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The brutality of Iran鈥檚 has received increased news coverage since the September 2022 uprising sparked by the death of Jina Mahsa Amini. The 22-year-old woman was arrested for not wearing her hijab 鈥減roperly.鈥� Her family and local media reported that she died in police custody three days later as a result of injuries sustained from severe beatings.

As a girl who grew up in Iran during the rise of the Islamist regime, I witnessed firsthand the impact of the morality police on our daily lives. This included censorship of the arts and free speech, restrictions on basic rights for women and minorities, and rules against socializing between men and women, among many other harsh decrees. 

Enforcement of both explicit and implied rules affected everyone I knew, causing us to suffer in numerous ways. Armed guards raided . One family friend was lashed publicly. Another had a miscarriage from the shock of witnessing a public hanging on a street near her house. My teenage friend was executed unceremoniously and without a public trial, and her parents were never told which specific law she broke.

But recently I’ve observed that 鈥渕orality police鈥� are not limited to Iran鈥檚 paramilitary enforcers. They鈥檙e a global force, and they鈥檙e spreading. In 2019, with their street-level thugs enforcing restrictive laws outnumbered democracies around the world. Even in the United States, in a disturbing trend that reminds me of my childhood in Iran, the morality police are busy at work on both sides of the aisle. 

On the right, in the aftermath of the overturning of Roe v. Wade, have banned abortion, compromising reproductive care for nearly 50% of their residents. Book banning is now practiced in at least 32 states and nearly , affecting marginalized communities. Around the country, nearly have been proposed to target LGBTQ individuals. 

On the left, the echo chamber of moral judgment and results in the loss of livelihood and status, while its insidious effects reach far beyond the harm to an individual. Canceling has the propensity to fuel oppression and vitriol similar to what it鈥檚 trying to address, while wreaking havoc on the of the canceler, the canceled, and the onlooker. 

The morality police are loose in the free world, but they鈥檙e also lurking in our heads, silencing us from within.

In the U.S., we don鈥檛 fear imprisonment, torture, and execution in response to our social missteps online, but because the repercussions of canceling are severe enough, they result in self-censoring, something in which I鈥檓 exceedingly well-versed. In the Islamic Republic we learned to be secret-keepers, as it wasn鈥檛 unusual that a child would innocently recount the previous night鈥檚 dinner conversation at school and her parents would soon end up as political prisoners. 

Here, freedom of expression is our constitutional right, but many U.S. residents are about what they can say and where they can say it, and they have become hesitant to have certain kinds of conversations, fearing the consequences. The morality police are loose in the free world, but they鈥檙e also lurking in our heads, silencing us from within.

Marriage and family therapist and trauma expert Mahshid Fashandi Hager, who herself lived in Iran as a child, says whether we鈥檙e dealing with the actual morality police or an internalized version, 鈥渋t instills fear, and we have no choice [but] to respond to that fear by self-protection.鈥� People who鈥檝e experienced or even witnessed aggressive disagreement and the threat of cancellation on social media are less likely to express themselves because of their need for self-preservation. 

鈥淭he other piece is that innate need for belonging,鈥� says Hager. 鈥淲hen our belonging to any group gets threatened, we shrink away.鈥� As a result, the nuanced conversations that might make us feel a sense of belonging, and also allow us to be more vulnerable in the larger community, stop happening or get relegated to more private interactions. The loudest, most polarized, and extreme voices end up controlling the public discourse, while the rest of us are self-censoring.

This self-censorship is increasingly showing up in traditional media, where journalists hold back on covering certain issues. Violent crimes against journalists are worldwide, and domestically, journalists fear both their employers and the online mob鈥攁 fear that was recently reinforced by the example of Ben Montgomery, a Pulitzer Prize鈥搉ominated journalist for Axios, who was recently after not self-censoring, and calling a news release about an event by Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis 鈥減ropaganda.鈥� A recent Washington State University showed that online mobs deliberately use popular platforms to silence journalists. These online attacks seem to be disproportionately focused on women, people of color, and members of the LGBTQ community, leading them to quit the profession, which in turn further silences their voices.

We can even find instances of morality policing in spiritual communities. For example, pervasive , or the attitude and belief that one should always maintain a positive outlook, uses 鈥済ood vibes鈥� as a policing strategy. Some groups or individuals enforce strict codes of behavior and the suppression of certain emotions or expressions of vulnerability. It鈥檚 as if there are bouncers standing at the door of the psyche who only allow in the most attractive and best-dressed emotions. Rather than being able to share their authentic feelings and receive support, people facing toxic positivity have to either isolate themselves from a harmful situation or engage in self-censorship. When policing is turned inward and the inner critic is weaponized, it leads to the suppression of important emotions such as sadness, anger, and frustration, and this takes a massive toll on the individual鈥檚 well-being. 

Self-policing is always a response to a threat. 鈥淲hether it鈥檚 getting imprisoned and tortured or it鈥檚 getting canceled, or [it鈥檚 being] in this spiritual bypass all the time, the threat response in our biology is induced,鈥� says Hager. Whether it鈥檚 a physical threat or a psychological one, the body doesn鈥檛 know the difference.

The antidote to this self-imposed police state and the rise of extremism is for us to feel safe enough in our bodies and in public forums to be able to engage in nuanced and often difficult conversations without the fear of backlash. In other words, Hager says, we need what she calls a 鈥渟olid container鈥�: a mechanism or program to help develop and maintain healthy connections with one another.

The book highlights the success of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden in transitioning from poor authoritarian societies to rich democracies in just a few generations. Much of this success can be attributed to visionary Nordic politicians and activists who provided a solid container for social development: They enabled a large part of the population to become active co-creators of democracy. They established state-funded yet autonomous retreat centers that allowed young adults to become self-authoring, develop healthy relationships with themselves and others, and resist the siren call of extremism in any form. 

鈥淲e鈥檙e missing the solid container in terms of our own self-regulation, and we鈥檙e missing it in the culture,鈥� Hager says. 

How can we engage in important conversations when we鈥檙e afraid of getting canceled or when we鈥檙e easily triggered because of personal trauma and the intensity of our culture? And even if collectively we do create such a container, how do we safeguard against bad actors who are determined to spew hate and spread harmful messages?

Addressing this conundrum requires us to confront a glaring fundamental challenge: As a society, we haven鈥檛 prioritized cultivating healthy relationships with ourselves, others, and our environment. Math, something many of us don鈥檛 use daily, is taught every year in schools, but it鈥檚 unusual to find a single course dedicated to relationships in K-12 or beyond, even though research shows that gaining such skills is to a good life. And while the reigns among people of all ages, we have no blueprint or map for how to proceed in developing healthy relationships. We don鈥檛 spend enough quality time with our , and we haven鈥檛 been taught to practice having . 

Few adults, let alone children, are taught or are aware of the physical manifestations of stress on their bodies, or what to do when they鈥檙e and unable to modulate their emotional, behavioral, or physiological responses. And while Iranians are risking their lives to dance in public, for many of us in freer societies, our inner morality police prevent us from exercising this right. This resistance to the remedy seems to be a response to trauma too. 

鈥淚t鈥檚 hard to say I鈥檓 not dancing because I鈥檓 traumatized,鈥� says Hager. 鈥淚t鈥檚 easier to say I鈥檓 not dancing because it鈥檚 just not appropriate right now.鈥� This excuse is a protective measure our inner morality police conjure to keep us disconnected from our bodies. So, we shrink and silence ourselves rather than engage in healthy and safe activities that help us reestablish a relationship with our bodies.

As a species, we鈥檝e prioritized relationships for millennia, but we鈥檝e never had to contend with so many powerful opposing forces. Traditional and social media, and the pharmaceutical, cosmetics, and diet industries, all profit from our disconnection from our bodies, our environment, and each other, while our government rarely puts the well-being of individuals ahead of corporate profits. Plus, the busyness of life in a capitalistic world without a social safety net doesn鈥檛 leave much room to cultivate relationships.

In the absence of safe societal and cultural containers, we have no choice but to educate ourselves and our children, and practice establishing a relationship with our . It鈥檚 up to us to learn how to have healthy relationships, prioritize nurturing our current healthy connections, become intentional about finding new friends, and restore our relationship with the earth. Some of us will be nourished by meaningful conversations with , supporting the independent press, facilitating book clubs or discussion groups, or participating in local grassroots organizations. We don鈥檛 have to do it all. But any daily practice to mend our relationships is a step in the right direction. It鈥檚 the only way we can soothe and integrate the inner morality police, and help each other do the same.