Iranian universities are punishing students for political views

On a spring morning in Tehran, a graduate of Sharif University of Technology opened his student portal to find that his academic status had been inexplicably changed to “undetermined”.

He had completed his degree requirements months earlier and was waiting only for his diploma. But by reclassifying him, the university ensured its disciplinary committee could still exercise jurisdiction over him.

His ultimate fate is unknown but the episodes illustrate a broader transformation in Iran’s higher education. Disciplinary committees, once intended to adjudicate breaches of university regulations, are increasingly being used to investigate political expression and personal belief. Rather than safeguarding academic standards, they are becoming instruments for enforcing ideological conformity.

At Sharif University, according to a recent report by its student guild council, at least six students have been expelled and barred from studying at any university for five years (a penalty possible under Iran’s higher education disciplinary regulations), while more than 20 others have received lengthy suspensions. According to another report, students at the University of Tehran have been instructed to submit written defences before even being allowed to see the evidence against them, despite regulations requiring a hearing in which charges and supporting evidence are presented.

Iran University of Science and Technology has opened more than 100 disciplinary cases over the past three months or so. And at Alzahra University, according to the Amirkabir newsletter, dozens have been suspended after months of opaque proceedings. Taken together, these developments suggest not simply a rise in cases but a significant shift in how universities are governed in post-war Iran.

The evidence relied on is as revealing as the number of cases. Students describe investigations built around fragments of their digital lives: a Telegram profile picture, a message in a private faculty group, a repost on X. One student reported charges ranging from “not observing student decorum” to “supporting atheistic schools of thought” – the latter claim resting solely on a social media post. These are not the kinds of cases disciplinary systems are designed to resolve. Their legitimacy depends on a clear distinction between academic governance and political policing.

The procedural violations are systematic. In some cases, students were informed of the charges and handed a verdict on the same day. Students at Sharif say committee members questioned them about their personal beliefs and private conversations, while panels relied on reports from unnamed informants rather than evidence they could challenge. Disciplinary procedures are increasingly being used to investigate opinion rather than conduct.

The timing is central to understanding this wave. It is apparent that cracking down on any form of dissent has been explicit Iranian government policy for some time. According to a leaked document from September 2023, the Ministry of Science issued a confidential directive to university presidents nationwide, instructing them that “sedition must carry a cost” and warning that “a passive stance will embolden seditionists.” Crucially, it stipulated that the directives of the Supreme National Security Council regarding the suppression of unrest in universities must serve as the benchmark for all disciplinary action.

But it is also true that the Israel-Iran war earlier this year, and the uneasy ceasefire that followed it, created uniquely favourable conditions – as well as, no doubt, further political pressure – to implement the crackdown. Universities mostly remained closed, students were dispersed and public scrutiny diminished. Measures that might once have provoked immediate protest could instead be pursued quietly, through telephone calls and emails rather than face-to-face hearings.

Still, students haven’t accepted these developments quietly. At Sharif, a joint letter from 53 student bodies challenged the committees on their own terms, citing the university’s disciplinary code and documenting violations. Elsewhere, students have collected evidence, shared their experiences and insisted that universities follow the rules they have established for themselves. Tellingly, however, the ministry has said very little in response.

The students’ response is significant because it is not simply a protest against harsh punishments; it is a defence of the idea that universities should be governed by academic procedures rather than political expediency. And that principle extends far beyond Iran. Every university needs disciplinary procedures but they retain legitimacy only when constrained by due process, transparency and a clear distinction between academic misconduct and the possession of politically inconvenient beliefs.

Once those boundaries erode, disciplinary mechanisms cease to protect the university’s mission and instead become instruments for reshaping it. If a committee can investigate a student’s political opinions as readily as their citation practice, it no longer occupies the role it was created to perform.

Now the ceasefire is over and the bombing has started again. Whatever course the current conflict takes, the precedents established during this period are likely to outlast it. Universities will eventually reopen and classes resume. Restoring the institutional boundaries that separate academic discipline from political policing, however, could prove far more difficult.

If those boundaries are not restored, the most enduring legacy of this war on Iran’s universities will be in the political role it has normalised for them.

Roohola Ramezani has a PhD in philosophy from Shahid Beheshti University, Tehran. He was formerly research fellow at the IFK International Research Centre for Cultural Studies in Vienna.