The normally bustling city of Tehran has become eerily silent, with deserted streets, businesses shuttered, and communication channels erratic. Many residents find themselves huddled in metro stations amidst fears of air raids, as Israel’s aggressive airstrikes continue to target Iran’s nuclear program and military assets. Having crippled much of Iran’s air defense, Israel declares its fighter jets have dominion over Tehran’s skies, prompting U.S. President Donald Trump to urge the city’s approximately 10 million residents to evacuate “immediately.”
In an effort to escape the escalating conflict, thousands of Tehran inhabitants have fled toward the suburbs, heading to destinations such as the Caspian Sea, Armenia, or Turkey. Yet, numerous citizens, particularly the elderly or unwell, remain trapped in apartment towers, leaving their families agonizing over their fate. The ongoing Israeli bombardment has resulted in at least 585 casualties and over 1,300 injuries, claims a human rights organization. State media, themselves targets of the strikes, have ceased reporting, plunging Iranians into a state of uncertainty. Public order appears fragile, with police presence discreet at best, air raid warnings unreliable, and minimal guidance on defensive actions.
Shirin, a 49-year-old resident from southern Tehran, nervously contacts friends and relatives, each interaction laden with fear it may be the last. Expressing uncertainty about what tomorrow may hold, she reflects the sentiments of many Iranians torn between conflicting loyalties. Some approve of Israel’s focus on Iranian political and military leaders perceived as oppressive. Others vehemently support the Islamic Republic and its counterattacks on Israel. Meanwhile, a segment against Iran’s governance remains opposed to violent solutions enforced by foreign powers.
In phone interviews, five individuals in Iran and one Iranian American based in the U.S. described their experiences, often cutting conversations short due to apprehension or unstable connections—a direct result of Iran’s government interrupting internet services under the guise of national protection, thereby restricting Iranians’ access to external sources of information. Those with relatives abroad anxiously await news. An Iranian American human rights advocate recounts how an attempted escape was thwarted by traffic congestion and fuel shortages. Heartbreakingly, relatives expressed a sense of resignation, saying, “If we die, we die.”
Some families confront untenable choices. For instance, a 23-year-old Afghan refugee decided to remain in Tehran while ensuring his wife and newborn child left after a nearby explosion traumatized them. For others like Shirin, fleeing remains impractical due to family health conditions and logistical hurdles, such as securing medication or access to fuel, which is heavily rationed after an Israeli attack on a vital gas field.
Arshia, a 22-year-old resident, expressed fatigue amid chaos, unwilling to endure prolonged journeys through congested, potentially dangerous territories. As the initial Israeli strikes have transformed his once-bustling community into a vacant, somber landscape, with schools closed and supplies dwindling, organizing an escape feels overwhelming even if it would be wise.
Residents face daunting realities without official aid. Unlike the past when the city had decentralized air raid shelters and drills, contemporary Tehran offers high-rise buildings and dense urban layouts devoid of basic protections. A 29-year-old who left Tehran highlighted the absence of established shelters, a gap starkly evident during crisis.
Without state support, those relocating rely on makeshift shelters. Many crowded into a metro station, where chaos reigned among the fearful; panic heightened by warnings from Israel urging evacuation of significant swathes of the city. With refugees already confronting displacement challenges, these harsh conditions exacerbate their perpetual uncertainty and lack of refuge.
Shirin perceives the conflict as a bitter irony. While opposing Iran’s regime, the solution led by foreign intervention contradicts her hope for native empowerment. Simultaneously, another perspective from a 29-year-old underlines the gravity of ordinary citizens’ experiences, emphasizing their plight mirrors any community facing foreign military aggression. She implores a global audience to empathize: “We are kind of like, this can’t be happening. This can’t be my life.”