In Iran, Snap Checkpoints and University Purges Mark the First Anniversary of Mahsa Amini Protests 

A graffiti against the government which is painted over in black is seen on the wall at a park in Tehran, Iran, Monday, Sept. 11, 2023. (AP)
A graffiti against the government which is painted over in black is seen on the wall at a park in Tehran, Iran, Monday, Sept. 11, 2023. (AP)
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In Iran, Snap Checkpoints and University Purges Mark the First Anniversary of Mahsa Amini Protests 

A graffiti against the government which is painted over in black is seen on the wall at a park in Tehran, Iran, Monday, Sept. 11, 2023. (AP)
A graffiti against the government which is painted over in black is seen on the wall at a park in Tehran, Iran, Monday, Sept. 11, 2023. (AP)

Snap checkpoints. Internet disruptions. University purges.

Iran's theocracy is trying hard to both ignore the upcoming anniversary of nationwide protests over the country's mandatory headscarf law and tamp down on any possibility of more unrest.

Yet the Sept. 16 death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini still reverberates across Iran. Some women are choosing to go without the headscarf, or hijab, despite an increasing crackdown by authorities.

Graffiti, likely against Iran's government, is rapidly painted over in black by Tehran's municipal workers. University professors have been fired over their apparent support for demonstrators.

International pressure remains high on Iran, even as the administration tries to deescalate tensions with other nations in the region and the West after years of confrontation.

“The weaponization of ‘public morals’ to deny women and girls their freedom of expression is deeply disempowering and will entrench and expand gender discrimination and marginalization,” independent United Nations experts warned earlier this month.

The demonstrations over Amini's death that erupted after her arrest a year ago by the country's morality police, allegedly over the hijab, represented one of the largest challenges to Iran's theocracy since the 1979 revolution. A security force crackdown that followed saw over 500 people killed and more than 22,000 people detained.

Iran's government, including Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, have blamed the West for fomenting the unrest, without offering evidence to support the allegation. However, the protests found fuel in the widespread economic pain that Iran's 80 million people have faced since the collapse of Iran's nuclear deal with world powers after then-President Donald Trump in 2018 unilaterally pulled America from the accord.

As Western sanctions came back, Iran currency — the rial — cratered, decimating people's lifesavings. Prices of food and other essentials skyrocketed as inflation gripped the nation, in part due to worldwide pressures following the coronavirus pandemic and the launch of Russia's war on Ukraine. Unemployment officially stands at 8% overall, though one out of every five young Iranians is out of work.

Videos of the demonstrations last year showed many young people taking part in the protests, leading authorities to apparently focus more closely on Iran's universities in recent weeks. There's historic precedence for the concerns: In 1999, student-led protests swept Tehran and at least three people were killed while 1,200 were detained as demonstrations rapidly spread to other cities.

Though university campuses have largely remained one of the few safe places for students to demonstrate, even campuses have felt the latest crackdown. Over the past year, the Union Council of Iranian Students has said that hundreds of students faced disciplinary panels at their universities over the protests.

During the same period, at least 110 university professors and lecturers have been fired or temporarily suspended, according to a report by the reformist newspaper Etemad. The firings have been primarily focused at schools in Tehran, including Tehran Azad University, Tehran University and Tehran Medical University.

Etemad said those who were dismissed fell into two groups: teachers concerned by the election of hard-line President Ebrahim Raisi and those who supported the protests that followed Amini's death.

But there were firings at other schools as well.

At Tehran’s Sharif University of Technology, outspoken artificial intelligence and bioinformatics professor Ali Sharifi Zarchi, who backed his students taking part in the protests and later faced interrogation by Iranian security forces, was among those laid off.

A petition urging the university to overturn his firing was signed by 15,000 people.

“Putting pressure on professors and students is a black stain on the proud history of #Tehran_University and it must be stopped,” Zarchi wrote online before his dismissal.

University teachers who were dismissed also included Hossein Alaei, a former commander in the paramilitary Revolutionary Guard and vice defense minister, and Reza Salehi Amiri, a former culture minister. Alaei had once, a decade ago, compared Khamenei to Iran's former shah, while Amiri was a former official in the administration of the relatively moderate President Hassan Rouhani.

Rouhani, whose government reached the nuclear deal with world powers in 2015, has criticized the university firings.

“Destroying the prestige of the universities and their professors ... is a loss for the students, science and the country,” Rouhani said, according to a report by the online news site Jamaran.

The head of Tehran University, Mohammad Moghimi, had tried to defend the dismissals, describing professors as facing “ethics problems.” Some hard-liners also have tried to insist the firings weren't political, though the hard-line newspaper Kayhan directly linked the dismissals to the demonstrations.

“It is not logical to allow someone to propagate against the system under the direction of foreigners,” the newspaper wrote.

Those on the streets of Tehran say the governments' move will likely make the situation worse.

“They want to insert their own people in the university in hope of stopping the protest, but we students will show our objections in a way that they cannot imagine,” said Shima, a 21-year-old university student. “They failed to prevent last year's protests since nobody can predict earthquakes.”

Authorities “are fighting against windmills using wooden swords,” added Farnaz, a 27-year-old university student. Both women gave just their first name for fear of reprisals.

The government has been trying to stay publicly quiet about the anniversary. Raisi never said Amini's name during a recent news conference with journalists — who also only tangentially referred to the demonstrations. State-run and semiofficial media in Iran as well have avoided mentioning the anniversary, which typically signals pressure from the government.

But privately, activists report a rise in the number of people being questioned and detained by security forces, including an uncle of Amini.

Saleh Nikbakht, a lawyer for Amini's family, faces a court case accusing him of spreading “propaganda” over his interviews with foreign media.

More police officers have been noticed on Tehran's streets in recent days, including snap checkpoints for those riding on motorcycles in the country's capital. Internet access has been noticeably disrupted over recent days, according to the advocacy group NetBlocks.

And abroad, Iranian state media reported that someone set tires ablaze in front of the Iranian Embassy in Paris over the weekend. Demonstrations marking the anniversary on Saturday are planned in multiple cities abroad.



A ‘New Syria’ Becomes the Clearest Example of Israel’s Hostility Toward Its Neighbors

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu visits the buffer zone with Syria on Nov. 19, accompanied by senior defense, foreign affairs, and security officials. (Government Press Office)
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu visits the buffer zone with Syria on Nov. 19, accompanied by senior defense, foreign affairs, and security officials. (Government Press Office)
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A ‘New Syria’ Becomes the Clearest Example of Israel’s Hostility Toward Its Neighbors

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu visits the buffer zone with Syria on Nov. 19, accompanied by senior defense, foreign affairs, and security officials. (Government Press Office)
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu visits the buffer zone with Syria on Nov. 19, accompanied by senior defense, foreign affairs, and security officials. (Government Press Office)

On a rainy November night in 2025, as Ramallah groaned under an Israeli military assault just meters from the presidential compound, a senior Palestinian official smiled bitterly. “I don’t want to talk about Palestine,” he said. “Nor do I wish to repeat slogans about Israel being a colonial state without borders. What I want to talk about now is Syria.”

For this official, Syria has become the starkest proof that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu not only rejects any genuine peace, but also appears unwilling to tolerate neighboring states at all.

He argued that this is evident even after the new political leadership in Damascus declared openly that it sought neither war nor hostility with Israel. Yet Israel, he said, has continued to violate Syrian sovereignty with increasingly blunt military operations.

The official’s point was simple: Israel’s hostility, in his view, is not confined to Palestinians. “If Hamas launched a war on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, and Hezbollah started firing its own strikes, and the Houthis joined Iran’s so-called ‘support front,’ Syria did the opposite: it stayed out of the picture, and even more than that.”

‘No threat to Israel’

After coming to power, Syria’s new leadership declared that it posed “no threat to any neighboring state, including Israel.”

The fall of Bashar al-Assad in December 2024 cost Iran one of its most important strategic hubs in the region - Syria. This should have created common ground for Syrian-Israeli understandings, the official noted.

“I fear the Israelis have forgotten these facts, especially now that Syrian territory is no longer a playground for Iranian militias,” the Palestinian official said.

The United States, Türkiye, and Azerbaijan offered to mediate talks and expressed readiness to broker security arrangements ensuring a stable border. Even when Israel grumbled about indirect contacts, Damascus agreed to direct meetings. Six rounds were held between Syrian Foreign Minister Assad al-Shaibani and Israeli Strategic Affairs Minister Ron Dermer.

According to Israeli sources, Damascus signaled significant flexibility: it was prepared to negotiate a comprehensive peace treaty in exchange for the return of all territory lost in 1967 and 2024, while also showing openness to interim proposals, such as leasing the Golan Heights to Israel for up to 15 years or reverting to 1974 security understandings.

Those same sources also claimed Syria was willing to join the Abraham Accords, effectively extending an unprecedented hand of peace to Israel.

Raids and ground incursions

Israel’s response, however, took a different direction. Since December 2024, before Damascus could stabilize its new order, Israel carried out roughly 500 airstrikes on Syrian military airports and bases, destroying an estimated 85 percent of Syria’s defensive capabilities.

Israeli forces seized around 450 square kilometers of territory, from Mount Hermon’s summit to parts of Daraa province, penetrating up to 20 kilometers inside Syria and establishing nine military sites.

Israel also inflamed internal tensions under the claim of “protecting Druze allies,” despite long-standing accusations of discrimination against Druze citizens inside Israel itself.

Israeli officials questioned the new Syrian leadership’s intentions by invoking old links to the Al-Nusra Front, even though Israeli field hospitals in Safed, Haifa, and Tel Aviv had, in past years, treated numerous Nusra fighters.

Who can restrain Netanyahu?

In recent days, Israeli reports claimed US President Donald Trump “rebuked” Israel and Netanyahu over their approach to the new Syria, urging a strategic shift.

Responding, reportedly, to appeals from Saudi Arabia and Prince Mohammed bin Salman, Crown Prince and Prime Minister, Trump appears inclined to pursue a constructive course with Damascus.

Many now believe the White House is the only actor capable of restraining Netanyahu’s Syria policy.

But until any real change appears on the ground, analysts continue to ask: What message is Israel sending to its region through its handling of Syria?


Four Iranian Narratives on the Collapse of the ‘Resistance’ in Syria  

Iran's General Qassem Soleimani makes a phone call near the historic Citadel of Aleppo, winter 2016. (Fars)
Iran's General Qassem Soleimani makes a phone call near the historic Citadel of Aleppo, winter 2016. (Fars)
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Four Iranian Narratives on the Collapse of the ‘Resistance’ in Syria  

Iran's General Qassem Soleimani makes a phone call near the historic Citadel of Aleppo, winter 2016. (Fars)
Iran's General Qassem Soleimani makes a phone call near the historic Citadel of Aleppo, winter 2016. (Fars)

One hundred and ninety-two days separated the last meeting between Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and Syria’s ousted President Bashar al-Assad in Tehran from the moment the Syrian regime fell to the opposition in December 2024.

That interval was no footnote in the Syrian war. It became a sharp mirror inside Tehran, reflecting the magnitude of the wager Iran’s leadership had placed on Assad, and the limits of its ability to anticipate the trajectory of the conflict and shifts in the regional balance of power.

At that meeting, Khamenei laid out the essence of his “Syrian doctrine” amid changing realities across the “Axis of Resistance.” Syria, he argued, was no ordinary state but one with a “special place” because its identity, in his view, stemmed from its role in this axis.

Since “resistance is Syria’s defining identity and must be preserved,” he addressed Assad not as a political ally but as a partner in that identity. He praised Assad for once saying that “the cost of resistance is lower than the cost of compromise” and that “whenever we retreat, the other side advances.” Thus, Khamenei reaffirmed his full - if belated – gamble on the regime’s survival, even as signs of collapse were unmistakable on the ground.

Less than seven months later, the regime would fall. Assad’s collapse would yield several Iranian narratives: the Supreme Leader’s, the Revolutionary Guard’s, the diplomatic narrative, and a fourth voiced from within the system itself, one that raised blunt questions about the price of Iran’s Syrian gamble.

Khamenei’s narrative

In his first speech after Assad’s fall, Khamenei offered a hard-edged explanation: the event, he said, was the product of a “joint American-Zionist plot,” aided by neighboring states. He spoke of factors that he claimed prevented Iran from providing the necessary support, including Israeli and US strikes inside Syria and the closure of air and land corridors to Iranian supplies.

He concluded that the decisive flaw lay within Syria itself, where the “spirit of resistance” had eroded in state institutions.

He stressed that the regime’s fall did not mean the fall of the idea of “resistance,” predicting that “patriotic Syrian youth” would one day revive it in a new form.

This narrative rejects the notion of strategic defeat: for Khamenei, what happened is not the end of the struggle, but a harsh phase in a longer one.

Revolutionary Guard’s narrative

The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) adopted a language closer to national security logic than pure ideology, though it drew from the same lexicon. In 2013, cleric Mehdi Taeb, head of the IRGC’s Ammar Headquarters think tank, framed the equation starkly: “Syria is our 35th province... If the enemy attacks Syria or Khuzestan, our priority is to keep Syria.”

With that shocking sentence, Syria was elevated to the level of Iranian strategic geography, sometimes above parts of Iran itself.

Late General Qassem Soleimani, then commander of the Quds Force, became the chief architect of this approach: confronting threats abroad by building multinational militia networks and using the “protection of shrines” as a mobilizing slogan that fused ideology with national security calculations.

A month after Assad’s fall, at a memorial for Soleimani, Khamenei reaffirmed this school of thought, linking the defense of shrines in Damascus and Iraq to the defense of “Iran as a sanctuary,” aiming to bind various fronts into a single cross-border security-sectarian struggle.

After the Syrian regime’s collapse, this narrative preserved its core: success or failure is not defined by who sits in Damascus, but by whether the IRGC’s influence networks remain intact and whether Iran still has access to Syrian depth.

Full withdrawal would amount, in this logic, to admitting that the “35th province” had slipped from the map, so the IRGC will continue to search for any possible foothold.

Diplomatic narrative

Iran’s diplomatic apparatus sought to tell a softer story. Weeks before the fall, Khamenei dispatched his adviser Ali Larijani to Damascus and Beirut with reassuring messages for Assad and other allies, publicly asserting that events in Syria and Lebanon “directly concern Iran’s national security.”

Days later, Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi visited Damascus just six days before the collapse, even posing with shawarma in a downtown restaurant to signal “normalcy” and dismiss talk of impending downfall as “psychological warfare.”

It was the peak of the gap between diplomatic messaging and a disintegrating reality.

Afterward, the Foreign Ministry adopted a defensive formula: Iran had “responded to the request of an allied government”, but “cannot decide on behalf of peoples.” Thus, responsibility was shifted toward Syrian internal failures and the external “conspiracy” often invoked by Khamenei.

This narrative treats Syria as one file among many, not an existential arena as seen by the IRGC and the Leader.

‘Open account’ narrative

The fourth narrative emerged, unexpectedly, from within the establishment itself. For the first time, semi-public acknowledgments surfaced that the economic return on Iran’s Syrian adventure was nearly nil and that the political-security “investment” had resulted in something resembling a net loss.

In 2020, former member of the Iranian parliamentary national security and foreign policy committee, Heshmatollah Falahatpisheh revealed that Tehran had spent “$20-30 billion” in Syria, insisting: “This is the people’s money and must be recovered.”

Five years later, he returned with a more bitter charge: Syria’s debts to Iran were effectively settled through “land without oil, cow farms without cows, and empty promises.”

This view is no outlier. Over a decade, Iranian protest slogans increasingly linked “Gaza, Lebanon, Syria” with bread, fuel, and economic hardship at home.

With Assad gone, critics more easily argue that Iran spent tens of billions and paid a human cost among its fighters and proxies, only to end up with almost no influence in Damascus.

For decision-makers, this narrative becomes domestic pressure against any large-scale return to Syria.

Four scenarios for Tehran

Taken together, these narratives reveal a deep contradiction: the IRGC and Khamenei refuse to concede that Iran “lost Syria,” treating the episode as one phase in a longer struggle. Meanwhile, the diplomatic and economic narratives acknowledge, implicitly, that the previous intervention model is no longer sustainable.

Four broad scenarios emerge. The first is a return through proxies, closest to the IRGC’s logic: Iran would rebuild influence from the ground up through militias - old or newly recruited - to pressure any future authority in Damascus.

The second is regional repositioning without Syria, in which Iran shifts resources to arenas where it still holds leverage, including Lebanon, Iraq, Yemen and Gaza, while limiting its role in Syria to preventing hostile entrenchment.

The third is a “gray” re-entry: a gradual, negotiated, non-confrontational return through localized deals or modest economic and security projects, allowing Tehran to claim continued presence without the cost of backing a single ruler.

The fourth is institutionalizing the loss: Iran accepts Syria’s departure from its strategic depth, but repackages the outcome within a narrative of “conspiracy and steadfastness,” using it to tighten internal control while maintaining symbolic presence through shrine rhetoric and minimal diplomacy.

Across all scenarios, one fact remains. Syria, which was once described as more vital than Khuzestan and the “distinct identity of resistance”, is no longer what it was before December 8, 2024 when the regime collapsed.

Tehran can invoke time, the IRGC can search for openings, diplomats can polish their statements, and critics can lament “land without oil.” But one question looms over every debate in Iran: Can Tehran afford a second Syrian-sized gamble after emerging from the first still trying to convince itself that the “resistance factor” remains standing, even as its Syrian pillar has broken?


A Year After Assad’s Fall, Families of Missing Detainees Languish without Answers 

Amina Beqai holds a photo of her husband, who went missing after he was arrested by security forces under the rule of ousted President Bashar al-Assad, in Damascus, Syria, November 23, 2025. (Reuters)
Amina Beqai holds a photo of her husband, who went missing after he was arrested by security forces under the rule of ousted President Bashar al-Assad, in Damascus, Syria, November 23, 2025. (Reuters)
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A Year After Assad’s Fall, Families of Missing Detainees Languish without Answers 

Amina Beqai holds a photo of her husband, who went missing after he was arrested by security forces under the rule of ousted President Bashar al-Assad, in Damascus, Syria, November 23, 2025. (Reuters)
Amina Beqai holds a photo of her husband, who went missing after he was arrested by security forces under the rule of ousted President Bashar al-Assad, in Damascus, Syria, November 23, 2025. (Reuters)

A year after dictator Bashar al-Assad's ouster in Syria, little has changed in Amina Beqai's desperate quest. She types her missing husband's name yet again into an internet search box, hoping for answers to a 13-year-old question. In vain.

Beqai has nowhere else to turn.

A National Commission for Missing Persons established in May has been gathering evidence of enforced disappearances under Assad, but has yet to offer families any clues on the estimated 150,000 people who vanished in his notorious prisons.

They include Beqai's husband Mahmoud, arrested by Syria's security forces at their home near Damascus on April 17, 2012, and her brother Ahmed, detained in August that year.

Assad's overthrow initially stirred hope that prison records could tell families if, when and how their loved ones died. Mass graves dug by Assad's forces across Syria could be exhumed. Victims could be properly buried.

None of that has transpired.

"It's been a year. They didn't do anything ... Is it thinkable that they didn't even get the documents for these men? Showing us the truth is what we want," Beqai told Reuters.

FADING HOPES

As opposition fighters swept through Syrian towns last year on the way to capturing Damascus, they rushed first to the jails, flinging doors open to free thousands of bewildered prisoners.

On December 8, 2024, hours after Assad fled to Russia, the fighters freed dozens of prisoners from Sednaya, dubbed "the human slaughterhouse" by Amnesty International for the industrial-scale torture and executions undertaken there.

The emerging detainees did not include Beqai's loved ones.

"When the prisons were open, and they didn't come back – that was the shock. That was when the hope ended, it really died," Beqai said. But she demands to know how, when and where her husband and brother may have died.

With no updates from the national commission, Beqai said she had become "obsessed" with her online hunt, scouring pictures of dead detainees and scans of prison documents published by Syrian news outlets who entered jails and security branches after Assad's fall.

"All there is left to do is sit and search," she said.

Such documents have revealed crucial information.

Sarah al-Khattab last saw her husband heading into a police station in Syria's south on February 9, 2019 to reconcile with Assad's government after years holed up with insurgents.

She has had no news of him since.

A spreadsheet of dead Sednaya prisoners seen by Reuters after Assad's fall included his name, Ali Mohsen al-Baridi, dating his death as October 22, 2019 from "stopped pulse and breathing" with orders that the body not be given to his family.

Reuters passed its finding to the Syrian Justice and Accountability Center, an advocacy group working with families of the missing, who informed Khattab.

COMMISSION SEEKS HELP, OVERSIGHT

The national commission was established by new President Ahmed al-Sharaa. The commission's media adviser, Zeina Shahla, told Reuters its mandate includes any missing Syrian, no matter the circumstances.

"When it comes to the pain of the families, maybe we really are being slow. But this file needs progress to come carefully, in a way that is scientific and systemic and not rushed," she said.

Next year, the commission hopes to launch a database of all the missing using documents from prisons and other locations. Exhuming mass graves requires more technical expertise and probably won't happen until 2027, Shahla said.

The commission has met with Syrian advocacy groups and some families. In November, it signed a cooperation agreement with the Geneva-based International Committee of the Red Cross and the International Commission on Missing Persons, which have global expertise on the issue.

Syria's commission hopes that will lead to more training for its personnel and access to equipment in short supply in Syria, including DNA testing labs for exhumed remains.

"We welcome any kind of cooperation and support we can receive, as long as the issue remains under (our commission's) authority,” Shahla said.

RELATIVES, ACTIVISTS DEMAND BETTER

The government's approach has upset organizations who developed expertise on enforced disappearances while in exile during the Assad era, six rights groups told Reuters.

Many were excited to apply that knowledge on the ground with Assad gone, but say the government's centralized approach has excluded them, slowed progress and left families in limbo.

"When you have as many as a quarter of a million people missing, you can't do that. You break up the work," said Ahmad Helmi, a Syrian activist who leads Ta'afi, an initiative focused on missing detainees and prison survivors.

Activists also accuse the commission of "monopolizing" detention-related documents.

In September, Syrian authorities briefly detained Amer Matar, an activist who founded a virtual museum to preserve detainees' experiences, accusing him of illegally accessing official documents for personal purposes.

In November, the commission urged families not to believe any detention-related documents shared on unofficial online platforms, like the ones Beqai has been searching, and threatened legal action against those outlets.

"The commission wants to monopolize the file, but it lacks the tools, the competence and the transparency. It demands the trust of families but delivers no results," Matar said.

Shahla said the commission is "the central, official body authorized to reveal the fate" of missing people and that families needed one place to go to for accurate answers.

Agnes Callamard, head of Amnesty International, said the commission should issue regular updates about its progress and consider granting financial aid to relatives of missing people.

"The most important thing ... the national commission can do at the moment is ensuring that families feel they are being heard and being supported," she told Reuters.

As Syria marks a year since Assad's downfall, many people remain exhausted by the same burden that plagued them under his rule: the lack of closure.

Alia Darraji last saw her son Yazan on November 1, 2014, as he left home to meet friends near Damascus. He never returned.

In the last year, the elderly woman has spent time in "truth tents" - sit-ins demanding information on disappeared Syrians that were unthinkable under Assad. While solidarity has helped, it hasn't given her what her heart aches for.

"We were hoping to find their bodies, to bury them, or to find out where they are," Darraji said.