Look at my husband's blog!

Dear friends,
VOA accidently posted the address of my blog instead of my husbands! You're welcome to visit here, but please also visit his blog, at http://www.qlineorientalist.com/IranRises
Thanks!
And here is the rest of it. To read the rest, click here.

Lessons of Revolutions Past

The presidential elections in Iran started with huge excitement, followed by grief, followed by disappointment, followed by shock, followed by devastation by the shameless brutality of men who came to spread peace and justice to all, and finally, came to a standstill. We Iranians of the older generation sadly remember the uprising of 1979, and some even the 1953 coup, and wonder what to expect next.


Although there are none among us to remember the constitutional movement of 1906 which put an end to the absolute monarchy and started a new page in Iranian history, many of us, the students of history, are delighted to detect the lessons learned from those golden era are being faithfully implemented by our younger generation today.

In 1979, as a student in the United States, I was glued to the television when Ayatollah Khomeini emerged from obscurity to fame and from exile to leadership, thanks to the media. Passing from anger to amazement to despair to rage and back to resignation in a heartbeat, I came to understand a page of our history which I had missed as a child then, the 1953 CIA coup that toppled our democratically-elected government of Dr. Mossadegh and returned the Shah to power. In those days, the excitement of revolution did not let us see the similarity of the events, which would have prevented us from going astray, and so we did go astray. But today it seems the youngers are much too wise and better equipped (thanks to the internet) to commit the same mistake we did.

Witnessing these two uprising with the same intense interest, from the same standpoint physically, emotionally, and intellectually, I’m amazed not only at the emergence of more and more fundamental difference between the two recent events, but the degree to which the traits of the Constitutional Revolution can be observed in the recent uprising.

The sectarian nature of 1979 revolution naturally did not embrace us all. Not only the minorities, but the secular Iranian had to force themselves and hide their disappointment under a fake veil of “after all we are Muslims.” When the leftists came to the game with their artificially-induced “class struggle”, I felt the last nail was hammered into the coffin by the Islamic Republic as an Islamic coup against the Iranians’ legitimate demands for democracy.

It happened that it took us some thirty years for the shock to wear off and for us to accept our failure and, more so, to accept responsibility for our mistakes and the price we ought to pay for it. Though it happened that those of us who made the mistake are living in the safety of “old age”, well-respected by Iranians, the price to pay is left to our offspring!

It took us some thirty years to learn that there is no “class struggle” in Iran, but cultural struggle, and that neither of the preceding movements was anything but a demand for democracy and the establishment of democratic institutions such as a constitution and a parliament. That the participants in those uprising crossed over the divisions set by class, gender, or ethnicity, and their demands were more in the nature of cultural change (as much as I try to avoid the terminology for fear of being identified with Maoism) than political.

It took us thirty years to find out that we did not need to have any leaders, charismatic or otherwise, with beards or without, with a halo or a ring, to shepherd us. If there were a few who appeared as leaders in Constitutional Movement, they were in fact just like a placard and banner whose function is to carry on the message written on them by others; and Dr. Mossadegh always considered himself a representative rather than a leader. It seems that where there is no such hierarchy of the leadership, the movements have a better fate in our society (i.e. recent Campaign for One Million Signatures, and various minor revolts in sport arenas, such as the setback of government in dispute over the TV program of 90.)

And finally, it took us just thirty years to tell God’s emissaries that we do not need their God. We Iranian know our God very well. Our God respects freedom; our God has created us all equal; our God has created each of us to be his emissary on earth; our God has appointed us directly to be the guardian of good; our God has given each of us a mandate to fight with evil, liars, scoundrels, murderers, thieves and those who turn the lights off to cover their crimes.

It took us thirty years of daily practice to realize that we value culture over the empty rituals and appearance of culture and so-called ideology, be it religious or otherwise. We proved that we would guard our humanity as it is passed to us for centuries through our literature and our customs. We showed in practice that we prefer death to life in disgrace.

And finally, we all came to realize that what unites all Iranian is just a simple voice, a Neda, which no matter from how far it emerges, it will always be heard by all those who consider themselves Iranian.

It is odd that a century ago the king Mozaffar od-Din Shah, signed the constitution which limited his very own power. Unhappy as he was, he had enough Iranian blood in his body and love of the county in his soul that he preferred to step down from his throne but not to detach himself from those opposed to his absolute power. Even the last Shah of that dynasty was wise enough to abdicate. And oddly enough Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, for all the wrong he did to the people and the country, has enough love in his heart and wisdom in his mind to leave when he faced the choice of being with people and leaving or to stay and remain as opposed to Iranians.

Two weeks ago in a conference in Columbia University on the current issue in Iran, I asked two of the participants, Dr. Fatemeh Haghightjoo and Hojjat ol-Islam Mohsen Kadivar, if it is realistic at all to expect a peaceful solution to our present crisis in Iran, or if either of them could foresee the possibility that one day anyone could get into dialogue with the Islamic Republic and make them hear the voice of reason. I think my question was out of the norm, but still I received a warm smile from Kadivar, which I took as an acknowledgement, and a good response from Haghighatjoo: “Lets hope, after all, that is all we have, that is all left for humanity.” A simple and wise a response, as was expected from her.

Yes, “hope” is the torch we Iranians carried faithfully through history and passed on to the new generation. It took us through the bleak days of our failure and defeats, it took us to the street to demand our rights, it made us to reclaim what was ours, and it gives us the sweet promise of a joyful future. That is all we have, and that was all we ever had. But something more, it worked in the past and it will for sure do so in the future. Let’s pray it will stay alive in our hearts. It is our only ally for the days to come.

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Brave Iranian Majlis Member Stands up to the Reactionary Majority

You can see Masud Pezeshkian, representative from Tabriz, a former basiji, a former Minister of Health, standing up to the reactionary majority in the Majlis.
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Shiraz Kids Ridicule Ahmadinejad

Click link below to read the explanations about this song.

The translations in the subtitles are by Mina. Warm thanks.

Some of the references are a bit obscure.

Gordon should read "Kordan", referring to Ali Kordan, who was Minister of the Interior in one of Ahmadinejad's cabinets. He was forced to resign when it was found that his "doctorate" from Oxford was a blatant forgery.

The reference to oil money is to how oil prices under Ahmadinejad did not translate into support for social services. "Election slogans promising to place oil money on people's dinner tables," according to one article.

The reference to Ardebil is to how Ahmadinejad, to how Ahmadinejad used his power as governor there to make one of his buddies in the military brass, Sadeq Mahsuli, extremely wealthy.

The reference to the bank is to his effort to get the Central Bank to give a crony of his a $700 million loan. The director of the bank balked, saying that he would have to get this order countersigned by the Majlis or the Leader. This led to Ahmadinejad getting into a struggle with the bank director and his evicting him from his position. (This was alluded to during the candidates debate and fleshed out further on a campaign stop in Tabriz.)

The halo reference is to a conversation Ahmadinejad had had after his speech at the UN, where he told a group of clerics of various miracles he performed while he was speaking, including the appearance of a halo around his head.

Ahmadinejad passed famously passed out potatoes before the election.
--From IranRises

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Mousavi: The Triumph of Ordinariness

What came as a relief when Sayyed Mohammad Khatami announced “either [Mir-Hosein] Mousavi or me” soon led to further distress. Mousavi's candidacy, a hybrid of reform and fundamentalism, became a sore subject for many reformists, not only for his ill-timed response to Khatami's call, but by his becoming more and more the candidate of nothingness.


One of Mousavi's supporters summarized his political strategy as “breaking the artificial division and artificial contrasts between his rivals. While he commits himself to the most democratic fundamentals of reformism, he makes it clear that reform is never in opposition to the fundamentals of the religion. He also believes that true fundamentalism needs to take some reformist view and action in order to make the religion dynamic.”

It is very difficult to know what exactly the above statement means, as it is difficult to know if it is intended to say anything meaningful at all. However ambiguous as it might sound, it says something about Mousavi's approach to politics and his system of management which his supporters claims to be his strong asset.

Mousavi, with his noncommittal, wordy , redundant, and empty talk, promising the obvious, the unavoidable, and even the trivial, reconfirms what is said about his policy and his ideas in the above statement.

In one of his meetings with university students to launch his campaign, Mousavi was advised by a student to be frank and forward in his talks, and by another, to refrain from the use of so many clichés when he travels to various regions or in his meetings with ethnic groups. The student was referring to his use of adjectives zealous (ghayoor)” and gallant warrior (salahshoor) when he was in Ilam-Bakhtiari. Mousavi responded “I'm very forward and candid,” and “Why should we give up good words such as ghayoor and salahshoor? They are indeed good words.” Another student asked him why there is no street named after Dr. Mosaddegh while we have street called Khaled Eslamboli (Anwar Sadat's assassin.) To that he answered, “When in a country people do not acknowledge their great men, it indicates that country has a problem.”

Though one can justify the desperate attempt of the reform leadership to highlight Mousavi's competence, one can be only more confused and puzzled by the journalists' soft and accommodating tone. Journalists who are supposed to be demanding and questioning, those who have to give a hard time to the candidates to help them clarify and explain their views and their positions to the public, seem have become foot troops of one of the candidates rather than the guardian of democracy, as the Constitution demands. Our pro-Mousavi journalists have generally forgotten their responsibilities, are stuck in the heavy traffic of politeness, confused in how to distinguish between respectfulness and silence, or, on pretext of “not weakening the candidates,” avoid any tough questions which might expose a bitter truth.

Oddly enough, our leading candidate has not received any real endorsement so far. Even those who remember Mousavi since the old days are at a loss as to how to give him a meaningful endorsement. Attaollah Mohajerani recalls an anecdote about him. During the Iran-Iraq war, then Prime Minister Mousavi called the mayor of Kermanshah, Mr. Nikou'i, at home late at night to find out if the government had found a proper place for a Crazy Hasan, who was living in the middle of some ruins somewhere. Mr. Nikou'i, not knowing who Crazy Hasan was, reassures the Prime Minister that he would get in touch with the governor on this matter and would inform him as soon as possible. He immediately called the governor and governor took care of Crazy Hasan. Since by then it was past midnight, he postponed calling Mr. Mousavi to the next day. However the Prime Minister did not wait, and very humbly called back at one thirty in the morning just to make sure. He told him the governor had already taken care of Crazy Hasan and that he could sleep peacefully since Hasan was sleeping peacefully in his bed somewhere thanks to the Prime Minister's attention.

Gholm Ali Raja'i, has outdone everyone else by far. He compared Mousavi to Imam Ali who, after twenty five years of solitude, reemerged as caliph fresh, as if all those years had not passed! (Mousavi had five more years to wait and I don't know why he was in such rush!)

Mostafa Tajzadeh recalls when he was the deputy to Khatami in the Ministry of Islamic Guidance in Mousavi's cabinet, he once received a call from Prime Minister Mousavi at home late at night to tell him that he liked the outcome of the project that he has been in charge of. This had been done against protocol, which calls for his sending the message of thanks to the minister in charge, Sayyed Mohammad Khatami.

In reality, the endorsement as such might qualify Mousavi for a mayor of a provincial town , but not for president of a country which is in the middle of an international as well as domestic crisis. While his friends and supporters try to highlight his kindness or compassion, they seem to forget that running a country of seventy-five million takes a little more than a charitable heart. The success of those in the leadership of a country is judged by the success of the institutions, causes, and systematic achievements they leave behind, not by anecdotes about their charity or courtesy, no matter how grand its scale.

Worse than friendly endorsements are those statements which his supporters express here and there to make up for lack of any outstanding feature in Mousavi's record, like, “He is the only one who can save the country,” without thinking why the country should be in such a condition that only Mousavi can save it. Or when they emphasis on his war time management record, without thinking that somewhere people can find out that his record was not so brilliant.

In the absence of any meaningful way to answer hundreds of questions raised by citizens about his candidacy, Mousavi's supporters tend to silence the public and invite them to “be quiet and just vote, we will settle it after the election,” or even appeal to intimidation when they consider a question as being “unappreciative” or “ruining the candidates.” They suffice it to emphasis his only alleged asset, his management skills.

Unfortunately, what is not achieved so far is the enthusiasm and excitement expected in presidential elections. Even the recent speech of Khatami, clarifying that there is no disagreement between him and Mousavi, and his exit from the race has nothing to do with Mousavi, or that there is no one pulling the string in this campaigns, could not help to lift up the general mood of a mild resignation.

The failure to galvanize the public around Mousavi owes itself to a simple miscalculation on the part of the key decision makers of the reform movements. The reformist' goal to achieve an artificial excitement, hope, and optimism around their candidates, and election in general, is too far-fetched and is so devoid of any real rationale that it sounds more like a farce than reality. Abtahi in his blog writes very frequently that “we should take the election among the public.” This is a brave admission on his part that the election has nothing to do with the public. “We have to take it to them, it is not enough to campaign and send text messages among ourselves,” is his unconsciously honest description of the political situation in Iran in this election.

Lack of credentials is also a problem for Mousavi. He is not charismatic. His calculating personality, the way he considers himself as an outsider despite his involvement, indeed, in key positions such as the advisor to the president and member of the Expediency Council, and the unexplained unofficial silence during all these twenty years, and his official silence during all those years that he has been prime minister, do not make him look the way his supporter try to make him out. Though the reformists try to enhance his features by attributing to him qualities he does not possess or exaggerate his record and leave out those which might tarnish his characters, he still does not seem to excite anyone.

However, Mousavi's only asset has remained unmentioned, and that is his ordinariness. His supporters should not trouble themselves to make something out of him that he is not. Indeed, it might be a great opportunity for all of us to take advantage of this current political situation, in which none of the candidates has any worthwhile credentials, and free ourselves from the habit of expecting too much of a candidate, and of elections in general. It is also a great chance to stop expecting sudden changes, which is neither rational nor sensible, from one election. In a recent speech, Zahra Rahnavard, Mousavi's wife, who is even more unpopular than her husband, said “God willing, we won't have any political prisoners any more.” I have no idea if she meant to be taken seriously (Nabavi joked,“Which country does Mousavi wants to be the president of? Finland?) or if she wanted to mean anything at all. God bless her, she is a Ph.D. and she should know that such statements should have meaning, that not having political prisoners is not determined by God's will, that God has nothing to do with it. The constitution, the judiciary, SAVAMA, the office of the Supreme Leader and dozens of other institutions who are active in running the country officially and unofficially have more say in that regard than God. Also, God is not running for president, Mousavi is.

In spite of all these blunders, Mousavi is a front runner among the reformists, and the reformists' poll shows him much ahead of Ahmadinejad. Given the circumstances, there is a chance that Mousavi will emerge as a winner in this election. But if that happens at all, fear of four more years of Ahmadinejad aside, it owes itself to the political maturity and wisdom of Iranians, the growth of their political consciousness, and the lessons learned from past experience, and not the flaky campaign of candidate who has not reached even a proximity of anything original. Mousavi's supporters should keep their congratulating cards for a while and rewrite them, addressing them to the Iranian people instead. This election is not Mousavi's, and it has never been. This is our election and our victory, a triumph over the tyranny of the rotten idea of seeking a great man to come as our savior. Surely such a victory deserves a big celebration. Liberation always deserve one.
To read the rest, click here.

What came as a relief when Sayyed Mohammad Khatami announced “either Mousavi or me” soon led to further distress. Mousavi's candidacy, a hybrid of reform and fundamentalism, became a sore subject for many reformists, not only for his untimely response to Khatami's call, but by his becoming more and more the candidate of nothingness.


One of the Mousavi's supporter summarized his political strategy as “breaking the artificial division and artificial contrasts between his rivals. While he commits himself to the most democratic fundamentals of reformism, he makes it clear that reform is never in opposition to the fundamentals of the religion. He also believes that true fundamentalism needs to take some reformist view and action in order to make the religion dynamic.”

It is very difficult to know what exactly the above statement means, as it is difficult to know if it is intended to say anything meaningful at all. However ambiguous as it might sound, it says something about Mousavi's approach to politics and his system of management which his supporters claims to be his strong asset.

Mousavi, with his noncommittal, wordy , redundant, and empty talks, promising the obvious, the unavoidable, and even the trivial, reconfirms what is said about his policy and his ideas in the above statement.

In one his meeting with university students to launch his campaign, Mousavi was asked or advised by a student to be frank and forward in his talks, and by another, to refrain from the use of so many clichés when he travels to various regions or in his meetings with ethnic groups. The student was referring to his use of adjectives zealous (ghayoor)” and gallant warrior (salahshoor) when he was in Ilam-Bakhtiari. Mousavi responded “I'm very forward and candid,” and “Why should we give up good words such as ghayoor and salahshoor? They are indeed good words.” Another student asked him why there is no street named after Dr. Mosaddegh while we have street called Estambolchi (Anwar Sadat's assassin.) To that he answered, “When in a country people do not acknowledge their great men, it indicates that country has a problem.”

Though one can justify the desperate attempt of the reform leadership to highlight Mousavi's competence, one can be only more confused and puzzled by the journalists' soft and accommodating tone. Journalists who are supposed to be demanding and questioning, those who have to give a hard time to the candidates to help them clarify and explain their views and their positions to the public, seem have become foot troops of one of the candidates rather than the guardian of democracy, as the Constitution demands. Our pro-Mousavi journalists have generally forgotten their responsibilities, are stuck in the heavy traffic of politeness, confused in how to distinguish between respectfulness and silence, or, on pretext of “not weakening the candidates,” avoiding any tough questions which might expose a bitter truth.

Oddly enough, our leading candidate has not received any real endorsement so far. Even those who remember Mousavi since the old days are at a loss as to how to give him a meaningful endorsement. Attaollah Mohajerani recalls an anecdote about him. During the Iran-Iraq war, then Prime Minister Mousavi called the mayor of Kermanshah, Mr. Nikou'i, at home late at night to find out if the government had found a proper place for a Crazy Hasan, who was living in the middle of some ruins somewhere. Mr. Nikou'i, not knowing who Crazy Hasan was, reassures the Prime Minister that he would get in touch with the governor on this matter and would inform him as soon as possible. He immediately called the governor and governor took care of Crazy Hasan. Since by then it was past midnight, he postponed calling Mr. Mousavi to the next day. However the Prime Minister did not wait, and very humbly called back at one thirty in the morning just to make sure. He told him the governor had already taken care of Crazy Hasan and that he could sleep peacefully since Hasan was sleeping peacefully in his bed somewhere thanks to the Prime Minister's attention.

Gholmali Raja'i, has outdone everyone else by far. He compared Mousavi to Imam Ali who, after twenty five years of solitude, reemerged as caliph fresh, as if all those years had not passed! (Mousavi had five more years to wait and I don't know why he was in such rush!)

Mostafa Tajzadeh recalls when he was the deputy to Khatami in the Ministry of Islamic Guidance in Mousavi's cabinet, he once received a call from Prime Minister Mousavi at home late at night to tell him that he liked the outcome of the project that he has been in charge of. This had been done against protocol, which calls for his sending the message of thanks to the minister in charge, Sayyed Mohammad Khatami.

In reality, the endorsement as such might qualify Mousavi for a mayor of a provincial town , but not for president of a country which is in the middle of an international as well as domestic crisis. While his friends and supporters try to highlight his kindness or compassion, they seem to forget that running a country of seventy-five million takes a little more than a charitable heart. The success of those in the leadership of a country is judged by the success of the institutions, causes, and systematic achievements they leave behind, not by anecdotes about their charity or courtesy, no matter how grand its scale.

Worse than friendly endorsements are those statements which his supporters express here and there to make up for lack of any outstanding feature in Mousavi's record, like, “He is the only one who can save the country,” without thinking why the country should be in such a condition that only Mousavi can save it. Or when they emphasis on his war time management record, without thinking that somewhere people can find out that his record was not so brilliant.

In the absence of any meaningful way to answer hundreds of questions raised by citizens about his candidacy, they tend to silence the public and invite them to “be quiet and just vote, we will settle it after the election,” or even appeal to intimidation when they consider a question as being “unappreciative” or “ruining the candidates.” They suffice it to emphasis his only alleged asset, his management skills.

Unfortunately, what is not achieved so far is the enthusiasm and excitement expected in presidential elections. Even the recent speech of Khatami, clarifying that there is no disagreement between him and Mousavi, and his exit from the race has nothing to do with Mousavi, or that there is no one pulling the string in this campaigns, could not help to lift up the general mood of a mild resignation.

The failure to galvanize the public around Mousavi owes itself to a simple miscalculation on the part of the key decision makers of the reform movements. Reformist' goal to achieve an artificial excitement, hope, and optimism around their candidates, and election in general, is too far fetched and is so devoid of any real rationale that sounds more like a farce than reality. Abtahi, in his blog writes very frequently that “we should take the election among the public.” this is a brave admittance on his part that the election has nothing to do with the public. “We have to take it to them, it is not enough to campaign and send text messages among ourselves,” is his unconscious honest description of the political situation in Iran in this election.

Lack of credentials is also a problem for Mousavi. He is not a charismatic person. His calculating personality, the way he considers himself as an outsider despite his involvement and, indeed, leadership in key positions such as the advisor to the president and member of the Expediency Council, and the unexplained unofficial silence during all these twenty years, and his official silence during all those years that he has been prime minister, do not make him look the way his supporter try to make him out. Though the reformists try to enhance his features by attributing to him qualities he does not possess, or exaggerate his record and leave out those which might tarnish his characters, he still does not seem to excite anyone.

However, Mousavi's only asset has remained unmentioned, and that is his ordinariness. His supporters should not trouble themselves to make something out of him that he is not. Indeed, it might be a great opportunity for all of us to take advantage of this current political situation, in which none of the candidates has any worthwhile credentials, and free ourselves from the habit of expecting too much of a candidate, and of elections in general. It is also a great chance to stop expecting sudden changes, which is neither rational nor sensible, from one election. In a recent speech, Zahra Rahnavard, Mousavi's wife, who is even more unpopular than her husband, said “God willing, we won't have any political prisoners any more.” I have no idea if she meant to be taken seriously (Nabavi joked,“Which country does Mousavi wants to be the president of? Finland?) or if she wanted to mean anything at all. God bless her, she is a Ph.D. and she should know that such statements should have meaning, that not having political prisoners is not determined by God's will, that God has nothing to do with it. The constitution, the judiciary, SAVAMA, the office of the Supreme Leader and dozens of other institution who are active in running the country officially and unofficially have more say in that regard than God. Also, God is not running for president, Mousavi is.

In spite of all these blunders, Mousavi is a front runner among the reformists; and the reformists' poll shows him much ahead of Ahmadinejad. Given the circumstances, there is a chance that Mousavi will emerge as a winner in this election. But if that happens at all, fear of four more years of Ahmadinejad aside, it owes itself to the political maturity and wisdom of Iranians, the growth of their political consciousness, and the lessons learned from past experience, and not the flaky campaign of candidate who has not reached even a proximity of anything original. Mousavi's supporters should keep their congratulating cards for a while and rewrite them, addressing them to the Iranian people instead. This election is not Mousavi's, and it has never been. This is our election and our victory, a triumph over the tyranny of the rotten idea of seeking a great man to come as our savior. Surely such a victory deserves a big celebration. Liberation always deserve one.
To read the rest, click here.

Honeymoon in Tehran: Two Years Of Love And Danger In Iran

I keep reading to catch a glimpse of romance, or honeymoon! Oh, cruel Azadeh! Not even a line? But I keep reading. Then, I give up. Forget about the title, lets get to the subtitle “Two Years of Love and Danger in Iran.” Lets look for love first, modern love, it is nice, I'm sure it is somewhere in the Islamic republic. Islamic love?

No there is no trace of love there either, though there is an encounter with a young man, Arash, in Laleh Seddigh's stable. The author is there to “spend some time with” (not to interview!) the “race-car- driver.” Her friend, Nasrine, had invited Arash to meet the author. Well, one might think reading a tabloid about Paris Hilton or Britney Spears; but, no, it is about an experienced journalist from Time and a “race-car- driver” over a guy name Arash. The journalist, Azadeh is not even a columnist!
In her first step to this love story we find Laleh, an airheaded, superficial, spoiled rich, selfish, delinquent, self-centered, and ignorant woman who “thinks Nepal is a mountain”, in her way. But our journalist who is, as opposed to the “race-car-driver”, intelligent, deep, sincere, and not at all self-absorbed, manages to win him over. When Laleh appears on the scene in her “silver BMW with her pouty, collagen-enhanced lips and a nose job, better than the most, wearing a velvety hunting manteau,” it is easy to guess who is the winner in this rivalry.

Later on, based on the information from Wikipedia, I found that Laleh Seddigh, at the age of 28, is the 2006 champion of 1600 GT car racing, she has been awarded an International drivers license to qualify her to race on any circuit in the world. She is qualified for competing in 1800 GT for the coming year, and has a reputation for selecting very sophisticated and complex strategies. At the time of the interview, she was a Ph. D. student and is now a teacher at the Tehran Technical College.) I wonder why our young journalist insists on portraying her so differently? Professionalism aside, she makes the error of trivializing her opponent. What is such a big deal about winning a competition against an air-head?

Going back to the love that is promised in the title, it seems she has sent us on a wild goose chase. If there was any love affair in her real life, there is no trace of it in the book, no, no love, no honeymoon, and no romance. But Tehran is there and Iran too. And danger? Ah, no danger either. But there is something, lets call it fake danger, induced fear, and artificial suspense. Well, at least she does something in this book beyond making a collection of her articles written for Time from 2005 to 2007. Yes, really the book is a collection of previously-written and published articles. I do not intend to get involved in copyright issues, however the reader needs to know that this is not a romance book, and not a memoir per se. And those who review the book should take the trouble at least to check what they read.

In the Author's Note she writes, “I benefited tremendously from knowing in advance that these two years of my life would be transformed into story. I have reconstructed most of the dialogue and events from notes, some more detailed than others. To fill the lacunae in my journal, I have relied on the help and memory of those who shared the experiences with me.” Nowhere in the book is there any reference to the articles written by the author in Time, nor is there any mentioned of this in the bibliography.

Am I the first to notice how scattered this memoir is? Am I the only one to notice that almost all the articles, written for, and published by Time are glued together by some half gossip, and chit chat stories just to created a fake, pale imitation, and Iranian version of Murphy Brown?

Our young journalist employs whatever she can to create excitement, though she fails to arouse genuine curiosity or interest. The pregnancy out of wedlock, living together, and hassles over officiating her marriage, all seem artificial, and all equally without rhyme or reason, purpose or justification. If she wanted to get married, why didn't she do so six months earlier? Or if she wanted to get pregnant, why didn't she do so six months later? Do we know why she should get pregnant in such rush before getting married? Were there any obstacles? Did she not know how to prevent it? Did she not know that she is living in the Islamic Republic? Could she not read the Islamic penal code first to learn that stoning is not applicable in her situation? Or did she just want to do something exciting? More likely the latter, though the whole scheme does not even impress her minder, Mr. X.

The character Mr. X, if real, does not help either. It might excite a few teenagers in California who might think Iran is a month in the Islamic lunar calendar, but those who know Iran a little beyond the articles Azadeh sends to Time or writes in her book, know that there are plenty of Mr Xs in the Islamic Republic. Our dear journalist would not have been that much excited if she would have been in contact with any of the women activists to tell her it is merely routine to receive those intimidating calls and summonses from one of those minders summoning them to one of those spooky places at odd times like ten at night every so often. They would have advised her that she should simply ask for a rescheduling or tell them she should not go by herself.

There are a few other scattered stories, like two chapters on how to find an obstetrician, in the country which has the most sophisticated women-related medicals facilities in the Middle East; another chapter on how to find a pediatrician qualified to vaccinate her son; and another chapter devoted to vaccination, and the advantages of German vaccines over the Iranian ones, and how she brought vaccine from Germany to Iran so her son won't be affected with fever after vaccination. One chapter concerns the inadequacy of the hospitals with talkative nurses and wailing women in labor pain. And of course the repetitive subject of finding contradictions and paradoxes in Iran, which really becomes deadly boring.

Nagging is also extended to other hassles she has to go through. There is her mother's pressure to invite all her friends and family for the wedding reception, to which she responds by first eating ice cream for three consecutive nights at three a.m. and finally ends up with visiting a councelor. Finding someone to make a dress for her without referring to her five months' big belly is a hard chore, to which she finds a good convenient solution by flying to Europe to get one. Choosing the caterer takes another chapter. School programs - private as well as public-are a disaster and takes another chapter. Youth are not spared either. They are not rebellious enough. They are only “concerned with freedom in their immediate ten-foot radius.” However, women are spared; not even a single word about them except in connection to plastic surgery and their vanity in preferring C-Section to normal delivery. And journalists? None of the thousands of people in that field are even mentioned.

But this book is not even about any of these either. This book is about Azadeh Moaveni's view of life, her taste, her liking, her disliking, and her standards only in a short part of Azadeh Moaveni's chronicles. It seems that for every two years of her life she is determined to write a book.

I personally do not have anything against those who think too much of themselves and take their whims and likes and dislikes so seriously, particularly if they are women. Honestly if it were not for them, their obsessions and their self involvement, Edith Wharthon, George Eliot, Tolstoy, Flaubert, and many others would not created those fascinating masterpieces. But I'm not reading a novel and she is not a character in fiction. She is like a rowdy child who is spinning around herself, splashing everything, and getting out of control. And I'm like a mother who does not know what else to do and, knowing that eventually she would fall, prays for a safe landing.

She is at the airport, I'm holding my breath, what if something happens, what if she finds out that she is barred from leaving the country. I pray to God for Mr. X not to appear all of a sudden with the Revolutionary Guard to arrest her. I really wish her a good luck in leaving the country and take her dear son to a civilized country, somewhere that she can walk into a drugstore and buy any brand of dipper, shampoo, lotion and baby formula for him, otherwise in two years there will be another book tilted “Kids and Toiletry in the Islamic Republic of Iran.”

It seems God heard my prayer and answered it. She left the country without any surprises. Her book has been published by a no-nonsense publisher, Random House, she was interviewed on NPR for a full forty-five minutes. She talks here and there in her book reading, and she lectures on various aspects of her observations; however, I have no idea why she has to be so clueless and tone-deaf.

To read the rest, click here.

Sign the petition against the medieval persecution of the Bahais

There is really very little to say about this. Either you believe in freedom of conscience and the right to worship the Deity in accordance with your beliefs, or you're not. Sign here!

Here are some articles to educate yourself:
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/babylonbeyond/2008/05/iran-bahais-rou.html
http://iran.bahai.us/
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1008126.html
http://www.monitor.co.ug/artman/publish/oped/The_persecution_of_Baha_is_in_Iran_must_stop_80705.shtml
http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/meast/05/16/iran.bahais/index.html
http://news.bahai.org/story/341
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2128317632629440784
http://www.metimes.com/International/2008/02/11/dire_situation_for_irans_bahais/2651/
And, for those with the stomach for it, the Islamic Republic's view: http://www.presstv.ir/detail.aspx?id=85798&sectionid=351020101

To read the rest, click here.

Saïd Sayrafiezadeh's When Skateboards Will Be Free

If I would not have known the world Saïd described in his book with plenty of Mahmouds and Marthas and plenty of Saïds emerging from their unions, all awaiting a promised land that would follow a golden revolution, I would have thought this book was pure fiction and in fact a masterpiece of fiction. I would have thought another Antoine de Saint Exupery had written a modern version of The Little Prince.

However knowing what I know, I should say that the book is like nothing on earth, simply a breathtaking epic written brilliantly by a genius.

A young couple on a nice sunny day, strolling along the streets of their town, stumble across a flier promising as paradise of justice and equality. They pick up the flier, subscribe to its publication, and then become members of the party which published them. Very soon they are foot soldiers of an army, marching to spread justice and equality all over. Enchanted by the mission they bear, the young couple become immersed in it; and in full excitement, they forget about everything else, including their children. Their three children slip out their hands and roll into the unprotected wilderness that the parents see the need of its turning into a paradise.

The youngest one, Saïd, only nine months old, abandoned by his father, clings to his mother, who herself in turn, abandoned by her husband, detached from whatever tradition she has been familiar with, cleaves to an illusory hope that someday the world would turn into a paradise. It is in the process of his adulthood and maturity that Saïd realizes that not only would the “inevitable revolution” never come, but the hope of its advent is an iron sheet to protect his parents, both of them, from perceiving the painful realities of life, as well as reacting to them. The idea of “when the revolution comes, there won't be any pain” relieves them of all parental responsibilities. But, “When will it come mother, the revolution?” he asks. “It will take a little longer,” she replies. “When I become six? or eight? or eleven? or eighteen?” He asks. “Yes eighteen,” she answers, without even recognizing the impatient cry echoed in this inquiry.

Dragged behind his altruistic, self-sacrificing mother, who not only voluntarily denies life from herself, but also from her own son, and longing for a self-assuring heroic father who, like a grand emperor, is constantly away, fighting to bring on the revolution which never arrives, Saïd tries to make sense of the incongruity, incomprehensibility, brutality, abuses, unkindness, and prejudices existing in the world around him all by himself.

Soon he becomes a little soldier himself to help the mother in her crusade, just by wishing for one more copy of The Militant to be sold, one more subscription, one more by-passer to stop by and ask a question, if not give a favorable response. However, he fails to stifle his increasing craving for boycotted grapes or overcome his sleepiness in the back of the room when his mother is talking politics with her comrades.

His absent father, fighting for a noble cause, becomes identified with the cause, and is gradually infused into a more familiar persona associated with the same cause, Che Guevara, has presence in his life in the form of a fading, yellowing photos pinned to the wall above his bed.

In his naive and innocent quest, he is waiting for all to appear in his life, the father, revolution, justice, equality, and a home with functioning toilets. None arrives except the functioning toilets, and even they come fairly late, when he is almost fourteen.

Strange world is the adult life, when a comrade who wants to bring about paradise on earth indulges in child molestation, when a mother who should take care of her child entrusted him to a total stranger so she could be free to protect other victims, when the institution, which is supposed to save the world, sanctions the crime with the excuse that, “Everyone has a problem in capitalism.” And the world is unbearably cruel when the child feels that his father “would judge the same.”

Saïd innocently accepts his father's absence and follows his mother, continues his life, and reaches his destiny. Sometimes he obeys, sometimes he defies, sometimes he avoids, sometimes he circumvents, sometimes he ignores; nevertheless, he never evades trying to make a sense of it all, if not then, sometime in the future. And surely, he does it so well.

I have rarely come across anyone who could explain the inexplicable so well, one who sees so deeply the nature of this kind of blind devotion and steadfast zeal towards a promise, just a promise, better than Saïd Sayrafiezadeh. And I have never come across anyone who had come to that realization so patiently and so compassionately as he does. Recalling his memories so vividly, he takes us with an immense generosity to the dark parts of his life, without shame, without guilt, without bitterness, without rage or anger. There is no sense of blame or regret in any of those tales, since he has learned the futility of it in adults deceiving themselves by placing all the responsibility on a “sad missing” point in the history, on a thin line decision, or “if only it had been otherwise.”

His story is the celebration of life, a walk towards liberation with open eyes, embracing freedom, and untangling himself from the vacuous balloons of the false promises tied to him to prevent him from landing safely on the ground, all grand, giant and majestic. The father is a god-like figure above all. It is only in the course of few meetings and one letter he received from him that he turns gradually into a mere bullying brat, best illustrated in the Persian restaurant in the Garment District. He is trying to tell Saïd about the garment industry's history, of which he is ignorant, and when he orders Chardonnay, he does not know it from Red or Rose wine. Yet he knows how to thoroughly maltreat the waitress. And the mother, who has a saint-like self-sacrificing nature, desperately quits her job, Party, and life, all at once, admitting she has failed them all.

And finally, ideas, and the reflections of the giants, Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Castro, that are so faithfully collected into heavy volumes and sacredly placed on bookshelves? He finds out, when he opens them, that they had never been read. Much later, he notices that if there were anything to be learned from them, it was only what was written on their covers!

Free from all the bubbles, our little prince lands safely on the ground. The landscape may not be as green as he had imagined as a child, and skateboards are not free at all, but there is enough beauty to be enjoyed. With exceptional wisdom, he simply lives in the reality of life and looks out for real happiness where he can find it. And he finds it, right in the office of Martha Stewart's Living, where he designs labels for potted plants, and on the rooftop of his apartment building, observing Manhattan skyline.
It is a book that should be read by all, Iranian, non-Iranian, young or old, left or right. Just make sure to read it on a weekend when you have no appointments; it is impossible to put down.

And yes, the author is Iranian. Well, in reality, only half, but so what, let's claim him fully. He is generous enough to let us to have him all. Am I right Saïd?

P.S.: Reading this book, and knowing Saïd's father—I met him only once at our home, but have heard about him a lot—and knowing his generation well enough, I am sure that his ideal writer should be Maxim Gorky and his favorite selected book should be the Gorky's Mother. It is such an irony that his son turned into such a brilliant writer, amazingly brilliant indeed, and writes a book which is a reversing mirror reflection to that of that work. Given that they are only one century apart, I 'm wondering if Gorky was that wrong, or are we the misguided ones, or if the world has changed so much.

To read the rest, click here.

The Upcoming Elections in Iran

Barbara Slavin in her book, Bitter Friends, Bosom Enemies, compared Iranian political system to a square dancing with the supreme leader in the middle and the rest of the people are called by him to come to the middle to take their turn. None are dismissed for good; they stay on the side, since they may become useful later.

How true her observation was then, and how ordinary it sounds now that she made it. Mir Hussein Mousavi, Iran’s prime minister during Iran- Iraq war, was among those staying on sideline waiting to be called back after almost two decades. His being called back surprised many; however, when President Khatami, after a long deliberation on his own nomination for the presidency, and after a visit with the Supreme Leader, announced that “either Mousavi or myself will be a candidate,” all the newspapers and web sites affiliated with the reformists appeared ready to prepare the public for his candidacy for the presidency. I think his announcement today that, “If Mousavi does not come I will come as I have promised,” confirms that Mousavi is our next candidate and very likely our next president.

Mousavi was the last prime minister of the Islamic Republic, before Rafsanjani abolished the office of prime minister and integrated its executive power into the presidency. The rumor has been around that Mousavi did not have a good relationship with Supreme Leader Khamenei, then the president , and his appointment as prime minister took place under the pressure from Imam Khomeini himself.

Apparently Mousavi left office with a good and effective, though very centralized, economic and management record during the reconstruction period; but not such a transparent one regarding other matters, such as his prior involvement with Israel in Iran-Contra arms deal, which is now a matter of public record.

For the last twenty years if anyone heard from him was through his painting exhibits. His wife, Zahra Rahnavard, was more vocal as the head of Al-Zahra University until she was removed from the position just a year ago by Ahmadinejad’s government. Mousavi and his wife’s association with the notorious AMAL organization was not appealing to most Iranians, who are not happy about the Islamic Republic alliances with dubious Middle Eastern groups.

His wall of silence was broken with his interview with the site Kalemeh, just few days after Khatami’s announcement regarding the possibility of his candidacy. In this interview, he sounded as if woken up from hibernation, trying to remember what it was like before he fell asleep. He recalled proudly that he had managed the country with five billion dollars annually, that is one-eight of what is used today. But he did not recall that the dollar was only 400 tomans vs 1100 toman now, and the population was roughly 50 millions vs 75 million now.

He talked vividly about his economy record and very generously attributed his success to the poor, humble, but good hearted peasants and those from the rural and remote parts of the country, the “peasants form Qa'enat, Khorassan, who picked the best of their saffron and send it to his office to be sent to soldiers who were fighting the last stages of war with Iraqis.” The details of his economic expenditures were recalled again and again, and he said, “Nothing would have been possible if not for the good will of the poor and the peasants of the rural areas.”

Mousavi also talked about his economic philosophy rooted in the Islamic economy of the martyrs Motahhari and Beheshti as well as Ayatollah Taleghani’s brilliant thesis (has anybody ever heard of it?), though the practical wisdom of Imam Khomeini prevailed when the legislators wanted to pass a bill adding to the price of cigarettes. “The Imam adamantly opposed to the idea, and they let it go at ordering them to just increase the price of luxury cigarettes,” thus settling the matter.
Interesting was the convenient absence of Bani Sadr from the list of people who had influenced him. (Banisadr, an economist from the Sorbonne, was Iran’s first president and one of the very few close to Imam Khomeini such as Mousavi himself. He has written his Doctorate dissertation on “Eghtesd-e Tohidi,” or monist economics.)

Mousavi talked a lot about the economy of the previous regime (the Pahlavi), saying, “The Fourth Program was not bad, but the Fifth was a total failure.” He spent time comparing them to those of Islamic plans proposed by his idols, Motahhari and Beheshti, and those of himself. Nothing was said about the past twenty years, nothing about the most basics of economics, the role of the private sector, the limits of the government, the oil based economy, foreign investments, the Iranian investments in Gulf countries, centralized economic vs. decentralized economics (particularly Ahmadinejad fake version of it). 

It seems that if he wins the election, and I think he will, we will wind up with a one issue president, an economic president.

And with the picture he drew, he should be expected to run a country very similar to the one which he governed some twenty years ago, a country broken and fatigued after years of war, with a population broken morally, psychologically, physically and spiritually, left with no energy to demand anything. Poor, humble, meek, giving, patient, content people from the rural area remain his ideal of citizenship of that visionary country.

The reporter for Kalemeh could have asked a few non-economic questions such as on the constitution, law, education, human rights, woman, elections, freedom of the press, the judiciary, national security, the environment, employment, the independence of the universities, youth programs, sports, police brutality, NGOs, among many others. Alas, it seems that the economy was the overriding issue and even that in its most primitive centralized government-based form. Our future president’s economics vision sounds more suitable for a tribal society with a limited population, a society devoid of a middle class, devoid of urban life, devoid of a sophisticated educated population, devoid of industry, devoid of any opposition, devoid of any diversity. And his notion of development is more of the charity-based economy very similar to Ahmadinejad’s plans, though perhaps a bit more original.

Many of us, the optimists, try to buoy our hopes by making parallels between Iran’s upcoming presidential elections and the one here in the United States. Regretfully the only similarity between them seems be a proper name “Hussein.” Nothing of that brightness, sharpness, strong will, determination, hope, desire for progress, modernism, or creativity is found in Barak’s Iranian counterpart. The difference between this Hussein and that Hussein remains to be “from earth to sky.”

However, in spite of all this, I personally welcome the choice. First, I’m pleased that it is not Khatami who falls into this masquerade of the Islamic Republic election for the second time. Second, we are going to be spared from Ahmadinejad’s vulgar language and his embarrassing demeanor for a while. Third, Mousavi’s candidacy is indicative of desperateness dominating the regime, since neither the Supreme Leader’s nor other ruling clerics are inclined towards him, and it seems this choice is more of a response to external pressure rather than anything else. I very strongly believe that the emphasis on the economy, and Mousavi’s exaggerated record on it, is a cover up for other reasons behind his candidacy, and it is just a tactic to divert the public from it. Finally, consenting to his candidacy, and consequently his presidency, indicates the failure of ayatollahs in imposing their autocratic rule to their heart’s content. Being forced to keep up appearances, and off and on arranging a show of elections, candidacies, campaigns, voting, and change, the ayatollahs reveal their failure more than what they are willing to admit.

Also, I can not resist taking notice of a parallel. The choice of Mousavi reminded me of when the Shah chose Sharif Emami after he delivered that historical speech and admitted that he heard the people’s message. History proved that he had not heard any of the people’s voices and had no intention of real change, otherwise he would have chosen Bakhtiar in the first place. Although I’m not so sure if the ayatollahs would meet the late Shah’s fate so soon, something inside me promises that Mousavi’s fate will be very similar to Sharif Emami’s; he will fail, whatever his mission.

As for us? We should make the best of it. If “electing Mousavi” could get us even few inches ahead by keeping the habit of being present in election, even if it is a fake one, and participate even in an election whose outcome is decided prior to our voting, still we have to grab the opportunity. The country is ours, we have to reclaim it, and we can’t do if we do not have a presence. No, Mousavi is not our man, but “election” and under this circumstance “electing Mousavi” is our only means, not to democracy, but only a little closer to democracy. May God be friendly to us all.

To read the rest, click here.

The Palestinians' False Friends

For three weeks, while Israel’s Air Force continued to demolish so-called Hamas infrastructure and along with it, the lives of innocent civilians who happen to be in the way, and while Hamas, which must have been well aware of its limitations and its capability, declared war firing rockets at the greatest military power in the region , the Islamic Republic of Iran did not remain idle. The newspapers were not short of sympathy for the Palestinians in Gaza, and the ayatollahs seemed to be having the time of their lives. They delivered even more vehemently anti-Zionist speeches and fervently expressed their will to wipe the Israel off the map. Our beloved President Ahmadinejad, too, did not lose the opportunity to raise the Holocaust issue again, the topic so close to his heart that it has become his crusade since his presidency.


After three weeks, the show is over, Israel declared a one-sided ceasefire, meaning it can resume whenever it wants to; Hamas declare victory. And for us Iranians? Let’s see who will start shooting first!

In Tehran, the cradle of support for Palestine and the Palestinians, there was no sign of any spontaneous call for demonstrations and rallies by any of the activist groups, including the universities’ student groups, prior to the call by the government which took place during the third weeks of attack. The report came as some six thousand people gathered to protest Israel’s attack, though the rally turned into an anti-reformist demonstration when a few of the reformists showed up in solidarity with their Moslem brothers in Gaza. The slogan “Death to Israel” changed to “Death to Khatami” and “Death to reform,” indicating that the main target was to express anger against the domestic enemy and villains and Israel’s attack on civilian was merely an excuse, and those who participated in the demonstration were ready and prepared for such a diversion and were accustomed to using Palestinians as just a means for political gain.

My husband and I attended a rally in New York City the day after the first attack. To my surprise, some thousand people gathered along Fifth Avenue. I could see all kinds of people, mostly young, from a wide range of ethnicities, white, black, South Asian, old Commies, and, of course, Palestinians. A few young Israelis with placards reading “Do not kill!” and "Enough Killing in Sderot and Gaza" in Hebrew and a group of Ultra -Orthodox with their banners denouncing the legitimacy of the state of Israel were noticed. However, neither my husband Evan, who has a special talent in finding Iranians anywhere just like a magnet, nor I noticed the presence of any Iranians there. And none of our old friends who were active in solidarity with the Palestinians were present either. We might have missed some of them in the crowd, though one thing we did not miss for sure, was passion. That is hard to find these days in these kinds of events.

On our way back home, I asked him as to the absence of his old comrades at the rally and “the zeal and passion” under my breath. It seemed he did not hear the latter one!

“They gave up.” he said.

“Gave up what? They think the Palestinian do not need further support? Or they are just retired from activism?” I asked, and dropped the passion part.

“Neither one,” he continued “They very likely gave up because of the futility of their action.” (I was right, he had not heard me completely.)

Knowing him, I figured that “futility” was just a euphemism for the same feeling that has barred Iranians from any spontaneous demonstrations like the ones they held in the aftermath of the World Trade Center disaster or the other similar misfortunes, a sense of being abused and being cheated. Of course, we all are concerned when the lives of innocent citizens are jeopardized by any means, intentionally or otherwise; however when the life of the same innocent citizen is used as a means for attaining some political gain and when those innocent citizen, themselves, knowingly gave in to those abusers and call us further to support them and their abusers, I think sympathy gives way to a frustrating sense of humiliation.
It is so unfortunate that the intensity of Israeli’s aggression, and the brutality of its attack on defenseless people has created a situation where there is no room for any reflection other than blaming the aggressor and lamenting the loses. However, the recent ceasefire might be a good opportunity for us as outsiders, as well as the Palestinians to have a fresh look at the situation.

The whole situation in Middle East reminds me of an anecdote I heard once from Rabbi Sammy Barth. Once a college of rabbis made a summit to discuss the wisdom of creation. Was it wise of God to create such a world as it is, full of conflict, pain, and misery? After days of discussion and deliberation, they all unanimously came to the conclusion that, no, it was not so wise of Him to create the would as it was, and that it would have been much better if He had not done it.” Yet, they all decided, now that He has done it and now that the world is the way it is, it is our responsibility to make the best of it. Simple and naive as it might appear, was significant advice then, and always, in my daily encounter with life, political or else.

During the last thirty years which constitute the good part of my adult life, I have been so engulfed in Iranian politics that the turmoil of the rest of the Middle East would have been pushed into an obscure corner had it not been a prime interest of my husband and his friends. Learning a lot about the Palestinians and their cause through the venue they always chose, from the time they threw rocks at soldiers to the present, when they fire rockets at civilians, from the time that they had good friends around the world to the present time, when their old friends are tired and feel abused by their new friends and their political operators such as the Islamic Republic of Iran and its allies and proxies like Hamas and Hezbollah, I see more of them being misguided than having progressed.

We can appeal no end to analysis an analysis of the cause and effect of events, Hamas and Hezbolah as the effect of Israeli’s occupation, thousand of innocent people killed as a result of Israeli’s aggression, Mahmud Abbas’ having been weakened because of his moderation, Arafat’s failure because of his opportunism; we can spice them all by naming Israel whatever we want as we have done for the last forty years. Yet not only has the bloodshed and massacres not stopped, it seems violence has become the norm, and stirring emotions more of an issue than coming up with a remedy.

The cease fire may not be a good opportunity for Palestinians to reflect, though it is a good time for their well-wishers, particularly Iranian activists, to look with open eyes for a remedy rather than stirring emotions. It is a good time, after we lament the disaster, to remind the Palestinians that Hamas never did them any good, that Ahmadinejad and Khamenei do not give a fig for them or their cause; and painful as it might be, they should know that are mainly a political tool used only when they are needed. It might be helpful for them to know that the people of the world have many worries of their own, and with all due respect to their suffering, we ourselves are up to our necks in many miseries. We Iranians, for one, could hardly miss Khavaran’s nameless graves, the mass graves in Yazd and Hamedan and Shiraz and wherever else the regime tried to camouflage the human remains of their victims. We are not much better off than they are, we cannot even do or say anything about our condition without being accused of treason and losing our lives. We cannot have our elected government either before some self-appointed “better, all knowing” leader tells us whom we should elect. Yes, our Palestinian brothers and sisters should know that those who have occupied our homeland can not possibly be their saviour. Indeed we are in the same boat together the only difference is that while we row they just cry. Why don’t they stop crying and join us to row; we might reach a safe shore together, if they mean it at all. Or, just play deaf and continue to lament their fate.




To read the rest, click here.

Ayatollahs and the Hurling Shoes

Yesterday Ayatollah Jennati, on his Friday prayer sermon, praised the Iraqi journalist who had thrown his shoes at President Bush and said, “Those shoes should be retrieved and be placed in a museum.”

In my life time, I recall many political leaders who were not popular with their own people, leaders who were in power and then left office in disgrace. Some were overthrown by military coup, some by popular revolution, some were put on trial in an international tribunal, some were assassinated, some were even voted out of office, some were forced to resign, and some lasted until their term was over. Each of these leaders met their ends with a degree of disgrace, though most of them gradually found a way to live in peace in oblivion.

Among all the these unpopular leaders, President Bush stands out because he is the president of the largest democracy on earth (next to India) and because many events happened during his two terms of presidency which affected the world immensely. When in our recent election he was not even invited to address the crowed in the nomination of his own party, when he did not dare to appear in public to endorse his own party’s standard bearer, when his popularity was ranked the lowest in history and when he was comforted that maybe in the future history would judge him more favorably than his contemporaries (of course if the historian happened to be a neo-con!), still I thought he did not receive what he deserved, until that memorable night when the journalist threw his shoes at him. Honestly, my first reaction was, “I wish he would have thrown his socks.” My sister disagreed, “They would not have reached him.” “They would if they were heavy socks smeared with a little oil or tar or mud.” I was worried that my joy would be ruined if the journalist had to pay a high price for his creativity. I would have felt better if they had been ballet shoes.

What was the intention of the journalist? No one even asked. The motive was crystal clear. Frustration, anger, dismay, and hopelessness were all fit into that famous pair of shoes. Oddly enough, none of us (at least those I talked to, and those people around me) saw any violence in the action and we were all happy that the shoes did not hit the president, and were relieved to find him agile enough to dodge well, and more so that he managed to keep his sense of humor afterward. He placed the action in the category of freedom of expression!

Soon we heard that someone from Saudi Arabia offered ten million dollars for that pair of shoes, and Ayatollah Jennati appraised it as a museum quality piece. I happen to agree with both verdicts though I keep myself arms and legs apart from both of them. I think the Ayatollah would have made the same verdict if the journalist would have thrown a hand grenade, a knife, or a rock at the president; he would have made the same verdict if he would have hurt the president. Obviously the assault charge was not his concern at all, and this kind of violence is immaterial to him and his other fellow-ayatollahs so far as it served their political agenda.

However, my excitement over the shoes was different. I admired the act’s creativity and spontaneity. It was very new and refreshing. When leaders throw garbage at us, I think they deserve to receive something in return.

I also liked the universality of the expression. Though throwing shoes at the president of the United States was something innovative, still throwing something as a mode of expression is very universal, something we all do when we are angry, frustrated, or abused, when we find ourselves in a hopeless situation. However very rarely one receives such an overwhelming positive response by expressing his- or herself in such fashion. Most of the time we are shunned in response.

It was obviously not just a simple universal expression of anger or frustration or disappointment, it was not even the creativity of it, and it was not even the courage which cause so much of ado. There must have been something hidden in this extraction, something else was spat out from the shoes, some wit, some humor or something else. Indeed it was that “something else” which was neither rage nor hate nor despair, wit, humor or any combination thereof which excited so many of us in spite of the hint of violence and rudeness. It was that “something else” which made even the politest, most genteel, most educated, most fair-minded applaud. Really, what was that ‘something else”?

Years ago in an exhibit, along with an ex-boyfriend who had no talent or eyes for the arts, I was dazzled at the famous painting of Chagall’s I and My Village. As it was his habit of challenging me, my ex called it crazy. “Any child can paint like this. What is this green face? Why not all yellow or blue? ” he added. “True," I countered, "Now this is done, anyone could do it as well. But in reality, only one person could have done it, and that was Chagall. He was the only one who did it. As for the color, I’m afraid it cannot be any other color but the one that is there, because he did so. Yes, it could have been yellow or blue if and, only if, he would have made it yellow or blue. The truth of the matter is he made it green.”

Luckily the world is constituted in such a way that our disagreements and our agreements amount to nothing when it comes to the truth. Chagall’s I and My Village withstands the challenges even if the whole world is united against it. His face would stay green and the piece would stay in a museum since it belongs to the museum. It is such an undeniable reality and expresses such truth that no one can dispute it.

The complex phenomenon of “hurling shoes”, unidentified as it is yet, stands as the “intellectual property” of its creator, quite unique to itself. The clip of film is viewed thousands of times all over the world. The president of the United States, dodging twice to avoid the hit, with disbelief in his face, wondering what to make of it all, probably thinking about the bouquet of flowers promised to him by Kanaan Makiya, will go down in history. If the journalist had a weapon and would have assaulted the president, if the journalist have had a chance to ask the most significant question or to make the most disturbing comments, it would not have had that effect of tossing his shoes at him. And, even if in a most democratic fashion the entire people of Iraq would have condemned President Bush for all the destruction he brought to the people of Iraq, it would not have had such an effect. As a matter of fact, those shoes thrown at the President Bush at this stage of the game, when he was leaving office in such disgrace, was such an indispensable closing statement to his presidency that nothing else could have taken its place. The journalist in question could not possibly have done it otherwise, he could not have written more dramatically with his pen, or taken a more dazzling picture with his camera, or have spoken more eloquently into his microphone. That “something else” was there in his shoes, the lowest part of his body, full of dust and dirt, smeared with others’ dirt, covered with the worthless of the worthless, that was the real true color of his feelings, that was the color he chose to paint his canvas; there could not have been any other color, but the color of “hurling shoes.”

And yes it belongs to a museum, just next to I and My Village, if I may dare to suggest. It was as unique, though not as attractive.

P.S. As for Ayatollah Jennati and his generous appraisal, he does not need to trouble himself to retrieve the shoes. Very soon the whole phenomenon, like most of the masterpieces in the world, will be reproduced and fill the markets; he and other ayatollahs, if they wait patiently, will receive their share of “hurling shoes.” Though none will make it into a museum since neither of them is original, the shoes or their targets. Forgeries do not impress anyone.

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Obama and the Mash Hassan’s Cows

Just two days ago my dear domestic help, Nancy, while complaining about the hard condition of life and bad economic situation, said:

“Hopefully your Obama will take care of the economy soon.”

“He is not my Obama, he is the

president-elect, and is elected by an overwhelming majority of people,” I responded.

“But I do not trust him.”

“Why not, if I may ask?”

“I don’t know, I just do not trust him. I mean I don’t like him”

Nancy is from Ecuador, a medical school dropout and a poet. The economy has driven her to the United States. But paying for a mortgage and taking care of three generations of single mothers, she really needs a better economy than this.

Being a poet, Nancy seems justified in taking her feelings into account on every issue, including when she goes to the voting booth. It also seems to me her poetic sensibilities would allow her to build her trust upon her likes or dislikes. But I think I have heard enough of this cliché, “I don’t trust him” from people who did not have the slightest poetic sense, to learn that the phrase is used as a euphemism for politically incorrect statements that they could never utter openly.

But the negative reaction to Obama among some Iranians is not racial, at least for many of them. I’m one of those who believe very strongly that Iranians are not racists. (I may sound a little biased, and as a matter of fact, when it comes to Iran and Iranians, I’m nothing but biased!) I do not have such a great argument in that regard beyond the general definition of racism, our history, and my extensive life experience and, for what it’s worth, my feelings.

Among all the articles on Obama, the most interesting was a very funny satirical poem by Hadi Khorsandi, which to do justice and not ruin his nice work I refrain from translating and

merely summarize.

Mash Hassan comes home after grazing his two cows in the pastor in a jubilant mood, demanding a feast of chicken, rice and eggplant from his wife. He is happy that Obama ‘has come’, meaning he has become elected. His wife jokes, “What does it got to do with you? First he has not ‘come here’, but is in the U.S.A. and second, what he is going to do for us? Does he make our cows give more milk or will his coming bless our bull with milk? Indeed, the situation would stay the same: ‘The same old door but with a new hinge.’” She goes even further, saying “He is not working for us, as you naively think. He has come to serve those who helped him to come. Don’t get so excited. This black man is not the same black man we knew in tales and legends; he is a black who has come to power with the white’s money, and give him a chance to see how well he will loot and rob. He is another Bush only with a fresh breath! He would add to the grief and mourning of Iraqis and Afghans! And all this Obamania? It is just the Khatami bacteria which has spread.” Poor Mash Hassan, convinced, takes his two cows and returns to the pasture.

But why did this poem generate such excitement? Is it really a realistic analysis, as some believed? Does our harsh social and political critic, really think that Mash Hassan (standing in for the Obamaniacs) is so naïve as to expect more milk from his cows after the election? Or do we expect a miracle, such as a lactating bull? Or it is his wife who is so stupid as to not understand that Mash Hassan, with all his simplicity and naïveté, might worry about global warming and other environmental hazards, genetically modified food, offshore drilling, nuclear waste, and the effect of them all on his cows. He might be worried that very soon, not only he has to feed them with chemical formulas, but he will have to play a video of a meadow for his cows not forget green and greenery. Limited as his life might be to his cows’ milk, he might, just might, be concerned about its quality rather than its quantity. Limited as his vision might be to the view of the pasture on which he let his cattle go to graze, he might very well be concerned about its revival and continuation to the next generation of cattle. Mash Hassan might very well be interested in uprooting the entire economic system. He might very well be interested in some changes in the system of social justice, he might even be more interested in a new revolution; but he might, just might, think that the ballot box is not such a good place for all of them, not even a good place to start the revolt.

I really feel sorry for Mash Hassan’s wife’s cynicism. Not only will the bulls not yield milk, but even her cows won’t be helped by Obama to increase their yield!

I am so happy that Mash Hassan and his wife do not constitute the bulk of the citizens in the United States, otherwise Obama would have had a hard time getting elected. (Could you imagine McCain/Palin in the White House? Complete with all the hair styling and accessories?)

But for the Heaven’s sake, why does his wife, in the spirit of modern feminism, not give him a chance to talk? He might say “No dear, Obama is not Bush, he did nothing and said nothing so far to indicate he is like Bush, but he gave the people of the world a hope, just a hope, that they can change the situation if they want to; that if things have been very bad so far, it doesn’t need to stay that way forever. A little hope of ‘Yes we can’ deserves a little happiness.”

I think Mash Hassan, knowing his wife better, is not convinced but is simply resigned. He knows, as the French say, she is a “jamais contente.” He knows she shows her cleverness by finding faults in everything. He knows that it is her way of being avant guard, to be opposed to the general consent, and disagree with whatever every one else, Mash Hassan in particular, finds agreeable. It is a bad habit that she has picked up, from God knows where, to see everything in black and white and not a gray spot to be found. And he knows above all that his wife talks irresponsibly without thinking about the consequences, without thinking about their implications.

I think It was very wise of Mash Hassan to pick up his cows and return to the pasture. I pray for him that in his way up there he finds some mushrooms to eat, instead of the feast he expected from his wife, and I hope he does not forget to keep his reed with him. I hope he finds a fountain somewhere, with a soft mossy rock next to it under a shady tree, a willow tree maybe, so he can sit, gaze at the pure water, and play his heart to his reed, softly and smoothly, and let his wife stay home alone and grump to her heart's content,

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Obama's Call

Just few days left to the election’s D-Day and most likely, almost definitely, Barak Obama will be in the White House in January 2008.

What makes this election an historical event in the United States is not only the contrast in the president’s color with that of his place of residence, but the contrast in tone and climate that this man of color would cast with those of his predecessors in the recent American history.

What heightens this contrast is the exceptional exhibition of vulgarity, superficiality, manipulation, accusation, and lies employed by the Republicans in this race. Joe the Plumber became the symbol of the average American; Joe Six Pack sets the standard for working class Middle America; a hockey mom with a pregnant teenager daughter has become the symbol for the average American women; a vice presidential candidate who acknowledges that her $150,000 wardrobe is just “like lighting and stage props” serves as décor in this race, defining the role of women in politics; chatty talk show hosts and gossip columnists become advisors and consultant to the candidate; and actresses with fancy cloths and make up appear to judge the credentials of a Harvard graduate.

The Republican Party’s defeat is not a mere political defeat or a strategic defeat. It is a cultural change, if I dare say, a cultural revolution. I think it should be a source of pride for all of us that most of us, although not all of us, have reached a level of maturity and wisdom. The defeat of McCain/Palin is the defeat of vulgarity misapprehended as the simplicity of middle America, displayed by Joe Six Pack, the hockey mom, and the Joe the Plumber who joined the bandwagon in last days of campaign, all heading to the graveyard of history, thanks to their ringleader, John McCain.

The coincidence of the economic crisis with the election has brought about many discussions as if we are in the end of some era. If this is the end of Capitalism, Colonialism, American Imperialism, or any other -ism, I do not know. Heaven know it might be the beginning of something called “hegemonyism”. It might be, as one Iranian journalist said a few days ago, a new wave of right-wing populism as opposed to a new emerging wave of leftist populism forming in Third World countries. But I’m sure no one will ever again dare to come forth to run for the presidency of the United States claiming he/she receives his/her mandate from the Joe Six Pack or hockey moms, or establishes his/her policy based on Joe the Plumber’s dreams and demands. These average-simpleton-representatives do not exist any more, or if they exist, they are in the minority and on their way to extinction.

I’m not so sure as how green the future landscape of the country will be, but I’m sure that it is definitely fading where the workers are sitting in front of their TVs drinking six packs, women are always pregnant housewives, teen age girls attending high schools are getting pregnant, $118,000 tax offenders serve as spokesmen of working class people. Instead, I see more colors coming to the picture, brighter shiny eyes, more young energetic people with lots of hope, less fear, and abundant determination, and lots of older men and women adorned by wisdom rather than just the accumulation of years.

I’m sure it won’t be the end of greed; I’m sure there will be many people who want to make millions of dollars overnight; and I’m certain there will be enough people who think the road to riches is the road to happiness. Indeed I’m not equipped to challenge any of them. However, the praise for these ideas, the glamorous portrayal of “rich and happy” would be off the screen for a while. Vulgarity is not going to be pampered, and wisdom will not be displaced with simple repetition.

I’m not sure it won’t be the end of racial hatred, or the religious fanaticism, or monopolizing the God; but for sure we all would find a chance to trust “others” who appear different than us. It would be an opportunity to find out “others” are just the other side of “ourselves.” And it would be a great chance for God as well. He would be given a chance to enjoy democracy, to look upon all of us equally, as He promised us all!

I’m sure we are all going to speak English. Once again the rules of grammar will be in effect. The dictionary will come into use, words will be chosen with care and used according to their agreed upon meanings, and above all, they will be used to heal, to comfort, to sooth, to explain, to clarify, to lead one to the truth, rather than to deceive and misguide, hurt or abuse. The rules of logic, deduction and induction will be brought back into our discourse; manipulation will be left to mothers who want to keep their children out of trouble. Statements coming from the leadership will reveal some ideas, aimed at achieving some purpose, rather than meaningless statements thrown about randomly as darts. Heaven knows our youngsters might be delighted to find out that the president of the country thinks first, evaluates his thought next, appraises them to see if they are doable, and if so by what cost and if the cost worth it, and then comes forth to propose his plan. He might become a model for many.

After eight years of the promotion of illiteracy in the White House, the leaderships of the country will be handed to literate and educated people who speak good English. Both the President and the First Lady will be Harvard graduates and neither of them got there by using his parents and grandparents’ alumni ticket, but through meritorious scholarship. They can deliver speeches with beginning, middle and end with some meaning and significance, rather than a jumble of words, the English version of Ahmadinejad’s speeches. They are able to gather needed information, to argue and to discuss; attend press conferences. They do not need to be reminded through a script written for them before hand, but can listen, think and answer. And astrologers will certainly not decide on the issues in Camp David, and those who make the decisions will be more precise in their aims and reaching their goals than Dick Chaney when shooting birds on his ranch.

I’m sure it is not going to be the end of warmongers in the world, but we are not going to be grist in their mill. (Obama announced that already.) He would leave the bellicose talks of Ahmadinejad as a gift unreturned, rather than paying him in his own coin of war and bombing, a discourse he needs to survive. Serious, determined and confident, he would call for dialogue. It is the Islamic Republic now which is loosing sleep as to what to do. Obama will certainly leave many like Ahmadinejad out of job.

Barring misfortune, pride would replace the embarrassments and humiliation when our president speaks or appears in public. Who was not delighted by his speech in Berlin? Could we imagine a few like that every year? Could we imagine that the president talks to us as if we are not retarded? Could we imagine being treated as if we know where Pakistan is and where Iraq is? Could we imagine not being children, deceived by few empty words? Could we imagine that we are talked to as if we are able to think and decide? How wonderful life would be not to hear McCain’s and Palin’s infantile talks and arguments?

And finally, for four years, hopefully, we are going to be free of belligerent messages to the other nations, we are not going to be a breed apart, but one among many. We might hear the old-fashion talk of peace, since we heard already a call for unity and equality. I hear already a delightful melody coming from not such far distance. Let’s listen, let’s have hope, let’s pray. It looks like our golden opportunity.

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