Ali Khamenei : A fragile legitimacy

On June 3, 1989, Khomeini passed away. Yet, his long-designated heir, Hossein Ali Montazeri, had been sidelined just weeks earlier for expressing reservations about the violence that had become intrinsic to the Islamic Republic of Iran. In a context where the grand Ayatollahs of Qom, such as Golpayegani, were too old and detached from the direction the Revolution had taken, Ali Khamenei emerged as a compromise. Lacking religious prestige but undeniably loyal, experienced, and, above all, backed by key regime figures like Rafsanjani, the cunning Speaker of Parliament. Yet, on June 4, in the Assembly of Experts’ chamber, debates flared: “He is not a marja*!,” whispered prominent clergy members. Unfazed, Khamenei listened, aware that his subordinate rank of Hojatoleslam was a weakness. Hastily amended on Khomeini’s orders, the Constitution now paved the way for him, stating that the “Supreme Leader” no longer needed to be a marja but merely a “competent jurist.” Proclaimed an Ayatollah somewhat hurriedly—a title he knew was contested in the eyes of some—Khamenei accepted, with doubt, with fear. He would have to prove himself worthy.

Begun decades ago, this quest defines him. To understand the man clinging to this fragile throne, one must trace time backward, from the trials of the present to the origins of an ambition forged in Khomeini’s shadow. Throughout his life and long career, Khamenei would strive to claim Khomeini’s legacy to compensate for his own lack of legitimacy. His doctrinal inferiority seems to have fueled a constant need to prove his worth.

Tehran, 2025. Khamenei is still there, adorned with his black turban, a mark of the Sayyid clergy who claim direct descent from the Prophet, symbolizing a sacred lineage that inspires respect and religious authority. Aside from Khomeini’s portraits, after the accidental death of his ally, President Raisi, in 2024, he is now more or less alone but refuses to yield. His nuclear centrifuges seem to be his last bastion. Each rotation of uranium is a defiance of the world, further proof that he has held firm.

Born in 1939 in Mashhad, he joined the seminaries of Qom, the holy city of clerics, at age 15, where he met Ruhollah Khomeini, an austere professor whose eyes burned with a vision: an Iran governed by God’s law, freed from the chains of the West. Reserved, neither the most brilliant nor the most charismatic, Khamenei devoted himself to his master, who became his beacon, his model. He absorbed everything: faith, rebellion, the idea that a cleric could change the world. In the 1960s, as the Shah stifled Iran under his authoritarian modernism, Khamenei chose struggle. He distributed pamphlets, preached against the regime, and spent nights in prison. Each arrest was proof of his loyalty to Khomeini, exiled in Iraq.

Appointed Supreme Leader by the arbitrary grace of the Grand Imam, Khamenei inherited immense but fragile power. The Constitution grants him near-divine authority: appointing the heads of the armed forces, courts, and the Revolutionary Guards; controlling the Guardian Council, which filters laws and candidates. He is the guardian of Sharia, the arbiter of Iran’s destiny. Lacking Khomeini’s charisma, he must rely on loyalists and conservative clerics who make him feel the weight of their expectations. Not a recognized marja, the seminaries of Qom remind him of this regularly. Factions—conservatives, pragmatists, reformists—threaten unity. Every decision is a test. This insecurity becomes his driving force, and he chooses intransigence—not by nature, but by necessity. Everything will collapse if he fails to be the rock Khomeini was.

The 1990s were crucial. Exhausted by the war with Iraq, Iran yearned for change, but Khamenei saw every compromise as a threat to his authority. He surrounded himself with the Revolutionary Guards, loyalist clerics building a bulwark against reformists. Each decision was a chance to prove he was more than a substitute. This psychological pressure became his engine. He could not fail. He could not bend. He had to be inflexible, like his master. His choices were strategic but also deeply personal. To yield would be to confirm he was not up to the task. His intransigence became his armor. That is why he hardened his stance. When reformist President Mohammad Khatami advocated dialogue with the West in 1997, Khamenei curbed his efforts, letting the Guardian Council block his laws. When, in 2009, the Green Movement contested Ahmadinejad’s election and Tehran’s streets roared “Death to the dictator!,” Khamenei ordered the crackdown.

Both his sword and shield, the nuclear program is far more than a weapon for Khamenei. It is the symbol of his struggle, proof that he has carried Khomeini’s legacy against all odds. Walled in a quest that never fades, every speech against America, every centrifuge, every tortured prisoner is an act of validation. It is not just about the regime, but about him. His perseverance is a response to the clerics who doubted him in 1989. His nuclear program is the multiplier of his power. It was reluctantly that he supported the 2015 nuclear deal (JCPOA) to ease sanctions. Donald Trump did him a great service by freeing him, at the start of his first term, from this tactical concession that clashed so deeply with the absolutist rigidity of his master.

Yet, the true pragmatist that he is knows that in 2025, facing a hostile world and an exhausted people, with the loss of influence in Syria and the fatal erosion of Hezbollah, the nuclear program is his last card. Not merely a strategic matter, the nuclear program is the mirror of his inner quest. It proves he is more than a mediocre cleric, that he can defy global powers. The nuclear program is the soul of Khamenei’s legitimacy. Far more radical, even extremist, than him, Khomeini knew how to be tactical, flexible, even silent when circumstances demanded. Khamenei, however, has always had to maintain a consistently harder line, even where Khomeini might have allowed ambiguities.

* A marja (or marja-e taqlid) is, in Shiite Islam, a high-ranking religious scholar recognized as a supreme authority in matters of Islamic law and theology.

In A Levantine Youth, I recount my meetings with Khomeini in October 1978 and my trip to Iran during his triumphant return on February 1, 1979.

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