Desperate odds: inside Iran’s quiet gambling boom
Mehdi Jedinia
Iran International
Despite legal and religious prohibitions, online gambling is quietly on the rise in Iran, offering an illusory hope of gain to many worn out by economic hardship.
Iran International
Despite legal and religious prohibitions, online gambling is quietly on the rise in Iran, offering an illusory hope of gain to many worn out by economic hardship.
The phenomenon is steeped in contradiction, with many platforms operating in plain sight despite the Islamic prohibition of gambling.
While supreme leader Ali Khamenei recently ruled that predicting sports outcomes for prizes is not inherently forbidden (haram), Iran’s judiciary continues to treat gambling as a criminal offense—punishable by lashes and imprisonment.
Still, with the national currency, the rial, in free fall and opportunities dwindling, many see gambling as one of the few remaining ways to beat inflation—or to reclaim a fleeting sense of freedom.
Bet to breathe
For Maryam, 49, a former schoolteacher, online poker began as a form of relief from daily suffocation.
"In Iran, we are prisoners—not just of the regime, but of our own despair," she says from her Tehran apartment. "The leaders want to drag us back to rules from 1,400 years ago, while the world moves forward. These games … they let me breathe."
She’s lost several months’ wages in a single night but insists the emotional release is worth it. "When I win, I feel like I’ve beaten the system. When I lose, at least I was free for a moment."
Mohammad, 35, a software engineer, sees gambling less as a thrill than as a necessity. "Look at our currency," he says. "You save 100 million rials today, and in six months, it buys half as much."
Using VPNs to access offshore sportsbooks, he trades in dollars or cryptocurrency to hedge against both inflation and sanctions. "Gambling isn’t a game here—it’s a financial tactic."
Loopholes, laundering, and lashes
The rise in betting has exposed a divide at the highest levels of authority.
While Khamenei’s office has carved out a religious loophole for prize-based predictions, senior Shi’a jurists like Ayatollah Makarem Shirazi maintain that all forms of monetary betting are haram.
Due to this inconsistency, perhaps, enforcement remains patchy and ineffective.
Although Iran’s Cyber Police (FATA) have shuttered over 1,500 gambling websites since 2021 and frozen 72 billion tomans in suspected gambling funds, many platforms operate freely, using registered banking gateways that suggest official indifference—or even complicity.
Tehran MP Mojtaba Tavangar recently called on Iran’s Central Bank to impose tighter controls on the country’s 3.8 million unregistered point-of-sale (POS) systems, which he says are conduits for illicit cash flows.
He blamed anonymous banking transactions for fueling the online gambling surge, asserting that $1 billion in gambling profits exited the country last year.
The warning was echoed by senior FATA official Ali Niknafs, who accused payment processors of enabling a “black-market economy” and faulted the Central Bank for what he called lax oversight.
A symptom, not a vice
Gambling is a rising concern in many societies, but in Iran, it thrives in the shadows—fueled by economic despair, filtered through VPNs, and punished with lashes.
What elsewhere may be a regulated vice has here become an act of defiance and desperation, shaped by repression and the absence of lawful outlets for risk or relief.
Experts say Iran’s gambling boom reflects a deeper breakdown.
"When people lose faith in banks and jobs, they turn to risky alternatives," says Stockholm-based economist Ahmad Alavi. "The regime blames Western decadence, but the real problem is their own mismanagement."
The growing habit is now affecting workplaces too.
"Employees gamble during work hours—some even stealing to cover losses," says an IT supervisor at a Tehran bank who asked not to be named. "We fire them, but new ones do the same thing."
Saman, another IT manager, says he has deployed firewalls and screen monitoring systems, only to see workers bypass them using secret Telegram channels and disguised apps.
With VPN usage at record highs and underground betting networks expanding, crackdowns—by officials or employers—appear increasingly futile. More and more people chase the dream in desperation, many aware it’s an illusion but not seeing any alternative.
"We’re trapped in a broken system," Maryam says. "So we roll the dice."
According to data from Vortexa Ltd., Iran exported just over 1.1 million barrels per day (bpd) of crude and condensate to China last month, marking a drop of roughly 20% compared to the same period a year earlier.
The figures, based on shipping movements, remain subject to revision due to a growing number of tankers switching off their tracking systems in an effort to avoid detection.
“The tightening US sanctions are straining the supply chain and raising concerns about the reliability of shipments,” said Emma Li, senior market analyst at Vortexa. “At the same time, refinery demand in China has weakened, largely due to delayed seasonal maintenance, which now appears likely to extend through July.”
Independent Chinese refiners, known as teapots, are Iran’s primary customers, drawn by steep discounts on sanctioned barrels. But the facilities—mostly concentrated in Shandong province—are currently operating near record-low rates, Li noted. Many refiners had already stockpiled Iranian oil earlier this year, reducing the need for additional purchases in May.
Lower prices of competing crude from Russia, including Sokol and Novy Port grades, have also edged out Iranian supplies in the Chinese spot market.
Impact of sanctions and port restrictions
The decline follows months of escalating US pressure on Iran’s oil exports. Since early 2025, Washington has sanctioned dozens of tankers and companies involved in the trade, particularly targeting Iran’s so-called “shadow fleet.”
The latest round of sanctions, imposed in May, included Hebei Xinhai Chemical Group Co.—a Chinese independent refiner alleged to have received hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of Iranian crude—as well as several port operators in Shandong and seven vessels used to disguise Iranian shipments.
“The United States remains resolved to intensify pressure on all elements of Iran’s oil supply chain,” said Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent in a statement at the time.
The sanctions have disrupted, but not halted, Iran’s crude flows to China. According to Bloomberg, many shipments now occur in “dark mode,” with vessels turning off their transponders and conducting ship-to-ship transfers off Malaysia to obscure the oil’s origin.
However, sanctions have pushed freight costs sharply higher, with chartering rates for non-sanctioned supertankers reaching up to $6 million—an increase of 50% over the past year.
Shandong Port Group has reportedly advised local operators to avoid dealings with blacklisted tankers, further complicating logistics for Iranian crude.
Earlier cracks in the trade
China’s imports of Iranian oil began declining steeply in January after authorities barred sanctioned tankers from entering Shandong ports, which handle around 90% of Iranian cargoes.
According to Kpler data, Iranian oil deliveries to China dropped below 850,000 bpd in January, compared to over 1.8 million bpd in October 2024.
At the same time, Iran’s floating oil reserves have surged to 35 million barrels, underscoring the widening gap between official shipment figures and actual deliveries.
Despite sporadic rebounds—such as a brief rise in April driven by a backlog of delayed cargoes—the overall trend has been downward.
As US sanctions intensify and China takes further precautions, Iran’s reliance on its shrinking pool of buyers could deepen, while Tehran says its energy exports remain stable.
