After 40 Days
Reflection on the chehelom of the January 2026 massacre in Iran
This essay is a follow-up to my previous article, Chehelom.
Like many of you, I am incredibly anxious thinking about what is unfolding in and around Iran right now. So much feels unknown, and the apparent paths forward appear deadly and destructive. As I write, Trump is “debating” whether to launch another round of strikes against Iran. The Ayatollah has declared in return that he could sink US warships currently gathered in the region to the “bottom of the sea.”
But even though the standoff between Trump and Khamenei is frightening, I have also been sitting with baited breath waiting to see what happened in Iran on February 17th and 18th. As you might recall from my previous essay, these two days marked the 40th days since the murder of tens of thousands of protesters. In Iranian culture and in Shiism, it is customary to mark this day with memorials called “chehelom”; chehelom commemorations have also been utilized as moments of protest for past social movements. So I was curious and nervous to see what would transpire on the chehelom of these immensely devastating massacres.
On February 17th and 18th, we did not see massive, widespread protests like those we witnessed 40 days prior. It makes sense that, after witnessing the indiscriminate bloodshed that stole their brothers, sisters, friends, and colleagues just weeks ago, people are scared to expose themselves to danger again. This fear is heightened because the regime has continued to crackdown even after the massacre; members of the reformist party have been arrested, newspapers have been shut down, doctors and medics who treated wounded protesters have been threatened and detained, and, utilizing digital surveillance tools, the regime continues to hunt down citizens who participated in the protests. All of this during the celebration of the Iranian Revolution’s anniversary on February 11th, a day usually all about the greatness of the regime. There is some sad irony in marking the anniversary by doing what they are best at: subjugating the population.
One unexpected occurrence was that the regime co-opted the chehelom.
As I mentioned in my previous essay, no one knows better how the chehelom can be turned into an opportunity for protest than the leaders of the Islamic Republic; they are the ones who pioneered the tactic and realized its full potential in the 1979 Revolution. So, the regime has been actively working to prevent people from holding memorials for their lost loved ones. The regime charged people exorbitant sums to claim their loved ones’ bodies, forced agreements preventing them from holding memorials, and required people to bury the deceased in remote regions of the country. Reports have even indicated that the regime closed a major cemetery in Tehran on the 40th day after the massacre. These tactics were all to hamper Iranians’ ability to mourn communally - and to bond and potentially organize over their shared grief.
So suffice it to say, it was a bit surprising when, in early February, President Masoud Pezeshkian invited the public to attend state-sponsored memorial services on February 17th at mosques, religious shrines, and holy sites across the country. This is the first time that the Islamic Republic has officially co-opted the memorials of their own victims. While surprising, it is not completely unaligned with the regime’s efforts to rewrite the massacre’s narrative. The regime has forced families to sign documents claiming that their murdered relative was a member of the Basij, the IRGC’s informal but zealous militia; this way, they could claim that Basiji had been killed by protesters, not the other way around. In not only hosting formal chehelom memorials, but doing so at religious sites, the regime is further attempting to engineer the narrative and minimize their role in the massacre. As they tell it, the murdered protesters were not victims of state violence, but instead victims of foreign terrorists, and therefore their deaths are a national and religious tragedy. The regime is trying a new tool from their authoritarian toolbox.
But the people of Iran are resilient, and still marked their loved ones’ chehelom in defiant ways. Many went ahead with memorial services and marked their grief in loud, conspicuous ways. Instead of adopting a solemn air as recommended by the state, people were dancing, singing, throwing flowers, even celebrating birthdays or weddings that will now never come to pass. Some memorial services amassed large crowds, exactly the type of gathering the regime wished to prevent. While the regime has not coordinated a violent crackdown on the chehelom, I must note that mourners have been attacked. At the main cemetery of Abdanan, regime forces fired on mourners, who had begun chanting, “Death to Khamenei” and pumping their fists during the chehelom of Alireza Seydi, a 16-year-old boy.
Others have had to follow more unconventional methods to commemorate the dead. People have left flowers and photographs in front of hospitals and on street curbs where they believe their loved one to have been struck down. School children have celebrated the chehelom at school with patriotic songs. People undertook even the smallest acts to show their defiance; videos reveal that, under the cover of night, people shouted from their apartment balconies “Death to the dictator!” and “Death to the murderer, Khamenei!”
Notably, even though the chehelom is technically a Muslim practice, there is a growing divorce of the ceremony from Islam. Some mourners play folk songs or recite Iranian poetry in place of the traditional recitation of Quranic verses, and others avoid calling the deceased “martyrs,” instead calling out “javid nam,” or “Long live the name.” Some have cut their hair, a symbolic act of mourning, or invoked the Shahnameh, a foundational text in Persian culture. These acts reflect a growing schism between the Iranian public and the religion supposedly underpinning the Islamic Republic.
While most chehelom ceremonies did not evolve into protests, students at universities across Iran have begun to rally in memory of the protesters murdered in January. As of this writing, reporters have confirmed that students at 13 different universities are leading protests and even getting into clashes with Basiji on campus. Some students call out “Long live the Shah” and raise the flag of Iran flown before 1979, which some have interpreted to be support for Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of Iran’s last shah. Other slogans chanted by the students reflect a desire for the regime’s downfall, and one stands out to me for its understanding of the public’s growing unity in opposition: “With each killed, a thousand stand behind them.” Student protests have been instrumental in previous social and political movements in Iran, especially the 1979 Revolution, so I am watching these protests closely. These protests, which began over the weekend, continue as of this writing.
So February 17th and 18th might not have marked another round of widespread protest in Iran; however, I certainly see literal and figurative wounds festering and the seeds of revolution becoming more rooted. While the regime hoped to kill and traumatize to hamper the public’s desire for freedom, it could not put out the fiery desire for freedom lit in Iran’s chest.
Looking forward, I must admit that I am afraid. As I said, the apparent paths forward appear incredibly destructive. The threat of American strikes and a larger war scare me. I worry that a war could end up costing even more Iranian lives. The Islamic Republic has no qualms massacring its population, and never has. In the 1980s, the regime knowingly sent hundreds of thousands of young men and children to their deaths on the frontlines of the Iran-Iraq war. An entire generation of young men almost entirely wiped out. And we observed similarly destructive power just over a month ago. Who’s to say the regime won’t put more of the population in danger in an attempt to save itself? And the destruction of infrastructure that war brings would only further cripple Iran.
On the other hand, the US has the military capability to overpower the regime and stop their oppression, potentially liberating the Iranian public. That being said, I don’t know that I trust Trump or Reza Pahlavi to lead the way to a free Iran. The US is engaging in negotiations over Iran’s nuclear capabilities, with no regard whatsoever to the violence inflicted upon its citizens mere days ago. Why should we trust the US to look out for the best interests of the Iranian people when this is how they are maneuvering? And after watching how Trump is handling Venezuela, another oil state, I don’t have faith that he would be saving the Iranian people, but instead wresting control of the country’s oil for his and his cronies’ gain.
There is no consensus within Iran about whether foreign intervention is needed or good nor whether Reza Pahlavi should be Iran’s leader, even for an interim period. And I don’t think there ever will be. The topic of foreign intervention is incredibly loaded in Iran. Foreign states, especially the US and Britain, have previously meddled in the country’s affairs, forcing a shah’s abdication and ousting a Prime Minister within recent memory. The Islamic Republic’s platform is rooted in opposition to Western influence on the country. And yet, some Iranians believe that the only way to take down the regime is by fighting fire with fire - literally foreign firepower.
Unfortunately Iran, and the rest of the world, is at the whims of old men doing anything they can to retain their power. Tens of thousands of Iranians have already lost their lives, and I just hope that we don’t lose more. But I remain hopeful, and believe wholeheartedly in what the university protesters are shouting: “With each killed, a thousand stand behind them.”