Power politics in Tehran has reached a stage where even the most routine public affairs—a film festival, an environmental report or the World Cup draw—spiral into controversy, as if the system cannot tolerate anything resembling normalcy.
Last week, an international film festival was held in the historic city of Shiraz. To emphasize the festival’s international character, organizers invited one of Turkey’s most acclaimed filmmakers Nuri Bilge Ceylan to head the jury.
The announcement angered hardliners, who framed it as a cultural intrusion. Culture Ministry officials who organized the event did not dare explain the meaning of “international.” Even if they had, few would have listened.
While the festival attempted to celebrate cinematic creativity in a conspicuously muted way—so as not to provide ammunition to political rivals—security forces in Tehran raided a private birthday gathering of Iranian filmmakers and arrested several for drinking.
It was another reminder that even culture, perhaps especially culture, cannot escape the state’s instinctive need to police spontaneity.
On air sagas
That same week, cleric Abdolrahim Soleimani Ardestani sparked outrage during a live debate on a popular YouTube-based platform when he asserted that a Shi'ite Imam was killed by his wife after discovering he had taken a second wife.
Fundamentalists and hardliners swiftly accused him of insulting religious sanctities—an allegation that could carry the death penalty—ultimately forcing him to apologize.
In the same week, a local official in the western province of Kohgiluyeh and Boyer-Ahmad openly questioned President Masoud Pezeshkian’s water policy during a televised event.
Visibly angry, Pezeshkian shouted that the dams in question were not signed off by him. The live broadcast was abruptly cut off when the official produced documents that proved the president wrong.
A mundane administrative event turned combustible in a system where power is perpetually on edge.
Everything—even football
Then came the 2026 World Cup draw in Washington DC, and the saga surrounding entry permits for Iran’s delegation.
Tehran first announced it would boycott the event after the United States issued visas to only four of the nine delegates—a high number, as countries typically send one to four representatives.
After two weeks of heated debate in Tehran, the boycott was abandoned and two delegates were sent to the draw following “consultations with the Foreign Ministry.”
Predictably, no one asked why such consultations had not taken place before the hasty boycott. Nor did anyone question why the federation or government failed to protest the ban on Iranian spectators traveling to the US for the 2026 World Cup.
Sports diplomacy became yet another venue where reflexive posturing overtakes basic competence.
Strange as it may seem, this was simply another ordinary week in Iran—a week where the smallest acts are politicized, the simplest decisions are derailed, and the state’s fear of normalcy turns daily life into a continuous cascade of avoidable crises.
Tehran’s unveiling of a towering statue depicting the Roman Emperor Valerian kneeling before pre-Islamic Persian King Shapur I has renewed criticism of the Islamic Republic’s appeal to nationalist sentiment following the June war with Israel.
For over forty years, the theocracy purged ancient Persian history from schoolbooks, replacing it with post-Islamic narratives. But after the 12-day conflict with Israel, officials have turned to the distant pre-Islamic past to rally a divided society.
From murals of ancient kings and soldiers to patriotic songs added to Shi’ite mourning ceremonies performed before Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, Tehran now embraces imagery once deemed heretical by its own revolutionary ethos.
'Kneel before Iran' campaign
Tehran’s Revolution (Enghelab) Square was the scene of an unusual spectacle on Friday as officials unveiled a massive bronze statue depicting Roman Emperor Valerian kneeling in submission before Sassanid King Shapur I, commemorating Iran’s victory at the Battle of Edessa (260 AD).
The event was held under the slogan “Kneel before Iran,” part of what authorities describe as a campaign to project “national unity and historical pride” following the June war with Israel.
Tehran Mayor Alireza Zakani, a staunch ultraconservative, said on X: “Enmity with Great Iran can only end in kneeling before this historic nation.”
Municipal official Davood Goodarzi said the installation would be accompanied by visual displays depicting “other victories of Iranians over foreign aggressors,” including the defeat of British forces by local commander Rais-Ali Delvari, Mirza Kuchak Khan’s resistance against Russian troops, and Surena’s triumph over Rome at the Battle of Carrhae in 53 BCE.
The goal, Goodarzi said, is “strengthening concepts such as national dignity, social unity, and Iranian identity.”
The statue, he said, would remain temporarily at Revolution Square before being moved to a city gateway “where it will stand as the first emblem of Iran before diplomats and foreign visitors.”
Unveiled women were allowed to attend the unveiling ceremony—an uncommon scene at events organized by Tehran’s ultra-hardline municipality.
The turn to the pre-Islamic past
The sharp reversal also recalls remarks once made by Khamenei. In a 2011 speech, he asserted that “all the great military victories of this nation came after Islam,” dismissing pre-Islamic accounts as “things that are not documented.”
In 1987, he had said that prophets triumphed over kings such as Cyrus and that “nothing remains of these monarchs in history but names remembered with derision.”
Nevertheless, pro-government social media accounts have now gone so far as to circulate posters equating Khamenei himself with Shapur, showing him standing with a staff as Benjamin Netanyahu and Donald Trump kneel before him. The caption reads: “You will kneel before Iran.”
'Hypocrisy'
Pro-government figures have hailed the move as a patriotic success. Conservative political reporter Hossein Saremi posted: “Today’s grand Iranian gathering showed that people and the state share one essence: Iran itself. Nothing can take our homeland away.”
Others, however, called the spectacle “hypocrisy.” Journalist Gholamhossein Pashaei wrote on X: “Every year you close Pasargadae to stop people from celebrating Cyrus Day, yet you unveil Shapur’s statue in Enghelab Square with drums and fireworks during Fatimiyya (mourning period)!”
Dissident commentator Hamid Asafi called the ceremony “a perfect snapshot of the Islamic Republic’s contradictions.”
On Telegram he wrote: “A week ago they closed Cyrus’s tomb out of fear of the crowds, and now they glorify Shapur in the same breath. The Islamic Republic fears living history but poses for selfies with its corpse.”
He added: “They know people no longer respond to rosaries and sermons. That’s why they’ve brought history back to the stage—in a controlled costume. If they can’t erase the past, they’ll try to own it.”
The irony deepened as UNESCO formally recognized Cyrus’s Charter as one of the earliest human-rights documents.
President Masoud Pezeshkian wrote on X: “Iran, the cradle of dialogue, justice, and coexistence, can still inspire peace today.”
Users swiftly replied, questioning how such pride could coexist with a government that blocks access to Cyrus’s tomb each year to those wishing to visit it on his birthday.