Editor’s note: While the Stimson Center rarely publishes anonymous work, the author of this commentary is a Tehran-based analyst who has requested anonymity out of legitimate concern for their personal safety. The writer is known to appropriate staff, has a track record of reliable analysis, and is in a position to provide an otherwise unavailable perspective.
The issue of what women wear has long been politically fraught in Iran, with discrimination against those wearing the veil before the 1979 revolution and harsh repression of those who reject the veil after the advent of Islamic rule.
But while pro- and anti-regime forces insist on using the issue for their political agendas, for the vast majority of Iranian women, hijab is a lifestyle choice, not a political statement.
Ironically, both the pro- and the anti-hijab camps claim to be “liberating” women. Reza Shah Pahlavi, the founder of the Pahlavi dynasty, decided to ban the veil on that pretext after a visit to a similarly Westernizing Turkey in 1934. The Shah also forced men to replace traditional clothes with European-style suits and hats. Police were tasked with enforcing the new decree by forcefully removing coverings from women’s heads and tearing up men’s caftans in the streets. This led to protests, which peaked in 1935 at the Goharshad Mosque in the Shi’ite pilgrimage city of Mashhad. Police killed more than 100 people in one day and buried them in mass graves.
Many believe that enforcement of compulsory hijab after the 1979 revolution was a reaction to the original decision by Reza Shah to ban the veil, even though repression of veiled women eased considerably after the Shah abdicated in favor of his son in 1941. In both cases, the decision was made by men without women being asked their opinion. During the Pahlavi era, veiled women had no chance of government employment or other professional advancement and women in miniskirts paraded in the streets of Tehran. After the revolution, the same was true for those who refused to cover. The first anti-government demonstration in 1979 was on March 8, international women’s day, when women took to the streets to protest compulsory hijab. More recently, rejection of the obligatory hijab following the death of a young woman, Mahsa Amini, in the custody of the “morality” police has sparked unprecedented protests that have been put down at the cost of more than 500 dead and thousands of arrests.
Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei has called the removal of hijab a “political and religious sin” to justify the harsh government crackdown. His chief of police, Ahmad-Reza Radan, said in mid-April that police would use pervasive security cameras to identify women with loose or no hijab in the streets, cars, stores, and shopping malls. The Iranian government has also been closing cafes and stores that cater to unveiled women.
The crackdown coincides with a record number of executions, many for unrelated matters such as drug offenses. The high number of executions is meant to be a deterrent, a fear factor, like the recent execution of two people convicted of apostasy.
According to the UN Human Rights commissioner Volker Turk, Iran executed 580 people in 2022 and more than 200 prisoners since January 2023, on average more than 10 people every week. Minorities and especially the Baluch minority have a higher share of executions.
Top officials in the executive branch, the parliament, and the judiciary as well as many leading clerics have called for tougher actions against women who refuse to veil, but Iranian women continue to defy them. Even regime insiders have begun to question the whole campaign. Parliamentarian Gholam-Ali Iman-Abadi suggested that police chief Radan would be better advised to use his forces “to fight crime” and track down those poisoning girls in their schools. Iranian vice president Sakineh Sadat-Pad has implied that the repressive tactics used by his own administration “may be illegal. Social maladies cannot be rectified with such measures.”
While men argue over how to react to the protests, Iranian women are showing their tolerance for each other’s choices. In Tehran and other major cities, women wearing the all-embracing black chador walk arm-in-arm with unveiled women in tight pants. Others show their support for stores and restaurants shut down for serving unveiled women. One café owner said the shutdowns were actually good public relations.
Among the most prominent women dissidents are the relatives of men who were once pillars of the Islamic Republic. Faezeh Hashemi, the daughter of the late president Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, has repeatedly been jailed for her political activities and is in prison once again for supporting the hijab protestors. Activist Fatemeh Sepehri is serving an 18-year term for an open letter to Khamenei calling for him to resign and Khamenei’s own niece, Farideh Moradkhani, was sentenced to 15 years for opposing her uncle’s policies. All three women are strictly observant Muslims who wear full hijab but insist that this should be a personal choice. This view is evident in photos of student protests where those with and without headscarves join hands at large demonstrations to demand “azadi” — freedom.
Some prominent academics outside Iran, such as retired Oxford University professor Homayoun Katouzian, have urged Khamenei to de-politicize the hijab and treat the issue like other lifestyle choices in Islam, such as whether to pray daily, watch satellite television or drink alcohol. Others worry that standing down on the veil will trigger a domino effect that ends in the collapse of the whole regime.
Iran has seen many protests in the past few years, and they seem to be taking place at shorter intervals and with more intensity. The autumn protests failed to mobilize the whole nation and were largely limited to Iran’s Gen-Z, born after the year 2000. Regime insiders may have taken comfort from the fact that economic and social demands were largely absent last fall. But Iran’s continuing economic decline and throttling of outlets for peaceful change mean that any spark could ignite the fire smoldering under the ashes.
In Iran, What Women Wear has Long Been Both Personal and Political
By Anonymous
Middle East & North Africa
Editor’s note: While the Stimson Center rarely publishes anonymous work, the author of this commentary is a Tehran-based analyst who has requested anonymity out of legitimate concern for their personal safety. The writer is known to appropriate staff, has a track record of reliable analysis, and is in a position to provide an otherwise unavailable perspective.
The issue of what women wear has long been politically fraught in Iran, with discrimination against those wearing the veil before the 1979 revolution and harsh repression of those who reject the veil after the advent of Islamic rule.
But while pro- and anti-regime forces insist on using the issue for their political agendas, for the vast majority of Iranian women, hijab is a lifestyle choice, not a political statement.
Ironically, both the pro- and the anti-hijab camps claim to be “liberating” women. Reza Shah Pahlavi, the founder of the Pahlavi dynasty, decided to ban the veil on that pretext after a visit to a similarly Westernizing Turkey in 1934. The Shah also forced men to replace traditional clothes with European-style suits and hats. Police were tasked with enforcing the new decree by forcefully removing coverings from women’s heads and tearing up men’s caftans in the streets. This led to protests, which peaked in 1935 at the Goharshad Mosque in the Shi’ite pilgrimage city of Mashhad. Police killed more than 100 people in one day and buried them in mass graves.
Many believe that enforcement of compulsory hijab after the 1979 revolution was a reaction to the original decision by Reza Shah to ban the veil, even though repression of veiled women eased considerably after the Shah abdicated in favor of his son in 1941. In both cases, the decision was made by men without women being asked their opinion. During the Pahlavi era, veiled women had no chance of government employment or other professional advancement and women in miniskirts paraded in the streets of Tehran. After the revolution, the same was true for those who refused to cover. The first anti-government demonstration in 1979 was on March 8, international women’s day, when women took to the streets to protest compulsory hijab. More recently, rejection of the obligatory hijab following the death of a young woman, Mahsa Amini, in the custody of the “morality” police has sparked unprecedented protests that have been put down at the cost of more than 500 dead and thousands of arrests.
Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei has called the removal of hijab a “political and religious sin” to justify the harsh government crackdown. His chief of police, Ahmad-Reza Radan, said in mid-April that police would use pervasive security cameras to identify women with loose or no hijab in the streets, cars, stores, and shopping malls. The Iranian government has also been closing cafes and stores that cater to unveiled women.
The crackdown coincides with a record number of executions, many for unrelated matters such as drug offenses. The high number of executions is meant to be a deterrent, a fear factor, like the recent execution of two people convicted of apostasy.
According to the UN Human Rights commissioner Volker Turk, Iran executed 580 people in 2022 and more than 200 prisoners since January 2023, on average more than 10 people every week. Minorities and especially the Baluch minority have a higher share of executions.
Top officials in the executive branch, the parliament, and the judiciary as well as many leading clerics have called for tougher actions against women who refuse to veil, but Iranian women continue to defy them. Even regime insiders have begun to question the whole campaign. Parliamentarian Gholam-Ali Iman-Abadi suggested that police chief Radan would be better advised to use his forces “to fight crime” and track down those poisoning girls in their schools. Iranian vice president Sakineh Sadat-Pad has implied that the repressive tactics used by his own administration “may be illegal. Social maladies cannot be rectified with such measures.”
While men argue over how to react to the protests, Iranian women are showing their tolerance for each other’s choices. In Tehran and other major cities, women wearing the all-embracing black chador walk arm-in-arm with unveiled women in tight pants. Others show their support for stores and restaurants shut down for serving unveiled women. One café owner said the shutdowns were actually good public relations.
Among the most prominent women dissidents are the relatives of men who were once pillars of the Islamic Republic. Faezeh Hashemi, the daughter of the late president Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, has repeatedly been jailed for her political activities and is in prison once again for supporting the hijab protestors. Activist Fatemeh Sepehri is serving an 18-year term for an open letter to Khamenei calling for him to resign and Khamenei’s own niece, Farideh Moradkhani, was sentenced to 15 years for opposing her uncle’s policies. All three women are strictly observant Muslims who wear full hijab but insist that this should be a personal choice. This view is evident in photos of student protests where those with and without headscarves join hands at large demonstrations to demand “azadi” — freedom.
Some prominent academics outside Iran, such as retired Oxford University professor Homayoun Katouzian, have urged Khamenei to de-politicize the hijab and treat the issue like other lifestyle choices in Islam, such as whether to pray daily, watch satellite television or drink alcohol. Others worry that standing down on the veil will trigger a domino effect that ends in the collapse of the whole regime.
Iran has seen many protests in the past few years, and they seem to be taking place at shorter intervals and with more intensity. The autumn protests failed to mobilize the whole nation and were largely limited to Iran’s Gen-Z, born after the year 2000. Regime insiders may have taken comfort from the fact that economic and social demands were largely absent last fall. But Iran’s continuing economic decline and throttling of outlets for peaceful change mean that any spark could ignite the fire smoldering under the ashes.
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