On the morning of March 23, before U.S. markets opened, President Donald Trump announced that the United States was holding “very good and productive” talks with a senior Iranian official. He declined to name his interlocutor, saying only that he did not want to “get him killed.” Within hours, Israeli officials had identified the figure as Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf: speaker of the Iranian parliament, former Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) general, former national police chief, former mayor of Tehran for 12 years, and the closest thing that Iran’s battered leadership currently has to a functioning center of gravity.
Mediating countries were trying to convene a meeting in Islamabad—with Ghalibaf and other officials representing Tehran and envoy Steve Witkoff, Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner, and possibly Vice President J.D. Vance representing the United States—possibly later this week. A five-day pause in strikes on Iranian energy infrastructure had been declared. And Trump, speaking from Palm Beach, Florida, said that if the halt went well, the parties could end up “settling this. Otherwise, we’ll just keep bombing our little hearts out.”
Ghalibaf, for his part, flatly denied the whole thing. In a social media post, he said that “no negotiations have been held with the US” and that “fake news is used to manipulate the financial and oil markets and escape the quagmire in which the US and Israel are trapped.” Yet the denials were carefully worded—neither he nor Tehran’s Foreign Ministry disputed that messages had been passed between the two sides through intermediaries.
There is a particular irony in his position. Ghalibaf has run for president four times—in 2005, 2013, 2017, and 2024—and never won. He was defeated by a reformist, outmaneuvered by conservatives, and twice failed to consolidate the establishment support that should, by any institutional logic, have been his natural base. The office that he most visibly sought kept eluding him.
Yet war—and the elimination of much of Iran’s senior leadership—has delivered him something that the ballot never did: effective centrality. While the new supreme leader has barely appeared in public, Ghalibaf has been the regime’s most active and visible voice, giving interviews; issuing warnings; and, if current signals are accurate, conducting the most consequential diplomacy that Iran has attempted in years. He arrived at the center of Iranian power not through electoral victory, but through survival.
Ghalibaf is, in many ways, a product of the system that afforded his rise. He is not an ideological outsider, but a figure who has moved across Iran’s military, economic, and political institutions. His career spans the IRGC’s wartime command structures, its postwar economic expansion, and the municipal and parliamentary arenas that translate that influence into governance.

Ghalibaf waves to supporters while visiting the site of an Israeli airstrike in the Basta neighborhood of Beirut on Oct. 12, 2024. AFP via Getty Images
As a politician, he has cultivated a personal style that sets him apart from the clerical elite. A trained pilot, Ghalibaf has periodically leaned into a hands-on, almost performative image of leadership. In October 2024, he personally piloted the aircraft carrying him to Beirut for high-level meetings with Lebanese officials, a trip undertaken amid active Israeli airstrikes and regional tensions.
At the same time, his record is inseparable from a series of corruption allegations that have followed him across these roles. During his tenure as mayor of Tehran, investigations linked his office to large-scale transfers of municipal property, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, to politically connected beneficiaries at heavily discounted rates. Efforts to pursue the case in parliament were ultimately shelved under political pressure.
It’s already clear that any Iranian who sits across that table will not be a reformer waiting to be unlocked by U.S. diplomacy. If back-channel signals hold, and the Iranian whom Trump referenced is Ghalibaf, that will make the point precisely. He is the product and beneficiary of the very system that brought the two countries to war. Any deal that he signs will be shaped by the same calculations that defined every transaction he made as a mayor, a general, and a builder of Iran’s military-industrial empire. Concessions, if they come, will be calibrated, reversible, and structured to avoid weakening the institutions that sustain him.

Ghalibaf sits in the cockpit of an Airbus A300 in Tehran on Jan. 5, 2005. Mohamad Eslami Rad/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images
Born in 1961 near Mashhad, Ghalibaf came of age during a period of rapid social and economic upheaval. When the Iran-Iraq War began, he joined the IRGC and rose quickly, commanding major units by his early 20s. Like many of his contemporaries, his wartime network became the foundation of his postwar influence—linking him to figures such as Qassem Suleimani and other commanders who would later dominate Iran’s security and political landscape.
His appointment in 1994 to lead Khatam al-Anbiya Construction Headquarters placed him at the center of the IRGC’s economic transformation. Established around 1989 under Ayatollah Ali Khamenei’s authority, Khatam was initially justified as a reconstruction arm for a war-damaged country operating under sanctions. It quickly evolved into one of the largest economic conglomerates in the Middle East, with hundreds of subsidiaries, more than 1,700 government contracts, and minimal external oversight. The sole body tasked with monitoring its activities was an internal IRGC unit, effectively eliminating independent accountability.
In 1997, Khamenei appointed Ghalibaf as the commander of the IRGC’s Aerospace Force. Two years later, he would demonstrate that his value to the regime lay elsewhere. In July 1999, when student protests erupted across Iranian universities in the largest challenge to the Islamic Republic since its founding, Ghalibaf was one of 24 IRGC commanders who signed a threatening letter to reformist President Mohammad Khatami, warning that if the protests were allowed to continue, they would take matters into their own hands. The letter was widely read as a signal that the military was prepared to remove a sitting president.
In later remarks, Ghalibaf made clear that his involvement had not been limited to signing letters. “Photographs of me are available showing me on the back of a motorbike, beating them [protesters] with wooden sticks,” he told an audience of Basiji students in 2013. “I was among those carrying out beatings on the street level, and I am proud of that.”
The reward was swift and deliberate. Khamenei appointed him as the chief of the national police force, succeeding the commander who had been dismissed for failing to suppress the demonstrations with sufficient force. His selection sent a clear message about what the supreme leader now required from the head of Iranian law enforcement.
As police chief, Ghalibaf oversaw the crackdown on renewed student protests in 2003, later claiming that he had ordered the use of live gunfire—while noting that he had managed to end the demonstrations without fatalities. It was a distinction that he seemed to offer as evidence of restraint. Human rights groups read his overall record differently, documenting his role in suppressing dissent across three decades, from the 1999 protests through the 2009 Green Movement to the nationwide unrest that peaked in January 2026.
Through the early stages of his career, Ghalibaf learned the value of centralized control, loyalty-based appointments, institutions insulated from external scrutiny, and coercive force deployed selectively but credibly against internal dissent. Ghalibaf would carry this model, intact, into civilian office.

People gather beneath a large campaign poster of Ghalibaf during a rally in Sari, Iran, on June 1, 2013. Behrouz Mehri/AFP via Getty Images
Ghalibaf ran for president, multiple times. Across four presidential campaigns, Ghalibaf never settled on a coherent identity. In 2005, he plastered the streets of Tehran with campaign posters of himself in a pilot’s uniform to appear as a different kind of candidate, credentialed and modern, distinct from both the clerical establishment and the ideological firebrands around him. By 2013, the uniform had given way to fitted suits, and his messaging had shifted toward a more explicitly managerial register. He ultimately lost to Hassan Rouhani.
Then, during his third bid in 2017, Ghalibaf pivoted to economic populism, tapping into a moment of widespread frustration. In 2024, Ghalibaf tried again for the presidency, finishing a distant third with roughly 14 percent of the vote, behind the reformist Masoud Pezeshkian, to whom his faction surprisingly shifted support during the runoff.
Ghalibaf’s repeated presidential defeats never sidelined him from political life, nor did they diminish his instinct for staying at the center of attention. As the mayor of Tehran from 2005 to 2017, he oversaw significant urban development, including expansion of the metro system, highways, and public infrastructure. These projects addressed real needs and reinforced his reputation as an effective manager. True to form, Ghalibaf attempted to capitalize on his gains at home for wider international attention. For instance, in 2008, he traveled to Davos to speak at the World Economic Forum, where he gave interviews to Western news outlets, praised cities like New York, and cast himself as a constructive alternative to Ahmadinejad’s confrontational style.

An Iranian parliament handout image shows Ghalibaf meeting with Turkish parliament Speaker Numan Kurtulmus in Geneva, Switzerland, on Oct. 14, 2024. Iranian Parliament/Middle East Images/AFP via Getty Images
Throughout his tenure as mayor, the municipality became a key node in a broader patronage network centered on land, construction, and financing. Real estate was the primary mechanism. Municipal assets were repeatedly allocated to politically connected individuals, IRGC-linked cooperatives, and affiliated entities at prices far below market value. In some cases, properties were transferred at discounts approaching 50 percent, often with favorable payment terms. hundreds of such transfers, with later disclosures suggesting that the number may have reached into the thousands. The beneficiaries were rarely transparent, but they were consistently linked to institutional networks aligned with the IRGC or Ghalibaf’s political base.
The Yas Holding Company case offers the most detailed public view of how these networks operated. Linked to the IRGC Cooperative Foundation, Yas functioned as a financial intermediary between the IRGC’s economic arms and the Tehran municipality. Through a series of large financing contracts signed between roughly 2013 and 2016, tens of thousands of billions of rials were funneled through Yas and its subsidiary Rasatejarat, tied to urban development projects nominally overseen by the municipality.
Audits revealed substantial discrepancies: Debts owed by IRGC-affiliated entities that appeared on municipal balance sheets one year were effectively erased the next. In one instance, a liability of roughly 17,000 billion rials was removed without clear justification. Estimates of total exposure reached into the billions of dollars.
Ghalibaf’s deputy mayor—Issa Sharifi, who played a central role in structuring these arrangements—was arrested in 2017 and later sentenced to a lengthy prison term. Ghalibaf himself was never formally charged or summoned to testify. Leaked audio recordings published in 2022, featuring senior IRGC figures including former Commander Mohammad Ali Jafari, described internal concern about the scale of the scandal and deliberate efforts to contain its political fallout—to resolve outstanding liabilities through quiet internal agreements rather than formal investigation.
His rise to speaker of parliament in 2020 did not mark a break with this trajectory, but an extension of it. In a parliament dominated by conservative factions and characterized by low electoral participation, he emerged as a consensus figure with deep institutional ties. Under his leadership, parliament functioned less as a site of oversight and more as a mechanism for coordinating and legitimizing existing power structures, particularly those tied to IRGC-linked economic actors.
In 2022, at a moment of acute economic hardship for ordinary Iranians, reports emerged that his family had traveled to Turkey to purchase luxury nursery goods. It was also revealed that his wife, daughter and son-in-law allegedly bought two luxury apartments in a famous complex in Istanbul for a total price approximately $1.6 million USD, an extraordinary sum for a public official in a country whose citizens were being crushed by sanctions. The following year brought a more pointed disclosure: His son Eshagh had applied for Canadian residency and declared a substantial sum of money in the application, a detail that sat awkwardly alongside years of nationalist positioning. Neither episode produced formal consequences.

Ghalibaf speaks for protesters while participating in a pro-government rally in Tehran on Jan. 12. Morteza Nikoubazl/NurPhoto via Getty Images
Ghalibaf is both a product of the system and one of its most effective operators. He may be one of the few figures capable of negotiating and delivering an agreement with the United States, but the terms of any such agreement will be shaped by the same logic that has defined his career: institutional survival, controlled distribution of resources, and the management of power through opaque but highly structured networks. All of this ultimately functions as a way to ensure his survival and the survival of the system.
Yet as the war nears the one-month mark, with oil prices surging and civilian casualties mounting, the distance between the two sides remains vast. Trump has demanded that Iran abandon its nuclear program entirely and surrender its enriched uranium. Iran has shown no willingness to accept terms that read, from Tehran, less like a negotiation than a capitulation.
What makes the prospective encounter between Trump and Ghalibaf genuinely strange is how much they share. Both have built careers on the gap between public denial and private transaction. Both have used infrastructure—physical, financial, institutional—as the primary vehicle for accumulating and distributing power. Both have faced extensive corruption allegations and emerged not merely unscathed but strengthened.
Trump says he wants to make a deal. Ghalibaf, for now, says there is nothing to make a deal about. Somewhere between those two positions, in the back channels running through Islamabad and Ankara, Cairo, or the multiple other intermediaries, the terms of whatever comes next are already being contemplated by these two men.

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