On February 14, 2026, under a fine rain, the Iranian diaspora gathered in Munich. Moreover, this event took place on the sidelines of the Munich Security Conference. Flags with the Lion and Sun flew, while chants calling for a regime change rose up. In addition, figures from Germany and other European countries participated, all contributing to a demonstration narrative. At the center, Reza Pahlavi, son of the last shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, promised to lead a transition to a democratic and secular Iran, framed by elections. However, he also called on Donald Trump to act against Tehran, even mentioning the military option. Thus, he shifted the debate from the wet pavement to the chancelleries.
A Bavarian Square, a Staged Scene, and the Dispute Over Numbers
The scene begins like a report you think you’ve already seen. A crowd in dark coats, flags snapping in the wind, and signs in Persian and English displayed. Also, a feeling of a country transported in fragments hangs in the air. In Munich, people are not only protesting a regime; they are seeking a setting where they can be heard. The Security Conference, with its corridors, badges, and delegations, serves as a sounding board.
Very quickly, the question of numbers appears, like an open-air dispute. Organizers announce a tide. An estimate attributed to municipal authorities and picked up by several media outlets rises to 250,000 participants. Part of the German press mentions rather around 15,000 people. Between these two poles, the event becomes a test of narrative. The crowd here is not just a fact; it’s an argument.
This battle of estimates says something about the opposition in exile. It needs to prove it matters, because its power is first symbolic. It has no seat in Tehran’s Parliament, no candidate on an electoral list, no national channel. It has images, slogans, numbers. And videos that circulate quickly.
Munich that day looks like a showcase. You see flags of pre-1979 Iran, as well as young faces and retirees. Also, families hold the same sign together with several hands. You also hear the language of the world, because the address is not only Iranian. It targets Berlin, Brussels, Washington. It targets those who, a few streets away, talk about international security.
Reza Pahlavi, The Heir Who Calls Himself A Conduit
When Reza Pahlavi appears, 65 years old, composed silhouette, measured smile, he resembles the idea one has of a man used to TV sets. His speech aims to be simple, almost procedural. He repeats that he is not campaigning to become ‘king’ or ‘president’. He presents himself as a transitional figure, a conduit tasked with accompanying a process toward free elections.
This refusal of final power has become his protection and his method. It allows him to capture the force of a name without donning the crown. It permits a promise of neutrality in a fractured landscape. He speaks of a secular state, institutions to be rebuilt, a transparent transition. He knows that, to be heard, he must anchor himself to universal words.
But history slips into every sentence. The name Pahlavi evokes rapid modernization, authoritarianism, alliance with the United States, repression, then the collapse of 1979. For his supporters, the heir embodies a pre-Islamic Republic Iran, an imagined more open Iran. For his detractors, he embodies a past that has not been held to account.
In the crowd, he is sometimes called ‘prince,’ sometimes ‘leader,’ sometimes simply by his first name. This plasticity of title is an indicator. Each projects what they want. Reza Pahlavi himself tries to maintain balance. Too much monarchy and he loses the democrats. Too much caution and he disappoints those who want a leader.
In France, his recent visibility has also developed in short formats on TV news. Moreover, it has been built through online profiles. The ‘savior’ is often contrasted with the opportunist in these media. This media framing, effective but reductive, serves him as much as it confines him. It puts him forward in the news while constantly bringing back the same question. Indeed, what does he concretely have beyond the name and the platform?
The Call To Trump, Or The Vertigo Of Interference
The most combustible moment of the weekend centers on a widely repeated phrase, because it touches a taboo. Reza Pahlavi called on Donald Trump to act against the Iranian regime. According to a news agency dispatch, he mentioned the option of an American military intervention. He presents it as capable of saving lives. In a few words, the transition becomes a matter of weapons.
This passage changes the color of the narrative. In Munich, many had come to denounce repression in Iran and demand increased international pressure. Mentioning the U.S. military goes further. It also gives the Iranian authorities an ideal target, the opposition as a foreign conduit.
Iranian history is crossed by the question of interference. The country, in the 20th century, was a ground for influences and rivalries. The current regime built its legitimacy on the promise of independence. Then it consolidated it by brandishing the external threat. In this context, calling on Washington, even in the name of humanitarian urgency, is to walk on hot coals.
For Reza Pahlavi, the argument is one of asymmetry. He describes a population facing a massive security apparatus and asserts that prolonged inaction would extend the repression. He wants to accelerate the fall of the regime, he says, to avoid deaths. The logic is that of shock, and it clashes with those who fear a regional spiral.
This debate unfolds at a moment when international diplomacy is again discussing the Iranian nuclear file. The diaspora demonstrations say something else. Technical negotiations are not enough. Moreover, the question of rights and repression cannot remain on the sidelines. Besides, security is not just uranium.
The Lion And The Sun, A Logo For The Network Age
In this mobilization, the Lion and Sun flag plays a leading role. It draws the eye, gives an identity, manufactures unity. It is also a point of fracture. For some Iranians, it represents the continuity of a nation beyond regimes. For others, it recalls an era of locked-down power, a monarchy that fell because it could not withstand dissent.
In Munich, the symbol functions as a password. It allows people to recognize each other and count themselves. In the era of networks, a cause needs a readable motif. The flag becomes an algorithm. It circulates, it is shared, it summarizes.
But contemporary Iranian politics distrusts summaries. The opposition is multiple. Monarchists, republicans, human rights activists, unions, feminists, and intellectuals have different aspirations. Moreover, local figures do not want the same thing or at the same pace. The figure of Reza Pahlavi crystallizes this complexity because he is known. He rallies by his visibility. He divides by his legacy.
This is where the style of the era matters. The Munich mobilization is not only experienced on site. It continues in video sequences, subtitled excerpts, drone images, applause captured up close. Each shot becomes an argument. Each edit, an interpretation.
The Pahlavi Dynasty, A Past That Demands Accounting
To understand this comeback, one must look at the dynasty without nostalgia or caricature. Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi reigned in the name of an imposed modernity. He launched reforms, transformed the economy, accelerated urbanization. He also reduced political space, repressed opponents, governed by fear, notably through SAVAK. The record remains a knot.
The 1979 revolution overturned that architecture and installed an Islamic Republic which, in turn, produced its own mythology. Resistance, sovereignty, religion, struggle against the West. Today, crises are piling up and this narrative is contested by a growing part of society. That society demands first a livable life, freedoms, and a future.
Reza Pahlavi, exiled for decades, mainly in the United States, embodies this expectation from a distance. His supporters see consistency. His detractors see disconnection. The debate is insoluble as long as one cannot clearly measure his influence in today’s Iran, where public space is restricted, information circulates with difficulty, and opinions are risky to express. In this familial and historical imagination, Farah Pahlavi, Empress of Iran, also remains a tutelary figure, often evoked as a symbol of a bygone era.
The Decisive Question, Turning A Crowd Into A Project
In the end, the question is less the size of the gathering than its translation. What can a diaspora do? It can create visibility, attract supporters, shift agendas. It can also produce illusions, confuse media echo with political strength.
The Iranian regime, for its part, possesses a proven arsenal. It can denounce foreign involvement, criminalize the opposition, strengthen repression in the name of national security. Every Lion and Sun flag brandished in Europe can become, in Tehran, a pretext. Every call for foreign intervention can feed the rhetoric of threat.
Reza Pahlavi thus walks a ridge. He promises an electoral and secular transition. He calls for strong gestures from abroad. He refuses the crown while benefiting from the prestige of a name. He wants to be a conduit, but Iranian history judges harshly those who present themselves as passages.
This February 14, 2026, in Munich, part of the Iranian opposition occupied space and narrative. The question that does not dissolve in the rain remains. How to turn a crowd into a project. And a project into reality, without once again confiscating the choice of Iranians.