For nearly half a century, a particular narrative has been assiduously cultivated: that Iran is a backward, theocratic state governed by clerics confined within narrow intellectual horizons, while the US embodies the apex of modernity, defined by scientific rationalism and progressive thought. Such binary constructions demand more critical interrogation than are typically afforded.

A few months ago, as I contemplated travelling to Iran, a friend cautioned me that a visa bearing an Iranian stamp might jeopardise my prospects of securing entry into the US or even the UK and the Schengen region. Subsequent geopolitical tensions compelled me to defer my plans. In retrospect, however, such caution appears less an isolated concern and more indicative of a broader, systemic disposition.

There appears to be a sustained effort to mediate global perceptions of Iran through a carefully curated lens, one that conceals as much as it reveals. This framing tends to obscure Iran’s considerable advancements in scientific research, its evolving urban modernity marked by sophisticated commercial infrastructure, the significant and visible participation of women in the workforce, and its exceptionally rich civilisational heritage. It privileges a reductive representation that aligns with prevailing geopolitical narratives.

The asymmetry becomes particularly evident when contrasted with the West’s treatment of other Gulf Cooperation Council states. Countries such as the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Jordan or Bahrain, despite their monarchical and often repressive political systems, are frequently characterised as “modern” largely on account of their commercial grandeur, integration into global financial networks, and the pervasive presence of Western consumer culture.

The events in Bahrain during the Arab Spring offer a revealing counterpoint: when thousands of protesters took to the streets of Manama and other cities demanding political change, there was external military intervention from Saudi Arab to suppress the movement. Yet, this episode elicited neither the intensity of condemnation nor the sustained media scrutiny that comparable developments in Iran have attracted. Indeed, Western media coverage has often been notably restrained in foregrounding such incidents within broader analytical frameworks.

By contrast, Iran’s divergence from this particular model of modernity is frequently construed as evidence of backwardness rather than as an alternative developmental trajectory. Consequently, episodes of domestic dissent in Iran are amplified across Western media ecosystems, often accompanied by discursive frameworks that show regime change as both necessary and justifiable. Such representations risk normalising the logic of external intervention, including military aggression.

Moreover, certain strands of policy and media discourse advance the proposition that Iran’s path to “modernisation” lies in the restoration of monarchical rule, particularly through the revival of Reza Shah’s legacy. This argument is striking, not the least because it stands in contrast to the professed commitment to democratic ideals that has ostensibly guided Western foreign policy since the Cold War. In the Iranian context, the implication seems to be that a perceived deficit in democratic practice warrants not reform or institutional strengthening, but a reversion to autocratic rule!

This dissonance becomes even more pronounced when viewed against historical precedents. The credibility of externally driven democratisation has long been contested, particularly in the light of interventions such as those in Chile, where a democratically elected government under Salvador Allende was overthrown with the backing of the Central Intelligence Agency, leading to the installation of Augusto Pinochet’s military regime. These episodes complicate any unqualified claims about the universal promotion of democratic values.

Plunder, not progress

West Asian countries like Iraq and Libya were also targeted on the pretext of establishing democracy but it resulted in a long and endless period of anarchy and desolation. Afghanistan was more democratic and progressive under Soviet influence than in any period after US intervention. There are many more examples to prove that the US intervention in Asian or African countries has more to do with dominance and plunder of natural and human resources than with democracy or progress. The same is evident in the case of Venezuela or Iran—President Donald Trump has openly declared his interest in oil and nothing else.

Returning to the question of modernity, one may begin with cinema as a revealing cultural index. Over the past few decades, Iranian cinema has carved out a distinctive and admirable space in global film culture. It is widely celebrated for its poetic realism, aesthetic minimalism, and humanistic approach, all of which enable it to portray complex social realities with remarkable subtlety. Filmmakers such as Majid Majidi, Narges Abyar, and Bahram Beyzai have earned enduring international respect for their artistic integrity and narrative depth.

The US has seen a cultural coarsening in recent years that finds a disquieting parallel in the administration of Trump. The erosion of decorum, the undiplomatic language and public posturing have strained the conventions of international statesmanship. Trump’s use of vulgar language, his disrespect of visiting dignitaries, and his statements invoking extreme measures against adversarial states like Cuba or Iran have contributed to concerns about the weakening of the normative restraints that have, since the end of the Second World War, sought to regulate the conduct of diplomacy.

Iran is by no means a flawless polity, and the relationship there between religion and governance has been a subject of sustained debate. Yet, in the language and conduct of its leadership one finds a striking contrast. Figures such as Masoud Pezeshkian and Abbas Araghchi, while confronting one of the gravest crises in their nation’s recent history, have largely used a measured, nuanced, and diplomatically restrained idiom.

Statistically, despite decades of stringent sanctions, Iran has registered notable social advances, including high literacy rates, substantial female literacy, increased female participation in the workforce, and comparatively low infant mortality. Its achievements in scientific fields are particularly striking; the considerable number of PhD scholars across disciplines, from physics and biotechnology to philosophy, serves to challenge and complicate prevailing Western portrayals of intellectual and developmental stagnation.

Even the much-contested practice of wearing the hijab is not unique to Iran, but forms part of a broader regional tradition prevalent across several Arab societies. While any prescriptive imposition, whether mandating or prohibiting specific forms of dress, is inherently restrictive and open to legitimate critique, historical context is essential. While discontent with the enforced Westernisation under Mohammad Reza Pahlavi contributed to the social discontent that led to the Islamic Revolution, recent instances of young Iranian women protesting the hijab suggest the evolving social attitudes in Iran.

Institutionally, Iran may be described as an imperfect democracy. While key oversight bodies are under clerical authority, the legislature responsible for the day-to-day functioning of government is directly elected. Despite its structural limitations, Iran arguably exhibits more participatory features than many of its monarchic neighbours.

Strategic and economic antagonism

Iran is no more “backward” than many Arab states or even Israel, and history has repeatedly demonstrated that neither modernity nor liberation can be imposed through coercion or aggression. The Western colonial enterprise, often justified under the paternalistic rubric of the White Man’s Burden, functioned less as a civilising mission than as a systematic mechanism for the extraction of wealth from Asia and Africa and the consolidation of Western economic and cultural hegemony. In the process, Western modes of thought and life were elevated as universal standards, while indigenous cultures, many of them far older and intellectually rich, were relegated to the margins as “backward.”

The geopolitical reconfiguration of West Asia in the 20th century further exemplifies this dynamic. Agreements such as the Sykes–Picot Agreement between Britian and France, alongside commitments like the Balfour Declaration, by which British colonial administration gifted the land of Palestine to a multimillionaire banker, Walter Rothschild, for a Zionist project, sought to redraw the map of the region following the collapse of the Ottoman empire, with scant regard for its complex ethnic and cultural realities and its living populations. These interventions, later appropriated by the strategic interests of the US, were deeply intertwined with the desire to control the region’s vital resources, particularly oil.

Within this geopolitical framework, rulers aligned with Western economic interests, such as Pahlavi, were extended sustained support, whereas post-revolutionary Iran, having nationalised its oil resources and curtailed foreign corporate influence, emerged as a focal point of geopolitical contestation. The representation of Iran in sections of Western media as a backward, theocratic, “terrorist” state may be more critically understood against this backdrop of strategic and economic antagonism.

At the same time, the fluidity of such narratives becomes evident in the shifting portrayal of regional actors. Figures such Ahmed al-Sharaa, also known as Abu Mohammad al-Julani, who were until recently designated as extremists, have been recast in a more accommodating or even legitimised light. Such transformations underscore the extent to which political labelling and moral framing in international discourse is contingent upon shifting strategic interests, rather than upon stable ethical principles.

The moral compass of states can be discerned by their conduct in moments of power. The US is the only nation to have deployed nuclear weapons in war, whereas Iran’s Supreme Leader has, on religious grounds, prohibited the development of nuclear weapons. Besides recent military actions by the US, such as the bombing of a school in Minab that raise troubling ethical questions, the ongoing devastation and genocide in Gaza and the West Bank lay bare the hypocrisy behind the moral claims of the US and Israel.

From this perspective, the US-Israeli aggression on Iran is not about facilitating “modernisation” but an extension of longstanding geopolitical designs and the desire for influence over critical energy resources. It is Iran’s continued assertion of economic sovereignty, particularly over its oil, that makes it a persistent outlier in an otherwise strategically aligned regional order.

Once the hostilities subside, I intend to again seek a visa to Iran, but one is afraid that storied cities like Isfahan, Qom, and Shiraz may be badly damaged. Such destruction appears less a necessity of war than a manifestation of deeper insecurities in comparatively younger nation-states such as the US and Israel.

Ashok Kumar Pandey is an author with specialisation in the Kashmir conflict, Modern Indian History, and West Asia. 

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