Teheran Peace Museum, Iran What can a Peace Museum do in a time of War?

What can a peace museum do in the middle of a war? It’s a question faced by staff and volunteers at Tehran Peace Museum, Iran. The Museum was founded in 2011. The principal figure, then and now, is Shahriar Khateri, a medical doctor, currently working in a 24/7 health centre in Tehran. For seven years from 2014 he was based in The Hague, with the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW). In 2013 OPCW had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for its work in promoting the abolition of chemical weapons. That was a live issue in Iran, as Saddam Hussein’s Iraq had used chemical weapons against Iranian people in the 1980-1988 war between the two countries. Khateri has a strong commitment to international law, essential for the prohibition of chemical weapons.

Encouraged by our Trustee – Peter van den Dungen (General Coordinator of the International Network of Museums for Peace, INMP, 1992-2017) Khateri developed a 2007 memorial for poison gas victims into the Tehran Peace Museum (TPM). It tells the story of chemical weapons and international moves to ban them. Accounts of survivors of chemical weapons attacks are prominent, survivors are museum guides, and the importance of international law is upheld. A panel on Gandhi reveals the Museum’s embrace of things that make for peace, and a panel on Henri Dunant, founder of the Red Cross / Red Crescent reinforces both the importance of international structures and also the worth of every human being, whatever side they are on. The Museum’s website includes a video tour, so “visitors” far from Iran can appreciate the exhibition.

On the first day of Israel/US bombing, 28 February 2026, all that changed. A US missile destroyed Shajareh Tayyebeh school in Minab, killing around 165 people – children and teachers. Night after night there was more bombing and always the fear of being bombed. At times, noxious clouds filled the Tehran sky, especially terrifying for those who had previously suffered chemical weapons attacks. But the lesson from history is that, whenever mass aerial bombing takes place, the one sure outcome is the strengthened bond of the civilian population under attack. Cultures are transcended. In a complex society, wide differences in political perspective – from establishment supporters to those who, as recently as January, risked everything for change, and so many people holding positions in between – are at least temporarily cast aside. There is popular patriotic unity against the attacks and the external attackers. The manager of Tehran Peace Museum, himself a victim of chemical weapons, had an Iranian flag attached to his wheelchair.

Public buildings, including museums, closed down. Meeting up, and any kind of organising became very difficult. The internet was cut off, though the internal Iranian phone network continued. Despite threats of further bombing, and the US President suggesting that a whole civilisation could die, many people still ventured out at night.

In such circumstances, how could civil society respond? In particular, what could a small peace museum do? The response from Tehran Peace Museum was remarkable. Together with individual artists and those working officially in culture and tourism, it contributed to a special open-air event in front of the City Theatre of Tehran on 6 April, approaching 40 days from the Minab bombing. There were three components. One was a festival of music from various of the diverse ethnic groups and cultures that make up Iran. There was a performer from Minab itself, with Kurdish, Turkish, Baluchi, Khorasani, Turkmen and Lori artists, each with their own specific musical instruments and song. It was a celebration of the rich variety of humanity, of unity in diversity, and a respect for difference that many other countries would do well to emulate. The second feature was a moving memorial ceremony for the victims of the Shajareh Tayyebeh school attack. A third component, and perhaps only a peace museum would have thought of this, was a sign of peace and hope; numerous paper cranes, products of an earlier origami workshop, were floated on nearby water, as a visible symbol of human commitment and longing for peace.

(The paper crane as a symbol of peace goes back to Sadako Sasaki, another child victim of a US air attack, in her case the atomic bombing of Hiroshima in 1945. Dying of leukaemia 10 years later, she folded hundreds of paper cranes as a sign of hope; her classmates and peers were proactive campaigners to preserve her memory and the story of her action. From the outset, Tehran Peace Museum has been influenced by the way Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum narrates the trauma of war to produce a resolve to ensure such things never happen again.) In the Iranian context, the making and floating of paper cranes marked the transformation of grief into resilience, and hope, and a commitment to peace.

This event was also the first opportunity since the Israel/US assault began for some staff and volunteers of Tehran Peace Museum to come together. One of the outcomes was the public appeal made by Shahriah Khateri with Mona Badamchizadeh, joint coordinator of INMP and a volunteer at TPM. This appeal has been widely circulated [INMP Coordinators bulletin April 2026.pdf]

The affirmation of life, culture, and diversity is a positive message for all to heed. The memorial ceremony for the school dead was a reminder that wars should not be entered into lightly; there are no winners and humanity is always the loser. The cultural breadth was an affirmation of the diversity of humanity. The appeal alerted people around the world to the need for global solidarity. The paper cranes revealed an extraordinary visible commitment to peace and hope.

This event was civil society at its best, even in a time of war. Museums for peace are uniquely placed to be beacons of peace in their own society. Tehran Peace Museum is showing what can be done. It is inspirational. May the people of war take note. (This is by Clive Barrett)