Firsthand reports from contributors inside Iran
Iran's missile attack on Israel has reignited talk of war, leaving many anxious. Some hope an Israeli strike could free them from the Islamic government. But most remain silently apprehensive—numbed, perhaps, or resigned to their helplessness.
"Some people are in denial, but the war is at our doorstep," says Shayan, a 28-year-old artist who makes a living by teaching painting. "I immediately Googled for shelters in Tehran after the missile attack was announced, but found none. We’re on our own. The authorities don’t even bother to inform or reassure the public."
He refers to reports that Iran's missile attack on October 1 occurred before Iranian airspace was closed. "They launched ballistic missiles while passenger flights were still in the air. Human life holds no value, neither for Khamenei nor for Netanyahu."
Iranian reactions to military actions are often reflected at gas stations. Mere minutes after the missile strike, long lines were formed at gas stations across the country. I’m not sure why. Perhaps a full tank is a slight assurance that you can go somewhere safer if things heat up. I was guilty of this collective rush that night, reaching the actual pump after an hour in line. The attendant asked if I wanted to fill it up. I said please. “I’d do it for free if Israel hits them," he joked.
The killing of Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran led many Iranians to believe that Israel can ‘take out’ anyone it wants—and with precision. This belief was strengthened after the attack on Hezbollah HQ in southern Beirut. Strangely enough, not much was reported about civilian casualties in that operation. Many don’t seem to note that several residential blocks were bombed to rubble, most likely with hundreds in them.
The day after Nasrallah was killed, I overheard a conversation in a pharmacy. "I wonder when they’ll cut off the head of the snake," a young man asked an older man, both waiting for their prescription. “Soon, God willing,” was the response, “and hopefully they’ll be precise like with the last two.” No names were mentioned, but all present knew what was meant by ‘head of snake’ and ‘the last two’.
“People hoping for Israel to attack think it will only wipe out the regime. I don’t believe that’ll be the case.” This was Nasrin, 46, an Instagram ‘influencer’. She’s annoyed by what she calls “casual warmongering” of some people around her. “We all hate the Islamic Republic, but we also love Iran; we don’t want to see it ruined,” Nasrin says. “Those here who cheer for an Israeli attack are either delusional or have no recollection of war like I and many in my generation do.”
That’d be two-thirds of Iran’s population. The war that broke out following Iraq’s invasion of Iran in 1980 ended in 1988. Only a third of Iranians are old enough to remember the sirens and the Soviet-made Scud missiles raining on Iran’s urban centers in the war's latter years—known as the War of Cities.
This is not to suggest that those younger than Nasrin look forward to an Israeli attack. Far from it, in fact. Shabnam is a 36-year-old lawyer who grapples with the “societal consequences” of a theocratic state every day. “I detest the Islamic Republic and its allies. But I abhor Israel too. Hezbollah holds meetings under residential buildings to make it harder for Israelis to strike. But Israel bombs everything including the kitchen sink. And the Islamic Republic retaliates with 200 missiles, firing while Iran’s airspace is open. They’re all fanatic criminals with no regard for human life.”
Shabnam’s friend, Sadra, enters the conversation. “The world revolves around power. If you can, you do. And that’s not changing anytime soon.” Sadra is 34 and out of work. “Humanitarian law is obsolete in times of war. So are the institutions tasked to preserve it. But that’s all we have for now. What I think is really dangerous is for rogue states like Iran and Israel to undermine the UN or its watchdogs because they don’t like their rulings or findings.” We’re nearing a “complete dog eat dog” world order, he fears.
Around me, I see people growing less indifferent to the situation in the Middle East. More are becoming wary—or at least more alert. As conflicts that once felt distant inch closer to home, many are increasingly attuned to words like displacement and famine.
A few days after Nasrallah was killed, I asked my 70-year-old neighbor if he was worried about a potential war. “There won’t be a war because the Islamic Republic is afraid of war,” he said with no detectable hint of humor. I asked him again the day after Iran fired missiles at Israel. “I stand by my word dear: there won’t be a war,” he replied. Time might prove him right. But for now, most here would tell you he’s wrong.
