For many exiled Iranians, the very word “Iranian” feels like a betrayal. They identify as Persian, reclaiming an identity deliberately suppressed by the current regime, and proudly display the ancient Lion and Sun flag – a potent symbol of a heritage the ruling powers sought to erase.
The stark contrast recently played out on the streets of Los Angeles. A Persian protester, jubilant over recent events offering a glimmer of liberation, openly praised the actions that struck at the heart of the regime. He was met with a jarring counter-protest – American activists waving the flag of the Islamic Republic, chanting “Hands Off Iran.”
His fury wasn’t simply about the differing opinions, but about the flag itself. He held aloft the Lion and Sun, a symbol stretching back millennia, while they waved a banner emblazoned with Arabic script – a deliberate alteration imposed after the 1979 revolution. He pointed out the discrepancy, only to be dismissed by those who insisted he was mistaken.
Before the revolution, Iran’s flag proudly featured the Lion and Sun, a national emblem rooted in the ancient world, predating even the Achaemenid Empire. But on July 29, 1980, everything changed. The iconic emblem was replaced with stylized Arabic calligraphy proclaiming “Allah,” and the phrase “Allahu Akbar” repeated 22 times around the flag’s borders.
The very language of the flag became a point of contention. While “God” in Persian is “Khoda” or “Parwardigār,” the flag declared its allegiance in Arabic. It’s a unique situation – Iran stands alone as a nation whose flag bears the script of a foreign tongue, a deliberate act, critics argue, to diminish its own cultural identity.
This shift wasn’t merely symbolic. It marginalized Iran’s pre-Islamic history and raised concerns about inclusivity for its religious minorities – Christians, Jews, and Zoroastrians – whose heritage wasn’t reflected in the new design. The flag became a visual representation of a regime’s ideological agenda.
Despite being outlawed within Iran after 1979, the Lion and Sun never truly disappeared. A 2022 survey revealed a surprising truth: 46% of Iranians within the country still preferred it as their national flag, significantly outpacing the 30% who favored the Islamic Republic’s banner.
The desire for the old flag has manifested in powerful acts of defiance. Following recent strikes, the Lion and Sun was dramatically raised over Iranian embassies in London, Canberra, Stockholm, and several other cities – a visual rejection of the current regime and a bold declaration of hope.
These acts weren’t about a longing for monarchy, but a desperate attempt to distance themselves from the Islamic Republic. Even as authorities attempted to prevent clashes between pro-regime and anti-regime demonstrators, the symbolism resonated deeply.
Millions of Iranians fled the revolution, building new lives abroad while carrying the weight of their homeland’s suffering. Many now identify solely as Persian, a conscious rejection of the regime and everything it represents. They are actively supporting those who challenge its authority.
Across Europe and the United States, these exiled communities are gathering, expressing solidarity with recent actions and offering support to Israel, seeing it as a potential ally in their quest for liberation. They are laying flowers, singing songs, and celebrating a newfound sense of possibility.
For those who lived under the regime’s oppressive rule, the recent strikes offered a rare moment of hope, a break in decades of fear and intimidation. The timing, coinciding with the Jewish holiday of Purim, held particular significance.
Purim commemorates the survival of Persian Jews during the ancient Persian Empire, a time when they faced annihilation but ultimately prevailed. This historical parallel, given the long and often fraught relationship between Jewish communities and Iran, added another layer of meaning to the unfolding events.
The scene in Los Angeles encapsulates a fundamental divide. On one side, the Persians – those who endured the regime’s brutality, who lost loved ones, and who have yearned for freedom for decades – celebrate with the flag of their ancestors. On the other, Western activists, unfamiliar with the realities of life under the Islamic Republic, defend the very regime the Persians are fighting to overthrow.
The Iranian diaspora knows the difference. They are not defending “Iran”; they are defending the Islamic Republic. And for those who survived its horrors, reclaiming their Persian identity is the first step towards a future free from its grip.
