A week after reports that Iran’s supreme leader had died, Hamid felt a rush of elation. He took his wife and daughter into the street outside their Tehran home to celebrate. As strikes by US and Israeli forces hit targets around the capital in the days that followed, the family climbed onto their roof to watch and cheered when they believed regime sites had been struck.
Hamid told a BBC contact via a cousin in the UK that he could not imagine another population welcoming an external attack on their country. For him, the strikes represented a rare glimmer of hope that the ruling system might finally end.
BBC Persian reporters — who remain a major source of news inside Iran despite state jamming and blocks — have heard from many inside the country and in exile about a week that people describe as both monumental and traumatic. The accounts reflect a deeply divided society, uncertain about what comes next.
Under the conditions of a police state, ongoing bombardment and severe internet restrictions, it is impossible to measure public opinion with precision. Authorities have warned people that continued internet use could lead to their connections being cut and to legal consequences, and fear of reprisals means many who oppose the regime refuse to give their names.
Some Iranians continue to celebrate hits on regime targets; others are frightened and worry about the wider aims behind the violence. One man, Ali, told the BBC his belief that the objective of the strikes was not to bring freedom to Iranians but to serve the geopolitical interests of Israel, the US and some Arab states. Mohammad, in his 30s and living in Tehran, said he had hoped for a diplomatic US–Iran settlement that would avoid war. He expected to feel relief at the reported death of the supreme leader yet “felt nothing” — now he is living with checkpoints on the streets, bombardments overhead, and growing uncertainty.
Many people described complex, mixed emotions: fear, stress, and a fragile hope. A woman said you would have to live in Iran for decades to understand how contradictory feelings can be — rejoicing when regime targets are struck, yet grieving when children die and infrastructure is destroyed and fearing what the future holds.
There are no reliable opinion polls from inside the country, but widespread anger at the regime is evident. While the government retains committed supporters, opposition is fragmented: some welcome the US and Israeli strikes, others are deeply suspicious of foreign intentions. “Trump’s government — from top to bottom — they’re all lying,” one man, Saeed, told the BBC, arguing that Washington had no legitimate reason to attack Iran and was acting at Israel’s behest.
The BBC has heard fewer voices openly supporting the regime, and those most directly affected by the deadliest known attack so far — such as parents of children killed in a strike on an elementary school in Minab on 28 February — have not spoken publicly to the broadcaster.
For some Iranians, decades of repression have left such desperation that war seems like the only avenue toward change. Hamid’s cousin in the UK, one of millions who have fled, expressed the conflict many feel: abhorrence of war and a simultaneous, almost giddy hope that the violence could finally topple the “murderous” clerical establishment. She told the BBC she does not want innocent people harmed but still found herself elated by news of the attacks, believing they might bring freedom. As the week ended she could not re-establish contact with Hamid and wrote, “Please don’t judge me,” before saying she thought the strikes should continue until the regime was finished.
At the same time, reporters are receiving mounting and distressing reports of civilian deaths, including many children. The Iran-focused rights group HRANA (Human Rights Activists News Agency), based in the US, has reported more than 1,000 civilian fatalities so far, including nearly 200 children. HRANA was still working to document thousands of protesters killed during the nationwide uprising in January when the latest conflict began.
For many Iranians, the trauma of state violence is recent and personal. Saman (not his real name), from Isfahan, knew six people killed in previous protests; since the strikes began two of his relatives have been killed in separate attacks in Tehran. He described Isfahan as “truly terrifying,” reporting scenes of carnage near one target and saying he was in shock and furious: he never imagined the country would become so war-stricken.
BBC Persian reporters note that some initial reactions have cooled as the fighting has continued. A young woman in her 20s who was ecstatic at first about reports of the supreme leader being targeted told a reporter six days later that she was neither happy nor sad — simply exhausted.
The week has exposed an Iran of fractured moods and wrenching choices: relief and celebration at the thought of regime change; suspicion of outside powers and fear of escalating violence; grief for civilians caught in the crossfire; and lingering terror from the regime’s recent repression. With communications restricted and the threat of reprisals persistent, many voices remain unheard. The accounts gathered by BBC Persian sketch a country in turmoil, where hope and horror sit uneasily together.