Europe Solidaire Sans Frontières
One of my friends asked me, “What’s happening in Iran?”
It was a simple question, but answering it has become not only difficult, but terrifying. In a country struck by both repression and missiles, it’s not just the roofs that collapse—language has collapsed too. People are trapped under rubble, but stories are buried. The truth, as it is lived, is no longer spoken. And what is spoken can no longer be trusted.
Right here, in the middle of silence and smoke, a bigger question arises:
Are we on the edge of a full-scale war?
Are Israel’s recent attacks on Iranian territory—with deadly consequences for civilians—the beginning of something larger? And if so, how could this war reshape the fate of the Iranian people, the situation in Gaza, and the fragile balance of the Middle East?
You cannot answer these questions only by analyzing military strategies or official slogans. You have to look inside wounded cities—at defenseless bodies, destroyed homes, and voices still trying to be heard—even under rubble and fear.
Iran and Israel share no border. The war has fallen from the sky onto society, but as always, it’s the people who carry the weight. According to Iran’s Ministry of Health, since the beginning of Israel’s attacks and up to the time of writing this, hundreds have been killed and thousands have been injured; 90% of them were civilians.
Stories from a Bombed City
Contrary to official propaganda that tries to reduce this war to a series of strikes on nuclear infrastructure, military sites, or targeted assassinations of commanders and scientists, a field report by Ham-Mihan newspaper paints a different picture. The report is written by Elaheh Mohammadi and Sanaz Sabzi. Mohammadi is the same journalist who was imprisoned in 2022 for her report on the burial of Jina/Mahsa Amini. They write about streets bent under the weight of destruction, homes that no longer exist, and people who don’t know how to redefine life from scratch.
In Abshouri alley near Patrice Lumumba Street, hours after the bombing, people stand in silence, watching bulldozers dig through a mound of dirt, twisted metal, and the remains of a house that was wiped out overnight by an Israeli missile. It was the home of Ahmad Zolfaghari—a nuclear scientist—and his son. Their bodies remained buried in the rubble for hours. Eight people were killed. But what remains is not only death—it’s uncertainty. An elderly woman thrown back by the blast says: “If it had been an earthquake, we’d know where to go. But where do we go now?”
In the Orchid residential complex in Shahrara, the wall of one apartment has been ripped away. The Hajimiri family—father, mother, and their daughter Tara—all died. Tara, a young athlete, was found in the morgue by her friends. In the same neighborhood, the blast threw a pregnant woman, Majid’s wife, into a tree. She survived, but still hadn’t found her husband’s body.
In Marzdaran, Leila and her sixteen-year-old daughter were jolted awake by the explosion, thinking for a moment their house was collapsing. Sepehr, a resident of Sa’adat Abad, saw a warplane fly overhead at low altitude and said: “This war will create the same trauma for my child that the war of the 1980s created for us.”
Among the ruins, there’s a name people can’t forget: Zahra Shams, also known as Najmeh. A kind, active woman who loved nature and cycling, killed in the Israeli strike. One of her friends said: “She always used to say, ‘We are all human beings.’”
Around the bombed neighborhoods, colorful blankets now cover shattered windows. Families don’t know whether to stay or go. Some stare blankly at the rubble, powerless in the face of fate. What Ham-Mihan has gathered from the voices of survivors is more than a report—it’s evidence. Whatever name you give this war, it comes from above, but its dust always settles on the faces of the people.
International Law, the Unequal Weight of Nations and Responsibility
The claim that Iran poses a “threat” to Israel has been a staple of Tel Aviv’s official discourse for years—echoed alongside recurring statements from Islamic Regime leaders, from Khamenei to IRGC commanders, including the infamous “countdown to Israel’s destruction” displayed in Palestine Square, Tehran. Yet despite inspection challenges, the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) has so far found no evidence that Iran is actively pursuing nuclear weapons. Multiple U.S. intelligence reports—widely cited in recent days—also confirm there is no ongoing nuclear weapons program.
Still, the balance of legal and political power in international relations is far from equal. International law may appear universal on paper, but in practice it is shaped, interpreted, and enforced by the very powers that drafted it. Iran is neither among those powers, nor seen as a major actor in the current global order—despite extensive efforts in recent years to break into that sphere. Even Russia and China, its apparent allies, have consistently avoided direct involvement in crises of this nature. Their strong political and economic ties with Israel—China alone exported nearly $19 billion worth of goods to Israel in 2024—make Tel Aviv’s security a high-stakes issue for them. On the other side, Europe, shaken by energy crises and internal fragmentation, at best views Iran as a source of “regional instability,” not a potential partner for managing it.
Nevertheless, none of these realities absolve the Islamic Republic of its basic responsibilities. Every government—regardless of its place in the international order—is obligated to protect the security and interests of its citizens. This duty cannot be fulfilled through inflammatory slogans or pursuit of strategic goals that bring no real benefit to the country. Instead, it must be grounded in preventing Iranian soil from becoming a battlefield for regional and global power struggles. Regime officials should have recognized that any political strategy threatening the security of another UN member state would eventually provoke retaliation. Today, with enemy aircraft dominating Iranian airspace, it’s clear just how hollow those boasts of military superiority and false assurances of “no war” really were.
In Iran, the questions being asked are different—and valid. Why has so much been sacrificed for a project that has brought no tangible benefit and only increased dependence on others, especially China and Russia? The Bushehr nuclear power plant doesn’t even provide 1% of Iran’s electricity. Moreover, just two weeks ago, the former head of Iran’s Atomic Energy Organization revealed that Russia never allowed Iranian-made fuel to be used in the reactor. Meanwhile, China abandoned its joint uranium extraction project with Iran under U.S. pressure and in pursuit of access to more advanced nuclear technologies elsewhere. This left Iranian officials calling for greater independence—yet the country’s isolation from the international community stalled any real development.
So again, the question stands: why bear such a heavy cost, especially when Iran is already overwhelmed by multiple, interlinked crises?
Two Destructive Dreams: The Islamic Republic and Israel
For global and Western audiences, the slogans of Islamic Regime officials about the destruction of Israel, or the speeches of Israeli leaders like Netanyahu about defending democracy and civilization, may be the only narratives mainstream media point their spotlight at. But to truly understand what is happening, we need to look at two competing dreams of power—two opposing projects that appear to be at war with each other, yet in practice have taken people on all sides hostage.
On one side stands the Islamic Republic—a regime whose very existence has been built on surviving in a state of war. This system has no meaning without an enemy. From the 1980s to today, it has consistently maintained the image of a foreign threat in order to suppress domestic dissent. From the slogan “wipe Israel off the map” to the so-called “civilizational battle,” everything has served to securitize internal politics and silence society. No regime could rule over a rebellious, exhausted, and protesting population like this without constantly reproducing a sense of emergency.
On the other side stands Israel—a state whose foreign policy, especially in recent decades, has aimed to reshape the region through the destabilization of neighboring states. It has used the legitimate trauma of World War II and the Holocaust to justify nearly every action. Yet it must be noted that anti-war movements and voices opposing the oppression of Palestinians inside Israel were among the first to take to the streets and condemn this war. Just days ago, Netanyahu’s government was on the verge of collapse.
For the Islamic Republic and Israeli leaders like Netanyahu, Iran is not a country of 90 million people with diverse languages, cultures, beliefs, and ways of life—it is simply a threat to be contained, whether through systematic repression, blockade, or even bombing. These two dreams converge at one point: the erasure of society.
In both of their eyes, the people of Iran are either a threat or a number—never political subjects, never masters of their own fate. The Islamic Republic has pushed people off the stage to sustain its authoritarian order through enemy-making. Israel, through total disregard for these people, has placed them in the line of fire—costing them their lives, homes, and peace of mind. It doesn’t matter what Netanyahu says or what slogans he repeats—the reality is in front of the Iranian people, and it will remain in our collective memory.
It’s precisely here that the Iranian Writers’ Association—an organization whose members have faced censorship and repression from the Pahlavi era to the Islamic Republic (and we must not forget the brutal killings of several of its members in the 1990s chain murders)—writes in its recent statement:
“There is now a real fear that the achievements of the 1401 freedom movement (Woman, Life, Freedom), which itself grew out of many earlier uprisings, may be erased in the midst of this aggression—and that in the scorched earth left behind, new forms of extreme nationalism, far-right politics, and neo-fascism may grow. Especially since for both sides—Israel and the Islamic Republic—war is a ‘blessing’ they feed off.”
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Voices from Below
In these days when bombing, repression, and propaganda move forward in parallel, the real voices of the people cannot be found in official channels or in the tweets of most political figures. The people of Iran are not in the palaces of power or at opposition conferences. They live under rubble, in hospital queues, behind prison gates, and on rooftops where windows have shattered.
At such moments, hearing a voice that rises directly from within society becomes even more important. A joint statement from five independent labor organizations—including the Tehran Bus Workers’ Syndicate, the Haft-Tappeh Sugarcane Workers’ Syndicate, the Retirees’ Alliance, and the Coordination Committee—is perhaps the clearest example of such a voice. In this statement, war is firmly condemned, with unmistakable clarity:
“We, the workers and toilers of Iran, have for many years paid a heavy price—prison, torture, execution, dismissal, threats, and beatings—for our right to basic living standards. We are still denied the right to organize, to gather, and to speak freely. Workers and toilers in this country are rightfully furious and fed up with the Islamic Republic and the capitalists who, for over four decades, have amassed enormous wealth on our backs while keeping us in constant insecurity and without rights. All officials and institutions involved in the repression and killing of workers, women, youth, and the oppressed people of Iran must be put on trial and punished by the people themselves.”
This is the position of organizations whose members are currently imprisoned. The statement notes that Israel’s attacks have not only targeted military zones but also living environments—homes, refineries, and workplaces—places where workers and their families live.
At the same time, they have no illusions about the anti-worker and repressive nature of the Islamic Republic. They point clearly to the root causes:
“From sanctions and corruption to the restriction of freedoms, all of these have, for years, destroyed the daily lives of Iran’s working class.”
This statement—issued by independent labor organizations that have long been under heavy repression—offers a third way, grounded in both political and moral clarity. It relies neither on the propaganda of “resistance,” nor on the promises of the White House or Tel Aviv. It draws its strength from the slogans of grassroots movements like Bread, Work, Freedom and Woman, Life, Freedom, and insists on the power of the people themselves.
And this is no marginal position; it is the heart of the matter. When war rains down from above, it is those below who best understand that no bomb brings justice. The same people who have lived for years between slow death and daily erasure are now demanding not only an immediate end to the war, but also the return of power to the people—not to armies, not to security agencies, and not to global powers.
What Comes Next?
It’s impossible to say when a ceasefire might happen — but one thing is clear: Iran and Israel will never make peace, at least not while the Islamic regime rules Tehran. Still, it’s unlikely that global powers, despite their official statements, truly want to change this situation from above. For Russia, which sees the world in terms of power balance, this war is useful. For the United States, the main goal is to turn Iran into a fully controlled state. China benefits from cheap Iranian oil and profitable trade with Israel, while watching from the side.
Today’s situation has created a strange contradiction: the Islamic Republic, which has never recognized Israel’s existence, is now forced to look for negotiations or a ceasefire through mediators. At the same time, Netanyahu is watching missiles from the IRGC hit Israeli cities, while his power and popularity are dropping fast. His government could fall at any moment, and then he may face international charges for war crimes.
But the Islamic Republic is in no position to set the terms. It now seems that the regime may have to accept two things it once called red lines: recognizing Israel, even de facto, and abandoning its nuclear program.
On the other hand, as mentioned before, Iranian society — especially the younger generation — is on a different path. One powerful voice from that generation is Toomaj Salehi, a popular young rapper whose song “Rat Hole” became an anthem during the “Woman, Life, Freedom” uprising. One sentence he said keeps being repeated across social media which can have a great lesson for many: “The enemy of my enemy is not my friend.”
Siyavash Shahabi
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