Absence of world leaders at Khamenei funeral reflects Iran's isolation - Fox News

Around 20 messages and written statements have been issued in Mojtaba Khamenei’s name since the Assembly of Experts named him Iran’s new Supreme Leader on March 8.

Some have been routine: condolences, formal greetings and remarks for official occasions. But at least half go further, offering an early view of his political and ideological vocabulary.

They cover a wide range of subjects, from the army, parliament and the Persian language to Hajj, Shiite’s anniversary of Eid al-Ghadir, the Persian Gulf, the US-Iran memorandum of understanding and the so-called Axis of Resistance.

Read together, one word stands out: ba’sat (be’that).

In Islamic tradition, ba’sat refers to being chosen and sent on a divine mission. It is most closely associated with prophethood: the moment a prophet is commissioned to carry a message and fulfill a sacred duty.

In Mojtaba Khamenei’s messages, however, the word is not used only as a religious expression. It becomes a political language for describing the role of the people.

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A sacred word enters politics

Mojtaba Khamenei has used ba’sat in several forms: the ba’sat of the Iranian nation, the ba’sat of the people, the ba’sat of artists, a mission-bearing nation and even a commissioned Islamic ummah.

The ummah, in Islamic political language, refers to the wider Muslim community beyond national borders.

In this framework, Iranians are not presented merely as citizens of a country, voters in a political system or supporters of the Islamic Republic.

They are described as bearers of a historical mission. That is where ba’sat becomes politically important.

It casts the people as the human force of a larger ideological project, rather than simply as a society expected to support the government.

The first clear example appeared in Mojtaba Khamenei’s Hajj message in late May.

He wrote that after the killing of Ali Khamenei, the Iranian nation experienced a divine ba’sat and astonished the world by appearing wherever its presence was needed.

The more revealing line came later. Following the ba’sat of the Iranian nation and the Axis of Resistance, he wrote, the ba’sat of the Islamic ummah would follow.

In a single sequence, he linked the Iranian people, Tehran’s regional network of allied forces and the wider Muslim world.

The message was not only that Iranians had awakened. It was that they had been assigned a role in a project extending beyond Iran’s borders.

People or a mission-bearing nation?

The same pattern appears in other messages. In a statement marking Ferdowsi Day, artists were asked to carry out their own ba’sat in continuation of the people’s ba’sat, and to record the story of this uprising for history.

In a message marking the start of the third year of the 12th parliament, the legislature was told to bring itself into line with a mission-bearing nation.

The chain is revealing.

The mission begins with the people, moves into culture and art, enters formal institutions such as parliament, and is then projected outward toward the Islamic ummah and the Axis of Resistance.

This is not just ceremonial language. In Mojtaba Khamenei’s early vocabulary, the people are not treated simply as a source of legitimacy or as a crowd mobilized for elections, funerals and rallies.

They are framed as a force expected to move the system forward.

That role is tied to resistance against the United States and Israel, support for Tehran’s regional allies, and the claim that Iran is helping shape a new regional and global order.

People inside an old project

This language also connects Mojtaba Khamenei to one of Ali Khamenei’s central ideological themes.

For years, the former Supreme Leader spoke of a five-stage process leading to a new Islamic civilization.

In that theory, the Islamic Revolution was only the beginning.

It was to be followed by an Islamic system, an Islamic government, an Islamic society and, finally, a new Islamic civilization.

Institutions alone were never enough for that project. The theory required society itself to be transformed, with people seeing themselves not merely as subjects of a government but as participants in a long ideological struggle.

Mojtaba Khamenei’s use of ba’sat appears to supply that missing human engine.

If Ali Khamenei’s five-stage theory was the roadmap, ba’sat is Mojtaba Khamenei’s way of describing the people expected to carry it forward.

The Iranian nation becomes mission-bearing. Artists must narrate that mission. Parliament must adjust itself to it. The Axis of Resistance gives it regional depth. And the Islamic ummah gives it a transnational horizon.

Resistance remains central

This is why ba’sat matters beyond the number of times it appears.

Terms such as resistance, America, Israel and the Iranian nation have long been central to the Islamic Republic’s political vocabulary.

Ba’sat does something more specific. It redefines the relationship between people and power.

In this view, people are not only expected to obey, vote, mourn, rally or endure.

They are said to have been commissioned into a larger project, one that links domestic loyalty to regional confrontation and an imagined future order.

In Mojtaba Khamenei’s first message after becoming Supreme Leader, he described the Axis of Resistance as an inseparable part of the values of the Islamic Revolution.

In later messages, he returned to Lebanon, Palestine, Iraq and Yemen.

After the US-Iran memorandum, he said he had initially opposed the agreement but allowed its implementation because the president and the Supreme National Security Council had pledged to protect both the rights of the Iranian nation and those of the Axis of Resistance.

In his Persian Gulf message, he linked the policy of resistance and a strong Iran to the beginning of a new regional and global order.

Mojtaba Khamenei is not abandoning the ideological architecture of his predecessor. He is recasting it in a new vocabulary, with the people placed more explicitly at the center of the mission.

If this reading is correct, ba’sat is more than a religious flourish.

It may be the connecting term between the second and third leaders of the Islamic Republic: a word that preserves Ali Khamenei’s project of a new Islamic civilization while giving Mojtaba Khamenei a language of his own.

The result is not an ideological break. It is an effort to continue the same project with a sharper definition of the people’s role in it: not simply as supporters of the Islamic Republic, but as a people told they have been given a mission.

The idea would have sounded almost unthinkable just months ago.

But the remarks by Mehdi Khorratian, who has close ties to Iran's hardline establishment, have fueled speculation that at least some in Tehran may be considering a major overhaul of the Islamic Republic's power structure.

Experts interviewed by Iran International say the more revealing question is not whether the IRGC disappears—it is what, if anything, replaces it.

Some believe any restructuring would amount to little more than a rebranding designed to preserve the Guard's power while shedding some of its political and economic baggage. Others see the debate as evidence that Iran's leadership understands the country cannot emerge from the recent war unchanged.

Constitutional obstacle

Historian Shahram Kholdi argues dismantling the IRGC is far more complicated than simply abolishing a military organization.

"The IRGC is not called the Revolutionary Guard Corps of Iran. It is called the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. That is very important," he said.

The obstacle, he argues, lies in the constitution. Article 150 of the Islamic Republic's constitution establishes the Guard not as a conventional military force but as the institution responsible for "guarding the revolution and its achievements."

That ideological mandate makes outright dissolution highly unlikely.

Instead, Kholdi believes the leadership would preserve the system while adapting its structure.

"They will not allow any disruption in the continuity of the Islamic Republic, but they will turn it into what it has been over the past 30 years: a fully military oligarchy disguised as a theocracy," he said.

Kholdi argues restructuring could also serve a practical purpose. As Western governments continue to designate the IRGC as a terrorist organization, folding it into a broader military structure could make it easier for Iranian officials to participate in future international security arrangements linked to any agreement with Washington while complicating efforts to isolate the organization itself.

"It would actually make things much more flexible for them," he said.

A toxic brand

Political analyst Omid Memarian says the IRGC itself has become a liability.

"The IRGC has become a huge liability, both domestically and internationally," he said.

Domestically, he argues, the Guard has become associated with economic mismanagement, political repression and deep involvement across nearly every sector of Iranian life. Internationally, sanctions and terrorism designations have made the organization increasingly costly for Tehran to defend.

"The brand name has become a liability for Iran more and more over the past few years," Memarian said.

That does not necessarily mean the institution itself is disappearing. Rather, he says, it could signal an effort to package the same power structure differently.

"The same people who created this system are doing the rebranding," he said.

Memarian nevertheless believes the debate reflects something larger than institutional reform.

"There is an unwritten consensus that Iran needs a massive departure from the pre-war era," he said.

The debate is unfolding alongside unusually sharp criticism from ultrahardline figures aligned with Saeed Jalili, who have portrayed the post-war political direction as an internal "coup" against Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei. They accuse figures linked to Parliament Speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf and President Masoud Pezeshkian of steering the Islamic Republic away from its revolutionary course.

Name change or real change?

For Behnam Ben Taleblu, senior director of the Iran Program at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, the debate begins with a literary question.

"All of this reminds me of the Shakespeare quote from Romeo and Juliet: 'What's in a name?' What is in the name of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps? Its mission is in the name: to preserve, protect and defend the Islamic Revolution."

He does not believe the IRGC is likely to disappear. Instead, he cautions Western governments against confusing cosmetic changes with genuine reform.

"Real transformation comes with behavior. It comes with substance—not style," Ben Taleblu said.

"The West has to distinguish fake transformation from real transformation."

Whether the organization is renamed or folded into another military structure matters less, he argues, than whether it continues sponsoring militant groups abroad, dominating Iran's economy and serving as the central pillar of the Islamic Republic's security apparatus.

"Substance is whether the entity—whatever it's called—continues to act like the IRGC," he said.

A post-war identity crisis

Ultimately, the debate over the IRGC reflects the broader question confronting the Islamic Republic after the recent war: can the system reinvent itself without changing its fundamentals?

Kholdi believes any restructuring would further entrench military rule beneath a religious façade. Memarian argues the leadership recognizes that the pre-war model is no longer sustainable but doubts the same political elite can fundamentally transform the system they built. Ben Taleblu, meanwhile, warns against mistaking pragmatism for moderation.

"People mistake Ghalibaf's opportunism for moderation," he said.

For now, the discussion reveals less about the imminent disappearance of the IRGC than about the Islamic Republic's search for a model capable of surviving its deepest crisis in decades.

Whether that future involves genuine reform or simply a new name for an old institution remains an open question.

According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), the massive supply shock triggered by disruptions in the Persian Gulf has been partially offset by excess oil production accumulated last year and in early 2026, emergency stock releases by industrialized countries, Saudi Arabia's and the UAE's use of export routes bypassing the Strait of Hormuz, and a sharp decline in global oil demand led by China.

The scale of the disruption remains enormous. Oil production across the Persian Gulf has fallen by more than 10 million barrels per day over recent months, resulting in a cumulative production loss of roughly 1.3 billion barrels.

At the same time, global oil demand contracted by about 5.5 million barrels per day in the second quarter of 2026 as economic activity slowed.

China, the world's largest crude importer, has reduced its oil imports by roughly 40 percent—or about 4.6 million barrels per day—over recent months, making weaker demand one of the biggest reasons prices have retreated.

Even so, the region's oil exports remain about 25 percent below their February levels, and restoring pre-war export capacity is likely to take many months. In some cases—particularly Qatar's damaged liquefied natural gas (LNG) facilities—a full recovery could take years.

Another temporary buffer has come from floating storage. Iran alone holds around 150 million barrels of crude at sea, while Washington's two-month waiver allowing Iranian oil exports has also helped ease market tensions.

Those inventories are helping cushion the supply shock, but they cannot replace the region's lost production capacity.

Meanwhile, production of crude oil and other petroleum liquids across the Persian Gulf region remains roughly 45 percent below February levels. Even Saudi Arabia—which can bypass the Strait of Hormuz through its East-West pipeline to the Red Sea—is producing well below pre-war levels, underscoring the scale of the disruption.

In total, the loss of roughly 1.3 billion barrels of production has only been partially offset by the release of more than 300 million barrels from the strategic reserves of industrialized countries.

Even under the most optimistic scenario, repairing the damage inflicted on global oil markets by the Strait of Hormuz crisis is unlikely before the middle of next year.

Geopolitical risks also remain elevated. Thursday's attack on a commercial vessel near Oman underscored how fragile maritime security remains despite the ceasefire. Shipping costs in waters south of Iran have risen to roughly 5.5 times their pre-war levels, while tanker charter rates have surged to nearly nine times their pre-war levels.

The disruption extends well beyond crude oil. Exports of petrochemicals, metals, fertilizers, helium and other raw materials from the Arab Gulf continue to face severe constraints, with implications for global industry, agriculture, supply chains and international trade.

Oil prices returning to the $72–74 range should therefore not be interpreted as evidence that the crisis has passed. They instead reflect a market being sustained by emergency inventories and demand destruction rather than recovering supply.

Until shipping through the Strait of Hormuz returns to normal and Persian Gulf production fully recovers, the global economy will remain vulnerable to renewed energy shocks and heightened market volatility.

Internet access in Iran was cut off for months, first amid the January protests and then during the March war, before being partially restored after an 88-day nationwide blackout.

International connectivity has returned for many fixed-line and home broadband users, but the network remains degraded, unstable and heavily censored.

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More than 100 days after the broader shutdown began, the pattern of restoration has been limited, selective and tightly controlled.

From conditional access tied to identity verification and the migration of businesses to domestic platforms to the creation of internet-access whitelists, the Islamic Republic appears intent on preserving its multi-layered system of censorship, surveillance and communications control.

The National Information Network, centralized gateways to the global internet, controlled mobile-network settings, identity-verification systems and device-registration mechanisms are all tools that allow the state to restrict or cut off public access to the global internet while keeping stable communication channels open for selected groups.

That is why direct-to-cell, or D2C, has attracted growing attention among Iranians. Many see the promise of direct phone-to-satellite connectivity — without a dish, terminal, domestic operator or government gateway — as a possible way out of the Islamic Republic’s digital prison.

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The idea has gained enough attention that the Pentagon held talks with SpaceX about activating direct-to-cell service for Iranian citizens. According to Reuters, SpaceX requested up to $500 million to launch the service and $100 million per month to operate it.

The central question, however, is whether current versions of direct-to-cell technology can meet such expectations on the scale of Iran. For now, the answer is no: today’s systems remain limited in capacity, vulnerable to radio interference and risky for users who could be identified through Iran’s device-registration and mobile-network systems.

The central questions, however, remain: Can current versions of Direct-to-Cell technology truly meet such expectations on the scale of Iran? Is the technology still only an emergency and limited communication channel, or can it become a scalable escape route for millions of Iranian users? And if future generations of the technology operate without relying on domestic towers and operators, will Iran’s digital wall be broken?

Dependency on mobile operators and the foreign eSIM scenario

In ordinary Starlink service, the satellite connects to a dedicated ground terminal — the same dish that users must obtain, install, maintain and hide from the Islamic Republic. The phone connects to the Starlink modem through Wi-Fi.

But Direct-to-Cell is based on a different idea: an ordinary phone itself becomes the receiver and transmitter for satellite communication.

Current versions of Direct-to-Cell are mostly not independent satellite internet systems. Rather, they complement the existing coverage of mobile operators in each area, effectively turning the satellite into a space-based cell tower whose real function is to cover mobile-network dead zones.

The use of independent S-Band frequencies and the deployment of satellites in very low Earth orbit, or VLEO, closer to the Earth’s surface, are among the paths that could make D2C more relevant to Iran’s problem.

Under this scenario, foreign Starlink partner operators such as T-Mobile, Kyivstar or One NZ in New Zealand would declare Iranian territory a zone without terrestrial coverage and include it under their own service.

Politically and technically, this model comes closer to what Iranian citizens expect from the technology. In that case, a phone using a SIM card or eSIM from one of these operators could establish a D2C connection from inside Iran to SpaceX’s new-generation satellites. Reports say about 700 satellites of this type are already in orbit.

But making this scenario a reality is not limited to SpaceX’s will or decision. It requires an entire chain: frequency spectrum, regulatory licenses, compatible phones, modems, antennas, transmission power and chipsets that support new satellite bands.

Companies such as Qualcomm, MediaTek, Apple, Samsung and Google play a decisive role in this process. If phone hardware is not ready, even an advanced satellite constellation will not become a practical connection for users inside Iran.

Even under this optimistic scenario for Iran, three major obstacles remain: limited capacity, the possibility of radio interference, and the risk of users being identified through device registration and the Hamta system.

1. Capacity limits in densely populated areas

The first serious obstacle to widespread D2C deployment in Iran is capacity. This connection is not designed to replace urban internet. It is designed to deliver minimal connectivity to areas with no terrestrial coverage or weak coverage. But in Iran, the issue is not simply connecting a few users on a road or in a mountain area.

The issue is a communications blackout in cities where hundreds of thousands of people may simultaneously need messaging apps, voice and video calls, news, maps, email, financial services, and the ability to send photos and videos.

In some early tests, recorded bandwidth for a single connection reached about 14 Mbps. But this number should not be confused with the experience of urban internet speeds. In the real world, that limited bandwidth must be shared among all users across the wide area covered by each satellite.

To better understand the scale, in a city such as Tehran, if only 1% of residents simultaneously wanted a very basic 1 Mbps connection, the network would need capacity equivalent to 99 Gbps. Compared with the current capacity of each active D2C beam, which ranges from 4 to 17 Mbps, and even compared with an optimistic 150 Mbps outlook for future generations, this reveals a gap hundreds of times larger than current capabilities.

2. Radio interference from ground signals

Even if D2C can reduce the problems of capacity and dependence on domestic operators, it still faces an obstacle rooted in the physics of radio waves. To connect, a phone must receive a very weak signal from a satellite moving hundreds of kilometers above the Earth, while operating in an environment filled with nearby mobile towers, ground transmitters and local signals that are far stronger.

In this context, the ratio between the desired signal and surrounding interference determines whether the receiver can detect the satellite signal at all amid noise and terrestrial interference.

A nearby ground tower operated by MCI or Irancell could emit a signal so much stronger than the satellite signal that the phone’s receiver effectively fails to see the weaker signal or cannot build a stable connection on it.

In such a situation, the government does not need to target the satellite. It only needs to use towers, transmitters and control over mobile-network power levels to make the radio environment around the user unfavorable for satellite connectivity.

For the Islamic Republic, this type of interference could be fast, local and low-cost. So even if the satellite is beyond the government’s reach, the user’s phone remains on the ground, inside a radio environment that can be manipulated. Future versions with dedicated spectrum, better modems and more resilient protocols may reduce part of this vulnerability, but they will not eliminate it entirely.

3. Device registration and user identification

The more serious security question is how identifiable a user inside Iran would be when using D2C. In Iran, a phone is not merely a communication device. The SIM card, subscriber identity, device identity and the user’s real identity are linked together across several layers.

Every phone has a unique hardware identifier, or IMEI, which serves as the device’s identity on mobile networks. The Hamta system can link this identifier to the SIM card, activation history, ownership and, in many cases, the user’s real identity.

In such an environment, using a foreign SIM card or eSIM for satellite connectivity does not necessarily make the user anonymous. If a phone with a known IMEI suddenly tries to connect through an unauthorized satellite route using a foreign operator identifier, that behavior could become an unusual and flaggable pattern.

The combination of device registration, operator data, SIM-card databases and local monitoring tools could turn such a connection into a security risk. The key question, therefore, is how this can be done without exposing the user’s identity, location and behavioral pattern.

A strategic opportunity, not an immediate solution

Direct-to-Cell should be taken seriously, but it should not be exaggerated. For Iran, the appeal of this technology is clear: if one day an ordinary phone can connect to a satellite without a dish, separate terminal, domestic operator or Islamic Republic gateway, one of the foundations of Iran’s internet-control architecture will be challenged. But that day has not yet arrived. Current versions under development are mainly designed to cover dead zones, not to replace urban internet for tens of millions of users.

Limited capacity, the possibility of interference, and the risk of exposing and identifying users mean this technology is not currently a public and scalable escape route from Iran’s internet shutdown. Its present value is mostly as an emergency tool: sending messages, sharing locations, issuing alerts or maintaining brief communication during a crisis.

The future could be different if the next generation of satellites brings together higher capacity, independent spectrum, compatible phones, user security and global protective rules. Until then, Direct-to-Cell remains an important opening for the future — not today’s solution to the digital prison.

The agreement has created clear political and economic winners—and at least one conspicuous loser—as governments reassess their security, energy and diplomatic priorities.

The principal beneficiaries are the Arab states of the Persian Gulf, along with China and Pakistan, all of which have a strong interest in restoring regional stability and safeguarding trade. Israel, by contrast, emerges as the most politically isolated actor, increasingly at odds with Washington's approach and the broader diplomatic direction of the region.

For much of the world, the central issue is not the ideological rivalry between Iran and Israel but the security of maritime trade.

The Strait of Hormuz is a critical artery for global energy flows and for imports of food and consumer goods into the Persian Gulf. Its closure disrupted oil and gas exports, slowed economic activity and heightened inflation across the region.

According to the moderate outlet Fararu, a former British ambassador to Iran argued that many Persian Gulf states believe the agreement should have been reached much earlier given the scale of the economic damage caused by the crisis.

The Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states did not respond uniformly to the conflict. Qatar and Oman opposed the escalation from the outset, while Saudi Arabia and the UAE adopted more cautious positions.

Qatar played a particularly important mediating role, helping facilitate communication between Tehran and Washington. Oman, meanwhile, faced Iranian pressure to endorse the idea of tolling the Strait of Hormuz—a proposal rejected by regional states and the wider international community, which regard the waterway as an international passage rather than a commercial asset.

Despite those differences, the agreement has narrowed intra-GCC divisions. It has also deepened doubts about Washington's long-term reliability as a security guarantor, even as Iran's Arab neighbours remain dependent on American military infrastructure.

China appears to have emerged as one of the agreement's biggest beneficiaries. Throughout the crisis, Beijing's overriding concern was global economic stability.

The reopening of the Strait lowers energy import costs, supports Chinese economic recovery and reinforces Beijing's preferred image as a power that benefits from stability without becoming directly involved in regional conflicts.

Pakistan likewise stands to gain. Having played a central mediating role, Islamabad strengthens its diplomatic standing while reducing the risk that instability on its western border could spill over into its own security and economy.

For Russia, the picture is more mixed. The closure of the Strait pushed global oil prices higher, boosting Moscow's revenues. The agreement is reversing that trend, reducing those gains. On the other hand, a more stable Middle East makes it less likely that Arab states will deepen military cooperation with Ukraine, particularly in air defense—an outcome Moscow is likely to welcome.

Israel appears to be the agreement's principal political loser. Donald Trump had hoped to expand the Abraham Accords, but Arab governments are now focused primarily on securing a durable arrangement that contains Iran's nuclear program and prevents another regional war.

Israel's current government, which appears intent on undermining the agreement, has further reduced regional enthusiasm for normalization, leaving it increasingly isolated from the emerging diplomatic consensus.

The agreement has also revived debate inside Iran over whether any future nuclear arrangement can endure on its own.

Former ambassador Hossein Mousavian argues that no nuclear deal can survive unless it also addresses the deeper Iran-Israel confrontation.

In remarks quoted by Rouydad24, he described the current moment as a "golden opportunity" to transform Tehran-Washington relations, but warned that any agreement focused solely on the nuclear file would remain fragile unless embedded within a broader regional security framework.

His assessment reflects a broader recognition emerging from the conflict: the ceasefire and the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz may have created new diplomatic opportunities, but whether they endure will depend on addressing the deeper regional rivalries that have repeatedly undermined previous agreements.