The politics of pink: how Iran uses cuteness to rebrand violence

“Many bakeries are facing flour shortages and cannot keep up with long lines of customers,” a resident from Malard west of Tehran said.

Another account said: “Right after the war, bread prices doubled. Barbari (a type of Iranian bread) is now 250,000 rials and Sangak is 350,000. Subsidized flour has been removed.”

The reported prices are far above official rates, with the latest approved price for Sangak at about 76,000 rials and Barbari around 55,000.

April 20 marks National Wheat and Bread Day in Iran, meant to highlight the central role of wheat in daily life, but accounts point to worsening conditions for a basic staple.

Conflicting claims on wheat supply

Wheat self-sufficiency has long been a goal promoted by many officials of the Islamic Republic. The first celebration of wheat self-sufficiency was held on November 16, 2004, during the presidency of Mohammad Khatami.

However, this self-sufficiency did not continue in subsequent years for various reasons, including water shortages, and Iran remained reliant on wheat imports. Still, the aspiration for self-sufficiency has continued to be repeated in officials’ statements.

Now, 22 years after the first “self-sufficiency celebration,” as buying bread is becoming an economic challenge for citizens, Ataollah Hashemi, head of the National Wheat Farmers Foundation, has once again reiterated the goal. Speaking on Saturday, April 18, he said: “The country will not need to import wheat this year.”

Yet official customs data shows Iran imported about 2.75 million tons of wheat worth nearly $1 billion in the 10 months to February 2026. The imports were sourced largely from Russia, as well as through intermediaries such as the United Arab Emirates and Turkey.

The reliance on intermediaries, which are not major wheat exporters themselves, points to complications tied to banking restrictions and payment channels, increasing costs through additional transport and fees.

The gap between official statements and import figures raises questions about the sustainability of domestic production and the credibility of self-sufficiency statements.

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Rising costs and policy pressures

Bread prices have increased across provinces in the current Iranian year that began on March 21, following subsidy cuts and the move toward a single flour pricing system. Prices now vary depending on flour type and region, with some bakeries selling above official rates.

Despite parliament approving a budget that allocates more than 5,000 trillion rials (over $3 billion) for bread subsidies, no new national price list has been issued for the current year. As a result, last year’s rates remain in effect, while enforcement appears inconsistent.

Inflation and shortages

Before the latest conflict and US-Israeli strikes, annual inflation had already exceeded 70 percent, with food inflation reaching triple digits. Official data shows bread and cereals recorded year-on-year inflation of about 140 percent.

The removal or reduction of subsidized flour in parts of the market has added to the pressure, with more bakeries operating under higher-cost “free flour” systems.

Citizen reports suggest the combined impact of shortages and rising prices is becoming more visible. Long queues at bakeries and inconsistent supply have emerged alongside sharp increases in retail prices.

For many households, bread remains a primary food source, making these changes particularly significant.

The accounts from Tehran and other areas point to a broader strain across the country, where access to basic goods is increasingly shaped by rising costs, uneven supply, and policy shifts that have yet to stabilize the market.

Reports from Tehran suggest the government’s new reconstruction plan has created a deep sense of abandonment among citizens who assumed war-related destruction caused by a national conflict would be covered by the state.

On Thursday, the Iranian Labor News Agency (ILNA) quoted Tehran Province official Mohammad Sadeq Motamedian as saying that “nearly 40,000 residential units across Tehran Province have been damaged.”

Earlier, Donya-ye Eghtesad reported that the Ministry of Roads and Urban Development estimated roughly 45,000 residential and non-residential units were damaged during the March war but did not require demolition, while nearly 1,000 units needed full reconstruction.

Motamedian’s assessment has intensified debate over the true scale of destruction and the government’s approach to rebuilding.

In Tehran, Mayor Alireza Zakani had previously promised full reconstruction of ruined homes and restoration of damaged buildings, but there has been little clarity on how much progress has been made.

The government’s reconstruction strategy became more controversial after spokesperson Fatemeh Mohajerani said on April 15 that the administration would not provide direct financial assistance to rebuild destroyed homes.

Instead, she said the government would offer what officials call “floating density,” a system of additional building permits intended to encourage private developers to help reconstruct damaged housing.

Under the plan, builders could reconstruct damaged or destroyed homes in exchange for permission to add one or two additional floors to new buildings, which they would then be allowed to sell for profit.

Critics say the proposal is unrealistic. Density bonuses cannot compensate families who have lost their homes, especially at a time when construction costs are soaring.

For many displaced households, the absence of direct financial support raises serious questions about how reconstruction could realistically proceed.

Government bodies have also released widely differing figures about the scale of damage. Some officials have suggested only a few thousand homes were affected, while others have put the number in the tens of thousands.

Donya-ye Eghtesad noted that estimates range from about 1,000 homes requiring full reconstruction to tens of thousands with varying levels of damage, leaving residents uncertain about the true scale of destruction and the level of support they can expect.

The discrepancies have fueled speculation that the government may be downplaying the extent of war damage in order to limit financial obligations, reinforcing broader criticism of opaque communication during and after the conflict.

Iran’s lead negotiator and parliament speaker Mohammad-Bagher Ghalibaf defended indirect talks with the United States in a televised interview Saturday after hardline critics accused him of “betrayal” and even hinted at a “coup” over the negotiations in Islamabad.

The backlash, which has intensified in recent days across hardline media and social platforms, prompted Ghalibaf to sit for a lengthy interview on state television aimed largely at persuading critics who reject any form of diplomacy and advocate continued confrontation.

In the interview, Ghalibaf framed negotiations not as a retreat but as a continuation of the conflict by other means. Diplomacy, he said, is neither a withdrawal from Iran’s demands nor separate from the battlefield, but a way to consolidate military gains and translate them into political outcomes and lasting peace.

Most notably, perhaps, he cautioned against exaggerating Iran’s leverage, stressing that US military superiority and capabilities should not be underestimated.

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The protests were the result of several crises converging at once. Economic collapse, political exclusion and a growing sense of humiliation pushed society beyond its tolerance threshold and created a shared feeling across social groups that life in Iran had become increasingly unlivable.

When demonstrations erupted across the country, many slogans targeted the Islamic Republic itself.

The roots of the unrest run deep in provinces that host major oil and industrial projects but have long seen little improvement in living standards.

From Abadan to Bushehr and from Kangan to Gilan-e Gharb, many of the cities that first erupted in protest are places where people have spent years asking the same question: where did the country’s oil wealth go?

President Masoud Pezeshkian’s government attempted to calm tensions by announcing direct cash payments to households after eliminating subsidized exchange rates. The payment amounted to about one million tomans—roughly seven dollars.

The gesture came at a time when food prices were soaring. Cooking oil prices had risen more than 200 percent, eggs were more than twice as expensive as a year earlier, and some shopkeepers had begun selling basic dairy products on installment plans.

For many Iranians the payment symbolized not relief but humiliation.

The middle class and the bazaar

One of the defining features of the January protests was the erosion of the social distance between Iran’s middle class and its poorer citizens.

Historically, Iran’s middle class has been a carrier of civil and political demands. But by early 2026 many middle-class families were struggling simply to avoid falling into poverty.

Political sociologists have long argued that revolutions are rarely led by the poorest members of society. They tend instead to emerge among groups that once enjoyed relative stability but now feel they are falling.

In Iran, the middle class had not only lost income but also social status. That loss helped create an unwritten alliance between middle-class citizens and poorer groups, both of whom felt they were suffering under the same policies.

Another signal that the unrest had entered new territory came when parts of Tehran’s Grand Bazaar closed on January 7.

The bazaar has historically been one of the most cautious institutions in Iran’s political life. Even during severe economic crises it has often preferred negotiation and indirect pressure to open confrontation. During the 2009 protests many merchants stayed silent, and in 2022 they largely remained on the sidelines. This time was different.

Currency volatility made supply chains chaotic and pricing unpredictable. A product purchased in the morning could be worth something entirely different by the afternoon. Many traders said they could no longer price goods reliably, and keeping shops open risked losses rather than gains.

When sections of the bazaar shut their doors, it signaled that dissatisfaction had spread beyond traditional protest groups. A conservative economic institution had concluded that the existing order itself had become a source of instability.

The collapse of reformist hopes

For some voters, President Pezeshkian had represented a final opportunity for reform and for avoiding war.

As protests intensified, however, he adopted increasingly hardline rhetoric. On January 11 he described protesters as “terrorists” and called on security forces to respond decisively.

Even some reformist figures who had supported him began to express frustration.

The shift reinforced a broader perception among many Iranians that the political system was incapable of meaningful change.

Combined with the economic crisis and the aftermath of the 12-day war, this sense of political closure deepened public despair.

From scattered anger to mass protest

The January protests also unfolded against a tense geopolitical backdrop.

Statements from foreign political figures—including remarks by Donald Trump warning Tehran against violent repression—were widely circulated among Iranian audiences. At the same time, Iran’s exiled prince Reza Pahlavi called for coordinated demonstrations and nightly slogans across the country.

Such messages helped focus attention on specific moments of protest. But they did not create the anger that drove people into the streets. That anger had been building for years.

The protests occurred as the Islamic Republic appeared to be shifting toward what might be described as a more defensive style of governance.

In this approach, economic grievances and social demands are increasingly treated as potential security threats. Limited cultural concessions—such as relaxing enforcement of the hijab law or allowing controlled concerts—serve mainly as tools for managing pressure rather than as signs of genuine reform.

The January protests tested this model. The state ultimately suppressed the demonstrations. Yet repression alone cannot address the deeper structural tensions that produced the uprising in the first place.

The streets may have emptied. But many Iranians now believe that the country cannot return to the conditions that existed before January.

The backlash, which has intensified in recent days across hardline media and social platforms, prompted Ghalibaf to sit for a lengthy interview on state television aimed largely at persuading critics who reject any form of diplomacy and advocate continued confrontation.

In the interview, Ghalibaf framed negotiations not as a retreat but as a continuation of the conflict by other means. Diplomacy, he said, is neither a withdrawal from Iran’s demands nor separate from the battlefield, but a way to consolidate military gains and translate them into political outcomes and lasting peace.

Most notably, perhaps, he cautioned against exaggerating Iran’s leverage, stressing that US military superiority and capabilities should not be underestimated.

Hardline critics have intensified attacks on Ghalibaf, particularly on domestic social media platforms such as Eitaa, accusing him of ignoring red lines set by Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and signaling weakness toward the United States.

One critic wrote in a post that “there is no good in negotiation except harm,” adding that Ghalibaf’s remarks suggested an optimism about progress in the talks that was “worrying.”

Another post went further, calling on the Revolutionary Guard to intervene and stop what it described as Ghalibaf’s “betrayal.”

Similar rhetoric has surfaced in nighttime gatherings by pro-government supporters, where speakers denounce negotiations and potential concessions—such as handing over enriched nuclear material, a core US demand—and chant slogans including “Death to compromisers.”

Ghalibaf did emphasize his personal commitment, declaring that for him there is no distinction between the battlefield and the negotiating table and that he is ready to sacrifice “both my life and my reputation” for “the people to attain their rights.”

The controversy widened after a social media account linked to ultrahardliner Saeed Jalili, a longtime political rival of Ghalibaf and a member of Iran’s national security council, published a post with the hashtag “coup plotter.”

The post called on Mojtaba Khamenei to publicly clarify his position if he indeed supports the negotiations, warning that without such confirmation officials could be accused of acting without the leader’s authorization.

The account was deactivated shortly afterward without explanation.

Jalili, who previously served as Khamenei’s representative on the Supreme National Security Council, has not commented publicly on the controversy, and there has been no official announcement about whether he retains that role under the current leadership.

Despite the backlash, several reformist figures have publicly backed Ghalibaf’s approach.

“A rare historical moment has placed Ghalibaf in a position where anyone who even slightly cares about Iran should support this rational soldier-politician and his decisions on war and peace,” Mohammad Ali Abtahi, a former vice president under Mohammad Khatami wrote on X.

Journalist and commentator Ahmad Zeidabadi also defended him, arguing that volunteering to negotiate in such a tense environment required significant political and reputational risk.

Iranian media outlets have also offered differing interpretations of the interview. The conservative website Tabnak said Ghalibaf was outlining a strategic framework in which military strength, public support and diplomacy operate simultaneously.

The centrist outlet Asr-e Iran described the remarks as a broader roadmap for confronting the United States and Israel, arguing that diplomacy should be seen as a continuation of Iran’s battlefield resistance rather than a departure from it.