A month ago, Iran faced a devastating dual crisis: a shattered economy and the brutal crackdown on mass protests. Then, the situation worsened dramatically when U.S. and Israeli bombs began striking Tehran, thrusting the country into a new and uncertain war. Since the initial bombings on February 28, daily life for many Iranians has been marked by fear, loss, and hardship as they contend with the ongoing violence, economic collapse, and a profound sense of uncertainty about the future.
The backdrop to this conflict is already grim. In January, hundreds of thousands of Iranians took to the streets to protest against the ruling theocracy in what became the largest demonstrations in decades. The government responded with deadly force, killing thousands and detaining tens of thousands more. The crackdown included widespread arrests that continue to this day. These events deeply traumatized the population, leaving many fearful and uncertain even before the bombings began.
A 26-year-old designer living in Tehran, who runs a leather fashion factory with a partner, described the toll the war and economic collapse have taken on her life and business. She explained that in tough economic times, consumers cut back on nonessential goods like hers, and the near-total internet blackout in Iran since January has devastated her mostly online sales, reducing them "to zero." The factory is on the verge of closing, and she has been forced to live off her savings. The violence of the January crackdown was so upsetting that she has struggled to return to work.
When the war started, she moved from her apartment to her parents' house for safety. Just days later, a nearby explosion damaged the apartment she had left. Lacking home insurance, she faces the burden of repair costs herself. She now rarely leaves her parents' home, venturing out only to buy necessities, as the constant threat of explosions and airstrikes makes daily life a tense struggle.
Similarly, an engineer in Tehran spoke about the unpredictable nature of the bombings and the anxiety they cause. He and his guests once tried to locate the source of a blast that shook his home, but saw no visible fire, underscoring the uncertainty and fear that now permeates everyday life. He suspects the strikes may be less frequent, or perhaps people have simply become desensitized to the constant explosions. Still, he worries about the future: sleep is difficult, and with the economy collapsing, many will soon struggle to pay rent and bills. Though government workers continue to receive salaries, many private businesses are closing or reducing hours, making employment and income insecure for a growing number of Iranians.
Iran's economic collapse has been deepened by international sanctions targeting its nuclear program, which contributed heavily to the unrest that sparked the January protests. Many Iranians have fled Tehran and other urban centers for safer, less affected northern cities like Rasht. However, this internal displacement has strained local resources. A pediatric hospital doctor in Rasht reported that patient numbers have nearly doubled, leading to shortages of medicines and supplies. Patients are now required to purchase basic items, including antibiotics and IV fluids, from the market.
The internet blackout has further complicated life, hampering communication and access to information. The doctor described difficulties accessing patient histories and verifying dosages online, hindering medical care. The blackout has also made it impossible for him to continue his personal efforts to document casualties from the January crackdown because witnesses are unreachable and online databases are inaccessible.
In the face of this grim reality, many Iranians are seeking ways to cope with the trauma and monotony. The doctor, for example, has been passing time by watching television and playing video games, currently engrossed in "The Walking Dead," an American post-apocalyptic horror series, which perhaps resonates with the bleakness of his surroundings.
Amidst the suffering, the Iranian government continues to organize pro-regime rallies to demonstrate public support. The paramilitary Basij, responsible for internal security and widely feared, has intensified patrols despite being a target of airstrikes. The complex emotions of Iranians toward the war, their leadership, and their future reflect a mix of anger, fear, resignation, and hope.
The engineer in Tehran expressed frustration with decades of misrule by the government but did not support the U.S.-Israeli attacks. He was angered by the deaths and damage caused by the bombings but is trying to channel that anger into resolve. "I'm going to be stronger after this war," he said. "I will be damaged, just like my country. But that's it. This is life. We're going to make it better."
Internationally, the situation is equally complex. At the start of the war, then U.S. President Donald Trump urged Iranians to overthrow their leaders. More recently, he claimed to be negotiating with senior Iranian officials who he said are "begging" for a deal, though Iran has denied that any talks are underway. This shifting rhetoric leaves many Iranians skeptical and wary.
Some Iranians fear that the ongoing war will leave the Islamic Republic weakened but ultimately more repressive. A woman in her 40s expressed a grim willingness to endure war if it might lead to freedom from the current regime, saying, "This is what our situation has come to - we are willing to endure war in the hope of being freed from them."
The pediatric doctor in Rasht echoed this sentiment but warned about the dangers of how the war is being conducted. He described the current regime as "the Islamic Republic on steroids," fearing that if the U.S. were to strike a deal now, it would only entrench the clerical leadership. He worries the regime will take revenge out on the Iranian people, whom it openly views as internal enemies.
Earlier in the conflict, a lawyer from southwestern Iran, who has represented detainees and women's rights defenders and has herself been imprisoned, spoke of her hopes for the end of the Islamic Republic. She emphasized the importance of collective action and self-determination. However, after a month of bombings and isolation, her outlook had darkened. She described herself as more introspective and exhausted by the lack of communication and clarity about the future. "There is no sign of hope, no dreams, no joy," she said. "Worry about the future has taken over."
As the war grinds on, Iranians find themselves caught in a web of violence, repression, economic collapse, and isolation. The shock of January's protests and crackdown has given way to the trauma of bombings and uncertainty about what lies ahead. Many are forced to navigate daily life under the shadow of explosions, shortages, and fear, while grappling with profound questions about the fate of their country and their own survival.
The ongoing conflict and its consequences have left an indelible mark on Iranian society. Families are displaced, businesses shuttered, and the social fabric strained. The internet blackout isolates the population, restricting access to information and communication when it is needed most. Government efforts to project strength are met with private doubts and fears about the future.
Yet amid the despair, some Iranians hold onto resilience and the hope of rebuilding. The engineer's determination to emerge stronger after the war reflects a broader desire among many to see their country survive and eventually thrive, despite the immense challenges.
The coming months remain uncertain for Iran. Whether the war leads to the collapse of the theocracy, its survival in a more extreme form, or some other outcome, the people of Iran are enduring hardship on a scale that few could have imagined just months ago. Their stories reveal the human cost of geopolitical conflict and the enduring struggle for dignity and hope in the face of overwhelming adversity.