Protests in Urmia highlight growing unrest among Iran’s Azerbaijani Turks over ethnic discrimination, environmental neglect, and the regime’s divisive identity politics.

Recent protests in the northwestern Iranian city of Urmia, led by local Azerbaijani Turks, have cast a harsh spotlight on the Islamic Republic’s treatment of ethnic minorities. The demonstrations erupted in response to what was perceived as an orchestrated provocation: a Nowruz celebration on March 18, during which Kurdish nationalists chanted slogans such as “Urmia is Kurdish” and “Kurdistan”—claims that directly challenged the city’s Azerbaijani Turkic identity. The Azerbaijani response was swift and resolute, with residents flooding the streets in defiance of what they viewed as a deliberate attempt to undermine their cultural presence.

Urmia, located in Iran’s West Azerbaijan Province, is predominantly inhabited by Iranian Azerbaijani Turks, with Kurdish, Assyrian, and Armenian minorities comprising the rest. According to Azerbaijani activists, authorities denied their community a permit to hold their own Nowruz celebration, while permitting the Kurdish gathering to proceed unchecked—even as nationalist slogans were openly aired. To many, this disparity signaled tacit approval from the state, perceived as part of a broader strategy to pit ethnic communities against one another. Local Azerbaijani activists contend that Tehran is actively pursuing a “Kurdification” policy in Urmia—an effort, they argue, that forms part of a demographic engineering scheme to dilute Azerbaijani influence by promoting Kurdish claims to the city.

Compounding the sense of betrayal is the silence of Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian, once considered a reformist and a proponent of ethnic rights. Pezeshkian, himself of Azerbaijani descent, is now accused of abandoning the very communities he vowed to support. For many, his failure to intervene reinforces the perception that promises of reform under the Islamic Republic amount to little more than political theater.

The recent unrest did not emerge in a vacuum. It comes amid broader dissatisfaction in Urmia over environmental degradation, economic stagnation, and political neglect. One of the most glaring environmental catastrophes is the dramatic desiccation of Lake Urmia. Once among the world’s largest saltwater lakes, Lake Urmia has shrunk by 95 percent over the past two decades—an ecological crisis that has devastated the local fishing industry and destroyed fragile ecosystems. The Iranian government blames the phenomenon on climate change and even foreign plots, but researchers and local communities overwhelmingly point to domestic mismanagement.

At the heart of the crisis lies the regime’s aggressive dam-building policy. Authorities have constructed 35 dams on the 21 rivers that feed Lake Urmia and as many as 74 dams across the broader lake basin. Experts warn that if the lake disappears entirely, up to four million residents of Iran’s East and West Azerbaijan provinces may be forced to relocate due to toxic salt storms and soil salinity that would render large swaths of land uninhabitable.

Azerbaijani Turks, who comprise the majority population around the lake, have sounded the alarm for years, often at great personal risk. Environmental protests have frequently resulted in arrests, with demonstrators charged under sweeping national security laws. Even peaceful advocacy can lead to prison sentences. The regime’s repression of Azerbaijani voices—particularly those critical of environmental policies—has deepened local mistrust and reinforced grievances over political disenfranchisement.

For the Azerbaijani population, the disappearance of the lake is both an ecological and existential threat. Beyond decimating the fishing industry, it has rendered increasing amounts of farmland infertile due to soil salinity, directly undermining agricultural livelihoods. The collapse of local tourism has further contributed to the economic malaise. The confluence of environmental destruction and ethnic marginalization has fueled growing political anger, with many Azerbaijanis demanding not only environmental reform but also cultural and national rights.

Accusations that the central government is siphoning water resources away from Azerbaijani regions to benefit Persian-majority provinces have only exacerbated tensions. Despite comprising a significant proportion of the country—by some estimates, around 24 percent of Iran’s population—Azerbaijani Turks have long been denied equal cultural, linguistic, and economic rights. The Islamic Republic’s policies, critics argue, constitute a multifaceted campaign of marginalization.

These policies manifest in myriad forms. The Iranian state continues to prohibit Azerbaijani Turks from receiving education in their mother tongue, despite Article 15 of the Iranian Constitution, which ostensibly grants non-Persian ethnic groups the right to use their languages in schools and media. In practice, the article remains dormant. Independent schools and language institutions are prohibited from offering instruction in languages other than Persian. In 2006, the publication of a state-sponsored cartoon that mocked the Azerbaijani Turkic language ignited widespread protests. The episode marked a cultural flashpoint, laying bare the depth of resentment over linguistic erasure and cultural stereotyping.

The regime’s restrictions even extend to personal naming practices. Azerbaijani families face bureaucratic obstacles when attempting to give their children Turkic names. These policies are part of an assimilationist agenda designed to enforce Persian linguistic and cultural supremacy. By denying birth certificates and legal recognition of non-Persian names, Tehran aims to chip away at ethnic identity through administrative fiat.

Azerbaijani Turks have increasingly turned to symbolic resistance to assert their identity and highlight ongoing discrimination. Nowhere is this more visible than at matches of the Tabriz-based football club Tractor, where fans routinely chant in protest against state policies and wave banners referencing the environmental devastation of Lake Urmia. Football stadiums have become arenas for political expression, spaces where cultural pride and collective anger converge.

Tensions flared again in 2020 during the Second Karabakh War between Armenia and the Republic of Azerbaijan. As conflict broke out, Azerbaijani Turks across Iran staged protests against what they saw as the Islamic Republic’s implicit support for Armenia. Demonstrations erupted in multiple cities and were met with harsh crackdowns. Hundreds were arrested, many accused of crimes such as “insulting the Supreme Leader,” “instigating unrest,” and “endangering public order.”

The Urmia protests are thus emblematic of deeper, festering discontent within Iran’s Azerbaijani community. They reveal a calculated regime strategy of divide and rule—one that seeks to prevent solidarity among Iran’s diverse ethnic groups. Tehran’s suspected ties with Kurdish militant organizations such as the PKK further complicate the regional dynamics, raising questions about state complicity in fomenting interethnic discord.

Ultimately, the Azerbaijani Turks remain a vital, yet persistently marginalized, segment of Iran’s multiethnic society. Their grievances—rooted in environmental, cultural, political, and economic injustice—cannot be ignored indefinitely. Any meaningful transformation in Iran’s future must include, rather than suppress, their voices. Until then, the unrest in Urmia stands as a stark indictment of a system that has long failed to reconcile the promises of the state with the realities of its people.