After the Revolution
There is a cold wind blowing along the long boulevard, as i disembark from the bus which has brought me to the far western suburbs of Mashhad, one of Shia' Islam's holiest cities. The streets are wide, with scattered shops and barred windows. It is a friday, the holy day in Islamic countries, and naturally nost businesses are closed. I stand on the corner and zip my leather jacket closed to the collar, waiting for my friend made from a tenous internet connection to arrive as promised. He soon appears, leading his little brother by the hand. He has invited me for lunch at his parents house, and we make out way through streets populated by undecorated yellow brick buildings, sparse winter trees, and grey skies. I feel that i have somehow entered a different Iran from the bustling city centre of Mashhad, or maybe this is in fact the true face of the city, just as the outer suburbs of Melbourne can give you more perspective on the demographics of a place than it's urban heart. Beside the suburban house are vast blocks of land with one or two thin multi storied houses standing alone like gravestones for former neighborhoods. Altogether it gives the impression of being a cross between a housing project slum and Caroline Springs (a cookie cutter red brick community on Melbourne's outskirts).
Over lunch my new friend and I discuss culture and common places of interest. He has studied cinema and written his Master's thesis on the depiction of the frustration of youth in Iran as shown by Iranian cinema. He ask's me how the rabbit problem is in Australia, and as it turns out he is referring to the Australian film "Rabbit Proof Fence", which deals with the Stolen generation of Indigenous Australians. This prefaces a discussion about the history and culture of Australia, wherein i try to explain that we are a country of the future with relatively little history, being held back by our reluctance to accept Indigenous ownership and the genocide. I try to explain the idea of reconciliation, and he postulates that what is important is for people to feel guilty. He says that Guilt is important because it acknowledges fault, both for one's own privilege and for the actions of our ancestors. He uses Germany as an example, and then discussion slowly turns to the Islamic Revolution. On the wall behind my friend is a framed photograph of a young man, maybe 28, wearing a military jacket and a keffiyah. Laid before it is a single red rose. I guess (correctly) that it is his uncle, and that it dates from the Iran-Iraq war where many young men laid down their lives and were marytered, in a conflict that dragged on for almost 12 years and exhausted Iran.
As our conversation becomes more explicitly political, he suggests that he will walk me to the bus station. His father, bald with a taught, bulging gut, and his mother smiling beneath her colourful Chador bid us farewell. His parents generation also have a guilt, he explains, once we are down the street. A guilt that the revolution for which they fought, and died, has produced the type of system in which they now live unhappily. It's true that there is a feeling of frustration in the air. When i came to Iran i expected to find tempers burning, after the country publically exploded in the aftermath of the 2009 elections where the arch-conservative Ahmedinijhad once again swept the polls, playing the rural voters against the urban liberals desperate for change. However so far the dominant emotion i have felt while speaking to young people who have been and will continue to be involved in the struggle for freedom within Iran, is one of futility, and kind of pervasive sadness. Iran suffers from one of the largest brain-drains anywhere in the world, as it's bright youth take any opportunity they can to escape from a country where they are monitored and pressured to behave according to a set of strict and draconian religious principles in which many of them have little faith.
The sense of futility is expressed by my friend as the basic fact that, unlike in Egypt, Tunisia, Syria or Yemen, the regime in Iran is determined that even under popular pressure, it will not take even the smallest steps towards reform. Protesters in 2009 were met with brutal force - my friend describes witnessing young women, in their headscarfs crying as blood ran from their head. He mentions that he was a member of the infamous dormitory at Tehran University that was invaded by the Police in a punitive strike against the student uprising. Another man i spoke to told of his friend from Uni who was shot in the head without warning during a street march by an un-uniformed man, probably a Basij (religious militia). The response of the Iranian regime to discontent has unequivocally been to create fear through the open use of violence against those who dare speak out against a system which can only be catagorised as a theocratic fascist state. Historically one could point to the origins of the current situation in the lead up to the parliamentary elections in 2000, where hundreds of reformist candidates who had been pressing for change throughout the second half of the 1990's, were disqualified for running for re-election, by the Council of Guardians. The Council of Guardian's which functions as an upper house, and is lead by the Supreme leader Ayatollah Khamenie, is an unelected body of religious leaders who the power to veto any legislation or act of parliament with which they disagree. They use this power frequently, and such a situation has been created where the only option for change seems to be a total overhaul of the Iranian system - something that seems unlikely to happen without a huge amount of popular support and energy.
At the moment, this energy seems to be dormant, but there is no doubt that within Iranian society there is a growing discontent with the countries situation. Isolated from the outside world by harsh sanctions provoked by the vocal and eccentric president Ahmedinijad and his public defiance regarding Iran's nuclear program (not to mention his vehment statements on wiping Israel off the map), Iran's young people's main concern seems to be getting out. Which is a shame, because Iran itself seems to have incredible potential. In a way it's curse of defiant independance is it's boon. It has massive national resources of oil and gas, a rich and vibrant historical culture from which a strong tourist industry could be built, a highly educated and creative national mentality, along with a culture of hospitality and politeness. The landscapes here are incredible, and they are connected by a strong transport infrastructure. Even the religion of Islam, if removed from it's current position of absolute governance of civil life, provides a moving experience of devotion and passion to one's beliefs. There is no half-measured Christian idolotary here. Watching a group hundreds strong kneel in unison towards Mecca at prayer time, or observing the crush of pilgrims pressing forwards to touch the shrine of the Imam Reza, openly weeping as they do so, can only be described as inspiring.
Perhaps the most astute observation about Iranian politics that i have heard so far came from my friend as we sat on the plain concrete wall by the bus station in windy west Mashhad. The Green revolution he said, was simply waiting for a crack. When that crack appears, if Ayatollah Khamenie dies for instance, then the dormant energy of frustration and the passionate desire for freedom will spring forth once more, sweeping oppression out of it's way. Whether the movement of people agitating for change can create that crack, or whether they must bide their time until the general public are ready to act together in response to some unforeseen event, it seems inevitable that Iran is due for change. We can only hope that when it comes, the people of Iran will choose their new future wisely, and with independance from outside forces. And while they wait we must support them in their struggle by learning to look beyond the hollow cliches of Iran fed to us by our own media. Inshallah (god be willing) Iranian's have a bright future ahead of them.
Over lunch my new friend and I discuss culture and common places of interest. He has studied cinema and written his Master's thesis on the depiction of the frustration of youth in Iran as shown by Iranian cinema. He ask's me how the rabbit problem is in Australia, and as it turns out he is referring to the Australian film "Rabbit Proof Fence", which deals with the Stolen generation of Indigenous Australians. This prefaces a discussion about the history and culture of Australia, wherein i try to explain that we are a country of the future with relatively little history, being held back by our reluctance to accept Indigenous ownership and the genocide. I try to explain the idea of reconciliation, and he postulates that what is important is for people to feel guilty. He says that Guilt is important because it acknowledges fault, both for one's own privilege and for the actions of our ancestors. He uses Germany as an example, and then discussion slowly turns to the Islamic Revolution. On the wall behind my friend is a framed photograph of a young man, maybe 28, wearing a military jacket and a keffiyah. Laid before it is a single red rose. I guess (correctly) that it is his uncle, and that it dates from the Iran-Iraq war where many young men laid down their lives and were marytered, in a conflict that dragged on for almost 12 years and exhausted Iran.
As our conversation becomes more explicitly political, he suggests that he will walk me to the bus station. His father, bald with a taught, bulging gut, and his mother smiling beneath her colourful Chador bid us farewell. His parents generation also have a guilt, he explains, once we are down the street. A guilt that the revolution for which they fought, and died, has produced the type of system in which they now live unhappily. It's true that there is a feeling of frustration in the air. When i came to Iran i expected to find tempers burning, after the country publically exploded in the aftermath of the 2009 elections where the arch-conservative Ahmedinijhad once again swept the polls, playing the rural voters against the urban liberals desperate for change. However so far the dominant emotion i have felt while speaking to young people who have been and will continue to be involved in the struggle for freedom within Iran, is one of futility, and kind of pervasive sadness. Iran suffers from one of the largest brain-drains anywhere in the world, as it's bright youth take any opportunity they can to escape from a country where they are monitored and pressured to behave according to a set of strict and draconian religious principles in which many of them have little faith.
The sense of futility is expressed by my friend as the basic fact that, unlike in Egypt, Tunisia, Syria or Yemen, the regime in Iran is determined that even under popular pressure, it will not take even the smallest steps towards reform. Protesters in 2009 were met with brutal force - my friend describes witnessing young women, in their headscarfs crying as blood ran from their head. He mentions that he was a member of the infamous dormitory at Tehran University that was invaded by the Police in a punitive strike against the student uprising. Another man i spoke to told of his friend from Uni who was shot in the head without warning during a street march by an un-uniformed man, probably a Basij (religious militia). The response of the Iranian regime to discontent has unequivocally been to create fear through the open use of violence against those who dare speak out against a system which can only be catagorised as a theocratic fascist state. Historically one could point to the origins of the current situation in the lead up to the parliamentary elections in 2000, where hundreds of reformist candidates who had been pressing for change throughout the second half of the 1990's, were disqualified for running for re-election, by the Council of Guardians. The Council of Guardian's which functions as an upper house, and is lead by the Supreme leader Ayatollah Khamenie, is an unelected body of religious leaders who the power to veto any legislation or act of parliament with which they disagree. They use this power frequently, and such a situation has been created where the only option for change seems to be a total overhaul of the Iranian system - something that seems unlikely to happen without a huge amount of popular support and energy.
At the moment, this energy seems to be dormant, but there is no doubt that within Iranian society there is a growing discontent with the countries situation. Isolated from the outside world by harsh sanctions provoked by the vocal and eccentric president Ahmedinijad and his public defiance regarding Iran's nuclear program (not to mention his vehment statements on wiping Israel off the map), Iran's young people's main concern seems to be getting out. Which is a shame, because Iran itself seems to have incredible potential. In a way it's curse of defiant independance is it's boon. It has massive national resources of oil and gas, a rich and vibrant historical culture from which a strong tourist industry could be built, a highly educated and creative national mentality, along with a culture of hospitality and politeness. The landscapes here are incredible, and they are connected by a strong transport infrastructure. Even the religion of Islam, if removed from it's current position of absolute governance of civil life, provides a moving experience of devotion and passion to one's beliefs. There is no half-measured Christian idolotary here. Watching a group hundreds strong kneel in unison towards Mecca at prayer time, or observing the crush of pilgrims pressing forwards to touch the shrine of the Imam Reza, openly weeping as they do so, can only be described as inspiring.
Perhaps the most astute observation about Iranian politics that i have heard so far came from my friend as we sat on the plain concrete wall by the bus station in windy west Mashhad. The Green revolution he said, was simply waiting for a crack. When that crack appears, if Ayatollah Khamenie dies for instance, then the dormant energy of frustration and the passionate desire for freedom will spring forth once more, sweeping oppression out of it's way. Whether the movement of people agitating for change can create that crack, or whether they must bide their time until the general public are ready to act together in response to some unforeseen event, it seems inevitable that Iran is due for change. We can only hope that when it comes, the people of Iran will choose their new future wisely, and with independance from outside forces. And while they wait we must support them in their struggle by learning to look beyond the hollow cliches of Iran fed to us by our own media. Inshallah (god be willing) Iranian's have a bright future ahead of them.
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