Inside Iran’s wartime information blackout

The players – Fatemeh Pasandideh, Zahra Ghanbari, Zahra Sarbali, Atefeh Ramezani-Zadeh and Mona Hamoudi –left the team’s hotel in the city of Gold Coast and are currently in a safe location. The development comes after days of tension surrounding the team during an Asian tournament in Australia.

The issue caught the attention of President Donald Trump who posted twice on Truth Social on Monday — first after learning that the players were seeking asylum following threats from senior Iranian officials, who warned them of harsh punishment for refusing to sing the Islamic Republic’s anthem.

Later, Trump confirmed he had spoken with Australia’s Prime Minister.

“I just spoke to Prime Minister Anthony Albanese of Australia concerning the Iranian National Women’s Soccer Team,” Trump wrote. “He’s on it! Five have already been taken care of, and the rest are on their way.”

In a heartfelt post, Australia’s Minister for Home Affairs, Tony Burke, shared photos with the football players on X and wrote that they are “welcome to stay in Australia to be safe and have a home here.”

The players were required to wear compulsory hijab during all public appearances while representing the national team.

Anthem protest triggered pressure and threats

The controversy surrounding the team began earlier in the tournament when members of the squad refused to sing the national anthem of the Islamic Republic before their first match against South Korea.

Images of the players and coaching staff standing silently during the anthem quickly spread on social media, with many interpreting the gesture as a protest against the government.

In their second match against Australia, however, the players were seen giving a military salute and singing the anthem after what reports described as threats and warnings from security officials accompanying the delegation.

An Iranian state television host later threatened the team on air, saying both the public and officials should treat them as “war-time traitors.”

Bus incident and support from Iranians abroad

Tensions escalated further after the team’s final match, when videos circulated online showing Iranians living in Australia attempting to stop the team bus as it left the stadium.

A witness told the Australian broadcaster SBS that several players had also remained seated on the field after the team’s final match against the Philippines and appeared reluctant to leave, raising concerns they were under pressure and did not want to return to Iran.

SBS earlier reported, citing two sources who visited the team’s hotel, that the players were under “very tight security measures” imposed by Iranian officials. The sources said authorities appeared concerned that some players might attempt to seek asylum.

Appeals for protection and uncertainty over return

The situation prompted appeals from activists and opposition figures who warned the players could face serious consequences if they return to Iran.

Exiled Prince Reza Pahlavi wrote on X that members of Iran’s women’s national football team were under significant pressure and ongoing threats from the Islamic Republic because of their refusal to sing the anthem, urging the Australian government to ensure their safety and provide support.

Journalist and activist Masih Alinejad also called on Australia to protect the players, saying they faced potential danger if returned to Iran.

Australian Foreign Minister Penny Wong said the Iranian authorities had a record of harsh repression.

“We know this regime has brutally murdered many of its own people. We know this regime has brutally oppressed many Iranian women, and we stand in solidarity with the men and women of Iran, particularly Iranian women and girls,” she added.

Meanwhile, Iranian football officials say the team’s return has been complicated after flights back to Iran were canceled following recent regional tensions. Farideh Shojaei, head of the women’s team delegation, said officials are exploring alternative routes for the team’s return.

According to Shojaei, Iranian football authorities have been in talks with airlines and other officials to arrange a new travel route. Some federation officials have reportedly traveled to Turkey to coordinate possible transit arrangements, raising the possibility that the team could be flown to Turkey and then transported overland by bus to Iran.

Iran’s women’s national football team, which had traveled to Australia to compete in the tournament, was eventually eliminated from the competition. It remains unclear when the remaining members of the team will leave Australia.

But trauma specialists say those reactions reflect something deeper: decades of repression that have fundamentally shaped how many Iranians perceive danger. For many inside the country, the regime itself—not the bombs—has long been the most immediate threat to their lives.

The discussion gained attention after a viral Instagram reel by Iranian-origin actor and producer Tara Grammy. In the video, Grammy recounts a conversation a friend in Iran said they had with their therapist—a moment that appeared to capture what many Iranians had already been expressing online.

According to Grammy, her friend admitted they found themselves celebrating the sound of bombs hitting Tehran—something that surprised even them. The therapist’s explanation, she said, was psychological.

“When your entire life you have lived under the constant threat of the Islamic Republic—arrests, prison, executions, morality police, surveillance, people disappearing after exercising their right to protest—your brain learns to fear the thing that actually controls your life,” Grammy said in the video.

“Psychologists call this threat normalization.”

The concept describes how people living under long-term repression can come to see the greatest danger not as an external threat such as war, but the authority that controls their daily lives.

To better understand the reaction, Iran International spoke with two therapists who work with Iranians affected by political repression and trauma.

Clinical psychotherapist Azadeh Afsahi, founder of Iran House and an NGO in contact with political prisoners inside Iran, said many reactions seen online cannot be understood without recognizing the depth of suffering many Iranians have endured.

“I think what we need to look at is the big picture: why is it that a nation is celebrating what the whole world fears—bombs?” Afsahi said.

“For them, the bomb can feel like a form of liberation, as sad as that sounds. For 47 years they have lived under oppression without meaningful help.”

Afsahi said many Iranians understand the risks and potential loss of life associated with conflict. But for some, the possibility that the Islamic Republic could finally fall outweighs those fears.

According to Afsahi, many messages she has received from inside Iran reflect a mix of fear, anxiety and renewed hope. After recent crackdowns and mass killings during protests, she said many Iranians had fallen into what she described as a “collective depression.”

“Right now, despite their houses being bombed and loved ones being killed, there is still an element of hope,” she said. “Because the pain is being seen internationally, and somebody is intervening.”

Another trauma counselor, Farnaz Farrokhi-Holmes, said decades of repression have left many Iranians living with complex trauma—a condition caused by prolonged exposure to violence and fear.

“When trauma happens repeatedly, the brain begins to normalize the threats around it,” she explained.

Over time, she said, the brain adapts to survive in an environment of constant danger.

“The bombs are no longer perceived as the primary threat. The imminent threat is the IRGC—its survival and its continued power.”

Farrokhi-Holmes said she is currently providing pro bono counseling to a young Iranian woman who survived the January 2026 protest crackdowns and later escaped the country after witnessing security forces shoot demonstrators.

The trauma many Iranians carry, she said, is difficult for outsiders to fully grasp. Unless someone has lived under a system where arrests, violence and executions can happen without warning, the psychological response may be hard to understand.

Both therapists emphasized that reactions inside Iran remain complex. Many people are afraid. Many are grieving. But some, they say, also feel something absent for years: hope.

As Afsahi put it, many Iranians are not celebrating war itself but the possibility that decades of repression could finally end.

“They’re not happy about the war,” she said. “They are happy about the possibility of liberation.”

For years, Mojtaba has operated largely behind the scenes within Iran’s political and security elite. The only public recording of his voice is a one-minute video in which he tells seminary students that his classes have been cancelled.

He appears to lack any significant public profile or popular following among the wider population—an element the Islamic Republic now seems increasingly unconcerned about.

Mojtaba played a significant role in the election of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in 2005 and has long been seen as influential in the expansion of the Revolutionary Guards’ intelligence and economic reach, as well as in policies used to suppress dissent.

His rise reflects the priorities of a system that now appears to value internal cohesion and security ties more than public stature.

The issue of choosing the supreme leader has always posed both a philosophical and practical challenge in the Islamic Republic. If the leader is the representative of God on earth and a successor to the Prophet Mohammad, the question is how that authority is conferred: through popular recognition or divine designation.

These two impulses have shaped debates over the nature of the Islamic Republic for decades. One emphasizes the system’s republican and electoral elements; the other gives primacy to its theocratic foundations.

Popularity factor

The question barely arose when Ruhollah Khomeini came to power. He embodied both elements: he enjoyed broad popular support and was among the most prominent religious figures of his time.

Khomeini’s ascendancy preceded the formal codification of the office of supreme leader. The robe, as a Persian expression would have it, was cut to his measure

This was reflected in the first constitution adopted after the 1979 revolution, which described the leader as one “recognized and accepted by the overwhelming majority of the people,” as was the case with Khomeini.

That provision was revised in 1989, when Ali Khamenei was selected as the second supreme leader. The reference to popular acceptance was removed, assigning the decision solely to the Assembly of Experts.

Yet popularity still mattered. Ali Khamenei did not hold a high religious rank at the time and was not yet an ayatollah. But after eight years as president he was a familiar national figure, and public recognition and political experience were judged more important than clerical standing.

Staying the course

The selection of Mojtaba suggests those considerations now carry far less weight. He has been elevated not because of religious stature, executive experience or public standing, but largely because of his ties to the security establishment.

If the Islamic Republic had followed its previous trajectory, it might have been expected to choose one of the former cleric presidents—most plausibly Hassan Rouhani, who in recent months appeared to be positioning himself for such a role.

By choosing Mojtaba, the Islamic Republic has effectively crossed a threshold. The system that once defined itself in opposition to hereditary rule now appears willing to tolerate it, prioritizing continuity and control over ideological consistency.

While officials have presented Mojtaba’s appointment as an emergency wartime decision, his decades of behind-the-scenes activity suggest a far longer process of consolidation.

His succession also narrows the already limited space for fundamental change.

As Iran confronts war with the United States and Israel abroad while continuing to face deep mistrust at home, the balance of power now points firmly toward continuity—and toward a system with little interest in resolving tensions either with its own society or with its adversaries.

On March 5, shortly after heavy strikes targeted areas near the Pasteur government complex in central Tehran – a district that houses the Iranian presidency and several key government offices – the Israeli military published a video depicting what it described as Khamenei’s underground bunker system.

The complex resembles a subterranean city. According to the video and accompanying imagery, the facility appears to have been used as a secure shelter for Iran’s leadership and may still be used by remaining officials following Khamenei’s death.

A tunnel network stretching nearly five kilometers

Analysis of the imagery released by the Israeli military, using publicly available online mapping tools, suggests the tunnel network extends close to five kilometers in length.

To understand the scale of the project, it helps to compare it with ordinary infrastructure construction in Tehran.

According to statements by Tehran mayor Alireza Zakani and members of the Tehran City Council, building one kilometer of metro tunnel in Tehran currently costs between 5,000 and 6,000 billion tomans – roughly $30-36 million at an exchange rate of about 166,000 tomans per dollar.

This estimate covers only the excavation and structural work. It does not include interior finishing, equipment, ventilation systems, or other underground facilities.

Based on those figures, building five kilometers of underground tunnel would cost about 25,000 to 30,000 billion tomans, or roughly $150-180 million.

Given the secrecy and security requirements surrounding such a project, the actual cost was likely significantly higher than that of a standard transportation tunnel.

Under normal conditions, tunneling contractors in Tehran can excavate around 10 meters per day. At that pace, building a five-kilometer tunnel system would take at least 500 days – roughly 17 months.

Considering the classified nature of the project and the additional infrastructure involved, the construction timeline may have been considerably longer.

The core of the complex: beneath a medical facility

The video appears to place the central section of the bunker complex southwest of the presidential compound in the Pasteur district.

The site sits directly beneath the Shahid Shourideh Medical Center, a clinic affiliated with Iran’s Ministry of Agriculture. The facility has operated since 1985 and effectively functions as part of the broader Pasteur government complex.

Based on the height of vehicle ramps and the dimensions of vehicles visible in the imagery, the central installation appears to be located 40 to 50 meters underground.

From there, the tunnel system extends northwest toward another entrance near the end of Rajabi Street, roughly 200 meters from the Shourideh hospital complex.

Easternmost entrance: next to an elementary school

The easternmost known entrance to the tunnel network appears to be located in the Sheikh Hadi neighborhood, along Valiasr Street, beneath the Jami multi-story parking garage.

This parking structure stands directly beside Hejrat Girls’ Elementary School, while Saheb a-Zaman Boys’ Elementary School lies about 100 meters away.

At the northern edge of the network sits another multi-story garage known as the 12 Farvardin Parking Complex, located near the intersection of Jomhouri Eslami Street and Danesh Street.

Both parking structures were inaugurated on December 4, 2017, as part of a paired urban development project attended by Tehran’s then-mayor Mohammad Najafi.

An entrance beneath a mosque, beside a school

Another entrance appears west of Pasteur Square, between Hor Metro Station and the square itself.

This access point lies beneath Tohid Mosque. Adjacent to the mosque is a building, and behind it stands Shahid Kadkhodaei Boys’ Elementary School.

Roughly 200 meters away, another possible entrance is located on the southwestern side of Pasteur Square, along a street that houses the AJA University of Command and Staff – the staff college of the Islamic Republic of Iran Army.

Nearby are the Karimeh Ahl-e Beit dental clinic and medical clinic, as well as the 29 Farvardin Pharmacy, which is affiliated with Iran’s army.

Western entrance beside a football school

The westernmost identified entrance to the tunnel network appears to lie beneath a small building near an office responsible for issuing hunting weapon permits.

Immediately next to the building, sharing a wall, is a football training school, while dense residential complexes surround the area.

This location sits near the intersection of Sepah and Kamali streets, along Kashan Street, at the end of Fourth Street.

The tunnels also lie close to the Yas and Namjou residential complexes, which are affiliated with the Iranian army.

Mojtaba Khamenei, long known as the discreet and powerful son of slain Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, was announced early Monday as Iran’s new Supreme Leader at a time when the country is at war and Israel has openly vowed to target any successor to his father.

For decades Mojtaba operated largely out of public view while building deep ties across the Islamic Republic’s political and security apparatus. His rise marks the formal emergence of a figure who had already been widely regarded as one of the most influential actors behind the scenes of Iran’s ruling establishment.

Mojtaba, the second son of Ali Khamenei, has long been considered the only member of his family with clear political ambitions. His younger brother, Masoud, worked only in administrative roles within their father’s office, while his other two brothers and two sisters are not known to have held political or bureaucratic positions.

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