Syrians have every right to hate us Iranians

"I can’t remember the last time I was so shaken as I was watching images of Assad’s prisons," says Fatemeh, who has seen the inside of Iran’s prisons for her activism. “My country funded these crimes. Syrians have every right to hate us."

Her anguish mirrors the conflicted emotions of many Iranians following the events in Syria. For decades, their government funneled financial and military support to prop up Bashar al-Assad and his police state. And yet the much-feared dictatorship unraveled in less than ten days.

Fatemeh is 36. She’s been jailed twice in the past five years, each time for a few months. Like many other Iranians struggling with economic hardship, she doesn’t approve of giving money to the so-called Axis of Resistance in general. But to see with her own eyes the horrors that money bought repulsed her.

“I’ve seen countless images of Nazi death camps and other dictators’ prisons, but those feel like history. These are live broadcasts from the depths of hell,” Fatemeh says pointing at her laptop.

The fall of Assad has sparked hope for many Iranians that the Islamic Republic could be next. The events of the last few months, including the battering of Hamas and Hezbollah by Israel, has punctured the high-flying rhetoric of Iran’s supreme leader Ali Khamenei. His air of invincibility is gone, the posturing notwithstanding.

"I’ve been arguing for a while that the Islamic Republic cannot be toppled because it’s cruel enough to jail and kill as many as it takes to survive," said Bahador, 40.

"My reference point was always Assad and his survival. But he’s gone now. And I can’t help thinking ‘what if’?”

Bahador owns a small company and—in relative terms—is well off. He says his friends call him Glum after the character in the cartoon Gulliver’s Travels who famously said "it’s hopeless" and "it will never work."

“I stopped hoping after the 2022 protests were crushed,” Bahador explains, “but the ecstasy you see in Syria these days is contagious. It’s hard not to dream again.”

He qualifies his optimism immediately, of course, noting the possibility that radical Islamists could take over Syria. He says he cannot help his fear of disappointment, which compels him to hedge his best hopes.

Still, you can tell that he is, indeed, hopeful. And he’s not alone.

"Since the first videos from Syria’s prisons surfaced, I can’t stop imagining that moment when the prison doors open and people walk free.” This is Mehdi, a sales assistant in an insurance company, who unlike Bahador dares to speak his dreams.

“I picture myself in their place—that moment of unconditional freedom, shared with everyone else, leaving no one behind. I really hope we get to see this. But I can’t stop thinking about the thousands that have been killed or gone missing under this system.”

The events in Syria have rekindled hope, but also shocked many. While the brutality of Assad’s regime was no secret, the full extent of its machinery of repression, especially in Sednaya prison, is beyond imagination.

And it has raised uncomfortable questions about prisons in Iran.

Many fear that similar horrors might exist here in Tehran or other cities, hidden from public view. The Islamic Republic is quite brazen about its actions. It openly executes and convicts dissidents, often in breach of its own laws and processes.

Still, Syria’s revelations have troubled many activists that the brutality we see may only be part of the story.

Past nightmares aside, the Syrian experience is closely watched in Iran for hints of what the future may hold.

Debates rage on social media. Some warn that Syria’s revolution could end like Iran’s, leading to new forms of oppression. Others argue that the Syrians are miles ahead already, managing a peaceful transition, not rushing to execute former officials as Iran’s revolutionaries did in 1979.

Arash, a 29-year old crypto-trader, captures the irony of shifting narratives.

"For years we were warned that Iran could become another Syria. Now we should warn Syrians not to become another Iran. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Arash says, shaking his head.

“Every time we protested, they’d flaunt so-called security: ’appreciate that you’re safe in this country,’ they said. And we all know how fragile that security is.”

He’s referring to the Israeli airstrikes and other operations inside Iran.

For now, fears of a war with Israel have eased among Iranians. The saber-rattling has somewhat faded with Assad’s fall. In its stead, we see gentle moves to build a functioning relationship with Syria’s new rulers.

The will of the Syrian people will be respected, Iran’s foreign ministry said in a statement. The irony!