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Week of November 10, 2025 | Iran Unfiltered is a digest tracking Iranian politics & society by the National Iranian American Council
Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) has seized a fuel-carrying commercial vessel near the coast of the United Arab Emirates and redirected it toward Iranian waters, according to maritime monitoring sources cited by Reuters. The vessel, the MT Talara, sails under the Marshall Islands flag and had departed Khorfakkan port in the Emirate of Sharjah en route to Singapore. The ship’s management company reported that it lost contact with its crew at around 8:30 a.m. local time, shortly after the IRGC allegedly intercepted the vessel. Neither Iran nor the UAE has issued an official response to the reports.
The Associated Press, quoting a U.S. Defense Department official speaking anonymously, reported that Iranian forces “seized” the Talara and that the tanker was moving toward Iranian territorial waters. AP also noted that a U.S. Navy drone was operating above the area at the time and had witnessed the interception. The U.S. Navy’s Fifth Fleet, based in Bahrain, confirmed awareness of the incident, writing on its official X account that it is “actively monitoring” the situation and reiterating that commercial vessels have the right to free and unobstructed navigation in international waters.
The Talara seizure adds a new maritime flashpoint to an already volatile security situation in the region. It remains unclear whether the seizure was triggered by any preceding incident, and how other actors including the United States may respond.
Iranian officials reacted sharply after the U.S. President Donald Trump claimed that he was “very much in charge” of Israel’s June 13 attack on Iran. Iranian officials called the remarks an explicit admission of U.S. operational leadership in an assault that they say caused civilian casualties, infrastructure destruction, and damage to safeguarded nuclear facilities. In response, Tehran has launched a coordinated diplomatic and legal campaign at the United Nations, demanding full material and moral compensation from Washington and accusing the United States of violating international law.
Speaking to reporters last week, President Trump stated “Israel attacked first. That attack was very, very powerful. I was very much in charge of that. When Israel attacked Iran first, that was a great day for Israel, because that attack did more damage than the rest of them put together.”
Notably, the U.S. was careful to distance itself from the strikes when they were underway. Secretary of State and National Security Advisor Marco Rubio stated at the time:
“Tonight, Israel took unilateral action against Iran. We are not involved in strikes against Iran and our top priority is protecting American forces in the region. Israel advised us that they believe this action was necessary for its self-defense. President Trump and the Administration have taken all necessary steps to protect our forces and remain in close contact with our regional partners. Let me be clear: Iran should not target U.S. interests or personnel.”
In response, Amir Saeed Iravani, Iran’s Permanent Representative to the UN, submitted a formal letter to the UN Security Council asserting that the United States and Israel bear full and joint responsibility for what he called an “illegal military aggression” against Iran. Iravani cited Trump’s November 7 press conference, during which Trump said he had been responsible and that Israel acted under his full control. Tehran argues that these statements are clear evidence of direct U.S. involvement.
In his letter, Iravani described Trump’s remarks as “clear and undeniable proof” of U.S. participation, leadership, and command responsibility in “designing, directing, and facilitating” the assault. Iran noted the attack resulted in civilian deaths, injuries, and serious damage to civilian and nuclear infrastructure. Iravani demanded “full reparation and complete compensation” for victims and national losses.
Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi also sent a detailed letter to UN Secretary-General António Guterres, formally demanding compensation for all material and moral damages caused during the twelve-day conflict. Araghchi called the joint U.S.–Israeli strikes a “flagrant violation of the UN Charter and Security Council resolutions.” Citing Trump’s statements, he argued that the United States is obligated to make full reparation under international law. He stressed that the compensation claim “does not diminish the criminal responsibility” of Israeli commanders and officials whom Iran accuses of war crimes.
Iran’s Foreign Ministry spokesman, Esmail Baghaei, intensified the accusation by calling Trump’s comments an “explicit admission” of U.S. involvement and an “irrefutable document” proving Washington’s “active complicity” in Israel’s operations. He argued that the United States must be “held accountable” for a “blatant violation of the UN Charter.”
Inside Iran, high-ranking officials followed suit. Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, Speaker of Parliament, condemned Trump’s remarks and insisted the United States “must accept the legal, political, and military consequences” of the attack. President Masoud Pezeshkian said Iran seeks “peace and security,” but will not “live in humiliation,” emphasizing Iran’s readiness for dialogue within international law.
These tensions coincide with a harder strategic tone from Tehran. Ali Larijani, newly appointed Secretary of the Supreme National Security Council, warned that Iran would “stand up to the United States with full strength—even if it leads to confrontation.” He accused Washington of hegemony-seeking and said U.S. threats will not weaken Iran’s “national will.” Larijani added that despite Iran’s longstanding desire to resolve sanctions issues, there has been “no recent contact with the United States.” Larijani also described stalled diplomatic efforts before the recent UN General Assembly, saying Western powers insisted on activating the “snapback” mechanism—the rapid reimposition of UN sanctions under Resolution 2231. According to Iranian officials, Tehran had invited the United States to join a meeting with JCPOA participants, but Washington declined.
Whether Trump’s words were an admission or empty boast, they have heightened the animosity between the U.S. and Iran and served to solidify the diplomatic standoff. In this era of weakened international rules and norms, even if Iran’s complaints are valid, they are unlikely to do much more than spur some degree of sympathy from like-minded actors in the international system. Meanwhile, any move to break the impasse and engage in renewed negotiations with the United States will likely face even stiffer domestic opposition inside Iran.
Newly disclosed polling data from Iran reveals a striking level of public dissatisfaction with the country’s governance, with 92% of respondents expressing discontent, according to an internal survey conducted by the Iranian Students Polling Agency (ISPA) on behalf of the presidential office. The findings—partially released by a senior administration official—offer one of the clearest indications in years of how Iranians across the country perceive local and national leadership.
The results were shared by Mohammad-Javad Javadi-Yeganeh, the president’s social affairs adviser and head of the Presidential Communication Center. In an Instagram post, he published excerpts of the ISPA survey, explaining that the polling was carried out across 16 provinces ahead of the president’s upcoming provincial trips. The purpose, he said, was to measure public satisfaction with local officials, track how well public demands are followed, and identify gaps in service delivery.
According to the data Javadi-Yeganeh released, the public largely rated the performance of provincial officials as “weak to average.” Even more striking, around 59% of respondents described the performance of their members of parliament as weak, reinforcing broader concerns about the effectiveness of the elected legislature.
In his commentary accompanying the chart, Javadi-Yeganeh wrote: “Pezeshkian distinguishes himself by believing that when people are dissatisfied, the problem lies in our performance. He does not seek to reinterpret results, change questions, adjust polling centers, or alter sampling to manipulate perceptions. Recognizing public dissatisfaction is the first step toward solving problems, and the next poll will be the measure of whether they have been addressed.”
This approach marks a notable departure from past administrations, which often responded to similar surveys with denial, political pushback, or attempts to discredit the data. The fourteenth government, by contrast, appears to be signalling that it intends to use polling results not as a political threat but as an internal tool for improved governance. Javadi-Yeganeh emphasized that the purpose is not propaganda but “a realistic understanding of public sentiment.”
Additional portions of the same ISPA polling were highlighted in a report by Rouydad24 under the headline: “Revealing Confidential Poll Results: Ahmadinejad’s Government at the Top, Rouhani and Pezeshkian at the Bottom.” According to that coverage, preliminary findings suggest that when asked about the overall success of past administrations, respondents gave the highest satisfaction scores to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, while the governments of Hassan Rouhani and Masoud Pezeshkian ranked lowest in perceived performance.
Although full methodological details have not been published, informed sources cited by Rouydad24 confirm that the ISPA data was collected on a national scale, and that results in Tehran differ significantly from those in other provinces. The surveys were designed strictly for internal use by the presidential office, aimed at improving situational awareness rather than for public distribution. Their leak and partial publication provide a rare glimpse into how state institutions currently assess the public mood.
The broader political context helps explain why the dissatisfaction numbers are so high. Years of economic hardship, inflation, currency volatility, unemployment, and public frustration over environmental and social challenges have sharply eroded trust in institutions. Surveys from prior years also show a long-term trend of declining confidence in governance, dissatisfaction with foreign-policy spending, and skepticism about the electoral process. In multiple polls, majorities of Iranians say the country’s regional activities contribute to domestic economic pressures.
The 92% dissatisfaction rate comes at a time when large segments of society—especially younger generations and urban populations—are showing fatigue, disillusionment, and disengagement from formal political participation. Recent elections marked some of the lowest voter turnouts in the Islamic Republic’s history, reflecting this growing detachment. The new ISPA findings reinforce the depth of this sentiment and point to a widening gap between public expectations and the government’s performance.
The implications for governance can be significant. High dissatisfaction does not automatically translate into organized political opposition, but it does highlight a fragile relationship between the state and society. The leadership now faces pressure to address economic grievances, improve service delivery, and respond more effectively to local needs. Javadi-Yeganeh’s framing suggests that at least some within the administration see acknowledging dissatisfaction—not denying it—as the first step toward rebuilding trust.
What happens next is uncertain. The government may attempt reforms based on the survey’s findings, yet structural change has proven difficult inside Iran, and the economic picture is unlikely to significantly improve amid crushing sanctions. The release of these internal data also raises broader questions about transparency and the state’s evolving attitude toward public opinion. Whether this moment marks a durable shift toward greater accountability—or merely a tactical adjustment—remains to be seen.
For now, the newly revealed polling results provide a rare and candid look at the scale of public dissatisfaction in Iran, underscoring profound structural challenges at both the local and national levels. The coming months will determine whether the administration acts on these findings or whether the deep discontent measured by ISPA continues to widen.
Two men were detained in the Tehran Metro on November 12, 2025, after a video circulated online showing them wearing military-style uniforms and displaying a pre-1979 Iranian flag featuring the lion-and-sun emblem. The footage, captured by commuters and shared widely on social media, showed the pair standing on a crowded platform as they unfurled the tricolour banner. The incident quickly gained attention due to both the public setting and the sensitivity of the flag inside the Islamic Republic.
Authorities announced shortly afterward that the men had been arrested for “disrupting public order” and “abusing military uniforms.” State-affiliated media reported that the detainees were not members of the armed forces and had allegedly used imitation uniforms, a violation of Iranian law which is often treated as a security-related offense. Officials did not comment directly on the political symbolism of the flag.
The lion-and-sun emblem, long associated with Iran’s national identity before the 1979 revolution, remains a historically significant symbol for many Iranians. While it is used today by some political groups abroad opposed to the Islamic Republic, it also appears in cultural, nostalgic, and non-political contexts. Its public display inside Iran, however, is uncommon and often interpreted differently depending on individual perspectives: for some, it represents cultural heritage; for others, political or oppositional meaning; and for the authorities, it is a prohibited emblem tied to the former monarchy.
In recent months, Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of Iran’s former monarch, has repeatedly called for public protest and for members of the armed forces to defect from the Islamic Republic. Although there is no confirmed link between those appeals and the two men detained in the Tehran Metro, the timing and the symbolic elements of the act—such as the pre-1979 flag and the use of military-style clothing—have led some observers to suggest that the individuals may have been influenced by these calls. This interpretation remains speculative, as there is no firm information about the detainees’ motivations or affiliations.
The choice of venue added to the visibility of the act. Metro stations, with dense foot traffic and limited surveillance blind spots, have become sites for spontaneous gestures that often spread widely once recorded. Even brief acts filmed by bystanders can gain national reach through social media.
The incident occurred against a backdrop of ongoing social and economic pressures in Iran. The authorities’ swift response suggests continued sensitivity toward activity that could be interpreted as challenging state-defined symbols or public order.
As of now, no details have been released about the charges the men may face or the judicial process ahead. It is also unclear whether this event will lead to further similar actions or remain an isolated case. What is clear is that the incident demonstrates how even brief symbolic gestures can become points of national discussion in today’s Iran, especially once amplified online. It also highlights the complex and contested role of national symbols within the country’s current political landscape.
Three Iranian researchers who were detained earlier this month have been released on bail, according to local media reports. Shargh newspaper reported that Parviz Sedaghat, Mahsa Asadollahnejad, and Shirin Karimi were freed on Wednesday evening, November 12 after spending 10 days in custody. The three had been arrested on November 2 by security forces, prompting widespread reactions from academics, journalists, and civil society groups.
The Iranian government has not provided detailed information about the basis of the arrests. Government spokesperson Fatemeh Mohajerani said officials were committed to ensuring that “the rights of all citizens are protected,” while adding that national security institutions were handling the matter. She said the Ministries of Culture and Interior were following the developments, but offered no clarification regarding specific charges.
The arrests drew responses from a number of groups, including Evin Prison detainees, journalists, economists, and civil society figures, who issued statements expressing concern. The three released scholars are well-known within Iran’s academic community. Parviz Sedaghat, 63, is an economist and translator who has contributed to numerous Iranian publications and is one of the organizers of “Naqd-e Eqtesad-e Siyasi” (Critique of Political Economy), a website that has been inactive since November 1. Shirin Karimi, born in 1983, is a translator and sociologist with an MA from the University of Tehran and is known for several authored and translated works, including the Persian translation of Asef Bayat’s Living the Revolution. Mahsa Asadollahnejad, born in 1990, holds a PhD in political sociology and has been active in teaching and lecturing on political thought, critical theory, and contemporary Iranian history.
Their release comes amid a broader series of summons and interrogations involving other critical researchers. Among them is economist Mohammad Maljoo, 53, who said he had been questioned for hours “outside judicial norms” and announced he would only respond to formal judicial summons from November 7 onward. Multiple reports have pointed to the involvement of the IRGC Intelligence Organization in recent arrests and investigations.
The detentions occurred in parallel with allegations broadcast by Iran’s state television against Iran Academia, an online Persian-language educational institution based in the Netherlands. IRIB’s Channel 2, citing IRGC intelligence, claimed that around 400 individuals associated with Iran Academia had been identified and that some had been detained. The report accused the institution of “soft overthrow” and creating networks aligned with Western interests.
In a statement, Iran Academia rejected the claims, saying they were unfounded and stressing that its mission is academic. Founded in 2012, the institution offers online programs in the humanities and social sciences and includes several prominent diaspora scholars among its contributors. It emphasized that it has no political agenda, and that participation in its platforms does not imply organizational affiliation.
It remains unclear whether the allegations broadcast by state television are connected to the recent arrests and summons of Iranian researchers. Judicial authorities have not confirmed any link, and no official charges have been announced. The release of Sedaghat, Asadollahnejad, and Karimi has eased some immediate concerns, but questions remain regarding the scope and motivations of recent actions by security institutions.
For decades, Iranians had little choice in where they turned for news and commentary. Inside the country, the Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting (IRIB) controlled every television and radio station, shaping public narratives within strict ideological limits. Those seeking alternative voices looked outward—to BBC Persian, Iran International, Voice of America, or Radio Farda—foreign-based Persian media that broadcast narratives often critical of the regime but that can be detached from everyday life inside Iran.
That landscape is changing. Over the past decade, the rise of smartphones, faster internet, and social media platforms has quietly ended IRIB’s monopoly on public discourse. A new generation of online talk shows, podcasts, and video debates is reshaping Iran’s media culture, offering citizens, activists, and academics spaces to speak—and to listen—in ways that were previously unimaginable.
This transformation is not just technological. It represents a social and political turning point, where Iranians now create their own digital stages for discussion, bypassing both state media and foreign broadcasters. On platforms like YouTube, Instagram, and Telegram, they can now criticize government policy, question religious authority, and even debate the Supreme Leader’s role—often from within Iran itself.
Alongside traditional news and reports, the talk show has emerged as one of the most influential formats in Persian-language media. Its appeal lies in both the guest’s prominence and the interviewer’s ability to ask difficult, meaningful questions. As production tools became accessible and internet platforms democratized publishing, nearly anyone—from professional journalists to university students—could create their own media outlet.
This democratization weakened the monopoly once held by large state institutions like IRIB. Citizen journalism and user-generated video content diluted centralized control and censorship, making it impossible for authorities to fully suppress alternative conversations. Although the term “talk show” once referred to programs aired by broadcasters, Persian users soon adapted it for online spaces. Podcasts—called “paadava” in Persian—expanded the range further, offering downloadable audio programs to listeners across the world.
Despite chronic challenges—slow internet, ideological filtering, and occasional harassment—Iranian audiences embraced these platforms with enthusiasm. YouTube, in particular, offered both a freer space for sensitive discussions and avenues for monetization. The participatory nature of social media, where viewers could comment, share, and directly influence content, made these new talk shows deeply interactive.
Dozens of Persian-language channels now produce debate-driven content. Among the most prominent are ECO Iran, Didar News, Cafe Khabar, Rok Sho, Rasaneh Azad, Studio Paat, Ba Zia, Iran Talk, Entekhab Line, Majara Media, Rah o Chah, Radio Haftiha, Shargh Online, Hamshahri TV, and Aan TV. Major outlets like ISNA, ILNA, Fars, Tasnim, and IRNA Plus have also launched audiovisual sections, distributing their programs through both their websites and domestic platforms such as Aparat.
The range of content is vast. Some programs examine political and social crises; others focus on entertainment, lifestyle, or motivational talks. Specialized shows like Synergy, Khate Farzi, Shoot Shot, Film Emruz, and Football 360 address energy, cinema, and sports respectively.
The producers of these programs fall into two broad categories. The first group includes institutional outlets such as Shargh Online, Etemad Online, Entekhab, and Khabar Fori, which have expanded from print journalism into online broadcasting. The second group includes independent creators—well-known figures such as actor Majid Vasheghani (Rok Sho), former TV presenter Ali Zia (Ba Zia), filmmaker Soroush Sehat (Aknun), documentarian Javad Mogouei (Majara Media), and sociologist Mohammad Fazeli (Iran Talk). Others, like Rasaneh Azad, founded by students at Sharif University of Technology, and Studio Paat, produced by young political activists, gained attention without relying on celebrity hosts. New digital networks such as Hamshahri TV, Ketab Network, and Aan TV have also joined the scene, further diversifying Persian-language programming.
While this explosion of creativity has energized Iranian media, competition between state-backed and independent producers remains unequal. Government-affiliated outlets enjoy institutional budgets and political protection. In contrast, independent shows rely on YouTube revenue, sponsorships, or crowdfunding. Programs like Rok Sho and Yazdan Talk Show are produced inside Iran but distributed solely on YouTube, bypassing domestic censorship. Some, like Ba Zia, have secured corporate sponsors, while others—such as Rasaneh Azad—rely directly on viewer support from Iranians inside and outside the country.
Instagram also played a major role in popularizing this culture, allowing live discussions and video interviews to reach mass audiences. Today, many producers continue to use it for promotion and interaction, even as their main programs stream on YouTube, Telegram, X (formerly Twitter), or Eitaa. Although some continue to label their programs as “podcasts,” viewers clearly prefer visual talk formats, where body language and expression enrich the dialogue.
Among the many programs, Rasaneh Azad (“Free Media”) stands out as both a media innovation and a social experiment. Each episode stages a structured debate between two guests with opposing viewpoints, moderated by Mehdi Ahmadi, who also manages the project.
Ahmadi’s path to media was unconventional. A physics graduate of Sharif University of Technology, he later earned a Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Tehran. In 2014, he and several classmates founded the Azad Fekri School (School of Free Thought) to promote dialogue among students. Initially supported by the National Elites Foundation, the group organized seminars and debates on religion, women’s rights, and philosophy, attracting hundreds of participants. When a debate on hijab between scholars Soroush Dabbagh and Sozanji triggered political backlash, the group was forced off campus.
After a one-year hiatus, they relaunched independently in 2019, producing online debates on religion and freedom. By 2022, the project had evolved into Rasaneh Azad, focusing on Iran’s political and intellectual future. Within six months, they produced thirty episodes across two seasons. Their measured, analytical tone set them apart from channels that relied on emotional or sensational themes.
The “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement later tested their endurance. Amid nationwide protests, Ahmadi and his team appealed publicly for donations to continue their work. Despite economic hardship and political risk, they maintained regular production—their audience reportedly doubling each season. Today, Rasaneh Azad’s ten-member team, including five content editors and three producers, operates entirely within Iran. Their discussions often include guests from abroad and frank criticism of state policies, leading some to question how such a program continues without censorship.
Ahmadi insists that they operate within the system’s tolerance curve, adjusting tone and language to avoid shutdown while refusing to self-censor ideas. The program has faced temporary suspensions, including a 20-day office closure during the twelve-day Iran–Israel war in June 2025, yet continues to broadcast. He describes the editorial process as collaborative: “Any deletion or edit must be agreed upon by both sides. If a guest requests a section removed, we require written consent. If we make an edit, they must approve it.”
Much like the government’s uneven enforcement of hijab laws, where tolerance fluctuates with social pressure and political timing, authorities now appear to be experimenting with similar flexibility in speech. While censorship and surveillance remain pervasive, there seems to be an unspoken allowance for limited public debate—as long as it remains within manageable bounds.
This subtle opening has allowed both opposition voices and conservative hardliners to share platforms, defend their beliefs, and—perhaps for the first time—listen to one another. It has become a national exercise in civil conversation, where diverse ideologies coexist under the state’s cautious gaze. The government’s strategy remains ambiguous: part tolerance, part experiment. Some analysts see it as a safety valve to release social pressure, while others interpret it as a test of ideological confidence, signaling that the system believes it can contain free dialogue without losing control.
Whatever the motive, the outcome is unmistakable. Iran’s new generation of digital talk shows has created a modern Persian public sphere—fragmented, fragile, yet real. Academics, reformists, clerics, and young activists now share the same stage, reaching millions inside and outside the country. These programs are no longer simply entertainment; they are forums for thought, dissent, and discovery, functioning in a space the state cannot fully command.
With more than a million views on YouTube, Rasaneh Azad exemplifies how independent creators continue to balance state boundaries with intellectual courage, sustaining open exchange in one of the world’s most restricted media environments. In a country long defined by silence or propaganda, Iran’s online talk shows represent something extraordinary—a major change in how Iranians speak, listen, and imagine themselves.
The death of Foad Shams, a 40-year-old Iranian journalist, political analyst, and social activist, has drawn widespread sadness and reflection across Iran’s public sphere. His suicide in November 2025 has become a stark reminder of the growing despair among Iranians who have long struggled against systemic barriers, political exclusion, and social pressure.
In the early hours of November 11, Shams posted what would become his final message on social media:
“On the threshold of my fortieth year, I must let go.
I have released the last of my ties.
I hope this final skin of life releases me too.
Perhaps everything ends with forty.”
Hours later, the news of his death spread across Persian-language platforms. Friends and colleagues confirmed that he had ended his life, prompting a wave of shock and sorrow. For many who knew his work, the message felt like a quiet farewell — the voice of someone who had reached the limits of endurance.
Foad Shams was an Iranian journalist, political analyst, and social activist known for his leftist ideology and outspoken criticism of the Iranian government. He began his activism during his university years, participating in social and political movements and playing an active role in the 2009 presidential election. Due to his political activities and leftist beliefs, Shams was arrested multiple times and was barred from completing his studies. On social media, especially Twitter, he described himself as a PhD student in Geography and Rural Planning at Tarbiat Modares University. Throughout his career, he wrote for several publications, including Ham-Mihan newspaper, and was recognized as a bold, independent voice in Iran’s intellectual and political circles.
Shams had lived through years of professional and personal hardship. Born in the early 1980s, he earned a master’s degree in Geography and Urban Planning from the University of Tehran. Despite strong academic performance, his studies were repeatedly disrupted by political restrictions. He was expelled from university once for his activism, later barred from continuing his graduate studies even after ranking among the top three students in his class, and prevented from enrolling in a Ph.D. program after being summoned by security agencies.
Professionally, he spent nearly seven years working on contract with the Karaj Municipality, but was eventually informed by the municipal selection committee that he “lacked general eligibility” to continue. That notice, coming only weeks before his death, deeply affected him. In one of his final notes, Shams wrote, “The system only wants obedient yes-men. Honest, competent, patriotic people are eliminated. I have fought this for twenty years — and I am exhausted.”
His father, a war veteran who served thirteen months at the front, had recently passed away. The added weight of financial stress and family responsibility worsened his situation. “My father never used his veteran privileges,” he wrote. “I thought I could use the conversion law for veterans’ children, but instead, they punished me for my name.”
In Iran, there are laws that grant special benefits to those who fought in the Iran–Iraq War and to their children. Foad believed that since his father had never used any of those benefits, he could use the provision to change his own employment status from temporary (contract-based) to permanent. It was a hope he never lived to see fulfilled.
In his last public words, Shams expressed a quiet resignation:
“The problem is not people — it’s the system. The system is designed only for obedience.
I’m not an important person, but I’ve lost hope completely.
I surrender myself to God, the same God whose verse gave me my name:
‘The heart did not lie about what it saw.’”
His passing was confirmed by colleagues and later reported by Shargh Daily and other Iranian media. Friends and peers described him as a thoughtful and principled man, deeply committed to justice and to his country, even when he disagreed with its rulers. Writer Mohammad-Javad Ruh called him “a national leftist who believed in realism, not slogans.” Shams had supported Masoud Pezeshkian in the 2024 presidential election, viewing dialogue and reform — however limited — as the only remaining way forward.
His death has renewed discussions about mental health, political repression, and the loss of hope among educated Iranians. Many writers called his suicide a reflection of a generation’s frustration. One post read: “He fought for years to live decently in a country that made that impossible. When every door closed, he left without anger — only exhaustion.”
Although there has been no official government response, religious and civic figures have expressed sorrow and urged others not to follow the same path. Some have noted that the environment that drives individuals to hopelessness is itself a collective responsibility. A journalist commented, “He didn’t die because he was fragile; he died because honesty and independence come at too high a price in this system.”
The National Iranian American Council (NIAC) extends its deepest condolences to Foad Shams’s family, friends, and colleagues. NIAC views his passing as a heartbreaking loss for those who believe in integrity, truth, and a better future for Iran. His story reflects the struggles of countless Iranians who strive to serve their country yet face walls of censorship, discrimination, and exclusion. NIAC stands in solidarity with all those mourning his loss and emphasizes that empathy, dialogue, and meaningful reform are essential to prevent such tragedies in the future.
A wave of public grief and outrage has swept across Iran following the death of Ahmad Baldi, a 20-year-old student from Ahvaz, who set himself on fire after municipal agents demolished his father’s food kiosk in the city’s Zeytoun Karmandi neighborhood. The incident, which occurred on November 1 (11 Aban 1404), has triggered resignations, arrests, and investigations at multiple levels of government — exposing both the depth of local frustration and the widening gulf between citizens and officials in one of Iran’s most economically and politically sensitive provinces.
According to eyewitnesses and local media, Ahmad pleaded with municipal enforcement officers to delay the demolition of the kiosk, which appears to have originated over a dispute over whether his father had an active license to operate his business. Ahmad warned that he would burn himself if they continued. His father, Mojahid Baldi, later told reporters that one officer mockingly replied, “Go ahead, burn yourself — let’s see how you burn.” As the confrontation escalated, glass windows were shattered and the small stand — the family’s only source of income — was torn down. Moments later, Ahmad poured gasoline on himself and ignited it, suffering severe burns to more than 70 percent of his body. He was transferred to Taleghani Hospital in Ahvaz, where he died nine days later, on November 11.
Videos circulating on social media showed large crowds at Ahmad’s funeral, where his father declared, “Until the mayor leaves Ahvaz, I will not receive my son’s body.” The tragedy quickly became a symbol of administrative abuse and despair in Khuzestan Province, a region rich in oil yet plagued by poverty and unemployment.
The Khuzestan Governor’s Office confirmed that, following public outrage, Ahvaz’s mayor resigned and several senior municipal officials were dismissed, including the deputy for urban services, the head of the enforcement department, and the mayor and deputy of District Three, the unit directly responsible for the demolition. Iranian state media, including IRNA, reported that the self-immolation occurred after “a dispute with municipal officers over reclaiming a commercial location in Zeytoun Karmandi District.”
Reza Amini, who had served as mayor of Ahvaz since 2021, stepped down amid mounting pressure. The Ahvaz Prosecutor, Amir Khalafian, announced that the mayor and the head of District Three enforcement were arrested and later released on bail, while arrest warrants for three other officials were issued. Khalafian also stated that several people active on social media who “sought to create tension” were detained and released on bond.
In an unusual move, President Masoud Pezeshkian personally intervened, ordering the Interior Minister to establish a special committee to investigate “all dimensions of the incident” and to ensure “decisive action against those responsible.” He also extended condolences to the Baldi family. Meanwhile, Ayatollah Mohammad-Ali Mousavi Jazaeri, the influential member of the Assembly of Experts and head of Khuzestan’s religious seminaries, cut short a trip to Tehran to meet the bereaved family. He urged the public to remain calm, saying that “Iran’s current circumstances are not normal” and calling on families to “control the situation.”
The focus from high level authorities in calming the situation could be explained by the apparent parallel with an incident credited with sparking the Arab Spring. In 2010, Mohamed Bouazizi – a Tunisian street vendor – self-immolated following persistent harassment from municipal authorities. That spark helped lead to a broader uprising that ousted the Tunisian government in 2011 and sparked waves of protest throughout much of the Arab world.
The incident has intensified scrutiny of Ahvaz’s municipal practices and the broader governance culture in Khuzestan. The Prosecutor’s Office acknowledged that the municipality had acted “illegally and without regard for judicial orders,” noting that the demolition occurred “at an inappropriate time and in defiance of explicit instructions to respect legal and civil rights.”
In contrast, Ahvaz Municipality issued a defensive statement, omitting any mention of Ahmad Baldi’s self-immolation and describing the demolition as “peaceful, lawful, and based on a court order.” The statement claimed that after the operator failed to comply with an eviction notice, a judicial ruling mandated removal.
Mojahid Baldi, Ahmad’s father, strongly rejected that account. He explained that the land belonged to the municipality, but the structure had been built and operated by his family for over 20 years under a renewable lease agreement. “Our three-month contract had expired,” he said, “but according to the prosecutor’s office, we were granted an additional two-year extension to continue our business.”
The conflicting narratives — between official claims of legality and eyewitness accounts of abuse — have deepened public anger. The tragedy has also drawn attention to Khuzestan’s paradoxical status: one of Iran’s richest provinces in natural resources yet among the poorest in living standards, with persistent unemployment, pollution, and water crises fueling long-term resentment.
The political fallout from Ahmad Baldi’s death continues. Local media have confirmed that the Interior Ministry’s special committee has begun interviewing witnesses, enforcement officers, and city officials. Civil-society activists in Ahvaz warn, however, that investigations often lead to scapegoating rather than systemic reform. Many view Ahmad’s death as a stark reflection of structural neglect and social despair, reminiscent of past self-immolations by citizens driven to protest injustice through the ultimate act of defiance.
Ahmad Baldi’s story has thus become both a personal tragedy and a national reckoning. It exposes the fragile trust between citizens and authorities, the erosion of accountability in local governance, and the widening gap between Iran’s slogans of justice and the lived realities of its people. Whether the government’s current pledges of reform yield real change remains to be seen — but in the collective memory of Ahvaz, Ahmad Baldi’s name now stands as a haunting symbol of protest against humiliation and despair.
In the aftermath of the 12-Day War between Iran and Israel, the Iranian government has embarked on an ambitious campaign to restore confidence and project unity through revived nationalism and the glorification of ancient Persian symbols. The conflict, which left both Iran and Israel battered and Iran’s leadership exposed to internal criticism, appears to have accelerated a cultural and ideological shift inside the Islamic Republic — away from its long-standing revolutionary and religious rhetoric and toward an emphasis on civilizational pride rooted in pre-Islamic heritage.
At the heart of this new nationalist wave stands the campaign titled “You Will Kneel Before Iran Again,” launched by Tehran Municipality shortly before the anniversary of the 1979 U.S. Embassy takeover on 13 Aban. The campaign culminated on 6 November 2025 with the installation of a monumental bronze sculpture in Enghelab (Revolution) Square — a modern replica of the Naqsh-e Rostam relief showing the Sasanian king Shapur I receiving the surrender of the Roman emperor Valerian, who kneels before him. The capture of Valerian in 260 CE represented the only time a Roman Emperor was captured by an enemy in battle, and represents both an enduring blow to Roman pride and triumph for Persia under the Sassanid dynasty that still echoes today.
For several days leading up to the unveiling, multiple state and municipal institutions promoted the event through billboards, concerts, and televised segments. The closing ceremony, featuring performances by several pop singers, drew crowds to the heart of Tehran, as officials framed the unveiling as a moment of national pride following the war with Israel.
Across the capital, the campaign was inescapable. Gigantic banners bearing the slogan “Kneel Before Iran Again” appeared on main avenues and even in front of the British Embassy. A truck equipped with a massive digital screen toured the city, displaying animated scenes of Valerian kneeling before Shapur I with the same defiant caption. In Shiraz, a billboard went further by replacing Valerian’s face with that of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, casting him as the defeated emperor before the Persian monarch. Around the same time, horsemen dressed as ancient Persian soldiers paraded through Tehran’s streets, prompting both admiration and mockery on social media.
The use of ancient imagery was not limited to this campaign. Following the Israeli attack and the ensuing 12-Day War, Iranian state media flooded the public sphere with heroic national motifs. Images of Achaemenid soldiers, the archer Arash, and the mythic hero Rostam appeared across television programs and official posters. Just days before the war erupted, the municipality had unveiled a statue of Arash the Archer in Vanak Square — an act many Iranians described as “belated nationalism,” suggesting that the regime had rediscovered patriotism only when facing crisis. Yet even among government critics, some welcomed the shift as a long-overdue acknowledgment of Iran’s deep historical roots.
The nationalist turn also extended to cultural events. One of the most controversial examples was the planned free concert by vocalist Homayoun Shajarian in Azadi Square, envisioned as a symbol of unity and cultural revival. Despite support from a senior official in President Pezeshkian’s administration, the concert was abruptly canceled after intense backlash both inside and outside Iran — a reminder of how tightly the state continues to control cultural expression, even while promoting national pride.
Reactions to the “Kneel Before Iran” campaign revealed deep divisions within Iranian society. Supporters of the Islamic Republic hailed it as a “historic reminder to Iran’s enemies”, celebrating it as proof that Iran’s civilization remains unbowed. Detractors countered that the government’s embrace of pre-Islamic imagery exposed its ideological inconsistency, arguing that after half a century, the Islamic Republic has been forced to change its narrative and kneel before Iran’s nationalism.
Analysts view this campaign as a deliberate effort by Iran’s rulers to shore up the regime’s legitimacy. For more than four decades, the Islamic Republic derived its authority from revolutionary Islam, anti-imperialism, and Shiite identity. After the 12-Day War, that formula appeared fragile: the conflict revealed military vulnerabilities, social frustration, and waning ideological conviction. Turning to nationalism offers the leadership a new emotional anchor — one that unites secular patriots and religious loyalists under the broader concept of an eternal Iranian civilization. By invoking Shapur I, the regime seeks to present itself not merely as heir to 1979 but to 2,500 years of Persian endurance.
This pivot carries contradictions. The same government that once condemned royal symbolism and erased Pahlavi-era monuments is now reproducing imperial imagery in the heart of the capital. The fusion of revolutionary Islam with ancient Persian glory may appeal to urban audiences yearning for dignity, but it also risks alienating clerical supporters and non-Persian minorities who feel excluded from a narrowly Persian narrative. Moreover, critics warn that decorative nationalism cannot solve Iran’s structural crises — from economic stagnation to political repression.
Still, the symbolism is powerful. The statue of Shapur I towering over a kneeling emperor in Revolution Square compresses centuries of history into a single image of dominance and survival. It tells Iranians that their nation, even when wounded, stands above its adversaries — that civilizations, not wars, define destiny. In this sense, the statue and its surrounding campaign represent the government’s attempt to appeal to a broader base of support amid intense U.S. and Israeli pressure.
Whether this new attempt to rally nationalist sentiment will endure or fade remains uncertain. It may bolster short-term unity and pride, but unless matched by tangible improvements in governance and freedom, it risks becoming another spectacle of grandeur masking insecurity. What is clear is that after the 12-Day War, the Islamic Republic has entered a new ideological phase — one where ancient kings, mythic heroes, and imperial echoes now share the stage with revolutionary martyrs and clerics, all enlisted to tell a single story: that Iran will never kneel.
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