Another young Iranian wrestler is gone, another life extinguished by a brutal regime. The International Olympic Committee’s response, however, remained chillingly familiar – a recitation of helplessness, a claim that they cannot interfere with the laws of sovereign nations.
But this isn’t about changing Iran’s laws. It’s about upholding the fundamental principles of the Olympic movement, the very rules the IOC itself established. Iranian athletes aren’t asking for political intervention; they’re demanding accountability within the framework of a system they willingly joined.
The IOC’s insistence on “verifying” these executions feels particularly callous. It lends a dangerous legitimacy to the narratives spun by a government that systematically silences dissent through violence, effectively giving a platform to the executioners of a 19-year-old athlete.
The request is simple, starkly so. If the IOC is unable or unwilling to enforce its own rules, to protect its athletes from state-sponsored violence, it should state that fact plainly and publicly. Carefully worded statements offer no solace, no protection, and no justice.
The questions are direct, demanding a simple yes or no. Does denying 45 million Iranian women access to sports violate the principle of gender equality? Does forcing athletes to boycott Israeli competitors for decades breach Olympic rules? Do arrest, torture, and execution of athletes align with the Olympic Charter?
The head of Iran’s National Olympic Committee isn’t an independent advocate for sport. He’s deeply entwined with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, a designated terrorist organization, and served as a personal bodyguard to the Supreme Leader. How can the Olympic Charter be upheld when its representatives are complicit in oppression?
How many more athletes must die, how many more dreams must be shattered, before the IOC finds its voice? The silence is deafening, a betrayal of the ideals it claims to champion.
This isn’t an abstract debate. It’s a personal tragedy. I, myself, was banned from competition, barred from even entering a wrestling hall. My brother, Saman, a fellow national team wrestler, was arrested, tortured, and left with a devastating brain injury.
As a child, I believed the IOC was a sanctuary for athletes, a place where humanity and sportsmanship prevailed. That belief has been eroded by a harsh reality: a system prioritizing political relationships over the safety and well-being of those it’s meant to protect.
Symbolic gestures – appointing a few Iranian athletes, offering token positions, or including some in refugee teams – are insufficient. They are a distraction from the IOC’s core responsibility: to safeguard its members and uphold its own standards.
The IOC’s mission isn’t to topple governments, but for Iranian athletes, its inaction has become a form of complicity. Its silence has enabled the regime, allowing it to continue its abuses without fear of consequence.
Since the execution of Navid Afkari in 2020, the situation has only worsened. Athletes are imprisoned, tortured, killed in the streets, or executed. The IOC’s “quiet diplomacy” has failed to protect them; it has emboldened their oppressors.
Once athletes themselves, those now leading the IOC seem to speak the language of politicians, prioritizing diplomacy over principle. This silence is not merely disappointing; it’s deadly. For athletes like Saleh Mohammadi, it’s tragically, irrevocably too late.
