In the 118 days since January 1, 2026, Iranians have had meaningful access to the global internet for no more than 25 to 30 of them. That Iranians have spent roughly three quarters of the year so far under near-total blackout or severe disruption is the product of two distinct crises that struck in rapid succession, each with its own logic, its own justifications, and its own costs. The first wave began on January 8, during mass nationwide protests, and lasted approximately 20 days before a partial and heavily-filtered relaxation. The second began on February 28, the night U.S. and Israeli strikes hit Iranian territory, and has now run for exactly 59 days without meaningful restoration.
Together they have produced what NetBlocks confirms is the longest state-imposed internet blackout ever recorded in any country, with connectivity still at approximately 2 percent of pre-crisis levels as of April 28. Understanding what happened, and what it means, requires treating these two waves as related but distinct decisions, made under different pressures, and warranting different assessments.
The December-January protests were triggered by continued economic collapse. Protests erupted on December 28, 2025, triggered by the implosion of the Iranian rial, which lost approximately 40 percent of its value since June 2025, with the dollar reaching 1.5 million tomans, a historic low. Annual inflation stood at 42 percent, with food prices up 72 percent. Demonstrations spread from Tehran’s Grand Bazaar to more than 187 cities across every province in Iran, evolving into the largest protest wave since the 2022 Woman Life Freedom movement. From the government’s perspective, the mobilization - coordinated significantly through social media and encrypted messaging - represented a genuine threat to public order.
The initial response followed a pattern recognizable across many countries facing acute civil unrest: targeted, localized digital disruptions in protest hotspots, escalating as demonstrations intensified. The internet monitoring organization Filterwatch documented this phase as “localized, urban-centric, volatile, and layered,” not yet a total blackout, but a deliberate narrowing of the digital space available to protesters.
On the night of January 8, that calibrated system became a kill switch. Authorities imposed a near-total nationwide communications blackout alongside a violent crackdown. According to the U.S.-based Human Rights Activists News Agency, at least 7,007 people were killed, while the government claims the death toll was 3,117. Other estimates have suggested the true figure may be significantly higher
Amnesty International stated that the blackout was designed to conceal the scale of the crackdown from the outside world. The Iranian government disputes this, maintaining that security considerations in a rapidly deteriorating situation warranted the measure. Iran faced simultaneous external pressure from the United States, active cyberattack attempts, and Starlink terminals being used to circumvent earlier restrictions. Statements from actors outside the country suggested an attempt was being made to infiltrate the protest movement and trigger a revolt. Yet a total blackout cut off 92 million civilians from the outside world, including banking, healthcare, and commerce, imposing a cost on those who support and oppose the Islamic Republic alike. A partial relaxation was announced on January 28, but heavy filtering remained through the remainder of February, and most citizens still could not freely access the global internet. The first wave had lasted roughly 20 days in its most acute form, with a further month of severely degraded access that followed.
The second wave of internet blackout was categorically different in its trigger and its justification. On February 28, 2026, within minutes of U.S. and Israeli strikes hitting Iranian territory, authorities reimposed a near-total shutdown. This time, the security rationale was considerably more straightforward. Active military conflict, ongoing strikes against infrastructure, and a genuine operational need to protect military communications from interception and interference represent the clearest circumstances under which states impose emergency communications restrictions.
Yet even after a ceasefire between Iran, the United States, and Israel was announced on April 8, the blackout was not lifted. As of today, April 28, the second wave has now run for 59 days, and the internet has remained severed for 20 days since the guns fell silent, with no official timeline for restoration.
The economic damage accumulated across both waves of internet blackout is severe and, beyond the acute military phase, largely self-inflicted. Iran’s own Communications Minister Sattar Hashemi acknowledged the shutdown costs the economy $35.7 million per day in direct losses alone, while independent economists place the true daily figure at $70 to $80 million when indirect damages like supply chain disruption, lost export contracts, investor flight, and compounding inflation are factored in. At the conservative end of that range, 59 days of the second wave alone represent direct losses approaching $2.1 billion.
Online sales collapsed by 80 percent during peak blackout. The Tehran Stock Exchange lost 450,000 index points in just four days. Between one-sixth and one-fifth of employees across digital sector companies now face layoffs, with many startups pushed to outright bankruptcy — unable to service tax obligations, debt, and contractual commitments while revenues collapsed, and largely denied access to force majeure protections.
Iran’s saffron exporters, one of the country’s most strategically important agricultural industries, have lost contact with international buyers, with rival producers including Afghanistan reportedly registering Iranian saffron varieties under foreign branding in global commodity markets, a competitive loss that may prove difficult to reverse. Thousands of small and medium online businesses - including Instagram shops, educational services and creative studios - have faced severe income reduction or complete closure. The aggregate damage across both blackout waves, measured conservatively, now runs into the hundreds of trillions of tomans.
The institutional paralysis surrounding restoration is, in some ways, as troubling as the blackout itself. No single authority has taken responsibility for the decision to keep the internet cut. The First Vice President has publicly stated that the government opposes a tiered internet and supports digital equity. The Communications Ministry has repeatedly said the restrictions do not originate from its side. The presidential office has indicated that the president - as nominal head of the Supreme National Security Council - supports restoring international connectivity. And yet, 20 days after the ceasefire, the internet remains cut. As one Iranian technology publication put it, the situation resembles a bureaucratic labyrinth in which every office refers you to the next, and the signature that matters belongs to whoever is on leave that day. President Pezeshkian, who campaigned explicitly on rolling back internet filtering, has made no substantive public statement on the blackout, a silence that illuminates the effective limits of civilian authority over security-state decisions in ways that his campaign did not prepare voters for.
The government’s operational response has been “Internet Pro,” a tiered, permission-based access scheme approved by the Supreme National Security Council and officially framed as a temporary bridge for essential economic activity. In the absence of full restoration, some mechanism for keeping critical sectors connected is preferable to none, and the rollout to lawyers, medical professionals, Chamber of Commerce members, and technology sector managers reflects an attempt to prioritize economically essential users. However, Internet Pro is not new connectivity, it is the ordinary international internet that existed before the blackout, now rationed, gated behind state approval, and fully traceable via national ID and registered phone number.
Leaked documents suggest a seven-tier access hierarchy with state-aligned media at the top and ordinary citizens at the bottom. State-backed providers are offering 50-gigabyte annual packages at approximately 2 million tomans, a price that structurally excludes the small business owners, informal workers, and young entrepreneurs who have suffered most. The Nursing Organization publicly declined to participate. Reports describe a growing underground market for white-SIM internet access, meaning that in the absence of transparent, equitable policy, connectivity has effectively become a purchasable privilege rather than a civic right – precisely the outcome the government’s own officials claim to oppose.
Nothing justifies a 20-day continuation of near-total blackout after a ceasefire, with no timeline for restoration, no accountable decision-maker, and no policy beyond a commercially-distributed tiered system that institutionalizes unequal access. The gap between what security institutions judge necessary and what 92 million citizens need to run businesses, seek medical information, teach students, and try to reconnect with a world that has moved on without them, is now the defining unresolved question of Iran’s digital life. It is a question the government has so far answered with bureaucratic deflection, institutional silence, and a tiered commercial product that formalizes the very inequality its officials publicly deplore.