Why Iranians Are Cheering Bombs Falling on Their Own Country

When Hamid heard that Iran's Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei had died a week ago, he took his wife and daughter into the streets of Tehran to celebrate. For days afterward, his family climbed onto their roof to watch US and Israeli airstrikes, cheering every time a regime target was hit.

"Try to find anywhere else on this earth where the population would be happy with an external attack on their country," he told the BBC through a cousin in the UK. "But we now have hope that the regime will soon be gone."

Hamid isn't alone in this startling sentiment.

A Nation Divided Against Itself

Through BBC Persian's network - used by 24 million people worldwide despite being blocked by Iranian authorities - a remarkable picture emerges. In a police state under bombardment, significant portions of Iran's 90 million citizens are supporting the foreign powers bombing their homeland over their own government.

The regime's grip remains tight. Residents receive warnings: "If your connection to the internet continues in the coming days, your line will be blocked and you will be referred to judicial authorities." Yet anonymized voices reveal a population so desperate after 47 years of the Islamic Republic that war feels like their only path to freedom.

One woman captured the complexity: "We laugh and are happy when the regime is hit, but when children die and our infrastructure is destroyed, we worry about the future of our country."

The Skeptics Speak Up

Not all Iranians share this view. Ali, speaking to BBC Persian, argued that "the goal of this war isn't to bring about freedom or democracy for the Iranian people. It's for the geopolitical benefit of Israel, the US and Arab countries in the region."

Mohammad, in his 30s and living in Tehran, had hoped for a diplomatic solution. Though he expected to feel joy at Khamenei's death, he "felt nothing" when it happened. Now he's filled with uncertainty, afraid of regime checkpoints on the ground and bombardments from the sky.

Saeed was blunt: "Trump's government – from top to bottom – they're all lying. They had no reason to attack Iran. Other than Israel wanted them to."

The Human Cost Mounts

The euphoria is giving way to grimmer realities. According to the Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA), more than 1,000 civilians have been killed, including nearly 200 children. The deadliest single attack hit an elementary school in Minab on February 28.

Saman from Isfahan personally knew six people gunned down during January's uprising. Now two of his relatives have died in Tehran airstrikes. "I never imagined in my worst dreams that we would become this war-stricken," he said, describing body parts scattered around bombing sites.

In a country with no bomb shelters or warning sirens, civilians remain defensively helpless.

Exile's Dilemma

The millions of Iranians living abroad face their own contradictions. One exile in the UK messaged the BBC: "I hate wars, I don't want a single innocent human being killed or harmed no matter which side they are on, but I'm jumping for joy at the news of the attacks this morning."

"I know, it's contradictory and mad but it's the truth. The thought that the dream of freedom from the murderous Ayatollahs might finally be turning into a reality is making me giddy with joy."

By week's end, when asked to help reconnect with Hamid inside Iran, she couldn't get through. "Please don't judge me," she said, "but I think the strikes must continue. They have to finish the job."

Shifting Sentiments

As the war drags on, initial celebrations are morphing into exhaustion and fear. A young woman in Tehran who was "over the moon" when the supreme leader was killed told BBC Persian six days later: "I'm neither happy nor sad now - just tired."

The regime still has supporters, but their voices are notably absent from the testimonies collected by BBC Persian. What emerges instead is a population psychologically fractured by decades of oppression, torn between desperate hope and growing terror.