It began with an impact - and did not end with the smoke. The death of Hossein Salami was more than a military loss for the Iranian regime. It was the prelude to a strategy that does not speak through bombs but through voices. Voices that suddenly sound from the mobile phone of a general. Voices that need no face to change everything.
The recordings show agents speaking flawless Persian as they address members of the Revolutionary Guard. About twenty such calls have been documented. The message is identical in all of them: twelve hours. Twelve hours to release a video publicly distancing themselves from the leadership in Tehran. No escape. No hiding. Anyone who does not comply becomes a target - along with their family. The voice remains calm, almost matter-of-fact. That is precisely why it cuts like a scalpel. The violence does not lie in the tone - but in the precision of the threat.
What is happening here is a form of warfare that does not pierce the skin but trust. It does not strike where one might expect rubble and smoke, but in living rooms, in quiet moments, in conversations that begin out of nowhere and end with a promise - that loyalty can be fatal. It is no longer about who has the most rockets. It is about who dissolves the enemy’s will, who sows doubt among those once thought unshakable. Every commander who now remains silent becomes a target of his own colleagues. Every one who speaks faces the choice between exile and execution. The system begins to tremble - not because something exploded, but because it can no longer trust itself. What may seem like a perfidious trick is a calculated move. Those who play at this level are not aiming at tanks, but at principles. The rupture does not begin with the first defector. It begins with the first doubt. And that doubt now has a voice.
