SARA POURKHAZARI

Kermanshah_  In the legal system of the Islamic Republic, a killer's punishment is not always determined on the basis of human equality. In some cases, if the victim is non-Muslim and the killer is Muslim, the right of retaliation (qisas) may be dropped from the killer or subjected to reductions in punishment that differ little from an acquittal. This issue raises fundamental questions about religious and gender discrimination, inequality before the law, and the value of human life under the Islamic Republic.

Religion Affects the Punishment

According to Islamic penal law, the implementation of qisas (retaliation in cases of homicide) requires, in certain cases, equality of religion between the killer and the victim. Therefore, if the victim is non-Muslim and the killer is Muslim, before the sentence is carried out, qisas may be dropped. In other cases, the religious identity of both parties affects the type and severity of punishment, and may even lead to the killer being exempted from qisas and from other penalties, including imprisonment or financial fines.

The Case of Mahboubeh Tavakoli: A Murder in Kermanshah

On May 23, 2024, Mahboubeh Tavakoli, a married woman in her mid-fifties and mother of several children, left her home in Kermanshah's Dishmishkan neighbourhood, as she often did, to run errands. She never returned. Her family searched for her in vain, before her body was discovered on the morning of May 26, bearing signs of ligature and blunt force trauma. According to the forensic report, she had been strangled with a scarf and struck on the head with a blunt object.

The main suspect was her husband, who confessed to the crime. But the story did not end with his arrest. Days later, he was released from prison, paid bail of 24 billion rials (approximately $48,000), and returned home — to the same house where he had killed his wife — to continue living with his children, who were still under his guardianship.

In a televised interview, Tavakoli's daughter recounted what had happened: "My mother left the house for 15 minutes to go to the bank. My father called her and told her to come back. She returned, and my father started arguing with her, accusing her. He beat her, strangled her with a scarf, and hit her head against the wall. When we went downstairs, we found my mother in a pool of blood."

Tavakoli's family has lived for more than a year in the shadow of this crime, waiting for justice. They describe their ordeal as one of neglect and injustice. The local authorities, instead of pursuing the case with due seriousness, initially treated the incident as a domestic dispute before reclassifying it as a murder. And the perpetrator, according to the family and human rights activists, was treated with leniency: released on bail, continuing to live among his children, while those demanding accountability remain trapped in a judicial labyrinth.

When Blood Money Is Not Equal: The Price of a Non-Muslim Woman's Life

The Tavakoli case is not unique. In the Islamic Republic's legal system, qisas for homicide is not guaranteed for all citizens. It is tied to religious identity. According to Article 301 of the Islamic Penal Code, "When a Muslim kills a non-Muslim, he is not subject to qisas," and can only be punished by payment of diya (blood money). The diya for a non-Muslim man is fixed at half the diya for a Muslim man, according to Article 553, with the discrepancy widening further for women. In cases where a Muslim kills a Christian, Jewish, or Zoroastrian woman, the killer pays blood money equivalent to one-tenth of the diya for a Muslim man.

These provisions reflect, according to human rights observers, institutionalized discrimination embedded in the legal code. They create a hierarchy in which the life of a Muslim man is valued above all others, and the lives of non-Muslim women occupy the lowest tier. The Iranian judiciary, bound by these laws, cannot but apply them. The result is what Fatemeh Tajrishi — a women's rights activist based in Kermanshah — describes as the "product of a discriminatory legal system that is not in pursuit of justice, but in pursuit of protecting privilege."

Between Law and Activism: The Struggle for Equality

For activists and lawyers working to reform Iran's penal code, the fight for equality before the law intersects with the fight against violence. Tajrishi points out that these inequalities are not marginal: "What has happened to Mahboubeh Tavakoli is a mirror reflecting the reality of millions of women and religious minorities in Iran. The law not only fails to protect them, but in fact participates in their victimization."

The legal framework that reduces the value of non-Muslim women's lives, and allows perpetrators of violence to walk free, does not exist in isolation. It is part of a broader system that enshrines religious and gender hierarchy. As noted by the UN Human Rights Council, Iran's legal system discriminates systematically against religious minorities and women — a point reiterated by the UN Fact-Finding Mission on Iran in its 2023 and 2025 reports.

International human rights bodies have repeatedly called on Iran to revise its discriminatory laws. In March 2025, the UN Human Rights Committee issued a report expressing concern over "legal provisions that provide for different levels of diya and qisas based on gender and religion." The Committee called on Iran to "ensure that all persons enjoy equal protection of the law, regardless of religion, and to abolish provisions that discriminate on the basis of gender or religious affiliation."

Judicial Obstacles and the Transformation of Women into Perpetual Victims

The discrimination against women of religious minorities extends beyond qisas and diya. It permeates all aspects of their interaction with the judiciary. Baha'i women, for example, are systematically prosecuted for their religious beliefs. Christian converts face arrest and imprisonment. Women who belong to unrecognized religious groups lack any legal standing in family courts.

Activists note that when a woman faces the law as a victim, perpetrator, or witness, her religious identity determines her legal standing. In cases of domestic violence, a non-Muslim wife has fewer legal protections. In cases involving custody after divorce, non-Muslim mothers are at a severe disadvantage. The legal system does not merely fail to uphold equality — it actively creates a system of vulnerability.

A Confession to Discrimination: The System's Own Admission

The official language of the Islamic Republic itself acknowledges this hierarchy. The law distinguishes between "Muslims" and "unbelievers," between those whose blood is sacred and those whose blood is not. The concept of "blood sanctity" (hurmat al-dam) is explicitly tied to faith. In practice, this means that the lives of non-Muslim women are deemed less worthy of legal protection, less worthy of justice, and less worthy of life itself.

The Tavakoli case demonstrates how these legal provisions translate into lived reality. A woman's murder becomes a crime whose punishment is negotiable — and when the perpetrator is a Muslim man and the victim a non-Muslim woman, the punishment is often reduced to the symbolic payment of money.

Only Three Years in Prison for the Killer of a Yarsani Woman

Masoumeh Th., a follower of the Yarsani faith in Kermashan, eastern Kurdistan, recounts the story of her sister's murder at the hands of her husband—a crime that took place two decades ago.

She said: "My sister was only 19 years old when her husband killed her by stabbing her with a knife, then turned himself in to the police. We believed his confession would make the path to justice clear, but everything changed in court. My sister's husband claimed that she had insulted the religious beliefs of her husband's family, that she had been in contact with people who worship Satan, and that he killed her in defense of religious sanctities."

In such cases, as she explains, the law does not practically support the person accused of insulting religious sanctities, and such a claim can completely change the course of the case in favor of the killer. "We are certain that my sister never said any such thing; he fabricated this story to evade responsibility for her murder and escape punishment."

She added: "We fought for months in the courts, but this complex legal and religious game obscured the truth. In the end, after all that struggle, my sister's husband served less than three years in prison, was released quickly, and shortly after, secretly left the country."

From Discrimination in Court to Compounded Pressures on Women

Shakila Q., a law student in Kermashan, explains: "The laws and regulations of the Islamic Republic have always drawn clear boundaries between people on the basis of their religion and beliefs. Although the law does not explicitly refer to this discrimination, religious minorities in reality are deprived of their most basic rights, and it is very easy to convict them in courts, even without sufficient evidence."

As she points out, it is enough that the other party in court is a Muslim; in such circumstances, "the entire litigation process proceeds as if belonging to a minority is in itself a crime, and the non‑Muslim finds themselves in a weak position from the start."

In such circumstances, the court, instead of being a neutral institution, can be influenced by religious identity and gender. From this perspective, religious minorities face structural vulnerability, while being a woman compounds and complicates these pressures.

Two Levels of Discrimination

Over the past years, many women belonging to religious minorities in Iran—including Bahá'ís, Yarsanis, and others—have faced arrest, imprisonment, and harsh sentences.

In this process, two important factors—being women and holding different religious beliefs—played a decisive role. These factors were not only influential but directly cast their shadow over court outcomes and the severity of penalties.

In recent days, Farank Zabihi, a Bahá'í citizen, was sentenced to two years in prison on charges including "propaganda against the system through the promotion of the Bahá'í faith."

When Religious Discrimination Reaches the Workplace

Fahimeh N., a Yarsani woman, recounts her experience: "After three months of work, when I demanded my wages from my employer and received no response, I said I would file a lawsuit against him. But everything in court turned in his favor. My employer claimed he had fired me because I attempted to promote the Yarsani faith, and this claim alone was enough for the court to rule in his favor."

This account is only one example of the bitter reality in society—a reality that shows how the laws of the Islamic Republic pressure minorities based on official religious beliefs, while being a woman becomes an additional factor that intensifies this pressure.

In such circumstances, women belonging to religious minorities face not only religious discrimination but also gender‑based discrimination—a combination that places them in a double and vulnerable position.

These narratives reveal a clear picture of the discriminatory structure of Iran's legal and social system—a system that marginalizes women belonging to religious minorities through the use of law, official beliefs, and the patriarchal gaze.