Power, Legitimacy and the Public Sphere: The Iranian Ta’ziyeh Theatre Ritual 9781138213883, 9781315447407

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Power, Legitimacy and the Public Sphere

A ground-breaking study of political transformations in non-Western societies, this book applies anthropological, sociological and political concepts to the recent history of Iran to explore the role played by a ritual theatrical performance (Ta’ziyeh) and its symbols on the construction of public mobilisations. With particular attention to three formative phases – the 1978–79 Islamic Revolution, the 1980–88 Iran–Iraq War and the 2009 Green Movement – the author concentrates on the relations between symbols of the ritual performance and the public sphere to shed light on the ways in which the symbols of Ta’ziyeh were used to claim political legitimacy. Thus, the book elucidates how symbols and images of a ritual performance can be utilised by ‘tricksters’, such as political actors and fanatical religious leaders, to take advantage of the prolongation of a state of transition within a society, and so manipulate the public in order to mobilise crowds and movements to fulfil their own interests and concerns. An insightful analysis of political mobilisation explained in terms of a set of interrelated master concepts such as ‘liminality’, ‘trickster’ and ‘schismogenesis’, Power, Legitimacy and the Public Sphere integrates theoretical, empirical and ‘diagnostic’ perspectives in order to investigate and illustrate links between the public sphere and religious and cultural rituals. As such, it will appeal to scholars of sociology, politics and anthropology with interests in social theory, public mobilisations and political transformation. Amin Sharifi Isaloo is a lecturer and tutor in the Department of Sociology at University College Cork, Ireland.

Contemporary Liminality Series editor: Arpad Szakolczai, University College Cork, Ireland Series advisory board: Agnes Horvath, University College Cork, Ireland Bjørn Thomassen, Roskilde University, Denmark Harald Wydra, University of Cambridge, UK

This series constitutes a forum for works that make use of concepts such as ‘imitation’, ‘trickster’ or ‘schismogenesis’, but which chiefly deploy the notion of ‘liminality’, as the basis of a new, anthropologically focused paradigm in social theory. With its versatility and range of possible uses rivalling and even going beyond mainstream concepts such as ‘system’, ‘structure’ or ‘institution’, liminality is increasingly considered a new master concept that promises to spark a renewal in social thought. In spite of the fact that charges of Eurocentrism or even ‘moderno-centrism’ are widely discussed in sociology and anthropology, it remains the case that most theoretical tools in the social sciences continue to rely on taken-for-granted approaches developed from within the modern Western intellectual tradition, whilst concepts developed on the basis of extensive anthropological evidence and which challenged commonplaces of modernist thinking have been either marginalised and ignored or trivialised. By challenging the assumed neo-Kantian and neo-Hegelian foundations of modern social theory, and by helping to shed new light on the fundamental ideas of major figures in social theory, such as Nietzsche, Dilthey, Weber, Elias, Voegelin, Foucault and Koselleck, whilst also establishing connections between the perspectives gained through modern social and cultural anthropology and the central concerns of classical philosophical anthropology, Contemporary Liminality offers a new direction in social thought.

Titles in this series 1. Permanent Liminality and Modernity Analysing the Sacrificial Carnival through Novels Arpad Szakolczai 2. Power, Legitimacy and the Public Sphere The Iranian Ta’ziyeh Theatre Ritual Amin Sharifi Isaloo

Power, Legitimacy and the Public Sphere The Iranian Ta’ziyeh Theatre Ritual

Amin Sharifi Isaloo

First published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Amin Sharifi Isaloo The right of Amin Sharifi Isaloo to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-1-138-21388-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-44740-7 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by FiSH Books Ltd, Enfield

To Anano, Mariam and Nia

Contents

List of figures Preface Acknowledgements

1

2

viii ix xii

Introduction

1

Proposing democracy in Iran: The empty place of power and the public sphere

7

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power in forming the public sphere

40

3

Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere during the 1979 Revolution

71

4

Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere during the Iran–Iraq War

96

5

Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere during the 2009 Green Movement

116

Conclusion

151

Glossary Index

153 156

Figures

2.1 2.2 2.3 3.1 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6 5.7 5.8

The return of Hussain’s horse from the Karbala battlefield, without its master Dasta in Ashura, Noghab, Gonabad city, Khorasan province, Iran The interior of the Tekiyeh Dowlat, a painting by Kamalol Molk from the Qajar period Iranians crowd around the US Embassy in Tehran, 4 November 1979 Blindfolded soldier shot at gunpoint, ca. 1981 Certitude of belief (Yaqin), ca. 1981 ‘Ya Hussein’ flag in the Iran–Iraq War Young boy cradling dead soldier, 1980 A portrait of Mohammad Hossein Fahmideh and the enemy’s tank A young boy wears two of the most important symbols of Ta’ziyeh Neda Agha Soltan Neda Soltani Protesters wrongly carrying Neda Soltani’s photo Panjeh poster in Muharram protests during Montazeri’s funeral, Qom, 21 December 2009 The 2009 Green Movement digital logo, combining the panjah, V, arrow and invocation ‘Ya Hussein, Mir Hossein’ Neda of Ashura The crowd seizing the British embassy in Tehran on 29 November 2011 Obama billboard in Tehran, Vali-e Asr Sq, 2 October 2013

44 46 48 92 102 103 106 107 109 111 134 134 134 136 137 138 139 142

Preface

My experiences play an important role in the writing of this book. The first of these came at the time Khomeini was leading the 1979 Revolution from Neauphle-le-Château, in a suburb of Paris, when I witnessed thousands of people showing each other the image of Imam Khomeini upon the moon, which they believed they could see. During this period, I learned three simple, but significant, lessons: the majority of the people can be wrong, people imitate one other and the public can be easily manipulated. My second experience was during the Iran–Iraq War (1980–88) when I observed how religious and cultural symbols and images were employed by the revolutionary clerics to form the public sphere and to manipulate the public for the prolonged war effort. The third experience came after the death of Khomeini, when the conflict between two key figures of the Islamic regime, Khamenei and Rafsanjani, commenced and their subsequent struggle for more power and wealth left Iranian society in a transitional stage full of abstruseness and uncertainty. They utilised all possible religious and cultural symbols, images and signs together with their linguistic skills and guile to secure more followers, supporters and voters for their pre-planned aims and elections. These experiences, together with other incidents that I observed remotely, such as the September 11 attacks, the Green Movement in Iran and the Arab Spring, raised numerous simple questions about the concept of the public sphere and modern democracy. For example, is there any society that is truly governed by the people for the people? Who occupies the place of power in democracy? How is the public sphere formed and transformed? In addition to these incidents and questions, the writings of some Iranian revolutionary clerics and theologians living in the West, such as Abdolkarim Soroush’s writings in Reason, Freedom, and Democracy in Islam (2000), which is initially problematic due to its shortcomings in conceptualising the proposed ‘Islamic democracy’, led me to propose my PhD thesis investigating their misleading proposals and their sophisticated manipulation of statements, theories and concepts. Therefore, I began to examine the compatibility between Islam and democracy from a different point of view, but after about one year of reading and writing, I came to understand that it is not important, at least in this case, whether Islam is compatible with democracy. Indeed, the puzzle of the restriction of the public sphere to rational debate by Habermas, on the one hand, and ‘theatricalisation’ and ‘staging’ in the political

x

Preface

arena of modern democracy, on the other hand, which were disregarded by Soroush and his allies (who call themselves religious intellectuals), were actual problems. In other words, the exclusion of Sophisms from the social science paradigm or theorisation, while exploring topics such as power, politics, democracy and the public sphere, is a serious issue. As Foucault (2013) highlighted in Lectures on the Will to Know, the danger of Sophism and the Sophists, which Plato uncovered, is still far from being set aside. Sophists can simply employ cultural and religious symbols, images and signs, as well as linguistic and rhetorical skills, to form and transform the public sphere for triumphing their own aims and exercising their power. In order to investigate this in contemporary society, Victor Turner’s (1967; 1982) emphasis on symbols as expressions of forces, together with the term ‘liminality’ developed by him and ‘permanent liminality’ advanced by Arpad Szakolczai (2000), aided me concentrating on the ritual performance in Iran called Ta’ziyeh to complete my dissertation thesis, from which this book is drawn. This book focuses on Ta’ziyeh symbols and images in the aforementioned periods in Iran in order to illustrate and investigate how the public sphere can be formed and how its theories, concepts, findings and analyses can be applied to other parts of the globe with different symbols, signs and images. For example, similar to the presidential and parliamentary elections in Iran, in modern democracies of the West, the people and public tend to be very important during elections. Political parties and candidates place themselves in position and use techniques to attract the most votes so that they can win the election. One of these techniques is negative propaganda, whereby candidates often employ a word, a sentence, a short advertisement, a symbol and an image to attack or negatively portray their opponents, such as the struggle between the 2016 US presidential candidates, Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. In this way, the audience is easily manipulated, which provides a unique opportunity for a campaign to win votes. Exploring symbols and their role in our relations enables us to understand the world in which we live, and to diagnose problems we encounter. Similar to exploring Ta’ziyeh symbols, studying other symbols and images, such as the symbolic significance of the attack on the symbol of global finance, the World Trade Centre, and Islamic symbols employed by the Islamic State (ISIS), which need to be addressed in another volume, assist us in not only understanding staging and theatricalisation in our current political arena, but also its consequences.

References Foucault, M. (2013) Lectures on the Will to Know: Lectures at the College de France 1970–1971 and Oedipal Knowledge, Hampshire; New York: Macmillan Soroush, A. (2000) Reason, Freedom and Democracy in Islam: Essential Writings of Abdolkarim Soroush, trans. and edit. M. Sadri and A. Sadri, New York: Oxford University Press Szakolczai, A. (2000) Reflexive Historical Sociology, London; New York: Routledge

Preface  xi Turner, V. (1967) The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual, New York: Cornell University Press Turner, V. (1982) From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play, New York: PAJ Publications; Performing Arts Journal Inc.

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my deepest appreciation to everyone who provided me the possibility to complete this book. It is my great pleasure and honour to express the most conspicuous debts of gratitude to Professor Arpad Szakolczai at University College Cork (UCC), who generously and kindly shared his vast knowledge and experiences of the social sciences with me. In addition, I owe him sincere thanks for his invaluable help, advice, comments and criticism. I wish to thank the staff of the Vatican Library and Archives in Rome, and the staff of the Boole Library at UCC who were as helpful to me as it is possible to imagine. I would like to offer my thanks to all support services and administration offices in UCC for their efforts. Particularly, I would like to extend my gratitude to all of the staff members of the Fees Office, Finance Office, Disability Support Service (DSS) and Graduate Studies Office (GSO) at UCC, as well as Cork City Council for their support to complete my dissertation thesis, from which this book is drawn. Likewise, I am grateful to the International Political Anthropology (IPA) Summer School’s organisers for providing me with an opportunity to gain significant knowledge from well-known attending academics and scholars. Specifically, I would like to acknowledge Dr Agnes Horvath, who made the then unpublished chapters of her book called Modernism and Charisma available to me at the beginning of my research. I am also obliged to thank the organizers of the UCC Summer Schools within the School of Sociology and Philosophy. In particular, Dr Kieran Keohane and Dr Lorcan Byrne worked diligently in managing the Theory and Philosophy Summer School (TAPSS). I would like to thank Mrs Eleanor O’Connor and Mr Jerry O’Sullivan, the secretaries of the Department of Sociology, who kindly made the equipment and facilities of the department available to me, while providing consistent administrative support. My thanks are also due to Mrs Paula Meaney of the Resource Centre of the Department of Sociology, who helped me to use the facilities of this centre. I am also grateful to Dr Harald Wydra in the University of Cambridge as well as Dr Jason Dockstader and Dr Gerard Mullally in UCC, for their advice and comments at the beginning of my research. I thank Professor Colin Sumner (head of School), Dr Kieran Keohane and Dr Niamh Hourigan (heads of department),

Acknowledgements  xiii the faculty and students, past and present, of the Sociology Department at UCC for the stimulating discussions and seminars, as well as my colleagues and friends for their advice and ongoing support. Particularly, I would like to mention Dr Paul O’Connor, Annie Cummins McNamara, Trish McGrath and Blazej Kaucz. Many thanks are also due to Dr John O’Brien at Waterford Institute of Technology (WIT), Dr James Cuffe at UCC and WIT, James Fairhead at UCC, Karen Kinsella, Ann Bracken and Alan O’Gorman for their advice and comments. I also must thank my external examiner of my original dissertation, Professor Armando Salvatore, who provided me with valuable feedback by identifying areas for improvement and clarification. My greatest obligation of gratitude, at all stages of the work at hand, during all phases of my study and research in Ireland, is to my wife Ana and my daughters Mariam and Nia for their unwavering love, help, support and encouragement. All responsibility for the content of this book is fully mine. Every effort has been made to locate the copyright owners of the material in this, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers will be pleased to make the necessary arrangements at the earliest opportunity.

Introduction

Historically, the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran1 is crucial due to its impact on the world. The revolution occurred as a consequence of the formation of a movement against the king, or shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, due to his enforcement of land reform (Ansari 2006), his Westernisation of the country and his disagreement with some religious leaders, such as Ayatollah Khomeini. Most significantly, the reform helped to bring about the decline of feudalism in Iran. For this reason, powerful landowners collaborated with some clerics to question the legitimacy of the shah. This movement led to the 1979 Revolution against the monarchy. In the short period between 1978 and 1979, debates around freedom (especially political freedom), Islamisation, social progress, democracy and secularism reached peak levels in Iran. At that time, all political groups and parties were jointly fighting against the monarchical dictatorship. For example, certain groups, such as Hezb-e Tudeh (the Peoples’ Party), supported a communist system, some a democratic one, while others favoured a federalism of nations or an Islamic government post-monarchy. However, after the fall of the monarchy a consensus could not be reached (Ansari 2006). With this wave of thought, the revolutionary clerics, under the leadership of Ayatollah Khomeini, put their seal of approval on the newly established regime of Islamic government by killing, mass murdering and imprisoning members of other political parties. Thus, while the 1979 Revolution brought to an end the monarchy and the Pahlavi dynasty, it succeeded also in extremely oppressing the people and establishing a totalitarian system worse than the one it removed. In recent decades, reformists or followers of Iranian Islamic thinkers, such as Mohsen Kadivar and Abdolkarim Soroush, who were enthusiastic revolutionaries and active members of the Islamic regime, have attracted global attention to the idea of the compatibility between Islam and democracy, alongside the establishment of an Islamic democracy in Iran. At the same time, some Iranian educators, together with Western politicians and media outlets, arguably proposed the opposite extreme. They advocated the framework of democracy embedded in the West as a suitable model for Iran or the Middle East in general. The debate on this topic has grown through everyday discussions involving intellectuals, academics, the media and scholars over recent decades. Various reviews and reports that focused on democracy and Islam in Iran tried to find answers to questions such as ‘is

2

Introduction

democracy compatible with Islam?’. Or ‘is Islam compatible with democracy? Can a Muslim society like Iran ever become a secular democracy?’ (Boroumand 2003: 99). This book not only takes into account the academics’ perspectives and theories on proposed models of democracy in Iran, it also expands on the existing research by focusing on the ritual performance Ta’ziyeh, which Shia Muslims undertake annually to commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Hussein in the battle of Karbala, as a means towards understanding the issues surrounding the public sphere, which is a key feature and a necessary condition for democracy. A literature review of existing research and evidence in this area helps to provide a comparative and qualitative research method to examine and to investigate the related questions and hypotheses, concentrating on the links between Shia cultural and religious symbols and the public sphere in Iran. In addition to the available literature, which helps to develop a critical argument about the proposed democracy, genealogical and historical documents will be reviewed and used to support this book’s arguments dealing with the forming of the public sphere in Shia society. In order to focus on the profoundly theatrical features of the modern public arena in Iran, this book takes up the perspectives of social scientists such as Gregory Bateson, Victor Turner, Paul Radin and René Girard. Bateson’s (1936) concept of ‘schismogenesis’ will be introduced to help illuminate the nature of conflict and its relationship with chaos, turmoil, disorder, violence and selfdestructive actions during a transitional situation of revolution, war and movement, described by Turner (1982) as ‘liminality’ (i.e. being betwixt and between). The concepts of schismogenesis and liminality are complemented by the work of Paul Radin concerning the figure of the trickster, as well as René Girard’s work on mimesis, the imitative aspects of human behaviour, and the scapegoat mechanism. Exploring Ta’ziyeh performance in Iran will illustrate the interrelation of these concepts and their strong correlations with the public sphere. The trickster, a mimetic figure, utilises available communicative methods, especially in liminal periods such as revolution, war and crisis, to manipulate the emotions of the public. Historically, Plato was the first philosopher to identify these issues in the public arena of Athenian democracy (Gorgias 449a–458b). In the twentieth century, Radin (1956), in his study of American Indian mythology, described the characteristics of trickster. The trickster (or wakdjunkaga in the Winnebago language, which means ‘the tricky one’) ‘knows neither good nor evil yet he is responsible for both. He possesses no values, moral or social, is at the mercy of his passions and appetites, yet through his actions all values come into being’ (Radin 1956: ix); he uses ‘force and trickery to obtain all he wants’ (156). Recently, Armbrust (2013) introduced a trickster figure, Taufiq Ukasha, in his account of the Egyptian Revolution of 2011, known as the January 25 Revolution, to list the characteristics of a trickster in modern times. In his observation of the rise of Ukasha, from the middle of 2011 to the middle of 2012, he describes Ukasha variously as a ‘little Hitler’, a trickster ‘seemingly coming from nowhere’, ‘suddenly no longer a laughing-stock’ and ‘suddenly frighteningly

Introduction  3 real’. When Armbrust returned to Egypt in 2013, he found himself in an Egyptian Weimar, where ‘violent clashes were occurring every day between supporters and opponents of the government’ (2013: 587). The term ‘liminality’ may be understood as characterising the second stage of rites of passage (the three stages of which are separation, transition and reincorporation). It was initially introduced by the anthropologist Arnold van Gennep (1960) and then developed by Turner (1967: 93–111). According to Turner (1982), liminality refers to any situation or object that is ‘betwixt’ or ‘between’: a transitional period, an inter-structural situation or a process involving the moving from one stage to another. Thus, liminality is a temporary break from everyday activities. However, if this break, rather than being limited in time and space, becomes boundless, then, according to Szakolczai (2000), a permanent state of liminality will occur. The term ‘permanent liminality’ was developed by Szakolczai (2000) in his book Reflexive Historical Sociology to express aspects of social life masked by conventional theories of modernisation and democratisation. This term, which may be interpreted as a state of permanent uncertainty, helps us to understand what constitutes the public sphere is in contemporary societies. Hubert and Mauss (1964) introduced the idea of the sacred character of the victim and they argued that sacrifice is the origin of religion, but that the origin of sacrifice is unknown. Accordingly, sacrifice is a kind of ‘mediation’ between the gods and humans. Considering Hubert and Mauss’ explanation, Girard (1977: 1) identifies the double nature of sacrifice – ‘sacred’ and ‘criminal’ – and in line with this offers his assessment of the real role of sacrifice – through an analysis of rituals, myths and tragedies – in societies lacking a judicial system. Sacrifice contains an element of mystery and its ‘function is to quell violence within the community and to prevent conflicts from erupting’ (Girard 1977: 14). The problem is the violence, the escalation of a mimetic conflict within the community, and the solution is the exteriorisation of violence by the designation of a single individual as a sacrificial victim. In Girard’s words, this is the scapegoat mechanism, which is ‘the source of rituals’ and ‘the origin of culture’. He argues that the original murder was the murder of a scapegoat. In this way, the sacrifice protects the whole community from its own violence. The aim is to reunite the community and this can be done through the highly paradoxical idea of creating an enemy, by defining a person or persons as scapegoat and unifying the community against this new target. This is what the sacrificial mechanism sets out to accomplish. Unfortunately, ‘standard theories simply fail to take the bloody, violent aspect of sacrifice seriously’ (Szakolczai 2003: 19). In addition to these concepts, my personal experience and more than 25 years of observing Ta’ziyeh, along with my research on new movements, struggles, challenges and current clashes between Islamic powers (political and religious) in Iran, provide a personal insight and contemporary understanding of the issues, and help to provide a qualitative and comparative discussion on the book topic. This book focuses on Ta’ziyeh as a means of aiding and targeting specific behaviours during three liminal periods: the 1979 Islamic Revolution, the Iraq–Iran War (1980–1988) and the 2009 Green Movement. By gathering

4

Introduction

evidence from these historical periods, it aims to study the constitutive associations between Ta’ziyeh performance and the public sphere in Iran and to demonstrate that an empty place of power in democracy and the public sphere can be targeted by the likes of depraved political actors and fanatical religious leaders. Such characters have the ability to manipulate the public, and to mobilise crowds and movements to meet their own aims. This is why, despite the changes in culture, population and education in Iran over the last three decades, we still witness systematic oppression.

Book structure This book consists of five chapters. Chapter 1 introduces some of the main background theoretical debates and approaches, which critically discuss the ideas and opinions of academics and scholars about the public sphere, democracy and the proposed Islamic democracy in Iran. By explaining two Shia religious groups in Iran (spiritual Shia and revolutionary/political Shia), which assists us in understanding the development of the proposed Islamic democracy, this chapter briefly reviews Shia Sufism in Iran, particularly from the end of World War II (1945) onwards. In examining the proposed Islamic democracy in Iran, the central aim of this book is to explore how the public sphere can be formed through theatrical performances and hypocritical plays, but this requires an elucidation of democracy and its problems. Therefore, this chapter briefly explains the development of democracy and the paradoxes of contemporary democracy in order to illuminate issues of its key feature: ‘the public sphere’. Schismogenesis, liminality and liminoid phenomenon, which often is a commodity that one selects and pays for (Turner 1982: 55), are concepts discussed in this chapter to highlight conditions and situations in which the public sphere can be easily formed. Chapter 2 focuses on the historical background and symbols of the Ta’ziyeh ritual, as well as power and the behaviour of crowds, to deliver a brief review of Shia religion and culture in Iran and to comprehend the concept of liminality. After the establishment of the Safavid dynasty (1501 AD), a major development occurred in Shia rituals. This dynasty institutionalised Shia Islam as the official religion of their empire and introduced new forms of rituals, laments, mourning and self-flagellation. Chapter 2 provides some historical evidence of the notion of hero, the origin of Shia and Ta’ziyeh during the Safavid dynasty to illustrate the formation of the public sphere and its effects, and to foresee the consequences for the democratisation of Iran, whether Islamic democracy or Western-style democracy, in the future. Chapters 3, 4 and 5 provide the foundation of the debate on the role of Ta’ziyeh, utilising three major components with three corresponding pivotal historical events: the 1979 Revolution, the Iraq–Iran War and the Green Movement. Overall, these chapters concentrate on relations between Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere in Iran since 1979. Thus, Chapter 3 explains improvisatory theatre and what it encompasses, as its common traits and characteristics are visible and practised in all performances in

Introduction  5 Iran. It compares ritual Ta’ziyeh and comic Ta’ziyeh to demonstrate how they utilise similar techniques to evoke emotions in order to provoke a reaction. This is followed by a discussion on how these techniques and skills were utilised during the 1979 Revolution to form the public sphere. This chapter aims to explore how, through the techniques of improvisatory theatre, Ta’ziyeh symbols and images were employed to create an anti-shah public sphere in Iran and how an authoritarian religio-political system or state could thereby establish complete political, cultural, economic and social control over all the subjects of and aspects of life in Iran. Although a schismogenic process between the Shah and the revolutionary groups resulted in the fall of the monarchy after a very short period, a new schismogenic process started: first, between the revolutionary clerics and other revolutionary groups and, second, between two states, Iran and Iraq. Chapter 4 discusses this schismogenic process between Iran and Iraq, which led both states into the liminal period of the eight-year war. This chapter demonstrates how the Ta’ziyeh symbols were employed by the Islamic regime of Iran to mobilise considerable crowds to fight in the war against Saddam Hussein’s army, which was backed by wealthy Arab nations, such as Saudi Arabia, and other powerful states, such as the US and Russia. In the 2009 presidential election, which resulted in the establishment of the Green Movement, the first major protest since the 1979 Revolution began. However, the last three chapters illustrate and discuss different types of schismogenesis. Chapter 5 specifically focuses on the concept of schismogenesis in order to demonstrate the correlation between it and liminality during the 2009 Green Movement. By exploring this period, this chapter illustrates how the symbols and images of Ta’ziyeh were used by Islamic reformists to claim political legitimacy, which was mistakenly understood in the West as people demanding their rights for democracy, equality, political freedom and civil rights. It demonstrates how, under such liminal conditions, trickster figures can employ cultural and religious symbols in the medium of cyberspace, social media and social networks to become influential in manipulating the public. By referring to history, culture, movements and political and social structures during the aforementioned liminal periods, this book demonstrates how the empty place of power in Islamic democracy and also the public sphere can be targeted by political actors and revolutionary clerics who are seeking power. To put it simply, they are capable of employing symbols, signs, images and the use of linguistic skills in their rhetoric to mobilise and rally considerable crowds to fulfil their own interests and concerns. In terms of a theoretical debate concerning those who profess a Western model or an Islamic democracy in Iran, this book connects the evidence and findings to demonstrate the serious issues and shortcomings of the proposed democracy and the concept of public sphere in Iran.

Notes 1

In 1935, Reza Shah (the king) officially changed the name of the country from Persia to Iran. The word ‘Iran’ translates into ‘of Aryan origin’; the initiative for the change

6

Introduction of the name had originated from the Persian embassy in Berlin. At the time, foreign nations led by Hitler and Mussolini were priding themselves for being of Aryan origin. Therefore, a Persian despotic ruler decided that the time had come for Persia to display through its name that was the homeland of the Aryan race (see KhatibShahidi 2012: 159; Asgharzadeh 2007: 123). This book tries to use both names, ‘Persia’ and ‘Iran’, in appropriate places to avoid any confusion.

References Ansari. A. M. (2006) Iran, Islam and Democracy: The Politics of Managing Change, London: Chatham Hose Armbrust, W. (2013) ‘The Trickster in Egypt’s January 25th Revolution’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, Vol. 55, No. 4, pp. 834–64 Asgharzadeh, A. (2007) Iran and the Challenge of Diversity: Islamic Fundamentalism, Aryanist Racism, and Democratic Struggles, Hampshire, NY: Palgrave Macmillan Bateson, G. (1936) Naven: A Survey of the Problems Suggested by A Composite Picture of the Culture of a New Guinea Tribe Drawn from Three Points of View, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Boroumand, L. (2003) ‘Prospects for Democracy in Iran’, Georgetown Journal of International Affairs, Vol. 4, No. 2, pp. 99–105 Girard, R. (1977) Violence and the Sacred, Baltimore; London: The Johns Hopkins University Press Hubert, H. and Mauss, M. (1964) Sacrifice: Its Nature and Function, trans. W. D. Halls, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press Khatib-Shahidi, R. A. (2012) German Foreign Policy Towards Iran Before World War II: Political Relations, Economic Influence and the National Bank of Persia, London; New York: I. B. Tauris & Co Ltd Plato (1997) Plato: Complete Works, introduction and notes by J. M. Cooper, Indianapolis, IN; Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company Radin, P. (1956) The Trickster: A Study in American Indian Mythology, with a commentary by Karl Kerényi and Carl G. Jung, New York: Philosophical Library Szakolczai, A. (2000) Reflexive Historical Sociology, London: Routledge Szakolczai, A. (2003) The Genesis of Modernity, London; New York: Routledge Turner, V. (1967) The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual, New York: Cornell University Press Turner, V. (1982) From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play, New York: PAJ Publications; Performing Arts Journal Inc. van Gennep, A. (1960) The Rites of Passage, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul

1

Proposing democracy in Iran The empty place of power and the public sphere

In the twentieth century, the writings of Islamic intellectuals, such as Sayyid Qutb (in the 1950s–1960s), and the activities of al-Ikhwan al-Muslimun (Muslim Brotherhood) in Egypt helped to develop the idea that a powerful and strong Islamic faith and related rules should constitute the dominant principles of social life and politics. Indeed, their original concept and aim, creating an Islamic state with Shari’a canons, principles and laws, was brought into existence by the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran (Heywood 2007: 66). Since the 1979 Revolution, Iran has been ruled by an Islamic regime led by the revolutionary clerics. At the top of Iran’s power structure presently is the supreme leader, Ali Khamenei, who succeeded Ruhollah Khomeini. It is a theocratic system which consists of a complex mix of elected and non-elected institutions (see Chapter 5). Under the control of these two leaders, the Islamic regime pursued two main strategies. First, it attacked internal opposition emanating from communist groups (Marxism), and even the Mojahedin-e Khalq party, which adheres to Islamic ideologies and played an important role in securing the victory in the 1979 Revolution and defeating the kingdom of Pahlavi. Second, the regime positioned itself strongly against imperialism (Ghamari-Tabrizi 2008: 95). To implement these strategies, the regime used an Islamic militant group called Hezbollah and the Revolutionary Guards, while also mobilising Islamic thinkers and intellectuals, such as Abdolkarim Soroush. However later, Soroush (2010) and other Islamic thinkers such as Kadivar turned to be more in favour of a selective democracy which they named ‘Islamic democracy’. They have dismissed or have been both theoretically and practically silent about the issues surrounding a democratic system. They suggest there is ample evidence to illustrate the compatibility of Islam with democracy and therefore they are trying to use their findings to propose an Islamic state whereby the government consists of only Islamic parties. It is theoretically a Western model of democracy limited by the use of the prefix ‘Islamic’, which evidently should be rejected as the existence of any non-Islamic party within an Iranian political realm raises serious issues. Even according to the Quranic evidence, which states ‘La ikraha fid-din’ (there is no compulsion in religion) (Quran 2:255), Islam rejects forcing people into religious belief and it strongly recommends giving people their own prerogative to choose, even between Islam and non-Islamic religions. If this is the case and the definition of democracy is ruling people by people, then this

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Proposing democracy in Iran

poses a serious challenge in defining and theorising ‘Islamic democracy’. In fact, incorporating the word Islam with democracy appears to present a clear contradiction. Understanding this polarity is straightforward: first, an Islamic state which only allows Islamic political activities and parties cannot be considered a democratic system; and second, nevertheless individuals or groups cannot decide, beforehand, what kind of government (Islamic and non-Islamic) citizens should require. In other words, since democracy should mean people decide who is entitled to govern them, and how the nation should be ruled, the public sphere should be highlighted as a key source for decision making. In order to examine Soroush’s proposed ‘Islamic democracy’, first, the public sphere, which is an essential component of democracy, will be examined to demonstrate its defects. Second, the actual mechanism of democracy will be discussed in order to understand the position of power in democracy and to address the complications of modern democracy that Soroush and his allies disregard. Third, through reviewing the historical development of Islamic government and the proposed Islamic democracy, and Turner’s explanation of ‘liminal’ phenomenon, the inadequacies of the proposed democracy and the role of political actors in the public arena will be explored.

The intricacy of the public sphere The concept of the public sphere in Habermas book The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (1989), which reflects the works of Arendt’s The Human Condition (1958) and Jaspers’ Philosophy is for Everyman (1967), deeply influenced the debate over democracy (Rahimi 2012). Habermas introduced the term ‘public sphere’ (Öffentlichkeit) in 1962, as a discursive space in which ‘a public domain of debate about public affairs identified a civic ideal of discursive interaction as essential feature of democratic rule’ (Rahimi 2012: 92). According to Habermas, it is a place where individuals and groups gather to discuss matters of mutual interest and reach a common outcome, and where public opinion can be formed. Habermas’s model and definition of a public sphere was criticised by social scientists such as Calhoun (1992) in Habermas and the Public Sphere and Robin (1993), based on Habermas’s failure to acknowledge the intricacy and trickiness of the public sphere in terms of its historical and theoretical underpinnings. Recently, Rahimi’s Theater State and the Formation of Early Modern Public Sphere in Iran (2012) and Szakolczai’s Comedy and the Public Sphere (2013) explore this complexity further and discuss matters of the public sphere framework in detail. Their historical and anthropological studies proposed that Habermas’s model ignores a manipulative form of publicity, as politicians, experts and agents can create and manipulate a false public by propaganda, advertisements, images, debate, rhetoric and symbols. Therefore, in its modern format, communication systems and tools such as media, social networks and cyberspace are used to juggle and to evade the truth or importance of an issue by raising trivial distinctions and objections (see Isaloo 2016).

Proposing democracy in Iran  9 As Salvatore (2007) highlights, Habermas’s theory of the public sphere is criticised for many reasons: the singularisation of a male bourgeois ideal type, due to the lack of attention to class- and gender-based alternative publics or counter publics; an absence of regard for the complex intertwining between local, national and transnational public spheres; a minimisation of national and historical dissimilarities among different examples of modern public spheres; and the exaggeratedly normative theme of the classification of the public sphere as singularly modern and Western. Significantly, Salvatore criticises Habermas’s model of the public sphere in that it does not fulfil the criteria of rationality and universality that it needs in order to be suitable as a Western, modern, rational form. ‘It is a model based on a particular crystallization of the dialectics between inwardness and publicness’ (2007: 8). The public sphere, as an essential component of democracy, reflecting a rule of people by people, is an empty place, which can be formed and fulfilled by rhetorical discourse, magical and verbal images, metaphoric language, comical inversions and theatrical performances. Thus, tricksters and political actors may utilise these communicative methods, especially in liminal periods such as revolution, war and crisis to manipulate the emotions of the public (see Szakolczai 2013). Accordingly, rationality combined with a domain of free and equal interaction between citizens can easily change the public sphere into a mere market place and the public itself into a market of consumption. For example, the practice of neoliberalist thinking on individualism and rationalisation in recent decades provides convincing evidence of the rise of mass cultural consumption, commercialisation of shared social life and the commoditisation of the mass media. Plato criticises democracy in response to the political disintegration of his times. His interlocking critiques of drama, theatre and comedy in Athenian democracy, and also his dialogues in The Statesman, which is a sequel to Plato’s Sophist to denounce the work of the Sophists, suggest Plato was the first to recognise both the empty place of power and the empty place of public sphere in a democratic system. Importantly, he highlighted the danger of trickster and masked leaders in the public arena and political realm, and recognised that under unstable conditions, emotion and unconscious imitation played a more significant role than the exercise of rationality. In modern democratic societies, ‘public’ or ‘people’ is the main instrument of political actors. Through this mechanism, political tricksters design usually their actions and utilise images, symbols and signs, which illustrate public will and desire, to transform the public sphere. In contrast, in Shia societies, such as Iran, the public’s interest is often subordinated to the interest of Shia religion. Therefore, the focal tools of political actors, for formulating the public sphere, are Shia narratives, symbols, images and signs. The public sphere in Athenian democracy The first question that may arise during this debate is ‘what is democracy?’. The word ‘democracy’ was translated into the English language from the French

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democratie, but it originally was a Greek word: demokratia (Held 2006). ‘Demos’ means ‘people’ and ‘Kratos’ means ‘rule’. Utilising this definition, democracy is therefore defined as a form of government in which the people rule (Held 2006; Wydra 2009). Historically, we have witnessed different forms of democracy such as direct democracy, indirect (representative) democracy and liberal democracy, but yet there is not a commonly agreed definition of democracy and its definitions are contested. Indeed, the problem is not limited to defining democracy and generalising it. It also encompasses democracy itself, especially modern democracy. To clarify this statement and to understand the formation of the public sphere, it is necessary to briefly review the evolution of democracy since ancient times and then ask: ‘Is it an ideal system to pursue or even to propose, particularly for societies such as Iran?’. The development of democracy in Athens about 500 years before Christianity provided a central source of inspiration for modern political thinkers (Bernal 1987; Finley 1983, cited in Held 2006: 13). The ideas and aims of Athenian democracy were noticeably described in the famous public funeral oration given by Pericles, which acknowledged the victims of war. He proposed that within Athenian democracy, citizens were entitled to be involved in public affairs regardless of any barriers such as rank or wealth given that sovereign power is held by the people who must engage in legislative and judicial functions. Demos, or the common people, were governing the governors and ‘the process of government itself was based on what Pericles referred to as “proper discussions,” incorporating free and unrestricted discourse, guaranteed by isegoria, an equal right to speak to the sovereign assembly’ (Bernal 1987, cited in Held 2006: 14– 15). Equally important were Aristotle’s (1981) writings on democracy (in particular The Politics, 335–323 BC) which envisaged the characteristics of democracy. The first characteristic and the basis of a democratic state is liberty. One principle of liberty is for all to rule and to be ruled in turn, which emphasises the supremacy of the majority. This equality of citizens is guaranteed, because the majority is poor and therefore in a democracy, the poor have more power than the rich. Thus, the decision of the majority is final and just. This is one facet of liberty, which all democrats affirm to be the principle of their state. Another essential component of liberty is the privilege of a free man, which also happens to be the second characteristic of democracy. In other words, a man should have the freedom to live as he desires, which fulfils the concept whereby men should not be ruled by anyone. The other attributes relating to democracy are outlined as the election of officers by all out of all, in that all should rule over each, and each over all. The problem with Athenian democracy was the exclusion of females, young adult males (under 20 years of age), immigrants and slaves. Therefore, a large proportion of the population was ignored and they could not play a role in the decision-making process. Notwithstanding these exclusions, which pose a challenge to the original characteristics of democracy, these are superficial problems that can be solved in a formal, legalistic manner. The second and invisible

Proposing democracy in Iran  11 problem of Athenian democracy was a more significant and dangerous threat to a society, which was extensively highlighted and discussed in Plato’s dialogues. Plato was the first philosopher who aimed to understand the issues surrounding Athenian democracy. In the first series of his dialogues, Plato (1997) diagnoses the corrupting influence of the Sophists and their activity in the marketplace (agora) (Szakolczai 2013: 30). He outlines how the Sophists had appeared in a variety of ways (Sophist: 231c). Plato identifies Sophists as experts of speech who claim to know everything even if they cheapen everything in the process, even heaven and gods (Sophist: 234a–240d). They utilised words to trick people, even though they stood further away from truth. Therefore, Plato regards Sophists as not only cheats and imitators, but also as experts who manipulate innocent citizens into believing their false information. Ultimately, Plato’s recognition of Sophists as image-makers and suppliers of false words and beliefs was directly connected with his diagnosis of theatrocracy in the Laws. Indeed, his diagnosis in Laws gives the impression that ‘such a connection between the Sophists and the theatre was always lurking in the back of Plato’s mind. It was central for the Ion, and the Symposium also has strong theatrical aspects’ (Szakolczai 2013: 31). Thus, Sophists, with their sophisticated rhetoric and staging, can easily form the public sphere in line with their pre-planned goals. The public sphere in contemporary democracy The experience of ancient democracy brought about a certain disappointment with the design of direct democracy, similar to Athenian democracy. Therefore, some academics, such as Habermas in The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (1989) in 1962 and Rawls in A Theory of Justice in 1971 tried to review and revise it by drawing a system which suited both representative and liberal (direct) democracy. This led to the debate surrounding ‘deliberative democracy’ and the ‘public sphere’. However, deliberative democracy has been criticised by social scientists such as Charles Blattberg. The centre of Blattberg’s (2000) argument in his book, From Pluralist to Patriotic Politics, is that deliberative democracy undermines solidarity in society. Even Bächtiger et al. (2010), who are leading contemporary theorists of deliberative democracy, argue that in many cases it is unclear whether some commentators on deliberative democracy merely refer to any kind of communication or to deliberation with regard to systematically weighing rational arguments. To examine this, they simplify the task by distinguishing between two broad concepts, named Type I and Type II. The concept of Type I deliberation is derived from the Habermasian logic of communicative action and the idea of rational discourse. Therefore, in this category, actors tell the truth, justify their position extensively and are willing to yield to the force of superior arguments. In this way, the goal is to reach consensus by mutual agreement. In contrast, the Type II division is broadly defined as inclusive of all communicative activities. However, Bächtiger et al. (2010) also highlight a number of non-trivial normative and empirical blind spots for both types of deliberation. From this viewpoint, Type I empirical research has struggled with the

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challenge of identifying authentic deliberation, while in contrast Type II, which appears more open to alternative forms of communication, suffers from the risk of becoming so broad a term as to allow communicative distortions as well as forms of coercion and manipulation, which is problematic from a Type I viewpoint. Together the critics of deliberative democracy would potentially tell us that this concept allows those most skilled in rhetoric to make self-serving decisions. Plato diagnosed this issue as well and also other hidden problems of direct democracy within the Athenian discursive system. Recently, in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Tocqueville (1862), Weber (1972; 1978; 2004), Schumpeter (1976) and Lefort (1988) have profoundly criticised modern democracy. Tocqueville (1862) raised the issue of ‘tyranny of majority’. His aim was to explore whom the people represented in broad terms, as well as examining the scope of rule in modern democracy. His observation of democracy in America illustrates that people surrounded by flattery have considerable difficulties in going beyond their self-interested inclinations. The law that claimed to be made by the people for the people favours ‘those classes which elsewhere are most interested in evading it’ (Tocqueville 1862: 293). While explaining rule by ‘honoratiores’ (the notabilities of the town) that developed in the form of deliberating bodies, Weber (1978) also argues that a democratic administration becomes a matter of conflict between political parties. In order to defeat opposition and to secure themselves, they create ‘security troops’ out of the poorest people in society. This struggle leads direct democratic administrations to have ‘a strict hierarchical structure, however carefully it may be trying to hide this fact’ (Weber 1978: 951). By comparing two kinds of democracy in the contemporary word – leadership democracy (through a party system) and leaderless democracy (via professional politicians without a calling) – Weber refers to modern representative democracy as ‘plebiscitary leadership democracy’ and calls contemporary democracy ‘caesarist’, believing that any kind of democracy will result in a ‘caesarist’ system. Weber’s argument supports critics such as Plato regarding classical democracy, as he rejects direct democracy in a heterogeneous society. Weber believed that direct democracy might result in unwanted inefficiency, political instability and ineffective administration, whilst radically enhancing the probability of oppressive minority rule (Held 2006: 130). Therefore, in Weber’s view ‘democratization and demagogy belong together’ (Weber 1978: 1450). He contended that the modern monarchies choose demagogy-using speeches, communication systems and propaganda devices of all varieties for the promotion of their own prestige. Considering the national interest, this is just as dangerous as the most passionate demagogy used by party leaders during election times to gain power. Accordingly, the political leader’s power, achieved through mass demagogy, means ‘a shift toward the caesarist mode of selection. Indeed, every democracy tends in this direction’ (Weber 1978: 1451). Thus, in democracy, the successful manipulator, who is dishonest, unscrupulous and devious in charming the masses, will rise to the top. In brief, Weber highlights the danger of mass democracy for a society because of the way

Proposing democracy in Iran  13 that politics is easily overwhelmed by emotions at the expense of genuine political content. Similarly, Schumpeter’s theory of democracy (1976) challenges the ‘classical doctrine’, arguing that democracy, as a process by which the electorate identifies commonly shared goals and selectively chooses politicians to implement them, is unworkable. In reality, people are ignored and manipulated by politicians, who set their own agenda. In this way, Schumpeter criticises the concept of ‘rule by the people’ by indicating how the crucial element of democracy is the ability of citizens to replace one government by another (Held 2006). However, while voting and elections legitimise governments and keep them accountable, the actual policies are created and implemented by politicians and not by citizens. In other words, elected leaders do not represent citizens. Thus, an individual’s participatory role is practically nominal. Plato’s criticisms of democracy, together with the complications of modern democracy that Tocqueville, Weber, Schumpeter and Lefort highlighted, warn us about Sophists and political actors who can form and transform the public sphere to become the majority.

Democracy as a market place As Lefort (1988) suggests, Benjamin Constant was a liberal and in his view democracy was simply a form of government, whereby the government acts in the name of the people, as it was for Aristotle and Montesquieu. Pursuing Plato, Weber and Schumpeter, Lefort (1988) argues that Constant disregarded that ‘it implies an unprecedented historical adventure whose causes and effects cannot be localized within the sphere that is conventionally defined as that of government’ (24). To understand this argument of Lefort, it is crucial to review Constant’s (1819) lecture to the Athénée Royal of Paris. In his lecture, Constant drew a distinction between the ‘Liberty of the Ancients’ and the ‘Liberty of the Moderns’. In his account, modern democracy requires giving up individual sovereignty. Among the moderns, even in the most autonomous states, the individual is only independent in appearance. In reality, his sovereignty is restricted and nearly always suspended. Constant further outlined how ancient republics such as Athens and the Roman Republic were geographically small and bellicose and explained how the most populous and most powerful societies were not equal in size to the smallest of modern states. Accordingly, their small size made them war-hungry and violent. Indeed, war was the price of achieving security. Notably by subduing the enemy, they could enjoy liberty, including the use of slave labour from those states who had been overpowered. These were the common conditions for ancient liberty. In contrast, modern states are large and commercial. Therefore, global international governance may reign, which has no boundaries, and thus is unlimited. Commerce is a tool, utilised in an attempt to achieve mutual agreements on a goal, which may not be acquired through violence. In Constant’s view, we have developed a better and more manipulative way of dominating people now by making them poor,

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which is a subtle psychological trick. Accordingly, in brief, Constant’s lecture explains that we have acknowledged that commerce is a more humane way of getting what we want. Therefore, commerce is a milder and more definite means of making it in someone else’s interests to agree to what we want. Thus, we are now operating on the basis of sound and appealing reason: it is in your best interests to buy what I have; I want to have your labour; I want to have your life. Since Constant’s lecture, history has witnessed various colonisations, revolutions, World Wars I and II, the Vietnam War and the more recent invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan by the US. Most of the invasions and colonisations were started by modern democratic states to gain access to natural resources for their industrial development, to expand commerce for their own welfare, and to rescue their political and/or economic system when it was corrupted or in crisis. Significantly, this nature of commerce conducted by modern democratic states was one of the key reasons why Weber (1978) in Economy and Society attempted to criticise democracy, especially direct democracy, and recognised its administration as part of an unsustainable system. Additionally, he considered the development of economic differentiation which may result in the concentration of power and administration lying in the hands of the wealthy (Weber 1978: 949), which could also turn into rule by the honoratiores of society. Thus, the demand for democracy transforms into the crossing of swords for wealth or honour. This struggle for power leads both sides to form tightly organised political parties (Roth and Wittich 1978: xci). Therefore, the expansion of such communities and parties can change the meaning of democracy so fundamentally that it no longer makes any sense (Weber 1978: 951). This is exactly what was witnessed in the United States after 1980, or maybe earlier. For instance, extreme income inequality has arguably contributed to other social inequalities and problems such as the decrease of community comradeship and spirit, the increase of interest groups and corporations’ roles in elections and decision making, and finally the loss of multiple opinions being voiced without retribution. In support of Lefort’s (1988) argument, we should consider Schumpeter’s (1976) criticism of both the classical doctrine of democracy together with the contemporary form of democracy in his book titled Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy. His writings, especially in Chapter XXII (269–83), identify him as one of the earliest contributors to the further development of the framework articulated in Weber’s Economy and Society. While Weber highlights the similarity of the ‘Democratic Party’ with the capitalist enterprise (Roth and Wittich 1978: xcii), Schumpeter argues that the concept of competition for leadership posed similar challenges to the concept of competition in the economic sphere (Schumpeter 1976: 271). Thus, democracy can be understood as using the economic method of competition while struggling to acquire power under an electoral system. Alternatively, in Weber’s words ‘the business of politics’ follows ideal and material interests, ‘which is as inevitable as the activism of the few against the passivity of the many. Under the conditions of mass suffrage, the leadership of the few rests on mass mobilisation, and this in turn requires an effective party apparatus’ (Roth and Wittich 1978: xcii).

Proposing democracy in Iran  15 Thus, both Weber and Schumpeter recognise democracy as a market place for political leaders, and as an institutional mechanism which legitimises the use of power gained by a competitive struggle for votes. Interestingly, their diagnoses, together with Tocqueville’s (1862) comparative study of the French Revolution and capitalism in America led contemporary social scientists, such as Lefort, Szakolczai, Wydra (2008) and Horvath (2008), to examine and in some cases reexamine both the French Revolution and the Russian Revolution, using a comparative methodology to understand the consequences of a revolution and to explore how a democratic system functions, as well as investigating the nuances and challenges in our so-called modern and democratic societies.

The empty place of power In the early sixteenth century, Niccolò Machiavelli established modern thinking about political power by writing The Prince. In his writings, he examined strategic advantages, such as military ones, between the prince and others (Clegg 1989). In the ensuing mid-seventeenth century, Thomas Hobbes further developed modern thinking on power and in his writings, such as Leviathan, indicated that power must become centralised. In this way, he went a step further and focused on sovereignty. In contrast, by 1848 Karl Marx concentrated on the economy to analyse power relations. After a century, Max Weber’s approach to power around World War I combined his interest in bureaucracy with concepts of authority and rule. In sociology, three traditional approaches and perspectives outline power and the way it is exercised. First, the elite perspective is based upon the work of Gaetano Mosca and Vilfredo Pareto, who believed that societies are divided between elites and masses (Sandhu 2006). They argue that it is in the nature of society to have leaders and followers. Since the masses are not capable or interested in leading, it would be ideal if they were acquiescent followers. For this reason, only a certain type of outstanding person is allowed to attain a position of power. In effect, power comes from the structure of the organisation where decisions are made. Thus, the centralisation and the institution of bureaucracy become an integral contact point where power is exercised (Sandhu 2006). Second, the Marxist perspective, which is based on the work of Karl Marx, stresses that throughout human history two classes of people have always existed, the oppressors and the oppressed (Sandhu 2006). Therefore, the Marxist model of political sociology proposes a deterministic account, as it is dependent on the political economic structures for all cultural and social movements to occur, parallel to the shifting changes of the economy. However, a class may also emerge that may have the ability to overthrow this deterministic view of society. Third, the pluralism perspective originates in the classical liberal ideas of Locke, J.S. Mill and Jeremy Bentham (Sandhu 2006). It was developed in the twentieth century and is specifically associated with the American political system, which acts as a supplement to elitism. It legitimates democracy and wants to see society present in the governing process. In this way, interest groups

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participate actively in the political decision-making process. For pluralists, power is not concentrated and is in fact dispersed throughout society (Sandhu 2006). In order to identify the position of power in a democratic system, it is necessary to review the work of Lefort (1988), who is rapidly winning the approval of a growing number of political philosophers in exploring the meaning of modern democracy. In Lefort’s (1988: 12) words the rise of modern totalitarianism, in practice Fascist and Communist movements in the twentieth century, which arose from political mutations, results in a need to re-examine democracy. One of the consequences of a mutation of a symbolic order and transformation of the status of power was a party, which arose claiming to represent the desire and the dream of the whole people. Its new characteristics of power embody destroying all opposition, claiming legitimacy outside of state law, and wielding power without being accountable to anyone. As Lefort (1988: 14) suggests, a totalitarian system is a fundamentally ‘artificialist ideal’ with a fundamentally ‘organicist ideal’. To clarify this Lefort explains that the image of the body comes to be combined with the image of the machine. Society has two sides: on the one hand, it seems to be a community in which all members are firmly interdependent, and on the other hand, ‘it is supposed to be constructing itself day by day, to be striving towards a goal – the creation of the new man – and to be living in a state of permanent mobilization’ (14). By explaining this, Lefort acknowledges Tocqueville’s realisation of democracy, which concludes that it is ‘a form of society’ as well. Tocqueville’s Democracy in America attracted Lefort’s attention because it explored change in every direction as well as studying democracy in past, present and future times. Therefore, he believes that Tocqueville’s work helps us to decipher the enigma of democracy which has confronted us until now: ‘Tocqueville examines public opinion as it conquers the right to expression and communication and at the same time becomes a force in its own right, as it becomes detached from subjects, thinks and speaks for itself, and becomes an anonymous power standing over them’ (Lefort 1988: 15). Following this statement, Lefort proceeds to further explore the position of power in democracy. The outcome is that public space is an empty space, which belongs to anybody and can be occupied by everyone. Whereas Machiavelli’s analysis of power posited governance as embodied in the king/prince which in turn gave society a body, Lefort’s analysis of power demonstrates that the actual locus of power, for all that it is held in democracy to be in the hands of the people or public, is unfilled and cannot be occupied (17). Indeed, it is this very emptiness that constitutes the revolutionary feature of democracy. Exercising temporary power with permanent rules creates an institutionalisation of conflict that prevents any individual and group from becoming homogeneous with it. In democracy only the instruments of the exercise of power can be seen, not power itself. Modern democracy compels the public to exchange the notion of a system governed by laws of a legitimate power with a system founded upon the legitimacy of debate. The latter represents power as an empty place that belongs to no one. In this instance, Lefort (1988) criticises the notion of democracy as ‘the rule by people’ and he warns that the idea of power belonging to no

Proposing democracy in Iran  17 one should not be confused with the idea that it designates an empty place. ‘The reference to an empty place gives way to the unbearable image of a real vacuum’ (Lefort 1988: 233). Consequently, Lefort’s philosophical anthropology highlights the issues with the transformation of power, in France (1789) and Russia (1917), from a perspective of historical experience. Therefore, these challenges overstep the confined notion of liberalism in a pluralist society. Wydra follows Lefort’s political anthropology in his writings Revolution and Democracy: The European Experience (2008) and The Liminal Origins of Democracy (2009). Considering the contemporary democratic system, he reexamines both the Russian and French Revolutions and acknowledges that the place of power in democracy is empty. The first and most general point Wydra (2009) makes is to oppose the claim and definition of democracy, arguing that in a democratic system people do not rule in their own interest and they are not the masters of their own affairs. Second, he emphasises that democracy emerges through the process of transition. This point clearly criticises introducing democracy and its institutions to countries unfamiliar with such foundations. The third point Wydra highlights in relation to Lefort’s statement is that the exercise of power is subject to periodic competition. Accordingly, the historical experiences and evidence used by Lefort and Wydra support their critical objections against democracy, such as their arguments about the locus of power in democracy being ‘an empty place’ and ‘void of real people’, reflecting ‘the power of nobody’, being ‘limited in time’ and ‘subject to struggle for gaining the office’. While Wydra (2009: 95) outlines pluralism, liberty and equality as mechanisms to help modern democracy flourish, he suggests that they are based on permanent uncertainty about power and values. Therefore, the prospect of a new model of democracy, based on the rule of law, elections and institutions, obscures the truth and conceal the paradoxes of contemporary democracy and authority. The purpose of reviewing theories of democracy and its critics was to understand the concept of the public sphere, which is claimed to facilitate maximum public participation and debate over the issues of the current affairs. The public sphere and democracy are so intertwined that the debate about one requires an explanation of the other. If people have to rule in a system, the participation of people in decision-making processes is necessary. This most important and essential feature of democracy is problematic, particularly when it is a transition period (liminality) and/or when there is a conflict between two bodies and parties (schismogenesis), due to the ubiquity of Sophists and political actors in the public arena.

Schismogenesis and liminality The concept of schismogenesis was first introduced by Gregory Bateson in his book Naven: A Survey of the Problems Suggested by a Composite Picture of the Culture of a New Guinea Tribe Drawn From Three Points of View, published in 1936. In his anthropological study of a certain ceremonial behaviour demonstrated by the ethic group known as the Iatmul people of New Guinea, he identified a type

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of complementary schismogenesis between the dictator and his officials and/or people – a process whereby dictators are pushed towards a state which seems almost psychopathic (Bateson 1936). In the last two centuries, the schismogenic process that have occurred between states, between states and their officials, between religious groups and even between individuals, have resulted in destructive and pernicious war as well as revolution and terror. A complementary schismogenesis ‘illustrates very clearly how the megalomaniac or paranoid forces others to respond to his condition, and so is automatically pushed to more and more extreme maladjustment’ (Bateson 1936: 186). This type of schismogenesis was experienced in various societies until now (Horvath and Thomassen 2008). When a schismogenic process starts, suddenly the normal and state of relations between two or more states, bodies, parties and leaders transforms into an environment full of conflict, and as a consequence a liminal phase begins. The term ‘liminality’ can be understood as the second stage of the rites of passage. First introduced by anthropologists such as Arnold van Gennep (1960) in 1909 and then by Victor Turner. According to Turner (1967; 1982), liminality refers to any situation or object being ‘betwixt’ and ‘between’; a transition period, an inter-structural situation and process moving from one stage to the other stage. Recently, this concept has been developed extensively by Jeffrey Alexander, Bernhard Giesen and Jason Mast (2006), Arpad Szakolczai (2000; 2009; 2011; 2013), Agnes Horvath (2008; 2013), Harald Wydra (2008; 2009), Bjørn Thomassen (2009; 2014) and other social scientists, and is increasingly applied to different fields within the social sciences. Rites of passage, in van Gennep’s (1960) and Turner’s (1967; 1982) work, mobilise beliefs, hierarchy, values and stages in social life that are significant in any culture. In such ritual performances, three stages may be recognised: separation (pre-liminal), transition (liminal) and reincorporation (post-liminal). The transitional stage, as a liminal moment or period, is a temporary break off from the normal, daily and everyday activities. Thus, liminality is inconsistent with ordinary day-to-day life. If this break becomes unlimited, a permanent liminality takes place (Szakolczai 2000). As Szakolczai explains, the term enables us to perceive the way in which uncertainty can emerge and helps us to find answers to questions such as: ‘why and how can such liminal periods be used and even artificially provoked?’ (Szakolczai 2013). In liminal periods encompassing war, revolution and crisis, political actors can use symbols, images, signs, narratives, words and rhetoric to manipulate and control the crowd to reach their pre-planned goal. In modern democracy, too, the same method is used to wangle, fudge and misrepresent, but in contrast to classical liminal situations, whereby society stands at the threshold of transition for a limited time, this period now seems to be endless and permanent. The terms ‘empty place of power’ and ‘permanent uncertainty’ help us to understand what the public sphere is in a democratic system. In Szakolczai’s (2013) account, the enduring uncertainty of democracy is identified as permanent liminality. Permanent liminality simply happens when a temporary interruption of the daily life becomes permanent. It is a peculiar situation that occurs when an ordinary liminal situation, or in other words a transition

Proposing democracy in Iran  19 stage, is not moving on and the reintegration or reincorporation is not taking place. For example, the war and conflict in the Middle East can be seen as permanent liminality. Permanent liminality is a situation that cannot be recovered by rationality. Indeed, schismogenesis is interconnected with liminality. If a society finds a solution for its conflict, reincorporation, the last stage of van Gennep’s rites of passage, will take place and society will exit from temporary liminality. In this instance, relationships will normalise again. Otherwise, schismogenic processes can lead to a period of permanent liminality: a long-lasting period whereby anything can happen, even new liminalities in the extreme. Max Weber introduces the term ‘charisma’ to denote one solution for this type of situations, but the problem is that a charismatic leader has not yet appeared. In the last two centuries, some leaders such as Hitler in Germany, Mussolini in Italy, Stalin in the Soviet Union, Khomeini in Iran and currently Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi in Iraq and Syria have been mistakenly described as charismatic leaders. As the following chapters discuss, these leaders and leaders with similar characteristics are ‘tricksters’. Charisma is a positive word and a charismatic figure must be someone whose thought and deed is positive, someone who can solve problems and someone who can bring peace and justice (see Horvath 2013). Thus, political actors who use all possible tricks and guile to manipulate people and to formulate the public sphere for gaining more power and wealth must not be considered as charismatic figures. Generally, the interconnection and interrelation of democracy and the public sphere require the staging of political actors, who seek power over others. To accomplish their aim, political actors utilise techniques for manipulation of the public sphere. Now technology, such as media and cyberspace, make them capable of selling to the voters anything they want. Through image making and various kinds of discourse, they are able to generate emotions and to shape the public perceptions. Because, in democracy, political actors struggle to win more voters than their oppositions for gaining power or more power, they must be able to form the public sphere in favour of themselves. This ability of political actors is potentially dangerous. For instance, we experienced Nazis, Stalinists and Fascists in the twentieth century who utilised symbols, images and signs to transform the public sphere and to manipulate the entire population.

Contradictory conclusions Despite historical evidence and various critical writings and debate on democracy and the public sphere by social scientists such as Tocqueville (1862), Weber (1972; 1978), Schumpeter (1976), Lefort (1988) and recently Szakolczai (2011; 2013), Wydra (2008; 2009) and Salvatore (2007), some current academics and thinkers still seek to investigate the possibility of simply transferring democracy to other parts of the world. For instance, Gheissari and Nasr (2006: 14–15) argue that democracy in Iran would have to penetrate the citizens’ political mentality before it could modify their political system. Considering the ideological thinking and the dominance of state institutions, they focused their findings on twentieth century history, reflecting the Constitutional Revolution, Reza Khan’s

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era as well as the 1979 Islamic Revolution, in order to explore the possibility of democracy in Iran. Nevertheless, this type of study has led some authors to produce contradictory conclusions, such as Roy (1994), who rejected the possibility for modernisation and democratisation in Islamic countries in his initial writings called The Failure of Political Islam. However, in contrast to this he conceded the possibility of transition in his later publication, The Crisis of Religious Legitimacy in Iran, believing that ‘the crisis of the religious legitimacy is leading to the supremacy of politics and subsequently to a de facto secularization’ (Roy 1999: 202). This way of thinking expanded its dimensions shortly after Habermas’s visit to Iran in 2002. Habermas spent a week in Iran at the invitation of the Centre of Dialogue between Civilisations, created by Mohammad Khatami, who was the president of Iran at the time, to speak on ‘secularisation in the postsecular societies of the West’. Another contradictory conclusion was evident in McFaul’s (2005) reports on the 2005 presidential election in Iran. After eight years of presidency of a reformist, Mohammad Khatami, when the government was handed to a hardliner, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who was elected as the new President of Iran, McFaul outlined that the election shocked and disappointed those who were hopeful for democratic change in Iran. Despite the 2005 election results, McFaul was still very optimistic about democracy in Iran and concluded that Iran’s structural and historical factors favour democratic development, albeit over a longer-term and from a comparative perspective. Recently, Lutz et al. (2010) highlighted education as a determinant of political participation and argued that by improving the educational levels of individuals, this would enable them to develop a powerful sense of civic duty and interest in politics. They focused on education and democracy in Iran in order to reach ‘beyond the global-level analyses by applying the empirically estimated relationships between human capital and democracy’ (Lutz et al. 2010: 255). Using variables such as age, sex and education level, they employed a mixed qualitative and quantitative methodology to examine the population of Iran to indicate and investigate the possibility of modern democracy in Iran in the future. Soroush also tried to employ theological arguments of Islam, particularly Shia Islam, to propose an Islamic democracy in Iran. Roy (1999), McFaul (2005), Lutz et al. (2010) and Soroush (2000; 2010) not only overlooked tradition, religion and culture of Iran, but they also ignored the perplexity of modern democracy, which was critically discussed by Weber (1978) and Schumpeter (1976). They never tried to think or imagine what could be the consequences of a democratic system in Iran and how the public sphere can be formed by political actors. Habermas, who is best known for his theories on communicative rationality and the public sphere, also however ‘did not specifically probe into the trajectory of emergence of the modern public sphere and significantly underplayed the role of religious traditions in its formation’ (Salvatore 2007: 2). In reality, this is a serious deficiency of social scientists who have disregarded the role of religious and cultural narratives, myths, signs, symbols and images in their studies.

Proposing democracy in Iran  21

The development of an Islamic government Historically, Muslim societies of the Middle East have commonly been ruled by despotic elites (Arnason et al. 2006). This way of governing has led some Western academics to hypothesise that Muslim societies are unable to establish or embody a democratic culture and to cultivate a strong autonomous public sphere or civil society. According to Eisenstadt (2006: 306), this assessment is associated closely with the orientalist view of Muslim societies, whereby under the concentration of power, ‘the various sectors of society were not granted any autonomy beyond purely local affairs, with even these affairs being often tightly regulated by the Great Despots’ (306). Katouzian (1998) attempts to outline the challenges surrounding democracy and the public sphere in Iran. He compares modern Europe to modern Iran in a timeframe spanning the early nineteenth century onwards, up to the developments and movements that resulted in the Constitutional Revolution in 1905. By doing this, he intends to explore reasons why ‘European states were normally based on some notion of law, and enjoyed some sort of legitimacy, whereas Iranian states were not and did not’ (31). He believes that a sociology of historical change, as well as of the social structure in Iran, should be outlined in order to answer this question. However, Katouzian’s analysis did not answer his questions as hoped, due to problems with his framing of them as well as blind spots that he could not have perceived, but his proposed methodology, with its careful examination of history and social structure, is otherwise worthy of praise. The problem in academic studies, which are exploring power, legitimacy, a system of government and the public sphere in Islamic societies, occurs when they underplay the role of Islamic religion, and they try to indicate that any state, community and system which does not fit into a formula of modern democracy of the West and democratic culture is un-ideal. In this way, first, they blithely disregard all problems of modern democracy; second, they ignore that democracy is not supported by many religious leaders in the Middle East, who lead the Muslim societies and have potential power for forming the public sphere. A brief review of history indicates how religious authorities are interconnected with political authorities in Iran. For example, historically some Islamic thinkers and Shia leaders, such as Ali Al-Karak, an Arab Shia cleric who migrated to Iran in the early sixteenth century, were the official holders of religious authority (Boozari 2011) and they accepted the political authority of the king. Al-Karak joined the Safavid dynasty for propagating Shia Islam. Even, Ayatollah Mulla Ahmad Naraqi (1771–1829), who formulated the notion of velayat-e faqih (guardianship of the Jurist) in his book Awa’id al-Ayyam (1903), had a good relationship with the reigning monarch, Fath Ali Shah (Dabashi 2008). These religious leaders were satisfied to have a Shia Muslim king who was able to implement Shari’a laws and rules and to promote Shia values. Thus, as a mediator and conciliator between the king and the public, they were collaborating with political authority of the king to establish an Islamic state. This relationship between clerics and the king continued until the

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Constitutional Revolution of 1905–1906, which is an important historical period of change in the social structures of Iran. In this period, educated groups came to identify themselves as ‘danishmandan’ (scholars/learned persons/scientists) or ‘munavvaran’ (enlighteners). These words were taken from the bilingual (Ottoman Turkish and French) and pro-democracy newspaper, Mechveret (Consultation), published bimonthly by Ahmad Riza, with the first issue published on 3 December 1895 (Shaw and Shaw 1977: 256). A pro-democracy newspaper in Iran illustrated the alliance between modern and traditional intellectuals, showing a group of men with hats (modern intellectuals) and a group of seminary scholars with turbans (traditional intellectuals), both greeting an angel’s message of ‘freedom’, ‘equality’ and ‘fraternity’ (Kurzman 2008: 43). Between them lay an inert mass of people sleeping unaware. These kinds of prodemocratic image, during the Constitutional Revolution in 1905, was also promoted by the pro-democracy newspaper Mechveret that also championed ‘consultation’ as a significant aspect of Islamic law. A supportive ayah (verse) from the Quran was used for the headline of the Turkish language edition of Mechveret: ‘And consult them in the matter’ (Kurzman 2008: 42). This was a prodemocracy interpretation drawn from a Quranic reference that Ottoman thinker Namik Kemal had introduced into the modernist Islamic discourse a generation earlier (Kurzman 2008). After the Iranian Constitutional Revolution, the Islamic concept of ‘consultation’ was considered through drafting the constitution to safeguard the role of the Majlis (parliament), granting the National Assembly extensive powers as ‘the representative of the whole people’, giving it the right in all questions related to the government and the people, and ‘taking final determination over all laws, decrees, budgets, treaties, loans, monopolies, and concessions’ (Abrahamian 1982: 88). Similar to other revolutions, the Constitutional Revolution found itself taking a path other than the one it had imagined before its victory. The problem was not only that the concepts of enlightenment and democracy were borrowed from the West, especially from the French Revolution, but significantly the matters and consequences of implementing these concepts were not studied properly in Iran at the time. As a result, Iran was left in a transition stage finding itself uncomfortably adrift between democracy, monarchy and Islam. This condition continued until Reza Khan, who was an army officer, led a British-backed coup in 1921 and crowned himself the king (Reza Shah Pahlavi) of Iran in 1925. He started his reform and modernisation programme by curtailing the power of the clergy; replacing Shari’a laws, rules and system with Westernised judicial system; changing religious schools to secular or modern schools; and imposing a ban on the wearing of the veil (Best et al. 2008: 404). This programme of reform, modernisation and industrialisation, was continued by his son Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, who was crowned in 1941 and was supported by Britain and America, until the 1979 Islamic Revolution. During the Pahlavi dynasty, particularly after the 1960s, the idea of an Islamic government was developed and proposed by Imam Khomeini in Islamic Government: Governance of the Jurist (1970). In this book, which is the compendium of 13 speeches Khomeini delivered during his stay in Najaf from 21

Proposing democracy in Iran  23 January to 8 February 1970, Khomeini tries to give reasons and examples for proving the necessity of the establishment an Islamic government (Khomeini 1970). Khomeini’s proposed ‘Islamic government’, which was supported by various groups in Iran and abroad, helped him to lead the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Michel Foucault’s reports on the Iranian Revolution, which appeared in the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera in 1978 (see Foucault 1988), have become influential and are widely cited. Anderson and Afary (2005) analyse Foucault’s reports, relating to ‘political spirituality’ in the Iranian Revolution, and argue that his predictions failed to reflect the behaviour of latter-day Islamic leaders. They explained that ‘Khomeini, who had to some extent hidden his opinions from Western journalists before taking power, covered the most archaic interpretations of traditional morality under the sacred cloak of Islam’ (Anderson and Afary 2005: 273–74). Salvatore (1997) provides a valuable insight into Foucault’s reports. In his analysis of ‘political spirituality’, which earned Foucault the accusation of confusing spirituality with fanaticism, he takes into account the tradition of modernity, orientalism and Said’s arguments, and argues that ‘what Foucault wanted to see confirmed was the idea of displacement, yet the survival of political spirituality. The conclusion he seems to draw is that there can be no history without enchantment’ (Salvatore 1997: 153). The important questions that Salvatore draws through his analysis are: ‘Where is the spirit of revolution?’ and ‘Is it disappeared from history?’. To deal with these questions we need to examine more carefully what the spirit of the 1979 Revolution was. The 1979 Revolution was initially an uprising against imperialism, against modernisation and against Westernisation, which is linked to orientalism. For Said (1979) orientalism has several interdependent meanings. The first meaning is an academic one, which means anyone who teaches, writes about or researches ‘the orient’ is an ‘orientalist’, and what that person does is ‘orientalism’. Arguing that orientalism lives on, academically, through its doctrines and theses about the ‘orient’ and the ‘oriental’, Said (1979: 2) states ‘orientalism is a style of thought based upon an ontological and epistemological distinction made between “the orient” and (most of the time) “the occident”’. Through explaining this, he outlines the rationality, reflectivity and dynamism of the occident. The second meaning that Said highlights is the interchange between the academic and the more or less imaginative meanings of orientalism. The third meaning is something more historically and materially defined than either of the other two (Said 1979: 3). According to Said, orientalism is a Western style for dominating, restructuring and having authority over the orient. Referring to Michel Foucault’s notion of a discourse in The Archaeology of Knowledge and in Discipline and Punish, Said believes that without examining orientalism as a discourse one cannot possibly understand the systematic discipline by which European culture was able to manage and even produce ‘the orient’ politically, sociologically, militarily, ideologically, scientifically and imaginatively during the post-Enlightenment period. Said’s analysis of orientalism provides insight into our contemporary problems related to power, power relations, religious identity, modernisation, colonisation and cultural dominance. He explains that ‘one aspect

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of the electronic, postmodern world is that there has been a reinforcement of the stereotypes by which the Orient is viewed. Television, the films, and all the media’s resources have forced information into more and more standardized moulds’ (26). Thus, although Said does not mention the public sphere by name, his arguments do serve to show very well how the public sphere is formed in our contemporary societies. After the 1979 Revolution, Khomeini, under the concept of velayat-e faqih, transformed the Iranian religious and political settings and made Shia Islam an inseparable element of the political structure. In his speeches, Khomeini condemned democratisation, Westernisation, modernisation (similar to the West), capitalism and communism. In contrast to the Pahlavi dynasty, he tried to Islamise all institutions and organisations. He even closed down all universities in Spring 1980 and nominated Abdolkarim Soroush and others as members of the Shoray-e Englab-e Farhangi (Advisory Council on Cultural Revolution) for Islamising universities. Some influential clerics in Iran, such as Ayatollah Mohammad Kazem Shariatmadari, did not become involved in, or they disagreed with, building an Islamic government controlled by velayat-e faqih, which was called ‘the Islamic Republic of Iran’ after the 1979 Revolution. Analyses of some Islamic thinkers from the other parts of the world were also in contradiction to the establishment of a particular form of government. For example, Al-Ashmawy (1986; 1994) argues that Islam never recommended any particular form of government and perceives the true Islamic state as different from previous historical examples of Islamic government. He proposes another sort of state, one that can serve Islam rather than use it, that would produce acts and facts instead of slogans and promises, and would be able to offer Islam to all mankind. Indeed, he argues that it will be ‘the nucleus of a new world government embracing all humanity’ (AlAshmawy 1986: 12; 1994: 68). Similarly, Khalafallah (1988, cited in Salvatore 1997: 213–14) suggests that only a state which can endorse social justice and the distribution of wealth can be legitimately called ‘Islamic’.

The development of the proposed Islamic democracy Over the last few decades some Iranian Islamic thinkers such as Abdolkarim Soroush (2000) disregarded Al-Ashmawy’s (1986; 1994) arguments and added an additional term to the idea of ‘Islamic government’, which was introduced by Khomeini in 1970, to conceptualise a new form of government called ‘Islamic democratic government’. During the 1979 Revolution, Soroush was an important supporter of Khomeini and served as a member of the Council for the Cultural Revolution, established for redesigning the post-revolution universities of Iran. When the Islamic government became increasingly corrupt, Soroush began to theorise a new Islamic system and named it Islamic democracy. Indeed, Soroush tried to explain Islamic democracy by utilising philosophical arguments. Referring to Mohammad Al-Ghazali (Algazel), who brought orthodox Islam into close contact with Sufism in the twelfth century (see Frank 1994), Soroush (2010)

Proposing democracy in Iran  25 reviewed Islamic reform and distinguished between Islamic and Muslim reform. Arkoun (2003) calls this mentality by new Islamic intellectuals the project of ‘thinking Islam’ and recognises it as a response to two essential needs of Muslim society. First, it is due to the need to think about their own problems, problems which had been rendered unthinkable by previous authorities. Second, it fulfils the need for current and modern thought in general, in order to open up and explore new channels of knowledge (Arkoun 2003: 28). Under Khomeini’s leadership ‘various groups have advanced their interpretations of Islam to justify their social and political agenda’ (Ghamari-Tabrizi 2008: 246). Fundamental slogans of the 1979 Revolution reflecting freedom, justice, equality and brotherhood were replaced by the practice of oppression of oppositions, injustice, undermining ethnic minorities and ignoring women’s rights. Soroush also did not clarify properly the position of women, minority groups and other religious political parties, such as the Zoroastrian, Christian, Jewish and Baha’i, during his cooperation with Khomeini for building an Islamic government, including in his proposed Islamic democracy developed in Reason, Freedom and Democracy in Islam (2000). Soroush, Kadivar and their circle, who titled themselves roshanfekran-e dini (religious intellectuals), struggled ‘to reconcile their Muslim faith with ideas of modernism and liberalism in an Iranian context’ (Razavi 2006: 29). Soroush’s idea of establishing a model of Islamic democracy, which suggests a system of governing ruled by popular vote, forced him to leave Iran. Now, living in the US, Soroush argues that in his proposed government problems in society can be debated and voted on openly within the public sphere. In this way, he emphasises the importance of the public sphere (Soroush 2000: 123), which is defined as an arena where people gather to openly debate their affairs and to participate in decision-making processes. Soroush’s (2000) proposed Islamic democracy not only differs from a theocracy, but can also be distinguished from liberal democracy. Within Soroush’s system, the government will remain religious in nature, but individuals and people will be granted the freedom to debate issues and subsequently deal with decisions that their elected religious government makes. In reality, there are serious problems with the assumption that all citizens will be granted equal access to the public sphere arena in a democratic religious government. One of those problems is that Soroush ‘fails to address the inherent gender and religious inequalities that exist within the Iranian public sphere’ (Razavi 2006: 30). Soroush’s proposal for a reconciliation of Islam and democracy is problematic. Although Soroush’s (2000) proposed religious democracy, and his claim that problems in a society can be solved through debate in the public arena, public actions, forums and activities (such as demonstrations, campaigns and media awareness), attracts many followers because of offering an alternative to the current theocratic regime in Iran, he still avoids the inequalities that are inherent in the Islamic public sphere (Razavi 2006: 42). Soroush, who played a role in the victory of the 1979 Revolution and engaged actively in forming and establishing the Islamic Republic of Iran that was

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Proposing democracy in Iran

Khomeini’s desire through his book Islamic Government (1970), is now promoting Sufism, especially Rumi (a thirteenth-century Muslim poet and Sufi mystic) and believes that Khomeini never reformed Islam as a doctrine and tried only to empower Islamic identity (Soroush 2010). Calling this ‘political Islam’ and criticising it, he conceptualises religious democracy and proposes an Islamic democracy (Soroush 2000). There are two significant issues with these analyses of Soroush. First, he generalises Khomeini’s reform, disregarding the fact that Khomeini’s reform did not empower Islamic identity but only Shia identity. Second, he does not explain why he categorises Khomeini’s ‘Islamic government’ or reform as ‘political Islam’, but he exempts his own proposed ‘Islamic democratic government’ from this category.

Sufism from Corbin to Soroush A brief outline of Sufism in Iran is necessary due to Sufi responses to modernity (or to secular modernism) and to the 1979 Revolution. Sufism is Islamic mysticism, which is an aspect or dimension of Islam. In Lewisohn’s (1999: xv) words, it is ‘principally a school of the Unity of Being (wahdat-e wujud)’. Although Shia Sufism’s origins begins after the Arab Muslims conquest of Iran, which led to the end of the Sassanid empire in 651 AC and later to the decline of Zoroastrian religion, ‘they are not often thought to occupy an historical locus, i.e. one restricted by temporal and spatial dimensions’ (Van den Bos 2002: 31). Van den Bos’ (2002; 2005) historical description of Sufism, particularly about Henry Corbin, provides a significant understanding of the development of the idea of liberalism and democracy in Iran. Henry Corbin, who was a French philosopher, orientalist and ecumenical Protestant theologian interested in Islamic mysticism, arrived in Tehran in September 1945.1 He set out to study Iranian Shi’ism and subsequently his work significantly helped to define Shia and Sufi spirituality. According to Corbin (2006: 187–88) the word Sufi derives from the Arabic suf (wool), referring to the Sufi custom called khirqah (a cloak of white wool). Based on the principles of etymology, the word contains no apparent reference to the spiritual doctrine which distinguishes the Sufis in Islam. However, the word tasawwuf derives from the Arabic swf (suf), which means to make a profession of Sufism and is used when speaking of Sufism pure and simple, either Shia or Sunni. Corbin (2006: 187) states that ‘Sufism is a spiritual phenomenon of tremendous importance. Essentially, it is the realization of the Prophet’s spiritual message, the attempt to live the modalities of this message in a personal way through the interiorization of the content of the Quranic Revelation’. Before his mission in Iran, Corbin was searching for manuscripts of the mystic Sohravardi (in Arabic, al-Suhrawardi), a Persian philosopher of the twelfth century, in the libraries of Istanbul (Van den Bos 2002: 33). His four-volume En Islam Iranien (Inside Iranian Islam) published in 1971, which is a hermeneutic analysis of Shia spirituality, illustrates that he was influenced by Sohravardi. As the originator of Hikmat al-Ishraq (The Philosophy of Illumination), Sohravardi delivered a critique of some of the leading ideas of Aristotelianism, as

Proposing democracy in Iran  27 exemplified by the philosophy of Ibn Sina (Avicenna) in eleventh century. Under the influence of Zoroastrian teaching, Sohravardi identified the wisdom of the ancient Zoroastrian sages with Greek mythological figures and pre-Aristotelian philosophers, especially with that of Hermes and Plato, whose doctrines he sought to revive (Sharif 1963: 375–76). His school, which is called the ishraqi, places Hermes or the Prophet Idris as the father of philosophy and identifies philosophy with wisdom rather than with rational systematisation. ‘The Arabic words ishraq meaning illumination and mashriq meaning the east are both derived etymologically from the root sharq meaning the rising of the sun’ (Sharif 1963: 378). Thus, the ishraq, which is connected with the symbolism of the sunrise, illuminates everything. In contrast to the sunset and darkness, which is the world of matter, ignorance or discursive thought, the ishraq is the world of light, of being, of knowledge and of illumination ‘which transcends mere discursive thought and rationalism. It is the land of knowledge which liberates man from himself and from the world, knowledge which is combined with purification and sanctity’ Sharif 1963: 379). Al-Ghazali (1998) discussed mystical epistemology in Mishkat al-Anwar (The Niche of Lights), during his life in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, using Quranic light terminology, whereas Sohravardi, in his Philosophy of Illumination, developed the light ontology convening pre-Aristotle philosophy. Suhravardi linked ishraqi wisdom, which is based on inner purification and intellectual intuition, to the ancient priest-kings of Persia, such as Kai Khusrau, and with Greek sages such as Asclepius, Pythagoras and Plato (Sharif 1963: 379). Sohravardi’s writings in Hikmat al-Ishraq illustrate a similarity between his critique and that of William Ockham (William of Occam), who as a fourteenth-century English philosopher, developed an Aristotelian ontology and identified ten fallacies in Aristotelian logic in his Summa Logicae (The Logic Handbook). Indeed, Ockham admitted only individual substances and qualities and disagreed with Thomas Aquinas (1224–1274) who reached the summit of the ‘medieval synthesis’ of faith and reason. In Sohravardi’s account, ‘philosophy … does not begin with Plato and Aristotle; rather, it ends with them. Aristotle, by putting wisdom in a rationalistic dress, limited its perspective and separated it from the unitive wisdom of the earlier sages’ (Sharif 1963: 376). In the Philosophy of Illumination, Sohravardi argues: knowledge by definition is possible if and only if there be a first principle so that everything else is measured against it and yet itself is not subject to any definition because of its axiomatic nature. This axiomatic phenomenon of Sohravardi is light and its derivative presence that underlies the very foundation of his epistemology. (Razavi 2013: 96) Thus, for Corbin (2006: 188), ‘Sufism is a resounding affirmation, an irremissible testimony on the part of spiritual Islam against any tendency to reduce Islam to a legalistic and literalist religion’. The study of Islamic philosophy, particularly

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Sohravardi’s philosphy, accredited Corbin as the main interpreter of illuminationism in the West and the esoteric approach to it. ‘In so far as a Sufi sentiment against historical sociology (or more specifically historicism and historical materialism) is formulated in an explicit theory of transcendental history, it often directly derives from him’ (Van den Bos 2002: 34). Corbin was also a wellrespected philosopher in Iran. In the 1960s, a circle of Shia philosophers and theologians, among them Seyyed Hossein Nasr (professor of Islam) and Allameh Tabatabai (cleric-philosopher-theologian), supported Corbin in Tehran. However, Ayatollah Boroujerdi (a powerful cleric) disagreed with Corbin and the a modern Shi’ism constructed by Corbin, Nasr, Tabatabai and several Iranian intellectuals to introduce Shi’ism as a mystical and essentially non-political project. Ali Shariati and Corbin were Massignon’s2 research assistants, his student and successor respectively. Both had attempted to redeem ‘authenticity’, but Shariati’s idea of ‘baz gasht be khishtan’ (return to the self) remained a sociopolitical ideology, while Corbin’s idea of ‘return to origin’ is understood as a mysticism trying to stay away from petty politics (Shayegan 1990: 280 cited in Van den Bos 2005: 120). Corbin’s critique of modernity in En Islam Iranien is in some ways similar to the views of Martin Heidegger, who Corbin met in Freiburg in 1931. Heidegger gave the French translation of Was ist Metaphysik? (1929) to Corbin. Later, Heidegger’s intellectual influence on Corbin convinced the latter to bring Heidegger’s hermeneutics to Iran, together with his Western criticism, which in turn influenced spiritual perspectives of Shia thinkers who were in Corbin’s circle (Van den Bos 2005: 36). Shariati, who had studied in Paris and was influenced by French and German Marxists, also caught national attention and played a significant role in politicising and revolutionising Shi’ism in Iran at the time, especially by his writings such as On the Sociology of Islam (Shariati 1979). Unexpectedly, Iranian Shi’ism became promptly politicised, and Khomeini’s rhetoric speeded up this process in the 1970s. Both Shariati and Corbin died before the 1979 Revolution, but there is still debate between their followers. For instance, Reza Davari Ardakani, one of the students of Corbin, who refers to Heidegger’s criticisms of the West in his philosophy, was engaged in a series of philosophical debates against Soroush (Van den Bos 2002: 43). Ardakani criticises contemporary modernity in the West and recognises the only redemptive path for Iranians as leaving the West as an integrated whole. In contrast, Soroush takes sympathetic approaches to the West, known as the Popperian approach, and tries to justify modernism by a philosophical analysis of religion (Roohani et al. 2014), particularly after settling down in the US. Kayhan-e Farhangi (Cultural Universe) magazine published a series of Soroush’s articles entitled Qabd va Bast-e Ti’urik-e Shariat (The Theoretical Contraction and Expansion of Islamic Religion), which laid the foundation of Soroush’s epistemological approach to religious modernism (Jahanbakhsh 2001: 142). By welcoming modernity, Soroush criticised tradition, with ups and downs in his intellectual constellation. His philosophical discourses and debates during the first decade of the 1979 Revolution do not show his enthusiasm for modernity, but in some cases present him as an adversary to modernity and technology.

Proposing democracy in Iran  29 Soroush gradually shaped a combination of modernist, post-modernist and mystical ideas in the second and third decades of the Islamic Revolution, particularly during the ‘reconstruction’ and ‘reform’ influenced by the post-modernist environment in the world (Roohani et al. 2014: 556). The problem with Corbin’s analysis of Shi’ism was his ignoring the revolutionary potential of the Shia concept of martyrdom and its symbols, while the problem with Shariati’s analysis of Shi’ism was his inspiration by the political and revolutionary Shia, without considering its dangerous potential, which had already been experienced during the French and Russian Revolutions. The problem with Ardakani is his acceptance of a totalitarian system in Iran. In contrast, the most considerable problem of Shoroush’s explanation of Islamic democracy is disregarding both Shia symbols that political actors use during liminal periods, such the 1979 Revolution, and social scientists’ assessment and critique of modern mass democracy, such as the writings of Weber (1978), Schumpeter (1976) and Lefort (1988).

The 1979 Islamic Revolution and political Shia Moore’s (1973) studies of the three different social origins of modern nations presents different roads to the modern age, focusing on England, France and the US, where the role of the landed upper classes and the peasants in the bourgeois revolutions led to capitalist democracy; looking at Germany and Japan, where the abortive bourgeois revolutions led to Fascism; at Russia and China, where peasant revolutions led to communism; and at India, where there has been neither a capitalist nor peasant revolution leading to communism. He argues that historical events such as the Civil War in America, the Puritan Revolution in England and the French Revolution were essential in creating modern states, whilst destroying the old systems. Consequently, ‘the ways in which the landed upper classes and the peasants reacted to the challenge of commercial agriculture were decisive factors in determining the political outcome’ (Moore 1973: xiv). According to Moore’s findings, the outcome of social changes resulting from a movement or revolution aiming to establish a democratic system can actually lead to a totalitarian system. Therefore, democracy cannot be suggested, proposed, injected or dictated to a non-democratic state, because of having the potential to become a totalitarian political system. A recent example is the revolution in Egypt: after the 2011 Egyptian Revolution, known as January 25 Revolution, the Muslim Brotherhood took power in Egypt through a series of popular elections, but their president Mohamed Morsi, who was elected to the presidency in June 2012, was deposed by a coup d’état on 3 July 2013, and Fattah El-Sisi came to power by using military force. Another example is the 1979 Revolution in Iran. A range of political groups, from the far left to the far right, from secular to ultra-Islamic, were vying for political power, but in the end the Islamic Republican Party (IRP), led by Khomeini and his allies, took power and established a tyrannical regime based on Shari’a rules. Gradually, particularly after the death of Khomeini, a schismogenic

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process started and two political and religious groups became significantly powerful and influential in Iran. The first group was following the concepts and writings of the highly influential ultra-hardline cleric Mesbah Yazdi (Mohammad-Taqi). His philosophy was embedded in velayat-e faqih (guardianship of the Jurist). His fundamental and extreme Islamic ideology advocates for the balance of power being held by an Islamic leader who is called velayat-e faqih, such as Khamenei presently. Mesbah Yazdi, on his website, requests Iranians to obey any decision made by velayat-e faqih. Not only does Yazdi have his own ambition to succeed Khamenei as supreme leader, but he also is vehemently against reformists seeking more democratic representation in Iran (Beaumont 2009). He has referred to theological and historical traits and archives to conclude that the secularisation and democratisation of Iran is against the religious order (Boroumand 2003). This decree is continually endorsed by the Islamic regime in Iran, aiming to justify its Islamic rules. Ahmadinejad, who has been the president for two terms, was one of the well-known followers of Mesbah Yazdi and strived to practice his philosophy and ideology. As MacLeod and Shannon (2007) explain, Ahmadinejad’s inflammatory rhetoric towards Israel, as well as his domestic policies, along with his replacement of the thousands of bureaucrats with unqualified associates, together with his position against reformists such as Rafsanjani and Khatami, and not forgetting his disagreement with members of his own party in the Majlis (Parliament), or his reference to the supreme leader as Agha (a title expressing extreme deference) and the kissing of Khamenei’s hand at his presidential inauguration, are evidence that he supported velayat-e faqih (the rule of the jurisprudent) or the rule of the clergy. However, in the second term of his presidency, the origins of Ahmadinejad’s disagreement with Khamenei began. This disagreement led Khamenei and his followers to withdraw their support for Ahmadinejad, thus making Ahmadinejad’s position and his government vulnerable. In order to protect this position, coupled with the aim of gaining people’s support, he started to use Shia imams’ names in his speeches, especially Imam Mahdi (the Twelfth Shia Imam whose return from ‘occultation’ or hiding will result in establishing peace and justice on Earth). Notably, even before the end of presidency he claimed that he communicates with Imam Mahdi. Ultimately, this was powerful armour to protect himself from both legalists and reformists in Iran (see Chapter 5). The second influential group that evolved after the 1979 Revolution were followers of the Islamic reformists and philosophers, such as Abdolkarim Soroush and Mohsen Kadivar. They introduced Islamic pluralism into Iranian society, which challenges the first supreme leader of the Islamic Revolution in Iran (Khomeini), who claimed that ayatollahs have a God-given right to govern (MacLeod 2005). Notably in the last decade, their writings have attracted global attention on the compatibility of Islam with democracy, as they argue that people can be democrats whilst equally remaining faithful Muslims (MacLeod 2005). Both the former President Khatami and the leader of the Green Movement, Hossein Mousavi, in Iran are influenced by reformist philosophies. In comparison, Soroush followed the philosophical arguments of other Islamic thinkers,

Proposing democracy in Iran  31 such as Morteza Motahhari and Ali Shariati (Ghamari-Tabrizi 2008: 92). He criticised the submissiveness of Muslims to Islamic leaders in political arenas and argued that this submissiveness of Muslims was caused by political coercion and a political culture that was established and influenced by centuries of tyranny (Dallmayr 2011). Soroush criticised the view of divine rights of political rulers and their absolute and unlimited power by employing one of the most commonly used terms for Islamic theology, Kalam. The Arabic word Kalam has several meanings, such as words, talk, statement, conversation and remark, but this term in Islamic theology is linked to speech, debate, discussion and argument, which is called Ilm al-kalam (science of discourse) in Arabic and Elm-e Kalam in Persian-speaking areas. Some Islamic thinkers, such as Ahmad ibn Hanbal and his followers, called Hanbalis, criticised the use of Kalam and considered the discipline as sinful. ‘For them the creeds of Islam were manifestly established by the Quran and explained by the prophet, thus there was no need to prove the beliefs of a Muslim rationally’ (Saeed 2006: 60). In contrast, Soroush used Kalam to signal for a liberation of citizens and freedom for a collective society, in order to enable the performance of political agency, to aid the genuine support of ethnic groups and religious believers, and for the seeking of justice (Soroush 2000; Dallmayr 2011). People always yearn for freedom, economic growth, social justice and security. Political actors are aware of these desires and they usually use them as catchphrases to mobilise crowds or to blame the existing leaders for failing to produce these public goods, needs and wishes. Importantly, these slogans are well known to Iranians, especially before and during the 1979 Revolution, as Iranians were surrounded by this kind of magic rhetoric. Indeed, Soroush’s (2000; 2010) and Kadivar’s (2011) analyses of Islamic democracy confuse the reader, as it is unclear whether they criticise modern democracy or support it. Some authors such as Engineer (2006) aims to solve this puzzle by arguing, ‘Islam is not incompatible with secularism if it does not mean rejection of religious faith’ (Engineer 2006: 344). Nevertheless, the puzzle remains unsolved due to two significant issues. First, unexpectedly, Soroush and Kadivar, who were active members of the 1979 Revolution and are still Shia thinkers, overlook the Shia culture and symbols which were an essential tool for political actors in Iran in last four decades. For example, Loeffler’s (1988) empirical study of Iranian Shia villages shares a view of symbolic anthropology, employing some of Geertz concepts related to symbols and meanings. Through symbolic anthropology, we can approach the culture of a society, which is an autonomous system of meaning. Geertz (1968) in Islam Observed: Religious Development in Morocco and Indonesia acknowledges that ‘whatever the ultimate sources of the faith of a man or group of men may or may not be, it is indisputable that it is sustained in this world by symbolic forms and social arrangements’ (2). In Geertz’s account, a religion or culture is embodied in the images, symbols and metaphors that its devotees and believers apply to characterise reality. Employing a similarly idealist scheme, Loeffler focuses more on individuals in Iranian rural areas and is concerned ‘with religion not solely as a set of doctrines, norms, and legal precepts

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to be enacted by individuals, but as the way in which individuals interact with this patterns and use them to interact with their environment’ (Loeffler 1988: 3). He admits language and symbols as significant communicative tools for studying the speaker’s cultural background, social status, education and other social identities. Therefore, to understand Shia attitudes and culture, he lets Shia individuals in villages speak. For example, some villagers’ responses (Loeffler 1988: 40–42) are directly related to the idea of the martyrdom of Imam Hussein in Shia religion. The following chapters will comprehensively explore this idea, focusing on the annual Shia ritual performance of Ta’ziyeh and its role in forming the public sphere in Iran. Second, they ignore the fact that the secular values and beliefs associated with modernity became one of the main concerns of Islamic movements and societies over the last two centuries.

The public sphere and symbols There is no doubt that through publicity, isolated individuals join or create groups, and subsequently they transform into a public, ‘a collectively united by a common focus’ (Adut 2012: 245). Devotion and concentration on a common object can build up a strong unity and harmony in groups. In Collins (2005: 376) words, ‘the collective emotion initiated by shared grief pulls individuals back into the group and gives them renewed strength’. Thus, as Adut (2012) points out, publicity is a fundamental element of rituals, and all political actors strive for publicity, which is clearly useful for communicating ideas, but ‘there is more political actors scramble for attention, chase after fame. They try to form groups around themselves. They strive for selfless reputations by concocting civic narratives, displaying courage or civic-mindedness is vital to attain power’ (247). However, these statements about publicity are not limited to the West and liberal democracy and can be applied to other systems as well, such as the Islamic political system in Iran, though they have obvious differences in the way they operate. For example, in systems claiming to be democracies, ‘the more political actors are receiving publicity in the public sphere, the more their activities are transparent, and the more they will be judged by their appearances, over which they may have limited control’ (Adut 2012: 248). In Shia societies, such as Iran, the more political actors are skilled and experienced in utilising Shia symbols and images in the public sphere, the more their words and actions are acceptable. The most intellectual rhetoric may be encountered by a simple sentence correctly utilising Ta’ziyeh symbols. With the development of communication tools, social media and social networks, publicity and the forming the public sphere have become more complex. Rahimi (2011) focuses on the role of cyberspace during the 2009 Green Movement and argues that for social movements, especially under a totalitarian system, cyberspace provides a social space wherein imaginaries of self and other, resistance and power form ties and connections of interactivity. He describes this connectivity as ‘social affinities’ that are disputatious and litigious performances and actions that illustrate strong emotions and narratives of protestation against

Proposing democracy in Iran  33 power. Rahimi argues that ‘performative networks’ and ‘Internet activism’ in the formation of the 2009 Green Movement’s public sphere, symbols and images of Ta’ziyeh, utilised by cyberspace, were vital and essential for activating powerful emotional responses and forming the public sphere (see Chapter 5). As Turner (1977: 189–90) explains, ‘each symbol expresses many themes, and each theme is expressed by many symbols. The cultural weave is made up of symbolic warp and thematic weft’. This intertwining of symbols and themes provides us with significant information about the natural environment, as observed and assessed by the ritual actors, as well as about their ethical, esthetical, political, legal, ludic ideas, ideals and rules. Accordingly, symbols remain remarkably sustainable and the themes they represent and embody are persistently entrenched. Therefore, first, they travel from a ritual performance to other kinds of ritual, or even transfer from one genre to another, such as transferring from a ritual performance to an epic, a narrative, a myth, a speech, a painting, a poster, a calligraphy, a fairy tale, a social network and even to a case in law. Second, they are principally involved in multiple variability and they can be employed for both giving order and making disorder in a society (Turner 1982). Turner distinguishes between ‘liminal’ and ‘liminoid’ phenomenon and states ‘the liminoid is more like a commodity – indeed, often is a commodity, which one selects and pays for – than the liminal, which elicits loyalty and is bound up with one’s membership or desired membership in some highly corporate group’ (Turner 1982: 55). Focusing on the dynamic relationship between the ‘liminal’ conditions of rites of passage and the ‘liminoid’ phenomenon, Turner extended his theory into a wider application to social, cultural and political dynamics, and he concluded that ‘much of the imagery found in the rhetoric of politicians is drawn from ritual symbolism, from which it drives its power to move and channel emotion’ (Turner 1977: 194). This led him into a comparison of ‘liminal’ and ‘liminoid’, terms that help to understand the formation of the public sphere and the paradoxes of democracy in contemporary societies. Some philosophers and social scientists, such as Plato, a millennium ago, have highlighted the significant concerns facing the public sphere and democracy and they diagnosed the danger of falsifying truths, manipulating people and moulding public opinion, characteristics of democratic systems. Less than two centuries ago, Tocqueville (1862) recognised that the Enlightenment in the French Revolution, which aimed to free people from feudalism, destroyed everything and changed nothing. All it resulted in was a transition from a feudalist to a capitalist system whereby great landowners were replaced with great company owners and cartels. Emphasising the gradual development of the principle of equality as a providential fact, Tocqueville stated, ‘it is not force alone, but good laws, which give stability to a new government’ (Tocqueville 1862: xvi). As with Tocqueville and Nietzsche (1911; 1999), Weber’s ideas were fundamentally concerned with the elements of modernity and his critique of democracy and modernity included a valuable debate in current social science. Further studies of the French Revolution and the Enlightenment by social scientists, such as Lefort, Szakolczai, Wydra and Horvath, reveal veiled

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and vague problems and the complications of revolutionary democracy. Wydra (2008: 29) argues that revolutionary events, such as the French Revolution ‘are liminal experiences where the dissolution of political and social structures blurs hierarchies of political agency, establishes multiple sovereignties, dissolves identities and social roles, and enhances the desire for vengeance’. Szakolczai (2013) extends and relates the liminality to the ‘public sphere’ by outlining how the public sphere is full of the ambivalent characteristic of liminal situations and negative aspects. Therefore, in contrast to rituals, the final stage of rites of passage, ‘reincorporation’, never happens in modern democracy. Thus, the public sphere in current democracy is an empty place that reels and slues in a permanent liminality, or in Szakolczai’s words ‘the permanent discursive problematisation of all the aspects of one’s life’ (2013: 23). In his critical analysis of the public sphere, Szakolczai refers to Turner’s term ‘liminoid’ and Plato’s (1997) term ‘Khora’ (Timaeus 52b) to categorise the public sphere as the ‘liminoid’ condition of ‘permanent liminality and as a non-place between being and becoming, the location of ‘bastard reasoning’ (23). He outlines how the link between the Enlightenment and the French Revolution can be established through liminality in the rites of passages and to reinterpret the three central values of the French Revolution in light of Turner’s classic essay in 1967. First, ‘freedom’ (liberty) can be associated with the start of a rite of passage: the bracketing and elimination of all stable structures and boundaries of social life. Second, ‘equality’ signifies the equality of condition imposed on all those undergoing the ritual. Third, ‘brotherhood’ (fraternity) is associated with passing the test and encompassing the experience of communitas: all of those who have undergone a rite together will become and stay friends, or brothers, for life. Consequently, these are major values associated with the ritual process as a mechanical procedure (see Szakolczai 2013: 23). Therefore, the rites of passage and the concept of ‘liminality’ introduced by van Gennep (1960) and Turner (1967; 1982) respectively and the concept of ‘permanent liminality’ developed by Szakolczai enable us to understand how symbols and images of ritual performances can be utilised during liminal periods such as revolutions, wars, crisis and social movements. Through the term liminality we can discover how values such as freedom, liberty, equality and brotherhood can be used to reflect or represent opposing arguments, and how a negation of the proclaimed values can occur. Soroush ignores these terms, concepts and process in his proposed Islamic democracy and he does not take into account the role of religious and cultural symbols and images in forming and transforming of the public sphere in Iran. Considering this manipulation and the resisting of the realities of social life and human values, particularly due to the permanent extension of liminal periods, the following chapters discuss power, liminality and the public sphere through studying a ritual performance in Iran called Ta’ziyeh and its role during three liminal periods in recent Iranian history: the 1979 Revolution, the Iran–Iraq War and the 2009 Green Movement.

Proposing democracy in Iran  35

Notes 1

2

‘Corbin was sent on a state mission to Turkey in 1939, on behalf of the Bibliothèque Nationale, to search for manuscripts of Sohravardi in the libraries of Istanbul … In August 1944, the Bibliothèque Nationale issued another “ordre de mission”, for Persia this time, and on 14 September 1945, Corbin arrived in Tehran’ (Van den Bos 2005: 115). Louis Massignon (1883–1962) was a scholar of Islamic mysticism and a professor at the Collège de France from 1925 onwards. He had also been a priest and a dedicated member of a small but international Catholic group of mystics. ‘While Massignon remains renowned above all through his scholarship on the tenth-century mystic alHallaj, he inspired Corbin’s study of the twelfth-century mystical philosopher Shihaboddin Yahya Sohravardi (d. 1191), by presenting him with a lithograph edition of the latter’s “Oriental Theosophy,” Kitab Hikmat al-Ishraq, in 1928’ (Van den Bos 2005: 114).

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Rahimi, B. (2011) ‘Affinities of Dissent: Cyberspace, Performative Networks and the Iranian Green Movement’, CyberOrient, Vol. 5, Issue 2, pp. 64–72 Rahimi, B. (2012) Theater State and the Formation of Early Modern Public Sphere in Iran: Studies on Safavid Muharram Rituals, 1590–1641 CE, Iran Studies 5, Leiden: Brill Rawls, J. (1971) A Theory of Justice, Original Edition, Cambridge, MA; London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press Razavi, M. A. (2013) Suhrawardi and the School of Illumination, London; New York: Routledge Razavi, N. (2006) ‘The Inequalities of the Public Sphere in a Democratic Religious Iran: A Critical Examination of the Writings of Abdolkarim Soroush’, New Initiative for Middle East Peace (NIMEP) Insights, Vol. 2, pp. 29–43 Robin, B. (1993) Language, Intelligence and Thought, Sussex: Edward Elgar Roohani, H., Aghahosseini, A., and Emamjomezade, J. (2014) ‘A Comparative Investigation of Political Thoughts of Davari and Soroush Regarding the West’, Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences, Vol. 5, No. 7, pp. 555–61 Roth, G. and Wittich, C. (1978) Max Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, trans. E. Flschoff et al., Berkeley, LA; London: University of California Press Roy, O. (1994) The Failure of Political Islam, trans. C. Volk, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press Roy, O. (1999) ‘The Crisis of Religious Legitimacy in Iran’, Middle East Journal, Vol. 53, No. 2, pp. 201–16 Saeed, A. (2006) Islamic Thought: An Introduction, London; New York: Routledge Said, E. W. (1978) Orientalism, New York: Vintage Book Salvatore, A. (1997) Islam and the Political Discourse of Modernity, Berkshire: Ithaca Press Salvatore, A. (2007) The Public Sphere: Liberal Modernity, Catholicism, Islam, New York: Palgrave Macmillan Sandhu, A. (2006) ‘Political Sociology in Light of Globalization: New Perspectives and Future Directions’, Turkish Journal of international Relations, Vol. 5, No. 1 & 2, pp. 53–77 Schumpeter, J. A. (1976) Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy, London; New York: George Allen & Unwin Ltd Shariati, A. (1979) On the Sociology of Islam, trans. H. Algar, Berkeley, CA: Mizan Press Sharif, M. M. (1963) A History of Muslim Philosophy, Kempten: Otto Harrassowitz, Wiesbaden Shaw, S. J. and Shaw, E. K. (1977) History of the Ottoman Empire and Modern Turkey, Volume II: Reform, Revolution, and Republic: The Rise of Modern of Turkey, 1808– 1975, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Soroush, A. (2000) Reason, Freedom and Democracy in Islam: Essential Writings of Abdolkarim Soroush, trans and edit. M. Sadri and A. Sadri, New York: Oxford University Press Soroush, A. (2010) ‘The rise of intellectual reform in the Islamic world’, Interview, The Graduate Center: The City University of New York, April, www.drsoroush.com/ English/Interviews/E-INT-20110109-TheRiseOfIntellectualReformInTheIslamic World.html, accessed 15/07/11 Szakolczai, A. (2000) Reflexive Historical Sociology, London; New York: Routledge Szakolczai, A. (2009) ‘Liminality and Experience: Structuring Transitory Situations and

Proposing democracy in Iran  39 Transformative Events’, International Political Anthropology, Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 141– 72 Szakolczai, A. (2011) ‘Theatrocracy: From Ancient to Modern’, Paper prepared for the Sixth Socratic Symposium, 7 November, Cambridge Szakolczai, A. (2013) Comedy and the Public Sphere: The Rebirth of Theatre as Comedy and the Genealogy of the Modern Public Arena, London; New York: Routledge Thomassen, B. (2009) ‘The Uses and Meanings of Liminality’, International Political Anthropology, Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 5–27 Thomassen, B. (2014) Liminality and the Modern: Living Through the In-Between, Surrey; Burlington: Ashgate Tocqueville, A. de. (1862) Democracy in America, Cambridge: Sever and Francis Turner, V. (1967) The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual, New York: Cornell University Press Turner, V. (1977) ‘Symbols in African Rituals’, in J. L. Dolgin, D. S. Kemnitzer, and D. M. Schneider (eds) Symbolic Anthropology: A Reader in the Study of Symbols and Meanings, New York: Columbia University Press, pp. 183–94 Turner, V. (1982) From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play, New York: PAJ Publications Van den Bos, M. (2002) Mystic Regimes: Sufim and the State in Iran, from the late Qajar Era to the Islamic Republic, Leiden; Boston, MA; Köln: Brill Van den Bos, M. (2005) ‘Transnational Orientalism. Henry Corbin in Iran’, Anthropos, Bd. 100, H. 1, pp. 113–25 van Gennep, A. (1960) The Rites of Passage, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Weber, M. (1972) ‘Politics as a Vocation’, in H. H. Gerth and C. W. Mills (eds),’ From Max Weber, New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 77–128 Weber, M. (1978) Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, Edit and Introduction. G. Roth and C. Wittich, Berkeley, Los Angeles; London: University of California Press Weber, M. (2004) The Vocation Lectures: ‘Science as a Vocation’ and ‘Politics as a Vocation’, Edit and Introduction. D. Owen and T. B. Strong, trans. R. Livingstone, Indiana: Hackett Publishing Company Inc. Wydra, H. (2008) ‘Revolution and Democracy: The European Experience’, in J. Foran, D. Lane, and A. Zivkovic (eds) Revolution in the Making of the Modern World: Social Identities, Globalization, and Modernity, London; New York: Routledge, pp. 27–45 Wydra, H. (2009) ‘The Liminal Origins of Democracy’, International Political Anthropology, Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 91–109

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Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power in forming the public sphere

By the second half of nineteenth century, Western academics began to travel to the Middle East to study plays, theatre and performances. Around the late 1960s notable public figures such as Peter Brook, Jerzy Grotowski, Tadeusz Kantor and Canetti became familiar with Ta’ziyeh. Canetti in Crowds and Power (1962) explored the sociological and anthropological underpinnings of power in its different forms and in various societies. Drawing from mythology, history, tribal legends and other sources, he analysed human relations and the inevitable power dynamics that accompany them. In this regard, one of the analytical examples he used to highlight the concept of crowds and power was The Muharram Festival of the Shiites (Canetti 1962: 146–54). This chapter reviews some of these academics’ works, such as Canetti’s writings and analyses, to be acquainted with other studies. This together with historical background and dimensions of Ta’ziyeh assist us in understanding how the Ta’ziyeh performance on the last day of the Muharram festival has the potential power to gather crowds, how the public sphere forms in Iran and where power lies.

Literary sources on Ta’ziyeh There are different studies of Ta’ziyeh, as a ritual performance in Iran, but all of them describe, more or less, the powerful emotional responses of its audience. Canetti’s explanation of Ta’ziyeh, considering the dynamics of crowds and packs, enables us to understand why crowds follow and obey some dishonoured and dishonest political and religious actors, how mob culture may evolve in crowds, and how power may then be manipulated. Brook’s observation of Ta’ziyeh investigates how this ritual performance is significant within a community. For example, Brook (1979) describes how he saw one of the most resilient plays that he had ever seen in a theatre in a remote Iranian village: A group of 400 villagers were sitting … and passing from roars of laughter to outright sobbing although they knew perfectly well the end of the story – as they saw Hussein in danger of being killed, and then fooling his enemies, and then being martyred. And when he was martyred, the theatre form became truth. (Brook 1979: 52)

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  41 This type of emotional reaction of audience is reflected by other Ta’ziyeh authors, such as in Chelkowski’s collection (1979; 2005; 2010). Chelkowski’s historical, sociological, anthropological, psychological, political and religious essays and analyses of various social scientists’ works provides insight into this ritual performance, and presents a panoramic view of Ta’ziyeh in Ta’ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran (1979). He amassed vast knowledge and he assigned the entire Chapter 20 of his book to literary sources of Ta’ziyeh under the title ‘Bibliographical Spectrum’. Meanwhile his most recent book, Eternal Performance: Ta’ziyeh and Other Shiite Rituals (2010), which is a sequel to Ta’ziyeh: Ritual Drama in Iran (1979) and The Drama Review (2005), contains 24 chapters discussing the Shia religious ritual performance. However, the Eternal Performance also introduces a wide range of approaches to, and debates on, the study of Ta’ziyeh. Nevertheless, it is impossible here to give due attention to the depth of information and analysis presented in each chapter of the book. Therefore, only some of the relevant and important figures from Chelkowski’s writings are mentioned here with regard to Ta’ziyeh. As Chelkowski (1979) explains, ultimately the last important account of Ta’ziyeh in the Safavid period was studied by Corneille le Burn in 1704. He gathered a substantial amount of participants to play it through mimicry and pantomime. His plays displayed a variety of scenes related to the suffering and martyrdom of Imam Hussein, his family and followers (Chelkowski 1979: 257). A further well-known figure who studied and edited Ta’ziyeh performance was Alexander Chodzko who bought a manuscript (consisting of 32 plays) from the director of the Court Theatre in the 1830s and later deposited it in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. In 1852, he published Djungui Chehadāt (The Battle of Martyrdom), which consisted of two edited plays entitled The Messenger of God and The Death of the Prophet (Chelkowski 1979: 259), and in 1878, he published Theatre Persan. Another important figure who studied Ta’ziyeh was Pelly (1879). He collected 52 scenes from this play, but only 37 were presented to the public. Bartels also initiated academic research on Ta’ziyeh by writing a monograph on the Persian theatre in a Russian series devoted to Eastern theatre called Persidsky Teatr in the series Vostochnity Teatr in 1924 (Chelkowski 1979: 261). Enrico Cerulli, who served as Italian ambassador in Tehran, became interested in Ta’ziyeh performance and tried to understand the importance of this Persian dramatic play (Rossi and Bombaci 1961). He collected the incredible number of 1055 boxes of Ta’ziyeh scripts (manuscripts) from various locations in Iran between the years 1950 and 1954, which are now archived in the Vatican Library. Cerulli confirmed that the spread and eventual popularity of Ta’ziyeh performances were connected with the propagandistic aims of the Safavid dynasty. A catalogue of his collection, with useful indexes, has been compiled by Ettore Rossi and Alessandro Bombaci, which enabled me to select boxes of Ta’ziyeh scripts and to find them in the Vatican Library’s archive. When highlighting Iranian literary scholars who wrote about Ta’ziyeh, Bahram Beyzaie’s book Namayesh dar Iran (2001) (Performance in Iran) is considered a

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pioneering body of work, first published in Tehran in 1965. As a film director, art critic and playwright, Beyzaie focused more on the dramatic aspect of Ta’ziyeh (Chelkowski 1979: 264). He also published a comical version of Ta’ziyeh, called Shast Bastanneh Dive (The Binding of the Thumbs of the Demon) in Tehran in 1961. Beyzaie refashioned naqqali (dramatic storytelling), khimehshab bazi (puppet theatre), taqlid (imitation), as well as Ta’ziyeh in carnival and ritual forms in his plays before the 1979 Revolution (Yeganeh 2005: 501). After the 1979 Revolution, the government’s support of Ta’ziyeh and other religious ritual performances encouraged him to expand his counternarrative on heroism to create a deconstructive tragic paradigm exploring sacrificial heroes (Yeganeh 2005). Sadeq Homayuni is also well-known for his various publications about Ta’ziyeh, especially his comprehensive book Ta’ziyeh va Ta’ziyeh-khani (Ta’ziyeh and Singing/Playing Ta’ziyeh) published in Tehran in 1975 (Chelkowski 1979: 264) and Taziya dar Iran (Ta’ziyeh in Iran) published in Shiraz in 1989 and 2001. These works on Ta’ziyeh concede that the powerful emotional reaction of spectators is inescapable when observing and writing about Ta’ziyeh. However, this book is not focused upon emotion, but it discusses emotion and emotional reactions during the Ta’ziyeh performance to help understanding of how symbols and images of Ta’ziyeh evoke emotions for forming the public sphere. To explore this relationship between emotion, symbols and images of Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere, it is indispensable to briefly explore the historical background of Shia Islam and Ta’ziyeh.

Origins of Shia Islam By the fifth century before the Christian era, during the Achaemenid Empire, Zoroastrianism, was a defining element of Iranian culture, and introduced several novel ideas to Iranian society (Myers 2011). Zoroastrianism became the state’s de facto religion, influencing Persian kings (Jackson 1928; Schomp 2010). This close relationship between king and the Zoroastrian religion (which is summed up in the three simple phrases, ‘good thoughts, good words and good deeds’) ended immediately after the conquest of Persia in 651. From this time onwards, Islam became the dominant religion of Persia and Persians converted gradually to Shia Islam. After the death of the Prophet Mohammad in 632, Muslims divided gradually into two sects, the Shia and the Sunni (Davies-Stofka 2012; Homayuni 1989). While the Shia Muslims believe that the Prophet had identified Ali ibn Abi Talib as his successor in public in a location called Ghadir-e Khom, the Sunni Muslims claimed that the Caliph, or successor of Prophet Mohammad, should be elected according to ancient Arabian tribal tradition. Regardless of this division of beliefs, Ali did not challenge Abu Bakr or any subsequent Caliphs, serving as an advisor to them instead. Abu Bakr, Omar, Othman and Ali were elected Caliphs respectively. However, Ali’s position only lasted between 656 and 661 AC, as he was murdered. Hereafter, a schismogenic process between Shia and Sunni began.

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  43 Indeed, the Shia affirmation of faith is the same as that of the Sunni, however the Shia bears an additional sentence concerning Ali: ‘there is no God but God, Mohammad is his Prophet, Ali is the friend of God’. After the assassination of Ali, his supporters became followers of his sons, Hassan and Hussein, who were sons of Ali and his wife Fatima (daughter of Prophet Mohammad). However, some argue that Hassan sold his leadership rights as the successor to Ali for the sum of several million dirham as part of his retirement plan to Medina, where he died a few years later (Canetti 1962: 146). Shia Muslims reject this description, believing that Hassan stepped aside as a peacemaker to prevent further bloodshed among Muslims. Meanwhile Muawiyah, who founded the Umayyad dynasty in 661 and became the Caliph, started to fight with his son Yazid against Hussein and his followers’ uprising. The war between them originated the sacred narratives of Shia Islam, which reveal how Hussein was killed on the ground of Karbala. However, the Muslims conquest of Iran led to the fall of the Sassanid dynasty in 651, which in turn resulted in the decline of the Persian religion (MohammadiMalayeri 2013). Nonetheless, the Persians began to reassert themselves by maintaining their language (Farsi or Persian) and culture, while Islam, which was already merged with politics, became the majority religion. In the Middle Ages, Zakariya Razi (865–925), known in the West as Rhazes, argued that one of the factors that explained the religious hold on society was religion’s status resting on the close alliance between clerics and political rulers. After the Muslim conquest, the clerics in Iran often used this alliance to enforce their own personal beliefs on people whenever the power of persuasion failed (Nowaira 2010). Indeed, Shia Islam amalgamated with Persian culture and language and has almost always been woven into the political fabric of Iran. Therefore, when the Safavid (1502– 1722) became the ruling dynasty, Shi’ism became the official religion and a powerful clergy emerged (Chehabi 1991). The influence of Shi’ism on the state was always, to varying degrees, present until 1978, but after the 1979 Islamic Revolution, the Shia religion reached its highest level of power in national and international political arenas. The Karbala tragedy The Karbala tragedy is recognised as the most important event in the Shi’ite religious calendar (Chelkowski 1979). Karbala is a city in Iraq, located to the southwest of Baghdad. According to Shia narratives, on 10 October 680 (Muharram 10 in the year 61 AH of the Islamic calendar), Hussein together with his family and his followers travelled to Kufa city to join his supporters there. However, they were confronted by Yazid’s army in Karbala, were denied access to water and were made to suffer greatly. Hussein refused to pledge allegiance to this tyrant (Ayati 1984) and subsequently Yazid declared war on him. One of the most emotional moments of this narrative of the Karbala tragedy is when Hussein asked his enemy to give some water to his young child who was dying of thirst. Instead, one of Yazid’s soldiers immediately fired an arrow, killing the child in Hussein’s hands.

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Two heroes of the battle of Karbala are always recited during the Ta’ziyeh performance. One is Abbas (or Abolfazl), who was Hussein’s half-brother, and was also killed by the superior power of the enemy (Ayati 1984) when he fought single-handedly to reach the river’s edge to get water for Hussein’s daughter. He was one of the great heroes of Karbala and a famous fighter, of whom the enemy was always scared. Another hero was called Hurr, who initially wanted to stop Hussein at Karbala and was one of the highest-ranked commanders of Yazid’s army. However, he left his position and joined Hussein with his son and a slave. After defending Hussein, by killing many of Yazid’s soldiers, he was martyred. After killing thousands of the enemy’s soldiers, Hussein and his 72 followers were martyred one by one, leaving Hussein until last, on the tenth day of Muharram (the first month of the Islamic calendar) or Ashura. Hussein’s white horse called Zuljanah, which is popular in this tragedy and in Ta’ziyeh performance, returned riderless from the battlefield to show to Hussein’s female families, who were not killed and captured, that Hussein had been killed (see Figure 2.1). However, as one of Hussein’s sons, Zayn al-Abidin, was too ill to take part in the fighting (Aghaie 2005: 4), he was the only male who survived and thereafter Shia Muslims considered him as the fourth Imam. Historically, Shia Muslims regard the death of the third Imam, Hussein, as a martyrdom of redemption (Chelkowski 1979). They believe that Imam Hussein knew the path of his fate, but he chose martyrdom in order to become the key to

Figure 2.1 The return of Hussain’s horse from the Karbala battlefield, without its master Source: A coffeehouse painting in a hay’at in Tajrish, in northern Tehran, 1997

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  45 Paradise. Thereupon, he will intercede for anyone who believes in his acts of redemption and who mourns his death. Muharram and Ashura The Safavid Sufi order is an urban spiritual movement established in Ardabil city in north-western Iran by Shaykh Safi ad-Din (1252–1334), and it embraced a new militant, messianic religio-political discourse around 1447 (Newman 2006: 2). The order leaders were viewed as divine and wore a distinctive red 12-pleated hat (taj) representing the 12 Shia Imams (Newman 2006). The red colour symbolised the blood of martyrs, Imam Hussein and his followers. When Shia Islam was declared as the state religion in the early sixteenth century, by the Safavid dynasty, they ensured that the Muharram festival would assume a central position in Persian cultural and religious identification in society. Consequently, Muharram became a unifying force for the Shia Muslims in Persia (Chelkowski 1979). In the beginning of Muharram, Shia Muslims wear black attire as a symbol of sorrow and participate in shared communal lamentation, so that the sacrifices of Hussein and his followers are commemorated (Chelkowski 1979). The remembrance of their martyrdom in the battle of Karbala and the tragedy that ensued begins on the first day of Muharram and ends on the tenth day of Muharram. Muharram is an Arabic word derived from the word haram (prohibited/forbidden). It is so called because it was forbidden to fight during this month. Ten days of the month of the Muharram are marked annually by rituals, funeral rites, singing, recitations and self-flagellation by zanjeer (a special chain) or chest beating by hand. Dasta (group) processions, consisting of a group of men in black dress, march through the street in tandem, rallying the mourners by demonstrating self-mortification and self-flagellation by zanjeer to their shoulders and back, or by hands beating their chest. Usually, women walk next to dasta. With accompanying cymbals and drums, a dasta is led by a nohe khan (dirge singer), who chants dirges and threnodies reflecting songs, hymns, poems and speeches of lamentation, whilst cursing Hussein’s enemies in Karbala. At a specified time, men in the dasta repeat some words or sentences of nohe khan. On their way, they visit tekiyehes (a temporary tent or place built by a group of people for the ten days of the Muharram ceremony) and mosques where they usually welcomed with tea or sherbet (see Figure 2.2). Dasta, as the most common ambulatory occurring ritual, ‘might be described as an orchestra of grief’ (Canetti 1962: 150) is doubtless similar to ritual parades lamenting the unjust and sudden deaths of Tammuz in Mesopotamia and Siavash in Transoxania. The tenth day of Muharram, marked as the day of Hussein’s martyrdom, is known as Ashura. On this day, Shia Muslims whip themselves with chains or by hand, and in some areas they cut the top of their heads with swords. They believe that the suffering of Imam Hussein is honoured and acknowledged by this demonstration, whilst also illustrating the sorrow that the tragedy of Karbala caused. Even children are encouraged to participate in self-flagellation by chain, hand and swords. This occurs usually in the Ta’ziyeh’s final scene, when Hussein is killed.

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Figure 2.2 Dasta in Ashura, Noghab, Gonabad city, Khorasan province, Iran Source: Noghabi (2013)

In this way, people inflict the pain on themselves with lamentation, self-flagellation and other forms of bodily mortification because of the pain of Hussein, ‘which by being exhibited, becomes the pain of the whole community’ (Canetti 1962: 150). In Ashura, Ta’ziyeh is performed everywhere in Iran. It starts usually in the morning and ends in afternoon.

Origins of Ta’ziyeh Although there are diverse opinions between historians on the origins of Ta’ziyeh, there are two main sources that can help uncover them. First, there are narratives and performances of the Karbala tragedy as evidence, and second, there are mythical written sources such as the Rowzat al-Shohada (the Garden of Martyrs) by Hussain Vaiz Kashefi in 1501 AD and the Haft Band (Seven Volumes) of Muhtasham Kashani in 1588 AD (Hanaway 1979: 182). According to Ibn Kathir, Ta’ziyeh appeared in the reign of Mu’izz al-Dawla, the king of the Buyid dynasty, in 963 AD (Mirrazavi 2011). Subsequently, in 1501, when the Safavid dynasty was established in Iran and the Shi’ism of the Twelvers adopted as the official sect, the Safavid kings were interested in theatre as a tool to propagate Shi’ism (Mirrazavi 2011). After the establishment of the Safavid dynasty, a major development occurred in Shia rituals. This dynasty institutionalised Shia Islam as the official religion of

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  47 their empire and introduced new forms of rituals such as tashabih (similitude), rowzeh Khani (gathering for the recital of the tragedies of Karbala) and selfflagellation. To protect and distinguish themselves from their Sunni rivals, they supported a new model of Hussein that was not part of the earlier Shia theology. Ta’ziyeh, which literally translates as mourning, is a Shia ritual play performed annually by Shia communities (by Shia Muslims) to commemorate the tragedy of Karbala. It is a drama, which is conveyed predominantly through music and dramatic narration (Homayuni 1989). Ta’ziyeh dramas are performed outdoors, at crossroads and other public places where substantial audiences and spectators can be gathered. It also takes place in the courtyards of inns, private homes and places called tekiyeh or husseiniyeh, which are constructed by groups of people for Muharram’s mourning. Historically, Tekiyeh Dowlat (see Figure 2.3) was the most famous Ta’ziyeh performance place and royal theatre, created during Nasir ad-Din Shah’s reign as King (1848–1896). Later, it was a vast and colourful space that Westerners visited when they were interested in writing about Ta’ziyeh or seeing it. After building Tekiyeh Dowlat, every Mosque or tekiyeh is encouraged to perform Ta’ziyeh to a better degree than others. In religious and wealthy areas such as Bazar, Ta’ziyeh is usually performed to a more sophisticated degree than other parts of the city; for example, they hire real camels, horses and lions for Ta’ziyeh performances.

Symbols and language For anthropologists, such as Schneider (1976), Turner (1982) and Beeman (1986), meaning has a long association with symbol. Schneider (1976: 198) merges symbol and meaning in his definition of culture by calling it ‘a system of symbols and meanings’. In Beeman’s (1986: 3) account, both the ‘system of symbols’ and the ‘system of meanings’ describe the culture concept. For Turner (1982), meaning is created at the boundaries between established cultural sub-systems, though meanings are then institutionalised and merged at the centres of such systems. Rituals are full of meaningful symbols, which deal with the vital values of a group, community or society, and are transformative in terms of behaviour and attitudes. Thus, to understand a cultural and religious performance, it is necessary to be aware of the symbols and their shared understanding in terms of linguistics. Regarding symbolic anthropology, Turner (1982) focuses on the multiple levels of personal significance that contribute to the individual character, skill and personal style of a speechmaker. Choosing symbols to subjectively convey power in communication, and the ability to convey a heart-warming and stirring speech, are all linked to an individual’s level of contentment with human interaction to start with. Indeed, he views anthropology as a social science in the context of personally lived experience and emotional significance. Therefore, he differs from Geertz (1968; 1973), who argues that social meaning could be interpreted as a text, believing instead that a better analogy for making sense of culture is revealed by the perception of social theatre.

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Figure 2.3 The interior of the Tekiyeh Dowlat, a painting by Kamalol Molk from the Qajar period

The power of symbols, which may be objects, activities, words, relationships, events, gestures or spatial units in human interaction and communications, is inherent in both the shared lexicons and grammars of spoken and written languages. Likewise, symbols are utilised through the artful or poetic individual

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  49 crafting of speech, through persuasive tropes such as metaphors, metonyms, oxymora and many more (Turner 1982: 9). Beeman (1986) explains how studies should focus on linguistics, which could provide significant evidence of shared cultural meanings in different societies by looking at the discursive and creative nature of the functioning as well as the rhetoric used in language in social life. Likewise, culture could be better understood by focusing on performances such as rituals, theatre and comedy and the shared understanding of its content such as humour, courtesy, persuasion, insult, irony and charlatanism, ‘all of which involve sophisticated semantic manipulations within social interaction situations’ (Beeman 1986: ix). Similar to Turner, Beeman utilises Geertz’s ‘thick description’ framework, as a means of interpretation of understanding the content, by understanding the socially shared context, in anthropological studies. However, in Beeman’s account, by exploring the ways that language can be used as an active and strategic tool in social interaction, it becomes possible to understand how the meaning is created in an interaction (Beeman 1986: xii). Generally, a verbal performance is very significant in Iran, not only as a matter of politeness and communication, but also for impressing false or true feelings. For example, words such as nokaretam (I am your servant/informal), mokhlesam (I am your sincere/formal and informal) and dar khedmatetam (I am at your service/formal) are often exchanged between people, especially men, in their daily conversations and communications. Everyone knows that these words are not genuine and nobody expects the person who uses these words or sentences to actually provide service as a servant or service provider to them. Nonetheless, they do accept, respect and like this communication because it shows admirable qualities such as meekness and humility. From personal experience, I saw someone, who I met in a small village a year before, at a Muharram day standing in the front of a tekiyeh. After saluting each other, I asked him ‘what are you doing here?’. He replied ‘man inja nokary-e sarvaram Imam Hussein ra mikonam’ (here, I am a servant of my Master/Lord Imam Hussein). Then, I asked him ‘how are your family, especially your kid?’. He replied ‘they kiss your hand’. Therefore, this is a perfect example of the use of such language, as it is obvious that they do not kiss my hand and they never will do that, but he lets me know, in his complete meekness, that his family are healthy. These types of conversations, metaphors and rhetoric used in Iran convince Beeman to express that Iranians are ‘not only making words mean exactly what they want them to mean, no more and no less, but also making contexts mean what they want them to mean’ (Beeman 1986: 3). He argues that for using a lexical item or utterance in such a way, a person must fulfil set conditions in communicating that it ‘refers to some other item, and these conditions are not logical but behavioural’ (Beeman 1986: 3). Hence, a symbol is undeniably linked with ‘meaning’ in the cultural system, and sometimes may represent multiple meanings. Some social scientists, such as Beeman (1986: 5), argue that they may be used in various ways, utilised creativity or performativity and/or for strategic reasons. This is visible in the Persian language, which has a very simple grammatical structure. In fact, individuals may convey accounts of their feelings due to the substantial number of choices

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available. ‘It is a function of all parties in interaction to come up with the correct interpretations for what is said’ (Beeman 1986: 10). This seems not to be the case, at least, in Ta’ziyeh. There are no dialogues between parties and all audience and actors are so intertwined with symbols (images displayed, words and sentences) that there is no need for interpretations. The link between symbols and meanings in Ta’ziyeh is very simple. Meanings are covered by symbols. In other words, symbols represent meanings and meanings appear only when it is necessary or should be interpreted, for example for outsiders. The main performance space in Ta’ziyeh is simple, blunt and curtain-less. Characteristically, the empty stage in Ta’ziyeh represents the uninhabited and deserted plain of Karbala, a liminal place between Medina and Kufa. Both symbolic and non-symbolic props can be witnessed on stage. While a basin of water (represents the Euphrates River), green or black flags which are usually marked with the name of Imam/Ya Hussein or Ya Abolfazl/Ya Abbas or other family members of Hussein taken in the Karbala tragedy, khimmeh (a little tent) and a branch of a tree (represents a palm grove) are symbolic, things such as chairs, tables and musical instruments are examples of non-symbolic props. At the same time, Ta’ziyeh is a distinct type of musical drama wherein protagonists sing their parts and antagonists recite theirs (Chelkowski 1979; 2005), while they play the roles of people who fought in the Karbala battle for and against Hussein. Actors and actresses are usually people without theatre experience and perhaps have training only during the ten days of Muharram. Actors/actresses who are identified with green attire and emblems represent Hussein and his followers, while actors displaying red dress and insignia enact Yazid’s officers and soldiers. In the Shia religion red dress symbolises blood, oppression and negativity, but if the red colour combines with the name, or any sign, of Hussein and his family, it symbolises the blood of martyrs of the battle of Karbala. By contrast, the green colour is a symbol of the garden of Paradise and goodness. Similar to sacred figures such as Imam Hussein, female actresses or male actress playing the role of a female appear as faceless, covered in black from head to toe onstage during their Ta’zyieh performance. Indeed, only young boys who are playing the roles of young girls are allowed to play with visible faces. Actors are usually chosen based on a good singing voice and also physical suitability for some roles, such as the role of Imam Hussein and his half-brother Abbas. They often read their lines from a little folded-up script (Ta’ziyeh nameh) which they hold in their hands whilst singing their parts in the classical Persian language. However, each script of Ta’ziyeh expresses independently the various religious myths of the Karbala tragedy through a rhymed didactic presentation. The following sentences, which are exchanged between actors of Ta’ziyeh, is written by Pelly (1879: 92). I heard similar sentences when I was observing different Ta’ziyeh performances in Iran. To set the scene, Hussein, astride his horse Zuljanah, is going to the battlefield. His daughter Sakineh (Sukainah) is standing in front of him, crying out and saying in childish tones:

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  51 Sukainah: Dear Father, by Lord it is a painful thing to be fatherless; a misery, a great calamity to be helpless, bleeding in the heart, and an outcast! Dismount from the saddle, and make me sit by thy side. To pass over me or neglect me at such a time is very distressing. Let me put my head on thy dear lap, O father. It is sad thou should not be aware of thy dear child’s condition. Hussein: Bent not thy neck on one side, thou my beloved child; nor weep so sadly, like an orphan. Neither moan so melodiously, like a disconsolate nightingale. Come, lay thy dear head on my knees once more, and shed not so copiously a flood to tear from thine eyes, thou spirit of my life. Importantly, Ta’ziyeh presents familiar concepts and ideas to its audience and the language used in Ta’ziyeh is not a symbolic language, thus, it does not need any interpretation. Therefore, while the performance techniques do not represent everyday living experiences, the play is understandable to spectators through the use of costumes, decorations, accessories and props. The music, the voice, the face, the physique and especially the particular role assigned to the performer are significant for spectators. In terms of time, performing Ta’ziyeh usually takes hours (usually a half day or more). Ultimately, at the end of Ta’ziyeh, Yazid’s impatient army led by Shemr (a commander of Yazid’s army in Karbala) attacks Imam Hussein’s camps and kills them one by one. At this time, all audiences start crying and self-flagellation. Actors also finish their play and immediately join the audience to do the same. According to Malekpour (2004: 91), the audience and performers are so close to each other in Ta’ziyeh that the division between them seems almost non-existent. This form of staging creates an extremely powerful actor–audience relationship, which Peter Brook named the ‘carpet show’. The link between symbols and meanings in Ta’ziyeh seems to be more simple if we observe the stage of Ta’ziyeh together with actors and symbols encircled by audiences. Audiences normally speak and laugh together and they sacrifice things, usually money, by attaching notes on symbols of Ta’ziyeh, particularly on flags that bear the names of Hussein and Abbas or Abolfazl. This means, they engage with symbols displayed on the stage, which have special meanings unknown to outsiders. During the performance, they follow actors’ moves and listen to them; when they hear or see a particular word or scene they start to mourn with laments, beating their chests and tops of heads while yelling ‘Ya Hussein’ and cursing Yazid and Shemr. By doing so, they ‘exhibit their own sorrows and desires as an expression of their faith within an archetypal setting’ (Chelkowski 2005: 22), however, most of them do not listen with the intent to learn or understand but instead to respond emotionally. They grew up with symbols, signs and narratives of Ta’ziyeh and their collective emotional reply often happens automatically at a certain moment, which is very difficult or sometimes impossible to explain properly. Indeed, the meaning of symbols is placed between symbol and emotion. It is complicated to know exactly whether this

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emotional reaction is a reflection and reply to symbol or meaning or both. In other words, it is hard to know whether symbol or meaning plays the priamry role in evoking the emotion of the audience. My observation of Ta’ziyeh ritual performance shows that symbols play the key role. For example, when I asked an audience about the symbol of the panjeh (the hand/claw) displayed during the Ta’ziyeh performance, some believed that it symbolised the hand of Abbas, some replied that it means Prophet Mohammad and his family, some answered that it represents both, and the others believed that it illustrated the martyrs’ resurrection or the martyrs’ divine vindication (see Chapter 5). Thus, they all have emotional reactions to the panjeh symbol, but their understanding of the meaning is different. This is crucial to know when defining a culture and a ritual performance. Certainly, symbols and their meanings together with emotion are a unifying force in Ta’ziyeh. Symbols carry meanings and the audience needs prior knowledge, feeling and understanding of symbol in order to respond emotionally.

Emotion, lament and mourning In Beeman’s (1979: 24–25) study, Ta’ziyeh, as an aspect of cultural performance in Iran and the wider Shia world, is bounded up in more complex patterns of cultural symbolism, logic and presentational conventions than other performance traditions which constitute the most dynamic and powerful components of a given culture. This and many of Turner’s descriptions of social drama can be witnessed in Ta’ziyeh. Music, prayers and visual symbols are played and displayed while taste consecrated foods called nazri-e Imam Hussein are provided. At the same time, olfactory senses are ignited by incense such as espand (peganum harmala) and golab (rosewater). Likewise, touching is encouraged, such as touching the actor playing a sacred character such as Imam Hussein or one of his family members, or touching divine objects, such as the flag of Imam Hussein. Furthermore, in Ta’ziyeh a dramatic structure provides the tragedy, sacrifice, lamenting and selfflagellation or self-sacrifice elements, encompassing an obvious plot which can be shared and witnessed together and which ‘energises and gives emotional colouring to the interdependent communicative codes which express in manifold’ (Turner 1982: 81). However, explaining all of the extensive actions and emotions that occur in Muharram is beyond the scope of this book. The symbols and emotions (such as lament and mourning) which are commonly and regularly practiced annually during Ashura and the performance of Ta’ziyeh to commemorate the battle of Karbala will be briefly discussed. Lamenting and mourning in Iran is not limited to the Muharram month and is not only a mythical concept. Indeed, relatives of a dead person lament and mourn for them for three continuous days, as well as on the fortieth day after their passing and then usually every Thursday when they visit their family’s grave. In contrast to some tribes or communities, such as the Warramunga in Central Australia that Canetti (1962: 103) has described, Iranians do not try to distance themselves from their dead relatives. They often take their new-born

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  53 children to their parents’ graves to introduce their grandchild to them, whom they missed meeting otherwise. This one-way conversation usually takes place by crying, lamenting and mourning their passing. This lamentation is similar when commemorating Imam Hussein and the martyrs of Shia, albeit the small crowd, which consist of relatives and friends at a family passing, gives way to a wider and bigger community grieving the Imam. In Canetti’s terminology, the close crowd changes to be an open crowd, where the hunt or pursuit can be seen in all of its details. ‘The hunt, or baiting, is always experienced from the point of view of the victim’ (Canetti 1962: 144). Powerfully, in every part of the Ta’ziyeh performance, blood and wounds are made visible and displayed to show the unjust actions of Imam Hussein’s enemies. ‘The further removed from mythical times, the stronger becomes the tendency to prolong the passion and to fill it out with human details’ (Canetti 1962: 144). Hence, Shia believe that ‘martyrs remain alive’. Thus, participants in Ta’ziyeh want Imam Hussein to return to assist them, even calling for him outside of the Muharram period. Poignantly, when there is an accident, disaster, death or illness they call on Imam Hussein for help, just as they would ask for God’s help. They cry, scream, mourn and sometimes beat themselves on the head, chest and face (occasionally females injure their own face with their own fingernails) to call him back. Canetti (1962) called this the archaic lamenting pack, when he described the example of Australian aborigines. In Ta’ziyeh the lamenting pack opens out into a continually growing crowd. All people living in rural and urban areas join the Muharram ceremony and participate in the Ta’ziyeh ritual performance. As Canetti argues, ‘the lament itself, as an impassioned pack opening out to become a true crowd, manifests itself with unforgettable power at the Muharram Festival of the Shiites’ (Canetti 1962: 145). This kind of opening out of the lamenting pack has a long history. While it initially began with a few faithful followers, it gradually increased in the numbers of believers. According to Canetti’s findings, the reason for this increase in people joining the lament relies on feelings of guilt and fear as its main attraction. People use it as a realisation that they have made past mistakes and this is their way of redeeming themselves. In other words, ‘the hunting or baiting pack expiates its guilt by becoming a lamenting pack’ (Canetti 1962: 145). When people’s fear and guilt grows, they try to attach themselves to the individual who has died, who may have made sacrifices for them in their lifetime. Therefore, through lamentation their goal is to punish and persecute themselves, as is the same aim in self-flagellation. Therefore, Ta’ziyeh provides an important and powerful space for lamentation as it shows how Hussein was forced to witness the mutilation of Abbas (his brother), the murder of Qasim (his nephew), the torture and execution of his son Ali Akbar and his six-month old son Ali Asghar, killed with an arrow while held in his arms. According to Canetti (1962), in Ta’ziyeh the personality and destiny of Hussein is placed at the emotional centre of the faith. Participants believe that Hussein knew his and his followers fate, but he sacrificed and immolated himself and his family for justice and so that ‘through his sufferings the saints gain

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paradise’ (Canetti 1962: 148). In relation to the nature of the goal, Canetti explains the concept of the slow crowds and the quick crowds. While the goal of the quick crowd is short, as seen in the arenas of sporting and war, the goal of the slow crowd may be far ahead, at a very long distance, such as the religious crowds whose goal is to reach a heaven in the other world. In contrast to the quick crowd, the slow crowd is more permanent. At the same time, Ta’ziyeh, as a religious performance, is permanent and crowds participating in Ta’ziyeh are slow crowds, however it seems to incorporate a quick crowd, too. On the one hand, people gather in a circle to watch the performance of the Karbala tragedy to complete their Muharram ceremony and then they disappear until the following year. On the other hand, people also believe they can make their way to heaven by lamenting, mourning and self-flagellation for Imam Hussein. The most important point to make is that the suffering of Hussein and his family in the Karbala battle is so interlinked and blended into Shia Muslims’ daily lives, that their far-reaching goal to reach heaven is obvious. Since the death of Hussein is regarded as a martyrdom of redemption, they believe that Hussein will intercede for those who believe in his acts of redemption and who mourn his and his followers’ deaths. Therefore, Ta’ziyeh dramas are performed in any public place where audiences and spectators can be gathered. It is a kind of performance, which not only confirms a type of moral and religious order, but also is able to stir an emotional reaction from the spectators and unify them. Shia believe that the central themes of these plays are justice, good against bad/evil and right versus wrong. Thus, in this sense, Ta’ziyeh can be easily distinguished from modern theatre. Both the slow crowd and the quick crowd, as with all kinds of crowds, are filled with diverse emotions. As Canetti (1962: 48) explains, dividing crowds into different labels, such as open or closed, slow or quick, and visible or invisible does not reveal much about feeling, emotion and its content. For instance, sometimes a crowd can run through a whole series of emotions in quick succession. Indeed, when they gather in a theatre they can share the most varied kind of subjective and crowd experiences. Likewise, when they gather at a concert their feelings may become even more detached to attain the most varied experience (Canetti 1962). Nonetheless, the question then is why are the emotions and feelings so heightened in Ta’ziyeh, while it is a simple performance and play? Canetti answers this question by arguing that the experiences in theatres and concerts are ‘artificial; their richness is an end-product of high and complex cultures’ (Canetti 1962: 48). Their effect is moderated because in them extremes cancel each other out. They serve, on the whole, to soften and diminish the passions at whose mercy people feel when alone. When witnessing a performance showing suffering, such as Ta’ziyeh, it is combined with a parallel purpose to evoke a sympathetic response. Therefore, this normally results in a high level of emotional reaction, which can be managed for the manipulation of human behaviour. In fact, in all similar cases, symbols are powerful and used to ignite, stir and harness people’s emotions, in order to shape a crowd for a predetermined goal. Canetti (1962), who describes the similarity between rulers and paranoiacs, identifies this kind of behaviour of power

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  55 dynamics. Dedicating a chapter of Crowds and Power (1962: 411–48) to African kings and the case of Schreber (Freud’s famous case study), he postulates they are pursuing the same goal and operating in the same way, for the purposes of filling an endless and limitless hollow in the self. Here, Canetti’s aim was to formulate the methods, the masks, images, symbols and language used by a ruler whose power was paranoid and corrupt. In recent decades, rulers have adopted the paranoiac use of power regularly. For example, the Islamic rulers exercised it in Iran after the 1979 Revolution and likewise the democratic rulers yielded this type of power in the US and the UK, especially after 11 September 2001. Undoubtedly, they followed paranoid logic and a totalitarian response by creating a society of fear, whose people feel under constant threat from enemies, as predicted by Canetti (1962). The patterns of ritual patronage and manipulation of Shia symbols have faced a serious change in last two centuries (Aghaie 2004: 157). During the rule of Qajar, who were aggressive in representing themselves as patrons of Muharram, the challenge was to maintain political and social bonds between the state and society, especially by using Karbala symbols and rituals to promote religious legitimacy. Therefore, Ta’ziyeh symbols, images and emotional performances were extensively used to represent the power of the state nationally and internationally. During the Pahlavi period, they served to fuse the nationalist discourse and move Iran towards Western, secular and nationalistic lines (Aghaie 2004). Additionally, the most visible period to witness Ashura symbols and rituals being used, by different political leaders representing liberals, leftists, conservatives, reactionaries and revolutionaries, was the 1960s and 1970s (Aghaie 2004). Indeed, it was because of using Ta’ziyeh symbols, images and emotion that Shia thinkers such as Ali Shariati and Morteza Motahhari and leaders such as Ruhollah Khomeini could attract the attention of a very diverse audience. Consequently, during and after the 1979 Islamic Revolution, the patterns of ritual patronage served to justify and legitimise the Islamic regime, and also to overcome the national political crisis, as well as warding off foreign enemies. Political actors and the revolutionary clerics in Iran are able to justify their positions and actions due to their knowledge of the correlation of Ta’ziyeh symbols and emotion. To understand this correlation, it is pertinent to briefly review the root of Ta’ziyeh’s emotion.

The notion of hero and heroism In general, the staging and performance of suffering finds its roots in human experiences, which can be individual or collective. Pulling away from structural functionalism, Turner (1982) found Wilhelm Dilthey’s theories most suitable. Indeed, Dilthey hypothesised that the arts serve to intensify our experience; therefore, the fundamental basis for human knowledge must be based on the lived experience of human beings (Makkreel and Rodi 1985: 3). The Ta’ziyeh narratives and performances urge us immediately to ask ourselves: ‘why did Persians accept Hussein’s honour from the beginning? How have Hussein’s beliefs

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endured over time and place and resulted in an accepted annual ritual performance? What experiences are rooted behind Ta’ziyeh? Historical evidence suggests there are two reasons Persians accepted the leadership and Imamate of Hussein. First, after the Arab (Muslim) conquest, the majority of Persian people became anti-Arab, thereby supporting any movement against Arab Caliphs. Second, Shahrbanu,1 daughter of Yezdegird III, the last of the Sassanid kings of Persia, was a wife of Hussein (Pelly 1879: x, xvi). She was captured by Muslims who conquered Persia and became one of Imam Hussein’s wives. Consequently, Zayn al-Abidin, the son of Shahrbanu and Hussein ‘who accordingly claimed descent from the monarchs of the house of Sassanid’ (Pelly 1879: 70), could be the successor to his father, Hussein. At the end of Ta’ziyeh, Zayn al-Abidin is the only male who survives, which means he is the leader of Shia Muslims after the martyrdom of his father. Persians began to commemorate the tragedy of Karbala, but they transformed it to their own cultural context and linguistic format. In this way, Persians intensified and expressed their experience, which is unavoidable in Ta’ziyeh performance. Some Western sources relating to Ta’ziyeh offer interesting insights, such as Chardin’s (1811, cited in Gaffary 1984) description of Muharram, as well as Pelly’s (1879) writings in The Miracle Play of Hasan and Husain, collected from oral tradition. Pelly was impressed by the recital of the woes of Hassan and Hussein during the month of Muharram in India. When he joined HM’s (the British Legation) in Iran in 1859, he was surprised and strongly affected to notice how different classes of society listened day after day to the tragedy of Karbala, from those in the palace to the bazar, as well as witnessing ‘wailing and beating of breasts, and bursts of impassioned grief from scores of houses whosesoever a noble, or the merchants, or others were giving a Tazia’ (Pelly 1879: iii). On proceeding to the Persian Gulf as political resident representing Britain in 1862, he believed the recitations of this tragedy were similar to his favourite episodes from the Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh. Furthermore, after watching a storyteller reveal the story of Sohrab and Rostam, especially in public places, such as the bazar, Pelly proposed that a counterpart to the early recitations of the Iliad was warranted. In respect of the tragedy, it occurred to him that there should be a complete translation of this singular drama in the West (Pelly 1879: iii–iv). Ta’ziyeh has its roots in areas such as pre-Zoroastrianism, epic, mythology and folklore. Ta’ziyeh’s main emotion is rooted in sog-e Siavash (the legend of Siavash), which can be traced much further back than the history of Islam, even perhaps before Zoroastrian history. ‘According to historian Narshakhi (tenth century), a mourning ritual with songs called Kin-e Siyavosh (Revenge of Siyavosh) have been taking place in Bokhara (now Uzbekistan) for “millennia”’ (Rubin et al. 1998: 192–93). Despite religious theatrics being embedded in the inception of Ta’ziyeh, it also encompassed other forms of folklore. By doing this, Ta’ziyeh absorbed and could illustrate entertaining characteristics. However, Chelkowski (1979; 2005) argues that it is a dramatic form of commemoration that Shia Muslims in Iran have

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  57 created in order to immortalise the tragedy of Hussein, and thus it is comparable to the Christian passion plays. Indeed, the common theme in this dramatic narration is the heroic tales of sacrifice and resistance against oppression. At the root of Ta’ziyeh, ancient Persian ceremonies and rituals such as sog-e Siavash (a sacred dramatic mourning ritual) became recognisable and visible (Yarshater 1979: 93). In the Farsi language the word ‘sog’ means sorrow, mourning and grief, while Siavash is a Persian ancient mythological hero, whose destiny was marked by tragedy and became a symbol of innocence in Persian literature. Thus, sog-e Siavash can be translated to the ‘tragedy of Siavash’. Siavash is a major figure in Ferdowsi’s great national epic of Persia The Shahnameh (Davis 2006). Siavash was a Persian prince from the earliest days of the Persian Empire and was a son of Kai Kavus who reigned as king. After being exiled to Turan, he was killed by order of the Turanian King Afrasiab. His name literally means ‘the one with the black horse’ or ‘black stallion’. Similarly, in the Shahnameh, Ferdowsi calls Siavash’s horse Shabrangeh Behzad, which literally translates as ‘nightcoloured purebred’ (Davis 2006). Poignantly, upon his death, a mesmerising hymn commemorated Siavash’s sad tale. His death is still commemorated by some Persians, especially in the Shiraz area, on a day called Siavashun. Undoubtedly, there is still considerable interest in viewing the performance of Siavash’s tragedy in Persian theatre, and acknowledging its similarity to a Ta’ziyeh performance. To elucidate Ta’ziyeh’s similarity to sog-e Siavash, three classical Persian poems, The Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi, The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyam and The Masnavi by Jalale-din Rumi provide evidence for Persian cultural trends under the notions of hero and heroism after the Muslim conquest. The epic poem Shahnameh was in many ways a conscious reaction to the Muslim conquest of Persia. The Masnavi and the Rubaiyat were written immediately after the Mongol and the Saljuq Turks conquests of Persia, respectively. Among other heroes in the Shahnameh, Rostam is clearly the greatest hero. He uses guile and trickery in his battles, especially in his fights with both Sohrab and Esfandiyar. In the latter story magic contributes to the ‘trickster hero’ role (Davis 1999). Rostam wants to win his battles against his enemies at all costs, without exception. When Rostam realises that he is unable to overcome his enemy by physical strength, he resorts to guile and trickery (Sadeghi 2004). There is no ‘good versus evil’ morality in the Shahnameh. In Nietzsche’s (1999) words, the moral order here is beyond good and evil, such as the ancient Greeks were without a notion of evil. For Greeks, the enemy is not considered evil: the enemy can be bad or good. In the Shahnameh, the enemy is an external force confronted in battle. Physical power, bravery, military prowess, courage and tricks are highlighted to make a distinction. Thus, a hero is the one who can overcome the external and physical enemy. It was Zoroaster (Zarathustra) who invented the notion of evil about 1400– 1200 BC (Boyce 2001). According to Avesta (Zoroastrian scriptures), the emphasis of Zoroastrianism is on the battle between good and evil. Ahura Mazda (Lord Wisdom) is identified as ‘good’, who creates good things, and as human

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beings, people carry a uniquely heavy responsibility to provide valuable services. Ahriman (Angra Mainyu) is diagnosed as ‘evil’, who creates bad and false things. The principle of falsehood and distortion called ‘drug’ opposes the concept of ‘asha’, which governs human conduct incorporating loyalty, courage, truth and honesty (Boyce 2001). While Ferdowsi sometimes indulges in moralising and preaching, the hero Rostam, introduced in the Shahnameh, seems to be beyond good and evil. This absence of the dualistic idea of good versus evil morality illustrates the association of Shahnameh’s epics with the pre-Zoroastrian order. In contrast, the Rubaiyat Khayyam identifies the hero very differently. There is no external enemy to fight. A new kind of hero is set up to replace Rostam. The hero in Rubaiyat is a wine drinker who struggles with bad desires or evil inside himself. The image of wine is used as a metaphor both for the spiritual intoxication reached by Sufi mystics and also for symbolising aesthetic and intellectual pleasures, as well as physical ones. The state of intoxication by wine is regarded as a divine sacrament in the ancient Persian civilisation, as manifest in early Mithraism and Zoroastrianism. In Mithraic initiation rites, sacred wine gave power to the body including prosperity, wisdom and the power to combat malignant spirits and to obtain immortality (Teeter 2005: 84). In the Masnavi the enemy is also an internal force, which is called nafseh ammara (anima bruta/bad desires). Here, the notion of evil plays a central role and it is diagnosed as an enemy that must be fought. ‘It is not surprising that the hero becomes a moralizing figure whose morality is ultimately his only weapon in his fight against his own anima bruta (bad desires)’ (Sadeghi 2004: 197). In the Masnavi, the hero is the person who overcomes evil desires. The hero is called pire haq (the old judicious and right person), who acts as a symbol of moral achievements and opposes evil. This dualistic manner of opposing good and evil brought Rumi closer to a Zoroastrian position, especially in his famous poem stating ‘Through love/kindness thorns become roses’. Khayyam and Rumi were influenced by Ibn Sina ‘Avicenna’ (980–1037 AD) who adopted some ideas from Plato, Aristotle and Plotinus (Al-Jubouri 2004: 281). For Plato (1997), the good is ‘even beyond Being’, and he illustrates this in the Republic, related to the ‘Allegory of the Cave’, arguing that all cognitive orders are simply stages towards the good (Rep 517–20a). Both Rubaiyat and Masnavi are composed with the same point of view: real happiness has to be sought inside dell (the heart). A happy and powerful heart can overcome any external forces, regardless of the type of misfortune and disaster. To have a happy heart we need to overcome bad or evil desires. The dualistic manner of opposing good and evil together with physical power, bravery and sacrifice is clearly performed in any Ta’ziyeh to introduce an external and physical enemy. In recent decades, this has extended its sphere of influence to modern plays, theatre and films. For example, the relationship between Ta’ziyeh, naqqali (narrating epic myths by depicting pictures painted onto curtains) and Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh is one of the most significant elements discussed in the documentary film called Another Narration, directed by Parviz Jahed in 2001. This film contains significant characteristics utilising this form of

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  59 sacred ritual play. It uses comparative analysis of Ta’ziyeh as well as the modern art of theatre to investigate the place of Ta’ziyeh in Iranian contemporary theatre (IFVC 2016). Another example is Scarlet Stone, which is a new multidisciplinary and collaborative piece of work, which uses music, dance and animation in a modern rendition of the ancient Persian mythology, by Kasrai, to portray the current struggle of Iranian people, especially youths and women in the 2009 Green Movement (Scarlet Stone 2010). The main source used in reciting the Karbala narratives is Rowzat al-Shohada, which stressed the bravery, piety and sacrifice of Imam Hussein and his followers. In this book, Kashefi mixed the hero in the Shahnameh with the hero in the Masnavi and introduced a series of mourning poems and narratives. Kashefi built a hero from Hussein, Abbas and Hurr who is similar to that in the Shahnameh and introduced external enemies (bad and evil) from the leaders of Sunnis, such as Yazid and Shemr. His book is one of the main sources used in Ta’ziyeh due to its use of various historical accounts, hagiographies, theological tracts and elegiac poems, merged into a composition of short narratives that combined to form a much larger one (Aghaie 2004: 12). These narratives, poems and rituals further developed gradually and became part of the current ritual performance: a ceremony or tragedy merged with sacrifice, poem, mourning and self-flagellation that is Ta’ziyeh.

Dimensions of Ta’ziyeh Today, Ta’ziyeh is more than an exhibition of religious narration. It has extended its dimensions to embody more meaning. As Barthes and Duisit (1975) outline, there are countless forms of narratives in the world. They can be presented in a variety of forms at all times, in all places and in all societies. All classes and all human groups have their own stories, rituals and plays, and very often they are enjoyed by people of different or even opposing cultural backgrounds, but for an accurate understanding of any story, ritual and play of a community we need to be familiar with its cultural patterns and symbols. To illustrate this, the worldfamous Persian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami explained how he highlighted the emotional reaction of spectators in his film called Ta’ziyeh,2 in his conversation with Ahmad Karimi-hakkak3 and Geoff Andrew4 at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London (on 1 May 2005). Kiarostami does not just present the play but Persian spectators and audiences as well. In Ta’ziyeh, which premiered in London in 2005, the performance of the passion play was displayed on a large television. Behind the television were two large screens showing the faces of spectators watching a previous performance of the same version of the Ta’ziyeh. According to Kiarostami, the effect is a peculiar and curious one and Ta’ziyeh is intrinsically linked with its audience. His films of audiences were recorded in rural villages where the Ta’ziyeh tradition is at its strongest. In fact, the faces have been edited so that their reactions correspond to the drama unfolding on the TV screen. In the play’s introductory phases, women talk and whisper to each other, and a young boy appears to be telling a hilarious story to an old man. However,

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as the tragic denouement approaches, they are transfixed while their eyes begin to fill with tears. Women sob uncontrollably into their chador5 and rock their heads in their hands or beat their chests in grief (Marshall 2003). Indeed, Kiarostami’s Ta’ziyeh encompasses more than the tragedy depicted in the traditional script. It explores how the West views Shia Islam culture, and vice versa. For instance, as Hussein prepares for his martyrdom by refusing an offer of water in the desert, a man in a lion suit lollops onto the stage. When Western audiences see this scene they laugh, whereas Iranian spectators see the incarnation of Hussein and his followers and they burst into tears (Marshall 2003). In his conversation with Marshall, Kiarostami explains that the Iranian audience’s extreme emotional reactions are central to the subjective experience and the concept of innocence: the innocence of the Iranian spectator, of their reaction to the Ta’ziyeh, versus the innocence of Western audiences, who feel inadequate when confronted with that type of reaction when watching an identical show through their different understanding of it. But what Kiarostami highlights is how the connection of Ta’ziyeh with the recent unrest (the Green Movement) in Iran is powerful as Hussein is the icon of the suffering for Shia, which is not easy for non-Iranian audiences to comprehend. Ta’ziyeh is a peculiar form of performance, which not only confirms a type of moral, religious and ideological order, but also evokes an emotional reaction from the spectators, who find an intense connection between themselves and the actors and become engaged in a frame of mind that mourns Hussein’s and his followers’ martyrdom. ‘Emotionally the contemplation of the personality and fate of Hussein stands in the centre of the faith; they are the mainspring of the believer’s religious experience. His death interpreted as voluntary self-immolation, and it is through his suffering that the saints gain paradise’ (Canetti 1962: 148). In relation to the geographical dimensions of Ta’ziyeh, while dramatic performances of Ta’ziyeh originated in Iran as a religious epic theatrical show, it now continues to be performed in areas of the Middle East with large Shia populations, as well as areas such as Jamaica (Mirrazavi 2011). It also plays in some areas of Africa, India and within Shia communities established in the West. In Iran today, Ta’ziyeh has become transformed into a special performance that is accompanied by Persian poetry and music. Undoubtedly, it encapsulates more than mourning. It is now viewed as a masterpiece (Mirrazavi 2011) rooted in Persian culture. Since the 1979 Revolution, Ta’ziyeh in Iran has been supported by the Islamic regime, especially the Ministry of Islamic Guidance (Wezarat-e ershad-e eslami). Although Ta’ziyeh is still performed in cities and villages on the last day of Muharram, it is also commercialised now so that professional Ta’ziyeh companies give a different play once or twice a day during Muharram, and they even perform when it is not Muharram. They have websites (in Persian) and they advertise their plays in urban and rural areas to compete against each other for more audiences, similar to modern theatre. Various Ta’ziyeh groups have employed cyberspace to propagate their plays and performances through their blogs, websites, social media and social networks. In last few years, they have uploaded numerous photos and video clips on Facebook and YouTube, showing

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  61 different types of Ta’ziyeh from Hussein, his family members and sometimes from his followers, i.e. Ta’ziyeh Hur, Ta’ziyeh Abbas, Ta’ziyeh Ali-Akbar, to advertise their Ta’ziyeh actors, plays and programmes. Ta’ziyeh has extended its dimension further from TV series to cinema through the controversial film Rastakhiz (Resurrection), in English called Hussein Who Said No, released on 1 February 2014. Some parts of this film, which is directed by Ahmad Reza Darvish, are created using 3D computer-generated imagery (CGI) techniques and are available online. Central themes in these plays reflect justice, good against evil and right opposed to wrong. Therefore, the protagonists of a Ta’ziyeh play illustrate that they prefer death over a life lived under oppression. For example, this is clearly illustrated in a part of Ta’ziyeh when Hurr leaves his position in Yazid’s army, as well as his possessions and belongings, in order to join Hussein to fight against injustice, inequality and oppression. Thus, symbols and images of Ta’ziyeh are usually employed in liminal periods to highlight these central themes for gathering crowds.

Liminality and crowd Turner (1982) used Geertz’s (1973) ‘thick description’ model, incorporating behaviour and context, as well as integrating the liminal phase of van Gennep’s (1960) rites of passage, to understand the experience of individuals at countercultural protests and festivals, such as Woodstock, and the development of counterculture in general which oppose the prevailing cultural norms. This study of Turner together with Canetti’s analyses, specifically highlighting crowdrelated behavioural reactions such as destructiveness, may help to explain what may occur in liminal periods in societies. Canetti (1962: 14–16) suggests that a crowd, as a mysterious and universal phenomenon, frees people from the fear of being touched. While initially it starts as a few people standing together, suddenly it can change to people being everywhere, with people streaming from all sides. To all appearances, it seems as if the movement of some conveys itself to others who join in. Most of them are unaware of why they have joined others or what has happened in general. Instead, they tend to hurry to be amongst other people, and to be in the blackest and densest spot, where most of the population is gathered. While this analysis of Canetti could be rejected by Shia, arguing that it is not the case in Muharram and Ta’ziyeh because people already know the content and timing of the performance, when the language, symbols and images of the Ta’ziyeh are used in liminal periods, such as revolution and war, Canetti’s arguments are strong. On Ashura day, these crowd characteristics can be seen everywhere in Iran. At first in the early morning, only a few people work on the places where the Ta’ziyeh performance takes place annually, but after a short period, especially after hearing a voice over the tannoy, people tend to move from all directions in order to join the Ta’ziyeh crowd. In effect, they sit closely together, usually on the floor, in a circle. During Ta’ziyeh, the crowd sit for hours in uncomfortable places or postures, or alternatively stand

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for a long duration to watch, lament, mourn, sacrifice and show their sympathy to Imam Hussein and his family. Nonetheless, when the Ta’ziyeh performance ends and refreshments are served, the clashes in the crowd begin. This is due to everyone hurrying to get a portion of food and drink before others, in order to avoid being left hungry or thirsty should the refreshments run out. This type of behaviour of crowd occurs usually in liminal stage, when the empty place of power leads a group, a community and a nation to chaos and disorder. According to Turner’s (1982) description, social life is always characteristically pregnant with social dramas and the mirror reflects two faces: ‘peace face’ and ‘war face’. In other words, we are designed ‘for co-operation, but prepared for conflict. Therefore, the primordial and perennial agonistic mode is the social drama’ (Turner 1982: 11). During social dramas and performances, such as Ta’ziyeh, a group’s emotional climate is full of noise, booming acoustics, movements, shouting, lightning and a choppy air of emotions. In Ta’ziyeh, as in other social dramas, all the senses of its participants and performers are engaged. Indeed, it is a temporary liminality, which provides a public breach to the normal and regular activities of society (Turner 1982: 10). This breach can be a grave transgression of the code of manners, which may lead to an act of violence, a beating, even a homicide. Undeniably this can be the outcome of real feelings, reflect a crime of passion, or it may encompass a cool calculation, or it can dangerously be a political act to challenge the existing power structure (Turner 1982). Thus, in Turner’s (1982) sense of the word liminal, Ta’ziyeh is a ritual performance of a liminal event, namely the Karbala tragedy, that on the one hand, is timeless, because it is performed in the present to commemorate the past, but the audience feel detached from the time and they are neither in the present (their daily and ordinary life) and nor in the past time. On the other hand, it is spaceless as the stage is an empty place that is neither Karbala nor a real current place (see Figure 2.3). In other words, it is between real and imaginary worlds. Even, the actors’ cloths, tools, recitation are from neither Imam Hussein’s era nor this period. For example, performers wear or use new and modern things and equipment on stage, such as sunglasses, microphones and musical instruments. Ta’ziyeh holds a place between the sacred and violence. It is sacred because all Shia Muslims stop all their daily activities to attend Ta’ziyeh to commemorate Imam Hussain and his family, who are related to Prophet Mohammad and subsequently to the divine. It is violence because both audiences and performers practice self-flagellation during and at the end of a Ta’ziyeh performance. Thus, Ta’ziyeh is a liminal performance for a liminal event that happened in past. Referring to Victor Turner, Beeman (1979) argues that Ta’ziyeh creates a powerful emotion that holds a place somewhere between the sacred and the secular. He borrows the concept of liminality from Turner to illustrate how the liminal status of the spectator in Ta’ziyeh translates as ‘being between now and past’, ‘being within its own community and Karbala’, ‘being within the performance’ and ‘falling between the Asian traditions and Western naturalistic theatre’ (27–30).

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  63 Canetti’s (1962) writings clarify that he was not only familiar with rites of passage of van Gennep (1960), especially the concept of the transitional stage, outlined as a liminal phenomenon by Turner at a later stage, but Canetti was aware of the empty place of power and the public sphere in modern society. Canetti’s contribution to the liminality concept, without the use of the word liminal or liminality, becomes clear when he distinguishes between five types of crowd. The oldest of these are the baiting crowd and the flight crowd, which can be found among both animals and human. The prohibition, the reversal and the feast crowd, however, are only found amongst humans (Canetti 1962: 48). In general, he divides them into the open crowd and the closed crowd and concludes that the natural and the true crowd may be understood as the open crowd, because their urge to grow is unlimited. In fact, this is the first and most prevalent attribute and characteristic of crowds. Importantly the other attribute of crowd behaviour is equality. In Canetti’s words, the discharge is the most important occurrence within the crowd. It creates both the crowd mentality and the moment when the crowd feel equal. In other words, the discharge occurs when people in the crowd dispose of their differences (Canetti 1962: 29). Therefore, in the Muharram and Ta’ziyeh ceremony, people from different classes and backgrounds meet each other equally in a place. Their contribution, participation, actions and behaviour are so similar that it is difficult to distinguish between them. In contrast to the open crowds, whose desire is to grow indefinitely and want more and more people, closed crowds are limited in numbers of people, who always meet for special, moral or material purposes such as religious ceremonies, festivals and sports events. As Canetti explains, in the closed crowd, historically a person attending a sermon really believed that it was the sermon which mattered, but more importantly, the presence of a large number of people provided them with even more satisfaction than the sermon itself. However, in the contemporary urbanised and industrialised world, the closed crowed has grown considerably, reflected in the growth of Methodism, such as John Wesley’s movement based on sermons in the open in the eighteenth century. In hindsight, he was extremely aware of the importance of the enormous crowds listening to him (Canetti 1962: 21). Political actors, the revolutionary clerics and in general tricksters also know Ta’ziyeh symbols, images and signs are potential tools for gathering a powerful crowd. The gradual growth of the Muharram festival and Ta’ziyeh, during and after the Safavid dynasty, illustrates the power of ritual theatre and a closed crowd in historic and contemporary times. Looking at parallel examples from Africa, Australia, Persia, Rome and Europe, Canetti proposed an interesting link between power and crowds, by showing how corrupted power manipulates a crowd’s behaviour and actions. The human desire for ‘oneness’, and human fear of the unknown and of being touched, or human responses as ‘fight’ or ‘flight’, are used against people by those who seek to control individuals, to transform the public sphere and finally to corrupt society. Canetti’s description of various packs, such as the ‘war pack’, the ‘hunting pack’, the ‘lamenting pack’ and the ‘increase pack’, illustrate and expand his theories. With this in mind, the total dominance of the ‘increase pack’ is most relevant in contemporary societies. Studying these packs illustrates that the crowd loves

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density, looks for direction and a common goal, all factors which are appealing to crowd behaviour. This is why Nietzsche opposed Wagner, who buoyed a revolutionary movement. Wagner held the music-drama as a way to unify Germany and to form a single national identity for fighting the turmoil that was overtaking society. According to Nietzsche (1911: 71), ‘he proved that in declining civilisations, wherever the mob is allowed to decide, genuineness becomes superfluous, prejudicial, and unfavourable. The actor, alone, can still kindle great enthusiasm’. Wagner thought the only way to liberate his society would be by destroying it entirely. In contrast, Nietzsche, who was ambitious to regenerate European culture, viewed music-drama as a utensil to be interconnected with nature and humanity or something greater. In his time, Nietzsche criticised the mob due to violence (Kaufmann 1976) and power of the mobilising crowd to destroy what took years and centuries to build. Perhaps the most obvious characteristic of the crowd is the destructive behaviour of mob culture, witnessed when houses, shops, cars and any other breakable objects may be destroyed. ‘It is true that the noise of destruction adds to its satisfaction; the banging of windows and the crashing of glass are the robust sounds of fresh life, the cries of something new-born’ (Canetti 1962: 19). The destructive behaviour of the crowd in liminal periods is usually led by tricksters who hunt any opportunity to form the public sphere in order exercise their own power and fulfil their own aims.

Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere Rahimi’s (2012) analysis of Muharram rituals during the Safavid period introduced a depth of understanding of the public sphere in Iran within that period. In his book Theater State and the Formation of Early Modern Public Sphere in Iran: Studies on Safavid Muharram Rituals, 1590–1641 CE (2012), he criticises ‘the self-imposed conceptual boundaries of dominant academic and public discourses’ (Rahimi 2012: xv). He makes three essential observations. First, the construction of the new Isfahan, the Safavid imperial capital, and the subsequent increase in Muharram ceremonies in 1590 led to the widespread proliferation of Muharram mortuary rites, which were interlinked with the ‘crystallization of distinct social spaces’ (Rahimi 2012: 13). Second, the increased ceremonies created an integration of ‘communicative domains that, paradoxically, both defined and defied state culture in the ongoing construction of Safavid collective identity’ (Rahimi 2012: 13). Third, using historical evidence, he argues that Muharram became a manifestation of state power during the Safavid dynasty, especially during the reign of Shah Abbas I (1587–1629) and Shah Safi I (1629–1642). Therefore, he concludes that the Muharram rituals subsequently led to ‘carnivalesque’ celebrations of misrule and transgression. By monitoring the historiographical developments in Muharram studies in the twentieth century, Rahimi argues that a Bakhtinian ‘carnivalesque’ paradigm appears to be the most effective lens through which to examine Muharram’s transgressive character. In the Qajar period (1796–1925), Ta’ziyeh became a national form of performing arts in Iran (Malekpour 2004: 12). Qajar kings developed the Ta’ziyeh in

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  65 order to cover and hide their own corruption, superstition and ignorance. They undermined all of the previous political and cultural achievements and turned Iran away from being an independent power into a semi-colonial state (Malekpour 2004). Their corrupted system was led by foreign powers, combined with their weak leadership and decadence, which in turn conveyed the society to a permanent liminality. As a result, the 1906 Constitutional Revolution took place and a Western parliamentary system was introduced to Iran, followed by the coup of Reza Pahlavi in 1921, which brought an end to the Qajar dynasty in 1925 and established the Pahlavi dynasty (Abrahamian 2008: 63–65). After the 1979 Revolution, political powers and the revolutionary clerics in Iran tried to present themselves as respectful guardians of religion and also to achieve their targets by supporting and producing Ta’ziyeh. Aghaie’s (2004: 29) study, which investigates the interaction between the Muharram ritual (especially Ta’ziyeh) and politics yielded evidence that the last three rulers in Iran, Qajar, Pahlavi and the Islamic regime, used Muharram and Karbala rituals and symbols to legitimise their own position. Historically, the Muharram performance was only suppressed on a few occasions because of its potential political threat. In other words, ritual performances such as Ta’ziyeh allow the authorities to promote both their legitimacy and social status. From Malekpour’s (2004: 91) point of view, Ta’ziyeh is a religious duty for people, as well as a form of entertainment, though the ruling class use it as a tool to protect their power and control others. Referring to historical evidence, he states that: Since they claimed that they had God on their side, no one dared to stand against them. Undeniably the state misused the Ta’ziyeh to such a degree that in one Ta’ziyeh, Imam Hussein, the heroic martyr and symbol of innocence and purity and justice, was replaced by Nasseredin Shah, the brutal and corrupt king. (Malekpour 2004: 126) Rahimi (2012) also offers an historical account of Muharram to explore how political actors and elites use, reshape, reinvent and even eliminate rituals in different ways in response to distinct situations, in pursuit of their own goals. He focuses on ritual forms and criticises functionalist approaches which link ritual action to a social structure, such as the ‘communal’ angle or ‘elite-functionalism’, which views ritual, symbols and myth as sources of propaganda and control which result in their shortcomings in the study of ritual and their failure to analyse the rituals themselves. In his opinion, since the Muharram ritual embodies a unique nature, which is utilised for propaganda and harvests sufficient energy and power to manipulate people’s behaviour, ‘then what motivates ritual actors to perform the ceremonies in the first place?’ (Rahimi 2012: 67). In fact, arguing that ‘the simple claim of elite-functionalism is that rituals are effective in the way they can serve the interests of the elites, political or otherwise’ (64), he claims that elite-functionalists failed to explain how the ideological construction of power was made relevant to the ritual participants. Referring to Roy Rappaport (1999)

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and Maurice Bloch (1986), he adds that rituals are performed because of orders created in the past, sanctioned by custom and tradition, and therefore participants would withdraw from performances, especially if they realised that they were arranged for propaganda or other predefined purposes. Thus, ‘the authority of the elites (e.g., Elders, Priests, and Kings) is one of mediators than manipulators of symbols of transcendental significant. It is in the symbolic connection with these transcendental forces that elites justify their dominance in the eyes of other ritual participants’ (Rahimi 2012: 68). In Rahimi’s account (2012: 85–86), the ‘public sphere, like Muharram, is only a construct, but one that does not deny the public its “empirical” or sociological dynamics’. Indeed, Rahimi challenges the public sphere that Habermas had theorised. In this way, he rejects the idea that Muharram could not be both a public space and a space for the production of state power. He initially highlighted how Muharram public spaces were ‘symbolic sites for and the result of state-building’ (Rahimi 2012: 323). According to Rahimi’s debate on the interrelated themes of power, rituals such as Ta’ziyeh in Muharram have resulted in ‘variations of public spheres’ (Rahimi 2012: 128). Rahimi extends this to ‘the politicisation of Islam and the Islamicisation of the public sphere on a global scale’ (133), which explore Habermas’s concept of the public sphere as problematic. In relation to the possibility of an Islamic public sphere, Rahimi expands its findings and adds, ‘The notion of public Islam challenges the view that secularism in the form of a liberal democratic political site is a required condition for the public sphere’ (Rahimi 2012: 132). This general statement of Rahimi is extensively explored by Salvatore (2007), who applied a genealogical method to study the emergence of the public sphere. Salvatore argues that the concept of the public sphere has a much more complicated and controversial genealogy than recognised from within the liberal tradition, and the public sphere introduced by Habermas ‘is a model based on a particular crystallization of the dialectics between inwardness and publicness’ (Salvatore 2007: 8). One of the serious problems of the concept of the public sphere developed by Habermas is underplaying the role of religious traditions (Salvatore 2007), particularly symbols and images, in its formation, which means closing off everything behind the boundaries of rationality (Foucault 1979). For example, Ta’ziyeh, as a particular living experience, culture, performance, ritual, religion, tragedy, habit, customs, myth, thought, language, historical event, social drama, emotion and social action, is used by political actors as a weapon to form and transform the public sphere and to control crowds. Therefore, we witness people who consciously or unconsciously harm themselves, particularly in liminal periods, to benefit others, corrupted rulers and powers and tricksters. The emotional reactions of audiences in Ta’ziyeh are beyond rational calculation. Symbols, images and signs of Ta’ziyeh can be employed by tricksters to evoke the emotions of the public in liminal periods. ‘Liminality is a temporal interface whose properties partially invert those of the already consolidated order which constitutes any specific cultural “cosmos”’ (Turner 1982: 41–42). Ta’ziyeh, as a ritual performance, is a temporary liminality, but it can become a permanent condition, and utilising its symbols in liminal times turns Shia society

Ta’ziyeh – origins, dimensions and power  67 itself into a permanent carnival. The next three chapters will deal extensively with historical events in Iran since 1979 to illustrate the methods employed by despoiled political and religious actors to use Ta’ziyeh for manipulating the public and forming the public sphere. These chapters cover themes such as how symbols are used in liminal periods; how symbols are given new meaning and how new symbols are created, to provide some clues as to how tricksters benefit from using them.

Notes 1

2

3 4 5

Her grave is located in Tehran and attracts thousands of visitors and prayers every year. There is dispute between scholars as to whether she was Imam Hussein’s mother or one of his wives. My attempt to find evidence as to why she was buried in Tehran while she was died in Medina was unsuccessful. The London version of Kiarostami’s Ta’ziyeh was first shown in Brussels in 2004 as part of the Kunsten Festival des Arts. The original version, which was presented in Rome and Taormina in 2002, included a live performance of the passion play by an Iranian theatre group (Mehr News Agency, 2005). Ahmad Karimi Hakkak is the director of the Center of Persian Studies at the University of Maryland and the co-translator of Kiarostami’s poetry, which is published by Harvard University Press. Geoff Andrew is programmer at the National Film Theatre (NFT), the curator of the Kiarostami film season at the NFT which is part of the 2005 London-wide Kiarostami festival and the author of the book 10 (2005). The chador is a large black cloth that women wear in Iran. It is placed over the head, wearing it low on the forehead, and it is held from the inside with a hand below the chin and a hand at waist level.

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3

Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere during the 1979 Revolution

While the previous chapter emphasised the more literary and historical aspects of Ta’ziyeh, this chapter aims to explore how the Ta’ziyeh symbols were employed during the 1979 Revolution to create an anti-Shah (anti-king) public sphere in Iran. As discussed in previous chapters, anthropologists, such as Turner (1967; 1982) and Schneider (1976; 1977), put great emphasis on symbols and their meanings. Alternatively, a system of symbols may be understood as defining the culture of a society. In other words, the culture is created, developed and maintained by a system of symbols. In Turner’s (1967) words, it is a forest of symbols, and in Schneider’s (1977) account, it is a system of symbols and meanings. In terms of traditional performances such as Ta’ziyeh, these symbols and their meanings are used to make crowds unify, create, laugh, cry, sacrifice, violate rules and hierarchy, destroy, fight and lastly kill or be killed. Significantly, in relation to Ta’ziyeh, Shia symbols create a powerful emotion. ‘Liminality is among the most important conceptual tools that are at once innovative and deeply based on the most important historical and anthropological traditions of mankind’ (Szakolczai 2009: 167). Therefore, through the study of Ta’ziyeh as a liminal event and performance, as well as examining the 1979 Revolution as a liminal period, which resulted from a schismogenic process between the king (leader) and his public, this chapter aims to explore how the symbols of Shia ritual performances were employed during the 1979 Revolution to create an emotional reaction and to shape the public sphere. It is essential to have some understanding of performance traditions in Iran, otherwise it will be very difficult or impossible to perceive and comprehend the nature, the root and the trick of revolutionary rhetoric, as well as to understand the nature of the public reaction. Therefore, prior to examining the role of Shia symbols during the 1979 Revolution, this chapter explores the history and structure of the Iranian improvisatory theatre.

Improvisatory performance in Iran The current form of theatre (or modern theatre) in Iran has a history of only one century (Yeganeh 2005: 274), but the origin of improvisatory theatre in Iran is unknown due to a lack of data about its historical development. Indeed, there is a

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lack of written records because of its improvised nature. The next few paragraphs focus on improvisatory theatre and what it encompasses, as its common traits and characteristics are visible and practiced in all performances such as siyah bazi (playing black), naqqali (dramatic storytelling), taqlid (imitation), shamayel gardani (directing/carrying of the icon) or pardeh dari (holding of screen) or pardeh khani (screen-based storytelling), kheimeh shab bazi (puppet theatre), ruhauzi (over the pool) and Ta’ziyeh or shabih khani (play of impersonation). Interestingly, these improvised performances in Iran have certain similarities with comic improvisatory theatre in other parts of the world, such as Western Asia, the Indo-Pakistani area and the Commedia dell’Arte in Italy (Avery et al. 1991: 776– 77). Naqqali, which is recounting tales, epic legends, myths and stories in royal courts, public squares or tea houses, dates back at least to the Parthian gosan, a musical poet who sung accompanied by a musical instrument (Rubin, et al. 1998: 193). After the invasion of Alexander the Great in Persia (334 BC) and later in the Parthian period (third century BC to third century AD), Greek theatre was performed in its original language in Iran, particularly for Alexander’s army (Rubin, et al. 1998: 192). Naqqali is still performed in different forms at the present time and it should be distinguished from some types of improvisatory theatre that existed in Iran from the ninth to the fourteenth centuries, when some Sufis in Iran called malamati (people of blame) were performing ‘the worst shameless deeds in order to elicit scorn and derision. Rejection by the populace made their devotion more sincere and disinterested’ (Gaffary 1984: 363). There is also evidence from Iranian miniature paintings from the sixteenth and seventeenth century, collected by Stuart Cary Welch, who was a curator of Indian and Islamic art. These exhibit figures of musicians, dancers, buffoons, jesters and comic entertainers playing, shouting and acting. Some of these illustrations, instilled with the master’s humour and psychological insight, can be seen in Sultan Mohammad’s work (see Welch 1972). For instance, images portray characters whereby ‘slapstick comedians achieve sainthood’, ‘crazy laughter becomes prayer’ and ‘low comedy and high religion meet’ in these drawings (Gaffary 1984: 363–64). As Chardin (1811, cited in Gaffary 1984) explains in Voyages en Perse, Iranian kings, such as Shah Abbas (1588–1629), always had dalqak or maskhare (jesters or buffoons). For example, Kal Enayat (Enayat the Bald) had a personal talented clown who performed different sketches to bring pleasure and ‘to catch the king’s attention on certain affairs’ (Gaffary 1984: 371). Likewise, the shamayel gardani or pardeh dari, which is still played in some parts of Iran, probably gradually developed from the sixteenth century (Gaffary 1984: 366). It is performed by a man called shamayel gardan or pardeh dar. He narrates stories of heroes of the Shahnameh or the tragedy of Karbala and the martyrs of Shi’ism, by pointing to the images and drawings painted usually on canvas or on glass (Gaffary 1984). Similarly, the same characteristics are used in naqqali. The word naqqali means recounting and it is a form of dramatic storytelling that has evolved from the Parthian Gusan(s) (Talajooy 2011: 497). It seems that naqqali and pardeh-khani are alike. Pardeh-dar or pardeh-khan was a naqqal

The 1979 Revolution  73 who was carrying a pardeh (canvas) with him in order to narrate scenes of the selected stories one by one, while performing the scenes by body movements. In turn, a naqqal performed usually on platforms in tea/coffee houses, in bazaars and public places (Avery et al. 1991; Gaffary 1984; Talajooy 2011). ‘The use of legends from the Shahnameh made naqqali a major form for the transmission of Iranian myths and cultural values among uneducated people’ (Talajooy 2011: 497). This form of drama originated in simple minstrel shows, which then evolved into a complex form of entertainment under the Safavid dynasty (Avery et al. 1991: 782). Significantly, in Iranian improvisatory theatre, especially in naqqali, one factor that has a decisive influence over the direction of events is the skill of the naqqal (narrator) who can bring audiences to laughter and tears, by adept use of his words, movements, variable voice pitches, mimicry and acts. It is very important to stress that audiences do not make any decision when to cry or laugh: it is the naqqal who controls and evokes specific and intended emotional responses, similar to American sitcoms. Therefore, he is aware of which words and moves can manipulate, restrain or provoke the emotion of the audience. As Avery et al. (1991: 783) explain, an experienced naqqal can manipulate the imagination of the audience to picture scenes that cannot be provided even by the best-equipped modern conventional theatres. Another form of improvisatory theatre in Iran is taqlid, which means ‘imitating’. In fact, taqlid and siyah bazi are similar to each other. They mimic the regional dialects and character traits of various professions, mixed with musical dance and song routines. These types of performances originated from the musical plays of pre-Islamic traveling and court entertainers, known as motreb (entertainer) after Islam (Talajooy 2011: 498). Due to royal patronage in the seventeenth century, motrebs gradually expanded their dramatic performances to create and incorporate taqlid by the nineteenth century. Motrebs, who were performing carnival forms of the plays such as Mir Nowruzi1 (The New Year’s Emir/Prince) and Kuseh Bar-neshin (The Ride of the Beardless One), started to improvise in the fashion of Commedia dell’Arte. In this way, they tried to deal with moral or socio-political issues by dramatising satirical or folktale scenarios (Beyzaie 2001; Gaffary 1984). These performances, such as naqqali and taqlid, are visible in different dimensions of improvisatory theatre, such as in religious dramas or pageants. For instance, as explained in the previous chapter, the word Ta’ziyeh, which originally meant ‘condolence(s)’ and ‘mourning’, refers to dramatic play. Therefore, it is also called ta’ziyeh khani (signing/playing the condolence/mouring) or shabih khani (singing/playing of resemblance).

Improvisatory comic theatre Popular improvised Persian traditional comedy that is played in many areas, from rural to urban, is ruhauzi (over the pool) or takht-e hozi (the wooden pool). The Siyah (black), as an actor of ruhauzi, was primarily performed at Iranian village

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wedding ceremonies and later on centre stage in public places. Alternatively, it was played in the courtyards of houses where the pool in the centre of the courtyard was covered by ‘wooden platform beds and carpets’ (Gaffary 1984: 372). The Siyah is a male who visually covers his face and hands with soot and grease to make himself look black, like a black-faced clown without mask,2 while he verbally speaks with a strong accent and incorrect pronunciations. He usually plays the role of a servant interacting with some authority figure, such as the master of the house, an elderly Haji3 (his wife, son, daughter and her suitor), the mistress of the house, a king, minister or member of court. In these interactions, he freely criticises a dignitary, an authority, a wealthy person, and makes social faux pas in a comic way. The Siyah clown disregards hierarchy and ‘regularly distorts the pattern of “appropriate” linguistic and social action’ (Beeman 1986: 206). Similar to the Italian Commedia dell’Arte, each player improvises on a given plot without a script. In the twentieth century, ruhauzi performances in the tea/coffee houses, played by the Siyah, generally were silly but at the end gave the moral conclusion of the play. During this timeframe, the plays mainly contained pseudo-historical subjects, with an additional flavour of contemporary criticism (see Gaffary 1984: 372–73; Avery et al. 1991: 779–81). In comparison siyah bazi or ruhauzi dignitaries and Haji characters use appropriate language, speech and casual use of popular expressions, idioms and poems, but the Siyah distorts them by using wiles and trick strategies in his interactions. He breaches all of the rules and principles of words, grammar and pronunciation in the Farsi language to attract the attention of the crowd and to turn their smiles into loud laughter. To reach this goal, he even misspells or changes the place and the order of letters in a word, for example, he replaces the word tashrif (one’s presence) with tasrif (declension) and taxi with taski (a meaningless word) and calls Mozafar (name) khan Mozakhraf (absurd) khan. Moreover, he says baastani shenasi (ice cream science) instead of bastan-shenasi (archaeology), while using a local dialect or common rural-bumpkin pronunciation. In brief, he employs linguistic and rhetoric technics to make his opposite player, whom is an actor playing the role of Haji or Vazier (prime minister) or someone else, completely ridiculous. As Beeman (1986: 206) points out, the Siyah’s performance is embedded in a paradox. His performance, his wild and abnormal acts, his dress, his blackcoloured face and hands, and his speech or language, which demolish the system of social and linguistic hierarchy, present him as a person who is living in complete liminality, outside of the normal system of daily life and social interaction. Likewise, the Siyah that performs in ruhauzi and in tea/coffee houses is quite a character, an assassinator of character, and an anti-structural character. In the normal system of social interaction, his lack of appropriate and effective speech is extremely rude and impolite, reflecting an unrefined or unnatural character. However, this liminality of performance, not only allows the Syiah have no limits imposed on his character, but it also lets the audience or crowd be led by the Siyah. They are allowed to depart from the shared accepted norms of socially acceptable behaviour and interaction. Therefore, they can laugh at the Siyah’s

The 1979 Revolution  75 crude remarks and behaviour. However, the Siyah manipulates the linguistic system to make the crowd laugh with a method that works effectively with an audience that understands the local Iranian culture. In other words, as Beeman (1986) explains, the Siyah extends his mockery to the entire set of Iranian cultural structures underlying linguistic usage and this is the key to the aesthetics of his humour. ‘In order to create satire, one must know the original system very well indeed. The mockery as anti-structure in its mirroring of structure shows an extraordinary elegance in use a highly developed aesthetic’ (Beeman 1986: 207).

Comparing ruhauzi and Ta’ziyeh As explained, in ruhauzi performances there is a stage on the covered pool that is commonly situated in the centre of the coffee/tea houses, whereby the surrounding area becomes the auditorium. Evidently, Ta’ziyeh was sometimes performed on this covered pool (hauz), in the first half of the nineteenth century (Avery et al. 1991: 778). However, even current performances of Ta’ziyeh are similar to ruhauzi in that they take place in a circle on the ground, covered with hay, carpets and mats, and surrounded by the audience. Importantly, both the audience and the actors feel comfortable with the constant interruptions and resumptions during the Ta’ziyeh play and this, similar to other improvisatory performances, applies to words, acts, time and place (Avery et al. 1991: 778). Similarly, the pattern of the main story in both Ta’ziyeh and ruhauzi reflects everyday life experience, legends, tales, stories and myths based on national and religious epics. Obviously, as Avery et al. outline, there are also differences between these two plays; first, Ta’ziyeh is a sacred play while ruhauzi is not. An actor who plays the role of Imam Hussein’s enemy in Ta’ziyeh must indicate some signs to make sure that audience feel justified in him playing the role, with a knowledge that the actor loves Imam Hussein and his followers; otherwise, he will be in trouble after the performance. In comparison, the Siyah in ruhauzi bears no responsibility for what he says and how he acts on stage and therefore his role does not endanger his own private life. Second, the text of ruhauzi or siyah bazi is not written down; it bears no script. This gives the players freedom and security to mock dignitaries, Haji, religious preachers and anyone they want. It should be noted that the advance of recording technology, in terms of voice and video recorders, means any performance can be spread throughout the world over social media; therefore, actors of ruhauzi are not safeguarded. For example, many videos of current siyah bazi are available on YouTube and on other social media sites, which perhaps is one of the reasons that after the 1979 Revolution any mocking, making of jokes and performing comic scenes related to rouhani (Shia cleric) became strictly forbidden. Today, siyah bazi not only mainly provides entertainment for celebrations, but also constitutes one of the most popular programmes on social media sites for Iranians at home and abroad. Usually, it takes place before Muharram month and Ramadan (fasting month) to provide mixed musical, theatrical and comical plays, in other words, it is ‘integrating the different parts of the whole affair’ (Avery et al. 1991:

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781). In contrast, the Ta’ziyeh play is written on a little paper (script) that the player can hold in the palm of his hand. For example, most Ta’ziyeh scripts that are archived in the Vatican Library are small papers collected inside little boxes. However, there are also several forms of staging and manuscripts. Therefore, the origins of Ta’ziyeh remain a mystery. Hence, it is categorised as improvisatory theatre. The third and main difference between Ta’ziyeh and siyah bazi is their target. Whereas the goal in siyah bazi is to use all opportunities to make the crowd laugh, by satirising contemporary conditions, in contrast Ta’ziyeh aims to produce and induce mourning, sacrifice and tears by re-invoking a past event. Of course, there are detailed similarities and differences between Ta’ziyeh and ruhuazi, but the purpose of the discussion here is to provide some general points to understand how they function in terms of social interaction using cultural and linguistic symbols, and not to compare them in any depth. The most significant point is that all the differences between ruhauzi and Ta’ziyeh disappear in the performance of Ta’ziyeh Mozhek (comic Ta’ziyeh).

The development of Ta’ziyeh Mozhek Historically, in some of early scripts the enemies of Imam Hussein and his family or Ashghya were mocked. Gradually, this developed and shaped comic elements, which transformed later into a full-scale form of the comic Ta’ziyeh or shabih-e mozhek (Malekpour 2004: 67). Ta’ziyeh Mozhek, which is performed usually before Muharram month, is very similar to a siyah bazi performance. Most of the themes used in Ta’ziyeh Mozhek are comic and irrelevant to the main story of the Karbala tragedy. However, at the end of performances the actors try to relate them to the martyrdom of Hussein and his followers or his relatives. For instance, in Arousi-e Belqeis (Marriage of Belqeis),4 which is a comic Ta’ziyeh, non-Muslims convert to Islam due to contact with one of the 12 imams, Prophet Mohammad and his daughter Fatimah (in a Jewish wedding), also ‘watching a Ta’ziyeh play, or seeing Jesus Christ in Imam Hussein’ (Talajooy 2011: 510). During the Qajar dynasty (1785–1925), some versions of Ta’ziyeh Mozhek just insulted the enemies of Imam Hussein and his allies in a comic way. In this way, the spectators could feel justified in their amusement because they could participate in this comic way of insulting Yazid and his army. Anyone could interrupt the main actor(s) by saying a bad, futile and vulgar word or sentence against the enemies of Imam Hussein. For example, in The Illness of Yazid, Yazid is sick and cannot stop going to the toilet and the doctor’s treatments cause the reverse result. During this play the audience laughs and everyone says something loudly to create more laugher. Another similar play is about Omar (the second caliph of Islam after the death of Prophet Mohammad) and his drunkenness, which allows a funny and comic behavioural portrayal of him. This is no longer performed because of confusion between the second caliph Omar I (Omar bin Khattab) and Omar II (Omar bin Abdul Aziz), who Shia respect as a good caliph. Ta’ziyeh Mozhek, similar to other improvisatory plays, is not written down. Therefore,

The 1979 Revolution  77 there is a lack of historical evidence of when it began. As Gaffary (1984: 373) explains, right from the beginning of Ta’ziyeh (shabih Khani), there were also a comic Ta’ziyeh called Gusheh (corner) or shabih-e mozhek (comic plays), which might have been gradually derived from the Ta’ziyeh or religious drama in general, before becoming secular national theatre performances such as Shast bastan-e Div (The Tying of the Demon’s Thumb) and Sargozasht-e Shirafkan (The Adventures of Shirafkan). In my visit to the Vatican Library, I found some scripts in the archive section related to Ta’ziyeh Mozhek and/or to plays where a goriz technique is employed, such as Hurug-i Amir Timur-i Gurgani taqaskas- i Imam Husain (Insurgence of Amir Timur-i Gurgani to Avenge Imam Hussein’s Murder) (archive 65, script 689). Some comic Ta’ziyeh falsify history. An example is Amir Taymour va Valie Sham (Amir Timur and the Governor of Damascus), which is a comedy performance. The play uses comic characters and comic situations to explain a historical event, a movement, war or action that never happened. The only correct historical character in the play is Amir Taymour, who founded the Timurid dynasty in the fourteenth century. In this play, the theme is religious. The performance shows revenge on the ruler of Damascus and on those responsible for the death of Imam Hussein in the seventh century – two historical events related to each other incorrectly, which can mislead the audience easily. ‘However, because all the characters are secular people who behave ridiculously, the tone of the play is comic’ (Malekpour 2004: 70). This mood of play is called goriz (elusion/escape/breakout) in Iranian theatre. Some of these comedies were performed in the famous Ta’ziyeh theatre, Tekiyeh Dowlat (see Figure 2.3), the royal theatre in Tehran, which was built in the 1870s by the order of Nasir ad-Din Shah. For example, Moin al-Boka (Master of the Ta’ziyeh) and his actors were well-known performers of various type of Ta’ziyeh, including comic Ta’ziyeh, in Tekiyeh Dowlat, usually accompanied by a large group of buffoons and entertainers (Malekpour 2004). Performing comic Ta’ziyeh in the royal theatre together with the support of the corrupted king for this type of Ta’ziyeh increased the demands of society for comic Ta’ziyeh. Subsequently, this led comic Ta’ziyeh to deal directly with performers of Ta’ziyeh and their smelly, foul and offensive competitive nature, such as Maliat Gereftan- e Jenab-e Moeen (Moin) al-Boka (Taxing by his Excellency Moin alBoka). ‘This particular Ta’ziyeh is completely comic in terms of both its plot and its characters’ (Malekpour 2004: 70). Similar to siyah bazi that mocks others, comic Ta’ziyeh, such as Maliat Gereftan-e Jenab-e Moeen (Moin) al-Boka, uses a method of ridicule to mock the current circumstances of its own business. In other words, one group of performers criticises another group in a comic way. The conflict between two or more groups of performers creates a kind of comic performance or Ta’ziyeh Mozhek, in which one tries to liken the other to Yazid (the enemy of Imam Hussein). In this type of conflict the goal is to win the biggest share of the market place. The first goal, during the schismogenic process, is to form a public sphere by

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relating unrelated narratives, myths, history and events to cultural or religious symbols which can then create an emotional atmosphere. This is operated under the technical word goriz to justify the playwrights and performances.

Current Ta’ziyeh and Ta’ziyeh Mozhek As explained in Chapter 2, interest in Ta’ziyeh and Ta’ziyeh Mozhek may have fluctuated in popularity over the last few centuries but it has never disappeared. Yazdan Hushvar was the first Iranian who researched Ta’ziyeh in 1964 and submitted a thesis entitled Pidayish-e Namayeshat Mazhabi dar Iran (The Emergence of Religious Play in Iran) to the Faculty of Fine Arts (Malekpour 2004: 127). Following that, Bahram Beyzaie published a book in Iran in 1966 entitled Namayesh dar Iran (Performance in Iran) which covered traditional forms of theatre in Iran, with one of the chapters dedicated to Ta’ziyeh. Then, after the International Symposium on Ta’ziyeh took place at the Shiraz Arts Festival in August 1976, various writings reflecting different fields of study started to be published, such as collections and publications of Peter Chelkowski in 1979 entitled Taziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran and the anthropological writings of William Beeman. Whereas today naqqali, siyah bazi, Ta’ziyeh, Ta’ziyeh Mozhek and other performances are developed using technological innovations, the themes and episodes continue to be the same and in many ways they have influenced modern theatre in Iran. The tea/coffee houses that traditionally served as playhouses have now evolved into different spaces used by television, radio and theatres and cinemas. Indeed, some of them became booking offices for ruhauzi troupes, while at the same time many productions base their foundations on improvisatory plays such as siyah bazi and Ta’ziyeh. For instance, the contemporary performances of Three Little Houses (directed by Mehrdad Rayani) and The Bridge (written and directed by Mohammad Rahmanian) are based, in form and in context, on Ta’ziyeh (Yeganeh 2005: 278). Others are derived from Ta’ziyeh Mozhek such as Mohamad Ali Afrashte’s writings, which aim to express political views by using the Ta’ziyeh in the form of comedy (Malekpour 2004: 76). Ta’ziyeh dar Shahrdari (Ta’ziyeh in the Municipality), Divan-e Balkh (The Court of Balkh), Koreh Ajorpazi (Brick-kiln) and Aalahazrat (His Majesty) are also among the plays with a contemporary subject in the form of the comic Ta’ziyeh. ‘Aalahazrat (His Majesty) is about the coup and uprising of 1953 in Iran, and the intervention of the CIA to bring the Shah back to power’ (Yeganeh 2005: 278). Gradually various organisations, associations and institutions were created to perform traditional plays. For instance, the Institute for Traditional Performances and Ritual, established by Farrokh Gaffary, organised the International Conference in 1977 at the Shiraz Festival of Arts to collect Ta’ziyeh manuscripts and publish them (Malekpour 2004: 127). These types of festivals and conferences were able to gather troupes from different parts of Iran to perform various forms of Ta’ziyeh, Ta’ziyeh Mozhek, ruhauzi, siyah bazi and naqqali. At the same time, in the Shiraz Arts Festival, a tribute was given to the improvisatory

The 1979 Revolution  79 popular comedies, especially the plays of ruhauzi by groups from all over Iran (Gaffary 1984: 373). Later these performances took place in the Hafez No (New Hafez) theatre. During the Islamic Revolution of 1979 both the Institute for Traditional Performances and Ritual and the Hafez No theatre vanished and were burned down, but since then all these types of the improvisatory theatre have been occasionally performed on Islamic television (Gaffary 1984) and new institutions have been established to support them, especially any performances related to the Ta’ziyeh and Ta’ziyeh Mozhek. Some of them such as Bonyad-e Elmi Farhangie Ta’ziyeh va hamayeshai-e Ayeni5 (Scientific and Cultural Foundation of Ta’ziyeh and Ritual symposiums) and Anjomanneh Ta’ziyeh Iraniyan6 (Iranian Ta’ziyeh Association) are even active online. Importantly, they provide information about old and new Ta’ziyeh plays, films, publications and conferences on their websites and on social networks such as Facebook. Iran Te’atre’s7 (Iran Theatre) website is a popular site for researching information about all kinds of performances. Ta’ziyeh Mozhek’s episodes have the same theme as Ta’ziyeh (ritual). In both, there is a conflict between Olya (Imam Hussein and his followers) and Ashghya (enemies of Imam Hussein). ‘However, the manner in which this conflict is presented is different’ (Malekpour 2004: 67). Ta’ziyeh Mozhek’s episodes usually have a sad beginning and a happy ending. As explained earlier, it is the complimentary remarks of Olya and mocking of Ashghya that creates the conflict, while Ta’ziyeh has a sad ending because of the martyrdom of Olya. For example, in the Ta’ziyeh Mozhek of Arousi Belqeis, which was played at the Tekiyeh Dowlat, the play starts with the tragic scene of the death of Khadijah (the wife of the Prophet Mohammad) and ends happily with a wedding celebration. The technique of praising the good characters and mocking the bad ones can be seen not only in all Ta’ziyeh Mozhek performances, but also in other Iranian comic plays and performances too. In such contemporary performances history is fantasised and is mixed with comical themes about multisided cultural phenomena to increase the carnival qualities of theatrical productions. Likewise, they allow new forms of meaning to be created in the mind from unrelated events (Talajooy 2011: 517–18). Bahram Beyzaie, who refashioned naqqali, kheimeh shab bazi, taqlid, Ta’ziyeh, carnival and ritual plays, screen plays and films prior to the 1979 Revolution (Avery et al. 1991; Talajooy 2011), performed works that seemed to be similar to the mythology of Ancient Greece, such as the story of the Trojan War in Homer’s Iliad and the tragedies performed together at the Dionysian festivals (a trilogy). For instance, in Se Namayishname-e Arusaki (Three Puppet Shows) he utilises Persian folklore, adopting classical Persian literature and Islam to demonstrate the struggle between good and evil. The Hero and Demon characters, and pre-Islamic and Zoroastrian mythology, are clearly used in his plays (Avery et al. 1991: 789) to create an emotional atmosphere largely based on nationalism. ‘Some feeling for the pre-Islamic era had always been kept alive in Iran by Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh, but the religious element in the epic was deliberately slight. Now, linked with the new patriotism, there began an awakening of interest

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not only in the old days but in the old faith’ (Boyce 1979: 219–20). As explained in Chapter 2, Zoroaster or Zarathustra, who was a Persian prophet called Zartosht in Persian, recognised that the central struggle in human life was struggle between good and evil (see Dhalla 1938; Boyce 1979). According to Zoroaster, every people, cult and society speaks its own tongue of good and evil. Things that called good by a community may be called disrespectful and scandalous by another and in contrast things that are called evil in one region may be termed honourable in another region. He recognises in good and evil the greatest market place and the greatest power on earth. Zoroaster emphasises ‘good will’ as the great common purpose of mankind, which will gradually overcome evil, and people will live together for ever in perfect, untroubled goodness and peace (Boyce 1979). This dualistic struggle between good and evil plays a very important role in Iranian theatre and cinema, particularly in ritual performances such as Ta’ziyeh. After the 1979 Revolution, the Islamic regime immediately showed its full support for the Ta’ziyeh and Shia tragedies by using them for mythologising and fabricating its own political discourse. This encouraged Beyzaie to expand his work on identity, heroism, women, children, history, leadership, war, sacrifice, friendship, love, etc. by remodelling the Ta’ziyeh conceptual world and creating a deconstructive tragic paradigm of sacrificial heroes (Avery et al. 1991; Talajooy 2011). Another post-revolutionary figure of Iranian theatre is Mohammad Rahmanian. His well-known work Mosahebeh (Interview) has been performed nationally (at the annual Fajr Theater Festival) and internationally since 1997. Rahmanian uses the goriz technique to blatantly criticise a revolution and its consequences. Compellingly, this story is related to the Algerian Revolution, demonstrating how the romantic visions of the revolutionaries were crushed. Although, this play was not about the 1979 Revolution in Iran, it was not granted performance permission since 1985 due to its anti-revolutionary aspects. Recently, in February 2014 he and his wife returned from Canada to Tehran for the staging of the legend of Arash the Archer, written by Beyzaie. Following the style of Beyzaie’s work, Rahmanian mixes the plots of Shia narratives and tragedies with contemporary victimised heroes. For instance, Mahloqa is similar to Fatimah (Imam Hussein’s daughter), who lost her family members (as Fatimah in Ta’ziyeh) and had to support herself from the age of ten (Talajooy 2011). According to Talajooy (2011), Rahmanian exhibits two aspects: first, in terms of performing the tragic mode, taqlid (imitation) actors need only to resort to their own actual sufferings to be considered as painful as that of the martyrs of Ashura. Second, the comic Ta’ziyeh only occurs as a direct result of these common-shared origins. The important feature in Rahmanian’s work, whether he is aware of it or not, is not only his use of a variety of minimalist techniques developed from Ta’ziyeh elements, but also his displays of an empty place (Talajooy 2011), to be interpreted as ‘the empty place of power in democracy’ (Lefort 1988; Wydra 2009) as well as ‘the empty space of the public sphere’ (see Szakolczai 2013a), as discussed in Chapter 1. Talajooy’s description of Rahmanian’s plays depict clearly the empty place in stage:

The 1979 Revolution  81 The characters, for instance, use a knife to draw the outline and make a door in the air where a wall is to be imagined, and the stage contains nothing but some platforms that the characters move as they perform. This minimalist approach provides the background for the same carefree, carnivalesque ambiance that one finds in ta’ziyeh and taqlid. Grief, mirth, anger and their musical expressions mingle. The performers easily move between their roles in the plays within the play as the world outside is raging with violence … his meticulous organization of dialogue, music and humor makes them function like instruments that deliver the tragedy of life from the belly of laughter. Music plays an important function in the creation of this ambivalent atmosphere. It is diegetic and is regularly interrupted and changed to suggest the improvisatory nature of these performances. (Talajooy 2011: 511) Recently, the Jashnvarre-e Sarrasari-e Te’atr-e Khyabani (Street Theatre Festival in Iran) has started to take place in different cities annually, similar to naqqali, ruhauzi and Ta’ziyeh. Here the good and bad (evil) characters constitute the main components of the performance. Interestingly, Kiana Heydary, a four-year-old actress from Hashtgerd, performed a naqqali entitled The First Fight of Rostam and Afrasiab in this festival, which took place at the Fifth Street Theatre Festival in Marivan on 24 September 2010, for which she received an honorary citizenship of that city from one of its councillors (Iran Theatre 2010; Fars News Agency 2010). To explain this further, Rostam is a good character and Afrasib is a bad one. In comparison some directors, such as Abolfazl Haji Alikhani in his work Moashgeh-e Khanjar va Khanjar (Love Between Two Daggers/Swords), which played at Talar-e Sanglaj in Tehran in July 2014, mixed all different techniques using the shadow play, puppet play, naqqali and Ta’ziyeh in order to demonstrate this dualistic way of performance. Intriguingly, this play consists of one actor playing 15 different roles. Haji Alikhani, the director, calls this play an Ashura play (Iran Theatre 2014). This description introduces the play as similar to pantomime, which denotes a significant segment of the history of theatre. Pantomime was played around 80 years before the birth of Christianity, just after the first Mithradatic war, in the sophisticated city of Priene, in south-west Asia Minor (Hall and Wyles 2008: 1). It was obviously played in Greek and Roman around the first century AD and one of the most fashionable forms of it was the fabula saltata (Zimmermann 1990: 220). A choir usually performed a mythical episode vocally, to musical accompaniment, while a dancer (pantomimos or orchestes in Greek, saltator in Latin) performed the same narrative, undertaking all the roles in each story. Zimmermann (1990) argues that Seneca’s tragedies have several types of passage that point precisely to the character of a fabula saltata. Visualising a theatrical performance with dance and music or the miming of all roles by one actor that is currently practiced in Iran, probably have their roots in the ancient era, similar to the Karbala tragedy and the legend of Siavash (see Chapter 2). This deserves a full historical and archaeological investigation but it is outside of scope of this research.

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What is certain is that all these plays, despite their differences, mesmerise the spectator and audience, particularly improvisatory performances influenced by siyah bazi. As previously outlined, since the script is not written down, the words and the improvisations of the actors play the most important role, specifically the Siyah character’s contribution. However, improvisation has provided a safe way to transmit political discourses and to criticise the authorities, notwithstanding that it is also cleverly used as a method of manipulating social beliefs and forming the public sphere. Indeed, improvisatory performances have an inevitable and lasting impact through their potential to create powerful emotions.

Ta’ziyeh and revolutionary rhetoric Transforming an unsatisfactory situation, such as moral, social, economic and political problems that need to be transformed, into symbolic issues, remained the main task of the revolutionary clerics in the 1979 Revolution. The method they were using was similar to the improvisatory performances, especially similar to siyah bazi and Ta’ziyeh. In Ta’ziyeh, the group expresses grief for the martyrdom of Imam Hussein through emotional expression, self-flagellation and weeping through a variety of visual displays, symbols, rhetoric and singing or musical chanting. In improvisatory theatre, such as siyah bazi, symbols of language and cultural traditions are used to create emotional energy and power to make the crowd laugh. In the same manner, the revolutionary clerics in Iran employed symbols and their meanings to justify their political position and to manipulate the system during the 1979 Revolution. The questions are: how did they mobilise millions of people to partake in crowd culture in 1979? What kind of skills or showmanship had they in order to convince the crowd to follow them? Beeman (1986) provides some significant explanations of clerical power during the 1979 Revolution in his book Language, Status, and Power in Iran, which are extremely useful for answering these questions. Explaining the blackfaced clown, which is called Siyah in siyah bazi performance, and the way he uses the structures of language to generate anti-structural statements of high aesthetic quality, Beeman (1986) turns to the rhetoric of the revolutionary clerics during the 1979 Revolution. He outlines how the revolutionary leaders of Iran used the structures of language and powerful rhetorical statements, similar to techniques Siyah uses in siyah bazi, to generate a reinforcement of the cultural system and subsequently to be able to topple the kingdom of Pahlavi. It is important to highlight that Beeman (1986) focuses more on the aesthetic principles of speaking, rhetoric and generally on language. In this way, the principal battleground in the 1979 Revolution, which was a struggle for definition of the context of Iranian culture, is considered to be the clerical pulpit and preaching. In Beeman’s (1986: 207) words, ‘the words of the men there inspired’. His critical reflection on some cultural principles, such as zaher (outside) and baten (inside), depicts that the Revolutionary clerics were keen to use such principles appropriately and effectively, which ‘constitute the basis for the intersubjective creation of understood meaning on the part of parties in interaction’ (Beeman 1986: 204).

The 1979 Revolution  83 There is no doubt that the concepts of zaher and baten play a significant role in Iranian cultural interactions and communication systems, but, as Beeman (1986) himself discussed in some sections of his writings, the dualistic model of passion such as good/sacred/holy versus bad/evil/Satan were extensively used as a symbolic tool and evolved into the dominant linguistic and cultural power used in the interactional terrain with the public during the 1979 Revolution in Iran. As discussed previously in Chapter 2, it is important to reiterate that in Iranian cultural and traditional interpretations both good and the evil can be found in baten or del (inside/heart). Therefore, being a good or a bad person depends on your ability to overcome one desire over another. While understanding the baten of a communicator may seem impossible, Beeman (1986) points out that it can be revealed through behaviour and discourse. To illustrate how these dualistic figures were used, an evident example from the 1979 Revolution demonstrates in what manner Khomeini called the Shah ‘Yazid’ and America ‘the Great Satan’. First, he used Shia symbols to identify the Shah as a visible and touchable enemy of Shia, as ‘Yazid’, the enemy of Imam Hussein and enemy in zaher (apparent, outward, external and outside enemy). Second, he used symbols of Islam, where both Shia and Sunni sects share common traditions and beliefs, to identify America as the Great Satan: an enemy of all Muslims in the world and their God, and an enemy in both zaher and baten (interior and inner enemy). Significantly, America was classed as an enemy in baten because it imposed Western culture and living styles in Iran and other countries, as well as influencing the baten (inside) of people, especially the young generation, by its imperialistic and capitalistic propaganda, which was destroying the Islamic values of the locals. Although Ta’ziyeh is played in different languages, such as Azeri, Turkish, Urdu, Arabic and some other regional and national languages, it is played particularly in the Farsi language, which is the national language of Iran. Its simple grammatical structure, consisting of a flexibility in being able to rearrange the place of verb, subject and object in spoken language, and its rich set of stylistic variables, help any speaker or preacher to convey accounts of their feelings and to have many choices in speaking (Beeman 1986). The flexibility of language helped the revolutionary clerics to form influential rhetoric by employing symbols of Iranian culture. In this way, Khomeini was able to create a powerful rhetoric derived from culture, Shia religion and language. He linked the 1979 Revolution with the tragedy of Karbala and employed Shia symbols in his revolutionary speeches. Although some parts of Beeman’s (1986) writings are directly devoted to the use of the aesthetic of language and rhetoric by the revolutionary leaders, other components of his general introduction provide valuable evidence that he is aware of the dangerous consequences of employing such aesthetics and symbols of narratives, myths, tragedies, humour, courtesy, persuasion, insult and irony by revolutionary actors. He clearly highlights that all of these symbols ‘involve sophisticated semantic manipulations within social interaction situations’ (Beeman 1986: ix). Likewise, in another section entitled ‘Language and Magic’, he deals with the magical consequences of utilising symbolic emblems in social

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interaction to prove that the power of rhetoric can transform and shape reality (Beeman 1986: 211). Fischer (1980) also explains that the Shia religion and its expressions, such as preachments, passion plays, and even the curricula and debates of clerics and tollabs (Cleric students in the Islamic Shia School) in the madrasa or Hozeh-e Elmieh (Shia’s theological school for clerics), are cultural forms composed of symbolic structures. Therefore, in this context Shia, and in general Islam, as a ‘language’ could be employed by different actors in various forms to manipulate a system and to achieve a political position. For example, the notion of mazlumiyat (having been wronged/oppressed), which is the defining aspect of Shia and the central theme in Ta’ziyeh performance, played an important role during the 1979 Revolution (Gaffary 1984; Dabashi 2005). Two dualistic characters that are elicited from the notion of mazlumiyat, an Arabic word that is used in Farsi, Azari, Urdu and Turkish, are mazlum (oppressed), which is used to identify Imam Hussein, and zallem (oppressor) to identify Yazid in Ta’ziyeh and Ashura. The roots of these words are zolm (oppression/injustice) and zalama (to oppress). During the 1979 Revolution, these symbols of Shia were employed to identify the Shah as Yazid and Khomeini as Imam Hussein. Subsequently, Khomeini, as Imam Hussein, was protesting and fighting against zolm. As explained, Siyah speaks with an uneducated accent and confuses messages as well as creating a chain of misspelling in siyah bazi, resulting in distorting the normal linguistic and social patterns in an unusual manner, in order to instigate and prompt laughter in the crowd. The revolutionary clerical leaders have used a similar method for a long time. They have had special training in debating different subjects during their clerical education in madrasa or Hozeh-e Elmieh. They have practiced in mosques, tekiyehes as well as private houses over years to develop their ability to bring the crowd to laughter or tears. As a result, they hold a mastery of skill in the art of rhetoric (Beeman 1986; Dabashi 2005). They are familiar with the techniques of evoking emotions to mobilise the crowd and to construct a revolutionary movement (Beeman 1986: 211). The following section demonstrates how these techniques and skills were utilised during the 1979 Revolution to form public sphere.

The Islamic Revolution and Shia ritual symbols In 1953, a second attempt by Britain and the United States dislodged the Iranian elected government led by Prime Minister Mossadegh, who proposed that the Iranian oil industry should be nationalised in order to overcome their power in this field. Through the CIA’s plan Ajax, they replaced the Mossadegh government with a monarchy, headed by the American-backed Shah (King) Mohammad Reza Pahlavi (see Petherick 2006). This monarchy was criticised in Iran for controlling elections, limiting participation of certain political parties as well as cancelling elections when his power was threatened. Therefore, any media that criticised the Shah had to be shut down. SAVAK (the Shah’s secret police trained by CIA) mingled among the population to report any hint of disloyalty to the king (January

The 1979 Revolution  85 2008: 25). Khomeini, whose job, as a leading cleric, was to interpret or explain Islamic law and canons to his followers, started to question the legitimacy of the Shah. When the Shah’s authorities attacked a madrasa (Shia’s theological school for clerics) seminary at Qom city on 22 March 1963 they arrested and beat tollabs to death, and ‘Khomeini used the annual remembrance of Hussein martyrdom at Karbala (Iraq) as an occasion to deliver a blistering attack on the Shah’ (January 2008: 26). His rhetorical speech, using the symbols and narratives of the Muharram, especially Ta’ziyeh in Ashura, presented a serious challenge to the Shah’s authority. Khomeini was not the first person to use the symbols, images and narratives of the Shia faith to protest. Similar strategies were used during the 1906 Constitutional Revolution by clerics (Poulson 2005: 213) and before that in the 1890 during the Tobacco Protest by Ayatollah Mirza Hassan Shirazi. Khomeini used the assault on the tollabs’ madrasa as a focal point in his speeches and related it professionally to the martyrdom of Imam Hussein in Ashura. The following Khomeini’s speech; given in Fayziya Madrasa, Qom city, on 3 June 1963 (Khurdad 13, 1342 AHS/Muharram 10, 1383 AH), the day of Ashura; clearly illustrates his rhetorical technique, which used Ashura symbols and narratives to evoke the emotions of the crowd: It is now the afternoon of Ashura. Sometimes when I recall the events of Ashura, a question occurs to me: if the Umayyads and the regime of Yazid ibn Mu’awiya wished to make war against Hussein, why did they commit such savage and inhuman crimes against the defenceless women and innocent children? What was the offense of the women and children? It seems to me the Umayyads had a far more basic aim: they were opposed to the very existence of the family of the Prophet. They did not wish the Hashim to exist and their goal was to root out this ‘Godly tree’. A similar question occurs to me now. If the tyrannical regime of Iran simply wished to wage war on marja, to oppose the Ulama, what business did it have tearing the Quran to shreds on the day it attacked the Fayziya Madrasa? Indeed, what business did it have with the madrasa or with its students, like the eighteen-year-old seyyed who was killed? … we come to the conclusion that this regime also has a more basic aim: they are fundamentally opposed to Islam itself and the existence of the religious class. They do not wish this institution to exist; they do not wish any of us to exist, the great and small alike. (Algar 1981: 177; Poulson 2005: 214–15) Similar to the improvisatory performance, Khomeini used the powerful goriz technique in his speech in order to relate two different events that occurred in past and present times. This speech was a direct challenge to the Shah and led the crowds in Qom to protest. As a result, Khomeini was arrested the next morning, but pro-Khomeini crowds gathered in Tehran, clashing with the authorities in support of him. Consequently, Khomeini was released, but was expelled on 4 November 1964 from Iran (January 2008: 27) to Turkey, from where he made his

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way to Shia’s religious city, Najaf, in Iraq. From Najaf and later from Neauphlele-Château in a suburb of Paris, he united various political and religious groups with different ideologies and agendas (Keddie 1981; January 2008). These groups agreed that justice was not being delivered to the people by the Shah; that freedom of speech or freedom of press was being oppressed by the authorities; and that inequality, poverty and a loss of values resulted from the Westernisation of the country by Mohammad Reza Shah and his father; whilst political activities were being repressed by the SAVAK. While in exile in Iraq, Khomeini spoke directly regarding these issues, by regularly using well-known images and symbols related to Ta’ziyeh. For example, he likened the clergy to Imam Hussein in Karbala, fighting against tyranny and injustice (January 2008: 34). Khomeini’s tapes were secretly spread to every part of Iran through his followers and physically through a network of mosques. Although he was speaking as a poorly educated person, with a strong Farsi accent and with incorrect pronunciation, he used simple words, sentences and Shia symbols that everyone could understand. Powerfully, on many occasions audiences were left crying out loud and beating their chests and heads softly with their hands while listening to Khomeini’s rhetoric, as they do in annual the Ta’ziyeh performance. Indeed, after the 1979 Revolution, Khomeini brought the crowds to tears with a silent wave without uttering a word. On 2 December 1978, at the beginning of Muharram, the Shah ordered curfews at specified times, but instead millions of people crowded into the streets, chanting, ‘God is great – Khomeini is our leader’ (January 2008: 42). Leading from Paris, Khomeini was able to mobilise a massive crowd to demonstrate against the Shah in Iran on 11 December 1978. This day was the holy day, commemorating the martyrdom of Imam Hussein. ‘Traditionally, religious leaders stimulated passions through public narration (rowzeh-khani) and re-enactment (Ta’ziyeh) of Hussein’s martyrdom’ (Kurzman 2004: 122). Therefore, Ashura was the best day for gathering and connecting crowds, for both the commemoration of Hussein’s and his followers’ suffering, sacrifice, wounds and martyrdom, as well as for the remembrance of Black Friday’s martyrs in Zhaleh Square on 8 September 1978 (17 Shahrivar 1357). Zhaleh Square was called Martyrs Square (Maydan-e Shohada) after the 1979 Revolution, as it is a significant place where protesters were massacred by the Shah’s authorities. To honour this memory, shortly after the massacre, artists and writers started to create portraits and describe the martyrs of Zhaleh Square. For instance, Mohammad Reza Shajarian sang the piece Zhaleh Khun Shod (Zhaleh Became Bloody), while images of the square were painted, illustrating the blood of the martyrs with roses on it (during and after the 1979 Revolution these images were on every wall). Hussein Alizadeh set Siavash Kasraie’s poem about the event to music, while some filmmakers presented a documentary of the event, such as Shahed Azad Soltani’s documentary in 1980 called Rooz-e Khoda (Day of God). The image of blood was everywhere and Khomeini and his followers were constantly linking the Zhaleh Square massacre to the Karbala tragedy. As a result, the crowds were easily to mobilise. The whole country, from small

The 1979 Revolution  87 villages to large cities, had risen up to march against the Shah. This demonstration sent a clear message to the Shah. Subsequently, the Shah tried to introduce a new democratic government headed by Bakhtiar. However, the crowds rejected his effort and accepted Khomeini’s leadership. Now, crowds were calling the Shah ‘Yazid’ and Khomeini ‘Imam’. This Ashura event was somehow different from the Karbala tragedy: Hussein and his followers were few (72) against Yazid’s army, but the crowd seeking justice in Iran consisted of millions. Consequently, the Shah was forced to leave Iran on 16 January 1979 and on 1 February 1979, Khomeini flew from Paris to Tehran to directly lead the Iranian Revolution. While 1978 marked the decisive beginning of the Islamic Revolution in Iran, it was not yet accomplished. Indeed, the Iranian Revolution did not end until the clash of the opposing sides was over and Ayatollah (sign of God) Ruhollah Khomeini, the religious leader of the 1979 Islamic Revolution, returned to Iran after approximately 14 years in exile. Millions of people lined the streets of the capital city, Tehran, to see, greet and welcome Ayatollah Khomeini on 1 February 1979. He passed through a mass of people and made the journey south to the Cemetery of Martyrs where he was openly belligerent towards the king and his nominated Prime Minister ‘Shahpur Bakhtiar’, by stating ‘I will strike with my fists at the mouth of this government’ (January 2008: 137; BBC 1979). Consequently, Bakhtiar stepped down and less than two weeks later Khomeini nominated Mehdi Bazargan to bring a government to power that was to be overseen by Shia Muslim clerics. Finally, the victory over the American-backed King Mohammad Reza Pahlavi and his government was announced and celebrated on 11 February 1979 (Keddie 1981: 238–39).

Liminality during the 1979 Revolution As is the case in all revolutionary times, during the 1979 Revolution the country was in a liminal period. In other words, Iranian society was torn between two orders: an old order, which was abolished, and a new order that was not yet established (see Chapter 1). As Fischer-Lichte (2005: 97) points out in his study of the Soviet mass spectacles, in revolutionary times ‘society undergoes substantial changes and decisive transformations. A multitude of possibilities seem to emerge; contradictions can coexist in peace; anything might happen’. Similar to other revolutions in the world, such as the 1789 French Revolution and the 1917 Russian Revolution (see Wydra 2008), the 1979 Revolution destroyed everything and every order in Iran, and left very little for the people. Just like all revolutionary actors, Khomeini used existing symbols and rhetorical techniques to mobilise a considerable crowd. He employed Shia cultural narratives, symbols and language to establish a collective Shia identity and to unify or mobilise the population as required. In fact, he used the potent symbols of Ta’ziyeh in Ashura and the narrative of Hidden Imam to justify his authority and to charge the 1979 Revolution. Shia Muslims believe that the twelfth Imam, Mehdi or Imam Zaman (Hidden Imam), who went into hiding (concealed by God) in the ninth century, will return to restore justice to the world. His ancestor is Imam

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Hussein followed by Hussein’s father Ali and his grandfather Prophet Mohammad. ‘Khomeini never claimed to be the twelfth imam, but he appealed to the Shiite longing for the return of a just ruler’ (January 2008: 36). In this way, he constructed and introduced political Shia Islam to society, by promising to solve social problems, which he identified during the monarchy pre-1979. His performance and rhetoric resulted in changing the existing social order. The web of mosques and the network of merchants8 in bazaar’s mosques and their financial support, particularly for the 1979 Revolution (Keshavarzian 2007), helped Khomeini to use his religious position as ayatollah to mobilise a tremendous and powerful crowd in Iran, a crowd that was not easy to control and a crowd that was destroying, breaking, firing, torturing, injuring and killing. Violence and disobedience, as one of the undeniable characteristics of the 1979 Revolution, could be seen everywhere in Iran, especially in large cities. In this liminal time, order was replaced with chaos and lawlessness: a fearful, a deadly and an exhilarating period. Rationality had less to say and emotion was governing everyone. The evoking of emotion between people was fast, frenetic and easily transferable to others. In other words, emotions were dividing, splitting, and changing, similar to cell division in a body. In Szakolczai’s (2013b) account, other factors played a part, such as a combination of will and emotion, which overshadowed rationality in achieving the successful response in this liminal situation. In liminal periods, any crowd and movement only needs a minimal number of people to feed the frenzy and then propel larger numbers to join the crowd. As Canetti (1960) explains, everyone was joining the crowd, even if they did not know exactly what their goal was and their purpose of joining, or indeed, what the target of their behaviour was. This was due to crowd characteristics, whereby an individual’s behaviour adapts to suit the crowd’s behaviour. Due to this, the crowd was growing and after a short time, an endless crowd was on the streets. Burning car tyres, firing and destroying cinemas and government buildings, shouting, shooting and breaking down anything related to the previous regime became a daily pleasurable activity for the crowds. During this liminality, everyone felt free to do anything; endless possibilities seemed available, so there were no limits to crowd behaviour. Dangerously, many individuals and groups took a more personal vengeance not only against the Shah and his supporters, but also against people who they simply did not like. ‘They dragged members of the Shah’s government before makeshift courts and abruptly sentenced them to death. Other times, they simply pulled people from their cars on the streets of Tehran and shot them’ (January 2008: 44). These revolutionary conditions remind us the novel of Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, which describes the French Revolution: A revolutionary tribunal in the capital, and forty or fifty thousand revolutionary committees all over the land; a law of the Suspected, which struck away all security for liberty or life, and delivered over any goo and innocent person to any bad and guilty one; prisons gorged with people who had committed no offence, and could obtain no hearing; these things became the

The 1979 Revolution  89 established order and nature of appointed things, and seemed to be ancient usage before they were many weeks old. Above all, one hideous figure grew as familiar as if it had been before the general gaze from the foundations of the world – the figure of the sharp female called La Guillotine. (Dickens 1859: 483–84) People seemed to be ecstatic, blind, dumb and hypnotised. There was a visible crowd of people looking up at the sky. They were looking at the moon, rubbing their hands on their faces and saying ‘Allahum ma salleh alla Mohammad va alle Mohamma’ (saluting Prophet Mohammad and his family). They were showing each other the image of Imam Khomeini on the moon that they believed they could see. Indeed, when a new person joined the crowd they initially saluted Mohammad and his family after confirming they had seen Khomeini’s image implanted on the moon. In fact, no one would dare to say that the moon remained unchanged in time, and that there was no image of Imam to ever be seen on the moon. The repercussions were too powerful in that stating the obvious could immediately evoke anger within the crowd. Since many people believed that Khomeini had supernatural powers and could perform a miracle, they believed and stated that Khomeini could stop all modern weapons and guns, such as tanks and fighter airplanes belonging to the enemy (especially America). In a literal sense, this demonstrated a carbon copy of Imam Hussein’s power in the Ta’ziyeh narrative. Shia in Iran believe that in the Karbala tragedy, Imam Hussein could use his Godly power to kill and destroy all of Yazid’s army, but he did not use it. Many people believed that Khomeini’s return would fulfil all of the Shia Muslims’ dreams, such as the dream of being free and equal under Islamic justice. Every day crowds were marching on the streets or in public places carrying slogans and chanting revolutionary mottos such as freedom, equality, brotherhood and Islamic republic. Consequently, the crowds were ready to be used for revolutionary actors’ goals, targets and their own political ends. Utilising Shia cultural narratives and Ta’ziyeh symbols gave excellent results for tricksters. Most people were blind to the truth and to the fact that they were being manipulated by their revolutionary religious leaders. In reality, this social behaviour and movement was directly undermining rational choice theory and rationality itself. Everything started to change, even personal outlooks. Men began to wear long sleeves and grew their beards, and women were told to cover their hair and wear a hijab. Actually, everything reflecting the old regime, such as books, money and arts were destroyed and forgotten. After the Shah’s departure and the failure of his nominated government ‘Shapoor Bakhtiar’, the place of power was empty and the public sphere was filled with revolutionary standards and mottos. Revolutionary leaders and actors, who were united in order to defeat the monarchy, struggled to be the first to grab power. Successively, Khomeini appointed Bazargan, who was Western educated, nationalist and deeply religious, to form a new government. Believing that the laws of Islam could coexist peacefully with the secular laws of the state, Bazargan attempted to propose two choices for people in order to get a referendum on the existence of ballot after the 1979 Revolution: a religious

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government and a secular government. However, Khomeini rejected it and offered only one choice; ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to a religious government, which resulted in 90 per cent of the votes in favour of an Islamic republic on 30 March 1979 (see January 2008; Takeyh 2009). Accordingly, Bazargan was confronted with the Revolutionary Council (a group of clerics backed by Khomeini) and ultimately clerics who prevailed in their quest to have a single Islamic government. In this way, Khomeini and his allies gained more power and confidence of the people that aided and prompted further action and operations. After the referendum and the grabbing of power, no one was safe and everyone could be targeted by others. Importantly, anyone criticising and questioning Khomeini and his followers (especially the revolutionary clerics) could be marked as a ‘hypocrite’ or ‘infidel’ and consequently could be killed, tortured and put in prison. Thereafter, people were either killed or imprisoned for their past association with the old regime. Even people who cooperated with each other and with the Islamic group to ensure the 1979 Revolution was a success, were punished because of their membership and activities in revolutionary groups such as the liberals, nationalists and other moderate forces. For instance, even members of the Mojahidin-e Khalq organisation (MEK or MKO), who played a significant role in the victory of the 1979 Revolution and who fought on the side of clerics against the Shah pre-1979 and against the other revolutionary groups after the 1979 Revolution, were marked as ‘hypocrites’. Accordingly, all of their offices and houses were attacked and members were either killed or arrested. Khomeini’s supporters prosecuted and imprisoned thousands of people (January 2008; Takeyh 2009), and on many occasions, without trial. Therefore, after the 1979 Revolution, living conditions and choices became extremely limited and repressed, compared to that of the Shah’s time. Although Khomeini claimed he was not a dictator and acted on God’s will and the people’s behalf, an absolute totalitarian regime was created and developed under his despotic rule and his theological concept of velayat-e faqih (Guardianship of the Jurist or Providence of the Jurist) (Takeyh 2009). Even though George Orwell two famous novels Animal Farm and 1984 were more related to the communist system established after the 1917 Russian Revolution (Orwell 1976), very similar events happened in Iran after the 1979 Revolution. While focusing on the finer details of the historical events of the 1979 Revolution is beyond the scope of this book, some general key points are explained here to clarify debates about the forming of the public sphere during a liminal time. As Michel Foucault argued, ‘we have to know the historical conditions which motivate our conceptualization. We need to know a historical awareness of our present circumstance … the type of reality with which we are dealing’ (Foucault 1982: 778).

Permanent liminality after the 1979 Revolution Within the liminal period of the 1979 Revolution, Khomeini and his allies interpreted any speech, comment and movement of their oppositions as a mark of

The 1979 Revolution  91 disrespect towards the Prophet, imams and Islam. Therefore, the Muharram ceremony, especially Ashura and Ta’ziyeh performance, started to receive the full support of the new regime. The revolutionary clerics confidently utilised symbols, images and narratives of Ta’ziyeh to manipulate people. Not only could they professionally use them for mobilising crowds, but they also utilised them for calming down the crowd when the need arose. People who were protesting aggressively against the Shah, with revolutionary slogans and mottos, calling for freedom, equality and brotherhood did not get their requests fulfilled. In fact, they have been forcibly silenced for decades. Minority religious groups have been oppressed and repressive measures have ruled the everyday for the majority of the population. Subsequently, the liminal period of the 1979 Revolution evolved and developed into a permanent liminality. Mass murder, killing, terror, torture and imprisonment never stopped and indeed continues. Some conservative clerics, such as Sadegh Khalkhali, believe ‘unsuitable individuals should be liquidated or killed so that others can live free’ (January 2008: 49). In fact, they use phrases out of the Quran, such as ‘Mofsed-e fil’arz’ (corrupt on earth) to justify their decision to convict people under the auspices of capital crime. The figure of the sharp male in the 1979 Revolution was Sadegh Khalkhali, similar to or worse than the female figure of La Guillotine in Charles Dickens’s novel. Notably Khomeini’s use of Shia symbols and narratives drew enthusiastic crowds everywhere and every time. He called America ‘the Great Satan’. Above all his anti-American speeches after the 1979 Revolution led some young revolutionary students to seize the US embassy in Tehran on 4 November 1979 (the anniversary of Khomeini’s expulsion 15 years earlier), taking 66 American diplomats hostage (January 2008: 64; Takeyh 2009: 27). To illustrate the sentiment, Figure 3.1 shows an image of a crowd in front of the US embassy, at the time, with a large white banner in the centre. The exact translation of the banner reads ‘Imam Hussein and his followers did not compromise with the enemies and we, following their method, will not compromise with America, the great enemy of people’. The last part of the sentence that is highlighted in red is to show the aim and purpose of the protest. Additionally, the important point here is that symbols and narratives of Ta’ziyeh have been utilised to attract the attention of people and to evoke their emotions to entice them to join the crowd. They display the photo of Khomeini next to the banner to relate his support for Imam Hussein in the Karbala battle. Perhaps many people joined the crowd without knowing anything about the seizing of the US embassy. However, Figure 3.1 obviously reflects the way images and symbols of Karbala and Shia culture are employed to manipulate the public and to form the public sphere. Sometimes unexpected events, incidents, accidents, circumstances and occurrences in liminal periods help revolutionary actors transform into supernatural figures or powerful magicians. These provide perfect opportunities for these actors to manoeuvre and manipulate symbols and meanings. For example, the failure of Operation Eagle Claw of the US armed forces to free the American hostages in Iran on 24 April 1980 was explained as a miraculously successful event in Iran, in order to strengthen Khomeini and his allies’ positions. They

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Figure 3.1 Iranians crowd around the US embassy in Tehran, 4 November 1979 Source: Gettyimages, www.gettyimages.ie

claimed that their God and their prayers destroyed the American Delta force with sand clouds. Indeed, some of Khomeini’s followers related it to the godly and supernatural power of Khomeini. In this way, the figure of Khomeini, who was already identified with that of Imam Hussein, became a pure and sacred force of good struggling against the evil and satanic forces. The best and the most powerful way to encourage Shia in Iran to participate in a movement, a revolution and a war is by employing and embedding the Ta’ziyeh thematic into real time, and by utilising its symbols that so clearly illustrate the struggle of good versus evil, albeit manipulatively. Any symbol has meaning and its meaning lies in the belly of the symbol itself. Although meanings of symbols can be interpreted differently in various liminal times depending on their objectives, the symbols stay the same. For example, the Ta’ziyeh symbols employed during the 1979 Revolution to identify the Shah as Yazid and the US as Great Satan, acquire different meaning when they are displayed or used in a store or place of business. In the business realm and market places, Ta’ziyeh symbols can be used for goodwill or for justifying trade. However, these symbols are used to manipulate customers in the market place as well, especially during liminal periods, such as economic crisis, revolution and war. In these liminal situations, particularly during a revolution, Siyahs (clowns, tricksters or mimes) employ symbols and interpret them to conquer the occasion,

The 1979 Revolution  93 hunt the opportunity and present themselves as a human saviour, as a compassionate leader of the sufferers and as a sympathetic person to people. The tragic consequences of such hypocrisy and imposture are poverty, desolation, mass murder and chaos in society. This inadvertency and carelessness are particularly visible in the teachings of the revolutionary clerics, which resulted in the 1979 Revolution and subsequently the eight year Iran–Iraqi War. Szakolczai (2009: 166) extends this idea to the contemporary political science, arguing that ‘such tricksters, leaders of various totalitarian movements and parties in the past, and of catch-all parties in the present, are considered as “charismatic” leaders by “valuefree” political scientists’. The evocation of the struggle of Ta’ziyeh and the employing of symbols of the battle of Karbala in mobilising crowds against the kingdom of Pahlavi continued during the Iran–Iraqi War (1980–1988) in order to mobilise the crowd against Iraq. In the next chapter, this is discussed broadly to illustrate how the liminal event encompassing the Ta’ziyeh ritual, as a timeless and placeless performance, and its symbols were applied to form and transform the public sphere during the liminal period of the war, or more correctly, the adjoining two liminal periods, the revolution and the war.

Notes 1

2

3 4 5 6 7 8

In this carnival-like ceremony or ritual, which originates from ancient Iran, a farcical king was elected for a reign of just a few days (usually five days). ‘The version survived until 1946 in Bojnurd (northeast of Iran), was very similar to the Fete des Vigneron or Fete des Fous of the western European Middle ages’ (Rubin et al. 1998: 192). It should be noted that a black-faced man called Haji Piruz or Haji Firuz appears in the traditional herald of Nowruz (the Persian New Year). His face is covered in soot and he wears clothes in bright red and as well as a felt hat. He oversees celebrations for the New Year, perhaps as a remnant of the ancient Zoroastrian fire-keeper. He plays a tambourine and sings ‘Haji Firuz-e, sal-i-ye ruz-e’ (It is Haji Firuz, it happens one day in a year). People gather around him and his troupe to see them perform music and dance through the streets and to cheer the news of the coming New Year. Probably, the ruhauzi is the metamorphosis of the Haji Piruz or Haji Firuz. A Muslim who has successfully completed the Hajj to Mecca. Arousi Belqeis (Marriage of Belqeis) is also known as Aroosi Qurash (The Marriage of Qurash) and Aroosi Raftan-e Fatima Zahra (Her Holiness Fatima Goes to a Wedding). See www.taziyeh.ir. See www.ir-tazyeh.ir. See www.theater.ir/fa/. Prior to the 1979 Revolution, merchants’ individual exchanges a the bazaar were part of a web of ongoing and multidimensional transactions that could build permanent ties and reduce risk, but post-revolutionary commercial network transactions are for short-term exchanges, with little assurance, and are ‘dependent on agents in the government and black market who enjoy highly unequal and temporary ties’ (Keshavarzian 2007: 125).

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References Algar, H. (1981) Islam and Revolution: Writings and Declarations of Imam Khomeini, Berkeley, CA: Mizan Press Avery, P., Hambly, G. R. G., and Melville, C. P. (1991) The Cambridge History of Iran: From Nadir Shah to the Islamic Republic, volume 7, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press BBC (1979) ‘1979: Exiled Ayatollah Khomeini Returns to Iran’, 1 February, http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/february/1/newsid_2521000/2521003 .stm, accessed 12/6/14 Beeman, W. O. (1986) Language, Status, and Power in Iran (Advances in Semiotics), Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press Beyzaie, B. (2001) Namayesh dar Iran (Theatre in Iran), Tehran: Entesharat-e Roshangaran va Motalat-e Zanan Boyce, M. (1979) Zoroastrians: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices, London; Boston; Henley: Routledge & Kegan Paul Canetti, E. (1960) Crowds and Power, New York: Continuum Chelkowski, P. J. (ed.) (1979) Ta’ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran, New York: New York University Press and Soroush Press Dabashi, H. (2005) ‘Ta’ziyeh as theatre of protest’, Drama Review, Vol. 49, No. 4, pp. 91–99 Dickens, C. (1859) A Tale of Two Cities, eBook, Planet PDF Dhalla, M, N. (1938) History of Zoroastrianism, New York, London, Toronto: Oxford University Press Fars News Agency (2010) 24 September, www.farsnews.com/newstext.php?nn= 8907020164, accessed 11/07/14 Fischer, M. M. J. (1980) Iran: From Religious Dispute to Revolution, Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press Fischer-Lichte, E. (2005) Theatre, Sacrifice, Ritual: Exploring Forms of Political Theatre, London; New York: Routledge Foucault, M. (1982) ‘The Subject and Power’, Critical Inquiry, Vol. 8, No. 4, pp. 777–95 Gaffary, F. (1984) ‘Evolution of Rituals and Theater in Iran’, Iranian Studies, Vol. xvii, No. 4, pp. 361–89 Gettyimages, www.gettyimages.ie, Bettmann 515561058, purchased and accessed 4/11/16 Hall, E., and Wyles, R. (2008) New Directions in Ancient Pantomime, New York: Oxford University Press Iran Theatre (2010) 25 September, www.theater.ir/fa/basic/report.php?id=20914 accessed 13/07/14 Iran Theatre (2014) 13 July, www.theater.ir/fa/news.php?id=40557, accessed 13/07/14 January, B. (2008) The Iranian Revolution, Minneapolis, MN: Twenty-First Century Books Keddie, N. R. (1981) Roots of Revolution: An Interpretive History of Modern Iran, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press Keshavarzian, A. (2007) Bazaar and State in Iran: The Politics of the Tehran Marketplace, New York: Cambridge University Press Kurzman, C. (2004) The Unthinkable Revolution in Iran, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press Lefort, C. (1988) Democracy and Political Theory, trans. D. Macey, Cambridge: Polity Press Malekpour, J. (2004) The Islamic Drama, London: Frank Cass Publishers (published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library 2005)

The 1979 Revolution  95 Orwell, G. (1976) Complete and Unabridged Work: Animal farm, Burmese days, A Clergyman’s Daughter, Coming up for Air, Keep the Aspidistra Flying, and Nineteen Eighty-four, London: Secker & Warburg Petherick, C. J. (2006) The CIA in Iran: The 1953 Coup and the Origins of the US-Iran Divide, Washington, DC: American Free Press Poulson, S. C. (2005) Social Movements in Twentieth-Century Iran: Culture, Ideology, and Mobilizing Frameworks, Lanham, MD: Lexington Books Rubin, D., Pong, C. S., Chaturvedi, R., Majundar, R., Tanokura, M., and Brisbane, K. (1998) The World Encyclopedia of Contemporary Theatre: Asia/Pacific, London; New York: Routledge Schneider, D. M. (1976) ‘Notes Toward a Theory of Culture’, in K. Basso and H. Selby (eds) Meaning in Anthropology, Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, pp. 197–220 Schneider, D. M. (1977) ‘Kinship, Nationality, and Religion in American Culture: Toward a Definition of Kinship’, in J. L. Dolgin, D. S. Kemnitzer and D. M. Schneider (eds) Symbolic Anthropology: A Reader in the Study of Symbols and Meanings, New York: Colombia University Press, pp. 63–71 Szakolczai, A. (2009) ‘Liminality and Experience: Structuring transitory situations and transformative events’, International Political Anthropology, Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 141–72 Szakolczai, A. (2013a) Comedy and the Public Sphere: The Rebirth of Theatre as Comedy and the Genealogy of the Modern Public Arena, New York: Routledge Szakolczai, A. (2013b) ‘Permanent (trickster) liminality: The reasons of the heart and of the mind’, Paper presented for the ESF Exploratory Workshop Affectivity and Liminality: Conceptualising the dynamics of suspended transition, Brighton (UK), 17–19 November Takeyh, R. (2009) Guardians of the Revolution: Iran and the World in the Age of Ayatollahs, New York: Oxford University Press Talajooy, S. (2011) ‘Indigenous Performing Traditions in Post-Revolutionary Iranian Theater’, Iranian Studies, Vol. 44, No. 4, pp. 497–519 Turner, V. (1967) The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual, New York: Cornell University Press Turner, V. (1982) From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play, New York: PAJ Publications Welch, S. C. (1972) A King’s Book of Kings: The Shah-Nameh of Shah Tahmasp, New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art Wydra, H. (2008) ‘Revolution and Democracy: The European Experience’, in J. Foran, D. Lane, and A. Zivkovic (eds) Revolution in the Making of the Modern World: Social Identities, Globalization, and Modernity, London; New York, Routledge, pp. 27–45 Wydra, H. (2009) ‘The Liminal Origins of Democracy’, International Political Anthropology, Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 91–109 Yeganeh, F. (2005) ‘Iranian Theatre Festivalized’, Theatre Research International, Vol. 30, No. 3, pp. 274–83 Zimmermann, B. (1990) ‘Seneca and Pantomime’ in E. Hall and R. Wyles (eds) New Directions in Ancient Pantomime, trans. E. Hall, New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 218–26

4

Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere during the Iran–Iraq War

The Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988)1 is considered to be one of the most important historic events of the twentieth century. It was a schismogenic process between Iran and Iraq, which led both states into the liminal period of the eight-year war. The impact of this liminal period was twofold. First, it overshadowed the legacy of the Islamic Republic deliberations. Second, it influenced national and regional policies and relations. Significantly, but predictably, it also changed the way that international powers and actors operated. As a result of this liminality, the Middle East region, especially the Persian Gulf, became unsafe and insecure. Accordingly, the rest of the world observed the war with apprehension and fear, with concern for reduced energy supplies in relation to oil being paramount. This chapter focuses on this war as a schismogenesis phenomenon between two states, which left Iran and Iraq in liminality, to demonstrate how Ta’ziyeh symbols were employed by the Islamic regime of Iran to mobilise considerable crowds to fight in the war against Saddam Hussein’s army, which was backed by wealthy Arab nations, such as Saudi Arabia, and other powerful states, such as America and Russia. In return, this illustrates the power of symbols and images in forming the public sphere.

Historical background Before the 1979 Revolution, the Algiers Agreement of March 1975 terminated the armed confrontation between the two countries and settled the Shatt al-Arab2 dispute with the renunciation of Iraq’s claim to the Iranian province of Khuzestan. The agreement stipulated that the river boundaries in the Shatt al-Arab were delimited along the old median. Subsequently, Iran’s sovereignty over half of the waterway was acknowledged (Karsh 2002; Potter and Sick 2004). However, the 1979 Revolution brought an end to the status quo. Ultimately, this was one of the consequences of Khomeini’s militant religious doctrine. He rejected both the Middle Eastern and international political orders at the time, recognising these systems as ‘unjust order imposed on the “oppressed” Muslims by the “oppressive” great powers. It was bound to be replaced by an Islamic world order in which the territorial nation-state would be transcended by the broader entity of the umma or the universal Muslim community’ (Karsh 2002: 12). Khomeini used

The Iran–Iraq War  97 distinct slogans to export an understanding of the Islamic Revolution of Iran throughout the world. As well as using specific images embedded in the Shia faith, he utilised powerful Islamic symbols such as the slogan la elaha ela allah (There is no God but God and Mohammad is the messenger of God), which is a recruitment slogan currently used by the Islamic State (IS) in Iraq and Syria. Khomeini’s rhetoric and in general the Islamic Revolution brought immediate unrest in some neighbouring countries, particularly those of the Arab states in the Persian Gulf with considerable Shia populations, such as Kuwait, Yemen, Bahrain and Iraq. In turn, this angered the leaders of powerful international nations, such as the US, whose economic interests lay in the sourcing of oil in the region. The leaders of the Arab states in Persian Gulf, particularly Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, together with the US and the Soviet Union, supported Iraq’s leader, Saddam Hussein, in his invasion of Iran. Perceiving Iran to be in turmoil after the 1979 Revolution, Saddam Hussein believed that his forces could achieve a quick and simple victory. Therefore, he used the territorial dispute of the Shatt al-Arab, which had been disputed between the two countries for decades, as a reason for the invasion. Immediately after the invasion, Saddam and his allies celebrated a victory for Iraq, such was their arrogance in believing their army would not be long in Tehran. Saddam’s confidence stemmed from three rational, strategic and tactical facts. First, he was aware of internal conflicts and divisions within the Iranian political system, and the chaos that was embedded in society at large, after the 1979 Revolution. Second, he knew that Iran was isolated from the rest of the world. Finally, and most importantly, he had financial support from wealthy Arab countries, as well as financial backing and a supply of weapons (even chemical bombs) from powerful countries outside of the region, most notably the Soviet Union, Western European nations and the United States. On 22 September 1980, Iraq’s army invaded Iran. Within the first few weeks of the war, Saddam’s figures and calculations proved to be correct. His army was equipped with modern and advanced weapons, such as tanks supported by navy and air fighters, together with soldiers that were well-trained and organised, with strategic plans in place. Iraq was able to occupy a considerable piece of Iranian territory, as the Iranian army was struggling to form a coherent defence at the time. However, the Iranians finally managed to mobilise and this retaliation was so effective and fierce that Iraqi soldiers were forced to escape from the invaded cities in 1981. By June 1982, Iran had essentially forced the Iraqi army out of its territory, and the strategic discussion between clerics was whether Iranian troops should cross over into Iraq. Saddam understood that his calculations had been inaccurate and that the invasion of Iran had been a monumental mistake. Therefore, he proposed a ceasefire, but Khomeini rejected it. The war continued to become the longest, costliest and bloodiest war of the twentieth century in the Middle East. Iranian troops captured considerable territory from Iraq, such as the oil-rich Majnoon Islands in February 1984 and the Fao peninsula in early 1986. The significant questions are: how had the revolutionary clerics managed to sustain the war despite Iran’s acute isolation, sanction, economic difficulties, civil war and popular disenchantment? In other words,

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what method did they use to overcome the modern army of Iraq which had global backing from superpowers? How could Saddam and his allies’ rational logic and predictions be incorrect? The simplest and most straightforward answer may be that Ta’ziyeh symbols, similar to those used in the 1979 Revolution, were again employed to mobilise the Iranian crowd against Iraqi forces. In order to do this, and to reach a wider audience, modern information and communication technology was utilised to its maximum. This chapter will expand on this answer, and will demonstrate how the revolutionary clerics were able to manipulate the public sphere during the war to achieve their targets.

Symbolising the war When the rational calculations espoused by Saddam and his allies proved to be false, and the rationality of continuing the war became an issue, Saddam decided to incorporate into his rhetoric pre-Islamic myths. He began weaving ancient Sumerian, Akkadian and Babylonian symbols, alongside those of Islam, into the fabric of Iraqi nationalism, hoping to reinforce the war machine (Potter and Sick 2004: 129). In contrast, Khomeini augmented the number of Iranian volunteers by employing more and more sacred symbols, religious lamentations and mourning ceremonies. The revolutionary clerics actively promoted the sacredness of self-sacrifice and martyrdom. Thus, both the Iran and Iraq regimes coloured the terminology of the war by utilising nationalist and religious symbolism. Saddam used the symbolism of Qadisiyyah, a seventh-century battle which resulted in the Muslim conquest of Persia (Dabashi 2005; Potter and Sick 2004), in order to attract the support of Arab Muslims, nationally and internationally. He began to rely more and more on nationalism, Arabism and Pan-Arabism and used territorial symbols as a strategy to mobilise an army against Iran, even hiring costly filmmakers from Egypt to make a movie about Qadisiyyah to aid his propaganda (Dabashi 2005). In contrast, Khomeini focused more on Shia symbols and images during the war, co-opting the invoking of Ta’ziyeh during the 1979 Revolutionary mobilisation, which was successfully applied in order to assemble a significant force against the invading Iraqis. Khomeini also referred to the war as the ‘imposed war’ and the ‘holy defence’ ‘based on the belief that the United States, humiliated by the hostage affair, encouraged Iraq to attack Iran’ (Potter and Sick 2004: 4). By employing religious symbols, the revolutionary clerics conceptualised a religious war. They claimed that Saddam and his allies were assaulting Islam in general and imams specifically. Khomeini identified these enemies as forces of ‘disbelief’ and stressed: ‘You are fighting to protect Islam and he (Saddam Hussein) is fighting to destroy it’ (Takeyh 2010: 366). In his rhetoric, Khomeini used a general symbol, ‘Islam’, to attract the attention of both the Shia and Sunni sects, and argued that their moral obligation was to defend the new established Islamic system in Iran. Initially, this was the most effective method for assembling a portion of the populace willing to fight and sacrifice themselves for the good of others.

The Iran–Iraq War  99 Although both the Ba’ath regime in Iraq and the Islamic regime in Iran put forward various forms of art and literature as symbols to service their war efforts, the revolutionary clerics’ adroitness in producing a culture of martyrdom was more successful in mobilising a significant crowd for the war. In public places they displayed images of Iranian soldiers killed in the fighting and applauded them as martyrs, linking them to Imam Hussein and his followers. For example, various combatants ornamented with symbols or images of Ta’ziyeh were painted on the walls of urban areas. As in Iraq, filmmakers were hired and encouraged to produce movies about martyrdom and war heroes. Radio and television channels, which were extremely controlled by the regime, introduced new narratives, poems, plays and images of the same heroic soldiers. Furthermore, books, newspapers and magazines were published with the aim of linking the Iran–Iraq War to the battle of Karbala, with Saddam portrayed as Yazid and Imam Khomeini as Imam Hussein – the latter being a martyr, the grandson of the Prophet Mohammad and the first imam of Shia Islam, while the former was his slayer (Dabashi 2005; Potter and Sick 2004). In Iraq, Arab folk poetry and folklore songs were used to propagate the war against Iran, with generous annual prizes dished out at national festivals – the reward often being a handgun, a symbol of both traditional tribal manhood and modern military honour – to celebrate, advertise and justify the war. ‘Arab idioms, were now summoned to convene endless festivals, use the husa meters (a tribal cry of war and challenge), or publish and broadcast their works. The president, personally, decorated many of them with medals’ (Potter and Sick 2004: 128). In Iran, the revolutionary clerics displayed the image of a young boy dressed as a soldier in all public places. In it he carried a gun and wore a green or red headband, with the words ‘Ya Hussein’ (Oh Hussein) or ‘Karbala ma dariem miaiem’ (Karbala we are coming) or ‘Allaho Akbar’ (God is great) on it (see Figure 4.6). Importantly, the media played a significant role, consistently producing these images during the war to encourage people to join the crowd. For example, the state’s television station would broadcast an interview of a young boy in a battlefield. He would relay that being a soldier of Islam was an honour because he was fighting for freedom against the Iraqis, who are not good Muslims (Karsh 2002: 64). Subsequently, the young boy would invite people, especially his peers, to join the war effort against the aggressors and invaders, who were led by ‘Saddam Yazid’. The modern instruments of media, which had played an essential role in the globalisation of the issue, were being utilised to gather crowds for the war itself. The following paragraphs discuss how the revolutionary clerics relied on Ta’ziyeh symbols and images to propagate their propaganda, and how reproducing the battle of Karbala during the war enabled the manipulation of the public.

Ta’ziyeh and the war As explained in previous chapters, images and symbols of Shia Islam have been used since the sixteenth-century for means of propaganda and to unify Iranians

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for war against external enemies. Thus, the revolutionary clerics of 1979 were merely following tradition when using Ta’ziyeh symbols to manipulate and mobilise the masses. They used their knowledge of Iranian cultural and religious habits, customs, thoughts and language to employ Ta’ziyeh images and symbols effectively during the 1979 Revolution and the Iran–Iraq War. Propaganda, theatrical performances and heroic narratives subsumed the above and in turn relayed back to the population their importance in a modern context, linking the conflict to the intrinsic culture, religion and history of the nation. Exploring these manoeuvre is essential to understanding and explaining the historical events and social changes in Iran. Employing religious narratives and cultural habits as a political weapon to form, control and mobilise people led the masses to consciously or unconsciously harm and sacrifice themselves for the benefit of tricksters or the ‘corrupted powers’. In line with Plato’s description of the Sophists, who used rhetorical techniques to hide the truth, the revolutionary clerics falsified reality in order to create an emotional response. Ta’ziyeh images and the martyrdom of Imam Hussein, who was a legitimate symbol – a true and divinely ordained leader for Shia Muslims – were blended along roads and motorways, in schools and colleges and on or within public sector buildings and governmental institutions; they also littered the battlefields. These Shia symbols were used not only to stimulate the emotion of Iranian Shias, but also to absorb Shia Muslims in Iraq, who make up the majority (about 60 per cent) of the population. The latter attenuated Saddam’s propaganda, which was focused more on nationalism in its various pre-Islamic, Islamic and modern aspects – a strategy that would eventually create a barrier for him in attempts to unify the Sunni and Shia sects in Iraq. During the war, the revolutionary clerics demonstrated Ta’ziyeh images and symbols via different mediums – posters, wall paintings, mottos, slogans, performances, films, flags, music, speeches and sermons – to justify the continuance of the war. Conspicuously, in every method the goriz technique, as in siyah bazi, Ta’ziyeh Mozhek and other improvised performances (see Chapter 3), were employed to link Saddam’s actions to that of Yazid’s act in Karbala, i.e. the killing of Imam Hussein. Insulting Saddam and his allies in public places, even in formal gatherings and meetings, became a habit during the war. For example, crowds, especially students, every morning were encouraged to chant ‘Shahidan zendehan – Allaho akbar, Khomeini rahbar, marg bar America, marg bar Esrail, marg bar Saddam’ (Martyrs are alive – God is great, death to America, death to Israel, death to Saddam). The revolutionary clerics used schools, mosques and the media as tools for dispensing their rhetoric about the war or martyrdom, attempting to convince audiences that to fight and to be martyred for Islam, just like Imam Hussein, was an honour. Indeed, every narrative of the war was related to the battle of Karbala. They usually referred to ayeh (Quranic sentences), sonnat or sunnat (the tradition of Prophet Mohammad), hadith (the Prophet’s pronouncement) and revayat (the narrations of the Prophet and imams) to bolster their claims. The revolutionary clerics were well aware of the difficulty, especially for ordinary members of the

The Iran–Iraq War  101 public, in establishing the authenticity of every hadith and revayat, which are sacred and unquestionable for Shia Muslims. Therefore, in debates, discussions, dialogue, speeches and sermons, they purposefully quoted hadith and revayat were used on a regular basis in an effort to justify their rhetoric. Importantly, the revolutionary clerics modified these, incorporating the images and symbols of Ta’ziyeh to mobilise crowds for war, as they had done during the 1979 Revolution.

Making the war sacred During the war, soldiers were told that Imam Hussein was waiting with his white horse to bring martyrs to paradise. Two examples from the Middle Eastern Posters Collection illustrate this: one poster entitled Blindfolded Soldier Shot at Gunpoint, ca. 1981 (see Figure 4.1) demonstrates the execution of a blindfolded Iranian soldier in the Iran–Iraq War. Imam Hussein, pictured with his horse Zuljanah, is standing behind him with a green cover in his hand, waiting to escort him into paradise. One of three headless figures – fellow martyrs of the battle of Karbala – holds a green Quran in one hand, pointing upwards with the other – a gesture symbolic of witnessing or testifying to the unity of God. The strong contrast of the colours green (symbolising good) and red (symbolising the blood of martyrs), which carry deep symbolic meaning for Shia Muslims, was consistently used during the war against Iraq. Iranian forces wore green and red on their foreheads or around their arms, commonly accompanied by the printed name Imam Hussein. Undoubtedly, the poster displayed in Figure 4.1 evolved from Ta’ziyeh mourning rituals, which encouraged soldiers to view themselves as following in the path of the Karbala martyrs. The other poster, or painting, is entitled Certitude of Belief (Yaqin), ca. 1981, which portrays the Shia salvific power of martyrdom (see Figure 4.2). At the centre of the poster, the body of a soldier martyred in the Iran–Iraq War transforms into a red tulip – the symbol of martyrdom in Shia iconography. His mother is cradling the dead body of her martyred son. On the right and to the left of the mother and tulip, soldiers are marching towards the battlefields. Behind the mother and soldiers, Imam Hussein is pictured sitting on his white horse accompanied by headless figures, which represent the 72 martyrs of Karbala. This poster encapsulates the cycle of martyrdom that the Islamic regime propagated during the war. The aim was to convince the soldiers and populace that Imam Hussein would personally carry martyrs – those who sacrificed themselves for Shia Islam and the Islamic Republic – to the promised heaven and eternal paradise. According to Shia narratives, Hussein and his followers – a small group confronting Yazid’s massive army in the battle of Karbala – were aware of their destiny and their martyrdom. Although they were all killed (martyred in the Shia religion), and Hussein’s family were captured by Yazid’s army, martyrs were the ultimate winners of the battle because they were fighting for justice and integrity. In terms of numbers in the Iran–Iraq War, there were more Iranians than Iraqis. One of the essential reasons that crowds were willing to lose their lives voluntarily, without question, was due to the support Iraq’s army received from world

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Figure 4.1 Blindfolded soldier shot at gunpoint, ca. 1981 Source: Middle Eastern Posters Collection (2014), Box 4, Poster 197, Special Collections Research Center, the University of Chicago Library

superpowers and wealthy Arab nations. They were convinced that they were fighting not only against Saddam’s forces, but also against the West, particularly the United States, which was providing modern and even chemical weapons to Saddam, and against the East, especially Russia, who supported Saddam by

Figure 4.2 Certitude of belief (Yaqin), ca. 1981 Source: Chalipa, K. (1981), Middle Eastern Posters Collection, Box 3, Poster 67, Special Collections Research Center, the University of Chicago Library

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selling modern air-fighters and missiles, and against rich Arab states, particularly Saudi Arabia, which helped Saddam financially. Thus, for the crowd that ran to the first lines of the battlefields, the war was imposed, unjust and unequal, and it resulted in certain death by gun or self-detonation, similar to the battle of Karbala. The symbols of Ta’ziyeh, especially the name of Hussein, displayed before and around the warfront increased the homogeny of the war with the Ashura and the martyrdom of Imam Hussein.

The war and lament The Shia’s emotional commitment to mourning and weeping, as well as their ethos of suffering, sacrifice and martyrdom, are unique aspects of Shia culture in Iran. While factors such as sacrifice and suffering are practiced in other religious traditions, such as the practice of bodily mortification in Christianity, Shi’ism, as a religion of lament, employs a more extreme ethos and temper than other global religions (Canetti 1962). As explained in Chapters 2 and 3, during the ten days of Muharram, mourning, weeping and self-flagellation are universally performed in Iran, particularly in Ashura, when the Ta’ziyeh play takes place. Likewise, there are similar ceremonies commemorating the sacrifice of Hussein. These were reflected in the Iran–Iraq War, with the aim to unify the different groups of Iranian military forces – such as Basij (Voluntary Militia), Sepah Pasdaran Engelab (the Revolutionary Guard) and Artesh (Army) – and to influence their emotions. Unifying the crowd through group interaction and participation was vital. This was manifested in ceremonies fused with mourning, weeping and self-mutilation (of the chest or head) in all areas of the battlefield during the war. Usually, a nohe khan (dirge singer), similar to those seen in Muharram ceremonies, would lead the military crowds in lamenting, self-flagellation and emotive reaction. When not available, a recorder was used to play nohe (a dirge) from Haaj Sadeq Ahangaran, who was a famous weeper and nohe singer at the time. Ahangaran used a complete form of Muharram and its symbols. For example, before taking back the invaded Iranian city of Khorramshahr from Iraq’s forces, he could be heard singing the following in mosques, public places and battlefields: We will give our lives, to conquer Karbala Rise up brave warriors! Seize back your land from the enemy The road to victory passes through the land of Karbala I have heard the sound of your call I have chosen your path o brother O caravan of Karbala, I am joining you I have heard the sound of your call I have just arrived (to join you) Or; For a war without mercy Get ready! Get ready

The Iran–Iraq War  105 O army of hidden Imam Get ready! Get ready You soldiers are ready to give your lives Now is the time for courage O the army of Khomeini The time of martyrdom has arrived See how the forces of Islam stretch to infinity To force back the enemy Get ready! Get ready You lovers! You believers Get ready! Get ready When soldiers heard these kinds of nohe, they would begin to whip or beat their chests and call out ‘Ya Hussein’ (Oh Hussein) or ‘Labbaik Ya Hussin’ (Oh Hussein I am at your service/Here am I, yes/I am coming) and ‘Ya Karbala’ (Oh Karbala). The dirges of Ahangaran were popular in both rural and urban areas and his recorded nohe was usually played in public places and busy streets during the war. The symbols of Ta’ziyeh, when employed in the form of nohe, paintings, murals, slogans, banners, calligraphy, poems, narratives, films, plays and performances have various purposes and intended effects, such as inciting the audience to join the crowd for revolutionary and political purposes, and to motivate them to participate in the war effort. Indeed, utilising Ta’ziyeh and its symbols and images as tools to propagate Shi’ism and to mobilise the masses into a fighting frenzy became a regular and shameless function of the Iranian regime. The revolutionary clerics supported and encouraged Ahangaran to employ these symbols to evoke the emotions of many Iranians to join the war. Traditionally, Iranian Shias weep on many traditional occasions – such as funerals of family members, close friends and devotions – whereby personal piety, misfortune and the suffering of the community is commonly accepted. However, the most common and noticeable target of nohe khani is to inspire weeping of a more manipulative nature. Notably, it is usually used to commemorate the suffering of martyred imams, particularly Imam Hussein.

The war and flags Historically the flag is used as a symbol of the identity of a group, a community, a nation and an area, but its origin is unknown. A bronze flag found during an archaeological dig in the Shahdad area of Kerman city in Iran was dated to around the third millennium BC. While the study of the flag and its historical background should be left to historians, archaeologists and vexillologists, it is important to point out that the use of flags demonstrating Shia symbols originated in the thirteenth century AD, and they were extensively employed during the Safavid dynasty. Images and symbols that targeted the population’s imagination were effective in creating a widespread belief in the reality of an incarnation of the battle of Karbala.

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The revolutionary clerics were aware that the images and symbols of Ashura and Ta’ziyeh were able to strengthen Shias’ powers of imagination. Therefore, the flag became an essential tool for exhibiting Shia symbols during the 1979 Revolution, the Iran–Iraq War and the capture of the US and the UK embassies in Tehran (see Chapter 5). Similar flags used in the 1979 Revolution, such as the red or green flags indicating the name of Hussein (‘Ya Hussein’), were flown everywhere during the war, particularly on the frontlines (see Figure 4.3). These were thought to inspire and motivate volunteers and soldiers to become the first martyrs on the battlefield. As explained in Chapter 2, according to Ta’ziyeh performance and Ashura narratives, the fortune of the fight and struggle in the battlefield of Karbala turned against Hussein and it resulted in the murder of many of his trusted adherents, including his son Ali Akbar and his nephew Gasim and finally himself. As seen in Figure 4.4, the martyrs of Ashura are rising up to claim the newest martyr from the very same battlefield on which they were martyred. In fact, it portrays an imagination of Abbas, the step-brother of Imam Hussein, in the battle of Karbala. Abbas is also known as the ‘Alamdaar’ (flag-bearer) for the reason that he was the flag-bearer of Imam Hussein’s army. When Abbas wanted to take water to his camp from the Euphrates River, he was confronted by Yazid’s army, specifically by Omar ibn Sa’ad’s troops, and his arms cut off. The symbol of the Hand of Abbas on the top of the flag is known as the panjeh (the hand/claw) or the panjtan

Figure 4.3 ‘Ya Hussein’ flag in the Iran–Iraq War Source: Conflict Iran (2006) Iran–Iraq War Pictures, 8 April 2006, http://conflictiran.blogspot.ie/2006/04/iran-iraq-war-pictures.html, accessed 20/08/14

The Iran–Iraq War  107 (five bodies). This is because it represents five sacred bodies in Shia ideology, called the panj taneh paak (the five pure/clean bodies), who are Mohammad, Ali, Fatimah, Hussein and Hassan. Alam or panjeh are presented annually in Ta’ziyeh performances, mosques’ and imams’ magbareh (mausoleums), shrines and holy places, and in many houses of the Shia in Iran. In fact, the two disembodied arms which rise up from the ground are seen holding a flag that pledges ‘Ya Sar Allah’ (the vengeance of God) and on the top of the flag the panjeh seems to be shot in the middle by the enemy. Figure 4.4 identifies the opponent as an enemy of Prophet Mohammad and his family, by positioning them within a continuation of the battle of Karbala. In other words, the seventh century is incorporated and transformed into a contemporary timeframe and illustration. The young boy, who is holding the head of the dead soldier on his knee with one hand while grabbing the gun with the other hand, symbolises the desire of the youth to maintain the tradition of martyrdom. Consequently, the poster demonstrates two important Shia beliefs: first, the holy hands that prevent the flag or alalm from collapsing; second, the transitional moment in which the martyred soldier joins his fellow martyrs in paradise. Shia Muslims have strong behavioural traits in relation to their tendency to imitate Imam Hussein. In the Shia figure of Imam Hussein, his heroic aspects

Figure 4.4 Young boy cradling dead soldier, 1980 Source: Middle Eastern Posters Collection (2014), Box 3, Poster 74, Special Collections Research Center, the University of Chicago Library

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emerge to the forefront. During the performance of Ta’ziyeh, this becomes clearer when they demonstrate their desire and emotion by mourning and beating their head or chest when participating in the sufferings of Hussein. In the same way, Shia practice their own mourning for their lost or dead family members, relatives and friends. Inherently, the battle of Karbala is heroic, as Imam Hussein conducted the war with only 72 followers against hundreds of soldiers.

New narratives for mobilising the crowd During the war, the Islamic regime created a cult of martyr-celebrities. For example, at the beginning of 1980, the revolutionary clerics generated a new narrative about Mohammad Hussein Fahmideh, a 13-year-old boy who was praised by the regime as a true patriot. His act of bravery found its way into martyr mythology (see Figure 4.5). According to state news, media and primary school books, Hussein Fahmideh left his home without his parents’ permission and went to the south of Iran to stop the invasion of the Iraqi army. He fought side-by-side with older Iranian soldiers and, despite his young age, helped to hold back advancing Iraqi troops. However, at one stage Iraqi troops forced the Iranians back as they were going through a very narrow canal (Tebyan 2007). At this stage, many Iranian troops were injured or killed by the heavy Iraqi attacks. Hussein grabbed a hand grenade from one of the nearby bodies. Subsequently, he pulled the pin out as he ran and jumped underneath an enemy tank, killing himself and disabling the tank, which stopped the Iraqi tank division’s advance. Figure 4.5 is an image in a Grade Three Iranian primary school text book. It is a portrait of Hussein Fahmideh and the background shows him throwing himself in front of a tank. In the most famous portrait of Hussein Fahmideh, seen on large billboards placed on buildings and in public places, the colour green has been used to link his act to the martyrdom of Imam Hussein. His name consists of three words: Mohammad (the name of the prophet of Islam), Hussein (Imam Hussein) and Fahmideh (intelligent/wise/having understood). ‘He was declared a national hero by Khomeini, who lauded the boy warrior: “Our leader is that 13-year old child that wrapped a grenade around him and went under the tank”. The effect of the story was electrifying’ (Peterson 2010: 108). Significantly, the legend of Fahmideh encouraged many children (and some adults) to leave home and go fight the Iraqi army. Their motivation had four facets. First, they wanted to become a hero like Hussein Fahmideh. Second, they anticipated that martyrs are eternally alive. Third, as explained above, they were ensured that Imam Hussein would bring them personally to heaven. Lastly, they believed they would be martyred for justice as Imam Hussein was.

The Basij legion Some may argue that people, especially young boys who joined the crowd to be in the first line of the war, did not understand words like ‘patriotism’ or ‘martyrdom’ and for them the war was merely an exciting game or an opportunity to

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Figure 4.5 A portrait of Mohammad Hossein Fahmideh and the enemy’s tank Note: The background shows Hussein Fahmideh throwing himself in front of a tank Source: Sheldreh et al. (2016: 50)

prove their courage and maturity (see Karsh 2002: 64–65). However, Iranian Shias also participate in Ta’ziyeh, as players or audience members. In fact, they are accustomed spectators since childhood, whereby they are all familiar with Shia images and symbols, as well as martyr images and symbols used during Muharram, Ashura and Ta’ziyeh. As explained in Chapter 2, each script

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(Ta’ziyeh-Nameh) of Ta’ziyeh, presented as a rhymed didactic presentation, expresses the various religious myths of Karbala’s tragedy independently, and the central themes of these plays are justice, good against bad and right against wrong. The protagonists of a Ta’ziyeh show that they prefer death over life when living under oppression. Thus, even very young boys are aware of the martyrdom in the battlefield of Karbala. Evidently, through using religious symbols of Ta’ziyeh, the revolutionary clerics were able to evoke strong emotions from the crowd, particularly young boys, who in turn attacked Iraq’s army, capturing many positions. Importantly, young boys were used as a very significant weapon for the army. They would bravely run towards Iraq’s army, chanting or shouting ‘Allaho Akbar’ (God is great) or ‘Ya Hussein’ (Oh Hussein), knowing they would be killed by Iraqi mines or soldiers. They wanted to join Hussein and be one of his followers in paradise. They had no fear of being killed. Indeed, this form of attack, in the shape of self-sacrifice, terrified Iraq’s soldiers, who frequently left their positions on the battlefield when faced with this. The majority of this young army consisted of boys from Basij (Mobilisation), a voluntary militants’ organisation established after the 1979 Revolution. During the Iran–Iraq War members of Basij, especially young or adolescent Iranians, played a significant role, whereby they took control of carrying out the offensive attacks on the enemy. Surprisingly, the Iranian army achieved unexpected success due to the mobilisation of the Basij. Bizarrely, these young boys were poorly trained and ill-equipped. They relied more on their faith than their scant military training. Their dangerous remit was to clear the targeted fields of all possible mines and attackers. Therefore, they were always sent in advance of Iran’s other military forces (Karsh 2002; January 2008). In line with their Shia sense of martyrdom, they enthusiastically and impatiently stormed the enemy, advancing in human waves towards their foe. Their identifiable headbands consisted of red, green and sometimes yellow, which signified Allah’s or Khomeini’s greatness and/or Hussein’s martyrdom (see Figure 4.6). Often, each of them wore a piece of white cloth, a symbol of martyrdom, pinned to their uniforms and ‘a plastic key around their necks, issued personally by Khomeini as a symbol of their assured entry into paradise upon martyrdom’ (Karsh 2002: 62). Importantly, these incorporated the symbols of Ta’ziyeh, which were used extensively to attract young boys towards the battlefield. As Figure 4.6 illustrates, a young boy is seen wearing two of the most important symbols of Ta’ziyeh. They represent the Shia belief that joining the war was justified in order to overcome their enemies. ‘Ya Hussein shahid’ (Oh martyr Hussein) is written on the red headband, while ‘Asheghann-e Karbala’ (Lovers of Karbala) is written on the green headband that covers his forehead. As an integral part of Iranian offensive positions on the battlefield, and usually before the main attack, the Basij would rush towards the enemy. They often did not carry weapons and simply used their own bodies to detonate mines (January 2008: 101). Their actions were based on their belief that they would win certain entry into paradise if they would sacrifice themselves and become martyrs. In Shia culture and religion, a martyr joins Imam Hussein and his followers in

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Figure 4.6 A young boy wears two of the most important symbols of Ta’ziyeh Source: Iran Review (2014) The Contemporary History, 34th Anniversary of the Iran–Iraq War, 22 September, www.iranreview.org/content/Documents/34th-Anniversary-of-the-Iran-IraqWar.htm, accessed 26/09/2014; Free Photos (2016), ‘A photo by www.sajad.ir’, www.free-photos.biz/photographs/people/children/358514_children_in_iraq-iran_war4.php, accessed 20/07/16

paradise and consequently meets the Khoda (God). For the Basij, defeat in the war was not an option. Their interpretation of Shia teachings meant that God would not allow them, as forces of righteousness, to be defeated. Thereby their victory was assured. Martyrs are considered to be brave and heroic, as ultimately their martyrdom serves to save many others, and their death by martyrdom is believed a battle victory, as their death ensures that the door of paradise will open to welcome them. In this way, members of the Basij were convinced that all sacrifices would be redeemed by an eternal reward. Therefore, this mass mobilisation of Basij, together with their assault tactics, became a successful strategy for the revolutionary clerics, from the first year of the war onwards. These methods were considered to be useful and powerful in initiating panic and fear in the Iraqi soldiers. Therefore, the revolutionary clerics utilised Shia religious, cultural and emotional components, as well as expressions, in order to rally significant numbers of Basij. They exploited the movement, as well as the acts of the Basij in the battleground, as a propaganda manoeuvre. They employed every conceivable means of manipulation from emotional, national and cultural patriotism, as well as the capitalisation of religious beliefs and prejudices (Karsh 2002; Takeyh

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2010). As a result, they managed to recruit large numbers of volunteers to join the war, and thanks to the willingness of the army recruits to sacrifice and martyr themselves, the Iranian army overcame several battles against the Iraqi army. In order to mobilise more volunteers in the early years of the war, Khomeini announced that parental consent for immature and/or young boys to fight was unnecessary. The justification was ‘that volunteering for service was a religious obligation, and that serving in the forces took precedence over all other forms of work or study’ (Karsh 2002: 74). In turn, this encouraged young pupils to leave their education in school and join the battlefront without their parents’ permission. In addition, a considerable number of employees representing various sectors of industry, particularly civil servants, also left their positions to participate in the war. By propagating the idea that victory could only be achieved by blood and strength of faith, and not by swords, Khomeini believed a massive offensive could defeat Iraq’s defence force. Therefore, he tried to achieve the final victory through brute force, as well as mass mobilisation. His ideology and ‘decision not only prolonged the war, but also led to one of its most hazardous periods’ (Takeyh 2010: 378). After eight years of war, which resulted in considerable poverty, death and destruction, the revolutionary clerics accepted UN Resolution 598 in August 1988, and the war finally ended. Khomeini personally announced this on Iranian national television, stating that accepting the terms was akin to drinking ‘a poisoned chalice’ (Wright 2010: 160). Tragically, out of the 190,000 people who perished during the war, 85,000 were from the Basij, 33,000 were school students and 3,500 were university students (BBC Farsi, 2014). Sadly, this means that the majority of the victims of war were under the age of 18.

The war and the public sphere When a schismogenic process started between Iran and Iraq, suddenly their normal and peaceful relations transformed into an environment full of conflict. As a consequence, a liminal phase began, which provided tricksters with a stage to exercise their powers. As Plato suggested in his dialogue Gorgias (465a–468a) in relation to the Sophists: rhetorical, religious and cultural symbols may be used without the backing of truth, virtue or justice. By manipulating large numbers of people through powerful, easily relatable cultural and religious symbols, the war was justified and political and economic issues were masked. People showed blind devotion to the war cause which ‘portrayed Iranian society as much more cohesive and unified in its support of the war effort than it actually was’ (Karsh 2002: 73). Thus, the public sphere can be formed and transformed in a society whilst being shaped and controlled by tricksters and political actors employing religious and cultural symbols. A similar tactic is used by political actors in other parts of the world, for example the United States, to influence the public sphere by utilising symbols, images and rhetoric of democracy. In this way, they labelled their authority and desire as the people’s authority and desire to validate the war in the Middle East, and used

The Iran–Iraq War  113 the scapegoat mechanism to avoid larger societal political, cultural and economic issues. Obviously, promoting and practicing this style of authority, which falsifies the truth for a specific aim, results in an unjust society with dangerous implications. Girard’s (1986) analysis of the scapegoat mechanism and sacrifice was a reaction to the situations such as ‘the outburst of violence in modern Western societies which went hand-in-hand with the transition of industrial to post-industrial societies’ (Fischer-Lichte 2005: 210). There are various examples to demonstrate this – the Gulf War, September 11, the invasion of Iraq and its consequences – but analyses of all of these is out of the scope of this book. Therefore, a very brief outline of the Iraq Inquiry Report published on 6 July 2016 (Iraq Inquiry 2016) is given here to demonstrate how political actors form and transform the public sphere in modern democracies to justify war against other nations. In March 2003 the United Kingdom took part in an invasion and full-scale occupation of Iraq led by the United States. Whatever the aim of this behindclosed-doors decision was, whether it be revenge for the attacks on September 11 or further access to oil and other vital natural resources, political actors consistently incorporated words like ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’ into their discourse in order to demonstrate that their decision was of the utmost gravity. They claimed they wanted to bring freedom and democracy to Iraq, and to the Middle East in general. Saddam Hussein was undoubtedly a brutal dictator, but the questions raised immediately were: why had the US, along with the UK and their allies, suddenly declared Saddam Hussein a dangerous enemy when they had supported him during his invasion of Iran and the subsequent eight-year war? How could democracy, which is defined as the governing of people by the people, be brought by military force to Iraq? Could people in Iraq get to choose what kind of political system they wanted or would they have to accept whatever the US and her allies wanted? Is the US and its allies capable of delivering democracy to other parts of the world when their own behaviour is questionably dictatorial? Of course, these were not questions asked in the Iraq Inquiry Report, which took about seven years to be completed. The Iraq Inquiry team were merely tasked with discovering whether or not the decision to invade Iraq in 2003 was justified, and whether or not they should have been better prepared for what followed. The report concluded that the UK chose to join the invasion of Iraq before the peaceful options for disarmament had been exhausted. UK Prime Minister Tony Blair overstated the threat posed by Saddam Hussein, sent ill-prepared troops into battle, had wholly inadequate plans for the aftermath of the war and the government failed to achieve its stated objectives. Thus, the invasion of Iraq was launched on a false pretext. Indeed, questions of the Iraq Inquiry Report could easily have been answered before the invasion. World Wars I and II, the Vietnam War and the Iran– Iraq War, all in the twentieth century alone, should have served as enough of a lesson that any invasion has very dangerous and complicated consequences. There are plenty of books, films and evidence to highlight this. As a liminal phenomenon, war has two consequences: one is immediate, such as death and destruction, and the other is permanent, such as the environmental effects of two atomic bombs

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dropped over Nagasaki and Hiroshima by the US in 1945. Thus, the consequences of the Iraq War could be predicted easily before the invasion. Thirteen years after the invasion of Iraq, not only have hundreds of thousands of people been killed, and many homes and buildings destroyed, but economic and immigration crises are spiralling out of control. Furthermore, given such liminality, tricksters are able to use these opportunities to exercise their ability to form the public sphere for their pre-planned goals. In the Middle East, particularly in Iraq and Syria, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi established the Sunni militant jihadist organisation known as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIS), or simply the Islamic State (IS), to manipulate Sunni Muslims by utilising Sunni religious symbols, images and signs. Not only could he gather a considerable crowd to wage war in the Middle East and in some regions of Africa, but he also destabilises the West by using its own residents, who sacrifice their lives to take the lives of others in suicide bombings and shootings. In the West, some far-right political actors, such as Donald Trump in the US, Geert Wilders in the Netherlands and Marine Le Pen in France, have tried to form the public sphere in their own interests and have given a voice to neo-fascists, neo-Nazis, racists and Islamophobes. As a result, we face unrest and uncertainty in the so-called ‘modern world’. In Szakolczai’s (2003: 22) words, human societies are ‘threatened by the internal collapse of their own arrangements. As such internal dissolution destroys all stable-values and structures, usual solutions fail, and the situation converges to the sacrifice of an innocent victim. The result, eventually, is a world of dissimulation, oppression and lies’. As demonstrated in the Iran–Iraq War, cultural and religious symbols, images, signs and rhetoric, and their emotional connections, which can be employed by tricksters, must not be ignored and avoided. They are so multifarious, complex and complicated that the proper understanding of them requires growing and living with them.

Notes 1 2

The war started on 22 September 1980 and ended on 20 August 1988. The waterway, which forms the boundary between Iran and Iraq, flows into the Persian Gulf.

References BBC Farsi (2014) 20 September, www.bbc.com/persian/mobile/iran/2014/09/ 140920_war_iran_iraq.shtml, accessed 20/09/14 Canetti, E. (1962) Crowds and Power, New York: Continuum Dabashi, H. (2005) ‘Ta’ziyeh as Theatre of Protest’, The Drama Review, Vol. 49, No. 4, pp. 91–99 Fischer-Lichte, E. (2005) Theatre, Sacrifice, Ritual: Exploring Forms of Political Theatre, London and New York: Routledge Girard, R. (1986) The Scapegoat, Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press Iraq Inquiry (2016) ‘The Report of the Iraq Inquiry’, www.iraqinquiry.org.uk/the-report/, 6 July, accessed 10/12/16

The Iran–Iraq War  115 January, B. (2008) The Iranian Revolution, Minneapolis, MN: Twenty-First Century Books Karsh, E. (2002) Essential Histories: The Iran–Iraq War 1980–1988, Oxford: Osprey Publishing Peterson, S. (2010) Let the Swords Encircle Me: Iran – A Journey Behind the Headlines, New York: Simon & Schuster Plato (1997) Plato: Complete Works, Introduction and notes by J. M. Cooper, Indianapolis, IN/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company Potter, L. G. and Sick, G. G. (2004) Iran, Iraq, and the Legacies of War, New York and Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan Sheldreh, F. A., Pazaki, N. M., Poor-Moghadam, G. H., and Mohammadi, R. (eds) (2016) The Grade Three Farsi Primary School’s Text (Reading) Book, Tehran: Vezarat-e Amoozesh va Parvaresh (Ministry of Education) Szakolczai, A. (2003) The Genesis of Modernity, London; New York: Routledge Takeyh, R. (2010) ‘The Iran–Iraq War: A Reassessment’, Middle East Journal, Vol. 64, No. 3, pp. 365–83 Tebyan (2007) ‘Our Leader: Mohammed Hossein Fahmideh’, 29 October, http://english.tebyan.net/newindex.aspx?pid=52570, accessed 20/08/2014 Wright, R. B. (2010) The Iran Primer: Power, Politics, and US Policy, Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace

5

Ta’ziyeh and the public sphere during the 2009 Green Movement

Exploring the 2009 Green Movement demonstrates the correlation between schismogenesis, liminality and the trickster and illustrates how the symbols and images of Ta’ziyeh ritual performance were used by Islamic reformists to claim political legitimacy, which was mistakenly understood in the West as people demanding their rights for democracy, equality, political freedom and civil rights. In order to understand the foundations of the 2009 Green Movement, and particularly to grasp the concept of the formation of the public sphere during this liminal period, it is important to be made aware of the key political institutions, political cultural traits and political actors that were embedded in Iran after the 1979 Revolution. By explaining the national political structure and particularly political figures of that era, the positions of powers can be clarified, helping to illustrate the evolution of the Green Movement and to illuminate the schismogenic processes that emerged among the political actors in Iran. This chapter demonstrates how, under such liminal conditions, trickster figures can employ cultural and religious symbols in the medium of cyberspace, social media and social networks to become influential and manipulate the public.

Schismogenic processes and liminality after the war As explained in Chapter 1, there is a close interrelation between schismogenic processes and liminality. When a schismogenic process starts, the normal relations between two or more bodies transform into an atmosphere full of conflict, and as a result, a liminal phase begins, for example, conflicts between revolutionary leaders immediately after the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran, or a new schismogenic process that started between hardliners and reformists after the Iran–Iraq War. These schismogenic processes between the revolutionary figures or religio-political powers in Iran, after the 1979 Revolution, led the whole system and society into a permanent state of liminality. This means, after the 1979 Revolution and the war, the Islamic regime never attempted to exit contemporary liminality, thereby making it more complicated and elongated. The political, cultural and especially the economic system they designed and maintained left society stranded in a structure and situation that could not be classified as Islamic, capitalist or socialist. Undoubtedly, the leader and political

The Green Movement  117 powers were more interested in trying to gain extra power within the political institutions, market places and economic arenas than spending their energy in building a society that incorporated appropriate values and beliefs in its culture and welfare. Thus, Iranian society encompassed various contrasting cultures: the Western modern culture, and Persian and Islamic cultures. Theoretically, society was opposed to capitalism, but practically the country was modelled and aligned to a capitalist culture of consumption. Human values reflected an allegiance to having money to spend on fashion, new cars, big houses and luxury furniture. In this competitive marketplace, whereby the materialistic acquisition of wealth, goods and services is limited to the minority, the majority of the population are left to suffer. Disappointingly, this was not what the revolutionary clerics had promised before and during the Iranian Revolution. They had vowed to lift the poor, by distributing the vast oil income equally across society, but in contrast, the gap between rich and poor started to grow progressively wider, particularly after the Iran–Iraq War. Some people used opportunities provided by a vast domestic market to make materialistic gains, while others were aided by a mixture of corruption and impulsive government policies. Due to these factors, economic hardship increased for millions of ordinary Iranians. In contrast, the new rich pose with their expensive cars, watches, mobile phones and diamonds. As an extreme illustration of wealth, some citizens show decadent indulgence by eating €200– 500 ice-cream covered in edible gold in Tehran’s Milad Tower, one of the highest rotating restaurants built in 2007, which becomes packed with elite and wealthy figures watching Ta’ziyeh performances of Iranian ethnic groups from different provinces. Indeed, the availability of this elite extravagance is aimed at the people who can afford such luxuries and want to demonstrate it. The combination of financial pressures on people, the rise of crime, prostitution, bribery and corruption in Iran appears to be explicit, visible and currently evident in society at large. Evidently, a marriage of power and wealth has led the revolutionary clerics and political actors to forget their previous promises to citizens. Instead, they have chosen to ignore the current problems Iranian society faces, thereby allowing and provoking a permanent liminality. This only serves to remind Iranians living in Iran to liken these experiences with those described by George Orwell in his novel Animal Farm, originally published in 1945. Therefore, just as the animals fought against humans and their owner Mr Jones (the farmer), under the leadership of the pigs in their rebellion against their treatment, they then gradually change their revolutionary mottos, slogans and list of rules to suit their own interests. Interestingly, they also begin to change their behaviour and begin to resemble the humans they revolted against to start with. The characteristic traits of human behaviour evolve as the pigs managing the farm start to carry whips in their trotters, buy wireless sets, even arranging to install a telephone, all behaviours the humans displayed. Horrifyingly, this evolution of behaviour and power manifests into the pigs wearing Mr Jones’ clothes and being more oppressive and abusive to their own species than the human Mr Jones had ever been (Orwell 1976).

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In any place and time whereby a revolution takes place in a society, the social order invariably collapse and society automatically enters a liminal period. During a period of liminality, big and small moves and changes automatically occur, which is unavoidable. However, serious problems start to appear when the whole system breaks down and cannot be fused back together. Subsequently, a structured society usually goes into reverse, whereby chaos and destructive behaviour and movements become the new normal. Thus, a revolution has the ability to transform society into a state of permanent liminality. For example, the 1979 Revolution led society to liminality, which appears to have expanded into a permanent liminality when subsequent schismogenesis and liminality occurred. A schismogenic process can result in temporary or permanent liminality and various types of progressive differentiation between groups can occur, so much so that the temporary dissolution of society leads to a new liminal era. In Iran, the schismogenic process between the political powers or the revolutionary clerics originated in a transitional period and unfortunately resulted in a further phase of uncertainty and liminality. For example, the Green Movement happened as a result of the schism between two politico-religious groups. The voting controversy in the 2009 presidential election led to some protesting candidates establishing the political Green Movement. To understand this schismogenic process and liminality in the transitional phases in Iran that have occurred since the 1979 Revolution, the following sections provide some basic knowledge of the embedded political institutions, structures, political culture and political actors.

The political structure and separation of powers While the Iranian constitution recognises three unique powers after 1979: the executive, legislative and judiciary powers, the supreme leader remains the most powerful position in the system who is in control of all three pillars (Articles 5, 57, 60, 107 and 108 of the 1989 amended constitution). The second highest-ranking official in Iran is the president, who is publicly elected for a four-year term. However, his power is limited by the constitution and the supreme leader. While the president has nominal rule over the Supreme National Security Council and the Ministry of Intelligence and Security, in practice the supreme leader has control over all matters of foreign and domestic security. According to Iran’s constitution, both the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and the regular army, comprising of the Islamic Republic’s armed forces, are controlled by the supreme leader (Articles 57 and 60 of the 1989 amended constitution). Members of the Islamic Consultative Assembly (Majlis-e Shorai-e Eslami), who are publicly elected every four years, enact legislation, approve the national budget and ratify treaties. However, this is overseen by the Council of Guardians to determine their compatibility with Shari’a or Islamic rules. Half of the 12 jurists of this Council’s members are appointed by the supreme leader, while the other six are recommended by the head of the judiciary and nominated by the Parliament. The Council of Guardians has rejected a considerable percentage of

The Green Movement  119 the laws passed by Parliament in recent years. It also has the power to interpret the constitution and determines who can run for a seat in the Assembly of Experts, presidential and parliamentary elections. The Expediency Council is charged with mediating disputes between Parliament and the Council of Guardians. Therefore, the Expediency Council is one of the most powerful governing bodies and serves as an advisory body to the supreme leader. Meanwhile, the Assembly of Experts consists of 86 highly ranked clerics, elected by the public for eight-year terms. They only meet one week per year, in order to re-elect the supreme leader from within their own ranks. As of 2015, the assembly has never challenged any of the supreme leader’s decisions. However, in principle, judiciary power is independent, but the head of the judiciary, who appoints the head of the Supreme Court and the chief public prosecutor, is appointed and controlled by the supreme leader. The impeachment proceedings of the president in Iran require approval by the contemporary supreme leader, who is Ayatollah Ali Khamenei (MacLeod and Shannon 2007). For example, Ahmadinejad’s request to visit Evin’s prison was rejected by the head of justice and following that, the members of Parliament called for the impeachment of Ahmadinejad. Nevertheless, the supreme leader intervened and warned of the danger of dragging disputes between officials into the open, and subsequently stopped the impeachment process against the president (Usher 2012).

Historical background and political culture Abolhassan Bani-Sadr, who served as the first president of Iran from 1980 to 1981, initially enjoyed support from the supreme leader, Khomeini. Nonetheless, his disagreement with the clerical group around Khomeini and the Islamic Republic Party (IRP) led by Mohammad Beheshti during the Iran–Iraq War, frustrated his agenda and subsequently terminated Khomeini’s support. Accordingly, Khomeini sided with the clerical group and allowed Bani-Sadr’s impeachment. Parliament voted to oust Bani-Sadr from his position, and then forced him to abdicate his role in office in June 1981, compelling him to escape to France. Mohammad Ali Raja’i, who was prime minister during Bani-Sadr’s presidency, succeeded Bani-Sadr in a hastily organised election in July 1981, but both his prime minister, Mohammad Javad Bahonar, and he were assassinated after just 28 days in August 1981. Ali Khamenei secured the presidential role, by an uncontested ballot, held in October. He served two four-year terms as president with his prime minister, Mir Hossein Mousavi. The government suppressed opposition parties between 1981 and 1983 by jailing and killing thousands of young Iranians, often in the streets, ‘and by the murder in prison of over 2,000 members of the radical left-wing groups at the end of the Iran–Iraq War’ (Bakhash 2010: 16). At the time, President Ali Khamenei backed Hashemi Rafsanjani’s controversial proposals to permit more economic possibilities for the private sector, which convinced a number of political analysts to consider him a moderate cleric, meaning he was allowed to make economic

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decisions (Bakhash 2010). Following that, Rafsanjani was appointed as Iranian Parliament speaker from 1980 to 1989. In addition, he was elected as an acting commander-in-chief of the armed forces in the last year of the Iran–Iraq War, appointed by the supreme leader, Khomeini. In the aftermath of Ayatollah Khomeini’s death on 3 June 1989, the Assembly of Experts elected the president, Sayyed Ali Khamenei, as his successor. By becoming the supreme leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Khamenei obtained all of Khomeini’s titles, except imam. Subsequently, Khamenei’s selection as a leader was interrogated by the opposition due to his election not adhering to the constitutional law because it was not a marja-e taqlid (a source of imitation) (Arjomand 2009). In fact, there was also a serious problem with the constitutional amendments to strengthen the powers of the leader according to the concept of velayat-e faqih (the absolute mandate of the jurists). The Council for the Revision of the Constitution met in order to quickly draft these amendments, which they completed on 8 July 1989, to ratify the constitution by the majority of the voters. Thereafter, Khamenei was elected as the leader and Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, who was Majlis (the Islamic Consultative Assembly) speaker, was elected as the president of Iran by the popular majority vote. Initially, these dual power systems cooperated, with the aim of resuming collective clerical rule. Despite the newly ratified constitution, which gave considerable power to the new leader Khamenei, it was Rafsanjani, a millionaire mullah (cleric), who dominated Iranian politics after the 1980s, and who retained and illustrated the power in the diarchy. Rafsanjani has been a powerful figure in Iranian national and international politics, as he had led two of the most powerful bodies in Iran: the Assembly of Experts, which appoints and can theoretically replace the supreme leader, and the Expediency Council, which adjudicates disputes over legislation. Among Khomeini’s revolutionary followers, these two powerful figures, Khamenei and Rafsanjani, were joint advocates of feqh-e puyā (progressive Islamic jurisprudence) (Arjomand 2009: 37). Regardless of their similarity and cooperation, they gradually began to compete for power and supremacy. Therefore, a schismogenic process between them and their followers started. In this power struggle, they both used any opportunity to enlarge their circle of support and sovereignty. For example, Khamenei took advantage of his constitutional privilege to have mastery over the military forces and Basij, and upheld his network of clerical commissars in the various organisations, public sectors, security and intelligence forces, the Special Court for Clerics and, importantly, the provincial and municipal Friday prayer leaders (Imam Jomeh) (Arjomand 2009: 38). Friday leaders play an important role in the political system of Iran. As Aghaie (2004: 133–34) explains, in many of the weekly Friday sermons, especially during the ritual periods, they stress the abstract ideals of Karbala and Ta’ziyeh symbols. The aim is to inspire the large crowds at the prayer gatherings, held in each city, to act in accordance with those ideals. For example, Aghaie (2004), in his observation of a Friday sermon in Shahreza during the first Friday of Muharram in 1997 writes:

The Green Movement  121 The Imam spoke of political activism as being in the best traditions of Hoseyn’s (Hussein’s) movement. He then encouraged everyone to vote in the national presidential elections, stating the participation in government elections was one of the best ways to carry on the sort of activism envisioned by Imam Hosyen and the revolutionaries surrounding Khomeini. He then proceeded with lamentations for the martyrs of Karbala, which inspired passionate displays of crying and wailing on the part of the listeners. (Aghaie 2004: 135) Mir Hossein Mousavi (the leading figure of the 2009 Green Movement), who was an active member of the 1979 Revolution against the king of Iran, served as the prime minister from 1981 to 1989 but, after the constitutional referendum, the post of prime minister was abolished, putting the cabinet directly under the president as the head of the executive power. After that he became the president of the Iranian Academy of Arts. However, this expansion of presidential power, under Article 124 and 176 of the constitution, permitted Rafsanjani to appoint deputypresidents and to establish a Supreme National Security Council (Shorai-e Aliy-e Amniyyat-e Melli) chaired by him, but the president’s position in terms of leadership was significantly weakened. Specifically, Majma-e Tashkhis-e Maslahat-e Nezam (Expediency Discernment Council of the System) or the Expediency Council, traditionally a structure and forum of the state, now falls under the authority of the leader (Article 111 and 112 of the 1989 amended Constitution; Arjomand 2009: 38). Furthermore, Khamenei could also replace key ministerial and judicial positions with his own men, with the support of the parliamentary hardliners.

Second order liminality During his presidency from 1989 to 1997, Rafsanjani launched economic liberalisation, placed his own men in key posts and reduced social and cultural (but not political) controls. At the same time, Mohammad Khatami was minister of culture, who tried to adopt some liberal policies on film, theatre, art, books and publications. For example, a monthly women’s magazine called Zanan was published to address women’s issues. ‘In literary and intellectual journals, such as Kiyan and Goftegu, a guarded but lively debate took place on civil society, the relationship between religion and democracy, and the balance between state authority and individual freedoms’ (Bakhash 2010: 17). This sphere encouraged the middle class and writers to speak out, debate contemporary problems and even publish their thoughts. The consequence of this freedom resulted in identifying and murdering a number of anti-regime intellectuals from 1994–1995, which Rafsanjani never publicly condemned (Bakhash 2010). In fact, the pattern of the well-known chain murders or serial murders of Iran that occurred during the presidency of Rafsanjani only became known in late 1998, when Dariush Forouhar1 and his wife Parvaneh Eskandari Forouhar were murdered, and a series of new murders and disappearances took place.

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At the time, Rafsanjani and his circle, who were then calling themselves reformists, consciously ignored the surrounding chaos in society, and instead, focused on competing with the hardliners in order to obtain key positions of power. For example, they excluded radical wings of opposition in the 1990 elections for the Assembly of Experts and also in the 1992 parliamentary elections for their own gain. According to Bakhash (2010), even the Iran Liberation Front, which was a centrist opposition party, was barely tolerated by Rafsanjani’s government. Gradually, Rafsanjani’s privatisation and development programme led to inflation and hardship, which resulted in protests in several towns from 1992 to 1995. Together with cultural liberalisation, that failed to fulfil many of the shortcomings in Iranian society, this gave rise to the election of right-wing and conservative figures in Parliament. After the conservatives’ victory, which was also Khamenei’s supporters’ victory, Rafsanjani’s favoured culture minister, Khatami, and his brother Mohammad Hashemi Rafsanjani, the head of Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting, were replaced with conservatives in 1992 and 1994 respectively. As a result, Khamenei’s followers attacked bookstores and cinemas, interrupted public speeches and lectures, such as Abdolkarim Soroush’s (a leading figure among reformists) lectures, and arrested and punished several journalists from 1993–1995 (Bakhash 2010). Rafsanjani’s obvious loss of the initiative to the conservatives, led by Khamenei in his second term, convinced him to use his position and power to encourage and support the election campaign of Mohammad Khatami. In the 1997 presidential election, Khatami stimulated voters by highlighting the rule of law, tolerance for diverse views, respect for rights and improvement of social rights, building good international relations and special attention on the needs of women and youth by applying Shia and Islamic symbols and rhetoric. Subsequently, he won 70 per cent of the vote in an 80 per cent turnout. In the 2001 presidential election, his campaign on a reform programme won a second term by a similar margin. He followed Rafsanjani’s policies for economic liberalisation and privatisation. Under his presidency, the newspapers supporting reformists tried to replace previous public discourse such as imperialism, the oppressed (mostazafin), jihad, martyrdom, revolution and Western intoxication (gharbzadegi) with new public discourse and vocabularies such as democracy, pluralism, modernism, liberty, equality, civil society, human rights, political participation, dialogue and citizenship (Abrahamian 2008). Political actors were gradually divided into two main groups. On the one hand, there were reformists who were supporting Soroush’s philosophy to promote Islamic democracy and subsequently to defend rationalisation, the free market and privatisation, like the model in the West, which was accelerated by Margaret Thatcher in the UK after 1979 and by Ronald Reagan in the US after 1981, but under the cover of Islamic rules. On the other hand, there were hardliners supporting Mesbah Yazdi’s philosophy of anti-Westernisation and anti-democratisation with rigid Shia Islam slogans.

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From Fardid to Ahmadinejad A group of these new politicians, who were categorised as ‘conservative reformists’ or later ‘reformists’, started to freely cite not only Rousseau, Voltaire and Montesquieu, but also Hume, Kant and Descartes. Even those who had started their political careers as militant revolutionaries were oblivious to any irony their behaviour showed, considering they had little appreciation of early twentieth-century history (Abrahamian 2008: 186–88). In contrast, another group called ‘conservative hard-liners’ or later shortened to ‘hard-liners’, who were following Mesbah Yazdi, began to refer to the ideas of Plato and Heidegger in order to justify the concept of velayat-e faqih, without having proper knowledge or understanding of their underlying ideas. Their understanding of Plato and Heidegger was extremely limited to the teachings and interpretations of velayate faqih by clerics such as Mesbah Yazdi. As explained in previous paragraphs, according to Naji (2008) and Salemy (2013), Mesbah Yazdi was influenced by Ahmad Fardid, but there is a lack of clear and convincing evidence to show how and at what level. Hard-liners appreciated both Khomeini and his successor Khamenei as Al-Farabi’s contemporary style philosopher-king. This analysis of philosopher-king and imam (velayat-e faqih) goes back to the work of Al-Farabi (known in the West as Alpharabius), who came into contact with Greek philosophy and attempted to assert the ideal ‘caliph’ as the platonic philosopher-king (Walzer 1962: 31) in the tenth century. After the 1953 coup, Fardid remained one of the Iranian intellectuals who possessed the most in-depth knowledge of the history of Western metaphysics and of the philosophy of Heidegger. This aided him to support his claim against the concept of modernity, using philosophical language (Salemy 2013: 2). Indeed, Heidegger’s Being and Time (1962), which was first published in 1927, constitutes one of the most important contributions to philosophy in the twentieth century. His ideas were widely received and regarded by Iranian intellectuals, particularly those who were in contact with Corbin and his circle, before and after the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Heidegger’s notion of Eigentlichkeit, which is usually rendered into English as ‘authenticity’ (Sembera 2007: 144), flourished in the Iranian context, promoting a return to the authentic self, firmly grounded on a separation from imposed occidental modern culture and ideals. Heidegger’s critique of a decadent and depraved West drew the attention of a group of Iranian intellectuals who were dissatisfied with a despotic monarch seen as promoting the values of the West and capitalism, at the cost of Iranian and Shia values and beliefs. They perceived Heidegger’s philosophy as similar to Shia philosophy. Fardid, known as an oral philosopher, became the leading figure of Iranian intellectuals, utilising Heidegger’s philosophy, but he did not publish any book. His philosophy, his thoughts, his understandings and beliefs are mostly noted in his translation of Henry Corbin’s works, such as Les Motifs Zoroastriens dans la philosophie de Sohrawardi (1946). He coined the term gharbzadegi (Westoxification/Weststruckness) that refers to a loss of cultural identity, and used a philosophical language rooted in strong symbolism to define the East

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(oriental) and the West (occident) and to designate these two competing ‘weltanschauungen’ (Boroujerdi 1996; Salemy 2013). Significantly, this is one of the most important concepts in cognitive science and philosophy. In this way, the term gharbzadegi, used to illustrate the struggle against modernisation and Westernisation in Iran, became popular through its use by publications of Jalal Ale Ahmad. Ali Shariati, who is frequently referred to as the ideologue of the Islamic Revolution, also used the term gharbzadegi in his speeches, lectures and writings. However, he concentrated more on the revolutionary aspects of Shi’ism, believing that its ideology pervaded all spheres of life (Abrahamian 2008). In contrast, Corbin’s followers and Fardid were more focused on the spirituality of Shia religion. Although Fardid died in 1994, Iranian intellectuals, social scientists and authors still discuss, analyse and criticise his ideas. For example, Mirsepassi (2011) argues that Fardid’s idea of gharbzadegi is the interlude between the self and being on the path of renewed Islamic self-realisation. Meanwhile Salemy (2013) believes that although Fardid was pushed away from Khomeini’s circle, he continued to spread his influence within the Iranian political establishment through lesser-known ayatollahs like Mesbah Yazdi. Therefore, he concluded that Mesbah Yazdi owed his political education to Fardid. Naji (2008) and Salemy (2013), as well as leading figures of reformists, agree that Fardid was ‘considered to be the behind the scenes spiritual guide for Iran’s current supreme leader, Khamenei’ (Salemy 2013: 2). In fact, on his website and in his interviews, Soroush strongly criticised Fardid and his philosophy, due to his anti-democratic ideas. This led some authors such as Naji to judge Fardid’s ideas in a similar vein. Naji (2008: 107) claimed that ‘Fardid and his students elucidated the concept of the Mahdi from Heidegger’s abstract notions of “being”, and set forth a series of ideas that were to guide many of Iran’s policies under President Ahmadinejad’. While discussing Heidegger’s philosophy and Fardid’s interpretation of it is beyond the scope of this book, it is evident that the extent of the impact and influence of Fardid’s ideas on Mesbah Yazdi, Khamenei and Ahmadinejad is an unknown quantity. However, glancing quickly at the biographies of Mesbah Yazdi and Ahmadinejad, it becomes obvious that their revolutionary spirit and political activities categorise them more within the realm of revolutionary Shia intellectuals, such as Shariati, than spiritual Shia intellectuals. Defeat of the reformists was neither due to the influence of Heidegger’s philosophy nor Fardid’s ideas. The reformists’ desire for more autonomy, power and call for changes, particularly their demand for limits on the supreme leader’s powers, threatened hardliners. Subsequently, the battle between reformists and hardliners resumed. The judiciary shut down publications supporting reformists and the reformist press. In the meantime, Khamenei barred Parliament from passing a more liberal press law, and as a result of this, civilians, journalists and critics were again arrested and jailed. Thus, reformists’ political struggle for more power and wealth lost out to the hardliners after 16 years. Like Rafsanjani, Khatami seemed helpless in his ability to protect them, or even to defend the students who were being beaten up by security forces during the 1999 Tehran

The Green Movement  125 University protests. This time, it was clear that the reformists’ political theatre and performance were to protect their own positions and interests, not for the benefit of citizens. The significant point here is that during this type of schismogenesis, each party tries to form the public sphere to gain more supporters and followers by using any possible trick, synthetic interpretation, propaganda and false promise.

The defeat of the reformists Conservative reformists were defeated in the 2005 presidential elections. With the support of the supreme leader, hardliners, Revolutionary Guards and paramilitary forces such as Basij, Ahmadinejad, who was the mayor of Tehran and a former provincial governor, was able to win the election after a run-off vote against Rafsanjani. Ahmadinejad campaigned against the previous establishment, Rafsanjani’s wealth and the corruption that had occurred during the presidential terms of both the reformists, Rafsanjani and Khatami. Indeed, Ahmadinejad and his supporters criticised the great class divide caused in society due to the privatisation and economic liberation of wealth, which only served to benefit the rich. Therefore, Ahmadinejad’s campaign and motto were directed more to the poor and lower middle class. After the Revolution and the Iran–Iraq War, ostentatiousness, narcissism and egoism gradually grew in society. It was at its highest peak of vulgarity when Rafsanjani and Khatami were in office. Their careless decisions resulted in a society whereby everyone aimed to make and retain more money than others, by using any possible trick. Under their policies, the culture of caring, altruism and hospitality that Iranians were always proud of them started to rapidly move to the burial ground. People began to be evaluated by their tastes in fashion, mode of transport and income potential, with personality superfluous to requirements. People queued in front of the criminal and civil courts as corruption, bribery and false cheques were abundant, while many other problems surfaced at the same time. The comical but disastrous consequence was that most court judges began to accept bribes in order to make a decision, ignoring the righteousness of people. Indeed, the irony was they were committing crimes while they were judging other crimes and disputes. In other words, justice became obviously injustice. Everyone competed, struggled and performed in order to become richer and more powerful than others. Likewise, any kind of fake and false statement or document was utilised and accepted, which became a normalised obscenity. Still, injustice, fraud, lies, manipulation and swindling can be easily seen everywhere in current society. Indeed, instead of introducing a solution to the problems, both reformists and hard-liners have used the title of Islamic society and religious symbols in order to justify their own position, while competing for more power and wealth. In the 2005 presidential election, Ahmadinejad was aware of all these challenges and was also aware of Shia’s religious symbols and of Iranian cultural and linguistic symbols. At the same time, Rafsanjani exasperated other candidates by repeating that he had only entered the race because there were no other worthy

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candidates. Meanwhile, national television showed Ahmadinejad’s own apartment to prove that he lived a simple lower-middle-class life. ‘Also helpful was the fact that Ahmadinejad’s father had been a blacksmith – the same occupation as that of Kaveh, one of the lead heroes in the Shahnameh’ (Abrahamian 2008: 194). One of his campaign mottos was ‘We Can’, which was later copied and modified by Obama in his presidential election campaign to ‘Yes, We Can’. This was used to motivate and inspire the nation to vote, whose people were suffering from prolonged privatisation of services, economic crisis and uncertainty. Ahmadinejad called himself a Basiji (who is a member of Basij). The Basij volunteer militia’s slogans described him as a Basij member and a companion of Khamenei. In their supporting campaign and programmes for Ahmadinejad, a man would usually launch them with mourning religious dirges and laments about martyrs and imams, particularly Imam Hussein. Following this, Ahmadinejad would begin his speeches with a prayer for the early return of the hidden imam, the Mahdi, and would use linguistic symbols to attract more voters. He declared all his assets in alignment with constitutional law and that he lived on a teacher’s salary. He used cultural and linguistic symbols to justify his claim and stated, ‘My biggest asset is huge – it is my love for serving people, and nothing can compare to that. I take pride in being the Iranian nation’s little servant and street sweeper’ (Naji 2008: 83). Consequently, Ahmadinejad (the hard-line conservative) won the run-off election against Rafsanjani (the reformist conservative) on 24 June 2005 with more than 60 per cent of votes. The defeat of Rafsanjani and the reformists shocked many people, including politicians, journalists and academics in the world, particularly those who were imagining and proposing a democratic system and free market in Iran. Ahmadinejad removed many from office in the ruling establishment, while choosing many of his cabinet ministers from among hard-liners and Mahdi devotees. During his presidency, the powers of the Revolutionary Guards, Basij and security agencies were considerably increased. His challenges to US international dominance, his hostility to Israel and his call for a new world order managed to attract national and international supporters. Despite new United Nations and US sanctions from 2006 onwards, his government continued to pursue its nuclear fuel enrichment programme, and also defiantly used oil revenue to help farmers and disadvantaged people in Iran. Although, Ahmadinejad claimed that his government was the cleanest government in Iran, his opponents accused his government of massive corruption. For example, Ahmadinejad’s first vice president (from 2009 to 2013), Mohammad Reza Rahimi, who once served as the head of an anticorruption agency and received the medal of honour from Ahmadinejad, was convicted of corruption on 15 February 2015.

The paroxysm of the Green Movement After his four-year presidential term, Ahmadinejad succeeded in winning a second term, with more than 60 per cent of the vote on 12 June 2009. The reformist candidate Mir Hossein Mousavi, who also ran for the office of

The Green Movement  127 president, disputed the result, suggesting it was arranged illegally. A discernible schismogenic process between the two political powers, hard-liners and reformists, arose. As a result, supporters of Mousavi cried foul and ultimately clashed with riot police in Tehran, despite a ban on public protests. The state found itself in a state of liminality. There were no more rational debates in the media and in public places between the two parties, but an arena or public space was available for both to form the public sphere. Both hard-liners and reformists used Islam and Shia images and symbols as a cover for achieving their political goals. This liminal period provided occasions to tricksters to employ all possible tricks to manipulate the public. Shrewdly, Khamenei outmanoeuvred everyone in order to neutralise both sides. Rafsanjani, his family and Khatami supported Mousavi, while in contrast, Khamenei appeared to back Ahmadinejad, but the distance between them was visibly growing. During the first term of his office, Ahmadinejad built a base of support among the Revolutionary Guards, the paramilitary forces, the security agencies and the judiciary, on which Khamenei depended. Thus, a new schismogenic process between Ahmadinejad and Khamenei had begun, but Khamenei preferred the new enemy to the old one. According to news agencies, thousands of supporters of Mousavi, some of whom were wearing his campaign colour of green, were chanting ‘Where is my vote?’ and ‘Down with the dictator’. Khamenei called for calm, but the crowd continued to protest. Subsequently, the clash between protesters and authorities started. A group set up by all three opposition candidates, Mousavi, Mohsen Razai and Mehdi Karroubi declared that they would not accept the result, alleging fraud, and they asked the Guardian Council to void the results and re-run the elections. As Girard points out, in Violence and the Sacred (1977: 315), the importance of the relationship between theatre and religion is infrequently discussed by scholars. In parallel to this, Girard explains that ethnological findings are relevant to contemporary society as there is evidence of a new sacrificial crisis when there is a problem with the traditional modes of interpretation. Some societies manage to extricate themselves from the sacred more than other societies. However, the essential violence returns in a spectacular manner, both in the form of a violent history, as well as in the form of subversive knowledge. ‘This crisis invites us, for the very first time, to violate the taboo that neither Heraclitus nor Euripides could ever quite manage to violate, and to expose to the light of reason the role played by violence in human society’ (Girard 1977: 318). There is a close relationship between violence and mimes. During a revolution and a movement, all it takes to initiate a crowd’s behaviour is one person in a crowd who breaks an object, leading to others who will immediately join in the violence. As explained in Chapter 2, in crowd culture and behaviour, people automatically copy each other’s behaviour and follow each other’s desires. ‘Beyond a certain threshold, perhaps simply beyond a certain size population, human groups cannot restore peace through dominance patterns after conflict breaks out. Brute power and intimidation can only carry so far’ (Johnsen 2012: 575). Girard gives the name ‘deviated transcendency’ to the constant parallel that novelists construct between this mechanism of mimetic desire

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and religious experience. Taking the title ‘Men become Gods in the eyes of each other’ from Dostoyevsky, Girard argues that in the modern world, humans sacrifice themselves to each other (1977: 577). The target is to reunite the community, but this cannot be done through fighting factions. Thus, the highly paradoxical idea of creating an enemy remains the only solution. This means, finding or designing an individual, a group, a system, a nation and a state as scapegoat, and unifying the community against this new target, becomes the sacrificial mechanism it sets out to accomplish. After the 1979 Revolution, although the US became the leading nation opposing Iran, the US was commonly deemed the designated scapegoat for the regime, even when a problem occurred as a consequence of the regime’s own careless policies and hasty decisions. During the Green Movement, this sacrificial mechanism was used by both parties against each other. However, the hard-liners linked the leaders of the Green Movement directly to the US, particularly as this became more effective due the reformists’ proposers, such as Soroush and Kadivar, residing in North America. When the Green Movement started, the president of the US, Obama, announced immediately his support for the protesters. However, the Iranian supreme leader accused the US of plotting against Iran. Indeed, the old Iranian wounds of the 1953 coup, as well as the new damage resulting from war and sanctions against Iran led by the US, led Iranians to believe that Americans use the slogan of democracy only to pursue their own interests. The belief was that they wanted to dominate the elite in Iran, to be able to access the Iranian market, propel its national strategic position in the Middle East and lastly dominate natural resources such as oil. However, the regime tried to convince the public that the Green Movement was backed by the US, but the truth was the movement could gather huge crowds, for both street protests and online rebellious activities, by utilising Ta’ziyeh symbols. As a result, while living in permanent liminality, a new liminality evolved and violence broke out on the streets, which resulted in daily damage, losses, victims and sacrifices. Using goriz techniques (see Chapter 3), Ta’ziyeh images were employed to justify the actions of both the reformists and hard-liners.

Ta’ziyeh symbols and the Green Movement The Green Movement’s leaders utilised the most powerful events and ritual performance on the Shia religious calendar, such as Ta’ziyeh and its embedded symbols and images, to mobilise crowds in order to claim their demands. They employed symbols and methods similar to those used by Khomeini and his allies during the 1979 Revolution, to mobilise people against Iran’s hard-line leaders after the 2009 presidential election. As Kamalipour (2010: 62) explains, the use of signs, symbols and the tradition of slogan chanting in the streets created a revolutionary atmosphere. Similar to the 1979 Revolution, demonstrators were chanting ‘Allah-o-akbar’ (God is great), ‘Azadi, esteghlal, jomohouri Irani’ (Freedom, independence, Iranian republic) and some new slogans were also created, such as ‘Where is my vote?’. They regularly recalled the symbols used

The Green Movement  129 during the 1979 Revolution through their protest activities, in both the streets and online (Rauh 2013: 1316). In reclaiming the revolutionary rhetoric and history through posters, photographs, slogans, graffiti and other visual and artistic activities, the protestors and supporters involved in the Green Movement initially tried to challenge the outcome of the 2009 presidential election, which was later followed by protests against the legitimacy of the system. Initially, Mousavi and Karroubi, leaders of the Green Movement, protested against the outcome of the 2009 presidential election, claiming that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad had been re-elected by fraud. First, they did not question the leadership of Khamenei or the system itself. Second, they never specified a particular form of democratic reform they required in Iran. However, utilising Shia symbols as a means to demand a re-election process could gather considerable crowds in big cities. The size and scope of the movement were exaggerated by diasporic Iranians, particularly by supporters using cyberspace. For example, in spring 2010, Abdolkarim Soroush, Mohsen Kadivar, Ataollah Mohajerani, Akbar Ganji and Abdolali Bazargan published their own manifesto for the Green Movement for international use, calling it a ‘reform-movement’ (Soroush et al. 2010). From election day to Ashura day, numerous demonstrations took place demanding civil rights with slogans such as ‘Where is my vote?’. On Ashura, protesters openly clashed with authorities, beat police and pro-government militiamen. Many Green Movement activists predicted the end of the current Islamic regime by the anniversary of the Islamic Revolution on 11 February 2010. However, after Ashura day the regime declared victory over the Green Movement leaders, calling them ‘fetnehgaran’ (seditionists). After overcoming the Movement, the regime put its leaders under house arrest, excluding Rafsanjani, and imprisoned anti-regime and reformists activists. Since then, there has not been another Green Movement demonstration. The consequences of the schismogenic process between politico-religious powers in Iran were chaos, disarray, killing, torturing and imprisonment. Similar to the 1979 Revolution and the Iran–Iraq War, Ta’ziyeh symbols were utilised by political actors to form the public sphere during this liminal period. Nonetheless, employing new mobile and computer technologies and cyberspace during the Green Movement led some journalists, reporters, writers and social media to call it modern movement or revolution, democratic movement, mobile-technology revolution, cyberspace revolution and even Twitter revolution.

The Green Movement and the battle of cyberspace The instruments of publicity and public engagement in the social, economic and political arenas are growing in power due to the development of communication technology and electronic media. At the same time, their capacity to play a manipulative role in forming the public sphere is disregarded. Under liminal conditions of the 2009 Green Movement, trickster figures could employ cultural and religious symbols in the medium of cyberspace, social media and social networks to become influential in manipulating the public.

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The concept of the public sphere, as a forum of communication between the state and society, which was introduced by Habermas (1989), contributes to the modern understanding of democracy and rests on the idea of critical-rational debate, speech acts and deliberative process that are ‘legitimated through a rational pursuit of collective interest, which also implies a fair degree of transparence of communication among the actors involved in the process’ (Salvatore 2007: 5). According to Habermas, the public sphere is formed in a place where the otherwise private bourgeois come together and engage in rational debate. The creation of new cyberspaces led to a novel development of the public sphere, which is rooted in normative Habermasian standards of communicative rationality, as it moved away from face-to-face debate to public debates through new online communication tools. The development of this cyberspace technology brought new opportunities for publicity and public engagement in the social, economic and political arenas, and new ways to communicate speedily, to participate online in the political debate, to engage in social movements and revolutions and even to organise them. Today, we witness the spread of both cyberspace and cyberspace users through the whole world. For example, new mobile phones, particularly smartphones, computer technologies and cyberspace were used for the first time in history of Iran in 2009 to organise protest, report it, discuss and reflect it online nationally and internationally. After the 2009 presidential election, cyberspace and online social media sites such as Twitter, YouTube and Facebook, as well as the availability of text messaging and emails all contributed in fabricating a public sphere in Iran. Nonetheless, this could only be operated in big cities due to the limited coverage, access and availability of the internet in Iran. Therefore, cyberspace media coverage was able to widen its dissemination towards both wealthy and middle-class minority populations in Iran. The cyberspace media war between hard-liners and reformists appeared to be a modern way of manipulating the public during and after the Green Movement. The hard-liners created websites and social networks called Sabz Alavi (Green Alavi2) and Moasesseh-e Sabz Andishan Javan Alavi (Institute for Green Thinkers of Alavi) or ‘Sbznt’ and they claimed to have always been green, the true followers of the ahl-e bait 3 (Prophet Mohammad and his family members) (Kamalipour 2010: 261). Images and symbols of Ta’ziyeh were intensified on social networks and social media to illustrate and distinguish ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. Reformists demonstrated themselves as ‘right’, calling for the public to rise up and fight contemporary injustices. In contrast, the hard-liners depicted the Green Movement as ‘wrong’. Slogans, symbols, signs and rhetoric that both parties uploaded on the social media online sites were crucial for understanding the impact of their actions, and also provided a means to be able to analyse the Iranian political cultural landscape. Employing the goriz technique under the guise of the Karbala theme and Ta’zyieh performances evolved into becoming the dominant recognisable cyberspace media used, particularly during the 2009 Green Movement. Computer software images from design programmes such as Photoshop were circulated to thousands of people, via the internet and mobile phone technologies.

The Green Movement  131 Contemporary events, movements and actions were regularly linked to the battle of Karbala by individuals, groups, reformists, hard-liners and government agencies with the aim of mobilising crowds. This linking of the two events also was central to war films, TV series and videos in the post-revolutionary (1979) era, such as the late 1980s’ TV series Ravayat-e-Fath (The Story of Conquest) directed by Sayyed Morteza Aviny. The effectiveness of images was correlated with use of the goriz technique, in that there was a relationship between images and their impact on people. Importantly, to mobilise a considerable crowd, one must know how to employ the goriz technique properly, at the right time and place. For example, reformists utilised Ta’ziyeh symbols during Muharram ceremonies when the cleric Hussein Ali Montazeri died on 19 December 2009, on the third day of Muharram. Montazeri was deputy leader to the 1979 Revolution’s supreme leader, Khomeini, and was once the designated successor to him. However, a disagreement over governmental policies led to the breakdown of this relationship in 1989. In 2009, he was claimed ‘as a symbolic leader of the Green Movement owing to his public censure of the regime’s violent suppression of the opposition’ (Rauh 2013: 1335). In Iran, a funeral ceremony is held on the third, the seventh and fortieth day after the death of an individual. Therefore, thousands of people gathered in Qom city to attend Montazeri’s funeral followed by mourning ceremonies on the day of Ashura. This day was the key day for the leaders of the 2009 Green Movement. They tried to employ the same methods, slogans and mottos of the 1979 Revolution, at the right time and right place, to gather a considerable crowd to protest against hard-liners. Despite that, people had made discourteous jokes about Montazeri for many years after the 1979 Revolution, classifying him as an unwise, senseless and ridiculous cleric, nicknaming him ‘Gorbeh Nareh’ (The Tomcat) (Sciolino 2000: 191). Nonetheless, now Montazeri was recognised with the same esteem as Hussein. At his funeral ceremony he was called ‘Montazeri-ye mazlum’ (Montazeri, the Oppressed One), and ‘the crowd chanted Ya Hazrat-e Masumeh! Ya Montazeri Masumeh! According Montazeri the epithet “the pure soul” usually reserved for the Imams’ (Fischer 2010: 502). Together, the strength of this funeral and Ashura protests around the nation resulted in their slogans and images copied, recorded and uploaded on social networks and media such as YouTube, blogs websites and online news, which are still available online.

Neda a mixed identity in cyberspace Habermas (1989: 162), in his own arguments about the mass media, depicts his awareness of manipulative forms of publicity in certain conditions, but he obviously overlooked the role of religious and cultural symbols and images in forming the public sphere. Szakolczai (2013) explores this complexity and critiques the Habermasian concept of the public sphere in detail. His historical and anthropological studies of the public sphere illustrate the manipulative forms taken by publicity. The public sphere can be formed by rhetorical discourse, magical and verbal images, metaphoric language, comical inversions and theatrical performances.

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The result is that far from being an arena of purely rational debate, the public sphere is one where modern communication systems and tools such as media, especially social media, are used to juggle and evade the truth or importance of an issue, by raising trivial distinctions and objections. Instead of a domain of free and equal interaction between citizens, the public sphere can easily become a mere market place (Szakolczai 2013). This condition of the public sphere increases the ability of political actors and tricksters to manipulate the public, usually by employing religious and cultural symbols and linguistic skills. The 2009 Green Movement in Iran is a contemporary example of such a transformation of the public sphere, illustrating how the symbols of a ritual performance can be utilised by modern communication technology to form and transform public discourse. Generally, it shows how disregarding of the role of religious and cultural narratives, myths, signs, symbols and images in social science, particularly in sociology and anthropology, is a serious deficiency on the part of social scientists. The death of Neda Agha Soltan (Figure 5.1) was probably the most disturbing and influential image that was reported and circulated online during the 2009 Green Movement. However, there have been conflicting stories about her death. Some reported that Neda was shot from the rooftop of a building, as she was walking with her music teacher, whilst merely observing a street demonstration in Tehran on 20 June 2009. A medical doctor who was nearby put his hands on her chest to stop the bleeding, but Neda died immediately (Fischer 2010). Alternative reports suggested Neda was killed by sniper fire on her way home when she briefly stepped out of a car to see why the crowd blocked the route (Naghibi 2011). In any case, Neda’s story helps us to explicitly understand how the public sphere could be formed and how the public could be manipulated through modern communications technology. A mobile video of Neda’s death scene was instantly circulated and ‘Neda’s image moved from the grainy mobile video to artistic experiments in a variety of media: painting, sculpture, cartoons, a slide show, and collage’ (Lotfalian 2013: 1378). Subsequently, her death became an image associated with the 2009 Green Movement. Iranians living abroad actively circulated her images online in the immediate aftermath. The word Neda simply means ‘voice’ or, in a gnostic sense, ‘call’ or, alternatively, ‘divine message’ (Fischer 2010: 509). This quickly became the cry, voice and call of the protesters and online activists who were supporting the Green Movement. The chant became ‘Neda-ye ma namordeh, in dolat-e ke morde’ (Our Neda [our voice/cry], is not dead, the government is dead). To frustrate the claims of reformists, the government used the scapegoat mechanism and blamed American agents or other parties for killing Neda, while also trying to declare Neda a martyr of the regime. Sohrab Arabi was also killed that day. Sohrab is the name of the famous hero in the national epic, the Shahnameh, who was killed unwittingly by Rostam, his father. Neda and Sohrab have become an iconic and symbolic pair who represent the Green Movement (Fischer 2010). Neda’s death video immediately became the most popular video of the Green Movement on YouTube. ‘Cable news stations played the footage of Neda’s death

The Green Movement  133 on a loop, always with the caveat that what we were about to watch [again and then again] was extremely disturbing’ (Naghibi 2011: 61). While acknowledging that Neda’s death was a tragedy and a sad occurrence, we cannot omit the embedded political theatre and the use of goriz techniques for forming the public sphere. In fact, by romanticising, idealising, exaggerating and manipulating the footage of her dying, national and international political actors utilised it as a political tool to manipulate people’s emotional responses to the protests in Iran. According to Naghibi (2011), Neda’s involvement in political activities was indistinct: some reported her an innocent bystander, while others suggested that she had started becoming interested in politics and regularly attended Green Movement demonstrations. Regardless, Neda’s image and portrait were printed and circulated online to present her as a hero and martyr of the 2009 protest rally. The spread of these images, veiled and unveiled, resulted in an outpouring of emotion from people across the globe, and ‘the feelings of horror, grief, and compassion for Neda’s death were transmitted through social media networking sites like Facebook and Twitter, and eventually through traditional news media outlets’ (Naghibi 2011: 61). Consequently, Neda’s death sparked protests all over the world. Now, as cynical as it may be, the political actors had an innocent victim to use for their own agenda, and to evoke the emotion of the public. In this wave, another young woman, Neda Soltani (Figure 5.2) – originally identified as Neda Agha Soltan (Figure 5.1) – became the face of the Green Movement, although she was still alive. On 2 October 2012 Neda Soltani (who was a university lecturer in Iran) was interviewed by the BBC World Service. She explained that her photo was taken from her Facebook page, which then quickly became a fixed image of the protest movement (see Figures 5.1, 5.2 and 5.3). Naghibi (2011) has explained in his writings this mixing of the identities of Neda, as utilised during the Green Movement, but it was the first time that Neda Soltani’s voice was broadcasted directly by the BBC. Later, the full story was analysed and edited by Phil Coomes and published by the BBC on 14 November 2012 (BBC News Magazine 2012). In Neda Soltani’s own words, the international media was using a picture of her, which was taken from her Facebook account, to accompany the footage of Neda Agha Soltan’s death. She had contacted several international journalists and explained that the use of her image was a mistake. She explained that she was not the person who had been shot dead. Disappointingly, the journalists who received her message did not react and her picture continued to be used. Indeed, CNN, Fox News and social media sites propagated the footage of someone who was being victimised by the use of her personal image without her consent. Their claim that she was killed by the Islamic regime during the protest was false, but seemingly it was too complicated for the public to realise that the person present in the image was still alive, or that Neda Soltani’s photo was being used instead of that of the real victim, Neda Agha Soltan. Neda Soltani’s victimisation continued as journalists persisted in spreading her images through social media and networks. Consequently, her photo was used by demonstrators (see

Figure 5.1 Neda Agha Soltan

Figure 5.2 Neda Soltani

Source: YouTube screenshot from Shambrall Source: YouTube screenshot from Shambrall (2009), ‘Neda Soltani – Iranian (2009), ‘Neda Soltani – Iranian Revolution Martyr’, www.youtube.com/ Revolution Martyr’, www.youtube.com/ watch?v=qEuKiYT2RT4, uploaded watch?v=qEuKiYT2RT4, uploaded 23/07/09, accessed 26/07/16 23/07/09, accessed 26/07/16

Figure 5.3 Protesters wrongly carrying Neda Soltani’s photo Source: YouTube screenshot from Tiami20 (2009) ‘In memory of Neda Agha Soltan (Soltani)’, www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGu4V6kpTYM, uploaded 24/07/09, accessed 26/07/16

The Green Movement  135 Figure 5.3) and ‘many people used her image as their Facebook avatars, and her photo remained online in some places as the face of resistance and the Green Movement’ (Naghibi 2011: 62). To complicate matters, Neda Soltani asked people to delete all of her photos and images off their websites, Facebook and cyberspace in general, as they were being wrongly used, but in return, she received hate messages. People accused her of being an agent of the Islamic regime in Iran, who had unlawfully gained access to Neda’s Facebook account and wished to distort the face of their hero, the iconic symbol of resistance and opposition. In 2012, when the BBC interviewed her, she held the media and social networks responsible for the troubles and difficulties she had and explained how she had fled to Germany, fearful for her life, and later she secured a US university fellowship. In the meantime, Neda’s bloodied face over a green background became a popular Facebook avatar. As Naghibi (2011) observed, many diasporic Iranians also added Neda as their middle name on their Facebook profiles. Many of their websites changed their headlines to ‘We are all Neda’ or simply to ‘We are Neda’, a forum where people could post comments and mourn her death. Neda’s death and story also resulted in a short YouTube video, entitled ‘I am Neda’, as well as an award-winning movie made by Nicole Kian Sadighi called I am Neda, which became a finalist in the Film Festival of the American Pavilion Cannes 2012. The articles, paintings, films, narratives, videos, blogs, websites and interviews romanticised Neda’s youth and beauty. Her images were titled ‘hero martyr’ and ‘angel of freedom’. In this way, the circulation of her images all over the world and pronouncement of her desire for freedom and democracy formed a public sphere, particularly online, against the Islamic regime in Iran. As Figure 5.3 illustrates, people were believing, mimicking and following each other very quickly, even subconsciously. They embraced the culture of the crowd, without knowing whether its agenda, task, operation or mission were true or false. Likewise, they followed the signs and images the crowd carried, as they believed in the crowd, and could not see the hidden agenda of the trickster who manipulated it. Demonstrators did not know who Neda was, whether she was killed or not, or who was responsible for murdering her. They were imitating each other and were carrying Neda Soltani’s photo, who was still alive, wrongly considering her to be a martyr and chanting ‘Neda did not die in vain’ or ‘Neda, we will take revenge for your blood’ (see Figure 5.3).

Icons for the formation of the public sphere In the Ta’ziyeh play, performers who wear green dresses or any green attire are classed as playing Imam Hussein and his followers, while players dressed in red are identified as the opposing side (Yazid and his army). Thus, in Shia religion, red attire symbolises blood, evil, badness and oppression. However, in contrast, the colour green symbolises goodness and the garden of paradise. Mir Hossein Mousavi employed the green colour of Ta’ziyeh in order to mobilise a considerable crowd for the 2009 Iranian Green Movement. Subsequently, new

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communication tools were used to spread these symbols and images during the protests. Technology in all its forms was utilised, such as internet campaigns, mobile phone messaging and the use of social networks. In this way, ‘Mousavi’s revival of the paradigm was an act of proliferation and subversion of religious symbols’ (Lotfalian, 2013: 1381), especially Ta’ziyeh symbols. In Shia traditions, ahl-e bait (Prophet Mohammad and his family members) are symbolised by a handprint called panjeh or panja (palm of hand). The mourners carry panjeh connected to the top of various implements, such as alams (the metal standards carried during the ten days of Muharram) and flags, to symbolise the battle of Karbala during the mourning processions of Ashura and the Ta’ziyeh performance. A similar image was illustrated on a small poster held up by protestors during Montazeri’s funeral (see Figure 5.4). This image is representative of the panjeh. The middle fingers are coloured green and the palm bears the words ‘Ya Hussein’ across its diameter. This poster aimed to relate the Green Movement to ahl-e bait, particularly to Imam Hussein and the Karbala tragedy, as it is performed in Ta’ziyeh. Mousavi and his wife’s use of the colour green in their 2009 presidential election campaign was very strategic. It is the colour of Islam associated with ahl-e bait, particularly with Imam Hussein, and it also is one of the three colours of the Iranian flag. Thus, the panjeh poster in Figure 5.4, indicating a green colour V,

Figure 5.4 Panjeh poster in Muharram protests during Montazeri’s funeral, Qom, 21 December 2009 Source: Iran Green Posters, http://irangreenposters.org/ungallery/gallery, accessed 11/12/16

The Green Movement  137 reflects both the Green Movement’s associations with the prophetic family, Shia faith and martyrdom of Hussein, and with its optimism about victory. As Rauh (2013: 1322, 1338) illustrates and outlines, the panjeh poster that was modified with a V and the words ‘Ya Hussein’ in Figure 5.4 was altered to show an arrow passing through an arm, as well as an alam to illustrate the digital logo of the Green Movement (see Figure 5.5). These two green right hands, where blood is seen dripping from the disconnected part of the arms, are intended to relate Mir Hossein Mousavi to Imam Hussein, incorporating the phrase ‘Ya Hussein, Mir Hossein’, below the hands. The logo is designed to symbolise the Green Movement so that it is a continued acknowledgement of Imam Hussein. In both Figures 5.4 and 5.5, Ta’ziyeh symbols through goriz techniques are used to relate current problems to a past event. The arrows represent pain, suffering and injustice, and show that reformists and the Green Movement supporters are in the same situation that Imam Hussein and his followers were in in the seventh century. Mousavi and his circles adapted these Ta’ziyeh symbols and images to legitimise their religious and political positions, similar to the 1979 Revolution. The Green Movement supporters digitalised and modified Ta’ziyeh images and symbols by modern computer software and subsequently published them online. For example, images created by Deghati (2009) were uploaded as YouTube video clips by Akkasbashi to link the tragedy of Karbala to the 2009

Figure 5.5 The 2009 Green Movement digital logo, combining the panjah, V, arrow and invocation ‘Ya Hussein, Mir Hossein’ Source: Iran Green Posters, http://irangreenposters.org/ungallery/gallery, accessed 11/12/16

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protest, using the goriz technique. Figure 5.6 is a screenshot of one of these images, which illustrates the battle of Karbala amalgamated with the situation at the time. The original version of the image, which is taken from a popular nineteenth century portrait of Imam Hussein’s family in Karbala (Lotfalian 2013), shows tents, the family and Zuljanah (Imam Hussein’s horse) to exhibit the martyrdom of Imam Hussein (see Figure 2.1). However, in Figure 5.6, the landscape to the right of Zuljanah has been manipulated to illustrate the forces of the regime attacking protesters in Tehran during the 2009 Green Movement. Likewise, the female faces are manipulated in order to represent the face of Neda, who was killed during the demonstration. In this way, social media added to the translation of the image and the intended message. Compellingly, in the YouTube video, the details of this image and other images are displayed while mournful music can be heard in the background. The music of choice is nohe, which is commonly associated with mourning during Muharram and the day of Ashura when Ta’ziyeh is played out. Not surprisingly, this method, employing Ta’ziyeh icons, frequently and consistently benefits political actors and tricksters, which in turn forms the public sphere and maintains the society in permanent liminality. For example, similar Ta’ziyeh symbols were used to seize the British embassy and its diplomatic compound in Tehran on 29 November 2011. As Figure 5.7 illustrates, a crowd of Iranian protesters are seen storming the British embassy with two people seen

Figure 5.6 Neda of Ashura Source: YouTube screenshot of image by Deghati, R. (2009) www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mv9ehsW6PN8, uploaded by Ali Akkasbashi (25/12/09), accessed 08/11/14

The Green Movement  139

Figure 5.7 The crowd seizing the British embassy in Tehran on 29 November 2011 Source: RTE (2011) ‘Protest at British embassy in Tehran ends’, www.rte.ie/news/2011/1129/309271-iran/, accessed 20/08/16

holding or waving two black flags, with the words ‘Ya Hussein’ on them, as they stand on the top of the entrance gates of the embassy. The crowd follows the flag, not because of the flag itself, but because it is a representative symbol of Ashura and Ta’ziyeh. Everyone moves towards the flag from every direction until they are so close to each other that they can easily hear and feel the breath of others. In Canetti’s (1960) words, they are no longer scared of being touched. They press to reach their goal, which is to be as close as possible to the flag. This movement creates a powerful pressure that could be destructive. Obviously, the main actors in this protest know exactly how to form the public sphere by manipulating the public, in order to lead the crowd to whatever or wherever they have planned.

Failure of the Green Movement and the concept of Islamic democracy Many factors affected the collapse of the Green Movement. These include a lack of clear leadership, internal schisms developed between leaders upon its formation and a considerable lack of synchronisation between leaders and protesters. However, there were also other significant reasons for its defeat. These include relying on cyberspace that only a minority of the population in Iran could access. Perhaps the most powerful setback came from the hard-liners and the government, who employed powerful symbols and rhetoric in their attack against the Green Movement and its leaders. In addition, protesters were calling for an end to the Islamic Republic and the formation of a new system different to that which

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they had experienced for the previous three decades. Nevertheless, Mousavi and other leaders of the Green Movement’s had no wish to make a fundamental change to the status quo. While the Iranian regime faced a crisis, it did control significant numbers of supporters in the public sector and was backed by large patronage networks such as the Basij and mosques. By employing Shia symbols and images, the regime portrayed itself as protecting Iran’s sovereignty from imperialism. The reality was that ‘parastatal and religious networks have been means of upward mobility as well as relatively successful, although by no means complete, indoctrination, particularly since the screening process itself is already ideological’ (Farhi 2011: 619). As explained in above, the supreme leader, Khamenei, and his appointed revolutionary clerical elites are essentially the gatekeepers of the Islamic regime in Iran. These gatekeepers together with organisations and institutions have many forces under their control and supervision. These include the military and Islamic Revolution Guard Corps, which since 2008 also has the Basij paramilitary force under its authority. Indeed, their constitutional duty is the defence of the political order of the Islamic regime (nezam-e eslami). Regardless, all of these organisations have their own ongoing conflicts (Farhi 2011). Nonetheless, the idea of the influence of reformists and particularly the Green Movement increasingly endangered their position. Accordingly, they united to assure their position to the public, in terms of power, while at the same time as a means to uphold the election system and its ‘competitive electoral frame which is an integral part of the revolutionary legacy and establishment of the Islamic Republic’ (Farhi 2011: 619). Nevertheless, trust in the Islamic regime in Iran has declined steadily since the 1979 Revolution. Many people did not have trust in the reformist leaders because they were already important political figures and actors within the Islamic regime after 1979. They consisted of candidates who ran for the 2009 presidential election and who were approved by the Council of Guardians. For example, Mousavi, Karroubi, Rafsanjani and Khatami had been leading figures of the Islamic regime for a long time. Many civilians, intellectuals, politicians and even young students were killed, put in prison and tortured by the regime when those reformists were in power. In fact, they represented the arms of the regime since 1979 and earlier. It was obvious that the reformist leaders included ‘Islamic democracy’ and ‘freedom’ in their agenda for re-election and gaining power. Many people, especially the middle classes, were expecting a single and charismatic leader to represent the movement. However, the leaders of the Green Movement did not help their position, as they competed and campaigned against each other during the presidential election. While they united against the re-election of Ahmadinejad, they were later disappointed by disagreements. The leaders of the Green Movement (particularly Mousavi and Karroubi) never claimed they wanted to introduce a democratic system in Iran at all, but the media and political analysts in the West interpreted the movement as a middle-class aspirational attempt towards the foundation of democracy. The assumption that the supporters of the Green Movement were the middle classes seemed to be incorrect. Indeed, the Iranian middle class population was not unanimous in its voice and the

The Green Movement  141 Green Movement was representative of only a portion of them (Farhi 2011: 619). Similar to other societies, the Iranian middle class has different opinions, beliefs and ideology, and one class does not fit one belief system. Thus, the hard-liners and conservatives also have supporters among the middle class population, as well as support from other strata within society. Meanwhile, the Green Movement leaders were individually concentrating on gaining power. Their main question was ‘Where is my vote?’. Therefore, many Iranians realised that if reformists, such as Moussavi, won the election, nothing would considerably change. While the hard-liners used anti-imperialist slogans against political reformers, the Green Movement was essentially identified as a package of ‘a “soft war” planned and implemented by the United States in order to bring about regime change’ (Farhi 2011: 620). As a result, for many Iranians, who suffered deeply from the Western policies led by the US, it was clear that Western democratic states were propagating and imposing democracy for their own purposes and not for the Iranian citizens’ wellbeing. Indeed, historical evidence shows how these democratic states became wealthy. The results reveal a correlation between wealth and direct and indirect colonisation of other countries during the previous two centuries. In other words, democracy came at the cost of other societies suffering. The democratic system that the US and their Western allies were proposing was incomprehensible and presented a pathetic system for Iranians. The US was now leading harsh and constant sanctions against Iran, while supporting the need for a democratic system. The US was symbolised as the great Satan by Khomeini, due to its support of the Shah and Saddam in the Iran–Iraq War. However, reformists had some hope of building a relationship with the US, but hard-liners were still using all possible Shia symbols and images to associate the US leaders with Yazid. They used the US as a scapegoat, to convince the public that all problems and shortcomings that society faced were due to the colonial nature and policies of the US. Figure 5.8 shows a large billboard in central Tehran depicting US President Barack Obama next to Shemr, the military commander of Yazid, who killed Imam Hussein in the battle of Karbala in the seventh century. At the bottom of the billboard there are three sentences written in Persian over three lines. The first line reads ‘ba ma bash, dar aman bash’ (be with us and be safe), the second line repeats the same words adding the year the battle of Karbala took place and Yazid’s army asking Imam Hussein and his followers to obey Yazid and agree with his will. The last line also repeats the same words as the first line, including the year 2012. The aim of this billboard is to highlight Obama as an oppressor, similar to Shemr and Yazid. This message would translate as telling all Shia Muslims that they are obliged to fight against him and his allies. In other words, by using Ta’ziyeh symbols and images the goriz technique was perfectly applied in pairing Shemr or Yazid with Obama who was the US commander. Thus, whoever trusts Obama would be considered a traitor because he follows the enemy of Imam Hussein and consequently would be the enemy of Shia Muslims. In this way, the reformists and the Green Movement leaders, who were trusting America, could be identified as traitors and seditionists.

Figure 5.8 Obama billboard in Tehran, Vali-e Asr Sq, 2 October 2013 Source: Photo courtesy of Amir Sadeghi, Tehran live (2013) ‘Daily photos from Tehran’, http://tehranlive.org/2013/10/04/obama-billboard-in-tehran/, accessed 20/08/16

The Green Movement  143 In brief, since the 1979 Revolution, Iranian society has been embedded in liminality, facing two types of schismogenesis. One type is internal, that can be further divided to two periods. In the first period, the conflict started between various political groups or actors and the revolutionary clerics immediately after the 1979 Revolution. After killing, torturing and imprisoning thousands of opponents, who played an important role in defeating the monarchy, it ended with the victorious reign of the revolutionary clerics. In the second period, the schismogenic process started between the revolutionary clerics, hard-liners and reformists, and resulted in the 2009 Green Movement. The other type of schismogenesis is external and founded in conflict between the Iranian state and other states, such as Iraq, ending in an eight-year war, and also involving Israel and the United States.

A contemporary trickster In Iran, the word ‘kuseh’ is usually used for identifying a beardless adult man and also means shark. Rafsanjani is called ‘kuseh’ because of both his lack of facial hair and his political brutality masked behind his smiles. Rafsanjani is a figure who has the most characteristics of a trickster. As one of the most powerful figures during the first two decades of the Islamic Republic, Rafsanjani played a key role in slaughtering, imprisoning and torturing members of opposition political parties in the first years following the 1979 Revolution. As Eshraghi and Baji (2012) describe, he made Abulhassan Banisadr, the first post-revolution president, disappear from the scene; he was responsible for executing thousands of political prisoners in the summer of 1988; he was in charge of the serial murders of Iranian intellectuals in the 1990s; he cultivated his reputation as the jack of all trades in the Islamic Republic; he was considered the symbol of wealth and corruption in society; and he was the epitome of power and ruthlessness. Akbar Ganji, a reformist journalist who together with Soroush and others, wrote the Green Movement manifesto, and his collection of articles The Red-Robed Eminence and The Grey Eminences (Alijenab Sorkhpoosh va Alijenabanen Khakestari, 2000) details Rafsanjani’s involvement in the chain murders (Eshraghi and Baji 2012). At the same time as Rafsanjani was posing as antiAmerican in Iran, he sided with the US-led coalition to oust Iraq from Kuwait, helped win freedom for American hostages held by Lebanese militia (Bakhash 2010) and cooperated with the US in order to defeat the Taliban in Afghanistan. He also began implementing his controversial development programme to rebuild the damage caused by the war with Iraq. Rafsanjani publicised himself everywhere as Sardar-e Sazandegi (Commander of Reconstruction), which resulted in greater private sector involvement, large quantities of foreign borrowing and therefore external debt, which fuelled corruption. Finally, he was a key figure and supporter of the 2009 Movement. Thousands of protesters of the 2009 Movement were arrested, tortured and imprisoned; his children were accused and convicted of committing crimes and corruption; his allies Mousavi and Karroubi are still living under house arrest

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and Khatami faces serious difficulties after the Green Movement; but the 81year-old Rafsanjani still serves in key positions and acts in the political arena (Isaloo 2016). He entered the race for the 2010 presidential election, but was disqualified by the Guardian Council. While he is still a member of the Assembly of Experts and heads the Expediency Council, he continues to seek greater political influence. He ran for the election of the Assembly of Experts on 26 February 2016. On 13 January 2016, before the election, he uploaded an image of Mohammad Mosaddegh (Iranian popular prime minister from 1951 to 1953) and a page of his handwriting on his website (hashemirafsanjani.ir) and social networks such as Instagram. Rafsanjani claimed that, 50 years ago, after the book Al-ghazyh Al-phelestineh (Issue of Palestine) was translated by him in 1964 and published in the most difficult circumstances, Mossadeq, who was under house arrest at the time, read it and sent him the message that it would be a pity if this book were left unread. Despite Rafsanjani supporting Ayatollah Khomeini, who targeted Mossadeq in several speeches, he needed Mossadeq’s name to win the election. As a result, Rafsanjani won 15 out of 16 seats in the Tehran voting district. Ousting key hard-liners, he is assumed to be an influential competitor for the position of Iran’s next supreme leader. He seeks to maximise two things: his power and his wealth. He wants to be the supreme leader in Iran. Therefore, he employs any possible tricks to become the most powerful figure in the political arena (Isaloo 2016). During the presidential election held in Iran on 14 June 2013, Rafsanjani endorsed the moderate cleric Hassan Rouhani, who criticised widespread corruption in the country and vowed to fight the phenomenon, to secure his own position. Rouhani claimed to lift the spirits of Iranian nation, who were suffering from financial crisis as a result of the sanctions imposed by Western powers in the dispute over its nuclear programme. He promised political openness, as well as establishing better international relations, and solving economic hardship and unemployment issues. In this way, Rouhani won the vote required to avoid a runoff and replaced Ahmadinejad. After three years of his presidency, Iran’s economic stagnation continued and was little improved by the lifting of international sanctions in January 2016. His position has been threatened after revelations of astronomical salaries for senior Iranian government employees, which has been debated in the media since May 2016. Currently we witness many different faces of the trickster which nonetheless have similar characteristics. War, revolutions and popular movements in the Middle East have brought into existence new tricksters. Rafsanjani in Iran and Ukasha in Egypt are just two examples. We can find more trickster figures in the liminal time of the so-called Arab Spring, which was a series of uprisings and armed rebellions started in 2011 and which used cyberspace and modern communication technology to spread their message and activities, and for organising protests. As explained, in liminal conditions, tricksters employ symbols and interpret them to manipulate a targeted population. A new example of a trickster figure in the Middle East is the self-proclaimed caliph Abu Bakr alBaghdadi, who is the leader of the so-called Islamic State in Iraq and Syria

The Green Movement  145 (ISIS) and utilises Islamic symbols, images and narratives through cyberspace, social media and social networks to attract followers around the world, even from the West (Isaloo 2016). He has formed an army in order to kill all those who do not follow his faith. Modern electronic media and communication technology facilitate such tricksters to act and operate at both the national and international levels. Their actions create reactions which can gradually build walls between tribes, groups and nations. The recent ISIS attacks in Paris and Brussels, and the current conflict between Shia and Sunni, are two examples for schismogenic processes, growing tensions and barriers, which are signs of a permanent liminality. In the 2009 Green Movement, political actors utilised the goriz technique through cyberspace to form the public sphere and gain support for their agenda. This demonstrates that modern communication technology enables political actors and tricksters to sell to the public anything they want more quickly than ever before. They are able to generate emotions and to shape the public’s perception during periods of liminality. This ability of political actors or tricksters is potentially dangerous: indeed, through modern communication systems and tools, they can push a society into a state of permanent liminality. Clearly, human behaviour, action and reactions are not based only on rationality, and they can be corrupted by evoking emotions. Religious and cultural symbols play a key role in forming the public sphere. Cyberspace innovations, which speed up the circulation of news, information and messages, are increasingly becoming tools for tricksters and political actors to manipulate and corrupt the system. This leads us to conclude that we do not need further cyberspace and technological innovation, instead we need to pause and should use the current communication technology to build trust and certainty, and to help our societies return to the most basic human values. This may help us to reduce tricksters’ abilities to manipulate the public and increase our ability to bring peace and certainty to society.

The complexity of the proposed Islamic democracy Since the 1979 Revolution, instability, chaos, murder, distrust, the crisis of the revolutionary clerics’ legitimacy, clashes between right (conservatives) and left (reformists) and the 2009 Green Movement are all consequences of schismogenic processes associated with permanent liminality. Due to all these pressures, erroneous policies, negligence and dictatorship-style rule imposed by the Islamic regime on society, the design and proposition of Islamic thinkers, such as Soroush, for an Islamic democracy has become a topic of fresh and significant debate as a direction that could guide Iranian society towards a secular democracy. Although they predicted that the 2009 Green Movement would make their wishes come true, it failed disastrously, and the question that was never answered was ‘what would happen if Iran became an Islamic democracy or even a Western type of democracy?’. As explained above, a schismogenic process can lead to a permanent liminality, and during permanent liminality various schismogenic process can arise and

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lead to another liminality, either temporary or permanent. The common schismogenic process between political powers starts when the leadership builds power on the basis of trickery and dishonesty. The aim is to gain more power and wealth, or to be able to resume power in a society, particularly when the nomination depends on the public vote. Political parties and actors try to employ symbols, images and all possible tricks to form the public sphere for their own benefit. When the conflict between their own members starts internally, new political parties, divisions, movements and clashes emerge externally. Thus, whoever is seeking power will do everything to obtain it, even being flexible in negotiations with their enemies and working against their own friends. They build coalitions with alternate parties or bodies, who were previous known enemies, to defeat the other party or body, even if the old coalition had a long history with other parties. Indeed, this is a well-known characteristic of a democratic system. The goal is always to maintain power and therefore the costs do not matter. Today’s enemy is tomorrow’s friend and tomorrow’s enemy is today’s friend. In such a system, whether Islamic, Western or otherwise, no one can be trusted and everyone can be dishonest. For example, after the Green Movement’s defeat, the reformists decided not to vote in the parliamentary election (which reinforced Khamenei’s power) held on 2 March 2012. However, the former reformist president, Khatami, presented himself on election day and voted, while he knew that the leaders of the Green Movement, who were his allies, as well as reformists, were under house arrest. It is foreseeable that the proposed Islamic democracy will build a platform for political theatre, where tricksters can manoeuvre more comfortably due to the empty place of power. This becomes more obvious when all factors, such as the events, movements, cultural changes and the role of political actors and revolutionary religious figures in Iran, since the Constitutional Revolution to the present, are considered together with the foundation of civil liberty where ‘various groups have advanced their interpretations of Islam to justify their social and political agenda’ (Ghamari-Tabrizi 2008: 246). This was not only witnessed in Iran, but also more recently witnessed after the so-called Arab Spring. For example, after the 2012 Egyptian Revolution, the Muslim Brotherhood won the election in a democratic way (voting by the public) and Mohamed Morsi became the president of Egypt in June 2012. He started to reform the constitution by granting himself sweeping powers that ended in several protests, organised by the opposition parties who cooperated with him during the Egyptian Revolution against Hosni Mubarak. Subsequently, on 3 July 2013, a coalition led by the Egyptian army chief, General Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, removed Morsi from power and suspended the Egyptian constitution. He claimed his military coup was in the name of all Egyptians, calling it a conscious response to all protesters, who demanded the end of Morsi’s position and the initiation of an early presidential election. In the end, el-Sisi became the president of Egypt, after a national election organised on 26 May 2014. Nonetheless, the chaos, violence and protest still persist. As Foucault (1978: 136) argues, since the classical age, the power of ‘deduction’, the general form of the power of life and death, has tended to be no longer

The Green Movement  147 the major form of power but merely one element among others working to incite, reinforce, control, monitor, optimise and organise the forces under it. As a result, external wars are bloodier than ever, and regimes implement holocausts upon their own populations. Indeed, Foucault identified the problem in the modern world, particularly in the West, in his writings, such as Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (1979) and The History of Sexuality (1978), and he clarified it by outlining: ‘Wars are no longer waged in the name of a sovereign who must be defended; they are waged on behalf of the existence of everyone’ (Foucault 1978: 137). Although his book The History of Sexuality was published before the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran, his general statement arguing that ‘entire populations are mobilised for the purpose of wholesale slaughter in the name of life necessity: massacres have become vital’ (137), could have been applied and witnessed during the 1979 Revolution, the Iran–Iraq War, the Green Movement in Iran, and also battles in Iraq and Syria. His arguments about new kinds of political struggle that could emerge, in which ‘life as a political object’ is turned back against the controls exercised over it, in the name of claims to a ‘right’ to life, to one’s body, to health, to the satisfaction of one’s needs particularly within a series of ‘great technologies of power’, was not only exercised in Western democratic countries, seen in international relations and politics, but also in the Middle Eastern countries in the twenty-first century. During recent and contemporary movements and revolutions, such as the Green Movement in Iran and the Arab Spring, modern technology, utilising computers, mobile phones, cyberspace and social networks such as Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, live blogs and text messaging, were all used by internal and external political powers and actors in order to justify their own position and interests. While we were cheering the Arab Spring in the West, thousands of people were killed and many structures that took precious years to build were destroyed in a matter of days. We were told to be happy because the other societies were going to have the same political system as ours, that being a secular, democratic and modernised system. Despite that, our own system was in permanent liminality, and anxiety and uncertainty were overwhelming society. When in a system the place of power is empty, the one who is thirsty for power can occupy it. Such megalomaniacs, who are usually wealthy or are supported by wealthy individuals and interest groups, use and abuse cultural, religious and linguistic symbols. They make the best promises (even impossible ones), and importantly can communicate through social media and networks and thereby become masters of trickery. As they are elected for temporary terms, all decisions are only temporary too. This is a serious problem in all types of democratic systems. Every political party or independent candidate tries to form the public sphere to gain more votes. Thus, any trick is used to gain the public vote. However, when they are elected they can and do what they want; justifying their actions in the name of the whole society. The Islamic democracy that Soroush proposes is even more problematic. He never defined Islamic democracy, thereby only managing to convince a small group of people of its merit. If it means establishing a state with Islamic parties

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and institutions, free elections, free trade and separation of powers, this would result in mixed democracy and theocracy, which would mean the current system in Iran but without a supreme leader. Even, the current supreme leader claims that Iran is ruled by Islamic democracy. As we witnessed over the last few decades in Iran, both reformist Rafsanjani and Khatami could not reform the system during their combined 16 years of presidency (eight years each). In the end, they had to leave their positions for the ultra-conservative president, Ahmadinejad. Despite this, they repeatedly try to claim more power with their motto ‘reform’. Certainly, the same vicious circle would continue if an Islamic democracy were inaugurated in Iran. If Islamic democracy represents a wider and deeper meaning than this, aiming to build a state which accepts and respects Islamic, non-Islamic, religious and non-religious political and social activities, it would thus be a democratic system identical to Western democracy, and calling it an Islamic democracy loses all meaning. Academics, politicians and the revolutionary clerics must realise that a desire for justice in Iran means more than Islamic democracy and even political democracy itself. A simple observation of Iranians, even during religious ceremonies and Ta’ziyeh performances in Iran, shows that many Iranians, particularly the young, wear a sign or symbol showing allegiance with Cyrus (Kurosh) the Great (559–529 BC), who declared justice for all in the empire, with the Code of Hammurabi, which is a well-preserved ancient law code created around 1790 BC in ancient Babylon, and with the values of Zoroastrianism, such as good thoughts, good words and good deeds. This tendency means that they seek a real leader who they could trust and believe in, and who could build a state where peace and justice would reign. Thus, the trust must be built; otherwise the system will continue to have governments as before, with ‘reformist’ or ‘legalist’ parties. First, the current regime and political system in Iran must be changed or reformed, but if this is to happen through revolution and violence, then society will enter into a new liminality and the situation will progressively get worse. Second, Islamic democracy or Western-type democracy will just lead Iran to another era of permanent liminality, similar to the West. Historically, the political parties or bodies have employed religious and cultural symbols, rhetoric and language skills to form the public sphere for more votes. In this way, political actors, similar to Siyah in siyah bazi, have and will continue to use all possible tricks in political theatre, or theatrical politics, in order to manipulate the system.

Notes 1 2 3

Dariush Forouhar was a founder and leader of the Hezb-e Mellat-e Iran (Nation of Iran Party). Alavi is a branch of Shia Islam whose adherents are followers of Imam Ali, his son Imam Hussein and their descendants. ahl al-bayt in Arabic.

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References Abrahamian, E. (2008) A History of Modern Iran, New York; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Aghaie, K. S. (2004) The Martyrs of Karbala: Shi’i Symbols and Rituals in Modern Iran, Washington, DC: University of Washington Press Arjomand, S. A. (2009) After Khomeini: IranUunder His Successors, New York: Oxford University Press Bakhash, S. (ed.) (2010) ‘The Six Presidents’, in Robin B. Wright (ed.) The Iran Primer: Power, Politics, and U.S. Policy, Washington, DC: The United State Institute of Peace BBC News Magazine (2012) ‘Neda Soltani: The media mix-up that ruined my life’, www.bbc.com/news/magazine-20267989, 14 November, accessed 11/12/16 Boroujerdi, M. (1996) Iranian Intellectuals and the West: The Tormented Triumph of Nativism, New York: Syracuse University Press Canetti, E. (1962) Crowds and Power, trans. C. Stewart, New York: The Continuum Publishing Corporation Corbin, H. (1946) Les motifs zoroastriens dans la philosophie de Sohrawardi: Shaykh-olIshraq (ob. 587/1191), Tehran: Editions Du Courrier Eshraghi, A. R. and Baji, Y. (2012) ‘Debunking the Rafsanjani myth’, Aljazeera (opinion), 21 February, www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2012/02/2012215164958644116.html, accessed 05/01/16 Farhi, F. (2011) ‘Tehran’s Delayed Spring?’, Globalizations, Vol. 8, No. 5, pp. 617–21 Fischer, M. M. J. (2010) ‘The Rhythmic Beat of the Revolution in Iran’, Cultural Anthropology, Vol. 25, Issue 3, pp. 497–543 Foucault, M. (1978) The History of Sexuality, vol. I: An Introduction, trans. R. Hurley, New York: Pantheon Book Foucault, M. (1979) Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, New York: Vintage Books Ganji, A. (2000) Alijanab-i surkhpush va alijanaban-i khakistari: Asibshinasi-i guzar bih dawlat-i dimukratik-i tawsiahgara (Farhang-i umumi), Tehran: Tarh-i Naw Ghamari-Tabrizi, B. (2008) Islam and Dissent in Postrevolutionary Iran: Abdolkarim Soroush, Religious Politics and Democratic Reform, London; New York: I. B. Tauris and Co Ltd Girard, R. (1977) Violence and the Sacred, Baltimore, MD; London: The Johns Hopkins University Press Habermas, J. (1989) The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society, Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Heidegger, M. (1962) Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie & Edward Robinson, Oxford: Basil Blackwell Johnsen, W. A. (2012) ‘Geoffrey Hill, René Girard, and the Logic of Sacrifice’, Religion and Arts 16 (Brill), pp. 575–82 Isaloo, A. S. (2016) ‘Cyberspace, Ta’ziyeh symbols and the Public Sphere in Iran’, International Political Anthropology, Vol. 9, No. 1, pp. 37–56 Kamalipour, Y. R. (2010) Media, Power, and Politics in the Digital Age: The 2009 Presidential Election Uprising in Iran, Maryland; Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers Inc. Lotfalian, M. (2013) ‘Aestheticized Politics, Visual Culture, and Emergent Forms of Digital Practice’, International Journal of Communication, No. 7, pp. 1371–90

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MacLeod, S. and Shannon, E. (2007) ‘Iran’s War Within’, Time, 169, 13, pp. 44–47 Mirsepassi, A. (2011) Political Islam, Iran, and the Enlightenment: Philosophies of Hope and Despair, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Naghibi, N. (2011) ‘Diasporic Disclosures: Social Networking, Neda, and the 2009 Iranian Presidential Elections’, Biography: An Interdisciplinary Quarterly, Vol. 34. No. 1, pp. 56–69 Naji, K. (2008) Ahmadinejad: The Secret History of Iran’s Radical Leader, Berkeley, LA; California: University of California Press Orwell, G. (1976) Complete and Unabridged Work: Animal farm, Burmese days, A Clergyman’s Daughter, Coming up for Air, Keep the Aspidistra Flying, and Nineteen Eighty-four, London: Secker & Warburg Rauh, E. L. (2013) ‘Thirty Years Later: Iranian Visual Culture from the 1979 Revolution to the 2009 Presidential Protests’, International Journal of Communication 7, pp. 1316–43 Salemy, M. (2013) ‘Fardid in his own words: An interview with Ahmad Fardid by Alireza Meibodi’, Bita’rof, pp. 1–5 Salvatore, A. (2007) The Public Sphere: Liberal Modernity, Catholicism, Islam, New York: Palgrave Macmillan Sembera, R. (2007) Rephrasing Heidegger: A Companion to Being and Time, Ottawa: The University of Ottawa Press Sciolino, E. (2000) Persian Mirrors: The Elusive Face of Iran, New York: Touchstone Soroush, A., Kadivar, M., Mohajerani, A., Ganji, A., and Bazargan, A. (2010) ‘Manifesto for Iran’s Green Movement’, New Perspect, Q. 27, No. 2, pp. 32–33 Szakolczai, A. (2013) Comedy and the Public Sphere: The Rebirth of Theatre as Comedy and the Genealogy of the Modern Public Arena, New York: Routledge Usher, S. (2012) ‘Iran supreme leader tells MPs not to summon president’, BBC News, 21 November, www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-20426775, accessed 06/12/12 Walzer, R. (1962) Greek into Arabic: Essay on Islamic Philosophy, Oriental Studies I, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press

Conclusion

In liminal situations, such as revolution, war and crisis, tricksters or mimes, who are usually power seekers and political actors, employ symbols and interpret them objectively to conquer their goals. They hunt for any opportunity to present themselves as human saviours, compassionate leaders and empathetic supporters of the suffering citizens. Unfortunately, the tragic consequences of such hypocrisy and imposture are mass corruption, poverty, desolation, mass murder and chaos, which society is left to deal with. This inadvertency and carelessness was particularly evident when the revolutionary clerics utilised the goriz technique during the 1979 Revolution, the eight year Iran–Iraq War and the Green Movement. Thus, the idea that ‘Islamic democracy’ or ‘democracy’ in general will solve the problems in Iran, by open debate and transparent voting within the public sphere, is very problematic. The idea is similar to other types of temporary solution which have been proposed for other serious contemporary issues. In reality, the proposed Islamic democratic government seems to be ‘down the rabbit hole’ described by Lewis Carroll in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1916). It ignores tricksters and political actors who abuse and misuse cultural and religious symbols and images. In turn, they manage to manipulate citizens and continue to form the public sphere to meet their own goals, which results in a mammoth corruption of the entire system. Consequently, instrumental rationality combined with a domain of ‘governing people by people’, can easily alter the public sphere into a marketplace of masks. Thus, proposing Islamic democracy in Iran, in order for it to exit its current permanent liminality, might only result in the country entering into another permanent liminality. In any society, power-seeking individuals, groups, elites and parties who employ symbols, images, signs, rhetoric and linguistic skills, and any possible tricks and guile to win the place of power, should be prevented from snatching and seizing power; otherwise chaos, injustice, corruption and manipulation should be expected. In other words, power must be kept away from the reach of power-seeking figures and bodies. The problem is that the ‘free and open’ public sphere, especially in the age of electronic communication, is far from preventing such abuses but rather helps to proliferate them. The idea of an Islamic democracy, based on the public sphere, does not work as it fails to take into consideration the deeply ambivalent character of the public

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sphere. This public sphere is not simply the realm of a free and rational discussion, without any presuppositions – which is already a problem, as it ignores any aspect of background and cultural identity – but is also a theatrical arena. This is particularly problematic in areas where such theatrical performances are deeply engrained in images and rituals that can be reanimated and mobilised for partisan purposes. The recent political history of Persia/Iran teaches us valuable lessons in this regard.

References Carroll, L. (1916) Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, New York: Sam’l Gabriel Sons & Company

Glossary

The following glossary list shows names quoted in various written forms within different sources. Abolfazl, Abulfazll. Abolqasem, Abulqasim. Afrasiab, Afrasiyab, Afrasyab. Al-Ashmawy, Al-Ashmawi. Al-Ghazali, Algazel. Ali Akbar, Ali Akber, Alee Acbar. Ali Asghar, Ali Asgar, Alee Asgar. Ali, Ally, Alee. Amir Taymour, Emir Timur. Ashura, Ashora. Dasta, Dasteh. Esfandiyar, Isfandyar, Sepandiyar, Esfandyar, Isfandiar, Isfandiyar, Esfandiar. Fatimah, Fateme, Fatemah. Ferdowsi, Ferdausi, Firdausi. Hassan, Hasan. Hur, Hor, Horr, Hurr. Hussein, Husain, Husyn, Hossein, Huoossien, Husayn, Housin, Husseyne, Hoossien. Imam, Imaum. Iran, Persia.

154

Glossary

Iraq, Irak. Kai Kavus, Kaykavus, Kikawos. Khayyam, Khayam. Kufa, Kufeh, Kofa, Kofe,Koufa, Kufe, Cufa. Majlis, Majles, Majlies. Masnavi, Mathnawi, Mathnavi, Ma’navi, Masnavi-e Ma’navi. Medina, Madinah, Madineh. Muawiyah, Moaviyah, Moawiah, Moavieh. Mohammad, Muhammad, Mohammed, Muhammed, Mohammadan, Mahomet, Mohometan. Muharram, Moharram, Moharrem, Muharam. Muslim, Moslim, Moslem, Muslem. Omar, Omer, Umar. Ommids, Umayyads, Ommiades, Umayyas. Pahlavi, Pahlawi. Qajar, Kajar. Qasim, Qassim, Qassem, Kassem, Kassim, Kasim, Kaussem. Quran, Koran, Coran, Qur’an. Reza, Riza, Rida. Rostam, Rustam. Rowzat al-Shohada, Rowzat al-Shuhada. Rowzeh, Rouzeh, Rodeh, Rouze. Rubaiyat, Robaiyat. Safavid, Safavian. Sassanid, Sassanian. Shahnameh, Shahname, Shahnamah, Shahnama, Shahnama-e. Shemr, Shimr, Shamer. Shia, Sheah, Shiite, Shi’te, Shi’a, Shi’i. Siavash, Syavash, Siyavush, Siawosh. Sog-e Siavash, Sogeh Siavash, Kin-e Siyavosh.

Glossary  155 Sohrab, Suhrab. Sohravardi, al-Suhrawardi (Arabic), Sohrewardi. Ta’ziyeh Mozhek, Shabih-e Mozhek. Ta’ziyeh, Taziyeh, Tazia, Tazyas, Tazieh, Ta’zieh, Tazeeya, Taziyd, Ta’ziye, Taazieh, Tazeh, Taziêh. (it is also called Shabih, Shabeh, Shabih bazi, Shabeh bazi). Tekiyeh Dowlat, Takieh-e Doulat, Tekiyeh Doulat. The 1979 Revolution, The Islamic Revolution (in Iran), The Iranian Revolution. Vaiz Kashefi, Waiz Kashifi. Velayat-e faqih, velāyat-e faqīh, Wilayat al-faqih. Wahdat-i wujud, vahdat-e wojud, vahdat-e voojood. Yazid, Yazeed, Yessed. Zarathustra, Zartosht (Persian), Zoroaster (Greeks). Zuljanah, Zoljanah.

Index

1979 Revolution 1; clerical power 82; destruction of old regime 89; exiling of the Shah 87; export of 97; flags 106; liminality during 87–90; permanent liminality after 90–3; and political Shia 29–32; and Shia ritual symbols 84–7; spirit of 23–4; violence and disobedience 88; vote for religious government 90; welcoming of Ayatollah Khomeini 87 Abbas (Abolfazl) 44, 50, 51, 52, 53, 106 Abbas I, Shah 64, 72 Afrashte, Mohamad Ali 78 Aghaie, K.S. 65, 120–1 Ahangaran, Haaj Sadeq 104–5 ahl-e bait 136 Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud 20, 30, 119, 124, 125–6, 127; elected president 126; lifestyle 126; presidential campaign mottos 126; use of linguistic symbols 126 Akbar, Ali 53, 106 Alavi 130, 148n2 al-Abidin, Zayn 44, 56 Al-Ashmawy, M.S. 24 al-Baghdadi, Abu Bakr 114, 144–5 Al-Farabi 123 Algerian Revolution 80 Al-Ghazali, Mohammad 24, 27 Algiers Agreement (1975) 96 Alikhani, Abolfazl Haji 81 al-Ikhwan al-Muslimun (Muslim Brotherhood) 7, 29, 146 Alizadeh, Hussein 86 Al-Karak, Ali 21 Amir Taymour va Valie Sham (Amir Timur and the Governor of Damascus) 77 Animal Farm (Orwell) 117 Anjomanneh Ta’ziyeh Iraniyan 79

Another Narration (Jahed) 58–9 Arabi, Sohrab 132 Arab Spring 144, 146 archaic lamenting pack 53 Ardakani, Reza Davari 28, 29 Aristotle 10, 27 Arkoun, M. 25 Armbrust, W. 2–3 Arousi-e Belqeis (Marriage of Belqeis) 76, 79 Artesh (Army) 104 Ashura 45–6; crowd characteristics 61–2; Khomeini’s reference to 85 Assembly of Experts (Iran) 119, 120, 122 Athenian democracy 10–11; exclusions from 10; Plato 11 atomic bombs 113–14 Avery et al. 73 Aviny, Sayyed Morteza 131 ayeh (Quranic sentences) 100 Bächtiger et al. 11–12 Bahonar, Mohammad Javad 119 Bakhash, S. 122 Bani-Sadr, Abolhassan 119, 143 Basij legion 110–12 Basij (Voluntary Militia) 104 baten (inside) 82, 83 Bateson, Gregory 2; schismogenesis 18–19 Bazargan, Mehdi 87, 89, 90 BBC 133 Beeman, W.O. 47, 49–50, 62, 75; clerical power 82; dualistic model of passion 83; language and magic 83–4; language and rhetoric 83 Beheshti, Mohammad 119 Being and Time (Heidegger) 123 Bentham, Jeremy 15 Beyzaie, Bahram 41–2, 78, 79, 80

Index  157 Blair, Tony 113 Blattberg, Charles 11 Blindfolded Soldier Shot at Gunpoint 101, 102 Bonyad-e Elmi Farhangie Ta’ziyeh va hamayeshai-e Ayeni 79 Bridge, The (play) 78 British Embassy 138–9 Brook, Peter 40 brotherhood (fraternity) 34 Canetti, E. 40, 52–3; crowds 54, 61, 63, 139; power and crowds 63–4; power dynamics 54–5 Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy (Schumpeter) 14 Certitude of Belief (Yaqin) 101, 102 Cerulli, Enrico 41 charisma 19; Weberian notion 19 Chelkowski, P.J. 41, 56–7 Chodzko, Alexander 41 closed crowds 53, 63 Code of Hammurabi 148 comedy, improvised theatre 73–5, 77 commerce 14 competition, economic method of 14 Constant, Benjamin 13–14 Constitutional Revolution (1905–1906) 65; pro-democratic images 22 consultation, Islamic concept of 22 consumption, capitalist culture of 117 Corbin, Henry 26–7, 27–8, 29, 123 corruption 65, 125, 144 Council for the Cultural Revolution 24 Council for the Revision of the Constitution 120 Council of Guardians 118–19 crowd(s) 40; equality 63; liminality and 61–4; mimicry 127, 135; mobilising, new narratives for 108; open and closed 53, 63; packs, types of 63–4; rising against the Shah 87, 88; seizure of the British Embassy 138–9; seizure of the US embassy 91, 92; slow and quick 54; types of 63; violence and disobedience 88 Crowds and Power (Canetti) 40 cultural habits 100 cyberspace 32–3, 129–31; Neda Agha Soltan 132–5 Cyrus the Great 148 danishmandan (scholars/learned persons/scientists) 22

dasta (group) processions 45, 46 deliberative democracy 11–12 demagogy 12 democracy: Athenian 10–11; definition 7–8, 9–10; deliberative 11; Iraq War 113–14; as a market place 13–15; mass 12–13; models of 1–2; power in 16; Schumpeter’s theory of 13; transference of 19–20; United States manipulation of 112–13; Weberian notion of 12–13; Western model 1; see also direct democracy; Islamic democracy; modern democracy; public sphere democratic states: conquests of 14 Demos 10 deviated transcendency 127–8 Dickens, Charles 88–9 Dilthey, Wilhelm 55 direct democracy 11, 12 dirges 104–5 divine rights 31 education: Islamisation of 24; political participation and 20 Egyptian revolution (2011) 2 Eigentlichkeit, Heidegger’s notion of 123 Eisenstadt, S.N. 21 el-Sisi, General Abdel Fattah 146 emotion, in Ta’ziyeh 54 Enayat, Kal 72 Engineer, A.A. 31 Enlightenment 33 equality 34 Eternal Performance: Ta’ziyeh and Other Shiite Rituals (Chelkowski) 41 evil, notion of 57–8; in baten 23; good and 57–8, 80, 81, 92 Expediency Council (Iran) 119, 120, 121 fabula saltata 81 Fahmideh, Mohammad Hussein 108, 109 Fardid, Ahmad 123, 124; utilisation of Heidegger’s philosophy 123–4 Farhi, F. 140 Farsi language 43, 57, 74, 83 feqh-e puya (progressive Islamic jurisprudence) 120 Ferdowsi, Abolqasem 56, 57–8 Fischer-Lichte, E. 87 Fischer, M.M.J. 84 flags 51, 52, 105–8, 139 Forouhar, Dariush 121, 148n1 Forouhar, Parvaneh Eskandari 121 Foucault, Michel 23, 90, 146–7

158

Index

freedom 34, 113 free man, concept of 10 French Revolution 22, 33, 34, 88–9 Friday leaders 120–1 funeral ceremonies 131, 136 Gaffary, Farrokh 78 Ganji, Akbar 143 Geertz, Clifford 31, 47 gharbzadegi 123, 124 Girard, R. 3, 113, 127–8 good and evil 57–8, 80, 81, 92; in baten 23 goriz (elusion/escape/breakout) techniques 77, 78, 128, 131, 137, 138; insulting Saddam Hussein 100 green colour, symbolism 50 Green Movement: battle of cyberspace 129–31; digital logo 137; failure of 139–43; goriz techniques 128; historical background and political culture 119–21; middle classes, association with 140–1; Neda Agha Soltan 132–5; origins of 118; paroxysm of 126–8; and the public sphere 132; reformists 122–5; reformists, defeat of 125–6; second order liminality 121–2; Ta’ziyeh symbols 128–9; use of icons 135–9 Guardian Council 127 Habermas, Jürgen 8; discounted role of religious traditions 20; public sphere, theory of 8–9, 66, 130, 131 hadith (the Prophet’s pronouncement) 100, 101 Hafez No theatre 79 Hanbal, Ahmad ibn 31 hard-liners 123, 127; use of cyberspace 130; use of symbols 130–1 Hassan 43 Heidegger, Martin 28, 123 heroes/heroism: Imam Hussein 65; narrative used by Iranian revolutionary clerics 100; notion of 55–9; sacrificial 80; victimised 80; of war, Iraqi filmmakers 99 Heydary, Kiana 81 Hezbollah 7 Hiroshima 114 Hobbes, Thomas 15 Homayuni, Sadeq 42 honoratiores 12, 14 Hubert, H. And Mauss, M. 3 Hurr 44, 59, 61

Hushvar, Yazdan 78 Hussein, Imam 2, 43; calling for return of 53; icon of suffering 60; remembrance of 45; sacrifice 53–4; symbolic martyrdom 101–2; in Ta’ziyeh 50–1 Hussein, Saddam 97; anticipated a quick victory against Iran 97; offers ceasefire to Iran 97; portrayed as Yazid 99, 100; pre-Islamic myths 98; propaganda 100; symbolism of Qadisiyyah 98 hypocrites 90 icons 135–9 illuminationism 27–8 images: Imam Khomeini’s use of 86, 87; pro-democratic 22; Shia Islam 83, 84–7, 91, 98, 99–100; of Ta’ziyeh 66; young boy dressed as a soldier 99 improvisatory theatre 71–3, 82; comedy 73–5, 77 income inequality 14 individualism 9 innovation 136 Institute for Traditional Performances and Ritual 78, 79 International Symposium on Ta’ziyeh 78 Iran: Assembly of Experts 119, 120, 122; capitalist culture of consumption 117; Constitutional Revolution (1905–1906) see Constitutional Revolution (1905–1906); contrasting cultures post1979 Revolution 117; corruption and wealth 125; Council for the Revision of the Constitution 120; Council of Guardians 118–19; coup d’état 22; cultural liberalisation 122; economic liberalisation 121, 122; excessive displays of wealth 117; Expediency Council 119, 121; Friday leaders 120–1; government of see Islamic government; hard-liners 123; impeachment proceedings 119; Islamic Consultative Assembly 118; models of democracy 1–2; origin of name 6–7n1; political structure 118–19; presidential elections 20, 122, 125, 129; reformists 122, 123–6; reformists vs. hardline traditionalists 122; reform, modernisation and industrialisation 22; separation of powers 118–19; supreme leader 118; theocratic system of rule 7; US sanctions against 141; widening gap between rich and poor 117; see also Persia

Index  159 Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) 93; Basij legion 110–12; and flags 105–8; historical background 96–8; insulting Saddam Hussein in public 100; and lament 104–5; making the war sacred 101–4; mass mobilisation 112; mobilising crowds 108; propaganda 99, 100; and the public sphere 112–14; related to the battle of Karbala 99, 100– 1; sacrifice of young Iranian boys 108–12; symbolising the war 98–9; Ta’ziyeh and 99–101; as war against the West, Iranians belief 101–3 Iran Liberation Front 122 Iraq: confidence in invading Iran 97; financial backing for war with Iran 97; invasion and occupation of 113–14; justification of war with Iran 99; see also Iran–Iraq War (1980–88) Iraq Inquiry Report (2016) 113–14 ishraqi 27 Islamic Consultative Assembly 118 Islamic democracy 1, 7, 147–8; complexity of 145–8; conceptualising 7–8; development of 24–6; education 20; nature of 147–8; US support for 141 Islamic government/regime: attacks on internal opposition 7, 25; declining trust in 140; development of 21–4; gatekeepers 140; killing and imprisonment of opponents 90, 91; media utilisation to gather crowds for war 99; murders of anti-regime intellectuals 121; position against imperialism 7; support for the Ta’ziyeh and Shia tragedies 80; suppression of opposition parties 119 Islamic mysticism 26 Islamic pluralism 30 Islamic Republican Party (IRP) 29–30 Islamic Revolution (1979) see 1979 Revolution Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) see Revolutionary Guards Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIS) 114, 144–5 January 25 Revolution 2, 29 Jashnvarre-e Sarrasari-e Te’atr-e Khyabani (Street Theatre Festival) 81 Kadivar, Mohsen 1, 30 Kalam 31

Kamalipour, Y.R. 128 Karbala tragedy 43–5, 56; Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) 99, 100–1 Karroubi, Mehdi 127, 129 Katouzian, H. 21 Kemal, Namik 22 Khalkhali, Sadegh 91 Khamenei, Ayatollah Ali 7, 30, 119; elected as supreme leader 120; as gatekeeper of Islamic regime 140; political manoeuvring 127; power struggle with Rafsanjani 120–1; secured role as president 119 Khan, Reza 22 Khatami, Mohammad 20, 121, 122, 124–5, 146 khimmeh (a little tent) 50 Khomeini, Imam 1, 22–3; attacks the Shah 85; calls America ‘the Great Satan’ 83, 91, 141; creating rhetoric from culture 83; exile 85–6; goriz technique 85; ‘holy defence’ references to war with Iraq 98; Islam as symbol 98; killing and imprisonment of opponents 90, 91; mass mobilisation for war 112; organised rising against the Shah 86–7, 88; perceived supernatural powers 89, 92; rejection of ceasefire from Iraq 97; rejection of Middle Eastern and international political orders 96–7; rhetorical technique 85, 86; slogans to export Islamic Revolution 97; supernatural powers, people’s belief in 89; totalitarian regime 90; transformation of Iranian religious and political settings 24; use of images and symbols related to Ta’ziyeh 86, 87; use of Shia symbols 83, 87, 91, 98; use of symbols of Islam 83; see also revolutionary clerics Kiarostami, Abbas 59–60 kuseh 143 lament and mourning 52–5; Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) 104–5 land reform 1 leaders and followers 15 le Burn, Corneille 41 Lefort, C. 13; modern democracy 16–17; totalitarianism 16 Le Pen, Marine 114 liberty 10; ancient 13 Liberty of the Ancients 13

160

Index

Liberty of the Moderns 13–14 liminality 2, 18, 19, 34; during the 1979 Revolution 87–90; and crowd 61–4; meaning of 3; post-1979 Revolution 116–18; and the public sphere 34; schismogenic process between hardliners and reformists 127; second order 121–2; Szakolczai on 71; see also permanent liminality liminal phenomenon 33 liminoid phenomenon 33 Locke, J. 15 Loeffler, R. 31–2 Lutz et al. 20 Machiavelli, Niccolò 15 Mahdi, Imam 30 malamati (people of blame) 72 Malekpour, J. 65 martyrdom 44, 45; Basij legion 110–12; Certitude of Belief (Yaqin) 101, 102; of Imam Hussein 101–2; key to paradise 44–5, 101, 107, 110, 111; Mohammad Hussein Fahmideh 108, 109; propaganda of Islamic government 101; revolutionary clerics’ culture of 98, 99; tradition of 107 Martyrs Square 86 Marx, Karl 15; model of political sociology 15 mashriq 27 Masnavi, The (Rumi) 57, 58 mass democracy 12–13 Massignon, Louis 28, 35n2 mazlumiyat 84 McFaul, M. 20 meaning 47, 49–50, 51–2 Mechveret (Consultation) 22 middle classes 140–1 Middle Eastern Posters Collection 101 Mill, J.S. 15 mimicry 127, 135 Mirsepassi, A. 124 Moasesseh-e Sabz Andishan Javan Alavi (Institute for Green Thinkers of Alavi) 130 Moashgeh-e Khanjar va Khanjar (Love Between Two Daggers/Swords) 81 mob culture 64 modern democracy 12, 13; Lefort on 16–17 Mohammad, Prophet 42, 100, 136 Mojahidin-e Khalq organisation (MEK/MKO) 7, 90

monarchy, fall of 1 Montazeri, Hussein Ali 131, 136 Moore, B. Jr. 29 Morsi, Mohamed 29, 146 Mosahebeh (Interview, Rahmanian) 80 Mosca, Gaetano 15 Mossadegh, Mohammad 84, 144 motrebs (entertainers) 73 mourning, lament and 52–5 Mousavi, Mir Hossein 30, 119, 120, 126–7, 129; employment of green colour of Ta’ziyeh 135–6 Muawiyah 43 Muharram festival 45; Ashura 45–6; interaction between ritual and politics 65; manifestation of state power 64; proliferation of mortuary rites 64 Muharram Festival of the Shiites, The (Canetti) 40 munavvaran (enlighteners) 22 Muslim Brotherhood 7, 29, 146 Muslims: submissiveness of 31; thinking Islam, project of 25; see also Shia Muslims; Sunni Muslims Nagasaki 114 Naghibi, N. 133, 135 Naji, K. 124 Namayesh dar Iran (Beyzaie) 41 naqqali 72, 73 naqqal (narrator) 73 Naraqi, Ayatollah Mulla Ahmad 21 Neda see Soltan, Neda Agha negative propaganda x neoliberal thinking 9 Nietzsche, Friedrich 64 nohe khan (dirge) 104–5, 138 Obama, Barack 128, 141, 142 occident, the 23 Ockham, William 27 open crowds 53, 63 Operation Eagle Claw 91–2 orientalism 23–4 Orwell, George 90, 117 Pahlavi, Mohammad Reza Shah see Shah, the panjeh (the hand/claw) symbol 52, 106–7, 136, 137 panj taneh paak (the five pure/clean bodies) 107 pantomime 81 pardeh dari 72–3

Index  161 Pareto, Vilfredo 15 Pelly, L. 41, 56 Pericles 10 permanent liminality 34, 118; post-1979 Revolution 90–3, 117 Persia: culture 43; division between Shia and Sunni sects 42–3; language 43, 49; see also Iran Philosophy of Illumination (Sohravardi) 27 Plato 2, 9, 12, 33, 58, 112, 123; on Athenian democracy 11 pluralism 15 political Islam 26 political spirituality 23 political tricksters 9 Popperian approach 28 power: centralisation of 15; clerical 82; crowds and 63–4; in democracy 16; empty place of 15–17; paranoiac use of 55; separation of powers 118–19; sociological perspectives 15–16; struggle between Rafsanjani and Khamenei 120–1 propaganda: during the Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) 99, 100; negative x; revolutionary clerics use of 100 Prophet Mohammad 42, 100, 136 publicity 32 public sphere: in Athenian democracy 9–11; in contemporary democracy 11–13; cyberspace and 130; as empty place 9; Habermas’s theory of 8–9, 66, 130, 131; icons for the formation of 135–9; intricacy of 8–13; and the Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) 112–14; Islamic, inequalities in 25; Neda Agha Soltan 132–5; and symbols 32–4; Szakolczai’s theory of 131–2; Ta’ziyeh and 64–7; United States manipulation of 112–13 Qajar 55; corruption 65; Ta’ziyeh during 64–5; Ta’ziyeh Mozhek 76 Qutb, Sayyid 7 Radin, Paul 2 Rafsanjani, Hashemi 119–20; brutal treatment of opponents 143; characteristics of trickster 143–4; cooperation with America 143; economic liberalisation 121; elected as president 120; murders during the presidency of 121, 143; policies to

consolidate power 122; power and influence of 120, 143, 144; power struggle with Khamenei 120–1; supporter of the Green Movement 143–4 Rafsanjani, Mohammad Hashemi 122 Rahimi, B. 32, 64, 65–6 Rahimi, Mohammad Reza 126 Rahmanian, Mohammad 80–1 Raja’i, Mohammad Ali 119 rationalisation 9 Rauh, E.L. 137 Ravayat-e-Fath (The Story of Conquest) 131 Reagan, Ronald 122 red colour, symbolism 50 reformists 122, 123–5, 127; defeat of 125–6; use of symbols 130 regular army (Iran) 118 religious narratives 100 revayat (the narrations of the Prophet and imams) 100, 101 revolutionary clerics: employing symbols of Iranian culture 82, 83, 100; falsification of reality 100; images of young boy dressed as a soldier 99; new narratives for crowd mobilisation 108; promotion of self-sacrifice and martyrdom 98, 99; relating the Iran–Iraq War to battle of Karbala 100–1; religious war, conceptualisation of 98; reneged on promises to redistribute wealth to the poor 117; rhetoric 82, 84; skilled orators 84; support and encouragement of Haaj Sadeq Ahangaran 105; see also Khomeini, Imam Revolutionary Council 90 Revolutionary Guards 7, 104, 118, 140 revolutionary times 87, 118 rhetoric: revolutionary 82–4; technique of Khomeini 85 rites of passage 3, 18; brotherhood (fraternity) 34; equality 34; freedom 34 rituals: Muharram 65–6; and politics 65; Safavid dynasty 46–7; Shia 84–7; see also Ta’ziyeh Riza, Ahmad 22 roshanfekran-e dini (religious intellectuals) 25 Rouhani, Hassan 144 Rowzat al-Shohada (Kashefi) 59 Roy, O. 20 Rubaiyat, The (Khayyam) 57, 58

162

Index

ruhauzi (over the pool) 73–4; comparison with Ta’ziyeh 75–6 Sabz Alavi (Green Alavi) 130 sacredness: of the Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) 101–4; self-sacrifice and martyrdom 98; sog-e Siavash 57; and violence 62 sacrifice 3, 98; self-sacrifice of young Iranian boys 108–12 Saddam Hussein see Hussein, Saddam Safavid dynasty 21; increased Muharram ceremonies 64; new forms of Shia rituals 46–7 Safavid Sufi order 45 Said, E.W. 23–4 Sakineh (Sukainah) 50–1 Salemy, M. 124 Salvatore, A. 9, 23; public sphere 66 SAVAK (secret police) 84, 86 scapegoat mechanism 3, 113, 128, 132, 141 Scarlet Stone (Kasrai) 59 schismogenesis 2, 17–18, 19; forming a public sphere 77–8; Iran–Iraq War (1980–1988) 96, 112–14; between political powers 146; post-1979 Revolution 116–18, 143; Shia and Sunni 42–3 Schneider, D.M. 47 Schumpeter, Joseph 13, 14 self-flagellation 45, 51, 53 Sepah Pasdaran Engelab (the Revolutionary Guard) 7, 104 separation of powers 118–19 Shah, Fath Ali 21 Shahnameh, The (Ferdowsi) 57–8 Shahrbanu 56 Shah, the 1, 22, 84; dynasty 22–3; portrayed as Yazid 83, 84, 87, 92; rising against 86–7 Shajarian, Mohammad Reza 86 shamayel gardani 72–3 Shariati, Ali 28, 29, 124 Shariatmadari, Ayatollah Mohammad Kazem 24 Shatt al-Arab 96, 97 Shemr 141 Shia: lament and mourning 52–5, 104–5; as a language 84; religion 84; ritual symbols 84–7; symbolic structures 84; weeping 82, 104, 105 Shia Islam 20, 21; images, rituals and symbols 83, 84–7, 91, 98, 99–100;

Karbala tragedy 43–5; origins of 42–6; as part of political structure 24; political 88 Shia Muslims: beliefs 42, 43, 44, 87–8; dreams 89; Imam Hussein 54, 56–7, 100; imitation of Imam Hussein 107–8; Muharram 45; Ta’ziyeh 47, 62; Zayn al-Abidin 56 Shi’ism 28, 43; politicisation of 28 Shiraz Festival of Arts 78–9 Siavash 57 Sina, Ibn ‘Avicenna’ 58 siyah bazi 73, 74, 75, 76 Siyah(s) 74–5, 84, 92–3 slogans 31, 89, 91, 128, 129; 1979 Revolution 25; anti-imperialist 141; Khomenei’s use of 97; la elaha ela allah 97 social dramas 62 social meaning 47 sog-e Siavash (the legend of Siavash) 56–7 Sohravardi 26–7 Soltani, Neda 133–5 Soltan, Neda Agha 132–5, 138 sonnat (the tradition of Prophet Mohammad) 100 Sophists x, 9, 112; corrupting influences of 11; hiding the truth 100 Soroush, Abdolkarim 1, 7, 34, 124; exile from Iran 25; Islamic democratic government 24; Islamic pluralism 30; religious modernism 28; Sufism 26; sympathetic approaches to the West 28; use of Kalam 31; see also Islamic democracy Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, The (Habermas) 8 Sufism 26–9 suicide bombings 114 Sunni Muslims 42; ISIS 114; schismogenic process with Shia 42–3 symbolic anthropology 31, 47 symbols 47–52; America as ‘the Great Satan’ 83, 91; colour green, the 50, 101, 135; colour red, the 50, 101, 135; flags 105–8; Green Movement 128–9; Hand of Abbas 106–7; hard-liners 130–1; Imam Khomenei’s use of 83, 86, 87, 91, 98; Islam, uniting Shia and Sunni sects 98; and meaning 47, 49–50, 51–2; panjeh 52; as propaganda for supporting Iran–Iraq War 100; and the public sphere 32–4; Qadisiyyah 98;

Index  163 reformists’ use of 130–1; revolutionary clerics’ use of 82, 83, 100; Shah as ‘Yazid’ 83; Shia 84–7 Szakolczai, Arpad x, 3, 18, 34, 88; on the danger to human societies 114; on liminality 71; public sphere 131–2 takht-e hozi (the wooden pool) 73 Talajooy, S. 80–1 Talib, Ali ibn Abi 42–3 taqlid 73 Ta’ziyeh 2; actors and actresses 50, 51; audience participation 51–2; comparison with ruhauzi 75–6; folklore 56–7; geographical dimensions of 59–61; hero and heroism, notion of 55–9; and the Iran–Iraq War 99–101; lamenting pack 53; literary sources on 40–2, 46; main performance space 50; morality 54; origins of 46–8; and the public sphere 64–7; and revolutionary rhetoric 82–4; sacred and violence 62; scripts 50–1; slow and quick crowds 54; symbols of 105; timeless and spaceless 62 Ta’ziyeh (film) 59–60 Ta’ziyeh Mozhek 76–8; episodes 79; good and bad characters 79 Tekiyeh Dowlat 47, 77 Thatcher, Margaret 122 Three Little Houses 78 Tobacco Protest (1890) 85 Tocqueville, A. de 12, 14, 16; French Revolution 33 totalitarianism 16, 29; post-1979 Revolution 90 trickster(s): Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi 144–5; characteristics of 2–3; cyberspace and modern communications systems 145; dangers of 9; in democracies 147; employed religious narratives and cultural habits 100; employing images and signs of Ta’ziyeh 66; Hashemi Rafsanjani 143–4; manipulating the

Iran–Iraq War 112; political 9; schismogenic process 146; Sophists 11 Trump, Donald 114 Turner, Victor x; liminality, concept of 3, 18, 62; meaning 47; social dramas 62; on symbols 33 Type I deliberation 11–12 Type II deliberation 11, 12 tyranny of majority 12 Ukasha, Taufiq 2–3 UN Resolution 598 112 US embassy 91, 92 Van den Bos, M. 26 van Gennep, Arnold 3, 18 velayat-e faqih 24, 30, 120, 123 verbal performances 49 violence: disobedience and 88; mimicry and 127; sacredness and 62 Wagner, Wilhelm Richard 64 wars: consequences of 113–14; nature of 147 Weber, Max 15; on democracy 12–13, 14 weeping 82, 104, 105 Welch, Stuart Cary 72 Wilders, Geert 114 Wydra, H. 17, 34 Yazdi, Mesbah 30, 122, 123, 124 Yazid 43, 44, 50, 51; America portrayed as 83, 141; mocking and insulting 76; Saddam Hussein portrayed as 99, 100; Shah portrayed as 84, 87, 92 zaher (outside) 82, 83 Zanan 121 Zhaleh Square 86 Zimmermann, B. 81 Zoroastrianism: good and evil 57–8, 80; influence on Iranian culture 42; teachings 27; values of 148 Zuljanah (horse) 44