Quds Force vs. Superman: Why Arabs Prefer America to Iran

In the Middle East, as anywhere else in the world, battles between nations are no longer fought solely with guns and tanks. Today, they’re battles of narratives—of seduction, not domination; attraction, not coercion. And if there's one thing the United States has mastered, it's this game. Iran? Not so much. America hasn’t won hearts in the region because it’s more idealistic or pure—but because its cultural tools are simply more evolved and better networked.

Ever since the 1979 Islamic Revolution, Iran has built its geopolitical strategy on resisting Western imperialism—America first, Israel second—with the ultimate goal of "liberating" Palestine. It even created the Quds Force in 1988 as an elite wing of the IRGC and launched an annual "Quds Day" to mark its commitment. For decades, Tehran branded itself as the voice of the oppressed. But 45 years on, the Arab street is no longer tuning in. Iran is still talking, but Arabs have long turned their ears—willingly or not—toward the more compelling, more seductive American story.

The difference? Narrative engineering. America offers stories that Arabs want to believe—even if they aren't always true. Iran tells stories it wants others to believe—even if no one is listening.

Netflix vs Press TV

From a soft power perspective, the contrast couldn’t be starker. Iran’s media arms—like Al-Alam or Press TV—barely register in the regional media ecosystem. Meanwhile, CNN and Sky News Arabia dominate the screens. Hollywood’s influence is everywhere, from Casablanca to Cairo. The Iranian narrative? It just doesn't cut through. Iran’s storytelling toolkit feels dusty in an age of streaming and social media virality.

Let’s be honest: no Arab teenager is humming the intro theme to a Press TV news bulletin. Most have probably never heard it. Iran’s media strategy is so outdated that even Hezbollah’s Al-Manar, banned from satellite years ago, hasn’t bothered to launch a proper YouTube channel or streaming platform. Instead, it settles for a clunky news website. That’s not cultural warfare—it’s cultural resignation.

Meanwhile, Donald Trump is trying to buy TikTok. Iran hasn't built a single social platform that competes with Facebook or Twitter. Where is Iran's TikTok star that Arab youth flock to? Where’s the Iranian Netflix producing gripping dramas that transcend sectarian divides? Why does the American "Superman" remain the global savior while the Iranian "hero" brags about controlling five Arab capitals? American companies colonize minds with Marvel and melodrama. Ask an Arab consumer to name an Iranian product—they probably can’t. Soft power, in Iran’s case, is stuck in the seminaries of Qom and the shrines of Karbala—revered by the Shiite faithful perhaps, but uninspiring to the Arab public at large. The answer could lie in the power of iconic Iranian cinema, for instance!

‘Death to America’ and Washington’s Cunning

USAID, cultural diplomacy, and smooth-talking envoys — these are the tools Washington has mastered in pursuit of its interests. America didn’t just drop bombs in the Middle East; it also built cultural centers, funded NGOs without asking too many questions about their affiliations, and chose to engage with Arab elites without obsessing over their ideologies. That’s the genius of it. The average taxpayer in Texas might not be able to point to Beirut on a map, but Washington figured out that spending their dollars on renovating a park here or installing solar panels on a school there could buy a whole lot of goodwill — even in places where the chant of “Death to America” still echoes. They also welcomed hundreds of Lebanese Shiites to America itself, and integrated them. Iran, in contrast ,has shown little interest in outreach beyond its own sect. And when it has looked outside, it often wasn’t to include — but to convert, usually to Shiism. The evidence is everywhere.

Remember the early days of COVID-19? While Iran’s voice was absent, U.S. Ambassador Dorothy Shea stood outside the embassy in Beirut handing out masks. Iran’s supporters mocked her, but deep down, many wondered: Why doesn’t the Iranian ambassador ever do that?

Trump Dances, Khamenei Represses

Politically, Iran has doubled down on a rigid, sectarian narrative — one backed by reckless actions and tone-deaf statements. From its deep involvement in Syria’s civil war, propping up Bashar al-Assad as he crushed the aspirations of a Sunni majority, to empowering Hezbollah in Lebanon with excess firepower that enabled both repression and state capture — Tehran’s image in the Arab world has taken a beating. The result? A deep well of resentment across Arab societies, the kind that doesn’t fade with time — and likely won’t for decades. And the irony? Much of this anger isn’t even directed at America — the same America that invaded Iraq, occupied Afghanistan, and continues to bankroll Israel. If anything, Washington still has more influence in the region today than at any point in recent memory.

This isn’t to say that American soft power is morally superior. Arabs know Washington can be a bully with double standards. But they also know how to hold two ideas at once: America might be unjust—but it still offers opportunity, engagement, and a better story.

Iran has been building its empire for 45 years, and it has indeed succeeded in extending its geographic reach across several Arab countries. But a 90-second video of a young man beating his chest in the streets of Damascus may have just unraveled that entire project. It’s the perfect embodiment of the old saying: Iran weaves the carpet in 30 years, only to sell it in 30 seconds. The spell has backfired. The magician is now the one entranced.

Yes, Iran supported Palestine. Yes, it stood with Hezbollah when Arab regimes abandoned it. But it forgot the essential ingredient of persuasion: allure. If Iran wants a seat at the table in the Middle East's theater, it needs to do more than resist. It needs to inspire. So far, it hasn’t learned how.