Uncategorized
‘The Girl in the Red Jacket’: A Testimony From Inside Iran
Cars burn in a street during a protest over the collapse of the currency’s value, in Tehran, Iran, Jan. 8, 2026. Photo: Stringer/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
I am Maddie, a millennial woman from Iran and an eyewitness to a bitter reality impossible to unsee.
I woke up on the morning of January 7, 2026, and checked my phone, scrolling through clips of my favorite shows. I walked into the living room with my phone still in my hand, when I realized that protests had broken out in the capital, Tehran.
At first, I ignored it. I had seen this before. In the 2019 “Bloody November” protests (Aban-i-Khoonin), the streets did not just protest; they bled. What started as fury over oil prices became a desperate fight for survival and freedom. The only thing more deafening than the gunfire was the chilling realization that this regime would rather rule a graveyard than lose its throne.
In 2022, the death of Mahsa Jina Amini in police custody sparked a new wave of demonstrations, and headscarves were burned. Streets filled again. Bullets tore through the chants; the shadow of the gallows grew longer every passing day. For every burned scarf, a life was taken.
Every time the streets stir, that old terror returns. The memory of what happens to empty hands never really fades. Our only weapon is our voices, but voices don’t stop bullets. You can’t save your loved one with chants; the memory of the consequences of rising against a totalitarian regime is etched in the pavements of this land in the form of stains.
This time, I knew the protests would be suppressed as they always are, and people would be forced back into silence. I put on my hoodie and left to buy eggs and dog food. I hadn’t been to the market for over a week. At the counter, I handed my card to the shopkeeper. The card machine beeped and showed an insufficient funds error. I knew I had money; I was certain of it. I asked the shopkeeper why the payment was being declined. He looked at me and said I didn’t have enough.
That was when I realized what had happened. Prices had tripled in less than two weeks. The US dollar had surged past 150,000 toman. At that moment, something broke inside me. I was not just shocked. I was angry, frustrated, and humiliated. Standing there, unable to pay for basic necessities, I understood that the crisis was no longer something happening on screens in Tehran. It had reached my hands, my wallet, and my life.
I spent the day reading, watching videos, and playing with my dogs. By the afternoon, I had to go to work. I went, finished my shift, and came back home. When I returned, I asked my uncle whether there had been any protests where we live. He said there were none.
“This is a small city,” he said. “Everyone knows everyone, you can’t just disappear in a crowd, so even if there are protests, you are not going anywhere.”
I nodded and went out to see my friends. We talked about ordinary things while the news played in the background, the way people do when fear has become a routine. Injustice lingered in the air like a toxin, impossible to escape. Near the main street, I noticed two men and a few young boys and girls standing together in silence. A police van parked in front of them, close enough to silence them without a word. Chanting wasn’t allowed. No banners, no organization — this alone was dangerous.
I went home with a pounding heart. I took off my shoes, then put on a black mask and wrapped a black shawl around my head and neck. In my rush, I forgot to change my red jacket. I found myself already moving before I had fully decided.
Uncle called out, “Where are you going?”
“I am just going to see, not going to do anything!”
“It is dangerous, they will find out, this is a small town,” he warned me about the consequences.
“Ten minutes? I will keep my distance,” I pleaded.
“Only ten minutes! Don’t do anything stupid.”
This is how we negotiate with fear, through time limits and promises that no one believes.
I put my shoes on in a hurry and stepped outside, overwhelmed by adrenaline, moving fast, almost without thinking.
Every step felt like calculating a potential death sentence. Every corner felt like a risk that couldn’t be undone. Here, opposition is not met with dialogue; it is met with batons, bullets, prison, and execution without trial. We grow up knowing the names of the dead even when their stories are erased. We know that a protest is never just a protest; it is a gamble with your future, your freedom, and your life.
As I turned the corner, I saw a few protesters standing apart from one another, careful not to form a crowd. I stopped at a distance. My legs were shaking. My hands would not stay still. I leaned against a wall, trying to steady my breathing. It was my first time standing this close to a protest. I noticed that everyone was wearing black jackets and black masks, as if color itself could be used against us.
I glanced down at my own red jacket and thought of the girl in the red coat in Schindler’s List, a symbol of how innocence and visibility offer no safety when violence is systematic. I stood there for less than a minute, fully aware that in this country, a minute is more than enough to change everything.
Before I could think any further, one of the girls stepped out from the group and walked towards me. I didn’t recognize her at first.
“Maddie, come,” she said.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. My feet moved even as my mind resisted. When I reached the group, I recognized a few of my friends not by their faces, but by their eyes. That was visible.
One of them whispered. “Why are you wearing red? Are you crazy?”
“I didn’t think about it,” I said. I’ll wear black tomorrow.”
We stood there without speaking. One by one, others joined us. Ten people in total. No chants. No movement. Only bodies assembling quietly under constant watch in a small town crowded with the Revolutionary Guard and Basij.
I came home.
Uncle asked. “How did it go?”
“It was fine, I won’t wear a red jacket tomorrow,”
“Tomorrow?” He was quiet. He didn’t say another word.
All night, I kept turning from side to side, consumed by the consequences of having joined a protest. In my family, repression is not an abstract idea. Many of our relatives were killed in the 1970s. We never supported what was called a revolution; what actually took place was a coup d’état. The memories came back uninvited.
During the “Bloody November 2019-2020,” one of my family members was arrested and tortured in a detention center. He spent months as a political prisoner before being released on bail. Those months were filled with a familiar terror: not knowing where your loved ones had been taken, waiting weeks and months without answers, imagining every possible outcome just to survive the silence.
To quiet my thoughts, I downloaded an audiobook from YouTube, The Song of Achilles, my favorite book of all time. In the middle of fear, it offered a strange kind of warmth.
The next evening, at 8 PM, I put on a black jacket and a black mask and returned to the protest with two of my friends, Zahra and Melena. This time it was larger. The ground itself seemed to tremble under the weight of so many feet. Men, women, and children stood together, all dressed in black. The children I was used to seeing run freely through the streets now looked serious, alert.
“Why didn’t you bring your dogs?” one of them asked. They recognized me.
“They might bite you,” I said, and they laughed.
I noticed Snow — a white stray dog — near the sidewalk, looking for me. He finds me wherever I go. I ran home, brought him food, and returned. Dogs are considered filthy and forbidden under Islamic Sharia rules. I have faced constant opposition and mockery simply for feeding and caring for them. That story alone could fill pages.
Snow ate his food and stayed close. When we began walking towards the avenue, he followed along the sidewalk, frightened by the crowd. As we moved, more people joined us.
Then the chants began.
“Death to Khamenei!”
“Death to the dictator!”
“This land will not be free until the clerics are dead.”
The silence was gone, replaced by the brave people who enveloped the town whole.
Those who could not walk with us showed up with their cars, driving slowly in front of and behind the crowd. Their continuous honking, clapping through open windows, and making their presence known gave me the courage to keep walking and chanting even as my heart pounded and I felt certain I could be shot at any moment.
At that moment, Zahra grabbed my arm and shouted at the top of her lungs, “You know what I feel, Maddie?”
“What?” I shouted back.
“I feel free, I feel free to scream, for once in my life I am feeling that my voice is liberated, I have the right to shout.”
I looked at her — the only thing I found was the glistening eyes behind that mask, which was supposed to be a barrier between us and death itself. I nodded, and we held each other’s hands firmly.
That night, I returned home to find the Internet completely cut off. The blackout had begun. I didn’t care; I threw my phone onto the bed, and slept. In the morning, I realized it wasn’t just the Internet. Phone calls didn’t go through. Messages wouldn’t send. I couldn’t reach friends in other cities. Desperate for information, I watched television, scanning for any mention of what was happening elsewhere.
Reports emerged that a hospital in Ilam had been attacked and besieged by police. In Marvdasht, in Fars province, residents had taken up weapons against security forces. The situation was escalating. Authorities brought in forces from other provinces to regain control.
On the third night, again at 8 PM, we went out again; this time the crowd was even larger. Soon after, security forces opened fire on protesters in a nearby town. The crackdown intensified. Families were harassed. Homes were raided. Tear gas, metal pellets, and live ammunition were used. People were shot in the head and in the back, killed or permanently paralyzed.
A 16-year-old boy I knew was murdered. His name was Mehdi. The IRGC and Basij abducted him and his friend from the protest, beat them with rifle butts, sexually assaulted them, and then shot them. One died on the spot, the other remains in a coma.
This is not an exception; this is the life we have been living for decades. The following day, Iranian Intelligence began calling families of the protesters one by one, threatening them, ordering them to turn themselves in, and to stop protesting. Homes were raided. My friends and family were targeted.
Families were told their lives would be destroyed. In some cases, relatives of those killed were forced to sign documents falsely stating their loved ones had been killed by the “Mossad agents and terrorists.”
My uncle received a call. “Tell your family to stay home, or there will be consequences.”
We did not stop, but I began to lose strength when I could no longer reach my friends in other cities.
Eleven days after the massacre began, I briefly regained Internet access. The first thing I did was message friends in larger cities. One of them, from eastern Tehran, I won’t mention his name, told me that the regime had shot everyone who came out; the streets were flooded with blood. Security forces executed wounded protesters by shooting them in the head while they were receiving medical care. Families were forced to pay a ransom to retrieve the bodies of their children.
There is credible evidence that Iraqi, Afghan, and Pakistani militia, many of whom fought in Syria for Bashar al-Assad, were deployed to suppress protesters.
Another friend from Tehran sent me videos he recorded himself. In it, bodies were tagged and placed into bags. These were not anonymous images pulled from social media; they were scenes witnessed firsthand by people I know. The dead were not statistics; they were protesters who had stepped into the streets just like me, and never returned. Every name was a story. A dream.
What Iranians are suffering is not unrest. It is a calculated campaign of terror. The Islamic regime has turned public spaces into a killing ground, medical centers into execution sites, and mourning families into targets of extortion and intimidation. Violence is applied methodically, meant not only to crush protests, but to teach an entire nation what dissent costs.
This is not a momentary crisis. It is the continuation of a system that has perfected repression over decades, one that survives by bloodshed, silence, and the deliberate erasure of human dignity.
Many Islamic countries remain silent. Their narrative is a lie painted over a massacre. While our streets ran red, the leaders of the Muslim countries looked the other way. Seeing them shake hands with the very men who ordered our slaughter is a sickening sight.
My request is direct and urgent.
World leaders, the UN, and international human rights organizations! The Islamic Republic does not recognize international law. It violates it openly and repeatedly. Human rights abuses are central to its survival. Repression is not a policy failure. It is the policy.
The regime promised it would not execute protesters. From early January up till now, it carried out multiple executions. These were acts of intimidation, intended to terrorize a population into submission. Many political prisoners are at risk of execution.
The world must stop treating this regime as a legitimate governing authority and begin treating it as what it is: a system sustained by violence, fear, and the systematic destruction of human life. Silence, neutrality, and delay are not neutral positions. They are choices with consequences measured in blood.
This is not a warning.
It is a record.
It is an appeal to action, before more victims are added to the documented toll of the Islamic regime’s state violence.
Long live Iran.
پاینده باد ایران
Maddie Ali is a teacher and philosophy student based in Iran. In addition to her academic work, she has been involved in civic activity in her hometown, including participating in and helping organize local protests alongside friends and family. Her name has been changed to protect her identity.
Uncategorized
Israelis and Americans deserve to know why they are still at war
Israelis have once again been asked to live under the shadow of war. Sirens and missiles punctuate sleepless nights. Families sleep beside safe rooms. Children measure their days between alarms.
People will endure that, when they believe there is a purpose behind the sacrifice.
Yet three weeks into the current confrontation with Iran, Israel’s government hasn’t offered anything resembling such clarity. Nor has that of the United States. And as the costs of war accrue in both countries — with Americans worrying about forces deployed across the region, and paying the price of the conflict at the gas pump — citizens of both countries deserve something basic from their leaders: a direct, compelling explanation of what this war is supposed to achieve.
In a democracy, citizens who are sending their children to shelters and their soldiers to the front absolutely have the right to know the objectives of a war. Yes, you cannot reveal operational details that could endanger pilots, intelligence sources, or soldiers in the field.
But explaining the purpose of a war is not the same thing as revealing tactics. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and U.S. President Donald Trump aren’t exhibiting prudence by keeping things, as the Forward‘s Arno Rosenfeld wrote, “incoherent.” Instead, they’re showing contempt for those they govern.
The hubris would be troubling even if either government in question enjoyed broad public trust. But neither Netanyahu nor Trump are leaders who command such confidence. And the arrogance that has infected even officials under them reflects a deeper pattern that has long defined both men’s leadership: an extraordinary sense of entitlement to power.
An Israel defined by hubris
Many Israelis believe that Netanyahu bends the truth routinely and will do almost anything to remain in power. Under those circumstances, demanding blind faith in this war is insulting.
Consider the extraordinary elasticity of the government’s claims. In June, after the earlier 12-day confrontation with Iran, Netanyahu declared that Israel had pushed back Iran’s missile and nuclear threats “for generations.”
If anyone made the mistake of believing him at the time, it is now obvious that he was lying. Iran still possesses missiles, which we know, because they have rained down on Israel throughout this war. If this conflict is now necessary to confront the very same dangers, the public deserves an explanation of what exactly happened to the supposed “generations” of security their leader had promised.
Yet instead of engaging with tough questions from the press about why Israel engaged in this war, what its goals are, and when it will end, Netanyahu has opted to exclusively discuss the war on friendly platforms. There are social media videos produced by his team, which are pure propaganda; the rare stage-managed “news conference,” usually with the few questioners selected in advance; and a studious avoidance of interviews with the Israeli media — with the sole exception of the pro-Netanyahu Channel 14.
Incredibly, when asked by a reporter from Haaretz a few days ago what the goals of the war were — and why no explanation has been offered to the citizens of the country — Government Secretary Yossi Fuchs actually had the temerity to respond that, in his eyes, citizens don’t need to know about those goals. Some have been set, he said, but they are confidential.
This posture invites, of course, even more suspicion.
Muddled American messaging
If Netanyahu says too little, Trump, on the American side, possibly says too much.
He speaks constantly about the war, yet always seems to struggle with precision or coherence.
One day he suggests the conflict could last a long time. The next he says he thinks it may end soon. When asked about terrorism that could follow escalation, he shrugs that “some people will die.”
This is not surprising; Trump’s rhetoric on these things has always been belated, confused and focused on spectacle. Within hours of the bizarre American seizure of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro — a reprehensible figure but still the head of a sovereign state — Trump appeared on television explaining that the U.S. needed access to Venezuelan oil.
With short-term operations like that in Venezuela, Trump’s inability to explain why the U.S. needed to engage, and outline what Americans can expect going forward, was less glaring. Now, as he waffles between demanding NATO allies come to aid the war and insisting their help isn’t needed; bizarrely declares the war will end “when I feel it in my bones”; and makes clear that the war was initiated with no strategic foresight, it’s impossible to ignore
So Americans, like Israelis, are left struggling to understand what exactly their government is trying to accomplish. And while in Israel the war is still broadly supported — so great is the anger at the Iranian regime, and so effective has been Israel’s missile defense — that is hardly the case in the U.S.
The blame game
The risks of a war defined by ever-moving goalposts and a deliberately obscure timeframe are obvious and terrifying. Just look at the war in Gaza.
That conflict dragged on for nearly two years, accompanied by repeated declarations that Hamas would soon be eliminated. Today, Hamas still exists. Yet the government has offered no serious accounting of that reality. On the way to this endgame, in which the status quo has ended up preserved but with Gaza in ruins, Netanyahu repeatedly blocked off-ramps. He was clearly indifferent to the widespread perception that he was using the continuation of the war to avoid accountability: he explicitly and shamelessly argued that spectacular breakdown on Oct. 7 could not be investigated while the war continued.
In fact, he is using the exact same playbook in this new war, arguing last week — with Trump’s support — that Israeli President Isaac Herzog should issue him a pardon in his ongoing corruption trial so that he can focus on the war.
Some Israelis now genuinely fear that prolonged emergency conditions could become politically convenient. Netanyahu’s critics openly speculate that a monumental national crisis might provide justification to delay or manipulate elections — as Netanyahu is obsessed with remaining in power and is badly behind in the polls.
In the U.S., this fumbling has opened the door to an alarming new reality: one in which Israel and its international supporters are blamed for dragging the U.S. into war. On Tuesday, Joe Kent, director of the National Counterterrorism Center, resigned over the war with a public letter making unproven allegations that Trump fell prey to an Israeli “misinformation campaign that wholly undermined your America First platform.” There is a clear risk that such rhetoric, fueled by the sense of directionlessness in this war, will increase already surging antisemitism.
The paradox of justification
Netanyahu and Trump’s failure to clearly justify the war does not mean that the Iranian regime deserves indulgence.
Tehran has brutalized its own citizens for decades and exported violence throughout the Middle East. Through Hezbollah in Lebanon, Hamas in Gaza, the Houthis in Yemen, and Shiite militias in Iraq, it has helped fuel conflicts that have cost countless lives. The regime has given the world many reasons to wish for its disappearance.
For the past month I have been arguing relentlessly that the Iranian regime has forfeited any claim to sympathy and that its actions have justified the Israeli and U.S. attack.
A long war determined to bring the regime to its knees may not be fundamentally unjustified. But requiring blind faith in the leaders prosecuting that war is.
The post Israelis and Americans deserve to know why they are still at war appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Trump Official Resigns Over Iran War, Blames Israel
Mattie Neretin – CNP/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
A senior U.S. counterterrorism official resigned Tuesday in protest of President Donald Trump’s military campaign against Iran, accusing Israel of playing an outsized role in pushing the United States into conflict.
Joe Kent, director of the National Counterterrorism Center, said he could not support the war, arguing Tehran posed “no imminent threat” to the United States. But it was Kent’s broader assertion, that pressure from Israel and pro-Israel voices influenced the decision to go to war, that drew swift pushback from the White House and national security experts.
In his resignation, Kent also drew parallels to the Iraq War, suggesting that similar dynamics shaped both conflicts, arguing that Israel pushed the US into the conflict. His comments revived long-running debates about how U.S. intelligence and foreign alliances factor into decisions to use military force, though many officials and analysts have rejected such comparisons as misleading.
“Iran posed no imminent threat to our nation, and it is clear that we started this war due to pressure from Israel and its powerful American lobby,” Kent wrote in his resignation letter.
Kent further claimed that he lost his wife in a “war manufactured by Israel.” Kent’s wife, Shannon Kent, died in 2019 when an ISIS suicide bomber detonated an explosive device during a U.S. military operation during the Syrian Civil War. Kent’s assertion suggests that Israel started the Syrian Civil War is completely unfounded. However, the notion that Israel controls the ISIS terror group is a popular conspiracy online.
The Trump administration forcefully disputed Kent’s claims, maintaining that the decision to strike Iran was based on credible intelligence about threats to U.S. forces and interests in the region. Trump dismissed Kent as “weak on security,” defending the operation as necessary to deter Iranian aggression and protect American personnel and allies.
Karoline Leavitt, White House Press Secretary, lambasted Kent’s letter as inaccurate .
“The absurd allegation that President Trump made this decision based on the influence of others, even foreign countries, is both insulting and laughable. President Trump has been remarkably consistent and has said for DECADES that Iran can NEVER possess a nuclear weapon,” she wrote.
National security experts and former officials also criticized Kent’s framing, arguing that it oversimplifies the policymaking process and risks promoting narratives that inaccurately portray Israel as driving U.S. military decisions. They emphasize that while Israel is a close ally that shares intelligence and strategic concerns, particularly regarding Iran’s nuclear ambitions and support for proxy groups, decisions to go to war are made by U.S. leadership based on American intelligence assessments.
Israel has long warned about the threat posed by Iran’s regional activities, including its backing of armed groups hostile to both Israeli and U.S. interests. Those concerns are broadly shared across multiple U.S. administrations and within the intelligence community, regardless of political party.
Kent’s resignation marks the most significant internal break so far over the Iran conflict and highlights growing divisions within the administration and across Washington. While some critics of the war have echoed his concerns about the lack of an imminent threat, others have expressed alarm at his decision to center Israel in his critique, warning that such claims can distort public understanding of how U.S. foreign policy decisions are made.
Kent came under fire during his confirmation process over his reported connections to white supremacists Nick Fuentes and Greyson Arnold. Kent admitted that he had conversations with Fuentes over social media strategy. However, Kent later distanced himself from Fuentes and repudiated his views.
Kent also holds other unorthodox foreign policy viewpoints, such as a relatively forgiving posture towards Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. In April 2022, following Moscow’s invasion of Ukraine, Kent argued that Putin was “very reasonable” and accused the US foreign policy establishment of aggravating Russia into war.
Kent’s comments on Tuesday drew widespread backlash from many who accused him of peddling antisemitic tropes. Ilan Goldberg, Senior Vice President and Chief Policy Officer of liberal pro-Israel organization J-Street, praised Kent for leaving the administration, but added “the antisemitic stuff in here blaming Israel for the Iraq war and a secret conspiracy of the media and Israelis to deceive Trump into going to war with Iran is ugly stuff that plays on the worst antisemitic tropes.”
“Donald Trump is the President of the United States and he is the one ultimately responsible for sending American troops into harms way,” Goldberg added.
Uncategorized
UK Hate Crime Prosecutions Reveal Stark Disparities Between Muslim and Jewish Victims
Demonstrators attend the “Lift The Ban” rally organised by Defend Our Juries, challenging the British government’s proscription of “Palestine Action” under anti-terrorism laws, in Parliament Square, in London, Britain, Sept. 6, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Carlos Jasso
Hate crimes against Muslims in the United Kingdom are nearly twice as likely to result in prosecution as those targeting Jews, newly released figures show, exposing a striking imbalance in how justice is ultimately delivered.
According to data compiled by the British Home Office, the government department responsible for policing and security, figures on hate crime offences recorded over the past year show that Muslim victims of Islamophobic attacks were 76 percent more likely to see their attackers prosecuted than Jewish victims of antisemitic attacks.
Across the United Kingdom, 6.7 percent of hate crimes targeting Muslims led to a charge or summons — around one in 15 cases — compared with just 3.8 percent of offences against Jewish victims, or roughly one in 26, over the period from April 2024 to March 2025.
The gap is particularly stark in certain offences. Religiously aggravated assaults without injury against Muslims were over six times more likely to lead to prosecution, with 6.3 percent of cases resulting in charges compared with just 1.1 percent for Jewish victims.
Similarly, racially or religiously aggravated criminal damage was around four times more likely to result in charges, at 3.4 percent versus 0.8 percent.
Although 4,478 religious hate crimes were reported against Muslims compared with 2,873 against Jews, the smaller size of the Jewish population means such offences are far more concentrated and statistically significant. By raw population, the contrast is stark: around 3.9 million Muslims live in England and Wales, compared with 287,360 Jews
The Home Office’s data also reveals that Jewish people are disproportionately targeted, experiencing religious hate crimes at a rate roughly ten times higher than Muslims.
The Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) — the body responsible for bringing criminal cases in England and Wales — said comparing crime reports with prosecutions is difficult because cases can only proceed once police submit sufficient evidence for a charging decision.
According to the CPS, a record number of hate crime cases were referred by police last year, with 11,140 defendants prosecuted for racially flagged offences, resulting in a charge rate of 87.1 percent and a conviction rate of 85.2 percent.
In the UK, the Community Security Trust (CST) — a nonprofit charity that advises Britain’s Jewish community on security matters — recorded 1,521 antisemitic incidents from January to June last year. This was the second-highest number of antisemitic crimes ever recorded by CST in the first six months of any year, following 2,019 incidents in the first half of 2024.