Iran on the Brink: Who Will Seize Power If the Regime Falls?

Paul Riverbank, 1/11/2026Iran teeters on change—unknown leaders, fractured loyalties, old alliances cracked. Who will shape tomorrow?

As night falls, the regime’s response has followed its usual script—batons, mass arrests, a determined show of force. Yet, the air is laced with a question keeping diplomats up at night: If this system falls, who on earth steps in?

There’s no tidy answer. The path away from the Islamic Republic isn’t a straight road or even a road at all—it’s a thicket. Behnam Ben Taleblu, a researcher who’s spent years dissecting Iran’s labyrinthine politics, has put it bluntly: the *how* matters more than the *if*. “It’s not just whether the regime collapses,” he observed recently, “but what that collapse looks like.” Will it be an explosion in the streets? A gradual leaking of power from above? The specific rupture, he argues, dictates not only who steps forward, but whether they’ll stand for long.

There is no shortage of people fed up with those in power—but rallying together in the hope of toppling clerics is far different than agreeing on what comes after. The regime’s security apparatus—the IRGC, Basij, the regular military—all remain sturdier than protesters might wish. Still, cracks appear, sometimes in odd places. “The tool to chip away at their authority isn’t only protests; you need labor strikes, fissures in the ranks,” Ben Taleblu reminds anyone listening. Iran’s future might hinge less on slogans than on who still cashes a regime paycheck in six months’ time.

History, here, serves as a cautionary tale. Egyptians who cheered Mubarak’s departure in 2011 soon discovered that a military junta wears its own brand of fatigues. Benny Sabti, who tracks Iran’s military labyrinth, thinks a handover to hardliners in uniform is not fantasy. Yet, he’s quick to note there’s no monolithic “army” waiting in the wings: “The Revolutionary Guard is deeply ideological, but the regular army sees itself more as nationalists than as guardians of theology,” Sabti tells me. He hints at growing misgivings among senior officers—a rare sign of the times.

And if Iran needs a leader, well, that draws sighs or weary sarcasm. Former armed forces chief Habibollah Sayyari has risked mild public dissent but, as Sabti points out, charisma is at a premium. No clear figure stands up. Power, it seems, respects neither virtue nor vacuum.

There is, of course, Reza Pahlavi—the exiled heir to the Peacock Throne, living comfortably in America. For some, especially in satellite-penetrated homes, he is hope made flesh: a secular alternative, a possible bridge back to the world. Lately, he’s addressed Western leaders directly, urging them to help facilitate, not manipulate, any transition. “I will not tilt the balance,” he’s said, casting himself more as midwife than monarchist. His appeal for security-service defections through encrypted lines stirs intrigue—tens of thousands, he claims, have already made contact.

Yet skepticism has a long shadow. To critics, Pahlavi is too remote, his circle too insular. One former ally I spoke to dismissed his movement as an echo chamber: “He hasn’t built anything, hasn’t led any major initiative. The enthusiasm you see is nostalgia, not new momentum.” This is a camp, they add, “more comfortable attacking rivals than building bridges inside Iran itself.” Even those chanting “Long Live the King” often admit that, in the end, this is not his revolution.

Iran’s true martyrs may walk quieter paths—journalists, artists, activists who have survived prison, torture, or exile. Rapper Toomaj Salehi, Nobel prizewinner Narges Mohammadi—they command a ferocious respect rooted in personal cost. But suffering, while powerful, does not always summon leadership qualities. Sabti is clear-eyed: “They will help design a better system, but icons born behind bars rarely step into power.”

Then there’s the MEK, long exiled, once courted by Iraq, now led by Maryam Rajavi. She proclaims a detailed plan: six months of interim rule, then open elections and a new constitution. Yet, most Iranian youth eye the MEK with distrust; painful history and rumors swirl. Their resilience in the face of regime violence is real, but what they represent to today’s young is far from universally admired.

External forces watch all this with a mix of hope and trepidation. The U.S., keen to avoid a repeat of gambling on an unreliable ‘favorite,’ now mostly waits. A former Trump advisor admitted to me, “Support Pahlavi and risk alienating the future. Sit back, but you might miss the moment.” These are not simply geopolitical chess moves; they are gambles with real, unpredictable consequences.

No consensus has formed beyond a desire for some kind of change. As Ben Taleblu notes, what Iran most needs is not a savior but a sturdy “bridgehead” into the unknown. Until then, those marching at night will go on risking everything—with no guarantee that, in the end, they’ll have the freedom to cast a ballot for what comes next. For now, all roads out of the Islamic Republic end in a fog—one that even the most seasoned observers can’t quite see through.

Unrest is a familiar refrain on Iran’s streets these days. In Tehran, you can sometimes hear voices rise at dusk—hoarse, defiant, weary. The protests, echoing across cities as disparate as Mashhad and Isfahan, have become common enough to draw shrugs in some quarters, and clenched fists in others. But this time, something’s shifting. With the shouts of “down with the dictator” and open rejection of the Islamic Republic’s foundations, Iranians make clear their patience is razor-thin.As night falls, the regime’s response has followed its usual script—batons, mass arrests, a determined show of force. Yet, the air is laced with a question keeping diplomats up at night: If this system falls, who on earth steps in?There’s no tidy answer. The path away from the Islamic Republic isn’t a straight road or even a road at all—it’s a thicket. Behnam Ben Taleblu, a researcher who’s spent years dissecting Iran’s labyrinthine politics, has put it bluntly: the *how* matters more than the *if*. “It’s not just whether the regime collapses,” he observed recently, “but what that collapse looks like.” Will it be an explosion in the streets? A gradual leaking of power from above? The specific rupture, he argues, dictates not only who steps forward, but whether they’ll stand for long.There is no shortage of people fed up with those in power—but rallying together in the hope of toppling clerics is far different than agreeing on what comes after. The regime’s security apparatus—the IRGC, Basij, the regular military—all remain sturdier than protesters might wish. Still, cracks appear, sometimes in odd places. “The tool to chip away at their authority isn’t only protests; you need labor strikes, fissures in the ranks,” Ben Taleblu reminds anyone listening. Iran’s future might hinge less on slogans than on who still cashes a regime paycheck in six months’ time.History, here, serves as a cautionary tale. Egyptians who cheered Mubarak’s departure in 2011 soon discovered that a military junta wears its own brand of fatigues. Benny Sabti, who tracks Iran’s military labyrinth, thinks a handover to hardliners in uniform is not fantasy. Yet, he’s quick to note there’s no monolithic “army” waiting in the wings: “The Revolutionary Guard is deeply ideological, but the regular army sees itself more as nationalists than as guardians of theology,” Sabti tells me. He hints at growing misgivings among senior officers—a rare sign of the times.And if Iran needs a leader, well, that draws sighs or weary sarcasm. Former armed forces chief Habibollah Sayyari has risked mild public dissent but, as Sabti points out, charisma is at a premium. No clear figure stands up. Power, it seems, respects neither virtue nor vacuum.There is, of course, Reza Pahlavi—the exiled heir to the Peacock Throne, living comfortably in America. For some, especially in satellite-penetrated homes, he is hope made flesh: a secular alternative, a possible bridge back to the world. Lately, he’s addressed Western leaders directly, urging them to help facilitate, not manipulate, any transition. “I will not tilt the balance,” he’s said, casting himself more as midwife than monarchist. His appeal for security-service defections through encrypted lines stirs intrigue—tens of thousands, he claims, have already made contact.Yet skepticism has a long shadow. To critics, Pahlavi is too remote, his circle too insular. One former ally I spoke to dismissed his movement as an echo chamber: “He hasn’t built anything, hasn’t led any major initiative. The enthusiasm you see is nostalgia, not new momentum.” This is a camp, they add, “more comfortable attacking rivals than building bridges inside Iran itself.” Even those chanting “Long Live the King” often admit that, in the end, this is not his revolution.Iran’s true martyrs may walk quieter paths—journalists, artists, activists who have survived prison, torture, or exile. Rapper Toomaj Salehi, Nobel prizewinner Narges Mohammadi—they command a ferocious respect rooted in personal cost. But suffering, while powerful, does not always summon leadership qualities. Sabti is clear-eyed: “They will help design a better system, but icons born behind bars rarely step into power.”Then there’s the MEK, long exiled, once courted by Iraq, now led by Maryam Rajavi. She proclaims a detailed plan: six months of interim rule, then open elections and a new constitution. Yet, most Iranian youth eye the MEK with distrust; painful history and rumors swirl. Their resilience in the face of regime violence is real, but what they represent to today’s young is far from universally admired.External forces watch all this with a mix of hope and trepidation. The U.S., keen to avoid a repeat of gambling on an unreliable ‘favorite,’ now mostly waits. A former Trump advisor admitted to me, “Support Pahlavi and risk alienating the future. Sit back, but you might miss the moment.” These are not simply geopolitical chess moves; they are gambles with real, unpredictable consequences.No consensus has formed beyond a desire for some kind of change. As Ben Taleblu notes, what Iran most needs is not a savior but a sturdy “bridgehead” into the unknown. Until then, those marching at night will go on risking everything—with no guarantee that, in the end, they’ll have the freedom to cast a ballot for what comes next. For now, all roads out of the Islamic Republic end in a fog—one that even the most seasoned observers can’t quite see through.