A recent bus accident in Afghanistan claimed 79 lives, including 17 children. Most of the victims were Afghan migrants deported from Iran.
Exhausted, fearful, and forcibly forced out, their tragic deaths reopened debates about the fate of Afghan refugees in Iran. But this time, the issue is no longer just humanitarian. In the wake of the Israel–Iran war, Tehran has begun to see Afghans not just as an “economic burden” but also as a potential “security threat.”
Iranian media and security agencies reported that at least five Afghans were arrested on charges of spying for Israel after the 12-day war. The confessions, reportedly forced, fueled public anger against Afghans and were used to justify the regime’s harsh deportations.
Today, the story of Afghans in Iran is no longer only about migration and poverty; it is also about becoming targets of wartime paranoia.
Since the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, millions of Afghans have sought refuge in Iran. Some are registered, but the majority live undocumented, working for low wages in construction, agriculture, and other day-labour sectors. Official rhetoric often described them as “guests,” yet in practice, they never enjoyed equal rights.
For decades, undocumented Afghan children faced major kept out of schools. Only after a 2015 decree were all Afghan children, regardless of legal status, allowed into public schools, leading to tens of thousands finally entering classrooms.
Healthcare access, however, remained restricted. Only those with official Amayesh or Hoviat cards could access limited medical services. For many years, Afghans became Iran’s invisible workforce — doing the hardest jobs Iranians avoided. Yet in times of crisis, they were scapegoated. Today, after Israeli attacks, a few cases of alleged spying have been generalised to blame the entire Afghan community.
Since late 2023, Iran has intensified mass deportations of Afghan migrants. In 2025 alone, 1.1 million Afghans have been expelled; 250,000 in the last month alone. Shockingly, about a quarter of those deported are children. Reports have emerged of deaths during border crossings, mistreatment, and even of officials tearing up Afghans’ papers before being forced across the border.
The recent bus accident stands as the clearest symbol of this tragedy. Families crammed into buses, deported en masse, perished on the road.
This was not just a traffic accident but the human cost of policies driven by security fears — and a reflection of how Afghan refugees’ lives have long been devalued.
Following the Israel–Iran war, Tehran accused some Afghans of collaborating with Israeli and US intelligence. These individuals were said to have gathered information on military sites, monitored supply lines, and participated in sabotage.
It is difficult to dismiss such cases entirely. In wartime conditions, impoverished and undocumented people are indeed vulnerable to recruitment by intelligence networks. Yet the core issue lies elsewhere: the millions being treated with collective suspicion. Instead of treating such cases individually, the Iranian state has projected them onto the entire Afghan refugee population.
As a result, millions are now perceived not only as potential workers but also as potential traitors. This framing legitimises collective deportation.
For Tehran, deporting Afghans is not only a matter of external security but also a tool for domestic politics. During wartime, regimes mobilise society by targeting both external enemies and internal “suspect groups.” Afghan refugees, marginalised and voiceless, became the easiest target.
Labelling them as an “economic burden” diverts public frustration over Iran’s economic crisis away from the regime. Branding them as a “security threat” reinforces the image of a strong state. Deportations thus serve both as a release valve for domestic anger and as a symbolic act of “clearing the home front” in times of war.
The war, deepened by Israel’s strikes and US regional backing, has pushed Iran further down a securitised path. The first casualties of this shift have been Afghan refugees. Their suffering now extends beyond poverty and discrimination: they are also victims of war psychology.
This raises fundamental questions: Are Afghans truly a collective threat to Iran, or merely “suspect” by association? Can the alleged actions of a few justify the mass expulsion of an entire community?
The experience of Afghans in Iran reminds us that war is never confined to battlefields. The strategies debated at diplomatic tables, the power plays between Tehran and Tel Aviv, ultimately touch the lives of the most vulnerable.
The 79 Afghans who died in that bus crash are not just victims of an accident. They are symbols of the human cost of Iran’s security policies. Mass deportations do not enhance security; instead, they channel fear and anger onto the weakest.
Today, Afghans in Iran are not only victims of poverty, but also of security paranoia — silent casualties of a war they did not choose.
Mazlum Özkan is a PhD candidate in Sociology at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands, affiliated with the SCOOP program and the Interuniversity Center for Social Science Theory and Methodology (ICS). His research focuses on social movements, repression, and politics in the Middle East, with broader interests in regional security and great power politics.
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