For the working families of Tehran, the nuclear deal is not a triumph. It is a lifeline. At the bazaar in the south of the city, where the smell of saffron and diesel hangs in the air, merchants speak of survival. 'We cannot eat ideology,' said a textile trader, his hands stained with indigo. 'The price of bread has doubled in a year. This deal means we can afford to feed our children.'
The narrative from the regime speaks of a 'victory' for Iranian diplomacy. But on the streets, where inflation is crushing pay packets and sanctions have hollowed out industries, the mood is different. The deal is seen as a painful necessity, not a cause for celebration. The cracks in the regime's legitimacy are showing.
In Isfahan, factory workers who once produced steel for the nation now struggle for shifts. 'We are skilled men, but there is no work,' said a welder, his face etched with fatigue. 'The government tells us we have won. But a man cannot eat a victory speech.' The cost of living crisis has deepened regional inequalities. In the oil-rich south, where the petrochemical plants sit idle, unemployment among young men is above 40 per cent.
The regime has long relied on a narrative of resistance and national pride. But as the economic hardship bites, that narrative is fraying. Labour strikes in the automotive sector this month spread to twelve cities. Workers demanded not just better wages but an end to sanctions. The state media called them 'enemy agents'. The workers called themselves 'fathers and mothers who cannot feed their families'.
The deal is not a panacea. Even if sanctions are lifted, the regime must tackle corruption and structural inefficiency. But for now, Iranians are pragmatic. They see the deal as a door creaking open, not a key to paradise. The regime's survival depends on whether it can turn this necessity into genuine prosperity. If it fails, the cracks will become chasms.
