On a busy sidewalk outside a café, a group of young people, many of them women, bob their heads to the beat of “Seven Nation Army,” by the White Stripes. Huddled around a live band, some shake their hair while others rhythmically swing.

The scene wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in most cities. But a clip of it went viral, viewed by millions on X and Instagram, because it happened in Tehran. Western rock music is mostly banned in the Islamic Republic, and women are forbidden to dance in public, smoke, and—most important—bare their hair. Iran’s mandatory-hijab law requires women to cover their head and entire body, except for their face and hands below the wrist. Showing so much as an ear or an elbow could count as a crime.

In September 2022, a young woman was picked up by Tehran’s morality police for sporting “improper hijab.” She died in custody. A mass revolt ensued—one that lasted for months and demanded an end not just to the mandatory hijab, but to the Islamic Republic as well. The movement failed to achieve that larger goal, but it did radically change public life in Iran. Technically, the hijab remains mandatory. Yet for the first time since its founding, the regime has lost the ability to enforce that law.

The evidence of this failure is visible everywhere. A few weeks ago, I video-called a friend in Tehran and was shocked to see her wearing a tank top on the street. As she walked around, I saw dozens of other women with their hair uncovered. Some were even wearing shorts or showing their midriff.

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The change is not limited to the wealthy neighborhoods of northern Tehran, where enforcement has always been slightly laxer. The viral dancing video was filmed in the district of Iranshahr, in central Tehran. Videos from Isfahan, Arak, and other cities show throngs of hijab-less women outdoors. There are other signs that Iran’s previously relentless social repression is beginning to relax. Despite an official ban on celebrating Halloween, thousands of Tehranis, including many unveiled women, donned costumes last week. Speaking to a dissident media outlet based in London, a woman said that she’d recently been able to pass through airport security without hijab.

But hijab is no side issue for Tehran’s rulers. The Iranian American analyst Karim Sadjadpour rightly counts it as one of the three remaining ideological pillars of the regime, alongside anti-Americanism and anti-Zionism. The regime’s retreat on the issue is therefore an achievement, but not one that the movement can consider settled, as the hijab mandate is still subject to factional wrangling.

The 2022–23 protests did not at first move the regime an inch on hijab. In a defiant speech in April 2023, Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, said that unveiling was “politically and religiously forbidden.” The hard-liner-dominated Parliament passed a draconian bill making hijab rules even stricter.

But, perhaps aware of how narrow his base had become, Khamenei allowed the reformist Masud Pezeshkian to run for president last year and win. Pezeshkian had made a campaign promise to relax hijab rules, and he reportedly obtained Khamenei’s consent to not enforce the new hijab bill. According to the conservative speaker of Parliament, Iran’s National Security Council has asked for the bill not to be implemented. This council is headed by the president and consists of a dozen high-ranking military and political leaders. It has emerged as something of an Iranian politburo, making calls on the issues that divide the country’s ruling class. Defenders of the council’s decision point out that Iran has much more urgent business than forcing a dress code on women: Its regional allies were repeatedly battered by Israel last year, and earlier this year, it endured a 12-day war with Israel and America.

The vans that once patrolled the streets to pick up unveiled women have mostly disappeared. But other forms of enforcement remain. The Islamic Penal Code still criminalizes the forgoing hijab, as does other legislation. In recent months, at least 50 venues, including cafés, restaurants, wedding halls, and clothing shops, have been closed all over the country because they served hijab-less women. Dance parties like the one in Iranshahr are still sometimes raided by the police. One of the musicians playing there had his Instagram account closed down temporarily by the authorities (it’s now back up.) In Isfahan, women have received threatening text messages for not wearing hijab. The president’s spokeswoman has said this isn’t his government’s doing. On this, as well as other issues, his government is hapless. A culture-ministry official was dismissed just because he published an Instagram story featuring his hijab-less daughter.

Pezeshkian doesn’t control the judiciary, the security forces, or the Center for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, which is tasked with pushing women to wear hijab (its leaders are appointed by the Friday prayer leaders’ council, whose members are in turn appointed by Khamenei). The center has announced plans to recruit 80,000 “promoters of virtue,” who will go around advocating for hijab and the opening of creepy-sounding “clinics for treating hijablessness.” And the center has some institutional allies. The island of Kish, in the Persian Gulf, has a reputation for greater laxity than the mainland, but a few days ago, a prosecutor there pledged to go after a group for organizing a “mixed-gender coffee party.” A deputy education minister said that he would punish two schools that had promoted “inappropriate outfits” on their social-media accounts.

Still, these are rearguard actions that don’t seem representative of the larger policy direction. Speaking to NBC and Fox News during a recent trip to the United States, Pezeshkian said that he didn’t believe in forcing women to wear hijab; his chief of staff had already said the same on Iranian TV. And the reformists are, for once, not alone in this. Following the 12-day war, Ali Akbar Velayati, a top adviser to Khamenei, cryptically posted on X that “some social directions of the regime could change,” with the goal of “putting people’s happiness at the center.” This was widely interpreted as a call for relaxing social repression. In March, some hard-line proponents of the hijab staged a protest—and were dispersed by security forces, a rare reversal of fortunes.

Last month, Mohammadreza Bahonar, a conservative politician who serves on the powerful Expediency Council, became an unlikely focal point for the regime’s internal battle over hijab. Bahonar told a news outlet that he didn’t believe in the hijab mandate and that its enforcement was no longer feasible. Only 10 percent of Iranian society is hezbollahi (hard-core Islamist), he said; the majority of people “want to simply live their lives.”

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The backlash was swift and furious. “Who do you think you are to say such things?” Tehran’s Friday prayer leader asked Bahonar in his weekly sermon. “Who gave you such permission?” One military leader did not name Bahonar but criticized officials who downplay the importance of the hijab mandate. “Those who deny hijab must be executed,” he said. “If our martyrs were now alive they’d skin the scalp of those who get out naked on the streets and walk their dogs.” (Walking dogs is also forbidden in Iran.) Several more officials, members of Parliament, and assorted hard-liners also criticized Bahonar, as did Iran’s attorney general. A group of self-declared “promoters of virtue” even planned a demonstration against him, though they later canceled it. A spokesperson for the Expediency Council clarified that Bahonar was speaking in a personal capacity. Under pressure, he partially walked back his comments and affirmed his personal belief in the “social necessity” of hijab.

As with much else in Iran, the status quo appears untenable. Any return to a pre-2022 level of hijab enforcement would require a major crackdown that the regime can ill afford. But openly giving up on one of the revolution’s central orthodoxies is also difficult. Khamenei, at 86, is in the twilight of a life devoted to an uncompromising Islamist vision. His authority is beginning to wane; the country knows his time is limited, and the regime seems to freeze when faced with big decisions, such as those concerning the hijab.

The credit here is due to ordinary Iranians, who have pressed gradually and insistently against the regime’s rules. In doing so, they have expanded their social freedoms, and they are unlikely to give up these hard-won achievements. Even many inside the regime seem to have realized that they need to move on. The Islamic Republic is about to lose one of its three pillars; the other two will also crumble in time.

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