TEHRAN – In my undergraduate history courses, my professors often remarked that history is the bedrock of a society’s collective memory—an inherited legacy that exists even if individuals haven't studied the specific dates or events. On a daily basis, we may not consciously think about how ancient Iranians fought the Romans and Greeks to preserve their civilization, how they stood firm against invading Mongols and Arabs, or how they struggled to maintain their sovereignty throughout modern history. Yet, these memories live within us. We breathe them and act upon them, even if we cannot quite put our finger on their origin.

In my early 20s, I was skeptical. I believed there was no scientific way to prove such a collective historical memory existed. How could one confirm that the spirit of the Achaemenids and Safavids still resides within the Iranian people? You cannot poll all 90 million citizens, and even if you did, how could you quantify the sincerity of their answers? I thought of history as something recorded in books, not carried in blood. 

What I failed to realize back then was that this identity reveals itself not through words or academic pronouncements, but through action—specifically when the same threats Iran has faced for 5,000 years resurface. That identity manifested clearly on February 28, the day the U.S. and Israel began their ongoing, brutal war against our country. I saw then that people didn't run for the borders. Despite the bombs, they went into the streets every night to show their support for the country. Everyone stayed at their posts—the bakers, the teachers, and the soldiers—making sure the country kept moving. I saw nomads searching the Zagros Mountains for a downed American pilot while U.S. military helicopters circled overhead. I saw officials stay at their desks, refusing to leave even though they knew they were targets and that staying could mean death.

In those moments, nobody had to be told to protect the homeland or our dignity. It was just a given. Nobody needed a lecture on why Iran is paramount; they just knew it in their bones. That was the collective memory my professors were talking about—something I couldn't see until the bombs started falling. It was as if every Iranian, from the oldest grandparent to the youngest child, had suddenly remembered who they were and what they came from. 

You can see it again right now in a massive online campaign. Seas of Iranians are signing their names to a website, volunteering to fight on the front lines if the U.S. and Israel decide to take their aggression further and launch a ground invasion. The campaign is called “Janfada” – a Persian term that means “self-sacrificed” or “one who offers their life.” It is a word heavy with history, often used to describe those who place the survival of a cause above their own lives. And now, over 11 million Iranians have inscribed their names into that legacy.

Among the 11 million individuals who have already enrolled in the "Janfada for Iran" campaign, every segment of society is represented. High-ranking officials—like the Judiciary Chief, Foreign Minister, Parliament Speaker, and Police Chief—stand alongside ordinary Iranians: men and women, young and old, Muslims, Christians, and Jews. There are students who have never held a rifle, grandfathers who remember the Iran–Iraq War, nurses, engineers, shopkeepers, and farmers. There are Tehranis from the north and south, villagers from remote provinces, and even members of the Iranian diaspora who have registered with the understanding that they would return home if called upon.

"This initiative isn't about individual nobility," a journalist who helped launch the campaign told me. "Iranians have been defending their country day and night since the war began. The campaign simply offers a platform for them to formally express their unwavering commitment to the defense of their homeland,” he said, adding that he believes the campaign is just a “mirror” reflecting what already exists in every Iranian heart.

After our conversation, I personally visited the website to enroll. The interface was simple—just a name, a phone number under that name, and a quiet declaration of intent. Looking back at the moment I registered my name, I realize I wasn't truly contemplating the dangers of fighting on the front lines. In that moment, like everyone else, my thoughts were solely on Iran. My life might end, but Iran would endure, and that was all that truly mattered.