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by Wardah Malik for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics


Lindsey Graham (left) with President Donald Trump, who is holding a signed “Make Iran Great Again” hat. (Lindsey Graham/X)
Lindsey Graham (left) with President Donald Trump, who is holding a signed “Make Iran Great Again” hat. (Lindsey Graham/X)
"The future of Iran remains uncertain. But what is clear is that democracy cannot be forged through violence, repression, or outside interference." 

Two days after the United States announced the abduction of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro, President Donald Trump was photographed on board Air Force One with a hat that said “Make Iran Great Again,” foreshadowing the war that now involves nearly 10 countries across the Middle East. 


While the dynamics that define U.S. involvement in Caracas do not exactly mirror Tehran, what remains the same is the commitment to a new approach to foreign affairs that is swift, harsh, and openly involves regime change. 


“They have waged war against civilization itself. Our resolve, and likewise that of Israel, has never been stronger,” Trump said of U.S. military attacks against Iran. Yet, this resolve and the U.S.’s objectives beyond regime change have been ill-defined, a reality that has 56% of Americans opposing military action. The American public that elected Trump on the basis of a “no new wars” promise is not eager to participate in a conflict with no clear end, raising the question: Who wants this war? In part, the answer is found in the Iranian diaspora, many of whose visions for a “new Iran” seem to rely on Trump.  


Via PBS News/NPR/Marist Poll, National Adults
Via PBS News/NPR/Marist Poll, National Adults

On February 28, 2026, Iranians across the world took to the streets to celebrate the U.S.-Israeli strikes that killed Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who led Iran for more than thirty years. “We needed this help for decades,” claim Iranian-Canadians, a number of whom attended rallies waving pre-revolutionary Iranian flags alongside the Israeli flag and photos of Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of Iran’s last shah. 


Often seen wearing a “Trump Was Right About Everything” or a MIGA hat, this segment of the Iranian diaspora routinely borrows rhetoric to push forward a pro-monarchist agenda that positions Pahlavi as a democratic, secular figure—a reliable Western ally in the Middle East. For example, following the U.S. strikes on Iranian nuclear sites in 2025, the National Union for Democracy in Iran, a U.S.-based pro-monarchy group, released its “Emergency Phase Booklet,” a nearly 200-page document that echoes international democratic norms whilst framing the U.S. as a valuable partner in Iran’s “peaceful transition to a democratic future.” It directly names Pahlavi as the “leader of the national uprising.” Notably, this title gives Pahlavi the power to veto the institutions and selection processes in a transitional government—a highly undemocratic right.  


Despite United States Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth insisting that Iran is “not Iraq,” historians cannot help but to note several instances where U.S. intervention in the Middle East—and its preference for certain leaders—has led to decades of conflict, worsening human rights, and heightened instability. Furthermore, those familiar with Iran’s history note the Pahlavi dynasty’s tendency towards authoritarian rule, from banning the hijab (Kashf-e hijab) to the establishment of the SAVAK Secret Police that executed hundreds of political dissidents; an experience that sparked the 1979 Islamic Revolution and ultimately gave rise to Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. 


While Reza Pahlavi cannot be held responsible for the autocratic nature of his family’s rule, his supporters, cult of personality movement, self-appointment as Iran’s transition leader, and his open disregard for federalism or language rights for Iran’s ethnic minorities indicate that his rule will likely mark a return to autocracy.



As pro-monarchists insist that Pahlavi is the democratic future of Iran and others in the diaspora scramble to find alternative viable leaders, Iran has strengthened hardline elements in its establishment, effectively narrowing political space and deeming any form of legitimate dissent or opposition as a security risk. It’s under these conditions that the new supreme leader, Mojtaba Khamenei, has been appointed; a move that Trump argues won’t “last long” without the U.S.’s approval.


Trump told ABC News, “We want to make sure that we don’t have to go back every 10 years, when you don’t have a president like me that’s not going to do it.”


With the war entering its sixth week, thousands of civilian lives—including those of Iranian schoolchildren—have been lost in Iran, Lebanon, and Israel. Now a regional and global crisis, the U.S.’s initial military attack proves that the collapse of a regime, especially when driven by foreign actors, does not automatically lead to democracy. Instead, it creates an intense power vacuum that exacerbates political unrest and silences the voices that demand a better future for ordinary people. 


So, where does this leave the Iranian people?

Some in the diaspora who thank the U.S. and Israel for their involvement—arguing that “nothing is scarier than the [Islamic] regime”—overlook just how frightening cycles of foreign intervention can be. And while both the U.S. and Israel justify their military actions as acts of solidarity with Iranian protestors, there are clear strategic interests in dismantling the Islamic regime that undermine civilian life in pursuit of geopolitical advantage in the region. 


The future of Iran remains uncertain. But what is clear is that democracy cannot be forged through violence, repression, or outside interference. Those desperate for regime change must remember that the way change is pursued is fundamental to lasting peace and stability.


Wardah Malik is a Toronto-based researcher, editor, and historian. She is the founder of Historyless Magazine, an independent publication covering global affairs and underreported political narratives. Her work spans media, human rights, and community-based research, including projects on press freedom, public health, and gender-based violence. Her research interests include governance, decolonizing language, and the preservation of underrepresented histories. Wardah holds an MPhil in World History from the University of Cambridge.


by Emerson Prentice for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics


A Map of the Middle East with a pin on Iran
A Map of the Middle East with a pin on Iran
"News has seeped into frequented apps like TikTok and Instagram. The war has become inescapable while remaining unreachable. And, like all global citizens, we’re asked to take a stance. Gen Z is dealing with a strange alternate reality of wartime—we’re deeply aware of what is happening because of its prevalence on our devices, but we’re also unbelievably removed from it." 

From here, we may be safe. 


Despite threats of potential drone warfare in California and rising gas prices, my college campus and the college campuses of America are not warzones—they’ve remained relatively insulated. 


Biking on paved paths, business seems to be running as usual, never mind the air raids that began on Feb. 28 in the Middle East. Classes are still on, finals abound. Any real threat of violence a student feels on campus is most likely an inflated one. This is all true from where I stand in Palo Alto. 


For schools in the Middle East, for one girls’ elementary school in particular, safety isn’t guaranteed. Desks proved to be no match for bombs.


American college students are utterly protected from this type of violence by nature. Some students do come to American universities from countries riddled with warfare. For domestic students, though, we cannot reckon with the unimaginable because we cannot reckon with what we will never hear, smell, or feel. The violence is all painfully distant, truly unknowable.


And at the same time, our generation sees violence more than any generation has before because of the rise of technology. In many ways, we are far more aware of war than those before us. As the conflict in the Middle East has pushed on for weeks, our eyes are glued to our screens, and our screens are filled with carnage. It creates an unsettling juxtaposition between the lives of students in America and the lives of students on battlefields. 


News has seeped into frequented apps like TikTok and Instagram. The war has become inescapable while remaining unreachable. And, like all global citizens, we’re asked to take a stance. Gen Z is dealing with a strange alternate reality of wartime—we’re deeply aware of what is happening because of its prevalence on our devices, but we’re also unbelievably removed from it. 


So how does our generation deal with it? What is the rational response to what you know is distant injustice?

College campuses have seen protests about this conflict and others. Students circulate Instagram infographics with percentages and standalone quotes to convey lives lost. We hold fleeting, often unserious conversations about how “Iran is going to bomb us.” These are in many ways ill-informed and shallow, but their existence and prevalence assure that the conflict remains in the cultural conversation. Without the posts and posters, how would our generation even know it was happening? Wouldn’t our lives feel untouched?  


College administrations, adults, and professors have a profound and accurate sense that youth cannot grasp what is happening in the Middle East and in most global conflicts. Older generations scoff that students are chanting slogans we cannot understand. 


Truthfully, as we are attempting to reckon with what is happening in relation to our unaffected lives, we’re untangling what these conflicts mean in a wider historical sense. Without the necessary background knowledge, is it our responsibility to stay quiet? Or are we still obligated to speak up no matter how much we know? 


The easiest and safest answer to these questions for bustling college students is, of course, the most common response from anyone—silence and ignorance. Our focus should by definition be our education during our time on campus. It’s exceedingly easy to write over any other civic responsibilities with heavy courseloads, but also somewhat essential.  


The same importance of education could be said for the students of the bombed elementary school in Iran—the conflict was not something the young girls should have felt concerned with, and yet violence for them was shockingly inseparable from their place of schooling. They did not have the privilege to choose to escape it, while American students do. So what are American students meant to do with that privilege? 


Notably, this ease of ignorance is not the same for all university students. Some have families that are directly impacted by this violence. Some have homes they do not know the stability or existence of anymore. 


It’s a blessing to not have to reckon with war—it’s an underappreciated privilege my generation was born with. But it creates a complex situation for us as students. One of the most popular majors at my university is international relations, and political science majors graduate from colleges across the country every year. For these students in particular, forming a complex and deep understanding of war is imperative. Students interested in fields like engineering or computer science may also go on to work at companies like Palantir, which are deeply implicated in war. 


An education on a safe campus can and should never be fully separated from an understanding of war. 


These complex questions of what Gen Z should be doing during a war that isn’t theirs are ones the students of America are asking themselves every day—and rightfully so. They’re important questions to help us develop as global citizens and community members, to deepen our understanding of what we owe each other. 


Even more, questioning is a quintessential aspect of maturing as a young person—it’s how we grapple with the world we were thrown into. 


The truth is, we simply don’t have the answers to these questions. However, we can still respond. As the youth of America, we certainly have the courage, tenacity, and time to continue struggling through the work of questioning. This work, especially in colleges and universities, is precisely what we have to offer right now. And as we’ve seen in movements across U.S. campuses, youth voices—fully informed or not—are undeniably catalysts for change.

Emerson Prentice is a Freshman at Stanford studying Anthropology. At school, she is the Campus Life desk editor for the Stanford Daily, a DJ for the campus radio station KZSU, and an associate producer for the Stanford Storytelling Project’s award-winning podcast, “State of the Human.” For fun, Emerson also loves to run, cook, and birdwatch!


by Erin Sweeney for The 44 North, Second-Place Winner of our Inaugural Essay Contest


Artwork by Logan Brewer
Artwork by Logan Brewer
"Looksmaxxing offers something seductive here: a concrete explanation for inexplicable pain."

“Is it over for me?” In the exposing glow of a bathroom mirror, a young boy meticulously picks apart his facial features with surgical precision. Canthal tilt? Negative. Jawline? Insufficiently defined. Cheekbones? Too low. He has spent the day scrolling through posts where other young men share before-and-after transformation photos, amateur surgical tips, and elaborate routines under the false guise of transforming them into a version finally worthy of love. This is looksmaxxing, and it’s not your ordinary internet trend, but far more detrimental. It’s the consequence of a society that has convinced an entire generation that their worth, instead of being inherent, must be earned through an endless cycle of self-improvement, that belonging is conditional on meeting endlessly evolving standards of “perfection.”


Looksmaxxing refers to the systematic pursuit of physical attractiveness through numerous means, from skincare routines and fitness regimens to extreme cosmetic procedures such as orthognathic (facial bone) surgery. This term, originating in online male communities, frames appearance enhancement as a strategic “maximization” problem that can be solved through physical optimization. While levels distinguish between non-invasive “softmaxxing” and surgical “hardmaxxing,” the underlying philosophy remains consistent: physical appearance is a

variable to optimize one’s romantic and social success (Farrell).


The phenomenon exploits fundamental human psychology. We are, by evolutionary design, constant comparison machines. Our ancestors survived by assessing where they stood within stable communities of around 150 people, according to Dunbar’s number in anthropology.


Today, that same instinct faces an impossible feat: comparing ourselves to a curated algorithmic feed of millions (Collins).


Dating apps have weaponized this vulnerability, transforming romantic connection into a gamified meritocratic marketplace where first impressions occur in milliseconds (Cobb). A young man opens Tinder and immediately begins collecting rejections. These apps quantify what was once mysterious—attraction and desirability—transforming connection into data. Match rates, response times, read receipts. When rejection becomes numerically visible, insecurity doesn’t just seep in; it devours.


Social media intensifies this through “upward social comparison”: our tendency to measure ourselves against those who seem better off (VerPlanck). Instagram learns which idealized faces and bodies hold your attention and dispenses them relentlessly. Each scroll reinforces a brutal narrative: they have what you lack. Comparisons are always unfair: your lived reality against someone’s crafted illusion.


The digital world isn’t only a space for comparison—it exacerbates isolation, breeding what has become known as the male loneliness epidemic. Nearly 1 in 5 men now claim they don’t have close friends (Holcombe). Without anyone to remind you that you give great advice or your presence makes their day, the ruthless cycle spirals endlessly. Isolation powers comparison to unrealistic standards, which convinces you that your looks are the problem, driving you deeper into reclusive, insecurity-driven self-improvement instead of reaching out for an actual human connection.


Looksmaxxing offers something seductive here: a concrete explanation for inexplicable pain. If you’re lonely and don’t know why, the uncertainty is agonizing. However, if you can point to your “negative canthal tilt,” suddenly, chaos has order. The forums provide a taxonomy of flaws, transforming nebulous suffering into specific problems with specific solutions. You can’t fix broader socioeconomic forces driving loneliness, but you can spend six hours doing facial exercises and measuring progress, believing you’re building towards the moment you’ll finally be enough.


What makes this sinister? The vulnerability of who gets targeted. It’s happening in plain sight, actively flooding millions of feeds. These communities—the manosphere and toxic incel subcultures—don’t just happen to stumble upon vulnerable young men by accident. They actively prey on them, targeting boys at their lowest, often in adolescence, when their bodies and identities are still growing. A 14-year-old whose face isn’t fully developed is told his natural bone structure has already sealed his romantic fate. These communities offer what seems like solidarity and answers precisely when young men are desperate for both, then gradually introduce more extreme ideologies alongside the facial measurements. What begins as skincare advice can become a pipeline into misogyny, radicalization, and deepening isolation: the very opposite of the connection these young men actually need (Rosdahl).


Women have always lived this way. They have been “looksmaxxing” for centuries, though we called it something else: beauty routines and feminine self-care. The crucial difference is not only in the attribution of blame but in the stakes themselves. For women, appearance has never been optional. It has been the primary currency of social value, the prerequisite for basic respect and dignity. A conventionally “unattractive” woman faces systemic devaluation: dismissed in professional settings, rendered invisible socially, treated as if her failure to be beautiful is a moral crime. Meanwhile, a balding, “unattractive” man can still command authority and be taken seriously as an intellectual. His worth is assumed; hers has to be proven physically through her face and body.


Patriarchy works exactly like this. It controls women by linking their value to their appearance, then profits off their efforts to meet unattainable ideals. The mental health consequences have been dire. Eating disorders are the deadliest of any psychiatric illness, with about 90% of cases reported in women (Clerkin). The dramatic increase in depression and anxiety in girls can be attributed to appearance-related social pressures, but this lifelong pain and suffering has instead been normalized and even glamourized. “Beauty is pain,” we hear as if starvation is a coming-of-age ritual instead of a mental health crisis.


When women engage in elaborate beauty practices, they do so under crushing systemic necessity. The narrative whispers that if they’re alone or overlooked, they simply haven’t tried hard enough. The blame curves inward, becoming a lifetime of shamefully monitoring their own acceptability. They internalize a system designed to diminish them.


Many men approaching looksmaxxing operate from a fundamentally different position. They have not been taught that their entire social value depends on their appearance. Rather, they’re experiencing perhaps their first sustained encounter with the appearance-based judgment women experience daily. Instead of turning critique inward, they externalize it, constructing theories about female “hypergamy” (Whitney). The forums seethe with resentment towards women framed as obstacles rather than fellow human beings facing impossible standards.


This distinction matters. Women face systemic oppression that strips them of dignity and opportunity. Many men in these spaces are facing romantic disappointment, which is indeed painful but not the same as having one’s fundamental value questioned. The anger stems from entitlement, believing they deserve romantic access. When it’s not granted, they blame women rather than questioning the transactional way they’ve been taught to view relationships. While both internalization and externalization lead to suffering, externalization has contributed to concerning patterns of misogyny and gender-based violence (Patel).


Looksmaxxing is merely one manifestation of what we might call the optimization imperative: a cultural belief that human worth must be perpetually earned, measured, and improved. In society, every aspect of existence has become a spot to enhance: sleep, diet, and even social skills are subjected to relentless improvement.


This ideology rests on a dangerous premise: that we must become worthy of love and belonging rather than possessing these rights inherently. When worth is conditional, the target inevitably moves. The teenager measuring his canthal tilt will be measuring something else tomorrow, because the problem was never how he looked. The problem is the belief he needs to earn his place through ceaseless self-transformations.


Recent research makes this clear. Rates of anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation among young people have boomed (World Health Organization). When existence becomes a performance for worthiness, the pressure becomes excruciating. The impacts go beyond individual suffering. Lonely young men become easily pushed towards radicalization and extremist ideologies offering simple answers to complex problems (Santa Cruz), creating a culture built on resentment in which misogyny flourishes. Meanwhile, women navigate impossible standards while bearing additional burdens of discrimination. The optimization culture doesn’t discriminate in its cruelty but simply distributes damage differently. Perhaps most tragically, the optimization imperative prevents the very connections it ostensibly serves. When we view relationships as transactions, only showing the best version of ourselves, we eradicate the potential of truly being known. For intimacy, we need vulnerability to embrace who we are, even with doubts and flaws.


After everything, there is hope. It’s not some faint dream, but change already happening right here. Conversations are shifting: body neutrality, believing your body is a tool for living, not an object to perfect, has now become mainstream discourse (Sreenivas). Millions of young people are seeing these ideas right when they’re most vulnerable to the optimization trap, now understanding that their worth isn’t debatable before the lie has fully solidified.


The research speaks volumes. The Harvard Study of Adult Development found a truth of beautiful simplicity after nearly 80 years of tracking its subjects’ lives: the quality of one’s relationships is a far better predictor of happiness and longevity than appearance, achievement, or material success ever could be (Mineo). Couples who were happily together after many years weren’t the ones who had the best wedding pictures, but the ones who built genuine intimacy through vulnerability, not transaction. If connection triumphs appearance, why believe the lie?


Online spaces are fragmenting in interesting ways. Yes, toxic forums still exist and continue to prey on vulnerable young men. However, positive communities are rising equally as strong. Content creators have built audiences around authenticity: no filters, discussing therapy and medication transparently, and sharing actual struggles. Fitness influencers now expose how lighting, angles, and hormonal changes drastically affect our appearance, showing even those with visible abs have belly rolls when they sit down, breaking myths that people stay “chiselled” every second. These aren't minority creators; they’re reaching millions of the same algorithmically vulnerable teenagers that the manosphere targets, offering a different story: being human was never about being “perfect.”


Some of this hope is institutional. Even schools here in Canada are incorporating media literacy into their curriculum to educate children on how algorithms use insecurity for profit (Johnson), with other Canadian organizations dedicated to upholding this, such as MediaSmarts, which educates students to critically analyze digital platforms. Policy is also moving forward to make a change. This includes legislation in the United Kingdom that has banned the advertising of cosmetic surgery targeting minors due to potential concerns about body image and mental health (Gruet). Influencers must also disclose photo editing in commercial posts to combat unrealistic beauty standards under Norwegian law (Grant). These measures won’t solve everything, but they do recognize something important: individual effort alone doesn’t stand a chance in billion-dollar industries whose main goal is to profit off of insecurities.


Although the real change happens privately: therapy sessions and group chats. People

have been realizing a key truth: There’s no such thing as “reaching a full physical potential” that

will finally make one acceptable.


This realization is contagious. Each person who breaks free weakens the system because the optimization imperative is artificially constructed. It only works if people believe in it, and increasingly, they don’t.


The path forward requires rejecting the premise entirely. We must learn to recognize the optimization imperative’s promises as lies. Building lives rich with meaning beyond appearance, pursuing passions, and creating genuine connections can offer liberation. Together, we must demolish systems that profit from insecurity while teaching young people that their worth is inherent, not earned, to create space for authentic connection.


The young man in front of his mirror, asking, “Is it over for me?” deserves an answer: No. It’s not over. It never was. His canthal tilt is irrelevant to his capacity for kindness. His jawline has no impact on his worthiness of connection. The person he already is, uncertain, searching, imperfect, is enough. The young woman, exhausted from monitoring her appearance, deserves to reclaim that energy for what actually fulfills her. This requires courage to be imperfect, to be vulnerable.


They both deserve liberation from the belief that worth must be earned. That liberation is becoming inevitable, not through optimization, but through recognizing that optimization was never necessary at all.

About the Author

Erin Sweeney is a youth advocate passionate about political literacy and confidence. As the founder of the global youth initiative Diplomatic Drop (@thediplomaticdrop) and a core team member of Let’s Change Confidence, a Plan Canada movement, she is dedicated to empowering young people around the world. Erin aspires to study law in the future.

Connect with Erin on LinkedIn & Instagram @itserinsweeney


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