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As I think about the question of how post-colonial scholarship has influenced more recent works about the ‘East’, and also ponder on the gains and pitfalls of post-orientalist scholarship, I come across Edward Said's reassuring words in his introduction to Culture and Imperialism (1993): ‘Gone are the binary oppositions dear to the nationalist and imperialist enterprise’ (p. xxviii). This, no doubt, constitutes a radical shift from his earlier account of history and representation (Orientalism, 1978), in which Said stressed that relations between the ‘West’ and the ‘non-West’ have been continuously characterized by conflict, divisiveness and dichotomies as the inevitable consequence of and reaction to colonialism. A sense of relief, almost comfort, arises: are we living in new times in which processes of decolonization within formerly colonized as well as colonizing countries allow reconciliation, liberation and the necessary steps to go beyond essentialisms, hierarchies and binary oppositions?
The feeling of relief vanishes when I put down my books and papers on ‘post-colonialism’ – all full of promising notions of ‘breaking down boundaries’, ‘hybridity’, ‘plural identities’ and ‘cultural interdependencies’. Reading the newspapers or watching television, I feel confronted with a very different language and reality: the ongoing battle of strength between the United States and Iraq (or rather Saddam Hussein, if we want to believe various spokespeople), Nato airstrikes in Yugoslavia, Serb aggression in Kosovo, and the ongoing oppression and humiliation of Palestinians in Israel.
When I was growing up, secularism – ʿalmaniyah in Arabic – did not mean what it means now. It was used in relation to all the nice things Egypt had been proud of: the 1919 revolution, the Wafd party and so on. All of a sudden, in the last five to ten years, it started to have these terrible connotations. Before that ‘secular’ did not mean being against religion, it referred to the laymen as opposed to religious authorities. Now it is used as an insult by Islamists, who changed its meaning. It's now widely understood as ‘being against religion’, being a mulhid [atheist]. Farag Foda was the first victim of this distortion, through him the Islamists really forced the idea of a secular meaning a person who has to be murdered because he is against religion.
(Mona A.)
Almaniyah is based on the idea fasl al-din wa al-dawla [to separate religion and the state]. It has always been like that in Egypt. Those arguing against it now, do they want an Islamist country like Iran? I do not want to live in another Saudi Arabia or Iran. If you really want to apply the shariʿa like in Saudi Arabia, of course, you will first ban alcohol and you will confine women to their homes. So it won't be the hal [solution] for women. From our point of view, all the public space will be taken away. No Islamic rule would prevent a wife to be beaten. A husband would just beat his wife and then go to the Friday prayer.
General policy in regard to recognized religious minorities (RRMs) can tell us only so much about the dynamics behind thought and action in a revolutionary regime. The behavior of state actors vis-à-vis the RRMs was characterized by factors that are relevant to other questions and issues. These can be answered only by delving into the larger picture of the meaning of the role of non-Muslim minorities. The widening of the analytical realm allows us to focus on the uniqueness of each group. As a result, it becomes possible to see why the Jews were treated more harshly than were other recognized religious minorities, and why the Bahais and Iranian Christian converts (especially the Protestants) were persecuted. What did each of the these three minorities mean to the revolutionaries and religious extremists (be they clerical or not), and what can such meaning tell us about the underlying components of the policy sphere? The purpose is not to blame, condemn, or sit in judgment but simply to understand the movement of one set of negatives (e.g., stereotyping) into the arena of policy or action.
From a psychological point of view, ethnic conflict has three major components: perception, motivation, and action. The three combine to lead ultimately to full-blown conflict by the final breakdown of relations. Perception of the other is the first stage, involving stereotyping and prejudice that tend to cultivate group hostility.
As this author sat in a telephone-dispatched taxi in Tehran, the taxi driver turned and looked at her: “You people are much better off than we are!” His voice was coarse. Taken aback, she asked: “Who is ‘you people’?” Without hesitation he replied: “Shoma aqaliatin digeh [Aren't you a minority]?” A whole range of philosophical thoughts raced through her head. The ease and intensity with which he used the label “aqaliat” was new to her in Iran. This was the unique byproduct of the theocratic system. The “aqaliat” was “the other,” “the marginal,” “the separate from us”: it was an institutionalized “otherness” which was disturbing and different. The taxi driver, unaware of the turmoil and shock he had caused, continued to repeat his question but also to respond to it. “You are a minority. Aren't you? With that name, of course you are!” Then, eventually, when she admitted to the classification, the driver sighed with an energetic cheeriness: “See … I knew it.”
Religious minorities have been segmented in word, thought, and action. The reference to the label “aqaliat” was expressed with the same ease by those members of the political and economic elite of the previous regime who had remained in the country after the Revolution.
The constitution of the Islamic Republic of Iran was the first significant document marking the ideological direction of the new state and the status of its religious minorities. The open proceedings put on display a multitude of issues including differing views on the legal status of religious minorities, the powerful role of Ayatollah Beheshti, and the critical impact of the non-Muslim deputies on the final draft of the constitution.
The constitution was written in the summer and autumn of 1979 during an extremely tumultuous revolutionary atmosphere. The year was marked by the executions of former military and civilian officials, clashes between various leftist forces, fighting between the leftist and pro-Khomeini supporters, battles between government troops and various Muslim ethnonational groups in provinces (including fighting between the Kurds and the Azeris), a series of assassinations including the killing of Ayatollah Morteza Motahhari (one of the main ideologues and a member of the Revolutionary Council) and the wounding of Ali-Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani in Tehran (in May), the closing of some two dozen opposition newspapers (in mid-August), and the takeover of the American Embassy (in November).
The exact details of what transpired before or during the publication of the first draft constitution endorsed by Ayatollah Khomeini and the draft which was adopted and developed by the Assembly of Experts (Majlis-e Khebregan) is unclear.
Various disciplines, in different time periods, have addressed the issue of minority response. At whom or what the response is directed has varied as widely as the techniques and the content of the responses. Minority responses have been discussed in relation to a dominant group, prejudice and discrimination, state power and coercion, and restrictive legal structures. The responses have often been categorized by scholars using similar specifications such as mobilization on ethnic or class terms, revolt or rebellion, aggression, avoidance, withdrawal, adjustment, conformity, submission, assimilation, and integration.
A number of responses by religious minorities have been discussed throughout the book. This section focuses solely on the form, style, and meaning of the RRMs' behavior in responding to and dealing with a wide range of commentaries, acts, decrees, and national policies of a theocratic state. The first part focuses on similar responses of all the groups. The second section analyzes the unique features of the response of each recognized religious minority in order to demonstrate that in changing circumstances marginal groups continue to act in a learned cultural tradition.
Similar responses
Offcial acknowledgment of the rights of recognized religious minorities in the Islamic constitution has provided a protective shield within the confines of state ideology. Conformity and acceptance have been the overall responses from the recognized groups. Five factors are believed to be responsible for conformity: perception of benefits, the process of cooptation, development of a fatalistic attitude, traditional segregation of communities, and fear of coercion.
Iranian modern history has exhibited constant fluctuation between extremes. Nationalism has turned into an intense anti-other diatribe and religious devotion has moved to bigotry. This study focuses on the relationship between the state and non-Muslim religious minorities (Armenians, Assyrians, Bahais, Chaldeans, Iranian Christian converts, Jews, and Zoroastrians) in order to explore the dynamics of this extremism and its impact. How far could an ideological state go in implementation? What form has this dogmatic impulse taken and to what end? And what has been the response of religious minorities?
This chapter explains the conceptual framework of the study, provides an introductory survey of Iranian politics in the twentieth century, offers a brief synopsis on the role of non-Muslims in Islam, presents the views of the non-Muslims held by the Shii revolutionary ideologues, and, finally, identifies several important issues in this research.
The study of ethnic groups (when relevant called minorities) reveals much theoretical unevenness. Researchers often entertain differing assumptions and conclusions. Case studies offer the most useful and elaborate frameworks, but they rarely seem to apply to other situations. And, as always, the nature of the case study has a direct bearing on its theoretical conclusions. Various dimensions of ethnicity appear too complicated and, at times, simply incomprehensible. Too many terminologies are used, frequently becoming mixed in an interlocking web of individual and disciplinary preferences. Yet this extensive literature remains intensely thought-provoking.
Defining groups
Most scholars have made a genuine attempt to be all-inclusive in identifying ethnic groups.
On the surface, the theocratic state granted the recognized religious minorities (RRMs) the same rights they had held before. Each enjoyed political representation, and their communities were guaranteed freedom of religion, language, and culture. The new regime, solely based on its constitution, could rightly claim a policy of continuity vis-à-vis the Armenians, the Assyrians and Chaldeans, the Zoroastrians, and the Jews. The exclusion of the Bahais was also consonant with past practice.
In reality life became more taxing and complex for the minorities. Readers should keep in mind the impact of the Revolution and the subsequent eight-year Iran–Iraq War as intervening variables in the analysis presented in this and the next two chapters. Just as important is the use of religion as a political ideology, which led to contradictions, fusion of myth with reality, a struggle between religious principles and the quest for power, a breakdown of hierarchical order, and eventually unprecedented confusion on human rights. The end result was development of a sharp “us”–“them” distinction involving the Muslim citizens of Iran and the non-Muslims. In contrast to the previous regime which stressed homogenization, the Islamic Republic accepted pluralism but pursued either exclusion or subordination, with coercion or the threat of coercion, based on ideology. The theocratic character (fused with a strange version of leftist ideology) of the state had created a new set of relationships between the state and the religious minorities, constituting compartmentalization and segmentation.
The genesis of this book goes back to an incident at the University of California, Berkeley, in April 1986. I was lecturing on women's political participation in the Islamic Republic of Iran at the Center for Middle Eastern Studies when I noticed a young woman who was leaning against the door listening with great intensity. In the audience were three women in their fifties who were whispering uninterruptedly and were clearly disturbed by something. During the question-and-answer period, one of them expressed her displeasure with me. My comments had appeared to her as a defense of the Islamic government; she severely criticized the clerical regime and Ayatollah Khomeini. Seeing her diffculty in communicating in English, I asked her to speak in Persian; she refused. She was determined to prove to the audience that I was a backer of the Islamic forces in Iran. Her strong pro-monarchical sentiments were not lost on anyone; in those days facing this kind of misreading of one's talk was a common occurrence. I would have forgotten the incident except for what happened next.
When the lecture was over, the young woman who had been leaning against the door approached me. “Do you remember me?,” she asked. I did not. “We entered Pahlavi [Shiraz] University together. We were classmates. Even then you were always with the Muslims. You never learn.” I was intrigued. Later, surrounded by Iranian students, most with some leftist affliation, we sat for coffee.