Firsthand reports from contributors inside Iran
One of the more telling features of the election campaign in Iran was that no candidate seemed to appeal to Generation Z first-time voters. Perhaps they assumed it was a lost cause, believing Gen Z wouldn't vote.
To understand why, we must look back to the fall of 2022, when widespread protests shook the Islamic Republic like never before. No one expected teenagers, some as young as 15, to become the heart and soul of that uprising. Generation Z was thought to be apolitical—and perhaps they were. But their rebellious spirit and desire to live freely proved far more powerful and inspiring than any ideology or political inclination.
The Zs took to the streets across Iran and became the change they wanted to see –as Gandhi would say –unlike their previous generation who asked for change from those in power. They had little time for their parents’ good old haggling with the regime. They were ready to fight for the ‘basics’ they believed were their right. And fight they did –leading chants, removing and burning headscarves, tearing down state banners and symbols, and of course, popping turbans off the mullahs’ head. They crushed political taboos and paid dearly for it. Young souls like Nika Shakarami and Sarina Esmailzadeh were killed protesting before their 17th birthday. The idea that they would have voted for this or that ‘approved’ candidate tomorrow is laughable.
“I don't even know the names of the candidates,” says Hasti, an 18-year-old preparing for Iran’s centralized university entrance exam. “Why would I follow them when I’m not voting? I don't vote because I have learned that to achieve my rights, I have to fight, not wait for change to come from the ballot box.”
Hasti believes there’s a generational gap –and the little data that exists publicly seems to confirm this: middle-aged Iranians are more likely to vote in this election. “My parents grew up during the [Iran-Iraq] war,” she says. “They were taught to want less, be content, and feel guilty for their desires. They had minimal contact with the world, and their parents were often supportive of the government. It’s different now. I know more than a bit about what's happening in the world. I set my own values, and my parents no longer support the government."
The advocates of voting tell young people like Hasti that the president matters, even though much is decided and implemented by non-elected officials. But it’s not easy convincing someone who sees the severe repression at school or faces suspension or expulsion from university with the slightest sign of dissent.
"Any protest or political activity that’s not in line with the state’s desires is suppressed, whoever the president,” Amin, a first-year university student, says sneering. “Everybody knows that the president and his education minister have no authority. It’s the security agencies who decide how to deal with students. So why are we told that the ‘president matters’ when students are handed harsh sentences during both reformist and hardliner administrations. This powerlessness can be seen in other areas too."
The only candidate who attempted to connect with the Zs early in the campaign was Masoud Pezeshkian, the “moderate” (or reform) candidate who claims to have entered the race to “save” Iran. He’s a surgeon who has previously served as health minister, and member of Iran’s parliament, Majles.
In a half-hour campaign ad titled “Z: A Look at the Demands of the New Generation," young people asked Pezeshkian about entrepreneurship, employment opportunities, and time spent online. The ad included some criticism of Iran's current situation and the widespread desire among the youth to leave the country. However, it left out many critical issues: mandatory hijab, suppressed sexual orientations, compulsory military service—all aspects of a lifestyle that many in Generation Z desire but which are criminalized by their fanatical rulers.
“There is no longer a common language,” one young man said in the campaign ad. And the candidate agreed. I put this to Parsa, an 18-year-old who has decided to train for a trade instead of going to university, and who, unlike many of his peers, has followed the campaign closely.
“The lack of a common language is even more evident in the candidates’ debates,” Parsa said. “In one debate, Pezeshkian said the clashes over hijab in Iran shows parents are not doing a proper job. What he truly demonstrated was his belief that people desiring different lifestyles stem from improper upbringing. He doesn't acknowledge that diversity and differences need to be recognized. While he opposes the methods of the so-called morality police, he supports their intention to impose a singular view over others. And yet, they expect us to vote for this man as the 'progressive' candidate.
The Zs’ parents used to see the ballot box as the only way to reform Iran’s authoritarian system. Elections did matter to them, and it showed in the high turnouts before 2020. For the Zs, however, elections are yet another ‘state-sponsored event’. It has nothing to do with them, as far as they’re concerned. It seems the candidates are aware of this too and have directed all their effort to engage the over-25s. They know full well that the Zs are not coming back.
His presidency was seen as a sign of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei's decision to rid the system of the unpredictability of competitive elections: all moderates and reformists, who had until then been tolerated as ‘opposition’ were disqualified. Raisi was thought to have been chosen to play a significant role in Khamenei's succession plans. But he died in a helicopter crash on May 19, 2024. Snap elections were called, and a ‘reform’ candidate, Masoud Pezeshkian, was surprisingly allowed to run by the un-elected Guardian Council, effectively controlled by Khamenei and tasked to vet candidates.
How come this happened?
Many believe Pezeshkian was included to create a semblance of competition and boost voter turnout, which has dropped to historic lows. In the 2023 parliamentary elections, the officially reported turnout was 41 percent—the lowest since 1979. In major cities like Tehran, turnout was as low as 15 percent, with some candidates entering parliament (Majles) with support from less than 6 percent of eligible voters.
This Friday’s presidential election in Iran is the first one after the “Woman, Life, Freedom” protests of 2021 –the most radical movement since the inception of the Islamic Republic in 1979. The movement reflected a majority demand to live a normal life under a secular government, with respect for human rights, women’s rights, and sensible trade and foreign policies. The election comes after three elections since 2020 in which many former officials were disqualified, and the turnout continually dropped –highlighting an almost complete rupture between the people and the ruling elite.
So it may be that the Supreme Leader felt compelled to let in a more palatable candidate to woo at least some of those who until a few weeks ago seemed like they’d never vote again.
The stage set for a controlled election
Six candidates were approved to compete for the presidency. But the forces at play can be grouped in three: first, those who support the status quo and seek to follow Raisi’s ‘path’; second, the ‘reform’ camp who back Pezeshkian, arguing that he’d be able to effect some change, however minimal; last, those who say Iran’s recent history shows real change cannot come out of the ballot box –and see Pezeshkian’s candidacy as a tactic to hinder more radical protests.
What does each group stand for?
The Principlist camp are hardline supporters of the Supreme Leader and his policies, which were implemented by Raisi. They defend conservative religious and political norms, including mandatory Hijab, and strict control on the press and the internet. Their chances rise as turnout falls, since the loyal supporters of the regime always vote. This group is currently divided into two sub-groups led by Saeed Jalili and Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, Iran’s former nuclear negotiator who represents the Supreme Leader in Iran’s National Security Council, and a former IRGC commander who’s now the speaker of the parliament. The two must tap into one broad base of conservative voters –and thus face a dilemma: both share the ‘loyalist’ vote and risk a run-off against Pezeshkian, or one can step aside for the other and hand him the bulk of the ‘loyal’ vote.
The Reformist camp, consistently pushed aside since the election of Mohammad Khatami in 1997, seeks a gradual ‘opening up’ of the system. They say Pezeshkian can implement better economic policies, restrict the morality police, relax censorship, and begin to normalize Iran's relationship with the West. The more radical reformists, however, criticize Pezeshkian for not emphasizing democratic values and instead expressing total obedience to the Supreme Leader at every turn. They warn that Pezeshkian is there only to save face for the regime and his team of conformists and bureaucrats would not move towards the more liberal demands of the Iranian public.
The Boycott camp is the largest of the three groups – 40 to 50 percent of eligible voters, according to semi-official polls. These argue that the president in the Islamic Republic of Iran is proven to be incapable of effecting meaningful change, therefore voting would only amount to partaking in a show that legitimizes a system of oppression. They favor popular mobilization and more radical tactics.
It is safe to say that the outcome of Iran’s 2024 presidential elections ultimately depends on the second group above to persuade the third to show up to keep out the first. It’s the well-known, some may say tired, narrative of bad versus worse. We’ll soon know if it has just enough appeal to work one more time.
The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily the views of Iran International.