After the end of the twelve-day war, the situation in Iran has seemingly entered a phase of stability; a phase that in political discourse is referred to as “mutual restraint” or “controlled tension”, but at a structural level, it is not only a sign of a return to normalcy, but also a continuation of the crisis in the absence of an explosion. What is referred to as peace here is more than just a cessation of violence, it is a new formulation of power in which the crisis not only does not end, but is transformed into permanent and sustainable rules. In this structure, violence no longer takes place on the battlefield, but in the form of legal suspensions, organized decisions, and repeated representations of threats, it continues to survive.

In such an order, the line between law and its suspension has become a technique of governance rather than an exception or temporary measure. The law is enforced but not implemented; decision-making is suspended to deprive subjects of agency; and the political order solidifies itself in a state of suspension where society is neither at war nor at peace, neither in crisis nor in reconstruction. This state of suspension, accompanied by the elimination of political horizons, reduces social bodies to non-reactive forms of existence; an existence in which the possibility of participation, demands, or even alternative imaginings is suspended.

This text aims to show how what is called peace is actually a reconfiguration of power relations in relation to crisis: an order that, through reproducing the exceptional state of peace, gradually eliminates political activism, erodes collective trust, and solidifies a pervasive security-mental order. Such a situation, rather than being the end of conflict, is a translation of it into the language of management; towards governance through suspension, not through response.

Crisis governance and suspension of law in cold peace.

The cold peace that took shape in Iran after the 12-day war with Israel is not just a temporary pause in tensions; it is a symbol of a new type of governance that has turned crisis into a permanent tool. This governance is no longer subject to fixed and predictable laws, but rather manages power by suspending laws and creating exceptional situations that always remain on the edge of suspension and emergency. In such conditions, the law is not used as a framework to guarantee the rights of citizens, but rather as a flexible and sometimes selective tool. Judicial and legal institutions largely retain their main functions, and major security decisions are made beyond the usual rules. As a result, fundamental rights such as the right to protest, freedom of expression, and political participation are systematically limited and people are placed in an ambiguous and uncertain space where they do not know exactly which behaviors are allowed and which are prohibited.

Media and official institutions reinforce this situation. They weave the borders between friend and enemy by constantly repeating narratives of crisis, threat, and insecurity, creating a public space filled with anxiety and worry. These narratives make people believe that suspending freedoms and limiting rights is the only way to maintain security and stability. As a result, any opposing voice or demand for change is seen as a threat to public peace and national security and is put under pressure. Alongside this, security institutions and police use advanced surveillance and control tools to cast a shadow over people’s daily lives. Social control, in the true sense of the word, has extended from the streets into people’s homes and even their minds. This constant pressure not only limits people’s behavior, but also restricts the formation of their thoughts and feelings, causing them to live in a state of fear and self-censorship.

The important point is that the current crisis is not a passing event; rather, it has become the main tool of governance. The continuation of the state of emergency and the suspension of the law provide grounds for the unchallenged retention of power and the entrapment of society in endless cycles of fear and control. This cycle prevents a full-fledged war or a true peace from being established; instead, it creates a permanent state of suspension, fear, and silence. Therefore, the “cold peace” in Iran is not an end to tension, but rather a consolidation of crisis governance; a governance that sacrifices freedom and justice for security and turns the public sphere into a field of law suspension.

Neither peace, nor war: a daily struggle in the shadow of constant crisis.

After the 12-day war with Israel, what has been established in Iran is not a type of peace in the classical sense, but rather an exceptional situation with a specific framework of “suspension”; an order arising from the post-crisis situation in which there are no signs of returning to political stability, nor signs of entering a classic state of emergency. This in-between situation is characterized by mechanisms in which the boundary between peace and crisis is blurred in a structural and continuous manner. In this suspended order, the first transformation at the level of collective experience is a change in historical and social temporality. Instead of a linear and future-oriented time, which is a characteristic of societies with development-oriented horizons, we are now faced with a static, suspended, and repetitive time.

This type of time does not return to the past, nor does it lean towards the future, but rather it is reproduced in an extended present. This experience of time keeps society in a situation where in this disruption of social timing, various forms of social capital gradually collapse. In the absence of defined horizons for collective action, social ties from institutional to interpersonal levels deteriorate. Trust in official institutions, which had temporarily increased during the crisis, quickly gives way to widespread distrust.

Beyond that, even at the societal level, the forms of collective solidarity, political harmony, and enthusiasm for participation in public affairs are fundamentally weakened. In such conditions, the government is not forced to resort to overt violence; rather, the functioning of the power system is carried out through suspending the possibility of action and neutralizing the collective will. Neutralizing political activism occurs not through physical suppression, but through psychological exhaustion and the production of social apathy. People choose silence not out of fear, but out of despair and lack of perspective. The result is the emergence of an order in which politics becomes impossible or futile, and survival replaces the possibility of political existence. The possibility of decision-making, planning, and even hope for change has been distorted structurally.

This situation is also reflected in symbolic forms in the public culture: from literature and music to everyday actions on social networks. The public language is emptied of political concepts and is replaced by worn-out metaphors, bitter allusions, and neutral humor. The collective memory is filled with events that have never reached a resolution; memories of crises that have either remained unfinished or their endings have never been recognized. This accumulation of unresolved events leads to the “normalization of crisis”; a process that in itself undermines the foundations of critical understanding at a collective level.

Therefore, the cold peace in Iran must be understood as a temporary order in which there is no possibility of rebuilding social ties or finding a way out of the crisis. This order is based on neutralizing the desire for change, emptying politics from within, and producing a type of collective life in which society simply adapts to the state of survival. Therefore, what is called peace is actually a specific form of “managing instability”; an order that instead of solving the problem, naturalizes the crisis and constantly suspends the situation.

The policy of survival and decline of collective action horizons.

In the aftermath of consecutive crises, especially in the shadow of recent developments after the 12-day war with Israel, the governing structure in Iran has moved towards a model of social management in which politics has been emptied of content and reduced to the realm of survival. In this model, there is no longer any sign of participation, hope for change, or even effective protest. What remains is a form of social existence in which individuals and groups are not active subjects, but rather beings at risk; at risk of expulsion, elimination, suppression, or losing the bare essentials of life.

This fundamental change in logic of action is the result of a type of governance that relies not on legitimization or rebuilding of public trust, but on the production of uncertainty, anxiety, and scattered instabilities. In such conditions, people are forced to withdraw from the public sphere instead of pursuing their demands or striving for reform. They adopt methods for the continuation of personal and familial life not out of satisfaction, but out of necessity; strategies that involve detachment, hidden adaptation, and even ignoring the obvious political realities.

Politics in this sense is no longer a space for conversation or conflict, but rather a stage for risk management; a type of emergency care for the individual, family, or nation. In such a space, collective strategies give way to isolationist and inactive behaviors. Instead of seeking to change the situation, the individual is only concerned with saving themselves; and this salvation is not in a moral or political sense, but rather in a purely biological sense: how can I not be seen? How can I not be eliminated? How can I survive with the least amount of damage?

In this framework, the concept of “society” also becomes empty of meaning. Reciprocal support networks, horizontal solidarity, and forms of collective action, one after another, either disintegrate or implode. What takes the place of these networks are broken, intermittent, and unstable connections; a type of relationship that only becomes active in moments of crisis and immediately returns to silence afterwards. Trust, not only in institutions, but also in fellow human beings, decreases; because in the logic of survival politics, the other is always a potential rival, danger, or threat.

In such conditions, official talks of power continue their function without the need for widespread violence. The government controls relationships not through coercion, but through incapacitation, discord, and repeated crises. Politics, instead of being possible, becomes a kind of “invisible prohibition”: something that appears to exist but is practically unattainable, ineffective, and neutralized. People know they have the right, but they also know that this right is never enforced; they know that the current situation is unjust, but they find no point of support to challenge it.

What emerges in this situation is a new form of “political fatigue”; a type of existence in the world where politics, instead of creating meaning, focuses on managing decay. Socially, this situation is accompanied by a sense of weakness, collective apathy, and chronic mistrust. Culturally, the common language is emptied of its potential and is replaced by conservative, mocking, or insinuating expressions. Activism, not in an open manner, but in a covert, fragmented, and sometimes only at the level of language or memory.

Ultimately, the policy of survival is not a temporary strategy, but a type of sustainable governance pattern in which maintaining the status quo is achieved not through consent, but through gradual erosion of hope, desire, and action. This policy, instead of responding to crises, turns the crisis itself into a fundamental basis of socio-biological existence. In such a framework, what is called peace is actually a form of passive coexistence with oppression, injustice, and political elimination; a disruptive order that is not the result of tension, but the consequence of organized continuity.

Buttocks.

What emerges from the structural analysis of the current situation in Iran after the recent crises is the establishment of an order that is not based on crisis resolution, but rather on controlled control. In such an order, peace in its classical sense – meaning the elimination of conflict, restoration of trust, and active coexistence – has no place. Instead, what is in its place is a form of “cold peace”: a superficial calm that is built on a foundation of discord, political inaction, and erosion of social bonds. In this situation, the government does not guarantee rights, but rather continuously suspends them. It does not use overt suppression, but rather eliminates opportunities for action, turning politics into a realm of mere survival. The dominant order revolves around the constant production of anxiety, uncertainty, and the collapse of social trust; a situation in which individuals, instead of participating in collective structures, resort to individual strategies to survive and eliminate others.

Therefore, the existing cold peace is not the result of a compromise, but rather a result of a kind of “organized crisis management”; an order in which daily life is transformed into a previous state of politics and the subject, instead of being a political actor, becomes a calculating liberator. In this sense, cold peace is not a sign of tranquility, but a manifestation of a new form of violence: a silent, gradual, and structural violence that empties politics from within and stops society from surviving in its most basic form. Therefore, criticizing the current situation will only be possible through rebuilding collective action, reviving political language, and rethinking forms of solidarity. The future of politics in Iran will not be defined by denying the crisis, but by the ability to consciously confront it; in moving beyond cold peace towards a situation where living can find a new political meaning.

Notes:

1. Brum Neto, B. (2024). God has not died, he became government: Use-of-oneself and immanence in Giorgio Agamben’s work.

   فلسفه ها، 9

   Philosophies, 9.

   (4), 112 translates to “four, one hundred twelve.”

2. Leban, S. (2017). The construction of the other: (Re)producing bare life.

   The AM Journal of Art and Media Studies, (14).

   69-79.

3. Pistrol, F., & Mayerhofer, M. (2022). Towards a new biopolitics: From Arendt to Agamben and back again.

   Net, 11.

   (1) “من دوست دارم به تو بگویم که تو را دوست دارم”
   “I want to tell you that I love you”