Table of Contents

English Verso

Iranian Masculinities

Preface: Iranian Masculinities
Mostafa Abedinifard and Sahar Allamezade-Jones

A Tree Atop the Mountain: Mobad Manikan and the Elusive Promises of Masculinity
Cameron Cross

‘Prescriptive’ Masculinity?: Deception and Restraint in the Films of Asghar Farhadi
Niki Akhavan

An Iranian Female Vampire Walks Home Alone and Disturbs Freud’s Oedipal Masculinity
Mahdi Tourage

On the Path to Manhood: Men and Masculinities in the Contemporary Kurdish Novel
Kaveh Ghobadi

Homosexuality – the emerging new battleground in Islam
Junaid Jahangir & Hussein Abdullatif

The Abject Outsider: “The Story of Two Gay Men”
Claudia Yaghoobi

Queering the Iranian Nation: Be Like Others and Resistance to Heteronormative Nationalism
Amy Tahani-Bidmeshki

Persian Reverso

Wedding Trials of Masculinity in Iranian Fairy Tales
Samin Espargham, Abolghasem Ghavam, and Samira Bameshki

Ekhrajiha1 (The Outcast 1): The Role of the ‛Lāt’ Figure in the Construction of the Islamic Republic’s ‛Ideal Man’
Papoli Yazdi

The Predicament of Complicity with Hegemonic Masculinity in Goli Taraghi’s “In Another Place”
Amirhossein Vafa

The Male Homosexuality Problematic in the Context of ContemporaryIranian Shi‘ism
Arash Naraghi

Variorum

In the Mirror of Time: On Rostam and Shoghad in Firdawsi’s Shahnameh and Akhavan Salis’s “The Eight Passage”
Nasim Khaksar

Iran Days in Egypt: Mosaddeq’s Visit to Cairo in 1951
Lior Sternfeld

Table of Contents- Volume 7, Number 4, Winter 2026

Iran Namag: A Bilingual Quarterly of Iranian Studies
Volume 7, Number 4, Winter 2026

Editor-in-Chief: Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

English Verso

Lalehzar Under Allied Occupation: A Localized Narrative of a Global Conflict
Ida Meftahi

The Life and Times of Mirza Reza Khan Afshar
Mahasti Afshar

Quest for an International Shipwreck: Taqī Rafʿat and the Titanic
Arash Poorakbar

Another New Agenda for Persian Studies?
Garry W. Trompf

Translation as Critical Practice: Literary Translation and Literary Criticism in Modern Iran
Babak Mazloumi

Persian Reverso

History of Canada-Iran Relations: From the Earliest Contacts to the Establishment of the Embassy, 1912-1958
Javad Abbasi

Pioneers of the Time: Avicenna and Abu Rayhan Biruni
Hamid Sahebjami

Social and Religious Education in the Textbooks of the Rez Shah Period, 1925-1941
Hamideh Sultanimoqadam, Sa‘ideh Sultanimoqadam, and Hamideh Mohammadi

A Review of Zionism and Its History
Nahid Pirnazar

“Necessity of the Time”: ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and the Iranian Constitutional Revolution
Mina Yazdani

Babi-Baha‘i Merchants in the Service of the Faith During the Qajar Period
Soli Shahvar

Theater, Morality and Intellectual Enlightenment: Ali Nasr and Playwriting
Saeed Talajooy

Book Review of Kamran Talattof, Modernity, Sexuality, and Ideology in Iran: The Life and Legacy of a Popular Female Artist
Marjan Daneshvar Kashkooli

Table of Contents- Volume 7, Number 3, Fall 2024

Iran Namag: A Bilingual Quarterly of Iranian Studies
Volume 7, Number 3, Fall 2024

Editor-in-Chief: Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

Sohrab Sepehri Special Issue
Guest Editors: Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi and Behrooz Mahmoodi-Bakhtiari

English Verso

Sohrab Sepehri Special Issue: Foreword
Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi and Behrooz Mahmoodi-Bakhtiari

Sohrab Sepehri, a Universal Poet: An Introduction to His Life and Works
Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi

Sohrab Sepehri as a Mythical Character in Shahrnush Parsipur’s Blue Logos
M. R. Ghanoonparvar

Ecotheology of Sohrab Sepehri: Conciousness on the Edge of Water
Bahar Davary

Transformation of a Concept: Death from ‘‘Resting Place of Love’’ to ‘‘ Beauty’s Solitariness ’’
Zhinia Noorian

Persian Reverso

The Offerings and Aspects of Sohrab Sepehri for His Contemporaries and for Today
Saeed Yousef

An Analytical Reading of Sohrab Sepehri’s Poem “Friend” Based on Fairclough’s Critical Discourse Analysis Framework
Mahdiye Arvin

‘‘Let Us Not Muddy the Water’’: A Comparison of Toxic Discourse in Heaney’s “Death of a Naturalist” and Sepehri’s “Water”
Maryam Soltan Shahdtaj Beyad and Faezeh Dashtizad

A Comparative Review of the Dramatic Aspects of Sohrab Sepehri’s Poem “Traveler” and Qahhar ‘Asi’s “The Champion of Kanjkan and the Dragon of Hell”
Fazel Ahad Ahadi

Sohrab Sepehri and His Influence on Modern Persian Poetry in Afghanistan
Eid Mohammad Sherzad

The Impact of Existential Anxiety on Sohrab Sepehri’s Works and their Use in Psychotherapy
Khatere Arbabi and Parvaneh Rahmati Sangkar

Table of Contents- Volume 7, Number 2, Summer 2024

Iran Namag: A Bilingual Quarterly of Iranian Studies

Volume 7, Number 2, Summer 2024

Editor-in-Chief: Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

Iradj Pezeshkzad Commemorative Issue

Guest Editors: Mostafa Abedinifard & Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi

 

English Verso

Introduction to the Special Issue
Mostafa Abedinifard & Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi

 

Iraj Pezeshkzad’s “Prosecuting an Author”: A Translation and Short Commentary
Alireza Korangy

 

Dai Jan Napelon as a Comic Masterpiece
Dick Davis

 

Iraj Pezeshkzad as a Social Critic: The Satirical Aspects of My Uncle Napoleon and Asemun Rismun
M. R. Ghanoonparvar

 

My Uncle Napoleon and the Iranian Anglophobia
Homa Katouzian

 

Iraj Pezeshkzad and His Hafez: A Note on Hafez in Love
Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi 
& Patricia J. Higgins

 

Persian Reverso
Iraj Pezeshkzad Commemorative Issue

Laughing at Oneself in the Works of Iraj Pezeshkzad
Roya Sadr

 

Uncle Napoleon Novel and the Literary Precedents of the Servant (Aqa/Khidmatkar)
Sorour Kasmayi

 

Variorum

 

Remarks on Karim Zamani’s on Sharh-i Jami‘-i Masnavi Ma‘navi
Abdolmajid Yousefinikoo

 

Vis and Rāmin: The Relic of an Abrogated Custom
Mostafa Sa‘adat

 

Gender equality in the poetry of Parvin
Behnam Fomeshi

 

Pandemic and History: Pandemics and the Shaping of Human Civilization
Hamid Sahebjami

 

Jalal Al-e Ahmaz’s Puzzle in By the Pen
Arman Arian

Table of Contents Volume 7, Number 1, Spring 2024

Iran Namag: A Bilingual Quarterly of Iranian Studies
Volume 7, Number 1, Spring 2024
Editor-in-Chief: Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

Radio Special Issue
Guest Editor: Khatereh Sheibani

ENGLISH VERSO
Radio Special Issue

The Golden Era of Radio Iran (1940-1978): A Modernist Aural Culture
Khatereh Sheibani

 

The Advent and Development of Radio in Iran
Bigan Kimiachi

 

Radio: A New Cultural History of Listening to Iranian Music, 1940-1952
Pouya Nekouei

 

Sound-Scaping Diaspora and the Affective Politics of Listening
Nazli Akhtari

 

BBC Radio: A Public Sphere of Communication, Communitas and Communion
Pouneh Saeedi

 

Variorum

Weststruckness: Trials and Tribulations
Homa Katouzian and Morad Moazami

 

Mistaken Modernity and its Critices: Hussein Alatas and Jalal-e Al-Ahmad
Ali Mirsepassi and Tadd Fernée

 

PERSIAN REVERSO
Radio Special Issue
Challenges and Hindrances to the Launching of Radio in Iran
Abbas Panahi and Ghorbanali Kenar-Roudi

 

Children and Radio in the 1960s Tabriz
Naser Hassanzadeh-Tabriz

 

Radio in Birjand
Mahmoud Fazeli-Birjandi

 

Variorum
A Century of Patriarchal State
Mohammad Husayn Badamchi

 

Tourist Organization of Iran During the Pahlavi Era, 1925-1979
Somayeh Bakhtiari

 

The Utopian Condition and the Lingual Contestation Theory in Reza Baraheni’s Poetic Perspectives
Layla Sadeghi

Table of Contents Volume 6, Number 3-4

Table of Contents Volume 6, Number 2

Editor-in-Chief: Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

Literary Diasporas of Iran
Guest Editors: Claudia Yaghoobi & Asghar Seyed-Gohrab

 

English Verso

Introduction
Claudia Yaghoobi and Asghar Seyed-Gohrab

Poetry as Salve for Persian Exiles
Asghar Seyed-Gohrab

Exile and Absence from the True Homeland: The Topos of Exile in Religious Literature
Alan Williams

The Complete Persepolis: Visualizing Exile in a Transnational Narrative
Leila Sadegh Beigi

Between Tehran and Paris: Terre de mirages and Shayegan’s Exilic Ambivalence
Ehsan Sheikholharam

Iranian American Comedic Memoirs: Interrogating Race and Humor in Diasporic Life Writing
Leila Moayeri Pazargadi

Racial Profiling of Iranian Armenians in the United States: Omid Fallahazad’s “Citizen Vartgez”
Claudia Yaghoobi

Persian Reverso

A Reflection of Our Lives over the Four Decades after the Revolution in Literature and a Study of Exilic Literature
Nasim Khaksar

The Blurring of the Boundaries between Reality and Fantasy, Body and Soul, and Home and (Non)Home during the Creative Process of Writing Diaspora
Parvaneh Hosseini Fahraji

Desire, Power, and Agency: Iranian Female Poets Reading Their Poems before the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic
Mahdi Tourage

Table of Contents Volume 6, Number 1

English Verso

Editor-in-Chief: Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

“Is Hindenburg a Sultan?” The Trial of the Iranian Communist Journal Peykar in Weimar Germany
Sheragim Jenabzadeh

Mapping the Unmappable: A Critical Study of Dead Reckoning: A Novel by Bahman Sho‘levar
Babak Mazloumi

History through Talisman: The Historical Value of a Newly Identified Safavid Treatise by Molla Jalal-e Monajjem-e Yazdi
Behzad Karimi

Sovereignty and Statehood in Early Qajar Rule: An Exercise in Conceptualization
Behrooz Moazami

Persian Reverso

Introduction: The Decline of Science in the Islamic World
Ahmad Kazemi-Mousavi

The Rise and Fall of Islamic Science
John Walbridge

A Critique of Walbridge’s “The Rise and Fall of Islamic 21 Science”
Hormoz Ebrahimnejad

Why We Did Not Modernize: On the Causes of the Decline of Science in Iran
Kamran Amir Arjomand

The Puzzle of the “Scientific Revolution” in Islamic Societies
Najm al-Din Yousefi

On the Decline of Science in Islamic Societies
Rasool Nafisi

Variorum

Scholarly Plagiarism and Conceptual Dissension
Leila Sadeghi

The Futile Linkage: The Tudeh Party and Women’s Movement for Equality Rights, 1921-1941
Lila Sazgar

Forms of Nationalism
Amir Hassanpour

Sectarian Feuds and the Decline of the Buyids
Hooshhang Shokri and Ali Rafi‘i

Table of Contents Volume 5, Number 4

English Verso

Editor-in-Chief: Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

Special Issue Dedicated to Ahmad Ashraf for His Lifetime Contribution to Iranian Studies
Editors: Amir Ismail Ajami & Mohamad Tavakoli

Land Reform and Agrarian Transformation in Iran, 1962–78
Amir Ismail Ajami

Farmer–Herder Villages and the Revolution
Mary Martin

Individualization and the Emergence of Personalized Politics in Post-Revolutionary Iran
Azadeh Kian

Chamber of Commerce and Internal Conflicts among the Merchants of Bushehr in the Early 1950s
Soheila Torabi Farsani

Notes on the Persian Gospel Manuscript in Georgian Script
Helen Giunashvili & Tamar Abuladze

Persian Reverso

Recollections and Inquiries: From Unveiling to the Islamic Revolution
Negin Nabavi’s Interview with Ahmad Ashraf

The Challenges of Family Capitalism in the Pahlavi Era, the1940s to the 1970
Ali Asghar Saeidi

A Pioneer of Iranian Historical Sociology: Reflections on the Academic Career of Ahmad Ashraf
Dariush Rahmanian

Ahmad Ashraf and the Historical Sociology of Iranian “Underdevelopment”
Naser Sedghi

The Necessity of Utilizing Iranian Urban Historical Sociology in Contemporary Urban Development
Parviz Piran and Mohamad Reza Haeri

A Review of Ahmad Ashraf’s Perspectives on the Question of Inequality
Emad Afrough

Ahmad Ashraf’s Contribution to Social Work in Iran
Ezatollah Samaram

Peasants and the Iranian Revolution
Manijeh Dowlat, Bernard Hourcade, and Odile Puech

Selections

Was the Land Reform American? A Review of Two Documents
Ahmad Ashraf

Table of Contents Volume 5, Number 2

English Verso

Translating Rumi through the Prism of Ideology
Amir Artaban Sedaghat

 

Persian Reverso

Lily Ayman (Ahy), 1929-2018
Javad Abbasi

The Signification of “Shah” and “Shahi” in the Eastern Islamic Lands
Abbas Ahmadvand

The Peculiarities of Golestan Palace’s Art and Architecture from the Perspective of Foreign Travelogues
 Abbas Panahi and Saman Kashani 

From Vernacular Modernity to Modernizing Tradition in Iran
Yaser FarashahiNejad

Perfect Wisdom: Sa‘di and the Manners of Conversation
Hamid Sahebjami

Lost in History or Reached the Zenith? Text and Margin in the Poetic Network of the Eighth Century
Fateme Montazeri

The Hopes and Fears of the Badakhshanis of Tajikistan During Soviet Rule
Maryam Moezzi

What Befell Us?
Ziaollah Missaghi

Saeed Yousef: A Wayfaring Poet
Nasim Khaksar

Saeed Yousef: A Prominent Poet of Our Time
Reza Ghanadan

 

Book Review

The Emergence of Iranian Nationalism: Race and the Politics of Dislocation

Hamed Mehrad

Table of Contents Volume 5, Number 1

Special Issue Dedicated to Professor Shirin Bayani
Guest Editors: Javad Abbasi

English Verso

Manuscripts and Digital Technologies: A Renewed Research Direction in the Ilkhanid History of Iran
Bruno De Nicola

 

Persian Reverso

A Pioneering Woman: A Historiographical Review of Professor Shirin Bayani’s Scholarship
Javad Abbasi

The Mimeses of the Shahnameh and Historical Epics in the Mongol Age
Javad Rashki-Aliabad

A Synthesizer of Two Faiths
Mohamad Ja‘far Yahaghi

Craft Industries in the Economy and Society of the Ilkhanids
Sayed Abolfazl Razavi

Who is Khayyam?
Touba Fazelipour

The Transformation of the Mongol and the Ilkhanid Period in the Iranian College History Textbooks
Ghasem Gharib

The Twilight of the Ilkhanids and the Dawn of the Sassanids: An Acquaintance with the Learned Historian
Mohammad-Taghi Imanpour

Reflections and the Rise and Fall of the Samanids
Sayyed Abol-Ghasem Forouzani

A Morphological Reflection on the History of Bayhaqi
Fatemeh Jahanpour

‘Alam-i Niswan on Modernity and Hijab
Abbas Panahi

Recollections

An Adorer of Iran and Iranian
Sayyed Abol-Ghasem Forouzani

The Father of Such an Offspring: Remembering Dr. Khanbaba Bayani
Nasrollah Salehi

Table of Contents Volume 4, Number 3-4

Special Issue Dedicated to Professor Badrolzaman Gharib
Guest Editors: Jaleh Amouzegar and Firouzeh Qandehari

English Verso

Further Fragments of Sogdian Manichaean Riddles?
Christiane Reck

The Turtle and the Geese: A Pañcatantra Fable in Sogdian
Nicholas Sims-Williams

The Manichaean “Living Self”As Reflected in Persian Mystical Poetry
Omid Behbahani

Persian Reverso

The Unique Badri of Our Time
Firouzeh Qandehari

Badrolzaman Gharib’s Publications
Firouzeh Qandehari

Another Explanation for Duality in Zoroastrianism: A Translation of the Seventh Chapter of Shekand Gomanik Vechar
Jaleh Amouzegar

A Profile of Zoroastrian Jurisprudence in the Sassanian Era
Katayun Mazdapour

Divine Knowledge and Benevolence
Zohreh Zarshenas

Studies on the Ancient Aramaic Epigraphy of Georgia
Helen Giunashvili

Mary Magdalene and Women’s Attraction to Manicheanism: Mythical and Historical Parameters
Mohammad Shokri-Foumeshi

The Foundations of Legal Thinking in the Church of the East (400-550 CE)
Nima Jamali

The Etymology of Female Names in the Shahnameh of Ferdowsi
Yadollah Mansouri

Azar Kayvan: Life, Character, Views, and the Judgments of Others
Hooshangh Shokri

Social Media Textual Poachers: How Do Iranian Users Challenge Dominant Discourses on Telegram?
Hossein Kermani

Table of Contents Volume 4, Number 2

English Verso

Festival of Arts, Shiraz-Persepolis, 1967-1977
Mahasti Afshar

Dye on the Frontier: Henna and the Military Elites of Nineteenth-Century Bam
James Gustafson

Voluntary Conversions of Iranian Jews in the Nineteenth Century
Nahid Pirnazar

Book Review

Thesaurus of Judeo-Tat (Juhuri): The Language of the Mountain Jews of the Caucasus by Rabbi Ya‘akov Itzhaki
Dan Shapira

 

Persian Reverso

Computers and Challenges of Writing in Persian
Behrooz Parhami

Dragon Palace Myths
Azam Nikkhah-Fardaqi

An Angelic Encounter: A Review of Daryoush Shaygan’s Esoteric Reflections
Hamid Sahebjami

Loss of Identity in Jalal Al-Ahmad’s The Cursing of the Land and Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby
Ja‘far Mirzaee Porkoli & Iman Beiranvan

The Arab War Strategy in the Conquest of Iran until 644 C.E.
Saeid Moakedi, Asghar Foroughi Abari, and Ja‘far Nouri

From Qanats to Pipes: Water Distribution in Behbahan
Fatemeh Bineshifar and Mostafa Nadim

Table of Contents Volume 4, Number 1

English Verso

The Dynamics of Resistance: Moral Concepts in Sī mī n 4 Dāneshvar’s Sūvashūn
Magdalena Rodziewicz

An Inquiry into the Terms Adab, Adib, Adabiyat in the 26 Perso-Arabic Languages
Shayan Afshar

State Capacity and Democratization in Iran
Misagh Parsa

 

Persian Reverso

Iranian Wine in a European Jar: A Reflection on the 3 Spatial Form of The Blind Owl
Reza Ghanadan

The Censured Portions of Mahmoud Katirai’s Kitab-e Sadegh-e-Hedayat
Shahram Azadian

Women’s Rights in the Iranian Women’s Press, 1910-1925
Ali Baghdar Delgosha

On the Intellectual Foundations of the Tudeh Party’s Literary Theory
Yaser Farashahi-Nejad

Mâr, Mihr, and Mir: A Linguistic Connection
Shokoufeh Taghi

Iranian Studies in Georgia: The Pre-Islamic Queries
Helen Giunashvili

Reviews

A Review of a Review: Was There a Misturn in the 145 Editing of the Scrolls of the Shahnamah-Narrators?
Mohamad Jaafari Qanavati

Table of Contents Volume 3, Number 4

English Verso

Special Issue Dedicated to Professor Mohammad-Ali Islami-Nodoushan
Guest Editor: Javad Abbasi & Mahmood Fotoohi-Rudmajani

Religious Minorities in the Islamic Republic of Iran and the “Right to Have Rights”
Anja Pistor-Hatam

Male Same-Sex Sexuality in the Legislation and Jurisdictions of the Islamic Republic
Arash Guitoo

Journalist Memoirs and the Iranian Diaspora: Truth, Professional Ethics, and Objectivity Between Political and Personal Narratives
Babak Elahi and Andrea Hickerson

The First World Conference on Human Rights and the Challenge of Enforcement
Andrew S. Thompson

 

Persian Reverso

A Realist Iranophile: Reflections on Professor Nodoushan’s Contributions to Iranian Studies
Javad Abbasi

The Contest of Languages: The Role of Iranian Dehqan’s in the Enduring Competition Between Persian and Arabic
Mahmood Fotoohi

The Soul of the Iranian World
Mohammad Jafar Yahaghi

The Days of the Land of Days: Recounting Nodoushan’s Journey to Yazd
Farhad Taheri

Reading Books in Public
Hasan Zolfaqari

Avecenna’s Recital of the Birdand its Impact onGhazzali’s Epistle of Birdand ‘Attar’s The Conference of Birds
Mahdi Mohebbati

Critiquing the Editing of the Scrolls of ShahnamahNarrators (Naqals)
Kamran Arzhangi

Rustamocide or Sohrabicide? Comparing Orhan Pamuk’sThe Red-Haired Womanwith the Tales of Rostam and Sohrab
Azam Nikkhah-Fardigi

Ferdawsi’s Shahnamehin the Historical Texts of Anatolian Seljuks
Fereshtah Mohammmadzadeh

“This is Not a Building That They Have Destroyed”: Critiquing Two Editions of The Correspondence of ‘Arif Qazvini
Said Pourazimi

Selections:

Recognizing Human Rights
Mohammad-Ali Islami-Nodoushan

Interview With Dr. Mohammad-Ali Islami-Nodoushan (1977)
Farrokh Amirfaryar

 

Journalist Memoirs and the Iranian Diaspora: Truth, Professional Ethics, and Objectivity between Political and Personal Narratives

Babak Elahi <bxegsl@rit.edu> teaches in the School of Communication at Rochester Institute of Technology. He holds a PhD in American literature from the University ofRochester. His work has been published in Iranian Studies; Alif; MELUS, International Journal of Fashion Studies, and Cultural Studies. His book, The Fabric of American Realism, was published by McFarland Press in 2009. Elahi writes about American literary and cultural studies; Iranian culture, film, and literature; and the Iranian diaspora.

Andrea Hickerson <aahgpt@rit.edu> is the Director of the School of Communication at Rochester Institute of Technology. She holds a PhD in Communication from the University of Washington. Her work has appeared in Communication Theory, Journalism and Global Networks. She writes about political communication and journalism routines, especially in transnational contexts.

 

Introduction

While interviewing Jon Stewart for Voice of America upon the release of Stewart’s adaptation of journalist Maziar Bahari’s Rosewater (2014),[1] Iranian-American blogger Saman Arbabi asks, “So, in a story, like, about Iran, how do you find the truth? I mean who decides what the truth is? And how do you find it?”  Stewart admits that he doesn’t know what the truth is: “Well, I don’t. […] I have to own my inauthenticity; I’m not Iranian. So, no matter what I do, for someone who lives there, this will be a simplistic and reductive version of their life.  But hopefully, from a Western performer for a Western audience, it’s a more nuanced look into a country that we’ve called evil.”[2]  Stewart adds that for him, “the film is just a reflection of Maziar’s book, which is again an interpretation of his experience.  So within that, truth is probably a pretty elusive figure in all this.  But I think the film is true to his reflection of his experience.  And I think that’s probably as close as I can get to what I wanted to achieve.”[3]

This exchange between an Iranian blogger and an American satirist about how close an Iranian-Canadian journalist’s memoir can get to the “truth” is emblematic of the complex ways in which journalism has been transformed by social media, by the increased legitimacy of satire as alternative journalism, and by the blurring of the line between personal experience and public information.  Stewart is suggesting that average Americans are twice removed from the truth in other countries. They must settle for his cinematic interpretation of Bahari’s narrated experience. This double remove from the truth raises important questions about the function of memoirs in the broader media landscape, especially in an era of displacement and diaspora.

This paper asks how diasporic Iranian prison memoirs penned by journalists deal with “the truth” as a moral, ethical, political, and professional category.  At this intersection—of journalism, diaspora, prison narrative, and memoir—a number of important questions converge. How do memoirs function in contexts where the nature of truth is ideologically overdetermined by state propaganda on one side, and stereotypes about dissimulating non-Western cultures on the other? How is the nature of “truth” in memoirs, or the status of “objectivity” in journalism affected by the dual experience of diaspora and captivity that these journalists’ memoirs relate? What is the best way to classify certain memoirs in terms of genre when they can fall into more than one category? Specifically, we focus on two memoirs by journalists in the Iranian diaspora, Between Two Worlds by Roxana Saberi, and Rosewater by Maziar Bahari. Both books largely recall the journalists’ experiences in captivity in the period surrounding the 2009 presidential election and the “Green Movement” in which there were mass protests against what many saw as a rigged election. In both books the journalists frame their personal and professional experiences as a quest for “truth.”  This quest for the truth is not a simple uncovering of an objective reality that is already “there,” but rather, a search for the strength to speak the truth in a context that militates against it in several ways ranging from the power of propaganda in Iran to the prevailing and similarly propagandistic stereotypes about Iranians in the U.S. media.

Theorists of and practicing commentators on the memoir focus on “truth” not as “information” but as “meaning,” and this creation of meaning is self-referential (for the memoirist as author and memoirists as subject) as well as relational between memoirist and reader.  Vivian Gornick, for example, describes memoir as a set of “fragmentary memories” rather than a “transmission” of facts. These memories are not “invented” but “composed” and the reader bears some responsibility in creating “meaning” rather than consuming information.[4]  Similarly, in their guide to reading autobiography, Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson ask readers of autobiography and memoir not merely to seek “evidence,” but to ask about the nature of truth. They urge us as readers to ask, “What’s at stake for the narrator in persuading you of the truth of his story? What’s at stake historically (in the larger society) in having this text accepted as a ‘truthful’ account of a life? What difference would it make to learn that the narrative is a fabrication?”[5] Both at the level of theory in Smith and Watson’s work, and for practitioners like Gornick, then, the key to understanding “truth” in memoirs is how it functions relationally between memoirist and reader. Similarly, Philippe Lejeune defines the “autobiographical pact” between memoirist and reader as a “contract between author and reader in which the autobiographer explicitly commits himself or herself not to some impossible historical exactitude but rather to the sincere effort to come to terms with and to understand his or her own life.”[6] However, the “truth” of referential discourse in the autobiography is different from science, history, or journalism.  In autobiography, the pact covers truth “such as it appears to me, inasmuch as I know it, etc.”[7]  The difference between journalistic truth and autobiographical truth, according to Lejeune is the distinction between information and meaning, between accuracy and fidelity: “Accuracy involves information, fidelity meaning.”[8]  Information is transmitted, but meaning must be constructed.

In journalism studies, as Juan Ramón Munez-Torrez has observed, “truth” is often conflated with “objectivity.”[9] Despite the increasing prominence and popularity of news satire and punditry like Jon Stewart,[10] the perception and performance of objectivity is still seen as the hallmark of “good” journalism.[11]  In the pursuit of objectivity, journalists employ strategies and routines which can shelter them from claims of bias. Strategies include reporting conflicting claims, excluding opinion, and using quotes.[12] Journalists also tend to omit personal details, instead focusing on generic, episodic facts conveying the impression of dispassionate observers.

Scholars continue to argue that the routine insistance on objectivity transcends culture and nationality. Surveys of journalists across national cultures show it is highly valued, even if journalists have different ways of defining and practicing it (Donsbach & Klett, 1993; Post, 2015; Skovsgaard et al., 2013).[13]  Drawing on Donsbach & Klett , Skovsgaard et al. identified possible measures related to objectivity: no subjectivity, balance, hard facts, and value judgments.  They argued that journalists may favor one aspect over another based on their perception of the role journalists should play in supporting democracy.  They tested how whether or not journalists perceived their role as either a “passive mirror,” “watch dog,” “public forum,” or “public mobilizer” correlated with their assessments of objectivity.  Their results suggest objectivity is “more important with role perceptions that emphasize a representative conception of democracy in which journalists inform citizens about society, whereas it is less important when they emphasize the inclusion of citizens in a public, democratic debate.”[14]

Indeed, not all believe objectivity is possible or desirable, as Michael Ryan explains.[15]  James Brian McPherson, for example, argues that the journalistic devotion to achieving “balance” in every story leads to polarization and false equivalence.[16]  Furthermore, he contends the overwhelming number of commercially successful conservative pundits on TV and radio in the United States has forced the mainstream media further to the right politically, as they attempt to appeal to and put themselves in conversation with conservative audiences.  Arguably, this has created a vacuum whereby activist and satirists like John Oliver and Trevor Noah, both free from the constraints of objectivity in their satirical genre, find resonance with audiences looking for “truth” outside the mainstream media, and questioning an uncritical “objectivity” that subjects even the facts to contrasting opinion.  Owing to their life experiences rather than their satirical stance, diasporic journalists find themselves at the center of a dynamic tension between subjectivity and objectivity.   Diasporic journalists are widely considered experts on international news because of their experiences in countries with restricted access to Western journalists; yet, their personal histories are often characterized by emotional and sometimes physical upheaval, suggestive, perhaps superficially, of experiential bias.

In contrast to the sometimes formulaic and rigid structure of hard news stories, journalists are increasingly penning memoirs and autobiographies.   Michelle Weldon speculates that a rise in journalist memoirs may be related to a general subjective turn in journalism coinciding with the popularity of social media and blogs.[17] Weldon, who conducts workshops for journalists looking to write memoirs reminds journalists not to stray from basic facts.  “The urge to write a personal story cannot eclipse the need to fully report,” she advises.[18]  Analyzing memoirs and interviews with war correspondents, Howard Tumber and Michael Webster probed for details; Weldon’s notes are typically accounted for in the journalist-memoir genre, namely the motivations and sentiments behind journalists’ chosen occupation.  Journalists often articulate an adventurous spirit and the desire to “bear witness.” The authors further observed that journalists’ “aspirations to report truthfully are couched in language of objectivity.”[19] Pointing to Tuchman’s conceptualization of objectivity as a “strategic ritual,”[20] Tumber and Webster suggest some journalists stress balancing differing viewpoints almost to the point of absurdity. They write, for example, “Inside a military unit as an embed, it is hard to imagine how the inescapable reliance on the limited sources available could even approximate to objectivity.”[21]  In contrast to the war correspondents, historically, African American journalists in the U.S. used their memoirs to counter stereotypes and challenge dominant narratives in the mainstream press.  Calvin Hall suggests these memoirs are born out of the tradition of slave narratives, and that they provided a space for marginalized African American journalists to “challenge the status quo” and describe the institutional racism they faced on the job.[22]  In his analysis of four autobiographies of African American journalists, Hall argues each functions as a “manifesto” or a “combative document whose purpose is to allow its subject to assert him- or herself in the locale of the universal subject.”[23]  Theoretically, Hall draws heavily on Gigi Durham’s work and her argument for using standpoint theory as a counterpoint to objectivity.  Durham argues objectivity is a form of “epistemic relativism” such that the norms associated with the practice ignore and perpetuate socio-cultural inequities by not acknowledging the marginalized standpoint of minority groups.[24] Hall extends Durham to journalistic memoirs and notes how in each of the memoirs he studied, the journalists make a conscious “statement” about the “complexities of being black in America.”[25]  In other words, writers foreground their standpoint, their difference and opposition to mainstream practice, explicitly in their work.

Whether or not diasporic journalists working in mainstream media would articulate a similar stance to the satirist, the war reporter or African American reporters is unknown.  On the one hand, journalists in diaspora are extreme outsiders, marginalized by two cultures, not one. They occupy a liminal space.  At the same time, journalists living in diaspora are privileged by their ability to pass between cultures. Diasporic journalists working in mainstream media are successful because of their personal histories, not despite them. So, then, what happens when diasporic journalists relay their personal histories in memoirs? Stéphane Dufoix defines diaspora as an “analytical framework that takes into account the structuring of the collective experience abroad based on the link maintained with the referent-origin and the community stance this creates.”[26] Much of the literature on the Iranian diaspora focuses on life-writing, but not specifically on journalist memoirs, even though many of the best known Iranian writers in the West have worked as journalists, including Tara Bahrampour, Roya Hakkakian, and Azadeh Moaveni, to name but a few.

A number of articles and special issues have been published since the mid-2000s focusing on Iranian diasporic memoir, though not always explicitly identifying the writers as journalists by training, nor considering the implications of such memoirs being penned by journalists.[27]  More recently, Nima Naghibi builds on this earlier work, broadening its scope to address other media, including documentary film and social media as forums for self-narration.  The critical discourse seems to have shifted away from questions of departure to those of return, and from the affective mode of nostalgia to that of engagement.  Babak Elahi and Persis Karim gesture towards this shift, suggesting that diasporic Iranian writers and artists view their own “work, and praxis as related to the future of Iran.”[28]  Naghibi makes a similar case by contrasting memoirists who remain fixated on the individual memoirist’s nostalgia for a lost childhood with other writers who challenge their readers to bear witness to violations of human rights. While we focus on a very specific sub-genre—the journalist prison memoirs—we see Naghibi’s framing of the question useful: documentary writing negotiates the nostalgic memorializing of the Persian prerevolutionary past with the act of witnessing the present in Iran and the United States towards the overall goal of testifying, allowing for empathy through a form of transmitted affect.[29] Ervand Abrahamian focuses not on memoirs, per se, but on a variety of forms that forced confessions took in Iran, ranging from written recantations to kangaroo courts to videotaped and televised self-recriminations. Nevertheless, we find his concepts useful in analyzing Saberi and Bahari’s work.  However, we wish to narrow the focus even further on diasporic prison memoir, a subgenre Naghibi also discusses.

For example, among the forms confessions took in Iran, Abrahamian includes the “mea culpa memoirs.”[30]  Indeed, Saberi references Abrahamian in the Epilogue to her memoir, saying that in a conversation with the scholar, he tells her that Iranian interrogators force prisoners to write confessions out in their own words (like a memoir) so that these are more believable when released to the press.[31] If forced confessions can be called mea culpa memoirs, perhaps the memoirs written by Iranian journalists who were held and then released based partly on such confessions might be called mea innocentia memoirs or memoirs of political absolution—a journalist asking absolution from his readers for the sin of having made false confessions, a rhetorical stance similar to the apologia. At the same time, whether intended on the part of the authors or not, these memoirs also function as challenges to Iranian propaganda about journalism as a form of espionage.  They specifically address the question of why the memoirist lied to gain his or her freedom, and how the memoir we are reading is an attempt to redeem the author’s personal, political, and professional ethos by telling the truth about the lies they’ve had to tell to save themselves. The memoirist’s central motive becomes the journey from falsehood to fact. By focusing on Saberi and Bahari, we hope to tease out this narrative structure of memoirs of political absolution or mea innocentia statements: the struggle to regain the truth from the political necessity to lie.  Put more formally and in conversation with the previous literature we summarized relating to the genres of journalism, memoir, and journalistic-memoir, we ask: how does the process of meaning-making rather than information-reporting in memoir and journalism affect our understanding of Iranian diasporic prison memoirs?

 

Analysis

At the beginning of her captivity, Saberi is coerced into a false confession that she is a spy funneling information to an outside—presumably American—contact, causing her to waiver on both professional ethics and personal morality. Hoping that once released she will be free to set the record straight and vindicate anyone she might have implicated, she succumbs to pressure:

It was then that I came to a terrible realization: The truth meant nothing here. Only lies could save my family and me. My only way out was to admit to a crime I did not commit and to ask for forgiveness. … I could always, like many before me, recant my lies once I was freed.[32]

However, she soon realizes lies lead to more lies, and might ultimately hurt both herself and others.  In a concise Orwellian equation, Saberi sums up how her axiology of truthtelling was turned upside down by the trauma of imprisonment: “In sum: Truth = Prison.  Lies = Freedom.”[33]  The memoir can be read as Saberi’s attempt to turn this formula right side up into the adage, “the truth shall set you free.”  In fact, about half way through the memoir, after witnessing the courage of some of her fellow prisoners who refuse to sign false confessions, she redefines “freedom” as spiritual rather than physical. Saberi seeks religious (Biblical as well as Koranic), cultural, political, and professional paths back to truth, but what ultimately persuades her is the example of fellow prisoners who refuse to give false confessions.  Because the voices of fellow prisoners guide her to the truth, her narrative can be characterized by what Naghibi calls transmitted affect—a function of testiminio that allows the memoirist to speak for the voiceless, in this case Iranian women in prison who do not have the platform on which to speak that Saberi does. In this sense, Saberi’s memoir defines journalism as a balance between objectivity and advocacy, and it is in that overlap where she finds “truth.”[34]

One of Saberi’s touchstones for the value of truth is religion.  She turns to “God,” an entity she defines in a distinctly agnostic way as “a Higher Power to which all major religions pointed in one way or another.”[35] She even asks explicitly for dispensation to deceive:  “God, I asked for help, but you did not rescue me. And if you don’t save me, who will? I have no choice left but to lie for my life.”[36] The example of at least one of her fellow prisoners is distinctly Christian;[37] Saberi explicitly quotes from Matthew 6:31,[38] emphasizing trust in God, and the memoir itself might be read as an instantiation of the Biblical adage from John 8:32, “the truth shall set you free.” Much later in the memoir, she balances these agnostic or Christian religious frameworks for truth with a specifically Koranic axiology.  In response to a question from the judge in her case, she says, “I recanted [the false confession] after I realized it is better to tell the truth late than never, and the Koran told me to tell the truth because even if you suffer, in the end you will prevail.”[39]  Clearly, then, one way that Saberi negotiates the truth is through appeals to religious belief and scriptural doctrine.

In addition to religion, Saberi also turns to culture to contextualize her negotiation of falsehood and truth.  First, she points to taqīya,[40] or “dissimulation,” which she associates with Shiism. This form of cultural discourse “allowed and even encouraged Shiites to conceal their faith to protect their property or themselves.”[41]  Secondly, she links this Shiite form of strategic dissimulation to something that pre-dates and transcends Islamic influence: the practice of tā’rof, which Saberi describes as “a complex system of formalized curtesy—which could often make social interactions seem insincere, for example, when a shopkeeper refused payment although he actually expected it.”[42] As one friend tells her, “lying was not only expedient but also often necessary for survival in the Islamic Republic.” [43]  Taqīya and tā’rof, however, are balanced with Saberi’s reference to everyday Iranian wisdom that values principled honesty: “lies were harder to remember than the truth.  As the Iranian saying went, Durugh-gu kam hâfezeh ast, ‘The liar has a short memory.’”[44] Thus, Saberi finds a tension in Iranian culture between truth and dissimulation.

At the political level, Saberi identifies a moral dilemma in Iranian culture between strategic deception and principled veracity. She avers that like “people all over the world, Iranians often felt compelled to tell lies to get out of danger.”[45] Interestingly, this seems to challenge the stereotype that Iranians or Middle Easterners are particularly prone to mendacity.  She speculates that for Iranians duplicity is one of the bitter fruits of “various authoritarian regimes.”[46] As some “cynically claimed,” Iranians were “right to spin tales because their country’s rulers themselves were so adept at it.”[47]  Thus, Saberi explains that she lied under pressure as a function of Iran’s widespread culture of deception.

The moral dilemma between strategic deception and principled truth-telling is complicated by another ethical conflict: the erosion of journalistic truth in Iran. In Iran, reporters must find ways around the regime’s regulations.  This set of expectations around censorship and self-censorship rejiggers Saberi’s journalistic ethics, including notions of truth and objectivity: “It was then I understood that to report in the Islamic Republic, I would have to balance the expectations of the regime, my employer, interviewees, and my own conscience to do my job.”[48]  Rather than relying on her formal training in the West, Saberi learns from local Iranian journalists who “had become experts at … working within the regime’s often arbitrary and unclear boundaries, while still offering a measure of serious discussion and criticism through their work.”[49]  Here, again, the journalist’s commitment to the truth is replaced with a negotiation between the regime, her professional “conscience,” and her sources—interviewees. The value of the truth becomes less clear.

Ultimately, Saberi’s “truth” comes neither through religious morality, nor in the nuances of culture, nor out of political expediency, and not even from journalistic ethos, but, rather, through solidarity with fellow prisoners—a dialogic truth or truth as social justice.  Through the example of others Saberi begins to realize that she can peak truth to power: “The women I had met over the previous several days defied their interrogators demands to lie, while I had abided by many orders that were in conflict with my conscience.”[50]  One of these new friends, Nargess, tells Saberi “I am glad I didn’t succumb to these people’s threats to tell lies.”[51]  It is these appeals to the axiology of truth that persuade Saberi to change tack from dissimulation to veracity, with the exception of one white lie that she explains will secure her freedom while retaining her integrity.

By the end of the memoir, she sees the truth not only as the measure of her own salvation, but also as the greatest weapon against injustice, and it is here perhaps that the reader is pulled in to sign Saberi’s autobiographical pact, if you will—to reach the “truth” of Saberi’s memoir as the result of meaning-making.  As she prepares for one of her many speaking engagements after her release she concludes her memoir by addressing the reader more directly and highlighting the significance and power of the “truth:”

Tonight I will speak freely, hoping to give a voice to the many Saras, Faribas, and Mahshids who are struggling to achieve their most basic rights. From them, I have learned that in the dark, there is light, and that though there will always be those who suffer, eventually the truth will prevail.[52]

This statement, coming as it does in a post-script in which she—now on a book tour where she literally tells her truth—echoes her fellow prisoners’ advocacy for truth-telling. Saberi embraces the truth not so much as a professional value, but something that transcends her profession, or her culture, or political expediency. She embraces truth as a way to give voice to those who were voiceless—the cellmates who led her back to the truth. We, as readers, are signaled to participate in that purpose of transmitted affect.

However, there is a coda here that complicates the situation somewhat.  During her final appeal, Saberi complicates truth’s triumph by describing how one final tactical lie helped her protect a group with whom she had worked.  When Saberi’s boyfriend, Kurdish filmmaker Bahman Ghobadi, tells her that the “world knows that this regime tells lies,” and her lawyers urge her to admit to and apologize for the lesser crime of unwittingly copying one classified document, she opts to go along with this white lie, justifying it to herself and her readers by saying that this would protect the moderate Iranians at the Center for Strategic Research where she obtained the documents.[53] When the prosecutor asks who gave her permission to copy the classified document, she once again begins to question the truth:

My mind began to spin. I didn’t want to say that employees at the center let me copy materials because even though I didn’t think this report was classified, if it really was, I didn’t want to get anyone there in trouble. Not only was the center filled with moderates, but hard-liners had also accused one of its directors of espionage in 2007, though he was later given a suspended sentence for a lesser charge and resumed his work there. ‘No one told me,’ I said. ‘I copied it myself…out of curiosity.’[54]

Thus, the line between falsehood and the truth is blurred with one last nuance. Nevertheless, this exception is still in the service of solidarity with others who share her cause.

Maziar Bahari’s prison narrative also hinges on negotiations of truth and falsehood.  An Iranian-Canadian journalist and filmmaker working for Newsweek, Bahari was arrested by Iranian authorities in June 2009 on charges of espionage and incitement of anti-Islamic and anti-government agitation following Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s re-election to President.  He was tortured for 118 days in an attempt to extract a false confession linking him to American intelligence.  His interrogator, whom he nicknames Rosewater because of his sickly-sweet cologne, subjects Bahari to a combination of physical and emotional abuse. On the surface, Bahari’s memoir is about how he had to lie in order to free himself from Evin Prison. However, the backdrop to this story is how Bahari views journalism as advocacy, as a set of professional principles, and as personal identity that links him to a history of activism in Iran through his family.  In the context of his captivity he must defend against his captors’ insistence that Western journalism is simply part of Western espionage.

Soon after protests broke out in the summer of 2009, Bahari began to see his journalistic role as one of advocacy, specifically as a key element of the process of democratization. Bahari describes crossing the line between reporter and protester, declaring that he “was not a reporter anymore” but “part of the people.”[55]  He views this as participating in democracy, or at least attempting to revive it in a country where it is limited by a religious judiciary and a Revolutionary Guard.  Breaching journalistic ethics was, for him and others, a matter of participating in public discourse: “Even though we were trying our best to remain professional, I know that, like me, most others were rooting for Mousavi.”[56]  Crossing from journalism into activism elides the distinction between professional and personal aims: “Unlike many stories I had covered in the past, I cared very deeply, on a personal level, about this one.”[57]  In fact, he tries to persuade his captors that his personal stake in stories about Iran could only help the Iranian people and government by providing a fairer picture of Iran to the West: “I always tried to help [Iranian officials] understand that the Iranian government was, in fact, lucky that I was working for Western media.  I knew my job. I knew my country.  And I was a patriot.  If they stopped me, I could be replaced by someone with an ax to grind against the regime.”[58]  Bahari’s blurring of journalism and advocacy seems to balance Rosewater’s blurring of journalism and espionage.

One might argue that one of the things Bahari suffers in prison is a kind of epistemological torture—that he is forced to reconsider how his job as a journalist is connected to truth or lies, how it is connected to espionage rather than democratic discourse.  According to Bahari, Rosewater saw little difference between espionage and journalism.  For Rosewater and his superiors, Bahari is conducting “media espionage,” making him a “media spy” funneling information to Iran’s enemies.[59]  In one scene, Bahari recounts a sort of distorted Socratic dialogue with Rosewater. “Maziar, what is a spy?” asks Rosewater, to which Bahari answers: “A person who passes secret information related to the national security of a country to another country.”[60] Rosewater continues the perverted Platonic inquiry, asking, “What is a journalist?”[61]  Demoralized, Bahari takes his answer farther, replying that “… a spy works secretly against the national security of a country for another government, but a journalist works openly—even if he uses secret sources—to inform the public.”[62] Rosewater turns this back around, claiming that both journalists and spies spread information, and information could harm Iran.  At this point, Bahari is not dealing with the question of “truth,” but is laying the groundwork that will allow him to return to that question later. Bahari demonstrates that the ideology and paranoid style of Iran’s hardline leaders mangle truth, democracy, and integrity.

Further complicating this epistemological torture Bahari’s growing sense that his torturer’s profession of extracting information is a twisted reflection of his own work of gathering information as a journalist.  Each has his own professional code. During one interrogation session, Bahari realizes that Rosewater follows his own set of principles, as perverse as their results might be. Overhearing Rosewater complain to his wife on the phone that he gets all the difficult cases, Bahari concludes, “Rosewater was just a man.  Despite the power he had over me, he was just a man with a job.  Like most people, his main priority was to keep his job and provide for his family.”[63] Bahari relates the importance of his own professional identity as journalist to Rosewater’s professional identity as interrogator, opening up a strategy for escape: “I knew what I had to do.  I had to allow him to be successful in that job.”[64]  In some distorted way Rosewater and Bahari are engaged in a professional transaction.  Ironically, Bahari knows that his deliverable in this professional exchange is information, but the truth or falsehood of that information is secondary to its usefulness to both parties in this transaction.  This is a negotiation of truth and lies.  According to Bahari himself: “I had to give him enough information so that he could prove to his bosses that he was making progress, but not so much information that I would harm my contacts or the people close to me.”[65]

Throughout this ordeal, Bahari is haunted by memories of his father, Akbar, and sister, Maryam, who had been tortured under the Shah and the Islamic Republic, respectively.  Thus, journalism is part of Bahari’s personal and familial identity, a legacy from his sister who tells him his writing is more important than any political action he might take.  After seeking ideological solutions to his and his country’s suffering, he realizes that such answers are elusive, and turns instead to a very personal definition of journalism, but one that also situates him in a history he can trace back to his sister and father: “The Islamic government had been brought to power by the people … like Maryam. … there was no point in blaming everything on the government; instead I should remain the person Maryam wanted me to be: a good journalist.”[66] Bahari recounts a dream in which Maryam and a second redemptive figure visit him on his most trying night in prison.  Two angelic figures approach him, embodying sisters of mercy from Leonard Cohen’s song.  On one level, this can be read in relation to Saberi’s attempts to find truth through religion, but the distinctly Catholic implications of these sisters of mercy, both with names echoing “Mary,” are much more personal. The emphasis here is not so much on religion, as it is continuity, solidarity, and what Naghibi calls transmitted affect. In his conclusion, Bahari tells us that he saw these two figures as his newborn daughter Marianna Maryam, and his deceased sister, Maryam.  Through this anecdote, Bahari places journalism in a deeply personal and familial space, embracing journalism as an identity, and voicing a politics that links his sister to his daughter.

Once Bahari realizes his detention will not be brief, he also realizes that his captors’ demands cut at the very core of his sacred familial identity as a journalist.  One of his interrogators—an official given the pilgrim’s honorific of Haj Agha—broaches this subject with Bahari.  Haj Agha sees Western media as a “vehicle used to provoke demonstrations,” demanding that Bahari exchange his identity as journalist for his freedom.  He must affirm the regime’s claims about media espionage if he wants to be free.[67]  But he begins reasoning with himself: “I thought that I could […] embellish and exaggerate his concepts so that they would sound more ridiculous.  That way, when people heard or saw the confession, they would know it was coerced.”[68]  Turning the term duplicity literal, Bahari shows himself as doubled, describing his confession with the phrase, “I heard myself saying.”[69]  He gives his captors what they want: “One characteristic of the velvet revolutions is their relation to the media.  International media pave the way for such revolutions, and without their presence, these revolutions cannot happen.”[70]  The following chapter opens with Bahari describing himself banging his head against his cell wall, self-flagellation for having “betrayed my family, my colleagues, myself.  My father.” He asks, “What had I admitted to?”[71]

Truth and lies become even more explicitly central to Bahari’s negotiation later when he compares his own situation to that of his father who was a political prisoner under the Shah in the 1950s.  The difference between their experiences is that his father’s captors were attempting to extract the truth from him, while Bahari’s captors want him to lie: “I knew that what I was facing in Evin was very different from my father’s experience in the 1950s.  My father had had concrete information about a number of individuals and their whereabouts.  The torturers wanted him to tell the truth in order to save himself.  I was being tortured to lie about myself and others to preserve the regime’s and Khamenei’s narrative about the election.”[72]  In this key narrative moment, Bahari links his experience to a longer historical trajectory, noting the difference between the current regime and previous ones in Iran.  Moreover, like his reference to his sister Maryam as a sister of mercy, this also links Bahari to his father, underscoring the personal. Like Saberi, Bahari employs a variation of distributed or transmitted affect by linking his own experience to that of his sister and his father, suggesting that tortured confessions are not limited to the Ahmadinejad era, nor even to the Islamic Republic, but were also part of the Pahlavi regime. He gives voice to the now silenced voices of his sister and his father, and invites readers to share these emotional responses to his lived truth.

 

Conclusion

Like other Iranian diasporic memoirs, and particularly the by-now identifiable sub-genre of Iranian diasporic journalist prison memoirs, Saberi and Bahari negotiate the spaces between political, professional, and personal positions.  Within the broader context of how scholars understand Iranian diasporic life writing, these prison narratives tap into the hybrid voice and transmitted affect identified by scholars ranging from Naficy to Naghibi.  By focusing on what we see as a clearly identifiable subgenre of Iranian diasporic writing—personal memoirs by journalists (some of which deal with captivity)—we hope to add a new level of understanding of Iranian diasporic writing, and situate it among equally alternative subgenres like satire in visual and social media, reflexive war correspondence, and activist African American journalist memoirs. Like these other alternatives to standard notions of objectivity and truth, Iranian diasporic journalism challenges our accepted notions of objectivity, balance, and normative journalistic ethics.  This link between the subgenre of Iranian diasporic journalist memoirs and self-conscious journalism of satirists and others can, we hope, help to illuminate a number of these alternative forms of journalistic praxis.

Thus, Bahari and Saberi do not so much use their writing of the self as an extension of activism, but rather as a negotiation of hybridity.  They practice “balance,” that ideal of journalistic ethos, pointing out flaws in American and Iranian policy, despite the fact that Iran grossly mistreated them by putting them in jail.  Being in jail and asked to confess, both reporters are confronted with the nuances of truth.  More so than Bahari, Saberi speaks of a higher, moralistic truth. Ultimately both journalists use their profession to justify their adherence to truth and demonstrate balance and alternative perspectives. For example, they put forward truth claims that are indeed negative about Iran, arguing, for example, that the Iranian government is paranoid about journalists.  Yet, they both aspire to objectivity by giving voice to officials within Iran and describing their motivations.  In these ways they are more like typical war correspondents, strategically performing objectivity. The author’s emphasis on discussing and practicing objectivity in their narrative calls to mind Skovsgaard et al.’s assertion that the more journalists are preoccupied with objectivity, the more they serve as a “passive mirror” rather than an instigator of debate. In this regard, these journalists are very different from diasporic activists working for/with other mainstream journalists.

While we have focused on two post-2009 prison memoirs, the methods we have employed here can be applied to a wider range of memoirs from the Iranian diaspora, including Tara Bahrampour’s To See and See Again (1999), Afshin Molavi’s Persian Pilgrimages (2002), Azadeh Moaveni’s Lipstick Jihad (2005), and Hooman Majd’s The Ayatollah Begs to Differ (2008), to name only a few. A brief survey of such titles reveals at least four other memoirs that explore the dilemmas of truth, objectivity, and the politics of duplicity in the context of Iranian journalism and politics.  In The Road to Democracy in Iran, Akbar Ganji, the jailed Iranian dissident and journalist, writes, “Authoritarian systems turn lying from a vice to a virtue.”[73]  Similarly, Ramita Navai, a British-Iranian journalist, writes in City of Lies, “Let’s get one thing straight: in order to live in Tehran you have to lie. Morals don’t come into it: lying in Tehran is about survival. … All these lies breed new lies, mushrooming in every crack in society.”[74] In The Lonely War, Nazila Fathi, who narrowly escaped imprisonment in Iran, reveals one of these cracks when describing her courtship with her husband, Babak Pasha, who had recently come to Iran after having grown up in San Diego, California: “Having lived in a free country, lying hadn’t become engrained in his character the way it had become a self-protection impulse in me.”[75] And in Camelia, Save Yourself by Telling the Truth, Camelia Entekhabifard writes, “Affectation and lying were the first things we learned in school, along with great caution in the questions we asked, and the answers we gave.”[76]  These editorial and observations about the prevalence of dissimulation in Iran’s public sphere raise the question of how a variety of forces impinge upon truth and lies in the context of life-writing by Iranian journalists in diaspora.  Future work on these materials could deepen our understanding of how journalists work in the context of various forms of political pressure, particularly under the paranoid style of power at work in Iran.

 

[1]Rosewater was originally published in 2011 as Then They Came for Me: A Family’s Story of Love, Captivity, and Survival.

[2]Saman Arbadi, “What Jon Stewart Learned about Iran from Rosewater,” Voice of America, 14 November 2014, www.voanews.com/media/video/what-jon-stewart-learned-about-iran-from-rosewater/2520986.html.

[3]Arbadi, “What Jon Stewart Learned…”

[4]Vivian Gornick, “Truth in Personal Narrative,” in Truth in Nonfiction: Essays, ed. David Lazar (Iowa City: U of Iowa Press, 2008), 10.

[5]Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson, Reading Autobiography (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010), 242.

[6]Paul John Eakin, Foreword to On Autobiography, ed. Philippe Lejeune, trans. Katherine Leary (Minneapolis: U of Minnesota Press, 1989), ix.

[7]Lejuene, On Autobiography, 22.

[8] Lejuene, On Autobiography, 23.

[9]Juan Ramón Munoz-Torres, “Truth and Objectivity in Journalism: Anatomy of an Endless Misunderstanding,” Journalism Studies 13, no. 4 (2012): 566-582.

[10]Lauren Feldman, “The News about Comedy: Young Audiences, The Daily Show, and Evolving Notions of Journalism,” Journalism 8, no. 4 (2007): 406-427, 409-410.

[11]See, for example, Wolfgant Donsbach and Bettina Klett, “Subjective Objectivity: How Journalists in Four Countries Define a Key Term of Their Profession,” International Communication Gazette 51, no.1 (1993), 53-83;   Michael Schudson, “The Objectivity Norm in American Journalism,” Journalism 2, no. 2 (2001): 149-171; Merton Skovsgaard et al., “A Reality Check: How Journalists’ Role Perceptions Impact Their Implementation of the Objectivity Norm,” Journalism 14, no.1 (2012): 22-42; Gaye Tuchman, “Objectivity as Strategic Ritual,” American Journal of Sociology 77, no. 4 (1972): 660-679.

[12]See Pamela Schoemaker and Stephen Reese, Mediating the Message: Theories of Influences on Mass Media Content (White Plains, N.Y.: Longman, 2006); Tuchman, “Objectivity as Strategic Ritual.”

[13]See, for example Senja Post, “Scientific Objectivity in Journalism? How Journalists and Academics Define Objectivity, Assess Its Attainability, and Rate its Desirability,” Journalism 16, no. 6 (2015): 730-749;

Donsbach and Klett, “Subjective Objectivity;” Skovsgaard et al., “A Reality Check.”

[14]Skovsgaard, et al., “A Reality Check: How Journalists’ Role Perceptions Impact Their Implementation of the Objectivity,” 36.

[15]See Ryan’s “Journalistic Ethics, Objectivity, Existential Journalism, Standpoint Epistemology, and Public Journalism,” Journal of Mass Media Ethics 16, no. 1 (2001): 149-171.

[16]James Brian McPherson, The Conservative Resurgence of the Press: The Media’s Role in the Rise of the Right (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2008.), 11.

[17]Michelle Weldon, “Journalists and Memoir: Reporting + Memory,” Nieman Reports, Winter 2011: 20 – 23, http://niemanreports.org/articles/journalists-and-memoir-reporting-memory/.

[18]Weldon, “Journalism and Memoir,” 23.

[19]Howard Tumber and Frank Webster, Journalists Under Fire: Information War and Journalistic Practices (London: Sage, 2006), 169.

[20]Gaye Tuchman, “Objectivity as Strategic Ritual,” 660.

[21]Tumber and Webster, Journalists Under Fire, 169.

[22]Calvin L. Hall, African American Journalists: Autobiography as Memoir and  Manifesto (Lanham, Md.: Scarecrow, 2009), x.

[23]Hall, African American Journalists, xviii.

[24]Meenakshi Gigi Durham, “On the Relevance of Standpoint Epistemology to the Practice of Journalism: the Case for ‘Strong Objectivity,’” Communication Theory 8, no. 2 (1998): 117-140.

[25]Hall, African American Journalists, 11.

[26]Stéphane Dufoix, Diasporas, trans. Roger Waldinger (Berkeley: UC Press, 2008), 3.

[27]See, for example, Babak Elahi, “Translating the Self: Language and Identity in Iranian-American Women’s Memoirs,” Iranian Studies 39, no. 4 (2006) 461-481; Amy Motlagh, “Towards a Theory of Iranian American Life Writing,” MELUS 33, no. 2 (2008): 17-36; Manijeh Nasrabadi, “In Search of Iran: Resistant Melancholia in Iranian American Memoirs of Return,” Comparative Studies in South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 31, no. 2 (2011): 487-97; Marie Ostby, “De-Censoring an Iranian-American Memoir: Authorship and Synchronicity in Shahriar Madanipour’s Censoring an Iranian Love Story,” Iranian Studies 46, no. 1 (2013): 73-93.

[28]Babak Elahi and Persis Karim, “Introduction,” Comparative Studies in South Asia, Africa and the Middle East (special issue on Iranian diaspora) 3, no. 2 (2011): 386.

[29]Nima Naghibi, Women Write Iran: Nostalgia and Human Rights from the Diaspora (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2016), 10, 19.

[30]Erband Abrahamian, Tortured Confessions: Prisons and Public Recantations in Modern Iran (Berkeley: UC Press, 1999), 4.

[31]Roxane Saberi, Between Two Worlds: My Life and Captivity in Iran (New York: Harper, 2010), 299.

[32]Saberi, Between Two Worlds, 58.

[33]Ibid., 168.

[34]See Naghibi, Women Write Iran, 67-8.

[35]Saberi, Between Two Worlds, 14.

[36]Ibid., 61.

[37]Ibid., 139.

[38]Ibid., 195.

[39]Ibid., 230.

[40]Abdulaziz Sachedina, Chair in Islamic Studies at George Mason University, connects taqīya to political quietism among Shiite communities living in Sunni majority countries.  He defines taqiya as “prudential concealment” or “precautionary dissimulation.” Sachedina limits the concept to the practice of not divulging one’s beliefs and practices rather than lying about specific actions. See Sachedina, “Prudential Concealment in Shi’ite Islam: A Strategy of Survival or a Principle?” Common Knowledge 16, no. 2 (2009): 223-246.

[41]Saberi, Between Two Worlds, 70.

[42]Ibid., 70.

[43]Ibid., 70.

[44]Ibid., 84.

[45]Ibid., 69.

[46]Ibid., 69.

[47]Ibid., 69.

[48]Ibid., 146.

[49]Ibid., 147.

[50]Ibid., 157.

[51]Ibid., 158.

[52]Ibid., 303.

[53]Ibid., 278.

[54]Ibid., 285.

[55]Maziar Bahari, Rosewater: A Family’s Story of Love, Captivity, and Survival (New York: Random House, 2014), 60.

[56]Ibid., 56.

[57]Ibid., 64.

[58]Ibid., 104.

[59]Ibid., 272.

[60]Ibid., 272.

[61]Ibid., 272.

[62]Ibid., 273.

[63]Bahari, Rosewater, 201.

[64]Ibid., 201.

[65]Ibid., 202-3.

[66]Ibid., 145.

[67]Bahari, Rosewater, 167.

[68]Ibid., 167.

[69]Ibid., 173.

[70]Ibid., 173.

[71]Ibid., 173.

[72]Ibid., 207.

[73]Akbar Ganji, The Road to Democracy in Iran, trans. Abbas Milani (Boston: MIT, 2008), xvii.

[74]Ramita Navai, City of Lies: Love, Sex, Death and the Search for Truth in Tehran (New York:  Public Affairs, 2014), xi.

[75]Nazila Fathi, The Lonely War: One Woman’s Account of the Struggle for Modern Iran (New York: Basic Books, 2014), 149.

[76]Camelia Entekhabifard, Camelia, Save Yourself by Telling the Truth, trans. George Mürer (New York: Seven Stories Press, 2007), 92.

Table of Contents Volume 3, Number 3

English Verso

A Special Issue Dedicated to Professor Hamid Naficy
Guest Editor: Golbarg Rekabtalaei

Introduction: Alternative Visions of Iranian Culture: A Celebration of Hamid Naficy’s Work
Golbarg Rekabtalaei

Video Sensations: The Experimental Films of Hamid Naficy
Simran Bhalla

Exilic, Diasporic, and Ethnic Media: Hamid Naficy’s Oeuvre from an International Communication Perspective
Mehdi Semati

What a Line (Drawing) Might Reveal: Hamid Naficy’s Caricatures
Michael M.J. Fischer

Through Thick and Thin: An Interview with Hamid Naficy
Kaveh Askari

Ten Theses on Iranian Cinema
Sara Saljoughi

Worlding with Images: Nexus between Art and Anthropology
Mazyar Lotfalian

Persian Reverso

Translating Foreign Sources on the Iranian Cinema into Farsi: Methodological Suggestions
Mohammad Shahba

Local Studies

The Ancient Qanat of Vazvan
Hojjat Rasouli

Literary Studies

The Persian Script and Iranian Temprament
Hamid Sahebjami

Comparing Narrative Elements of “Majnun and the Phlebotomist” in Three Masnavis
Abdol-Majid Yousefi-Nekoo

In Memoriam

Professor Ehsan Yarshater and Yarshaterian Wisdom
Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi

Table of Contents Volume 3, Number 2

English Verso

Special issue on Foucault in Iran

Foucault and Iran Reconsidered: Revolt, Religion, and Neoliberalism
Michiel Leezenberg

French Secular Thought: Foucault and Political Spirituality
Brian Turner

Risking Prophecy in the Modern State: Foucault, Iran, and the Conduct of the
Corey McCall

Foucault and Epicureanism of the Iranian Revolution
Yadullah Shahibzadeh

What is at the heart of the dispute? Reflections on the Foucault Controversy Forty Years Later
Kevin Gray and Rida Faisal

Iranian Conditions: Metaphors of Illness in Iranian Fiction and Film
Babak Elahi

Iranian Conditions: Metaphors of Illness in Iranian Fiction and Film
Babak Elahi

In Memoriam: Heshmat Moayyad, 1927-2018
Franklin Lewis

Persian Reverso

A Thunderbolt Out of the Blue: The Iranian Revolution in Foucault’s Thought
Behrooz Ghamari-Tabrizi

Possibilities and Limitations in Writing the History of the Present: Foucault and the Iranian Revolution
Ata Mohamed Tabriz

Foucault’ Accounts of the Iranian Revolution in Light of Islamic Historiography
Mahdi Shafieyan

Foucault and Iran
Daniel Defert

Michael Foucault’s 1979 Interview
Farès Sassine

Variorum

The British Library’s Treasured Persian Collections
Cyrus Ala’i

Dariush Shayegan’s Philosophy Revisited: A Critique of the Cultural Identity of the Migrant
Ata Hoodashtian

Preface: Iranian Masculinities

We are pleased to present the Spring 2018 issue of Iran Namag as a special issue, and the first collection of essays, on the topic of Iranian masculinities.[1] Academic studies of Iranian men and masculinities mainly gained ground during the past decade or so, especially outside Iran, and following the global wave in masculinities studies.[2] Yet, critical discussions of masculinities were not unprecedented in Iran. Indeed, they go back at least to early twentieth century, when such debates were provoked by early Iranian women’s rights thinkers and activists, both women and men. As one of us argues elsewhere, Bibi Khanum Astarabadi’s Maʿāyib al-Rijāl (The Vices of Men), can be deemed the preliminary model of Iranian masculinities studies, on the grounds of her dealing with male privilege and its subsequent sense of entitlement among her contemporary men.[3] While The Vices of Men was never published during its author’s time and we are not exactly sure how far and long it circulated in manuscript form, its outright critical approach towards men is easily noticeable in numerous issues of several women’s periodicals published during the first decades of Iranian women’s movement.

A look at the Iranian women’s periodicals during the late Qajar and early Pahlavi eras (i.e., from the beginning of early women’s movement in Iran until its decline) shows that direct challenging and critique of men and male privilege prevailed in these periodicals.[4] Examples abound. For instance, Shukūfih, the first Iranian women’s periodical, in three issues entitled “Warning to Inconsiderate Men and Youth,” criticized men who—despite being expected by verse 34 of the Qur’anic surah al-Nisā to be “keepers, guides, and guardians of women”—become the “means to women’s wickedness, calamity, lasciviousness, and their reprehensible deeds.”[5] Dānish also allocated the first article in its second issue to a similar topic, entitled “Warning to Men and Youth,” while also addressing, in other issues, men’s “customs of taking care of one’s wife.”[6] The editorial of the fourth issue of Nāmih-yi Bānovān, written by Shahnāz Azad, disparagingly addressed men, showing her disappointment with “Tehran’s affluent men,” in reference to a previous editorial by her on the importance of men’s assisting women in creating girls’ schools. Apparently irritated with many unhelpful men, she posed a rhetorical question, all published in boldface, as the title of her new editorial: “Is the ambition of all rich men in Tehran not equal to three Zoroastrian women from Bombay, who donated their wealth of two kurur [one million] tomans to the building of an all-girls boarding school?”[7] In yet another case, Roshanak No‘dust, the founder of the periodical Piyk-i Sa‘ādat-i Nisvān, in a part of its first issue’s (1927) editorial, entitled “Statement of Purpose,” wrote: “Our journal will watch and criticize the unacceptable acts and behaviors of certain young men regarding women and will seriously pursue this matter.”[8] In the same issue, in an article entitled “Reason for Women’s Wretchedness and Its Remedy,” and in an attempt to answer the question “Why have we Iranian women so far been left behind from civilization and wandering the deserts of ignorance?,” the author alludes to the impact of “men’s reprehensible mentality and their despotic beliefs.”[9] In another article in the same issue, titled “Women in Our Society,” the author explains that “the body of our society is sick and aching” and “poverty, calamity, ignorance, and the corruption of the moral are eating us away like gangrene and threatening the people of this country to a horrible death and annihilation.” The author then identifies the main cause of this “spine-chilling disease” to be “women’s ignorance and illiteracy,” and in an attempt to respond to the question “Whose fault is it?,” s/he (unknown author) points criticism toward men, writing:

If the country’s men had not belittled and demeaned women with obstinacy and animosity to such degree; if they had not closed all the doors of knowledge and information to women; and if they had not wanted women only for self-enjoyment and for satisfying their sexual needs; had they usurped and trampled women’s legitimate rights at least according to reason and [the teachings in Islamic] shari‘a; had they not deemed women’s brains’ weight and their heads’ size the criterion for their weakness and inferiority; had they not composed the poem: “Women and dragons are better dead on the earth / better is the world that is clean of these two filthy creatures,” our time would not have been so, and our lives would not have such quality.”[10]

It appears that the most notable women’s periodicals in later periods, instead of expanding on and complicating these earlier critical interventions into the “man question,” mostly forgot that approach. This remarkable oblivion is seen, for instance, in the critically acclaimed Iranian post-revolutionary women’s periodical Zanān (Women), with Shahla Sherkat as its editor-in-chief, which remains one of the most significant women’s periodicals in Iran’s modern history. Indeed, in reviewing the first thirty-five issues of this magazine (from Feb. 1991 to July 1998), very few articles are found that directly address the topics of men and masculinity. Although, a few legal articles, particularly those written by Mehrangiz Kar, while informing female readers of certain legal issues and criticizing patriarchal laws, sometimes expose privileges that the Iranian Civil Law has disparately granted men.[11]

Masculinities of various forms are pervasive in cultures, Iranian included, and yet they often insidiously remain invisible and unmarked, mostly to men—whom Raewyn Connell rightly deems to be “in significant ways gatekeepers for gender equality.”[12] The metaphor of the invisibility of masculinity was first conceptualized more than two decades ago by renowned masculinity theorist Michael Kimmel in order to make a case for studying men and masculinities—a field which has ever since been variously known as masculinities studies, critical men and masculinities studies, and studies of men and masculinities.[13] We find the metaphor equally helpful in vindicating the acceleration of the bourgeoning research on Iranian men and masculinities. As Kimmel put it back then, regarding US masculinities,

Strange as it may sound, men are the “invisible” gender. Ubiquitous in positions of power everywhere, men are invisible to themselves. Courses on gender in the universities are populated largely by women, as if the term only applied to them. “Woman alone seems to have ‘gender’ since the category itself is defined as that aspect of social relations based on difference between the sexes in which the standard has always been man,” writes historian Thomas Lacquer. As the Chinese proverb has it, the fish are the last to discover the ocean.[14]

Not only that, men as men have often also escaped scholarly scrutiny. This has especially been the case with hegemonic forms of masculinity in a culture, that is, those modes of being, or enacting as, a man which have gained cultural ascendancy not only over femininity in general but also over other subordinated and marginalized versions of masculinity.[15] Such non-hegemonic masculinities can be constructed at any given time in a culture along the lines, for example, of race, class, ethnicity, age, sexual orientation, physical abilities, nationality, and religious identity. (And as we will see, along with discussions of hegemonic masculinity, these non-hegemonic masculinities take center stage in many of the articles contributed to this special issue.) Prior to Kimmel’s warning, another founder of men’s studies, the late US sociologist Harry Brod, had also made a strong case for the field, noting the scarcity of scholarship on men as men. In a book chapter, titled “The Case for Men’s Studies,” published in his 1987 edited volume The Making of Masculinities: The New Men’s Studies, Brod, in his attempt to “delineate” the field of men’s studies and justify the necessity of undertaking such research, drew readers’ attention to an obvious contradiction, a fundamental paradox so to speak, in human history, were we to regard it through a gendered lens. On the one hand, Brod noticed, most of what was known and recorded in human history is by and about men, implying that human history is one of men; and yet, as gendered subjects, men had not become subject to any significant thinking and analysis.[16]

In its early phase, second-wave feminism’s focus on women and femininity ironically ended up in gender becoming synonymous with women, thus also contributing to the above invisibility of masculinity. The Women’s Liberation Movement provoked immediate debates on masculinities from the very early 1970s, often in the form of discussions on “the male role.” By 1980s, and later during the 1990s, those debates were, under the influence of gender studies, largely displaced by the critical theorizing of masculinities. Thus, masculinities studies emerged as a sympathetic, multidisciplinary field to pose critical questions about men and their relationship to power and patriarchy. We would like to emphasize the word “sympathetic” since unlike what many—especially outside the academe, but unfortunately also within it—may think, masculinities studies “is many things, but one thing it is not: a rejoinder to, or repudiation of feminism.”[17] Categorically rejecting essentialist, biologically determinist, and sociobiological justifications of gendered behaviors and relations, yet by no means overlooking the role of body—in its various shapes, forms, and colors—in informing prevailing notions of gender and sexuality, masculinities studies scholars presume the constructivist theory in gender studies, therefore also deeming sex, gender, and sexuality to be socially and culturally specific. Rebuffing claims to masculinities as natural or determined traits or behaviors, such scholars understand masculine identities primarily as acts and enactments situated in a given time and place, with possible continuities and ruptures over time. Thus, in line with the its empathy with feminism, seminal to masculinities studies are attempts to clarify the connections between and among femininities and masculinities within the context of the structures of gender and sexuality or as represented in cultural productions, and how those inter- and intra-relations work to sustain any gender hegemony; in addition, they examine how such hegemony may be challenged towards promoting or constructing more democratic gender orders and relations.

To these ends, today many feminists emphasize how undertaking masculinities studies must become a part and parcel of any effective inquiry to gender and sexuality, in order to ensure more comprehensive and insightful outcomes than otherwise.[18] As Judith Gardiner has put it, “feminists need to engage masculinity studies now, because feminism can produce only partial explanations of society if it does not understand how men are shaped by masculinity.”[19] Similar arguments can be made for Iranian and Muslim masculinities, too. More than a decade ago, while referring to the emergence of masculinities studies in the West, Shahin Gerami remarked  that “in other parts of the world, feminists and women scholars and organizations are still too involved with many problems of women’s rights to divert their attention to masculinity.”[20] She deems the study of Muslim masculinities as “necessary.”[21] Distinguishing between “Islamist identity” and “Muslim identities,” Gerami defined the former as “an abstract construct applied by others” yet the latter as “concrete, contested, and differentiated identities created through individual or group agency,” warning that “Muslim societies are never monolithic as such, never religious by definition, nor are their cultures simply reducible to mere religion.”[22] According to Gerami, studying Muslim masculinities will not only help women, gender studies, and men in Muslim societies, but it also “aid[s] Western masculinity studies in going beyond self-absorption with sexuality and in further incorporating the discourse of imperialism into the mainstream of gender discourse.”[23] Aspiring similar aims in Iranian gender studies provided the primary motivation for sending out the Call for Proposals for this issue more than a year ago.

During the past two to three decades, following the global development of gender and women’s studies, many Iranian studies scholars have extensively welcomed feminist theories to the extent that research on gender, as an essential identity element, is now well established in Iranian studies. Most such research has concentrated on Iranian women; however, especially during the last decade, and along with a global thriving of studies on men and masculinities, a gradually increasing number of Iranian studies scholars have also shown interest in considering masculinity within their gendered examinations of Iranian history, culture, and literature. Still, there was no separate volume directly addressing the subject. In the past, some Iranian studies scholars, including historians Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi and Afsaneh Najmabadi, had shown interest in addressing, and at least not ignored, masculinity alongside femininity when attending to gender in their various accounts of Iranian modernity.[24] Yet, to the best of our knowledge, the first book-length projects in Iranian studies where gender is debated with conscious awareness of the relationality of masculinities and femininities are Minoo Moallem’s Between Warrior Brother and Veiled Sister: Islamic Fundamentalism and the Cultural Politics of Patriarchy in Iran (2005) and Afsaneh Najmabadi’s Women with Mustaches and Men without Beard: Gender and Sexual Anxieties of Iranian Modernity (2005), the latter recently having been followed by Najmabadi’s monograph on transgendered subjectivities in modern Iran, titled Professing Selves: Transsexuality and Same-Sex Desire in Contemporary Iran (2016).[25] Lloyd Ridgeon’s monograph, Moral and Mysticism in Persian Sufism: A History of Sufi-Futuwwat in Iran (2010) is also noteworthy. Although not much interested in analyzing futuwwat (javanmardi [chivalry]) as a gendered discourse, Ridgeon builds on previous research to render a very valuable general survey of the field of Persian Sufi-futuwwat, thus facilitating any future research also on gendered dimensions of this institution and their ramifications for studies on modern Iranian men and masculinities.[26] These book publications have also been punctuated by several scholarly articles and book chapters on Iranian masculinities, in Persian and in English, written by scholars in various disciplines, some of whom are contributing to this special issue. Recently, elsewhere, one of the authors of this Preface, while arguing for the necessity of studying men and masculinities in Iranian women’s and gender studies, rendered an overview and an annotated bibliography of the emerging scholarship in Iranian masculinities studies as well as Islamic masculinities, until 2015.[27] Inviting scholars to join the conversation, the article also proposed a list of topics worthy of attention in Iranian men and masculinities studies, an abridged version of which we included in our Call for Papers for the current special issue. We are excited to see also some monographs, directly focused on Iranian masculinities, forthcoming or in progress in this field.[28] Iranian men and masculinities studies has certainly gained ground and is flourishing. Currently, this endeavour is mostly taking place outside Iran, which is understandable given the current restraints within Iran regarding the institutionalization of gender and women’s studies.[29]

Finally, a few words on the scope of the contributions made by the articles in this issue are in order. By zooming in on masculinity in a set of texts related to Iran and the Iranian cultures, all contributors provide novel insights about their texts and wider aspects of the Iranian history, culture, literature, and the arts, from which we would have otherwise been deprived. Two articles in particular, i.e., that by Arash Naraghi as well as the one by Junaid Jahangir and Hussein Abdullatif, by nature of their particular topic and corpus, exceed Iranian studies, claiming contributions to Islamic studies, too. Moreover, we hope these articles will also be read in line with what Connell calls “a world-centered rethinking of masculinities” as they all attempt to contribute to a “world-centred, rather than metropole-centred, domain of knowledge.”[30]

This special issue, in the familiar tradition of Iran Namag, includes articles both in Persian and English. The essays showcase a variety of topics and texts and are written from various disciplinary and interdisciplinary approaches, including in gender and sexuality studies, masculinities studies, literary studies, cultural studies, visual and film studies, cultural sociology, and Islamic studies.

The English section opens with Cameron Cross’s “The Tree Atop the Mountain: Mobad Manikan and the Elusive Promises of Masculinity.” This article illuminates the complex character of Mobad, the unfortunate king of Marv in Gurgānī’s Vis & Ramin. He exposes the inherent contradictions of masculinity and the code’s inability to deliver on the promise of its ideology. Cross’s provocative and wittily written article investigates the logic underpinning the assumption that the ideal man must perform well in matters of love and war. Cross illustrates Mobad’s character as an “enigmatic” figure with innate ironies and paradoxes. He responds to the myriad studies on Vis & Ramin that see the figure of the king as static by suggesting to read Mobad’s story through the medium of his own speech, the circumstances surrounding his actions, and the process of his demise. This way, Cross demonstrates that the certainties of the king’s ideal roles as a man, a lover, and a ruler will begin to shift. Cross’s article shines a different light on a classic work of Medieval Persian literature and is a timely contribution to a broader discussion around love and power, and their relation to the concept of masculinity.

Focusing on masculinity as a contested topic in the films of Iranian Oscar Award winning director Asghar Farhadi, Nikki Akhavan’s article “‘Prescriptive’ Masculinity?: Deception and Restraint in the Films of Asghar Farhadi,” advances an argument in the face of ongoing domestic criticisms of Farhadi’s films, whose representations of masculinity such critics have often found disconcerting in a culture where male honor often enjoys a noticeable degree of authority and respect. According to Akhavan, while the critics admit the breakdown of key social institutions such as marriage and the nuclear family, they find it especially troubling to witness inefficient men and masculinities in Farhadi’s films. Focusing on the themes of deception and collusion as the two main concepts favored by Farhadi’s critics in their analyses of his films—especially About Elly, A Separation, and The Salesman—Akhavan shows that these films explore multiple men and masculinities, yet have no interest introducing masculinity or certain types of it as a (re)solution to the damaged institution of marriage, particularly because the—often violent—assertions of masculinity are themselves a serious part of the problem.

Mahdi Tourage’s article “An Iranian Female Vampire Walks Home Alone and Disturbs Freud’s Oedipal Masculinity” discusses Anna Lily Amirpour’s debut feature film A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014), which is tagged as the first Iranian vampire feminist romance. In it, the unnamed chador-wearing vampire skateboards the streets of the Bad City at night, viciously attacking men who are abusive to women. Suggesting that the film exceeds “limited categorization as a vampire movie or a feminist art film,” Tourage argues that “masculinities are deconstructed and reconstituted as spectacle in this film, and in the process the patriarchal boundaries of pleasure are remapped and circulation of desire is destabilized.” While drawing on feminist psychoanalytic film theory, Tourage notes how “this theory leaves the specific contours of an alternative feminist counter-cinema unarticulated,” thus posing important questions: “Should a feminist counter-cinema embrace patriarchal techniques of representation or develop its own cinematic language? Can a feminist counter-cinema dismantle the visual regimes of patriarchal power relation and still remain faithful to aesthetics of visual pleasure?” In response, he argues that A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night enhances our understanding of feminist film theory by instantiating an example of a feminist counter-cinema. Significantly, the film’s exclusively Persian iconography, Tourage further argues, broadens debates within feminist film theory to include subjects whose epistemological roots extend beyond the horizons of Europe and the Americas.

Kaveh Ghobadi’s “On the Path to Manhood: Men and Masculinities in the Contemporary Kurdish Novel” examines sex, gender, and particularly the representations of hegemonic masculinity in two novels from Iranian Kurdistan: Zindexew (Nightmare) by Fatah Amiri and Siweyla (Suheila in Persian, proper female name) by Sharam Qawami. Nightmare tells a story of a new generation of Kurdish young men during the final years of the late Pahlavi’s reign. The protagonist suffers from a recurring nightmare in which he tortures people as a SAVAK intelligence officer. Set in pre- and post-revolutionary Iran, Siweyla is about a young man’s stifled enthusiasm when he falls in love with the eponymous character Siweyla. Relying on Judith Butler’s notion of gender performativity as well as on Raewyn Connell’s concept of hegemonic masculinity, Ghobadi undertakes to show the ramifications of the naturalization of the categories of “masculine” and “feminine”, while also examining patterns of hegemonic masculinity in the novels to demonstrate how this culturally ascendant masculinity “adapts itself to new conditions to guarantee men’s dominant position.” Ghobadi argues that while both novels feature innovative narrative styles and radical political standpoints as well as depict a “New Man” and a “New Woman”, they “substantially reproduce essentialist gendered subjectivities, through reinscribing a binary opposition that defines woman as man’s ‘other’.”

Taking up the issue of same-sex sensuality in Islam, in their “Homosexuality—The Emerging New Battleground in Islam,” Junaid Jahangir and Hussein Abdullatif look closely at a seminal essay by Scott Kugle entitled “Sexuality, Diversity and Ethics in the Agenda of Progressive Muslims” and its scathing critique by Mobeen Vaid, in the aftermath of the shooting at a gay bar in Orlando. This dialogue becomes a starting place for the authors to address some “misconceptions that Muslims generally have on homosexuality.” While crediting Vaid for engaging with Kugle’s article in detail, the authors criticize Vaid’s analysis, suggesting that his argument “emboldens conservative Muslim leaders to equate LGBT Muslims with Lot’s people and downplay the legitimate human need for affection, intimacy and companionship as mere urges and whims.” Through this critical intervention into Vaid’s response to Kugle’s essay, Jahangir and Abdullatif deconstruct the fourteen salient points which Vaid makes in his critique of Kugle. In response to Vaid, the authors put forward rebutting counter claims. Some of the main topics addressed concern consensus in Islam regarding same-sex relations, the issue of permanent celibacy as a test, the necessity of updating traditional jurisprudence, procreation, the Qur’anic account of Lot, the qasas (stories) literature, and the heterosexist overtones of some Qur’anic tafsir or exegesis.

In the face of the paucity of research on male sexuality in Persian literature, Claudia Yaghoobi’s article, “The Abject Outsider: The Story of Two Gay Men,” introduces three texts in which male same-sex relations are brought to the fore: Amir Soltani and Khalil Bendib’s graphic novel, Yousef and Farhad Struggling for Family Acceptance in Iran: The Story of Two Gay Men; Arsham Parsi’s memoir Exiled for Love; and For the Love of Mohammad, another memoir by Jean Beaini and Mohammad Khordadian. All three narratives deal in one way or another with the “coming out” phenomenon within the contemporary Iranian culture. In her article, Yaghoobi gives center stage to the graphic novel, while occasionally drawing on the other two memoirs and their accounts of lived experiences to support some of her arguments. She examines the narratives’ male characters in order to demonstrate how Iranian hegemonic masculinity directly feeds off the subordination of the gay masculinity. She maintains that this “subordination of gay masculinity normalizes heterosexuality while deeming homosexuality as abnormal.” By contrast, Yaghoobi foregrounds the constructive role of the religion in the novel, demonstrating how religion is not the root of the main characters’ problem. On the contrary, the authors, she posits, draw on religion, especially Islamic mysticism, to subvert heteronormative discourses about male sexuality. Finally, Yaghoobi’s article highlights the role of the unique medium used by Soltani and Bendib—that is, comics as image-text—which provides unconventional expressive power by enabling the authors to create “a combination of thoughtful images and key words” to convey their message more effectively.

Finally, in her article, “Queering the Iranian Nation: Be Like Others and Resistance to Heteronormative Nationalism,” Amy Tahani-Bidmeshki takes up the intersection of masculinity and transgendered subjectivities, which she debates through the lens of Tanaz Eshaghian’s 2008 documentary Transsexual in Iran (also known as Be Like Others). The film follows the lives of several trans Iranians, particularly Male-to-Female persons, offering “the viewer opportunities for reflection about the role of gender, sexuality, whiteness, and belonging in nation-building broadly, and in the post-1979 landscape of Iran.” Tahani-Bidmeshki employs Benedict Anderson’s concept of “imagined community” to argue that “Iranian regime’s acceptance of post-SRS trans Iranians as citizen-subjects presupposes the ‘imagined community’ of heteronormative Iran” and that it is an effort to “abolish homosexuality by ensuring a particular form of trans identity.” She builds on the works of Afsaneh Najmabadi regarding the historical roots of repression of public displays of homoeroticism since the Qajar Iran and in the modernization and nation-building processes to conclude that the visual arts from the time of Qajar paintings to the present-day form in the documentary Be Like Others highlight the tensions between the government and the Iranian polity for nation-building.

The Persian section of this special issue begins with the article “Wedding Trials of Masculinity in Iranian Fairy Tales” by Samin Espargham, Abolghasem Ghavam, and Samira Bameshki. Analyzing numerous Iranian fairy tales, the authors investigate the various types of arduous and grueling trials frequently appearing in these tales, through which men must prove their suitability, manliness, and prowess to marry the tales’ princesses. The authors analyze these tales from a structuralist viewpoint and with regard to their fundamental generic units of narrative structures, i.e., their mythemes. The trials, deemed as “trials of masculinity,” are intended to test the intelligence, physical and financial capacities as well as the courageousness of the young men involved. The frequency of these literary tests of manhood poses a series of questions such as: Why should men go through hard trials, and why should men be killed in the process? Why, in these tales, is the nobility of the suiters not significant? And finally, why do the brides and the suiters all come from different lands? To answer these questions, the authors examine myths and rites related to fertility, studying the mythemes appearing in numerous fairy tales and revealing their structural similarities. Through this comparative analysis, the authors postulate that the wedding trials in fairy tales are rooted in the myth of the “sacred marriage”—or the story of Inanna, the Sumerian goddess of love, fertility, and war (known in Akkadian as Ishtar) and the shepherd-king Dumuzi (Akkadian Tammuz), who became a god at some point, possibly through his marriage to Inanna and the fertilization of nature. According to this myth, the future king would have to be “healthy,” “strong,” and “fertile” in order to guarantee his ability to impregnate his bride. The authors conclude by posing questions for further research on the possible influence of Iranian folk literature on the conceptualization of gender, particularly masculinity, in contemporary Iranian culture.

In “Ekhrajiha I (The Outcasts I): The Role of the ‘Lāt’ Figure in the Construction of Islamic Republic’s Idealized Man,” Ali Papoli-Yazdi addresses Islamic Republic discourse’s strategic revisiting a section of the Iranian traditional culture, which was initially reviled in the wake of the Islamic Revolution—i.e., the social types of the lāt (rogue) and the lūtī (tough guy). The revisiting, Papoli-Yazdi shows, is aimed at achieving a peacetime ideal of masculinity, as opposed to the male basījī (volunteer member of state-operated militia) heroic figure of the Iraq-Iran war period. These processes of revisiting and reconstruction, Papoli-Yazdi argues, occur via Masoud Dehnamaki’s best-selling film Ekhrajiha I (The Outcasts I) (2007). Analyzing the film within the context of the Iranian “Sacred Defense” Cinema, Papoli-Yazdi first shows the evolution of the image of the basiji into the lāt in The Outcasts I; then, putting the film in the context of pre-revolutionary jāhilī movies,[31] he demonstrates how the jāhil character is also restored. This restoration, however, is deployed to redefine a mystical-popular image of the clergy, since, amidst many allegedly religious persons’ denial of the lāts, it is only the clergy characters who, as if through mystical intuition, are cognizant of the eventual transformation of the lāt figure in the battlefield. Moreover, by reviving the lāt as a redefined figure, Papoli-Yazdi argues, The Outcasts I illustrates the Islamic Republic’s ideal society, one in which the lāts and clerics, as if within a traditional neighborhood, can bond.

Goli Taraghi’s novella, In Another Place, is the focus of Amirhossein Vafa’s article, “The Predicament of Complicity with Hegemonic Masculinity in Goli Taraghi’s In Another Place,” where—drawing on Raewyn Connell’s concept of hegemonic masculinity—Vafa sheds light on a particular mode of masculinity in Taraghi’s narrative, i.e., that which becomes complicit with the hegemonic masculinity in order to benefit from what Connell deems the “patriarchal dividend.” In Another Place is a final piece in the collection of the same title that tells the story of a wealthy but unhappy businessman living with his “affluent and assertive wife” in 1998 Tehran. Discontented with the sociopolitical status quo, the novella’s male protagonist is feeling for another place. Vafa offers this character as “one of the author’s most developed male portrayals to date, as a means both to make visible and to challenge the author’s conception of urban, upper middle-class masculinities in contemporary Iran.” Vafa shows that the male protagonist fails at dissent; he concludes that the character’s failure “is in part informed by the novella’s entrapment in the binary of two opposing but completing masculinities performed by the complicit middle and upper classes and the hegemonic state apparatus.” Drawing on postcolonial feminism and masculinities theory, as advanced by such scholars as Minoo Moallem and Raewyn Connell, the author criticizes Taraghi for her feminist agenda that centers exclusively on urban, upper-middle class masculinities. This exclusive feminist agenda, Vafa maintains, is limited and elitist, “potentially informed by a ‘Western’ notion of ‘egalitarian ‘feminism’.”

Contributed by Arash Naraghi, the last article of the Persian section tackles male homosexuality in Islam. Titled “The Male Homosexuality Problematic in the Context of Contemporary Iranian Shiʿism,” the essay delves into Shiʿi jurisprudence and Qur’anic exegesis, particularly on the scripture’s narration of the story of Lot, to propose a solution for the problem of male homosexuality in Islam. First, Naraghi explores the sources of discrimination against sexual minorities within Shiʿi jurisprudence, while critically evaluating the views of some prominent contemporary Iranian Muslim scholars on homosexuality. Then, he introduces a rationalist tradition within Islamic philosophy and theology which provides a theoretical framework for approaching the problem. His proposed framework is based on two pillars: first, Ibn Rushd’s view on the relation between demonstrative reason and Shariʿa, and second, Muʿtazilites’ view on the relation between God’s nature and moral obligations. Finally, within the above framework, he suggests ways for how a devout Muslim might refute discrimination based on sexual orientation, and how Muslim communities could create a space tolerant, if not welcoming of male homosexuality.

Many of these contributors, along with other scholars interested in pursuing research on Iranian men and masculinities, will be gathering in the forthcoming Association for Iranian Studies (AIS) conference at the University of California, Irvine, during 14-17 August 2018, over four panels on “Iranian Men and Masculinities,” organized by the editors of this special issue, in order to share their research with the conference attendees. As the first collection of arguments on the topic, this special issue and the above panels are of course a starting point, which we also plan to follow with an edited volume in the near future. We will have achieved more than what we aim for if these efforts incite similar endeavours.

At the end, we would like to thank all who kindly contributed their papers for this issue as well as the anonymous reviewers and the journal’s copy editors, Susan Foster and Vahid Tolooei, for their kind help and co-operation. We are also indebted to the Iran Namag’s Editor-in-Chief, Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi, for his assistance in preparation and publication of this issue and for his editing help.

[1]The authors would like to thank Raewyn Connell for her invaluable comments on an earlier version of this introduction.

[2]Mostafa Abedinifard, “Maʿāyib al-Rijāl va Żarūrat-i Mardānigī-Pazhūhī dar Muṭaliʿāt-i Zanān-i Iran” [The Vices of Men and the Necessity of Studying Men and Masculinities in Iranian Women’s Studies],” Iran Nameh 30, no. 3 (2015): 230-282.

[3]Abedinifard, “Maʿāyib al-Rijāl.” In 1894, an educated and well-known woman named Bībī Khānum Astarābādi was motivated by some female companions of hers to retort the male chauvinism of Ta’dīb al-Nisvān (The Education of Women), copies of which had obviously moved around and impacted some people. The Education of Women—of which there exist variant manuscripts with such titles as Ta’dīb al-Nisā’ (Educating/Disciplining Women), Sulūk va Sīrat-i Zan (Women’s Conduct), Ādāb-i Moʿāshirat-i Nisvān (Rules of Etiquette for Women), and Nasāyih-i Mushfiqānah (Affectionate Pieces of Advice)—was written by a male upper-class author who chose and apparently managed to remain anonymous among his contemporaries. Up until recently, scholars had no conjectures about the author’s identity. Lately, it has been argued that the text was most probably written by Khānlar Mirzā Ehtishām al-Dawlah (?-1287/1861), the 17th son of Prince Abbās Mirzā Nāyib al-Salṭanah (1168/1789-1212/1833). As evidenced by the manuscript variants, it is likely that the author chose to remain unknown lest he be reproached by women. The text continued to be re-inscribed, with minor changes, by other men who welcomed Khanlar Mirzā’s message yet who likewise preferred to be nameless. Organized in ten short thematic chapters, The Education of Women addresses and prompts men to patrol and discipline the behavior of their daughters and wives. The author’s conservative and often misogynous advice, frequently garrisoned with references to the Qur’an and hadith, ranges from counsel on women’s unquestionable obedience to their men to instructions on table etiquette and sharing a bed. Bibi Khānum, being a pro-women rights activist, and having personally tasted the patriarchal oppression in her marital relationship, complied with her friends’ request. She responded by penning a diatribe she titled as Maʿāyib al-Rijāl, i.e., The Vices of Men, also known to be the first satirical piece written by an Iranian woman. As opposed to The Education of Women, Bibi Khanum’s book is framed and informed by autobiographical information (e.g., she reveals her painful experience of bearing with her husband’s contracting their female servant as a maid/concubine). In her rejoinder, Bibi Khanum first paraphrases and criticizes the main arguments of her opponent, and then continues by expounding on what she believes to be the typical vices of men in her time. For Persian versions of both texts, see Javadi, Hasan, Manizheh Marʿashi, and Simin Shekarlu, eds. Ruyārūʼi-e Zan va Mard dar Asr-i Qājār: Du Risālah-yi Taʼdīb al-Nisvān va Maʿāyib al-Rijāl (Chicago: The Historical Society of Iranian Women (Kānūn-i Pazhūhish-i Tārīkh-i Zanān-i Irān), 1992). See also Afsaneh Najmabadi, Maʿāyib al-Rijāl: Vices of Men (Chicago: 1992). For English translations of both texts, with commentary, see The Education of Women & The Vices of Men: Two Qajar Tracts, trans. Hasan Javadi and Willem Floor (Syracuse, New York: Syracuse University Press, 2010).

[4]For a classical account on the women’s rights movement in Iran, which also considers men’s contributions, see Eliz Sanasarian, The Women’s Rights Movement in Iran (New York: Praeger, 1982).

[5]Abdulhossein Navayee et al., eds., Shukūfih & Dānish: First Iranian Women’s Journals (Tehran: National Library of the Islamic Republic of Iran, 1998), quote on 152.

[6]Navayee et al., Shukūfih & Dānish, 305-306, 330.

[7]Alireza Tayrani et al., eds., Women’s Periodicals (Tehran: Library, Museum and Document Center of Iran Parliament, n.d.), DVD.

[8]Banafsheh Masoudi and Naser Mohajer, eds., Piyk-i Sa‘ādat-i Nisvān (Berkeley, CA: Noqteh, 1390/2011), quote on 2.

[9]Masoudi and Mohajer, Piyk-i Sa‘ādat-i Nisvān, 21-22.

[10]Masoudi and Mohajer, Piyk-i Sa‘ādat-i Nisvān, 27-28. For a more detailed discussion and further examples, see Abedinifard, “Maʿāyib al-Rijāl.”

[11]For a digitized archive of many issues of Zanān, see www.iran-archive.com/start/258.

[12]Raewyn Connell, “Change Among the Gatekeepers: Men, Masculinities, and Gender Equality in the Global Arena,” Signs 30, no. 3 (2005): 1801–1825, quote on 1802.

[13]R. W. Connell, Jeff Hearn, and Michael Kimmel, eds., Handbook of Studies on Men and Masculinities (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2005); David Buchbinder, Studying Men and Masculinities (London: Routledge, 2013).

[14]Michael Kimmel, “Invisible Masculinity,” Society 3, no. 6 (1993): 28-35; quote on 29.

[15]It is no exaggeration to regard the theory of “hegemonic masculinity” as the most influential theory in the field of masculinities studies so far. For an overview of this theory, some criticisms of it, the main theorist’s response to them, and the theory’s probable prospects in gender studies in the future, see R. W. Connell and James Messerschmidt, “Hegemonic Masculinity: Rethinking the Concept,” Gender and Society 19, no. 6 (2005): 829-859. For a more recent article by Connell on hegemony and masculinity in relation to imperialism and neoliberal global power, see Raewyn Connell, “Masculinities in Global Perspective: Hegemony, Contestation, and Changing Structures of Power,” Theory & Society 45, no. 4 (2016): 303–318.

 

 

[16]Harry Brod, “The Case for Men’s Studies,” in The Making of Masculinities: The New Men’s Studies, ed. Harry Brod (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1987), 39-62. Commenting on an earlier version of this preface, Raewyn Connell remarks: “There was an older European questioning of masculinity, as well as femininity, which Harry Brod misses—it’s very clear in the work of Freud and Adler.”

[17]Helena Gurfinkel, “Masculinity Studies: What It Is and Why Would a Feminist Care?”

Masculinity Studies: What Is It, and Why Would a Feminist Care?

For the interplay of feminist theory and masculinities theory, see especially, Nancy Dowd, The Man Question: Male Subordination and Privilege (New York: New York University Press, 2010).

[18]See, for example, Dowd, The Man Question; Judith K. Gardiner, ed., Masculinity Studies and Feminist Theory: New Directions (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002); Peter F. Murphy, ed., Feminism and Masculinities (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004).

[19]Judith K. Gardiner, “Introduction,” in Masculinity Studies and Feminist Theory: New Directions, ed. J. K. Gardiner (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), 1-29; quote on 9.

[20]Shahin Gerami, “Mullahs, Martyrs, and Men: Conceptualizing Masculinity in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” Men and Masculinities 5, no. 3 (2005), 257–74, quote on 258.

[21]Shahin Gerami, “Islamist Masculinity and Muslim Masculinities,” in Handbook of Studies on Men and Masculinities, eds. M. Kimmel, J. Hearn and R. W. Connell (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2005), 448–57, quote on 456.

[22]Gerami, “Islamist Masculinity,” 448.

[23]Gerami, “Islamist Masculinity,” 456.

[24]For some such works by these authors, see Afsaneh Najmabadi, “Reading ‘Wiles of Women’ Stories as Fictions of Masculinity,” in Mai Ghoussoub and Emma Sinclair-Webb, eds., Imagined Masculinities: Male Identity and Culture in the Modern Middle East (London: Saqi Books, 2000), 147-68; Afsaneh Najmabadi, The Story of the Daughters of Quchan: Gender and National Memory in Iranian History (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1998); Afsaneh Najmabadi, “Naqsh-i Zan bar Matn-i Mashrutah,” Nimeye Digar 2, no. 3 (1997): 72-121; Afsaneh Najmabadi, “The Erotic Vaṭan [Homeland] as Beloved and Mother: To Love, To Possess, and To Protect,” Comparative Studies of Society and History 39, no. 3 (1997): 442-67; Afsaneh Najmabadi, “Digarguni-i Zan va Mard dar Zaban-i Mashrutiyat,” Nimeye Digar 2, no. 2 (1995): 72-105; Afsaneh Najmabadi, “Zanha-yi Millat: Women or Wives of the Nation?,” Iranian Studies 26, no. 1/2 (1993): 51-71; Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi, Refashioning Iran: Orientalism, Occidentalism and Historiography (Hampshire: Palgrave, 2001); Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi, “Going Public: Patriotic and Matriotic Homeland in Iranian Nationalist Discourses,” Strategies: Journal of Theory, Culture, and Politics 13, no. 2 (2000): 175-200; Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi, “Nigaran-i Zan-i Farang,” Nimeye Digar 2, no. 3 (1997): 3-71; Mohamad Tavakli-Targhi, “Zani Bud, Zani Nabud: Bazkhani-yi Vujuhb-i Niqab va Mafasid-i Sufur,” Nimeye Digar 14 (Spring 1991): 77-110; Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi, “Imagining Western Women: Occidentalism and Euro-Eroticism,” Radical America 24, no. 3 (1990): 73-87.

[25]See, respectively, Minoo Moallem, Between Warrior Brother and Veiled Sister: Islamic Fundamentalism and the Politics of Patriarchy in Iran (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005); Afsaneh Najmabadi, Women with Mustaches and Men without Beards: Gender and Sexual Anxieties of Iranian Modernity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005); Afsaneh Najmabadi, Professing Selves: Transsexuality and Same-Sex Desire in Contemporary Iran (Durham: Duke University Press, 2014).

[26]See Lloyd Ridgeon, Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism: A History of Sufi-Futuwwat in Iran (London: Routledge, 2010). Ridgeon has also brought together English translations of three medieval Persian futuwwat-nameh texts (books on futuwwat/javanmardi [chivalry]), with a detailed introduction to the book, and with each text being preceded by a separate introduction. See Lloyd Ridgeon, Jawanmardi: A Sufi Code of Honour (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011).

[27]See Mostafa Abedinifard, “Maʿāyib al-Rijāl.” Since that article was published, more articles and book chapters have appeared on Iranian masculinities. Some include Christopher Gow, “Real Men: Representations of Masculinity in Iranian Cinema,” Asian Cinema 27, no. 2 (2016): 165–76; Nagihan Haliloğlu, “Activist, Professional, Family Man: Masculinities in Marjane Satrapi’s Work,” in Uwe Bläsing, Victoria Arakelova, Matthias Weinreich, eds., Studies on Iran and The Caucasus: In Honour of Garnik Asatrian (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 495-506; Amy Motlagh, “What Kind of Crisis?: Marriage and Masculinity in Contemporary Iranian Cinema,” in Kristin Celello and Hanan Kholoussy, eds., Domestic Tensions, National Anxieties: Global Perspectives on Marriage, Crisis, and Nation (New York, NY: Oxford University press, 2016), 192-211; Nacim Pak-Shiraz, “Shooting the Isolation and Marginality of Masculinities in Iranian Cinema,” Iranian Studies 50, no. 6 (2017): 945-967; Sivan Balslev, “Population Crisis, Marriage Reform and the Regulation of Male Sexuality in Interwar Iran,” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 45, no. 2 (2018): 121-137; Sivan Balslev, “Dressed for Success: Hegemonic Masculinity, Elite Men and Westernisation in Iran, c. 1900–40,” Gender & History 26, no. 3 (2014): 545-564; Sivan Balslev, “Gendering the Nation: Masculinity and Nationalism in Iran during the Constitutional Revolution,” in Meir Litvak, ed., Constructing Nationalism in Iran: From the Qajars to the Islamic Republic (London: Routledge, 2017), 68-85.

[28]Minoo Moallem has been working on a monograph on masculinities in Iran-Iraq War movies. A chapter of hers is forthcoming in 2019: Minoo Moallem, “Staging Masculinity in Iran-Iraq War Movies,” in Aaron Magnan-Park, Gina Marchetti, and Tan See-Kam, eds., Handbook on Asian Cinema. Sivan Balslev’s monograph Iranian Masculinities: Gender and Sexualities in Late Qajar and Early Pahlavi Iran is under contract with Cambridge University Press. And Wendy DeSouza’s book Unveiling Men: The Emergence of Modern Masculinity in Twentieth-Century Iran is forthcoming by Syracuse University Press.

[30]Raewyn Connell, “Margin Becoming Centre: For a World-centred Rethinking of Masculinities,” NORMA: International Journal for Masculinity Studies 9, no. 4 (2014): 217-231.

[31]A sub-genre of the “tough guy” genre in prerevolutionary Iranian cinema. See Hamid Naficy, “Males, Masculinity, and Power: The Tough-Guy Movie Genre and Its Evolution,” in A Social History of Iranian Cinema, vol. 2 (Durham: Duke University Press), 261–324.

 

Table of Contents

English Verso

On Abbas Kiarostam

Transcending Cinema: Kiarostami’s Approach to Filmmaking
Maryam Ghorbankarimi

Trajectory of Smooth Female Spaces within the Striated Masculine in Kiarostami’s Ten
Pouneh Saeedi

Waves of Stasis: Photographic Tendency and Cinematic Kindness in Kiarostami’s Five (Dedicated to Ozu)
Donna Honarpisheh

Kiarostami and Love on the Iranian Screen
Proshot Kalami

On the Borders of Documentary and Fiction in Kiarostami’s Homework and Close-Up
Persheng Sadegh-Vaziri

Abbas Kiarostami’s “Lessons of Darkness”: Affect, Non-Representation, and Becoming-Imperceptible
Tanya Shilina-Conte

Variorum

An Approach to Humour in Persian Literature
Homa Katouzian

Transition from Orient to the Third World: Sketch of a Phenomenological Study of a Historical Fall
Tanya Shilina-Conte

 

Persian Reverso

On Abbas Kiarostami

Introduction
Khatereh Sheibani

Altering Perspectives: The Documentary and Fictional Components in Abbas Kiarostami’s Works
Saeed Aghighi

The Contradictions of Unactoricity: Actoricity in Kiarostami’s Films
Robert Safarian

Abbas and ‘his’ Bench: A Short Memoir on Abbas Kiarostami’s Latest Film in China
Hossein Khandan

Wind: Serentdipity and Cinephilia
Negar Mottahedeh

Persian Variorum

Ideological Agendas in Historiography of Early Safavid Era: Study of Tarikh-i Iran Dar Asr-i Safavi
Behzad Karimi

In Praise of Form and Deprecation Content: critiquing Rastakhiz- Kalamat
Hamid Sahebjami

Table of Contents

English Verso

My Kurdish Brother, Amir Hassanpour
Thomas M. Ricks

The Raven of Separation: Arabic Poetic Topoi and the Persian Courtly Tradition
Asghar Seyed-Gohrab

Interiority and the City Center: Locating the Gulistan Harem During Nassir al-Dīn Shah’s Reign
Leila Pourtavaf

Arānī, Kasravī and Demonic Irrationality: Discourses of Reason and Scientific Explanation
Arshavez Mozafari

 

Persian Reverso

Namag: A Concise Etymology and Semantic
Nima Jamali

Culture and Democracy
Ali Mirsepasi

The Western Problematic and the Idea of Everyday Culture and Life in the Post-Revolutionary Iran
Mohammad Reza’i and Hadi Aqajanzadeh

Divorce as Seen through Women’s Cinematic Lens
Nasrin Rahimieh

European Racial Thought, Iranian Nationalists, and Theories of Arab Invasion and Decline
Reza Zia-Ebrahimi

Kamal Khojandi, Reza Quli Khan Hedayat, and Muhammad Hashim Asef Rustam al-Hukama
Jalil Nozari

Bloodletting Practices in the Iranian History of Medicine
Mohsen Farsani

The Seven Cities of Love
Hamid Sahebjami

My Kurdish Brother, Amir Hassanpour

Amir. Your name is so simple. “The Commander.” But, in fact, it’s more complicated than that. Your father changed it from Omar to Amir knowing that you would be in a Shi’a land in Tehran for the last years of your high school. In fact, there was nothing simple about you at all.

Born on November 17, 1943 in Mahabad, Iran, you reached your seventy-third birthday this year, dear friend, and your life has been full of accomplishment. We all sat at your hospital bed standing watch as you slipped away in your long struggle with cancer, eyes closed and breathing heavy though stable and calm through it all. Then, at 5:49 on Saturday morning on June 24 of this year, you quietly left us weeping by your side motionless with blinding grief and shaken by the thought that you were no longer on this planet. Peace in Paradise. Oh yes, I know how you would dislike these words, but you know that the Persian word, pardis, is the root of our English word. When I first met you, I heard your name was “Kak Amir,” a Kurdish version. Then, as time went on, we all began to call you “Amir Khan,” in a reference to your faux military status which you scorned. You got even with me by naming me, a Peace Corps volunteer of all things, “Tom Khan.”

I met you on one of those frigid Zagros mountain days in December 1964. You were comfortably ensconced in your home reading, just down the alleyway from the bazaar. Bob Abramson, the other Peace Corps English teacher, led me to that heavy wooden door of your house and banged the knocker loudly. We had tea and cookies that day according to polite society customs, just Bob, you and me. We came to your house a few more times again, but usually met in our second-floor apartment in the old bank building on the main street.  After introductions and brief mention about what I was going to do in Mahabad, you corrected me about the town’s name. “Tom, we actually call this place “Cool Spring” or soujboolak in Kurdish.”  This was just the beginning of the avalanche of information on a myriad of subjects from Amir.

From these early days of our brotherhood, there began a long list of historical and archaeological   discussions about the writings of British, Australian, French, and Italian historians aligned with the Communist Party or from Socialist activist backgrounds, including your all-time favorite work, Man Makes Himself, by the Australian-born Marxist scholar, V. Gordon Childe. We spoke about that and several other of Childe’s writings on Labor and Civilization. All these and more were new to me though I had studied Tomistic philosophy and French literature at Notre Dame in Indiana. You had asked me if I had read much fiction and I had said some American and French as school requirements. I had then asked you the same question, and you said very little except in school. And so, for the next fifty-two years, we discussed a range of topics in history, anthropology, philosophy, archaeology, and in Marxism as well as any number of social sciences, debating their virtues and failings. Religion did not figure high at all in these discourses so when I told you that I had been in Mashhad for the previous eight months, and that some of my Persian friends took to calling me “Mashti Tom,” you had looked disapprovingly on such mirth, and announced that for you, I was only “Tom Khan.” We never spoke again about Mashhad or pilgrimage sites focusing instead on civilizations, dialectical materialism and class struggle in nearly all that we read the years I spent in Mahabad. We also talked a lot about socialism and the communist party of Iran, the Tudeh Party.

Bob was amused by our exchanges and debates, interjecting his questions and comments about the present Kurdish conditions, society and economy, and the doings of the Pahlavis in Tehran and the countryside or rusta. Together, Bob and I recalled the beginnings of Peace Corps, our training programs in Oregon and Michigan respectively, and our own unpreparedness for anything Iranian, much less Kurdish. We both had had our brief introduction to the linguistics of second language learning, but that did not count for much. We were Bachelors of Arts and Sciences, or, as Peace Corps dubbed us, “AB generalists” thrown into developing societies of the Third World.

We were witnesses, as Amir observed, of the modernity process of global outreach of industrial countries to pull other countries into rapidly expanding capitalist relations, and if we looked closely, we might observe various forms of resistance to this process. These discussions and others with Amir made me rethink so many of my older assumptions, and he became our main source of information about “Modern Iran” and the Kurdish resistance movement in Iran and in the Middle East, particularly in northern Iraq and eastern Turkey, countries that bordered northwestern Iran. It was Amir who introduced us to the fairly recent history of Mahabad and its singular Mahabad Republic of Kurdistan of 1946 and the reasons for its rise and fall. He took us to the grave site of Ghazi Mohammad, the leader of the Republic, who was executed by the Pahlavi forces in the winter of 1946.

Throughout the spring and summer of ’65, Bob and I saw Amir almost daily. As one of our colleagues and an increasingly close friend, he was introducing us to his perspective on the limited rights of Kurdish people as a minority under Pahlavi rule, the issues of US and Iran relations and military advisors, the Vietnam War, the role of women and families in Iranian society, the daily forms of resistance to modernity, and the complicated gender and family relations in Iran. In fact, these discussions were both instructive and amusing at the same time. My first encounters in Mahabad were with some of Bob’s friends whom he had befriended in evening get-togethers in their homes over the previous fall term before I had arrived. On nearly my second or third day in Mahabad, I met a Kurdish banker friend of Bob’s who began our conversation with “the rules of the street.” I was told that there are two languages spoken in Mahabad, “Kurdish and English.” The second rule was politics was everything – he wanted to know why the CIA killed President Kennedy. Stunned by both “rules” as no one had broached such matters to me while I was in Mashhad, I answered that I was willing to learn Kurdish though I had been studying Persian for nearly a year by then, and had no idea how to get Kurdish language materials, and secondly, had a few notions about Kennedy’s death none of which included the CIA!  From these early days in Mahabad, I had learned some important lessons about Kurdish nationalism, and Iran-US politics.  Bob and I had met our first Kurdish scholar, companion, and teacher, dear Amir. It was over time that Amir and I became brothers in many ways.

Amir had just completed his BA degree in English from the University of Tehran, and following those four years, he went on to complete a year at the Tehran Teacher Training College. Now, he was assigned to teach in Mahabad’s secondary schools or at the dabirestan level. In short, we and Amir had become colleagues in teaching English as a second or third language to the young Kurdish and few Azeri and Armenian adventuresome high school students in that remote mountain town comprised of 90% Kurdish Mokri and Debokri Sorani-speaking peoples of Kurdistan. We discussed why there were no more pastoralists in Kurdistan as that was part of an older period of history. While some texts on Iran do talk about the Kurdish tribes as do the American diplomats in their consular reports, Mr. Eagleton, a past US consul in Tabriz does not use those words in his introduction to Kurdish language. Come to think of it, in trying to follow the advice of Bob’s banker friend, I had asked the Peace Corps Office in Tehran to send me a Kurdish grammar and funds for a Kurdish language tutor. The reply was a little stunning – the PC Office told me that since Kurdish is a dialect of Persian, there are no funds for dialects so they could not support my language studies. I then asked my twin brother Ted in the States to find Professor Ernest McCarus’ Kurdish grammar used in his classes at the University of Michigan where he taught, and send a copy to me. My brother found the book and sent it.  It was a lesson in the Iranian linguicide of Kurdish. I left it behind with Amir when I returned to the States in 1966.

Proud of his town’s historical role in the on-going Kurdish national struggle for self-determination and the survival of Kurdish as an endangered world language, Amir’s home was stocked with Persian, Kurdish and English works on a wide spectrum of topics hidden away from Iranian security and public eyes. I found that unlike so many other educational colleagues, he had an unquenchable thirst for books. He was equally enthusiastic about Marxist theories and world view. I found that in those two years in Iran and for the rest of my life that there was just no one else like Amir Khan.

It was Amir Khan who led us to a summer excursion into the Zagros plateau north of Mahabad in search of ancient caves with some Peace Corps friends from distant Rezayeh who were also engaged in English training. During the summer months, we also spent time in picnics with our Kurdish, Gilaki, and Persian teacher and professional friends in the valleys and dells of the surrounding mountain streams in laughter-filled story-telling and mountain-naming mixed babble of English and Kurdish according to the “rules.”  In more somber moments, Amir related some of his experiences during his Tehran stay at the university, such as the time when he and several other Kurdish undergrads asked to be included in the underground students’ socialist club mainly followers of the forbidden Tudeh party – they were accepted immediately with another kind of “rule” or understanding about their use of Kurdish. They were told by the Persian-speaking students to not speak Kurdish, or there “would be consequences.” It was not the first time that I began to learn of the factionalism in the Iranian student movement.

By the fall of 1965, Amir and I were deep into our discussions about Marx and Marxist theories of historical change and historical generalizations with a growing list of new works for me. I had already discovered Eric Hobsbawm and George Rudé, part of the British “social historians” in their eye-opening work on the threshing machine protest by workers of Sussex near Kent, England. They had based their research mainly on the police records of the striking peasants in their co-authored work, Captain Swing –  the mysterious signature found at the bottom of the warnings that appeared on local parsons’ doors of the possible burning of local wheat fields using threshing machines and not human labor. This wonderful work was my introduction to the English social history school while I was in Mashhad where I had by chance met the British Consul and took some liberties with the British Council’s library. Before the year was out, Amir and I had read and discussed other British and French historians’ works, such as E. H. Carr’s seminal work on What Is History?, E. P. Thompson’s recently published The Making of the English Working Class, and the equally seminal work of Marc Bloch, The Historian’s Craft. We promised each other to continue reading the English Social Historians and the French Annales school historians after I left Mahabad at the end of my two-year obligation that had begun in February 1964. We also completed a translation project of a Kurdish romance story in the midst of our school work that included Bob and me conducting Friday (a holiday) classes in acquired language learning with all the English teachers of Mahabad and nearly free evening Adult English classes in one of the high schools for anyone interested in the subject. As with everything else, Amir was a fellow teacher in both Teacher and Adult Evening classes.

The English translation of a Kurdish folk tale that Amir and I did was his idea. The story, Khadj va Siamand, in both Persian and Kurdish, was based on a popular Kurdish ballad concerning the youth of Kurdistan in Sorani Kurdish. Khadj was the attractive young daughter of a wealthy Kurdish merchant who had forty sons from his four wives as well as several daughters. Khadj was the most beautiful of them all. Siamand, on the other hand, was a strapping young and good-looking shepherd from a neighboring village who saw Khadj and other young Kurdish girls coming to the communal well on the outskirts of the town. In the midst of the collective spring flower gathering, and the summer harvests from nearby fields, Khadj and Siamand became more acquainted, falling in love with each other over time. They then planned to run away to the mountains to live together, fearing in part her father’s outrage and the forty brothers of Khadj whom she knew would be close behind. In the eventual confrontation in the mountains, first Siamand fell in combat and then, in despair, Khadj leapt to her death off the mountain in the end. We translated the text into polished English and ran off copies of the ballad in Persian and English for the advanced students in the high schools – we were forbidden to use Kurdish by the principal. The mimeographed story was a hit, needless to say. I told Amir that I was sending our translation off to the Netherlands to be published. I found out later that the translation was only listed in a bibliography of Kurdish literature and not published. That would have to wait until later.

By February 1966/1345, I was getting ready to leave Mahabad and then Tehran for the States. Before doing so, Amir and I had decided to translate small parts of E. H. Carr’s What is History?  and V. Gordon Childe’s Man Makes Himself into Persian over the next year. We wanted the social studies teachers and advanced students to benefit from these authors. Amir was to do most of the translations, while I was to work on some bibliographic information. We planned for a translation into Kurdish but it was never done as we were both too busy in graduate programs. We did finish the two translations of Carr and Childe into Persian that I left with Amir.

Little did I realize how important we would become to each other in the next three decades. By 1975, I had married Janice and completed my doctorate at Indiana University in Middle East history with a minor in Persian Studies with a US grant while Amir had gone to the University of Illinois at Chamagne-Urbana in the mid-1970s. While Amir continued his studies in Communication, I was soon hired first by Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota, and then by Georgetown University in DC. We met a couple of times first in Chicago at the 1975 American Historical Association meeting, and then again at Illinois University as the Iranian Revolution was beginning in 1977/1356. I was the one of the guest speakers of the Confederation of Iranian Students – US at the University of Illinois and took part in one of their campus-wide conferences on Iran.

By 1979/1358, in the midst of the Iranian Revolution, like so many other Iranian students, Amir had returned to Iran with hopes for a better Iran in his mind and heart. In 1986, Amir completed his Illinois doctorate program, and, with his family, immigrated to Canada, settling first in Toronto, then in Windosr and Montreal, and finally back to Toronto taking teaching positions in those cities’ universities in Communication and Middle Eastern studies. In 1992, Amir published his revised thesis with the new title of Nationalism and Language in Kurdistan, 1918-1985 in which he made a very strong case for the role of a nation-state in the evolution and survival of languages such as Kurdish. He also argued for the standardization of Kurdish language that would contain the northern/southern Kurdish dialects of Kirmanji and Sorani.  Amir continued to read and write about Marxism and applying his Marxist perspective in his writings and teachings in his many articles on oral traditions of Kurdistan, linguistics, linguicide, genocide, Turkish and Iranian policies, the role of language formation in the media, in song and music throughout his academic career at the University of Toronto. His final work of articles in Farsi was published in April 2017, which was particularly special to him and is entitled, Bar Faraz-e Mooje Nuvin-e Kumunism [On the New Wave of Communism].

On reflection, Amir was my brother, colleague and closest academic life companion. We had left the level of normal friendship long ago during our continued conversations, debates and discussions. Amir had radicalized me in both my politics and historical research. Many of my American Peace Corps volunteer companions had remarked, rightfully, that the Peace Corps and their Iran experiences had “changed their lives.” For me, Amir, Kurdistan, and contemporary Iranian struggles for political and economic independence had changed my life. My dear mother took about three seconds upon my return to our Lafayette, Indiana home after my two-year Peace Corps absence to say that, “Tom, you’ve changed.” She was absolutely correct. It took take me several years to completely understand that statement as “Yes, Mom, I have changed because of my Kurdish brother and the Iranian people’s life and death struggles against various imperial powers including the United States.”

Sometime after I had left Georgetown University and was invited to Birzeit University in the Occupied Palestinian Territories that I understood how much of Amir’s world view or jahan bini influenced my thoughts as an analyst of contemporary US foreign policy as well as an historian of 18th century Iran. Amir and I had also discussed Immanuel Wallerstein’ s world systems analysis of center and periphery dialectics and the role of US development polices within Washington’s Consensus and world geopolitics that contributed to “underdevelopment”. We continued our discussions of Andre Gunnar Frank, Paul Baran, Samir Amin and Walter Rodney regarding dependency theories and US Agency for International Development, or US AID. My own reading of these political economic theories was in relation to historical studies of greater Asia and world historians’ work over the past three centuries as became evident in my courses and more recent writings.

Thus, Amir’s death thus has left a “hollow in the land” according to the Southern African adage. I would add that his death has now left a deep hollow in all the hearts and minds of those who knew Amir Hassanpour. His many intellectual feats, his own radical perspective of this world and its affairs, a Marxist perspective from beginning to end, and his amazing historical imagination and humor will not pass as quickly as he did physically in Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto, Ontario. He, more than any of my life friends and acquaintances, fulfilled Samad-e Behrangi’s famous dictum in his international literary work, Mahi Siyah-ye Kuchulu, (The Little Black Fish) when the Little Black Fish notes towards the end of the story, “Living or dying is not that important. What is important are the influences one may have on the lives of other.”

So, beduwa and goodbye, Kak Amir, for now. I long to be with you again someday, my dear Kurdish friend, colleague, and companion. I am bowed from grief for Shahrzad and Salah, and all of Amir’s fine students for their and our immense loss.

Table of Contents

English Verso

“Not about, but for workers”: Media, Labour and Politics in Post-2009 Iran
Zep Kalb

“Translator’s Invisibility”: Strategies of Adaptation in Persian versions of Indian Tales from the Mughal Period: King Vikrama’s Adventures and Ocean of the Streams of Stories
Anna Martin

Hafez and Sufi Hermeneutics
Daryoush Ashouri

Persian Recto

Bonyad Monthly and the Depoliticization of Gharbzadegi
Ali Mirsepasi and Mehdi Faraji

Shafiei-Kadkani between Poetry and Prose
Reza Ghanadan

The Untold Stories of the Wolf: A Comparative Study of “The Wolf”
Nasser Maleki, Bahman Fallah, and Meraj Kazemi

Shahrzad: Pop Culture, Media Culture, and the Representation of Gender in the Digital Age
Khatereh Sheibani

Cyrus in Judeo-Persian Literature
Nahid Pirnazar

Reconstructing Ancient Iranian History through the Deciphering of the Avesta and the Fahlaviyyāt
Abolala Soudavar

Qur’anic Perspectives on the ‘Nafs’ and the ‘Ruh’
Esmail Tabibi

Lalehzar under Allied Occupation: A Localized Narrative of a Global Conflict

The Anglo-Soviet invasion of Iran in 1941 is frequently portrayed as a footnote in the history of World War II, with Iran primarily viewed as a strategic supply route used for transporting ammunition and military equipment to the Soviet Union. However, such telescopic accounts often overlook the crimes committed by Allied troops and the war’s devastating impact on the lives of Iranian civilians. Such crimes included disruptions to the economy and infrastructure, as well as a variety of offenses committed by the troops, such as hit-and-run accidents, theft, vandalism, destruction of public property, assaults on civilians and police, and cases of sexual violence and murder.

Utilizing a feminist and critical urban geopolitics framework,[1] I foreground the everyday effects of World War II occupation in Iran[2] to challenge dominant “scales of geopolitics” through a microlevel examination of the ways occupation affected the lives of Iranians. Focusing on Lalehzar Street and its surroundings in central Tehran, where occupiers and the occupied encountered, exercised, and sometimes contested unequal power dynamics on a daily basis, this analysis illustrates how Lalehzar became a site for both soft power experimentation and geopolitical friction, exposing ordinary civilians to “new form(s) of geopolitical knowledge.”[3] I examine how, despite the 1942 Treaty of Alliance between Iran, Britain, and the Soviet Union, Allied powers pursued a covert capitulation policy that ignored their troops’ criminal conduct. I further highlight the persistent efforts of Iranian authorities, media, and nonstate actors to challenge this complicity and advocate for national sovereignty and citizens’ rights. Lastly, I trace the escalation of Iranian appeals to Washington that were ultimately dismissed amid shifting U.S. policy.

Situated near major national and foreign institutions, mainly on Firdawsi Street (fig. 1), Lalehzar District (fig. 2) offers a compelling site for critical geopolitical analysis. As a location embedded in a wider urban network shaped by both local and international politics, this charged urban space brought foreign diplomats, soldiers, and refugees into daily contact with Iranian citizens, including pedestrians, shopkeepers, the police, artists, and modern youth eager for change.

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Figure 1. Grand Hotel, Lalehzar Street, ca. 1929–33. Source: Estādux

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Figure 2. Firdawsi Street, ca. 1935–41. Source: Estādux

The present study focuses on the area I call Tulip Grove,[4] bounded by the U.S. embassy to the north, the Italian and French embassies to the west, the Iranian Parliament to the east (fig. 3), and Sepah Square (fig. 4) to the south. Covering roughly one square kilometer, it takes about five minutes to walk from the French Embassy to Firdawsi Street (see map 1).

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Figure 3. Iranian Parliament, ca. 1933–35. Source: Estādux

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Figure 4. Sepah Square, 1937–41. Source: Estādux

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.Map 1

In an effort to forge a new narrative about the impact of war on the lives of Iranian populace, I draw on cross-examination of archival materials from the archives of the Iranian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and of the Majlis, alongside the national archives of Iran, Britain, the United States. I also incorporate historical press coverage and oral history records. Most archival material under analysis pertains to Lalehzar Street, documenting its urban fabric, diplomatic presence, cultural life, sociopolitical activity, artistic output, and leisure spaces during World War II. This detail-oriented, multi-archival approach foregrounds Iranian conditions and responses—drawing on rare Iranian documents—and challenges Eurocentric narratives that portray Iran as a passive object of Allied domination during WWII, rather than as a nation with agency. While the burden of war was more severe in Iran’s Soviet-occupied north and British-controlled south, this study uses Lalehzar as a microcosm of wartime Tehran.

Lalehzar Prior to Allied Invasion: Major Influences

Prior to the Allied occupation of Iran starting in September 1941, Lalehzar was a cosmopolitan district shaped predominantly by influences from France and the northern Russian Empire. French-speaking countries, notably France and Belgium, played a significant role in the area during the Qajar and Pahlavi eras (fig. 5). This influence is reflected in the presence of diplomatic legations and prominent missionary schools like St. Louis and Jeanne d’Arc. Additionally, various enterprises, including fashion boutiques, casinos, and hotels, were largely owned by families of French-speaking experts who had been recruited by the Iranian government. Consequently, France became a central hub for education, culture, and intellectual aspiration among Iranian elites, with French serving as the lingua franca.

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Figure 5. Lalehzar-French influence. Source: Library, Museum and Document Center of Iran Parliament (Majlis)

Historically, the Lalehzar District bore witness to significant Russian presence, characterized not only by its legation but also through the flourishing of businesses, live performances, and cinemas involving Soviet or Russian citizens, migrants, and touring companies. The influence intensified after the 1917 Russian Revolution, when artists and cultural producers from the Caucasus region (Armenia and Georgia) sought refuge in this cosmopolitan zone. Their arrival expanded Lalehzar’s cultural landscape by introducing novel skillsets and facets, significantly shaping the trajectory of Iranian cinema and modern performing arts.[5]

By 1941, Lalehzar increasingly reflected the statist nationalism imposed by Reza Shah’s government. For the first time, the authority of a strong central state was felt in the district. The Tehran municipality, for example, pressured foreign embassies to update the facades of their buildings and improve adjacent sidewalks.[6] This key area of the capital encapsulated the top-down reforms of the first Pahlavi era, including the 1928 men’s sartorial reform (fig. 6), the 1938 ban on foreign “scripts” in public signage, and the establishment of state art institutions intended to cultivate national identity and promote modern ideals.[7] The state’s tight control over the cultural scene has led some historians to describe the period as one of “suffocation.” Among the most consequential reforms of this period was the unveiling of women in 1936 (fig. 7), an effort to integrate them into public life. This policy made women increasingly visible in workplaces, the art scene, and leisure spaces, including on streets, stages, and dance floors.[8]

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Figure 6. Men in Pahlavi hats. Source: Library, Museum and Document Center of Iran Parliament

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Figure 7. Unveiled women on Lalehzar Street, after 1936 unveiling of women. Source: Markaz-i Asnad va Matbua‘t-i Astan-i Quds-i Razavi

Despite such semblance of sovereignty and order, this small area of Tehran’s Tulip Grove had already become a contested zone between the Allied and Axis forces before the years commonly associated with occupation.

A Prelude to War in the Lalehzar District

In February 1940, the British diplomatic mission, stationed at their legation on Firdawsi Street, was closely monitoring the development of World War II in Iran (see map 2). Apprehensive about the security of British oil interests in the south, officials deliberated possible preventative measures against the growing threat posed by Germany and the Soviet Union.[9] The recently signed German-Soviet nonaggression pact, the two powers’ similar diplomatic maneuvers within Iran, and the implications of the Anglo-Soviet agreement of 1907 created considerable uncertainty about how a joint German-Soviet strategy might unfold in Iran. For British officials posted in the Lalehzar District, the German threat was immediate and palpable: the German legation, with its distinctive Nazi-style architecture, stood directly across the street, alongside the Brown House, Germany’s war propaganda office. British diplomats found themselves surrounded by everything German: German-owned businesses, German-manufactured automobiles, and cinemas screening German films.[10] Intelligence operations were embedded even in the mundane: two local barbershops doubled as covert Nazi surveillance outposts, underscoring the infiltration of German intelligence in Tehran.[11] To many Iranians, however, Germany represented a viable third force capable of offsetting Anglo-Soviet dominance. Germans were often associated with professional expertise, as engineers, doctors, and businessmen active in Iran’s educational, industrial, and medical sectors.[12] For the British, German propaganda had not only persisted since World War I but had also become increasingly effective, reaching Iranian audiences through Persian broadcasts from Radio Berlin.

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map 2.

In the months leading up to the war, British intelligence in Tehran grew increasingly alarmed by reports of a possible German-backed coup d’état against the increasingly unpopular Reza Shah. The plot was believed to involve access to ammunition through the German-led railway project connecting Tehran to Tabriz.[13] Tensions escalated further after Germany declared war on the Soviet Union, prompting a surge of concern within British diplomatic circles. This escalation was compounded by reports indicating that the German minister had delivered a personal message from Hitler to Reza Shah, offering to protect Iran’s borders in exchange for joining the Axis powers.[14] Soon after, British intelligence learned of a clandestine meeting at the Brown House involving the minister and members of Tehran’s sizable German expatriate community. Attendees were discreetly forewarned of an impending mission and instructed to avoid contact with German Jews or other foreign nationals in the city.[15] For the British, these developments raised an urgent question: were they witnessing the precursor to a coordinated German coup against Reza Shah? By the summer of 1941, Axis diplomats and Iranian politicians continued to gather in legations across the neighborhood. One notable event was a screening of the pro-Axis propaganda film Victory of the West at the German legation on 18 March 1941.[16] Public celebrations of Germany’s victories on the Eastern Front had already extended onto nearby streets, particularly around nearby Sepah Square.[17]

The Anglo-Soviet Invasion

In August 1941, shortly after Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union, Britain and the USSR launched a joint invasion of Iran, mirroring the strategy they had used during World War I. The country was partitioned into northern and southern territories of occupation (Soviet and British, respectively), with Tehran and the surrounding central region designated as neutral. Despite this nominal neutrality, Allied aircraft patrolled the skies above Tehran, and Russian tanks moved through its streets. Within weeks, Reza Shah was forced to abdicate in favor of his son, Mohamad Reza.

The occupation was formalized by the Treaty of Alliance, signed on January 29, 1942, when Iran agreed to the presence of Allied forces for the sole purpose of moving ammunition and supplies from the Persian Gulf in the south to Soviet territory in the north, thereby bolstering the Eastern Front. The treaty stipulated that this military presence should not be regarded as an occupation and affirmed a commitment to Iran’s sovereignty, territorial integrity, and political independence. Article 4 further stated that a separate agreement would be negotiated with the Soviet Union to minimize disruption to Iran’s economy, security, and domestic governance, including ensuring the free movement of civilians and upholding Iranian law.[18]

The entry of the United States into the war in December 1941 added another layer of complexity. Although not a signatory to the treaty, the U.S. soon deployed troops to Iran under the British command structure, forming the Persian Gulf Command. Initially, their involvement was justified as logistical support for the supply route. But American engagement quickly expanded as the Iranian government began contracting American experts to support domestic reform.[19]

One of the most prominent of these advisors was Arthur Millspaugh, a U.S. State Department official tasked with recognizing Iran’s financial system. Operating from the Ministry of Finance, Millspaugh and his team established offices in Tulip Grove, including the Firdawsi Hotel (fig. 8) and the Grand Hotel on Lalehzar Street.[20] At the same time, U.S. policymakers began to view Iran as a testing ground for the principles outlined in the Atlantic Charter.[21]Framing itself as a third power distinct from British and Soviet imperial interests, the U.S. aimed to protect Iran’s sovereignty and to promote its economic stability, not only during the war, but also in its aftermath.[22]

In accordance to the terms of the treaty, the Allied powers quickly initiated the expulsion of Axis nationals from Iran. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs coordinated with the Axisgovernments to identify and remove diplomats and citizens, arranging for their transit through either the northern or southern zones. The directive was implemented with few exceptions: even personnel with critical technical roles, such as a German publishing official working for the Majlis, were expelled.[23] In Tehran, these departures were often staged outside the Axis legations clustered in Tulip Grove or their seasonal compounds in northern Tehran. Some itineraries included a farewell dinner at the Firdawsi Hotel in January 1942.[24] In tandem with the deportations, the Anglo-Soviet forces arrested several hundred Iranians suspected of sympathizing with Germany. Those detained included members of the political elite, the royal family, and prominent clerics, underscoring the depth of Allied anxiety over internal dissent and foreign influence.[25]

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map 3.

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Figure 8. Firdawsi Hotel, under construction, ca. 1935–36. Source: Estādux

 

Following the Allied occupation, the legations of Italy, Hungary, and Austria were closed, while new embassies were established for Poland and Czechoslovakia (see map 3).[26] Sweden assumed responsibility for representing German interests, and Japan undertook a similar role on behalf of Italy.[27] In response to the seizure and erosion of Axis-owned properties at the borders, a new commission was established under the Ministry of Finance on Firdawsi Street to address property claims.[28] Meanwhile, the Brown House in central Tehran was taken over by the British and repurposed as the Victory House dedicated to Allied wartime propaganda.[29] As early as August 1941, the screening of German films in the Lalehzar District ceased.[30] Cinemas quickly shifted to programming Allied films, reflecting the new political order.

Tensions escalated further on the night of January 24, 1942,[31] when Soviet and British soldiers vandalized the German legation. The incident prompted the Swedish embassy to urge Iranian authorities to tighten security.[32] In turn, Iran’s Ministry of Interior formally requested that the British legation exercise stricter oversight of its troops to maintain public order.[33]

Military Vehicles and the Erosion of Sovereignty

Among the first visible consequences of the Allied occupation was a surge in military vehicle traffic through Tehran, as Iran’s roads and railways became vital arteries for the transport of supplies from the Persian Gulf to the Soviet front. Within weeks, Tehran’s pedestrians not only observed Allied army cars and trucks, but they also regularly collided with them. The increase in traffic accidents marked the start of a fraught and often unequal confrontation between Iran and the occupying powers, in violation of the Tripartite Treaty.

Between mid-October and mid-November 1941, a disturbing series of traffic incidents involving Soviet military vehicles occurred in central Tehran. Among them were two child fatalities: eight-year-old Ashraf, killed on 8 October 1941 at the Qavam-ul-Dawlah intersection by a Soviet driver named Vasily Gorjiov, and  ten-year-old Aghanam, struck later that month (October 25) in the Lalehzar area.[34] In several instances, the drivers were released without even signing an interrogation form, often citing their inability to read Persian.

The Iranian government pursued four formal cases with the Russian embassy, alleging negligence. Yet the Soviet embassy denied responsibility. In the Soviet-controlled northern zone, accidents were even more frequent and were handled with greater leniency. In some cases, the Soviets convened military trials and imprisoned drivers, but quietly negotiated with local authorities and the victims’ families to reduce their sentences. Iran’s minister of justice condemned these proceedings as an infringement on internal sovereignty and unlawful interventions in domestic jurisdiction.[35]

British authorities also struggled to define the limits of their authority.[36] A year after the invasion, amid growing frustration over unresolved incidents—eight of them in Tulip Grove—the Iranian Prime Minister demanded more accountability. In response, the British legation appointed claims officers tasked with managing compensation and reporting disciplinary measures.[37] The designated officer’s responsibilities were outlined as involving the “investigation and disposition of all claims for compensation of any kind arising in Central Iran” for the purpose of “obviating the great delays in the process” and “informing the Iranian authorities of the nature of any disciplinary action taken against drivers of military vehicles” involved in accidents.[38] A confidential letter from the deputy minister of war to the Foreign Ministry warned that these procedures threatened to reintroduce “capitulations”—a practice abolished a few years prior.[39] Following Iranian pushback, the British agreed to a compromise: Allied drivers would be required to carry identification cards issued through Tehran’s City Police.[40] The broader legal question of who held jurisdiction over Allied offenses, remained unresolved.[41] The arrival of American and Polish forces, who were not signatories of the Tripartite Treaty, further exacerbated the issue.[42]

The aftermath of World War II, combined with the shifting geopolitical tensions between British and Soviet forces and Iran’s direct and indirect subjugation to these superpowers, precipitated a severe decline in the country’s internal politics, economy, and infrastructure. Failures  in transportation and rising living costs heightened public concerns about basic necessities such as food and security. As a result, Iran struggled with famine, particularly severe in the neutral zone. Iranians primarily held the United Kingdom accountable, while the British deflected responsibility to the Soviets, who controlled the northern regions and provided most of the food supplies. The Soviets, in turn, accused the British. It was later revealed that Soviet authorities had diverted food resources northward, exacerbating starvation among the Iranian population in the neutral zone.[43]

In December 1942, just a month after Millspaugh’s mission arrived, Tehran erupted in bread riots around the Parliament area. American Minister Louis G. Dreyfus reported that several thousand women and children participated in these demonstrations, which soon spread to Naderi, Lalehzar, and Istanbul Streets (see map 4).[44] A British war diary described the unrest as involving shop looting, window smashing, and widespread disorder. In response, foreign troops were ordered to avoid public appearances.[45] Although Tehran’s City Police and the Iranian military reportedly fired blanks, the unrest resulted in several casualties and one confirmed death. The bread riots underscored the severe socioeconomic distress that the Iranian population faced during wartime, revealing the critical scarcity of food and deepening public discontent.

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map 4.

Allied Troops’ Presence in the Lalehzar District

In addition to the ongoing conditions of occupation, this global macro-event brought about a significant transformation in the micropolitics of streets and neighborhoods, including Tulip Grove. The arrival of Allied troops and Polish refugees not only introduced new demographic complexities, but also altered the dynamics among residents. Affiliated with the occupying powers, Allied troops exhibited a sense of superiority that encroached on the urban fabric and contested its spaces, symbols, meanings, support systems, and power structures. The disruptive impact of the egregious misconduct, felonies, and crimes of Allied troops emerged as a significant challenge for the population.

Not only were civilians subjected to violations of their physical space, but even City Police and Iranian military personnel found themselves victimized. These encounters with Allied occupiers at the individual, personal, and local levels contributed to a collective experience of trauma, insecurity, and a pervasive sense of crisis. This situation, in turn, exacerbated tensions between the respective governments.[46]

A highly visible community in Tulip Grove, Allied military personnel emanated the image of a drunken foreign menace as they crowded in restaurants, cafés, and cinemas (fig. 9), roaming the streets, mingling in live music bars with “modernized” (mutajaddid) Tehran residents, and with Polish women who worked in these establishments.[47] The reason for such a pronounced foreign military presence in this area lay in the leisurely ambiance of the urban site, so significant that in April 1942 the British Air attaché made a formal request to the Iranian Ministry of Foreign Affairs for a daily bus service between Lalehzar Street and the Shahbaz Aircraft Factory at Dushan Tappah, near Tehran.[48]

The newly arrived American soldiers in Tehran were primarily lodged in various hotels, including those in the Tulip Grove area. Upon their arrival, they were cautioned against rowdy behavior due to alcohol consumption, yet such indiscretions nonetheless occurred. A June 16, 1942 report from Tehran details the behavior of Pan-American personnel in the city, noting incidents such as army vehicles left unattended on streets after curfew hours, causing disturbances at the entrance to Lalehzar Hotel, and sightings of a Firdawsi Hotel resident intoxicated at both Palace (fig. 10) and Firdawsi Hotels.[49]

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Figure 9. Two American troop members in front of a cinema in the Tulip Grove District. Source: Edward Lee Greenbird, Somewhere in Persia: Memoirs of a War Correspondent (Surreal Primitive, 2020). Courtesy Edward Lee Greenbird

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Figure 10. Palace Hotel, ca. 1920s. Source: Estādux

Among other crimes, Allied soldiers were frequently involved in spontaneous, disorganized robberies that seemed aimed at asserting dominance over the local population. In one instance, two armed British soldiers stole five books and assaulted a storeowner at the Conte Intersection on Lalehzar Street. Similarly, two intoxicated Soviet officers robbed a couple of shops on Shah Avenue, stealing notebooks and luggage.[50]

Allied troops also actively sought out women throughout the city, engaging in sexual harassment in public, frequenting brothels, and clashing with local men over women. One notable incident involved three British officers assaulting an Iranian carriage driver who refused their demand to procure women.[51] In another incident, a Soviet officer harassed two families on Firdawsi Street, leading to a violent altercation on December 30, 1942.[52] While injured locals would be taken to health clinics, the foreign assailants often fled the scene without providing identification. Because locals found it difficult to distinguish between British and American troops, diplomatic representatives sometimes blamed one another, denying their respective armies’ involvement. The Soviets, in an apparent attempt at deterrence, even executed one of their officers responsible for disruptions at the Firdawsi Hotel.[53]

In June 1942, in response to frequent misconduct by British and American soldiers, the Station Standing of the British Army in Tehran issued orders to reassert control. These included formal guidelines on saluting, attire, and interactions with Iranians, and declared “drunkenness” a court-martial offense in the Middle East.[54] Certain sites were designated off-limits, including Tehran’s red-light district and the Polish refugee camps, except for duty or on formal invitation. Meanwhile, Tulip Grove venues like Astoria, Continental, Miami, Firdawsi, and Palace, were approved destinations, likely through arrangements with City Police regarding curfew times and alcohol service.[55] The order also addressed venereal diseases, mandating that infections be reported and threatening loss of proficiency pay for those physically compromised by disease or alcohol. If a soldier refused to leave a venue after 11 p.m., the proprietor was required to notify the military police.

Anxieties over sexual relations between foreign troops and Iranians were further fueled by the popularity of partner dancing in Tulip Grove, aligned with the “Dance Craze” in Europe and the United Sates. A confidential June 1943 letter from the U.S. legation to the State Department reported that public dancing between troops and Iranian women prompted a major cleric to pressure the City Police to ban such Western-style social dancing in restaurants and hotels. When restaurant owners protested over potential financial losses, the cleric reportedly insisted, “We don’t want our Iranian women to dance with foreigners.”[56] A ban appears to have been implemented temporarily.[57] Given the relatively recent unveiling of 1936, these displays of Iranian women dancing with foreign men were framed in Islamic-leaning periodicals as threats to Iranian “honor.”[58]Among them were periodicals with Islamic inclinations that used the situation to consolidate themselves and their readers against foreign sources of obscenity.[59] In her memoir, Nesta Ramazani recounts how local women who socialized with foreign men were publicly shamed with insults such as “whore” and “traitor.”[60]

These incidents highlighted the challenges of managing troops’ sexual conduct in a country with distinct cultural and religious norms.[61] In an effort to contain such behavior, the British Army established a Welfare Committee for the Tehran Sub-Area on December 10, 1942. The committee aimed to “preserve the morale of the army by catering to the leisure time of the troops,” under the assumption that a structured welfare system would curb the troops’ inclination to frequent local cafés and restaurants. To further this goal, the British also assisted in entertaining American troops as a measure to contain their disruptive actions when interacting with Iranian society. The conduct of Allied forces—especially the British, known for their heavy drinking—became an unintended and damaging facet of their nations, undermining propaganda efforts and jeopardizing postwar interests. These actions were counterproductive to their significant investments in propaganda activities and their rivalries over the persuasion of Iranian public opinion.

 

Allied Propaganda and Cultural Geopolitics

With the Anglo-Soviet invasion of Iran in August 1941, the cultural landscape of the Lalehzar District underwent a drastic transformation. On the one hand, Axis influence had to be eradicated; on the other hand, Allied governments each pursued intensive propaganda campaigns to sway Iranian public opinion to their advantage. This strategic zone became the epicenter for these efforts.

The German Brown House was converted into the British Victory House, which housed the Public Relations Bureau, the propaganda arm of the British Ministry of Information within the War Office. From here, overt propaganda operations were launched. Aware of their unfavorable image due to two centuries of imperialist intervention and recent troop misconduct, the British produced newsreels and radio segments, notably featuring Miss Lambton at Radio Tehran.[62] The BBC Persian broadcasts from London complemented this “utopian” portrayal of a progressive Iran populated by responsible, modern citizens.[63]

In parallel, the British Council, active in Iran since 1935, adopted a more tacit strategy.[64] Attempting to replace the old image of British imperialism with a more favorable democratic one, the British Council claimed negative perceptions were products of Reza Shah and German propaganda. Through exclusive cultural programming targeting professionals, intellectuals, and artists, it sought to promote “Western standards of behavior” and gender norms for postwar influence.[65]

Recognizing Iranian esteem for the arts, the British Council drew inspiration from France’s continued cultural influence despite their military defeat.[66] They invested in British cultural promotion through concerts, English language classes, and the Anglo-Iranian Drama Society, aiming to ultimately replace French as Iran’s intellectual and educational lingua franca.[67] Formed in September 1943 and led by army officer and former actor Hilary Wontner, with amateur members from the British Council staff and club, this drama society insinuated itself into the already Soviet-dominated theatrical sphere of Tulip Grove by staging British dramatic literature, translating plays into Persian, and holding soirées.[68]

However, these British efforts proved ineffective. This is illustrated in a letter addressed to the British Area Commander of  the Tehran Sub-Area by an Iranian woman, Ms. Mahmoodi. She recounts an incident on Shahreza Avenue where she had to flee from two Indian soldiers armed with cold weapons who pursued her at night. She questions the substantial sums the British were spending on their propaganda activities to justify their war efforts as a pursuit of democracy and freedom, contrasting this with her praise for the discipline exhibited by Russian soldiers in urban areas.[69] Similarly, a report on Soviet propaganda by the American minister criticized British troops for their public drunkenness, which tarnished their nation’s image. Soviet troops, by contrast, were lauded as the most effective publicity agents for their country. The report described them as disciplined, serious, and amiable, noting their tendency of maintaining respectful distance from Iranians while still frequenting restaurants and shops.[70]

Undoubtedly, the Soviets’ broader and more inclusive propaganda strategy placed them at the forefront of influence. Socialism was also rapidly gaining appeal among both intellectuals and the underprivileged. A U.S. State Department report from January 1943 emphasized that the Soviets, through effective propaganda campaigns in the Northern Soviet zone, could quickly seize control of Azerbaijan if necessary.[71]

With the formation in 1941 of Iran’s Tudeh Party, the largest leftist organization at the time, the Soviets found a stand-in for social representation. Through Tudeh Party’s active recruitment of major Iranian literary and artistic figures, Soviet sympathy permeated Iran’s cultural sphere. Their presence was most prominent in the Tulip Grove neighborhood, where their headquarters, newspaper offices, and Youth Club stood across from the Soviet legation. While the Youth Club targeted a broader, blue-collar audience with theatrical and musical events, the Tudeh Party dominated the theatrical scene for “elite” audiences through the pioneering figure and core party member Abdul Hussayn Nushin.[72]A passionate advocate and speaker, Nushin directed two successful companies, the Firdawsi and Sa’di Theaters.

The Tudeh Party’s “performative politics,” however, extended beyond indoor venues. To reach a wider public, they moved into the streets of Tulip Grove, organizing well-choreographed demonstrations that could draw up to 12,000 participants.[73] According to my interviewee, veteran Tudeh Party member Muhammad Ali Amu’i, every detail, including demonstration routes, was well planned for maximum effect.[74] Events ranged from poetry readings by a ten-year-old to chanting slogans calling for the downfall of opposing ideologies, roadside debates persuading street sweepers and police to join the party, and even violent clashes between the police and Tudeh members that sometimes escalated into open gunfire.[75] The Iran-Soviet Friendship Association, with apparent ties to the VOKS, a Soviet agency promoting cultural and artistic relations with other countries, contributed to the conversion of Tulip Grove by showing free screenings of Russian films at Cinema Mayak, inviting the Soviet Circus in 1943, and broadcasting radio programs on Russian music and art on Radio Tehran.[76]

Although the United States was not an original signatory to the Treaty of Alliance, it nonetheless devised strategies to shape Iranian public opinion and rival Britain and the Soviet Union in securing postwar influence. This is evident from the first publicity memorandum of the American legation in Tehran, drafted on February 2, 1942, just two months after the U.S. entered the war. The memorandum proposed an “independent propaganda” system, reflecting the Americans’ proactive approach: “While many are grateful for the establishment of educational and medical facilities, the more important consideration is that we are trusted, and people are satisfied that we have no ambitions for political or economic control in the country; the same can’t be said of the position of the British and the Russians.”[77] This quotation reflects the high regard in which the United States was held.

A key aspect of the American propaganda strategy was to maintain a distance from the British, whose imperial image and troop misconduct had drawn widespread criticism.[78] The memorandum also acknowledged Iranians’ susceptibility to flattery, particularly references to “Persia’s contribution to the fields of art, poetry, and architecture.” This observation might have been influenced by art historian Arthur Pope (1881–1969) and his visits to Iran in preparation for his Survey of Persian Art. One of the United States’ most significant cultural projects in Tulip Grove was its infiltrating the Office of Theatre and Cinema at the Iranian Ministry of Interior through Nilla Cram Cook (1908–82), an American cultural attaché who led the Censorship Office until the end of the war. The U.S. also supplied cinemas with fiction films, reels, and equipment.[79] These efforts were well-projected in Tulip Grove: by March 1943, American movies dominated the cinemas, comprising about 80 percent of screenings, surpassing their Soviet, French, and German competitors, whose distribution had been discontinued since August 1941.[80]

Yet the unintended consequence of the United States’ public diplomacy initiatives was the growing backlash to the conspicuous presence of American troops. As the number of American servicemen in Tehran rose as part of the Persian Gulf Command led by General Donald Hilary Connolly (1886–1969), so did public complaints. By late 1943, the American force numbered to 28,000, surpassing the British, Soviet, and Polish contingents.[81]

This led to heightened criticism of American misconduct, eclipsing even the concerns about British and Soviet troops.[82] The absence of a formal U.S. commitment to the Treaty of Alliance further inflamed tensions, as the large American military presence was deemed illegal. Even though nominally under the British flag, the U.S. should have signed a separate agreement related to Article 4 of the treaty. This prompted the Prime Minister, the Majlis, and the press to criticize the situation and call on the American legation to formalize an agreement.

Between March and December of 1943, U.S. Minister Dreyfus consistently alerted the State Department to the decline in American prestige and the shift in Iranian attitudes from friendly to hostile. He criticized Connolly for failing to control the troops, for his utilitarian approach toward the natives, and for disregarding public sentiment. Dreyfus repeatedly urged the State Department to pressure the War Department to hold the Persian Gulf Command accountable,[83] warning that Connolly’s negligence was undermining postwar American plans, as declared in the new American Policy in Iran.[84]

In July 1943, Dreyfus warned the State Department that the press campaign in Tehran had “reached a state of vileness unequaled anywhere else in the world.”[85] He enclosed recent hostile newspaper clippings, including an editorial piece published in Iran-i Ma on July 13, 1943. The author details American soldiers’ behavior on Lalehzar Street, such as standing in a line and urinating in an alley, gambling with thugs, throwing fruit pits onto sidewalks, and French kissing a Polish girl in a café, ignoring local mores of decency. The piece ends:

Everybody has seen intoxicated American soldiers shouting and stopping the traffic as a result of one glass of ‘Arak’ [Iranian inexpensive vodka]. These soldiers swear to heaven and earth in their own, as well as in the Persian language. They annoy the passers-by, and the police do not dare to do anything with these stout and strong guests. The police keep silent! Do not ask me what is happening in this city’s half-dark northern streets. Things are taking place which cannot be said here.[86]

In a follow-up correspondence on the matter, Dreyfus shares another Iran-i Ma piece, published in August of the same year, entitled “What Is Happening on Istanbul Street.” It recounts how several American soldiers assaulted an Iranian man defending a woman before attacking a policeman. Criticizing Iran’s failure to defend the dignity its people, the article ends with the statement, “When are we going to show that we are still alive, and we can no longer stand it?”[87]

A similar incident occurred in Café Nowbakht in the Lalehzar area, where an Armenian Iranian man was stabbed for defending an Iranian woman assaulted by three American soldiers. In diplomatic exchanges, the Iranian side referred to the woman as a “lady (banu),” while the Americans called her “a prostitute,” though they pledged to prevent other such incidents.[88]

In another Iqdam article, two incidents from May and July 1943 are highlighted, both occurring at the Istanbul-Lalehzar intersection (map 5), involving intoxicated American soldiers who assaulted Iranian civilians.[89] The author raises a poignant concern:

The country that has supplied us with advisors possesses a formidable army in our land. They have occupied our country without a treaty. The members of their armed forces throw bottles of liquor on the heads of our people in broad daylight. Their advisors dominate us by force of such regulations; wait until we see the ignominy of these regulations after five or six days of their operation. Then, we will say that Iran went from one form of oppression to a thousand different kinds of coercion. We write and make statements and do not fear anyone.[90]

The initial response to Dreyfus’s warnings and demands was positive, as the troops were relocated to camps outside Tehran, including Camp Amirabad (fig. 11). However, this measure was insufficient. Dreyfus described the troops as untrained, undisciplined, and hastily deployed, and he strongly rebuked Connolly for

giving free rein to these unhappy soldiers in disciplinary matters since he has no interest in our position in this country and continues his policy of Iran to be damned: due to the reputation for drunkenness, rowdyism, and for a complete lack of respect for the sensibilities and customs of the local population. The cases of misconduct towards women are particularly offensive, and it is reported that the streets of Tehran are, particularly at the moment, places to be avoided by respected women.[91]

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.map 5

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Figure 11. Recreational area at Camp Amirabad. Source: The Library of Congress

An examination of Iranian documents further reveals a spectrum of sexual misconduct by the troops, escalating beyond instances of pinching and molestation to include acts of abduction and even rape. The case of ‘Uzra, a ten-year-old girl who lost her virginity as a result of being raped by an American soldier in the entryway of the office of newspaper Sida-yi in Tulip Grove, exemplifies this dire situation.[92] Dozens of cases, complaints, and letters to the Majlis, newspapers, and embassies indicate that the issue gradually became a national concern. While ordinary citizens began questioning the ability of Iranian authorities to protect citizens and safeguard national security, one of the most pressing concerns was that if the honor of Iranian women could not be protected in the capital, what would happen in the rest of the country?

This concern is exemplified in a letter from a woman named “Iran” to the parliament describing the forced abduction of ordinary najib Iranian women on Shahreza Street into British and American military trucks:

“What kind of country and homeland is this when a bunch of dishonorable aliens have besieged its women? We, the people, are truly desperate. Because of these rascals, we can’t even pass through Shahreza or Simetri. Why is no one listening to the people to do something? What should us poor women do in this situation?”[93]

The concern was followed up on by the Parliament and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which contacted the respective legations and received (empty) promises of cooperation upon receipt of specific information.[94] The abduction of women in the area was also portrayed in a fictional piece in the weekly Taraqqi, entitled “Hunting on Lalehzar Street: How Chic Women Are Being Stolen,” which depicts the rape of a newlywed woman by American soldiers after she naively accepts a ride in a Buick 41.[95] The story ends with a more general warning: “Every day dozens of Iranian women lose their chastity in that (metaphorical) bed.”

Due to ongoing criticisms and the decline of American prestige, policymakers in Washington began to reassess their approach to Iran. While superficially framed as a test case for the United Nations and the ability of its members, including Britain and the Soviet Union, to cooperate, the new policy also aimed to proactively secure U.S. postwar economic objectives and strategic interests.[96] It emphasized that “American national interests require closer attention with regards to Iran’s strategic geopolitical location, and the world, particularly as regards petroleum concessions, civil air bases, and increased commercial exchange.” It was also stressed that further American involvement in Iran would naturally present its citizens with a more realistic image of the United States, thereby mitigating concerns about public opinion.[97]

Meanwhile, as Dreyfus’s criticism of Connolly intensified, the War Department accused him of having a problematic personality and acting against American interests. Based on these accusations, they forcefully demanded that the State Department dismiss Dreyfus.[98] Anticipating shifts in American policy in 1944 and under pressure from the War Department, Dreyfus was dismissed shortly before the Tehran conference.

 

The Big Three

The meeting of the Big Three (Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt) also happened in Tulip Grove, between 28 November and 1 December 1943. This globally significant event came to the knowledge of Iranian authorities a few days before the meeting, perhaps due to security measures. Nevertheless, the original venue was abruptly changed from the British legation to the Soviet one when the Allies received rumors of a German plot orchestrated by German spy Franz Mayr for the assassination of Churchill, known as Operation Long Jump.[99]

Among the notable occurrences during the conference were the ceremonial presentation of the Sword of Stalingrad to Stalin by Churchill and the celebration of Churchill’s birthday.[100] Held discreetly away from public and media scrutiny, the conference unfolded as a lavish affair, starkly contrasting with the dire circumstances faced by many ordinary Iranians, who were grappling with starvation. Unlike Churchill and Roosevelt, who had limited contact with the Shah, Stalin was warmly received for a visit, raising anxieties among his Allied counterparts.

The departure of the Big Three was marked by a symbolic gesture, with three streets in the Tulip Grove area renamed Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt Streets in honor of the Allied leaders.[101] Following these events, diplomatic representation of Britain and the United States was elevated from legations to embassies.

Despite Dreyfus’s departure and the subsequent policy shift in 1944, the United States’s practice of disregarding Iranian demands did not endure. The mounting incidents involving American troops, the failures of American missions in Iran, and the negative propaganda and alleged sabotage by the Soviets and British against the Americans led to increased pressure from Iranian authorities. This pressure was particularly directed at the lack of legality of American troops in Iran without reaching a formal agreement, prompting the Majlis to question the Prime Minister on the matter.[102] The situation became increasingly tense for the State Department following a communication from the British Charge reporting his conversation with the Shah. This information is detailed in a telegram from U.S. chargé d’affaires Richard Ford to the State Department dated August 12, 1944. In this exchange, the Shah strongly criticized the United States and all things American, expressing the desire for both advisors and the Persian Gulf Command to leave Iran. He specifically mentioned the U.S. government’s “refusal” to sign an agreement formalizing its military presence.[103]

Another controversy followed in November 1944, when an American soldier assaulted an elderly man, Hossein Farzaneh, in his own home. This incident reignited public outrage around the issue of an “American agreement.” An editorial in the daily Ittila‘at, entitled “What Intoxicated Soldiers Do,” concluded with a clear statement: “If these actions are overlooked and not properly handled, no one will be secure in their own home.”[104] The dispute then reached the Russian official newspaper Izvestia, which expressed the Soviet stance: “The deployment of American troops in Iran without the authorization of a treaty constituted a violation of Iranian sovereignty.” This was not the first time the Soviets criticized the American presence in Iran.[105]

Combined pressures from the Majlis, the Shah, and the Soviets in response to the assault of Hossein Farzaneh renewed discussions within the American ranks. This prompted an internal State Department investigation to review the initial steps of drafting a potential agreement and identify the factors that ultimately led to the suspension of these efforts.[106] The inquiry aimed to assess whether a sincere attempt had been made to reach an agreement on troop jurisdiction.

After analyzing more than 3,000 pages of correspondence between the Iranian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and U.S. State Department, my findings reveal broader challenges faced by Iranians in urban areas like Tulip Grove. To begin, there is a noticeable disparity in the perception of jurisdiction between the Iranian and American sides regarding American troops in Iran. From February 1942 to January 1943, the Iranian authorities consistently demanded the trial of American troops in Iranian courts, according to Iranian law, and due to their ongoing criminal conduct. However, the American stance, communicated in January 1943, demanded independent jurisdiction for the criminal conduct of troops in American courts—an arrangement often interpreted as capitulation. In response, in February 1943, the Iranian Ministry of Justice reiterated the need to resolve the legal status of American troops.[107]

The State Department subsequently drafted a revised agreement, which, once again, faced rejection from an Iranian counsel. They considered it too lengthy, complicated, and inadequate in safeguarding Iranian jurisdiction rights and broader interests. Therefore, they proposed revisions to address these concerns.[108] At the same time, the Soviet legation contested the American draft, arguing that it undermined Soviet rights in their predominantly controlled northern zone.[109] After several months of negotiation, the proposal for an independent American treaty was ultimately rejected by the War Department, largely due to General Connolly’s opposition. Their rationale, based on the lack of inquiries from other countries regarding such an agreement, emphasized the need to avoid potential legal and financial liabilities for the United States, especially after the war. The final decision on the American side was to convey to Iranian, Soviet, and British authorities that the Persian Gulf Command was operating in Iran under the auspices of the British army.[110] In practice, Connolly’s actions did not fully align with the directives of the British Army Command, leading to tensions between their respective governments.[111] Later, under persistent pressure from Iran, the American side was compelled to adopt the British version of the agreement, particularly as stipulated in Article 4, to formulate a new document.[112] Amid mounting pressure, a draft was eventually presented to Connolly for his input. Surprisingly, he denied any prior knowledge of the Iranian government’s requests for such a treaty or of any British recommendations on the subject. Introducing a clause for the immunity of armed forces, he further emphasized that, as the commander of Persian Gulf Command and due to military necessity, he had already taken the “propriety of exercising the rights which might be conferred under a treaty of judicial immunity.”[113] Despite recognizing the sensitivity of the Iranian government regarding any actions that might be perceived as a violation of Iran’s sovereign rights, U.S. chargé Ford and his colleagues harbored doubts about the necessity of a formal agreement. This skepticism was particularly pronounced given the strengthened position of the United States following Iran’s recent adherence to the Declaration of the United Nations.[114] Therefore, by December 1944 no agreement was signed regarding the status of American troops.[115]

While the neglect of Iranians’ lawful demands regarding reaching an agreement appeared to stem from a conflict of opinion between the State Department and the War Department, General Patrick G. Hurley’s top-secret report to President Roosevelt reveals deeper divisions within the State Department itself. This division was between those upholding the ideology of the Atlantic Charter and the United Nations, and those with imperialist, monopolist, and exploitative agendas. It was the latter group who intentionally acted against the principles of the Atlantic Charter.[116]

This perspective is further elucidated in the memorandum by Paul H. Alling of the Office of Near East Affairs, discussing the revised American policy of August 1944. To advance significant American interests in Iran, he suggests tolerating criticisms and handling the situation with patience and tact, particularly with these “difficult, proud, stubborn, and strangely conceited people.” In essence, he recommends disregarding Iranian public opinion and prioritizing this shift toward a new American status.[117]

In the remaining months of the war, it was the U.S. embassy in Tehran that complained about Iranian expressions of anti-American hostility and the riotous behavior directed at U.S. personnel in Tehran. Acts such as throwing camel dung, mud, and watermelon rind at Army officials’ cars around Sepah Square, or group confrontations with the American soldiers or drivers immediately after car accidents, were noted.[118] In response to the American Embassy’s demand to further address Iranian civilians’ growing anti-American misconduct, Prime Minister Eqbal wrote, “Instead of lamenting for yourselves, you should be more considerate of the victims harmed by your troops’ careless actions and ensure that those incidents do not happen again.”[119]

Victory Celebrations

A celebration for pedestrians in Tulip Grove and the entire country would occur with the end of the war in Europe. Now, through rituals, symbols, and staged references that produced a “new form of geopolitical knowledge,” the occupied people of Iran were expected to celebrate the victory of the occupying superpowers as their own.[120] As a “victorious” Allied power, the Iranian state organized three days of nationwide celebrations that began with the Shah’s speech on the radio on May 15, followed by 101 cannon shots and street performances of martial music presented by the Ministry of War in major city centers. These areas were adorned with Iranian and Allied flags, hastily produced in local factories.[121]

Tulip Grove was the epicenter of these celebrations, with Sepah Square serving as the main stage for public spectatorship. The program featured a special radio show, a film produced by Iranian Radio, live percussive music (naqarah), and fireworks. Official celebrations involving diplomatic and military personalities and Iranian political elites were organized in soirées held at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Officer’s Club.[122] The Soviets widely shared the joy of the war ending, including in Tulip Grove and rural regions where VOKS held offices were active. Another celebration came with the departure of Allied forces.[123]

Cold War in Tulip Grove

Following the conclusion of the war, the conflicts among the Allies, particularly between the Soviet Union and the United States, became increasingly evident. In response, the new ambassador, George Allan, sought funding from the U.S. State Department to pursue publicity programs in Iran. His letter dated September 30, 1946 states, “Iran is one of the outstanding countries where our cultural and press activities can really be effective. Eastern European countries need our attention, but they are already behind the Iron Curtain. . . . The curtain may fall here, but we may prevent a complete blackout.”[124] This aligned with the fact that despite initial assurances, the Soviet Union postponed the withdrawal of its troops and redirected them to bolster the newly established People’s Democratic Republic of Azerbaijan—a development already foreseen by an American mission in 1943.[125] This decision sparked a significant diplomatic controversy, which the United States resolved by supporting the Iranian cause at the United Nations. This diplomatic maneuver secured a significant victory for the United States in the Cold War, simultaneously aiding in the restoration of the tarnished American image in Iranian public opinion.

The improved perception of the U.S. among Iranians prompted American policymakers to strategically “capitalize on” and “take advantage of” this newfound position as a tactic to gain broader support for U.S. foreign policy within Iranian society. The proposed information and cultural initiatives involved advocating for democratic processes and highlighting the potential for economic development in Iran.[126]  This branding of democracy bore the marks of British propaganda previously deployed during the war. It did not take long, however, for the United States to join forces with Britain in orchestrating the 1953 coup d’état against the popular Prime Minister, Mohammad Mosaddegh. Subsequently, the instrumental and imperialist nature of American policy overshadowed its idealistic self-image.

Between 1946 and 1953, the shifting dynamics between the United States and Soviet Union was materialistically reproduced in Tulip Grove as it became a Cold War battleground. On one side, there were constant attacks on Tudeh-affiliated offices and newspapers, while on the other side, the party struggled with continued demonstrations (fig. 12). These events provided new spaces for the public performance of anti-American sentiment, including the burning of Uncle Sam’s effigies and signs reading, “Yankee go home!” (fig. 13). The culmination of this Cold War confrontation in Tulip Grove unfolded during the coup, marked by destructive actions taken against politically symbolic sites, such as those associated with the Tudeh party and Mosaddegh supporters, the Prime Minister’s residence, as well as the British Petroleum office (fig. 14).

 

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Figure 12. Tudeh demonstration at Khanah’i Sulh (House of Peace) on Firdawsi Street, ca. 1950–51. Source: Library of Congress

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Figure 13. Leftist Anti-American Expression, ca. 1950–53. Source: Library of Congress

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Figure 14. Burning a leftist newsstand during the coup. Source: Library of Congress

The striking images of urban destruction, the highly publicized trial of Mosaddegh captured by foreign journalists’ cameras, as well as the mass imprisonment of political activists and the ensuing repression left deep scars on Iran’s collective memory. They also distorted dominant historical narratives that often elevate the coup as the primary cause of Iranian grievances against the United States. Such fixation on the 1953 coup has resulted in a gap in deeper studies of the repercussions of the World War II occupation of Iran on the livelihoods of ordinary citizens. It also fails to recognize the increasing resentment toward the occupiers, including the United States. Last, it has rendered the agency of Iranian nonstate actors and governmental authorities, who despite common assumptions remained steadfast in their insistence on Iran’s sovereignty and the integrity and rights of its citizens, invisible. Examining urban landscapes with a critical perspective, where international, national, and everyday tensions intersect, helps to uncover a more nuanced version of history. Perhaps a vigilant observer at the corner of Istanbul and Lalehzar Streets would have seen the hostage crisis coming.

 

I extend my sincere appreciation to Dr. Ali Tatari for his invaluable support in gathering archival documents in Iran, to Dr. Mohamad-Kazem Sajjadpour for his valuable encouragement, and to Mohammad Gholamnejad for his assistance in designing original maps for this article.

[1] Feminist and critical urban geopolitics examines how power, conflict, and security are experienced and contested in everyday urban life, especially by marginalized groups. It challenges state-centric and abstract geopolitical frameworks by foregrounding embodied, emotional, and place-based experiences, emphasizing how global processes shape and are shaped by the micropolitics of city streets, homes, and bodies. This approach highlights the intersections of gender, race, class, and affect in urban spaces, offering alternative ways to understand and resist geopolitical power

[2]Vanessa A. Massaro and Jill Williams, “Feminist Geopolitics.” Geography Compass 7, no. 8 (2014): 567–77, 567.

[3]The concept borrowed from Amy Mills, “The Cultural Geopolitics of Ethnic Nationalism: Turkish Urbanism in Occupied Istanbul (1918–1923),” Annals of the American Association of Geographers 107, no. 5 (2017): 1179–93, 1181.

[4]The name “Lalehzar” refers to the street’s origins as a Tulip Garden.

[5]Ida Meftahi, Gender and Dance in Modern Iran: Biopolitics on Stage (Routledge Iranian Studies Series, 2016), 20–50.

[6]Department of Documents and History of Diplomacy of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Iran (Estādux): SH1313 K27 P1, S.41–44, Az Idarah’i Sivvum Siyassi, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharaijah bah Sifarat-Shahanshahi-yi Landan [Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs to Imperial Embassy of London (British Legation Legation)], 13 Isfand 1313/ 4 March 1935; Estādux: SH1313 K27 P29, p. 1, Az Idarah’i Hissabdari, Shahrdari-yi Tehran bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Finance Department, Tehran Municipality to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 14 Bahman 1313/ 3 February 1935.

[7]C. Van. H. Egert, Charge D’affaires A. I., American Legation in Tehran, to Secretary of State, Washington, February 4, 1938, no. 1226, 840.2, Foreign Service Posts of the Department of State, Tehran Embassy, Record Group (RG) 84, National Archives at College Park, College Park, MD (hereafter NACP).

[8]Ida Meftahi, “Enlacer l’ajnabi (l’étranger): Une histoire politique de la danse de couple à Téhéran, 1920–1950 [Intimate Embraces with Ajnabi (Strangers): A Political History of Partner Dancing in Tehran, 1920–1950], Clio, Femmes, Genre, Histoire 46, no. 2 (2018): 111–33.

[9]The National Archives of the UK (hereafter TNA): BW49/1/PER/2/1, From Mr. Gass of Anglo-Iranian Oil Company to Mr. Baggallay, British Council, London, “Germans in Iran,” 2 February 1940.

[10]“Survey of Motion Picture Conditions—Iran,” James S. Moose, Jr., Tehran, January 26, 1940; box 36, vol. 840.6, 1940:800.1-851.6, p. 5, RG 84, NACP.

[11]Information provided by the German scholar Roman Siebertz.

[12]TNA: E 842/2/34, From Sir. Bullard, Tehran to Mr. Baggallay, “Miss Lambton’s Work in Iran,” pp. 21, 90; TNA: E1036/36/34, From Mr. Radcliffe to Mr. Lockhart, “Ministry of information plan for propaganda in Persia,” 11 February 1942, p. 29. For a comprehensive exploration of business and economic interactions, including the involvement of German business firms and experts hired for projects such as hospitals and railways, see Jennifer Jenkins, “Iran in the Nazi New Order, 1933–1941,” Iranian Studies 49, no. 5 (2016): 726–51, pp. 37–38.

[13]TNA: E 294, From Military Attaché in Tehran to the War Office, July 1941.; TNA: E1965/48/34, “From Sir R. Bullard in Tehran Telegram no. 122,” 10 May 1940; TNA: E2032/48/34, “From Sir R. Bullard in Tehran Telegram no. 136,” 1 May 1940.

[14]TNA: E 1695/6/54, From Sir Bullard, Tehran, “German-Iranian and Soviet-Iranian Relations,” 30 March 1940.

[15]TNA: E 1545/621/34, From Sir Bullard, Tehran, “Iranian Foreign Relations,” 27 March 1940.

[16] Despatch no. 17, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 20, 1941; Box 43, Vol. 820.2, 1941:802.1-848, p. 1, RG 84, NACP.

[17]Youssef H. Aboul-Enein and Basil H. Aboul-Enein,  The Secret War for the Middle East: The Influence of Axis and Allied Intelligence Operations during World War II (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2013), 107; TNA: E 842/2/34, From Sir. Bullard, Tehran to Mr. Baggallay, “Miss Lambton’s work in Iran”, p. 90.

[18]Treaty of Alliance, U.K., -U.S.S.R., -Iran, January 29, 1942, Class 701, pp. 54–59, General Records of the Department of State, RG 59, NACP.

[19]For a comprehensive study of the Persian Gulf Command, see Ashley Jackson, Persian Gulf Command: A History of the Second World War in Iran and Iraq (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018).

[20]“Ministry of Finance and Connected Organizations (American),” Shahrivar 1323/ September 1944.

[21]The Atlantic Charter, introduced during World War II in August 1941 by the United States and Great Britain, promoted postwar principles like self-determination, trade liberalization, and disarmament, gaining support from twenty-six Allied nations by January 1942 and laying the groundwork for the United Nations’ formation in 1945.

[22]Louis G. Dreyfus, Jr., United States Minister to Iran, to United States Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9-711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, pp. 1–6, Decimal File, 1940–44 (Decimal 1940–44), General Records of the Department of State, RG 59, NACP); “American Policy in Iran,” Advisor of Political Relations, U.S. Department of State, January 23, 1943, enclosed in Dispatch No. 202 from Sumner Welles, Under Secretary of State, to Dreyfus, Washington, DC, March 13, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/91, pp. 2–8, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[23]Estādux: SH1320 K74 P83, p.80, Az Ra’is-i Majlis-i Shawra-yi Milli bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharaijah [From Speaker of National Parliament to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 2 Mihr 1320/ 23 September 1941.

[24]Estādux: SH1320 K74 P83.3, p. 22, “Guzarish,” Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [“Report”, Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 28 Day 1320/ 22 December 1941.

[25]Among them were Shah’s brother-in-law and Ayatullah Kashani, the leading figure in the 1953 Coup; Estādux, SH1320 K74 P83.3, p. 22,Guzarish, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah (Report, Ministry of Foreign Affairs), 28 Day 1320/ 22 December 1941. For more information, see Shaul Bakhash, “The ‘Officers Plot’: The German Fifth Column during the Anglo-Soviet Occupation of Iran in the Second World War,” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 50, no. 2 (2023): 262–80.

[26]TNA: E 1053/621/34, from Sir Bullard, 8 March 1940, “Relations Between Polish Representative and Iranian Government.”; the document describes the controversy over the Polish representative’s invitation to Shah’s birthday.

[27]Estādux: SH1321 K69 P3, p. 1, Az Vizarat-i Dara’i bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Ministry of Finance to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 20 Isfand 1320/ 20 February 1942.

[28]Estādux: SH1321 K69 P3, p. 1, Az Vizarat-i Dara’i bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Ministry of Finance to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 20 Isfand 1320/ 20 February 1942; Estādux: SH1320 K74 P108, p. 4, Az Zilli, Vizarat-i Dara’i bah Khal‘atbari, Idarah’i Sivvum-i Siyassi,Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Zilli, Ministry of Finance to Mr. Khal‘atbari, Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs],  29 Bahman 1320/ 21 January 1942.

[29]Address mentioned in BW49/1/GB 48/203: Summary of British Council Activities for Period 1 October to 20 November 1943, p. 56–58.

[30]“Survey of Motion Picture Conditions in Iran,” John A. Calhoun, U.S. Vice Consul to Iran, Tehran, March 26, 1943, box 4, vol. 840.6, 1943:801–885.7, p. 2, RG 84, NACP.

[31]Estādux: SH1320 K41 P47, p. 7, Az Sartip Qadr, Idarah’i Intizamat, Vizarat-i Kishvar bah Timsar Sipahbud, Vizarat-i Kishvar [ From Brigadier Qadr, Security Office, Ministry of State to General Sipahbud, Ministry of State], 4 Bahman 1320/ 24 January 1942; Estādux: SH1320 K41 P47, p. 6, Guzarish-i Kalantari-yi 3, Idarah’i Siyassi, Vizarat-i Kishvar, [Report from Police Station no. 3, Political Department, Ministry of State], 14 Bahman 1320/ 3 February 1942.

[32]Estādux: SH1320 K41 P47, p. 1, From Legation of Sweden to Soheily, Ministry of Foreign affairs, 25 January 1942.

[33]Estādux: SH1320 K41 P47, p8, Az Vazir-i Kishvar, Idarah’i Intizamat, Viszarat-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Minister of State to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 5 Bahman 1320/ 25 January 1942.

[34]Estādux: SH1320 K41 P29, p. 36, Az Dadsitan-i Tehran, Vizarat-i Dadgutari bah Idarah’i Sivvum-i Siyassi, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah[From Public Prosecutor of Tehran, Ministry of Justice to Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 10 Isfand 1320/ 20 February 1942.

[35]Estādux: SH1320 K41 P29, p. 24, Az Vazir-i Dadgustari, Idarah’i Huquqi, Vizarat-i Dadgustari bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Minister of Justice, Legal Department, Ministry of Justice to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 30 Azar 1320/ 22 November 1941.

[36]Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 55, From British Legation to Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 20 Murdad 1321/ 11 August 1942.

[37]Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 17, From British Legation in Tehran to Iranian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 4 December 1942, 13 Azar 1321/ 4 December 1942; Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, pp. 20–21, Az Idarah’i Sivvum-i Siyassi, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah bah Idarah’i Kull-i Shahrbani [From the Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs to Headquarters of City Police] 12 Azar 1321/ 3 December 1942; Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 53, Az Nakhust Vazir bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Prime Minister to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 14 Shahrivar 1321/ 5 September 1942.

[38]Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 19, From British Legation in Tehran to Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 13 Azar1321/ 4 December 1942; Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 38, From British Legation to Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 21 Mihr 1321/ 13 October 1942.

[39]Estādux: SH132 K39 P360, pp. 12–13, Az Muhamad Ali Humayun-Jah, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah bah Vizarat-i Jang [From Muhamad Ali Humayun-Jah, Ministry of Foreign Affairs to Ministry of War], 30 Azar 21/ 22 November 1942; Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 1, Az Muhamad Ali Humayun-Jah, Mu‘avin-i Kull-i Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah bah Vizarat-i Dadgustari [From Muhamad Ali Humayun-Jah, Deputy to the Minister of Foreign Affairs to Ministry of Justice], 22 Day 1321/ 12 January 1943

[40]Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 4, Az Vizarat-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Ministry of State to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 9 Day 1321/ 30 December 1942.

[41]Estādux: SH1322 K39 P19, p. 13, Az Khushbin, Mudir-i Kulli-i Qaza’i, Vizarat-i Dadgustari to Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Khushbin, Legal Director, Ministry of Justice to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 14 Shahrivar 1322/ 6 September 1943.

[42]Estādux: SH1321 K39 P360, p. 5, “Yaddasht,” Az Idarah’i Sivvum-i Siyassi, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah Bah Sifarat-i Amrika, Lahistan va Shawravi [“Note,” From Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs to Embassies of United States, Poland, and USSR], 13 Day 1321/ 3 January 1943.

[43]Louis G. Dreyfus, Jr., United States Minister to Iran, to Cordell Hull, United States Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box no. 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, p. 3, Decimal File, 1940–44, General Records of the Department of State, RG 59, NACP; “Memorandum of Conversation between Secretary of Legation Bertel E. Kuniholm and Allah Yar Saleh, Iranian Minister of Finance,” April 5, 1943, enclosed in letter from Louis G. Dreyfus, Jr., U.S. Minister to Iran, to Cordell Hull, U.S. Secretary of State, Tehran, April 22, 1943, box no. 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/96, p. 2, Decimal File 1940–44, General Records of the Department of State, RG 59, NACP.

[44]Dreyfus believed that the bread riots were orchestrated at the instigation of the Shah for domestic political reasons and were planned and funded: Jackson, Persian Gulf Command, 248.

[45]TNA: WO 169/7696, War Diary of Tehran Sub Area from December 1942. All British army units were instructed to remain confined between the 8 and 11 December 1942.

[46]Estādux: Sh1321 K27 P46, 1: Az Sartip I‘timad Muqaddam, Idarah’i Kull-i Shahrbai, Vizarat-i Kishvar, bah Vizara-i Umur-i Kharijah, [From Brigadier General I‘timad Muqaddam, Head of City Police to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 27 Bahman 1321/ 16 February 1943.

[47]For further details regarding the engagement of Polish refugees in the Lalehzar scene, see Lior Sternfeld, “‘Poland Is Not Lost While We Still Live’: The Making of Polish Iran, 1941–45,” Jewish Social Studies: History, Culture, Society 23, no. 3 (2018): 101–27, 112.

[48]Estādux: SH1321 K17 P10, p. 7, “No. 15,” British Legation Tehran to Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 3 Urdibihisht 1321/ 23 April 1942; Estādux: SH1321 K17 P10, p. 2, “No. 22,” British Legation, Tehran, 10 May 1942; Estādux: SH1321 K17 P10, p. 4, “Yaddasht” Az Idarah’i Sivvum-i Siyassi, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah bah Sifarat-i Ingilis [“Note,” From Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs to British Legation], 16 Urdibihisht 1321/ 6 May 1942.

[49]Estādux: SH1322 K39 P166, p. 9, From British Legation in Tehran to Iranian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 19 Tir 1322/ 11 July 1943; Estādux: SH1322 K39 P166, p. 12, From the Legation of the United States of America to Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Tehran, 13 August 1943.

[50]Estādux: SH1321 K39 P583, p. 1, Az Idarah’i Siyassi-i Vizarat-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Political Department, Ministry of State to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 1 Bahaman 1321/ 21 January 1943; Estādux: SH1321 K39 P495, p. 1, Az Sarpas Radsar, Ra’is-i Idarah’i Kull-i Shahrbani, Vizarat-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Radsar, Headquarters of the City Police, Ministry of State to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 29 Mihr 1321/ 23 September 1942.; Estādux: SH1321 K39 P543, p. 2, Az Sarpas Radsar, Ra’is-i Idarah’i Kull-i Shahrbani bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From Brigadier Radsar, Headquarters of City Police to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 22 Azar 1321/ 22 November 1942.

[51]Estādux: SH1322 K39 P166, p. 1, Az Sartip I‘timad Muqaddam, Idarh’s Kull-i Shahrbani, Vizarat-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah[From Brigadier I‘timad Muqaddam, Headquarters of the City Police, Ministry of State to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 13 Urdibihisht 1322/ 4 May 1943.

[52]Estādux: SH1322 K39 P166, p. 2, Az Sartip I‘timad Muqaddam, Idarah’i Kull-i Shahrbani, Vizarat-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [Brigadier I‘timad Muqaddam, Headquarters of the City Police, Ministry of State to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 15 Farvardin 1322/ 5 April 1943.

[53]Dispatch no. 480, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; SC-SD-89: Murray to Berle and Welles, Washington, DC, April 2, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/102, p. 1, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[54]Station Standing Orders for Military Personnel in Tehran, 6 June 1942, Box 53, vol. 822, 1942:820.2–851, Foreign Service Posts of the Department of State, Tehran Embassy, RG 84, NACP.

[55]Station Standing Orders, 1. Depending on the rankings assigned to the venues; for instance, Astoria, Continental, Miami, Firdawsi, and Palace were first ranked, while Bosphore, Gharanfool, and Jale were identified second.

[56]Bertel Kuniholm, U.S. legation, to  the Department of State,  7 June 1943;  Confidential volume, NACP.

[57]Dispatch No. 592, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, June 26, 1943, box 3734, vol. 811.22/358, p. 1, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[58]H. Karbasi, “Salun-i raqs, kilass-i dars,” Parcham-i Islam, 2 Urdibihisht 1324/ 22 April 1945, 2, 4 quote on 2; Jalal Ni’matullahi, “Tihran miraqsad,” Kaviyan, 22 Day 1329/ 12 January 1951), 6–7, 22, quote on 6.

[59]Meftahi, Gender and Dance, 137–151; Meftahi, “Enlacer l’ajnabi (l’étranger)”: Une histoire politique de la danse de couple à Téhéran, 1920–1950 [Intimate Embraces with Ajnabi (Strangers): A Political History of Partner Dancing in Tehran, 1920–1950], Clio, Femmes, Genre, Histoire 46, no. 2 (2018): 111–33.

[60]Nesta Ramazani, The Dance of the Rose and the Nightingale (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2002), 160–61. An attitude that is also reflected in an article in the magazine Taraqqi, which described such women as “cheaper” than “prostitutes of Monte Carlo.” “Sarbazan-i amrika’i az iran chih mibarand?” [What Souvenirs Will American Soldiers Take from Iran?], Taraqqi 156, 17 Day 1324/8 January 1945, p. 16.

[61]Station Standing Orders for Military Personnel in Tehran, 6 June 1942, box 53, vol. 822, 1942:820.2–851, Foreign Service Posts of the Department of State, Tehran Embassy, RG 84, NACP.

[62]TNA: E 2601/6/34, From British Council-General (Tabriz) to Eastern Department, 5 May 1943: British Propaganda in Azerbaijan. Address mentioned in BW49/1/GB 48/203: Summary of British Council Activities for Period 1 October to 20 November 1943, p. 56–58.

[63]TNA: E 4086, Confidential June 1943: “Iran: Policy and Propaganda,” pp. 1-6, p. 6.

[64]Louis G. Dreyfus Jr., envoy extraordinaire of the American Legation in Tehran, to Secretary of State, Washington, 28 March 1942, box 53, vol. 820.02, 1942:820.2–851, p. 4, Foreign Service Posts of the Department of State, Tehran Embassy, RG 84, NACP.

[65]TNA: BW49/1/PER/2/1, From British Council Representative in Persia to R. Knowles, British Council, London, 10 November 1943, p. 59.

[66]TNA: BW 49/1/PER/8/2, From C. H. Owen, British Council Tehran to R. Knowles, British Council, London, 30 May 1945: A.P.I. Report on April. p. 2.

[67]TNA: BW 49/1/ PER/8/2, From C. H. Owen, British Council, Tehran to Martin Blake, British Council London, 28 April 1944: Plan for Iran: Policy and Development Proposal,  pp. 8, 10.

[68] TNA: BW 49/3/PER/2/1/1, From N. N. Tett, Anglo-Persian Institute Tehran to the British Council London, 15 November 1944: Anglo-Iranian Dramatic Society October Report, p. 111; TNA: BW 49/3, From J. S. Bigley, British Council, Tehran to the Martin Blake, British Council London, 1 June 1944: Extract from the Annual Report 1943/44, p. 133; TNA: BW 49/3, From Hilary Wontrer, Anglo-Iranian Dramatic Society to, British Council, London, 20 April 1944: Drama in Iran, pp. 3, 138.

[69]Miss M. Mahmoudi, Iranian citizen, to the Tehran Area Commander, Tehran, June 20, 1943, enclosed in Dispatch no. 592, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, June 26, 1943, box 3734, vol. 811.22/358, p. 6.

[70]“Soviet Propaganda in Iran,” U.S. Department of State, Tehran, 1942, box 53, vol. 820.02, 1942:820.2–851, p. 5, RG 84, NACP.

[71]“American Policy in Iran,” Advisor of Political Relations, U.S. Department of State, 23 January 1943, enclosed in Dispatch no. 202 from Welles to Dreyfus, Washington, DC, 13 March 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/91, pp. 2–3, Decimal  1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[72]With the persecution of the Left during the coup d’état of 1953, the Sa‘di Theater was burned along with other leftist institutions, and Nushin fled to the Soviet Union after several years of imprisonment, never to be allowed to return to Iran. As I extensively discuss in my first book, Nushin’s mythic presence and tragic absence overshadow narratives of Iranian theater and Tulip Grove due to the (ingrained) leftist hegemony within Iranian historiography. For more information on Nushin and the influence of the left on performing arts see , Meftahi, Gender and Dance, 49–71; Saeed Talajooy, “The Impact of Soviet Contact on Iranian Theatre: Abdolhossein Nushin and the Tudeh Party,” in Iranian-Russian Encounters: Empires and Revolutions since 1800, edited by Stephanie Cronin (Hoboken, NJ: Taylor and Francis, 2012), 337–59.

[73]Sazman-i Asnad va Kitabkhanah’i Milli-yi Iran (National Archives and Library of Iran) SAKMA, 290-5872, p. 7, Az Idarah’i Kull-i Shahrdari-ha bah Idarah’i Hissabdari-yi Vizarat-i Kishvar [From the Office of the Headquarters of Municipalities to Finance Department of  Ministry of State], 30 Azar 1326/ 22 December 1947; SAKMA, 293-2099, p. 29, “Guzarish,” Sarpas Sayf, Ra’is-i Shahrbani-yi Kull-i Kishvar, Vizarat-i Kishvar [“Report,” Brigadier Sayf, Director of Headquarters of City Police, Ministry of State], 11 Shahrivar 1323/ 2 September 1944;SAKMA, 293-2099, p. 31 “Guzarish,” Kalantari-yi ,3, Shahrbani-i Kull-i Kishvar, Vizarat-i Kishvar [“Report,” Police Station 3,  Headquarters of City Police, Ministry of State], 23 Shahrivar 1324/ 14 September 1945.

[74]Muhammad Ali Amu’i, interview with the author, Tehran, August 2017. Most of these demonstrations started on Firdawsi Avenue and crossed right to Lalehzar Street, a hangout at the time, and then moved south toward Sepah Square and from there toward the Parliament building.

[75]SAKMA, 293-2099. pp. 8-12, “ Guzarish,” Shahrbani-i Kull-i Kishvar, Vizarat-i Kishvar [“Report,” Headquarters of City Police, Ministry of State], 6 Aban 1323/ 28 October 1944

[76]This organization recruited key Iranian theatrical and musical figures to reinforce Soviet values in arts and culture further. See Meftahi,Gender and Dance in Modern Iran. Address mentioned in BW49/1/GB 48/203: Summary of British Council Activities for Period 1 October to 20 November 1943, pp. 56–58.

[77]Fritzaln, Secretary, American Legation in Tehran, to Frank Mauran, Jr., The Office of the Coordinator of Information, Secretary of State, Washington, 2 February 1942, box 53, vol. 820.02, 1942:820.2–851, p. 3, Foreign Service Posts of the Department of State, Tehran Embassy, RG 84, NACP.

[78]Dispatch no. 195, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, February 3, 1942, box 53, vol. 820.2, 1942:820.2–851, RG 84, NACP.

[79]As an aid, Cook was also an important figure in developing the national ballet of Iran through her protegees Aida Akhundzadeh and Nejad Ahmadzadeh in the 1950s.

[80]“Survey of Motion Picture Conditions in Iran,” John A. Calhoun, U.S. Vice Consul to Iran, Tehran, March 26, 1943, box 4, vol. 840.6, 1943:801–885.7, p. 1, RG 84, NACP; “Survey of Motion Picture Conditions – Iran,” James S. Moose, Jr., U.S. Consul to Iran, Tehran, January 26, 1940, box 36, vol. 840.6, 1940:800.1–851.6, p. 5, RG 84, NACP. Hamid Naficy  provides a comprehensive overview of American cinema activities during the wartime period; see Hamid Naficy, A Social History of Iranian Cinema: Volume 2, the Industrializing Years, 1941–1978(Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011). Additionally, Golbarg Rekabtalaei offers further insights into this subject matter; see Golbarg Rekabtalaei, Iranian Cosmopolitanism: A Cinematic History (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2021).

[81]Memorandum of Conversation between John J. McCloy, Assistant Secretary of War, Wallace Murray, Director of the Office of Near Eastern and African Affairs, and George V. Allen, Chief of the Middle Eastern Affairs Division on the Subject of Broadening Directives of General Connolly, January 29, 1944, vol. 822, p. 1, RG 59, NACP.

[82]Dispatch no. 480, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[83]Dispatch no. 480, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, pp. 1–6, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[84]Dispatch no. 480, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, Box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; SC-SD-53/54: Dispatch no. 480, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, Box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, pp. 1–2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Murray to Berle and Welles, Washington, DC, April 2, 1943, Box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/102, p. 1, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[85]Dispatch no. 627, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, July 22, 1943, box 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/345, p. 1, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[86]“Translation of Editorial Appearing in Iran-E-Ma (Our Iran),” July 13, 1943, enclosed in Dispatch no. 627, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, July 22, 1943, box 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/345, p. 3, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[87]“Article by Seif Mozayyeni in Iran-E-Ma,” August 19, 1943, enclosed in Dispatch no. 671, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, September 13, 1943, box 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/351, p. 8, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[88]Estādux: SH1322 K39 P814, p. 1, Az Pasyar Sayf to Ra’is-i Shahrbani-i Kull-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Kishvar [From General Sayf, Director of the Headquarters of the City Police to Ministry of State], 13 Azar 1322/ 5 December 1943.

[89]Estādux: SH1322 K39 P163, p. 5, “Yaddasht,” Idarah’i Sivvum-i Siyassi, Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [“Note,” Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 19 Urdibihisht 1322/ 10 May 1943; Estādux: SH1322 K39 P163, p. 1, Az Sartip I‘timad Muqaddam, Ra’is-i Idarah’I Kull-i Sharibani, Vizarat-i Kishvar bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From General I‘timad Muqaddam, Director of the Headquarters of City Police, Ministry of State to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 14 Urdibihisht 1322/ 5 May 1943; Estādux: SH1322 K39 P163, p. 8, From U.S. Legation to Imperial Ministry for Foreign Affairs, 22 June 1943. Estādux: SH1322 K39 P549, p. 7, Az Idarah’i Sivvum-i Siyassi, Vizarat-i Kharijah bah  Shahrbani-yi Kull-i Kishvar [From Third Political Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs to Headquarters of the City Police, Ministry of State], 24 Aban 1322/ 16 November 1943; Estādux: SH1322 K39 P549, p. 6, Legation of United States of America to Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 11 November 1943; Dispatch no. 592, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, June 26, 1943, box 3734, vol. 811.22/358, p. 1, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[90]Iqdam, 23 June 1943, quoted in Dispatch no. 592, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, June 26, 1943, box 3734, vol. 811.22/358, p. 1, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[91]Dispatch no. 480, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, p. 2; Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Dispatch no. 592, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, June 26, 1943, box 3734, vol. 811.22/358, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; “Correspondence with General Connolly on Subject of Conduct of American Forces in Iran,” July 5, 1943, enclosed in Dispatch no. 612, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, July 12, 1943, box 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/338, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Miss M. Mahmoudi, Iranian citizen, to the Tehran Area Commander, Tehran, June 20, 1943, enclosed in Dispatch no. 592, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, June 26, 1943, box 3734, vol. 811.22/358, p. 6, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Dispatch no. 671, Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, September 13, 1943, Box 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/351, p. 1, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[92]Estādux: SH1322 K39 P711, p. 4, Guzarish, Az Pasyar Yik Sayf bah Vizarat-i Kharijah [Report, from Pasyar Sayf, Ministry of State, to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 9 Aban 1322/ 1 November 1943.

[93]Estādux: SH1323 K39 P476, p. 2, Runivisht Namah’i Banu Iran, Majlis [Copy of the Letter of Lady Iran from Tehran, Majlis], 25 Tir 1323/ 16 July 1944.

[94]Estādux: SH1323 K39 P476, p. 7, From British Embassy, Tehran to Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 11 Mihr 1323/ 3 October 1944; Estādux: SH1323 K39 P476, p. 5, From Embassy of the United States of America to Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 23 October 1944.

[95]“Shikar dar khiaban-i Lalehzar, khanum-ha-yi shik ra chigunah mirubayand” [Hunting on Lalehzar Street, how chic women are being stolen], Taraqqi 8, no. 21 Aban 1324/ 11 November 1945, 18.

[96]Alling to Secretary of State, August 5, 1944, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/8–544, pp. 1–6, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[97]“United States Policy Toward Iran, December 7, 1941 to December 7, 1944: Annex F: Specific American Objectives in Iran,” United States Department of War, November 23, 1944, Vol. 710, p. 8, RG 59, NACP.

[98]Alling to Secretary of State, August 5, 1944, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/8-544, pp. 1–6, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Memorandum of Conversation between McCloy, Murray, and Allen, January 29, 1944, box 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/1-2944, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Allen to Richard Ford, U.S. Charge d’Affaires to Iran, February 9, 1944, vol. 822, p. 8, RG 59, NACP.

[99]For more on Operation Long Jump see Mason B. Webb, “Operation Long Jump: The Nazi Assassination Attempt on the ‘Big Three,’” Warfare History Network, Summer 2011, https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/article/operation-long-jump-the-nazi-assassination-attempt-on-the-big-three/.

[100]Estādux: SH1323 K7 P14, p. 16, Marassim-i Taqdir-i Shamshir-i Istalingrad [The Ceremony of Stalingrad Sword], Undated.

[101]Estādux: SH1323 K26 P15, p. 10, Shahrdari-yi Tehran bah Anjuman-i Shahr-i Tehran [From Tehran Municipality to City Council of Tehran], 8 Khurdad 1323/ 29 May 1944.

[102]Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, p. 3, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Memorandum of Conversation between Secretary of Legation Bertel E. Kuniholm and Allah Yar Saleh, Iranian Minister of Finance, April 5, 1943, enclosed in letter from Dreyfus to Secretary of State, Tehran, April 22, 1943, box no. 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/96, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Dispatch no. 902, Leland B. Morris, U.S. Ambassador to Iran, to State Department, Moscow, December 5, 1944, Vol. 710, p. 1, RG 59, NACP; John D. Jernegan, U.S. Legation to Iran, to Morris, Tehran, enclosed in letter from Jernegan to Allen, November 30, 1944, Vvl. 710, p. 3, RG 59, NACP.

[103]Ford to Secretary of State, Tehran, August 12, 1944, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/8-1244, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[104]Dispatch no. 126, Ford to Secretary of State, Tehran, November 22, 1944, vol. 822, p. 1, RG 59, NACP; SC-SD-46: Ford to Morris, Tehran, November 21, 1944, enclosed in Dispatch no. 126, Morris to Secretary of State, Tehran, November 22, 1944, box 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/11/2244, p. 2; Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP; Status of American Troops, Jernegan, December 6, 1944, vol. 500, Conferences—General, p. 2, RG59, NACP; Ford to Morris, Tehran, Nov. 21, 1944, enclosed in Dispatch no. 126, Morris to Secretary of State, Tehran, November 22, 1944, box no. 3735, 811.22/377–811.221/436, vol. 811.22/11/2244, p. 2, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[105]Jernegan to Morris, Tehran, enclosed in letter from Jernegan to Allen, Tehran, November 30, 1944, vol. 710, p. 3, RG 59, NACP.

[106]Jernegan to Allen, Tehran, November 30, 1944, vol. 710, p. 1, RG 59, NACP.

[107]Estādux: SH1321 K17 P12, p. 2, Az Vazir-i Dadgustari bah Nakhustvazir [From Minister of Justice to Prime Minister], 24 Isfand 1321/ 15 March 1943.

[108]Memorandum of Conversation between the Iranian Minister, Mr. Daftary, the Counselor of the Iranian Legation, Dreyfus, Allen, and Mr. Minor on the subject of American Forces in Iran, March 4, 1944, vol. 710, p. 1, RG 59, NACP.

[109]XX, Chargé d’Affaires ad interim, to Secretary of State, Washington, DC, July 27, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/106, pp. 1–5, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[110]Jernegan to Morris, Tehran, enclosed in letter from Jernegan to Allen, Tehran, November 30, 1944, Vvl. 710, pp. 3–5, RG 59, NACP.

[111]Jernegan to Morris.

[112]Convention Between His Britannic Majesty’s Government and the Iranian Government Concerning the Immunities to be Enjoyed by the Forces Maintained or Controlled by His Britannic Majesty’s Government in Iran, Draft Agreement, copied March 2, 1944, enclosed in Ford to Connolly, Tehran, March 2, 1944, vol. 820.03, pp. 2–7, RG 59, NACP. Dispatch no. 889, Ford to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 20, 1944, vol. 820.03, pp. 1–2, RG 59, NACP. Situation with Respect to Agreement on Judicial Immunity of American Forces in Iran, Jernegan, Tehran, March 10, 1944, enclosed in Dispatch 889, Ford to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 20, 1944, vol. 820.03, pp. 2–4, RG 59, NACP; William Archibald Kenneth Fraser, British Military Attache in Tehran, to Donald H. Connolly, Major General in Persian Gulf Command, Tehran, March 14, 1944, enclosed in Dispatch no. 902, Ford to Secretary of State, Tehran, April 1, 1944, Vol. 820.03, p. 3, RG 59, NACP; Ford to the British Embassy in Iran, Tehran, June 5, 1944, Vol. 820.03, p. 1, RG 59, NACP.

[113]Connolly to Ford, Tehran, March 6, 1944, enclosed in Dispatch no. 889, Ford to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 20, 1944, vol. 820.03, p. 8, RG 59, NACP.

[114]Dispatch no. 889, Ford to Secretary of State, Tehran, March 20, 1944, vol. 820.03, p. 3, RG 59, NACP.

[115]Dispatch no. 902, Morris to U.S. State Department, Moscow, December 5, 1944, vol. 710, p. 1, RG 59, NACP.

[116]Patrick J. Hurley, Major General of the Army of the United States, to Franklin D. Roosevelt, President of the United States, Chungking, China, September 17, 1944, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/3-645, pp. 7–13, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[117]United States Policy Toward Iran, December 7, 1941, to December 7, 1944: Annex F: Specific American Objectives in Iran, United States Department of War, November 23, 1944, vol. 710, p. 8, RG 59, NACP.

[118]Estādux: SH1323 K69 P80, p. 1, Enclosure to Note No. 35 to Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs, undated; Estādux: SH1323 K39 P412, pp. 1–2, From Embassy of United States of America to Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 7 August 1944. Estādux: SH1323 K39 P412, p. 15, Az Muhammad Ali Humayun-Jah, M‘uavin-i Kulli-i Vizarat Umur-i Kharijah bah NakhustVazir [From Muhammad Ali Humayun-Jah, Deputy to Ministry of Foreign Affairs to the Prime Minister], 7 Shahrivar 1323/ 29 August 1944.

[119]Estādux: SH1323 K39 P412, p. 16, Az Nakhustvazir bah Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [From the Prime Minister to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 23 Mihr 1323/ 15 October 1944.

[120]The concept borrowed from Amy Mills, “The Cultural Geopolitics of Ethnic Nationalism: Turkish Urbanism in Occupied Istanbul (1918–1923),” Annals of the American Association of Geographers 107, no. 5 (2017): 1179–93, 1181.

[121]Estādux: SH1324 K68 P5.1, p. 1,  A’in-i Jashn ba‘d az I‘lam-i Khatamh’i Jang [Ceremony of Announcing End of the War],  17 Urdibihsht 1324 / 7 May 1945.

[122]Estādux: Sh1324 K68 P5, p. 76, Az Idarah’i Tashrifat-i Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah to Mu‘avin-i Kull-i Umur-i Kharijah [From the Protocols Department of Ministry of Foreign Affairs to Deputy to Ministry of Foreign Affairs], 2 Urdibihisht 1324/ 22 April 1945. Estādux: SH1324 K68 P5.1, pp. 78–79, “Surat Majlis,” Vizarat-i Drabar-i Shahanshahi [“Minutes,” Imperial Ministry of Court] 17 Urdibihisht 1324/ 7 May 1945; Estādux: SH1324 K68 P5.2, p. 47 “Barnamah’i Jashn bah Munassibat-i Khatamah’i Jang,” Vizarat-i Umur-i Kharijah [End of War Program, Ministry of Foreign Affairs], undated.

[123]SAKMA, 290-5872, p.7, Az Idarah’i Kull-i Shahrdari-ha bah Idarah’i Hissabdari-yi Vizarat-i Kishvar [From the Office of the Headquarters of Municipalities to Finance Department of  Ministry of State],30 Azar 1326/ 22 December 1947.

[124]George Allan, Ambassador, American Embassy in Tehran, to Harold B. Minor, Chief, Division of Middle Eastern Affairs, Department of State, Washington September 30, 1946, Foreign Service Posts of the Department of State, Tehran Embassy, RG 84, NACP.

[125]Louis G. Dreyfus, Jr., United States Minister to Iran, to United States Secretary of State, Tehran, March 9, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/92, pp. 1–6, Decimal File 1940–44 (Decimal 1940–44), General Records of the Department of State, RG 59, NACP; “American Policy in Iran,” Advisor of Political Relations, U.S. Department of State, January 23, 1943, enclosed in Dispatch no. 202 from Sumner Welles, Under Secretary of State, to Dreyfus, Washington, DC, March 13, 1943, box 2236, 711.90D/9–711.93/469, vol. 711.91/91, pp. 2–8, Decimal 1940–44, RG 59, NACP.

[126]“Department Policy Statement on Iran: Information and Cultural,” U.S. Department of State, February 19, 1947, vol. 711.91/2-1947, p. 2, RG 59, NACP.

Foreword: Sohrab Sepehri Special Issue

Foreword: Sohrab Sepehri Special Issue

Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi
University of Chicago

Behrooz Mahmoodi-Bakhtiari
University of Tehran

This special issue of Iran Namag focuses on one of the most celebrated poets and painters of twentieth-century Iran, Sohrab Sepehri. The four articles in English and six in Persian are written by scholars from Iran, Afghanistan, Europe, and North America, each looking at Sepehri’s poetry from a specific angle. The editors of this special issue hope that researchers and students working on modern Persian literature will find the articles insightful and inspiring for their own research in the field.

Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi is Instructional Professor of Persian at the University of Chicago. She is the author of Processing Compound Verbs in Persian: A Psycholinguistic Approach to Complex Predicates (2014) and Translation Metacognitive Strategies (2009). She is co-translator of Sohrab Sepehri’s The Eight Books: A Complete English Translation

(2021), Ali Shabani’s The Thousand Families (2018), Iraj Pezeshkzad’s Hafez in Love (2021), Simin Daneshvar’s Island of Bewilderment (2022), as well as her Bewildered Cameleer (2023). She is the co-editor of The Routledge Handbook of Persian Literary Translation (2022).

Behrooz Mahmoodi-Bakhtiari is Associate Professor of Linguistics and Persian at the University of Tehran. He is the author of Tense in Persian (2002) and co-editor of Essays on Typology of Iranian Languages (2019). He has several encyclopedia entries in Encyclopaedia Iranica, Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics, and the Encyclopedia of Islam, as well as chapters in The World’s Major Languages (2017), Oxford Handbook of Persian Linguistics (2018), and The Routledge Handbook of Second Language Acquisition and Pedagogy of Persian (2020).

The first section of this special issue includes four articles in English. The first article is by Pouneh Shabani-Jadidi and is entitled “Sohrab Sepehri, a Universal Poet: An Introduction to His Life and Works.” As the title suggests, it is a chronological survey of Sepehri’s life and works as a poet and as an artist. Shabani-Jadidi tells the story of the poet’s life through examples from his poetry and highlights several important events leading up to the composition of some of his specific poems. The article also discusses the influence of Sepehri’s painting style on his poetic style and vice versa. Another topic explored in this article is that of the specific linguistic features of Sepehri’s poetry. Readers get to know the poet intimately through this examination of his works.

In the second article, “Sohrab Sepehri as a Mythical Character in Shahrnush Parsipur’s Blue Logos,” M. R. Ghanoonparvar examines the presence and influence of Sepehri’s poetry and art on Parsipur’s 1994 novel Blue Logos. After providing a brief description of the novel, Ghanoonparvar delves into the sections where Parsipur has evoked Sepehri and his poetic message by either quoting his poetry or conjuring up Sepehri as a mythical character. The technique of incorporating excerpts from the pioneers of Persian literature in later literary works has a long history in the cannon of Persian literature, and Ghanoonparvar very skillfully demonstrates that this literary device is still very much practiced.

The third article is by Bahar Davary and is entitled “Ecotheology of Sohrab Sepehri: Consciousness on the Edge of Water.” The author argues that the common perception of Sepehri as a modern mystic is incorrect; rather, he is a poet-philosopher of resistance, love, and justice. Davary argues that Sepehri’s poetry goes beyond Eastern mysticism, reflecting indigenous, Buddhist, Taoist, Hindu, Jain, and other religious traditions and their imageries. Through Davary’s article, readers will be presented with a new approach to Sepehri’s poetry as that of a universal poet.

The final article of the first section is “Transformation of a Concept: ‘Death’ from ‘Resting Place of Love’ to ‘Beauty’s Solitariness’” by Zhinia Noorian. This article examines how the concept of “death” in Sepehri’s poetry has undergone changes through time. The author does this by showing how death is conceptualized in several of Sepehri’s poems.

The second section of this special issue encompasses six articles in Persian. The first of these, “Ata va laqa-yi Sohrab-i Sepehri: Baraye mu‘asiran-ash va baraye imruziyan” (The Offerings and Insights of Sohrab Sepehri for his Contemporaries and for Today), is written by Saeed Yousef and discusses Sepehri’s status among his peers including the influence he had on others and those who influenced him. The author examines Sepehri’s stylistics as a poet, particularly his special imagery, providing a comparative analysis of the latter and the poet’s stylistics in relation to other contemporaneous poets.

In the second article, “Khanish-i tahlili-yi shi‘r-i ‘dust’-i Sohrab-i Sepehri dar charchub-i tahlili intiqadi-yi guftiman-i Firkilaf” (An Analytical Reading of Sohrab Sepehri’s Poem ‘‘Friend’’ Based on Fairclough’s Critical Discourse Analysis Framework), Mahdiye Arvin analyzes Sepehri’s poem “Friend” using Norman Fairclough’s  three-step analysis: textual analysis; the production, consumption, and distribution of the text (i.e., interaction); and the interpretation of the text in its social context (i.e., contextual analysis). The author presents several tables illustrating some of the metaphors used by Sepehri with regard to meaning and structure. She also presents the literary devices used by Sepehri and provides a syntactic and semantic analysis of the verbs used in the poem. She then compares Sepehri’s elegy with elegies of a similar style by other contemporaneous poets.

The third article in this section, “Ab ra gil nakunim: Barrasi-yi muqayise-yi guftiman-i sammi (Toxic Discourse) dar shi‘r-i ‘marg-i yik tabi‘atgara’ az  hini va ‘Ab’ az Sohrab Sepheri” (‘Let Us Not Muddy the Water’: A Review and Comparison of Toxic Discourse in the Poems ‘Death of a Naturalist’ by Seamus Heaney and ‘Water’ by Sohrab Sepehri) by Maryam Soltan Shahdtaj Beyad and Faezeh Dashtizad, highlights the similarities and differences in the toxic discourse on the environment of these two poets using Lawrence Buell’s toxic discourse theory.

For Buell, the “major aspects of toxic discourse are a contaminated or disrupted pastoral vision; images of total pollution; gothic elements, including Virgilian descents into polluted underworlds; and ‘David-versus-Goliath’ representations of the weak oppressed against the strong oppressors.”[1]

The fourth and fifth articles are written by scholars from Afghanistan and examine Sepehri’s poetry through a comparison with contemporary Afghan poets. In the fourth, “Barrasi-yi muqayisiha-yi janbiha-yi namayishi-yi shi‘r-i ‘Musafir’-i Sohrab Sepehri va ‘Yal-i kajkan va izhdiha-yi jahannam’-i Qahhar ‘Asi” (A Comparative Review of the Dramatic Aspects of Sohrab Sepehri’s Poem ‘‘Traveler’’ and Qahhar ‘Asi’s ‘‘The Champion of Kajkan (Panjsher) and the Dragon of Hell’’), Fazel Ahad Ahadi compares the narrative techniques and dramatic aspects of these two poems as well as several other works by Sepehri and ‘Asi. Ahadi also studies elements of the short story in the authors’ narrative poetry.

In the fifth article, “Sohrab Sepehri va ta‘sir-i vey bar shi‘r-i mu‘’asir-i fārsi dar hoze-yi Afghanistan” (Sohrab Sepehri and His Influence on Modern Persian Poetry in Afghanistan), Eid Mohammad Sherzad describes the various ways contemporary Afghan poets were influenced by Sepehri. Sherzad discusses contextual factors, symbolism, naturalism, realism, mysticism, linguistic and structural factors, compound words, and grammatical transgressions.

The last article, Khatere Arbabi and Parvaneh Rahmati Sangkar’s “Ta‘sir-i iztirab-i vujudi bar asar-i Sohrab Sepehri va karburd-i an dar ravandarmani” (The Impact of Existential Anxiety on Sohrab Sepehri’s Works and their Use in Psychotherapy), considers Sepehri’s poetry as a means of assistance in psychotherapy. The authors suggest using Sepheri’s works in dealing with patients with existential anxiety. They also delve into the concepts of loneliness, feelings of nothingness, self-consciousness, insufficient self-control, and death in Sepehri’s poetry.

Each one of these articles is written by a leading scholar in the field, and the editors of this special issue hope that the present volume will help shed light on this influential modern poet-artist. We hope that you enjoy reading these articles as much as we did.

[1] Alana Fletcher, “Toxic Discourse: Waste Heritage as Ghetto Pastoral.” Studies in Canadian Literature 39, no. 2 (2014): 5-21; quote on 7.