Narges Mohammadi is outside prison walls, but she is not free. Last Saturday, the 2023 Nobel Peace Prize winner was urgently transferred to Pars Hospital in Tehran. Her condition is critical: two suspected cardiac arrests between March and May, a weight loss of 20 kilograms, and a body exhausted by years of detention and deprivation. To secure this transfer, her family had to fight against the authorities’ “stonewalling,” pay an exorbitant bail, and even cover the costs of the ambulance. “They were trying to get rid of her by denying her care,” her brother Hamidreza denounced from Oslo. If Narges is able to be treated by her trusted doctors today, it is only due to international pressure that forced the regime into a partial retreat; however, the suspension of her sentence is temporary, and she still faces 18 years in prison.
The “Execution Machine”
While Narges Mohammadi is the visible face of the resistance, a silent carnage is unfolding within the folds of the Iranian judicial system. The regime appears to have accelerated what human rights organizations like Hengaw and the Abdorrahman Boroumand Center define as an “execution machine,” aimed at targeting the country’s most brilliant minds. At least 626 executions have already been recorded since the beginning of the year—a staggering figure. Mohammadi’s case is merely the tip of an iceberg built on isolation and systematic violence. Among the most dramatic cases is that of Peyman (Amin) Farahavar, a 37-year-old poet from Gilan province. At this very hour, his risk of execution has become imminent; the Supreme Court rejected his request for judicial review, upholding a death sentence issued by the Revolutionary Court of Rasht. The charges against him are extremely grave, ranging from “armed rebellion” (baghi) to “enmity against God” (moharebeh). However, sources close to the family and human rights activists denounce these accusations as entirely baseless. The case rests solely on his poems, political writings, and civil protest activities; Farahavar has never taken part in armed actions. Former cellmates have reported brutal torture during interrogations at the Ministry of Intelligence detention center; officers even destroyed his poetic manuscripts by hand in front of his eyes. Despite currently suffering from severe stomach problems caused by beatings following his arrest in September 2024, he is systematically denied access to specialist care in Lakan Prison.
The shadow of the death penalty looming over Farahavar has unfortunately already fallen upon Erfan Shakourzadeh, executed on May 11 in Qezel Hesar Prison. Erfan was 29 years old, a standout talent in aerospace engineering. Accused of espionage after months of solitary confinement and coerced confessions, he was killed in secret. “I am one of the few talents who chose not to emigrate… Do not let another innocent life be taken in silence,” he had written in a note before his death. Evin Prison has become a black hole for eight other female political prisoners. Guilty of collective protest within the women’s ward, they have been punished with an absolute ban on meeting lawyers and family members—a strategy to break internal resistance through a communication vacuum.This strategy of isolation strikes anyone attempting to provide legal or technological defense to citizens.
Astareh Ansari, human rights lawyer, literally vanished into thin air after her arrest in Shiraz on May 3. After years spent defending dissidents, she is now a victim of enforced disappearance. Erfan Arabi, a twenty-year-old open-source software developer was sentenced to five years in prison. His “crime” was working toward a free internet, a direct challenge to Tehran’s digital control.
The death machine accelerates even further when it strikes ethnic minorities—shadow zones where legality vanishes entirely. The lightning execution of Abduljalil Shahbakhsh, a member of the Baluchi minority, represents the peak of this judicial opacity. In less than two months, Abduljalil was arrested, sentenced, and killed in a sham trial without transparency or the possibility of a defense. His execution was carried out in secret, without notifying his family or allowing him a final meeting with loved ones.
The appeal from international organizations is clear: the global community cannot settle for the “partial victory” of Narges Mohammadi’s hospital transfer. Silence in the face of secret executions and summary trials is interpreted by Tehran as a license to kill—a signal that the regime can continue to destroy Iran’s future without paying a price. If the world remains a bystander, the Islamic Republic will continue to dismantle the future of the country itself. While Narges fights in a hospital bed under heavy guard, for Peyman, Astareh, and many others, every hour could be their last.
