Iran International
Tehran’s move to sharply limit a man’s liability for paying his wife mehriyeh—a gift of value promised at marriage—has triggered a fierce social debate, with critics warning that it tilts the legal balance further away from women.
On Wednesday, Iran’s parliament voted to cut the threshold for criminal enforcement from the long-standing ceiling of 110 gold coins, introduced in 2013, to just 14.
The measure passed as part of a broader bill to curb the criminalization of debt.
Legal scholar Mohsen Borhani was among the first to sound the alarm when the proposal surfaced earlier this year.
“Once again, a misogynistic bill is moving toward approval,” he posted on X, arguing that mehriyeh remains one of the few practical tools women have in a system where laws and practices heavily favor men.
Lawmakers, he wrote, should revise “all the reciprocal rights of spouses, not tilt the law to one side, and certainly not in a way that harms women.”
Mehriyeh, the inverse of dowry in Western traditions, is negotiated before marriage and legally treated as a debt. It becomes payable at divorce, on demand, or from the husband’s estate if he dies.
While it can take the form of money, property, or symbolic items, government-minted gold coins have become standard over the past few decades; amounts routinely reach hundreds of coins, each worth around $1,000.
Some conservatives inside parliament echoed that concern this week.
Lawmaker Sara Fallahi said the decision would alienate the public from religion “because it limits women’s rights in the name of Sharia.”
Supporters, including Mehrdad Lahouti, counter that more than 25,000 men have been jailed over unpaid mehriyeh and insist the reform will reduce imprisonment for debt.
For decades, criminal enforcement has been central to the function of mehriyeh: it gave women a swift and powerful remedy when husbands refused payment and acted as one of the few bargaining tools available in divorce or marital disputes.
Ankle monitor
Under the new rule, a man unable to pay more than 14 coins could be fitted with an electronic ankle monitor rather than jailed while the remaining debt is pursued.
The legislation still requires approval by the Guardian Council. If finalized, only claims up to 14 coins could trigger criminal sanctions; everything above that would fall into slow and often uncertain civil litigation.
Many families choose 14 coins in reference to the 12 Shi’a Imams plus Prophet Mohammad and his daughter, Fatima.
In many divorces, women surrender part or all of their mehriyeh in exchange for custody or simply for the husband’s consent to dissolve the marriage—another reason reform critics view mehriyeh as a crucial form of leverage in a system already tilted toward men.
Iran’s Sharia-based legal framework contains numerous provisions that disadvantage women, particularly in family and inheritance law.
Men can divorce without proving fault, bar their wives from working or traveling abroad, and legally marry multiple wives. Women must establish serious grounds to obtain a divorce and often rely on mehriyeh as the only enforceable financial safeguard available to them.
Critics fear that without the threat of criminal consequences, many wives—especially those without independent income—will be left to pursue claims through years of civil litigation with little guarantee of recovery.
“Such an approach will easily widen the gender gap and undermine public trust in the process of reforming family laws,” the conservative Farhikhtegan daily warned.
“I prefer to leave my artistic work for a day when the Islamic Republic no longer exists in my country,” she said.
Embarking on a farewell tour, she framed her decision within the wider social shifts unfolding in Iran, particularly the growing rejection of the compulsory hijab and the generational frustration she believes now defines the country.
“We are seeing our youth, especially women, fighting for their most basic rights,” she said, describing a society confronting economic strain, political repression and demands for ordinary freedoms.
Defiance of compulsory veiling is now widespread in Iran as women and girls appear in public without headscarves in one of the most visible social shifts since Mahsa Amini’s death in 2022.
The pressures facing a new generation, Googoosh said, have accelerated her own sense of responsibility as an artist.
“People in my country are struggling to give their families an ordinary life. They struggle for clean water, clean air, and land where they can live. Our young people grew old without ever enjoying their youth. Our people must end this painful cycle and gain the freedoms every human being deserves.”
Iran’s rulers have long relied on strict hijab enforcement by police and Basij forces. The current situation comes amid persistent power cuts, water shortages and a weakened economy, all of which risk fueling further anger.
A life shaped by stardom and silence
Born Faegheh Atashin, she entered the spotlight as a child performer and quickly became one of pre-revolution Iran’s most recognizable cultural figures. Her look, voice and stage presence shaped an entire era of Iranian pop culture.
After the 1979 revolution, she remained in Iran and spent two decades barred from performing under the new theocracy, facing surveillance, harassment and a period of imprisonment. When authorities finally allowed her to leave in 2000, she resumed her career abroad, launching a revival that connected her with Iranians who had long been cut off from her music.
“After the revolution, the pressure on me grew,” Googoosh said. “Since Farsi is my mother tongue and I grew up in Iran, I could not adjust to living outside my country. I did not want that life. I hoped I could somehow continue performing for my own people, inside my own country.”
Lean is a mixture made by combining cough syrups containing codeine with sweetened beverages. The name lean refers to the sedating effect of codeine, which can make users feel unsteady or inclined to recline.
Long popular abroad and popularized in some corners of American hip hop culture, the habit is potential fatal.
It is sometimes known as purple drink because certain cough syrups contain dyes that turn the mixture violet, though local versions in Iran often appear in other colors depending on the medicines used.
The mixture, according to the expert, spreads easily because it can be prepared with medicines already found in many Iranian homes or purchased cheaply over the counter.
Alcohol and drugs are strictly forbidden in the Islamic Republic, and authorities have executed hundreds of people this year accused of drug offenses.
But basic codeine syrups and antihistamines require no special authorization, making the drink inexpensive, discreet and accessible to young people with limited means.
'Highly addictive'
The counsellor, who asked not to be named due to security concerns, said the mixture first surfaced in parks and schoolyards where teenagers gather after long days in classrooms where education is often by rote and has a strong focus on ideological content conforming to the ruling theocracy.
Students, she said, were searching for “something that breaks the monotony” after hours spent in lessons centered on ideological narratives and obligatory religious themes.
She described the drink’s beginnings as “born out of boredom,” saying that many adolescents felt they had no engaging place to spend their time.
“Recreation is squeezed, cultural choice is narrow and even access to a simple beer is criminalized,” she said. “When all conventional outlets are shut, young people invent alternatives.”
Lean is a highly addictive mixture that slows the body’s functions and can cause drowsiness, euphoria, nausea, dizziness, visual disturbances and hallucinations.
Mixing it with alcohol or sedatives greatly increases the risk of dangerously slowed breathing, low oxygen levels, brain injury, seizures, coma or death.
Long-term use can damage teeth, impair memory and vision and lead to serious heart and breathing problems.
Government oversight
Health professionals say the drink spread quietly because Iran lacks a unified system to track unusual purchases of over-the-counter medicines. Basic cough syrups containing codeine are widely available, and the country’s fragmented regulatory framework does not flag high-volume sales or patterns of youth misuse.
A Tehran pharmacist, Omid, said its abuse was predictable.
“When oversight is inconsistent and pharmacies operate without shared monitoring tools, teenagers can gather ingredients unnoticed,” he said. “These medicines sit in almost every home, and no authority has built a mechanism to prevent misuse.”
Omid told Iran International that the state’s regulatory posture has long focused on punitive measures against alcohol while failing to address practical gaps in the medical supply chain. “The priorities are mismatched,” he said.
Education system failure
The trend, according to the counsellor, also reflects shortcomings within classrooms where students rarely receive consistent health education or clear information about the dangers of misusing common medicines.
Instead, timetables remain filled with obligatory ideological material that leaves little room for life-skills programs or discussions about adolescent well-being.
Parents, the counsellor said, receive almost no guidance from schools on the needs of Gen Z or the pressures they experience. “Families are left to guess what their children are going through,” she said.
“Instead of equipping parents with tools, the curriculum focuses on messaging that feels distant from young people’s realities.”
Many teenagers, she added, report feeling disconnected from school content and turn to private rituals and drink simply to “break the cycle” of pressure they cannot voice openly.
Families on their own
Parents who encounter the issue typically do so after it has taken root. This late detection, according to the pharmacist, reflects a systemic failure.
“There is no coordinated pathway between schools, clinics and households,” he said. “Warnings come only after the consequences appear.”
Gen Z’s experimentation, the counsellor added, reflects unmet needs rather than deliberate risk-taking. “If young Iranians had engaging cultural venues, balanced schooling and genuine recreation, this drink would never have become a pattern.”
The two experts said the drink’s spread among 13- to 28-year-olds is a direct product of policy choices: narrow social freedoms, numbing school content, criminalization of ordinary leisure, fragmented pharmaceutical oversight and insufficient support for parents.
