A violent crackdown on the nationwide anti-regime protests in Iran has claimed thousands of lives, inflicting a state of collective trauma. And now, a new crisis is in the making as threats of military intervention by the Trump administration have put the region on tenterhooks. As the world follows the developments of the country with greater anxiety, those who should be telling the story are still largely missing from our social media feeds, newspapers, and TV screens.
Starting on January 8, the Iranian government pulled the plug on the internet, making it almost impossible for protesters to mobilize internally, as well as communicate with the world about the scale of the massacres, for nearly 20 days. Only infrequent connection via Starlink terminals and temporary windows of relief let people outside Iran hear from Iranians about the horrific reality of what was happening to them.
For a cohort of independent journalists and writers in Iran who have been toiling at great risk to publish factual accounts of the unfolding events, the chilling effects of this cyber darkness have been immeasurable. These voices already struggle to make it into the international press, either because they are not widely known or because they lack the right connections, and now their work is harder, but also more important, than ever.
From freelance journalists whose work has been overshadowed by an absence of institutional support in a climate of job insecurity, micromanagement of speech, and internalized self-censorship to independent photographers who may sporadically receive a boost through unexpected gigs with major sponsors, vital sources in Iran are doing critical reporting and yet barely getting noticed.
The internet cutoff, however, was not universal. Unsurprisingly, exceptions were carved out for the state-backed news agencies and influencers who were responsible for telling the government’s version of events in this information war. While progressive newspapers in Tehran such as Shargh, Etemad and Ham-Mihan didn’t have the chance to keep their social media platforms updated, the hardline outlets such as Fars News, Tasnim, Mehr News, and Press TV were continuously active online, churning out the most orthodox version of developments.
The upheaval in Iran represents a watershed moment when many are awaiting long-lasting change. This is precisely the time when the voices of Iranian writers and journalists are needed more than before.
Over the years, Iranian writers and journalists, operating in a space of constantly-shifting red lines, arbitrary rulemaking, surveillance, the threat of jail time, and intimidation by online mobs have managed to disseminate narratives that could have easily been buried absent their crucial role. When the world learned about the tragic killing of Mahsa Amini on September 16, 2022, it was courtesy of two fearless journalists in Tehran who reported that poignant story.
Niloofar Hamedi and Elaheh Mohammadi understood that their professional career was at stake given the lengths to which the Iranian government was willing to go to keep that story under wraps, and still, they didn’t abandon their mission. Indeed, both endured a long stretch of imprisonment for doing their job and faced bogus, unfair accusations. They were released after 16 months in detention.
If we know about Iran’s litany of crises such as its brain drain, honor killings, domestic violence, corruption in religious endowments, nepotism, water shortages, and poor educational infrastructure, it is thanks to journalists in the country who are navigating a web of complexities to share these chronicles with the world.
The 2026 internet blackout was the longest in the country’s history, but it was not the first. The first instance was a 10-day shutdown that was rolled out during the November 2019 protests. Subsequently, internet blackouts emerged as the new staple of Iranian statecraft, routinely utilized to block the free flow of information, limit people’s global communication, and stifle dissent.
The Virginia-based non-profit Internet Society has identified Iran, tied with Algeria, as the sixth country with the most internet shutdowns, estimating that since 2018 it has shut down the internet for a total of 31,286 hours as of January 31. In a 2024 report, Freedom House ranked Iran 70th out of 72 select countries for the breadth of obstacles to connectivity. One example is the blocking of nearly 8 million websites including news agencies, discussion forums, author websites, e-magazines, political publications, and online arts exhibitions.
These shutdowns complement a longstanding debate on the possibility of a permanent internet ban, which authorities suggest can be replaced by a domestically-designed intranet, claiming this National Information Network can meet the essential needs of citizens while thwarting the “cultural invasion” that the adversaries of the Islamic Republic are allegedly plotting.
By providing its loyalists with privileges such as ‘unfiltered’ internet access, active connectivity during shutdowns, and payment methods to purchase verification badges on international social media platforms under the sanctions, the theocracy has sought to win this supposed cultural war against its adversaries, and its people.
The upheaval in Iran represents a watershed moment when many are awaiting long-lasting change. This is precisely the time when the voices of Iranian writers and journalists are needed more than before. It is inconceivable to ask them to remain silent bystanders.
In the 12-day war last June when Israel attacked Iranian cities, the media coverage was bereft of Iranian perspectives. Those that were heard were predominantly the think tank experts, military analysts, and former and current diplomats who were sharing their vision of what the future should look like for Iranians.
There was little interest, if any, in reporting on the mounting civilian casualties in Iran caused by Israel’s unrelenting strikes and mentions of 1,062 Iranians killed in the attacks were scarce, if not totally absent in mainstream media stories.
As I follow one of the most tragic junctures in Iran’s history, I find myself constantly reflecting on a competition for marketing “the best truth” about my misconstrued country of origin, which has been underway for as long as I remember. Throughout my journalism career, there were many choices that I could make to be a successful salesman. I didn’t.
Even now as every small and major media outlet is heatedly debating Iran, there are choices I can make to shore up my sales. Publishing a well-argued polemic making the case for the military invasion of Iran would mean a lineup of cable TV networks, radio stations, podcasts and mainstream newspapers would be rushing to seek my perspectives. I won’t.
Refusing to auction off my conscience is more important than catapulting myself to the forefront of news at any cost. Which is why I find it more palatable to be sidelined rather than creating fanfare by saying what everyone wants to hear.
The information landscape in Iran is one characterized by exceedingly invasive policies at home affecting a population that’s thirsty for accuracy and fairness in reporting, coupled with restrictions that are the direct outcome of unpremeditated decisions about Iran on the world stage. The ultimate sufferers are Iranian journalists, writers, and literary practitioners who have the grit and talent to tell stories that make a difference—and the readers seeking their perspectives.
There are few reporters in Iran’s private sector newsrooms or authors working with liberal publishing houses who would argue their work has been impacted positively by decades of crushing economic sanctions or travel restrictions enacted by the United States and European Union countries. Lack of access to free internet has made their job doubly cumbersome in an already unfavorable context. They must be offered real support.
