Exiled Prince Reza Pahlavi Demands US Action: ‘Iran’s Liberation Is Now!’

Paul Riverbank, 1/17/2026Exiled Prince Pahlavi urges bold US action, outlining a plan to challenge Iran's regime.

It’s a risky campaign. He knows it, the crowd knows it, and so does the regime back in Tehran. “Not if, but when,” Pahlavi declares with that particular urgency that you only hear from someone who has waited too long already. For plenty of Iranians, his is more than just an old royal footnote. The last name Pahlavi, for better or worse, lingers like a shadow over decades of upheaval. Some find hope there—his name, his face, surfacing in protest chants carried through tear gas and over bloodied asphalt.

He’s well aware the stakes have changed. “My brave compatriots still holding the line with their broken bodies but unbreakable will, need your urgent help right now,” he urges, his voice tightening. This isn’t just stagecraft—online videos show, not for the first time, that the regime’s reaction to protest is unyielding: clubs, bullets, and nightly raids.

But Pahlavi, for all his royal pedigree, doesn’t waste time on empty vision statements. On a recent night, he laid out a six-point plan—unusually specific in a field of political grandstanding. The first and bluntest step: weaken the regime’s machine. Target the Revolutionary Guard’s leaders, their command networks—don’t just freeze out the top names, but cut the lines that let them operate. The underlying message: talk won’t hurt Tehran, but targeted pressure might.

Then comes the thornier economic angle. He makes his case with all the subtlety of a veteran diplomat running late to a security summit. Sanctions, he argues, aren’t enough if oil keeps flowing and hidden assets leak through loopholes. He wants a crackdown on Iran’s “shadow fleet,” those ghost tankers slipping oil past watchful eyes and funding the apparatus of control. Money, he warns, is the real ammunition.

Information warfare is a third front. Pahlavi urges the world to “break the blockade”—not metaphorically, but with fiber, satellites, and software. He calls out for Starlink and secure channels so that Iranians—cut off, blacked out, jammed and throttled—can organize and report. It’s an arms race of code, VPNs, and ingenuity, all while the authorities scramble to keep silence operative.

Holding officials to account rounds out the fourth and fifth planks: push to expel regime diplomats, unmask agents abroad, and amplify global legal pressure. And through it all: demand the liberation of political prisoners—a crowd now so large that their names sometimes blur together, except for grieving families holding vigil in back alleys and basements.

What happens the next day? Pahlavi, more an architect than a king-in-waiting, says the world needs to be swift—recognize a legitimate, transitional government when the current one unravels. “Have your plans ready,” he warns, “because the chaos of an open power vacuum is a dangerous temptation, both for opportunists and external spoilers.”

Yet as his message grows sharper, so do the threats. The Iranian government isn’t blinking. Familiar faces in power—Ayatollah Khamenei principal among them—have tightened the clamp on dissent. More than 2,600 protesters dead, 19,000 detained: figures so heavy they start to lose meaning, replaced by stories that trickle out in hurried whispers. Internet service flickers and dies in neighborhoods where protest banners last flew.

International response, predictably, wavers. Donald Trump, never one for ambiguity, shrugs: “I don’t know whether or not his country would accept his leadership, and certainly if they would, that would be fine with me.” The current White House, less performative, lets its actions (mostly sanctions, so far) speak. No doors are closed, but few firm lines are drawn. Mike Waltz, intent on sounding stern, intones that “all options are on the table”—language the region knows all too well.

If the point is to keep Tehran off-balance, the response so far leaves much to interpretation. Iranian officials issue counter-threats without hesitation: any Western or Israeli base, they claim, instantly becomes “legitimate” for retaliation if the bombs start falling.

Still, outside Iran’s borders, among the diaspora, in WhatsApp groups and impromptu gatherings, something restless stirs. Change feels close and impossibly far—a horizon that brightens, then recedes with every new crackdown. Pahlavi casts himself less as a hero than a conduit. He doesn’t promise a crown; he promises—if not stability—then at least a jumping-off point.

Skeptics abound. Some remember the monarchy’s ghosts too well. Others eye the risks of another failed revolution, another round of dashed hopes. Yet, on certain nights, with satellite signals just strong enough to flicker on a forbidden livestream, chants of “Pahlavi” slip past the censors.

The next weeks will decide whether these calls gather wind or vanish. For now, the people’s will—the one thing that never seems to dissipate—faces its toughest test. As Reza Pahlavi reminds anyone who’ll listen, “The people have not retreated.” Whatever happens in the corridors of power or on the digital front lines, the real battle, as always, plays out in hearts and living rooms across a battered but unbowed nation.

Reza Pahlavi rarely shies from the glare. That’s not new. But these days, under the hard-hitting fluorescence of a Washington night, he doesn’t look like a relic from glossy history books. He commands the moment—a man in exile, yes, but fueled by something besides memory or nostalgia. Out on K Street, just blocks from where world-shaping deals are typically hashed out, he stands before a restless audience and asks for more than sympathy. He demands action.It’s a risky campaign. He knows it, the crowd knows it, and so does the regime back in Tehran. “Not if, but when,” Pahlavi declares with that particular urgency that you only hear from someone who has waited too long already. For plenty of Iranians, his is more than just an old royal footnote. The last name Pahlavi, for better or worse, lingers like a shadow over decades of upheaval. Some find hope there—his name, his face, surfacing in protest chants carried through tear gas and over bloodied asphalt.He’s well aware the stakes have changed. “My brave compatriots still holding the line with their broken bodies but unbreakable will, need your urgent help right now,” he urges, his voice tightening. This isn’t just stagecraft—online videos show, not for the first time, that the regime’s reaction to protest is unyielding: clubs, bullets, and nightly raids.But Pahlavi, for all his royal pedigree, doesn’t waste time on empty vision statements. On a recent night, he laid out a six-point plan—unusually specific in a field of political grandstanding. The first and bluntest step: weaken the regime’s machine. Target the Revolutionary Guard’s leaders, their command networks—don’t just freeze out the top names, but cut the lines that let them operate. The underlying message: talk won’t hurt Tehran, but targeted pressure might.Then comes the thornier economic angle. He makes his case with all the subtlety of a veteran diplomat running late to a security summit. Sanctions, he argues, aren’t enough if oil keeps flowing and hidden assets leak through loopholes. He wants a crackdown on Iran’s “shadow fleet,” those ghost tankers slipping oil past watchful eyes and funding the apparatus of control. Money, he warns, is the real ammunition.Information warfare is a third front. Pahlavi urges the world to “break the blockade”—not metaphorically, but with fiber, satellites, and software. He calls out for Starlink and secure channels so that Iranians—cut off, blacked out, jammed and throttled—can organize and report. It’s an arms race of code, VPNs, and ingenuity, all while the authorities scramble to keep silence operative.Holding officials to account rounds out the fourth and fifth planks: push to expel regime diplomats, unmask agents abroad, and amplify global legal pressure. And through it all: demand the liberation of political prisoners—a crowd now so large that their names sometimes blur together, except for grieving families holding vigil in back alleys and basements.What happens the next day? Pahlavi, more an architect than a king-in-waiting, says the world needs to be swift—recognize a legitimate, transitional government when the current one unravels. “Have your plans ready,” he warns, “because the chaos of an open power vacuum is a dangerous temptation, both for opportunists and external spoilers.”Yet as his message grows sharper, so do the threats. The Iranian government isn’t blinking. Familiar faces in power—Ayatollah Khamenei principal among them—have tightened the clamp on dissent. More than 2,600 protesters dead, 19,000 detained: figures so heavy they start to lose meaning, replaced by stories that trickle out in hurried whispers. Internet service flickers and dies in neighborhoods where protest banners last flew.International response, predictably, wavers. Donald Trump, never one for ambiguity, shrugs: “I don’t know whether or not his country would accept his leadership, and certainly if they would, that would be fine with me.” The current White House, less performative, lets its actions (mostly sanctions, so far) speak. No doors are closed, but few firm lines are drawn. Mike Waltz, intent on sounding stern, intones that “all options are on the table”—language the region knows all too well.If the point is to keep Tehran off-balance, the response so far leaves much to interpretation. Iranian officials issue counter-threats without hesitation: any Western or Israeli base, they claim, instantly becomes “legitimate” for retaliation if the bombs start falling.Still, outside Iran’s borders, among the diaspora, in WhatsApp groups and impromptu gatherings, something restless stirs. Change feels close and impossibly far—a horizon that brightens, then recedes with every new crackdown. Pahlavi casts himself less as a hero than a conduit. He doesn’t promise a crown; he promises—if not stability—then at least a jumping-off point.Skeptics abound. Some remember the monarchy’s ghosts too well. Others eye the risks of another failed revolution, another round of dashed hopes. Yet, on certain nights, with satellite signals just strong enough to flicker on a forbidden livestream, chants of “Pahlavi” slip past the censors.The next weeks will decide whether these calls gather wind or vanish. For now, the people’s will—the one thing that never seems to dissipate—faces its toughest test. As Reza Pahlavi reminds anyone who’ll listen, “The people have not retreated.” Whatever happens in the corridors of power or on the digital front lines, the real battle, as always, plays out in hearts and living rooms across a battered but unbowed nation.