Revolutions Don’t Need WiFi

As I have written before, the West has a habit of viewing Iranian society through a lens of selective optimism—a deep desire to see in it a reflection of its own values, especially among the Iranian middle class. But this hopeful framing often extends to how events in Iran are interpreted as well. Bluntly put, it amounts to a form of collective denial. From a distance, it is more comforting to believe that brave Iranians are on the verge of revolution, and that if only they had uninterrupted internet access, for example, they would bring the ruling regime down. It is a narrative that feels both dramatic and solvable, as it appears to be a purely technical issue hindering the liberation of Iran.

But this story, though emotionally compelling, is largely misleading. Whilst internet shutdowns certainly make organising and documenting protests more difficult, they are not the primary reason Iran has not seen a successful uprising.

It is hard to say whether this narrative—that internet shutdowns are what stop Iranian uprisings from succeeding—began within Iran or was shaped and amplified by Western media. But either way, I have two main issues with it.

First, many people—both inside Iran, as well as in the diaspora—insist on calling the recent waves of unrest in Iran a “revolution”. But to me, that label does not hold. Important victories were achieved, and these movements are probably a necessary step toward future reform or real upheaval. Still, calling it a revolution feels premature—and in some ways, wishful.

Second, there is the claim that if only protesters had access to the internet, the regime would have fallen. That idea alone undermines the definition of a revolution. If a revolution had already happened, why are we talking about the fact that internet cut-offs made it fail? This would not have been a problem if two separate groups believed in these ideas independently. My surprise is that many people believe in both: a revolution that happened but also failed due to the lack of internet access. Here I am going to focus on the second part because I think the notion that internet access—or the lack of it—is the decisive factor is, in my view, naïve at best and hugely detrimental to any future uprisings in Iran.

If you have been following the events in Iran over the past few years, you have likely heard this kind of labelling and reasoning countless times—that the protests were a revolution, and that the internet blackout was the regime’s key weapon in stopping it. The second point about the internet at least has been repeated so often that it has almost become common sense among commentators, journalists, and much of the Iranian public. But repetition does not make a claim accurate.

Just as I did recently in my analysis of Abbas Milani’s article, I want to take a closer look at another example that leans heavily into this narrative—and explain, point by point, why this line of thinking does not hold up, and why it is ultimately unhelpful for future uprisings and reform in Iran.

The article I have chosen to focus on is titled "How Starlink’s Direct-to-Cell Service Could Help Iranians Overthrow Their Regime", published by a U.S.-based organisation called the Middle East Forum Observer. The group describes itself as “more than just an outlet for opinion and op-eds,” claiming to explore topics “in greater depth than American newspapers or opinion essays.”

The author of the piece is Babak Taghvaee, a defence and security journalist who introduces himself as a researcher, historian, and book author based in Europe. According to his bio, he has more than 16 years of experience covering defence-related topics and has contributed to outlets such as Radio Free Europe, Israel Hayom, and the BBC. He also identifies as an OSINT expert, with hundreds of reports and articles to his name.

The Internet-Led Revolution

I do recommend reading the full article. It is short, and not particularly challenging to follow, even if you are unfamiliar with the matter or recent events in Iran. But if you do not have the time, here is a clear example of the kind of bold claims it makes:

"The use of internet blackouts has been an effective tool to suppress anti-regime protests, most notably in November 2019 when, after just two days of internet shutdown, Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei ordered security forces to kill hundreds of protesters. Similarly, during the Mahsa Amini protests in December 2022, the regime employed internet and communication blackouts to stifle dissent and suppress protests by year’s end."

There is no ambiguity here. The author leaves no room for doubt about what we are supposed to take as fact: that the shutdowns were not just a part of the regime’s response, but the direct reason it succeeded in crushing dissent.

From an investigative point of view, it is quite reasonable to ask for proof behind these kinds of claims—and perhaps even consider them just hearsay. After all, proving a direct cause-and-effect relationship between an internet shutdown and a regime’s violent crackdown and subsequent victory would require access to internal communications, decision-making records, and high-level data from within the regime—the kind of information we simply do not have.

But I want to draw your attention to a different point: the internet is a relatively new invention. Whilst many in younger generations today find it hard to imagine life without it, revolutions long predate it. Even in 1979, when the Iranian Revolution succeeded in toppling the Shah, the internet did not exist—and yet millions mobilised, coordinated, and persisted. The examples do not stop there. The French Revolution certainly did not rely on social media or internet, and neither did the Russian Revolution of 1917.

Old vs. New

One of the problems with many of the conversations around revolution in Iran is that those speaking often either do not know much about revolutions in general, are in denial, or have an agenda of their own. Let me offer a few points to consider—or look into further.

First, the Pahlavi regime under the last Shah was fundamentally different from the Islamic Republic that rules Iran today. Whilst there are some surface-level similarities, in many ways the two systems are worlds apart. Back then, the revolution succeeded largely because the army eventually took a neutral stance—effectively siding with the people—which was a decisive factor in the Shah’s downfall. That scenario is highly unlikely to repeat itself.

The current regime, unlike the monarchy it replaced, was born out of a brutal revolution. And almost immediately after coming to power, it launched a sweeping ideological purge. First, it removed almost anyone who remained from the previous regime, and then turned on many of those who had helped bring about the revolution but did not fully align with its Islamic vision. They were executed, killed in armed confrontations, imprisoned, or forced into exile.

Back in 1979, taking over the regime’s main broadcasting building—or even police stations in small cities—was, for many, a symbolic sign that the revolution had succeeded. Today, the situation is very different. The Islamic Republic has long understood the strategic and psychological value of such sites and has gone to great lengths to secure them—not just physically, but symbolically as well.

The path that led to victory in 1979 will not work again. If there is one group that understands exactly how such revolutions unfold—and more importantly, how to prevent them—it is the Islamic regime itself. Similarly, the path to defeating the Islamic regime is not something that can be improvised on the streets whilst being shot at with rubber bullets or shotgun shells. It requires careful planning—the kind that simply did not exist back then and does not exist today.

I have asked many Iranians, both those who participated in recent unrest and those who did not, what their plan was. What would they have done if they had managed to have a level of success? Not one person could lay out even three clear steps for how an uprising could realistically turn into a revolution. I would ask: suppose you managed to take control of a major street, or even some key buildings in the capital—what next? Another building? Another street? Who would be doing what? What would need to even happen? And most importantly: how exactly do you topple the regime?

That is perhaps the most important takeaway from this article—no one inside Iran seems to have a real answer to that question. There are vague hopes, sure—some speak of a possible internal collapse, of regime insiders switching sides and joining the people. But not only is that highly unlikely, it is also an enormous gamble. What if they do not switch sides? What if, instead, they order a massacre of revolutionaries in the streets—not just in Tehran, but in every large or small city across the country?

Access Without Action

Right now, people in Iran are not in the streets. They do have access to the internet, even if it is through VPNs and proxies. You would be forgiven for thinking this time is being used to reflect, to study past mistakes, to plan better, to experiment with new methods and strategies—but sadly, that is not the case.

Life in Iran is incredibly difficult, especially these days. Survival alone takes up most people’s time and energy. And yet, life goes on—quietly, and without much serious investment in preparing for future efforts to free the country.

Of course, there are people who are thinking seriously about these questions. Some are quietly organising, forming more effective groups in preparation for the next wave of protests—whenever that may come. But these efforts, whilst important, fall far short in a country of nearly 90 million people.

And the core obstacle remains: no one seems to have a credible answer to the question of how the regime could actually be brought down. Every answer you hear is either wishful thinking with no grounding in reality, a vague action plan with no real path forward, or—at worst—built on fantasies that ignore the regime’s deeply entrenched control.

In such muddy waters, figures like Taghvaee—and many others—drastically oversimplify the situation by reducing it to a matter of internet connectivity, as if the core obstacle to regime change in Iran could be resolved with a technical fix delivered overnight.

In fact, let us take a look at the proposed solution in Taghvaee's article:

"The provision to Iran of direct-to-cell internet services via Starlink would offer an opportunity for most Iranians to bypass censorship and remain connected during protests. This service also would enable them to access unfiltered news sources, social media platforms, and messaging applications. It would help them to avoid the psychological operations and disinformation campaigns disseminated by state-controlled media. Additionally, it would allow organizers of anti-regime protests and opposition leaders to maintain secure communication, facilitating better coordination and resistance against violent suppression.

Rather than continued investment in technologies the Iranian regime can bypass, the Trump administration should focus on what works now: Direct-to-cell internet service can do more than Starlink terminals to empower the population and advance the cause of regime change."

Let us start with the basics. Starlink’s direct-to-cell service—as it is advertised by the company itself—is not something that can simply beam internet to mobile phones anywhere in the world without cooperation from local service providers. In the U.S., for example, Starlink has partnered with T-Mobile to deliver this service to T-Mobile customers. That partnership is not just a formality—it is a necessity, due to both technical and regulatory reasons. From how mobile networks operate to the legal frameworks that govern spectrum use and telecommunications, a local carrier needs to be involved.

In practical terms, that means a mobile service provider in Iran would need to sign an agreement with Starlink to enable this service for its users. I probably do not need to explain why that is a ridiculous idea—and why it is never going to happen.

But let us entertain the idea for a moment. Suppose we somehow got past that first hurdle. Let us say, just like how some smartphones today can connect to satellites in emergencies, Starlink also managed to bypass the need for local partnerships in Iran—and could directly offer its services to ordinary Iranians. Problem solved, right?

Well, not exactly. In fact, quite the opposite.

Think of Starlink’s direct-to-cell satellites as cell towers—except in space. And unlike earth-based towers, which can rely on high-speed fibre optic backbones or dedicated, high-bandwidth satellite links, these orbital “cell towers” are far more limited. They can only support a relatively small number of users at a time, and the range of services they can offer is also constrained.

This is exactly why direct-to-cell services are designed to activate only when a user is completely out of other options. It is a last resort—the phone switches to communicating with Starlink’s satellites only when no traditional signal is available.

To better understand the limitations, consider this: Starlink currently has over 7,000 satellites in orbit, yet its high-speed internet service—which requires dedicated ground equipment—supports just over 5 million users worldwide. That is not a hard ceiling, of course. The actual number of users a single satellite can support depends on countless variables—many of which are proprietary and known only to Starlink engineers.

But compare that 7,000+ with the roughly 500 satellites that have been outfitted so far to support direct-to-cell functionality. Would it be safe to assume that these few hundred satellites are not anywhere near enough to provide reliable internet access to, say, 40 million Iranians?

In addition to a lower number of satellites, also not all of those 500 satellites are positioned at any given time in orbits that allow coverage over Iran. But let us be generous again. Suppose that with those 500-or-so satellites, Starlink could offer a usable level of internet access to, say, a million Iranians. That is still far from universal coverage, but it is certainly better than total blackout during critical moments—right?

Maybe. The next challenge is: with such limited resources, who gets to connect?

Without a local mobile provider in the loop, how do we determine which users can access the service? How are those connections managed or prioritised? In the absence of a proper infrastructure or any centralised coordination, this becomes a logistical nightmare. Yes, there may be workarounds—technical solutions to offer some level of limited service to a small number of people at any point. But as you can see, this is not as simple as flipping a switch and granting millions of Iranians reliable, large-scale access to uncensored internet.

Conclusion

Revolutions often begin with a shared desire to destroy what exists—to tear down the system that people believe is the source of their suffering, hence the name ‘revolution’. That urge to dismantle the present is powerful, and it can unite people across divides. But serious problems arise almost immediately.

First, there is often no real plan for how to actually bring down the so-called evil forces—only the vague belief that it must be done. Second, even when people agree on what should fall, they rarely agree on what should take its place. That gap creates mistrust, disunity, and ultimately weakens any revolutionary momentum. Then factor in the all-too-human flaws that always surface: arrogance, selfishness, ignorance, complacency, jealousy, and the lust for power and control.

Even if, by some combination of chaos and luck, the current ruling forces are overthrown, what is left is often a population unprepared—or ill-equipped—to build something better. And that is the real tragedy waiting beneath every promise of a revolution.

Sure, Iranians—and the world at large—would benefit from a democratic government in Iran. But getting there takes serious, sustained effort. And we must not confuse serious suffering with serious effort. One is a human tragedy that often leads to rebellion. The other is the reason we have anything resembling civilisation.

Many so-called “experts” will gladly sell you comforting narratives—that Iran could become a free and prosperous country if only people had access to the Internet. It is a neat story. And many policymakers and think tanks are more than happy to fund and platform those voices to keep such stories alive.

But only if things were that easy.