‘Endless fears’: Even if fighting stops, the damage to Iran’s children will endure
The war lingers in his mind, a constant shadow that no ceasefire can erase. A slamming door or dropped cutlery now sends Ali into a flurry of reactions. “Before the conflict, I never felt stress,” he recalls. “But now, even the smallest sound triggers my brain.” At just 15, Ali grasps how the echoes of US and Israeli airstrikes have etched fear into his psyche. These sounds induce an involuntary startle response, amplifying anxiety with every loud noise.
A shattered childhood
Over 20% of Iran’s population, roughly 20.4 million children, have been shaped by the war’s relentless toll. Psychologists identify their experiences as “hyper arousal,” a potential early indicator of post-traumatic stress disorder. Ali observes his parents’ trembling reactions, seeking the comfort of home but finding it elusive. His father, unemployed due to the conflict, and his mother, perpetually anxious, have become a source of worry rather than reassurance.
“My mother stays indoors, and whenever fighter jets pass, she’s overwhelmed with fear,” Ali says. “I myself am terrified. I’ve lost contact with friends and can’t focus on studies. I should be building a future, not surviving constant dread of bombs and political turmoil.” The children’s world has contracted, confined to homes where schools are closed and streets are patrolled by militia. All that remains is waiting, hoping the ceasefire lasts.
Voices of fear and resilience
Through trusted sources, the BBC has gathered testimonies from parents and caregivers navigating war trauma. Names like Aysha, whose identity is protected, offer insight into the struggles faced. At a Tehran human rights center, she speaks to a mother on the phone: “Try these techniques to calm him. If possible, engage him in play. If not, bring him here for support.”
Aysha notes the center sees frequent calls and visits from concerned parents. “We witness sleepless nights, nightmares, and difficulty concentrating. Some children display aggression. It’s heartbreaking—raising a child with such fear, only to risk their life in protests or attacks.” The war has forced parents to confront the possibility of losing their children, even as they strive to shield them.
Children on the frontlines
The Iranian government has actively drawn children into the conflict. Under security laws, boys under 15 are enlisted into the Basij volunteer militia, a key state force. In a televised speech, a regime official urged parents to “take your children by the hand and go to the streets.” He framed the war as a test of masculinity for boys, claiming that “commanding the battle” would make them heroes.
For 11-year-old Alireza Jafari, this call to action meant death. He was killed by a drone strike while assisting his father at a checkpoint in Tehran on 29 March. His mother, Sadaf Monfared, shared his final words: “He said he wanted to become a martyr.” Amnesty International criticizes Iran’s actions, calling the recruitment of minors a “grave violation of international humanitarian law” and a war crime. The regime’s efforts to militarize children contradict global standards, as they are allowed to serve under 15, breaching international norms.
A Tehran resident, known as Noor, vows to keep his teenage son out of the military. “I won’t let him face the same fate as Alireza,” he says, determined to protect his child from the frontlines. Yet, the war’s scars remain, etched into the minds of Iran’s children long after the conflict subsides.
