It was not widely reported, but in the days preceding the recent escalation—before the bombing campaign began—there were claims circulating that approximately one hundred operatives affiliated with the MEK attempted to seize control of a compound associated with Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei in Tehran. Reports described an armed confrontation and alleged that the operation was crushed with total casualties among the attackers. Whether fully accurate or not, the story itself is revealing—not because of tactical details, but because of what it suggests about the broader strategic landscape now unfolding around Iran.

For those unfamiliar, the MEK (Mujahedin-e-Khalq) occupies a uniquely controversial place in modern Iranian political history. Founded in the 1960s as a hybrid Islamic-Marxist revolutionary movement, the group violently opposed the Shah’s regime prior to 1979. After initially aligning with the revolutionary wave that toppled the monarchy, it quickly fell into direct conflict with Ayatollah Khomeini’s emerging theocracy. Brutally suppressed, the organization fled Iran and later aligned itself with Saddam Hussein during the Iran-Iraq War—an association that permanently damaged its legitimacy among many Iranians. Today the MEK is headquartered in Albania and presents itself as a democratic alternative to the Islamic Republic.

Over the decades, Tehran has consistently accused the MEK of cooperating with Western and Israeli intelligence services. Whether every accusation is true is beside the point. What matters is that the perception of operational overlap exists. The group’s alleged involvement in intelligence gathering and targeted sabotage—such as operations against Iranian nuclear scientists—has long been cited as evidence of deep coordination with Mossad. Regardless of the precise details, the strategic logic is clear: Israel sees Iran’s nuclear program as an existential threat, and any actor capable of operating on the ground inside Iran becomes strategically valuable.

At the same time, Israel has not confined its engagement to the MEK. In recent years, it has been visibly supportive of Reza Pahlavi, the son of Iran’s last Shah. Pahlavi has positioned himself as a secular nationalist figure advocating democratic transition. His 2023 visit to Israel was particularly symbolic. During that trip, he promoted the idea of a “Cyrus Accords,” invoking Cyrus the Great—an ancient Persian ruler celebrated in Jewish history for allowing the Jewish people to return to Jerusalem after Babylonian exile. The symbolism was unmistakable: ancient Persia and Israel as historical partners, contrasted with the ideological hostility of the Islamic Republic.

For Israel, such imagery is powerful. It offers a narrative in which regime change in Tehran could unlock normalization, cooperation, and strategic alignment. For Pahlavi, the calculation is equally strategic. International legitimacy is currency. By engaging Israel openly, he signals to Western policymakers and diaspora communities that a future Iran under his leadership would abandon confrontation and integrate into a pro-Western regional order.

Yet this alignment raises profound contradictions. The monarchist tradition represented by Pahlavi once suppressed and imprisoned MEK members. The MEK, in turn, violently opposed the Shah. Kurdish and Baluchi separatist groups do not necessarily envision a centralized Iran at all; some seek autonomy, others independence. Azeri groups hold their own distinct nationalist aspirations. Ideologically, these actors are not merely different—they are historically antagonistic.

And yet they converge around a single axis: opposition to the Islamic Republic.

Israel, for its part, views the Iranian theocratic regime as its most formidable long-term adversary. Since 1979, Tehran has transformed from a quiet regional partner into a declared ideological enemy. Iran’s support for Hezbollah in Lebanon, Hamas in Gaza, Palestinian Islamic Jihad, and various militias across Syria and Iraq has positioned it as the central architect of Israel’s northern and southern security dilemmas. Add to this the development of ballistic missiles and nuclear enrichment capabilities, and Israel’s security doctrine inevitably treats Iran as an existential threat.

Against this backdrop, Israel seeks not only deterrence but leverage. One dimension of that leverage involves cultivating ties—covertly or overtly—with forces capable of pressuring Tehran from within its own borders.

Historically, Israel’s “periphery doctrine” encouraged alliances with non-Arab actors on the margins of hostile Arab states. In the 1960s and 1970s, Israel supported Kurdish leader Mustafa Barzani in Iraq as part of a broader strategy to counterbalance regional adversaries. That logic did not disappear with time; it evolved.

In the Iranian context, engagement with Kurdish, Baluchi, Azeri, and other minority groups creates strategic friction inside Iran’s internal geography. Ethnic minority provinces require constant security investment from Tehran. Pressure along those fault lines can serve as indirect deterrence.

But here is where the contradiction becomes acute.

On an ideological basis, none of these alliances cohere. A monarchist restoration movement, an Islamic-Marxist exile organization, and ethnonationalist separatist factions do not share a unified blueprint for Iran’s future. They share only a negative objective: the removal of the current regime.

On a practical governance level, the contradictions are even sharper. If the Islamic Republic were to collapse under combined external and internal pressure, who governs the day after?

Would Reza Pahlavi preside over a unified constitutional monarchy or republic? Would MEK operatives assume command positions within security structures? Would Kurdish or Baluchi regions demand immediate autonomy? Would Azeri groups push for federal restructuring? Would Iran fragment into a Balkanized landscape of competing militias and provisional authorities?

These are not abstract questions. They are structural fault lines.

Israel’s engagement with these actors may be strategically rational in the short term. Weakening Tehran reduces the operational capacity of Hezbollah. Disrupting Iran’s nuclear infrastructure buys time. Encouraging internal dissent strains the regime’s resources.

But the long-term scenario is far less predictable.

If disparate opposition groups—each with distinct visions—are empowered simultaneously without a coherent transitional architecture, the result could be profound instability. Power vacuums rarely produce orderly democratic transitions. More often, they produce factional competition, parallel security structures, and fragmented authority.

It is here that your core concern emerges: the “day after” problem.

In the event of theocratic collapse, Iran would not be an empty canvas. It is a vast, multi-ethnic, historically centralized civilization-state with deeply embedded institutions. Sudden regime implosion, especially under external pressure, could produce cascading power struggles.

In such a scenario, Israel’s role would not necessarily end with regime change. Quite the opposite. If multiple opposition groups rely on Israeli intelligence, funding, diplomatic backing, or operational support during the struggle, those relationships do not simply disappear. Influence persists.

This does not automatically translate into colonial control. The Middle East is not governed by 19th-century imperial frameworks. However, sustained dependency relationships can produce asymmetric influence. If post-regime actors owe their survival to external coordination, the external actor inevitably retains leverage.

The perception of such leverage could be as destabilizing as the reality.

Iranian nationalism remains potent. The memory of foreign interference—most notably the 1953 coup—still shapes political consciousness. Any post-theocratic government perceived as externally engineered or externally beholden would face legitimacy challenges from day one.

This is where the fragility of the current alignment becomes apparent.

Israel’s relationship with Iranian opposition movements is best understood not as a simple alliance, but as a layered convergence of interests. Israel seeks to counter a hostile regime. Opposition groups seek international backing. Tehran seeks to portray all of them as foreign proxies.

Each actor operates within this narrative battlefield.

The idea of the “Cyrus Accords” attempts to elevate the discussion beyond tactical maneuvering. It imagines a civilizational reset. It suggests that hostility between Israel and Iran is not inevitable, but contingent on the current political order.

Yet even if normalization were achievable, the path to it would likely be turbulent.

Regime resilience in Iran has proven durable over decades of sanctions, covert sabotage, and internal unrest. Opposition movements remain fragmented. There is no unified command structure among them. No agreed constitutional roadmap. No consolidated transitional council recognized across ideological lines.

If collapse comes abruptly—especially amid escalating war—the vacuum could be explosive.

My central warning is therefore not about ideology but about structural coherence. What shape will Iran take if the Islamic Republic falls? A centralized secular republic? A restored monarchy? A federal system? A fractured state? Who commands the armed forces? Who controls the nuclear infrastructure? Who secures the borders?

In the absence of answers to these questions, the removal of one regime does not guarantee stability—it may simply inaugurate a new struggle.

The uncomfortable possibility is that multiple externally supported factions could compete for authority simultaneously. That scenario would not serve Iranian sovereignty, Israeli security, or regional stability.

Whether one views Israel’s current strategy as prudent containment or dangerous overreach depends largely on how one answers the “day after” question.

If there is a coordinated transitional framework, broad-based internal legitimacy, and a clear national consensus, the outcome could be transformative.

If there is not, then the outcome could be chaos.

And chaos in a nation of Iran’s size, complexity, and strategic importance would reverberate far beyond its borders.

That is the real issue. Not simply whether Israel engages opposition groups. Not whether the MEK operates covertly. Not whether Reza Pahlavi courts international support.

The real issue is governance. Surely, they have been promised ‘something’ by Israel’s Mossad. What role will the MEK take after the theocratic regime falls? Will MEK become Reza Pahlavi’s new secret police? How will the separatists be satisfied?

Because wars do not end when regimes fall. They end when a stable political order replaces them.

And without a coherent, unified vision among these disparate forces, the collapse of the theocracy could mark not the beginning of renewal, but the beginning of fragmentation. Israel would remain involved behind the scenes, coordinating governance with the groups it has long supported. Iran would become a de facto colony, much like the region was controlled by European powers in earlier centuries. Israel would claim, as the British did (in India), that without their ‘hand’ the country would fall apart. And then India splintered after the British left, largely by British design. Kicking out Israeli colonization would likely be very difficult. And in the end, lead to the Balkanization of Iran.

That possibility—more than any individual alliance—is what deserves serious consideration.