Shabnam Assadollahi

The Occupying Islamic Regime Genocide Against Iranians—the Silence of the World

This is not hearsay. It is not speculation. It is not the product of exile politics or foreign media agendas. What follows is an audio testimony received by the Goya newsletter from a resident of Karaj — a witness to a state-led slaughter and the systematic erasure that followed.

This is what genocide looks like in the twenty-first century: not hidden camps, but open streets; not secrecy, but speed; not denial, but deletion.

A City Turned into a Killing Field.

An audio account received by Goya from inside Karaj reveals that the suppression of protests was carried out on a massive and deadly scale.

According to the testimony, security forces opened direct fire on protesters. Children were killed. Pregnant women were killed. Teenagers — some as young as twelve — were killed. The violence was so extreme that streets and alleyways were left scattered with bodies.
The eyewitness reports that the heaviest casualties in Karaj occurred in Fardis.

Residents had gone out believing they were attending a peaceful gathering. “What you saw,” the witness says, “was nothing compared to the reality.”
He describes seeing a three-year-old child dead. A pregnant woman shot. Teenagers between the ages of twelve and seventeen killed where they stood.

He estimates that nationwide casualties may have reached into the tens of thousands — thirty or forty thousand — describing the scale as unbearable.

“We never thought it would turn out like this,” he says. “Everyone went because it was supposed to be peaceful. There was a nationwide call to come out at eight o’clock. People went only for that.”

They chanted slogans. Nothing more. “In our area, in Fardis, the casualties were the highest,” he says. “In every alley, in every street, you could see at least one body.”

Erase the Evidence, Silence the Dead.

After the mass killings came the cleanup.

“All communication systems were cut,” the witness says. “So no messages could be sent. Nothing could get out. ”Every camera was erased. Shop cameras were wiped. Bank cameras were wiped. City surveillance cameras were wiped.

Everything was deleted. For days afterward, pastry shops were crowded — not for celebration, but for mourning. People came to buy halva and dates, traditional food for funerals. The witness describes it bluntly: it was as if bodies were being sold by the day.
“They took people who were still alive,” he says, “killed them, and then delivered the final shot.”

And when the Islamic regime needed a cover story, it reached for its oldest lie — sarcastically blaming “the U.S , Israel and the infidels” a recycled label meant to deflect guilt while insulting the intelligence of the public.

The World Chose Silence Because the Crime Served Its Interests.

This was not only the crime of the Islamic regime occupying Iran; it was also the crime of those who chose not to stop it.

Iranian protesters remember President Trump publicly assuring them that help was coming.

They also remember what followed: closed skies, blocked routes, deliberate obstruction. Arab states — including Qatar and Saudi Arabia — refused to open their airspace.

Europe did what it always does: nothing. This was not confusion. It was calculation.
Of course the existence of the Islamic Republic is useful for many. It is useful to regional regimes that fear a free Iran more than they fear a murderous one. It is useful to Europe, which prefers a predictable theocracy it can negotiate with over a sovereign, nationalist, secular Iran that would demand respect rather than permission.

A liberated Iran — nationalist, secular, and aligned with the United States and close to Israel — would be a threat not to peace, but to the corrupt regional and new world order built on repression, energy leverage, and managed instability.

Such an Iran would expose the lie that tyranny is necessary for “stability.”
Such an Iran would shatter the excuses.

And so the skies stayed closed. Children were shot. Pregnant women were executed. Teenagers were slaughtered in the streets. Cameras were erased. Communications were cut. Graves were rushed.

And the world, fully aware, remained silent.

History will not call this ignorance.
It will call it complicity.

Genocide does not always require camps or gas. Sometimes it wears a uniform, shuts down the internet, wipes the footage, and relies on the silence of those who know the truth and choose comfort over courage.

Iran will be liberated one day. And when that day comes, history will not only name the executioners —it will name those who closed the sky and kept the genocidal Islamic Republic alive for over four decades.

About the Author
Shabnam Assadollahi is a human rights advocate, freelance journalist and educator. As a teenager, she was imprisoned for eighteen months in Evin Prison for her activisim against the Islamic Republic. She later became a recognized voice on Canadian radio, hosting Radio Hamseda, Ottawa for eight years, where she amplified education, culture, and resistance to oppression. Her advocacy contributed directly to the closure of the Islamic Republic’s embassy in Canada in 2012—an important blow to the regime’s transnational repression network. She is the recipient of multiple human rights and women’s rights awards for her sustained efforts to expose abuses inside Iran and beyond its borders. Shabnam’s primary and heartfelt interest is to focus on the Iranian community and world events affecting women and minority communities.
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