The bombing of a primary school in southern Iran has once again exposed one of the most troubling contradictions of modern warfare: the language of liberation is most loudly invoked precisely when civilian lives are being destroyed. Among the victims of the 28 February strike in the city of Minab were dozens of children, many of them young girls. The attack came only days before International Women’s Day; a moment when political leaders and institutions around the world were preparing to celebrate women’s empowerment and equality.
Yet, the tragedy unfolding in Minab raises uncomfortable questions not only about the conduct of war, but about the narratives that accompany it. In recent days, images of female fighter pilots participating in operations against Iran have circulated widely on social media, presented as symbols of progress and gender equality within military institutions. The message is unmistakable: women are not merely victims of war; they are also its agents, its protagonists, its celebrated faces.
At first glance, this framing appears to represent a milestone in gender equality. But when placed alongside the civilian casualties of the same conflict, the symbolism becomes morally incoherent. Celebrating women’s participation in warfare does not translate into the advancement of women’s rights-particularly when the bombs dropped in the name of freedom fall on schools and residential neighbourhoods. A female pilot dropping a bomb on a classroom is not a victory for gender equality; it is a participation in violence dressed in progressive garb.
The Battle Over Responsibility
The political debate surrounding the Minab strike has also illustrated how quickly responsibility narratives are weaponised in times of conflict. Speaking to journalists on Saturday, US President Donald Trump claimed that the school attack had been carried out by Iran itself. Standing beside him, Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth added that investigations were ongoing but insisted that “the only side targeting civilians is Iran.”
Yet, alternative evidence has begun to complicate this claim. Footage that circulated online appears to show a US-made Tomahawk cruise missile striking near a primary school adjacent to a naval facility belonging to Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). According to eight munitions experts who analysed the footage, the weapon’s features are consistent with a Tomahawk. The video, later verified by The Washington Post, is among the strongest indications so far that the US may have been involved in the strike that killed dozens of children in Minab.
The discrepancy between official statements and emerging evidence underscores a recurring pattern: in the fog of war, the first casualty is often the truth. And when the truth concerns the deaths of children, the stakes of its suppression could not be higher.
The Geopolitics of Feminist Framing
The debate over responsibility is unfolding alongside another familiar narrative: the invocation of women’s rights as a moral justification for military pressure on Iran. In Western political discourse, references to Iranian women’s struggles have re-emerged with striking intensity since the escalation of hostilities. Media debates frequently highlight restrictions imposed by the Iranian government, presenting the conflict as part of a broader struggle between authoritarian repression and women’s freedom.
There is no doubt that Iran faces serious challenges regarding gender equality. The women of Iran have long fought, and continue to fight, for their rights. But acknowledging the existence of societal issues does not justify military violence. Two truths can coexist: a country may have human rights issues, and yet external military intervention can still constitute a violation of international law and a source of devastating civilian harm. The former does not cancel the latter. To suggest otherwise is to confuse moral concern with political instrumentality.
The danger emerges precisely when feminist language becomes entangled with geopolitical narratives. In such cases, the promise of liberating women transforms into a powerful rhetorical tool capable of sanitising violence and reframing war as a moral obligation. Once this logic takes hold, actions that might otherwise be condemned, including military strikes, occupation, or collective punishment, begin to appear justifiable if they are framed as restoring freedom.
Scholars have termed this dynamic “imperial feminism” or “femonationalism”: the use of women’s rights discourse to legitimise broader geopolitical projects, particularly those targeting Muslim-majority societies. Within this framework, the suffering of Muslim women becomes selectively visible-gaining political attention when it supports interventionist narratives while receiving far less attention in contexts where Western allies are responsible for the violence.
The Irony of Selectivity
The irony becomes particularly stark when viewed alongside the humanitarian devastation unfolding elsewhere in the region. In Gaza, where civilian casualties have reached catastrophic levels, women and children account for the overwhelming majority of victims. Images of Palestinian mothers gathering the remains of their children, women giving birth amid rubble after hospitals were destroyed, and reports of soldiers posing with looted personal belongings have circulated widely.
Against this backdrop, claims that the same actors conducting operations in Gaza are simultaneously defending women’s rights in Iran inevitably invite scepticism. The contradiction raises an uncomfortable question: how can a war that produces such suffering in one context be framed as a project of liberation in another? The answer lies not in the consistency of principle, but in the selectivity of political attention.
The Thin Line Between Emancipation and Destruction
The tragedy in Minab therefore represents more than a single wartime incident. It reveals the deeper tension between the rhetoric of emancipation and the realities of modern warfare. Once again, global discourse appears caught between two competing visions: politicians promising to bomb Iranian women into freedom, and commentators imagining a romanticised return to a different Iranian past.
In the end, however, the most enduring lesson may be a simple one. When liberation is delivered through missiles and military campaigns, the line between emancipation and destruction becomes dangerously thin. The children of Minab did not die for freedom. They died because the language of liberation has become one more weapon in the arsenal of war-and in war, as always, it is the most vulnerable who pay the price.
