Chehelom

A reflection on the protests in Iran and where they might go

Like (hopefully) many of you, I have been watching Iran like a hawk for the past few weeks. Protests that began amongst bazaari on Dec 28, 2025 snowballed into massive anti-regime protests all across Iran by the first week of January 2026. And then on January 8th, the regime plunged the country into a nationwide internet blackout and proceeded to massacre tens of thousands of Iranian citizens over two days. It is hard to get much information from Iran, as the internet blackout is still technically in effect and only short messages and few images get out, but it’s grim. Some say the regime enacted de facto martial law (as if the country weren’t already ruled by an aggressive and repressive militarized force) and report that, with everyone on edge, protests have largely stopped. Thousands of arrests have been confirmed, and now forced confessions are airing on TV. It appears as though the regime was successful in halting some of the most enthusiastic anti-regime protests in recent memory. At least for now.

While my eyes are of course still on Iran, I will be paying particular attention on February 17th and 18th. Why those two days? Not because they are the Lunar New Year, Ash Wednesday, and (more relevant to Iran) the first night of Ramadan. Because those days will be 40 days from the massacres on January 8th and 9th. In Shia Muslim tradition, chehelom or the fortieth day after a person’s death is an important day of memorial. Friends, family, and loved ones come together to commemorate the deceased.

Chehelom has been co-opted in important moments of social unrest in Iran’s history. The Iranian Revolution of 1978 started out as a sequence of chehelom commemorations. Almost exactly 48 years to the day before this year’s massacre, in early January 1978, a protest in Qom over a defamatory article about Ayatollah Khomeini turned deadly as the Shah’s security forces fired live rounds into the crowd. Encouraged by the Ayatollah, clerics marked the chehelom of those killed in the Qom protest. Radical Islamic activists used the occasion to stage more protests, this time across the country. When these protests too turned deadly, the clock reset, counting down another 40 days before major protests. And this cycle continued into the spring and summer, with protests growing with each consecutive round. Of course, other factors contributed to the movement that ultimately overthrew the Shah, but it all began with an intelligently co-opted chehelom.

Given that Khomeini was one of the creative masterminds behind this strategic chehelom snowballing, it is no surprise that the current regime is particularly mindful of this date in moments of unrest. But that doesn’t stop Iranians from memorializing the murdered 40 days after their death and using it as a moment for organized gathering. We can look to the recent Woman, Life, Freedom Movement, which was sparked by Mahsa Jina Amini’s murder by regime forces in 2022 and evolved into some of the largest protests in Iran since the 1978 Revolution (largest until perhaps this past month). The regime was acutely aware that Jina’s chehelom would be a prime opportunity for organized protests, so they closed roads and attempted to prevent people from gathering at the cemetery in Saqqez for Jina’s chehelom. But Iranians persisted, and an estimated 10,000 people showed up for the occasion. Now imagine an entire country commemorating thousands of Iranians murdered by the regime all at the same time.

For many of the families of those murdered on January 8th and 9th, they have been unable to bury their loved ones, much less find their bodies. Islam dictates that people should be buried as quickly as possible, so understandably many people want to bury the martyrs of this massacre. But this is not an easy task. To do so, the survivors must search through seemingly unending rooms of body bags at cemeteries and mortuaries. Iran Human Rights reports that bodies are being piled on top of each other and loved ones must scour through “trucks loaded with bodies.” Witnesses even recount the lack of regard which cemetery workers treat the body bags of children, tossing them in with the piles of their elders.

Once a family finds their murdered loved one, their right to peaceful burial is denied. The regime is holding bodies hostage, allegedly charging thousands of toman for people to see their family members’ bodies, even more to claim them. In the poor areas of cities like Mashhad, families cannot afford these ransoms, and their “unclaimed” loved ones are dumped in mass graves. Some families are pressured to accept the official state narrative, agree not to allow any demonstrations at the burial, and “bury [them] in silence.” Some are coerced into nighttime burials. Others are forced to bury their family in remote regions; the regime is cognizant that cheheloms can be powerful moments, so they are trying to deprive people of convenient locations around which to gather. These burials, the first memorials for these martyrs, are being hampered, and people are being denied the ability to mourn.

I can only imagine that their desire to celebrate and commemorate their loved ones is only heightened by all of this interference and degradation. So I will be watching Iran on February 17th and 18th. Perhaps massive anti-regime protests will break out across the country again. Perhaps the regime will attempt the same brutal tactics that they employed on January 8th and 9th and indiscriminately kill anyone observing a chehelom. But, as my uncle Abbas Milani noted, the Islamic Republic is losing its grip on its most powerful tool: fear. Perhaps the Iranian people are becoming more and more desperate for change and emboldened in their numbers. Perhaps not. My hypothesis might prove entirely wrong, and February 17th and 18th will pass without note. The massive protests that we just witnessed might have been notable but otherwise inconsequential in overthrowing the Islamic Republic. The regime is working very hard to make sure it is just that.

But I return to words my grandmother, Farzaneh Milani, offered when I shared my thoughts with her:

“The logic of chehelom is very powerful as a political tool. It acknowledges that pain and grief continue after the immediate aftermath of violence. Forty days later, anger has survived fear, the injustice still refuses silence; grief becomes claim, mourning turns into action…Perhaps, what performatively brought this regime into power will now get rid of it.”

I must admit that I am not in regular contact with anyone inside Iran, and with the internet blackout, reports are trickling out slowly and piecemeal. My thoughts are based on my knowledge of Iranian culture and patterns in Iranian protest movements that turned deadly. So by no means should you take my word for it. But I hope that you, like I, will be watching Iran closely and be cheering for the liberation of Iran and its people.