Iran’s Opposition Comes to Washington
"We are all Iranians now."
9:00 AM, Jan 25, 2010 • By STEPHEN SCHWARTZ
On Saturday, January 23, the Iranian opposition community from the environs of the nation’s capital gathered in a George Washington University auditorium. They were drawn to a ceremony that imported the idiom, if not the total experience, of the Green Movement against clerical tyranny in their native country.
The event, described as a seminar on “Ethics and Politics,” and sponsored by GWU’s Persian-speaking students, was primarily a memorial for the late Ayatollah Hosein Ali Montazeri, who in his time was the leading critic, inside the country, of the Islamist dictatorship in Tehran. Montazeri, who died last month, was eulogized eloquently by Reuel Marc Gerecht in THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
The GWU auditorium was filled to capacity with audience members, totaling about 300, spilling out into the corridor. Participants, who seemed to keep coming endlessly, included young and old, mostly appearing middle class and assimilated to American customs. Only a couple of women wore hijab, the Islamic head-covering. As we waited for speeches to begin, I felt a powerful surge of recognition as videos from the mass protests in Iran were projected on a screen behind the stage. They were all too familiar – the massed marchers, young women flashing the V-for-victory sign, police and thugs beating people in and around opposition rallies, some of the latter victims shown with gunshot wounds.
I have attended dozens of such events, in numerous countries, over the past 50 years, beginning with sessions honoring the American civil rights movement, then the Latin American and Spanish left. Afterwards, as my life and attitudes changed, I watched the same images projected by the people power movement in the Philippines, the Nicaraguan anti-Communist contras, Polish Solidarity, the Chinese democracy adherents in 1989, opponents of Serbian imperialism in the former Yugoslavia, and, more recently, Kosovar Albanians critical of European community rule in their republic. There are some things that never change, and one of them is the iconography of social upheaval. The shining eyes, the determined mien, the sense of voices finally breaking through years of silence, the blow of a fascist thug’s club against the slender figure, barely a shadow, of a young woman, the fallen, blood-covered bodies of those attacked, the rush of a group of fellow-activists carrying an injured companion in search of medical care – they are always the same. Only their destinies differ. Some heroes have won, and some who deserve victory have lost.
At one point in the program, spirited marching songs were replaced by the soundtrack of the 1992 American film Last of the Mohicans, which has become a surprisingly widespread anthem of courage. The clips of brave dissidents, wounded but persistent, were again projected, followed by a video on the life of the 50s-era reformer Mohammed Mossadegh, but, perhaps intentionally, no pictures of Ayatollah Khomeini were shown. A Farsi-language polling sheet was distributed, to measure attitudes toward the regime and its domestic antagonists. The gesture was purely formal, as all who had come to GWU that day appeared to be of one mind.
The seminar began with a long commentary on the significance of Montazeri’s life by a white-turbaned Iranian cleric, Mohsen Kadivar. Once among Montazeri’s religious students, Kadivar then became an outspoken critic of clerical rule, and was imprisoned for his views. He is now a visiting research professor at Duke University. He holds the title of hojatoleslam, a rank below that of ayatollah. The audience paid intense attention to Kadivar and the other speakers, rewarding them with applause. In the corridor outside, burning memorial candles and baklava and other sweets, with tea and coffee, waited.