Firsthand reports from contributors inside Iran
Iran’s 2024 presidential election -- held almost a year early, after President Ebrahim Raisi died in a helicopter crash in May -- gave rise to a President that few had heard of a few weeks before.
Outside of Iran, many observers are trying to explain the political landscape or searching for signs of change for the country with the election of Masoud Pezeshkian—a man labeled by Western media as a "reformist," though he has never referred to himself as such.
Inside Iran, however, the optimists are few and far between, primarily those poised to benefit from the seemingly bureaucratic reshuffle, securing a desk in a governmental office or a seat on a state-led institution’s board. Beyond these few, there appears to be little interest for the election, Pezeshkian — or any of the alleged “reforms” he may bring.
“Nothing has changed and nothing will,” says Rana, a 34-year-old mother of two, who decided not to vote. “I felt I had to vote for my children. I thought Pezeshkian might pick an education minister who would stop the wave of Islamic clerics teaching in schools. But my friends dissuaded me, saying that the current Majles (parliament), dominated by hardliners, would never vote in a candidate who might attempt or even consider such a change of policy.”
Rana says nothing has changed. But, when it comes to the further decline in human rights — it has.
In just one week following the July 5 election, several prisoners on death row were executed in Tehran; about a dozen women’s rights' activists with long sentences hanging over their heads were detained violently and reportedly faced death and rape threats; a prominent lawyer who campaigned for Pezeshkian was arrested; and Turkish Airlines was forced to close its Tehran office because it failed to comply with the mandated Islamic hijab regulations.
“There’s still room for optimism,” says Mohammad, a junior student at a law school in Tehran, “but only if you’re sitting in a cafe in Washington, D.C. getting your news from the so-called reformists on social media.”
Mohammad is not alone in his disdain for the "pundits" in the West, whom he believes "whitewash" the true situation in Iran from the comfort of their homes. “It’s not that they can’t see; they choose not to see,” he says, visibly frustrated.
Unlike Rana, Mohammad was “positive” all along that he wasn't going to vote. He thinks a “moderate” president could mean more repression.
"The hardline fundamentalists have a scapegoat now,” he says: “A so-called reformist administration that they can blame for all sources of popular discontent."
Mohammad continues: "We’ve seen it before, in the fall of 2019, when they killed 1,500 protesters, shut down the Internet for several days, and pinned it all on the supposedly moderate government of Rouhani for mishandling people’s reaction to the rise in petrol prices. That was Rouhani, a grandee of the Islamic Republic, and they broke his back. His government's second term was as bad as that of any hardline government."
Mohammad describes Pezeshkian as a "meek and yielding lightweight" with an even weaker popular mandate, citing an example from one of his first speeches after being elected, where the President couldn't be bothered to finish and instead told his supporters to read it when it was published. "Pezeshkian is no match for those who hold the real power in Iran," Mohammad says. “The more they clash up there [parliament], the more we [the people] lose down here. It’s best if the hardliners control everything, then all this sh*t would be on them.”
Not everybody agrees with Mohammad.
More than 16 million voted for Pezeshkian, many in the hope of seeing what Mohammad fears: discord among those in power. They didn’t want to see the hardliners heading all three branches of government, however nominal the division might be in Iran. They believe any crack in the political structure could be an opening for people to breathe. In their final analysis – which is also the premise of their argument – the president wields some power, and it does matter who holds that office. They don’t expect any grand breakthrough (like the revival of the nuclear deal). The tiniest of changes, anything that could slow what they see as the destruction of their country, would do.
This is in fact the theme on which Pezeshkian and his team built their campaign. Their slogan was “For Iran,” a rallying call for Iranians to put aside their rage against the state and think of their homeland; vote, not for a politician, but for Iran. It was a successful campaign that won them the presidency, albeit with a historically low turnout.
Then, of course, there are those who don’t trust the official figures in the first place. They are not few. They view the election as a “show”: scripted, cast, and directed by the Supreme Leader’s office. According to Parsa, 29, a junior clerk in a public organization:“Pezeshkian is [Khamenei’s] pick. He is who he wanted from the beginning.” Parsa goes on: “Just ask yourself this: How come he was allowed to run for president when he was barred from the parliamentary election only a few months ago?”
Interestingly, Pezeshkian had previously been disqualified by the Guardian Council, the 12-member body responsible for vetting candidates in every election in Iran, from becoming a member of Parliament.
“Khamenei wanted the reformist bunch back in government to check the power of the hardliners, while [also] shielding them both and himself from popular rage if things were to go wrong,” Parsa adds: “In a few weeks or months, when people once more take to the streets, Pezeshkian and his administration will be the first in the line of fire. That is his main function: to shield Khamenei and to restore the cover that was shattered in the 2022 protests.”
The president-elect would be proud. Parsa might sound overly suspicious, conspiratorial even, but either way, Pezeshkian has made it abundantly clear that he would walk the Supreme Leader’s line.
Shortly after the election, he canceled a press conference to go see Khamenei. “His campaign slogan was 'For Iran,'” Parsa says, smiling as he adds: “If the Leader sees fit, of course.”
