As the war between Iran and Israel unfolds, friends and colleagues often ask how I’m coping. As an Iranian living in Whitehorse, I can only say what many of us feel: a complex mix of sadness, fear, hope and, at times, quiet relief. It’s difficult to explain, but those feelings carry the weight of nearly five decades of struggle and the longing for a different future.
We don’t know how this war will end. But we do know one thing: this is not the people’s war. It is a war fuelled by a regime determined, for over four decades, to “wipe Israel off the map.” I was only six years old when I was first instructed to chant “Death to Israel, Death to America, Death to the West” — a form of state-sanctioned indoctrination practiced in schools across Iran. This kind of indoctrination has been part of everyday life for generations. But these words do not reflect the true values of the Iranian people. We have questioned and fought against these practices because we are not driven by hate. We want peace. We want dignity. We want to live without fear. That is not too much to ask.
For 47 years, Iranians have resisted a regime built on fear and repression. From the beginning, women were singled out, forced to wear veils as symbols of the Ayatollahs’ anti-Western ideology. In addition to political activists, many ordinary citizens, including young women, LGBTQ+ individuals, religious minorities, environmentalists, journalists, artists, students and lawyers, have all fought for their fundamental rights. Courage has been met with bloodshed, again and again. The regime has used censorship, imprisonment, torture, sham trials and death. Peaceful protests are met with bullets. Some executions happen quietly, while others are public displays meant to intimidate: if you speak out, you risk death. Dissenters are labelled as traitors and “enemies of God." Those claiming to represent religion have turned their backs on its core values: compassion, truth and justice. Millions have escaped to countries like Canada, bearing the pain of being separated and feeling helpless as they watch their homeland in distress.
The consequences of this regime’s actions go far beyond Iran. Its aggression has fuelled instability and cost innocent lives in Gaza, Syria, Israel, Lebanon and beyond. We mourn for all those affected by this violence and grieve also for those in Iran, trapped between dictatorship and the horrors of war. We are afraid of outside attacks, yes. But what terrifies us most is the regime itself.
On June 18, we lost contact with our loved ones after the Iranian government shut down internet and phone access across the country. This blackout is deeply alarming. When the regime cuts communication, it often means something horrific is happening — silencing witnesses, or worse. For decades, the government has used its citizens as tools, holding them hostage to promote its hateful ambitions. With every crisis, it glorifies martyrdom at home while playing the victim abroad. Power has always taken precedence over human life.
And now, many Iranians face a heartbreaking truth: There may be no good way forward. Every path — war, protest and diplomacy — seems to lead to more pain. Most of us do not believe war is the answer. But we have also seen the limits of peaceful resistance, sanctions and negotiation. We are trapped in a moral dilemma with no easy choices — only different kinds of suffering.
Still, we hold onto one truth: The right to freedom of speech, safety and self-expression is universal. When any group is silenced, all of us are diminished. The pandemic and climate crisis have taught us that borders cannot shield us from injustice or harm. We are more connected and responsible for one another than ever before.
Freedom of expression and speech is never guaranteed. It must be protected through vigilance, empathy and a deep respect for our differences. Whether in Whitehorse, Tehran, Gaza or Tel Aviv, people want the same things: to live in peace, to raise their children in safety and to be treated with dignity. This is not a political demand. It is a fundamental human right.
Noushin Naziripour
Whitehorse
