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Iran, a country that in its distant past played a significant role in the development of knowledge and laid the foundations upon which modern science now stands, has experienced a tremendous urge for scientific rebirth over the past century.
But Iranian scientists are facing a government that considers itself the manifestation of God’s will on Earth, that has no qualms about intimidation and oppression, and whose daily rhetoric revolves around the word “enemy”.
It wants its ideological model to be seen as the path to success and is terrified of criticism, quickly making everything from nuclear energy and the space industry to vaccination and public medical services into a security issue.
It may be no surprise that Iran’s nuclear programme is now securitised, and that the Supreme National Security Council demands silence or compliance from science and media institutions. The tool of national security has now become a pressure point in Iran for any thought that does not align with the government’s ideology.
I have covered science and technology news in Iran for more than 10 years. Although I’ve dealt with issues that were considered red lines on multiple occasions, the only time my colleagues and I received a death threat was when I published a story about the importance of blood transfusion and rejected the unscientific and dangerous practice of hijamat (cupping therapy – a form of Islamic traditional medicine). But that incident is in no way comparable to the deadly consequences of censorship that occurred during the Covid-19 pandemic.
When the pandemic was claiming lives, the supreme leader of the Islamic Republic, Ali Khamenei, banned the entry of vaccines from the USA and the UK into Iran. This was a decision that cost many lives.
The reaction of domestic media to this decision was silence under censorship, and when foreign media reacted they were accused of being agents of the enemy.
“You won’t find even one media outlet asking what the consequences of the leader’s decision were in this regard,” said one doctor and medical science activist, who asked to remain anonymous.
“Even Dr [Masoud] Pezeshkian, who is himself a physician, at that time – before his presidential election – when asked about the vaccine, said we didn’t want to import vaccines from certain countries based on our policy, although he was surely aware of the effects of this decision.”
While Iranian-made vaccines had not yet received their controversial approval, and parts of the Food and Drug Agency in the Ministry of Health were trying to enforce minimal oversight, the Ministry of Intelligence accused three scientists and managers of co-operating with the enemy and obstructing the approval of the vaccine.
It requested that the judiciary prosecute them.
Correspondence showing this was revealed only in a set of documents published by a hacker group called Ali’s Justice after it gained access to Iran’s judiciary.
In this correspondence, it was mentioned that, due to the matter’s sensitivity, the case should be investigated without informing the public or arresting the individuals. A few days later, the Barakat vaccine was approved in Iran.
Pressuring individuals active in scientific fields has a long history in Iran.
After the protests following the 2009 presidential election results, known as the Green Movement, several professors who supported them were expelled from universities. There were similar incidents after the events of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement.
In late January 2018, the intelligence agency of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps arrested several environmental activists involved in a project to save the endangered Asiatic cheetah. The Tehran prosecutor accused them of espionage.
But a panel including ministers of justice and lawyers announced that they had found no evidence of espionage. Even the Ministry of Intelligence stated that it had no evidence to support the charges.
One of those arrested was conservationist Kavous Seyed-Emami, a Canadian citizen. Two weeks after his arrest, prison authorities informed his family that he had killed himself.
However, his family believe that his death was due to physical injuries resulting from torture in prison, and signs of beating were visible on his body.
Another detainee was forced to confess on state television, and others served their sentences in full. Finally, after enduring six years of imprisonment without any evidence of the reasons for their arrest, the remaining detainees were released in April as part of a pardon.
One of the methods researchers used during the pandemic to estimate the actual mortality rate from Covid-19 and expose the discrepancies in official statistics was to refer to the monthly birth and death statistics published by the National Organisation for Civil Registration.
Mahan Ghafari, a virology specialist at the University of Oxford who followed this issue, told Index how, after the reports were published, the organisation restricted and stopped publishing this data. Eventually, access to the organisation’s website was blocked for those outside Iran.
Another part of this pressure involves halting international collaborations. Ghafari recalls how, after a paper was published with an Israeli co-author, the Iranian regime accused all the scientific findings of being a plan against Iran by Israel.
Scientists working on Iran-related issues from outside the country face the risk of harassment. Even their travel to Iran and visiting their families is affected, so many prefer to stay silent.
In the wave of arrests of environmental activists, Kaveh Madani, who at the time was the deputy for education and research at the Department of Environment, was also arrested. He repeatedly spoke about security interrogations and the review of his communications by security agencies.
Although the official reason for his arrest was not announced, his explicit warnings about Iran’s water bankruptcy and the impending water crisis were widely considered to be a driving factor.
Madani later left Iran and was appointed as the director of the UN think-tank on water.
The story of Madani’s arrest is often cited as a cautionary tale. When globally recognised Iranian experts return to help improve the situation in Iran, they not only have to battle the complex bureaucracy of the political structure but also face unaccountable political entities. They risk interrogation, arrest, imprisonment and even death. This situation only exacerbates the self-censorship among Iranian scientists living abroad.
An Iranian-American researcher currently working in cosmology, who asked not to be named, told Index about another aspect of structural censorship and the pressures it creates.
“I would love to do things alongside my professional work that bring science into people’s homes – lectures, talks with the media, sharing my experiences. However, due to the fear of being targeted by political groups inside the country and the limitation on my ability to travel to Iran, I have completely stopped these activities. This fear halted great opportunities that could have been used to promote science and help Iran’s scientific development,” they said.
They also pointed out how Iranian scientists outside the country faced dual pressures. While the security environment and censorship prevent them from criticising a scientific project in Iran, they are deprived of many research opportunities elsewhere because of their Iranian background.
Their funding is sometimes denied if they have dual nationality, and they face more difficulties in advancing in the scientific community of their host country.
When protests over the killing of Mahsa (Jina) Amini sparked the flames of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement in Iran, students and academic institutions were not spared from the assault. Not only were students attacked and suppressed, professors who raised their voices in support of them were also repressed.
Encieh Erfani, an assistant professor of physics at the Institute for Advanced Studies in Basic Sciences in Iran, resigned in 2022 in protest against the regime’s treatment of students and is now continuing her scientific activities outside the country. She told Index about the wider issues.
“The problem here is that the censorship structure has red lines that you know exist and, from experience, you know you should not even come close to them,” she said.
What Erfani points to is one of the most significant reasons for the intensification of self-censorship in Iran. The fear of unknowingly crossing red lines leads to conservatism in the scientific community – a community that can grow only by pushing existing boundaries.
Kiarash Aramesh, director of the Pennsylvania Western University’s James F Drane Bioethics Institute, which focuses on biomedical sciences and the humane treatment of patients, agrees. He recently published a book on pseudoscience in medicine in Iran.
“As long as you don’t oppose the principles of Islamic traditional medicine, you can publish your articles. But the scientific institution in Iran is so influenced by politics that even within the scientific community there will be opposition to you,” he said.
Beyond slowing down the process of scientific development, censorship in Iran is creating a corrupt environment from which anti-scientific and pseudoscientific trends emerge and thrive.
“When there is corruption in society, there is also corruption within the scientific community. Contrary to popular belief that scientists are always pure and honest people, they, too, are subject to this corruption. Under the conditions of a totalitarian regime, in the absence of transparency and freedom of criticism, even scientists may engage in unethical behaviours and participate in corruption for personal gain. Just as we have seen in history, this story repeats itself,” Erfani said.
Censorship in science in Iran is a many-faced monster that, on the one hand, forces scientists within the country into conservatism and, on the other hand, tries to ideologise the structure of science through threats and intimidation.
It has discouraged and prevented many Iranian scientists abroad from participating in scientific discourse and contributing to its development in Iran. It restricts international collaboration between Iranian and non-Iranian scientists and it creates a dark space for the growth of corruption – a situation exacerbated by the repression and threats against science media and free scientific journalism.
Doughty Street Chambers, Index on Censorship and Human Rights Foundation welcome news that their client, Iranian rapper and activist Toomaj Salehi, has been released from prison overnight by Iranian authorities.
Mr Salehi’s release comes after 753 days spent in prison in Isfahan. He was initially arrested in October 2022 for his involvement in the “Woman, Life, Freedom” protests triggered by the death of Mahsa Amini whilst in the custody of Iran’s morality police.
In April 2024, Mr Salehi was sentenced to death for crimes including “corruption on earth” – using his music and activism to support Iranian women and human rights in Iran. Even after his death sentence was overturned by Iran’s Supreme Court in July 2024, Mr Salehi remained in custody on a series of overlapping and shifting charges.
In May 2024, Mr Salehi’s counsel team at Doughty Street Chambers and Index on Censorship filed an Urgent Appeal with two UN Special Rapporteurs. In July 2024, Human Rights Foundation submiVed an individual complaint to the UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention, in conjunction with the counsel team at Doughty Street Chambers and Index on Censorship.
In response to the news of his release, Mr Salehi’s cousin, Arezou Eghbali Babadi, said:
“The regime tried to silence Toomaj with a death sentence, tortured him to death to break his spirit, and now, after so much pain and injustice, they released him. The truth is: Toomaj should never have been in prison at all. And the root cause still remains—the inhumanity of the regime in Iran, a system that thrives on oppression and fear. That’s why we must remain vigilant to ensure Toomaj stays safe and his voice for freedom is never silenced again.”
Caoilfhionn Gallagher KC, international counsel for Mr Salehi’s family, Index on Censorship, and Human Rights Foundation said:
“This is a time of celebration: our brave, brilliant client Toomaj Salehi is finally free, after 753 days’ imprisonment. Mr Salehi has long used his powerful art – his rapping, his music, his words – to support the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ movement and human rights in Iran. For this, the Iranian authorities have targeted him for years, attempting to silence him through arrests, imprisonment, torture, assaults, and even a death sentence.
But this is also a time for vigilance. Mr Salehi’s release has been achieved through sustained pressure upon the Iranian authorities, both inside and outside Iran. The world must not look away now: we must ensure Mr Salehi remains free and is never again subjected to the egregious violations of his rights which he has endured over the past 753 days.”
Jemimah Steinfeld, CEO of Index on Censorship, said:
“We are thrilled that Toomaj Salehi is finally free. He is a courageous and principled man who should never have been in jail. While he won’t be able to get back the years he has lost it is a relief for us to know he is reunited with his family. It has been a privilege to support Toomaj since his arrest and to work alongside brilliant colleagues at Doughty Street Chambers and Human Rights Foundation. Our thoughts are with Toomaj today. We are also thinking of the many other political prisoners still behind bars in Iran simply for exercising their free expression. Our fight for their rights continues.”
Claudia Bennett, legal and programs officer at Human Rights Foundation, said:
“HRF celebrates Toomaj’s release but demands the Iranian regime end its cycle of injustice. After enduring 753 days of wrongful detention, Toomaj should never face such persecution again. Even one more day behind bars on bogus charges is unacceptable. Let Toomaj rap, express himself, and live freely—this is his right, and it’s time the regime respects it.”
Speaking on X, Mr Salehi’s friend and manager of his social media accounts, Negin Niknaam, said:
“Toomaj Salehi, the son of Iran, after enduring 753 days of cruel, unjust and undocumented re-incarceration, by going through the excuses and legal games of those with interests, was released today on December 11, 1403 from Dastgerd prison in Isfahan, and the prisoner who was taken was victorious. He returned to the arms of his big family. While expressing joy and happiness at the end of more than one year, 9 months and 21 days of this cruel double captivity, we will wait for the end of all cases and false accusations and the complete and unconditional release of Toomaj.”
Notes to Editors:
• The international legal team at Doughty Street Chambers is led by Caoilfhionn Gallagher KC, working with barristers Jonathan Price, Sam Jacobs and Nikila Kaushik. Any press queries for the international legal team should be directed to [email protected] or [email protected].
• Any press queries for Index on Censorship should be directed to Jemimah Steinfeld on [email protected].
• Any press queries for the Human Rights Foundation should be directed to Claudia Bennett at [email protected] or [email protected].
• Previous statements with more background information regarding the UN appeals and the quashing of Toomaj Salehi’s death sentence are available:
– Statement of 3rd May 2024: Urgent Appeal filed with United Nations for Iranian rapper sentenced to death for his music
– Statement of 22nd June 2024: Iran’s Supreme Court Overturns Death Sentence given to Iran Rapper Toomaj Salehi
– Statement of 24th July 2024: Index on Censorship, Human Rights Foundation and Doughty Street Chambers submit complaint to UN
Working Group on Arbitrary Detention in response to Ongoing Judicial Persecution of Toomaj Salehi
– Statement of 24th September 2024: Iranian Rapper Toomaj Salehi: United Nations Member States urged to press Iranian President to
release him immediately
• More background about Toomaj Salehi is available on social media, at @OfficialToomaj (X) and @ToomajOfficial (Instagram). More details of the
campaign can be found using the hashtag #FreeToomaj.
• Toomaj Salehi was the winner in the arts category of Index on Censorship’s Freedom of Expression Awards in 2023. More details of the award here.
Rap is not a crime. Calling for human rights and democracy is not a crime. Standing up in solidarity with the courageous women who took to the streets to protest their rights is not a crime. Yet, the fact that such basic truths need to be stated is a damning reflection of the current state of affairs in Iran. My family knows this harsh reality all too well. My cousin, the renowned rapper Toomaj Salehi, remains unjustly imprisoned.
Two years ago today, Toomaj was arrested. Due to the opaque nature of the Iranian justice system, we only know what has been communicated through the state’s propaganda channels. The Public and Revolutionary Prosecutor of Isfahan, Seyed Mohammad Mousavian, listed my cousin’s charges as “propaganda against the regime, cooperation with hostile states, and establishing an illegal group with the intention of disrupting national security.” Speaking to the Mizan News Agency, Mousavian added: “The accused played a key role in creating disturbances and inviting and encouraging the recent disturbances in Isfahan province and in Shahinshahr city.”
For our family, translating statements like these have become second nature. Simply put, the Islamic Republic’s power rests on inconsistency, vagaries and arbitrariness, instilling fear in the people. But voices like Toomaj, who declare “we are not afraid of you and stand with women demanding basic human rights” have shaken that foundation. They arrested him due to his influence and courage and because his music was seen as a threat. For the authorities, his prominence meant that if they could silence him, they could silence anyone.
But they underestimated my cousin.
Toomaj has always been outspoken, never backing down from telling the truth. While many Iranian artists use metaphors to cloak their criticism, Toomaj’s music speaks plainly and directly. His words shine a light on the reality that many cannot name. He always seeks to be clear and easily understood by everyone. This clarity was a reason he was popular and a reason he has been targeted.
His arrest two years ago wasn’t his first. On 13 September 2021, Toomaj was arrested at his home on charges of “insulting the Supreme Leader” and “propaganda against the regime”, following the release of his song Mouse Hole, which called out the “corporate journalist, cheap informer, court artist” who support the regime’s persecution of dissidents. He was released on bail on 21 September 2021 and one of the first things Toomaj did was record a music video, filmed outside the prison he had been held in.
Justice in Iran comes in waves – dark then light then dark – and our fight for Toomaj is no different. After his second arrest on 30 October 2022, he was sentenced to prison in July 2023. He was then released from Isfahan Central Prison on 18 November 2023 on bail, only for the darkness to return when he was rearrested less than two weeks later after he told the world about the torture and mistreatment he received.
Then in April 2024 we received the news that everyone who has a family member in prison dreads – reports that Toomaj was facing the death sentence. The light came when this was overturned by the Supreme Court but the bulb is flickering. He remains in prison facing new charges as the regime still intends to keep him imprisoned for as long as possible.
We are one of the thousands of families forced into campaigning for our loved one’s release after the brutal clampdown following the protests that erupted after the death of Mahsa Amini while in custody. Many have been robbed of the hope of ever seeing their family members again as a number of protesters have been executed by the regime. At a time when women risked everything to demand their rights, Toomaj knew standing alongside them was the only right thing left to do and that his music and visibility could bring more attention to their courage. This is why the regime has been so threatened and so willing to persecute him – holding him in solitary confinement, torturing him, threatening him with the death sentence and withholding medical treatment.
Toomaj’s resilience is unshakable, fueled by his unwavering pursuit of freedom. It is this vision that gives him the strength to keep fighting, no matter the obstacles. It is now up to the international community to stand up and exert pressure on Iran to demand his immediate release. The world must not remain silent – it must speak out like my cousin did when he saw wrongdoing and injustice.
In a perceptive video essay titled Irani Bag, made in 2020, Maryam Tafakory illustrates how Iranian filmmakers get around the Islamic taboo on touch. Interweaving her commentary with film clips from 1989 to 2018, she highlights how bags have long been a recurring device in Iranian films, allowing men and women to “touch” on screen.
In one clip, a man and a woman riding on a motorbike are separated – or connected – by a bag lying between them. It functions as a substitute for human touch or an object of shared intimacy.
A bag can also be an extension of the body, and Tafakory demonstrates how men and women in these scenes repeatedly push, pull or strike each other using bags.
By contrast, in the scenes she shows without a bag, hands hover centimetres away from another person – the actors forbidden from touching.
If no direct contact materialises on screen, the filmmaker can dodge censorship. And, as Tafakory shows, Iranian cinema has developed a cinematic language “to touch without touching”.
Touch is not the only prohibition in Iranian cinema. The government has sought to align cinema and other arts with its interpretation of Islamic principles, and an overarching rule is gender segregation, which prevents men and women who are not mahram (related by blood or marriage) from interacting with each other.
As part of this, the wearing of the veil in public is strictly policed, as witnessed by Mahsa Jina Amini’s police custody death in 2022 and the ensuing Woman, Life, Freedom protests. Since cinema is regarded as a public space, female characters are always expected to be veiled – even indoors with their families where they would not wear veils in real life.
Cinema is regulated by the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance (MCIG). Directors must submit their synopsis or screenplay for a production permit and, later, their completed film for a screening permit. At each stage they can be asked to make changes or otherwise risk censorship. When a film is released, the Iranian press can accuse the makers of siāh-namāyi: presenting the country in a negative light.
There are some obvious red lines for the censors: no direct criticism of Islam or Iran’s Islamic Republic, nothing too violent, and certainly no sex. But MCIG guidelines are not detailed, so moviemakers have learned other censorship criteria through trial and error.
What is permissible is always shifting due to changes in society and filmmakers pushing against boundaries.
It is important to observe that state censorship is not the only obstacle that Iranian filmmakers encounter. International funders and markets impose expectations of what their films should be about. Indeed, many filmmakers have reported to me that they find these restrictions to be as challenging as censorship.
But where censorship is concerned, filmmakers who want to explore intimacy and other sensitive topics must find creative ways to work around imposed constraints. This is reminiscent of Hollywood under the Production Code from 1934 to 1966 when political, religious and cultural restrictions on filmmaking compelled directors to employ subtle techniques that left more to viewers’ imaginations.
In Iranian cinema in the 1980s and 1990s, it was noticeable how often key roles were given to children. This was partly a creative response to new taboos as, in the early decades of the Islamic Republic, filmmakers realised that children could overcome constraints of gender segregation by acting as adult substitutes or purifiers of male-female contact.
For example, when the protagonist Nobar shares intimate moments with her lover Rasul in The Blue Veiled (1995), her youngest sibling, Senobar, serves as a mediator. Senobar even rests her head in Rasul’s lap, a proxy for her sister. The child lends an innocent aura to an erotically charged scene.
Children can also cross social boundaries and navigate between private and public spaces. In Jafar Panahi’s debut feature The White Balloon (1995), a little girl, Razieh, embarks on a quest to buy a goldfish for Nowruz (Persian New Year) and encounters people from different walks of life on Tehran’s streets, including an Afghan balloon seller.
Filmmakers have subtly used children to highlight Iran’s sociopolitical realities, among them the after-effects of the Iran-Iraq war (as in the 1989 film Bashu, the Little Stranger), the plight of the country’s Afghan minorities (The White Balloon) and the Kurds’ hardships on the Iran-Iraq border (for example, A Time for Drunken Horses from 2000, or 2004’s Turtles Can Fly).
The political climate has waxed and waned as moderate and hardline governments have relaxed censorship restrictions and tightened them again. Yet intermediaries for male-female contact have been enduring ploys throughout.
In one of several storylines in Tehran: City of Love (2018), a woman called Mina dates a man, Reza, who ultimately confesses he is married. As consolation, he couriers her a giant teddy bear. Subsequently, Mina is seen waiting at a bus shelter side-by-side with the gargantuan soft toy – Reza’s comic stand-in.
Another creative solution has been the use of the road movie genre. Simultaneously private and public, a car is a space that allows small, everyday transgressions. Being in a car relaxes the rules of compulsory veiling and encourages behaviour normally kept behind closed doors. It emboldens people to express themselves more freely. Filmmakers tap its emancipatory potential in both their production strategies and their on-screen representations.
In Ten (2002), a female passenger, whose fiancé has jilted her, removes her headscarf to reveal her head shaved in mourning and as a token of a new beginning. In Panahi’s Taxi Tehran (2015) – his third feature made clandestinely since his 2010 filmmaking ban – a series of passengers take a taxi. The cabbie is Panahi himself, masquerading in a beret. Before his ban, he was accustomed to filming in the bustling outdoors. With the car and small digital cameras, he can shoot outside again.
One of his passengers is lawyer Nasrin Sotoudeh, renowned for her work defending political prisoners. Like Panahi, she has been repeatedly imprisoned and banned from leaving Iran and practising her profession. As she gets out, she advises him to delete her words from his film to avoid more hassle from authorities. This is an underground film – made illegally, without official permits, and distributed on Iran’s black market and abroad. So Sotoudeh’s words survive the edit, registering the film’s furtive mode of production.
In Atomic Heart (2015), we first encounter Arineh and Nobahar intoxicated after a party. They are part of a modern, Westernised subculture that likes to revel, drink and take drugs, and largely rejects the Islamic Republic’s values. As their anti-regime attitude cannot be directly shown, the film hints at their unconventional lifestyle by inhabiting the road movie genre – associated with freedom and rebellion – as they whirl around nocturnal Tehran. The film evokes the subversive behaviour of real-life Iranian youth who, given restrictions on public gathering as well as bans on nightclubs and disapproval of open displays of romantic affection, have taken to the highways, especially at night.
Inserting a story within a story is a further tactic for circumventing censorship. In The Salesman (2016), Emad and Rana perform Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman in an amateur theatre group. The film mirrors the play, highlighting the couple’s relationship after Rana is assaulted by an intruder in their apartment – a scene left unshown to avoid censorship and engage the audience in speculating about what transpired between Rana and her attacker. In the story within a story, meaning is multi-layered, residing in the inner as well as the outer tale.
Since short films are less strictly regulated by screening permit requirements, directors are bypassing these rules by composing feature films from several shorts. Mohammad Rasoulof’s There Is No Evil (2020) comprises four short stories about characters involved in the state’s capital punishment system. Given Rasoulof’s filmmaking ban, his production team tactically applied for four short film permits without listing his name on the forms.
In Tales (2014), which was also created as multiple shorts joined together as a feature, a documentary filmmaker character shoots a film within a film. When an official notices his camera filming a workers’ protest, the recording halts. The film segues to the next story, suggesting the camera’s confiscation. Later, the filmmaker retrieves his camera without the seized footage. He determines to continue filming, stating: “No film will ever stay in the closet. Someday, somehow, whether we’re here or not, these films will be shown.” His words reflect a popular Iranian saying that a film’s purpose is to be shown to an audience.
These kinds of strategies are testament to Iranian filmmakers’ creativity. Although they cannot be overtly critical of the regime, they have developed resourceful ways to try to ensure that their films can explore sensitive topics and still be shown.