A few weeks earlier a traveler flew to Iran with no knowledge of Persian, and from the protest footage circulating online, there was a sense that the regime itself was under pressure. Fifteen days later, the return included greetings in old Persian, but the demonstrations that have gripped the capital and several other cities for more than two months show no sign of fading. The unrest has claimed hundreds of lives and left nearly two thousand in custody, while the total detainee count climbs past fifteen thousand. It isn’t simply a passing illness—it’s a long-running strain that exposes the enduring legacy of Khomeini’s laws and the ancestors who shaped them.
Some rules feel more medieval than the country’s abundant resources and a young, educated, and enterprising population. Forty years into the Islamic Republic, Iranians have learned to navigate two worlds: a public life that adheres to traditional norms and a private life that many keep to themselves.
During the forty years of the Islamic Republic, Iranians have learned to live a double life: an outside life guided by ancestral codes, and an inner life that remains hidden from public view.
What is visible often reveals outmoded rules that lack practical rationale, pushing women to cover their hair, elbows, and knees in public as a safeguard against perceived provocation. The market for clothing remains vibrant, reflecting tastes that could rival popular Western styles, even as the government contends with strict dress codes.
Or, in a broader sense, the bans on alcohol and pork, along with other religiously grounded constraints, illustrate a state where Shiite doctrine plays a central role. Since the revolution of 1979, many Iranians have learned to operate within a legal framework that blends faith with state power, even as a significant portion of the population travels, studies, and works abroad. A number of visitors, including some tourists, continue to explore the country despite the challenges of the moment.
It is a life lived largely in two tones—the visible exterior and a more intimate reality that remains largely private. The guardians of public behavior enforce customs with a calm severity, yet Iranians show warmth, hospitality, and a willingness to socialize long after meals. Traditional drinks, roasted barley beverages, and meals often end with stories and laughter that endure beyond the clock. A popular regional drink blends yogurt, mineral water, and salt and remains cherished in Iran and neighboring countries.
There is a melancholy metaphor in Iranian gardens: beauty sits behind walls, guarded from the outside gaze, and yet the moment one steps inside, life unfolds with color and scent.
On the streets, moral policing aims to enforce these long-standing norms. Eyes stay fixed on appearances, with women under particular scrutiny for veil compliance. In some homes, head coverings remain a symbol of tradition, while others choose different expressions of identity. Alcohol and pork products carry heightened risk, and music and social dancing persist as subtle acts of cultural resistance. Unlike many authoritarian states, Iranians often openly critique the regime they wish to end, sometimes with a resignation that mingles anger with endurance.
To illustrate the current stance of alignment with the Ayatollahs, calls to join the ranks of retired security forces have surfaced repeatedly but are met with hesitation. Many who refuse understand they risk losing pension benefits as a consequence.
Questions of service and duty echo through the ranks of the police, strained since protests began weeks earlier following the death of a young woman in police custody for an alleged veil violation.
The streets pulse with thousands of youths and teenagers who march in defiance after the death of a Kurdish girl allegedly beaten by police. Demonstrations spread across Tehran and other regions, dividing into groups rather than a single organized movement, while the regime remains intent on maintaining control under the leadership’s watchful eye. There is no clear distinction between inside and outside the country, and calls for change resemble past protests in form and tone. Even expatriates in diaspora circles feel the pull to support a movement that began decades ago and continues to resonate today.
Since the Kurdish youth’s death, young people have taken to the streets in smaller, scattered gatherings. They shout for women, life, and freedom, and they chant against the regime with a boldness that signals a wider sentiment. The internet is periodically disrupted, yet the spirit of dissent remains a common thread across generations.
Despite the fierce energy of the protests, the movement lacks a single, unifying figure to channel its momentum. Yet the persistence of tension suggests a potential turning point. Some observers believe February could mark a crack in the regime, a moment when long-standing grievances finally gain traction. The narrative of forty years of resistance could be rewritten, but it remains uncertain how and when.
Young people have crafted new forms of dissent, including deliberately challenging symbols of authority. The act of removing a cleric’s turban in public, the wind catching a scarf, and other small acts carry symbolic weight. At the same time, the use of paint and improvised ammunition has accelerated casualties, making the toll of demonstrations persistently high.
Even as penalties loom, the state carries out trials and sentences in a climate of fear. Executions remain a threat used to attempt to deter further protests. For now, several cases have been dictated, and the process has barely begun.
Balochistan and Kurdistan
In the capital, tensions cluster around the north where wealth, universities, and education centers concentrate; Balochistan and Kurdistan show a different rhythm. There, Sunni communities experience harsher crackdowns, and several foreigners face arrest while remaining in custody without clear judicial oversight. The pressure is especially intense in these regions, where dozens die weekly and the regime’s approach is notably severe.
Amid the desolation, thousands of women and men keep exchanging ideas, sharing smiles, and signaling hope with small gestures. Whether veiled or not, these acts of solidarity echo across generations, suggesting that the push for dignity can outlive even the harshest political obstacles.