Iran International
Tehran is turning to quieter, more insidious forms of repression: cutting citizens off from their mobile phone numbers without notice or pressuring them to shut down their often popular social-media accounts.
Women and men who defy the government—by appearing unveiled or sharing critical content—have in recent weeks discovered their SIM cards abruptly disabled, locking them out of banking, public services and even judicial notices.
The tactic signals a shift toward low-visibility punishment that avoids the spectacle and political cost of arrests.
The shutdowns come without warning.
Donya Rad, a script supervisor who became an early symbol of the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement after posting an unveiled photo in a Tehran teahouse in 2022, said this month that her line had been cut under what officials described as “special measures.”
Rad, who was arrested shortly after that photo went viral, drew fresh attention last month after sharing an image of herself in shorts on a Tehran street.
Shortly afterward, her SIM was blocked. And it remains so weeks later.
“Because I can’t make online purchases—no SIM card, no verification codes—I think I should go on a diet,” she posted on X on Sunday.
“I’ve already had to ask (my sister) Dina to buy my theater tickets, top up my internet, book hotels. I’m going to bed so I don’t end up texting her to order food for me too,” she joked.
‘Communication is my right’
Rad’s post triggered a wave of responses from others who had not previously publicized their own blocking—and the cascade of problems that followed.
Parisa Salehi, a journalist and former political prisoner, said her SIM had been cut months earlier, also without notice. She wrote on X that she refuses to petition prosecutors for its reinstatement.
“Communication is my right,” she said. “My life is already disrupted. I’ve been expelled from university, lost my job, served prison, and now can’t even access the court-notification system.”
Others described being shut out of essential services like banking that require mobile-number verification.
Women’s-rights advocates say the practice is designed to punish and pressure women into conforming to state-mandated dress codes.
New tools of control
The tactic has expanded well beyond hijab enforcement.
After the 12-day war between Israel and Iran earlier this year, security agencies disabled the SIM cards of dozens of citizens in an effort to control reporting and mute criticism.
Several said they were instructed to delete posts, sign pledges not to criticize the government and publish supportive content before their numbers would be restored.
Former journalist turned podcaster Elaheh Khosravi said on X that she will soon lose access to her account and urged followers to keep listening to her podcast. Rad herself promoted Khosravi’s latest episode.
Saeed Sozangar, a network-security instructor and active X user, condemned the tactic as a perversion of Iran’s digital infrastructure.
“E-government has become a tool of control in the hands of a reckless state,” he wrote. “Practices that are illegal even under this system are being carried out casually, with zero accountability.”
No basis in law
Legal experts have also criticized the practice.
In an interview with the moderate daily Shargh, attorney Shahla Orooji said that only a court can impose punishment, and only if it is explicitly provided for in law.
“This measure is neither recognized as a primary punishment nor a supplementary one,” she said. “It is a deprivation of rights and unlawful.”
Another lawyer, Mohammad Oliaei-Fard, said the cutoffs violate the Islamic Republic’s own constitutional protections.
“If a court sought to take this step, due process would be required — including a fair trial and a legally defined punishment,” he said.
Instead, he argued, authorities are imposing “silent, invisible penalties” that evade official scrutiny.
Across Iran’s rice-producing provinces, several main varieties are prized, and priced, above others, including the premium Tarom Hashemi, and the cheaper Fajr and Shiroudi varieties.
Research by Iran International shows that premium Tarom Hashemi rice is now being sold for up to four million rials (about $3.56) per kilogram.
A year ago, it sold for around 1.2 million rials (about $1.07) – a rise of more than 230% in just twelve months.
“Last year I bought this same rice for 1.2 million rials,” said Farhad, 38, from Karaj. “Now it’s 3.5 million, and I am sure it's not as genuine as it once was. Khamenei has spent over four decades chasing war, missiles and chanting ‘death to this or that.’ Now we can’t even afford rice.”
In Tehran, Fereshteh, a mother of two, said prices have soared in recent months. “Five months ago, it was 1.87 million rials (about $1.66). Today in the supermarket, it’s 3.57 million (about $3.17),” she told Iran International.
Rising inflation and a weakening currency have helped drive up costs of living in Iran and economic pain has deepened as Western and European-triggered international sanctions compound the country's international isolation.
A standoff over Iran's disputed nuclear program lingers as negotiations to resolve the impasse appear elusive. Tehran, which denies seeking nuclear weapons, rejects US demands to end domestic enrichment and rein in its missile capabilities and support for armed allies in the region.
The latest figures from Tehran’s Municipal Market Organization – where goods are sold below retail – show Tarom Hashemi rice each priced at 3.35 million rials (about $2.97) per kilogram, with other varieties ranging between 2.1 million rials ($1.87) and 2.75 million rials ($2.44).
Yet shoppers say such prices are deceptive as they allege stores mix low-grade grains into premium brands. True top-quality rice, they say, now costs between 3.5 million rials ($3.11) and 4 million rials ($3.56) per kilo.
Mid-range varieties also more pricey
Recent market data show that Shiroudi rice, which sold for 830,000 rials (about $0.74) per kilogram last November, now ranges between 2.1 million rials (about $1.87) and 2.35 million rials (about $2.09). Based on the lowest price, this marks a 153% annual increase.
Fajr rice has followed a similar trajectory: it rose from 900,000 rials (about $0.80) per kilogram last year to 2–2.75 million rials (about $1.78–$2.44) today – an increase of at least 122%.
One kilogram of Iranian rice feeds about five people.
Iran International’s analysis shows that each plate of rice now costs 800,000 to 1 million rials (about 71-89 cents), while even a single spoonful costs at least around 40,000 rials (about 4 cents).
For a family of four, consuming rice once daily – about 15 to 20 kilograms per month – means spending 70 to 100 million rials (about $62–$89), nearly half the average Iranian monthly income, which stands below $200.
Rice, once described as the daily heartbeat of Iranian cuisine, has become a measure of economic despair.
“I grew up in Gilan where rice was sacred,” said Mitra, 51, a retired teacher. “Now I can’t even afford one bag. What kind of country turns its own staple into gold?”
“Iranian rice has a unique aroma, texture, and flavor that perfectly matches our cuisine,” said Banafsheh, 44, from Tehran. “Foreign varieties – Indian, Pakistani, or Thai – can never replace it in Iranian cooking.
"Our rice is what we serve at gatherings; it’s a sign of respect for guests," she added. "But now, many of us can’t even fill our own plates with it. We’ve been forced to switch to foreign rice, and even that is becoming unaffordable.”
Profiteering, mismanagement
“While the global price for premium rice is about one dollar per kilogram, Iranian consumers pay the equivalent of over three dollars,” Agricultural economist Amir Aghajanian, a member of the Rice Producers Association, told the state-run Fars news agency.
Production costs for northern farmers, he said, are around 1.45 million rials (about $1.29) per kilogram, but middlemen push retail prices above 3.5 million rials (about $3.11). “Excessive profit-taking and weak market oversight have inflated prices far beyond production costs,” Aghajanian asserted.
Iran’s agriculture minister recently revealed that one importer earned $250 million in illicit profit through price manipulation and hoarding, highlighting deep flaws in import oversight.
Other agricultural experts say the crisis runs deeper: rising input costs, fragmented farmlands and outdated tools all push production expenses higher.
“When farmers use traditional methods on small plots, costs rise naturally,” one rice market analyst in Lahijan told Fars. “But when corrupt traders control imports, consumers suffer twice.”
For centuries, rice has anchored Iranian cuisine – from Chelo Kabab, the classic dish of steamed rice served with grilled meat, to Zereshk Polo, rice cooked with barberries and saffron next to chicken.
But in today’s Iran, families ration it like medicine. “Even foreign rice is slipping out of reach,” Farhad from Karaj added. “Our dinner tables are shrinking while the government talks about resistance and dignity.”
As one grocer told Iran International, “Rice was the food of everyone – rich and poor. Now it’s become the food of memory.”
