Mahsa Amini Not Forgotten in Iran Six Months after Death

An woman holds a portrait of Mahsa Amini, a young Iranian woman who died after being arrested in Tehran by the morality police, during a demonstration in front of the German lower house of parliament (Bundestag), on the occasion of the International Women's Day, on March 8, 2023. (AFP)
An woman holds a portrait of Mahsa Amini, a young Iranian woman who died after being arrested in Tehran by the morality police, during a demonstration in front of the German lower house of parliament (Bundestag), on the occasion of the International Women's Day, on March 8, 2023. (AFP)
TT
20

Mahsa Amini Not Forgotten in Iran Six Months after Death

An woman holds a portrait of Mahsa Amini, a young Iranian woman who died after being arrested in Tehran by the morality police, during a demonstration in front of the German lower house of parliament (Bundestag), on the occasion of the International Women's Day, on March 8, 2023. (AFP)
An woman holds a portrait of Mahsa Amini, a young Iranian woman who died after being arrested in Tehran by the morality police, during a demonstration in front of the German lower house of parliament (Bundestag), on the occasion of the International Women's Day, on March 8, 2023. (AFP)

Six months ago this week, Mahsa Amini was arrested for allegedly flouting Iran's strict dress code for women. Within days she was dead, sparking the country's biggest protests in years.

The 22-year ethnic Kurd became a household name inside Iran, a rallying point for demands for change. Around the world, she became a hero for women's rights campaigners and a symbol for Western opponents of the Tehran regime.

Amini was visiting the capital Tehran with her brother and cousins when she was arrested as they were leaving a metro station in the city center last September.

Accused of wearing "inappropriate" attire, she was taken to a police station by officers of the morality police.

There she collapsed after a quarrel with a policewoman, according to a short surveillance video released by the authorities.

She spent three days in hospital in a coma before her death on September 16, which the authorities blamed on underlying health issues.

For many, the young woman from the western city of Saqez personified the fight against the obligation to wear the headscarf. Her name became the rallying point for a protest movement that gripped the country for months.

The epitaph engraved on her tomb reads: "You are not dead Mahsa, your name has become a symbol".

Almost overnight, her portrait became ubiquitous in Iran's cities, fly-postered on walls and held aloft by protesters. It even made the cover of some magazines published inside Iran, including the March edition of the monthly Andisheh Pouya.

"Unknown before her death, Mahsa has become a symbol of oppression and her innocent face reinforces this image," said political scientist Ahmad Zeidabadi.

Call for openness

The protests over her death in custody, which began in the capital and in her native Kurdistan province, swiftly mushroomed into a nationwide movement for change.

Public anger over her death merged with "a series of problems, including the economic crisis, attitudes toward the morality police, or political issues such as the disqualification of candidates for election" by Iran's conservative-dominated vetting body the Guardian Council, said sociologist Abbas Abdi.

Spearheaded by young people demanding gender equality and greater openness without a leader or political program, the street protests peaked late last year.

Hundreds of people were killed, including dozens of security force personnel. Thousands more were arrested for participating in what officials described as "riots" and blamed on hostile forces linked to the United States, Israel and their allies.

In February, after the protests abated and supreme leader Ali Khamenei decreed a partial amnesty, the authorities began to release thousands of people arrested in connection with the protests.

Some 22,600 people "linked to the riots" have so far been released, the head of the judiciary, Gholamhossein Mohseni Ejei said this week.

But Abdi said protesters could return to the streets again as the underlying grievances remained unaddressed.

"The demonstrations are over, but I doubt the protest has ended," he said, noting that "the main causes of the crisis remain.

"In the current situation, any incident can trigger new protests."

He cited as an example the public anger sparked by a spate of mystery poisonings that have affected thousands of pupils at more than 200 girls' schools over the past three months.

Quiet change

The mass demonstrations inside Iran, among the largest since the 1979 revolution, prompted some in the exiled opposition to talk of an imminent change of regime.

"Some people, especially in the diaspora, have mistakenly bet on the fall of the Islamic republic in the very near future," political scientist Zeidabadi said.

Zeidabadi argued that the emigres had misunderstood the nature of the protest movement which he said was more "civic" than political.

He stressed that, viewed in that fashion, the movement had produced "results", notably a quiet relaxation in enforcement of the dress code for women.

"A certain degree of freedom from the hijab is tolerated even if the law and the rules have not changed," Zeidabadi said.

He predicted similarly discreet and cautious reforms in other areas, notably the economy, which has been blighted by inflation of around 50 percent and a record depreciation of the rial against the dollar.

"It seems that Tehran has realized the need for a change of policy, although there is no consensus within it on a lasting response to meet the challenge."



To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
TT
20

To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)

Cash is the lifeblood of the Gaza Strip’s shattered economy, and like all other necessities in this war-torn territory — food, fuel, medicine — it is in extremely short supply.

With nearly every bank branch and ATM inoperable, people have become reliant on an unrestrained network of powerful cash brokers to get money for daily expenses and commissions on those transactions have soared to about 40%.

"The people are crying blood because of this," said Ayman al-Dahdouh, a school director living in Gaza City. "It’s suffocating us, starving us."

At a time of surging inflation, high unemployment and dwindling savings, the scarcity of cash has magnified the financial squeeze on families — some of whom have begun to sell their possessions to buy essential goods.

The cash that is available has even lost some of its luster. Palestinians use the Israeli currency, the shekel, for most transactions. Yet with Israel no longer resupplying the territory with newly printed bank notes, merchants are increasingly reluctant to accept frayed bills.

Gaza’s punishing cash crunch has several root causes, experts say.

To curtail Hamas’ ability to purchase weapons and pay its fighters, Israel stopped allowing cash to enter Gaza at the start of the war. Around the same time, many wealthy families in Gaza withdrew their money from banks and then fled the territory. And rising fears about Gaza’s financial system prompted foreign businesses selling goods into the territory to demand cash payments.

As Gaza’s money supply dwindled and civilians’ desperation mounted, cash brokers' commissions — around 5% at the start of the war — skyrocketed.

Someone needing cash transfers money electronically to a broker and moments later is handed a fraction of that amount in bills. Many brokers openly advertise their services, while others are more secretive. Some grocers and retailers have also begun exchanging cash for their customers.

"If I need $60, I need to transfer $100," said Mohammed Basheer al-Farra, who lives in southern Gaza after being displaced from Khan Younis. "This is the only way we can buy essentials, like flour and sugar. We lose nearly half of our money just to be able to spend it."

In 2024, inflation in Gaza surged by 230%, according to the World Bank. It dropped slightly during the ceasefire that began in January, only to shoot up again after Israel backed out of the truce in March.

Cash touches every aspect of life in Gaza

About 80% of people in Gaza were unemployed at the end of 2024, according to the World Bank, and the figure is likely higher now. Those with jobs are mostly paid by direct deposits into their bank accounts.

But "when you want to buy vegetables, food, water, medication -- if you want to take transportation, or you need a blanket, or anything — you must use cash," al-Dahdouh said.

Shahid Ajjour’s family has been living off of savings for two years after the pharmacy and another business they owned were ruined by the war.

"We had to sell everything just to get cash," said Ajjour, who sold her gold to buy flour and canned beans. The family of eight spends the equivalent of $12 every two days on flour; before the war, that cost less than $4.

Sugar is very expensive, costing the equivalent of $80-$100 per kilogram (2.2 pounds), multiple people said; before the war, that cost less than $2.

Gasoline is about $25 a liter, or roughly $95 a gallon, when paying the lower, cash price.

Bills are worn and unusable

The bills in Gaza are tattered after 21 months of war.

Money is so fragile, it feels as if it is going to melt in your hands, said Mohammed al-Awini, who lives in a tent camp in southern Gaza.

Small business owners said they were under pressure to ask customers for undamaged cash because their suppliers demand pristine bills from them.

Thaeir Suhwayl, a flour merchant in Deir al-Balah, said his suppliers recently demanded he pay them only with brand new 200-shekel ($60) bank notes, which he said are rare. Most civilians pay him with 20-shekel ($6) notes that are often in poor condition.

On a recent visit to the market, Ajjour transferred the shekel equivalent of around $100 to a cash broker and received around $50 in return. But when she tried to buy some household supplies from a merchant, she was turned away because the bills weren’t in good condition.

"So the worth of your $50 is zero in the end," she said.

This problem has given rise to a new business in Gaza: money repair. It costs between 3 and 10 shekels ($1-$3) to mend old bank notes. But even cash repaired with tape or other means is sometimes rejected.

People are at the mercy of cash brokers

After most of the banks closed in the early days of the war, those with large reserves of cash suddenly had immense power.

"People are at their mercy," said Mahmoud Aqel, who has been displaced from his home in southern Gaza. "No one can stop them."

The war makes it impossible to regulate market prices and exchange rates, said Dalia Alazzeh, an expert in finance and accounting at the University of the West of Scotland. "Nobody can physically monitor what’s happening," Alazzeh said.

A year ago, the Palestine Monetary Authority, the equivalent of a central bank for Gaza and the West Bank, sought to ease the crisis by introducing a digital payment system known as Iburaq. It attracted half a million users, or a quarter of the population, according to the World Bank, but was ultimately undermined by merchants insisting on cash.

Israel sought to ramp up financial pressure on Hamas earlier this year by tightening the distribution of humanitarian aid, which it said was routinely siphoned off by militants and then resold.

Experts said it is unclear if the cash brokers’ activities benefit Hamas, as some Israeli analysts claim.

The war has made it more difficult to determine who is behind all sorts of economic activity in the territory, said Omar Shabaan, director of Palthink for Strategic Studies, a Gaza-based think tank.

"It's a dark place now. You don't know who is bringing cigarettes into Gaza," he said, giving just one example. "It's like a mafia."

These same deep-pocketed traders are likely the ones running cash brokerages, and selling basic foodstuffs, he said. "They benefit by imposing these commissions," he said.

Once families run out of cash, they are forced to turn to humanitarian aid.

Al-Farra said that is what prompted him to begin seeking food at an aid distribution center, where it is common for Palestinians to jostle over one other for sacks of flour and boxes of pasta.

"This is the only way I can feed my family," he said.