Stop at Every Checkpoint: Five Years of Bloodshed and Fear at Iran’s Checkpoints S. Rouzbeh ۲۰۲۶/۰۴/۰۵ Documented reports from 1400 to 1404 show that at least 19 civilians have been killed in incidents involving checkpoints in Iran. This account examines how checkpoints have become sources of fear, the consequences of inexperienced or unaccountable forces, and the deeper crisis of governance behind the shootings. A checkpoint should, in principle, be a limited, lawful and professional means of controlling danger. In conventional policing, it is used when there is a specific threat, a clear objective, trained personnel and accountable procedures. But in Iran, checkpoints have often gone beyond being a policing tool and become stages for displays of power, the psychological control of society, and sometimes the shooting of citizens who were neither on a battlefield nor facing an armed force. Documented reports from 1400 to 1404 show that at least 19 civilians have lost their lives in incidents involving checkpoints, and that 1404 alone was the worst year in this period. The central question is this: Why has a tool meant to serve public safety repeatedly become a source of public fear in Iran? Why do we encounter, at many of these checkpoints, inexperienced, ideological or even paramilitary forces instead of professional and accountable personnel? And why should Iranian families have to live with the anxiety, even in peacetime, that a command to stop, a suspicion or a mistaken judgement could lead to the death of a child, a mother or a passer-by? To understand this problem, we must first draw a clear line: if a checkpoint is lawful and professional, it should be minimally intrusive, clearly defined, visible and subject to oversight. But when this same tool operates not according to law but through fear, suspicion, a wartime atmosphere and an enemy-focused mindset, it is no longer merely a checkpoint; it approaches a softer form of martial law. This is where the street ceases to be a route for citizens and becomes a test of loyalty. This is something repeatedly seen in the everyday experience of people in Iran, and its traces are evident in documented cases. The pattern of incidents over the past five years is not random. At least one fatal case was recorded in 1400, four people were killed in 1401, three in 1402, one in 1403, and at least ten in 1404 as a result of shootings and incidents involving checkpoints. These figures are not the country’s final statistics; they are the documented minimum emerging from public reports. This point matters: when even incomplete and minimum figures paint such a picture, it is reasonable to suppose that reality is graver than what has been recorded. Human rights organisations and independent media play an important role here, because many of these incidents are either not covered by official media at all or are reported in neutralised and downplayed language. For example, in its report on the Hoveyzeh case, HRANA said that gunfire by forces stationed at a checkpoint killed a seven-year-old child and injured her sister. Reports like these show that the problem is not simply an ‘isolated mistake’; we are facing a pattern in which the lives of citizens, especially in a tense security environment, are treated as very cheap. The Khomeyn case may be the most concentrated image of this tragedy. In Tir 1404, gunfire by forces stationed at a checkpoint at two passing cars left at least four people dead. According to published accounts, women and children were among the victims. This is not merely sad news; it is the full reflection of a defective logic: suspicion first, then shooting, and only after citizens have died, an investigation and promises of review. In other words, people lose their lives first, and only then does the official apparatus begin to think about offering an explanation. This is not the logic of security; it is the logic of fear. Other cases confirm the same pattern. In Lorestan, reports emerged of fatal shooting at a checkpoint that killed and injured citizens. In Khorramabad, a Voice of America report on two children killed by officers’ gunfire at a checkpoint showed that this danger does not affect only ‘suspects’; at times it directly engulfs families, children and ordinary people travelling in cars. In Kurdish regions, the Kurdistan Human Rights Network has also documented cases of citizens killed after gunfire by forces stationed at checkpoints, or in pursuits connected with them. Here we must emphasise a point the government usually evades: the issue is not only the ‘shooting’, but the decision-making structure that precedes it. When a political system, instead of investing in professional policing, turns to the Basij, inexperienced or impulsive forces, or even the use of children in operational roles, it is only natural for the quality of assessment, emotional control and split-second decision-making to deteriorate. Recent reports about the use of children at checkpoints are not only morally shocking; from a security standpoint, they are a complete disaster. A system that makes up for even its shortage of personnel with children is no longer producing security; it is producing instability and catastrophe. The effects of this situation are not confined to the moment a shot is fired. Checkpoints operating without clear rules wear society down, even when they do not lead to death. A family that encounters armed personnel on a road or at a city entrance, with no way of knowing whether they are trained, what their limits of authority are or what they might find suspicious, is placed in a state of continual psychological suspension. This exhaustion intensifies during wartime, but it does not disappear in peacetime. In such an atmosphere, the street is no longer merely a place to travel through; it becomes a place of anxiety, of guessing, of fearing someone else’s mistake. Let us not be mistaken: no country can build lasting security without checks and inspections. The issue is not the principle of control, but its quality, legality and accountability. In a healthy state, a checkpoint should be an exception, not a way of life for the public. It should be a means of managing risk, not a display of the government’s distrust of its citizens. But in the Islamic Republic, checkpoints have often served not to reassure society but to remind people of the state’s power over their bodies, vehicles, movement and fears. That is why, in the minds of many people, every command to stop is not a sign of security but the beginning of dread. And perhaps this is the most precise way to frame the issue: In a country where checkpoints are supposed to bring security, yet the news about them is entangled with the blood of children, mothers’ fear and mistaken shootings, the crisis lies not only in the trigger; it lies in the system of governance. S. Rouzbeh Source: https://srouzbeh.com/en/posts/archive-62b1b943-5663-119c-b416-29fc908621cf Please credit the author and link to this edition.