Iran is increasingly governed by the IRGC, with military leaders eclipsing both clerical authority and elected officials.

Since 1979, Iran has been cast as a “revolutionary state” governed by a theocratic order. That description is no longer sufficient. What has emerged in its place is something colder and more familiar: a state increasingly defined by military dominance. The Islamic Republic was designed as a hybrid system—an uneasy fusion of elected civilian institutions and unelected clerical authority. In practice, however, both have long been subordinate to the Guardian Council and, ultimately, to the supreme leader, whose authority extends across both political and religious domains.

In the aftermath of the revolution, Iran’s clerical leadership created the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), or Sepāh-e Pāsdārān-e Enqelāb-e Eslāmi, as a counterweight to the conventional military, which they viewed with suspicion. Unlike the regular armed forces, the IRGC was built to defend not merely the state but the revolution itself. Its command structure bypasses the elected presidency entirely, reporting directly to the supreme leader. Over time, the IRGC evolved into one of the most formidable institutions in Iran—an entity that fused military capability with economic reach and political influence.

Its ascent was gradual but unmistakable. Veterans of the Guards filtered into the upper ranks of government, occupying positions in parliament, the cabinet, and provincial administrations. Yet for decades, this expansion unfolded within limits. Under Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, the system retained a precarious balance. Khamenei, for all his rigidity, was a political operator who understood the necessity of managing competing centers of power. He maintained equilibrium among the IRGC, the clerical establishment anchored in Velayat-e Faqih, and the civilian bureaucracy. In doing so, he preserved the illusion—however strained—of a multi-layered governing system.

That equilibrium has now collapsed.

The IRGC has shifted from a dominant actor within the system to its de facto ruler. This transformation accelerated with the elevation of Mojtaba Khamenei to the position of supreme leader. The Guards did not merely benefit from his succession; they appear to have engineered it. Reports indicate that the Assembly of Experts was pressed into convening an emergency online session on March 3, during which Mojtaba’s appointment was effectively secured under intense pressure. Several members reportedly abstained, citing coercion and a predetermined outcome.

For the IRGC, Mojtaba Khamenei represented an ideal figurehead: a leader deeply embedded in their orbit yet lacking an independent base of power. For more than two decades, he cultivated close ties with the Guards, but unlike his father, he never developed a broad network spanning clerical, political, and intelligence institutions. Where Ali Khamenei spent decades constructing a system of overlapping loyalties, Mojtaba inherited only its shell. His authority, such as it is, appears contingent on the IRGC’s willingness to sustain it.

Observers have begun to acknowledge what is increasingly difficult to ignore. As one analyst told Euronews in early March, Mojtaba Khamenei may hold the title of supreme leader, but the IRGC holds the power. That distinction captures the emerging reality in Tehran: legitimacy remains nominally clerical, but authority has become unmistakably military.

Signs of this shift are visible across the machinery of government. Reporting from Iran International suggests that tensions between President Masoud Pezeshkian’s administration and the military leadership have hardened into a full political deadlock. The IRGC has reportedly obstructed presidential appointments, imposed constraints on executive decision-making, and erected a security barrier around the core of the state that effectively sidelines civilian authority.

The president’s attempt to appoint a new intelligence minister illustrates the point. Multiple candidates—including figures with substantial credentials—were rejected under direct pressure from IRGC leadership, notably General Ahmad Vahidi. According to accounts, Vahidi insisted that wartime conditions necessitate direct oversight by the Guards over all sensitive and strategic positions. In practice, this amounts to a veto power over the civilian government’s most consequential decisions.

More striking still is the apparent isolation of the supreme leader himself. President Pezeshkian has reportedly sought urgent meetings with Mojtaba Khamenei, only to be met with silence. Sources describe the emergence of a “military council” composed of senior IRGC officers that now exerts decisive control over state affairs. This body not only shapes policy but also regulates access to the supreme leader, filtering information and consolidating its grip on the flow of decision-making.

Recent appointments reinforce this trajectory. The selection of General Mohammad Bagher Zolghadr, a former IRGC deputy commander, as secretary of the Supreme National Security Council signals a clear preference for military credentials over diplomatic or technocratic experience. Zolghadr’s background—rooted in asymmetric warfare, internal security, and institutional control—reflects the priorities of a system increasingly oriented toward coercion rather than governance.

At the same time, the IRGC remains acutely aware of optics. Publicly, it avoids the appearance of overt political dominance, preferring to maintain the image of a guardian force rather than a ruling one. Yet behind closed doors, it functions as the central node of power, shaping decisions on issues ranging from ceasefire negotiations to maritime de-escalation and the contours of Iran’s nuclear and missile programs.

The result is a profound reordering of the Islamic Republic. Clerical authority persists, but largely as a legitimizing veneer. Civilian institutions continue to operate, but within narrowing constraints. Real power has consolidated within a military-intelligence apparatus that answers to itself.

History offers a sobering lesson: once such structures achieve supremacy, they rarely relinquish it voluntarily. Civilian authority, once eclipsed, is seldom restored absent a crisis severe enough to discredit the generals who rule in its name.