Iranian capital hit by sudden power outages

Investigators have connected two middle-aged sisters to the operation, which is thought to involve the unlawful sale of infants procured from impoverished or drug-dependent families who are distributed to those unable to conceive.

Child trafficking in Iran, although relatively infrequent, may point to deepening poverty and a fraying social safety net.

As reported by Rouydad 24 website, the discovery of the case occurred after informants supplied police information regarding the network's operations, culminating in the arrest of a person in Mashhad who had purchased a one-year-old girl.

The child's mother, a 23-year-old woman struggling with addiction, was also detained. She explained to the authorities that her decision to sell her daughter came from a place of desperation.

"My husband is a homeless addict, and I don’t know where he is. I wasn’t in a good state," she was quoted as saying. "I went to a woman’s house, and she, acting as an intermediary, sold my daughter to another woman. They gave me 600 million rials (about $650)."

After reconsidering, the mother attempted to reclaim her child but was met with threats from the buyer, who demanded 800 million rials (about $850).

Further investigation linked the ringleader, one of the arrested sisters, to similar trafficking schemes in other cities across the country. She said she purchased the child from the addicted mother for 600 million rials and sold the girl to a childless woman who had undergone multiple failed treatments.

While local authorities have arrested several suspects, authorities believe the trafficking ring may be part of a larger network operating throughout the country, triggering a broader investigation into the sale of babies in other cities.

The case adds to a growing body of evidence pointing to the abuse of vulnerable families, in particular those living with poverty and addiction.

Nahid Modarresi, an undocumented Iranian refugee who lives in hiding from Turkish authorities, is one among the tens of thousands of Iranian asylum-seekers whose fate hangs in the balance.

“I hide myself because I am too afraid to go outside," Nahid told Iran International.

Protected person status, a legal term under international law offering protection if host governments are unable, was granted to Nahid in 2018 by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR).

The Turkish Supreme Court recently revoked it, throwing her life into disarray.

Though there are no official statistics, at least 3,000 Iranians who once had been granted protected persons status have had it revoked by Ankara, a Turkey-based Iranian researcher who works with asylum seekers told Iran International, declining to be identified for safety reasons.

Nahid says she fled Iran in 2018 over her sexual orientation and has since publicly engaged in human rights activities aimed against the country's Islamic authorities.

“My life is in danger,” said Nahid. “If I get sent back to Iran, they will arrest me and maybe execute me.”

Homosexuality in Iran is punishable by death for men and by 100 lashes for women. On repeated offenses, women can be also executed.

Nahid gained prominence in the human rights community for public campaigning after her sister Elham Modarresi was imprisoned for taking part in the Woman, Life, Freedom protest movement that rocked Iran in 2022.

Elham was taken by security forces from the home she shared with her family to Kachooie Prison outside Tehran in 2022 and was tortured and denied medication for a genetic liver condition, she and Nahid told Iran International.

In 2023, Elham was released on bail and managed to escape to her sister in Turkey.

Nahid advocated to help move her sister to Canada where she successfully had a liver transplant that helped save her life, but Nahid herself was left behind.

"I am very worried for my sister. I am so scared for her," Elham told Iran International.

Iranian refugees vulnerable in Turkey

Now faced with the revocation of her protected persons status, Nahid is speaking out and making a plea for herself and all Iranian refugees.

“It’s not just me and my situation. It's all political fighters from Iran. We fight the Islamic Republic,” said Nahid.

Nahid’s legal counselor in Ontario Hooshang Lotfi has filed an application to bring her to Canada and found five people willing to sponsor her. Pleading her case to Canadian authorities, Lotfi says Nahid's time is running out.

UNHCR's departure

In September 2018, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) ended registration and refugee status determination procedures in Turkey in what it described as a response to Ankara's improvement of its immigrant population registry and refugee status determination process.

The UNHCR's departure followed by a European Union-Turkey migration agreement has put Iranian refugees in a precarious position, said Behnam Daraeizadeh, a senior fellow at the Canada-based Centre for Human Rights in Iran (CHRI).

“It is a big challenge and unfortunately has led to more deportations for the individuals who have already been accepted by the UN."

Since the change, organizations like CHRI have reported that Turkish authorities stepped up efforts to detain and deport unregistered migrants.

“These activists face arbitrary detention, possible torture, sham convictions on national security charges, and years of prison if they are extradited back to Iran,” said CHRI Executive Director Hadi Ghaemi.

Sina Rostami, a 35-year-old Iranian in exile in Turkey described to Iran International the horrors of what he has faced for months at a Turkish deportation camp.

“The way they treat us here is like we’re not humans,” said Sina, a Woman, Life, Freedom protestor who faces deportation to Iran. Sina’s sleeping quarters that he shares with six people and the washrooms have no lights. Sina said he often has to wait 12 to 14 hours before he is permitted recreation outdoors.

The Turkish government has not responded to Iran International's request for comment on these allegations.

A hub for refugees

Turkey is the world's leading host of refugees and is a middle ground between conflict zones and Western countries where migrants seek better lives.

Daraeizadeh said the Turkish government lobbied the UN so it could have more control over asylum seekers in a setback to the asylum-seekers.

Since Iran provided political support to President Recep Tayyip Erdogan after a failed coup in 2016, many activists argue Turkey is not keen on sheltering Iranians political asylum seekers.

Despite the risks, Iranians continue to flee their homeland as security forces keep up a crackdown on dissidents.

But one woman's bumpy road to reclaiming her life through divorce shows how deep-set patriarchy and Islamic rule stack the odds against Iranian ex-wives.

Take my friend Narges. She’s 41 and just-divorced. She thought she had married a feminist man, Amir, and he was in many ways. Until he wasn’t.

“We had it good, more or less, until I was promoted and earned more than him,” Narges says. “He started mocking my work, often accusing me of putting my job first and not our son. ‘You’re too self-centered to be a good mom,’ he once told me.”

It was as if Amir was constantly anxious about how others viewed him, Narges says. “It was as if he felt inadequate—which was not my view at all.”

Some studies suggest that men who earn less than their wives for extended periods are more likely to suffer from higher rates of health problems like anxiety, chronic stress, diabetes or even heart disease.

Patriarchal prejudice compels men to be the (primary) breadwinner. Failure to do so could lead to a crisis of identity—more so in male-dominated societies like Iran.

Iran’s traditions and Islamic laws put the man firmly in charge of his wife. A married woman cannot work or travel without her husband’s permission and can certainly not initiate divorce.

Narges could only because her ex granted her that right when the marriage was registered.

“It is a rare privilege to have in Iran,” she says. “The fact that I was financially independent helped, of course. And Amir, to be fair to him, had no issues with me having it. But all hell broke loose when I tried to use it.”

Amir was a vocal proponent of women’s rights. He still is. That was one reason Narges liked him. After they married, he’d do housework as much as his wife, if not more. When they had their son, he was as hands-on as dads come. Narges had hit the jackpot, our girlfriends would joke.

But things went downhill when Narges got that job—and turned downright ugly when she filed for divorce.

A new Amir emerged during the legal battle for the custody of their son. The custody, according to Iran’s law, belongs to the mother until age 7, to the father until age 10, and after that, the child chooses. But regardless of who has custody, it’s the father who has full legal authority over the child.

“It shocked me to see him resorting to the very codes of religion and patriarchy that he derided as reactionary and stupid,” Narges says. “He used to tell me about his struggles to rid himself of male privilege in Iran. And I believed him. I still think he was sincere when he said it.”

But when it mattered most, the principles vanished and the hardwiring took over.

“The law gave him power and he used it,” Narges says bitterly, blaming the law even more than her ex. “It takes an extraordinary character and restraint to not use your weapon because you believe it would be unfair.”

Amir argued in court that the demands of Narges’ job made her unfit to care for their child. He even banned the child from leaving the country when she wanted to go to Istanbul for a few days. She hit wall after wall as he deployed every legal advantage available to him.

“I thought I knew all about male privilege under Islamic Republic. But there was more, much more,” Narges says, trying not to tear up. “I knew, for instance, that a mother cannot open a bank account for her child without the father’s permission. But I never imagined I’d be told at the school to ‘fetch the dad’ to get my son’s end-year scores.”

Such stories abound, compelling many women with young children to stay in unhappy marriages. But some choose to take the bumpy road out. And their number is rising.

As Iran’s officialdom calls the rise in divorces a great shame, women like Narges—bruised as they are from their experience—see in it something positive.

“I’m not saying divorce is all good and great,” Narges says when I tell her that it is ultimately a breakdown of a contract that was supposed to last a lifetime. “You cannot deny that what we see in Iran is partly a result and a sign of women being more empowered,” she adds.

Divorce, Narges and many others argue, has to be viewed as a choice, even an opportunity, not a mere social failure.

I cannot say I fully agree with her, but I see her point. We have a crude expression in Persian that says “a woman enters her man’s house in white and leaves it in white,” the latter referring to the shroud in which Muslims wrap their dead.

“I left in sage green,” Narges chuckles.

The demonstration began early in the morning and was attended by former political prisoners and human rights activists, including filmmaker Jafar Panahi and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Narges Mohammadi who appeared without wearing the mandatory hijab in defiance of the country's strict dress laws.

Protesters held placards reading "No to execution," "Immediate repeal of death sentences," and "Political prisoners must be freed."

Participants displayed images of political prisoners sentenced to death, demanding the cancellation of their executions and their unconditional release.

On Monday, France-based rights group Kurdistan Human Rights Network (KHRN) reported that a protestor detained during Iran's Woman Life Freedom uprising, sparked by the death in custody of Mahsa Amini over an alleged hijab law violation, was sentenced to death.

Last month, US-based rights group HRANA, at least 54 political prisoners are currently facing execution across various prisons in Iran.

Iran has faced increasing international criticism for its widespread use of the death penalty, especially against political prisoners and activists.

The United Nations human rights office reported in January that Iran in 2024 executed 901 people, including 31 women, marking record highs.

“Negotiation with the US is not prohibited but has proven irrational and damaging,” the committee said, referencing past engagements with Washington.

It pointed to the 2015 nuclear deal, or JCPOA, as an example, listing extensive commitments Iran undertook—ranging from reducing enriched uranium stockpiles to converting nuclear facilities—while saying the US failed to deliver on sanctions relief.

Instead, sanctions increased, culminating in the Trump administration’s withdrawal from the deal in 2018, the statement added.

The commission said that engaging with the US has eroded trust, citing recent sanctions for Iran's support of regional militant groups, domestic human rights abuses and support for Russia's war on Ukraine.

They described the US as a “hostile and arrogant regime.” A member of the commission said, “Negotiating with such entities brings no rational benefits; it only deepens the damage.”

It echoes the messaging from the country's Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who, during a recent Friday address, said, “Negotiations with the United States have no impact on solving the country’s problems.”

His remarks come as divisions emerge among Iranian officials regarding potential talks on a new nuclear agreement. While some figures, like President Masoud Pezeshkian, have expressed openness to renewed discussions, Khamenei dismissed the idea, emphasizing self-reliance over external agreements.

Iran’s economy has suffered significant setbacks since the reinstatement of US sanctions in 2018. The national currency has devalued by 95%, inflation has remained at around 40% for five years, and over a third of the population now lives below the poverty line.

However, the committee stressed that these challenges should be addressed by fostering domestic production and strengthening ties with regional allies, rather than pursuing dialogue with an “untrustworthy adversary.”