Across the globe, cities are transforming under the gaze of ever-expanding surveillance networks. In both Iran and New Orleans, the rapid proliferation of cameras and the evolution of monitoring technologies have sparked heated debates about privacy, public safety, and the shifting boundaries between government oversight and private enterprise. While the details differ, the underlying questions are strikingly similar: Who controls the cameras? How are the images used? And what does it mean for ordinary people to live under constant watch?
In Iran, the past year has witnessed an unprecedented surge in surveillance infrastructure. According to reporting by Article 1, the Islamic Republic has blanketed its cities with cameras, drones, and other monitoring devices as part of a sweeping “smartization” initiative. This program, spearheaded by law enforcement and municipal authorities, aims to integrate everything from street cameras and facial recognition systems to building entry surveillance and police body cameras into a unified, data-driven network.
The scale of this transformation is staggering. Cameras now monitor bridges, buildings, streets, subways, and even trains. Police officers have become mobile surveillance units themselves, with nearly 50,000 body cameras distributed in the past year alone—so that, as Tehran police explained, “all operational officers now carry body cameras, activated during national and religious ceremonies or emergency and wartime conditions.” Drones hover above crowds, and soon, classrooms may join the list of surveilled spaces as education officials reconsider a decade-old exemption.
But perhaps the most significant shift is not simply the number of cameras, but the nature of their control. Iranian authorities have outsourced major portions of their surveillance operations to private companies, allowing multiple agencies to access live feeds simultaneously. This arrangement, officials claim, saves money and accelerates installation rates. Yet, as privacy advocates warn, it also blurs lines of accountability and oversight, raising the specter of unchecked monitoring.
The sense of unease deepened in June, when Basij forces reportedly entered homes and businesses to “inspect private cameras,” sometimes searching mobile phones and seizing footage without clear legal authorization. The episode, widely reported in Iranian media, crystallized public fears that the burgeoning surveillance infrastructure could easily become a tool of social control.
Tehran has emerged as the epicenter of this surveillance push. In April, city council head Mehdi Chamran revealed that hundreds of previously offline cameras had been reactivated, and that the municipality was importing foreign surveillance equipment—primarily from China. Documents show contracts worth approximately €400 million with Tianjin Tiandi, a company sanctioned by the U.S. for selling suppression technology and collaborating with both Iranian and Chinese security forces. Despite the existence of capable domestic firms, city leaders have continued to favor Chinese suppliers, sometimes in the face of internal protest and controversy.
The reach of Iran’s surveillance net is extending into every facet of daily life. In April 2024, parliament member Amirhossein Bankipour announced that under the proposed Hijab and Chastity bill, cameras in all government offices, private companies, and stores would be connected directly to police centers to identify women defying mandatory hijab requirements. That same month, railway authorities confirmed that camera installation on passenger trains had begun the previous year, with plans to expand to freight trains as well. Each train is slated to carry two types of cameras: one monitoring the cabin interior, the other watching tracks and infrastructure outside.
Education is not immune. After a decade of exempting classrooms from surveillance, the Ministry of Education announced in November 2025 that individual school councils would now decide whether to install cameras inside classrooms, ending a long-standing protection for teachers and students.
All these disparate systems are being tied together through technical platforms such as the Septam system, which requires businesses to install police-approved cameras as a condition for licensing. The “smartization” headquarters, established in 2021, has produced blueprints for a multi-layered surveillance system that integrates facial recognition, license plate reading, and mobile monitoring—all exchanging data with dozens of government and private institutions. As police commanders recently put it, “Today’s security is not possible with past methods.”
Meanwhile, new building codes enacted in May 2025 make surveillance equipment mandatory for all new residential and commercial buildings with four or more units. Non-compliance can jeopardize permits and completion certificates, effectively embedding surveillance into the very fabric of urban development. The Ministry of Roads and Urban Development, in cooperation with police, has ensured that supply chains, installation, and data access remain firmly in the hands of security institutions.
Officials frame this sweeping transformation as modernization and improved public service. Yet, for many Iranians, the omnipresence of cameras feels less like progress and more like an inescapable web of control, where privacy is rapidly becoming a relic of the past.
Across the Atlantic, New Orleans is grappling with its own surveillance dilemmas. Project NOLA, a nonprofit organization operating a network of more than 5,000 community-installed cameras, has become a cornerstone of the city’s policing efforts. On November 4, 2025, Project NOLA reinstated remote access for the New Orleans Police Department (NOPD), restoring real-time monitoring capabilities that had been suspended since September. The suspension came after the NOPD released homicide footage to a television production company, sparking public backlash and concerns about victim privacy, as reported by Article 2.
During the suspension, officers could still request footage, but were barred from live monitoring. Project NOLA’s founder, Bryan Lagarde, described the move as necessary to “preserve community trust until the department addressed the misuse.” The freeze marked the most significant disruption in a long-standing partnership between the nonprofit and city police.
While remote viewing is back, the most controversial feature—live facial recognition (LFR) alerts—remains suspended. Any future use of facial recognition, Lagarde said, will depend on explicit city policy and assurances of tight control. Discussions are also underway about adding new tools, such as a vehicle-intrusion alert system to detect unauthorized cars in restricted areas like Bourbon Street.
The timing of Project NOLA’s renewed access coincides with a simmering political debate at City Hall. Earlier this year, the City Council proposed an ordinance to expand and regulate police use of facial recognition technology, allowing real-time use under new oversight rules. The proposal stalled amid public criticism and questions about how deeply police had already integrated the technology without public debate. For now, New Orleans’ facial recognition policy, established in 2022, allows only limited, after-the-fact searches in serious investigations and prohibits live scanning of crowds or real-time alerts.
Critics, including civil rights advocates, argue that a privately operated surveillance network embedded in day-to-day policing poses major accountability challenges. Because Project NOLA is a nonprofit and not a government entity, its data management practices fall outside many public records laws and oversight mechanisms. The September incident—when homicide footage was shared with a television production—highlighted how easily the line between public safety and entertainment can blur.
Advocates are now pushing for mandatory audits, public reporting, and explicit bans on using facial recognition matches as the sole evidence for arrests. The City Council is expected to revisit the issue in the coming months, with members signaling that any new ordinance must address not only facial recognition but the broader relationship between city agencies and private camera networks.
Whether in the bustling streets of Tehran or the vibrant neighborhoods of New Orleans, the expansion of surveillance raises urgent questions about power, privacy, and the future of urban life. As technology races ahead, the debate over who gets to watch—and who gets to decide—shows no sign of slowing down.
