Editor’s Note: Sina Toossi closely follows Iran’s foreign and domestic politics and human rights record. This is his first piece for Stimson.
By Barbara Slavin, Distinguished Fellow, Middle East Perspectives
“We fighters are nothing but hollow drums and petty dictators.”
These sharp words from Faezeh Hashemi Rafsanjani, daughter of the powerful former President Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, have ignited a firestorm of debate within Iran and the Iranian diaspora.
Written from Iran’s Evin Prison, where Hashemi has served multiple terms for political dissidence, her blistering critique of the culture among fellow political prisoners and the broader opposition to the regime has led to reflection among some dissidents about the deep divisions within their ranks. Others have attacked her, accusing her of betrayal and suggesting that her critiques stem from a place of privilege.
Hashemi is no stranger to controversy. As the daughter of one of the most powerful figures in post-revolution Iran, her name has always carried weight. Over the years, she has advocated for women’s rights, served as a member of parliament and even sought to run for president. In the 1990s, she promoted women’s sports and founded the Zan newspaper, the Islamic Republic’s first women-focused publication, which was later shut down by authorities. Her activism led to multiple arrests, including in 2022 during the Women, Life, Freedom protests sparked by the death of Mahsa Jina Amini in the custody of Iran’s so-called morality police.
In her letter from Evin’s women’s political prisoners ward, Hashemi offers a scathing critique of the authoritarian dynamics she says she experienced among her fellow inmates. She accuses some of recreating the oppressive structures they claim to fight, creating a suffocating atmosphere where dissent is crushed. She describes the disillusionment of many new political prisoners soon after arriving, who begin thinking, “If they act this way in prison, imagine what they’d do with power?” According to Hashemi, many seek release and step away from political activism as a result.
At its core, Hashemi’s message is a call to confront the lack of democratic culture within Iranian opposition politics and society. The specific target of her ire seems to be a small but controlling group of prisoners representing leftist groups and others who support restoration of the Iranian monarchy overthrown in the 1979 revolution. She accuses these prisoners of bullying and silencing others, creating a “fascist” atmosphere in which dissent from within the opposition is crushed. She further accuses them of exaggerating the harshness of prison conditions, claiming that terms like “denied visitation” mean face-to-face visits instead of private visits and “lack of access to a doctor” means that prisoners do not receive regular checkups and weekly medical care. In her view, some prisoners claim “self-defense” after initiating “attacks,” while minor injuries, like a “small red mark,” are exaggerated as a “bruised body.”
Drawing parallels between the dynamics in prison and the broader fractures in Iran’s opposition, she notes, “This is a situation that can also be seen in the opposition both inside and outside the country, and in the virtual space [internet].”
In a chilling conclusion, Hashemi suggested that she might even be killed by her fellow inmates. However, shortly after the letter was publicized, Hashemi was granted a conditional release after serving two years of a three-year, seven-month sentence. Her lawyer insisted that the release was contingent on good behavior and unrelated to the letter.
Reactions to the letter have been varied and intense. Some saw her critique as warranted. Nasrin Sotoudeh, a renowned human rights lawyer and fellow political prisoner, praised Hashemi’s bravery in speaking out, remarking, “This letter could serve as a self-reflection for all of us, and that’s the function of freedom of expression.” Sotoudeh emphasized that “no one is safe from the dangers of arbitrary power, not even human rights movements.”
Reformist Abdollah Ramazanzadeh echoed this sentiment, saying Hashemi’s letter offers “a glimpse of the realities of our Iranian cultural behavior” and called for greater tolerance among Iranians.
Journalist Ahmad Zeidabadi, who has faced imprisonment himself, wrote on Telegram: “The same dynamic existed in Pahlavi-era prisons, but victims often concealed these issues, cloaked in pragmatism to prevent the regime’s exploitation. When these prisoners were freed, they were celebrated as heroes, only to turn on each other months later in violent power struggles that plunged society into bloodshed instead of delivering freedom and justice.”
Indeed, the period after the overthrow of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi in 1979 was characterized by extreme violence and infighting as the victorious supporters of theocracy eliminated first social democrats, then leftist groups to consolidate power.
Atefeh Shakrami, the aunt of Nika Shakrami, a teenager killed during the Mahsa Amini protests, called Hashemi’s letter a “revealing and cautionary document” with historical significance.
The reformist newspaper Etemad commented that the letter exposes deeper societal issues, rooted in dysfunctional social relations. It noted that “transparency, respect for the law, public oversight, and tolerance—these are values we’ve lost. Without them, even a hundred revolutions won’t take us anywhere.”
But Hashemi’s letter also provoked fierce criticism, most notably from Golrokh Iraee, a self-described leftist political prisoner in the same ward. Iraee accused Hashemi of betraying the solidarity of her fellow prisoners and attempting to curry favor with the government. She highlighted Hashemi’s privileged background, accusing her of distorting the realities of prison life and benefiting from special treatment. “No amount of pressure or threats will distance us from the ‘belief’ we hold,” Iraee said. “We have a ‘belief’ that forms the foundation of our struggle and defines our political existence.”
Iraee added, “If she is so disappointed with the so-called hollow, dictatorial opposition, why doesn’t she create a movement and gather a democratic opposition around her claims? Perhaps because she has never had the ability to lead a movement.”
Iraee’s letter reflects a broader sentiment among critics of Hashemi, many of whom see her as a representative of Iran’s ruling class who has never fully disentangled herself from the power structures she now claims to oppose. Such accusations of privilege and disloyalty have dogged Hashemi throughout her career.
Yet Hashemi’s critique resonates because it taps into a long-standing frustration with the fractured nature of Iran’s opposition.
For decades, the opposition has struggled to unite, with ideological divisions and personal grudges undermining any chance of a cohesive movement. These divisions were on vivid display in 2022 when Iranians inside and outside the country turned on each other rather than unite against the government’s harsh repression of women’s rights. Hashemi’s letter has brought these divisions into sharp focus, prompting a critical conversation about the future of opposition politics.
Ultimately, while Hashemi’s call for introspection may have been unpopular with some, it raises important questions about the Iranian opposition’s ability to navigate internal differences without replicating the authoritarianism it seeks to dismantle.
Sina Toossi is a Senior Non-resident Fellow at the Center for International Policy. His work focuses on U.S.-Iran relations, U.S. policy toward the Middle East, and nuclear issues. His writings have appeared in Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, and USA Today, among other outlets.
What Faezeh Hashemi’s Revolt Behind Bars Says About Iran’s Political Culture
By Sina Toossi
Middle East & North Africa
Editor’s Note: Sina Toossi closely follows Iran’s foreign and domestic politics and human rights record. This is his first piece for Stimson.
By Barbara Slavin, Distinguished Fellow, Middle East Perspectives
“We fighters are nothing but hollow drums and petty dictators.”
These sharp words from Faezeh Hashemi Rafsanjani, daughter of the powerful former President Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, have ignited a firestorm of debate within Iran and the Iranian diaspora.
Written from Iran’s Evin Prison, where Hashemi has served multiple terms for political dissidence, her blistering critique of the culture among fellow political prisoners and the broader opposition to the regime has led to reflection among some dissidents about the deep divisions within their ranks. Others have attacked her, accusing her of betrayal and suggesting that her critiques stem from a place of privilege.
Hashemi is no stranger to controversy. As the daughter of one of the most powerful figures in post-revolution Iran, her name has always carried weight. Over the years, she has advocated for women’s rights, served as a member of parliament and even sought to run for president. In the 1990s, she promoted women’s sports and founded the Zan newspaper, the Islamic Republic’s first women-focused publication, which was later shut down by authorities. Her activism led to multiple arrests, including in 2022 during the Women, Life, Freedom protests sparked by the death of Mahsa Jina Amini in the custody of Iran’s so-called morality police.
In her letter from Evin’s women’s political prisoners ward, Hashemi offers a scathing critique of the authoritarian dynamics she says she experienced among her fellow inmates. She accuses some of recreating the oppressive structures they claim to fight, creating a suffocating atmosphere where dissent is crushed. She describes the disillusionment of many new political prisoners soon after arriving, who begin thinking, “If they act this way in prison, imagine what they’d do with power?” According to Hashemi, many seek release and step away from political activism as a result.
At its core, Hashemi’s message is a call to confront the lack of democratic culture within Iranian opposition politics and society. The specific target of her ire seems to be a small but controlling group of prisoners representing leftist groups and others who support restoration of the Iranian monarchy overthrown in the 1979 revolution. She accuses these prisoners of bullying and silencing others, creating a “fascist” atmosphere in which dissent from within the opposition is crushed. She further accuses them of exaggerating the harshness of prison conditions, claiming that terms like “denied visitation” mean face-to-face visits instead of private visits and “lack of access to a doctor” means that prisoners do not receive regular checkups and weekly medical care. In her view, some prisoners claim “self-defense” after initiating “attacks,” while minor injuries, like a “small red mark,” are exaggerated as a “bruised body.”
Drawing parallels between the dynamics in prison and the broader fractures in Iran’s opposition, she notes, “This is a situation that can also be seen in the opposition both inside and outside the country, and in the virtual space [internet].”
In a chilling conclusion, Hashemi suggested that she might even be killed by her fellow inmates. However, shortly after the letter was publicized, Hashemi was granted a conditional release after serving two years of a three-year, seven-month sentence. Her lawyer insisted that the release was contingent on good behavior and unrelated to the letter.
Reactions to the letter have been varied and intense. Some saw her critique as warranted. Nasrin Sotoudeh, a renowned human rights lawyer and fellow political prisoner, praised Hashemi’s bravery in speaking out, remarking, “This letter could serve as a self-reflection for all of us, and that’s the function of freedom of expression.” Sotoudeh emphasized that “no one is safe from the dangers of arbitrary power, not even human rights movements.”
Reformist Abdollah Ramazanzadeh echoed this sentiment, saying Hashemi’s letter offers “a glimpse of the realities of our Iranian cultural behavior” and called for greater tolerance among Iranians.
Journalist Ahmad Zeidabadi, who has faced imprisonment himself, wrote on Telegram: “The same dynamic existed in Pahlavi-era prisons, but victims often concealed these issues, cloaked in pragmatism to prevent the regime’s exploitation. When these prisoners were freed, they were celebrated as heroes, only to turn on each other months later in violent power struggles that plunged society into bloodshed instead of delivering freedom and justice.”
Indeed, the period after the overthrow of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi in 1979 was characterized by extreme violence and infighting as the victorious supporters of theocracy eliminated first social democrats, then leftist groups to consolidate power.
Atefeh Shakrami, the aunt of Nika Shakrami, a teenager killed during the Mahsa Amini protests, called Hashemi’s letter a “revealing and cautionary document” with historical significance.
The reformist newspaper Etemad commented that the letter exposes deeper societal issues, rooted in dysfunctional social relations. It noted that “transparency, respect for the law, public oversight, and tolerance—these are values we’ve lost. Without them, even a hundred revolutions won’t take us anywhere.”
But Hashemi’s letter also provoked fierce criticism, most notably from Golrokh Iraee, a self-described leftist political prisoner in the same ward. Iraee accused Hashemi of betraying the solidarity of her fellow prisoners and attempting to curry favor with the government. She highlighted Hashemi’s privileged background, accusing her of distorting the realities of prison life and benefiting from special treatment. “No amount of pressure or threats will distance us from the ‘belief’ we hold,” Iraee said. “We have a ‘belief’ that forms the foundation of our struggle and defines our political existence.”
Iraee added, “If she is so disappointed with the so-called hollow, dictatorial opposition, why doesn’t she create a movement and gather a democratic opposition around her claims? Perhaps because she has never had the ability to lead a movement.”
Iraee’s letter reflects a broader sentiment among critics of Hashemi, many of whom see her as a representative of Iran’s ruling class who has never fully disentangled herself from the power structures she now claims to oppose. Such accusations of privilege and disloyalty have dogged Hashemi throughout her career.
Yet Hashemi’s critique resonates because it taps into a long-standing frustration with the fractured nature of Iran’s opposition.
For decades, the opposition has struggled to unite, with ideological divisions and personal grudges undermining any chance of a cohesive movement. These divisions were on vivid display in 2022 when Iranians inside and outside the country turned on each other rather than unite against the government’s harsh repression of women’s rights. Hashemi’s letter has brought these divisions into sharp focus, prompting a critical conversation about the future of opposition politics.
Ultimately, while Hashemi’s call for introspection may have been unpopular with some, it raises important questions about the Iranian opposition’s ability to navigate internal differences without replicating the authoritarianism it seeks to dismantle.
Sina Toossi is a Senior Non-resident Fellow at the Center for International Policy. His work focuses on U.S.-Iran relations, U.S. policy toward the Middle East, and nuclear issues. His writings have appeared in Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, and USA Today, among other outlets.
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