with someone else’s sacred ground.
One of the biggest misunderstandings Americans have about Iran is the idea that its political factions map neatly onto ours. We talk about “hardliners,” “moderates,” and “reformists” as if we’re describing Republicans and Democrats. But that’s not how Iran works. Not even close.
To understand Iran, you have to understand the theology behind the politics. And to understand the theology, you need an analogy Americans can grasp.
So let me start with something familiar.
The Catholic Analogy
Walk into any Catholic church in the United States and you’ll find someone who thinks priests should be allowed to marry, or that the Church should recognize same‑sex marriage, or that women should be ordained. These are the “liberal Catholics.” They exist. They’re sincere. They’re often devout.
But even they know — whether they say it out loud or not — that if they push too far, they’re essentially saying:
“The Church is wrong about sin.”
Now, many Catholics and many Protestants would argue with that framing. But the point is: inside the Catholic system, challenging doctrine is not the same thing as disagreeing with a mayor or a senator. It’s a challenge to the structure of religious authority.
Now take that dynamic and multiply it by ten, because in the Islamic Republic of Iran, the stakes are not just religious — they are constitutional.
In Iran, to be a “liberal” in the Western sense is not to say:
- “I disagree with the government.”
It is to say:
- “The Supreme Leader is not the rightful interpreter of God’s law.”
- “The chain from God → Prophet → Qur’an → Hadith → the ulama → the jurist‑ruler is broken.”
- “The system’s religious legitimacy is invalid.”
That is not a political disagreement.
That is heresy.
And that’s the part Americans miss.
A Night in Tehran
Years ago, I was at a dinner in Tehran. Some of the people there were not acting like my true friends. They weren’t hostile, but they were probing — trying to see if the American at the table would say something unwise.
At the time, the Basij were roughing up girls who showed too much ankle or let a lock of hair slip forward from their headscarf — a fashionable look in Tehran, but outside the bounds of proper dress according to the Supreme Leader. These girls could be beaten, jailed, or worse.
My hosts asked me, politely but pointedly:
“As an American, how do you feel about the Supreme Leader ordering this, and the Basij carrying it out?”
They phrased it more gently, but that was the thrust.
It was a trap.
If I condemned the Supreme Leader, I could have been detained for years. Iran has dungeons for that sort of thing, and I had no intention of seeing the inside of one.
So I answered in a way that shocked the room.
I said:
“If Allah is truly God…”
And the room stopped breathing.
You could feel the air freeze.
I continued:
“…and if Muhammad — peace be upon him — is truly His Prophet…
and if the Qur’an is truly the word of God…
and if the Hadith and the teachings of the ulama are true…
and if Twelver Shiʿism is the correct interpretation…
and if Ayatollah Khomeini interpreted it correctly…
then what else can the Supreme Leader do?”
Silence.
Because to say the Supreme Leader was wrong, they would have to say:
- God is wrong, or
- the Prophet is wrong, or
- the Qur’an is wrong, or
- the Hadith are wrong, or
- the ulama are wrong, or
- Ayatollah Khomeini misinterpreted God’s law
And no one at that table was prepared to say any of those things.
I didn’t challenge the system.
I simply followed its logic to its unavoidable conclusion.
And they had no answer.
That moment taught me more about Iran than any book ever could.
The Ladder of Authority
Here’s the ladder as Iranians understand it:
God → Prophet → Book → Teachings → Interpretation → Supreme Leader
If you accept every rung, you are — by definition — a hardliner.
Not because you’re cruel.
Not because you’re political.
But because you believe the religion is true.
In the United States, I can believe:
- Jonah was in the whale
- Jesus was born of a virgin
- Jesus rose from the dead
And none of that determines whether I’m a liberal or a conservative.
In Iran, belief is politics.
That’s the difference.
The Three Factions, Explained Honestly
1. The Hardliners
These are the people who believe the entire theological ladder is true and binding. They are strongest in:
- rural Iran
- small towns
- the holy city of Qom
- the holy city of Mashhad
- the Basij
- the IRGC
- the seminaries
They see the Islamic Republic not as a government, but as a religious vessel.
2. The Pragmatists (the Rafsanjani lineage)
These are the system managers — the people who want the Islamic Republic to survive, but also to function.
Rafsanjani could bend the system because:
- he was a revolutionary
- he was trusted
- he had clerical legitimacy
- he had personal relationships with both Supreme Leaders
After his death, no one had his stature.
3. The Liberals (the bazaaris and modernists)
These were never “liberals” in the Western sense.
They were:
- merchants
- urban professionals
- people who wanted a more open economy
- people who wanted fewer restrictions on daily life
They were closest to the bazaar class — people who wanted stability, trade, and predictable rules.
But they never had:
- a clerical base
- a military base
- a rural base
So they never became a true faction.
Why I Still Speak With Respect
I don’t think I’ll ever return to Iran. I wish I could. I loved the people, the culture, the history, the poetry, the food, the hospitality. I loved the conversations that lasted until dawn. I loved the sense of place.
But even if I never set foot there again, I speak about Iran with respect because you never know when doors may open — and because respect is the only way to talk about a civilization that has been thinking deeply about God, law, and authority for more than a thousand years.
Americans don’t have to agree with Iran.
But they do have to understand it.
And that starts with understanding that in Iran, theology is not an accessory to politics.
It is politics.