MADRID – The explosion that claimed the lives of at least 70 people and left over a thousand injured at the Shahid Rajaei port in southern Iran has been a national tragedy of monumental proportions. Occurring near the strategically vital Strait of Hormuz, a key corridor for global energy transport, the incident has not only shaken Iranian society in humanitarian terms but has once again revealed the mechanisms through which the legitimacy of suffering is constructed within the international media space.

Just hours after the explosion, major international media outlets and certain Western commentators began to speculate about the causes of the incident, in some cases with ironic or condescending insinuations. In the face of similar tragedies in other parts of the world, the approach would have been very different: a sober coverage, focused on the human dimension, accompanied by diplomatic gestures and institutional solidarity. In the Iranian case, however, what prevails is what the theorist Jasbir Puar has described as a “necropolitical desire,” in which the lives of certain bodies – the non-Western, racialized, geopolitically adversarial – are represented as less worthy of mourning, as a tolerable, even predictable loss.

This differential treatment is not accidental. It is inscribed within a colonial framework of representation in which the Iranian body, like the Palestinian or Iraqi body, is conceptualized not only as expendable but also as suspicious. The victims at Shahid Rajaei port were not discursively constructed as citizens or workers, but as extensions of an “enemy” state entity, in whose distress there seems to be a hint of poetic justice.

The irony of certain analysts—some linked to military think tanks or outlets like Iran International—regarding the tragedy can be understood, following Puar, as part of a “training in death” logic: a form of violence that does not exclusively manifest in the physical act of killing, but in the way some bodies are allowed to die without mourning, memory, or recognition. In this sense, the Western institutional silence regarding the tragedy contrasts with the swift response from Iranian society: artists, academics, athletes, and ordinary citizens expressed their solidarity with the victims, rebuilding a social bond in the face of global discursive decomposition.

In this context, it is also important to consider the geopolitical dimension of the catastrophe. Iran is subjected to a prolonged campaign of economic pressure, covert industrial sabotage, and diplomatic isolation. The idea that this explosion could be part of a strategy of destabilization has not been dismissed by various voices inside and outside the country, though conclusive evidence is still lacking. But even without direct evidence, what is important is to observe how the very suspicion itself forms part of a discourse system where Iran appears as permanently guilty, even when it suffers.

The Shahid Rajaei port is, moreover, a strategic enclave, not only for Iran but for international trade as a whole. Its proximity to the Strait of Hormuz makes it a symbolic and logistical target of primary importance. In this sense, the incident affects not only the local population but the regional infrastructure as a whole. However, the dominant interpretive frameworks continue to reduce Iranian pain to an appendix of the conflict, to a peripheral data point in a geopolitics that rarely grants centrality to the daily lives of the people who endure it.

The omission—whether conscious or not—of empathy also has an internal effect. The opposition voices who, from exile or foreign media, openly rejoiced at the tragedy not only demonstrated an alarming ethical indifference but also helped reinforce a narrative in which the country's well-being is secondary to their own political project. In some cases, such as in monarchical television channels or certain platforms funded by foreign powers, the explosion was treated with sarcasm or instrumentalized as proof of the supposed structural instability of the Iranian state.

One of those voices that ventured to “make humor” of the tragedy was the current Middle East editor for The Economist, Greg Carlstrom, who posted the following comment on X: “Looks like the people responsible for the Beirut port have found a new job.” Carlstrom was referring to the tragedy that occurred at the Beirut port on August 4, 2020, which destroyed large areas of the Lebanese capital, killing over 220 people and injuring at least 6,500 more. It was one of the most devastating tragedies in recent Lebanese history. However, Carlstrom's use of this event as “humor” in relation to the explosion at Shahid Rajaei port in Iran reflects not only a lack of sensitivity but also the prevalence of a stance that dehumanizes victims when they come from politically or geographically considered “enemy” contexts.

Carlstrom’s comment, dismissive and dehumanizing, reflects an attitude that, rather than recognizing human suffering, opts to trivialize it, marking a clear distinction between lives deemed “worthy” of compassion and those seen as expendable or, worse yet, as part of the geopolitical game. These types of comments not only perpetuate racial and political bias but also normalize indifference to tragedies occurring outside the Western framework. Instead of promoting a discourse of solidarity and humanity, dehumanization is favored, where the suffering of some is presented as inevitable, even just, when it comes from those considered enemies or actors not aligned with dominant global interests.

Greg Carlstrom’s comment is not satirical, nor is it even humorous. Or perhaps it is what could be called “hegemonic humor,” a form of humor that does not seek to dismantle power structures, but to perpetuate them. This type of humor is exercised from above to below, laughing at adversarial bodies, which are presented as objects of mockery rather than empathy. What Carlstrom fails to recognize, or deliberately ignores, is that in this type of “humor” lies a deeply rooted colonial vision: the idea that non-white bodies, the bodies of the Other, have no right to even death. This dehumanization is so insidious that they are not even granted the dignity of mourning or recognition, as they are politically constructed as disposable bodies, bodies that do not deserve either pity or memory. Thus, Carlstrom’s comment not only trivializes the tragedy but also reinforces a global power structure in which the suffering of peoples from the Global South is dismissed, treated as incidental or even inevitable, without any value whatsoever.

What is at stake in these types of comments is, ultimately, the capacity to recognize the humanity of peoples suffering under dominant geopolitical structures. The silence of the international community, the disdain for the tragedy in Iran, and the dehumanization inherent in the comments from figures like Carlstrom are all intertwined in a broader pattern of indifference toward the lives of those outside the Western framework. In this sense, the tragedy at Shahid Rajaei port should be seen not only as a local catastrophe but as a manifestation of the broader global power dynamics that shape the lives, sufferings, and deaths of millions of people in the non-Western world.

Iranian suffering, like that of other peoples in the Global South, continues to be the object of a double moral standard: one moral standard that grants value and dignity to the lives of Westerners and another that, in the case of racialized peoples and those geopolitically outside the dominant global interests, views death and suffering as predictable, even necessary. The tragedy at Shahid Rajaei port is not only an irreparable pain for the victims and their families but also a reminder of the deep structural injustices that continue to define international relations, where the humanity of certain bodies remains a subordinated issue to political and geostrategic interests.

The silence of many international media outlets, coupled with the dismissive attitude of certain commentators, underscores how global politics continues to be a space where the life and death of racialized bodies are treated with indifference, if not contempt. In this sense, the tragedy in Iran and the comments that have accompanied this event invite us to question the logics of representation and the power structures that continue to dehumanize peoples outside the global center.