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Too smart for ourselves
When it comes to being experts, nothing escapes the critical
eyes of the smart Persian
July 10, 2005
iranian.com
I guess one could say that I am more of a reader
than a writer. No doubt, there’s much more in this world
to read than there are new subjects to write about. For the past
thirty-something
years, living abroad has enabled me to not only read what concerns
me and my nationality, but also pay closer attention to what other
nations do or say. My little knowledge of other languages enables
me to be more in touch with the rest of the world and I’m
happy to reach a stage where I can say, “The more I know,
the more I realize how little I know.”
When I read articles by my fellow countrymen, and
in comparison with other publications, one aspect of the Iranian
reader becomes
noteworthy: We don’t read to learn, but rather to teach,
and we don’t write our critiques, we shout them! This is
so intense that lately the mere act of writing for our ethnic publications
has turned into a daring act.
After my articles go to print, I
avoid the reader’s responses and delete messages of people
I don’t know before they’ve had a chance to hurt my
writer’s feelings. No need to mention that I often avoid
reading that particular publication until the flames of my reader’s
rage have died down and my article has become ancient news. The
irony is that mine are the least political, least insulting and
perhaps more affectionate than most others.
Iranians thrive on argument and
we especially love to disagree with writers. When we read an article,
we become instant
critics
and are inspired to write back and let the writer know how unqualified
they are and how much more we know. The condescending undertone
in such critiques is so loud and clear, sometimes it’s enough
to push a writer to retirement.
The responses not only prove that
the readers are more informed, but they introduce to the world
a whole pack of better writers. Rarely will anyone write back to
thank a writer for spending time to share their thoughts, and almost
never are we proud to have enjoyed someone’s hard work. Instead,
we want writers to know their flaws and we go through pages and
pages hoping to find ONE little error and turn that into the rope
to hang the writer with.
This is true of speakers, too. Recently, I attended
a one day conference. The speaker happened to be highly educated
and well read. Considering
that I’m entering early stages of senility, including the
short memory that goes with it, I listened to the man and marveled
at the volume of knowledge stored in the brains of someone my own
age.
During the question and answer session, they might
have as well provided WMD’s because those who got up to ask questions
had only the intention to destroy. Most questions took more time
than the answer because the one who asked them wanted the crowd
to be aware that, compared to the guest speaker, he knew much more
and was a far better lecturer. Furthermore, the questions sounded
more like, “This is my chance at the podium”, a long
statement that came across so strongly that they left no room for
silly arguments.
When it comes to being experts, nothing escapes
the critical eyes of the smart Persian, not even art. One of my
children is an accomplished artist who, much to my disappointment
and that of her father, has stopped her big, showy, productions.
No more portraits that we can display in our living room and
no big oil paintings to show off to our guests, now she does her
little designs that look like child's play! Her “own style” she
calls them and lo-and-behold, she has been discovered
as major magazines, galleries and online fans have brought her
overnight success. But ever since an
Iranian publication printed
her work, she has been getting hate mail from her parent's nation
who unanimously recommend, “Don't give up your day job!”
We Iranians are a peculiar group of audience. We
invite speakers not to learn from them, but with the distinct intention
to prove
how little they know. We read only to let the writer know how
well informed we are, and we criticize, not to improve anything,
but
to let the world know how nothing has really improved. We even
go to concerts just to let everyone see how much better our sing
along sounds, not to mention what good dancers we are! Recent events in our homeland have brought on a
whole new wave of discussions that reflect our strong disapproval.
From the
looks of whoever is elected down to where the votes came from once
more the accusing fingers of those of us living in the West are
pointed to the East, saying, “Well, people get what they
deserve!” How easy it is to put the blame on an innocent
nation who has in fact never gotten what they deserve, and how
unfair it is to judge what we know nothing about.
The sad part
is that the unwanted man is also one of us and it is us who breed
and raise the ugly and put him on a pedestal. We do nothing but
complain and blame others and it is this division among us which
leads to defeat. How can we criticize when we’ve done nothing
to help and how can we live in comfort and deny the fact that discomfort
is not earned but it is given?
I am sadly reminded of an old Persian poem about
the eagle who found out the arrow that shot him was made of an
eagle’s
feather and his poignant conclusion that, “It is from us
to ourselves!”
About
Zohreh Khazai Ghahremani is a retired dentist and a freelance
writer. She lives in San Diego, California. Her latest book is "Sharik-e
Gham" (see excerpt).
Visit her site ZoesWordGarden.com
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