By SAMANEH GHADARKHAN

IranWire

The Islamic Republic has found a new weapon in its campaign against political dissidents: their children.

From teenagers beaten in prison visiting rooms to twelve-year-olds banned from leaving the country, a pattern has emerged across Iran in recent years.

Authorities are systematically targeting the sons and daughters of political prisoners and human rights activists, turning family bonds into instruments of torture and children into unwilling participants in their parents' punishment.

On May 28, Nima Khandan, the teenage son of human rights lawyer Nasrin Sotoudeh, was summoned to the Children and Adolescents Prosecutor's Office.

The summons came months after guards beat Nima during a visit to Evin Prison and followed years of harassment against his sister, who was banned from international travel when she was just 12.

The teenager had been detained for hours - his only crime being the son of one of Iran's most prominent human rights defenders.

When his father, Reza Khandan, launched a hunger strike in protest, it only seemed to intensify the authorities' focus on the family's children.

"Both of our children became targets of government violence before the age of 18, by a government that adheres to no principles," Sotoudeh wrote on Instagram.

The family’s ordeal stretches back over a decade. Their daughter, Mehraveh, was only twelve when authorities banned her from leaving Iran in 2012.

By 2020, at age twenty, she was being summoned to court and released on bail - her adolescence punctuated by the rhythm of legal harassment.

The family’s bank accounts have been frozen, their movements monitored, and their lives held hostage to their parents' principles.

However, the Khandan family’s ordeal is not unique. Across Iran, the children of political prisoners are being targeted in a deliberate effort to pressure their parents by threatening the people they love most.

Documents and testimonies gathered from multiple families reveal a systematic approach that includes legal harassment, employment blacklisting, educational sabotage, and psychological manipulation.

This marks a sharp escalation in Iran’s crackdown on dissent, bringing state repression deep into the private lives of families.

Esmail Abdi, a teachers' union activist, experienced this firsthand during his nine-year imprisonment.

When authorities arrested Abdi in 2015, they orchestrated an elaborate psychological operation. Under the pretense of celebrating his birthday, they arranged a family visit to the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps' notorious Ward 2-A.

The scene was staged: cameras surrounded the room, an interrogator sat with the family, and Abdi's children - Mobina and Amirhossein - were pressured to beg their father to call off a planned teachers' protest.

"They told the children that if I abandoned my colleagues, I would be released," Abdi recalled.

The plan backfired. Abdi's wife, Monireh, stood defiantly and declared that if her husband wasn't freed, she would join the teachers' protest and bring the children with her.

But the psychological warfare was just the beginning.

Abdi's youngest daughter, Mandana, was just ten months old when he was first arrested. She turned eleven during his imprisonment, spending nearly her entire conscious childhood with her father behind bars.

His son, Amirhossein, was seven when the ordeal began. His formative years were marked by his father's absence and the trauma of watching armed men invade their home.

In nine years, Abdi was granted leave only three times. His children celebrated without him for eight consecutive Persian New Years - Iran's most important family holiday.

The one exception came during the COVID-19 pandemic when authorities temporarily released prisoners to prevent outbreaks.

"My children spent their childhood and teenage years away from their father," Abdi said. "This separation had profound effects on their souls and psyche."

The damage extended far beyond emotional trauma. When Abdi’s eldest daughter, Mobina, found work as an accountant, she was fired twice from private companies.

Each time, employers gave the same explanation: “Orders came from above to terminate cooperation with you because your father is a political prisoner.”

During her university years, Mobina defended her father on social media, calling him “the hero of her life.” Authorities retaliated by denying her internship opportunities at engineering firms.

They took away her desk and her future - punishment for the crime of loving her father.

When Mobina planned her wedding, authorities refused to grant Abdi even a few hours of leave to attend.

The man who had dedicated his life to education watched his daughter’s most important day from behind prison walls.

The targeting of political prisoners’ children follows a deliberate pattern that human rights observers describe as systematic and state-sponsored.

Another example is seventeen-year-old Asal Meskinnavaz, daughter of political prisoner Mehdi Meskinnavaz.

In February 2023, security forces arrested Asal on her way to school. Despite being a minor whose case should have been handled in juvenile court, authorities transferred her to the Revolutionary Court instead.

For months, she endured interrogations and repeated summons while struggling to complete her high school education.

The message was unmistakable: no child of a political prisoner is safe, regardless of age, gender, or innocence.

The child of another political prisoner said, “The nightmare of officers’ treatment of us never ends. Security officers consider the prisoner’s child as one with the prisoner and don’t differentiate between the children and the imprisoned parent. They even hold us more responsible, as if we are the cause of our parents’ beliefs.”

The teenager described how authorities view children of dissidents as enemies rather than victims.

“When they can't reach our parents with force, they unload the pressure on us, giving them a sense of victory. Much hatred and resentment can be seen in their eyes.”