Chapter 6: When the Hostage Is a Nation

You may not understand what is happening in Iran, and that is entirely understandable. We are facing something difficult to name. A nation held captive by a regime.

I avoid saying that the Regime is “killing its own people,” because such a phrase implies a relationship that does not exist. This regime does not belong to the people of Iran. It has ruled for forty-seven years by force, not consent. What it has done is take an entire nation hostage. And since January 8, 2026, it has moved openly into massacre, continuing for as long as it is able, for as long as nothing stops it.

As it weakens, the regime begins to resemble the familiar villain of a film. Cornered, exposed, close to defeat. In the final scene, when escape is no longer possible, the villain reaches for a hostage; someone innocent; someone vulnerable. A last bargaining chip.

Imagine we are watching a James Bond movie. With no escape left, the villain reaches for his final strategy. He grabs the Bond girl and pulls her close, threatening to kill her if the agent does not back down which works. We know there is a bond between the agent and the girl. There is intimacy, history, something worth saving.

The regime is doing something similar now. As its power collapses, it is using Iranian civilians inside the country as its last bargaining chip, its final attempt to survive. 

But this is where the analogy breaks. In this story, a bond with Iranians never quite came into being. When the hostage is taken, the world does not flinch in the same way. The weapon remains raised. The threat continues.

Much of the world has turned away. Parts of the Muslim world look away as explained in chapter 5. Many Western activists see images of Iranian protesters and arrive at a quick conclusion. But the Regime supports Palestine, they think. These people are protesting against the Regime; therefore, they must be pro-Israel. From there, the logic feels complete. The choice appears simple. Support for Iranians fighting for their freedom is quietly withdrawn. But why must solidarity follow a single line? Why should one battle defined by another one?  

We have seen this logic before. Not long ago, the question dominating public discourse was: “Do you condemn Hamas?” The answer was often “Yes, but…”—and sometimes not even yes. The sentence began directly with “But…”. That hesitation, that justification, came easily. It was explained as context. As history. As complexity. It was argued that violence did not emerge in a vacuum. That nothing is purely black or white.

And yet, that lesson seems forgotten now. Because if complexity truly matters, then it must apply here as well. The same regime that supported Hamas, is now killing thousands of captivated Iranian nationals without hesitation. The former “angel” reveals itself as the “evil”.

So how does your logic work? Is it about filling a glass with anything at hand, as long as it appears full? Or is it about choosing a glass carefully, to hold what you call pure?

Photography offers a useful metaphor. We all walk past the same scenes every day. The difference is not what exists, but where the lens is pointed. What is framed. What is brought into focus.

If you shift the lens and look directly at the regime itself, you may begin to see what Iranians have been living with for decades. This may be uncomfortable, even disappointing: A regime that kills so easily to preserve itself cannot be a rescuer. No matter how loudly it claims that role.