The euphoria that the war caused among many Iranians has made way for growing uncertainty about its duration and outcome. A month after the first US and Israeli attacks, offices and schools in Iran are still closed. Most people stay indoors. “We are in a state of anticipation,” says an English teacher (40) from Tehran. She occasionally takes a walk, does some shopping and watches films.
Yet daily life partly continues as normal. Shops for daily needs are open, there are no shortages. Many cafés and restaurants have shorter opening hours. Although internet traffic with the outside world is blocked, apps for messaging, ordering food, internet banking and streaming work within Iran.
Not everyone dares to go outside. “As long as I am at home I feel safe,” says a journalist (48) from Tehran. “But as soon as I go outside, I am afraid of being injured in an attack.”
A sales manager (40) from Tehran stays on his feet by exercising disciplinedly. “Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll become depressed.” She avoids the news as much as possible.
For security reasons, the Iranians become those NRC spoke not mentioned by name.
Relief and fear because of the bombs
The continued bombings leave their mark. “I hear the explosions almost every night,” says the sales manager. “Even when they are far away, I can hardly sleep. Every normal sound startles me.” The teacher describes the sound as “terrifying.” “The blow nails you to the ground.”
Shops for daily needs are open. But not everyone dares to go outside, for fear of attacks.
Photo Majid Saeedi/Getty Images
A software engineer (25) from Tehran actually feels relief after the attacks on government buildings. “These are the same people who have been killing us for years. Now they are taking the hit, which feels like compensation.”
He doubts whether air strikes will be enough. “The US is putting them [het Iraanse regime] maybe ten years ago, but then they rebuild everything. Their power must be broken to the ground. Only when we see that someone is behind us — the Iranian army, the Americans, the Israelis — will the moment come when we can continue our revolution.” Yet he does not take to the streets to protest. “Without backing, that is not a protest. That is suicide.”
I’m almost heartbroken to think that the US will make a deal with this regime and we’ll be stuck with them.
But the Iranians’ biggest concern lies further away, in the future. “I almost have a heart attack to think that the US makes an agreement with this regime and we are stuck with them,” says the teacher. An accountant (60) who fled Iran two weeks ago fears that a surviving regime will take tougher action in revenge.
Nowruz, the Persian New Year on March 20, was more austere than usual. Iran is still mourning the deaths of the bloodily suppressed protests in January. “There was no sign of music or dancing people on the street,” says the teacher. “We put some sabzeh on the table —stalks of sprouting barley grains, a symbol of new life—and wished friends a happy new year.”
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Regime visible on the streets
Late at night the regime moves through the streets. Basij militias — volunteer militias of the regime — shout that they will kill “traitors.” “Where are the people watching Iran International? Come out, we will slaughter you,” the software engineer hears them shouting over a London-based television channel that reports critically on the Iranian regime. He considers it harassment. “Deep down they know there are many of us.”
The journalist (48) from Tehran describes the presence of the Basij: “They are behaving more than ever like the owners of this country — and more provocatively than before.”
In the north of Tehran, regime supporters drive through residential areas in pick-up trucks with loudspeakers, says a translator (44). “So hard that my eardrums hurt.” Pro-regime demonstrations take place in squares in Tehran, such as Vanak Square, until late at night, says the English teacher. Religious singers perform, sometimes food is distributed and the Basij keeps watch.
The regime is also making itself known outside the capital. On the island of Qeshm, near the Strait of Hormuz, Basij members appear in civilian clothes in residential areas in the evening, says a PhD student in international law (40). They chant slogans against the US and Israel. “They want to show: we still exist. Our voice is loud, and you can’t do anything.”
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Propaganda via text messages
The message that the regime is firmly in power is also spread digitally. Citizens receive news about the war via text messages — at least, the authorities’ version. The software engineer receives messages about destroyed American and Israeli targets and about retreating American troops. “On state television they act as if Tel Aviv has been razed to the ground, as if people in New York are dying of hunger and as if aircraft carriers have sunk. Everything is fake.”
A damaged building in Tehran.
Photo Majid Saeedi/Getty Images
The regime tries to hide its own damage. The English teacher sent NRC a government text message: “Dear compatriot, anyone who takes photos of damaged buildings may be an agent of the American Zionist enemy. Report this immediately to the Ministry of Intelligence.”
This strict supervision also makes it risky for sources to request updates to forward. One of them has been unreachable for quite some time. Heard through a Dutch friend NRC that he had been told by the Revolutionary Guards that he was being watched because of his activity on Telegram. He then deleted his account.
On state television they act as if Tel Aviv has been razed to the ground and as if people in New York are dying of hunger
The control is also palpable on the street. As police stations and bases are targeted, security forces avoid fixed posts and move more often through parks and alleys. Sometimes passers-by have to open their bags or show their phones, says the English teacher. On Qeshm, checkpoints have been moved to tunnels and other sheltered places, says the PhD candidate.
Vulnerable people without income and safety net
The most vulnerable pay the highest price. Of the estimated four million Afghan refugees in Iran, many work without contracts in construction — a sector that has largely been at a standstill since the outbreak of war. They have no income and no social safety net, says Martje van Raamsdonk, who works in Tehran for the Norwegian Refugee Council, in a telephone conversation. The organization provides money to Afghan refugees and, recently with government permission, also to vulnerable Iranians whose homes have been damaged by bombings or whose relatives are in hospital.
The Norwegian Refugee Council is one of the few foreign aid organizations still active in Iran that has a working internet connection. This position is due to close cooperation with the local government, which gives permission for the activities and helps coordinate an internet connection. Van Raamsdonk can therefore say little about the political situation. “We have a good relationship with the local government — the Dutch embassy cannot help us here, so we have to ensure that that relationship remains good.”
Van Raamsdonk does not speak Farsi and has no direct contact with the refugees, but hears through Iranian colleagues that many vulnerable Afghan refugees and Iranians especially want the war to end — they are the first to experience the consequences.
