As Iran demands strict new "France-style" concessions from Telegram, officials continue to use the banned app freely, fueling public anger and accusations that President Pezeshkian has failed to deliver on a campaign pledge to unfetter internet access.
In recent weeks, negotiations have quietly begun between Iran’s Ministry of Communications and the messaging platform Telegram.
The talks follow a 32-article directive passed by the Supreme Council of Cyberspace in December 2024, outlining conditions for lifting a ban imposed in 2018.
The reported terms include cooperation with Iran’s judiciary, blocking so-called terrorist or ethnically provocative content, and a pledge not to share Iranian user data with foreign intelligence services.
Officials describe these conditions as essential to preserve what they call digital sovereignty.
'Treat Iran as you treated France'
Conservative members of the Cyberspace Council argue Iran’s conditions mirror those accepted by Telegram in France.
“Telegram must treat the Islamic Republic the same way it treats the French government. Other nations have demanded accountability over terrorism and social norms, and Telegram complied,” council member Rasoul Jalili told Fars News Agency.
The hardline daily Jam-e Jam, affiliated with state broadcaster IRIB, likewise wrote that “France’s judicial pressure forced Telegram to retreat” by agreeing to share IP addresses and phone numbers with police, publish quarterly transparency reports and set up a 24-hour legal hotline.
French newspaper Le Monde reported Telegram’s cooperation with France and other governments expanded after founder Pavel Durov’s 2024 arrest in Paris.
Public frustration
Critics say Iran is applying a double standard: demanding sweeping concessions from Telegram before restoring public access, while lawmakers and state bodies such as Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei’s office continue using the banned platform.
“When officials’ official announcements are made on Telegram, it means they consider it safe. So what’s the justification for filtering it for citizens?” one anonymous user, Ashk, wrote on X.
“Elites have unfiltered internet, but ordinary people must buy VPNs and take risks,” wrote another user, Vahab.
Another, Sajjad, asked: “How can Telegram be ‘legal’ for political advertising but ‘illegal’ for a young person trying to earn a living?”
Public anger has also focused on the lucrative VPN market. Lawmaker Pourdehghan recently estimated it at nearly 50 trillion tomans or about $450 million, saying it benefits “certain groups who oppose lifting the filter.”
“These new rules won’t lift the ban — they only make VPN sellers richer while mocking the people,” user Nader Alizadeh posted on X.
Pezeshkian under pressure
President Masoud Pezeshkian, who campaigned on a promise to end online filtering, now faces mounting criticism for inaction.
“In the presidential election, he made only one clear pledge — to lift filtering. And he failed even at that,” economist Ali Sadvandi posted on X.
Posting on X, lawmaker Jalal Rashidi Kouchi urged Pezeshkian “to name the members of the Cyberspace Council who voted to keep filtering — if he truly has the authority.”
Farid Mousavi, a member of parliament’s Economic Committee, told Khabar Online that “Pezeshkian is not in a position to order unfiltering, even if he wants to. Opponents believe lifting the ban would boost the government’s popularity.”
The power of Telegram
Despite an official ban in 2018, Telegram remains one of Iran’s most influential platforms, essential to business, news, and social life.
Its mobilizing power first became evident in 2013, following the death of young pop singer Morteza Pashaei. Within hours, Telegram channels spread the news nationwide, prompting spontaneous vigils in dozens of cities — from Tehran to small rural towns — revealing how rapidly digital networks could unite a population.
The race for Tehran’s City Council elections is heating up among state-aligned factions almost entirely detached from an electorate which has largely quit the ballot box.
Preoccupied with the daily struggle to make ends meet—and having lost hope in meaningful change through elections—many in Iran’s capital view the spectacle of rival elites competing for power as little more than political theatre.
Turnout in Tehran’s last council election barely reached 25 percent. Mehdi Chamran, the conservative who now chairs the council, was elected with votes from roughly five percent of eligible citizens.
Sociologist Masoumeh Entezam recently described this decline as part of a deeper “crisis of participation” marked by “silent votes” and the erosion of political representation.
Writing in the government’s official daily Iran, she said many Iranians now see elections as contests for “specific factions rather than society at large,” but added that the new “proportional” system—to be introduced in next year’s Tehran council elections—could “open a small window toward reviving the institution of elections.”
Power launchpad
Despite outside doubts, within Iran’s insular political class the race is seen as highly consequential.
The Tehran City Council not only selects the capital’s mayor but has long served as a launchpad for national ambitions.
In 1997, the municipality’s reformist-aligned daily Hamshahri helped propel Mohammad Khatami’s late campaign to victory. Eight years later, then-mayor Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, appointed by the ultraconservative Abadgaran faction that controlled the council, rode the same route to the presidency.
With the next election due in May 2026, nearly every major political camp is maneuvering to secure a foothold.
Reformists and centrist parties—often sidelined in recent years—have vowed to present a unified list, a first for Iran’s local elections, according to prominent centrist figure Hossein Marashi.
Hardliners, despite controlling the current council that installed Alireza Zakani as mayor, remain divided. Some members have resigned early to prepare their own bids.
Hardliners divided
Among the key contenders are the ultraconservative Paydari Party and Sharian, a newer faction led by Mehrdad Bazrpash, a former protégé of hardline presidents Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Ebrahim Raisi.
Reports in Tehran media suggest Bazrpash now leads a well-funded campaign to secure the mayorship.
Outlets such as Khorassan and Khabar Online describe the council race as a “preliminary stage” for the next presidential contest, warning that hardliners risk repeating the infighting and disillusion that have already alienated many urban voters.
Despite the fevered jockeying among Iran’s political elite, few believe the outcome will meaningfully alter the city’s direction—or the country’s.
As in other elections under the Islamic Republic, the final result is widely expected to align with Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei’s preferences, not the will of an increasingly detached public.
An outlet linked to Iran’s Revolutionary Guards on Thursday conceded that life is getting harder for Iranian families, in a sign that economic malaise has become too severe to ignore even by the ruling establishment.
Javan newspaper, which rarely acknowledges public hardship, wrote at length about the near-daily rise in grocery prices.
“Life has become more difficult and more expensive for Iranian families,” the daily wrote, citing examples of dairy, fruit, and bread skyrocketing.
According to the Statistical Center, food and beverage prices rose more than any other category during the month of Mehr (September 23–October 23). Bread prices increased by 98%, fruit by 94% and vegetables by 77%.
Not surprisingly, the paper laid the blame entirely on President Masoud Pezeshkian and his administration, whose mandate falls well short of tackling the domestic and foreign policy failures that have undermined Iran’s economy in recent years.
“He says at least three times a week that he never intended to become Iran’s president,” Javan wrote, accusing Pezeshkian of shirking responsibility.
The relative moderate is opposed by the hardline conservative Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps.
Soaring inflation
The paper also criticized his supporters, including former President Mohammad Khatami, for focusing on abstract debates such as “the tension between religion and freedom” or “celebrity scandals” instead of economic realities.
The Statistical Center reported that point-to-point inflation from late September to late October reached 48.6%, with the Consumer Price Index climbing to 403.8 relative to 2021—meaning prices have quadrupled since.
Iran’s economy has been battered by sweeping international sanctions targeting its oil revenues, banking, and shipping sectors.
Years of corruption, opaque budgeting, and mismanagement of resources already strained by those sanctions have deepened the crisis and fueled public anger, as evidenced by the collapse of a major retail bank this week.
Despite mounting pressure on households, the government recently approved steep price hikes for vehicles produced by state-owned companies, ignoring the ripple effects on other goods and services.
Growing concern
Javan also attacked moderates for not speaking up against the administration they favor, singling out journalist-turned-politician Mohammad Ghoochani.
Ghoochani once warned of a “meat’s rebellion” when the dollar stood at 500,000 rials and meat cost 1.5 million rials per kilogram ($3), Javan jibed. “Now, with the dollar at one million rials and meat priced at 10 million rials per kilogram ($10), he remains silent.”
Junior hardliners in parliament received a brief rebuke too, scolded by the IRGC outlet for “challenging senior politicians” merely to boost their social media profiles.
The latest wave of price increases has forced many families to cut consumption, with some essential items disappearing entirely from household shopping baskets.
Even Iran’s tightly controlled media, including outlets owned by the government and armed forces, are now reporting on the growing hardship.
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.
The collapse of Iran’s Ayandeh Bank resembles a national-scale Ponzi scheme, exposing how reckless lending, political patronage, and failed mega-projects drained public wealth.
Ayandeh survived on illusion—paying old investors with new deposits while building an empire of glass and marble called Iran Mall.
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.
Iran Mall in the west of Tehran
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.”
The president who once stood triumphant after the 2015 nuclear deal is now under fierce attack from hardliners, with no public defense—a stark sign of how far Iran’s politics and society have shifted in the past decade.
Former President Hassan Rouhani is being targeted by hardline lawmakers, Revolutionary Guards commanders, and state-aligned media outlets. Even figures close to Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei appear to have joined the quiet campaign to sideline him.
Although social media sentiment leans in Rouhani’s favor, visible public support is absent. The only voices defending him belong to former aides, not the broader population.
Much of the hostility stems from Rouhani’s recent remarks implicitly criticizing Tehran’s foreign policy—particularly the so-called “Look East” doctrine—and his renewed public presence since the 12-day war, which has coincided with Khamenei’s retreat from the spotlight.
Many in Tehran believe Rouhani is positioning himself for a potential role in the power vacuum that could follow the soon-to-be 87-year-old leader.
History with the Guards
In the past week, former IRGC commander Mohammad Ali Jafari, ex-security chief Ali Shamkhani, and parliament speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf—himself a former Guards general—have all publicly attacked Rouhani.
His uneasy relationship with the Revolutionary Guards dates back to his presidency.
In December 2014, he described the IRGC as “a government with guns, media outlets, prisons, its own intelligence agency, and substantial economic resources,” warning that such concentrated power could breed corruption.
The backlash was swift. Rouhani’s brother was accused of financial misconduct, tried, and imprisoned—though often seen outside prison—damaging the president’s credibility.
Old rivalries reignited
Rouhani defeated conservative and hardline candidates in both the 2013 and 2017 presidential elections with sharp rhetoric, and his opponents never forgave him.
Ghalibaf was among the contenders on both occasions.
First, he was humiliated during televised debates when Rouhani accused him of taking campaign funds from drug traffickers and backing the violent suppression of student protests in 1999. Then, in 2017, Ghalibaf was pressured by hardliners to withdraw from the race to boost Ebrahim Raisi’s chances—a strategy that failed.
That old hostility is now resurfacing in parliament, where Ghalibaf has taken the lead in attacks on Rouhani. He has been more measured in tone, but ultraconservatives appear to have taken the cue.
On October 26, hardline MPs Amir Hossein Sabeti and Hamid Rasai called for Rouhani’s trial and imprisonment.
While such demands aren’t new, Sabeti went further, claiming Rouhani is positioning himself for a “higher role”—a thinly veiled reference to his rumored ambition to become Iran’s next Supreme Leader.
A potential contender?
Rouhani remains a singular figure among Iran’s clerics: he holds genuine academic credentials, speaks with eloquence, and has a revolutionary pedigree.
Few clerics can match his combination of seniority and stature.
It’s not hard to see why Khamenei and his son Mojtaba—whose name is heard more than any other in succession chatter—would like Rouhani weakened.
There’s no evidence that the leader’s office is involved in what appears to be a concerted attack on Rouhani, but Khamenei once publicly rebuked him after the former president called for a referendum to restore presidential powers.
Fall from grace
Rouhani’s main liability is his loss of public trust.
He misled the nation about the IRGC’s missile strike on a civilian airliner in 2020 and authorized the violent suppression of peaceful protests in 2019.
Stylistically, he models himself after Ayatollah Mohammad Beheshti, the former chief justice killed in a 1981 bombing.
Always impeccably dressed, with a neatly groomed salt-and-pepper beard, he projects discipline and control—and is perhaps the only senior figure in the moderate camp who can claim a serious security record.
As pressure mounts, many in Tehran wonder whether this campaign against Rouhani will end well—for him or for the system.
His situation recalls the parable of a man falling from a high-rise building. When asked how things were going halfway down, he replied, “So far, so good.”