Watchdog

Iranians are warning of public anger and drawing parallels with the world's most oppressive regimes as legislation makes its way through the country's parliament that could intensify online censorship and further restrict Internet access.

Iranian authorities already block tens of thousands of websites and regularly throttle or cut Internet connectivity during crucial periods, including a near-total shutdown for nearly a week amid antiestablishment protests following a disputed election in 2019.

On July 28, the draft of a bill to hand control of Iran's Internet gateways to the armed forces and criminalize the use of virtual private networks (VPN) was sent for review to a parliamentary committee, despite fierce public criticism.

Of the 209 lawmakers present, 121 voted in a closed-door session to advance the bill.

The committee is expected to endorse the bill and could order several years of "experimental" implementation if the hard-line Guardians Council that vets all Iranian legislation gives its blessing.

End Of Foreign Platforms

Internet experts and media-freedom advocates fear the bill will put the final nail in the coffin of Internet freedom in Iran, where citizens are forced to access banned websites, including social media and news sites, via anti-filtering tools.

Reporters Without Borders (RSF) said last year when the draft was submitted to parliament that it could further buttress the “digital wall” that already exists in Iran.

The legislation could result in bans on the few social-media platforms that have not yet been filtered in Iran and are popular among Iranians, including Instagram and the encrypted messaging app WhatsApp.

SEE ALSO:

Iran Proposes Bill For Tighter Online Censorship, 'Military Control' Of Internet

“What this bill could do is tighten or even eclipse the small [accessible] spaces...remaining online,” Mahsa Alimardani, a digital-rights researcher with the human rights organization ARTICLE19, told RFE/RL.

“If implemented as we see, we will see the end of foreign platforms that are the backbone of communications, e-commerce, freedom to access media not controlled by the strict censors of the Iranian authorities, and any sense of privacy,” Alimardani added.

'Betrayal' Bill

Many Iranians have publicly blasted the bill, which has alarmed ordinary citizens who use social media to make a living, communicate with each other, or in some cases access censored information.

It is officially called the Bill To Protect The Rights Of Users In Cyberspace And Organize Social Media.

Critics have used the hashtag #Betrayal_bill to condemn the bill and note that instead of protecting users it will further curb Internet access.

“What we’re seeing is North Korea,” journalist Javad Heydarian said on Twitter.

Reformist politician Azar Mansuri warned Iranian authorities that it would stoke popular "anger."

It could also cause significant economic damage by depriving tens of thousands of Iranians of their current sources of income.

“What are you going to do about the large number of unemployed amid the coronavirus crisis and [U.S.] sanctions?” Mansuri asked.

Ordinary Iranians And The Clerical Establishment

Many warned that the bill would widen the gap between Iranians and the clerical establishment, which has recently faced angry protests over water shortages in the southwestern province of Khuzestan that spread to other cities.

SEE ALSO:

'Hopeless And Dissatisfied': Growing Anger At Iranian Officials As Protests Spread

Iranian Minister of Information and Technology Mohammad Javad Azari Jahromi cautioned that not only would the bill "not create a system for cybergovernance," as claimed by supporters, but it would “undermine the country's real-world governance system.”

“It’s like [authorities] are determined to fight the people. Every day [they] start a new game and [they] are happy about the torment they are inflicting on Iran," Saeedeh Khashi, who lives in Sistan-Baluchistan, one of Iran’s poorest provinces, said on Twitter. She added that many women in the province use the Internet to make a living.

The bill, which has been pushed by hard-liners who have repeatedly bemoaned what they see as a lack of control of cyberspace, also prompted criticism from some conservatives.

Mohsen Rezaei, a former commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps (IRGC) and secretary of the Expediency Council, an institutional dispute arbitrator, questioned the necessity of the bill at a time when the country faces numerous economic problems. He said the bill would create "a serious challenge" for the recently elected hard-line president, Ebrahim Raisi, who takes office on August 5.

Others speculated that lawmakers had moved the bill forward knowing that Raisi and his team would support the measure.

"I think that because the future government agrees with this bill, it has advised its friends in the parliament to approve it sooner so that it doesn’t end up in its name," Mohammad Ali Abtahi, who served as vice president under former reformist President Mohammad Khatami, said on Twitter.

Amid the anger, some people suggested that the legislation was likely to fail in the same way a 1994 ban on private ownership of satellite equipment has missed its mark. That ban and police raids to enforce it have not prevented millions of Iranians from using satellite dishes to watch foreign networks for news and entertainment.

“History has shown that obscurantism has always failed technology,” Iranian entrepreneur Pedram Soltani said on Twitter, while posting a copy of the law that bans the domestic use of satellite equipment.

Boris Vishnevsky is a known figure in St. Petersburg.

An opposition politician who heads the liberal Yabloko party's committee in the local legislature, he is also a man known locally as a defender of the city's cultural heritage and as a columnist in the independent newspaper Novaya gazeta.

But ahead of elections in September, the number of public figures named Boris Vishnevsky appeared to suspiciously multiply.

In May, Vishnevsky announced his candidacy for both the St. Petersburg legislative assembly and the State Duma, Russia's lower house of parliament, representing two districts in the center of his native city.

In early July, Russia's Greens party announced its own candidate for the State Duma. His name? Boris Vishnevsky.

And 11 days after that, Vishnevsky learned that the other Boris Vishnevsky was also running against him in the legislative assembly election -- along with another new competitor also named Boris Vishnevsky.

That made three candidates with the exact same first and last names competing for a single seat.

"This is the only way these crooks can fight against me," Vishnevsky tweeted in reaction to the news, using part of a phrase -- "the party of crooks and thieves" -- commonly used by the opposition to refer to the Kremlin-controlled ruling party, United Russia.

The tactic has been a familiar one in Russia since the 1990s. Minor officials or citizens unknown to the general public are approached with an offer to adopt the name and surname of a popular opposition candidate, usually changing their passport details to make the change official and then registering as rival candidates in their own right. Occasionally, spoilers who already bear the same name as an opposition candidate are found.

The hope of those behind such machinations is that a substantial number of voters who support the opposition candidate in that district will cast their ballots for the namesake candidate purely through oversight.

An investigation by Novaya gazeta found that the two other Boris Vishnevskys are a low-level official tied to United Russia and a salesman for a large car repair company, both of whom officially changed their names ahead of the vote.

And the curious case of the two namesakes might just be one among many in this year's elections, which are slated for September 17-19 and will come against the backdrop of a concerted crackdown on opposition candidates, civil society activists, and investigative journalists -- many of whom have left the country instead of staying to face harassment, pressure, and possible criminal charges related to their work.

In Russia's Mari-El region, Communist Party candidate Sergei Kazankov last month suddenly found himself facing a man with the same name as his father, Ivan Kazankov.

To add to the potential confusion among voters, Ivan Kazankov is a candidate from a small party called the Communists of Russia, whose four-letter acronym, KPKR, has the same two first letters as the much larger Communist Party, or KPRF.

For its part, Russia's Central Election Commission has indicated that it's working to clamp down on the practice of registering spoiler namesakes to confuse voters -- a seemingly intractable problem that Russia has failed to root out.

"We've already received several complaints, and we can see how this dirty technology of cloning various namesakes is being used in several regions. We have reports from party leaders who are concerned," the state news agency TASS quoted Ella Pamfilova, the election commission head, as saying.

The Greens party leader in St. Petersburg, Andrei Nagibin, did not seem concerned at all.

Contacted by a journalist from the St. Petersburg media outlet Fontanka.ru, he claimed to be unaware of the Boris Vishnevsky who has been active in politics since the Soviet era and a member of the city legislature for almost a decade.

"I know our Vishnevsky, but who are you talking about?" Nagibin asked, later adding: "I don't know a Vishnevsky from Yabloko. Who is that?"

RFE/RL's Russian Service and Dmitry Lyubimov of the Idel.Realities desk of RFE/RL's Tatar-Bashkir Service contributed to this report.