Punishment Disguised as Cure: Conversion Practices and Minority Stress in the Islamic Republic
Coercive treatment, criminalization and stigma reinforce one another, producing lasting psychological and legal harm.
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Milad Torabi

The treatment of LGBTQ+ identity in the Islamic Republic rests on a contradiction. International medical consensus does not classify homosexuality as a mental disorder, yet social and institutional practices can still treat sexual and gender difference as something to be corrected. At the same time, criminal law can punish conduct associated with that identity. The individual is therefore placed between two systems of coercion: one claims to cure, the other threatens to punish.
Conversion practices do not operate in isolation from law. Their power is amplified when a person knows that disclosure can lead to police attention, family rejection or prosecution. A parent who demands treatment can invoke not only religious morality but the possibility of legal consequences. A counselor who promises correction works within an environment where nonconformity is already stigmatized by state institutions.
This creates a feedback loop. Criminalization legitimizes stigma. Stigma increases family coercion. Coercive treatment deepens psychological distress. Distress and isolation reduce the person's ability to resist further pressure. What can be described administratively as counseling may therefore function as a component of a broader system of control.
Families are often the gateway. A young person may be taken to a religious counselor, psychologist or unqualified practitioner after relatives discover a relationship, message or disclosure. The stated objective is correction. The methods can include repeated counseling, moral instruction, medication, hormonal intervention and other coercive techniques.
The central issue is consent. In a context of dependency, the threat of losing housing, financial support or family contact can make refusal dangerous. If the person also fears legal exposure, apparent agreement may conceal profound coercion.
Such interventions can reshape a person's sense of self even when they do not change orientation. The subject is repeatedly told that identity is a defect, sin or illness. Over time, this can produce internalized stigma, chronic guilt and hypervigilance. The harm is intensified when treatment providers are perceived as aligned with family or religious authority rather than bound to the patient's autonomy.
The result can be durable psychological injury. Anxiety, depressive symptoms, obsessive guilt and trauma responses are not surprising outcomes when a person is subjected to repeated efforts to suppress a core aspect of identity.
Minority stress theory helps explain why the harm extends beyond discrete incidents. LGBTQ+ people face ordinary pressures shared by everyone, but also additional stressors created by prejudice, concealment and expectation of rejection. In the Islamic Republic, those pressures are reinforced by the legal system.
Anticipatory fear is itself consequential. A person does not need to be arrested every week to live under the effects of criminalization. Knowing that a private relationship may carry legal consequences changes decisions about housing, medical care, employment and friendship. It encourages constant risk assessment.
This chronic state can produce symptoms associated with trauma even when no single event explains the full injury. Repeated threats, forced counseling, family surveillance and fear of prosecution accumulate. The individual may become socially isolated precisely because connection is dangerous.
The same dynamics also complicate documentation. People may avoid mental-health services because they fear judgment or disclosure. They may conceal the cause of distress from clinicians. This means the system can generate psychological harm while simultaneously obscuring the evidence of that harm.
The coercive medical environment cannot be separated from the Islamic Penal Code. Provisions concerning same-sex sexual conduct create the possibility of severe criminal punishment. The existence of these rules gives police and judicial authorities broad leverage over people whose private lives become visible.
The available material situates senior judicial figures, including Gholamhossein Mohseni Ejei and Prosecutor General Mohammad Jafar Montazeri's successor structure, within an institutional framework responsible for implementing and defending the penal system. It also points to police leadership involved in detention and initial interrogation. These references matter because prosecution is not the work of a single institution. Police, prosecutors and courts form a continuous chain.
In practice, formal conviction is only one possible outcome. The threat of investigation can be used to compel statements, identify contacts or discourage public activity. Bail, summonses, device searches and interrogations can impose punishment before any final judgment.
For writers, researchers and advocates, the danger can widen further. Work that criticizes criminalization or documents LGBTQ+ conditions may be interpreted through security provisions or accusations of promoting moral corruption. The line between scholarship and alleged political offense becomes dangerously elastic when authorities treat visibility as advocacy and advocacy as subversion.
Coercive treatment persists partly because the people subjected to it have few safe avenues for complaint. Reporting a family member, counselor or institution may require revealing the very identity that created the danger. The complainant can therefore expose themselves by seeking protection.
The legal system offers little neutral ground when the underlying conduct or identity is itself stigmatized. Families can portray coercion as protection. Practitioners can describe it as therapy. Authorities can treat it as moral correction. Each label conceals the same imbalance: the targeted person is denied the right to define their own identity and medical needs.
The systemic meaning is clear. Conversion practices are not a marginal cultural phenomenon when they are reinforced by criminal law and institutional stigma. They become part of a continuum in which family authority, medicine, religion and the state can all press toward the same outcome: concealment.
A system that forces people to choose between authenticity and safety produces harm even when it leaves no single dramatic incident behind. Its evidence is found in interrupted lives, internal migration, secrecy, psychological injury and the persistent fear that private identity can become a legal case.