In Haft-Hoz Square, the shoppers and travelers who normally flock to this busy commercial center in eastern Tehran have been replaced by black-clad riot police. At least one masked sniper is visible, now perched atop one of the armored vehicles in the square.
At the center of the scene is the burnt-out shell of a municipal bus, which was torched during protests in Iran this month. Draped over its blackened remains is a banner with a clear message reminding citizens of the cost of the unrest: “Its price was paid for by your taxes.”
Weeks of anti-regime protests suddenly ended in a brutal crackdown that human rights groups abroad say left thousands dead. But the scars of the country’s worst violence since the 1979 Islamic Revolution are still visible in Tehran, with the city of 10 million now shrouded in an eerie silence.
Many shops have reopened but without customers, with people who may have fled the city for the long weekend and others choosing to stay home. The internet blackout has been causing confusion and disrupting daily life for more than a week.
The show of force around Haft-Höz, one of the hotspots of protest, is a vague warning of what may await those who attempt to rise again – and a reminder that, even if the demonstrations have stopped, some people still hope things will go back to the way they were.
“We can’t even begin to think about getting back to normal,” said a teacher named Sarah, who like others interviewed used a pseudonym for her safety. “We feel empty and abandoned. These protests were the result of a lot of frustration and anger built up over years.”
“There is no easy way forward,” he said, “but I am confident that we will find a way to make our voices heard.”
For now, Tehran’s residents are left to try to pick up the pieces of their lives. Ahmed, a tall, muscular man of about 50, drove from the capital to his birthplace of Hamedan for the funeral of his cousin, who he said was shot dead at the height of the unrest last weekend.
Amid tears, she took out her phone to show photos of the flower-laden grave and described how hundreds of people had come to pay their respects. “When we buried him,” he said, “it started raining so hard that I thought even the heavens were crying”.
Demonstrations began in Tehran in late December, when shopkeepers in the city center closed their businesses in protest against dire economic conditions. They soon spread around Iran, and turned into a widespread movement against the Islamic Republic.
“We were all waiting for some major event to save us, but nothing happened,” said Hossein, a 45-year-old electrician, speaking near his shop in downtown Tehran. “We are now left on quiet, deserted streets, cut off from the world, with many families having someone killed, injured, arrested or shot in the eyes with metal bullets.”
Efforts to get life back on track in the city are being hampered by the lack of internet and the fact that many cash machines are inaccessible, blocked by metal bars installed to prevent damage.
Kaz Square, an affluent neighborhood of western Tehran and another scene of protests, despite usually being lively in the evenings, was quiet and somber this week. Security forces maintained a heavy presence there too. A large mosque was badly burned, with parts of the structure completely destroyed.
Just a short distance away from Shahrak-e-Gharb, a branch of the famous coffee chain Sadiniya was sealed with an official closure notice. The chain was shut down after it posted Instagram messages encouraging people to join the demonstrations.
After initially trying to acknowledge the economic concerns of protesters, the regime increasingly portrayed the demonstrations as a movement designed by outside powers, particularly Israel, to incite violence by using Iranians paid, armed and trained. It also held the last rites for dozens of security force members killed during the protests.
With the charred husks of buses, fire engines and ambulances – left behind as reminders of the actions of what authorities call “rioters” – the regime has held rallies with its supporters in central Tehran, drawing thousands of participants.
In the wake of Israel’s 12-day war against Iran in June, which briefly helped unify the polarized country, authorities have displayed patriotic slogans and banners emblazoned with figures such as Persian mythology hero Arash the Archer on the streets of Tehran.
A banner, spread across the main streets, celebrates “the sacred unity of the residents of Tehran against Zionist-American terrorism”. Anti-government graffiti has been scrubbed from the walls.
Yet for many, their hatred of the regime has grown even deeper. They feel betrayed by Iranian opposition figures abroad such as Reza Pahlavi, the US-based son of the ousted shah, who urged protesters to disperse but could do nothing to rein in the chaos.
US President Donald Trump also encouraged the protesters and repeatedly threatened military intervention to protect the protesters. No help arrived – and protesters are now wondering what they have achieved.
“The opposition abroad hijacked our protests,” said a woman who attended the rallies and opposed Pahlavi. “Otherwise, things could have been moving forward and we could have gotten concessions from the regime. Instead, the violence and crackdown pushed the people back with nothing to show but deaths and destruction.”
While the previous round of protests in 2022, known as the Women, Life, Freedom movement, had ended the requirement for women to wear hijab in public, this time most protesters had no clear demands other than an end to the regime.
And since the country remains under suffocating US sanctions, there is little chance of relief from the dire economic conditions that brought them to the streets in the first place.
“Before the unrest, people weren’t shopping because they didn’t have money,” said a woman selling clothes in Tehran’s Grand Bazaar, the historic marketplace that was one of the early meeting places for protesters. “After the unrest, they are scared of heavy security. Opening or closing a shop seems meaningless.”
For teacher Sara, who gives classes digitally, the lack of internet has cut into her income. But, instead of rushing to get back online, she finds herself dreading the day it will be restored – afraid of what other unknown traumas will emerge.
“Only then will we realize how many people died,” he said. “The reality may be even worse than what we know now, and I don’t want to face it. We are left with more anger and frustration in a tragic city.”
