Iran International
Expanding US pressure on Iran's aviation sector is bringing a class dimension to the debate over the costs of the country's growing isolation, with some Iranians welcoming restrictions they say are finally reaching the better-off.
Washington has threatened sanctions against airports and companies that provide services to Iranian carriers as international travel options are already narrowing.
Mahan Air has suspended flights to Turkey and Oman, while Georgia has announced a halt to flights by all Iranian airlines.
Iran International asked its Instagram audience what they thought about the growing restrictions. Responses ranged from support for measures seen as increasing pressure on the state to concern about their consequences for medicine, essential goods and family travel.
“At last, the water has reached the upper decks,” one respondent wrote.
The phrase captured a recurring argument among those who welcomed the restrictions: hardships that have long affected ordinary Iranians may now be reaching wealthier or better-connected sections of society.
Others argued that air travel had already become unaffordable for much of the population and said they were prepared to tolerate further restrictions if they increased the economic and political cost for the authorities or made it more difficult for officials and those close to them to travel abroad.
The responses do not constitute a representative survey of Iranian public opinion, but they point to a revealing tension over who bears the cost of external pressure.
‘The issue isn't just travel’
US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent said Iranian airlines would effectively be shut out of international operations from September 23, warning that airports and companies providing them with services could themselves face US sanctions.
The restrictions do not amount to the closure of Iranian airspace or automatically prohibit foreign airlines from flying to Iran. But the threat of sanctions could make it increasingly difficult for Iranian carriers to operate abroad.
For some respondents, that raised concerns extending well beyond passenger travel to medicine, raw materials, spare parts and other goods entering Iran by air.
“Everyone is thinking about passenger flights, but the real problem that will emerge is cargo flights,” one wrote.
“The issue isn't just travel,” another respondent wrote. “A lot of goods reached Iran by air, such as medicine … what is supposed to happen to patients now?”
Others pointed to higher ticket prices, longer journeys involving indirect routes and increasing difficulties visiting relatives abroad. Some feared higher import costs would feed into inflation, further squeezing household finances.
“In the war and confrontation between the government and America, it is the people who are being crushed,” one respondent wrote.
Some also pointed to congestion at land crossings such as Bazargan and Razi, fearing that further disruption to air travel would push more passengers onto already strained overland routes.
Where does tolerance for pressure end?
The responses also revealed differing interpretations of what Washington is trying to achieve.
Some saw the aviation restrictions as another sign of escalating confrontation, while others interpreted them as an attempt to increase pressure on Tehran to reach an agreement.
Several said years of sanctions and economic crisis had left society increasingly accustomed, or even numb, to new restrictions.
Measures perceived as restricting officials, state institutions or wealthier Iranians attracted support from many of those who responded to Iran International.
But that support became less straightforward when people contemplated medicine and essential goods becoming harder to obtain, more expensive travel, separation from relatives or further increases in household costs.
The responses suggest tolerance for outside pressure can be easier to sustain when its costs appear concentrated on the state. Once those costs become tangible in everyday life, the calculation becomes more complicated—even among Iranians who want greater pressure on Tehran.
Students and language teachers described cancelled exams, disrupted preparation and growing reliance on overseas testing in interviews with Iranian newspaper Etemad.
TOEFL and GRE testing inside Iran stopped after the US Treasury Department suspended an authorization covering certain educational services involving Iran on August 24. Applicants have also faced restrictions affecting PTE and Duolingo, although the rules differ between providers.
“The morning she arrived at the center, they told her the test would not be held because of sanctions,” Homa, a language teacher identified only by her first name, said of a student who travelled from Gilan province in northern Iran. “That Saturday, all I could hear was students crying, some of whom had only a few weeks until their test date.”
Some candidates had already paid for transportation and accommodation before learning their exams would not take place. Others were approaching university deadlines with little time to find alternatives.
Exam trips become a new expense
Applicants are increasingly looking to Armenia, Turkey and other nearby countries, feeding an informal business offering what Homa described as “exam tours.”
Intermediaries arrange appointments, foreign-currency payments, transportation and accommodation, sometimes allowing applicants to leave Iran, sit an exam and return within 24 or 48 hours.
Applicants travelling overland and sharing accommodation can spend around 300 million rials, about $130 at an open-market rate of roughly 2.3 million rials to the dollar. More expensive trips can reach 1 billion to 1.5 billion rials, or about $435 to $650, Homa estimated.
Those sums compare with a government-set minimum base wage of about 166 million rials, or $72, a month. With standard allowances, the minimum monthly package for a single worker is around 218 million rials, or $95.
Telegram groups have become information hubs for testing centers, accommodation and foreign payments. Homa said some operators also offer to manipulate internet or computer settings to make applicants inside Iran appear to be abroad, potentially exposing them to cancelled scores or blocked accounts.
Few alternatives without travel
Switching exams can mean losing months of specialized preparation and does not necessarily eliminate the need to travel.
IELTS is in a different position because it is jointly owned by the British Council, Australia's IDP and Cambridge University Press & Assessment rather than a US testing organization. The suspension of General License G therefore does not directly apply to it.
IELTS testing inside Iran, however, had already ended on January 31, 2026, after IDP cited separate “financial and regulatory factors” outside its control. Iranian applicants seeking the test must therefore also travel abroad.
Tabassom, identified only by her first name, had spent nine months preparing for PTE as part of plans to obtain an Australian work visa. She now expects to switch to IELTS.
“I spent an average of 150 million rials ($65) a month on language training,” Tabassom said. “Over nine months, I spent nearly one billion rials ($435) just on classes and training. I had reached the point where I was going to take the exam in another month and a half, but now I have to switch to IELTS and start preparing again.”
Domestic problems compound the disruption
The testing restrictions have landed on applicants already dealing with economic and infrastructure problems inside Iran.
Tabassom said internet outages had already disrupted contact with her immigration lawyer before the problems surrounding PTE forced her to change plans.
Applicants with sufficient resources can respond by travelling abroad or paying for additional preparation. Others may have to borrow money or delay their plans. Homa said some students had sold gold or household belongings or taken loans to continue pursuing testing and migration.
For Iranians seeking to study or work abroad, the challenge is no longer only achieving the required score, but finding an affordable way to reach the examination room.
One advertisement offered eight frozen embryos for one billion rials (about $4400), although it was unclear whether the price applied to each embryo or the entire group, Jahan-e Sanat newspaper reported on Monday.
Another seller advertised 18 frozen embryos and asked prospective buyers to suggest a price. Similar advertisements for embryos, eggs, sperm and surrogacy services have appeared on Instagram and Telegram.
The advertisements directed prospective buyers away from the original platform to continue discussions elsewhere, with little information about the people offering the embryos or how any transfer would take place.
Iranian law provides for donation, not direct sales
Iranian legislation passed in 2003 permits embryo donation to infertile married couples under specified conditions, with implementing regulations adopted the following year also covering frozen embryos.
Under those regulations, embryo donation is defined as the voluntary and free transfer of one or more embryos to authorized infertility treatment centers. Written consent from the couple providing the embryo is required, and transfers must take place through authorized specialist centers.
Prospective recipients must apply jointly as a married couple to a court and meet requirements covering infertility, legal capacity, health, drug use and Iranian citizenship.
The regulations therefore provide a formal route for donating frozen embryos but do not define them as commodities that can be sold directly between individuals.
Sociologist points to poverty and intermediaries
The online advertisements could reflect a combination of financial hardship among potential sellers and the desperation of couples struggling with infertility, sociologist Alireza Sharifi-Yazdi told Jahan-e Sanat.
“Behind this are a number of digital intermediaries who operate on Instagram, Telegram, and similar platforms and exploit the poverty and financial vulnerability of families, particularly women, as well as the desperation and confusion of infertile couples,” Sharifi-Yazdi said.
He distinguished regulated infertility treatment from an informal market in which intermediaries seek to profit from reproductive services.
Some infertile couples may turn to such channels after unsuccessful treatments including intrauterine insemination, or IUI, and in vitro fertilization, or IVF, he said.
Lengthy adoption procedures and the cost and waiting times associated with infertility treatment can also make unofficial alternatives appear easier, Sharifi-Yazdi added.
The financial circumstances of people offering embryos, he said, are another part of the picture, with worsening poverty potentially making them more susceptible to intermediaries seeking to profit from their situation.
Questions over oversight and identity
Sharifi-Yazdi also raised concerns about the possible consequences for children born following informal embryo transactions, including questions about their genetic parentage and legal status.
Modern DNA testing could allow children conceived through such arrangements to discover that the people raising them are not their genetic parents, potentially creating psychological and legal complications later in life, he argued.
Iran also lacks a transparent centralized national system through which people seeking to donate embryos without payment can readily register and navigate the legal process.
