Back to Routine, Not to Normal: Tehran’s Uneasy Awakening

Twelve days ago, Tehran stood still. The air raid sirens, the rumble of missiles, the uncertainty of each morning had paralyzed a city of over 9 million. Today, the city is moving again. Traffic returns to Valiasr Avenue. Tea brews once more in corner cafés. Shops roll up their metal shutters. Life is returning — but no one is calling it normal.

In this photo released by the Iranian Red Crescent Society, rescuers work at the scene of an explosion after an Israeli strike in Tehran, Iran, on Friday, June 13, 2025 [Iranian Red Crescent Society via AP]

A City Tentatively Reborn

With the ceasefire now in place following high-level negotiations brokered by the United States and Qatar, thousands of residents who had fled to the countryside or the Caspian coast are making their way back home. One woman, interviewed as she unpacked her car in the northern district of Sa'adat Abad, said: “It feels like heaven to be back. But I still keep a packed bag by the door.”

The fear hasn’t disappeared — it’s merely muted. On the surface, Tehran is reopening. Underneath, the psychological shock is still fresh.

“It Wasn’t Just Buildings That Crumbled”

The Israeli strikes, in response to Iran’s alleged role in the attack on Haifa earlier this month, left visible scars across the capital. Key infrastructure was targeted: fuel depots, media facilities, and even civilian districts. The Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting (IRIB) building — a symbol of state communication — lies in ruins, blackened and skeletal.

While the Iranian government projected strength and vowed retaliation, ordinary citizens bore the brunt. Streets once bustling with daily life turned eerily silent. For many, it brought back chilling memories of the Iran-Iraq war. “Tehran was quieter than during the COVID lockdown,” said a taxi driver. “Even the birds seemed to have gone silent.”

Everyday Life with an Edge of Fear

Since the ceasefire was announced, Tehran’s signature energy is slowly returning. Bazaars, like Tajrish and Grand Bazaar, are seeing foot traffic again. But shopkeepers admit that business is sluggish and conversations are shorter. “People walk in, buy what they need, and leave. There’s no lingering,” said a fruit vendor.

Fuel shortages continue. Many gas stations remain closed, or limit supply. The city’s internet connectivity, heavily restricted during the strikes, is still unreliable. Electricity cuts are more frequent. And while schools have reopened, attendance remains spotty as many families are still displaced or afraid to return.

Trust Is the First Casualty

The emotional toll is visible. Conversations are cautious. The idea that peace has returned is met not with celebration, but with doubt. “We’ve seen this before,” said Fatemeh, a retired nurse. “Ceasefires break. Governments lie. We know better now.”

Some blame Israel. Others blame the Iranian leadership for escalating tensions. A few, exhausted, blame both. “This wasn’t our war,” one young man said while boarding a bus. “But we paid for it.”

Government Response and Public Sentiment

As the regime tries to reinforce an image of resilience, it also intensifies its internal grip. In recent days, reports of arrests, media blackouts and even executions of alleged spies have resurfaced. Some analysts suggest the war served as a cover for further domestic repression. Tehran’s residents, once again, find themselves trapped between geopolitical games and internal control.

Still, acts of solidarity bloom: neighbors helping neighbors, volunteers rebuilding schools, mosques distributing food. “We’re used to surviving. What we’re not used to is healing,” said a social worker in District 12.