The first memories I recall of my life are snapshots of our home with the lights out after dusk, loud protests and demonstrations heard from the streets of Tehran, and the huddling around a light bulb with a makeshift cardboard shade plugged into the wall. These were the days that culminated in the 1979 revolution in Iran. The streets were unsafe for children due to violence and there was a relative period of lawlessness at the time of transition. As children, my sister and I sat in the glow of the small light bulb and heard the reassurances of our parents.
I remember vividly the conversation that my father had with his childhood friend who was an assistant professor in a university in Isfahan. The academic, overcome with revolutionary fervor, could hardly maintain his composure when he said, “my beloved Imam Khomeini will be returning home soon.” My father, unimpressed, dismissed the enthusiasm and expressed astonishment that his friend had joined ranks with the rest of the population. “It is unbecoming of an academic like you to follow the crowd,” he exclaimed. The academic retorted that my father had no crystal ball, and that time will prove him wrong. He said that democracy will rein supreme and the antiquated monarchy will be history. My father shook his head in disbelief.
It was three or four years into the revolution and the founding of the Islamic Republic and well into the Iran-Iraq war when the academic finally caved in and left the country knowing full well that he had been duped by a fantastic pageantry of political games that promised the rule of the people and did not deliver. He understood that the country had gone down a path beyond immediate repair and that one monarchy had been replaced by another. My father was gracious and supportive of the academic’s decision and wished him well.
While the absolute power was in the hand of the unelected Supreme Leader and the office of the president seemed to be but a formality, over the next three decades many Iranians believed that they must exercise their civic duty to vote. They understood that the unelected “Guardian Council” limited their choices of presidential candidates even before the campaign season and they understood that the power resided elsewhere. Nevertheless, this seemed to be the only democratic exercise in which they were given the right to participate and they tried to make the best of it. Over the years, they went to the polling stations with their Shenasnameh (equivalent of a birth certificate) to have it stamped at the polling station and proudly displayed the ink-laden index fingers as a sign of taking pride in the democratic process. To some, a Shenasnameh empty of elections stamps meant less opportunity for work in the public sector of the Islamic Republic. These documents were thoroughly examined prior to employment to see how committed one was to the regime. Other investigations prior to government employment included a neighborhood survey of whether the individual wore make-up, short sleeved shirts, had proper Islamic covering, or their lights turn on at dawn during the holy month of Ramadan.
All along, my father proudly demonstrated his blank Shenasnameh and noted that he had never participated in any of the elections. He would quote that famous Persian poetry that, “The foundation of the house is in ruins, why worry about the ornaments of the patio?” He was never overcome by the fervor of the election season. He never intended to impress anyone with his ink-laden finger or his stamp populated Shenasnameh. He remarked that as long as he lived and the democratic process was stifled, he would boycott the elections.
Many administrations of Iranian presidents later, I readdressed the issue with him for the 1997 elections that led to the election of Mohammad Khatami, when widespread excitement gripped the nation that a reformist will change the state of affairs from within. My father was unfazed. He dismissed the election of Khatami as yet another pageantry of political games aimed at providing breathing room for the Iranian public and perpetuating the existence of the incumbent regime. Looking back at history, even though some social restrictions and harassments on the Iranian youth were decreased and some limitations on religious and ethnic minorities were eased, and despite president Khatami’s effort to start a “dialog between civilizations,” at the end, the longstanding, unelected Supreme Leader made the ultimate determinations of what was appropriate. It was during Khatami’s time that the mysterious chain murders of dissidents occurred and even a member of the Bahai faith held in prison on vague charges mysteriously died in prison at a young age.
On Friday June 12, 2009, the tenth presidential election was held in Iran. This time, the public, angered by deteriorating economic situation, unemployment, and the freefalling standing of the Iranian nation in world politics, saw the presidential elections as a referendum on president Ahmadinejad. A vigorous yet short campaign season and unprecedented presidential debates took center stage in Iran over the past few weeks. During the fierce debates, the rules of Persian formalities were overridden by the desire to crush the opponent. The once presumed “sanctity” of the Islamic Republic with all of its founders was violated when Ahmadinejad publicly accused some of the pillars of the revolution of embezzling money from the government and lying to the public. The public fervor was perhaps only matched by that of the days that led to 1979. An unprecedented 32 million of the 46 million eligible voters went to the polls and cast their ballots. The results, which were only monitored by government agencies and reported by state-run media, reported a landslide victory for Ahmadinejad.
The people took to the streets and the violence is ongoing. Amid this violence, the shutting down of all political blogger websites, text messages, and Facebook, I called my father in Tehran to receive his assessment. I asked him about his passport and whether it was still blank, despite what had transpired with the election fever and the allegations of fraud. He calmly responded, “You bet!” My calls to the academic who is now residing in the United States to inquire about whether he voted or not were not immediately returned.
