Ali Khamenei’s profligate six-day funeral spotlights both new rifts in the IRI base and the seeming rise of the pro-regime “bihejab” girl.
The young woman cradles a framed photograph of Ali Khamenei against her heart as she raises her right hand, daubed blood-red. She stands on Enghelab Street just outside the University of Tehran campus, people streaming past her in black mourning wear. The top of her own headscarf is pulled back far enough for the early July sun to illuminate her fair, perhaps dyed hair. She acknowledges that she participated in the January mass protests against the Iranian regime but has since repented. She describes her former views as misguided and says that reading the late Supreme Leader’s words has changed her life. She urges others “to read Mr. Khamenei’s books and letters without prejudice, with an independent and open mind.”
Her eyes keep shifting down and to the left as if she’s trying to remember something (or signal that she’s obliged to remember something)—perhaps the next line. She continues, “I personally decided to get to know him and listen to his speeches.” Why did she decide this? “Personally,” as if there might be some other way. She offers no explanation, merely the result. “I realized that the image of him that had been created in my mind, to put it simply, that he was a dictator, a monster, or whatever they say, was not true. He was a very unusual person, and coming to know him has become something deeply valuable to me. Even though it ended up costing me ten years, I still consider myself the winner.” Many viewers of this widely shared video commented on the “ten years” reference, which some took as suggesting that she had received a prison sentence for her participation in the protests—perhaps suspended thanks to her public contrition. She divulges no details.
یکی از معجزات عمام کتلت :پروژه جدید، من مخالف رژیم بودم حتی در تظاهرات ۱۸و ۱۹ دی شرکت کردم اما اشتباه میکردم ، چرا اینها هم مثل هم حرف میزنند pic.twitter.com/T6N314eTPh
— Reza Esmailei (@esmailei) July 8, 2026
Ayatollah Ali Khamenei’s extravagant funeral, intended to project popular enthusiasm and unity, unfolded amid a climate of political repression and an economic meltdown that has left much of the public straining to meet basic needs. Ordinary Iranians were thus especially vulnerable to intimidation, on the one hand, and practical inducements, on the other, as the regime labored to create the appearance of mass support. Rival political factions, meanwhile, sought to appropriate the spectacle for their own ends. The outcome revealed both the cracks within the establishment and the gulf between its manufactured narrative of cohesion and the public’s daily struggle to survive.
The funeral and farewell procession, long anticipated by Khamenei’s supporters, eventually began 126 days after his death in a US airstrike on the leadership’s central Tehran compound on February 28. The ceremony commenced in the capital on the morning of July 4, coinciding with Independence Day in the US, a deliberate choice in the eyes of many. Footage of the rubbled compound, which had been withheld from the public, was finally released on July 8.
As Khamenei lay in state in the Grand Mosalla, and more than 100 foreign delegations arrived to pay their respects, the funeral became a stage for political theater. The Islamic Republic used the occasion to implicitly, but unmistakably, commend its allies and scold its adversaries, in what has been described as “Qur’anic diplomacy.” As the members of each delegation approached the coffin to pay their respects, a different Qur’an verse was read by a qari (professional reciter)—in some cases, lines clearly conveying praise, as greeted the Houthi and Hamas representatives, while the Saudi delegation, in contrast, was reminded that the early Muslim army (presumably like the Islamic Republic) had prevailed over a “larger army of unbelievers.”
Even the family of Khamenei’s predecessor as Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, was not spared. The verse selected for the group included the line “those who stay at home are not the same as those who strive in the cause of Allah with their wealth and their lives,” a message that appeared to exalt Khamenei at the expense of the heirs of the Islamic Republic’s founder. Unlike the Saudi representatives, Khomeini’s family members walked out midway through the recitation aimed at them.
Held under tight security and postponed several times because of the war, the ceremony was attended by three of Khamenei’s surviving sons. Notably absent was his designated heir and successor, Mojtaba Khamenei, who has not been seen in public since the February 28 attack and his accession as Supreme Leader eight days later. A video that circulated online showing a man filmed from behind at the funeral sparked rumors that it was Mojtaba. The claim was debunked after the subject of the footage identified himself as Reza Mousavi Vaez, director of the Ahl al-Bayt Quranic Institute.
The state granted access to over 80 international media outlets, including the BBC and Washington Post, and invited 500 supportive foreign influencers and social media personalities such as Jackson Hinkle, who attended regime rallies and led chants of “Death to America.” Bushra Shaikh, a UK-based influencer who first came to Iran in May for a state-sponsored visit, also attended the ceremony. She arrived wearing a white headscarf but later adjusted her outfit to conform with the Islamic Republic dress code, telling her followers on X: “I have chosen to report while wearing a hijab and dressing in black as a mark of respect during the funeral period for the late Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.”
(Mis)taking attendance
The messaging surrounding the funeral sought to portray it as a nationwide outpouring of love for a paternal figure. State media outlets adjusted their language, increasingly referring to Khamenei as the “father of the nation,” “the most Iranian Iranian“ (as opposed to the Pahlavi family, which was referred to as “the most un-Iranian family in history”), and “Aqa-ye Shahid” (literally, martyred Sir), a reverential title more affectionate than “Rahbar-e Shahid” (martyred Leader), which had been standard in the weeks after Khamenei’s death.
Yet the state’s efforts to project an image of widespread public devotion faced scrutiny over one of the most visible elements of the ceremony: the size of the crowd. While the Islamic Republic claimed that there were many millions of participants, with some media outlets and supporters placing the figure at 20 to 24 million, Factnameh disputed the claims, estimating the turnout at between 600,000 and three million. Videos filmed from the top of Azadi Tower also appeared to show that the crowd size was smaller than state outlets reported. In response to the mounting skepticism, at least one regime supporter argued that the nature of the ceremony explained why the crowd numbers appeared so modest, saying: “This was a farewell; people don’t come and stay. People come, pay their respects, say farewell, and leave.”
The issues with turnout were reportedly fueled by multiple changes to the planned funeral procession route made without informing the public. The original route, beginning toward the eastern end of Damavand Street and ending at Imam Hossein Square, was canceled on the morning of the ceremony. A second planned route, from Imam Hossein Square down five kilometers of Enghelab Street to Enghelab Square, was also scrapped. The final, considerably shorter route ran between the Sharif University campus and Azadi Square, extending roughly two kilometers. The changes prompted frustration among some attendees, who accused authorities of leaving many people at the wrong locations.
In Qom, where Khamenei’s body was taken before being brought to the Iraqi cities of Najaf and Karbala, the state’s declarations of a vast turnout were punctured yet again. Footage of a slow-moving helicopter carrying Khamenei’s remains arriving at Jamkaran Mosque drew comparisons with the 1989 funeral of Ruhollah Khomeini, when the helicopter carrying Khomeini’s body struggled to land because of the size of the crowds surrounding the site.
A local real estate developer, who offered a significantly lower assessment of the crowd size than the official claims, said he believed large numbers of participants had been bussed into the city for the procession, which stretched eight kilometers from Jamkaran Mosque to the Fatemeh Masoumeh Shrine.
“Organizers claimed that around four million people attended,” the developer said, “but my personal estimate was between 800,000 and one million. Of course, most of them had been brought to Qom from other cities; fewer people from Qom itself took part.”
He also said the scale of supplies distributed suggested organizers had expected a much larger turnout. “Instead of giving people a single bottle of mineral water, they handed out entire cases and told recipients to share them with others along the route.” The cases were marked “not for sale,” indicating that they had been prepared specifically for the ceremony.
To counter criticism over the funeral’s organization and disputed crowd numbers, state media relied on familiar elements from the Islamic Republic’s propaganda playbook, with a well-established cast of recurring figures appearing in its carefully curated scenes of public mourning and devotion: the supporter who traveled thousands of miles from Canada, Germany, and even the US to pay respects; the loyalist overseas who sent a message of grief from afar; the ordinary citizen expressing unwavering devotion; and always the impassioned crowds presented as evidence of popular support.
Redemption or coercion? The born-again women
The coverage also emphasized highly emotional displays of grief: women with loosely worn hijabs wailing as though they had lost a close family member, supporters appearing overwhelmed by emotion, mourners collapsing and being carried away while still clutching their phones and water bottles, and even Red Crescent workers who appeared to break down only after cameras turned toward them.
Alongside the black-clad mourners was another familiar character: the regime’s version of a fashionable, bihejab (loosely, “unveiled”) young woman. Interviewed by the Narm Khabar news agency, one especially stylish speaker in tangerine cat-eye sunglasses, hair cascading in ringlets from under her tasseled headscarf, warned: “If even a single speck of our homeland’s soil clings to an enemy soldier’s boot, this entire nation will wash it clean with its own blood.”
Approvingly portrayed, even while not fully adhering to the state-mandated dress code, such figures have become a staple of pro-government rallies and official messaging in recent years: even those who do not fit the regime’s traditional image of a devout supporter can still be loyal to the Revolution and its leadership. By the same token, they are employed in attempts to discredit anyone who draws attention to the harassment and violence to which women caught at the wrong time without proper hijab are still routinely subjected.
State media highlighted, in particular, young women who appeared to embody the regime’s newly preferred narrative of redemption, like the one on Enghelab Street who inexplicably became fascinated by the literary output of a Supreme Leader rarely acclaimed by even his most fervent devotees as a compelling rhetorician. Government-controlled and -aligned outlets eagerly featured these erstwhile unbelievers who had recognized their mistakes, returned to the fold, and were seeking forgiveness—even if they struggled at times to keep their chadors in place.
The appearance of such figures has drawn skepticism from rights groups, who have long questioned the authenticity of some pro-government displays and alleged that relatives of detained protesters have at times faced pressure to participate in official events or provide supportive interviews in exchange for leniency.
The carefully constructed images of spontaneous public grief were accompanied by other scenes that raised questions about the extent to which attendance was voluntary. Photos and videos showed municipal street cleaners (pakbans) in uniform holding pictures of Mojtaba Khamenei at the funeral, prompting allegations that some had been compelled to attend at the risk of losing their jobs.
Factional frictions and “super-revolutionaries”
Despite all of the effort to project unity during the funeral, the ceremony also exposed deep factional tensions within the regime and its camp. On the sidelines of the event in Tehran, President Masoud Pezeshkian was met with chants of “death to the compromiser.” The state-aligned Tabnak media outlet described those berating the president as “super-revolutionaries.” Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi was chased by an angry mob of regime supporters, whom Iranian media dubbed “radicals,” hurling stones and insults and seemingly ready to tear him apart. The confrontation was not entirely unexpected: hardline true believers had been calling for Araghchi to be executed for his participation in negotiations with the United States over the past few months.
In Mashhad, where Khamenei’s body was brought back from its Iraqi sojourn for interment in the Imam Reza Shrine, officials including Majles speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf faced similar chants and demands for “revenge,” prompting state television to cut its audio feed at times. The incidents forced officials to publicly warn against internal divisions. Government spokeswoman Fatemeh Mohajerani addressed the incidents, saying, “In such circumstances, any attempt to undermine unity is not only a violation of fairness and basic decency, but also squanders this great asset and goes against national interest.”
The minister of culture and Islamic guidance, Seyyed Abbas Salehi, called for those responsible to be held to account, while comparing the Araghchi incident with a 2013 attack in which a group of men launched shoes and prayer stones (mohrs or turab) at the late principlist politician Ali Larijani at the Fatemeh Masoumeh Shrine in Qom. “It has not been long since martyr Larijani was pelted with prayer stones, and yesterday we witnessed similar scenes. Is history destined to repeat itself?” Salehi wrote on X. “Put the perpetrators and those who issued the order in their place. Is that such a difficult thing to do?”
Former president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad—whose supporters state media had held responsible for the 2013 assault on Larijani—also made an appearance at the Khamenei funeral. Once a central figure of the Islamic Republic’s hardline camp, Ahmadinejad has become increasingly estranged from the establishment. The New York Times reported in May that US and Israeli officials had considered him as a potential leader of Iran in a regime-change scenario.
An enormous price tag
Beneath the ideological battles over who represented the true revolutionary path and who was branded a traitor lay another question: the vast public resources required to stage such an event.
Khamenei’s funeral was perhaps the largest state-sponsored event in Iranian history. A funeral of such scale required a vast logistical operation. Authorities mobilized thousands of government and municipal workers, security personnel, emergency responders, and volunteers in Tehran, Qom, and Mashhad. They procured thousands of tons of food supplies, millions of loaves of bread, bottled water, fuel, medical supplies, and transportation services.
Tehran Municipality alone deployed thousands of city workers, arranged free round-the-clock public transportation, installed temporary facilities, prepared accommodation for millions of visitors, and covered extensive citywide decorations, banners, and advertising campaigns to promote the ceremony. Additional costs included nationwide security operations and elevated utility outlays—none quantified by officials.
Behind the images of a massive public turnout was a significant campaign aimed at encouraging participation. Some social media users shared screenshots of push notifications from the Ministry of Information and Communications Technology and Hamrah-e Aval, the country’s largest mobile service provider, informing participants they would have access to cell phone repair services, healthcare services, and other amenities during the ceremony.
Hamrah-e Aval had also set up media centers where content creators and members of the press could access free internet, charging stations, and editing desks. Each center featured a “data analysis section” designed to help users produce “content more easily and increase their visibility.”
While attendees received bags containing potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, and paper visors, videos circulated showing officials and invited guests being served hot, prepackaged meals from Hani Restaurant, which operates a lucrative ready-meal business.
The committee organizing the funeral, chaired by First Vice President Mohammad Reza Aref, has not disclosed the budget allocated for the ceremony or the source of the funds. However, social media users and commentators have speculated that the ceremony alone cost around seven trillion tomans (roughly $44–47 million). When the broader impact of the costs of shutting down much of the country for a week is included, some estimates have placed the total drain on the Iranian economy as high as $1 billion, which, if even close to accurate, would make it the most costly funeral in Iran’s modern history and among the most costly anywhere in the world.
The reported expense prompted widespread criticism online. Some Iranians who lost their homes during the recent wars contrasted the funeral’s spending with their own travails, saying promised government assistance had not been delivered and that they were struggling to cover medical expenses, housing, and basic household needs.
“How is it that people like us, whose homes were destroyed in the war three months ago, had to get a security deposit and a voucher for household items from the municipality because the government didn’t have the budget? Not a single item in our home survived. Just four basic plastic household items cost us 60 million tomans,” said one Instagram user. “In the middle of this economic crisis, you’re throwing away seven trillion tomans while many people displaced by the war in other cities are still living in tents, and many in Tehran are still in hotels. So when are they actually going to release the funds they promised and do what they’re supposed to do?”
The funeral was meant to project strength and solidarity. But for many of those whose livelihoods or entire lives have been turned upside down by war, the event highlighted a widening gap between the regime’s ideological priorities and the everyday concerns of the people it governs. While the state was able to organize a massive funeral operation, the country’s countless economic problems remain unresolved. With muted hope, the Qom developer said, “I hope that now that this is over, our situation will also change, because you cannot do business in this environment.”