Despite past promises to defend open access, Iran’s new administration accelerates internet segregation, giving elites freer access while ordinary citizens remain censored and restricted.
In a major policy move that critics are calling the “butchering of the internet,” the Iranian regime has officially approved a regulation to implement tiered or class-based internet access under the guise of “facilitating digital businesses.” Simultaneously, Masoud Pezeshkian’s First Vice President has called for the rapid rollout of the so-called “National Internet”—a long-feared infrastructure designed to isolate Iran from the global web and reinforce state surveillance and control.
This decision—passed unanimously by the Supreme Council of Cyberspace on Tuesday, July 15—has sparked widespread outrage among digital rights activists and ordinary Iranians who see it as a betrayal of repeated promises by so-called “reformist” politicians to defend internet freedom.
According to Amir Siah, the acting head of the Economic Affairs Division at Iran’s National Cyberspace Center, the first step toward implementing this policy involves selectively lifting restrictions on certain businesses. He claimed the measure is aimed at “supporting the growth of the digital economy” by allowing a number of organizations—such as journalists, online business owners, and other professionals—to access less filtered or unrestricted internet.
But digital rights experts and civil society observers see this as a dangerous precedent. Tiered internet, in their words, creates a two-class system where government-affiliated individuals and selected professionals enjoy full or semi-free internet access, while the general population remains locked behind firewalls, censorship, and bandwidth throttling.
A System Long in the Making—With Reformist Roots
This form of digital segregation is not new. Under previous administrations—including those led by Mohammad Khatami and Hassan Rouhani—early foundations for internet classification were laid. In 2002, the Supreme Council of Cultural Revolution limited residential users to 128 kbps bandwidth, requiring institutional approval for higher speeds.
The technical capability for deeper segregation emerged later under Ahmadinejad’s government, but it was under Rouhani’s telecom minister Mohammad-Javad Azari Jahromi that traffic discrimination and infrastructural groundwork for tiered internet began to flourish. That very infrastructure is now being formalized and expanded by Pezeshkian’s administration—ironically, a camp that claimed to oppose internet filtering.
This duplicity has not gone unnoticed. Many critics point out that the same reformist figures who warned voters about the dangers of ultraconservative hardliners like Raisi or Jalili, are now actively facilitating the very censorship infrastructure they once denounced. As one commentator put it:
“They promised freedom to the people, but delivered it only to themselves.”
The Myth of “Open Internet” under Pezeshkian
During the presidential campaign, Pezeshkian pledged to loosen internet restrictions and end state-imposed digital isolation. Yet, since the end of the 12-day war, not only have no restrictions been lifted, but the government has failed to follow through on its own January 2025 resolution to gradually lift filtering.
Instead, Pezeshkian’s administration has pushed ahead with plans to legalize and expand class-based internet access. Government spokesperson Fatemeh Mohajerani even tried to rebrand this move as “freer internet for journalists.” But shortly after her statement, the Supreme Council of Cyberspace approved full-tier implementation across all user groups—solidifying the institutionalization of digital inequality.
Observers describe the policy as a “digital reward system” for those who support the regime or hold privileged positions in society. One expert called the move a “gift from Pezeshkian to his political backers” and an example of “digital rent-seeking at the expense of national rights.”
Reformists and the Machinery of Repression
This development once again exposes the blurred lines between Iran’s so-called reformist and hardliner camps. Whether under Rouhani, Khatami, Ahmadinejad, or now Pezeshkian, the path toward an isolated, repressive, and tiered internet has remained uninterrupted. The main difference, critics argue, lies in how the policy is packaged and sold to the public.
Today, reformist elites are not only complicit in censorship—they are helping design and legitimize it. The tiered internet policy confirms what many Iranians have come to believe: that no matter the faction in charge, freedom of expression, access to information, and digital rights remain under systematic attack.
As online voices continue to warn, the Iranian public is being pushed further into digital darkness, while those in power enjoy full access to global communication tools—using them, ironically, to suppress the very freedoms they exploit.
The message is clear: in the Iranian regime, internet freedom is no longer a universal right—it’s a privilege reserved for the loyal.
