In the international human rights community, we often respond most urgently when executions involve political prisoners, protesters, or vulnerable groups such as juveniles. These cases, with their clear violations of fundamental freedoms and international protections, rightfully draw outrage and attention. But in Iran, the death penalty reaches beyond these categories, and, as a community, our framing must evolve to reflect this truth.
The prevailing narrative around executions in Iran too often excludes individuals convicted of crimes like murder or drug related offenses, despite facing the same systemic denial of fair trial rights. This omission is not merely a gap; it’s a failure of advocacy. The exclusion of these individuals, those whose names we rarely know, whose trials attract no headlines, reflects a broader problem in how we understand and respond to state violence. In fact, in a system where due process is systematically denied, all executions are arbitrary, and all victims deserve our outrage and attention.
A System That Cannot Administer Justice
Iran’s judicial system is characterized not by justice, but by opacity, coercion, and impunity. Trials are sometimes conducted in absentia, and defendants are routinely denied access to legal counsel. Although Iranian law requires that individuals facing the death penalty have legal representation, most are unable to access a lawyer of their choice due to poverty, lack of available counsel, or limited family support. In murder cases, the state further evades responsibility by deferring the decision to carry out an execution to the victim’s family, invoking the principle of Qisas or “blood for blood.” This practice, while not unique to Iran, enables the government to deflect accountability and places the burden of life-and-death decisions on grieving families, often under intense social and financial pressure. Despite its prevalence, serious concerns around due process remain.
In addition, confessions are often extracted under physical and or psychological torture. Evidence is concealed or even fabricated. These practices are not exceptions; they are features.
In conversation with HRA about her son, one mother stated: “The so-called confession was taken under torture. He told us after the first interrogation, he couldn’t even remember what he said. They made him sign papers he didn’t understand. No real lawyer, no right to speak, no chance to defend himself.”
In such a context, the notion that any individual, regardless of the charge, has received a fair trial is untenable. When the judiciary lacks independence and impartiality, no death sentence can be deemed legitimate. The crime alleged is irrelevant when the process used to establish guilt is wholly unreliable.
Yet, the international community continues to apply a double standard, rallying forcefully for those with political affiliations, while, perhaps even unintentionally, overlooking those accused of murder or other criminal offenses. By drawing these distinctions, we risk sending the message that some lives are more worth defending than others. As a result, a significant number of cases are excluded from the broader narrative.
through May 31st, 2025
There are several potential reasons for this, including the fact that some Western countries, such as the United States, continue to impose the death penalty for what they deem as meeting the ‘most serious crime’ threshold. Still, the central issue remains the same: the absence of fair trial guarantees. This is a clear and accessible entry point for Western governments seeking to engage on the matter. It is important to note that the vast majority of Western governments have either abolished the death penalty or issued formal moratoriums on its use.
The Myth of the “Wave”: A Systemic, Not Episodic, Crisis
The headline phrase “wave of executions” is used repeatedly in media coverage and advocacy reports. It evokes a sudden, alarming increase, a break from the norm. But in Iran, executions are the norm.
In 2024 alone, HRA documented over 925 executions across Iran, spanning various provinces and demographics. In May 2025 alone, 157 executions were recorded. Political prisoners represent only a small fraction of those executed, the broader landscape remains alarming; nearly 7,500 individuals are currently on death row in Iran, 50 of them being political prisoners. That is less than 1%.
The data gathered by HRA from specific prisons underscores this disproportion. From May 2024 to May 2025, Ghezel Hesar Prison (Karaj), Adel Abad Prison (Shiraz), and Dastgerd Prison (Isfahan) recorded the highest execution rates. In Karaj, where the prison population is estimated at 12,000, 173 people were executed. Of that population, the number of political prisoners housed fluctuates between 25 and 30. In Isfahan, 76 individuals were executed over the year; the prison holds 5 to 10 political prisoners at any given time.
The data is clear. Execution is not a tool reserved for political dissidents it is a mechanism of repression used across all regions and categories of offense. Many are individuals the international community never hears about convicted of offenses such as robbery, murder, or sexual assault, often following deeply flawed trials.
In a conversation with HRA, a mother of a young man executed expressed her pain at the lack of public recognition for his case: “It’s like screaming into a void. The world didn’t seem to care. His name didn’t trend. No one issued a statement. He just disappeared quietly, and we were left to grieve in silence.”
The mother continued: “When it’s someone from a poor neighborhood, someone accused of a crime in the chaos of poverty and addiction, they are erased. Their humanity is erased.” She went on to pose the question: “Isn’t every life worth fighting for?”
The “Most Serious Crimes” Standard: A Flawed Justification in Iran
International human rights law allows for the death penalty only in rare cases involving the “most serious crimes,” a term most often interpreted to include ‘intentional killing’. But this standard presupposes a functioning judicial system, one capable of discerning guilt through fair and impartial procedures.
In Iran, that assumption does not hold. The legal infrastructure fails at every stage: investigation, prosecution, defense, and adjudication. HRA advocates for a moratorium against the use of the death penalty across the board. However, the use of the death penalty for murder, while superficially aligned with international thresholds, becomes indefensible when the accused are denied even the most basic rights. It is not only the crime that defines the legitimacy of an execution; it is the credibility of the process. And in Iran, that credibility is absent. As one mother put it to HRA, “My son made mistakes, but he didn’t deserve death.”
Toward a More Honest and Inclusive Advocacy
As advocates, we have a responsibility to critically examine the language we use and the categories we prioritize. Every execution carried out under Iran’s deeply flawed judicial system constitutes a violation of international law. Every victim named or unnamed, political or non-political matters. That recognition begins with understanding that it is not the nature of the alleged crime, but the arbitrariness and injustice of the judicial process itself, that renders every death sentence fundamentally illegitimate. We must also move beyond the misleading narratives and acknowledge the systemic, entrenched use of the death penalty across Iran. While it remains important to highlight urgent cases, we must find balance, and do so without implying that some lives are more worthy of attention or advocacy than others.
This is not merely a question of accuracy in reporting, it is about affirming the principle that every life holds equal value, and that human rights protections apply to all, especially to those whose stories are so often left untold. It is about being the voice of the voiceless, for those like the young man who was executed, whose mother was left to fight in silence.
