‘Sense of doom’: fear and foreboding over Iran war among London’s divided diaspora
In North Finchley's Little Tehran, Iranians are torn between jubilant street protests supporting US and Israeli strikes and a lingering sense of dread about the conflict's future. Interviews reveal generational divides, concerns over British policy, and uncertainty about what the war will mean for…
Sara* placed fresh watermelon slices on a plate and poured steaming mint tea into glass mugs while the streets of North Finchley, the heart of London’s “Little Tehran,” erupted in flags and chants after the bombing that killed Iran’s supreme leader. Outside her window, crowds shouted for the return of a monarchy, yet Sara and her family stayed inside, conflicted about celebrating the death of a man they both deemed brutal.
Celebrations clash with a lingering sense of doom
When the air raid hit Tehran, many Iranian exiles in the UK poured onto the pavement, waving Iranian flags and chanting slogans that imagined a return of the Shah. For some, the moment felt like a long‑awaited release from a regime that has silenced dissent for decades. Sara, however, described the atmosphere as "overwhelmingly loud" and "almost barbaric" to rejoice over a death, even if the deceased was a dictator. She expressed relief that Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was gone but warned that the euphoria could mask a deeper danger: "America has a repertoire of starting fires that it doesn’t put out," she said, fearing that U.S. and Israeli military actions could spiral into a wider regional conflagration.
Generational and ideological divides within the community
Older members of the diaspora, like Sara’s 72‑year‑old father Geff*, who served under both the Shah and the Islamic Republic before fleeing in 1987, view the conflict through a lens of pragmatic survival. He acknowledges the regime’s brutality—citing the killing of 40,000 peaceful protesters—but doubts that the United States will act out of altruism. "The USA isn’t coming to help us; they’re coming to help themselves," he said, adding that any price Iran pays for "freedom" will still leave something for the people.
Younger voices echo a different tone. Kimia Movahedi, a 28‑year‑old PhD student who spent her teenage years in Iran before moving to Canada and then the UK, now sees former President Donald Trump as a rare ally who has taken a firm stance against Tehran. She frames the war as a "rescue mission," albeit a violent one, and blames the international community for enabling the regime through diplomatic engagement and economic ties. "The UK has been supporting the regime by allowing them to buy property here and receive medical treatment," she argued.
Navid Tafagodi, who arrived at a British boarding school in 1977, expressed a more personal conflict. He is reconsidering his future in the UK, feeling that British policy of "appeasement" toward Iran undermines his sense of belonging. "Your enemy’s enemy is your friend" sums up his view of the uneasy alliance between the United States, Israel, and the diaspora.
British policy and the diaspora’s precarious position
Many interviewees criticized the British government for maintaining diplomatic channels with Tehran while simultaneously allowing Iranian elites to invest in London real estate and access the National Health Service. This perceived double‑standard fuels resentment, especially among those who feel the UK benefits from Iran’s wealth without bearing the human cost of the regime’s oppression.
At the same time, the diaspora worries about being drawn into a conflict that does not directly affect their daily lives. Sara highlighted that their neighborhoods are not under attack, nor are they surrounded by separatist militias that could ignite a civil war. Yet the fear remains that retaliation or sanctions could ripple back to the community, affecting visas, businesses, and the safety of family members still in Iran.
What lies ahead for London’s Iranian community?
The immediate future is uncertain. Some community members hope the war will topple the regime quickly, while others fear a protracted conflict could deepen repression at home and spark backlash abroad. Sara’s family, like many others, plans to stay cautious, watching the headlines while continuing their everyday routines—tea, family meals, and quiet reflection.
Experts suggest that any lasting resolution will require more than military pressure; it will need sustained diplomatic engagement, humanitarian aid, and a clear plan for post‑war governance in Iran. Until then, the diaspora will likely remain split between celebration and dread, their voices echoing across London’s streets and kitchen tables alike.
Why it matters
The split reactions of Iran's diaspora highlight how overseas communities can influence and be impacted by geopolitical conflicts.
Key points
- London’s Iranian community is divided between jubilant protests and deep anxiety after the death of Ayatollah Khamenei.
- Older exiles view the war as a pragmatic fight against a repressive regime, while younger activists see it as a rescue mission.
- Criticism of UK policy centers on diplomatic engagement with Tehran and the allowance of Iranian wealth to flow into Britain.
- Fear persists that the war could bring unintended consequences for diaspora families still connected to Iran.
- Long‑term stability in Iran will likely require diplomatic solutions beyond military action.
Frequently asked questions
Why are some Iranians in London celebrating the death of Ayatollah Khamenei?
Many view Khamenei as a symbol of repression and believe his death could open the door to political change in Iran.
What concerns do diaspora members have about the ongoing war?
They worry about possible retaliation, sanctions affecting their lives in the UK, and the safety of relatives still in Iran.
How does the British government’s stance toward Iran affect the diaspora?
Critics say the UK’s diplomatic ties and allowance of Iranian investments create a perception of appeasement, fueling resentment among exiles.
Do younger Iranians in the UK support the war?
Some younger activists see the conflict as a necessary step to end the regime, while others remain cautious about the humanitarian cost.
