Imagine being shot in the face with pellets, your skin marked with bruises and welts, all for daring to protest. This is the stark reality for some Iranians, as they describe the violence and fear gripping their nation. At the border crossing into Iraqi Kurdistan, a chilling scene unfolds: the stern gaze of Ayatollah Khomeini, Iran’s former supreme leader, looms over a trickle of Iranians fleeing their homeland. Thick snowflakes blanket the lorries and pedestrians navigating this remote mountain pass, while just beyond the border post, an Iranian flag flutters defiantly in the cold wind.
Despite shutting down the internet and blocking phone calls, Iran’s borders remain open. Inside the arrivals hall, families and individuals gather, many visiting relatives on the Iraqi side. But here’s where it gets controversial: while no one openly admits to fleeing due to the protests and government crackdown, one man—his identity concealed—shares a harrowing tale. He was shot with seven pellet rounds during a protest in central Iran, his face a map of bruises and embedded pellets. “I had to use a razor blade to cut one out,” he reveals, his voice trembling. Too afraid to seek medical help, he’s just one of many living in terror of arrest.
And this is the part most people miss: the crackdown isn’t just about physical violence. It’s psychological. A friend’s 12-year-old son was shot in the leg with live ammunition, a bullet lodged in his shin. They’re too terrified to go to the hospital, fearing arrest. Iran’s regime views these protests as an existential threat, and their response has been brutal. Rights groups estimate at least 2,500 people have been killed, and while the streets may seem quieter, the dissent lingers.
Several individuals insist protests continued into this week, even as security forces crushed demonstrations in towns like Fardis and Malard. “My friends were there,” one protester shares. “We were constantly on the phone. On Tuesday night, the protests were still going on, but I haven’t heard anything since.” Iranians cross the border freely, and officials confirm regular traffic, yet the BBC and other international media are barred from reporting inside Iran, making it nearly impossible to verify ongoing protests.
Here’s the real question: Is the government’s repression truly working? While the streets may appear calm, the economic crisis that sparked this unrest remains unresolved. A teacher from a border town sums it up: “We don’t want anything more than our basic rights—a house, a car, a normal life. My salary lasts 10 days, and I have to borrow money to survive the rest of the month. It’s unbearable.”
When asked about U.S. President Donald Trump’s threat of military intervention, her response is chilling: “We’re waiting to see what Trump does. In the meantime, civilians are getting killed.” Iran’s leaders may have crushed the protests, but their actions reveal a deeper vulnerability. Weakened by regional conflicts and depleted military capabilities, the regime is struggling to maintain control. But here’s the bigger picture: behind the repression lies a growing fear—the Islamic Republic is failing to meet its people’s most basic demands: protection and prosperity.
As Iran reasserts its control from behind this mountainous border, one can’t help but wonder: How long can this fragile balance last? What do you think? Is Iran’s crackdown a sign of strength or desperation? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
