Reyhane Hejazi - A sweeping narrative with a striking number, yet without a single image or independent piece of evidence. A claim for which no field indication was observed, nor any tangible reflection in a city where even the smallest incident is documented on social media within minutes.
If examined purely from a security standpoint, the discussion would end with fact-checking. But the more important issue is the logic behind producing such a narrative. This is not merely a “news report”; it is a deliberate act of scenario-building.
In politics, numbers are not always just numbers; sometimes they are messages.
When an armed or semi-armed group claims to have lost one hundred members in the capital, it is simultaneously sending three signals:
- We have a large network in the heart of Tehran.
- We have advanced to the level of armed action.
- We have paid a price; therefore, we are a serious actor.
No images. No names of the dead. No operational details. This informational silence is not accidental; it is part of the narrative design. The story must be large, yet unverifiable. Because the aim is not to persuade domestic public opinion; the aim is to send a signal outward.
This narrative construction can be analyzed from several angles:
First Motive: Manufacturing “Mental Certainty” Before an Event Occurs
The claim emerged alongside a series of other rumors:
– An explosion near Pasteur Street (location of Iran’s presidential complex)
– Evacuation of schools around the Leader’s residence
– A potential change in succession due to fears of assassination
These are not isolated fragments. When placed side by side, they form a single image: “An assassination is imminent.”
In psychological operations, the objective is not necessarily to prove an event; it is to plant a possibility in the audience’s mind until that possibility gradually turns into “mental certainty.” Once the mind is preoccupied with questions—Has the security perimeter been breached? Is a power transition imminent?—the news of “100 killed in a foiled operation” no longer seems implausible; instead, it appears to confirm the already constructed atmosphere.
The real game here is the manipulation of fear.
Fear of the possibility of an event can be more destabilizing than the event itself. A society that imagines it stands on the verge of high-level assassinations may experience political anxiety even before anything happens. This is the point at which mental operations replace field operations.
Second Motive: The Battle Over “Future Legacy”
The second layer of analysis is external and competitive.
Today, the opposition to the Islamic Republic is not a unified front; it resembles a stage where multiple actors compete over an uncertain future. Currents close to Reza Pahlavi have gained visibility in segments of Western media in recent months.
Alongside them, groups such as the Komala Party of Iranian Kurdistan, the Democratic Party of Iranian Kurdistan, and Jaish ul-Adl are each attempting to present themselves as consequential players.
In such an environment, the issue is not merely opposition to the government; it is competition over being perceived as the alternative. Put differently, a contest has formed over a potential future inheritance. Each group seeks to solidify in the minds of foreign backers—and even segments of domestic dissenters—the perception that:
- We have networks.
- We possess operational capability.
- We can create a real threat.
Within this framework, the number 100 is not an operational figure; it is a market figure. It is a message directed at potential supporters: “We are still in the middle of the field, not on the margins.”
When political and financial support resources are limited, competition intensifies. Each group must secure its share of attention, legitimacy, and funding. Large-scale scenario-building—even without evidence—can serve as a tool for visibility.
The key point is this: such a narrative appears designed less to convince domestic Iranian public opinion and more to signal external actors. The message is that this organization still retains infiltration capacity inside the country and can play a role in security equations.
This episode must also be viewed within a broader question: if a power vacuum were ever to emerge in Iran, who would claim the right to fill it? Today’s Iranian opposition competes not only with the government, but also with one another.
In such competition, what proves decisive is not necessarily control over a street or a building, but the ability to shape perceptions of conditions inside Iran. Whichever group can offer the more convincing image of its “role in the power equation” will hold the upper hand.
And this is where the battleground shifts. In contemporary Iranian politics, the primary arena is not necessarily the streets of Tehran; it is the image constructed of Tehran. A city that is redefined on social media before it is altered in geography.
If the competition is over the future of power, the instrument is narrative—and at this level, the struggle is not over physical control, but cognitive control: which image of Tehran prevails—Tehran as stable, or Tehran on the brink of crisis.