Through war, political unrest and rampant inflation that has put the dreams of many beyond reach, Iran’s youth have held on to one luxury that helps them feel normal in abnormal times: frequenting coffee shops with friends.
Across the country, they pack into cafes and spill out onto the sidewalk — chatting, smoking cigarettes, flirting and enjoying one of the few affordable diversions still available to them. These mixed-gender gatherings, where women go unveiled and some customers even discreetly drink alcohol, both illegal acts in Iran, have become a conspicuous counterculture, visible to any passerby.
It has not escaped the attention of the authorities, either. In recent weeks, the police have been shutting down dozens of cafes, usually citing a failure to abide by Iran’s mandatory hijab law.
The crackdown has stretched to cities across the country, taking in restaurants and boutiques as well, according to statements from officials, though some businesses have since reopened.
It is a social scene, experts say, that challenges the government’s efforts to dominate Iran’s public spaces. Since nationwide protests in January that began over the spiraling economy and were crushed by lethal force, the government has sought to tightly control any public gatherings.
And as the United States’ war with Iran, aimed in part at unseating the Islamic republic, drags on without resolution, the regime has held pro-government nighttime rallies that serve both to bolster a narrative of popular public support and dissuade dissidents from protesting.
Cafe owners, employees and their customers in Tehran said in interviews that the authorities appeared to be targeting cafes that were clustered next to each other. The small footprint of these businesses often means that customers linger on the sidewalk, forming spontaneous gatherings that the authorities regard with wariness.
“It seems that a campaign has begun to control postwar Iran, a society that is unhappy and under strain,” said Amir, 45, a cafe owner in Tehran who said his business was not shuttered in the latest round but had been previously. “We always console ourselves with the thought that this is just a wave. They come and shut us down, but we rise again.”
Amir, like other Iranians interviewed for this article, asked to be identified only by his first name for fear of retribution from Iran’s government.
“The cafes are being shut down because of the crowds that gather outside them in the afternoons,” said Mona, a 36-year-old artist in Tehran. The authorities, she said, “seem to think it’s some kind of protest gathering or something, when really it’s just a bunch of young women and men who look a little different from what the officials are used to, hanging out together.”
Iran’s foreign ministry did not respond to a request for comment. The authorities have given various justifications for shutting down the businesses, from routine regulatory violations to not complying with mandatory hijab rules. “Social and moral misconduct,” “failing to observe Islamic values” and “norm-breaking” have also been cited.
Indeed, the coffee shops, with their impromptu gatherings and customers who flout the hijab law, do break the rules and norms that the government expects Iranians to abide by. Three Tehran residents, including one cafe owner, said that many of the cafes in central Tehran were known for serving beer. Alcohol consumption in Iran is punishable by lashing.
Haleh Mir Miri, an author and researcher in Canada who has written a book on Iran’s coffee shop culture, said the scene serves both as a respite from family and social restrictions and as a rejection of the government’s ideology.
“Through cafe culture, people could imagine and invent other ways of living and becoming,” she said. “For a totalitarian government accustomed to homogenizing people’s lives, that is inherently dangerous.”
Even if the closures are an effort to disrupt this cafe culture, the government has struggled to curb drastic changes in Iranian society over the last four years.
In the summer of 2022, the then-government of President Ebrahim Raisi harshly cracked down on women who were not abiding by the compulsory hijab rule. The authorities carried out violent arrests, and a 22-year-old woman, Mahsa Amini, died in custody after being detained by Iran’s morality police.
That led to mass protests known as the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement, which rocked Iran for months and signified a turning point for many women in the country. Since then, it has become increasingly normal to see women showing their hair in public and even wearing tight, revealing outfits.
So far, the current government led by President Masoud Pezeshkian appears to have largely refrained from arresting individual women for not wearing hijabs, and officials have said that fully enforcing the law could set off another explosion of unrest. Instead, the government has pressured businesses to enforce the hijab rules themselves, closing those that do not comply.
“The government periodically wants to remind people that the hijab still matters,” said Omid Shams, a human rights lawyer in London. “There is ongoing pressure on the government from religious authorities and hard-line conservative factions.”
Cafe owners and workers said that the closures, though perhaps futile amid changing social norms, can still be deeply damaging. Young people with few other job prospects lose income, sales halt while rent and other expenses continue and a network of coffee roasters and other suppliers suffer.
“Young people used to feel that, at the very least, if they couldn’t find a job anywhere else, they could always go work at a cafe,” said Reza, a barista in Tehran. “Now, even that option is disappearing.”
Mona, the artist in Tehran, said news of each cafe closure left her with a feeling of “hopelessness,” a sense that despite deep societal changes, the authorities would never cease their quest for control.
“You think, ‘Oh, so this is never going to get better. It’s never going to become normal,’” she said.