Iranians describe life under bombardment : NPR
Iranians clear the rubble of houses damaged following a military strike in Tehran on March 15.
Atta Kenaré/AFP via Getty Images
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Atta Kenaré/AFP via Getty Images
In Iran, a complete telecommunications blackout means most internet and phone lines remain cut, since massive anti-government protests began last December.
Yet NPR continued to receive messages from Iran. The Iranians describe their fear but also their challenge, more than two weeks after the start of a joint American and Israeli military campaign against Iran.
“The Islamic Republic, which has killed hundreds of thousands of people in Iraq and Syria, killed and tortured hundreds of thousands of Iranians in the most brutal way after all these years, and now wants to acquire nuclear weapons: we, the Iranian people, who have lived with them for half a century, know how ridiculous their claim to peace was,” one woman said in a series of voice notes to NPR on March 16, explaining why she was angered by the images of some Iranians in the diaspora protesting the joint agreement between the United States and Syria. Israeli shelling of his country.
Like all Iranians in this story, she declined to give her name because those who speak to foreign journalists may be arrested by Iranian security forces.
Other Iranians sent text messages to NPR describing how they have become adept at identifying the roar of warplanes flying overhead, accustomed to enduring the constant blare of sirens and accustomed to the eerie silence that follows an airstrike.
They also describe a network of new security checkpoints in major cities – run by Iran’s Basij militia, a paramilitary volunteer group – designed to intimidate residents and keep them confined to their homes.
Tehran residents describe largely deserted streets, roamed mainly by Basij as well as vigilantes, sometimes masked.
“I hardly leave the house and I know that most people, especially women, are like that,” one woman, a 49-year-old fashion designer, wrote on March 17. “Here, in my neighborhood, [the Basij] are everywhere. There are several armed teenagers in my driveway. »
President Trump has urged Iranians to rise up against the remaining segments of Iran’s theocratic and authoritarian leaders, but Iranians say this strong security presence on the streets has been effective in suppressing popular dissent.
“I don’t know how some people still talk about protests. I mean for example, from my own alley, if someone wants to join a protest, they won’t even come out of this alley,” the fashion designer wrote.
Preparations for Nowruz, the Persian New Year, should normally be progressing well this week, but Iranians say security forces are banning gatherings for the holiday.
“I think it’s really dangerous. My wife really wanted us to go party at a friend’s house who has a garden in the suburbs, but I don’t think it’s wise,” a 35-year-old Tehran trader wrote on March 17. His family had wanted to go out to mark Chaharshanbe Suri, or the fire festival, celebrated this week on the last Tuesday before the new year.
Israel says it has targeted dozens of Basij checkpoints, as well as temporary tents used by Iranian security forces. On Tuesday, Iran confirmed that Israel had killed General Gholamreza Soleimani, the commander of the Basij paramilitary forces, in an airstrike on a tent he was in.
“I am happy [the Basij] are struck,” wrote the Tehran trader. “They looked scared and kept looking up at the sky. [at the sky]which I found very amusing to watch.”
The US-based Human Rights Activist News Agency has reported at least 1,300 civilians killed since the US and Israel began striking Iran on February 28.
Yet, in the midst of war, Iranians are trying to maintain some of the normal rhythm of their lives.
“Many are fleeing and many buildings are empty. I still plan to stay in Tehran and continue my daily life,” one woman wrote last week, March 10, from the Iranian capital, in a daily column she shared with NPR. “At dusk, after the explosions, silence falls on the streets, then the cawing of crows reminds me that the sound of life is louder than any other sound.”
She says she and her friends are still trying to get out despite the risk of being arrested by the Basij. She lamented the closure this month of a cafe that played live rock music because of the bombings. For Nowruz, she said she bought firecrackers despite paramilitaries banning celebrations.
“I will celebrate Chaharshanbe Suri and in the final battle I will burn every one of these psychopathic murderers,” she wrote on March 16.
Entering the third week of the war, as strikes continue and Iranian leaders resist calls for diplomatic negotiations to end the conflict, she writes that she has prepared for more suffering and more death, including, perhaps, her own.
“War wasn’t supposed to be very clean from day one. That’s why we did everything we could to avoid it for decades. We voted, asked for our votes, organized, tried to talk, to negotiate, to bring them to reason,” she wrote. “But they failed us; they failed the world. And now the world has finally accepted that they must fight them. I could be killed too.”
