loading . . . Iran’s Floods and the IRGC’s Dams: How Militarized Construction Destroyed Local Livelihoods in Baluchistan Late December rains turned deadly where non-standard IRGC-linked dams and land grabs rerouted floodwaters, drowning farms, villages, and the economic lifelines of local communities.
The recent wave of heavy rainfall and floods across Iran followed weeks of dryness, then arrived in force, bringing waterlogging, flash floods, and severe disruptions across multiple provinces. Yet in the southeast—on the Baluchistan–Hormozgan edge, a historically marginalized social geography—the same rainfall became something else: a disaster intensified by human intervention, especially non-standard earthen dams and embankments attributed by local reports to “Mahan,” a company widely described as linked to the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC).
What local Baluch platforms and field accounts describe is not simply “rain causing floods,” but rain colliding with a militarized development model: upstream capture of land and water, weak or absent technical oversight, and structures that interrupt natural flood pathways. When those structures fail, they do not fail neutrally. They release and redirect destructive flows onto villages and farmlands downstream—onto people with the least protection and the least political leverage.
Giyavan-Zamin: fertile land turned into a flood basin
In the Giyavan-Zamin plain—reported in local coverage as spanning parts of Jask and Sirik counties in eastern Hormozgan, along the Makran belt—late December rains that many residents hoped would bring relief quickly became catastrophic. Local reporting describes a chain reaction triggered upstream: several large, non-standard earthen dams broke, sending a sudden wall of water toward downstream villages and agricultural lands.
The scale of loss is repeatedly emphasized. Giyavan-Zamin is described as a major agricultural zone—about 1,500–1,700 hectares of fertile land—built up through heavy investment by local farmers (figures reported in the hundreds of billions of tomans). It had become a hub for export watermelon production, supplying regional and international markets. Within hours, much of this farmland was reportedly submerged, collapsing an entire cycle of production, seasonal labor, transport, and export.
Upstream capture, downstream vulnerability
Local accounts connect the disaster to a longer process. Over recent years, Mahan is reported to have taken control of large stretches of land upstream—described as ancestral lands—then built multiple large earthen dams, reportedly around 40 meters high. The key allegation is not merely that dams exist, but that they were constructed without basic safety requirements, without proper flood-routing design, and without effective oversight—in short, without attention to the living requirements of Baluch communities.
In such settings, “flood control” becomes a kind of flood production: the natural flood corridor is blocked, water accumulates where it should not, and when the structure gives way, the release is sudden and concentrated—more destructive than a normal seasonal flow.
Villages inundated, a child killed, livelihoods shattered
The reported impact extends from infrastructure to life itself. Several villages and settlements were described as fully inundated, and at least one child death was reported. Homes were flooded, documents and personal property destroyed, and farmland wiped out.
But the deeper damage is economic and long-term. Reports describe the loss of crops and productive land as a direct blow to local survival: farmers left with debts, workers left without seasonal employment, and an entire region facing livelihood collapse. Estimates in local reporting suggest that tens of thousands could be affected directly or indirectly through agriculture, trade, and associated labor.
Why this year felt different: not “more rain,” but more intervention
A striking claim in local accounts is comparative: residents and observers note that earlier flood events with substantial rainfall did not produce the same level of destruction. The implication is political and technical: what changed was the landscape itself—reshaped by unregulated water-control projects, land conversion, and an absence of accountable oversight.
Bashagard: another earthen dam breaks, another set of villages flooded
A second reported dam failure reinforced the pattern. In Bashagard’s Palpalak plain (Hormozgan Province), an earthen dam reportedly built for irrigating date-palm groves broke during the same late-December rainfall period. Floodwaters then moved into downstream areas, affecting villages such as Jegin and Diwol and damaging palm groves and farmland.
Here too, local accounts emphasize two things: first, that the structure was allegedly built without proper technical and safety standards; and second, that the governance model—military-linked or quasi-state contractors operating with minimal transparency—creates a recurring cycle of risk for downstream communities.
When climate volatility meets unaccountable construction
These southeastern incidents unfolded within a nationwide rainfall episode that produced floods and severe disruptions in multiple provinces. This matters because it clarifies the stakes: climate volatility is real, and heavy rainfall can overwhelm many infrastructures. But local Baluch reporting insists that the decisive factor in these cases was the way infrastructure and land were rearranged—without accountability—so that ordinary rain becomes a livelihood-destroying force.
In other words, the disaster is not only meteorological, and therefore not simply “natural.” It is political. It is built into the choices about where dams go, who controls upstream land, which flood corridors are blocked, and who is left to absorb the consequences.
Rain as brief relief, rain as renewed ruin
Even the region’s ecosystems mirror this contradiction. Some reporting notes that recent rains briefly re-watered parts of Jazmurian, a wetland long damaged by drought and upstream interventions. That temporary revival offers a glimpse of what rainfall could mean under a different water regime. But local environmental warnings also stress that without guaranteed environmental flows and a change in upstream dam policy, the region will remain trapped in oscillation: short-lived inundations followed by long, grinding dryness.
What accountability would actually require
Local residents and platforms repeatedly call for accountability and compensation. But the underlying demands implied by these reports go further:
First, independent technical investigation into the design, siting, and safety of these earthen dams and embankments, especially where they intersect with known flood corridors.
Second, transparency around upstream land acquisition and changes in land use that intensify downstream risk.
Third, enforceable standards and liability: if a structure is built without safety and destroys downstream lives and livelihoods, those who built and authorized it must face consequences—not media visits, not photo-ops.
Fourth, a reconstruction model centered on local survival: restoring farmland, compensating farmers and workers, and rebuilding protective infrastructure that respects natural drainage rather than overriding it.
Without these changes, the cycle will repeat with each new rainfall system: drought, then heavy rain, then breach, then flood—and another round of dispossession, hidden behind the language of “development.” http://dlvr.it/TQ0jc8
