We are never meant to run: Disabled Iranians' voices during war

Imagine hearing bombs and explosions nearby and knowing there is no safe place your body can reach. Imagine hearing the commotion – fire trucks and ambulances – and realising that people are escaping, and knowing you cannot escape. For many disabled people in Iran, leaving their homes is not even an option. They remain in buildings that may not survive the next explosion. This is the reality that many disabled Iranians are living right now.

I am Solmaz Nazari Orakani, an Iranian-born disability advocate who’s called Aotearoa home for 12 years. In the next few paragraphs, I have tried to be a voice for disabled people in Iran and share their experience of living in a war.

For many people, sirens are part of the war experience. When the sirens go off, people grab their children, their bags, their documents and rush down staircases and into basements or shelters. Occasionally – and if there is enough notice – cars fill the streets as families try to escape.

While many Iranians remember the Iran-Iraq war of 1980 to 1988, it was significantly different from the current war. The majority of the eight-year war was fought at the border, with occasional air strikes in several cities towards the end of the war. The current war, however, has seen over 7000 targets attacked across 29 of Iran’s 31 provinces. There are no sirens when bombs and missiles are falling, and nowhere seems to be safe.

Iran has always been inaccessible for disabled people and war turns inaccessibility into immediate danger. Debris makes navigation challenging for wheelchair-users. Some cannot see the rubble in the streets. Some cannot hear the warnings. Some rely on medical equipment that stops working when electricity is cut. When the bombs fall, the world becomes even more inaccessible than it already was. A staircase becomes a prison. A broken sidewalk becomes an impossible barrier. Hospitals that many disabled people depend on are overwhelmed or damaged. Medication becomes harder to find. Transportation becomes dangerous or impossible.

Disabled people are part of society; we are teachers, students, artists, engineers, parents and activists. But during war, disabled people’s lives are often forgotten. So, I am speaking now because silence is dangerous. I want the world to understand that civilians are not all affected in the same way. Disabled people face barriers that make survival even harder.

Now that civilians in Iran are facing violence, fear and uncertainty, and educational and medical centres, streets, residential homes and recreational and sports venues are attacked, disabled people are once again among those most at risk. For instance, on March 10, air strikes in Alborz Province heavily damaged a residential facility that housed 80 children (under 14) with learning disabilities. All children had to be transferred to other centres. On March 12, a specialist hospital for disabled people in Ahvaz was damaged due to an airstrike on the nearby buildings. According to the State Welfare Organisation of Iran (the government agency in charge of disability support services), so far, 30,000 households with disabled people have been directly impacted, 41 homes have been completely destroyed and 915 homes have sustained damage, with the extent of the damage ranging from 5% to 50%. Two disabled people in State care have died in Ilam Province in western Iran.

Many disabled children in Iran live in specialised care centres because their needs are complex. Some require constant medical attention. Some depend on feeding tubes, oxygen support or regular therapy. Others have significant physical or learning disabilities that require trained support workers and equipment that families simply cannot provide at home. These facilities were created because families often do not have the resources to meet these needs alone.

Now, as the war strains the country’s healthcare and welfare systems, the government is struggling to maintain these centres. Staff shortages, limited medical supplies, damaged infrastructure and financial pressures are making it difficult to continue providing care; support services for disabled people are falling apart. The system supporting disabled people in Iran was already struggling before the war began. Many disabled people live in poverty. Government financial assistance is often too small to cover basic needs. Access to rehabilitation services, therapy or mobility equipment is limited for many families. Despite the legislation and commitment to protect the rights of disabled people, inflation and economic pressure have depleted resources to invest in social programmes. When bombs are falling and cities are under threat, social programs often receive less attention. Services that disabled people rely on — such as rehabilitation, disability benefits and assistive devices — become harder to maintain.

With the Iranian Government’s inability to continue residential services, 17,000 disabled people have been sent back to live with their families until further notice. But the reality is far more complicated; many of these families are already struggling to survive. They are facing rising costs, shortages of medication, unstable electricity and the constant fear of airstrikes. Some live in small apartments that are not accessible. Some parents must work long hours simply to keep food on the table. Parents are not refusing their children. They love them deeply. But love alone cannot replace medical equipment, trained caregivers or therapy services. There has also been a call from the State Welfare Organisation of Iran for the temporary adoption of disabled children and orphans until the relevant authorities are able to home these children again.

Perhaps the hardest reality is that disabled Iranians are often invisible in emergency planning. Even in rare cases where there are emergency plans, disabled people are omitted and left behind.

Disabled people in Iran have shown incredible resilience. There is a collective sense of responsibility and duty that requires people to support and care for others, and to share resources when official systems fail. War reveals the true strength of a society, not only in its weapons or its strategy, but in how it protects its most vulnerable people.

War not only destroys buildings, but it also disrupts the systems that protect those who cannot protect themselves. Care centres, hospitals, therapy services and support programs are not luxuries. For many disabled people, they are lifelines. When these systems begin to collapse under the pressure of war, families are forced to carry the weight alone.

Disabled people deserve safety, stability and care, especially in times of crisis. Our lives should not become another casualty of war. The world often measures war in numbers: casualties, damaged buildings, military losses. But the true cost of war can also be seen in moments like this: a parent standing in a care facility, being told they must take their disabled child to an unprepared home because the system that once helped them survive can no longer hold. And in that moment, the question every parent asks is the same: How do we protect our children when the systems meant to protect them are breaking down?

What is going on for disabled people in Iran might be difficult for us to imagine. However, we can assist them by amplifying their voices and demanding that all parties respect human dignity, values and rights.

If you are in a position to help, you can show your support through UNICEF and Red Cross and Red Crescent.