If the current restoration practices continue, Tehran’s historic fabric may become unrecognizable within the next 15 years. Poorly executed and unregulated restorations are increasingly endangering Iran’s architectural heritage, leading to irreversible transformations and serious cultural losses.
A recent example can be seen in the unprincipled restoration of the entrance to a Qajar-era mansion in the historic Oudlajan district.
An architect and restoration specialist, speaking critically about the current state of heritage preservation, stated: “The Ministry of Cultural Heritage lacks adequate funding, fails to establish proper contractual frameworks, and does not involve qualified consultants in its restoration projects. At this rate, we may lose all trace of Tehran’s historic character within a decade and a half.”
According to ISNA (Iranian Students’ News Agency), historic structures—vital vessels of cultural memory—have long suffered from restoration efforts that, rather than preserving or revitalizing them, have contributed to their degradation. Many projects are carried out without skilled artisans, without comprehensive historical research, and with inappropriate materials—leading not to preservation, but to destruction.
Experts, architects, restoration professionals, and even local communities have repeatedly raised concerns about the disastrous effects of these misguided interventions. Yet, without structural reforms and a commitment to professional standards, Iran’s historic urban landscapes remain under threat.
In many restoration projects—especially in towns and cities with historic urban fabric—there is often a lack of proper oversight. Even more concerning, key decisions are sometimes made by individuals who have neither the expertise in restoration nor a genuine concern for preserving historical identity. Projects launched under the name of “restoration” frequently result in the destruction of authentic architectural elements, the addition of incompatible structures, or the conversion of historic homes into generic, commercial tourist attractions stripped of their cultural roots.
This troubling pattern raises a critical question for both experts and the public: Who is truly accountable for restoration work in Iran? And why does the Ministry of Cultural Heritage, despite an abundance of critical reports, photographic evidence, and repeated expert warnings, continue to avoid reforming its policies and practices?
In light of these ongoing issues, ISNA has taken a closer look at the current state of heritage restoration, evaluating the performance of responsible institutions and examining the structural challenges at play, through discussions with specialists in restoration, architecture, and the conservation of historic buildings.
As part of these discussions, architect and restoration specialist Mohammadreza Nikbakht shared his insights with ISNA regarding the state of restoration in Iran.
“Restoration efforts in Iran fall into several categories,” he explained. “One segment operates under the Ministry of Cultural Heritage, which employs its own experts and carries out technical work. While their primary expertise lies in the restoration of objects, they are also active in architectural restoration. However, the ministry’s operational structure is largely contract-based. These contracts are often executed in-house, meaning that professional restoration consultants are either entirely absent or only marginally involved. This has resulted in weak institutional expertise, and there is also a serious lack of investment in this area. Most contracts are low-budget and underfunded, making it difficult to carry out meaningful or high-quality restoration work.”
Nikbakht continued: “The second category includes restorations initiated by the private sector, especially in historic cities like Kashan, Yazd, Isfahan, Natanz, and even parts of Azerbaijan. In these cases, property owners take the lead—hiring teams, bringing in architects, and managing the restoration based on their own understanding and objectives. Sometimes these properties are registered heritage sites, sometimes not. In most cases, the goal is reuse or functional adaptation. The quality of these restorations varies significantly—some are done with the involvement of traditional architects but without formal consultation, while others are guided by architectural planning and input from professional restoration consultants.”
Nikbakht further explained that, in practice, it is the private sector that carries out most restoration work, while the Ministry of Cultural Heritage primarily takes on a research, documentation, or protective role. Its involvement in actual restoration or revitalization is rare. “The ministry has assumed more of a passive role,” he said, “focused mainly on preventing further damage where it can, rather than taking the initiative to lead proper restoration projects.”
He pointed out that the Ministry lacks a structured and well-organized framework for managing the restoration and rehabilitation of historic buildings. “Take, for example, the Ministry of Roads and Urban Development,” he said. “They operate under well-defined contracts based on regulations set by the Planning and Budget Organization—whether it’s for metro systems, urban projects, or municipalities, there’s a clear contractual system in place. But the Ministry of Cultural Heritage has no such structure. There’s a lack of expertise in drafting contracts, a shortage of trained professionals, and insufficient funding. Even project managers often lack the technical knowledge to oversee restoration properly.”
“At best, the Ministry can conduct preliminary research or protective assessments,” he continued, “but when it comes to restoring even a small historic shrine, the process becomes unclear and disorganized. The same confusion applies to contracting. It’s like a doctor preparing to perform surgery without understanding the diagnosis. As a result, many projects fail—either consultants and contractors suffer losses, or the Ministry is unable to manage the project effectively.”
The restoration specialist shared that, based on their experience, the Ministry of Cultural Heritage has very limited budgets for restoration projects. “With thousands of historic structures throughout the country, the budget allocated per site is inevitably quite small. Currently, funding rarely exceeds 50 million tomans per project, which is insufficient for meaningful restoration. As a result, private consultants and property owners often take the lead in carrying out these projects,” he explained.
He added that most restored houses tend to be converted into guesthouses, restaurants, boutique hotels, or traditional teahouses. “It is uncommon to see historic factories revived with their original industrial functions,” he noted.
Addressing concerns that restrictive funding and project allocation processes have fostered the rise of a “restoration mafia,” Nikbakht observed: “Wherever there’s a shortage of resources, certain groups tend to manipulate and control the limited funds available. Unfortunately, because many of these projects are seen as small-scale or low-priority, even the modest budgets they receive are vulnerable to misuse.”
He cited a recent example from Mazandaran Province: “I visited the Resket Tower, which had been restored without proper historical research. The original ribbed dome from the Buyid era was replaced with a rounded dome, with no clear rationale or documented evidence supporting the change. Sadly, this is not an isolated incident; similar networks and interests operate in many restoration projects.”
He continued: “We never allocate sufficient budgets for any restoration project, and most projects struggle because of this. But it’s not just about the budget—attitude matters too. Currently, there is a growing trend among Iranian architects focused on revitalizing valuable modern buildings—structures built 60 to 80 years ago or even before the revolution. Some architects approach these restorations with an art-driven perspective, creating visually striking designs. While these individual efforts can be commendable and are often led by talented architects, unfortunately, this approach is not ‘fabric-oriented’; it’s project-oriented. Each building is redesigned independently and separately. If this continues, within 10 to 15 years, we may lose the ability to even identify the historic fabric of Tehran.”
He explained, “Each architect wants to showcase their artistic vision in magazines and competitions, turning historic buildings and old houses into venues for personal expression. This is dangerous.”
The architect emphasized the need to update our perspective on historic urban fabric and buildings: “Adaptive reuse of these buildings can be beneficial, but the historic fabric must take priority—not art. While art can certainly enrich architecture, it can also pose risks by altering historical documents and the authenticity of the buildings. If the historic fabric becomes a playground for architects’ artistic displays, the result will be a city that resembles an amusement park, rather than one with a genuine historical identity. Therefore, while art can inspire creativity, it can also work against proper restoration in historic areas.”
