Keeping her in that prison is like a death sentence
In a prison in northwestern Iran, Nobel Peace Prize laureate Narges Mohammadi — jailed for the quiet courage of speaking truth — now faces a medical crisis that her family and doctors describe as life-threatening. At fifty-four, after more than a decade of imprisonment, hunger strikes, and solitary confinement, her heart is faltering: a suspected heart attack, dangerous blood pressure swings, and nearly twenty kilograms of weight lost in weeks. The Iranian authorities have denied her request for medical leave, and the specialists who know her case are unambiguous — the prison cannot save her. What began as the silencing of a voice has become, her family warns, the slow extinguishing of a life.
- Mohammadi collapsed unconscious in her cell last month in what doctors believe was a heart attack, and her blood pressure remains dangerously unstable despite medication.
- Cardiologists are explicit: the prison in Zanjan lacks the equipment and expertise her complex cardiac history demands, and the stress of confinement is itself accelerating the danger.
- Her lawyers have formally requested a one-month medical suspension for treatment in Tehran — a request the authorities have flatly refused.
- Her brother in Oslo calls the continued detention 'like a death sentence'; her daughter in Paris describes a body worn down by a decade of imprisonment, hunger strikes, and now daily chest pain.
- Her family and foundation are appealing urgently to the world, asking for international pressure to secure her release before her condition becomes irreversible.
Narges Mohammadi is fifty-four years old and imprisoned in Zanjan central prison in northwestern Iran. Last month she suffered what doctors believe was a heart attack, collapsing unconscious in her cell. Her blood pressure has been swinging dangerously, unresponsive to medication, and she has lost nearly twenty kilograms in a matter of weeks. Her family says they are terrified she will die there.
Mohammadi won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2023 while already behind bars. After a brief release in 2024 for health reasons, she was arrested again in December 2025 at a memorial service for a fellow activist. Now her lawyers are pleading for a one-month medical suspension so she can receive proper care — a request that has been denied. Cardiologists who know her case have told her family plainly: she needs specialized treatment in Tehran. The prison cannot provide it, and the stress of confinement is itself a threat to her life.
Her brother Hamidreza, speaking from Oslo, called her continued imprisonment under these conditions 'like a death sentence.' Her daughter Kiana, in Paris, described a body that has simply worn out — a heart already supported by a stent, now enduring daily headaches, chest pain, and high blood pressure, while authorities deny her the care she needs.
Mohammadi's accumulated sentences total forty-four years. She has already served more than ten, including one hundred sixty-one days in solitary confinement. Her charges — collusion against state security, propaganda against the government — are the legal architecture built around the act of speaking: supporting the Woman, Life, Freedom protests, advocating for women's rights, and campaigning against the death penalty.
Her daughter said she still holds hope, because her mother always told her to. As of their last conversation with the Guardian, Mohammadi had been imprisoned in this latest arrest for one hundred thirty-eight days. Kiana asked the world not to stay silent — to push for the day when her mother and all political prisoners come home. The question, she left unspoken, is whether her mother's heart will hold until that day arrives.
Narges Mohammadi is fifty-four years old and imprisoned in Zanjan central prison in northwestern Iran. Last month, she suffered what doctors believe was a heart attack. She collapsed unconscious in her cell. Her blood pressure has been swinging dangerously for days, unresponsive to medication. She has lost nearly twenty kilograms—forty-four pounds—in a matter of weeks. Her family says they are terrified she will die in that cell.
Mohammadi won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2023 while already behind bars. She was released briefly in 2024 for health reasons, but in December 2025, during a memorial service for another human rights activist, she was arrested again. Now she sits in Zanjan, where her lawyers have been pleading with authorities for a one-month medical suspension so she can receive proper treatment. The request has been denied.
Cardiology specialists who know her case have been explicit with her family: she needs urgent, specialized care. Her medical history is complex—she has had multiple angioplasties, and any future surgery must be performed by her own doctors in a fully equipped hospital in Tehran. The prison in Zanjan does not have those capabilities. The stress of confinement, the specialists say, is itself a threat to her life. Her medications cannot even be safely adjusted without her full medical team present.
Hamidreza Mohammadi, her brother, lives in Oslo. He told the world that keeping his sister in that prison under those conditions is "like a death sentence." Her daughter Kiana, based in Paris, described a body that has simply worn out. After more than a decade in prison and multiple hunger strikes, her mother's heart is struggling. She already has a stent from previous surgery. Now she endures daily headaches, high blood pressure, constant chest pain. The authorities, Kiana said, are cruelly denying her the medical care she desperately needs.
Mohammadi's accumulated sentences total forty-four years. She has already served more than ten years. She spent one hundred sixty-one days in solitary confinement. She faces at least eighteen more years of imprisonment and one hundred fifty-four lashes. Her charges include collusion against state security and propaganda against the government. Her actual crime was speaking. She supported the Woman, Life, Freedom protests that erupted after Mahsa Amini's death in 2022. She has campaigned for women's rights, the abolition of the death penalty, and better conditions in Iranian prisons.
Her son Ali said his mother was being punished for speaking up for those who were executed, killed, imprisoned, and disappeared in Iran. He called her incredibly brave. He demanded that the Islamic Republic release all political prisoners immediately.
Kiana, her daughter, said she still held hope. Her mother always told her to keep hope. As of the time she spoke to the Guardian, Mohammadi had been in this current arrest for one hundred thirty-eight days. Kiana was asking the world to hear her voice, to refuse to stay silent, to push for the day when her mother and all political prisoners would be free and reunited with their families. The question now is whether that day will come before her heart gives out.
Citações Notáveis
Keeping her in that prison, under that immense stress and those brutal conditions, is like a death sentence. They can't even adjust her medication because it's too dangerous without her full medical team present.— Hamidreza Mohammadi, her brother
My mother's body is simply exhausted. After more than 10 years behind bars and so many hunger strikes, her heart is struggling.— Kiana Rahmani, her daughter
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does her case matter beyond the immediate medical crisis? What makes Narges Mohammadi different from other political prisoners?
She won the Nobel Peace Prize while imprisoned. That visibility matters. But more than that—she's been a consistent voice for decades. She didn't stop. Even when released, she went back to the work. That's rare.
The family mentions she's had multiple hunger strikes. Is that a choice or a form of protest?
Both. Hunger strikes are how prisoners in Iran communicate when they have no other voice. They're a weapon of the powerless. But they destroy the body. After ten years and multiple strikes, her heart is simply exhausted.
Why was she re-arrested during a memorial service? That seems deliberately timed.
It was. She was attending a service for another activist. The timing sends a message: even mourning is dangerous. Even gathering to remember the dead is forbidden. It's control through fear.
The doctors say she needs her own medical team in Tehran. Is that realistic given she's a political prisoner?
No. That's the point. The authorities know what she needs and are denying it anyway. It's not negligence—it's deliberate. Keeping her in Zanjan, in those conditions, is the punishment.
Her daughter says she still has hope. How do you hold hope in that situation?
You hold it because the alternative is surrender. And because her mother taught her to. Even in a cell, even in pain, Mohammadi apparently still tells her children to hope. That's the real resistance.