Have you ever witnessed a nation that fears peace more than war?

Yes, such a nation exists. It is Iran.

For 46 long years, the Iranian people have lived under the occupation of a theocratic regime a regime that rules not by consent, but by fear, indoctrination, and bloodshed. This is not merely a political crisis; it is a spiritual, cultural, and civilisational captivity.

As a monarchist living in Australia, I understand what many outside Iran struggle to comprehend: the deep psychological trauma of a people whose natural state peace, dignity, and cultural pride has been systematically crushed. Iran is a country where monarchy is not a foreign concept or a relic of the past – it is a living part of the national DNA. From ancient times through the modern Pahlavi era, the monarchy served as a unifying symbol, not only of governance but of identity, continuity, and hope.

Yet today, Iranians are prisoners in their own land punished for the very essence that once made them proud.

Since 1979, under a religious dictatorship fuelled by a sinister alliance with global leftist ideologies, Iran has become a battlefield against its own youth. The regime has executed, exiled, or silenced countless young voices who dared to dream of freedom, equality, or even beauty. It is not just a war on bodies it is a war on memory, on identity, on the soul of a nation.

Why, then, would a nation fear peace? Because every time peace is imagined, it is met with bullets. Every time freedom is whispered, it is answered with chains. Every time a youth says, ‘I want to live!’ The regime replies, ‘You must die for our power to live on.’

This is not sustainable. And more importantly, it is not Iranian.

The soul of Iran has always been royal not in wealth, but in spirit. In Zoroastrian ethics, in the wisdom of Cyrus the Great, in the strength of Iranian mothers, in the pride of our poets and warriors. To remove monarchy from Iranian culture is like trying to sever the roots of an ancient tree and expecting it to bloom.

The monarchy especially a constitutional monarchy is not about returning to a man on a throne. It is about re-rooting a people in their own story. It is about choosing dignity over division, continuity over chaos, and healing over hatred.

The world must understand this: the Iranian fight for monarchy is not a fight for nostalgia. It is a fight for survival.

And to those who still support the regime, or its so-called ‘reformist’ masks, I ask:

How many more generations must bleed before Iran is allowed to breathe?

Leila Naseri is a Sydney-based music composer, storyteller and monarchy social activist, dedicated to blending Iranian heritage with contemporary soundscapes and storytelling for social change.