In Summer of 2017, as a 23-year-old man, I left Iran for Canada with two light pieces of luggage, ten thousand Canadian dollars in my pocket, and a backpack full of travel documents. Even though I was on a student visa, like almost every other international student from an authoritarian state my primary reason for immigration was my quest for freedom and democracy. Higher education was just an excuse that would allow me to immigrate to a flourishing democratic state after years of oppression and injustice. I wanted to live a normal life in a peaceful country, but after what unfolded in my home country on Friday 15 November 2019, my life has been anything but normal.
RISE IN FUEL PRICES IN IRAN
On Thursday 14 November 2019, the National Iranian Oil Refining and Distribution Company abruptly announced a massive increase in fuel prices that would come into effect at midnight. For months, many had talked about an increase in fuel prices, but the reformist government kept denying it would happen. Immediately following the price increase, many citizens rushed to the petrol stations to protest. The public was already outraged over economic pressure and the tragic human rights situation in the country under the Islamic Republic. Iranian citizens had already staged three uprisings since 2016 that were met by barbarous violence from the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). Tripling the price of fuel after months of denial by officials inevitably sparked another uprising.
PROTEST AND MASSACRE
The protest against the increase in fuel prices quickly transformed into political opposition against the regime, particularly against the Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei. The totalitarian regime, as anticipated, showed zero tolerance against the protesters, beginning to shoot and murder protesters in the early hours of Friday 15 November. Horrific videos, pictures, and stories from the protesters started to flood social media. My two Iranian room-mates and I in Canada were worried because our families were back in Iran.
On Saturday 16 November, the regime shut down the internet, disconnecting the country from the global network. Iranian social media went quiet. This was unbelievable, as social media platforms like Instagram, Telegram, and Twitter are part of the everyday life of almost every citizen in Iran. We were terrified because we knew what this meant: the IRGC wanted to massacre the protesters without the world watching. We were unable to contact our loved ones in the midst of this civilian massacre until we found out we could purchase a certain type of Skype subscription that allowed us to call cellphones of people in Iran. When I finally reached my parents over Skype after three days, even though they tried to pretend that everything was fine, I could hear the depth of sadness in their voices.
AFTERMATH
After seven days, the internet was restored, and all of the videos, pictures, and stories of the massacre that the protesters had captured in the previous days began to surface. Protesters were chanting "Don't be afraid, we are all together!". Some of the scenes resembled a civil war. Cars, tyres, banks, petrol stations, and metal bins were all burning. Smoke was rising from everywhere. Bodies soaked in blood lay on the ground. Among the victims were children, young adults, women, men, and elders. The majority had been shot in the head. A video showed a young man chasing a police officer who was carrying an AK-47. The officer stopped, turned, and shot the young man in the hip. He fell to the ground writhing in pain.
I was deeply traumatized by these scenes and stories. Even though I had researched the 1988 mass executions of leftist activists in Iranian prisons, and seen the 2009 crackdown on the Green Movement, the sheer violence of the IRGC this time was unprecedented. Khamenei had sensed the threat of political revolution and ordered IRGC high-ranking members to "do whatever it takes” to end the protests. They followed the order of their commander-in-chief and massacred at least 1,500 civilians in three days. Regrettably, these tactics and sentiments are synonymous with the violence of the Islamic Republic.
IMPACT ON MY FAMILY
Like many Iranian parents in their 60s, my parents, but mainly my father, struggled with depression caused by decades of oppression and trauma. I feared how this recent violence would impact his mental health. I remember my dad's first message on WhatsApp: "Iranians are experiencing dark days". I did not know how to reply. We were both heartbroken. Still, we tried to keep our spirits up and be supportive of each other. Unfortunately, his sorrow grew too large for him to manage.
In the following months, the Ukrainian flight PS752 was shot down just after take-off from a Tehran airport, which the IRGC later accepted responsibility for. This, coupled with the regime's intentional mismanagement of the COVID-19 pandemic, led to my father giving up on life. It was all too much for him to bear, and he was not alone. In fact, one of the most common causes of depression among Iranian older adults is the "transition in values system". Due to his strong morals and endless kindness, my father got sick of the hypocrisy, corruption, and injustice in his society. In one of our many daily conversations he would say "I can't handle this anymore; I wanna die". He was in so much pain that death was his only outlet. He committed a gradual suicide by drinking litres of alcohol, ingesting fistfuls of psychoactive pills, and smoking opium daily every day, until he passed away from a stroke in August 2020.
My father was a businessman who had gained a good reputation for his generosity and fairness. He often said "when you gain, help others gain too". I had failed to grasp the depth of meaning behind this philosophy until I achieved freedom in Canada, only to look over my shoulder at the millions of Iranians still shackled by an oppressive regime. I realised that I had gained freedom, and in honour of my dad, it was time to give back.
MY PATH FORWARD
To honour my father's legacy, I embarked on a different path in life to what I had initially imagined for myself. I went back to graduate school to do a Master's degree in International Affairs to become a human rights activist. While in graduate school, I joined an internship program at the Montreal Institute for Genocide and Human Rights, the leading Canadian think tank on Digital Authoritarianism, to work on preventing future internet shut-downs. I hope to continue to learn more about International Affairs and Human Rights in graduate school and eventually use this knowledge to represent Iranians and keep their hopes for change alive. I also hope that my story will inspire Canadians to look more deeply into the continued oppression in Iran and encourage their government representatives to push for international actions against Iran's ongoing human rights abuses.
Aria (he/him) is an Iranian-Canadian immigrant and Human Rights activist. He is currently pursuing a Master's in International Affairs and Diplomacy at the United Nations Institute for Training and Research (UNITAR). He previously obtained a Master's in Education and Bachelor's degree in English Translation. He is also a former Youth Fellow at the Montreal Institute for Genocide and Human Rights Studies, where he worked on Digital Authoritarianism. Aria's research interests are human rights, civil movements, Iran and the Middle East, digital authoritarianism, and political hip hop. He aims to increase political awareness about the human rights situation in Iran and the Middle East.