It was in the early hours of Friday, June 13, when people heard it — deep, thunderous explosions that shook windows across Tehran. It sounded like lightning, but the sky was clear. Then the Islamic Republic confirmed it: these were Israeli airstrikes.

For many Iranians, this was a nightmare they thought was in the past. The last time bombs fell on their cities like this was during the eight-year war with Iraq, which ended in 1989. But this time feels different. Israel’s assault was unprecedented in scale, reportedly wiping out major parts of Iran’s military command and exposing grave weaknesses in its defences.

The attack has thrown the nation into turmoil. While the regime is insisting Iran will prevail, many ordinary Iranians are gripped by fear and helplessness. The mood is fractured and complicated. Some see the strikes as a long-overdue reckoning for a government they’ve fought to overthrow. Others fear a darker future unfolding in real time.

Smoke billows from an explosion in southwest Tehran on June 16 (Credit: Atta Kenare/AFP/Getty)

My own relatives are huddled in my grandmother’s home in central Tehran — with no warning system, no shelter and no idea if they’ll survive the next night.

Ali, 41, from Isfahan, summed up the mood and said: “I’ve seen people cheering with every explosion. You don’t know how to feel. You’re glad the regime is being hit — but also devastated to see your country bleed.”

He was caught near one of the bomb sites and spent hours in gridlocked traffic, with gunfire in the distance and smoke in the sky. “The regime’s media machine is still churning,” he said, “but no one believes a word.” Support for the Islamic Republic has eroded so significantly that for many of those I spoke to, backing it is seen as a betrayal.

This painful duality — being deeply patriotic but yearning for the regime’s collapse — is echoed across conversations. “We couldn’t get rid of them ourselves despite our best efforts,” said Kamran, a 33-year-old Olympian in Tehran. “Maybe this is the only way.”

‘Bombs have never brought democracy’

Others fear that welcoming foreign strikes is a dangerous illusion.

“Bombs have never brought democracy,” said Sara, a 23-year-old student activist in Karaj. “Even some who risked their lives protesting now think foreign attacks might help. That’s delusional. Our infrastructure is being bombed — power plants, oil refineries. These are our lifelines. Who’s going to rebuild them?”

“The Islamic Republic has beaten the drum of war for years but they’ve done nothing to protect us… they tell us to hide in car parks and mosques,” Sara added, her voice shaking with anger.

Sahar Zand’s family. For many Iranians, this was a nightmare they thought was in the past (Photo: Sahar Zand)

Her view is echoed by others I spoke to across the country, who feel abandoned with no shelters available, nor sirens to warn of coming missiles. “They send texts about hijab violations, but when real bombs fall, they say nothing,” she adds. Some fear that Iran could become the next Gaza.

Sara, like others I’ve spoken to from across the nation, describes the roads jammed with people fleeing to the countryside: “No one knows where to go — they just want to escape. Some were chanting. Some were crying. The government is nowhere. Just silence.”

Unlike during the protests after the death of Mahsa Amini in 2022, which sparked the Women’s Life Freedom movement, the streets are eerily quiet.

‘A sense of relief, and revenge’

Shirin, 21, who was beaten during those demonstrations, told me: “The enemy of our enemy isn’t our friend. Israel doesn’t care about us either. I feel relief – a satisfying sense of revenge – when regime figures who executed my friends are assassinated. But I’m heartbroken when civilians die. And I blame the regime for putting us here.”

Still, fragile hopes persist — that maybe, just maybe, this could lead to change. That the regime might finally fall. But those hopes are laced with dread: of more bombings, deeper repression, or losing another shot at freedom.

Whether this war will lead to the regime’s collapse remains uncertain. Kamran believes, like many others, that it ultimately “depends, as always, on the West,” and that, while no one knows what might come next, “nearly everyone agrees: any future without the Islamic Republic is better than one with it.”

For many Iranians, this war isn’t about Israel or Iran. It’s about two governments fighting for their own survival — while ordinary people brace for the next blow. “We’re stuck between two nightmares,” said Ali. “War from outside and repression from within. We don’t know who to fear anymore.”

Smoke rises from what is believed to be the building of Iran’s state-run television (Photo: AP Photo)

This is not a conflict fought in the name of the Iranian people. But they are the ones paying for it.

There is dread of more attacks, of collapse, of being forgotten. But there is also resolve. People still whisper of going back to the streets to protest. Of another wave. One last stand.

“I just want my family to be safe,” said Shirin. “But if there’s a chance to fight again — not like this, not with conflict, but really fight — I’ll be there. We all will.”