Last summer, I lived in Athens, volunteering with a nongovernmental organization (NGO) that provides food to refugees and people experiencing homelessness. I stayed in Exarcheia, a neighborhood that some of my friends warned me about in advance. They described it as dangerous, overrun by anarchists, radicals, even criminals.

What I found instead was warmth. The streets were alive with political graffiti, cafés run by refugees and conversations that stretched long into the night. People spoke openly about injustice and weren’t afraid to take clear moral positions. I loved it.

One afternoon, however, a contradiction stopped me in my tracks. On one wall, a poster condemned Turkey’s violence against the Kurds. Just meters away, another glorified the Iranian regime and its so-called “axis of resistance” — an authoritarian state notorious for repressing Kurds, crushing dissent and executing protesters.

The contradiction was hard to miss.

I understood the frustration behind it. Many people are desperate for anything that might challenge Israel’s military dominance and Western hypocrisy over Palestine. The regime in Iran presents itself as part of that resistance. But when did defending one people start requiring excuses for another’s oppression?

This question goes far beyond Athens. It sits at the heart of how global solidarity is practiced today, particularly in relation to Iran and Palestine.

The complexity of solidarity in a polarized world

Since the protests in Iran and violent retaliation by the regime, which left almost 30,000 dead, social media has been flooded with massive support for the protestors, but also a loud and sizable number of people supporting the regime.

One famous UK-based political commentator, widely followed for her solidarity with Palestine, tweeted, “I heard the regime killed everyone. There’s no one left in Iran 😭,” which was seen by many as sarcastically dismissing or mocking the killings of protestors. She would later go on to claim that “many Muslims do want to live under a theocratic system — and many women support mandatory hijab,” all while Iranians were protesting the regime that has murdered women like Mahsa Amini for not wearing the hijab properly.

Another influencer on Instagram referred to Iranians who want to cancel Huda Beauty founder Huda Kattan for not standing with the Iranian protestors as being “Spiritually Israeli.”

Prominent Iranian-American left-wing activist Ariana Jasmine, who has been very vocal on Palestine and progressive issues in the US, has also shared how she has seen the Iranian movement being dismissed as a Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) or Mossad operation by fellow leftists. She even disabled comments on her posts because of the backlash she faced for supporting the protests in Iran, underscoring how ideological loyalty has, for some, overtaken solidarity with people resisting state violence.

Many have also noticed the prevalence of Israeli flags in anti-regime protests held abroad. This, along with some Iranian opposition leaders receiving support from Israel have also been used to criticize the movement as being “Zionist aligned,” which even the regime uses to delegitimize the protests.

Something similar is done to supporters of the Palestinian cause. Supporters are routinely accused of being apologists for Tehran, supporting Hamas’ oppression of the LGBTQcommunity or of ignoring Palestinian ties with China, despite Beijing’s repression of Uyghur Muslims.

The implication is simple: if Palestinians accept backing from morally compromised governments, then their cause itself must be morally compromised. These have become common talking points for the Western right, who, while condemning Iranian and Chinese abuses, continue to arm and support Israeli aggression in Palestine.

Similarly, Iranians taking help from the US or having the support of Israel are labeled as being complicit in Neo-Imperialism and being in opposition to leftist international goals. This is what conditional compassion looks like. Human rights are defended when they align with political loyalties and quietly abandoned when they complicate a preferred narrative.

Strategic alliances vs. moral endorsement

Opposing such hypocrisy does not require pretending that oppressed movements operate in a moral vacuum. In international politics, shared values are a luxury; shared interests are a currency. Movements under occupation, siege or dictatorship do not get to choose allies from a menu of ethically pristine options.

Palestinian factions did not turn to Iran or China because they admired theocracy or one-party rule. They did so because Western powers were aligned with Israel, and alternatives were scarce. To mistake this for ideological devotion is to misunderstand how stateless or semi-stateless movements survive. 

A drowning person does not ask who is offering the saving hand.

The same logic applies to Iranian opposition movements. Protesters confronting the Islamic Republic face a state with prisons, militias and oil wealth. Some opposition figures accept support from abroad, openly or quietly, not because they dream of becoming proxies, but because external pressure is one of the few tools available against a deeply entrenched regime. 

Seeking help from abroad isn’t new; strategic alliances abroad were formed by revolutionaries and freedom fighters throughout history, from the US to the Philippines to Bangladesh.

In fact, during World War II, Indian independence leader Subhas Chandra Bose sought support from Imperial Japan to fight British rule. Bose was not a fascist or imperialist; in fact, he was a Socialist, but his move reflected a grim reality: oppressed movements often make decisions that look indefensible from a distance and inevitable from within in order to survive.

Understanding this does not require approval. It requires maturity.

The problem begins when alliances of necessity and strategy are mistaken for alliances of belief. When Palestinians are dismissed as “pro-Ayatollah,” or Iranian dissidents are written off as “Zionist-adjacent,” the complexity of the situation gets oversimplified. These labels are not about understanding reality; they are about deciding who deserves sympathy.

The Iranians know this dynamic well. When Israeli forces bombed them, many on the left denounced such actions, and rightly so. But when the Ayatollah regime executes Iranians, it does not fit neatly into the “anti-imperialist” script, so their deaths are often met with silence.

Tactical cooperation should never be confused with moral endorsement. Accepting support from a powerful actor does not require silence about that actor’s abuses. When movements or their supporters begin excusing or denying the crimes of their benefactors, something essential is lost.

The importance of principle-based solidarity

Solidarity rooted in principle still matters. Defending Palestinian rights does not require minimizing Iran’s repression of Kurds or women, or China’s treatment of Uyghurs. Supporting Iranian protesters does not require celebrating Israeli military violence. We should be capable of holding more than one truth at a time.

Too often, today’s discourse demands purity from the powerless and indulgence for the powerful. Oppressed communities are interrogated for every strategic alliance, while states with vast resources are excused as “complex.” This tells us less about ethics than about comfort.

Human rights are supposed to be universal. That is the point. When compassion becomes conditional, the people who fall through the cracks are always the same: Kurds, Palestinians, Iranians, Uyghurs and countless others whose suffering refuses to conform to someone else’s politics.

Recognizing this does not cheapen justice. It brings us closer to it.

[Kaitlyn Diana edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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