An Iranian criminal court has sentenced the singer Parastoo Ahmadi and eight fellow musicians to 74 lashes each, a two-year travel ban, and a two-year prohibition on all artistic activity, in a ruling that underscores the Islamic Republic’s intensifying crackdown on creative expression. The verdict, issued by a court in the religious centre of Qom and seen by multiple Persian-language outlets, found the nine defendants guilty of “wounding public modesty” by producing and disseminating content described as “vulgar and contrary to ethics” in the digital sphere. The sentences, which are open to appeal, also require the judgment to be published in national media — a measure widely interpreted as a deterrent spectacle.

Viewed from Tehran, the case represents the latest application of broadly worded morality clauses in Iran’s penal code, specifically Article 638 on offences against public decency and Article 743 concerning cybercrimes. The charges stem from a virtual concert titled “Caravanserai,” released on Ahmadi’s YouTube channel in December 2024. The performance, filmed at the historic Deyr-e Gachin caravanserai, featured the singer without a headscarf — a direct challenge to the compulsory hijab laws that have become a flashpoint since the 2022 “Woman, Life, Freedom” protests. The court’s language, echoed across state-aligned and independent outlets, frames the production as an act of “de-sanctification” and a violation of Islamic norms, a charge that analysts in London note has been deployed with increasing frequency against artists, activists, and journalists.

From the diaspora, the verdict has drawn sharp condemnation. Prominent Iranian rights campaigner Masih Alinejad, herself a target of Tehran’s transnational repression efforts, described the punishment as “medieval” and a transparent act of revenge against a woman’s voice. Her remarks, reported by Iran International, reflect a broader view among exiled opposition figures that the ruling is less about legal principle than about sending a message to a restive society: that even virtual spaces will not escape the regime’s enforcement of its gender ideology. The eight co-defendants — including instrumentalists Soheil Faghih-Nasiri, Amirali Pirnia, and others — face identical penalties, a collective punishment that legal observers say is designed to dismantle informal artistic networks.

Western governments and human rights organisations have long criticised Iran’s use of vague public-morality statutes to suppress dissent, but the flogging sentence adds a physical dimension that analysts in Washington see as a deliberate escalation. The ruling arrives amid a broader domestic tightening, even as Tehran signals openness to nuclear diplomacy with the Trump administration. This juxtaposition — negotiating with the West while meting out corporal punishment to artists — illustrates the regime’s dual strategy of seeking external legitimacy while enforcing internal conformity. The Qom court’s insistence on publishing the verdict in mass media suggests an intent to amplify the chilling effect, reminding Iran’s cultural producers that the state’s reach extends from the street to the screen.

For Iran’s civil society, the sentence is likely to deepen the climate of fear but also galvanise transnational solidarity networks that have helped circumvent domestic restrictions. The “Caravaniserai” concert itself was a product of such circumvention, released on a foreign platform beyond the state’s immediate censorship apparatus. Yet the ruling demonstrates that the judiciary will pursue retroactive punishment, targeting not only the act of performance but the digital afterlife of artistic work. As appeals are prepared, the case will test whether Iran’s legal system can offer any meaningful remedy or whether the verdict stands as a definitive warning to a generation of artists navigating the narrowing space between defiance and survival.