By John Q. Hosedrinker 
The article details the tragic death of Hooman, a 37-year-old who was fatally shot by government forces during protests in Iran. His aunt, Nasrin, living in Germany, recounts the harrowing experience of his family, who were forced to pay for the bullet that killed him and faced immense emotional distress when retrieving his body from stacked corpses in containers. Despite the Iranian government’s claims of blaming “rioters and foreign interference” for the violence and releasing casualty figures, Nasrin unequivocally blames the Iranian government and its leaders for the deaths and calls for internal change rather than foreign intervention.
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It’s truly heart-wrenching to consider the notion that the families of slain Iranian protesters are being forced to pay for the very bullets that ended their children’s lives. This isn’t just an act of cruelty; it feels like a deliberate, calculated attempt to inflict further pain and humiliation upon already devastated individuals. It speaks to a profound lack of empathy, a chilling disregard for basic human decency, and a systematic dehumanization of those who dare to challenge the current order.
The practice, as described, extends beyond just the cost of a bullet. It appears to be a grim, established policy where grieving families are burdened with covering the expenses of their loved ones’ executions, whether by hanging or other means, before they are even allowed to reclaim the bodies for burial. This twisted financial transaction transforms a tragedy into a financial burden, a stark reminder that even in death, dissenters are expected to contribute to the state’s apparatus of control.
When you hear about such practices, it’s hard not to view the ruling regime not as a legitimate government, but more akin to a large-scale, hostage-taking operation. The comparison to groups like ISIS, when they first emerged, isn’t entirely out of place, suggesting a level of ruthlessness that transcends conventional governance and borders on sheer terror. This perspective helps to frame the regime’s seemingly inexplicable cruelty and their unwavering lack of mercy towards their own people.
This pattern of behavior isn’t necessarily confined to Iran. There are indications that this approach, this tactic of holding people, and by extension their families, hostage, has been extended to other regions, influencing or supporting groups that engage in similar oppressive tactics. The idea that a regime would leverage such power over vulnerable populations, extracting not just political concessions but also financial penalties from the bereaved, is a deeply disturbing testament to their methods.
The notion of forcing families to bake sweets for the very individuals responsible for their children’s deaths, in exchange for the bodies, is another facet of this disturbing pattern. It’s a form of psychological manipulation, a cruel demand that forces an impossible moral compromise upon those already drowning in grief. It’s hard to reconcile such actions with the reality of the 21st century, prompting the question of how such barbarity can persist.
The comparison to China’s past, particularly during the Mao era, is also brought up, highlighting a historical precedent for societal upheaval and state-sanctioned violence justified by ideological fervor. While China’s economic trajectory has changed, the methods employed by oppressive regimes can bear disturbing similarities, even if the specific motivations or outcomes differ. The essential element of control, achieved through fear and the suppression of dissent, remains a common thread.
Furthermore, the tactic of making families pay for the bullet seems to carry a dual purpose. Beyond the financial extortion and emotional torment, it serves as a potent warning. It signals to any family, or any community, that rising up in protest or seeking retribution after an execution will only invite further suffering and cost. It’s a grimly effective message designed to instill a sense of futility and fear, aiming to prevent further uprisings by demonstrating the sheer ruthlessness of the state.
The human cost of such policies is immeasurable. The psychological toll on families, forced to endure not only the loss of a loved one but also this additional layer of degradation and financial strain, is profound. It’s a system designed to break spirits, to extinguish hope, and to reinforce the absolute power of the state by demonstrating that it can even profit from the deaths it inflicts.
There’s a desperate yearning for justice, for a future where those responsible for such atrocities are held accountable. The calls for trials, for international tribunals, reflect the deep-seated desire to see these actions recognized as crimes against humanity and for perpetrators to face consequences for their soulless brutality. The sheer depth of suffering and the pervasive nature of the regime’s cruelty, as described, make the idea of a “tartarus hot enough” for such individuals understandable.
The argument that past generations bear some responsibility for the current predicament, due to their support for revolutionary movements, is a complex and sensitive point. While historical context is important, it doesn’t absolve the current regime of its actions or diminish the suffering of the present generation. The revolution that brought about the current Islamic Republic was a tumultuous period, and the subsequent consolidation of power by Islamist factions certainly had far-reaching consequences. However, focusing solely on historical culpability can inadvertently deflect from the immediate and ongoing human rights abuses.
It’s important to distinguish between a population that may have once supported a movement and the current reality of living under an oppressive regime. The overwhelming majority of people today may not have been alive or were children when the revolution occurred. Their lived experience is defined by the current authoritarian rule, and their discontent is a direct response to present-day injustices, not necessarily a reflection of past political choices they had no agency in making.
When a significant portion of a population expresses dissatisfaction with their government, as is evident in Iran, it points to a fundamental disconnect between the rulers and the ruled. Labeling a regime as “cartoonishly evil” suggests a level of detachment from reality that goes beyond mere political disagreement; it implies a fundamental disregard for the well-being of its citizens.
The comparison with China, particularly concerning economic development versus individual rights, also brings up a nuanced debate. While China has achieved significant economic growth, lifting many out of poverty, this has come at a considerable cost to civil liberties and human rights, including, as noted, the potential for families to be made to pay for state actions. However, the argument that Iran has failed to deliver even on economic development, while simultaneously imposing severe restrictions, highlights a critical difference. It suggests that in Iran, citizens are not experiencing the trade-off of sacrificing rights for prosperity, but rather enduring both oppression and economic stagnation.
The notion that people might, in dire economic circumstances, be willing to sacrifice some rights for the promise of stability and sustenance is a recurring theme in history. However, this justification breaks down when the promised economic improvement fails to materialize, leaving the population with neither rights nor prosperity. In such a scenario, the regime’s actions become increasingly indefensible, rooted in control and exploitation rather than genuine welfare.
Ultimately, the practice of forcing grieving families to pay for the bullets that killed their loved ones is a stark symbol of the Iranian regime’s depravity. It is a deeply inhumane policy that amplifies suffering, extorts the vulnerable, and underscores a systematic disregard for human life and dignity. It paints a grim picture of a regime that operates not for the welfare of its people, but through a chilling calculus of control, punishment, and even financial profit from tragedy.