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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)
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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.

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10 Years after Europe's Migration Crisis, the Fallout Reverberates in Greece and Beyond

File photo: Migrants of African origin trying to flee to Europe are crammed on board of a small boat, as Tunisian coast guards prepare to transfer them onto their vessel, at sea between Tunisia and Italy, on August 10, 2023. (Photo by FETHI BELAID / AFP)
File photo: Migrants of African origin trying to flee to Europe are crammed on board of a small boat, as Tunisian coast guards prepare to transfer them onto their vessel, at sea between Tunisia and Italy, on August 10, 2023. (Photo by FETHI BELAID / AFP)
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10 Years after Europe's Migration Crisis, the Fallout Reverberates in Greece and Beyond

File photo: Migrants of African origin trying to flee to Europe are crammed on board of a small boat, as Tunisian coast guards prepare to transfer them onto their vessel, at sea between Tunisia and Italy, on August 10, 2023. (Photo by FETHI BELAID / AFP)
File photo: Migrants of African origin trying to flee to Europe are crammed on board of a small boat, as Tunisian coast guards prepare to transfer them onto their vessel, at sea between Tunisia and Italy, on August 10, 2023. (Photo by FETHI BELAID / AFP)

Fleeing Iran with her husband and toddler, Amena Namjoyan reached a rocky beach of this eastern Greek island along with hundreds of thousands of others. For months, their arrival overwhelmed Lesbos. Boats fell apart, fishermen dove to save people from drowning, and local grandmothers bottle-fed newly arrived babies.

Namjoyan spent months in an overcrowded camp. She learned Greek. She struggled with illness and depression as her marriage collapsed. She tried to make a fresh start in Germany but eventually returned to Lesbos, the island that first embraced her. Today, she works at a restaurant, preparing Iranian dishes that locals devour, even if they struggle to pronounce the names. Her second child tells her, “‘I’m Greek.’”

“Greece is close to my culture, and I feel good here,” Namjoyan said. “I am proud of myself.”

In 2015, more than 1 million migrants and refugees arrived in Europe — the majority by sea, landing in Lesbos, where the north shore is just 10 kilometers (6 miles) from Türkiye. The influx of men, women and children fleeing war and poverty sparked a humanitarian crisis that shook the European Union to its core. A decade later, the fallout still reverberates on the island and beyond.

For many, Greece was a place of transit. They continued on to northern and western Europe. Many who applied for asylum were granted international protection; thousands became European citizens. Countless more were rejected, languishing for years in migrant camps or living in the streets. Some returned to their home countries. Others were kicked out of the European Union.

For Namjoyan, Lesbos is a welcoming place — many islanders share a refugee ancestry, and it helps that she speaks their language. But migration policy in Greece, like much of Europe, has shifted toward deterrence in the decade since the crisis. Far fewer people are arriving illegally. Officials and politicians have maintained that strong borders are needed. Critics say enforcement has gone too far and violates fundamental EU rights and values.

“Migration is now at the top of the political agenda, which it didn’t use to be before 2015,” said Camille Le Coz Director of the Migration Policy Institute Europe, noting changing EU alliances. “We are seeing a shift toward the right of the political spectrum.”

A humanitarian crisis turned into a political one

In 2015, boat after boat crowded with refugees crashed onto the doorstep of Elpiniki Laoumi, who runs a fish tavern across from a Lesbos beach. She fed them, gave them water, made meals for aid organizations.

“You would look at them and think of them as your own children," said Laoumi, whose tavern walls today are decorated with thank-you notes.

From 2015 to 2016, the peak of the migration crisis, more than 1 million people entered Europe through Greece alone. The immediate humanitarian crisis — to feed, shelter and care for so many people at once — grew into a long-term political one.

Greece was reeling from a crippling economic crisis. The influx added to anger against established political parties, fueling the rise of once-fringe populist forces.

EU nations fought over sharing responsibility for asylum seekers. The bloc’s unity cracked as some member states flatly refused to take migrants. Anti-migration voices calling for closed borders became louder.

Today, illegal migration is down across Europe While illegal migration to Greece has fluctuated, numbers are nowhere near 2015-16 figures, according to the International Organization for Migration. Smugglers adapted to heightened surveillance, shifting to more dangerous routes.

Overall, irregular EU border crossings decreased by nearly 40% last year and continue to fall, according to EU border and coast guard agency Frontex.

That hasn’t stopped politicians from focusing on — and sometimes fearmongering over — migration. This month, the Dutch government collapsed after a populist far-right lawmaker withdrew his party’s ministers over migration policy.

In Greece, the new far-right migration minister has threatened rejected asylum seekers with jail time.

A few miles from where Namjoyan now lives, in a forest of pine and olive trees, is a new EU-funded migrant center. It's one of the largest in Greece and can house up to 5,000 people.

Greek officials denied an Associated Press request to visit. Its opening is blocked, for now, by court challenges.

Some locals say the remote location seems deliberate — to keep migrants out of sight and out of mind.

“We don’t believe such massive facilities are needed here. And the location is the worst possible – deep inside a forest,” said Panagiotis Christofas, mayor of Lesbos’ capital, Mytilene. “We’re against it, and I believe that’s the prevailing sentiment in our community.”

A focus on border security

For most of Europe, migration efforts focus on border security and surveillance.

The European Commission this year greenlighted the creation of “return” hubs — a euphemism for deportation centers — for rejected asylum seekers. Italy has sent unwanted migrants to its centers in Albania, even as that faces legal challenges.

Governments have resumed building walls and boosting surveillance in ways unseen since the Cold War.

In 2015, Frontex was a small administrative office in Warsaw. Now, it's the EU's biggest agency, with 10,000 armed border guards, helicopters, drones and an annual budget of over 1 billion euros.

On other issues of migration — reception, asylum and integration, for example — EU nations are largely divided.

The legacy of Lesbos

Last year, EU nations approved a migration and asylum pact laying out common rules for the bloc's 27 countries on screening, asylum, detention and deportation of people trying to enter without authorization, among other things.

“The Lesbos crisis of 2015 was, in a way, the birth certificate of the European migration and asylum policy,” Margaritis Schinas, a former European Commission vice president and a chief pact architect, told AP.

He said that after years of fruitless negotiations, he's proud of the landmark compromise.

“We didn’t have a system,” Schinas said. “Europe’s gates had been crashed."

The deal, endorsed by the United Nations refugee agency, takes effect next year. Critics say it made concessions to hardliners. Human rights organizations say it will increase detention and erode the right to seek asylum.

Some organizations also criticize the “externalization” of EU border management — agreements with countries across the Mediterranean to aggressively patrol their coasts and hold migrants back in exchange for financial assistance.

The deals have expanded, from Türkiye to the Middle East and across Africa. Human rights groups say autocratic governments are pocketing billions and often subject the displaced to appalling conditions.

Lesbos still sees some migrants arrive Lesbos' 80,000 residents look back at the 2015 crisis with mixed feelings.

Fisherman Stratos Valamios saved some children. Others drowned just beyond his reach, their bodies still warm as he carried them to shore.

“What’s changed from back then to now, 10 years on? Nothing,” he said. “What I feel is anger — that such things can happen, that babies can drown.”

Those who died crossing to Lesbos are buried in two cemeteries, their graves marked as “unknown.”

Tiny shoes and empty juice boxes with faded Turkish labels can still be found on the northern coast. So can black doughnut-shaped inner tubes, given by smugglers as crude life preservers for children. At Moria, a refugee camp destroyed by fire in 2020, children’s drawings remain on gutted building walls.

Migrants still arrive, and sometimes die, on these shores. Lesbos began to adapt to a quieter, more measured flow of newcomers.

Efi Latsoudi, who runs a network helping migrants learn Greek and find jobs, hopes Lesbos’ tradition of helping outsiders in need will outlast national policies.

“The way things are developing, it’s not friendly for newcomers to integrate into Greek society,” Latsoudi said. "We need to do something. ... I believe there is hope.”