The recent 12-day war between Israel and the Islamic regime in Tehran began with a bang — literally — as some of the regime’s most notorious criminals were wiped off the map.
It was a surgical strike, and for many Iranians, a moment of relief. Justice, for once, had been delivered without endangering civilians. Several high-ranking Revolutionary Guards commanders were gone. No innocent lives were lost.
In response, the Islamic regime launched its usual barrage of blind rockets toward Israel, a theatrical show of force devoid of strategy or accountability. Israel’s Iron Dome and civil defense systems did their job, shielding most of the population. Some homes were hit, some lives disrupted, but the contrast was stark: one side targeted murderers; the other fired randomly, with zero regard for human life.
But the war didn’t stop there. As it dragged on, reports began emerging of Iranian civilians being killed.
Reaching loved ones in Iran was nearly impossible. The internet was down. Phone lines were unreliable. Still, I managed to speak with a few. In the early days of the conflict, one relative was so energized by the strike that she refused to leave Tehran — she wanted to witness the regime’s downfall with her own eyes. Another woman sounded remarkably calm, even supportive of the attacks. I was struck by her courage.
That confidence shattered when Israeli bombs struck Evin Prison and the neighborhoods around it. Yes, some regime thugs and judiciary officials were among the dead, but so were dozens of detainees, many with no chance to seek shelter. Civilian homes and apartment buildings near the prison walls were badly damaged. That same woman, once defiant and hopeful, was now in shock. Her two-year-old grandson had been thrown across the room by the shockwave. He survived, but just barely.
As more details came to light, the pain deepened. Family members visiting detainees were among the dead. Patients in the prison infirmary were killed. A philanthropist, there to post bail for prisoners too poor to buy their freedom, was caught in the blast and died trying to help.
Some of those killed weren’t regime loyalists or high-ranking officials. They were conscripts — young men doing their mandatory military service, stationed at Evin without a choice. They died serving a regime many of them likely didn’t even believe in.
A human rights activist told me something that still haunts me: “There’s a real chance many prisoners died in that strike — people the regime couldn’t execute through its courts may now be gone, thanks to those bombs.”
It’s a chilling thought.
Israel issued advance warnings to neighborhoods where the regime hid military and nuclear assets among civilians — a cynical tactic Tehran has long used to shield itself behind human lives. But for many residents, the warnings came too late. With internet access cut and communications disrupted, they either never received the alerts or didn’t have time to evacuate.
Explosions rocked multiple parts of the city, damaging homes, injuring civilians, and destroying vital infrastructure. Water lines and sewage systems were ruptured. Once again, it was ordinary Iranians who paid the price for the regime’s strategy of hiding behind the very people it claims to defend.
Some had assumed that striking Evin — a symbol of repression and the site of countless executions — would galvanize the public, spark outrage, and drive people into the streets. It didn’t. The opposite happened. Thousands of Iranians began to question the logic behind the strike, especially after it was revealed the widely circulated video claiming to show the prison gate being hit was fake.
In some corners, a wave of defensive nationalism has emerged — not in support of the regime, but in response to a foreign military bombing Iranian soil. The Islamic Republic, ever opportunistic, is now riding that wave to reframe the story. Once again, it’s turning a moment of vulnerability into a propaganda victory.
And then came this message
Many of us fear another round of Israeli strikes is inevitable, especially after reports that the regime has relocated a stockpile of enriched uranium to a more secure site, possibly enough to build weapons. The threat is real. But so is the trauma.
A reader of my blog recently sent me a message that captures our absurd reality better than any analyst ever could: “Dear Nik, I know you have Israeli readers. Please ask them to tell their leaders to send smarter bombs next time. Some of the ones that hit our towns were very low IQ — they killed women, children, and innocent men who had never harmed a soul.”
This is the voice of someone trapped — between a terrorist regime and a high-tech war machine.
Between state lies and foreign missiles. Between strategic logic and human loss.
Civilians are not tactical errors. They are not acceptable collateral. They are not disposable.
Nik Kowsar is an award-winning Iranian-American journalist, cartoonist, and water issues analyst based in Washington, D.C. He was exiled to Canada and the U.S. after his arrest for a cartoon satirizing a powerful cleric.
