When the Government Turns Brutal S. Rouzbeh ۲۸ دی ۱۴۰۴ An examination of a government that, facing political deadlock, resorts to naked violence and severing lines of communication. The article argues that peak brutality is not a sign of strength but the product of a political impasse. A terrified government grows fangs: when repression becomes the language of survival S. Rouzbeh The analysis that follows is a behavioural autopsy of a power that, confronted with political deadlock, has resorted to naked violence and cutting off the arteries of communication. The central proposition is clear: the height of brutality is not a sign of strength, but the product of an impasse in political solutions. Who turns out the lights? When a government fears light and transparency, its first response is not a political answer but to cut off the breath of communication. In recent days, cities have taken on an unusual character from the evening onwards. The shutters coming down are not a sign of ordinary closing time; they are the result of fear combining with official threats. The declaration of public mourning by a system that is itself responsible for grief is presented not as an expression of solidarity with the people, but as an attempt to shore up its own faltering forces. Credible reports of a nationwide communications blackout and widespread disruption to the internet reveal one reality: the government no longer sees the problem as merely protest, but as communication itself. 1) Digital siege: closing the eyes of witnesses In the logic of a government under pressure, cutting off the internet is not simply a tool of censorship but an operation on the ground with three specific aims. Disrupting coordination: paralysing protest groups and preventing fluid gatherings from taking shape. The darkroom of narrative: by cutting off the flow of video and first-hand testimony, the cost of lying for the propaganda apparatus falls. Paralysing everyday life: turning ordinary life—banking, healthcare and business—into a hostage for the purposes of collective punishment. A government confident in its own stability needs communication to manage society. A government that is afraid turns out the lights before it fires a shot. 2) Turning the city into a barracks: measures resembling the imposition of martial law What is visible in the streets today—the extensive deployment of security forces and the Revolutionary Guard in squares and neighbourhoods—follows the logic of undeclared martial law. The purpose of turning the city into a barracks is not necessarily to maintain physical control over every location, but to create widespread fear. When markets and commercial centres become focal points of protest, the government faces a choice between making concessions and securitising the situation, and chooses the latter. But this choice comes at a heavy price: it brings the economy to a halt and drives the divide between the people and the executive apparatus to the point of no return. 3) Indiscriminate violence: nervous repression, from control to social terror In classic patterns of repression, power usually targets specific figures: leaders and organisers. But at a stage that could be called nervous repression, the targets are no longer specific; everyone is a potential target. Sporadic gunfire, sudden checkpoints and indiscriminate brutality send a clear message: no one is safe. This kind of violence is no longer a tool of politics, but a form of social terror used to buy time. The logic of survival: heading towards survival emergency—the dictator’s trap Why is violence more dangerous at this stage? Because the political way out has been closed. A government that has a way out will make a tactical retreat. But when those in power feel that any retreat would mean complete collapse, they enter a logic of survival. In this logic, witnesses—journalists and citizens—are dangerous, so they must be blinded. Students and doctors are threats, so they must be intimidated. Shooting becomes logical because the aim is no longer to resolve the crisis, but simply to survive until another day. You surely know that an animal such as a cow, when it is in a slaughterhouse—which is usually calm—and smells blood and senses the end of its life, will suddenly flee. When people try to catch it and it finds itself surrounded, it will gore any moving thing—not because it has grown stronger, but because its breathing space has shrunk to a minimum and its time to die has come. This is also why these animals are used in bullfighting. Lessons from history: global patterns of repression A look at dictatorships in decline in the 21st century reveals striking similarities. Governments facing a crisis of survival usually resort to a familiar combination: shutting down the internet and telephone networks, keeping people at home, turning cities into garrisons, and launching waves of arrests. Sudan in 2021 is an example of communications being cut and street repression following a crisis of power. Myanmar is an example of maximum pressure combined with internet shutdowns and the pursuit of civil-society networks. Egypt in 2013 is an example of a doctrine of intimidation used to consolidate power. What should be done in the absence of communications, at such a moment? A guide to resilience and carrying on until victory But our people are not at a dead end; they can continue their struggle in different ways, including by following the approaches we have in mind—for example, the ones we mentioned, and the solutions we could offer for what they should do. So, what can people do when they have no communications? When the internet is down, the best things to do are usually simple and humane. Some fifty or sixty years ago, communications were not available to this extent. But everything has changed today. Now we can see what to do when communications are cut. People can create a small local network: families, neighbours and friends can agree in advance on meeting arrangements, keep essential numbers on paper, and identify a specific contact point. For their safety and well-being, when medical facilities become unsafe or overcrowded and they cannot contact one another, they can certainly use a simple piece of chalk or a mark on the wall to let each other know they are safe when they return home. They can also use basic methods they can put in place now and share within their groups. They should also beware that rumours spread very quickly. They should be especially careful with rumours they suspect come from the regime. Document events offline: record dates, times, locations, names and details, either on paper or in an offline file. Keep the records on their own pages, and appoint someone to safeguard the information, in the neighbourhood or elsewhere. They can also co-operate and provide economic and psychological support. Well, the shutters are down and there are strikes; the banks are having problems, and people need food and daily bread, especially the elderly and the sick. The small networks that had previously been recommended by the Crown Prince for these purposes can ultimately help ensure access to medicine and treatment. It is their duty, in any case, to prevent such problems from arising. And if there is any communication at present, people must help those who have gone missing. Groups should be formed to prioritise people who have disappeared, whose families have not returned, and those who are injured or missing. These tasks should be carried out alongside the gatherings, with people assigned to take responsibility for them and replacements ready in case others are unable to continue. All this helps the movement carry on, so that this path can lead to the complete destruction of the regime and its removal from the people’s lives—and so that we can truly have freedom, victory, light and greatness over darkness, and an Iran that is prosperous and free, rid of this present-day Zahhak. Conclusion What is flowing through the veins of the streets today is not the power of a formidable system, but the trembling hand that pulls the trigger. When the government turns out the lights, it means it is afraid of the truth. When it turns the city into a barracks, it means it fears people coming together. We must remember that brutality and murder are not signs of strength, but the last refuge of a power whose every political solution has reached a dead end. A frightened government lashes out, not because it has grown stronger, but because it is cornered and feels death approaching. How long can it imprison, execute, threaten or suppress the people of this land and the human capital of our country? Today, it stands at the edge of the precipice of collapse. The triumph of light over oppression and darkness is near for our beloved Iran. Source: https://srouzbeh.com/en/posts/archive-7fb9df11-4b82-6999-c6c1-c4d784712c1b Please credit the author and link to this edition.