For days, the fate of roughly 90 million Iranians has appeared to swing between war and peace as American and Iranian officials traded threats of attack and calls for diplomacy.
With negotiators from both sides set for indirect talks in Geneva on Thursday — seen as the last chance to reach a deal that can avert war — some Iranians are packing emergency bags, buying backup generators and making plans to escape to rural areas or flee the country altogether.
Others have resigned themselves to watch and wait, believing that they have little sense of what is to come, and little means left to prepare.
And some, like Payman, a 45-year-old businessman in Tehran, feel too paralyzed by anxiety to act.
“Everything feels very surreal, like being in limbo,” said Payman, who, like all the Iranians who spoke to The Times, asked to be identified by only his first name out of fear of retaliation from authorities. “I’m not even actively preparing for survival in an emergency. I just want it to be over.”
Even fleeing could be difficult, he said, as the roads out of Tehran would likely become clogged with traffic.
Many Iranians already had a taste of this experience last June during the country’s 12-day war with Israel, when millions fled the capital to the Caspian Sea and the mountainous countryside outside the city. A journey that would normally take four hours took many of them almost a day to complete. .
Despite this, the Iranian government has shown little in the way of contingency planning. Last week, Tehran’s mayor, Alireza Zakani, told local media that metro stations and underground parking lots could be turned into shelters. The municipality, he said, had taken “minimum” steps to prepare them.
Yet local planning experts have warned that metro stations and parking lots need heating, ventilation, and hygienic facilities. There is no publicly available information to suggest those measures have been taken.
Mr. Zakani, who was criticized over the lack of emergency planning in the war last year, has dismissed concerns about preparedness as premature. He shrugged and smirked in a televised interview with Iranian media last week, and said that the authorities did not want to cause panic.
“We don’t believe there will be a war so bad that we should force an emergency situation on the public,” he said. He accused Washington of trying to sow fear in the Iranian public, who live in a perpetual state of “No war, no peace.”
“Why should we allow them to close our city and make us anxious?” he asked.
On the surface, little in Tehran has changed. Grocery stores are well-stocked, residents say, and they have seen no signs of food, gasoline or water shortages. Schools and businesses remain open, and people go about their work and daily lives.
Online, however, Iranians are sharing tips on how to prepare for the worst.
Some posts encourage people to write down emergency numbers for loved ones and designate meeting places, in case the Iranian authorities shut down the internet and telecommunications — as they did during the war in June and in the wake of antigovernment protests last month.
One prominent Iranian activist based in France, Ilia Hashemi, posted a widely-circulated list of suggestions for stocking up two weeks’ worth of supplies: three liters, or almost a gallon, of water per person per day, canned and dry goods, candles, flashlights, first aid, warm clothes, and power banks.
A day later, Mr. Hashemi wrote that he had been inundated with responses from angry people inside Iran saying they did not have enough money to meet their needs for a single day, let alone two weeks.
Iran is not only facing the imminent risk of war and simmering internal tensions after security forces used lethal force to quell the nationwide protests last month. It is also mired in a dire economic crisis.
The demonstrations were sparked last December by a dramatic plunge in the value of the currency, the rial. In the weeks since, the rial has hit two more record lows, while inflation has risen 60 percent compared to last year, according to a prominent Iranian business newspaper.
Basic items like meat, poultry and eggs are now out of reach for many families, and some residents say loved ones are having to choose between paying the rent or buying food.
“It’s not even possible to make preparations and plan for things,” said Sahand, a Tehran resident. “Families don’t have the money to go stock up on food and medicine. All they think about is where to go and hide.”
Most people, Sahand added, “have just given up. They think there is nothing they can do.”
Some Iranians are not only concerned about the basics but also how to communicate in the likely event that authorities shut down the internet.
In addition to her emergency backpack containing water, medicine, and dried fruit, Maryam, an artist in Tehran, also purchased high-end virtual private network services, hoping she could use them to bypass an internet blackout.
Like many Iranians interviewed, Maryam has been glued to daily news about diplomatic negotiations and the looming threat of war — and constantly debating with friends and family what it might mean for Iran.
“Everyone I’ve spoken with these days is very confused,” she said. Many Iranians say they cannot understand President Trump’s wavering position on the scope or timing of an attack — or even whether it could happen at all.
As potential strikes loom, Iran’s Revolutionary Guards conducted military drills on the country’s southern coast on Tuesday, according to state media.
Sahar, 38, who works at a start-up in Tehran, said she was terrified by the idea of the country being wrestled over by two forces who have little concern for the fate of regular Iranians.
“It’s like two men arguing over a house,” she said, “and in the end they burn it down while we’re still inside.”
Sanam Mahoozi and Farnaz Fassihi contributed reporting.
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