The Islamic Republic often announces its strength at dawn.
On June 1, two Kurdish men were executed in Karaj’s Ghezel Hesar prison. Their families received neither adequate notice nor opportunity for final visit. The government alleged that the men had engaged in activities against national security on behalf of foreign enemies. Human rights organizations considered them to be political detainees subjected to a rapid and unfair process.
Between those two accounts lies the machinery of repression in today’s Iran. The result is not merely the execution of prisoners by Iran but also increasing incorporation of Kurdish dissent into the lexicon of war. Protest becomes espionage; cultural activism, propaganda; and concern for the burial site of a relative, a security risk. In response to unrest, the government does not merely invoke the courts or the prison. Rather, it asserts that Kurdish political life itself is suspect.
Execution of the two men was portrayed by government-controlled media as punishment for severe crimes: participation in activities against national security, associations with Israel and the United States and destruction of religious sites during demonstrations of January. These allegations were intended to preclude any subsequent discussion. Who would wish to defend agents of espionage, perpetrators of arson or enemies of the state? Indeed, this was the very intent.
The political courts of Iran not only punish dissent but also redefine it. Kurdish activism thus becomes yet another expression of permanent suspicion.
The danger is not over with these two executions. Another Kurdish defendant associated with the same case also reportedly is at risk of execution. He was removed from Greater Tehran Central Penitentiary on 25 May, reportedly under the pretext of transfer to Ghezel Hesar, and his condition or whereabouts were not clarified. In Iran, such actions are highly ominous.
A transfer, silence, loss of contact by telephone all represents precursors to execution by hanging. This is the way fear is imposed. Not always in the form of public spectacle, but predominantly as a source of uncertainty. Families await outside prisons without knowledge of whether a son is alive, whether a sentence has been confirmed or whether a final meeting will be permitted.
The state need not provide explanations in a situation in which uncertainty constitutes an additional component of punishment. The apparatus of execution represents only the most visible aspect of this system. Over 300 persons arrested during demonstrations in December and January continue to remain in a condition of legal uncertainty at a prison in Kermanshah. They experienced severe overcrowding, very limited opportunities for contact with family members, inadequate medical care and, in some instances, charges that could have resulted in execution.
To achieve an understanding of this campaign of repression, it is necessary to appreciate the language of the courts of Iran. Here are such terms: enmity against God, armed rebellion, dissemination of information hostile to the state, and collaboration with foreign governments that are at war with Iran. These are not neutral legal expressions. Rather, they provide a basis for defining any protest, slogan, activity on the Internet, association with a Kurdish political party or participation in efforts at civil resistance as an act of national treason.
The repression of Kurds in Iran extends well beyond armed politics or protest to encompass language, education and memory. On June 6, a Kurdish civil activist and member of the Nojin Cultural and Social Association was reportedly imprisoned for a one-year sentence of “propaganda against the state.” His activities represent a continuation of Kurdish-language and cultural work. The fact that such activities provoke security charges illustrates the extent of fears within the Islamic republic. A confident state does not fear courses in the Kurdish language.
Nor does it regard cultural associations as insurgent cells. However, in Rojhilat, teaching the Kurdish language, organizing civil society, maintaining a sense of historical continuity and commemorating the dead constitute political acts, because the state has rendered them political. Our interpretation of these events should not be dismissed. The Islamic republic certainly faces security threats, has legitimate armed opposition within its borders and is subject to operations by foreign intelligence services.
The region is certainly not a seminar room. Iranian authorities would describe the situation in entirely different terms. They would depict the country as under siege by Israel, by the United States, by separatist forces, by foreign media and by forms of unrest that simulate democratic values. They would state that those executed were punished for crimes of violence and not for their ethnic origin or for participation in political protest.
But the resulting justification for actions of extreme secrecy ultimately fails. Why were trials closed to public observation? Why were confessions obtained under conditions of coercion? Why was access to chosen lawyers denied?
Why were executions carried out in secret without notification of relatives? And why was there continued reliance on vague charges of national security against persons engaged in political protest, in activities of cultural and historical importance or as relatives of the dead?
The Kurdish question in Iran is not new. Since the 1979 revolution, Kurdish political movements have been perceived by Tehran as both a domestic and a border security threat. That perception has intensified in the wake of the death of Mahsa Jina Amini, the Kurdish woman whose killing by morality police sparked the 2022 uprising for women, life and freedom.
Kurdish cities were among the first sites of protest, and provided powerful evidence for many Kurds that their suffering could become the suffering of all Iranians. For Tehran, this confirmed an old fear that Kurdistan might serve as a spark. Current repression is not only punishment for previous episodes of protest, but also a preventive measure.
Each execution conveys a message far beyond the prison walls. Each arrest of a cultural activist serves as a warning to students to be careful. Each refusal of a final visit to a prisoner conveys to other families the full cost of requesting such a visit.
Ultimately, the Islamic regime describes its executions as a restoration of order. But in effect, order increasingly reflects the experience of a prison transfer, a closed courtroom, an interrupted telephone conversation and a body that could not be adequately mourned. The Kurdish question in Iran has not disappeared but only been transferred once again behind prison walls.
