Iran International
Iran’s ban on Halloween celebrations has turned plastic pumpkins into symbols of defiance, exposing deeper tensions over culture, joy and control in a nation long haunted by the politics of morality.
Enthusiasm for Western-style festivities has quietly grown in Iran over the past decade.
Despite frequent crackdowns, cafés and restaurants in Tehran and other cities have increasingly hosted Christmas and Valentine’s events, with shopfronts displaying seasonal decorations once unseen in the Islamic Republic.
Halloween observance has gathered pace along with its popularity with children and teenagers.
"This year, all the cafes and restaurants in Mehrshahr have decorated for Halloween in such a way that it feels like I should just wait for the kids to show up at our door soon and say 'Trick or treat!'" one user posted on X, referring to a district in norther Iran.
In 2023, the government-run Borna News outlet reported that some private elementary schools in affluent north Tehran had held discreet Halloween gatherings.
Parents told the outlet that teachers had requested pumpkins and other items to hold Halloween parties on school grounds. The report added that much of the paraphernalia was imported, but some was produced in “underground workshops.”
So when Iran’s Chamber of Guilds announced an official ban on “any and all Halloween festivities” this week, it sounded almost comical to many.
The directive warned that “ceremonies, gatherings, advertising or the sale” of items related to Halloween were prohibited in all public and business venues.
The move, it said, aimed to protect “cultural, religious, and social values.”
Reports on social media suggest that many cafés and restaurants quickly cancelled their planned Halloween events after the warning.
In the southern city of Ahvaz, Mohammad Lari described taking his child to an amusement park that had organized a Halloween-themed play event.
“I took the kid to one of those play venues. A bunch of wild people showed up, upsetting the kids and families because of the Halloween theme,” he wrote on X, in apparent reference to morality police. “People got so upset it would’ve turned into a fight if there weren't a few sane people around.”
The Chamber’s notice came only days after cafés and small shops in Tehran’s traditional bazaars had filled their windows with ghost masks and orange décor.
Many had already launched Halloween-themed menus and cakes before the ban took effect, hoping to take advantage of consumer demand for a fresh new holiday as sanctions and mismanagement have driven up costs of living and hit sales.
Backlash and online ridicule
The announcement triggered an immediate outcry online, reviving debates over the state’s priorities as hardships mount.
Mihan Media, a dissident Instagram account, mocked the order, describing it as "a move that perfectly captures the Islamic Republic’s fear of plastic pumpkins and fake spiderwebs."
"The regime, ever vigilant against witches, ghouls and Western consumerism, seems to have concluded that a few teenagers in costume pose a greater threat to Iran’s moral order than corruption, inflation or repression."
“While the world laughs at imaginary monsters," it added," the Islamic Republic is busy chasing imaginary cultural ones — proving that nothing frightens it more than joy itself.”
On X, many used irony to highlight the country’s economic hardship.
“They say holding Halloween celebrations is forbidden and will be dealt with," user Alireza Yahyaei wrote.
"In a country where buying a home is impossible (for many), even if one saves for it for a century, and food inflation is at 100%, is there even a need for Halloween? The nightmare the world celebrates in one night, we live every day!”
Others pointed to Iran’s cultural contradictions. Sadegh Maktabi, a teacher, wrote: “Iranian society is the strangest collage in the world; one day it celebrates the birth of Hazrat Zaynab (graddaughter of the Prophet Muhammad), the next morning it honors Cyrus (the Great), and at night it celebrates Halloween."
"Islamism, nationalism and Westernism, all together,” he added.
Ayandeh survived on illusion—paying old investors with new deposits while building an empire of glass and marble called Iran Mall.
Earlier this week, Iran’s Central Bank ordered its liquidation into the state-owned Bank Melli, the country’s largest financial institution.
Built on sand
Founded in 2010 by businessman Ali Ansari, Ayandeh emerged from the merger of his Bank Tat with several smaller institutions.
Within a few years, it shook up Iran’s banking sector by offering interest rates roughly four percentage points higher than those allowed by the Money and Credit Council.
The strategy drew millions of depositors and rapidly expanded its market share; by 2017, Ayandeh held 7.6 percent of all deposits in Iran’s banking system. Beneath that success lay a web of risky loans and inflated promises.
By 2020, the bank’s fortunes had reversed, and calls for its liquidation began. When it was finally folded into Bank Melli, the savings of seven million depositors were trapped in bad loans and speculative ventures.
Much like a Ponzi scheme, Ayandeh relied on a steady inflow of new deposits to pay earlier investors while channeling enormous sums into illiquid assets—mostly real estate.
Biggest Gamble: Iran Mall
Experts trace Ayandeh’s downfall to its massive exposure to real estate, especially the Iran Mall—a colossal shopping and leisure complex west of Tehran (1.95 million square meters) developed and owned by Ansari himself.
Investigations showed that roughly 70 percent of Ayandeh’s lending went to the Iran Mall Development Company, a subsidiary fully owned by the bank.
The loans exceeded the legal limit for a single borrower by more than a thousandfold—blatant self-dealing that violated banking laws capping ownership of any single shareholder at 10 percent, or 30 percent with Central Bank approval.
Ayandeh’s executives effectively lent billions to themselves, betting that post-nuclear-deal optimism and foreign investment would transform Iran Mall into a profit engine.
But after the US withdrew from the JCPOA in 2018, Iran’s economy contracted, purchasing power plunged, and foreign brands stayed away. What was meant as a monument to modern commerce became a mausoleum of financial hubris and cronyism.
Shielded by Power
Ansari, now 63, began building his empire in his twenties, founding Bank Tat in 2009 with a capital base of 2 trillion rials (about $200 million at the time) before merging it with other institutions to form Ayandeh.
Beyond Iran Mall, he owned several luxury properties, including a Tehran tower sold to convicted tycoon Babak Zanjani, who paid only one-fifth of the price.
After Ayandeh’s dissolution, Ansari claimed his “conscience is clear,” though he has faced no legal proceedings.
Rumors persist of political protection, including alleged ties to Mojtaba Khamenei, the Supreme Leader’s son, and Gholam-Ali Haddad-Adel, Mojtaba’s father-in-law.
These remain unverified but reinforce perceptions that Ayandeh’s rise and fal were inseparable from Iran’s political elite.
‘People pay the price’
By the time the Central Bank dissolved Ayandeh, the bank was 550 quadrillion rials (roughly $5.1 billion) in debt.
If its real-estate assets—including Iran Mall—cannot be sold to cover liabilities, the Central Bank will have to print money to repay depositors, injecting vast sums into the economy—a “pure inflationary disaster,” as the financial outlet Bourse Press warned.
Officials have pledged that major shareholders will be held accountable and small depositors repaid first, but skepticism abounds.
Economist Ali Sarzaeem argued that the Central Bank long knew the scale of Ayandeh’s abuses but lacked the will to act.
“If the bank’s assets are overvalued or unsellable,” he wrote, “the gap between debt and equity will again be filled from the pockets of ordinary Iranians.”
The moderate-conservative Jomhuri Eslami painted an even bleaker picture: “Even more tragic is that this infection has been passed on to Bank Melli—and that bank too will sooner or later meet the same fate.”
Meysam Gholami, acting head of the state-run Research Institute of Cyberspace told a national cyber conference that an opinion poll found 2.4% of respondents were “very satisfied” and 17% “somewhat satisfied” with internet in Iran.
By contrast, 41% said they were “not very satisfied” and 38% “not satisfied at all,” with 2% declining to answer, according to remarks carried by Iranian media.
Gholami said about 61% of users reported using free VPNs and circumvention tools. He added that 10% keep VPNs “almost always” on, 53% switch them on for specific tasks, and 14% said they do not use VPNs.
He warned that widespread use of no-cost tools can degrade performance and raise privacy risks.
The official also cited access and usage gaps. Roughly 23% of Iranians aged over 15 -- about 15 million people-- do not use the internet at all, he said.
Average daily screen time in Iran stands at about 7 hours 10 minutes across phones, games and media, compared with a global average of roughly 6 hours, Gholami added, describing the figure as a cultural and public-health concern.
Gholami urged a “data-driven, non-political” approach to digital policy, saying survey results suggest domestic services do not fully meet user needs where VPNs are most frequently switched on.
He also flagged emerging security issues from connected devices in homes, saying some smart appliances can transmit detailed data to manufacturers, and called for stronger privacy safeguards.
Iran’s government has long maintained controls on major foreign platforms and says restrictions are necessary for national security.
Witnesses said police, Basij militia and Revolutionary Guards manned checkpoints and turned people back from access routes in Fars province.
Iran has long declined to recognize Cyrus Day in its official calendar, and has in past years restricted access to Pasargadae and, at times, Persepolis to discourage large gatherings around the Achaemenid-era sites.
Security curbs around the October 28-31 anniversary -- linked by some accounts to Cyrus’s entry into Babylon in 539 BCE -- have become routine since large crowds rallied at the tomb in 2016.
The latest closures came amid renewed public debate inside Iran over how to commemorate pre-Islamic heritage.
Ghader Ashna, secretary of the Public Culture Council at the culture ministry, told the ISNA news agency that over the past year no formal request had reached his body to add “Cyrus Day” to the national calendar, but said any proposal would be reviewed by a dedicated working group and the Supreme Council of the Cultural Revolution.
Separately, ISNA quoted cultural scholar Bahman Namvar-Motlagh as saying that honoring Cyrus did not contradict Iran’s Islamic identity and could help bolster social cohesion if handled without “excess or confrontation.”
He framed interest in Cyrus among younger Iranians as part of a broader search for common symbols of national unity in a tense regional environment.
Rights activist and Nobel Peace laureate Narges Mohammadi marked the day with a message on Instagram describing Cyrus as a “cultural symbol” associated with tolerance and justice, and contrasted that legacy with Iran’s record on political freedoms and capital punishment.
Exiled opposition figure Reza Pahlavi, the son of Iran’s last shah, told supporters at a Toronto event earlier this month that a future post-Islamic Republic order should elevate the 2020 Abraham Accords into what he called “Cyrus Accords,” recasting Iran as a promoter of regional peace rather than conflict.
Cyrus the Great, who founded the Achaemenid Empire in the 6th century BCE, is widely cited in Iran’s schools and popular culture as a touchstone of nationhood. The Pasargadae site and Persepolis -- both UNESCO-listed -- draw steady domestic and foreign tourism, though access has at times been restricted on sensitive dates.
In 2024, heritage outlets connected to the state reported fencing and concrete barriers on the road to Pasargadae ahead of the October commemorations.
Iranian scientists and officials have separately warned that land subsidence from groundwater over-extraction is emerging as a long-term threat to several heritage sites, including areas around Persepolis and the Tomb of Cyrus.
Geologists cited this month reported cracks and surface fissures in Fars and other provinces, saying cumulative deformation could damage historic fabric over years if water withdrawals are not curbed.
Cyrus Day is not an official holiday, but diaspora communities and some Iranians at home mark it annually with cultural events and online campaigns.
The Islamic Republic’s leadership has historically promoted an Islamic “ummah” identity and has sometimes viewed mass gatherings at pre-Islamic monuments as politically sensitive, especially amid periodic anti-government protests.
Iranian state bodies did not immediately issue a statement on Wednesday’s access limits in Fars.
