Introduction
This article examines Salafi orientations among Sunni men of Kurdish background in Iranian Kurdistan, with particular attention to Da’wah-centered, gradualist, and quietist modes of religious and political engagement (see Bunzel Reference Bunzel2015). It is motivated by a puzzle in the governance of the Islamic Republic of Iran (IRI). The question is why the regime responds with sustained repression to secular Kurdish nationalist movements while displaying relative tolerance toward Salafi religious actors whose doctrines reject pluralism, democracy, and ethno-national claims?
Existing scholarship on Islamist movements in Iran has largely focused either on Shi‘a political Islam as a state project or on Sunni marginalization as a generalized condition. Less attention has been paid to how particular Sunni Islamist orientations, especially Salafism, are differentially governed within ethnically contested regions such as Iranian Kurdistan. This article argues that Salafi actors of Kurdish background occupy an ambivalent position in the IRI’s governance strategy. They are theologically oppositional yet politically non-nationalist, critical of the state’s Islamic credentials while largely disengaged from Kurdish collective claims. This combination renders them compatible with, and in some contexts useful to, a state project aimed at suppressing secular Kurdish nationalism without empowering a mass oppositional alternative. The analysis does not treat Salafism as a Kurdish political movement, nor does it read Salafi actors as representatives of Kurdish aspirations. Rather, it examines how their discourse, political quietism, and rejection of ethno-nationalist frameworks situate them in a broader field of state tolerance, containment, and instrumentalization in a region historically shaped by secular Kurdish mobilization.
There are numerous classifications of Salfist movement tendencies and practices. This article adopts Wiktorowicz’s (Reference Wiktorowicz2006) tripartite distinction among quietist, political, and jihadist Salafism as a heuristic device. This typology is not treated as a rigid classification scheme but as a flexible sketch for identifying empirically observable orientations articulated by interview participants. Other typologies of Salafism are acknowledged but not operationalized because they do not seem to fully correspond to the lived religious and political positions expressed in the data. The article does not seek or claim to construct a comprehensive understanding of Salafism in Iranian Kurdistan. It draws instead on interviews conducted with Salafi actors in Kermanshah province to demonstrate three recurring patterns: first, the near-total absence of Kurdish nationalist claims or references to Kurdish political rights; second, the articulation of opposition to the IRI primarily in theological rather than political or ethnic terms; and third, the positioning of Salafi orientations as an implicit counterweight to secular Kurdish mobilization. These patterns are analytically significant not because they indicate the emergence of a powerful Islamist constituency, but because they illuminate the conditions under which a religious current with limited social reach can acquire political relevance within an authoritarian governance strategy. The article thus shifts the analytical focus away from Salafism as an autonomous movement and toward its relational position within a field structured by state power, ethnic exclusion, and competing modes of opposition.
The emergence and diffusion of Salafism in Iranian Kurdistan must also be situated within a longer regional and historical trajectory of Islamist mobilization and Sunni marginalization. Salafism gained visibility in the Kurdish regions of Iran in the aftermath of the Soviet war in Afghanistan during the 1980s, and its presence expanded following the establishment of the IRI in 1979 and the US-led interventions in Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003. These developments surfaced alongside the consolidation of a Shi‘a-centered constitutional order based on velayat-e faqih,Footnote 1 which systematically excluded Sunni actors despite their participation in the revolutionary moment from meaningful access to power. Kurdish Islamic currents, such as the School of the QuranFootnote 2 (Osmanzadeh and Saeidi Reference Osmanzadeh and Saeidi2025), were initially involved in the revolution but were rapidly sidelined once Shiʿism was institutionalized as the ideological core of the new state. This exclusion positioned Sunni Kurds as religious and political outsiders in the IRI, creating a condition of structural marginalization that intersected with, but did not collapse into, Kurdish ethno-national grievances. In this sense, Salafism rose as one among several axes of identification, alongside secular nationalism and leftist traditions. Unlike organizations such as Jamaʿat Da’wah wa Islah [Iranian Call and Reform Organization] Footnote 3 which continue to advocate political engagement within the framework of the Islamic Republic, Salafi currents developed orientations ranging from theological critique to outright rejection of the state’s Islamic legitimacy, while simultaneously refusing to support the Kurdish nationalist struggle. In southern parts of Iranian Kurdistan, particularly in cities such as Baneh, Marivan, Ravansar, Javanroud, Paveh, and Sarpol-e Zahab, Salafi discourse found resonance among segments of the population who perceived Sunni marginalization as a defining feature of their lived experience. Transnational dynamics, chief among which are the proximity to Iraqi Kurdistan, the circulation of jihadist figures, and the Syrian conflict, further intensified Salafi visibility, as evidenced by Kurdish participation in jihadist organizations such as ISIS, Jabhat al-Nusra, and Hayʾat Tahrir al-Sham. We argue that these developments should not be read as indicators of broad popular support. Rather, they show how Salafism is utilized as a doctrinal refuge and moral idiom within a fragmented religious landscape constrained by exclusion, geopolitical turbulence, and contested sovereignty.
This article intends to suggest a conceptual clarification of what it means to speak of “Salafi actors of Kurdish background.” We have to emphasize that the term is used descriptively, not politically. In both the interview material analyzed here and the broader literature on Salafism and jihadism, such actors overwhelmingly describe themselves through the idiom of the Islamic ummah rather than Kurdish political identity. Ethnicity appears as a biographical fact rather than a normative basis for claims-making. This is not unique to Kurds. Salafi actors of Arab, Turkish, Chechen, or other backgrounds similarly avoid ethnic self-ascription as a political project, rejecting nationalism in favor of a transnational and anti-national conception of Islamic community (Bano Reference Bano2021; Ismail Reference Ismail2021). We avoid the label “Kurdish Salafis” in order not to risk conflating ethnicity with political identification and obscuring Salafism’s explicit hostility toward ethno-nationalist frameworks. This distinction is analytically necessary and politically consequential, particularly given the Iranian state’s interest in conflating Kurdish nationalism with extremism.
Building on this outlook, the limited social base of Salafism in Iranian Kurdistan is not a weakness of the analysis but a key empirical finding. Secular Kurdish nationalist movements (most notably the KDPI and Komala) have historically commanded far broader support, as evidenced by patterns of mass mobilization, sustained resistance, and the disproportionate targeting of their members by the state (Hassaniyan Reference Hassaniyan2021; Romano Reference Romano2006). The interviews examined here do not indicate the emergence of a mass Salafi constituency capable of rivaling these movements. Instead, they reveal a religious current whose political significance lies in its ideological orientation, characterized by anti-pluralist, anti-democratic, and disengaged from Kurdish nationalist claims. It is precisely this orientation that renders Salafi actors compatible with a governance strategy aimed at fragmenting Kurdish political cohesion while avoiding the threats associated with empowering a mass oppositional movement.
The article proceeds in four sections. The first section reviews the dominant paradigms in Salafism studies and situates this research within the emerging post-globalist and hyperlocal turn in the literature. It further contextualizes these debates through the case of Sunni marginalization and Islamist mobilization in Iranian Kurdistan, showcasing how state governance and regional geopolitics have shaped the Salafi field. The third section outlines the methodology and research design. The fourth section presents the empirical findings and engages them in dialogue with the mainstream scholarship on Salafism. Finally, the conclusion reflects on the broader implications of the study for debates on Salafism, authoritarian governance, and the politics of religious identity in ethnically diverse contexts.
A Conceptual and Historical Overview
The term Salaf literally denotes “that which precedes.” In religious usage, Salaf, also referred to as Salaf al-salih (the pious generations), designates the first three generations of Muslims, namely, the Sahabah (companions of the Prophet Muhammad), the Tabi‘in (followers of the companions), and the Tabi‘ al-Tabi‘in (followers of the Tabi‘in ). Salafism denotes an approach to Islam grounded in the conviction that authentic religious knowledge rests solely on strict adherence to the Qur’an and the Sunnah, following the example set by these early generations. Adherents identify themselves as Salafiyyun or Salafists (Malik Reference Malik2016). This orientation goes beyond ritual practice and ethical conduct into social order and governance, thereby acquiring political salience. Literalist Salafi ideas, drawing heavily from Wahhabi doctrine and intersecting historically, though unevenly, through encounters related to the Muslim Brotherhood, gained visibility across Egypt, the Persian Gulf, and Western Europe (Pall Reference Pall2013; Ismail Reference Ismail2021). Over time, Salafism absorbed heterogeneous doctrinal currents associated with Islamism, Wahhabism, and jihadist militancy, giving rise to multiple interpretations that range from pietistic observance to armed confrontation (Antúnez Moreno Reference Antúnez Moreno2017). Jihadist variants elevate martyrdom to a central ethical horizon, treating self-sacrifice through violence as a privileged religious act, a development tied to the spread of suicide operations among Salafi-jihadist groups (Moghadam Reference Moghadam2008). Salafism, therefore, cannot be approached solely through the lens of religious revival. Extensive scholarship on jihadism situates it in the wider geopolitical struggles tied to empire, late capitalism, and global circulation of power. For instance, Darryl Li’s (Reference Li2020) analysis looks at jihadism’s construction of a universal enemy defined through domination, occupation, and moral corruption, a figure that transcends specific theological disputes. Benjamin Barber’s (Reference Barber1995) formulation of “Jihad versus McWorld” similarly captures a collision between localist, moral absolutism, and homogenizing forces linked to neoliberal expansion. Salafism enters this terrain through rejection of the nation-state, liberal political institutions, and secular cultural orders, asserting a singular claim to Islamic sovereignty amid global dislocation (Bunzel Reference Bunzel2015; Adraoui Reference Adraoui2020).
Salafists share a rigid religious creed centered on tawhid and an uncompromising rejection of human reason (Bishara Reference Bishara2022), interpretive pluralism, and moral relativism. Knowledge claims rest exclusively on the Qur’an and Sunnah, understood through the precedent of the early generations. This posture treats subjective judgment and ethical diversity as sources of corruption, yielding a vision of Islam that admits no legitimate disagreement. Islamic pluralism, therefore, holds no theological standing (Wiktorowicz Reference Wiktorowicz2006). Salafism privileges doctrinal continuity, opposes innovation, and resists interpretive flexibility. Comparative (Hunter and Heinke Reference Hunter and Heinke2011) studies suggest some level of convergence between Salafism and other ideological projects that address disorientation, displacement, and identity rupture. Roy and Khosrokhavar (Reference Khosrokhavar2005) note that Salafism offers adherents a totalizing moral order that promises certainty and belonging amid social fragmentation. In the same way, Moghadam (Reference Moghadam2008) argues that Salafi-jihadism supplies a supranational mode of affiliation that substitutes religious absolutism for lost social anchors. Salafi boundary-making extends beyond secularism and the neoliberal economy. Shi‘a Islam, Sunni traditions practiced across Kurdistan, Sufi lineages, and democratic participation enter the category of internal adversaries. Groups accused of venerating saints, tombs, or sacred sites face accusations of apostasy, alongside Shi‘a communities and political actors engaged in electoral systems, all cast outside Islam’s boundaries (Bunzel Reference Bunzel2015). As mentioned earlier, Wiktorowicz (Reference Wiktorowicz2006) distinguishes three Salafi currents: purists, politicos, and jihadists. Purists emphasize da‘wah, moral discipline, and withdrawal from political engagement. Politicos rose during the late twentieth century, challenging purist authority through claims to contextual awareness and engagement in public affairs. Jihadists trace their origins to the Afghan war against the Soviet Union, gaining political formation through armed struggle rather than academic circles. There are other classifications. For instance, Bitter and Owen (Reference Bitter and Owen2016) identify four tendencies: quietist, Jammi/Madkhali loyalists, Haraki activists, and jihadists. Malik’s (Reference Malik2016) study of Malaysia outlines moderate Salafis, Athari hardliners, and jihadists, noting Athari campaigns against Muslims accused of innovation, alongside denunciations of the Muslim Brotherhood as Khawarij. Research focused on Iranian Kurdistan offers further differentiation. Aazamazadeh and Baghali (Reference Aazamazadeh and Baghali2012) classify Salafists into jihadi (radical and moderate) and non-jihadi (traditional and conservative) orientations. According to them, radical jihadis advocate global confrontation and extensive takfir , whereas non-jihadi traditionalists reject armed struggle under present conditions and display ambivalence toward existing regimes, sometimes accepting Saudi Arabia or Iran as Islamic states.
The academic study of Salafism over the last three decades has been decisively shaped by what Théo Blanc and Olivier Roy (Reference Blanc and Roy2024) identify as a globalist paradigm that came into being in the aftermath of the Cold War and gained analytical dominance following the attacks of September 11, 2001. Early scholarship, like Quintan Wiktorowicz’s influential work on Salafi networks and activism (2001, 2005), as well as seminal edited volumes such as Global Salafism by Roel Meijer (Reference Meijer2014) and Salafism in the Maghreb by Frederic Wehrey and Anouar Boukhars (Reference Wehrey and Boukhars2019), conceptualized Salafism mainly as a transnational ideological project. In this literature, Salafism was understood as a coherent, globalized movement whose expansion was driven by Saudi religious institutions, petro-capital, and later digital infrastructures that facilitated the circulation of doctrine beyond territorial and cultural boundaries. Olivier Roy’s theory of the “deculturation of Islam,” articulated in Globalized Islam (Reference Roy2006), became particularly influential. Roy argued that Salafism’s global success stemmed from its radical severance from local cultures, producing a purified religious form detached from historical social practices and embedded traditions. This argument was consonant with broader globalization theories advanced by Peter Mandaville (Reference Mandaville2001), who emphasized how globalization destabilized traditional systems of religious knowledge production through translocalization, pluralization of authority, and global mediatization. Yet, as the recent literature demonstrates, the globalist paradigm increasingly reproduced a scalar ordering in which the “global” was analytically privileged and the “local” reduced to a passive site of reception. This epistemological orientation not only obscured internal diversity within Salafism but also erased the ways in which Salafi actors are shaped by national histories, state policies, and localized power struggles, which is the case in contexts such as Iranian Kurdistan.
In response to the analytical exhaustion of the globalist paradigm, a growing body of scholarship has advanced Blanc and Roy’s notion of post-Salafi or translocal approach, marking a decisive shift in the study of Salafism from diffusionist models to relational and context-sensitive outlook. Yet, as the recent literature demonstrates, the globalist paradigm increasingly reproduced a scalar ordering in which the “global” was analytically privileged and the “local” reduced to a passive site of reception (Wehrey and Boukhars Reference Wehrey and Boukhars2019). This literature, grounded in extensive ethnographic and comparative research across the Mediterranean, Sub-Saharan Africa, and Europe, challenges the assumption that Salafism is inherently decultured or detached from locality. Scholars such as Alexander Thurston (Reference Thurston2016), Francesco Cavatorta and Fabio Merone (Reference Cavatorta and Merone2017), Théo Blanc and Olivier Roy (Reference Blanc and Roy2024), and Stéphane Lacroix (Reference Lacroix2025) demonstrate that Salafism is increasingly characterized by processes of indigenization, re-culturation, and politicization. Indigenization refers to the increasing incorporation of national religious traditions, such as Maliki jurisprudence in Tunisia and Morocco, into Salafi discourse as a means of gaining social legitimacy and negotiating institutional constraints. Reculturation highlights the reciprocal adaptation between Salafism and popular religiosity, producing “soft Salafization” of society alongside a dilution of Salafi exclusivism. This process, as Francesco Cavatorta and Fabio Merone (Reference Cavatorta and Merone2017) call it, is a mutual transformation of religious fields, in which Salafism is pushed beyond the narrow boundaries of its original ideological core (Streng Reference Streng1993). Methodologically, this new understanding adopts a transregional comparative approach, juxtaposing Muslim-majority contexts (Algeria, Tunisia, Syria) with Muslim-minority settings (France, Ethiopia, Cambodia) to showcase that post-Salafi transformations are not geographically exceptional but structurally widespread.
Salafism in recent decades has continually reconfigured itself in response to shifting political conditions, internal critiques, and engagements with other Islamist traditions, particularly the Muslim Brotherhood (Wagemakers Reference Wagemakers and by2019). Wagemakers (Reference Wagemakers and by2019) and Bishara (Reference Bishara2022) documented that contemporary political and jihadi Salafism were not just radical deviations but products of internal Salafi debates over authority, participation, and praxis. Bano (Reference Bano2021) discusses the flexibility of Salafism to capture this adaptive capacity, emphasizing that Salafi actors recalibrate doctrinal rigidity to survive securitization, repression, and institutional marginalization. The case of Iranian Kurdistan presents a critical intervention in Salafism studies by unmasking the state’s role as an active architect of religious fields rather than a taken-for-granted arena of ideological contestation. Historical analyses of Iran under the Pahlavi monarchy reveal systematic policies of ethno-linguistic and religious assimilation, such as the banning of non-Persian languages in education and administration, which disproportionately affected Sunni communities such as Kurds, Baluch, and Turkmen. While religious minorities experienced comparatively greater autonomy under the secular Pahlavi state, the IRI institutionalized sectarian governance by embedding Shiʿism into the very structure of sovereignty (IRI Constitution, Article 12). Scholars such as Stéphane Dudoignon (Reference Dudoignon2017) emphasize that the post-1979 state’s primary concern in Sunni regions has been geopolitical rather than theological, particularly counterbalancing Saudi influence following the Afghan jihad. This led to the selective promotion of Deobandi institutions in Baluchistan and the Muslim Brotherhood, inspired networks in Kurdish areas as buffers against Wahhabi-Salafi expansion. The Iranian case thus poses a challenge to both globalist and post-Salafi models because it shows how Salafism is refracted through ethnopolitical hierarchies, security regimes, and regional rivalries, and not simply unfolding as a purely ideological or transnational phenomenon.
Last but not least, there is the advent of Sunni reformist politics in Iran and its broader implications for theories of political Islam. In the absence of legal political parties, Sunni actors have increasingly articulated their claims through reformist religious discourse, shifting from explicit ethnic demands toward broader appeals for religious rights that find some common ground with Iran’s dominant reformist public sphere. This strategic rearticulation, observed among Kurdish, Baluch, and Turkmen reformists, reflects a pragmatic adaptation to constrained political opportunity structures. Figures such as Molavi Abdulhamid have emerged as influential Sunni leaders, filling the representational vacuum left by the absence of formal political institutions. Yet we must be cautious about interpreting this shift as a resolution of structural inequalities because while religious reformism may offer short-term gains in visibility and moral authority, secular nationalist aspirations remain deeply entrenched among Kurdish populations; this, in turn, highlights the persistent tension between reformist accommodation and anti-colonial politics.
Methodology
This study employs a combination of narrative inquiry and thematic analysis to explore the perspectives of Salafist actors in Iranian Kurdistan. Narrative analysis enables an in-depth examination of how participants construct meaning from their social, cultural, and political experiences, providing a rich framework for understanding the complexities and subtleties of Salafist identities and worldviews (Yamane Reference Yamane2000; Al-Bundawi Reference Al-Bundawi and Pihlaja2021). The research was conducted in 2024–2025 in four cities within Kermanshah province: Ravansar, Javanroud, Salas Babajani, and Sarpol Zahab. These locations were selected due to their geographic proximity to Iraq’s Kurdistan region and their status as socio-politically significant Sunni Kurdish areas with growing Salafist influence. These cities are also characterized by the underrepresentation of Sunni Kurds in administrative roles and have witnessed recruitment into jihadist groups, making them critical sites for this inquiry.
Participants were recruited through purposive sampling and snowball sampling to identify individuals with relevant experience and knowledge of Salafi movements. Purposive sampling ensured the inclusion of jihadist actors and families affected by jihadi conflicts, while snowball sampling helped overcome challenges related to the sensitive nature of the topic and the difficulty of accessing closed or security-conscious communities. Recruitment relied primarily on the researcher’s existing contacts and networks within the Kurdish Sunni community, which facilitated trust-building and access.
All interviewees were male, aged 23 to 62 years. The decision to focus on men was based on their predominant roles within religious leadership and militant activities in Salafist groups, which aligned with the study’s focus on jihadist narratives and socio-political mobilization. Marital status was recorded because it often influences social standing and religious responsibilities within the community, which in turn affect participants’ perspectives and narratives. The sample included 11 clerics and imams from local mosques and 16 individuals enrolled in religious education programs. Regarding employment, 21 participants were self-employed, and 6 were government employees. Educational backgrounds varied: 8 held bachelors degrees, 5 had masters degrees, 11 completed diplomas, and 3 had sub-diploma education.
Semi-structured interviews were conducted primarily in Kurdish, the participants’ native language, to ensure clarity and comfort during conversations. When necessary, Farsi was used for clarification. The author’s linguistic and cultural familiarity with Kurdish Sunni communities facilitated access and rapport, while also setting limits on what participants chose to disclose. No professional translators were involved, as the researcher is fluent in both Kurdish and Farsi, allowing direct communication and minimizing the risk of misinterpretation. Thematic analysis was employed to identify and interpret key themes within participants’ narratives, focusing on how Salafists articulate their religious beliefs, political aspirations, and responses to marginalization. This method enabled a systematic examination of patterns across interviews while preserving the individual voices and lived experiences of the respondents.
Recruiting participants posed significant challenges due to the sensitive and potentially dangerous nature of the subject matter. Trust was essential, and the snowball sampling method helped overcome initial barriers by relying on referrals from known and trusted community members. Security concerns also limited access to female participants, whose involvement in Salafist networks tends to be more private or less publicly documented, thus explaining the focus on men in this study.
Findings
This section presents the key findings from interviews with Salafist participants. The interviews shed light on how these individuals understand Islamic society, governance, and identity in both theological and political terms. Their responses revolve around a few central ideas: the belief that Islamic governance must be rooted in the Qur’an and Sunnah, the role of Da’wah and Jihad in achieving that goal, and the conviction that religion and politics are inseparable. Many interviewees voiced frustration with the existing political system in Iran, which they see as only superficially Islamic, and highlighted the marginalization of Sunni communities. They also expressed concern about cultural decline, particularly regarding Western influence, the erosion of Islamic values, and the weakening of family structures. Their critique extended to religious rivals, including Sufis, the Muslim Brotherhood, and the School of the Qur’an, whom they saw as deviating from the “true path.” Overall, these findings reveal how Salafist actors imagine an ideal Islamic society, define insiders and outsiders, and position themselves in contrast to both state and society. What follows is an exploration of these themes through the participants’ own words and experiences.
The Islamic model of society and governance
To explore the dynamic interplay between Islamic society, governance, and the Salafist worldview, it is essential to examine how Salafist thought envisions the establishment of an Islamic state. The analysis of the interview data reveals three overarching themes: the vision of a Quran-centered society, the necessity of Da’wah and Jihad for establishing Islamic governance, and the belief in a maximalist interpretation of religion, in which religion and politics are inseparable. The interviewees, predominantly active within the Salafi movement, expressed strong convictions regarding the nature of Islamic society and the means required to realize it. They shed light on the broader ideological underpinnings of their political aspirations.
The interviews point to a coherent, though somewhat internally differentiated, Salafist conception of Islamic society that is grounded not simply in demographic Muslim identity but in the concrete institutionalization of divine sovereignty through structures of governance. For the participants, an Islamic society is not defined by the presence of Muslims alone, nor by cultural markers of Islam, but by the rule of Sharia as a governing guide that structures law, morality, and political authority. This distinction repeatedly surfaced in respondents’ differentiation between Dar al-Islam and what they termed a “true Islamic society.” While a Muslim-majority society may still be considered Islamic in a general sense, it remains deficient and oppressive without Islamic governance. Several interviewees pointed to the absence of Islamic rule as a condition to produce moral pressure, social decay, and political alienation. One imam articulated this aspiration succinctly: “The Islamic society can do what God has requested on earth, obey the Prophet’s teachings, and be a good country for its citizens.” Another respondent explicitly drew on Sayyid Qutb’s civilizational language (see Antúnez Reference Antúnez Moreno2017), describing Islamic society as one governed entirely by the Qur’an and Sunnah, where disbelief is eliminated not through coercion but through the total ordering of social life. The interviews also illustrated a maximalist conception of Islam as a civilizational project that integrates private faith with a localized reworking of global Islamist ideas.
A second major point in the interviews concerns the role of Da’wah and Jihad as complementary mechanisms for establishing Islamic governance. The interviews complicate securitized readings of Salafism by demonstrating how participants interpret these concepts pragmatically, situationally, and collectively. Da’wah is widely recognized as the primary and necessary foundation, a process of religious education, moral reform, and cultural persuasion aimed at preparing society for Islamic governance. Yet Jihad is not rejected or postponed indefinitely. It is envisaged as conditional, defensive, and dependent on social readiness. Participants repeatedly talked about powerlessness, fragmentation, and lack of cohesion among Muslims in Iran, which they viewed as obstacles to any immediate confrontation with the state. As one participant who also worked in a government office explained, Salafist practice requires constant assessment of conditions: “Some situations require armed jihad, others Da’wah, and sometimes patience is the only option.” This emphasis on contextual judgment illustrates what the literature describes as Salafi flexibility or an adaptive recalibration of doctrine under constraint. Moreover, Jihad is consistently conceptualized as the responsibility of the Ummah, not of isolated individuals or clandestine groups. Respondents rejected vanguardism and underscored the necessity of unity, collective legitimacy, and broad social participation. References to Egypt, where an Islamist electoral victory was overturned, seem to have been taken as cautionary lessons about the limits of peaceful mobilization in the absence of a defensive capacity. At the same time, these narratives do not advocate indiscriminate violence; rather, they reveal a strategic imagination shaped by repression, regional precedents, and an acute awareness of structural asymmetry. In this sense, Da’wah and Jihad are played out as locally embedded repertoires of action, calibrated to Iran’s securitized environment and the precarious position of Sunni Kurds within it.
The third and most unifying theme across the interviews is the rejection of secularism and the insistence on the inseparability of religion and politics. Participants articulated a deeply cemented opposition to any model that confines Islam to the private sphere, viewing secular governance as actively producing disbelief (kufr). Concepts such as the unity of religion and politics, the necessity of divine guidance in public life, and the moral corruption generated by secular systems were recurrent across age, education, and occupational backgrounds. A 39-year-old vendor of religious materials stated bluntly that separating religion from politics is a “deviant Western idea,” adding that politics without religion is haram (forbidden, in Arabic). Another interviewee, a young man with a masters degree, articulated a maximalist vision of Islam as a comprehensive system governing hygiene, economics, ethics, jihad, and governance. He opposed any interpretation of Islam that limits its scope as blasphemous. Yet these assertions should not be read as mere ideological rigidity. Rather, they signify how Salafist maximalism is buttressed by experiences of exclusion under a state that itself claims religious legitimacy while denying Sunnis political representation and institutional equality. In this context, secularism is rejected as an order perceived to have failed Muslims historically and locally, whether through colonial legacies, authoritarian nationalism, or sectarian governance (Saeidi and Osmanzadeh Reference Saeidi and Osmanzadeh2024). The interviews thus tell us how opposition to secularism becomes a language through which broader grievances are articulated, linking theological claims to questions of justice, dignity, and sovereignty. Rather than signaling an inevitable trajectory toward violence, this maximalist discourse, as evident in the interviews, can be understood as a moral critique of existing power arrangements and a claim to an alternative political imagination rooted in divine authority.
Rethinking Islamic dress codes
Salafist attention to social conduct and modes of dress signals a conception of morality and piety as inherently collective, bound to the larger project of producing and sustaining an Islamic social order. Across interviews, participants constantly underlined behavioral norms and dress codes as markers of societal fidelity to Islamic principles, linking personal practice directly to collective identity. They identified four interconnected drivers of moral decline that include: negligence among religious leaders, governmental weakness, Western cultural penetration, and the breakdown of family socialization. As one young cleric observed, “The clerics and residents of our city have been affected by a decline in sincerity. While they remain inherently good, the lack of guidance from preachers and missionaries has contributed to this unfortunate situation.” Another echoed this, emphasizing clerical responsibility: “Just as the dough can be molded, we have the power to influence and change people. We must extend a general invitation for everyone to take action and utilize their skills and capabilities to make a positive impact.” They situated the origins of moral decline in the failures of local religious infrastructure to actively shape society, a theme that resonates with post-Salafi scholarship emphasizing the indigenization and social embeddedness of Salafist practice (Blanc and Roy Reference Blanc and Roy2024).
Closely intertwined with religious leadership is the perceived role of governance. Respondents expressed that governmental inaction or mismanagement exacerbates cultural erosion. The state institutions were pronounced as responsible for reinforcing religious norms and curtailing exposure to “instruments of sin.” One imam stated, “The government is responsible for the religious and spiritual well-being of the people and must address this duty. Clericals should educate the public about the illegality of specific actions.” Another elaborated on the collective dimension of this responsibility: “People must comprehend and uphold the true essence of religion to avoid such a scenario.” The emphasis on governance as a guardian of morality sits well with a locally situated understanding of Salafism. Participants perceive their religious project as deeply enmeshed in local political structures. They considered both a pragmatic awareness of state constraints and a normative expectation that government, alongside clerics, should function as a moral guide.
The third and most widely articulated driver of behavioral change is Western cultural influence. Satellite television, media exposure, and the perceived spread of Western norms were consistently identified as destabilizing agents that undermine Islamic dress codes, gender relations, and moral behaviors. One 48-year-old cleric explained, “It is disheartening to witness the shift in morals and character dynamics, with traditional gender roles being reversed. This calls for a collective awakening and a mass invitation to initiate a responsive movement.” Another interviewee highlighted the visual and symbolic dimension of cultural intrusion: “It is evident that our society has become heavily Westernized over the years. Our region was markedly different not so long ago. However, if we look at the clothing and undergarments advertised on satellite television, it becomes clear that our culture has undergone significant changes.” Westernization was understood as a pervasive and insidious threat that required proactive intervention through both education and moral guidance. Participants also underscored the centrality of the family as a locus for cultivating Islamic values, linking household socialization directly to broader social conduct. A masters degree-educated public-sector employee emphasized that reform must begin within families, stating, “It is crucial to initiate positive change from within families and for the government and media to approach this matter with wisdom and sensitivity. It is essential to prevent this situation by fostering an understanding within families and promoting Sharia law while also highlighting the detrimental effects of Western culture.” Another corroborated this, illustrating the real-world challenges of familial enforcement: “I have witnessed cases where devout parents fail to address their daughters’ immodest behavior. When I raised my concerns about his sister with a friend, he felt helpless and unsure what to do.”
Our findings accentuate the multi-layered ways Salafists in Iranian Kurdistan perceive societal decline. They connect their concerns about personal behavior, clothing, and family practices to broader structures of governance, clerical responsibility, and cultural influence, which, in turn, provide a hyperlocalized understanding of moral reform. In this vein, participants articulate a holistic vision of societal restoration that is simultaneously doctrinally maximalist and strategically sensitive to local constraints. This demonstrates that Salafist engagement with everyday life is inseparable from their broader political and theological project, complicating our understanding of how a post-globalist approach to Salafism must account for localized moral and cultural labor as a critical dimension of religious praxis.
The experience of theocracy in Iran
In exploring the Salafist perspective on Iran’s political system, we examined how they view the theocratic structure in Iran and the position of Sunnis within it. The Iranian theocracy, as perceived by the Salafists, is seen through a lens of skepticism and critique, shaped by their belief that the state’s actions are not consonant with true Islamic principles. From the interview data, we derived three main themes of ritualization of the political system in Iran: political distrust, disruption, and unequal recognition.
A central concern expressed by participants is the ritualization of Islamic governance, whereby the state claims a religious mandate while failing to substantively implement Islamic principles. Interviewees consistently described the Iranian political system as “Islamic in word but not in action,” reducing religion to symbolic rituals devoid of meaningful governance. As one 51-year-old imam explained, “If I were to meet a Shi‘a official, I would advise them to carefully consider the consequences of missing this government. … Many of the actions taken by the current government are questionable, and it is concerning that these mistakes could lead to its downfall. Overall, I am opposed to the Iranian government.” Similarly, a 61-year-old man emphasized that, while the regime pretends to respect Islamic customs, “its actions do not reflect a genuine commitment to these beliefs … this government does not solely represent Shiite principles.” These implications resonate with the literature on indigenized Salafism, which argues that Salafi actors continuously negotiate the meaning and implementation of Islamic authority within specific political and social contexts rather than accepting transnational doctrinal claims at face value (Cavatorta and Merone Reference Cavatorta and Merone2017; Bano Reference Bano2021). The participants’ critique is hyperlocal, as it evaluates the Iranian theocracy not against global Salafi ideals alone, but through the lens of lived Sunni marginalization, connecting it to a locally grounded form of political epistemology.
Intimately linked to this ritualization is a pervasive distrust in the state’s political authority, which participants perceive as moral and practical incompetence. Themes such as “lack of trust in the system,” “removal of officials from religion,” and “negative trust” point to Salafists’ scepticism about the government’s capacity to uphold justice, protect religious rights, or administer governance consistent with Islamic values. One student of religious sciences asserted bluntly, “I have no confidence. They are irreligious, worldly, and cowardly people,” while another participant emphasized the importance of accountability and civic freedoms: “I have reservations about their trustworthiness. I expect them to prioritize serving the nation in economic, cultural, freedom of opinion, or religious realms. Everyone should be free to express themselves, as we are all inherently free, created by God.” We can infer that these statements reference Salafi actors’ critique of governance as stemming from a concrete assessment of the state’s failure to provide inclusion, justice, and recognition, conditions the Salafists deem central to their hyperlocal vision of Islamic society (Wehrey and Boukhars Reference Wehrey and Boukhars2019; Bruckmayr and Hartung Reference Bruckmayr and Hartung2020).
Participants also emphasized systemic disruption and inequality in recognition to bring to the fore the marginalization of Sunnis in Iran’s theocratic ladder. In their view, the absence of legal protections, limited access to governance, and constraints on religious expression are mechanisms that both exclude them from political power and inhibit the practical implementation of Islamic principles. As one interviewee described, “In a society where religious freedom is restricted … and where there is no legal protection for religious rights, it is not easy to feel a sense of true freedom. The absence of representation and advocacy at higher levels of governance further exacerbates this lack of freedom.” Another imam reinforced the structural nature of this marginalization, linking influence and religious practice: “It is often claimed that Salafists quickly turn to Jihad, but it is clear that any belief system requires influence to be practiced. Whether it is a religious belief or any other ideology, the ability to exert influence is essential for implementation.” The participants perceive theocratic governance as a field constrained, if not fully shaped by ethnoreligious ordering, structural exclusion, and local contestation, which, as the findings imply, are consistent with post-Salafi scholarship that foregrounds the interplay of ideology, politics, and locally embedded power structures (Merone et al. 2021; Blanc Reference Blanc2020).
Negotiating community and otherness
At the heart of Salafist identity lies a strong commitment to preserving the purity of their beliefs and practices. The insiders are those who adhere strictly to the Salafist ideology, viewing themselves as the true representatives of Islam. Salafist Islam encompasses those who follow the teachings and traditions of Islam and specifically identify as “believers in line with the Salafist spirit,” “supporters of the Islamic caliphate,” followers of “Tablighi Jamaat,”Footnote 4 and “Muslim Brotherhood as a means of embracing Salafism.”
Salafists forge a finely calibrated understanding of insider-outsider boundaries. These boundaries are used to maintain communal coherence, ensure religious purity, and regulate engagement with Muslim and non-Muslim groups. It should be noted that Salafists in Iranian Kurdistan articulate their boundaries in ways that are sensitive to local realities, social hierarchies, and the pressures of minority status (Blanc Reference Blanc2020; Merone et al. 2021).
At the core of Salafist identity lies a commitment to doctrinal purity through which insiders are defined as those who strictly adhere to Salafist teachings and practices. Participants repeatedly emphasized affiliation with the Salafist spirit, declared support for the Islamic caliphate, affiliation with Tablighi Jamaat, and engagement with the Muslim Brotherhood as strategic vehicles for cultivating Salafist norms. One married participant with a masters degree explained: “First and foremost, I aim to engage with those who share similar views. I am also open to dialogue with individuals who may not agree with my current perspectives, like those from divergent movements such as Ash’ari, Tablighi Jamaat, and Ikhwani.” Similarly, one imam highlighted the importance of moderation in defining insiders: “I believe that any Muslim who has not embraced extremism or is not in conflict with you should be considered a part of the community.”
By contrast, outsiders are defined through both doctrinal deviation and practical opposition, extending beyond non-Muslims to encompass “ignorant Muslims, mercenaries, hypocrites,” and groups perceived as obstructing Islamic objectives. This includes certain Sufi orders, Qur’anic schools (Quraishi), and secular Kurdish parties, illustrating how Salafists interpret political, social, and religious challenges as intertwined. As a young, unmarried public-sector worker with a masters degree noted, “Outside the Islamic community, some individuals may not truly uphold the values and teachings of Islam. These may include hypocrites, mercenaries, and those who sow division, even among those who identify with the Sunnah and Jamaat. Their understanding of the religion may not align with its true principles.” Another interviewee broadened this categorization to explicitly secular or non-religious actors: “Those who do not follow Islam, including atheists, communists, and secular individuals, are considered outsiders in my community.”
Despite this exclusivity, Salafists employ strategic differentiation in engagement, namely a combination of doctrinal rigidity and pragmatic flexibility. Groups or individuals openly opposed to Islam or Salafism are classified as “active enemies” and may be confronted intellectually or, in some cases, militarily. On the other hand, passive or non-obstructive actors are met with tolerance and reform-oriented outreach. One participant with a masters degree stated, “I am willing to accommodate those who do not impede my progress in my interactions. However, I firmly confront those who pose obstacles to my goals.” Similarly, an imam reflected on the nuanced application of these principles: “When navigating various situations, it is crucial to tailor your responses accordingly. In the face of conflict, it is essential to address it directly, whereas when encountering rejection, criticism, or controversy, it is best to approach the situation with tact and understanding.” The participants expressed their readiness to negotiate boundaries as contextually informed strategies to balance the preservation of ideological purity with the practical realities of minority existence and sociopolitical constraints in Iran.
Interaction with religious factions
The Salafists’ interaction with other religious factions in the Kurdish regions of Iran manifests a meticulous negotiation of religious authority, doctrinal purity, and political boundaries. Salafists approach Sufism, the School of the Quran, Jama’at Da’wah and Islah, with a careful combination of conditional endorsement and pointed critique (Saeidi and Mohammadpour Reference Saeidi and Mohammadpour2025; Saeidi and Osmanzadeh Reference Saeidi, Osmanzadeh and Salih2025). Their interaction mostly hinges on the perceived fidelity of these movements to the Qur’an and Sunnah, alongside a persistent concern for independence from political authorities. Drawing upon interview data, it becomes evident that Salafists grant latitude to religious groups that refrain from politicizing their practices or propagating rituals that stray from their understanding of orthodox Islam. For instance, a respondent emphasized the legitimacy of groups that avoid partisan commitments while focusing on cultivating religious observance: “It is perfectly acceptable for these groups not to endorse any specific political party and instead focus on promoting religious principles.” The imam of a local congregation reinforced this principle by cautioning against ritual practices that Salafists consider incompatible with divine injunctions, stating: “There is room for debate, as different perspectives exist. Sufis may encourage chanting that does not align with God’s worship. This is inappropriate, and individuals must know the Shariah (Islamic law, in Arabic) ruling on such acts. If someone invites you to impermissible practices, it is your duty to prevent them.” Thus, Salafists seem not to dismiss other groups wholesale but assess their adherence to doctrine, highlighting an epistemic vigilance characteristic of Salafist praxis (Wiktorowicz Reference Wiktorowicz2006; Meijer Reference Meijer2014). Salafists, therefore, navigate a terrain of religious pluralism in Kurdistan with a strict orientation toward textual literalism, individual accountability, and the maintenance of clear boundaries between legitimate and illegitimate forms of Islamic practice.
Salafist stance towards Sufism in Kurdistan is one of dismissal. Despite Sufism’s earlier establishment in the region compared to Salafism, Jama’at Da’wah and Islah, and the School of the Quran, Salafists frequently characterize Sufi orders in terms of doctrinal error, superstition, and inconsistent moral conduct. Respondents describe Sufism as encompassing “many deviations and superstitions,” “ignorance while being Muslim,” and even “blasphemous acts,” while acknowledging the coexistence of moderate and more extreme adherents. This perception speaks to a broader literature on Salafist critiques of Sufism, which situates Sufi devotional practices, including dhikr, ziyara, and saint veneration, as unauthorized innovations (bid‘ah) that compromise the primacy of the Qur’an and Sunnah (Commins 2006; Brown 2017). The perception of deviation intensifies when Sufi groups interact with state institutions. Several interviewees noted that governmental endorsement of Sufi organizations constitutes a form of ideological corruption, rendering them instrumental in maintaining state structures rather than religious integrity. As one respondent explained, “Now, they have transitioned to receiving financial support from the government, and they are officially endorsed as they have become instrumental in maintaining the infrastructure. They also actively support government initiatives.” Here, political complicity translates into theological compromise, reinforcing Salafist vigilance toward both ritual and organizational purity. Even when acknowledging the continued inclusion of Sufi followers within the broader Muslim community, Salafists delineate boundaries of permissible practice and knowledge, distinguishing between unintentional ignorance and deliberate distortion (see Lacroix Reference Lacroix2025.
Salafist scrutiny of the School of the Quran, Jama’at Da’wah, and Islah illustrates a complex interplay of doctrinal evaluation, political critique, and internal distinctions of legitimacy. Following Ahmad Muftizadeh’s death, the School of the Quran fragmented into two currents: Hassan Amini’s Kurdistan School of the Quran, which pursued doctrinal reform, and Saadi Qureshi’s branch, which adhered closely to Muftizadeh’s original interpretations. Salafist assessments portray Amini’s followers as devout yet doctrinally compromised, while the Qureshi branch is frequently labeled “irreligious,” “propagating dangerous thoughts,” or engaging in interpretations that could endanger the Muslim community. One interviewee articulated this tension: “The School of the Quran has strayed from its original teachings, particularly the Saadi Qureshi branch. Figures like Kak Hassan Amini are from Islam, but the School of the Quran, while claiming to be Islamic, distorts texts and propagates controversial ideas. I cannot personally endorse their beliefs.” (Voll 2009; Meijer Reference Meijer2014). Likewise, Salafist disagreement with Jama’at Da’wah and Islah centers on the perceived accommodation of secular-democratic principles and modernist theological currents, such as Soroush-inspired intellectualism, which they construe as threats to doctrinal and moral coherence (Hoebink Reference Hoebink2008). Respondents referred to the disjunction between conventional education and theological insight, suggesting that the Brotherhood’s participation in parliamentary politics and endorsement of democratic norms represents a profound departure from authentic Islam. In contrast, Sufism, despite its perceived deviations, maintains practices and ethics that Salafists recognize as minimally consonant with Qur’anic injunctions. It is evident that Salafists adopt a selective evaluation strategy that critiques, disciplines, and occasionally tolerates other religious actors, asserting a vision of Islam rooted in uncompromising textual authority, doctrinal vigilance, and moral accountability (see Commins 2006; Lacroix 2011; Meijer Reference Meijer2014).
Salafists and the Kurdish struggle for national identity
Many studies have examined the classification of Salafism, producing a wide range of typologies. Yet, much of this scholarship tends to converge around a tripartite framework that divides Salafism into three broad currents: jihadist, political, and scientific (or quietist) Salafism (Olidort Reference Olidort2015; Wagemakers Reference Wagemakers and by2019; Bunzel Reference Bunzel2015). At the same time, several scholars argue that reducing Salafi discourse to these three categories is overly rigid and fails to capture its internal complexity, proposing classifications that extend beyond this conventional spectrum (Pall Reference Pall2013; Adraoui Reference Adraoui2020). Indeed, Salafism should not be approached as a unified or monolithic movement. Other researchers similarly emphasize that Salafism is best understood as a complex, multidimensional, and multi-axial phenomenon (Gauvain 2022). Therefore, its internal diversity and ideological variations must be taken seriously in any analytical framework.
Salafism in Iranian Kurdistan is no exception to this and is divided into different groups, but what is noteworthy is that the jihadist nature of Salafism in this geography has been accompanied by a new redefinition on their part. The Salafis we interviewed repeatedly mentioned that they consider the current governments to be infidels and the rulers of other Islamic countries to be takfir, which in itself indicates their lack of adherence to the scholarly or silent Salafism known among them as Madhkali Salafism:
“I do not accept the government of Arabia itself, and now their activities are moving towards atheism, but their people are Muslims. Turkey is not an Islamic state. There is also disagreement about Erdogan himself, and I see a move towards Islam in his plans … I have no information about Malaysia either.” (N.E. Married. Masters degree. Freelance)
From the perspective of the jihadi Salafis of Iranian Kurdistan, Madhkali Salafism (in line with the governments of the time) is far from the path and method of the righteous Salaf and the pioneers of the vanguard, and it is not appropriate to stop jihad for non-Islamic reasons.
Salafism (silent or Madhkali) has not been very prominent in Iranian Kurdistan, and so far, no public praise of the leader or the religious authorities of the Iranian government has been observed in their pulpits, writings, or interviews. This is in contrast to the approach of Madhkali Salafis in Iraqi Kurdistan, who publicly declare their alignment with the Kurdistan Regional Government on social media and in official debates on news channels. For example, in the war against ISIS, Madhkali Salafis declared their support for the Peshmerga forces. While the jihad in Syria with the forces of the Islamic Republic of Iran and the formation of the Iranian Sunni Immigrant Movement by a jihadist Salafi group opposed to the IRI itself speak of the deep distance between the Iranian jihadist Salafi group and the IRI. The familiarity of Iranian jihadist Salafis with this (Madhkali) approach is focused on the beliefs of a range of Salafis in the Kurdistan Region, led by Abdul Latif Ahmad, known as Abdul Latif Salafi, who is one of the propagandists of Madhkali Salafis in Iraqi Kurdistan.
In Iranian Kurdistan, the Salafis in question have a kind of jihadi spirit stemming from their beliefs and convictions, such that even in times of weakness, they have prepared themselves for any crisis and unexpected circumstances, which sometimes lead to migration and armed and violent actions. They believe in the existence of two types of jihad: defensive and jihadist, defining defensive jihad as eliminating imposed oppression and tyranny, and jihadist jihad as spreading and expanding the dominance of religion in other places, depending on the circumstances of time and place, and how jihad is conducted.
“One of the religious methods is jihad, that is, fighting, and the ground for it must be prepared, and the nation itself must be ready and welcome it, and say that we do not want this government because it is anti-Islam, and this is not a matter of organization or organization. This requires a widespread spirit and the people.” (A.K. Married. Diploma. Teacher. Freelancer)
Followers of Salafism in Iranian Kurdistan believe that the space for political participation in Iran is closed to Sunnis, and Salafis consider change impossible, given the lack of change in the deep layers of society during the decades of the Islamic Republic of Iran’s rule. In a way that they believe that the beliefs of the government officials and the immutability of the constitution block the way for any reforms. In addition, they believe that participation in politics in this era is doomed to failure and that it is not possible to seize power with these ideological tendencies and make the relevant thoughts current and widespread in Islamic countries. Referring to the coup against Mohamed Morsi, the Ennahda Party in Tunisia, the Nour Party in Egypt, and the Quran School in Iran, which are more tolerant and interactive, they also consider political Salafism in this field to be ineffective and incapable. “In this era, they do not allow Islam to grow, as we saw in Egypt, where most of the votes belonged to Islamists, but they still did not allow it, so the movement of jihad is also necessary, so in addition to calling for power, it definitely needs jihad. In this era, participating in parliament and taking seats in parliament will not get anywhere, for example, Rachid Ghannouchi will be sidelined and no one can do anything and Islamic law will be marginalized. We must get to the root of this issue.” (S.A. Married. Diploma. Self-employed)
In addition, the Salafist movement in the aforementioned region has a dominant majority who introduce themselves as people of the effect (people of hadith) and reject or modify the thoughts of others who consider themselves to be Salafist, such as extremist partisan thoughts (related to ISIS) or Najdi (Arabian Peninsula) that go back to Muhammad bin Abdul Wahhab. In this sense, they do not accept a harsh and harsh definition of Salafism and, by rejecting the extremism of ISIS and the ideological and behavioral errors of Muhammad bin Abdul Wahhab’s call in previous years, which is known as Wahhabism, they consider themselves far from these jihadist movements and want to move on the right path of the righteous predecessors. Although the Salafists of Iranian Kurdistan had initially joined the Islamic State group in a limited number, after a while, the errors and extremism of this group and the lack of support and backing of Salafist scholars, including Abu Muhammad Moqaddasi, Abu Qatada al-Filastini, and Hani al-Siba’i, etc., led to rejection and enlightenment in relation to They dealt with the ideological and behavioral errors of this group.
“In this city, force has not changed anything. In the current situation in Iran, where we have no power, you can only do it when the people really support you, because it is like a jihad, which, if the numbers are not prepared, will lead to failure” (N.H. Married. Masters Degree. Freelance).
“I don’t know, I don’t agree. Maybe I did it myself [violence], but I don’t agree” (S.R. Married. Bachelors Degree. Government Job).
Iranian Kurdistan Salafism has also modified the Najdi call or Wahhabism due to deviations and sometimes ideological errors, and its one-dimensionality in some jurisprudential rules. For example, Tawasul, which Wahhabism completely rejects, is considered a controversial issue by Iranian Kurdistan Salafism and does not call its believers misguided or innovators.
“There were compassionate people among them (Salafis influenced by Wahhabism), but they promoted the wrong idea and failed to implement a correct practical example of the Salafist idea in our region” (J.Z. Married. Diploma. Teacher).
In this way, the various divisions of Salafism, especially the threefold model of jihad, politics, and science, are undermined in this redefinition, and a new division can be revealed in Kurdistan that believes in a single progressive movement that can be called evolved jihadi Salafism as the only jihadi movement in Iranian Kurdistan that has been able to evolve, weaken, and eliminate its other competitors.
Assessing the political significance of Salafi actors in Iranian Kurdistan requires situating them against the historically dominant secular Kurdish nationalist movement. Although systematic public opinion data are unavailable under authoritarian conditions, a range of indirect indicators point to the enduring social and political weight of secular Kurdish organizations. These include the persistent overrepresentation of members and affiliates of parties such as the Democratic Party of Iranian Kurdistan (KDPI/PDKI) and Komala among political prisoners and individuals executed for political offenses, recurrent patterns of collective mobilization, such as calls for boycott, strikes, and civil resistance and most notably those associated with commemorations of Dr Abdul Rahman Ghassemlou’s assassination, and the prominence of Kurdish nationalist and democratic slogans in recent cycles of protest, particularly during the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement.
Historical trajectories further clarify this asymmetry. Periods in which state repression temporarily loosened have consistently revealed the organizational strength and popular resonance of secular Kurdish movements. Following the 1979 revolution, when political space briefly expanded, the KDPI and the Leftist Komala rapidly emerged as dominant political forces in Kurdish regions, while Islamist and Salafi-oriented actors remained marginal. This imbalance helps contextualize the IRI’s apparent tolerance toward Salafi actors. If the secular Kurdish nationalist movement enjoys a degree of popular legitimacy rooted in demands for democracy, self-rule, and cultural rights, then religious currents that reject nationalism, pluralism, and democratic politics pose a qualitatively different kind of challenge to the state. In this sense, Salafi actors are less as an oppositional force than as a counterweight to secular Kurdish mobilization. Comparable dynamics have been observed elsewhere, for example, Israel’s long-standing policy of bolstering Islamist Hamas as a counterweight to the secular nationalist Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), and Turkey’s instrumentalization of Hezbollah against the PKK in the 1990s. We are aware that these comparisons do not imply identical strategies or intentions, but they illuminate a broader repertoire of state practices in which Islamist actors are selectively tolerated or facilitated to fragment nationalist opposition.
The empirical material we presented in this article supports this interpretation. Interviewed Salafi actors articulate no demands for Kurdish political sovereignty, express little interest in mass mobilization, and direct their critiques primarily toward the perceived insufficiency of the IRI’s religiosity rather than its ethnic or territorial foundations. This constellation of positions helps explain why Salafism, despite its limited popular base, may occupy a strategic niche within the IRI’s governance of difference in Iranian Kurdistan. We should note that attributing deliberate state strategy is inherently difficult in the absence of access to classified documents or interviews with officials willing to acknowledge instrumental support for Salafi actors. Thus, we do not claim direct evidence of coordination or sponsorship. Instead, we try to advances a plausible, empirically grounded interpretation based on the patterned coexistence of three observations: first, the spatial concentration of Salafi networks in specific localities in Kermanshah province such as Salas-e Babajani, Sarpol-e Zahab, and Javanrud; second, the absence among these actors of demands for Kurdish sovereignty, federalism, or cultural-linguistic rights; and third, the sustained repression of secular Kurdish organizations that articulate precisely such claims.
To further elaborate, the strategic significance of Kermanshah province is central to this interpretation. The region is marked by complex religious and sectarian heterogeneity, ranging from Sunni and Shi‘a Kurds alongside adherents of the pre-Islamic Kurdish faith of Yarsan (Yari) (see Hamzeh’ee Reference Hamzeh’ee1989). In such a context, selective tolerance toward Salafi actors may not necessarily show an endorsement of their ideology, but it can be articulated as a mechanism for fragmenting Kurdish political solidarity. By introducing or sustaining religious fault lines within Kurdish society, the state may weaken the conditions under which collective mobilization around sovereignty, federalism, or democratic self-rule could cohere. Importantly, the interviews suggest that Salafi actors are more likely to position themselves against Kurdish secular rivals than against the Iranian state itself. Participants direct their critiques toward pluralism, secularism, and democratic politics, framing these as un-Islamic, while largely avoiding confrontational stances toward state authority beyond claims that the Islamic Republic falls short of genuine Islamic governance. This orientation renders Salafi actors a qualitatively different kind of presence from secular Kurdish movements, whose demands challenge the territorial, political, and ideological foundations of the state.
It can be said that one of the factors that unite religious/Islamist movements in Iranian Kurdistan is the opposition with and incompatibility between Islamism and Kurdish secularism, in such a way that Islamist movements with disparate approaches have been in agreement in confronting the growth or activities of secular movements and parties. This is also true about the Salafism movement in Kurdistan. This tendency is testified by organizing aid campaigns for Gaza, declaring support for Hamas as the mujahideen of the nation and the declaration of hatred toward Jews and Israel invasion, and the declaration of hatred toward Jews and Israelis. From the Salafis’ perspective, nationalism promotes deviations and moral decline in Kurdish society, and they consider it necessary to confront it. They attribute the people’s inclination towards ancient, “un-Islamic” ceremonies and the spread of unbridledness, conflicts, and insults to Islam to the activities of these parties and ideas. The Salafis of Iranian Kurdistan excommunicate secular ideas and parties in the form of left and right currents and place them in the circle of outsiders. Occasional confrontations with secularists who insult famous Kurdish singers and recently put a bounty on a channel affiliated with Iranian Kurdish Salafis abroad for the killing of a former member of the Swiss Democratic Party who had insulted Hazrat Aisha are examples of this.
“Those who are outside the religion of Islam, such as atheists, communists and secularists, are in my circle of strangers.” (M.K. Married. Graduate. Freelance)
The Salafis of Iranian Kurdistan cite their opposition to Kurdish nationalism as their opposition to nationalism and their failure to embrace Islam to strengthen the Sharia, believing that love of homeland or the existence of an independent state for the Kurdish people is not incompatible with religion, but what religion rules in that country is important, and this is also achieved through effort and jihad, and not by siding with infidels and infidel nations.
“I said that I am against democracy, but as long as everyone and every nation and group has a country. I myself did not participate in this referendum, but I would have liked to have a government and form a country. It failed because they did not turn their backs on God, but on the West, and the result was humiliation, and Kurdish leaders often turn their backs on foreigners, which is why they fail” (one of the interviewees).
Yet, interestingly, the denial of identity and assimilation is considered by Slafist to be against Islamic principles. They repeatedly emphasize wearing Kurdish clothes, learning their native language, and other identity characteristics, and they do not consider the denial of it legitimate, calling it a divine gift. However, they remain against democracy, feminism, and secularism, and feel committed to fighting such ideas as evident in their narratives:
“As a choice that God has made for me, it is very honorable to me. And I consider it a blessing from God.” … “I don’t want to turn away from this identity and I am very proud of it. Why shouldn’t I feel a sense of belonging and commitment?” … “Religion is involved in all areas, even sports, meaning we must do sports based on religious standards.” … “I like the rank-o chukhe [a Kurdish male dress] because it is a formal dress code. In my opinion, a dress like the Arabic dress is not good at all because it becomes a famous dress. … For me, the rank chukhe is a beautiful and distinctive dress. … I prefer the names that the Prophet recommended, such as Abdullah, Abdul Jabbar, and Abdul Sattar, to be Islamic names. I also like Kurdish names, and I am not against Kurdish names, but I myself believe that since the Prophet recommended these names, they should have priority.”
Ending Remarks
Salafism did not exist in its current sense in earlier centuries (Lauzière Reference Lauzière2016). Among prominent Islamic scholars and well-known figures, the term Salafism was not used as a codified movement or ideological spectrum. What earlier scholars described as the religion of the Salaf or the Salaf al-Salih was not identical to what is today called Salafism. In classical usage, the term referred mainly to the path of the Prophet and his companions, while in the modern sense it refers to a coherent and identifiable trend (Weismann Reference Weismann2017). Lozer (2017) argues that Salafism is a modern product, formed as an intellectual current, and was not known in that organized form before modernity. He adds that Western intellectuals played a major role in conceptualizing and naming it. For Lozer, one key reason behind the coherence of Salafism as a label was the confrontation with colonialism in the last centuries, which encouraged unity against Westernization and foreign domination. Yet even reformist magazines and newspapers that used the name Salafism, associated with figures such as Jamal al-Din Asadabadi, Abdo, and Sayer Ben, did not mean Salafism as a political party or a structured group founded by these figures, but mainly as a call for returning to the method of the pious predecessors.
The history of Salafi movements in Iranian Kurdistan begins mainly after the Islamic Revolution of Iran (1979). Before that period, there was no clear Salafi party or armed Salafist group in Kurdistan. In the early revolutionary years, the Muslim Brotherhood worked under the umbrella of the Maktab al-Quran movement, aiming to unite the Sunni front in Iran (see Osmanzadeh and Saeidi Reference Osmanzadeh and Saeidi2025). Later, the Shams Council was formed, consisting of scholars and representatives from different Sunni cities. Over time, tensions and conflicts between Sunni representatives and the leaders of the Islamic Revolution reduced the activities of Maktab al-Quran to a minimal level. After repeated arrests of Shams Council members, Sheikh Abdul Qadir Tohidi formed the “Islamic Sunni Movement and Community of Iran,” aiming to create an armed political party that could pursue Sunni demands and rights. This movement became the first jihadist group in Iran to openly oppose the structure of the Islamic Republic for ignoring Sunni rights. After repeated clashes with Iranian military forces, the movement eventually withdrew to Iraqi Kurdistan. After the decline of other Iranian Sunni Islamic groups such as the Khabat Organization, the Rozgari Party, the Quran School, and the Sunni Islamic Movement, most gradually dissolved or turned into passive political actors. In Iraqi Kurdistan, Islamic movements had strong clerical leadership and popular support, but Iranian Kurdish jihadists, many trained in Afghanistan and Iraq, lacked strong scholarly authority except among a few leaders. Iraqi Kurdish commanders were often guided by respected religious scholars such as Teacher Othman Abdul Aziz. This weakness later shaped many of the militant and short-sighted decisions seen among Iranian Kurdish jihadists. After divisions within the Islamic Movement of Iraqi Kurdistan and after the bombing of the Islamic Emirate of Biara, Arab and Kurdish immigrant forces entered the Kurdish areas of Iran.
The emergence of jihadist groups in Iran in later years largely grew out of these foreign-trained militants. After Ansar al-Islam entered Iran, jihadist activity revived through a structure known as Kataeb Kurdistan. Kataeb was an Iranian group seeking to strike the occupying forces and their allies. After guerrilla operations and assassinations of several high-ranking individuals in the Kurdistan Region, Kataeb — whose focus remained on Iraqi Kurdistan — was criticized by members who wanted direct action against Iran (Vahid et al. 2017). Since Kataeb was linked to Al-Qaeda Global, it rejected changing its goals. This dispute led to splits and the creation of new jihadist groups that concentrated on undermining Iranian sovereignty. Many of these groups acted impulsively, shaped by the Afghan jihad mentality, weak religious training, and lack of foresight. Fighters often entered operations after only four- or six-month religious courses and brief weapons training. Groups such as “Katibeh Salahuddin,” “Tawhid va Jihad,” and “Ahfad Salahuddin” emerged after separation from Kataeb. Among them, Tawhid va Jihad became more active. Attacks on patrol forces, police headquarters, and assassinations — such as the killing of the Assembly of Experts representative in Kurdistan Province (Mamosta Shaykh al-Islam) and the Imam of Quba Mosque in Sanandaj (Mamosta Burhan Ali) in 2009 — were among their major actions (ibid.). As the Iranian state increased security measures, arrested key members, and issued executions and heavy prison sentences, the organizational strength of jihadist groups collapsed. Their remaining activity became limited to mosques, religious study rooms, online spaces, and individual propaganda.
Globalization, the spread of Shiʿism in the Middle East after the rise of the IRI, sectarian fragmentation, and Salafi claims that Iranian Sunnis are trapped in superstition have fueled the rise of Salafism in Iranian Kurdistan. Salafist activism is tied to identity concerns, shaped by resistance to modernity, secularization, and cultural change. Their views on jihad, violence, ideological imposition, and the absence of an Islamic state show their belief that modernism carries colonial domination and opposition to divine law, which threatens their religious identity. Michael Salzman (Reference Salzman2008) links fundamentalism and violence to cultural globalization, arguing that globalization destabilizes traditional sources of meaning and moral order. Sam George (Reference George and Tiplady2003) argues that for religious terrorists, violence is mainly a sacred duty and sacramental act. The rise of radical clerical leaders who combine militant activism and theological legitimacy also plays a major role. Salafists explain the moral decline of Muslim societies through Western pressure and reject religious pluralism as well as left- and right-wing ideologies. They see other religions as invalid and label those who reject their strict interpretations as deviants. Sahgal and Yuval-Davis (Reference Sahgal and Yuval-Davis1992) identify three common features of fundamentalism: opposition to feminism, rejection of pluralism, and merging religion and politics. Interviewees suggest that while Iranian Salafists previously engaged in major jihadist actions, organizational weakness, harsh repression by the IRI, and declining social legitimacy forced them to reconsider their conduct and seek public trust again. They also indicate a pause in jihad against the IRI and some openness toward Kurdish identity, though they reject Kurdish identity as a basis for superiority or division. Kurdish identity, they argue, must remain under Islamic principles and be cleansed of innovations. Yet this remains unstable. Abd al-Rahman Fatahi, a Kurdish Salafi leader in Iran, responded to Kurdish singer Nasser Razi’s declaration of adherence to the Yaresan religion through a 2021 Instagram post titled “Friendship and enmity with whom?” stating: “The link that connects us is not language, nation, country, ethnicity, or tribe but the religion of God … The opposite of this is our enemy, even if he speaks our language and dresses like us… You should be acquitted with disbelief in any dress.” Jalal and Ahram (Reference Jalal and Ahram2021) argue that Salafism in Iraqi Kurdistan has shown an ability to merge itself into Kurdish nationalism and integrate Islam with Kurdish identity across domains.
In the present period, Salafists have prioritized struggle against the West and its symbols, while conflict with the Shiite Iranian state has moved into a secondary position. They argue that resisting Western invasion and fighting the “crusader infidel” is more urgent, and even beneficial for the IRI as a Muslim country. Mullah Krekar, the Kurdish Salafi-jihadist leader, stated that in a war between Iran and the United States, Sunnis would likely side with Iran, similar to their earlier support for Hizbullah against Israel, despite Hizbullah’s later hostility toward Sunnis. He said: “In the event of a major war … we would likely find ourselves aligned with Iran … we do not desire Israel to gain control of southern Lebanon.” After the Women, Life, Freedom movement expanded in 2023, Kurdish Sunni religious factions issued statements calling for reform and rejecting state violence against protesters, especially in Kurdistan, yet they strongly criticized themes such as freedom and democracy (Mohammadpour and Saeidi Reference Mohammadpour and Saeidi2025). The IRI has taken a calculated approach toward Salafism: militant violence is crushed, but the ideological current is not fully eliminated. The regime sees some Salafi strands as politically manageable, and in regions like Rojhelat, Salafism can weaken Kurdish ethno-nationalist and secular movements by offering a non-nationalist Islamic alternative. The state’s harsh repression of secular Kurdish groups is tied to their focus on land, language, collective rights, and political autonomy, which challenges the constitutional foundations of the Persian-Shi‘a state. Salafism, by contrast, often stays fragmented, socially conservative, and centered on moral purification rather than organized territorial struggle, making it easier to contain. Yet this tolerance remains conditional: once Salafi networks move toward collective political mobilization or transnational militancy, coercion follows quickly. The Sunni response to the women, life, freedom movement also split: groups such as the School of the Quran saw it as a chance to end Sunni oppression, while Salafists saw it as a threat to Islam, especially as anti-political Islam rhetoric targeted both Shi‘a and Sunni traditions. Salafists fear that modern lifestyles and the rejection of hijab will weaken their authority, and they insist on a total Islamic lifestyle (Bayani and Serajzadeh Reference Bayani and Serajzadeh2021). Their activism has included both ideological campaigns and direct interventions in public spaces such as salons and coffee shops, pressuring people to repent for “non-Sharia” behavior. Salafism, therefore, should not be treated only as theological extremism; its anti-pluralism and rejection of Kurdish cultural and gender activism also make it a political force that can be tolerated or indirectly used by authoritarian states to weaken Kurdish nationalist mobilization.
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