am sitting in a non-descript classroom one evening in the historical city of Isfahan, Iran. A group of 12 women from various social classes and religious backgrounds gather to take beginners’ English some out of necessity, others for pleasure. They vary in age, several wearing colorful headscarves, hair less than discreetly peeking out, while some don the all-covering black chador, the Islamic Revolution’s garb of choice. A pretty 22-year-old teacher goes around the room asking her students to introduce themselves to me, the evening’s guest of honor.
I meet a former mathematician turned housewife, a nurse and an accountant. There’s a shy 18-year-old with huge black eyes studying to be a computer engineer and Farnoush, a talkative 24-year-old who tells me she wants to be a human rights lawyer, like her idol, Iranian Nobel Prize winner Shirin Ebadi.
The women bombard me with questions about my perceptions of Iran: Have I enjoyed it? Will I come back? What does the world think of Iran? Probably as a bunch of terrorists, they conclude, visibly deflated by their own assumption.
I talk to them until class ends about the issues that most young people in Iran are facing at this time in their history. Although the women live in the conservative city of Isfahan, which is steeped in history and, consequently, tradition, their concerns mirror those of youngsters in Tehran, Qom, Yazd, Shiraz everywhere: unemployment, lack of social freedoms, nonexistent political and social choices.
“Everything in Iran is forced,” Farnoush tells me in broken English. She points to her headscarf, “From what we wear, to what we learn, to what we do it’s all forced. Everywhere else you choose, but Iran is different, here they tell you what to do,” she says, the room erupts into laughter and nods of agreement.
In a nation of 70 million, two-thirds of Iran’s population is under the age of 30, one of the youngest populations in the world. Most in this age group were born after the 1979 Islamic Revolution, when the world saw the end of the pro-western reign of Shah Reza Pahlavi and the return (after a 14-year exile) of 79-year-old Shi’a spiritual leader Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, who led Iran’s Islamic Revolution.
And now? Twenty-five years after the Revolution, over 16 years since the end of a devastating war with Iraq, young people have become disengaged from the political events that shaped the course of their lives. While the faces of young martyrs from the Iran-Iraq war continue to adorn the buildings of Tehran and the required photos of Khomeini and his successor Ali Khamenei hang in every store, restaurant and public space the national memory continues to fade and is replaced with the more pressing and basic worries of the day.
“Iran is a land of contradiction and contrasts. It is a very complex society, and here, there are no simple equations,” says Dr. Parviz Piran, a noted sociologist from Allameh Tabatabai University in Tehran. “There are similarities between all age groups around the world, no matter where they reside. However, Iranian youth are masters of manipulation: it’s a defense mechanism. They show different faces, depending on their circumstances,” he says.
Although Iran’s modern history has been dramatically affected by Britain and the United States, it has remained belligerently defiant to western colonial powers. An inherently political nation, the climate before the 1979 Islamic Revolution was one of simmering anger and discontent against the regime of Shah Reza Pahlavi, who was viewed by Iranians as a pawn of the West. Although credited with modernizing much of Iran’s infrastructure, his regime did not hesitate to crush any opposition to his government. With the use of American-trained secret police SAVAK, which employed torture, imprisonment and execution to quell any form of political or social debate, the Shah retained his power.
During this period, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini a cleric who had risen through the ranks of religious circles in Qom, Iran’s center of religious study was sent into exile. For many years a critic of the Shah, Khomeini was finally kicked out in 1964 over his public display of anger at the “White Revolution” modernization program [a series of national reforms and development programs that the Shah had introduced in the 1960s in an attempt to create economic modernization and political stability] and, specifically, the extension of diplomatic immunity to all American personnel, which he claimed sold out Iran. He spent most of his exile in Najaf, Iraq, the holiest Shi’a city, and some time later in France, where he sermonized on theories of Islamic leadership and government. The sermons were recorded and smuggled back to Iran, where Khomeini represented for many the answer to the Shah’s despotic regime.
On January 1, 1979, Ayatollah Khomeini arrived on an Air France flight bound for Iran. Two weeks after his return, the Shah, whose power base had collapsed and who was stricken with cancer, left his country for the last time. Khomeini’s arrival signaled the beginning of the Islamic Revolution and by March 1979, he had established the Islamic Republic in Iran.
The Iran-Iraq war began in 1980 after Saddam Hussein invaded Iran’s western front. By the end of war in 1988, up to one and a half million lives on both sides had been lost. However, the conflict served to rally Iranians, giving legitimacy to the Islamic Republic even while devastating all aspects of society and economy.
Khomeini’s policies soon after he came into power were an important factor in the country’s exploding birthrate. Prior to the revolution the Shah instituted comprehensive family planning policies. Immediately following the Revolution, these policies were quickly put aside; early marriage was encouraged and contraception was discouraged because it was seen as a reflection of Western influence. Additionally, the huge loss of lives during the Iran-Iraq war moved Iranians to have more children. By 1986, the national census indicated the population had doubled in a 20-year time span to 49.3 million citizens.
With an economy devastated by war, high unemployment and massive population growth, the government had little choice but to fully reinstate family planning programs. By discouraging births before the age of 18 and after 35, encouraging a maximum of three children per family by cutting maternity leave benefits after the third child and spreading the message of family planning through state media as well as several other programs, Iran dramatically reduced its growth rate in less than a decade.
The consequences of such a young population living under the banner of the Islamic Republic, but with unprecedented access to the outside world, are now becoming increasingly apparent. They see other opportunities around the globe and expect the same to be provided to them. But those opportunities are lacking: “All youngsters are not unhappy, but there are several degrees to their dissatisfaction,” says Piran. “Iranian youth are becoming more detached from the Islamic Revolution. They have begun to fantasize about the Shah’s era as if it were ‘the best of times’ which was not the case... And while genuine democracy is a demand, they cannot conceptualize it this way,” he argues.
Dr. Gholam Ali Afrouz, head of the Institute of Psychology in Iran and the former host of a popular state television call-in show, says that he has noticed an acute sense of hopelessness amongst the younger generation. “The biggest problems I see amongst youth are anxiety and depression because they don’t know what will happen tomorrow,” he says. “Young people are losing their hope and motivation to work hard for their future; this is especially the case amongst males. When you ask them who they will be at 27 or 37 years of age, most don’t know.”
He describes adolescents as living day-to-day, highly addicted to the internet and neglecting relationships with other people. Afrouz considers internet addiction a major problem, leading to poorly-socialized young people, out of touch with reality and yearning to become a part of the experiences they have discovered in front of their screens. “Internet is making people thirsty for globalization, and there is a large gap forming between parents and the young generation,” he says. At the same time, the internet has provided an invaluable form of communication for young Iranians.
But just recently, in a wave of crackdowns on internet forums and weblogs, the government ordered several ISPs to block access to popular sites, including Orkut, one of the most popular communication sites amongst young Iranians.
The internet, however, is not easily available to every young person in Iran, where the divide between small cities, villages and the large metropolis of Tehran is clearly marked. What is becoming more apparent, though, is the dividing line between rich and poor. “Iranians have lost all illusions and this is especially the case amongst youth,” says Piran. He argues that globalization, as in all countries, has not had an equal impact on everyone. “For the first time, Iran is becoming a class society. One visible factor in Iranian history is that change was not class-based. However, in this period we have created a class hatred and a class antagonism because many are deprived of basic things, and then you see all these kids in fancy cars, with their mobile phones and boys and girls out together. There is a sense of entitlement that has developed amongst these upper-class young people,” he says. “Young people no longer strive for cultural enhancement. Prior to the revolution there was enjoyment of culture, but now it’s sheer consumption.”
North Tehran is almost a town unto itself, in a city best described as a surprisingly clean but sprawling concrete jungle. Brimming with lush, tree-lined streets, swank boutiques, malls, cafes and parks, North Tehran defines Iranian modernity.
On my second evening in Tehran, friends take me out for a night on the town at one of the city’s most popular hotspots: a food court at the heart of the shopping district. Located on a busy street frequented by young Iranians in Kias, Peugeots and Mercedes, they cruise around the streets, playing chicken with each other and looking for the opportunity to exchange numbers, glances and, more often these days, sex.
The food court is a fashion show. Surrounding me are hundreds of faces, make-up and hair gel immaculately applied, brand name clothing prominently displayed. The Iranian mantoo, originally intended to be a long, loose and flowing cover-all, is shown off this evening as tighter, shorter and somewhat riskier than in my memories. As for the headscarf, it remains dangerously close to slipping off the well-coiffed hair of most young women in the hall.
The food choices are decidedly cosmopolitan and sophisticated. The prices equally so. I am told by my friends that its high costs are used to control the number of people (almost entirely under the age of 25) from showing up during busy nights. But for a casual dining experience, the plates of food that sit in front of me are a bit pricey, even in the beautiful world of North Tehran.
I sit and watch men and women sizing up their peers; food is the last thing on their minds. While this food court setting does not represent the reality of most Iranian youth, it is that of the privileged few with the good fortune of being born into a tiny circle of opportunity.
“We have very cheap freedoms,” Pooyan**, a 22-year-old engineering student tells me one damp evening while waiting for our table at a busy restaurant. Five feet away, I watch a group of pretty girls and boys mingle and joke flirtatiously. “I don’t agree with the government, but I’m not allowed to say this. I don’t have real freedoms. I can’t say anything in public, but because of my family’s high standing, things are good for me.” But overall he says, “I don’t think things will change in the near future. I know that religion and politics don’t mix. The best kind of government is a democracy, here you only have religion, nothing else.”
Almost 89 percent of Iran’s population is Shi’a Muslim (with Sunni, Baha’i, Zoroastrian, Jewish and Christian rounding out the numbers) and is led by the Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, a hard-line conservative cleric who has ultimate power over the armed forces, intelligence and the judiciary. His support is further entrenched by the Council of Guardians, a 12-member, highly conservative political body, half of which is appointed by the Supreme Leader and the other half nominated by the conservative judiciary with approval from Parliament. The Council of Guardians was set in place to interpret Islamic principles of government as spelled out by Iran’s constitution.
The influence of the Council was again demonstrated during recent parliamentary elections when Iran’s conservative rulers gained a sweeping majority of seats in the Majlis (Parliament). The elections were widely criticized by international observers, who cited the disqualification of well over 2,000 reformist candidates 80 of whom were members of Parliament. The Council of Guardians claimed the candidates’ ‘indifference to Islam,’ their questioning of the constitution and a general disdain shown for the powers of the president were the main reasons for their dismissal.
According to the Interior Ministry, which the council accused of playing down the numbers, voter turnout was 50.6 percent, the lowest since the beginning of the Revolution and significantly lower than the 67 percent who turned out in 2000. In Tehran, which normally has a strong reformist base, a mere 33.8 percent of voters bothered to cast their ballots. With pro-reformist movements having called for a boycott of elections, the low voter turnout was viewed as a sign of protest against the government.
“Iranians are great in coming together to negate but not create. They don’t think of the long term,” says Piran. “Iran has entered an era of social movement which is to a great degree peaceful... We’re currently in an unresolved political situation and until this is solved we have no idea what society is going towards. We are past the stage of a revolution, but the government needs to take into account its own interests,” he says.
And then there is President Mohammad Khatami. Formerly the minister of culture under Ayatollah Khomeini, he was elected in 1997 on a platform of reform by an overwhelming 70 percent of the population. Under his authority, social restrictions were loosened and several reformist newspapers were able to publish progressive debate about Iranian society, unheard of only a few years prior.
But over seven years later, in his second and last term, Khatami is seen as a lame duck, having brought few meaningful reforms to his country. Not only have many of the reformist papers that sprung up in the wake of Khatami’s victory been shut down, but young Iranians who largely supported his presidency have seen very few meaningful changes to their political or social situation.
Though Khatami’s first years as President brought about a jubilant atmosphere in Iranian society, the return of Conservative strength has changed the face of Iranian discontent.
“Apathy is not the term, it’s more ambivalence towards social movement: The movement is still alive but people cannot decide between choices,” says Piran. “When you judge on the surface it may seem people are moving away from politics but this is not the case people are simply nullified.”
“I didn’t vote in these elections. I didn’t want to,” says Pooyan. “When we voted the last time, we voted for freedom and we didn’t get it.”
His 24-year-old brother Pardis agrees. “President Khatami hasn’t been effective or else the Conservatives didn’t allow him to be effective,” he says. “Anyways, I don’t want to get involved in politics because I’m not interested. There’s no such thing as democracy here, people tried to get it but they couldn’t maybe if we changed our attitudes, though, things could be changed,” he admits thoughtfully.
There are, however, young Iranians who remain passionate about the state of their country. “Almost all things are changing for the worse: Unemployment is getting worse, freedom is getting worse it’s just not available,” Bahram, 25, a master’s student in urban planning, explains to me one evening. “Our quality of life is going down. Yet no one thinks about what we should do because people don’t want to think. We just say, ‘the government is bad and that’s it.’” Throughout hours of discussion and debate, he remains a fascinating teacher his modern brand of Iranian theory explained through excited eyes and passionate hand gesturing. “I want to decide for my country, for my city,” he says. Asked why he chose urban planning as his path, his answer reveals, once again, his passion for Iran: “It’s planning from the bottom up, from society to government. First, change the people then the rest will follow.”
The withdrawal of Iranians into their private lives has occurred in the face of years of failed attempts at lasting reforms. As Dr Maryam Nejad**, a psychologist specializing in women’s issues who has a practice in North Tehran, explained through a translator, “The lower classes don’t have the power or education to fight for change and the upper classes have everything they want and don’t want to lose it.”
The crackdown on those who have attempted to speak out has created a culture of fear within Iranian society. According to numbers published in The Economist‘s December 2003 country briefing, there are between 2,000 and 4,000 political prisoners currently jailed, although the figures may be much higher.
Many of them are at Evin. Tucked away deep inside North Tehran, Iran’s notorious prison is infamous for its treatment of intellectuals and journalists who have spoken out against both the regime of the Shah, and that of the Islamic Republic.
Driving by the prison entrance, a group of people wait outside the doors, hoping for the chance to visit those within. Evin (ironically referred to as ‘Evin College’ for the large group of intellectuals and journalists amassed inside) is an imposing structure, with guard outposts and prison walls snaking up the Alborz Mountains.
As we all stare at the prison, my company of young university students does not share my curiosity for this infamous building, where hundreds of tortures and deaths have taken place. These young Iranians, who are willing to entertain my various queries and requests, are understandably unwilling to ask too many questions of their own. Like most of this country’s youth, their focus remains on finding a secure job and acquiring the comforts to ensure a good life issues that occupy their minds much more than the political debate that shaped their parents’ era.
The memory of Canadian-Iranian journalist Zahra Kazemi who was arrested for taking pictures outside the prison comes to mind. During interrogations inside Evin, she was so severely beaten, she died 19 days later. Her story follows me throughout my research, as sources, concerned friends and relatives speak her name as a warning. “Stay safe. Be careful who you talk to and what you ask,” they tell me.
According to the most recent statistics provided by Iran’s National Youth Organization, unemployment rate for young people (aged 15 to 29) is over 27 percent and continues to rise. The overall rate for the entire population is officially 16 percent, though many estimates put the figure much higher. With a disproportionate dependence on oil revenues (Iran holds 10 percent of the world’s known reserves), very little privatization within major industries and an economy that remains, for the most part, closed to domestic and foreign competition, there have been very few significant reforms to deal with the dire unemployment situation.
“By far the most important problem is unemployment And amongst the poor, it is the most important demand,” says Piran. “This versus the demands for freedom that occur when you move from the lower to upper classes.” Adding that, “many cannot get married [because of unemployment] which is increasing a cycle of factors which affects the attitudes and mindsets of young Iranians.”
“The situation is worse than bad,” says Alireza Ramezani, a journalist who covers economics for the Tehran Times, a conservative publication. “Millions are jobless and over one million people with an education higher than a bachelor’s are unemployed. If things do not improve, this situation will eat into our culture,” he says.
The lack of employment and financial opportunities, most often blamed upon government mismanagement, is leading thousands of Iran’s best-educated minds to emigrate to other countries.
High unemployment has led to several other social problems that have predominantly manifested themselves in larger cities. According to several experts, young people are coming from small villages to major cities like Tehran and Isfahan and drug use, petty crime and prostitution are spreading among the younger generation.
Former Supreme Court Judge of Isfahan Mahdi Mazaheri believes that these social problems are getting worse. “This problem won’t get any better,” he says through a translator. “We’re seeing an increase in drug use and petty crimes because of the economy, a lack of jobs. There are many young people who have no confidence in their future.” However, he says that the more traditional a city is, the less these types of crime are prevalent. As Piran puts it, “When you’re poor, you’re poor together.”
The increasingly high cost of living has pushed many young women into the sex trade, especially in cities like Tehran, where simply walking down the street can garner you a sexual proposition. While there are no official statistics, the number of prostitutes in Iran could range in the millions, as women become desperate to find means to support themselves and their families.
“Daughters have major societal limitations because many parents are scared to send their girls into society. Because of this, they are losing their self-confidence. They don’t know what they’re capable of,” says Nejad, the psychologist who practices in north Tehran. As a consequence, prostitution is a way “for young women to show that they’re in control. Many have anger against their families; some are victims of rape or abuse. Boys can find ways to release their energy, but many families simply want their daughters to stay home and so they cannot release their energy in a healthy way,” she says. She adds that it is primarily young women from small towns that come to large metropolises, primarily Tehran, to prostitute themselves. She adds that there is also the phenomenon of urbanized girls selling their bodies to pay for status symbols like clothing, makeup and jewelry.
While Nejad agrees with the overwhelming consensus amongst experts that many young Iranians are facing low-level depression and anxiety, she’s one of the optimistic few who believe that things will slowly get better. “Iranians are always moaning and nagging and always talking about what’s wrong, but people must accept the Revolution. They will have to accept the way things are the situation won’t get worse because people won’t settle for anything less,” she says.
When coaxed a bit further, with a smile and a sigh she cautiously responds, “Everyone is unhappy with the influence of religion. There’s a major difference between what people do and what people believe!” She says that because young Iranians are facing a conflict between their religious identity and the influence of Islam in their public life, there has been a loss of balance, which she says existed even prior to the Revolution.
“There is a steady process of secularization that is occurring, but don’t take this at face value. Iranian youth are more confused than anything else,” says Piran, professor of sociology at Allameh Tabatabai University. Not only are young people moving away from religion but they’re also moving away from books, debate and politics in general.”
“The deep roots of Iranian culture have weakened as a great distance has developed between today’s youth and our old poets and scientists,” Nejad agrees. “It seems young people have no ‘time’ for culture they don’t study, they don’t read books, they’re much more materialistic.”
While the sprawling city of Tehran tends to reinforce the notion of a shallow youth, stepping away from the capital and deeper into the country reveals a culture still deeply rooted in tradition. Iran is a place of divided worlds, where modernity and heritage are often juxtaposed and where family ties remain the strongest, most important bond of Iranian identity.
The historical city of Isfahan is an architectural gem and a stunning testament to Persian history. During an evening visit to the city’s most popular teahouse, located in the heart of Isfahan’s Armenian district, I am surrounded by young Isfahanis who don’t quite have the same exterior polish of their counterparts in Tehran, but whose gossip about everyone who walks through the door is not that far away from the food court talk. This teahouse, and the few other cafes that exist for Isfahani youth, is an essential part of their social lives. It’s a place where the middle class can meet and interact.
But just recently, in a crackdown on such teahouses, it was shut down. It began with the banning of shisha for women then finally a ban on both women and shisha. It’s a frustrating fact that comes through when conversing with my cousin, a young woman who constantly feels society’s pressure to accommodate conservatism.
Iran’s morality police (formed for the prevention of vice and promotion of virtue) are everywhere in Iran and are responsible for ensuring that Islamic principles are upheld. Driving through the streets of every town and city, they seek out those who flout the rules of Islam: young lovers holding hands; women dressed ‘inappropriately’ (a mantoo that’s too short or tight, too much makeup), loud and banned music. Although they are open to the casual bribe in exchange for turning a blind eye, they can enter homes to break up mixed-sex parties or cause problems for what they deem ‘inappropriate’ behavior. From write-ups to visits to the station, beatings and arrests, they remain for young Iranians an integral and unwelcome part of their lives.
However, Iranian youth have proven themselves highly adaptable in the face of social circumstances that are continuously in flux. “Young people have two faces, they change and know how to work around everything. We are a very intelligent people,” Bahram**, a student in Tehran says. He continues, “I am a practicing Muslim but I know that religion can’t manage society. We are currently in the dark ages of our history, but we will rise up. This is not a theory, this is Iran’s historical shape.”
While uncertainty hovers over the lives of young Iranians, the hopelessness that many speak of is more often interwoven with family, friends, a sense of humor and above all, a deep sense of pride and understanding of what it is to be Iranian.
“Do you want to leave Iran one day?” I ask a cousin one afternoon.
“Look,” he answers. “Ask any Iranian who lives abroad and they’ll tell you how much they miss this country, regardless of its problems. I love this country, there’s no way I’d want to leave.”
“Do you want to leave Iran one day?” I ask the women of the English class.
“I would like to visit other places, but not leave Iran,” one of the women responds. Most of the women agree. “Our families are here, our lives are here. If I can be in Iran with my own people, why would I be anywhere else?”
The words of these women bring me to a place closer to home. My father, an Iranian who has spent a quarter century in North America, has tried to explain his decades-long homesickness to me in many more words. Finally, I understand.
The future of young Iranians continues to be shaped by the enormous pressures brought on by the lack of societal, economic and governmental reforms. While Iran’s short-term future does not appear to provide any of the necessary solutions, fundamental change will happen. Iran’s history has proven this time and again.
“I want you to transfer this to other countries,” Bahram instructs me one evening. “There are Iranians who are thinking about these things.”