Iran International
In a normal year, Iranian newspapers would now be filled with stories celebrating Nowruz, the Persian New Year beginning March 20. But with war raging across Iran, front pages are instead dominated by headlines about security and survival.
After two weeks of upheaval — including the death of a supreme leader, the appointment of a successor and a war that has touched much of the country — Tehran’s newspapers are increasingly focused on the daily struggle of Iranians trying to make ends meet under fire.
Across the press, economic anxiety is now front and center.
The economic daily Donya-ye Eghtesad warned of a “red alert for the economic situation,” while Jomhouri Eslami struck a more pragmatic tone with the headline: “The need to be honest with the people in an emergency situation,” urging officials to “separate people’s livelihoods from politics.”
Coverage of the Strait of Hormuz also featured prominently on Monday’s front pages. The hardline Kayhan, whose editor is appointed by the Office of the Supreme Leader, vowed that “Iran’s response will make the enemies regret their actions in this war of wills.”
Ettela’at, another newspaper linked to that office, called on the government to “prevent looming famine and scarcity of goods,” taking a markedly different line from Kayhan’s “jihad economy” — a concept long promoted by the late leader Ali Khamenei.
It even suggested rationing essential goods during the Nowruz holidays, which typically last up to two weeks.
Economists quoted in several papers attributed part of the market turmoil to conflicting political signals and the Central Bank’s efforts to stabilize prices in the final days of the year.
Two key articles published Sunday, in Ettela’at and Jomhouri Eslami, captured the broader mood.
Ettela’at argued for “the priority of bread and ethics over political disputes,” criticizing political factions for turning people’s livelihoods into a battleground even during wartime. It urged officials and media to end factional infighting and focus on stabilizing prices to prevent further erosion of social trust.
Jomhouri Eslami, for its part, advised officials to remove advisers who mislead them and distract from the public’s real problems.
Three broad camps emerged in the press over the weekend.
Hardline outlets like Kayhan blamed the crisis on the war and called for resistance. Reformist papers including Etemad and Sharq described a deadlock and urged major change, including national reconciliation.
More centrist titles such as Ettela’at and Jomhouri Eslami framed the moment as a test of governance, calling for transparency, responsiveness and effective market control.
Despite their differences, nearly all newspapers agree on one point: the coming Iranian year, beginning March 20, is likely to be decisive for the country’s economy, its leadership and its social stability.
It entered their bodies – in sleepless nights, stomach illness, obsessive counting of the dead, and a persistent sense that something in their relationship to Iran had been permanently altered.
Now, two months later, as the United States and Israel wage war against the Islamic Republic and another far stricter internet blackout grips the country, that earlier rupture is returning with renewed force.
Images of death, the disappearance of communication, and the uncertainty surrounding Iran’s future have reopened a wound many in the diaspora say never fully closed.
A new qualitative study by researcher Nazanin Shahbazi, a PhD student at the University of Manchester, helps explain why.
Based on eight in-depth interviews with politically engaged members of the Iranian diaspora conducted shortly after the January killings and end of internet shutdown, the research explores how people far from the violence nevertheless experienced the uprising and massacre as a personal rupture – one that reshaped their bodies, their sense of time, and even what it meant to say “I am Iranian.”
“The protests, the killings, the internet blackout and the blocked funerals were not separate chapters,” Shahbazi told Iran International. “For the people I spoke with they formed one continuous shock that reorganized their lives.”
Human rights organizations have documented the repression in detail – the shootings, the arrests, the intimidation of families and the pressure placed on relatives of the dead. What those reports cannot capture is how such violence lives on in those who witness it from afar.
“They can tell us what was done to people and roughly how many were killed,” Shahbazi said. “But they can’t show what it feels like to live with that in your body, your sleep, your relationships and your sense of future.”
Body keeps the score
One of the most striking patterns in the interviews is how often the experience of the massacre appeared in the body.
Participants described vomiting after seeing images of burned bodies, sudden weight gain, eczema, IBS flare-ups, breathlessness, grinding teeth and persistent insomnia. Some lost their appetite entirely. Others said their ordinary routines collapsed into constant monitoring of news from Iran.
“When words ran out, people kept returning to their bodies,” Shahbazi said. “Sudden vomiting, weight gained in twenty days, neck spasms or grinding teeth were how they registered what they could not yet fully think or articulate.”
The body, in this sense, became both witness and container.
Political violence was not simply something they analyzed or debated. It was something that settled into digestion, sleep, muscles and skin.
Shahbazi believes those reactions reveal dimensions of suffering that familiar categories like trauma or PTSD sometimes fail to capture.
“Diagnostic labels can flatten experience into symptom lists,” she said. “What people described were very concrete bodily dramas tied to images and events in Iran.”
Safe but summoned
Another recurring theme was the strange moral position created by exile.
The interviewees were physically safe – living in UK, Europe, North America or elsewhere outside Iran – yet many said they did not experience themselves as distant observers.
“I would describe their condition as safe but summoned,” Shahbazi said. “They lived outside the field of bullets but inside a field of responsibility.”
Again and again participants returned to a painful question: why am I here while others were killed?
Exile did not reduce the emotional weight of the uprising. In many cases it intensified it.
“Safety, mobility and an intact body were experienced not simply as privileges,” Shahbazi said. “They were felt as a kind of unpaid debt to those who stayed and faced lethal risk.”
That sense of symbolic debt helps explain why many interviewees described weeks in which work, sleep and daily routines collapsed into constant monitoring of events in Iran.
Some called friends inside the country repeatedly. Others spent hours tracking death tolls or watching newly emerging videos.
They were not simply following the news. They were trying to answer a moral demand they felt placed upon them.
Language at its limit
The scale of the violence also strained language itself. Participants repeatedly reached for extreme words – “catastrophe,” “slaughter,” or “something like a Holocaust” – because ordinary vocabulary seemed incapable of holding what they had seen.
“Everyday language felt too small,” Shahbazi said. “So people borrowed the biggest words they could find.”
Even those words felt insufficient.
Many interviewees hesitated as they spoke, qualifying their descriptions with phrases like “something like” or “nothing else really covers it.”
Numbers became another way of trying to grasp the event.
Several participants described compulsively tracking death tolls or attempting rough calculations of how many people might have been killed.
“Counting was a way of making the killings halfway thinkable,” Shahbazi said.
A different Iranian-ness
Despite the suffering described in the interviews, the research also uncovered something unexpected. Several participants said the uprising had changed how they understood their own identity.
For years, many had associated being Iranian internationally with embarrassment tied to the Islamic Republic’s image abroad. After the protests, that feeling began to shift.
Shahbazi said several participants described a “partial lifting of shame” when saying they were Iranian.
“In its place they spoke about pride in the courage and sacrifices of protesters,” she said.
Some described renewed attachment to Iranian culture, language and land. Others spoke about admiration for the mothers who stood at the forefront of demonstrations.
Shahbazi believes this shift may have political consequences as well.
“It recenters being Iranian around equality, justice and shared humanity,” she said, “rather than around the state’s ideology.”
That transformation remains fragile.
The war now unfolding and the renewed blackout mean that images of violence are again entering Iranian homes and diaspora communities alike.
But if the interviews reveal anything, it is that the event did not remain confined to the streets where it began.
As Shahbazi put it: “For many Iranians in the diaspora, the massacre did not stay on their screens; it cut into their bodies, their sense of time, and even the way they dare to say, ‘I am Iranian.’”
A growing trend across Persian-language social media has turned timelines into a collective archive of national trauma, with users posting photos and videos of disasters they link to the Islamic Republic’s governance over the past four decades.
The campaign, organized loosely around the hashtag #ThisIsNotAWarPhoto, responds to comments circulating online that the current conflict is destroying Iran and harming ordinary people. Participants counter that the country has already endured decades of devastation under its own rulers.
Posts often show photographs of earlier catastrophes, from building collapses and industrial explosions to environmental destruction and violent crackdowns. Many users have assembled threads or collages showing multiple disasters together.
The result is an informal digital archive documenting events that participants say demonstrate how ordinary Iranians have long faced the consequences of corruption, poor oversight and repression.
Industrial disasters and safety failures
Among the most widely shared images are photos from the explosion at Shahid Rajaei port near Bandar Abbas. The blast killed 57 people and injured more than 1,000, according to Iranian state media.
International coverage later connected the incident to chemicals used in missile fuel production. The Associated Press cited maritime security firm Ambrey as saying the port had recently received ammonium perchlorate from China, a compound commonly used in solid rocket propellant.
Iranian authorities denied that military materials were stored at the commercial port and said the cause of the explosion remained under investigation.
Another image frequently circulating online shows the collapsed Metropol building in Abadan. The ten-story residential and commercial structure fell on May 23, 2022 while under construction, killing at least 41 people and injuring dozens.
The disaster triggered protests in Khuzestan province and elsewhere as residents blamed corruption, construction violations and inadequate oversight.
Photos from the Zemestan-Yurt coal mine explosion in Golestan province in 2017 also appear widely in the campaign. The blast trapped miners deep underground in tunnels filled with methane and carbon monoxide, killing 43 workers and injuring more than 70.
Another post recalls the Plasco building collapse in Tehran in January 2017, when a fire engulfed the commercial tower before it collapsed. Around 20 firefighters were killed and dozens injured in the disaster.
Images of the Neyshabur train explosion in northeastern Iran also circulate online. In February 2004, runaway freight wagons carrying sulfur, gasoline, fertilizer and cotton derailed near the village of Khayyam before a massive explosion killed at least 295 people and injured more than 460.
The blast was so powerful that Iranian seismologists recorded it as a small earthquake.
Environmental destruction and water crises
Environmental decline features prominently in some posts. Users share images showing the dramatic shrinkage of Lake Urmia, once one of the Middle East’s largest salt lakes. Years of dam construction, water diversion and heavy agricultural use across the basin caused the lake to recede drastically, turning vast areas into salt flats.
The drying of the Hawizeh Marshes on the Iran-Iraq border also appears in many threads. Environmental experts say oil exploration and water diversion projects have reduced water flow into the wetlands, damaging ecosystems that supported communities for thousands of years.
Water shortages have also driven protests in cities such as Khorramshahr. Photos from demonstrations in 2018 show residents protesting over the lack of safe drinking water during extreme summer heat. Security forces responded with arrests and gunfire, according to activists and local reports.
Another widely shared disaster is the 2019 Shiraz flash flood, which struck during the Nowruz holiday travel period. Floodwaters swept through a road leading into the city, killing at least 19 people and injuring more than 200.
Critics later linked the severity of the disaster to blocked historic flood channels and poor drainage infrastructure.
Repression and political violence
Many posts also recall episodes of state violence. Images referencing the July 1999 student protests show the aftermath of a raid on dormitories at the University of Tehran. Security forces and vigilante groups stormed the dorms after demonstrations against the closure of the reformist newspaper Salam.
At least one student was killed and hundreds were injured. Several detainees disappeared during the crackdown whose fate remains unknown.
Photos from Zahedan’s Bloody Friday in September 2022 are also widely shared. Security forces opened fire on protesters, worshippers and bystanders near the Makki prayer site during demonstrations linked to the Woman, Life, Freedom movement.
Human rights groups documented at least 96 deaths in the single-day crackdown.
Some users also shared photos of victims from the Mahsa Amini protests, which erupted across Iran in September 2022 after the death of Mahsa (Jina) Amini while in the custody of the country’s morality police.
The demonstrations quickly spread to dozens of cities and university campuses, becoming one of the most widespread anti-government movements in the country in recent decades. Security forces – including the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, the Basij militia and police – used live ammunition, shotguns, tear gas and mass arrests to suppress the protests.
Human rights organizations including Human Rights Activists in Iran (HRANA) documented more than 500 deaths during the crackdown, including dozens of children, while tens of thousands of people were arrested.
Images of victims from those protests circulate widely in the #ThisIsNotAWarPhoto campaign, where users present them as part of a broader record of violence carried out by the state against its own citizens.
Other posts refer to the nationwide anti-government protests in January 2026, which users say were met with one of the most severe crackdowns in the country’s recent history. According to figures circulated widely on social media and by activist groups, more than 36,500 people were killed during the suppression of demonstrations across Iran.
A post references the Rasht bazaar killings during the January protests. Witnesses described security forces surrounding protesters in the historic marketplace and opening fire before parts of the bazaar caught fire.
Participants in the campaign say the images serve as reminders that many of the country’s deadliest moments have come not from foreign wars, but from confrontations between the state and its own population.
Disasters tied to negligence
Several posts highlight tragedies tied to safety failures. Images of the Shinabad school fire in December 2012 show a classroom where a faulty oil-burning heater exploded in the village of Shinabad in West Azarbaijan province. Two girls died and more than two dozen students suffered severe burns, many of them permanent.
Another widely shared image refers to the 2020 explosion at Tehran’s At’har medical clinic, where a gas blast killed 19 people.
The Sanchi oil tanker disaster in January 2018 also appears frequently in the campaign. The Iranian-owned tanker collided with another vessel off China’s coast and burned for days before sinking, killing all 32 crew members.
Documents later obtained by media outlets suggested Iranian authorities overlooked evidence that some crew members may have survived the initial collision.
Aviation tragedy and public health crisis
One of the most widely circulated images shows the wreckage of Ukraine International Airlines Flight 752.
The passenger plane was shot down by the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps shortly after taking off from Tehran in January 2020, killing all 176 people aboard. Iranian officials initially blamed a technical failure before acknowledging that air defense units had fired the missiles.
Another set of posts references the ban by the slain Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei on importing the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine during the pandemic. Critics argue that the decision slowed vaccination efforts at a time when official figures showed daily deaths reaching around 1,200.
Poverty and social hardship
Some images highlight living conditions rather than single disasters. Photos of homeless people sleeping inside empty graves in Shahriar near Tehran in 2016 became a symbol of poverty and inequality in the country.
Other posts show neighborhoods where residents live in conditions that users compare to war-damaged areas, reinforcing the campaign’s central message that destruction in Iran did not begin with the current conflict.
A collective memory of crisis
Participants say the images circulating online represent only a fraction of the tragedies they associate with over four decades of rule by the Islamic Republic.
By gathering them in a single digital space, users are constructing a visual timeline of events that many Iranians remember but rarely see documented together.
The posts argue that the country’s hardship did not begin with foreign strikes or military escalation.
For many participants in the campaign, the images serve as a reminder that long before the latest war, Iran had already endured decades of crises at home.
