Yasuj, Iran – November 11, 2025 – In a stark display of judicial retribution, Iranian authorities executed a man convicted of murdering a prominent heart specialist in a public hanging in the southwestern city of Yasuj on Tuesday morning, marking yet another chapter in the Islamic Republic's controversial reliance on capital punishment. The execution, carried out under the qisas (retaliation in kind) provision of Iran's penal code, was intended as a deterrent against violent crime but has reignited global condemnation over the country's record-high execution rates and the spectacle of public hangings.
According to Mizan Online, the official news outlet of Iran's judiciary, the unnamed defendant was hanged in a central location in Yasuj, the capital of Kohgiluyeh and Boyer-Ahmad province, shortly after dawn. The province, a rugged, mountainous region in southwestern Iran with a population of approximately 713,000 as per the 2016 national census, is predominantly inhabited by the Lur ethnic group and has long grappled with socioeconomic challenges, including limited access to healthcare and higher rates of rural poverty. While official crime statistics for the province remain opaque—consistent with Iran's broader lack of transparent data—local reports have highlighted sporadic incidents of violence linked to personal disputes and perceived medical negligence, which may have fueled the underlying tragedy in this case.
The victim, Dr. Masoud Davoudi, a 45-year-old cardiologist who had served Yasuj's under-resourced hospitals for over 15 years, was gunned down in November 2024 outside a local clinic. Authorities described the killing as a premeditated act of vengeance: the perpetrator, whose identity has not been publicly disclosed, allegedly blamed Davoudi for the death of his brother three years earlier during a heart attack emergency. According to family statements reported by state media at the time, the brother had been rushed to Yasuj's emergency room amid a severe staffing shortage—a chronic issue in the province, where medical professionals often face burnout and resource constraints. An official investigation cleared Davoudi of any wrongdoing, but the acquittal failed to assuage the assailant's grief, culminating in the fatal shooting that shocked the tight-knit medical community.
Provincial prosecutor Vahid Mousavian, in a statement released hours after the execution, framed the hanging as a broader societal message. "The implementation of this sentence is a warning to those who seek to disturb the security of society and citizens," Mousavian declared, emphasizing the judiciary's commitment to swift justice under Islamic law. He noted that the verdict followed a mandatory mental health evaluation of the defendant, confirming his fitness for punishment, and received final ratification from Iran's Supreme Court in September 2025. Under qisas, the victim's family holds the pivotal right to pardon the offender or demand execution—a mechanism rooted in Sharia principles but frequently criticized for its emotional coercion and irreversibility. In Davoudi's case, relatives, still mourning the loss of a dedicated physician who had relocated from the distant city of Shahroud to serve underserved patients, opted for the latter, viewing it as closure amid ongoing trauma.
This public spectacle aligns with a selective but potent tradition in Iran's penal system, where most of the country's estimated 1,200-plus annual executions occur behind prison walls via hanging. Public executions, however, serve as theatrical deterrents, often staged in crime hotspots to amplify psychological impact. Historical records trace this practice back to the Qajar dynasty (1789–1925), when hangings and stonings were commonplace in urban squares. The practice waned during the Pahlavi era (1925–1979) under modernization efforts but surged post-1979 Islamic Revolution, with the new regime invoking them to enforce moral and social order. A 2008 directive from then-Judiciary Chief Mahmoud Shahroudi sought to curtail public hangings amid international outcry, yet they persist sporadically—four were documented in 2024 alone, per UN reports, with Tuesday's marking at least the third in 2025.
Iran's execution tally for 2025 has already shattered grim milestones, positioning the nation as the world's second-most prolific user of capital punishment after China, whose opaque figures render direct comparisons challenging. Independent monitors, including the Norway-based Iran Human Rights (IHR) and the Kurdish-focused Hengaw Organization for Human Rights, estimate at least 1,176 executions nationwide by late September, with the pace accelerating to over nine per day in recent weeks. This represents a staggering 48% surge from 2024's 834 documented cases and the highest annual figure since 2015. April 2025 alone saw 110 hangings, a 75% jump from the prior year, while May added another 152, pushing the first five months' total to 511—a 96% increase year-over-year.
The demographics paint a troubling portrait of systemic bias. Nearly half of 2025's executions stem from drug-related offenses, disproportionately ensnaring ethnic minorities like Baluchis (at least 108 in 2024, comprising 11% of totals) and Kurds (84, or 9%). In Kohgiluyeh and Boyer-Ahmad, a Lur-majority area bordering restive Khuzestan and Bushehr provinces, such cases are compounded by cross-border smuggling routes. Hengaw reports that 404 executions—40% of the year's total—occurred after June 13, 2025, coinciding with escalated Israel-Iran tensions, suggesting a wartime spike in "security-related" charges like moharebeh (enmity against God). At least 12 "Women, Life, Freedom" protesters from the 2022 uprising and 37 prisoners of conscience have perished, often after opaque Revolutionary Court trials lacking due process.
Human rights advocates decry these acts as arbitrary deprivations of life, violating Iran's obligations under the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which restricts capital punishment to "most serious offenses" like intentional homicide. The UN Special Rapporteur on Iran has labeled "most, if not all" executions as unlawful, citing coerced confessions, juvenile offenders (Iran remains the top global executor of minors despite ratifying the Convention on the Rights of the Child), and the death penalty's weaponization against dissent. Public hangings exacerbate this, traumatizing witnesses—including children, as noted in a 2013 Kermanshah incident where a boy accidentally hanged himself imitating an execution. A 2020 IHR survey found 86% of 20,000 Iranian respondents opposed to public spectacles, underscoring domestic unease.
Internationally, the response has been a chorus of alarm. On September 23, 2025, UN experts expressed "appall" at the "industrial scale" killings, urging a moratorium. Amnesty International's 2024 report highlighted an "execution crisis" at "horrific proportions," with 972 hangings that year alone—the most since 2015. The U.S., EU, and groups like Human Rights Watch have called for sanctions on Iranian officials, while death row inmates' "No to Execution Tuesdays" hunger strikes since January 2024 plead for global intervention. Even Olympic athletes recently petitioned to halt the execution of a boxer on vague charges, amplifying visibility.
In Yasuj, the hanging unfolded under tight security, with roads cordoned and onlookers—many bused in by authorities—gathered in a chilling ritual. Eyewitness accounts, filtered through state media, described a crane hoisting the condemned, his final words drowned by chants of "Allahu Akbar." For Dr. Davoudi's family, it brought a measure of vindication; for critics, it epitomized a regime clinging to power through fear. As winter descends on Iran's southwest, this event signals no abatement in the execution machinery. With over 1,000 lives claimed in nine months and projections nearing 1,500 by year's end, the international community faces mounting pressure to translate rhetoric into repercussions—lest Iran's gallows continue to cast long shadows over human dignity.
