Alabaster sarcophagus of Hafez being stroked in reverence
Far from being a homogenous grouping of devout Muslims, as the last 47 years of rule by the Islamic Republic would have us believe, Iran’s population of 93 million is a diverse multi-ethnic people. ‘We never did Islam the way they wanted us to,’ was the clear refrain I met from Iranians during my last tour of Iran. The empty mosques bore witness, serving largely as places for men to take a nap on the carpet during their lunch break. This was in September 2014, shortly after the UK and Iran announced their intention to resume diplomatic relations, broken off in 2011 following the storming of the British Embassy in Tehran by protesters chanting ‘Death to England.’ Decades of colonial interference in Iranian affairs, including the 1953 coup to install the Shah as absolute ruler (codenamed Operation Boot) to protect Britain’s oil interests, have left little love lost between the UK and Iran.
Today’s Iranian government officially registers all citizens born to Muslim parents as Muslim, an act which effectively masks the true personal beliefs of the younger generation. It does not, however, officially collect detailed ethnic data in its census, so figures are of necessity estimates, but the World Population Review 2026 gives a 51-61% core of Persians, 16-24% Azerbaijanis, 7-10% Kurds, 8% Gilaks and Mazandaranis, 2-6% Lurs, 2-3% Arabs, 2% Baluch and 2% Turkmen and other Turkic groups.
What these diverse multi-ethnic groups do, however, share, is a strong cultural identity. The joke runs that in every Iranian home there are two books, Hafez and the Qur’an. One is read and the other unread.
Hafez, the fourteenth century national poet, represents the rich complexities of Iran’s identity. His tomb in Shiraz, Iran’s most liberal city, is a place of pilgrimage day and night, with crowds of devotees stroking his alabaster sarcophagus. His poetry, besides lauding the joys of love and wine, also targets religious hypocrisy. “Preachers who display their piety in prayers and pulpit”, he wrote 600 years ago, “behave differently when they are alone. Why do those who decree repentance do so little of it?”
While the West remains obsessed with Iran’s nuclear enrichment, it is an open secret that well-connected clerics and businessmen enrich themselves through sanction busting. When I lacked the cash in Isfahan to buy a rug, the dealer simply rang a friend in Dubai and processed the supposedly banned credit card transaction. It duly appeared on my statement as a purchase made in Dubai.
Despite the mullahs’ best endeavours – or maybe because of them – there have been fundamental changes in Iranian society since the revolution in 1979. More women than men now graduate from university, leading to a well-educated female population that is refusing to breed, despite government incentives: ironically, a consequence of the mullahs’ own policy of spreading education.
Though the minorities are usually blended in the cities, many are concentrated in the border regions: the Kurds in the northwest, the Beluch in the southeast, the Turkmen in the northeast and the Arabs in the oil-rich southwest. If the central authority of the IRGC were to collapse, it could trigger a significant splintering in peripheral regions where historical grievances and armed movements are most deeply embedded. The Kurds in particular are the most potent ethnic opposition, and have a history of revolution against the Iranian regime, but also of disunity, frequently descending into infighting. The best organized are the PKK, Turkey’s nemesis, whom President Erdogan would be furious to see armed by the US, as Trump has hinted.
Given the lack of unified opposition to the IRGC, a power vacuum could see chaos, civil war and a resurgence of movements seeking independence. Deep divisions exist between the Persia-centric opposition royalists who would welcome the return of the Shah’s son, Reza Pahlavi, and the ethnic minorities.
Recent independent surveys have found that Iranians are increasingly embracing their pre-Islamic heritage as another way of expressing anti-regime sentiment. There is immense pride in the unique Persian identity of their ancient Zoroastrian religion, almost as a kind of cultural nationalism. With origins to much earlier than 600BC, when Cyrus the Great adopted it as the state faith, it is one of the world’s first monotheistic religions, introducing the idea of a single supreme deity, Ahura Mazda, often represented as an eagle- winged disc with a human figure emerging from the centre. Scholars believe Zoroastrianism profoundly shaped the foundations of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, specifically its belief in the dualism of the eternal struggle between good and evil, the Final Judgement, angels and demons, the resurrection of the dead, and heaven and hell.
In 1979 the mullahs did a deal, allowing Zoroastrians one seat in Parliament if they did not oppose the regime. The fire temple in Yazd, spiritual heart of Zoroastrianism, has burned for over 1500 years, and the faith today is said to be experiencing a resurgence especially among young Iranians, among whom there is a marked trend away from traditional religious practice.
[Some elements of this article first appeared in a feature entitled ‘The ghosts of Iran’ published in The Tablet magazine, 12 March 2026, co-authored with John McHugo.]
In Iran, they say, there are two books in every household – the Koran and Hafez. One is read, the other is not.
To understand this joke you need do no more than join the millions who regularly throng the tomb of Hafez, 14th century poet of Shiraz and Iran’s national hero, as I did one recent afternoon.
Gardens surrounding the Tomb of Hafez, Shiraz
The atmosphere was buzzing, happy and relaxed – Iran at its best.
Day and night the tomb, raised up on a beautifully decorated dais surrounded by its own fragrant rose gardens, water channels and orange trees, is crowded with devotees stroking his alabaster sarcophagus, declaiming his verses, relishing his clever plays on words.
Alabaster sarcophagus of Hafez being stroked in reverence
Hafez represents all the rich complexities of the Iranian identity. His brilliant use of metaphors in their native Farsi language unites them.
But there is another reason the tomb is so popular.
In today’s Islamic Republic it is hard to express resistance to the powers that be.
The ruling clerical elite has consolidated its grip on power. It uses the rhetoric of revolution while crushing opposition. President Rouhani’s smiling face has projected a new image outside the country, but inside everyone tells me things are worse, with more executions and more oppression than ever before. Penalties are harsh as evidenced by the recent ‘91 lashes’ meted out to defiant women dancing unveiled on a YouTube video to the Pharrell Williams song Happy. A London woman is on hunger strike in an Iranian prison, jailed for attempting to attend a men’s volleyball match.
But dissent can be displayed in subtle ways. Thanks to Hafez, Shiraz is Iran’s most liberal city.
Women’s fashion is the give-away, affecting the whole mood of the place. While women are obliged by law to cover themselves from head to toe, in Shiraz the women dress almost outrageously by Islamic standards.
The compulsory headscarf is highly coloured and worn dangling precariously from the back of the head, hardly covering any hair at all; the young sport tight black leggings topped by close-fitting slinky mini-coats, each one daring the next to raise the hemline further.
Far from concealing the feminine curves as the rules dictate, the outfits flaunt them, and the lively groups both young and old, men and women mix freely, laughing and chatting together.
This is Iran at its least compliant, a far cry from the religious conservatism the establishment seeks to impose on its population.
A famous actor arrives to pay his respects and is mobbed Hollywood-style by adoring fans.
As the sun disappears from the sky and the illuminations come on round the tomb, the atmosphere becomes ever more festive. People start singing and reciting their favourite poems.
Children dangle their feet in the pools, giggling and soaking up their parents’ infectious high spirits.
The scene conceals the paradoxes of Iran, for thanks to the mullahs’ policy of education for all, there are some surprising changes afoot in Iranian society.
For years now, more women than men have been graduating from university. The birth rate has dropped so dramatically, to just one child per family, that the clerics, fearful of a ‘Japanese curve’, have introduced financial incentives for couples to breed more. Most refuse, saying it is still too expensive.
While the West remains obsessed with Iran’s nuclear enrichment, it is an open secret that the well-connected clerics and businessmen enrich themselves through sanctions-busting.
When I hesitate over buying a Persian rug through lack of cash, knowing western credit cards are banned from use inside Iran, the carpet dealer pooh poohs my concerns and simply rings a friend in Dubai to seal the transaction.
Unfortunately for the mullahs, the mystic poetry of Hafez, besides lauding the joys of love and wine, also targeted religious hypocrisy.
Crowds at the Tomb of Hafez, Shiraz
“Preachers who display their piety in prayer and pulpit, ” he wrote, 600 years ago,
“Behave differently when they’re alone … Why do those who demand repentance do so little of it?”
With prostitution another open secret in clerical circles, especially in the ‘holy cities’, such verses strike a chord.
Bans apply to many things in Iran, including the BBC. Yet the BBC’s Farsi channel is the most watched. Facebook, Twitter, Google Plus and Instagram are all officially blocked. Rouhani is calling for internet restrictions to be eased, but the last word on such matters rests with the Supreme Leader who is so far unrelenting.
Small wonder the people of Iran comfort themselves with the poetry of Hafez. Even the mullahs cannot ban their own national poet.
Diana Darke is author of My House in Damascus: An Inside View of the Syrian Revolution, 2015 edition now available from:
dianadarke 