Four-minute read
The Iranian regime’s president has publicly raised the possibility of evacuating Tehran if rains fail—an extraordinary contingency that signals a government bracing for a severe water crisis and the instability that could follow. On November 6, 2025, Masoud Pezeshkian warned that if it does not rain in December, water will be rationed in Tehran, and if dryness persists, “we will have no water and must evacuate Tehran.” The remark landed as unannounced nightly cutoffs spread across the capital and reservoirs slid to critical lows, underscoring how a technical emergency is fast becoming a political one.
Pezeshkian’s comment drew immediate fire from state-run outlets. Javan, affiliated with the IRGC, argued that officials should not discuss “drought, rationing or even evacuating Tehran in a way that empties the people’s hearts,” while Kayhan said such alarms inject “despair” and broadcast “weakness.” Fars urged more “measured” messaging, warning that stressing crisis without a roadmap invites exploitation by “hostile media.” The clampdown illustrates the system’s two-language reflex: acknowledge the scale of risk while containing public reaction. It also lays bare the politics behind the warning—officials fear a shock-driven backlash reminiscent of 2019, when a sudden policy jolt triggered nationwide unrest. The concern today is less about safeguarding residents than about managing their response to a potential urban-scale service failure.
Anniversary of 2019 Iran Protests: Regime Officials and Media Warn of Another Uprising.#Iran #ProsecuteRaisiNOW
https://t.co/hy0IaGXsNO— NCRI-FAC (@iran_policy) October 31, 2021
What prompted the alarm
The water balance is deteriorating. According to Tehran’s regional water authorities, Mamlou Dam holds just 18 million cubic meters—about 7% full, down from 13% at the same point last year; Latian is in even worse shape; Lar has 14 million cubic meters; and Amirkabir (Karaj) has plunged. On November 2, Behzad Parsa, head of the Tehran Regional Water Company, said only 14 million cubic meters remained behind Karaj—roughly two weeks of drinking water for the capital.
The supply shock is compounded by a historic dry spell. Mohsen Ardakani, managing director of Tehran’s Water and Wastewater Company, said on November 7 that no rainfall has been recorded in Tehran so far this water year—the sixth consecutive drought—and that last year was the driest in a century. National data between late September and October 25 show an average of 2.3 millimeters of precipitation, with 21 of 31 provinces recording no rain during that 33-day span. The severity is visible: a video posted November 4 shows an Iranian swimmer walking on the exposed bed of the Karaj reservoir.
Research officials reach the same conclusion. On November 7, Mohammadreza Kavianpour, head of the Water Research Institute, said there had been no autumn rain in Tehran and forecasts suggest dryness through the end of the season. He urged authorities not to “gamble” on the weather, noting last year’s 152 millimeters of rainfall—about 40% below the 57-year average—and estimating a ~42% year-over-year fall in river inflows.
#Iran’s Domestic Capacity Crisis: Food, Water, and Urban Safety Under Structural Breakdownhttps://t.co/mjZ5lidgey
— NCRI-FAC (@iran_policy) November 4, 2025
On the ground, Tehran has slipped into de-facto rationing. Residents in Yusef-Abad report shutoffs from around 22:30 to 05:00, while Gheytarieh and Ekhtiyariyeh see taps go dry closer to 21:00–22:00 until dawn. Even neighborhoods with pumps and rooftop tanks—Niavaran, Jordan, Gisha—complain of empty storage and damage from pressure surges. Judiciary-linked Mizan and the daily Haft-e Sobh have both reported that rationing has begun at night—typically 00:00–05:00—despite repeated official denials and no advance public notices. Experts attribute the crisis to “widespread mismanagement and a lack of proper planning to supply the capital’s water,” warning of health risks and infrastructure damage if the pattern holds.
Planning gap—and the politics of fear
Even state-friendly media concede the policy vacuum. A pro-administration outlet notes the Energy Ministry has no clear plan to offset the shortfall in Tehran’s dams. Meanwhile, officials emphasize household “savings” of 10–20% rather than addressing losses on an aging network or presenting a credible supply-side strategy. The president himself has admitted state bloat and fiscal indiscipline—“when the government runs a deficit, they are forced to print money; when they print money, inflation follows”—a context that both erodes capacity and heightens public sensitivity to new shocks.
That sensitivity is central to the evacuation talk. Moving a metropolis of about 15 million people is, as one environmental scientist put it, “unworkable” and “like a joke.” Business groups have asked basic questions: where would millions live, work, and study; how would they be transported; and crucially, where would the water come from in any host city? In practice, the scenario reads as a pressure-management signal: prime the public for hardship, shift responsibility to the weather and to consumers, and try to pre-empt unrest if taps run dry in December.
NCRI spox @gobadi told @marcogiann in @Daily_Express: "#Iran's regime is engulfed in crises on all fronts. Facing a collapsing economy, persistent power outages, and even difficulties in providing water- it is terrified of another nationwide uprising."https://t.co/J4heP4od0n
— NCRI-FAC (@iran_policy) August 31, 2025
A capital on a short fuse
If rains fail in December, formal rationing appears likely; if dryness persists, buffers will thin dangerously. Hospitals, clinics, and industry would face operational strain; households already rationing at night would confront longer and more unpredictable outages; and the economic spillovers—from equipment damage to higher operating costs—could add friction to an already fragile environment. In this climate, communications discipline becomes policy: warn, but not too much; deny, but ration at night; and above all, keep a lid on public anger.
Decades of corruption, neglect, and politicized mismanagement have made this outcome predictable. With no transparent plan beyond asking households to shave off another slice of demand, the government is signaling it will manage scarcity—not fix it—because it fears the reaction that prolonged outages could unleash. The subtext is survival: a ruling system that long prioritized patronage projects and short-term optics over maintenance and planning now worries that water, of all things, could become the spark.