2 March, 2026
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28 minutes to read
When speaking on French national radio, Robert Malley, President Barack Obama’s closest Middle East policy advisor, was asked about the likelihood of war between the United States and Iran. In response, he offered a cautionary anecdote drawn from recent Middle Eastern history to illustrate the dangers of strategic miscalculation and overconfidence. Malley recalled that at the outset of the Syrian uprising in 2011, the administration of Barack Obama believed that Bashar al-Assad would fall within weeks or months. On that assumption, Washington severed diplomatic engagement with Damascus, expecting regime collapse to be imminent. Instead, the Syrian civil war endured for over a decade, with Assad remaining in power in Syria. Malley then noted the irony that, years later, around 2024, when Assad appeared firmly entrenched and the conflict seemingly settled in his favor, the United States was reportedly considering cautious, unofficial re-engagement on the premise that he was there to stay. Yet shortly thereafter, unexpectedly, the Assad regime was overthrown by Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham militias led by Ahmed Al-Sharaa.
The underlying message of Malley’s story was cautionary: American (and, broadly speaking, Western) policymakers have repeatedly misjudged both the durability and the fragility of Middle Eastern regimes. It also applies to Russia and the Soviet Union in the past, whose collapse was a major surprise and a matter of concern for many Western capitals. Strategic forecasts, whether about imminent collapse or long-term survival, have proven unreliable. By implication, in the case of Iran, assumptions about how quickly escalation would succeed, how resilient the regime might be, or how events would unfold in a conflict scenario should be treated with humility.
It is important to remember that wartime calculations are often based on flawed assumptions about how long conflicts will last and how stable political regimes truly are. History repeatedly shows that outcomes rarely follow neat or linear paths, and confidence in clear, predictable trajectories has often proven misplaced.
Even with these caveats in mind, it is important to remember that wartime calculations are often based on flawed assumptions about how long conflicts will last and how stable political regimes truly are. History repeatedly shows that outcomes rarely follow neat or linear paths, and confidence in clear, predictable trajectories has often proven misplaced.
Still, uncertainty cannot be an excuse for inaction. Despite the risks of miscalculation, it is necessary to consider plausible scenarios for the South Caucasus in light of the large-scale air attacks on Iran’s military targets and political leadership by the U.S. and Israel and the elimination of the regime’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and a cohort of other political leaders and military commanders. In doing so, we will focus primarily on possible developments within the region, while also examining the roles of key external actors, particularly Russia and Türkiye, in shaping and influencing Caucasian affairs.
In February 2026, the geopolitical standoff between the U.S. and the Islamic Republic of Iran (IRI) had entered one of its most perilous phases in recent decades, combining heightened diplomatic engagement with an unprecedented military buildup and subsequent air strikes and decapitation of Iran’s military and political leadership.
Weeks before the military action, indirect negotiations resumed in Geneva, under the auspices of regional mediators. These talks, involving senior envoys from both capitals, have yielded what Iranian officials described as “guiding principles” for a potential agreement, yet concluded without a substantive deal, underscoring persistent gaps over core issues such as uranium enrichment and broader security demands. In parallel to these diplomatic efforts, the United States has significantly reinforced its military posture in the Middle East, deploying multiple aircraft carrier strike groups, hundreds of combat aircraft, and advanced air-defense assets, moves that have brought U.S. forces to levels comparable with major regional conflicts and raised media and analyst speculation about a narrowing “window” for military action. This accumulation of military capability, including naval and air platforms within striking distance of Iranian territory, served as both a deterrent and a strategic lever in Washington’s pressure campaign, but also signaled the genuine possibility of kinetic confrontation should diplomacy falter.
As it turned out, kinetic confrontation it was: on February 28, the United States and Israel launched coordinated air and missile strikes across Iran, hitting military sites, missile and air-defence infrastructure, navy, command centres and leadership compounds, and killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and other military and political leaders, triggering a leadership transition in Tehran. Iran responded with missile and drone attacks on Israeli cities and U.S. bases and allied states across the Gulf, prompting international protests, diplomatic condemnations, and widespread regional escalation.
Most analysts, myself included, believed at the beginning that the U.S. administration’s primary objective was not regime change, as it acknowledged that such an outcome would have entailed a prolonged, costly engagement fraught with strategic risk.
Most analysts, myself included, believed at the beginning that the U.S. administration’s primary objective was not regime change, as it acknowledged that such an outcome would have entailed a prolonged, costly engagement fraught with strategic risk. Trump’s rhetoric and pressure tactics looked like the U.S. was seeking “a better deal” than the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) that Washington abandoned under Trump’s first presidency. In case of failure, Trump would have needed a quick and high-profile televised military victory, reflecting domestic political incentives and bolstering Trump’s leadership amid the midterm electoral campaign.
However, Iran remained defiant and considers the U.S.’s internal political process a vulnerability. Tehran’s leadership framed its position around sovereign rights to “a civilian nuclear program” while rejecting sweeping caps on its ballistic missile arsenal and regional proxy networks, core tenets of its defence doctrine and regional posture. Tehran’s calculated willingness to endure economic and diplomatic isolation appeared to have been matched by its will to project capacity to inflict meaningful costs on U.S. interests and allies across the Gulf. Iran’s recent military drills, including temporary closures of the Strait of Hormuz and live-fire exercises, reinforced this strategy.
During the weeks preceding the strikes, Washington and Tehran believed that escalating the conflict might have strengthened their negotiating positions rather than weakened them. The U.S. government was betting that its overwhelming conventional military superiority, including recent deployments of major assets, would have allowed it to conduct a limited, quick military campaign against Iran that would have forced Tehran to capitulate or return to the negotiating table on U.S. terms.
Iranian leaders had a very different strategic assessment. They believed IRI was capable of inflicting significant short-term pain on U.S. interests, for example, by disrupting Gulf oil exports, threatening closure of the Strait of Hormuz, and attacking regional targets, even if they could not win outright.
Iranian leaders had a very different strategic assessment. They believed IRI was capable of inflicting significant short-term pain on U.S. interests, for example, by disrupting Gulf oil exports, threatening closure of the Strait of Hormuz, and attacking regional targets, even if they could not win outright. Tehran believed that Trump would not have been able to take the risk of having a few dozen or hundreds of U.S. casualties a few months before the midterm elections. They were basing their assumptions on what they saw during the U.S. confrontations with the Houthis in March-May 2025, when a prolonged cost without clear victory led to reduced U.S. appetite for extended operations, and this happened despite the fact that the Houthis did not manage to kill a single U.S. serviceman. Tehran believed that it had a much greater capacity to cause harm than the Houthis and was betting on the fact that political incentives would change dramatically when U.S. soldiers were killed.
In the immediate aftermath of the launch of the joint U.S.–Israeli military operation, it appears that Donald Trump’s earlier reluctance to pursue large-scale intervention in Iran shifted under sustained Israeli pressure and, reportedly, quiet encouragement from Saudi Arabia, according to an investigation by The Washington Post. Israeli officials seem to have persuaded U.S. policymakers that a rare strategic window had opened to decisively weaken — or even bring down — the Islamic Republic, warning that failure to act would entrench Iran’s hostile posture for years to come. They reportedly expressed confidence that the regime could be effectively decapitated. Saudi Arabia’s discreet backing, despite its cautious public stance, may also have influenced Washington’s ultimate decision.
The opposition from China and Russia to the U.S. military action did not carry significant weight in Washington’s calculus. Beijing publicly condemned the strikes, describing them as “unacceptable,” urging an immediate ceasefire and a return to diplomatic dialogue, and warning against further escalation while stressing respect for Iran’s sovereignty and regional stability. Russia similarly denounced the attacks as an “unprovoked act of armed aggression” and called for an immediate halt to hostilities and political solutions, but stopped short of offering military support or direct intervention. While both powers sought to signal disapproval and emphasize diplomatic avenues, their responses were primarily rhetorical and constrained by broader strategic priorities and existing geopolitical entanglements.
For decades, Iran has been treated in Western strategic thinking primarily as a Middle Eastern problem: a regional power whose ambitions, alliances, and internal contradictions reverberate across the Persian Gulf, the Levant, and Central Asia. Yet Iran’s northern frontier, bordering Armenia and Azerbaijan and lying just south of Georgia, has long been a relatively quiet but consequential actor in the South Caucasus. A serious political transformation in Tehran, whether orderly or chaotic, would therefore not merely reshape Iran’s foreign policy. It would recalibrate the balance of power in one of Eurasia’s most fragile and strategically contested regions, with important secondary effects on Russia’s war against Ukraine.
The South Caucasus is already undergoing a slow but profound realignment. Russia’s war in Ukraine has weakened Moscow’s capacity to dominate the region as a security guarantor and power broker. Türkiye has expanded its influence through its ties with Azerbaijan and regional connectivity projects. Iran, though often overlooked, has functioned as both a buffer and a brake: a status-quo power opposed to border changes, wary of Turkish expansion, and quietly invested in preventing the emergence of a geopolitical vacuum along its northern flank. Whether Iran remains a stabilizing buffer, becomes a bridge to wider integration, or collapses into a source of instability will shape the next phase of South Caucasus geopolitics.
The consequences of regime change in Iran for the Caucasus depend on its character. Three broad scenarios, orderly transition towards a more Western-leaning Iran, chaotic collapse, and hardline authoritarian replacement, illustrate how divergent the outcomes could be for each of the local and regional actors.
Long before the current geopolitical moment, U.S. policymakers offered two sharply contrasting intuitions about Russia’s strategic trajectory: as a senator, in the 1990s, Joe Biden reportedly dismissed Russian threats to pivot away from the West towards China with a quip: “Lots of luck in your senior year… if that doesn’t work, try Iran!” At almost the same time, Zbigniew Brzeziński, in his famous “The Grand Chessboard,” warned that the most dangerous outcome for the United States would be a Russia–China–Iran alignment bound by shared resentment of American power.
A reforming Iran would likely distance itself from Moscow to avoid secondary sanctions and international isolation. The loss of Iranian military-technical cooperation and sanctions-evasion networks would not collapse Russia’s war effort in Ukraine, but it would further narrow Moscow’s circle of reliable partners.
If Iran undergoes an orderly, pragmatic transition and reintegrates economically with the wider world, Russia’s already eroding role in the South Caucasus would shrink further, as Moscow would lose a like-minded regional partner after having already lost its ability to present itself as the sole guarantor of stability to Armenia and Azerbaijan. A reforming Iran would likely distance itself from Moscow to avoid secondary sanctions and international isolation. The loss of Iranian military-technical cooperation and sanctions-evasion networks would not collapse Russia’s war effort in Ukraine, but it would further narrow Moscow’s circle of reliable partners. Over time, Iran’s reintegration into global energy markets could depress prices, indirectly weakening Russia’s war economy.
If Iran collapses into prolonged instability, Russia might enjoy a short-lived resurgence as a self-styled “indispensable stabilizer,” exploiting chaos to justify security arrangements and political leverage, but in this context, Türkiye will certainly have more cards to fill the void, as at least two local actors (Azerbaijan and even Armenia) would welcome it. In the short term, instability in Iran could distract Western attention and drive up global energy prices, temporarily benefiting Russia’s war economy. But a collapsing Iran would be an unreliable partner, unable to provide sustained military or diplomatic support. Moscow would gain tactical breathing space but lose a strategically useful ally.
If, finally, Iran hardens into a nationalist or authoritarian successor regime that remains hostile to the West, Russia’s position would stabilize but not meaningfully improve: Moscow would retain a tactical partner and a shared interest in resisting Western influence, yet without the economic or strategic depth to restore Russia’s former dominance in the Caucasus. For Russia, this scenario would be the least disruptive. The war in Ukraine would proceed largely unaffected, shaped more by battlefield dynamics and Western policy than by Iran’s stance.
Türkiye could be the quiet winner in most scenarios in the South Caucasus. Türkiye is playing a long game of corridors, connectivity, and influence, not ideology. As Türkiye’s core objectives in the South Caucasus are unbroken east–west transit routes, Turkic world integration, reduced Russian dominance, and contained (not destroyed) Iran, it could find opportunities in the upcoming change. Nevertheless, the chaos in Iran is not desirable, if only because Türkiye is Iran’s second biggest trade partner after China and potentially the main way out for potential refugees and migrants from there.
If Iran operates an orderly transition towards a more democratic, Western-leaning, or semi-Western-leaning country, Türkiye will lose Iran as a regional rival and will gain a more predictable neighbor. Such an Iran would be less threatening but also less easily sidelined, and Ankara would face a more competitive environment for influence in the Caucasus.
If Iran operates an orderly transition towards a more democratic, Western-leaning, or semi-Western-leaning country, Türkiye will lose Iran as a regional rival and will gain a more predictable neighbor. Such an Iran would be less threatening but also less easily sidelined, and Ankara would face a more competitive environment for influence in the Caucasus.
Baku, too, would benefit from expanded trade while encountering firmer constraints on maximalist geopolitical projects. The net effect would be a more multipolar South Caucasus, characterized less by coercion and more by bargaining. A potential strategic benefit of such a scenario would be Türkiye becoming a connector between Europe, the Caucasus, Iran, and Central Asia.
Should Iran descend into chaotic collapse and instability, Türkiye’s policy would have to pivot toward containment and risk mitigation: Ankara would work to prevent spillover of refugees and militancy into eastern Türkiye. Ankara is particularly cautious about a possible upsurge of Kurdish militantism, as 6 to 8 million Kurds live in Iran, and some of them (the Kurdistan Free Life Party (PJAK)) have close ties with the Turkish PKK (Kurdistan Workers’ Party). Additionally, among the 20 million or so Azeris residing in Iran, many consider Türkiye, as much as Azerbaijan, their ethnic kin state and could seek Türkiye’s protection. Türkiye could also exploit the vacuum by deepening security and economic ties with Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia, though it would be constrained by concerns that turmoil in Iran might threaten Türkiye’s own security and energy routes. A strategic outcome of such a scenario for Türkiye would be its increased leverage within Iran, but increased pressure on corridors and transit routes. The scenario offers significant opportunities but also greater instability and the risk of overextension.
In a scenario where Iran is replaced by a hardline or nationalist authoritarian regime that remains hostile to Western influence but stable domestically, Türkiye would likely calibrate its policy to balance competition and pragmatic coexistence: Ankara may continue to advance the “Turkic world” concept with Baku and other allies while managing tensions with a revisionist Tehran that views Türkiye’s expanding influence warily, especially over Turkic populations in Iran (Azeris, Turkmen, Qashqai, etc.). In this case, Ankara would continue to support transit and peace initiatives in the Caucasus but remain alert to Iranian resistance to projects perceived as sidelining Tehran’s role, especially if those projects cut across areas close to the Iranian border, such as the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity (TRIPP).
Armenia is sensitive to any Iranian shock. No other South Caucasus state depends on Iran as strategically as Armenia does. Indeed, Iran matters to Armenia because it has been one of the two non-hostile borders (the only one in the south). Iran was, and still is, before TRIPP enters into force, an alternative trade and energy route outside Turkish/Azerbaijan control. For this reason, Iran was quietly but firmly opposing the new, post-Second Nagorno-Karabakh War corridor projects, which Tehran considers a “forced corridor.”
In case Tehran normalizes relations with the West and its neighbors, sanctions relief will follow, and Iran will re-enter trade, energy, and transit markets. Armenia will benefit the most from this scenario, as Iran will become a stronger economic and transit partner, giving Yerevan an alternative to over-dependence on Russia. At the same time, Tehran will likely continue opposing TRIPP but peacefully. It could even help Armenia to negotiate its conditions with less desperation and a stronger position. On a supra-regional level, Yerevan can hedge between the EU, Iran, India, and even Türkiye. Some argue that such a scenario would create the best strategic environment Armenia has had since the 1990s.
On the contrary, an Iranian collapse would be the worst scenario for Armenia. Armenia will become more vulnerable, as it will lose Iran as a reliable southern buffer. Armenia is Iran’s largest trade partner in the South Caucasus, and Yerevan will also face economic consequences. Geopolitically, Armenia will face increased pressure over corridors and borders from Azerbaijan and Türkiye. Their negotiating position will be strengthened, while Armenia’s will weaken. Russia will probably try again to self-proclaim as Armenia’s only security guarantor, and, as a bottom line, the country will face coercive diplomacy from all directions.
If the changes bring in a new regime in Tehran that is authoritarian, anti-Western, but less ideological than the Islamic Republic, this is the “continuity with tweaks” scenario. Iran will remain anti-Western, but more nationalist than ideological and the sanctions will likely persist.
If the changes bring in a new regime in Tehran that is authoritarian, anti-Western, but less ideological than the Islamic Republic, this is the “continuity with tweaks” scenario. Iran will remain anti-Western, but more nationalist than ideological and the sanctions will likely persist. Iran will continue resisting any Armenia-Azerbaijan corridor that bypasses Iranian routes. Iran will continue issue-based cooperation with Russia and Türkiye, without large-scale cooperation projects. Armenia is already familiar with a comparable setting and will face predictable red lines. But it will not get large-scale economic integration, as there will be no Western sanctions relief.
If Armenia is the most vulnerable South Caucasus state to Iran’s trajectory, Azerbaijan is the most ambivalent. Baku stands to gain from Iranian weakness, but it also has the most to lose from Iranian collapse. No other actor in the region sits so uncomfortably between opportunity and danger. In their approach to Iran, Azerbaijan and Armenia differ. This contrast is crucial: Armenia fears Iran becoming weak, whereas Azerbaijan fears Iran becoming uncontrollable. Armenia needs Iran as a buffer; Azerbaijan needs Iran as a managed neighbor.
Iran matters to Azerbaijan for various reasons. First, Iran hosts 16–20 million ethnic Azerbaijanis, outnumbering Azerbaijan’s own population. Tehran has historically suspected Baku of irredentism, and Baku has denied it but never fully escaped the implication. On the other hand, Azerbaijan is one of the very few countries outside of Iran (together with Bahrain and Iraq) where Shia Islam is the majority religion and where Iran has tried to use religion as a powerful soft power tool.
Traditionally, Iran constrains Azerbaijani-Turkish ambitions, especially on corridors and regional dominance, but at the same time, Iran provides energy, trade, and transit options that Azerbaijan prefers not to jeopardize. Azerbaijan’s core strategic instinct toward Iran is therefore cautious opportunism.
The emergence of a pragmatic, Western or semi-Western-leaning Iran would be the least dramatic but arguably most stabilizing outcome for Azerbaijan. From this situation, Azerbaijan would gain reduced ideological hostility: a pragmatic Iranian government would be less obsessed with ethnic nationalism and with Israeli-Azerbaijani ties. Diplomatic tensions would ease, and security incidents would decline. Overall, a strategic normalisation will follow, and Baku will be able to deepen ties with Türkiye and Israel without constantly provoking Teheran. On the economic level, the north-south trade routes would expand, and energy swaps and transit cooperation would grow.
But even with a much more democratic and “normalised” Iran, Azerbaijan will not get Tehran’s support on corridor politics. A reformist Iran would still oppose any extraterritorial corridor that would cut Armenia off from Iran. Azerbaijan will probably not gain more leverage over Iranian Azerbaijanis either; Tehran would be more, not less, confident in managing minority politics.
The scenario of Iranian state fragmentation and prolonged instability is the most dangerous one for Azerbaijan, despite superficial temptations. What Azerbaijan might gain in the short term is a weakened Iranian opposition in transit corridors, on the Caspian Sea border delimitations, etc. The Turkish-Azerbaijani leverage will probably expand in the region, and the regional power balance will tilt sharply in Baku-Ankara’s favour. Domestically, a nationalist and irredentist discourse around “Southern Azerbaijan” will probably intensify.
But this scenario contains important strategic risks for Azerbaijan. The millions of ethnic Azerbaijanis in Iran have been separated from the Northern (formerly Russian and Soviet, today – independent) Azerbaijan for two centuries and have undergone different historical processes and transformations. Ethno-cultural similarities do not imply equivalence in mentalities, religious practices, and morals. Baku risks an ethnic blowback. Any instability among Iranian Azerbaijanis creates expectations that Baku cannot safely meet. Any intervention, real or perceived, would invite retaliation and regional escalation. Baku should prioritize border security to manage refugee flows, armed groups, and smuggling, while avoiding losing the careful balance between nationalism and realism.
If hardline nationalists or the military seize power in Iran, it would be the most familiar scenario for Baku, even if it would be highly undesirable. Azerbaijan will gain predictability and limited but stable engagement. Baku will advance connectivity projects incrementally and continue alignment with Türkiye: the Ankara–Baku axis remains intact without triggering open confrontation. In this setting, Azerbaijan will not avoid Iran’s persistent suspicion, viewing Azerbaijan–Israel ties as existentially threatening.
Compared with Armenia’s and Azerbaijan’s existential exposure, Georgia occupies a subtler but no less consequential position in relation to Iran’s future. Georgia does not border Iran, nor does it share the ethnic, ideological, or historical entanglements that complicate Tehran’s relations with its southern Caucasian neighbors. Yet precisely because Georgia functions as the principal east–west transit corridor between Europe and the Caspian basin, Iran’s trajectory matters to Tbilisi in structural rather than emotional terms. Iran can either reinforce Georgia’s role as a connector in a post-Russian Eurasia or destabilize the environment on which that role depends.
Relations between Georgia and Iran have entered a sensitive and increasingly consequential phase, shaped less by bilateral affinity than by Georgia’s broader geopolitical drift. Under the Georgian Dream (GD) government, Tbilisi has gradually distanced itself from the Euro-Atlantic trajectory that once defined its foreign policy and has become more entangled with non-Western powers, most notably Russia and China, as well as Iran, whose role has grown both visibly and controversially.
This shift was starkly illustrated when Georgia’s Deputy Foreign Minister publicly expressed solidarity with Iran following Israeli strikes, a move that provoked sharp reactions from Israel, Georgia’s domestic opposition, and pro-Western segments of Georgian society. Beyond the diplomatic fallout, the episode signaled a deeper realignment. Moscow has been actively encouraging Georgia to participate in alternative regional formats such as the “3+3” platform and the International North–South Transport Corridor (INSTC), in which Iran functions as a central hub. These initiatives dovetail with Georgian Dream’s gradual retreat from Euro-Atlantic integration and its embrace of “strategic neutrality,” a posture increasingly interpreted in Washington and Brussels as tacit alignment with authoritarian powers.
At the same time, Iran’s economic, demographic, and soft-power presence in Georgia has expanded rapidly. Thousands of Iranian nationals now reside in the country, Iranian-registered companies have multiplied, trade volumes have increased, and tourist inflows from Iran have surged. While much of this activity is formally legal, Georgia is increasingly perceived by Western partners as a potential platform for sanctions evasion by both Iran and Russia, particularly through financial channels, trade networks, and access to Black Sea ports. As Georgia’s relations with the West cool, its utility to sanctioned states correspondingly rises.
While the Iranian regime has been engulfed in violent turmoil, officials of the Georgian Dream government have largely remained silent. Government representatives and affiliated commentators refuse to address developments in Iran, invoking the principle of non-interference, even as the same voices routinely and enthusiastically comment on perceived failures and social unrest across European states. By contrast, GD propagandists and active supporters have been far less restrained, openly siding with Iranian authorities against protesters, whom they explicitly equate with anti-government demonstrators in Georgia, and celebrating the regime’s “restoration of order.” Some have gone further by urging Georgian audiences to “appreciate” the relative restraint of domestic law enforcement, contrasting Georgia’s handling of protests with the thousands reportedly killed during Iran’s crackdown. In parallel, pro-government networks have circulated alarmist claims that the United States might pressure Georgia to open a front against Iran or allow its territory to be used for an attack, framing such hypothetical scenarios as external threats and warning Washington against interference.
More recently, Georgian officials stepped into the Iranian embassy hall to celebrate the 47th anniversary of the Iranian revolution. Speeches were delivered, hands were shaken, and outside, the Tbilisi TV tower glowed in the colors of the Iranian flag, a gesture usually reserved for uncomplicated friendships. This took place when news screens still carried images of repression in Iranian streets, and while tensions with Washington were rising by the day. Observers could not miss the irony: the very deputy foreign minister praising bilateral ties had only days earlier walked the corridors of power in the United States. Was this clumsy diplomacy, an attempt at balancing impossible pressures? Or was it a deliberate signal: a declaration that Georgia would decide its own posture and resist Washington’s friendly advice or pressures?
Against this backdrop, the future of Georgia–Iran relations depends heavily on Iran’s internal trajectory. The first scenario, also envisaged in the previous case analysis, is a genuine democratic transition in Iran followed by economic reintegration with the West, which would fundamentally alter Georgia’s current role. Georgia would lose its function as a “grey-zone intermediary” facilitating shadow trade, informal connectivity, and sanctions circumvention. Iranian economic activity in Georgia would likely become more transparent and less politically charged, while migration flows would normalize. Strategically, Russia’s reliance on Iran-centered corridors such as the INSTC would weaken, reducing Moscow’s leverage over Georgia. For Georgian Dream, this would be the least favorable outcome: its current Iran policy would become obsolete and politically costly. Yet for Georgia as a state, this scenario would be the most stabilizing, potentially reopening space for re-anchoring in a Western framework and restoring Georgia’s relevance as a pro-Western transit and logistics hub, provided domestic political conditions allow it.
The second scenario, a collapse of the Iranian state into prolonged instability or anarchy, would generate acute risks for Georgia with few compensating benefits. Iranian migration into Georgia could spike, placing pressure on social cohesion and administrative capacity. Trade disruptions would harm sectors already dependent on Iranian imports, while security risks would rise, including organized crime, smuggling, and illicit financial flows. The INSTC would likely become unreliable or collapse, undermining Russia’s regional logistics ambitions and removing any economic rationale Georgia might derive from it. In this context, Georgia could become a buffer zone for instability spilling over from the Middle East, prompting intensified Western scrutiny over border control, money laundering, and security cooperation. This scenario would heighten volatility while offering no durable strategic upside.
The third scenario, a transition to another hardline security-state regime in Iran, poses the greatest long-term danger for Georgia’s Western trajectory. In this case, relations between Tbilisi and Teheran would likely deepen and become more overtly strategic, encompassing logistics, trade, intelligence cooperation, and sanctions evasion. Iran’s presence in Georgia would continue to grow, but with a stronger security dimension, reinforcing parallel cooperation with Russia and China. Georgia would risk being locked into an authoritarian connectivity axis by default, even without ideological alignment. Western sanctions pressure on Georgia could intensify, affecting banking, trade, and EU accession prospects, while Georgian sovereignty could erode as external actors gain leverage over infrastructure, ports, and political elites.
Iran’s trajectory acts as a force multiplier for Georgia’s own geopolitical drift. A democratic Iran could help pull Georgia back toward the West; a collapsed Iran would destabilize it; and a security-state Iran would cement Georgia’s role as a frontline node against Western influence, regardless of Georgian society’s preferences.
Overall, Iran’s trajectory acts as a force multiplier for Georgia’s own geopolitical drift. A democratic Iran could help pull Georgia back toward the West; a collapsed Iran would destabilize it; and a security-state Iran would cement Georgia’s role as a frontline node against Western influence, regardless of Georgian society’s preferences.
Iran’s trajectory is not a peripheral variable in Eurasian geopolitics; it is a structural one. The future of the Islamic Republic will shape not only the balance of power in the Persian Gulf but also the evolving order of the South Caucasus — a region already unsettled by Russia’s war in Ukraine and Türkiye’s assertive regional policy.
Three conclusions emerge.
First, the most stabilizing outcome for the South Caucasus would be an orderly, pragmatic transition in Tehran. A reintegrated Iran would dilute Russia’s leverage, reduce incentives for corridor coercion, and introduce a more transactional, economically driven regional dynamic. For Armenia, this would expand strategic autonomy; for Azerbaijan, it would normalize competition; for Georgia, it would reopen Western pathways and reduce grey-zone vulnerabilities.
Second, an Iranian collapse would be the most destabilizing scenario. It would generate refugee flows, economic disruption, and corridor contestation, while inviting opportunistic intervention by Russia and Türkiye. Short-term tactical gains for some actors would come at the cost of long-term volatility. The Caucasus, already fragile, is poorly equipped to absorb systemic shock from its southern neighbor.
Third, continuity under a hardened nationalist regime would preserve predictability but entrench bloc politics. In that environment, Moscow would retain a tactical partner, Ankara would pursue calibrated competition, and smaller states would face constrained strategic space amid sanctions and securitized transit routes.
For Western policymakers, the conclusion is straightforward. Iran policy cannot be treated as a self-contained file limited to the Persian Gulf or nuclear negotiations. Any escalation, transition, or collapse in Tehran will reverberate far beyond the Gulf, shaping Eurasian transit corridors, energy markets, and even the sustainability of Russia’s war economy. The South Caucasus sits directly along these fault lines. Decisions taken in Washington or Brussels will therefore have consequences not only in the Middle East but across this already fragile region. It is to be hoped that recent high-level diplomatic engagement from the U.S. Vice President J.D. Vance in the South Caucasus has fully reflected this reality and that discussions with regional leaders have taken into account Iran’s central role in the evolving Eurasian balance.