Iran Two Years after Mahsa Amini: Persecution and Defiance

A protester holds pictures of Kurdish Iranian woman Mahsa Amini during a demonstration in solidarity with Iranian women and protestors in Piazza del Campidoglio in Rome on October 5, 2022, following her death in the custody of morality police in Iran. (AFP)
A protester holds pictures of Kurdish Iranian woman Mahsa Amini during a demonstration in solidarity with Iranian women and protestors in Piazza del Campidoglio in Rome on October 5, 2022, following her death in the custody of morality police in Iran. (AFP)
TT

Iran Two Years after Mahsa Amini: Persecution and Defiance

A protester holds pictures of Kurdish Iranian woman Mahsa Amini during a demonstration in solidarity with Iranian women and protestors in Piazza del Campidoglio in Rome on October 5, 2022, following her death in the custody of morality police in Iran. (AFP)
A protester holds pictures of Kurdish Iranian woman Mahsa Amini during a demonstration in solidarity with Iranian women and protestors in Piazza del Campidoglio in Rome on October 5, 2022, following her death in the custody of morality police in Iran. (AFP)

Persecution of bereaved relatives. Impunity for perpetrators. Rampant executions and infighting among the opposition.

A bleak picture confronts opponents of Iran's clerical authorities two years after a protest movement erupted that they hoped would be a turning point in the four-and-a-half-decade history of the republic.

Activists and exiles still hope that the protests sparked by the September 16, 2022 death in custody of Mahsa Amini -- an Iranian Kurd arrested for allegedly violating the dress code for women -- left an indelible mark on Iran and that her tragic death aged 22 was not in vain.

The women-led protests that broke out after Amini's death, challenging not only the rule of the obligatory headscarf that has been a key pillar of the regime but also the very existence of the clerical-based system, rattled Iran's leadership over autumn and winter 2022-2023.

But they were crushed and defeated in a crackdown Amnesty International said saw security forces use assault rifles and shotguns against protesters.

Human rights groups say at least 551 people were killed. Thousands more were arrested, according to the United Nations.

Iran has executed 10 men in cases related to the protests, the latest being Gholamreza Rasaei who was hanged in August after being convicted of killing a Revolutionary Guard.

Activists said his confession was obtained under torture.

"Countless people in Iran are still reeling from the consequences of the authorities' brutal crackdown," said Amnesty's deputy regional director for the Middle East and North Africa, Diana Eltahawy.

- 'Brutalizing twice over' -

According to Human Rights Watch (HRW), family members of dozens of people killed, executed or imprisoned during the protests have been arrested on trumped up charges, threatened or harassed.

"Iranian authorities are brutalizing people twice over: executing or killing a family member and then arresting their loved ones for demanding accountability," said HRW's acting Iran researcher, Nahid Naghshbandi.

Among those jailed is Mashallah Karami, father of Mohammad Mehdi Karami who was executed in January 2023 aged just 22 in a case related to the protests.

Mashallah Karami, who had campaigned for his son's memory, was sentenced to six years in jail in May and then in August to another term of almost nine years.

Meanwhile, the authorities are enforcing the wearing of the headscarf with a vengeance. Its abolition was a key demand of the protesters, and the authorities had initially given grounds for hope of a more lenient policy.

Security forces are implementing the so-called "Nour" ("Light") plan to enforce the rule, with a "visible increase of security patrols on foot, motorbikes, car and police vans in public spaces", according to Amnesty.

Women in Iran have long regarded their vehicles as a safe space, but they have been increasingly targeted there, often with facial recognition technology, rights groups say. Cars can be impounded as punishment.

UN experts said Iran has "intensified" the repression of women, also resorting to "beating, kicking, and slapping women and girls".

Amnesty has highlighted the case of 31-year-old Arezou Badri, who it says was left paralyzed after police shot her in her car in northern Iran in July, in an incident related to the dress code.

Even though a UN fact-finding mission in March found that many of the violations in the crackdown amount to crimes against humanity, not one official has been brought to account.

- 'Not going back' -

Yet observers outside Iran insist that while the crackdown has allowed the clerical authorities under supreme leader Ali Khamenei to restore order, Iranian society has changed forever.

"Many young women remain defiant," said a co-founder of the US-based Abdorrahman Boroumand Center for Human Rights in Iran, Roya Boroumand.

"Two years after the protests, the republic's leadership has neither restored the status quo ante nor regained its lost legitimacy."

Rights groups said August's execution of Gholamreza Rasaei showed no let-up in Iran's use of the death penalty under new President Masoud Pezeshkian, who was elected in July after predecessor Ebrahim Raisi died in a helicopter crash.

The Amini protests have exposed deep divisions within the opposition, with no unified group emerging to champion the protesters' demands.

Abroad, attempts at finding harmony between disparate groups of monarchists, nationalists and liberals have collapsed amid acrimony.

The protest movement "shook the Iranian regime to the core and further affirmed just how deeply disillusioned Iranians have been with the status quo", said Arash Azizi, visiting fellow at Boston University and author of a book titled "What Iranians Want".

"But the movement also showed the absolute bankruptcy of the opposition alternatives to the regime."

He added: "I still believe Iran is not going back to pre-2022 and, within the next few years, the Islamic Republic will likely see some fundamental shifts."



With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
TT

With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher

When a ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah came into effect last week, Lebanese hotelier Abbas al-Tannoukhi leapt at the chance to bury a dead relative in their southern hometown of Khiyam, battered for weeks by intense clashes.

Tannoukhi's cousin had been killed in one of the final Israeli airstrikes on Beirut's suburbs before Wednesday's ceasefire, which stipulated an end to fighting so residents on both sides of the border could return home.

But with Israeli troops still deployed in southern Lebanon, Tannoukhi coordinated his movements with Lebanon's army. Last Friday, he and his relatives pulled into the family graveyard in Khiyam, six km (four miles) from the border, with an ambulance carrying his cousin's body.

"We just needed 30 minutes (to bury her)," Tannoukhi, 54, said. "But we were surprised when Israeli tanks encircled us - and that's when the gunfire started."

Tannoukhi fled with his relatives on foot through the brush, wounding his hand as he scrambled between rocks and olive groves to reach safety at a checkpoint operated by Lebanese troops.

Soon afterwards, they tried to reach the graveyard again but said they were fired on a second time. Shaky footage filmed by Tannoukhi features sprays of gunfire.

"We couldn't bury her. We had to leave her body there in the ambulance. But we will try again," he told Reuters.

The ordeal highlights the bitterness and confusion for residents of southern Lebanon who have been unable to return home because Israeli troops are still present on Lebanese territory.

Israel's military has issued orders to residents of 60 southern Lebanese towns not to return home, saying they are prohibited from accessing their hometowns until further notice.

The US-brokered ceasefire deal grants both Lebanon and Israel the right to self-defense, but does not include provisions on a buffer zone or restrictions for residents.

"Why did we go back? Because there's a ceasefire," Tannoukhi said. "It's a halt to hostilities. And it is a natural right for a son of the south to go to his house."

The Israeli military did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

PEACE OF MIND

The ceasefire brought an end to over a year of hostilities between Israel and Lebanese armed group Hezbollah, which began firing rockets at Israeli military targets in 2023 in support of its Palestinian ally Hamas in Gaza.

Israel went on the offensive in September, bombing swathes of Lebanon's south, east and the southern suburbs of Beirut. More than 1.2 million people fled their homes.

After the 60-day ceasefire came into effect last Wednesday, residents of Beirut's suburbs returned home to vast destruction, and some Lebanese from the south were able to return to homes further away from the border.

But both sides began accusing each other of breaking the deal, with Israel saying suspicious movements in villages along the south constituted violations and Lebanon's army pointing to Israeli tank fire and airstrikes as breaches.

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, a father of 12, was hoping to return home to Beit Lif, about two km from the border.

But nearly a week into the ceasefire, he is still living at a displacement shelter near Tyre, a coastal city about 25 km from the border.

He tried to venture home alone last week, but as soon as he arrived, there was tank fire around the town and he received a warning on his phone that his town was in the Israeli military's "no-go" zone.

Sayyed is still stuck in displacement and wants to get home.

"I hope we go back to our town so we can get peace of mind," he said.