Democrats are set to control both chambers of Congress in January. On the party’s left, six Democratic Socialists of America candidates won House seats, adding to the group’s existing members, including Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Rashida Tlaib of Michigan. The DSA says its members will push for Medicare for All, abolishing ICE, and an arms embargo on Israel.
Michigan elected Abdul El-Sayed as the country’s first Muslim senator, while New Jersey sent Adam Hamawy to the House. Those wins are separate developments, but together they have revived a question among conservatives: Is a political alliance between socialists and Islamists taking shape?
The term “red-green alliance” describes tactical cooperation between the revolutionary left and political Islam. The two have deep disagreements about religion, society, and individual freedoms. But at times they have opposed American influence and Israel, and both have experience organizing supporters. The concern is that a shared campaign could obscure very different goals for what comes next. Counting socialist and Muslim lawmakers alone doesn’t establish that such an alliance exists. The more telling evidence is whether their organizations work together.
Iran’s 1979 revolution offers a warning about coalitions whose members assume they can use one another. Clerics, liberal nationalists, Marxist guerrillas, and Islamic leftists joined forces against Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini had an advantage his rivals lacked: a nationwide network of mosques and religious leaders that could mobilize people.
While living in exile in France, Khomeini promised religious freedom. Secular leftists and nationalists hoped they would share power in the new order, or perhaps eventually lead it. The Tudeh Communist Party supported the Islamic Republic, praising its resistance to American influence. Its leaders saw cooperation as a way to gain influence. Khomeini, it turned out, saw it as useful for the moment.
The consequences for those former allies were brutal. After the monarchy collapsed, the clerics consolidated power, and the new constitution put religious authorities above the state. President Abolhassan Bani-Sadr was removed in 1981, and armed opponents faced a violent crackdown. By 1983, the government had banned the Tudeh Party and arrested its leaders. In 1988, Iranian authorities executed thousands of political prisoners, including people from leftist movements.
Within a decade, many of the groups that had helped topple the Shah were imprisoned, killed, or forced into exile. Their common opponent had concealed major differences over who would govern afterward. The clerics prevailed.
America in 2026 is not Iran in 1979, and El-Sayed is not Khomeini. Still, the episode points to a broader risk: A coalition built around shared enemies may contain very different ideas about what should replace the existing order.
New York offers a current example of cooperation. Zohran Mamdani, who rose through the DSA, received support for his mayoral campaign from CAIR Action, a Muslim advocacy organization. Socialist activists and Muslim political groups helped the same candidate. They did not need to agree on everything; a shared candidate and cause were enough.
The DSA’s call for an arms embargo on Israel is another area of overlap. El-Sayed was not a DSA member or its endorsed candidate, but he campaigned against U.S. military aid to Israel. That is a political convergence, though it remains an open question how lasting it will be.
At the same time, moderate Democrats also won in Republican-leaning areas. Wins by Muslim and socialist candidates do not, by themselves, prove that a unified Islamist-socialist movement exists. The more limited—and still important—point is that activists with a few shared priorities can gain influence in a party whose members may disagree about what to do with power. Khomeini knew how to settle those disagreements in his favor.
Democrats will soon control congressional committees and have subpoena powers. The DSA’s small group of House members can pressure party leaders, introduce bills, and influence debate ahead of 2028, even as President Trump retains his veto. A faction does not need a majority to move a party’s agenda.
What happens when allies gain influence and their differences become harder to ignore? Iran is one answer, though its institutions were collapsing during a revolution. The U.S. Constitution and divided political institutions create a very different system. That is an important safeguard, but it doesn’t mean disciplined factions cannot gain leverage within a governing coalition.
Conservatives need more than a historical comparison in response. They should make the case for fiscal restraint, constitutional limits on government, religious liberty, and parental authority in education. They also need credible answers on the cost of living and the economic prospects of working families—concerns that mattered to voters this November.
Socialism calls for a larger role for the state in economic life. Political Islam, when it seeks to place religious authority over civil government, presents a different constitutional concern. Neither should be conflated with the mere election of a socialist or a Muslim. What matters is examining the policies and organizations that are actually seeking power.
The left’s election gains give its activists a stronger platform and more chances to test their alliances. Iran’s history is a reminder not to underestimate a disciplined partner once it has access to power. Conservatives have two years to persuade voters there is a better alternative before 2028. A history lesson, on its own, won’t be enough.
