“It Could Never Happen Here”: A Warning from the Fall of the Shah to the Swamp
In the late 1970s, many of Iran’s ruling elites believed their system was fundamentally secure. The economy was growing. Oil revenues were strong. The government possessed one of the most powerful security services in the region. International allies supported the regime of Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, the Shah of Iran.
From the perspective of those in power, the idea that their government might collapse seemed almost absurd.
Yet within a matter of months, the monarchy that had ruled Iran for decades was swept away in the Iranian Revolution of 1979.
The lesson is not that the United States is Iran, or that revolutions follow identical paths across societies. America’s political institutions are far older and far more resilient than the Shah’s regime ever was.
But history contains a warning worth considering—particularly for those who occupy the centers of power.
In the final years of the Shah’s rule, Iran’s governing class lived in a world far removed from the daily realities of many ordinary citizens.
Economic modernization had produced gleaming construction projects, rising oil revenues, and expanding international trade. To the political and business elite, Iran appeared to be a country advancing rapidly toward prosperity.
But many citizens saw something different.
They saw rising inequality, disruption of traditional economic life, and a government that seemed increasingly insulated from public concerns. Political opposition was suppressed, criticism dismissed, and frustrations left to accumulate beneath the surface.
Perhaps most dangerous of all, many in the governing establishment believed that dissatisfaction was limited to the margins.
They were wrong.
One of the most powerful drivers of instability in Iran was the belief that national decision-making had drifted away from the people themselves.
The memory of the 1953 Iranian coup d'état, which removed Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddegh, contributed to the perception that Iran’s political system was shaped as much by external influence as by domestic consent.
Whether that perception was entirely accurate mattered less than the fact that millions of citizens believed it.
Legitimacy—once weakened—is extraordinarily difficult to rebuild.
Economic and political grievances in Iran were closely intertwined with questions of cultural identity.
Rapid modernization introduced Western cultural norms that many urban Iranians embraced but that others viewed as a rejection of longstanding traditions. Religious leaders such as Ruhollah Khomeini framed the struggle against the Shah not merely as a political movement but as a defense of cultural and religious integrity.
When citizens begin to feel that their culture is dismissed or misunderstood by governing institutions, political disagreements can quickly transform into something deeper and more emotional.
Every political establishment throughout history shares one common belief.
“It could never happen here.”
In Tehran during the late 1970s, that belief was widespread among members of the ruling elite. The state possessed immense resources. The security services were feared. The economy appeared strong.
Yet the government collapsed with astonishing speed once public frustration reached a critical threshold.
Revolutions rarely begin with clear warning signs recognized by those in power. They begin with a gradual erosion of trust—an accumulation of grievances that eventually coalesce into something larger.
The United States is not on the brink of revolution. Its democratic institutions, constitutional framework, and vibrant civil society make direct comparisons to pre-1979 Iran deeply imperfect.
But one lesson from history deserves careful attention.
When large numbers of citizens come to believe that economic policies benefit distant institutions more than local communities, trust erodes.
When political leaders appear insulated from the daily experiences of the public, resentment grows.
When cultural debates convince citizens that their values are dismissed rather than engaged, divisions deepen.
None of these forces alone destabilize a democracy. But together, they can weaken the connective tissue between citizens and the institutions meant to represent them.
The fall of the Shah was not inevitable. It was the result of a long period in which grievances accumulated while the governing class assumed that stability was permanent.
That assumption proved to be one of the most dangerous illusions in modern political history.
For those who govern in Washington today—across parties and ideologies—the lesson is simple.
A political system remains stable not because those in power believe it to be secure, but because citizens continue to believe that it belongs to them.
When that belief fades, even the most confident establishment can discover—too late—that history is less predictable than it once appeared.