In the line of Iran

Hell on earth is easy. No sweat, indeed, if one were a journalist in countries where the exercise of individual rights and freedom of expression are concepts that are literally and metaphorically far from heaven. One such country is Iran.

Where the Islamic theocracy imposed by Ayatollah Khomeini remains a monolithic entity, Iranian media practitioners are bound to have hell to pay if they dare to transgress the state’s tenets of control. It has become cliché to cite the mechanisms of domination that damns the media either into a monotone of parroting the official line or total silence. Self-censorship, therefore, becomes a matter of survival even if it means writing a suicide note to a time-honored journalistic principle: holding a stark mirror to society and its structures of power to uphold the truth.

At the outset, it is obvious that the very notion of theocracy, which implies that the rulers of the state or government enjoy the moral privilege of divine guidance, runs counter to the concept of democracy. After all, it arrogates upon itself the assumption that only the authorities—no matter how fallible they are to human caprice and whims of absolute power—have the absolute right and the unerring wisdom to know and to impose what’s best for society. This theocratic complex, therefore, tolerates neither variety of opinion nor vagaries of individual choices. By playing god, the leadership of Iran’s clergy has ironically spawned the evil of intolerance and oppression that condemns free-thinkers and truth-tellers, such as journalists and artists, to infernal deprivations or even death.

Despite the elaborate dynamics of repression, the Iranian regime continues to face flurries of resistance that erupt every now and then. This impulse to assert against the injustice of the state reveals Iran’s rich tradition of self-expression that flowered from its opulent cultural ecology.  Historically, we know that Persia (or ancient Iran) used to be one of the world’s greatest empires, which thrived by dint of innovation and exchange of ideas, commerce, etc. with the outside world.  There was a time in its not-so-distant past when Iran under Mohammad Reza, the Shah's eldest son, revealed a sophisticated society imbued with Western ease and openness, which is manifested in its willingness to extend the right of suffrage to women.

Apropos to the process of Westernization within the crosscurrent of globalization, the constraints of an outmoded Islamic republic persist to be challenged by the compulsion for freedom and for engagement with a reality larger than the theocratic shadow. In a rapidly changing world, its rigid leadership is facing constant defiance by the impetus for exposure and interconnection, which is facilitated by modern communication. Even during 1979 Iranian Revolution, communications technology was instrumental in expediting its objectives. Recall, for instance, how Khomeini’s Islamist followers disseminated cassette recordings of his sermons to consolidate its campaign in overthrowing Iran’s monarchy long ruled by the Pahlavi dynasty.

Another instance of Iranian resistance against authoritarian assault of free expression in a global age involves the international controversy over the house arrest of critically-acclaimed filmmaker Iranian director Jafar Panahi.  Renowned for his stark rendition of contemporary Iranian reality and his cinematic focus on the victims of social marginalization, Panahi has been banned from creating films, writing screenplays, and even granting interviews. But he called global attention to his fate and to his country’s leadership when one of his friends smuggled out a visual document of his plight called “This Is Not a Film.” Hereunder is the trailer of Panahi's documentary: