Abdorrahman Boroumand Center

I am Mohsen Sohrabi, a 27-year-old general practitioner. Following the Woman, Life, Freedom protests in 2022, I was compelled to leave Iran due to my involvement in treating injured protesters.

I was born in Takab, but my family moved to Bukan when I was young, and I lived there until I turned 17. I relocated to Sanandaj to study at the Kurdistan University of Medical Sciences. After graduating two years ago, I began working in the emergency department at Kosar Hospital in Sanandaj. As a general practitioner, I ran my clinic offering cosmetic services, specializing in skincare, haircare, and beauty treatments. Furthermore, I pursued a career in sports and achieved the title of National Weightlifting Champion. I also held the position of secretary at the Weightlifting Board of Kurdistan Province.

Social and Voluntary Activities: From the Tishk Mehr Children's Charity to the "Awareness Raising" Group

Aside from my academic and athletic endeavors, I dedicated myself to volunteer and humanitarian efforts. In 2020, I created a charity named "Tishk Mehr Children's Charity." Being well-known in Kurdistan, I partnered with numerous prominent organizations, offering medical treatment and financial aid. Tishk Mehr, where I held a position on the founding board, concentrated on supporting children under 18 years old, specifically focusing on neglected or orphaned children and those fighting cancer.

The majority of the organization’s members, myself included, were part of the charity’s medical staff. Our primary focus from the creation of the charity was to address children's health issues. We collaborated with welfare homes and conducted regular health check-ups. Another aim outlined in our charter was to tackle educational challenges faced by children. We hired teachers, including foreign language instructors and teaching assistants, and provided educational resources such as books and courses. Additionally, we helped children outside the welfare system, such as those who were homeless or victims of abuse, by providing monthly financial aid for their educational or medical needs.

We didn't face any issues with our charity activities, as the Islamic Republic generally permits such endeavors unless they reach a size that could raise security concerns. However, I remember an incident involving a friend who operated a charity organization with which we collaborated. In 2021, he utilized social media to raise approximately one billion tomans for a cause. Subsequently, the intelligence department of Sanandaj City summoned him, requesting an invoice and an account of the funds' usage. During the interrogation, they also questioned my relationship with him and our respective activities, indicating they were monitoring Tishk Mehr Children’s Charity as well. Essentially, if they suspect any connections to political organizations, complications may arise. An additional challenge for organizations is that sometimes a private plaintiff may suddenly emerge, lodging complaints that require accountability. 

In 2020, some friends and I founded another group through which we aimed to visit villages across Kurdistan and raise awareness in areas where we had expertise, such as medicine or law. However, we found that the Ministry of Intelligence closely monitored these activities to ensure they were not affiliated with political organizations or specific parties. Any hint of suspicion could lead to stigmatization and even legal repercussions. While I was fortunate not to experience any problems, some of my friends faced difficulties as a result.

In recent years, we have expanded our activities focusing on empowerment. We reached out to additional universities, particularly to engage with active individuals in humanities departments. Through these connections, we formulated a compelling plan. Essentially, the plan highlights the importance of individuals empowering themselves in various aspects like politics, law, and health, particularly within Iran. We came together and each of us contributed based on our respective expertise.

Our primary focus was on rural communities. We aimed to expand our outreach to urban areas as we gained strength and attracted more members. However, obtaining a license posed challenges, and we were concerned about potential opposition from authorities. Before working in any village, we engaged in discussions with local residents, representatives, and councils to explain our intentions and secure their support. Once arrangements were made, we scheduled our visits accordingly. Fortunately, our activities didn't escalate to the point of drawing unwanted attention from the Ministry of Intelligence.

The IRGC also conducts similar activities to EMPOWERMENT, through jihadi groups. These groups, involving Basij students in collaboration with the IRGC, have been active in our university for approximately 5 or 6 years. They also extend their services to villages, providing medical and dental care. Their teams typically consist of one or two professors and fifteen to twenty students, engaging in what they call “jihadi work.” They heavily invest in media and advertising to promote their activities, yet it raises the question: why haven't they established a permanent center if they are capable of doing so? On the contrary, we operated discreetly, avoiding publicity to prevent interference. Our primary aim was to raise social awareness, though we knew the security forces would oppose us if they were aware of our activities. Despite this, society welcomed our initiatives. We initiated our plan to some extent, coinciding with the Jina revolution, but faced limitations in expanding to more villages. Nonetheless, our activities were well-received by the people during this time.

Two years of Compulsory Internship in Kowsar and Besat hospitals

I graduated in 2020. Following graduation, every medical sciences student must undergo a two-year mandatory internship, the location of which depends on their entrance exam rank and acceptance conditions. I also completed a mandatory two-year internship. Throughout this period, academic certificates are not granted, and completion of the internship is mandatory. The option to pay for the compulsory internship period rather than perform the internship is currently unavailable; it must be fulfilled. Previously, one could purchase an internship, but due to a surge in immigration among doctors, this law was amended to curb immigration. However, there is a provision for individuals whose fathers were wounded in action or veterans, or who served in war zones, to convert the internship into official employment status. This provision applies to me as well, as my father served in war zones. Consequently, I had the option to transition to official employment, but I declined. Despite the inconvenience, the reason for my decision was my belief that obtaining employment without a universal exam constitutes a form of quota and patronage utilization. I consistently passed exams without relying on quotas or patronage. I received numerous inquiries from hospitals, university selection, and human resources departments regarding my withdrawal and requested an explanation.

I completed a two-year internship at Kosar and Besat hospitals. Besat Hospital serves as the main mother and child center for the entire province, while Kosar is a trauma and surgery hospital, also serving as a primary healthcare facility for the province. Kosar, Besat, Tohid, and Hamzah Emergency Hospitals operate under the supervision of the University of Medical Sciences. Tohid Hospital primarily caters to cardiac, infectious, and internal patients and is characterized by its large, antiquated infrastructure. In contrast, Kosar Hospital is relatively newer than the others. During my internship, I worked in the emergency departments of both hospitals.

Publishing a Controversial Instagram Story and Initiating Covert Medical Treatment for Injured Protesters

I had three months remaining to complete my mandatory internship when the Jina revolution and protests erupted. During the initial days of the protests following Jina's murder, a friend called me, expressing urgency and asking me to visit their house. Sensing his fear, I understood the gravity of the situation and promptly went to their residence. Upon arrival, I found a 35-year-old woman who had been shot in the back and waist. I provided medical treatment at their home. My experience during the protests of November 2019 also proved valuable. Back then, I was both a student and a surgical intern at the hospital, enduring conditions similar to the 2022 protests for several days. During that period, the emergency room was inundated with security forces and undercover agents who meticulously recorded the names and national identification numbers of the injured individuals.

After treating this woman, I had a sudden realization: I should share a story on Instagram, letting people know they can rely on me if they encounter any issues. I believe I was among the first doctors to take this initiative. Following my example, other doctors joined in, sparking a nationwide movement that eventually evolved into a campaign. Doctors across the country began sharing their stories, reassuring people of their availability for assistance. I posted my story on the morning of September 18th or 19th, 2022, and it garnered significant attention, being widely shared. That same day, at noon, I received a call from a private number.

Typically, callers from private numbers refrain from introducing themselves and adopt a confrontational tone. Upon seeing the private number, I immediately recognized the situation, and my heart rate spiked to 150. Despite my apprehension, I answered the call. The voice on the other end asked, "Are you Doctor Sohrabi?" Confirming my identity, I received a direct question: "What was the meaning behind your story?" Without disclosing his location, the caller proceeded to question the intent behind my narrative. Sensing the tension, my sister, seated across from me, grasped the gravity of the situation from my expression. The caller persisted, questioning, "What exactly do you mean by this story? Are you aiming to treat the rioters?" I clarified that my intention was to offer medical assistance, such as home visits, to elderly individuals or children unable to access hospitals during such tumultuous times. However, the caller contested, asserting that my story could be construed as support for dissenters and opponents of the government. They insisted on evaluating the situation further and consulting Dr. Abdul Maleki, the president of my university. I reiterated that their interpretation was incorrect. Nevertheless, they demanded the immediate removal of the story. Reluctantly, I acquiesced, agreeing to delete the post to avoid any potential repercussions that could hinder my ability to assist people in need. As I prepared to remove the story from my page, I noted that it had already been viewed by 3,000 people. Despite this realization, I reassured myself that the widespread dissemination of the story had reached its intended audience, alleviating some of my concerns about its deletion.

The first time they called, I didn't even think to inquire about their identity or location. It caught me off guard, being the first encounter of its kind. However, as they continued to call, I gradually became accustomed to it, and it became somewhat routine for me to ask their whereabouts during subsequent calls. Eventually, I found myself engaging in conversations with them.

The publication of this Instagram story significantly broadened my network. Some individuals started providing us with medicines. Injured individuals would often find me through mutual contacts or acquaintances. Whenever someone was referred to me, I made it a point to inquire about the referrer's identity. If a caller failed to provide an address or if I didn't recognize them, I refrained from visiting.

There were instances where I sensed deception, typically during the initial questioning, such as asking about the patient's medical history, the location of their injury, and their current symptoms, or inquiring about the referrer. In such cases, it became apparent that it was a ploy orchestrated by security forces. However, I remained committed to treating those whom I eventually deemed safe. After three or four months, word had spread throughout the city that there was a doctor providing aid to the injured. During this period, I treated numerous patients.

Establishing a Group of Volunteer Doctors

On November 12, 2022, we assembled a group with some friends and named it Doctors Without Borders of Kurdistan. We even reached out to Doctors Without Borders chapters in France and Sweden, seeking their support which they declined. They informed us that their current operations were limited to Tehran and Mashhad, focusing on assisting injecting drug addicts and that they did not have permission to expand.. Any collaboration with us, they stressed, must comply with governmental regulations, and receive approval from the Iranian regime.

Reflecting on their response, I recalled their inability to aid Iran during the 2019 political upheavals and the COVID-19 pandemic. While the specifics of these political issues elude me, it became apparent that such organizations operate under governmental constraints and require official permission to operate within a country's borders. Moreover, they requested that we refrain from using their logo and name. In response, we rebranded our group as Volunteer Doctors.

This group remains active, assisting people facing challenges in Kurdistan. We continue our efforts to recruit new members and broaden the scope of activities. Despite my departure from Iran, I remain committed to our cause. Interestingly, now that my identity is known and I have no secrets to hide, I can operate openly, which has greatly improved our effectiveness. While the identities of our members remain undisclosed, my transparent history has earned the trust of our medical team. Previously, uncertainty shrouded the Volunteer Doctors, leading many to fear potential traps. However, with my visible presence and clear background, trust has flourished, fostering greater cooperation. These adversities have yielded at least one advantage: the opportunity to contemplate registering our group abroad as an institution. Doing so could facilitate the expansion of our activities and enhance our impact.

The Tense Atmosphere at the University and Hospital During the Days of Protest

During the protest days, Kurdistan University of Medical Sciences experienced high levels of activity, with gatherings occurring almost daily, and students engaging in an extended strike. This strike progressed to the point where it risked the closure of the university for the semester. Consequently, the university was in disarray, classes were suspended, and chaos engulfed all hospitals in Sanandaj, including Kowsar, Tohid, and Besat hospitals. Interns ceased attending the hospitals, exacerbating the workload. The absence of students heightened pressure on professors as they grappled with increased responsibilities amidst the turmoil.

On the night of October 29, 2022, the hospital where one of the injured protestors from Sanandaj was admitted became extremely crowded. Media reports suggested that if the people of Sanandaj didn't go to the hospital, Ashkan would be arrested. However, I believe this wasn't the case because Ashkan was in such critical condition that he couldn't be moved, necessitating an emergency operation. As tensions escalated, people gathered in front of Kosar Hospital, growing so numerous that they couldn't be contained. Security forces resorted to gunfire, leading to injuries. At the University of Medical Sciences dormitory, students protested, only to be met with violence from repressive forces, resulting in injuries, including one student nearly losing an eye. That night, overwhelmed by anger and psychological pressure, I contemplated quitting, but my colleagues intervened. I remained in constant communication with the injured students and assisted in their medical treatment. The clashes were captured on video, further intensifying the situation. In the days following the clashes, pressure within the university mounted.

The next day, I observed from a distance as students behind the barred university doors chanted slogans while undercover and special forces intermittently attacked, firing tear gas. People gathered on the street, causing traffic disruptions, and joining the protests. It was the largest gathering at the University of Medical Sciences, plunging the entire campus into chaos. While the agents didn't enter the university, they fired upon students from outside, using shotguns and tear gas.

Emergency Statement from Kosar Hospital: Remove Security Forces from the Hospital

Following the events of that night, I couldn't ignore the shooting of medical students and the tense atmosphere it created. I felt compelled to take action and I went on strike. I did not show up for my next work shift, but eventually another colleague on call and the rest of the doctors at the emergency unit insisted that I should have gone back to work and so did I. However, the emergency doctors cautioned that a strike would only add to their workload as they would have to cover my shifts as well. Instead, they proposed a collective approach, suggesting either a statement or a sit-in protest. It was clear that we couldn't remain passive in the face of the attack on the university and the security presence in the hospital. Ultimately, we agreed to draft a statement. Though the initial text was longer, concerns from colleagues led to its revision into a shorter, less confrontational version. The statement demanded the removal of security forces from hospitals and the prohibition of the use of medical symbols or garments by security personnel attempting to impersonate medical professionals. Initially, I had included a warning that failure to meet these demands would result in consequences for any sit-in or strike, but this was deemed too threatening and was removed. However, two colleagues, one a member of the IRGC and the other a police colonel, accused me of inciting doctors to write the statement. Consequently, two days after its publication on November 2, 2022, Kosar Hospital security contacted me, urging me to refrain from writing further statements, posting political content on social media, or inciting others. Subsequently, I was contacted by the Intelligence Department, which reiterated these demands and also urged me not to treat rioters outside the hospital or produce medical content on social media.

Following the statement, the security atmosphere in the hospital improved, although plainclothes officers remained present.

Examples of the Intense Security Environment in the Hospital: Establishing a System to Document Anti-Government Rioters and Dissidents

Before this statement, the security atmosphere was dreadful and difficult to describe. They had stationed numerous security personnel outside the hospital, at the emergency room entrance, within the emergency room itself, and in every department. Most of them were undercover agents, identifiable by their distinctive organizational footwear – simple black shoes uncommon among civilians. One night, I visited a patient named Fouad Ghadimi from Divandarreh, who unfortunately passed away later. He was in the ICU, and friends had requested I visit him. Upon entering the ICU, I was struck by the militaristic environment and encountered a confrontation. An anesthesiologist, who had been my teacher, questioned my presence, advising me to leave and avoid trouble. I explained that I was a doctor and had come to check on the patient.

The hospital had fostered a Kafkaesque atmosphere, where fear and suspicion pervaded every interaction. Trust was nonexistent, leading individuals to refrain from reporting even genuine concerns, for fear of repercussions. This atmosphere hindered collaboration and organizational work within the hospital.

Outside the hospital, I encountered a patient with a severe head injury and a gunshot wound to the eye. Despite the urgency of his condition, his parents refused to take him to the hospital due to the oppressive security environment. Hospital security even threatened to discipline supervisors and night shift workers who reported injuries, further exacerbating the situation.

The parents of injured protesters declared, "Even if our child dies, we will not take him to the hospital."

For instance, if an injured individual arrived at the hospital and the plainclothes forces were unaware that the injury was sustained during protests, they would compel the supervisor to report it. Failure to do so resulted in reprimands. There was a case where an injured patient arrived, and the supervisor either forgot or didn't realize the nature of the injury. Hospital security, aware of the circumstances, recorded a "poor performance" in the person's file, negatively impacting their personnel evaluation and potential promotion. Severe cases requiring medical treatment risked arrest, allowing authorities to track anyone visiting the hospital and later apprehend them.

In November 2019, I witnessed on a hospital emergency computer monitor a system for registering the names of rioters, anti-government individuals, and dissidents. A plainclothes officer, not affiliated with the hospital staff, inputted the names. Hospital security operated under the officer’s jurisdiction, enabling them to execute their tasks without hindrance. While I didn't witness this system during the 2022 protests, I am confident the process remained unchanged.

Violence Arising from Tension: Close-Range Gunfire

The shooting distance can be determined based on the depth and density of the bullet wounds. The greater the distance, the lower the density of the pellets, as they disperse in space. Conversely, the closer the range, the greater the density and depth of the wounds. Thus, it is possible to estimate from what distance the protester was shot.A shotgun fired at close range is more devastating than a rifle bullet, as it causes extensive tissue damage. For instance, if wounds are observed in both the eye and cheek, it indicates the shots were fired from a distance, with the bullets scattering and only two hitting the individual. However, if a person has 150 to 200 bullets lodged in their back, it is evident they were shot from extremely close range.

One night, a friend who had been previously injured contacted me, informing me of someone in critical condition. Upon examining the individual, I observed shotgun wounds indicative of close-range fire. Concerned about potential vein damage in his leg, I knew immediate action was necessary. If his leg vein was compromised, surgery would be imperative within six hours to prevent amputation. However, seeking medical help posed significant risks, including arrest. Faced with a dilemma, I resolved to escort him to the hospital discreetly. Despite the high likelihood of discovery, I couldn't ignore the gravity of his situation. Upon arrival, I instructed him to present himself as a patient with abdominal pain to conceal the true nature of his injuries. Despite initial reluctance, he agreed to undergo medical treatment rather than risk losing his leg. Upon reaching the hospital, I coordinated his admission and even arranged for a CT scan. However, upon returning to escort him inside, I discovered the hospital had been closed off to secretly handle the burial of another wounded individual named Mohsen Niazi who had died there. Left waiting outside for hours, my patient faced potential complications from delayed medical treatment. Finally gaining entry, I oversaw his care and was relieved to discover his leg vein was undamaged.

Observing numerous individuals subjected to such brutality, it became evident that government agents harbored resentment toward the populace, leading to extreme acts of violence. For instance, one can imagine the mental strain on an officer who, without respite, remains in uniform, unwashed, exhausted, and on edge for weeks. Shockingly, there were instances where individuals were shot even after surrendering. Despite their compliance, assailants targeted sensitive areas such as genitals, joints, head, and neck.

I recall a disturbing incident where I witnessed a man who had been shot in the testicles during my shift one night; I have photographic evidence of the ordeal. Additionally, I encountered cases where victims sustained gunshot wounds to the hip joint, head, and eyes. One particularly harrowing incident involved Yahya Rahimi, who was shot dead in his car in Sanandaj while making no attempt to flee and his wife was witness to the horrifying ordeal. Reflecting on such atrocities makes me sick.

On November 2, 2022, a 21-year-old man was brought in. He was a worker returning from his job when officers followed him. Despite his explanation that he was not involved in anything, they proceeded to beat him and shot him in the testicles when he fell to the ground. Rushed to the hospital, he was quickly taken to the operating room. We spoke with the surgeon, emphasizing his youth and requesting that at least one of his testicles be saved. While one testicle was preserved, it remains uncertain whether it is functional. This year, these incidents became so widespread that authorities could no longer deny the use of firearms.

I also treated another patient, whom I knew from before. The officers had shot him three times. He was standing at his door, about to enter his house, when suddenly four or five motorbikes approached. As he turned, they pointed a shotgun at him and fired three times as he tried to seek shelter indoors. He sustained over 200 bullet wounds in the attack.

Based on my experiences examining numerous injured individuals, I can attest that the manner of shootings varies. Sometimes, officers aim to disperse crowds, resulting in indiscriminate shooting where bullets scatter randomly, potentially hitting various areas such as the eyes, upper body, or lower body depending on chance. However, individuals who were closely observed, apprehended, or surrendered were targeted, with shots aimed at specific body parts. From what I observed, approximately 70% of victims were shot directly in the lower body, such as the hips and knees, while 30% were targeted in the upper body or vulnerable areas like the testicles, head, and neck.

Even elderly individuals were not spared. I treated a 73-year-old patient in Sanandaj who was shot while simply passing by. He recounted that he was returning from his niece's house when two motorcyclists passed by and opened fire without warning. It was evident that this 73-year-old man was an innocent bystander. Additionally, we had a 70-year-old woman admitted to the hospital after being shot while disposing of garbage in the street.

Protesters' Fear of Seeking Hospital Treatment, Choosing Between Treatment or Facing Prosecution and Imprisonment

I recall one night during my hospital shift when an acquaintance phoned me about examining a 16-year-old boy named Mo’men Zandkarimi, who had been shot. Since I was already on duty, I requested details about the injured. Upon learning about the patient's condition, I immediately emphasized the urgency of bringing him to the hospital to prevent a fatal outcome. Despite my insistence, I could hear the boy's mother expressing reluctance, stating, "If my child dies, I will not take him to the hospital." I explained that the severity of his condition required urgent medical attention and that delaying it could worsen his condition rapidly. However, they insisted that a nurse was attending to him at home. It was clear to me that the nurse's assistance was inadequate for such a critical situation, as the boy required professional medical care.

After 45 minutes, they contacted me again, reporting that the boy was losing consciousness. I reiterated the urgency of taking him to the hospital immediately, emphasizing that without prompt medical intervention, his chances of survival were slim. They finally agreed to transport him to the hospital, but tragically, he succumbed to his injuries on the way. I still have his photo. He had been shot from behind, with the bullets piercing his lungs and chest, resulting in blood and air entering his chest cavity, leading to a collapsed lung, known medically as pneumothorax, ultimately causing his death.

The reason for the fear of hospitals stemmed from the intense security atmosphere prevailing there. In numerous instances, officers would immediately transfer injured protestors to detention centers after their discharge from the hospital, where they were examined or treated on an outpatient basis.

All these issues highlight the lack of independence within the medical system. It is crucial to establish a charter for the future to ensure the autonomy of the medical system, preventing interference from external institutions. Unfortunately, even in forensic medical certificates, doctors lack independence; they are restricted in what they can document, and if they do write something, it is often in vague terms that fail to establish proof. Terms like "hard object" or "penetrating object" are used ambiguously and cannot be substantiated. Currently, forensic medicine is entirely under the influence of the Ministry of Intelligence, and forensic medicine managers in all provinces are subject to influence. 

I vividly recall an incident from 2019. On the second day of the demonstration, a young boy arrived at the hospital with bullets lodged in both his eyes, resulting in his eventual blindness. His father recounted the incident, swearing that his son was merely in his shop and had stepped outside briefly to retrieve something when he was shot. Despite his attempts to seek justice, nobody took responsibility. When he complained to the police station, authorities disavowed any connection, claiming the weapon used was not theirs and suggesting it might be the work of the MEK (Mujahedin-e Khalq). However, by 2022, the prevalence of such incidents had become undeniable, as shotguns were observed in the hands of nearly every individual.

The Disappearance of Tortured Protesters' Bodies

In 2019, the use of pellets wasn't as widespread. Most injuries resulted from war bullets or occurred after arrests. For instance, Ershad Rahmanian, a young man from Marivan who participated in the 2019 protests, was found in Garan Dam after four weeks. His body, discovered on the water's surface, bore signs of severe trauma, including broken teeth, skull, and fingers, suggesting he died from torture. Numerous bodies were recovered from the dam, revealing the extent of violence in 2019. However, due to the internet blackout, these atrocities remained concealed until the bodies surfaced, akin to a closed room where atrocities occur in silence before being uncovered. There wasn't much outcry over these killings, but the discovery of numerous bodies in Garan Dam shed light on the atrocities that had occurred.

Using War Bullets Alongside Shotguns

In 2022, alongside shotguns, bullets were also utilized. I encountered two cases of injured patients in Sanandaj, whom I examined outside the hospital, both wounded by bullets. Both individuals were approximately 25 years old, with one sustaining an injury to the forearm and the other to the leg. I cannot accurately gauge the distance from which they were shot, but I believe it was from a distance. Since I was not always on duty inside the hospital, I lacked precise information about the number of individuals wounded by bullets. However, during my shifts, I observed injuries to various body parts including the head, eyes, testicles, arms, legs, joints, pelvis, abdomen, and chest.

Stealing Dead Bodies from the Hospital

I remember that on the night of November 20, 2022, when Mohsen Niazi from Dehgolan passed away, the authorities came to steal his body and take it away to bury him secretly. For two and a half hours, they blocked the hospital's entrance and exit. I went to speak with an officer who was the driver of a van and told him that I was a doctor at the hospital and that if an emergency patient, like someone having a stroke, were to arrive, how would they enter the hospital? I asked them to open the entrance and exit because this was inhumane. I swear to God, it felt like I was talking to a wall. No one was responsive. They had closed the hospital's entrance and exit for two hours to take Mohsen Niazi’s body away. About twenty to thirty armed officers were inside the hospital yard. Mohsen Niazi's clan of thirty to forty people had also arrived, all crying and shouting. The officers wanted to take the body away. It was a chaotic scene. The hospital staff was also stunned and watching in bewilderment. Meanwhile, the media had informed the people of Sanandaj to come to the hospital because they were stealing Mohsen Niazi’s body. The outer gate of the hospital was constantly filled with the crowd. They tried to convince the family, who insisted that they would not hand over the body to the officers. Eventually, seeing that the situation outside the hospital was becoming increasingly chaotic and getting out of control, the officers left. But I still can't believe that the officers shot into the air and used tear gas when leaving the hospital grounds! I wonder if these people are human. What are they thinking? In the end, they accompanied the body to Dehgolan. That night, the family was forced to bury the body privately without informing others. In Kurdistan, when someone died, everyone would attend the funeral. The officers were afraid of this. The officers were not from Sanandaj; they were from Hamadan, Zanjan, and Kermanshah. They had sent forces from calmer provinces to places like Kurdistan where the protests were more intense.

The Bloody Suppression in Javanrud

The day the protests began in Javanrud, I couldn't stay in Sanandaj. I was so anxious and restless that I went to Javanrud. Unfortunately, none of the media accurately portrayed what occurred there.

What transpired in Javanrud was horrifying. The forces sent to quell the protests weren't ordinary police or local mercenaries, known as Jash. They were military forces trained for combat against other nations. They arrived heavily armed. The weapons they used weren't to quell the protests; they were lethal. They employed C-S gas, which isn't intended for crowd dispersal. Generally, there are three types of tear gas: the weakest, commonly used, induces tears and suffocation. C-S gas has a stronger effect and is classified as a chemical weapon. Its use was banned by the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons in 1993, if I recall correctly. CS gas, being chemical, is extremely dangerous. They utilized this gas primarily in Javanrud, though it was also used in Saqqez and Mahabad.

There were several reasons for the violence in Javanrud. The intensity of the demonstrations was more widespread there, making it the only city in Kermanshah Province with such a large turnout. Kermanshah Province, which was already known for its relatively suffocating security atmosphere compared to other provinces, deployed all its forces to Javanrud. The military presence in this area is notably more aggressive. I heard that the unit within the IRGC that engages in foreign conflicts, known as the "Nabi Akram Corps," is primarily based in Kermanshah. Most men in Kermanshah serve in either the army or the IRGC, generally supporting the government.

The people of Javanrud were more emotionally charged compared to residents of other cities. The government lost control of Javanrud that day, with the streets falling under the people's control. The government's response was particularly harsh compared to elsewhere. The forces sent to suppress Javanrud seemed to view the situation as if they were fighting a foreign enemy. I witnessed the weapons carried by these forces, which included Kalashnikovs, rifles, and .50 caliber guns. They systematically cleared the streets, chanting "Allahu Akbar" and "Haider Haider" as they fired. The number of wounded was alarmingly high, leading to blood shortages at the hospital, exacerbated by restrictions on blood supply.

They had surrounded the city and would not allow anyone not from Javanrud to enter. They turned away cars with license plates from other cities without even considering that the person's car might belong to another city. The entry and exit of the city were completely controlled. I was even close to being arrested. I drove there with my car, which had a Sanandaj license plate. An agent from a distance told me to turn back. I complied, as did many others in the same situation. I returned to try to explain my situation. When I approached again, I told them that I am a doctor and needed to enter the city for my shift. He asked why I hadn't mentioned it earlier. I explained that he had instructed me to turn back, and I didn't know what to say initially. He then asked for my medical council card. After I provided it, he inquired about which hospital I worked in. Not knowing the name of Javanrud Hospital, I panicked. Almost ninety percent of Iranian cities have a hospital named Imam. Fortunately, he was not familiar with Javanrud and didn't realize there was no hospital named "Imam" there. He hesitated for a moment and then allowed me to pass. Later, when I asked my friends, they informed me that the hospital in Javanrud is called Hazrat Rasul, and there is no hospital named "Imam." On another attempt to enter, a different agent questioned my destination. The previous agent vouched for me, saying I was a doctor, but the second agent insisted on inspecting my car. I grew nervous again because my car trunk was filled with medicine. Slowly, I retreated to the square where the checkpoint was located. Luckily, all the cars were being inspected, so I parked mine among them. Since I was far from the officers, I quickly reversed and didn't enter the city at all. If I had stopped, I would surely have been arrested. I regrouped with my friends and found an acquaintance who guided me through an alternate route into the city, where I began treating people.

I treated about ten wounded people in Javanrud. Of course, I did not move around the city. I stayed in a house, and the wounded were brought to me. There were all kinds of injuries, many from gunshot wounds, both from close range and afar. I could remove the surface pellets, but the deeper ones could not be extracted. There were one or two people in serious condition, and I convinced them to go to the hospital. One individual had been hit in the eye by a pellet, and I advised him to seek medical treatment in a private hospital in Tehran or Kermanshah once the situation had calmed down. When 15 injured people are brought to a doctor treating them discreetly in a single day, one can imagine the extent of the injuries in the city. Many people were unaware of my existence.

Among those I treated, the youngest was 18 years old, and the oldest was around 45 years old. Two of the injured were women. One had been wounded in the hand by a Kalashnikov bullet, while the others had been hit by pellets. The reason I treated mostly pellet injuries was that those with more severe wounds were usually taken directly to the hospital. Their injuries often required immediate attention in the ICU and operating room. Take, for example, Fo’ad Qadimi from Divandareh. He was struck by a bullet and underwent three surgeries, but unfortunately, he succumbed to his injuries on September 21, 2022, at the Sanandaj hospital, due to gunshot wounds to the stomach and back.

The Variation in Intensity and Methods of Repression Across Regions: From Fatal Violence to Ransom for Release

The government's strategy for repression varied from region to region and city to city. The tactics used in Tehran differed from those in Kurdistan and Baluchistan. Suppression in affluent areas differed from that in poorer areas like Sanandaj. According to residents of various areas in Sanandaj whom I contacted, in wealthier neighborhoods, authorities used batons and tear gas, whereas in poorer areas like Nayser, there were instances of gunfire during gatherings.

In Sanandaj, there were cases where individuals arrested were found to be destitute and without money. Some of them instructed their parents not to seek bail or take any action, urging them to let them remain in custody. After some time, the IRGC concluded that keeping such individuals was not advantageous. On the other hand, when they would realize that a family was wealthy, and the individual had a job, they would increase the bail amount accordingly

There were numerous instances, reliably reported to me, where families in Javanrud were provided with a private account number to deposit 10 million Tomans. However, after depositing the funds, they received no response. These incidents created distrust among families, leading some to opt for legal bail arrangements within the prison system instead. Many people fell victim to such blackmail tactics.

Cases of Injuries Inflicted on Repression Agents: From People to Insider Forces

While I was at the hospital, I witnessed numerous cases where injured officers were brought in. These officers had been beaten by civilians. I recall an incident where an agent was brought to the hospital after a flowerpot was hurled from a rooftop, causing a severe head injury with a split skull. There were instances where officers sustained injuries from thrown stones or even knives. Regardless of the identity of the patient, medical ethics dictate adherence to duty and oath.

During times of heightened street activity, officers faced significant injuries. Although I wasn't on shift every night, on one particularly busy shift, I encountered around 10 wounded officers. Some officers even died of their injuries. I recall an incident involving an agent from Marivan who was reportedly shot by local forces dispatched from Zanjan to suppress unrest in Marivan. The agent was targeted for wearing civilian clothes and carrying a firearm.

Some officers in the ICU died from beatings. One such incident occurred on the 40th day after Mr. Yahya Rahimi's death. On November 18, 2022, as people were leaving Behesht Mohammadi, the cemetery in Sanandaj, a plainclothes officer inside a car shot a young man. According to a friend who was present, this young man was suspicious of the car, approached and attempted to stop it, and the officer inside the car then fired at him from within the vehicle. As people gathered around the car, the plainclothes officer initially denied involvement, claiming he was shot from elsewhere. However, when people saw that he had a gun, they beat him so severely that he was dead upon arrival at the hospital. People also set the officer's car on fire, which I witnessed firsthand.

The anger of people and families escalated day by day. In one of the houses where I was providing medical treatment, the parents expressed their frustration, questioning what these young people could achieve with empty hands. They suggested either acquiring guns or staying at home to avoid risking their lives. It seemed as though the community felt compelled to organize and arm themselves. I heard that in Mahabad, three agents were killed in a single day. However, it's worth noting that ordinary people are not armed. Officers who were killed by civilians were mostly subjected to punches, kicks, and stones. Instances where groups of ten or twenty people attacked an officer were not uncommon. Those officers who were killed by firearms were likely targeted by insiders or other parties or factions.

Of course, the Islamic Republic takes advantage of the fact that there are various parties and movements involved.  The Revolutionary Guard forces carried out violence in Javanrud, Bukan, and Mahabad with the justification that separatist parties had entered cities and were armed. However, people have come to this understanding not to provide them with an excuse by being armed. Even in my opinion, part of these killings of local operatives could be the work of the government itself to provide an excuse to claim that terrorist forces and parties have infiltrated. They don’t mind sacrificing a few local mercenaries who are of no value to the government but provide an excuse for severe repression.

It's evident that the killing of agents wasn't predominantly driven by the people. It may be attributed to Kurdish separatist parties or possibly even the government itself. Very few of the casualties were directly caused by ordinary citizens. Instances where a mob fatally assaulted an officer were relatively rare.

Diversity of Repressive Forces: Varied Organizations, Plainclothes Individuals, and Infiltrators

The repression forces displayed a wide array of attire. Those who wore pale green shirts were police officers, while others donned IRGC uniforms. The black military uniforms belonged to the Special Units of FARAJA, known as YEGUP, and VAJA soldiers had their distinct attire. Additionally, there were plainclothes individuals, and Basijis appeared in various clothing, including oversized garments provided to them to blend into the repression efforts. In short, identifying the allegiances of individuals on the street became nearly impossible. Even those in civilian attire sometimes turned out to be part of the repression. For instance, someone might wear a suit or a student uniform, carrying a student bag while mingling with the crowd, but he is an intelligence service agent. I once witnessed three individuals, disguised as farmers with local headbands tied around their heads, apprehending a protester and handing them over to the officers.

This ambiguity instilled fear in people, unsure if those around them chanting slogans were genuine protestors or undercover intelligence or military personnel. Consequently, the fear of participating in gatherings intensified. Furthermore, each of these forces was armed in various ways. While some carried war weapons, others wielded shotguns, batons, and even wires and cables.

Once, while traveling through the Baharan neighborhood, I witnessed a distressing scene. Approximately ten young protestors were surrounded by two cars filled with plainclothes individuals bearing private license plates. The officers, all plainclothes individuals armed with half-meter cables, began ruthlessly beating the crowd. Some managed to flee, but those captured endured brutal beatings with the cables.

Psychological Pressures of Covert Medical Treatment

The stress and pressure of providing covert medical treatment during the days of protests were exceedingly high. As the city atmosphere brimmed with tension, streets became veiled in smoke from burning tires, and repressive agents obstructed roads with motorcycles, cars, and vans. Merely witnessing these events and individuals induced anxiety, let alone receiving a call about someone's injury. I had to reach their location promptly to administer treatment, even as many streets were barricaded or manned by checkpoints. My car was often laden with medical supplies, heightening the stress of potential detention and vehicle searches. Once, I received a call about a critical condition, prompting me to speed so recklessly that I disregarded orders to stop from officers.

Frequently, densely populated areas were swiftly cordoned off to prevent traffic flow, such as Sheikhan, Nobovat, and Golshan neighborhoods in Sanandaj. In such scenarios, patients would still call for assistance. Despite my attempts to reach them, checkpoint officers would often deny entry, instructing me to turn back. This created a dilemma wherein  I could not reach the patient nor could they leave their homes, risking immediate arrest. Even if they managed to reach the hospital, repercussions would likely follow. Tragically, a number of patients died due to the consequences of neighborhood blockades, unable to access medical facilities in time.

As The Streets Calmed Down, The Wave of Arrests Intensified

At the peak of the protests, the government deployed all available forces to pacify the streets. During that time, they lacked the manpower to conduct home arrests. For approximately 24 hours, perhaps 18 hours, officers remained continuously on the streets. However, as the situation gradually eased and the streets grew quieter, the government was able to strategize and carry out arrests.

I recall encountering an issue on social media a few months before the onset of the Jina revolution. This led me to file a complaint, prompting visits to the Police Criminal Investigation Department and interactions with FATA police officers. After several visits, I became familiar with most of them. Interestingly, many of these officers were later involved in suppressing the protesters. It seemed that they had such limited forces that they had to mobilize cyber police units for suppression efforts. However, once the situation stabilized, they seized the opportunity to issue summonses and conduct individual arrests. I myself experienced this.

Arrest and Interrogation

It was December 30, 2022, when I received a call from VAJA. I didn't feel anxious and my heart rate remained steady, unlike previous encounters with them. The caller asked if I was Dr. Mohsen Sohrabi, which I confirmed. I then requested them to identify themselves, and they stated that they were calling from The Public Relations Office of the Ministry of Intelligence, requesting me to visit their office the following day for questioning. I replied affirmatively, although I had no intention of going and did not show up the next day. However, a day later, upon returning home from work, I noticed several individuals from the Shahramfar Headquarters of the IRGC surrounding my house. I attempted to flee, but they pursued me and ultimately arrested me without presenting a warrant.

My interrogation lasted for 4 days, characterized by lengthy sessions and repetitive, tiresome questions. I was confined to a solitary cell measuring 2 meters by 2 meters, with the bathroom located within the same space. The quality of food  provided was inadequate, leading me to abstain from eating throughout the ordeal. The room's light remained on 24 hours a day, blurring the distinction between day and night. Sleep became elusive in an environment where the outside world was beyond comprehension, leaving me to ponder the duration of this situation and the authorities' plans and decisions concerning me, adding to the psychological strain I endured.

During the interrogations, they frequently inquired about my motives for aiding the protesters and government opponents. They probed into my alleged connections with political parties like the Komalah party or PDKI, and sought my opinions on the concept of Kurdistan country. Their interrogation tactics involved coercion, employing both insulting and threatening language alongside sympathetic tones. For instance, one interrogator resorted to shouting and even issued threats of sexual assault, while another adopted a softer, more empathetic approach. They also employed psychological manipulation techniques, such as falsely claiming that my family, particularly my mother, was searching for me and had been hospitalized.

They scrutinized the content I posted on my Instagram page, labeling it as criminal despite its focus on medical training aimed at aiding those injured by bullets. Moreover, they exerted considerable pressure to divulge information about my connections and accomplices involved in supplying drugs and medical equipment. They dangled promises of leniency if I cooperated in identifying those individuals. Essentially, they sought to coerce compliance, irrespective of the veracity of their claims, with many confessions from others obtained under such duress.

While I personally did not endure physical torture, some of my patients recounted harrowing experiences of being subjected to stun guns, baton strikes, and kicks during their interrogations. One individual recounted being beaten to the point of incapacitation yet forced to walk. Another, a female patient, disclosed being sexually assaulted while detained at the Shahramfar Headquarters in Sanandaj. While I did not conduct a physical examination, I advised her to undergo tests for HIV, HCV, hepatitis, and other related infections, along with genital examinations.

Pressures Following Release from Detention

I was detained for only 4 days before being released. However, after my release, my psychological state deteriorated to the point where I decided to leave the country. In the four months I spent in Kurdistan after the start of the movement, especially after the first contact from the Revolutionary Guard and the subsequent summons, I didn’t have a single good night’s sleep. Even after my release, I continued to experience psychological pressure. I suffered from delusions after stress and persecutory delusions. I became hyper-vigilant, locking the apartment door immediately upon entering and hesitating to answer the door for unfamiliar visitors. I would wake up three or four times a night with a heart rate of 150. Whenever I left my apartment and approached my car, I found myself constantly checking the surroundings, fearing arrest at any moment. It felt as if I were afraid of my own shadow. These symptoms worsened after those four days, and the accusations I suspected I would face added to the reasons that made me choose to leave the country.

Since leaving the country, at least I no longer wake up at night. However, these experiences have left lasting psychological scars, which I recognize as a form of mental disorder. It's a kind of torture that goes beyond physical abuse with batons in solitary confinement. As a doctor who has endured detention, interrogation, and the aftermath, I firmly believe that every individual should seek psychiatric help after being released from the Islamic Republic's prisons.

Although I am no longer in Iran, the process of fabricating charges and exerting pressure on my family continues. My mother, sister, and father have been interrogated multiple times by the Sanandaj Intelligence Office over the phone. On April 5, 2023, my sister was summoned by phone to the Sanandaj Intelligence Office, where she was interrogated for four hours. In addition to being threatened with expulsion and detention if she did not cooperate, her electronic devices and mobile phone were confiscated for 45 days. From June to September 2023, agents from the Intelligence Office, on behalf of the Revolutionary Court, visited our home in Sanandaj several times. During these visits, they searched the house and, through threats, accusations, and the use of foul language, created fear and anxiety for my family.

Despite all these, I can't remain indifferent. However, now that my identity is known and I have nothing to hide, I can operate publicly, which has improved things. The group of volunteer doctors we formed in November 2022 is still active and helps people in Kurdistan when issues arise. We are working to expand our membership and activities. While the members remain anonymous, my transparent background has gained the trust of members. Previously, when the identity behind the volunteer doctors was unknown, many were hesitant to cooperate, fearing it might be a trap. Now, being abroad, they trust and collaborate with me, seeing me as someone with a foreign presence and a clear history. These hardships have had at least one advantage. I'm considering registering this group as an institution abroad to expand our activities in this manner. However, one challenge I face abroad is the lack of a formal Diploma or Academic certificate. I can only obtain my medical degree if the law in Iran changes to allow the purchase of the mandatory internship program.