Why Iran will not fracture along ethnic lines

In the aftermath of the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, a military parade in Baku, steeped in triumphalism, triggered controversy in Iran when a nationalist poem referencing the Aras River and the idea of ‘South Azerbaijan’ was performed and broadcast. In Iran, it was widely seen as hinting at territorial claims on its northern provinces and infuriated officials, who quickly condemned it as a challenge to Iranian sovereignty. Public reaction, including among Iranian Azeris, rejected the notion that a shared language or culture with Azerbaijan could constitute grounds for irredentist political aspirations. Rather than stirring cross-border solidarity, the stunt backfired and reinforced a sense of Iranian national identity.

A recurring blind spot in how Iran is read from the outside is the tendency to treat ethnic identity as a set of ready-made political blocs waiting to be activated. In reality, these identities are embedded within a national framework forged through centuries of state formation, shared religion, and extensive social mixing.

Repeated efforts to exploit ethnic diversity in Iran have failed. During the recent conflict, Kurdish, Arab, Azeri and Baluchi communities did not rise in rebellion, despite suggestions from figures around US President Donald Trump that these divisions could be leveraged. Their identities are real but not politically detachable in the way outside strategists assume.

This thinking is not new. After the Second World War, the USSR occupied northwestern Iran and sponsored the Azerbaijan People’s Government in Tabriz and the Kurdish Republic of Mahabad, exploiting ethnic grievances and communist party networks to establish proxy states, projecting Soviet influence toward Iran’s oil fields and access to warm-water ports. Both collapsed in late 1946 when the Soviets withdrew their troops, having extracted a promised oil concession from Prime Minister Ahmad Qavam as the price of withdrawal, leaving the republics exposed to the Iranian army. The concession was subsequently rejected by Iran’s parliament, with Mohammad Mossadegh, then an MP, leading the opposition that voted it down.

Decades later, Saddam Hussein tried to stir Arab unrest in Khuzestan and a Kurdish rebellion during the Iran-Iraq War beginning in 1980. Later, US policymakers revisited the same idea. After the 2003 Iraq War, the George W. Bush administration looked to Iran’s non-Persian communities as potential pressure points, or proxies, against the Islamic Republic. Each time, the assumption was that ethnic identity would override national loyalty under strain. Each time, it proved to be mistaken. The premise misreads Iran by imagining a ‘Balkan-style’ ethnic map that does not exist. Iran’s communities are not separate blocs but are interwoven geographically and socially.

As former Iranian diplomat Mehrdad Khonsari observes, ‘External powers opposed to Iran’s Islamic regime have, over the past 47 years, at times responded to Iranian provocations by employing what is often described as the “ethnic card.” This has involved leveraging groups such as Baluchis, Iranian Arabs, sometimes referred to as Ahvazis, and, on occasion, Kurdish elements to carry out operations resembling those these same external actors frequently accuse Iran of sponsoring through its own proxies.’

He notes that such actions have included military attacks, targeted assassinations of Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) personnel and sabotage operations against mosques and oil infrastructure, but stresses that ‘while legitimate grievances persist among Iran’s diverse ethnic communities, the use of violence, particularly when encouraged or supported by external actors, does not reflect the views of the overwhelming majority within those communities.’

This pattern of external manipulation, and its consistent failure to produce the intended fragmentation, is also reflected in how Iranian scholars interpret recent events.

‘The assumption in Washington and Tel Aviv, mostly based on wishful thinking, has long been that Iran’s minorities would separate from the state under pressure,’ says Mohammed Marandi of Tehran University. ‘But recent events showed the opposite. Even communities with grievances rejected being used as proxies in a foreign confrontation against Iran.’

Iran’s strengths and vulnerabilities have historically played out beyond its borders rather than within them. The expectation that ethnic divisions will become the decisive pressure point reflects a persistent misreading of where the state is actually fragile.

As Khonsari notes, these efforts have ‘largely failed for several reasons, including a strong sense of nationalism shaped in part by widespread distrust of self-serving foreign actors and their proxies.’ He adds that ‘Iran’s prolonged economic difficulties have, in many respects, reduced preexisting disparities among different communities. As a result, there is now greater convergence in the concerns and demands of Iran’s diverse population. Issues such as economic hardship, social freedoms and political self-determination increasingly cut across ethnic lines, creating a shared set of priorities that diminishes the salience of ethnic divisions.’

One important reason why these strategies fail is geography. Some regions have local majorities, but the more common pattern is one of intermixing. Migration, intermarriage and urban life have blended communities over time.

Tehran is the clearest example. Azeris, Kurds, Arabs and Persians live side by side. The same is true in cities like Tabriz and Ahvaz, where identity is layered rather than fixed. Many families themselves span multiple ethnic backgrounds.

Even in border regions, boundaries are not clear. There is no coherent ‘breakaway zone’ that could be detached without triggering widespread disruption. In practical terms, this makes fragmentation extraordinarily difficult. Any attempt to mobilise ethnic groups along separatist lines would have to contend not only with the state, but with the reality that these communities are embedded within one another. The map of Iran does not lend itself to division, and that fact continues to frustrate efforts to read its diversity as a source of political fracture.

The first major test came after the 1979 revolution. Kurdish areas and parts of Khuzestan saw unrest driven by local grievances and demands for autonomy. External actors also encouraged these movements. Saddam Hussein supported unrest in border regions as part of his confrontation with Iran, which later escalated into full-scale war.

The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) suppressed these uprisings and restored control. But force alone does not explain their failure. The movements did not gain broad support from the populations they claimed to represent. Ethnic identity did not translate into a unified political project. Iran’s ethnic diversity has long coexisted with a shared national identity. This reflects centuries of incorporation into a wider political and cultural system.

Modern Iran is an extension of earlier imperial formations. Under the Qajar period, rule encompassed a range of communities rather than a single national group. Similar patterns existed in the Ottoman Empire and, to a more limited extent, in modern Turkey. Identity took form through institutions and a shared historical experience.

In Iran today, being Azeri or Kurdish does not set someone apart from the nation. It describes how they are part of it. Identities intersect rather than compete.

The case of Iran’s Azeris further complicates any expectation of ethnic fragmentation. Azeris make up roughly 16 per cent of Iran’s population and are estimated to outnumber the population of the Republic of Azerbaijan by as much as three to one. Far from being a marginal minority, they are a central component of Iran’s demographic and political fabric.

The Iranian political elite has long included figures of Azeri origin, most notably the late Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and the current president, Masoud Pezeshkian. Mohammad Reza Shah’s last wife, Farah Diba, also came from an Azeri background. Since the Safavid era, Turkic Qizilbash groups have played a major role in building the state. Their descendants, the Azeris, have been part of Iran’s core political structure for centuries. This makes ethnic mobilisation difficult. It is hard to promote separatism among communities already embedded in state power.

Religion adds another layer of cohesion. Twelver Shi’a Islam is followed by more than 90 per cent of Iranians. It provides shared rituals, institutions and symbols that cut across ethnicity.

This does not mean uniformity. Iran’s Sunni minorities, including many Kurds, some Arabs and the Baluchis, have distinct historical experiences and, in some cases, sharper grievances with the central government. Yet even in rural areas, religious difference has not translated into large-scale separatist mobilisation. Moments of unrest have been localised rather than a nationwide challenge to the state.

If there is a moment when this becomes undeniable, it is during war. Survival under bombardment and economic collapse becomes the priority. Rather than pulling the country apart, war brings communities closer together. During the Iran-Iraq War, most ethnic minorities did not break away, despite fleeting episodes of armed Kurdish uprisings and limited Arab unrest. This is also why the Baku parade episode was viewed inside Iran as a provocation and galvanised unity. Today, as Iran faces unprecedented external pressure and a changing regional landscape, including setbacks to its influence beyond its borders, these dynamics appear, yet again, to be reinforcing the cohesion outsiders expect to unravel.