Across Iran this week, Iranians are gathering for 40-day memorial ceremonies known as “chehelom”—a traditional religious observance that has taken on political dimensions—to honor thousands killed in what Human Rights Activists News Agency says was the deadliest crackdown in the Islamic Republic’s 47-year history. The ceremonies mark 40 days since January 8 and 9, the deadliest days of the government’s response to nationwide protests. Iran’s government said in January that 3,117 people were killed; Human Rights Activists News Agency has counted more than 7,000 dead and believes the toll is far higher.

The ceremonies reveal deep fractures in Iranian society following the crackdown: overwhelming anger at the government mixed with grief, widening economic despair, and shifting political sentiment toward previously unthinkable alternatives. The memorial gatherings, which historically have sparked cycles of new protests and new repression, suggest an uncertain moment ahead for Iran.

The ceremonies unfold amid defiance

Videos verified by the Associated Press showed a crowd of hundreds gathered at the main cemetery in the western Iranian town of Abdanan for the 40-day memorial of Alireza Seydi, a 16-year-old killed on January 8. The crowd chanted “Death to Khamenei” and pumped their fists. When security forces responded with tear gas fired from an armored vehicle, mourners ran from the cemetery.

Similar scenes unfolded elsewhere. In Mashhad, a crowd of several hundred chanted “For every person killed, a thousand more stand behind him” during the memorial for Hamid Mahdavi, a fireman shot to death in January, according to a video verified by the Associated Press. When police officers harassed some mourners, the crowd shouted “Shameless! Shameless!”

The ceremonies have taken on a distinctly political character. Mourners often break into anti-government chants. Many reject the state’s preferred language of “shaheed,” or “martyr,” with its Islamic religious connotations, instead using “javid nam,” meaning “Long live the name,” according to the Associated Press.

Anger and despair ripple across Iran

A teacher in Tehran described the defiant mood she witnessed from her balcony. She shouted “Death to the dictator!” and “Death to the murderer, Khamenei!” one recent night, joining slogans coming from windows and rooftops around her relatively affluent neighborhood. A few voices responded with slogans supporting Iran’s government, but her neighbors quickly drowned them out, shouting “Shut up! Choke on it!” she told the Associated Press on condition of anonymity for her safety.

The teacher said two of her acquaintances were killed in the crackdown and the husband of one of her co-workers was arrested. “I don’t know anyone around me who doesn’t know someone who was killed, or someone who was arrested or wounded,” she said.

A resident of Karaj, a city just outside Tehran, said that five of his relatives and family friends were killed when security forces opened fire during the January 8 and 9 protests. “More than sad, people are angry,” he told the Associated Press. “Everyone is so angry. Everyone is waiting for some kind of explosion.”

The crackdown has deepened an already severe economic crisis. Prices are rising daily as Iran’s currency plummets in value. “Buying fruit has become a luxury,” the Karaj resident said. “We are getting near an economic collapse.”

A tourism worker in Tehran said the mood had shifted from everyday life to widespread despair. “It’s a combination of grieving, lack of money and inflation,” he told the Associated Press, describing people in the capital as being in a state of “mass depression.”

Iran’s cultural establishment has gone silent. A prominent Iranian actor posted that she would no longer accept new roles “in this land that smells of blood.” Alireza Ostad Haji, who referees a popular television strongman competition, offered condolences to “all mourning families” and resigned from two national athletic committees, breaking down in tears as he spoke of a former bodybuilding champion killed in the crackdown. “He was not a terrorist, he was a protester,” he said.

Shifting sentiment and uncertain futures

Some Iranians are now considering alternatives that would have been unthinkable in recent years. Two Iranians interviewed by the Associated Press expressed support for Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of the ousted shah, who from exile has put himself forward as a leader of the fragmented Iranian opposition. During January’s protests, chants in support of Pahlavi became common—a notable shift from the past, when he drew scant attention or was seen as out of touch.

More strikingly, some Iranians are expressing hope for U.S. military intervention. A tourism worker told the Associated Press: “Every night, every hour, I wish I could hear (U.S.) strikes. We cannot fight anymore with our fists against machine guns.” He said many of his friends who took to the streets in January say they will not do so again because of the state’s overwhelming violence.

Yet others, like the teacher, worry that such intervention would bring war and further bloodshed. “I am afraid there will be more massacres,” she said.

The government has attempted to frame the 40-day commemorations differently. Iran’s Revolutionary Guard said in a statement that the ceremonies were “a chance to renew commitment to national unity,” depicting the killed as victims of foreign-backed “terrorist” groups that exploited legitimate grievances.