Iran vows wider policing of cafes, fashion and online content in morality push

Women and men who defy the government—by appearing unveiled or sharing critical content—have in recent weeks discovered their SIM cards abruptly disabled, locking them out of banking, public services and even judicial notices.

The tactic signals a shift toward low-visibility punishment that avoids the spectacle and political cost of arrests.

The shutdowns come without warning.

Donya Rad, a script supervisor who became an early symbol of the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement after posting an unveiled photo in a Tehran teahouse in 2022, said this month that her line had been cut under what officials described as “special measures.”

Rad, who was arrested shortly after that photo went viral, drew fresh attention last month after sharing an image of herself in shorts on a Tehran street.

Shortly afterward, her SIM was blocked. And it remains so weeks later.

“Because I can’t make online purchases—no SIM card, no verification codes—I think I should go on a diet,” she posted on X on Sunday.

“I’ve already had to ask (my sister) Dina to buy my theater tickets, top up my internet, book hotels. I’m going to bed so I don’t end up texting her to order food for me too,” she joked.

‘Communication is my right’

Rad’s post triggered a wave of responses from others who had not previously publicized their own blocking—and the cascade of problems that followed.

Parisa Salehi, a journalist and former political prisoner, said her SIM had been cut months earlier, also without notice. She wrote on X that she refuses to petition prosecutors for its reinstatement.

“Communication is my right,” she said. “My life is already disrupted. I’ve been expelled from university, lost my job, served prison, and now can’t even access the court-notification system.”

Others described being shut out of essential services like banking that require mobile-number verification.

Women’s-rights advocates say the practice is designed to punish and pressure women into conforming to state-mandated dress codes.

New tools of control

The tactic has expanded well beyond hijab enforcement.

After the 12-day war between Israel and Iran earlier this year, security agencies disabled the SIM cards of dozens of citizens in an effort to control reporting and mute criticism.

Several said they were instructed to delete posts, sign pledges not to criticize the government and publish supportive content before their numbers would be restored.

Former journalist turned podcaster Elaheh Khosravi said on X that she will soon lose access to her account and urged followers to keep listening to her podcast. Rad herself promoted Khosravi’s latest episode.

Saeed Sozangar, a network-security instructor and active X user, condemned the tactic as a perversion of Iran’s digital infrastructure.

“E-government has become a tool of control in the hands of a reckless state,” he wrote. “Practices that are illegal even under this system are being carried out casually, with zero accountability.”

No basis in law

Legal experts have also criticized the practice.

In an interview with the moderate daily Shargh, attorney Shahla Orooji said that only a court can impose punishment, and only if it is explicitly provided for in law.

“This measure is neither recognized as a primary punishment nor a supplementary one,” she said. “It is a deprivation of rights and unlawful.”

Another lawyer, Mohammad Oliaei-Fard, said the cutoffs violate the Islamic Republic’s own constitutional protections.

“If a court sought to take this step, due process would be required — including a fair trial and a legally defined punishment,” he said.

Instead, he argued, authorities are imposing “silent, invisible penalties” that evade official scrutiny.

Across Iran’s rice-producing provinces, several main varieties are prized, and priced, above others, including the premium Tarom Hashemi, and the cheaper Fajr and Shiroudi varieties.

Research by Iran International shows that premium Tarom Hashemi rice is now being sold for up to four million rials (about $3.56) per kilogram.

A year ago, it sold for around 1.2 million rials (about $1.07) – a rise of more than 230% in just twelve months.

“Last year I bought this same rice for 1.2 million rials,” said Farhad, 38, from Karaj. “Now it’s 3.5 million, and I am sure it's not as genuine as it once was. Khamenei has spent over four decades chasing war, missiles and chanting ‘death to this or that.’ Now we can’t even afford rice.”

In Tehran, Fereshteh, a mother of two, said prices have soared in recent months. “Five months ago, it was 1.87 million rials (about $1.66). Today in the supermarket, it’s 3.57 million (about $3.17),” she told Iran International.

Rising inflation and a weakening currency have helped drive up costs of living in Iran and economic pain has deepened as Western and European-triggered international sanctions compound the country's international isolation.

A standoff over Iran's disputed nuclear program lingers as negotiations to resolve the impasse appear elusive. Tehran, which denies seeking nuclear weapons, rejects US demands to end domestic enrichment and rein in its missile capabilities and support for armed allies in the region.

The latest figures from Tehran’s Municipal Market Organization – where goods are sold below retail – show Tarom Hashemi rice each priced at 3.35 million rials (about $2.97) per kilogram, with other varieties ranging between 2.1 million rials ($1.87) and 2.75 million rials ($2.44).

Yet shoppers say such prices are deceptive as they allege stores mix low-grade grains into premium brands. True top-quality rice, they say, now costs between 3.5 million rials ($3.11) and 4 million rials ($3.56) per kilo.

Mid-range varieties also more pricey

Recent market data show that Shiroudi rice, which sold for 830,000 rials (about $0.74) per kilogram last November, now ranges between 2.1 million rials (about $1.87) and 2.35 million rials (about $2.09). Based on the lowest price, this marks a 153% annual increase.

Fajr rice has followed a similar trajectory: it rose from 900,000 rials (about $0.80) per kilogram last year to 2–2.75 million rials (about $1.78–$2.44) today – an increase of at least 122%.

One kilogram of Iranian rice feeds about five people.

Iran International’s analysis shows that each plate of rice now costs 800,000 to 1 million rials (about 71-89 cents), while even a single spoonful costs at least around 40,000 rials (about 4 cents).

For a family of four, consuming rice once daily – about 15 to 20 kilograms per month – means spending 70 to 100 million rials (about $62–$89), nearly half the average Iranian monthly income, which stands below $200.

Rice, once described as the daily heartbeat of Iranian cuisine, has become a measure of economic despair.

“I grew up in Gilan where rice was sacred,” said Mitra, 51, a retired teacher. “Now I can’t even afford one bag. What kind of country turns its own staple into gold?”

“Iranian rice has a unique aroma, texture, and flavor that perfectly matches our cuisine,” said Banafsheh, 44, from Tehran. “Foreign varieties – Indian, Pakistani, or Thai – can never replace it in Iranian cooking.

"Our rice is what we serve at gatherings; it’s a sign of respect for guests," she added. "But now, many of us can’t even fill our own plates with it. We’ve been forced to switch to foreign rice, and even that is becoming unaffordable.”

Profiteering, mismanagement

“While the global price for premium rice is about one dollar per kilogram, Iranian consumers pay the equivalent of over three dollars,” Agricultural economist Amir Aghajanian, a member of the Rice Producers Association, told the state-run Fars news agency.

Production costs for northern farmers, he said, are around 1.45 million rials (about $1.29) per kilogram, but middlemen push retail prices above 3.5 million rials (about $3.11). “Excessive profit-taking and weak market oversight have inflated prices far beyond production costs,” Aghajanian asserted.

Iran’s agriculture minister recently revealed that one importer earned $250 million in illicit profit through price manipulation and hoarding, highlighting deep flaws in import oversight.

Other agricultural experts say the crisis runs deeper: rising input costs, fragmented farmlands and outdated tools all push production expenses higher.

“When farmers use traditional methods on small plots, costs rise naturally,” one rice market analyst in Lahijan told Fars. “But when corrupt traders control imports, consumers suffer twice.”

For centuries, rice has anchored Iranian cuisine – from Chelo Kabab, the classic dish of steamed rice served with grilled meat, to Zereshk Polo, rice cooked with barberries and saffron next to chicken.

But in today’s Iran, families ration it like medicine. “Even foreign rice is slipping out of reach,” Farhad from Karaj added. “Our dinner tables are shrinking while the government talks about resistance and dignity.”

As one grocer told Iran International, “Rice was the food of everyone – rich and poor. Now it’s become the food of memory.”

The event had turned the university “into a venue for inappropriate entertainment,” according to the Basij group statement. Fars reported that music with political themes had been played over images showing unveiled participants.

Tehran Design Week, which began on November 10, brought together designers presenting creative works across multiple venues in the city.

Images of women attending without the compulsory hijab had already drawn wide attention on social media, where videos shared from the event showed strong turnout from young people.

“The movement promoting moral corruption not only rejects any boundaries, but shows a clear determination to push the situation further and make it worse. This trend – with new examples emerging every day – is intolerable for the religious majority of society and will eventually lead to a social and cultural explosion,” Fars added.

Some government-aligned social media accounts criticized the festival and directed their criticism at university officials and the science minister.

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  New Tehran Fashion Week set to test Iran's morality limits

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  Iranian prosecutors set to target anti-hijab groups

The shutdown comes as Iran shows selective signs of easing social controls while deepening its political clampdown.

A Reuters analysis last week said while signs of looser social restrictions have appeared in several Iranian cities, the government has simultaneously expanded the scope of political repression – a trend that activists and some former Iranian officials say has intensified to an unprecedented degree in recent months.

At an official ceremony unveiling a new statue in Tehran’s Enghelab Square earlier in November, participants faced no mandatory hijab restrictions.

Alex Vatanka, director of the Iran Program at the Middle East Institute, based in Washington DC, told Reuters that the strategy shows “tactical management” but the government's red lines remain firm.

The hijab, which became a central fault line after the 2022 death in custody of Mahsa Amini, is now being enforced unevenly.

With public anger simmering and officials wary of another wave of nationwide unrest, President Masoud Pezeshkian has declined to put into effect the hardline-supported “Hijab and Chastity” law passed last year.

“That contradiction is deliberate: a release valve for the public, coupled with a hard ceiling on genuine dissent,” Vatanka added.

Every society has its elite. But few countries exhibit as stark a divide between rulers and ruled as the Islamic Republic of Iran.

The leadership in Tehran still insists that the system built after the 1979 revolution is righteous, independent, and morally superior to the West. They proclaim that Iran is self-sufficient and culturally immune to foreign influence. They demand that ordinary citizens remain loyal, endure hardship, and treat isolation as virtue.

And yet, when it comes to their own families, the narrative implodes.

The offspring of Iran’s most powerful political, military, and clerical figures overwhelmingly choose to live somewhere else—most often in the United States, Canada, Europe or Australia. They study at Western universities, work in Western corporations, and enjoy Western freedoms.

This is neither accident nor anomaly. It is a pattern so consistent that Iranians have given it a name: the diaspora of privilege.

A list that goes on and on

Consider the Larijani family, long central to the architecture of the Islamic Republic. Ali Larijani—head of state television, nuclear negotiator, Secretary of the Supreme National Security Council and a twelve-year speaker of parliament—has spent years warning the public about the dangers of American influence.

Yet his daughter, a medical doctor, lives and practices in Ohio. She built a life in the very country her father depicts as an existential threat.

Or take Yahya Rahim-Safavi, former commander-in-chief of the Revolutionary Guard and one of the supreme leader’s closest advisers—who helped define the concept of “cultural resistance” and oversaw enforcement of compulsory hijab.

His daughter now lives freely in Australia, enjoying precisely the choices her father spent decades denying Iranian women.

Even families associated with the Islamic Republic’s “moderate” or “reformist” wings follow the same path.

The two daughters of former president Mohammad Khatami pursued higher education and lived for extended periods abroad.

So did a niece of former president Hassan Rouhani—herself the daughter of a presidential aide and senior nuclear negotiator. Factional differences vanish when opportunity abroad beckons.

The contradiction repeats. Masoumeh Ebtekar, one of the spokespeople of the 1979 hostage-takers, spent years justifying the takeover of the US Embassy. Decades later, she sent her son to study in Los Angeles—hardly the den of decadence and corruption described in her generation’s propaganda.

The Nobakht siblings, both accomplished physicians in top American institutions, followed a similar path. Their father and uncle held senior roles shaping Iran’s budgetary and economic policies—policies that left Iranian hospitals under-funded and understaffed. Yet their children built world-class medical careers abroad, in systems defined by stability and scientific freedom.

Even the grandchildren of Iran’s most senior clerics are part of the same exodus.

Zahra Takhshid, granddaughter of late Ayatollah Mohammadreza Mahdavi-Kani—one-time head of the Assembly of Experts and custodian of the regime’s ideological purity—now teaches law at an American university.

Her work focuses on rights, freedoms, and digital media: topics that would collide instantly with state censorship at home.

A transactional exodus

Taken together, these examples expose a political truth the regime cannot conceal: Iran’s rulers do not trust the system they impose on the public.

If they did, their children would stay—study in its universities, rely on its hospitals, and build their futures in the society their parents govern. But they don’t. They leave, quietly and steadily.

This exodus is not ideological. It is transactional. When you are connected to power, the world is your oyster.

While ordinary Iranians face sanctions, inflation, unemployment and severe limits on travel and opportunity, the children of high-ranking officials glide past these barriers. Western passports, long-term visas, elite degrees and high-paying jobs become accessible through money, influence and political insulation.

This is not the diaspora produced by repression or economic collapse—the path millions of ordinary Iranians have taken out of necessity. This is something else entirely: a ruling-class diaspora born of privilege and contradiction.

Louder than words

The noble-born are of course fully entitled to live wherever they wish and pursue the futures they desire. But their choices, their quiet escape, speaks louder than their parents’ slogans.

When the sons and daughters of ministers, generals, parliament leaders and revolutionary icons choose Los Angeles over Tehran, Cleveland over Qom, Melbourne over Mashhad, and Washington over Isfahan, they deliver a verdict more powerful than any opposition manifesto: The system is not good enough, not even for its architects.

The Islamic Republic demands loyalty from the public, but its own heirs refuse to live under the conditions created for everyone else. This is the heart of the hypocrisy: restriction is mandatory for ordinary Iranians, freedom is hereditary for the elite.

A government whose children flee its ideology cannot claim legitimacy. A revolution abandoned by its heirs cannot claim success. And a system that exports its privileged offspring to the West while confining its own people at home is not a model—it is a contradiction waiting to collapse under the weight of its own lies.

This is according to text and audio notes sent to Iran International TV by its audience in Tehran.

Number of households report barer tables, school truancy and outright hunger, with blame leveled at the government for policies that have turned affordable meals into luxuries.

Iran International asked its audience to share and submit messages on the effects of rising costs on their daily grocery shopping.

Families, from urban renters to rural households, describe slashing most of their food budgets, surviving on basics like low-quality rice, potatoes and bread while dreaming of proteins long unaffordable.

"Staples like red meat, chicken and fish are gone. If this government stays, other foods will vanish gradually, like it or not," another message said.

"The majority—or like 80%—of food basket items eliminated: chicken, eggs, dairy and tons more. The remaining 20%? A hard struggle to provide," one message said.

'Scarce list'

Some listed the items they had to cut from their grocery lists due to high prices and lack of affordability.

"We had to cut chicken, eggs, rice, fish, shrimp. Also nuts and dried fruits, including pistachios, hazelnuts; high-priced fruits, sweets are out," another message said.

Messages indicate that the most essential parts of daily life are vanishing from consumers' baskets.

"Meat, fish, rice, chicken, plus beans and fruits are all out. No way we could afford such luxuries," one message said.

"Every imaginable item gone from our basket. No meat in six months. Life's brutal—my 16-year-old son dropped out of school to work. Still can't cover daily needs. God curse the clerical government and Ali Khamenei."

A water shortage in Iran is becoming more widespread with people reporting pressure drops and low-quality water even as Tehran officials deny reports of rationing.