Iranian women’s footballers shouldn’t have to choose between their sport and their safety

When seven members of Iran’s women’s national football team sought protection in Australia, it appeared they had finally found safety. Within days, some made the difficult decision to return to Iran despite the risks.

For many Iranian athletes, the most powerful opponent they face is not across the field. It is the regime that controls their lives.

To compete internationally, they must submit to a system that demands obedience, restricts their movement and punishes dissent.

At home, state media has labelled the young women of the national football team “traitors” for refusing to sing the national anthem. To the outside world, regime officials insist the players will be welcomed “with open arms” and can safely return without facing retribution.

History, however, tells us which version is closer to the truth.

The story of climber Elnaz Rekabi is the clearest example. Her “crime” was competing without a headscarf at the 2022 IFSC Climbing Asian Championships in Seoul – an act that captured global attention. As the world watched anxiously, officials insisted she would face no consequences upon returning home. What followed told a different story. An apology on Instagram, which a source said was made under duress, followed by the reported demolition of her family home and a period of house arrest. Her “safe return” was not a homecoming. It was a stage-managed performance designed for a global audience.

The Iranian women footballers now facing similar pressure would understand this all too well.

They may hope the international spotlight will offer some protection, but the regime’s track record suggests otherwise. The list of athletes who have paid a devastating price is long.

Navid Afkari, a champion wrestler, was executed in 2020 after participating in anti-regime protests. Karate champion Mohammad Mehdi Karami met a similar fate in January 2023 for taking part in Mahsa Amini protests. Both men were hanged following sham trials that drew international condemnation.

Female athletes have not been spared either. Footballer Zahra Azadpour was reportedly shot by security forces in Karaj earlier this year. And the memory of Forouzan Abdi, the national volleyball captain executed during the 1988 mass killings of political prisoners, remains a haunting reminder of how far the regime will go to silence influential voices in sport.

These were not isolated tragedies but state-sanctioned acts designed to intimidate a nation into submission.

Transnational repression has become a defining feature of the regime’s strategy against its opponents – real or perceived. Its methods are well established: the seizure of personal property; abduction and interrogation; threats against family members; forced confessions extracted under torture; and carefully orchestrated propaganda designed to convince the outside world that everything is normal.

What is unfolding now with the women’s national football team appears to follow the same disturbing script. Reports suggest pressure may have been delivered through regime-linked intermediaries – a form of transnational repression designed to reach athletes even while they are overseas.

For many players, the threat is not directed at them alone but at their families back home. This creates a cruel dilemma: remain abroad and risk retaliation against loved ones or return to Iran and face an uncertain future.

It is deeply concerning if messages from the president of the Iran Football Federation, Mehdi Taj, reached the players through local mouthpieces and regime-influenced minders. These “handlers” functioned as a borderless extension of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), restricting players’ contact with the outside world and poisoning the sanctuary Australia had offered with a familiar formula of intimidation.

Several members of the delegation, including captain Zahra Ghanbari, returned to Iran amid claims intense pressure was placed on their families. Such decisions should not be mistaken for free will. They are the byproduct of a system designed to make resistance almost impossible. What we are witnessing may be a cruel lose-lose scenario: the safety of an athlete traded for the wellbeing of a parent or sibling at home.

I hope with all my heart that I am wrong. But under this regime, punishment is not merely a possibility – it is often treated as a promise.

There has, however, been a rare moment of encouraging news amid the tension. Iranian footballers Fatemeh Pasandideh and Atefeh Ramezani joined Brisbane Roar FC for training. Their signing represents more than a professional opportunity. It is a reminder that when athletes are given genuine safety and freedom, they can finally play the sport they love.

Athletes should never be forced to choose between their sport and their safety.

The global sporting community cannot continue to treat these incidents as isolated cases. When states intimidate athletes beyond their borders, sport becomes another arena of political repression. Organisations such as Fifa must develop mechanisms to protect athletes who face threats simply for competing.

Closer to home, this situation also highlights the reach of the Iranian regime far beyond its borders. The Australian government has taken an important step by offering protection to some of the players. But responses like this cannot remain ad hoc.

Australia must recognise transnational repression as a growing reality and ensure our legal systems are equipped to respond to it. Athletes and others facing this kind of coercion need clear pathways to protection and security.

For the Iranian regime, the message it seeks to send is simple: no matter where you go, you cannot escape us.

The international community must prove that message wrong.

Nos Hosseini is spokesperson for the Iranian Women’s Association

Nos Hosseini is spokesperson for the Iranian Women’s Association


© The Guardian