Total repression and air strikes bring unrelenting dread for Iranians

Total Repression and Air Strikes Fuel Endless Anxiety in Tehran

A City Held in Constant Peril

Under a canopy of night, the city’s usual din has quieted to a muted buzz. Yet for many, this silence is far from peaceful. It is often the dogs that detect the first sign of danger, their barks piercing the calm. Then comes the distant roar of planes and the thunderous echoes of explosions. A fiery glow spreads across a once-familiar street, marking the arrival of aerial strikes. The BBC has captured footage and spoken to residents in Tehran, revealing a populace gripped by tension, anticipation, and the looming threat of state forces.

The Weight of Fear

Baran, a thirty-something businesswoman, now hesitates before stepping out of her home. “Since the drone attacks began, no one dares to venture beyond their doors. Opening them feels like risking everything,” she explains. Though she lives alone, her messages to friends reflect a shared dread. “Even in quiet moments, the silence is a kind of terror. We ask where everyone is, and the answer is always the same: we’re all waiting for the next blow.” Her trauma stems from the January crackdown, which claimed hundreds of lives during protests for reform. “I can’t forget how I used to live before. Every memory of the past is tainted by the loss of someone I loved.”

“I fear tomorrow. I fear who I will become. Today, I manage to survive. But how will I endure the next day? That is the true question—will I still be alive to face it?”

State Control and Propaganda

Repression has reached its peak. Open criticism is now a dangerous act, as surveillance intensifies. Footage shows regime loyalists patrolling the streets at night, their vehicles adorned with flags—a warning to dissenters. State media broadcasts only the official version: clips of protests and funerals, accompanied by voices condemning America and Israel. Pro-regime officials and participants in demonstrations echo these sentiments, framing the conflict as a battle for national survival.

Despite this, independent journalists continue to gather stories that challenge the narrative. They risk arrest, interrogation, and worse, yet persist in documenting the truth. “In wartime, you never know what they’ll do,” one said. For many, the only safe space is within their homes. Ali, a middle-class man in his forties, once believed the death of Ayatollah Khamenei would spark change. Now, he describes the streets as “a graveyard in motion,” where armed officers and masked enforcers patrol relentlessly.

“It’s painful to walk the streets. The city feels like a place of mourning. We’re no longer in control of our own space. They’ve taken it from us.”

Hope and Despair

Ali admits to battling depression, relying on medication to maintain stability. “We see people who don’t belong to us anymore—those who support the regime. They’ve carved out a new reality for us.” Yet, amid despair, a flicker of hope remains. “The country’s skies are under foreign control, but in our hearts, we still dream of a different future,” he says. “We don’t back America or Israel. We just want the current regime to fall, so that we can create something new.”

Baran, in her apartment, listens for the sound of explosions while checking in with neighbors. “What’s the difference between our sky and the rest of the world?” she wonders. “They rest beneath the stars, while we lie beneath rockets. Both skies shine, but ours casts shadows.” She believes the war will persist for years, its scars etched into daily life. “This conflict is no longer just in the streets. It lives in our blood, in our families, in our very being.”

The people of this ancient city, over 6,000 years old, now live under a suffocating sense of dread. Their lives are shaped by the threat of bombs and the fear of state violence. A relentless anxiety, with no end in sight, defines their existence. With additional reporting by Alice Doyard.