Suppressing Anger: When Silence Does Not Mean Forgetting S. Rouzbeh 2026-11-07 Death may become a recurring item on the news calendar, but it is never an everyday story for a family that has lost someone they love. What should worry us most is not the normalisation of executions in people’s consciences, but the normalisation of conditions in which people witness suffering, feel moved to protest, yet do not feel safe expressing it. Silence is not always a sign of forgetting; sometimes it reflects the price placed on speaking out. In Iran, sometimes the news of one prisoner’s execution has barely broken before another name appears on the news screen. One family is waiting for a visit, another for the body to be handed over, and a third is worried about what tomorrow will bring. Life does not stop either: rent, the price of bread, the cost of medicine and the future of the children are daily concerns. The question is: how much capacity to respond does a society have when it is continually confronted with death, repression and hardship? Have people grown accustomed to executions, or are they losing the opportunity and ability to show their anger? In another sense, with the emergence of new problems, it seems that the auditory sensors have become less sensitive and their range has narrowed. The figures are shocking. In its 2025 report, published in May 2026, Amnesty International recorded at least 2,159 executions in Iran—more than twice the previous year’s figure. This number does not relate only to people convicted in political cases; it also includes murder and drug-related cases. But behind these statistics, for every prisoner’s family, is a human being: someone with a name and a past, and people waiting for them. As reports of executions recur, there is a risk that names will give way to numbers. In his research on ‘psychic numbing’, psychologist Paul Slovic has shown that an increase in the number of victims does not necessarily increase our empathy or our willingness to act. Sometimes a single face and life story affect us more than statistics about thousands of victims. This finding cannot be applied directly to everyone in Iran, but it is a serious warning: repeated images of death may wear down the impact of the news without diminishing the value of human life in the audience’s eyes. Even so, a decline in visible reactions should not be casually labelled ‘indifference’. There is a vast difference between someone who does not feel another person’s suffering and someone who does feel it but is afraid to speak. In Iran, the cost of protesting can be arrest, losing one’s job, threats against loved ones or criminal charges. Silence, then, is not always an answer to a moral question; at times, it is a difficult calculation made to stay alive and protect one’s family. The protests of Dey 1404, which began over economic hardship and took on a political dimension, were met with deadly repression. In its reports, Human Rights Watch has spoken of the killing of protesters and pressure on the families of those killed—from restrictions on the release of bodies to interference in burial places and mourning ceremonies. In such circumstances, it is not only protest in the streets that is repressed; families may even be denied the chance to grieve together. Mourning is not only a personal experience; it is also a way to preserve the victim’s name and connect survivors. Restricting it also limits the possibility of turning individual sorrow into social solidarity. Economic pressure adds another layer to this situation. Someone who wakes in the morning worried about paying the rent and goes to sleep at night calculating the cost of food and medical care may lack the psychological and financial resources for a prolonged protest. This does not mean that poverty makes people submissive; poverty can itself fuel protest. The point is that anger and the ability to express anger are not the same thing. A person can be enraged by injustice while also being unable to bear the cost of protesting. The effects of this pressure are not seen only in the streets. Persistent fear can shorten family conversations, reduce trust between neighbours and make people more cautious about expressing their views. Of course, we should not attribute every family disagreement or sign of exhaustion to political repression; such a claim requires field research. But we can ask: how can a society preserve trust and public participation when its members worry about being overheard before they say anything? Even so, there is evidence that challenges the narrative of ‘the people falling silent’. On 5 Aban 1405, the ‘Tuesdays Against Executions’ campaign announced that, in its 144th week, prisoners in 66 prisons had joined a hunger strike. This figure is cited by the campaign’s organisers. The continuation of such a movement reminds us that opposition to executions can evolve from a momentary reaction into sustained resistance. In a Gamaan online poll in Khordad 1405, around 81 per cent of respondents agreed with the slogan ‘No to Executions’, and 75.8 per cent were worried about rising prices and economic pressure. However, voluntary sampling means these figures cannot be taken as the views of all Iranians. There is another danger we talk about less: suppressed anger does not necessarily lead to a demand for justice. It can turn into isolation, despair, distrust or even a desire for revenge. A society that opposes executions today must take care that, tomorrow, anger at those responsible for repression does not become a justification for the same punishment when applied to political enemies. If opposition to executions depends solely on the identity of the victim, the principle that human life is sacred remains vulnerable. So the central question is not why people do not shout as loudly as they used to. We should ask what has happened to the right to shout—to the possibility of mourning, reporting the news, gathering and trusting one another. Through repression, the authorities can raise the cost of expressing anger, but consent cannot be inferred from the silence that follows. Just as the accumulation of anger cannot be taken as proof that a social explosion is inevitable. Death may become a recurring item on the news calendar, but it is never an everyday story for a family that has lost someone they love. What should worry us most is not the normalisation of executions in people’s consciences, but the normalisation of conditions in which people witness suffering, feel moved to protest, yet do not feel safe expressing it. Silence is not always a sign of forgetting; sometimes it reflects the price placed on speaking out. Source: https://srouzbeh.com/en/posts/entry-1794093129885-983daf28 Please credit the author and link to this edition.