An Iranian protester, Erfan Soltani, 26, who was arrested on January 8 during anti-government protests in Fardis, west of Tehran, has been sentenced to death and is due to be executed on Wednesday, sources close to his family told Oslo-based rights group Iran Human Rights. The exact charges against Soltani were not immediately clear.
US Senator Lindsey Graham said he expects US help for Iranian protesters “soon,” adding the ongoing unrest as a push to replace the country’s current leadership.
“They don’t want to live in a country where a 16‑year‑old girl can be killed for not wearing the headscarf,” Graham told Iran International in an interview on Tuesday. “Help is on the way.”
“People are being killed, I think, by the thousands. Donald J. Trump is not Barack Obama. When he says help is on the way, he means it to everyone out in the streets risking your life. Your children and their children’s children will benefit from your bravery,” the Republican senator from South Carolina said.
It is the Islamic Republic as envisioned by Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei: no internet, no social media, hundreds of national and local newspapers shuttered, and mobile phones rendered largely useless.
The darkness is deliberate. It is enforced to prevent protesters from communicating and organizing—and to conceal the crimes committed to crush them when they do.
Iran International on Tuesday put the death toll from the crackdown at around 12,000, vowing in a statement that the mass killing “will not be buried in silence.”
With nearly all communication channels severed, Khamenei remains one of the few figures whose website continues to function. State television—a network of more than 30 channels—is still broadcasting the image he wants the world to see.
The same is true of a handful of state-aligned news agencies, including Fars, Tasnim, and Mehr, all controlled by the Revolutionary Guards or the Organization for Islamic Propagation.
Although Iran’s national intranet has partially resumed after several days of shutdown, even state television has struggled to maintain its broadcasts following the severing of international internet links.
Despite those limitations, state TV aired footage promoting a tightly stage-managed pro-government rally in one of Tehran’s smallest squares, a space that can barely hold 3,000 people.
Internet experts say a small number of X users inside Iran have been selectively allowed to post content supporting government narratives. Limited Starlink access also exists, but analysts warn that the sporadic signal means foreign media remain largely blind to developments across most of the country.
As of Tuesday evening in Tehran, the government had not responded to calls from the United Nations secretary-general and European Union officials urging it to restore communication lines.
Meanwhile, social media posts describe security forces raiding homes and confiscating Starlink terminals, satellite dishes, computers, and mobile phones — part of a broader effort to prevent Iranians from accessing independent reporting or sending information abroad.
With the blackout, censorship, and signal jamming, foreign-based Persian-language media—now the primary source of information for many Iranians—may be forced to revive shortwave radio broadcasting. It would represent a step backward in media technology, but perhaps the only way to move forward in reaching a silenced population.
Shukriya Bradost, an Iran analyst based in Washington, wrote on X on Tuesday that while protesters stand “empty-handed against a regime that answers them with bullets,” no significant defections appear to have occurred within the military.
“Starlink and outside reporting no longer have the impact they once did,” she wrote, because the world already knows what is happening in Iran. If any action is to be taken, she concluded, “the time is now, not later.”
Iran's historic Lion and Sun flag has had a resurgence with latest round of widespread protests after nearly half a century of absence from the country's official identity.
Carried by some demonstrators from the earliest days of the unrest, it served as a visual rejection of the Islamic Republic’s theocratic rule.
But after exiled Prince Reza Pahlavi called on Iranians abroad to replace the Islamic Republic’s flag at embassies and consulates, the Lion and Sun moved to the center of Iran’s political narrative.
Even before that call, an Iranian protester climbed the wall of Iran's embassy in London to replace the official flag with the Lion and Sun. The footage spread rapidly online and was even shared by US President Donald Trump.
The act was repeated the following day, turning the embassy into a symbolic battleground over national identity.
Similar actions followed in Canberra, Stockholm, Oslo, Rome, Munich, Hamburg, and Ljubljana, where Iranians replaced official symbols, installed flags at entrances, or painted the Lion and Sun emblem and protest slogans on diplomatic buildings.
Videos from several cities inside Iran showed protesters carrying or displaying the Lion and Sun during demonstrations–an instant visual marker that a local protest was part of a broader national movement.
For many, the flag is less about monarchism and more about distancing themselves from the Islamic Republic. Its power lies in clarity. In a single image, it communicates rejection of the regime and identification with an alternative vision of Iran.
That efficiency has made it one of the most repeated visual motifs of the current unrest.
And that is perhaps why X also decided to change its Iran flag icon to the Lion and Sun.
The endurance of the tricolor
Iran’s green, white, and red tricolor was formalized during the Constitutional Revolution of the early 20th century, when the idea of a modern Iranian nation-state first took shape. Over time, the colors acquired widely accepted meanings: green for vitality and land, white for peace and clarity, red for courage and sacrifice.
What makes the tricolor distinctive is its continuity. It has survived monarchies, coups, revolutions, and war with minimal dispute. Across political divisions, it remained one of the few symbols broadly viewed as “Iranian” rather than “governmental.”
The Lion and Sun emblem is among Iran’s oldest political symbols. Its formal use dates back to the Safavid era and was standardized under the Qajars and later the Pahlavis as a lion holding a sword beneath a radiant sun.
In Iranian symbolism, the lion represents power, guardianship, and independence; the sun conveys enlightenment, sovereignty, and renewal. Together, they evoke a civilizational memory that predates the Islamic Republic.
This layered meaning explains why many Iranians view the emblem as representing Iran itself rather than a specific political system.
After 1979: a symbolic rupture
After the 1979 revolution, the Islamic Republic removed the Lion and Sun and replaced it with a new emblem built from stylized Islamic inscriptions.
The post-revolutionary clerical government viewed the Lion and Sun symbol as representing the "oppressive Westernising monarchy."
Over four decades of its placement on ministry façades, military uniforms, public buildings, textbooks, and state media, the emblem increasingly became seen as the “flag of the Islamic Republic” – not the “flag of Iran.”
This symbolic rupture explains why the Lion and Sun resurfaces during moments of crisis – from 2009 to 2019 to 2022, and now again. Its return in 2026 is simply its most visible resurgence.
Many leftists, republicans, and nationalists avoided it, wary of monarchist associations. This year’s protests have altered that calculus. The scale of unrest and the need for a non-regime symbol have softened ideological boundaries.
Many Iranians with no attachment to monarchy now carry the Lion and Sun as a marker of resistance, not restoration, as a symbol of “Iran without the Islamic Republic.”
In a moment of complete digital blackout, censorship and repression, symbols have again become the language of the street – durable, replicable, and difficult to silence.
Whether the lion and sun becomes a temporary emblem of a protest movement or a lasting symbol of a future political order remains one of the most consequential questions emerging from this year’s unrest.
Britain will bring forward legislation to impose further sanctions on Iran, the foreign secretary said on Tuesday in an update to parliament.
"Measures will target finance, energy, transport, software, and other significant industries which are advancing Iranian nuclear escalation," Yvette Cooper said.
Cooper added that Britain would work with the European Union and other partners to consider what additional steps may be needed in response to developments.
I am writing this from Tehran after three days of trying to find a way to send it: things may get a lot worse before they get any better.
There is no internet. Only a few people still have access to Starlink, and even that works only in patches. Messages fail. Calls fail. Most of the time, there is nothing.
The killing has been unprecedented. I know that word is used too easily, so let me explain what I mean. Almost everyone you see or speak to knows a victim. I personally know five. One is dead. Two are injured. Two have been missing for three days.
The only time that comes close, in terms of scale and fear, was during Covid.
During the day, Tehran is mostly quiet. By around three in the afternoon, people start heading home. Some do it to prepare to go out again later. Others do it to stay out of everything entirely.
Mobile phones work during the day, but even then, they are limited. Text messages do not exist. The only messages that arrive are state “alerts,” which are really threats—warnings not to go out.
We are taken hostage. Literally. And without internet, our loved ones outside the country are taken hostage in a different way.
None of this was a surprise. They have done it before. Everyone knew there was a kill switch.
Which makes me ask something I cannot stop thinking about: how did the opposition outside, the activists, never think seriously about this? How do you call on people to risk their lives without even a rough plan for what happens once the security apparatus starts moving?
I am angry. At everything. At those who rule Iran. I have nothing but expletives for them. I wish them unimaginable suffering.
But I am also angry at the keyboard warriors abroad. “We will not rest until the regime is gone, no matter the cost,” one prominent figure said last week from a European capital. “F**k you, I say. With whose blood?"
Everyone I see is angry and helpless. Often both at once. People are conflicted. You want the butchers to be beaten. You want pressure from outside. But you do not want your country attacked. You do not want war.
Most people I speak to believe Trump will do something. No one knows what. There is hope, but there is more fear.
What if the blow only bruises the beast and makes it more savage, many ask. What if parts of the system refuse to give in and keep fighting and killing? We have seen this before. After the revolution 1979, there were years of power struggles and bloodshed.
And another thing, which some people outside may not want to hear.
Those who think that a change in leadership would mean none of this could happen again are either deeply mistaken or lying. No leader has universal support. Even Khomeini faced armed opposition after the revolution, both ideological and ethnic.
But then you say all of this, and immediately another question comes: what if nothing happens? What if there is no intervention, no turning point? How much longer can we go on like this?
All I can say—and I hope people read this—is that I don’t know. Like most people here, I don’t know.
And I don’t trust those who say they do. Those who declare from their chaise longues in London or Washington that the days or even the years ahead will be easy, clean and bright.
They won’t be.
