Robotic Voices Intercept Iran Calls

The silence on the line, replaced by a disembodied, synthetic voice, is a chilling new front in a conflict already fraught with human suffering.

For Iranians living abroad, the simple act of calling home has become a journey into the uncanny, an encounter with robotic pronouncements that offer neither comfort nor connection, only a deepening sense of dread.

As Israeli airstrikes hammer Tehran and other cities, and Iran retaliates with a barrage of missiles, the digital curtain has descended, leaving families on opposite sides of the world adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Ellie, a British-Iranian in the UK, knows this terror intimately.

Her mother, diabetic and low on insulin, is trapped in the outskirts of Tehran.

Ellie’s desperate calls are met not with the familiar voice of her mother, but with an imperfectly English-speaking robot named “Alyssia,” asking, “Who is calling?… I think I don’t know who are you.”

It’s a surreal, almost mocking exchange, a digital ghost in the machine where a human lifeline ought to be.

This isn’t just a technical glitch; it feels like a deliberate act of psychological cruelty.

Ellie is not alone.

Nine Iranians across the UK and US have shared similar, unsettling experiences with the Associated Press, all under the cloak of anonymity, fearing repercussions for their loved ones back home.

The messages vary, but the effect is uniformly disorienting.

One woman in New York described it as “psychological warfare,” a visceral assault on her peace of mind.

“Calling your mom and expecting to hear her voice and hearing an AI voice is one of the most scary things I’ve ever experienced,” she confessed, her words echoing the raw fear many feel.

Indeed, some of the messages verge on the truly bizarre.

One UK woman, desperately trying to reach her mother, was met with saccharine platitudes: “Thank you for taking the time to listen. Today, I’d like to share some thoughts with you and share a few things that might resonate in our daily lives. Life is full of unexpected surprises, and these surprises can sometimes bring joy while at other times they challenge us.”

It’s a grotesque parody of empathy, a hollow reassurance that only amplifies the horror of the situation.

Another, received by a woman named M. in the UK, offered a guided meditation: “Close your eyes and picture yourself in a place that brings you peace and happiness… Maybe you are walking through a serene forest, listening to the rustle of leaves and birds chirping.”

For M., whose immobile mother-in-law in Tehran’s northeast is battling respiratory problems in an ICU amid bombardment, such digital serenity is nothing short of torment.

The only feeling it instills, she said, is “helplessness.”

The experts are divided on the puppet master behind these digital apparitions.

Five specialists who reviewed recordings suggested it could be low-tech artificial intelligence, a chatbot, or simply a pre-recorded message.

But the question of who is orchestrating this remains a chilling mystery.

Four experts lean towards the Iranian government, suggesting it’s a measure to divert calls, thwart hackers, or even calm a populace susceptible to panic, fitting a historical pattern of information control.

Amir Rashidi, a US-based Iranian cybersecurity expert, noted that mass voice and text messages urging preparedness for “emergency conditions” had previously been sent to Iranian phones, aiming to spread panic.

Conversely, these calming, if bizarre, messages could be the government’s counter-narrative.

Yet, one expert posits Israel as the more likely culprit, framing it as a form of “psychological warfare” aimed at “tormenting” anxious Iranians abroad, a tactic Marwa Fatafta of digital rights group Access Now suggests aligns with Israel’s past use of direct messaging during campaigns in Lebanon and Gaza.

The Israeli military declined comment, and the Iranian mission to the UN remained silent.

The ambiguity itself is a weapon, fostering distrust and amplifying anxiety.

What is clear is that Iran’s Ministry of Information and Communications Technology oversees all mobile and landline communications, and its intelligence services have long been suspected of monitoring conversations.

This centralized control makes it difficult for any external actor to unilaterally implement such a widespread system of call diversion without state complicity or profound infiltration.

Whether it’s a government attempting to manage information flow, a sophisticated hacker operation, or a truly insidious psychological tactic by an adversary, the outcome is the same: profound isolation.

The internet blackout, imposed by the Iranian government to “protect the country,” has severed a vital artery of communication.

For those outside, the ringing phone that never connects, or the chilling robotic voice, is a constant reminder of the impenetrable wall separating them from their loved ones.

Desperate measures are now the norm.

Ellie found a lifeline through a contact on the Iran-Turkey border, who uses two phones – one with an Iranian SIM to call Ellie’s mother, pressed against a Turkish SIM phone connected to Ellie.

It’s a makeshift bridge over a digital chasm, a testament to the human need to connect against all odds.

Elon Musk’s Starlink, though illegal in Iran, offers a glimmer of hope for a few, even as authorities hunt for those daring to use it.

In an age where global connectivity is taken for granted, the weaponization of communication is a sinister development.

These robotic voices are more than just an inconvenience; they are an insidiously effective tool of control and psychological manipulation.

They embody the profound powerlessness felt by those who can only listen to a machine’s empty words while their families face the unfathomable.

The human voice, a conduit of solace and truth, has been replaced by an automated whisper of dread, leaving behind a haunting echo of what’s been lost.