My whole life as a writer and journalist has been in the purgatory. At one end of this life lies heaven: comprising of creation, poetry, story, cinema and music and as a journalist  live  by news, reports, and interviews.

All of these directly relate to the essence of life. They relate to man, love, relationships, society and politics. But these are possible only if and when there is freedom.

Just one step away from this heaven lies hell. The screeching sound of car breaks at midnight when you are busy peacefully writing something can be the signal that security agents have arrived at your doorstep. They may ring the doorbell, or they may not. They may break the door to get in for you. They may even take you away. But worse than that is if they confiscate all your writings.

I experienced fear for the first time after I wrote a short piece at a small journalism college newspaper. At the time, I had a boasting friend who knew little but who saw himself as a major writer. The piece that I wrote was about him, a satire titled “I am Maxim Gorky.” But even something as this was enough to put me at peril and subject me to arrest. Because of this fear, I went into hiding for a while, until danger passed.

The first time I was arrested was after I had published the list of ten best sellers of the year in the newspaper where I worked. All the books on the list had publishing licenses from the government and had been published during that year. But security agents viewed the list as dangerous, and so made me feel the taste of handcuffs on my wrists and that of solitary confinement on my soul.

Luis Bunuel and his famous movie Tristana always remind me of prison. When as a student I went to a movie theater to see this film for the first time, I innocently and without any purpose hesitated in getting up from my seat when the national anthem – then called the imperial anthem – began to play which required that everybody stand up in respect to the tune. I was immediately arrested and spent that night in prison.

Even such trivial events could result in long-term detentions, exile or even execution. The number of Iranian thinkers – writers, poets, journalist and….- who have spent longs years in prison, exile or have been executed is not short by any standards.

Many Iranians have to travel to Paris, Geneva or Berlin to see the graves of Iranian pioneers of story writers, play writers or cinema leaders. During the last hundred years, Iranian intellectuals have been living in this purgatory. This purgatory can be split into two parts from a historic perspective.

The first period was during the modern despotism, between 1906 and 1978. During this period when secular laws ruled the country, intellectuals were viewed with suspicion by the regime. The massive censorship apparatus continuously searched for special words or signs in the writing of intellectuals. Newspapers were under constant surveillance. The security apparatus was under a phobia that intellectuals were against the Shah. The only civil organization that intellectuals had was the writers association, but it was never officially allowed to operate.

The period of religious despotism began soon after the 1979 “Islamic revolution” and continues till today.

 

The political doctrine of the Islamic revolution is based on hate for intellectuals. Theoreticians of the Islamic regime believe that Western culture has been brought into Iran by Iranian intellectuals, something that has alienated Iranian society from Islam. Because of this, they are fundamentally against intellectuals and see a fully fledged enemy in each thinker.

For over thirty years now, the regime has been at a perpetual battle with intellect and intellectuals. Ahmad Shamloo, the well-known Iranian poet, describes this situation well in his famous poem titled “Dead End.” Agents of this regime even smell your mouth to prevent you from using the word love.

Because of this situation, the major part of Iranian intellectuals has been forced to live in exile. But despite the pressure, neither of these two regime succeeded in preventing creativity or stopping poetry or story writing. So life in the purgatory continues despite its pleasures and fears. Today, one can see even a larger wave of Iranian artists in young women.

The paradoxical reality is that the body of Iranian society is modern and looks more like a European country rather than a core Middle Eastern one. The regime that rules over this body carries views that are older than even the Middle Ages.

Intellectuals are situated in the cleavage of this body and because they are an element of this despotic society, they suffer from being despotic as well.

Almost all Iranian intellectuals, writers, artists etc are under this regime dictatorship. So we must search for ways to enlighten with democracy. The fact that most Iranian intellectuals outside the country are dispersed and cannot join hands in civil and professional organizations is really not the fault of the regime.

Speech in Global Media Forum