The Ramadan War: A battle of Wills
Faezeh Sasanikhah
Translated by Kianoush Borzouei
2026-03-24
A continuous, terror-inducing roar of an American fighter jet reverberated through the air. It circled the sky as if it had no intention of departing.
I hesitated that should I go to the gathering or stay home? I could not tell whether being on the street at that moment was a wise choice. For several minutes my mind wrestled with this question. Eventually I told myself the jet was there not only to destroy buildings and take lives but to clear the streets.
I prepared to leave. I lifted the Palestinian and Hezbollah flags from the table and stepped out of the house.
At the corner a young couple emerged from their home; their little daughter clutched the pole of an Iranian flag. A little further on I encountered a group of women who were entering the lane from Qiyam Boulevard, each bearing an Iranian flag and a portrait of the Supreme Leader. They were clearly returning from the gathering. I passed them with a smile.
Upon entering the boulevard I stood for a few moments, stunned. It was as though the fighter jet that had been flying overhead and dropping bombs only minutes earlier had never been there. The left side of the street was so densely crowded that my previous doubts felt trivial.
Cars filled the avenue with martial hymnody and flying flags, suffusing the street with a noticeable patriotism. In all my years I had never witnessed such an exciting, beautiful scene there. I scolded myself: look, people are already far ahead of you.
The atmosphere on Khorasan Street was different; it was brighter and more uplifting. The dense scent of Espand (an Iranian herb) hung in the air. From the Imam Khomeini Hussainiya came prayers and supplications. A few young men nearby were keeping the situation under control.
Several men and women stood along the right side of the street holding flags. Some were proceeding toward the square; I followed them.
In the square families—men, women, and children, old and young—sat shoulder to shoulder on carpets, listening to the speaker or reciting prayers. Many clutched flags and portraits of the Supreme Leader; some, shivering from the cold, wrapped themselves in blankets.
The speech concluded and the eulogist took the stage. The crowd remained seated. They intended to conduct the first night of Qadr in the open air. They had resolved to endure the cold rather than abandon the square to prevent the city fall into the hands of domestic opponents; so that the armed forces might confront the external foe with peace of mind.
I recalled the words of Martyr Seyyed Hassan Nasrallah: “We shall not be defeated. Either we overcome the enemy in which case we are victorious or we martyr, which too is victory.”
As I surveyed the assembly, it occurred to me that this is not merely a war of missiles and bombs but a war of wills and we possess the superior hand. The United States may have brought its military assets to bear, but it lacks the popular solidarity that sustains our forces. Conversely, our military defends the homeland guided by the steadfast support of the people. Though the enemy may outnumber us in troops and ammunition, the people of Iran have resolved to remain in the scene to disappoint the hopes of a covetous adversary. In warfare, the side whose resolve and faith are stronger prevails; therefore, with God’s help, victory will be ours.
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