In Tehran, the landscape of war is no longer confined to distant frontlines or official broadcasts. It has been brought into the streets, plastered across highways, public squares, and residential districts in the form of vast propaganda campaigns that blend traditional political messaging with new artificial intelligence-generated imagery. Residents describe a city transformed into a visual battleground, where loyalty to the Islamic Republic is reinforced through omnipresent portraits of leadership, militant symbolism, and emotionally charged scenes of sacrifice and resistance.
Much of the imagery now dominating the capital features the face of Mojtaba Khamenei, widely portrayed in state materials as the successor to Iran’s supreme leadership. Alongside him, depictions of the late Ayatollah Ali Khamenei continue to saturate public spaces, often presented in stylised or digitally generated forms that residents say feel increasingly artificial. One Tehran resident, Sohrab, a 35-year-old restaurant manager, described the transformation as an assault on everyday life, saying the city has been “made ugly” by constant ideological imagery. He said the propaganda surrounding him evokes anger and resentment, reflecting a growing emotional divide between official messaging and public sentiment.
Others in Tehran echo similar frustration, describing a city where every major intersection appears covered in slogans, murals, and billboards projecting state narratives of strength and victory. Mina, a 32-year-old social worker, said the visual environment has become overwhelmingly militarised, with constant references to resistance and triumph over foreign enemies. According to residents and observers, this intensified campaign has accelerated in recent weeks, with frequent installation of new billboards, many of which appear to be generated or enhanced using artificial intelligence.
The content of these displays ranges from symbolic military scenes to highly emotional imagery involving civilian suffering. One widely circulated example shows children killed in a reported strike on a school in southern Iran, framed within a narrative of martyrdom and national sacrifice. Another image portrays Ali Khamenei surrounded by young girls, accompanied by text describing him in quasi-religious terms. Critics inside the country, however, argue that such imagery instrumentalises grief for political purposes. Afsaan, a 38-year-old content editor in Tehran, described the public reaction as one of collective sorrow mixed with anger, saying that the deaths of children are being “exploited” within official narratives.
At the same time, the state’s visual language extends beyond mourning into overt displays of military dominance. Massive banners in central Tehran depict strategic waterways such as the Strait of Hormuz, accompanied by slogans asserting control over key maritime routes. In some installations, historical figures associated with resistance to foreign influence are placed alongside contemporary military commanders, creating a visual continuum between past and present struggles. One such banner shows Iranian Revolutionary Guard figures symbolically trapping American aircraft and naval vessels, reinforcing the message of deterrence and defiance.
According to reporting cited by The Sunday Times, these campaigns are coordinated through semi-official cultural organisations linked to the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, including groups operating under the umbrella of the so-called House of Islamic Revolution Designers. Analysts say these bodies play a central role in producing the visual identity of the state’s messaging strategy, particularly during moments of political tension or conflict escalation. Their work reportedly integrates artists, designers, and increasingly, professionals trained in digital production and artificial intelligence.
The rapid expansion of this system reflects a broader shift in how the Iranian state approaches information warfare. Experts describe a long-term investment in cultural infrastructure designed to reinforce ideological narratives through film, media, music, and now AI-driven visual content. Omid Memarian, an Iran analyst at a Washington-based think tank, said the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps has systematically developed its influence across cultural sectors over the past two decades, turning modern communication tools into instruments of state messaging. He noted that artificial intelligence represents a new frontier in this effort, allowing for faster and more sophisticated production of propaganda materials.
Residents describe how this messaging extends far beyond static images. In Tehran’s streets, state-aligned groups organise public gatherings, distribute food and tea in temporary hospitality tents, and stage symbolic displays of unity involving flags, chants, and choreographed participation. Somayeh, a public relations specialist, said such activities are highly visible near checkpoints and central squares, creating an atmosphere of constant mobilisation. She and others suggest that even subtle details, such as the presence of women without headscarves in certain staged events, are carefully used to project an image of social cohesion and broad-based support.
Yet beneath the surface of these displays, reports from human rights organisations indicate a parallel reality of intensified repression. According to Kurdish rights monitors, multiple political prisoners have been executed since the escalation of conflict, with further death sentences issued to individuals accused of collaboration with hostile foreign powers. Activists argue that these developments highlight a widening gap between the regime’s projected image of unity and the underlying climate of fear and punishment.
At the same time, public displays of regime support continue in parts of the city. Nightly rallies feature chants against ceasefire proposals and calls for continued resistance. Loudspeakers mounted on vehicles broadcast patriotic songs and anti-American slogans through residential neighbourhoods late into the night. For some residents, these sounds evoke painful historical memories, particularly references to earlier wars and military mobilisation campaigns.
Afsaan described hearing wartime music from the Iran-Iraq conflict echoing through her neighbourhood, a sound she associated with mobilisation and loss. Yet even as it triggered emotional distress, she acknowledged a stark hierarchy of fear, saying that the noise of propaganda was still preferable to the sound of airstrikes or fighter jets.
Across Tehran, the cumulative effect of these strategies is the construction of a city saturated with meaning, where walls, screens, and public spaces function as instruments of political narrative. Artificial intelligence-generated imagery, traditional murals, and mass public mobilisation all converge into a single visual system designed to assert control, reinforce legitimacy, and define national identity in terms of resistance.
Observers say the speed and scale of this transformation reflect both technological adaptation and political urgency. As the Islamic Republic faces external pressure and internal discontent, its messaging apparatus appears increasingly focused on shaping perception through saturation rather than persuasion. In this environment, propaganda is not simply communication but infrastructure, embedded into the physical and emotional fabric of daily life.
For residents of Tehran, the result is a city where the boundaries between reality and representation have become increasingly blurred. What was once occasional political messaging has evolved into a continuous visual presence, one that defines not only how the state sees itself, but how it demands to be seen.