Iruni-baazi
Settle the Mossadegh issue & forget about the A-bomb
September 29, 2003
The Iranian
The Spaniards, like Iranians, adore their cars, as shown by
the noise, fumes and stench in Madrid, where I have graciously
taken residence.
Lanes restricted to buses and taxis are clogged
by single-occupant cars that hoot and hoot in the
middle of a trail of fifty cars to say, I suppose,
"Hey, get a f**king move on, I'm in a hurr." Or, better still, a van
stopped recently in one of those historic alleys, the driver getting out to pop
into
a shop to buy cigarettes or a pack of gum or just say hi -- leaving a line of
a dozen cars waiting behind him. The ones at the back must have
wondered
if there was a mishap
up front ("I hope nobody is hurt," they reflect generously), while
the front drivers were braying with fury. Where, I thought, had the Spanish van
driver
learned this clever piece of Iruni-baazi?
Many of you have cars, and
some will at some point have senselessly hooted in the middle of a
car-queue, adding to the sum of urban noise and stress.
As if you were not selfish enough for owning a car, let me ask, why did you
do it? Maraz daashti, naneh?
What does collective folly
look like? Last year 'millions' of Spaniards went out into the
streets or hung banners from balconies to express their execration
of an enormous oil spill off the Atlantic coast of Spain. Human reasoning and
logic were manipulated as far as they could be so the populace could blame
Spain's conservative government for the spill, as if it had sunk the tanker
in the first
place.
Admittedly it failed to act fast, but firstly, a Socialist government
would have been just as slow, and secondly, the crime of the government of
José Maria
Aznar was simply that it was conservative, and does not massage the mob with
the cloying promises and populist flattery that are the specialty of Socialist
governments. Most of these protestors in any case had cars or motorbikes.
The petrol spilled into the ocean was destined for these very people and
their
motorised lifestyles.
I'm a trifle (f**king) disappointed (livid) with Iranians for
their relative indifference to (not giving a hoot for) the environment.
They care more it
seems for a comparatively trivial matter like Mosaddegh (isn't there a
song, "If
you knew Mossadegh like I know Mossadegh"?, with a cheeky, jazzy rhythm?).
Just to settle the Mossadegh issue (and the endless whinging
of the National Front, who have shown what unintelligent and unprincipled
scoundrels they
are) once
and for all: Mr. Mossadegh, or the Qajar Prince Mossadegh ol-Saltaneh,
was well-off, doubtless haughty like his (frankly more efficient)
relatives
Vosuq ol-Dowleh
and Qavam Saltaneh, and had a good life. He ate well, spoke French, had
his shirts cleaned and ironed. So he spent the last years under arrest
on his estate: there
are worse places wherein one may be confined.
The Islamic Republic, for
example, gave no such option to the Shah's prime minister or foreign
minister (Amir Abbas Hoveyda and Abbas Ali Khalatbari), who would
have been considerably less trouble. Mossadegh entered the political
gambling
house and came out empty handed. What would he have become without
the coup:
Iran's Salvador Allende probably, a paper autocrat , a man of theatrical
gestures
and populist bombast, denouncing and threatening even as the foundations
beneath
him foundered for anarchy and communist agitation. He was a good man,
and he lived, Alhamdullilah.
Let me clarify this: Iran owes very little to the
Qajar elites, even those they now call Rejaal-e Khoshnaam, including
dear Mossadegh. But they
have hidden
behind
the firewall of hatred for the Pahlavis. Blame is a bag of beans and
we keep shifting this way and that to escape excessive criticism.
A
former colleague,
one
of the countless descendents of Farmanfarma, had an annoying habit
in our office of ridiculing the last Shah, perhaps to show
me he was liberal,
progressive or
intelligent. You were a photographer for goodness' sake, not a philosopher.
And I always thought, what did grandpappy Farmanfarma do for Iran,
other than
khordan, khaabidan and ga**an? What did Nosrat ol-Dowleh
Firuz, Mozaffar Firuz
or the woman who married the communist do for Iran? More to the point,
what did
they do that Reza Shah and Mohammad Reza Shah did not do more and
better?
That's settled then.
Now onto nuclear power: A recent
poll on this site indicated that most Iranians
thought
we should have
a nuclear bomb. I said Iranians an budan o antar shodan,
but that was a joke the first time round. And a poll on the same
site
shows
that most
believe
in
God. What nonsense. How can you believe in God and not
detest nuclear weapons, unless your "belief" is nothing
but an opinion
that there
is, somewhere
up there, a God sitting and looking and it's business as usual
down
here.
Do we want to be like Pakistan, a country with nuclear weapons
but not a pot to piss in, where they beat women and dress
like our kolfat-nowkars?
What makes
the Pakistanis think they are respected for their nuclear
bombs? By that
reckoning, people must have more respect for Pakistan than
for Finland, Japan
or Canada.
(Where is Canada, you ask? I don't know).
But this is all propaganda, some may say, nothing but exaggeration
and prejudice. You are right, I say. You are right, but I would
add,
it is right-wing propaganda, so a verbal chocolate, exhilarating,
soothing and
brimming with joy.
Now if it were left-wing propaganda, it would be nothing
but a pack cheap, dirty lies.
Do we wish to leave anything that may be termed "nature"?
The world is looking more like a global suburb, with
shrubbery for wilderness
and
rubbish floating
in the ocean. Now they want to shove Frankenstein food
down
our throats. What will the world look like soon, with
the nuclear club turned
to nuclear bazaar,
Monster Monsanto and Mac-families gas-guzzling their
way to oblivion?
Is there hope? There is always hope, and mine has the
most solid foundations: faith, prayer, pizza, Prozac,
Diet
Coke, Double
Mac-dunkin Frappuccino-n-Chocolate
Gue Waffles...
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