Iran slideshow refresh

In 2007 I published a slideshow of photos of my first trip to Iran. The slideshow was accompanied by one of Alireza Eftekhari's lovely songs. Little did I know then that it would rack up more than 100,000 page views. I received a lot of feedback from Iranians. It remains my most popular published work of any kind.

My skills in post-processing photos have improved substantially in the six years since. The software and hardware tools I use have also improved. This year I decided to redo every single photo. It was a lot of work but I think it's worth it. The color and contrast are both improved, looking more realistic. While I was at it, I swapped out a couple of weak images for better ones. Here are some before and after shots to give you an idea (old versions first):

Let me know what you think!

Brief review of the film "A Separation"

A Separation (Persian: Jodaeiye Nader az Simin), directed and written by Asghar Farhadi (2011).

The acting is remarkable and the development of the story is top-notch. But this is not what made me fall for this film. More than any film I can recall, it prompted me to reflect on the ups and downs of life-changing relationships — mine and others. We all make mistakes, and in this film we are brought empathetically but forcefully into a tumultuous period of the characters' lives in which they can't help but make their fair share. In this sense the film is more true-to-life than any other I've seen. We see the characters' decisions and actions, and sometimes it's far from clear whether they derive from a motivation to do what they truly aspire to, or if they are just trying to survive under difficult circumstances. We cannot help but watch compassionately, especially because the film wisely and resolutely refuses to allow us to be swept along by stereotypes, sentimentality or rigid distinctions between good and bad. Instead we come to understand the characters even though we don't understand all that they do. Some of my friends say the film is sad or even depressing, but I disagree. I find it uplifting — I am encouraged by the character's struggle for dignity, and humbled by the double-edged nature of their pride. This is film-making and story-telling of the highest standard.


Tehran street scene (this is not from the film)

Photographing in Iran

Bakhtiari Couple, Chaharmahal and Bakhtiari Province

Somebody recently wrote to me asking for advice about photographing safely in Iran. They wondered if I needed a permit for some of my photographs, and whether my photographic gear was safe.

Iran is a wonderful country in which to photograph. Iran has a thriving photographic community and art scene, with plenty of highly talented photographers producing outstanding work. It has the rural charms of neighboring countries like Pakistan and Tajikistan, and like them, it has a rich and storied history. However in comparison to its neighbors, Iran is arguably more diverse. Its urban centers are wealthier. It has many stunning architectural forms and details. Its poets are famous the world over.


Woman walking, South Tehran

Iran is famous for its beautiful women too. What's there not to like?

Everywhere I've photographed in Iran, I've done so without a sense of inhibition. This has gotten me into conversations with government police and security officials a couple of times in Tehran, but never elsewhere.


Couple on motorcycle, Tehran. This was one of the photos that got me into trouble.

The first time was in 2007, when plainclothes policeman in his mid-20s took exception to my street photography outside a popular cinema in central Tehran. He angrily confronted me in the street and while he didn't speak English, he made it clear he wanted me to accompany him and his colleague in their car. I had absolutely no intention of doing that. With the help of a young woman managing an Internet café, he questioned me for about one hour, letting me go only when he determined that I was a genuine tourist. He claimed I needed a permit to photograph anything other than well-known places in Tehran.

A few weeks later, I spoke with a member of the official tourist police in Isfahan. He spoke fluent English, and in great contrast to the plainclothes policeman, he was a thoroughly nice guy. He said there was no need for a permit, arguing the plainclothes policeman was out of line.


Friday Prayers, Tehran

The only other kind of photographic incident I've had in Iran was in 2008 when I went to photograph the Friday prayers in Tehran. Perhaps whether I was naïve or simply did the right thing, I had no hesitation in wanting to photograph the prayers. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't doing anything out of line. I wasn't a reporter, so I didn't need a journalist's permit. I was merely photographing a public event, like any other. My Iranian companion that day, however, didn't see it that way. She was deeply concerned that the authorities would stop me and possibly detain me, which worried her enormously. After having barely arrived, she was proven correct. Several senior security officials questioned me for some minutes, wanting to know who I was and why was there. After conferring with their higher-ups, they allowed me to photograph the prayers for a few minutes.

In retrospect, I don't think either of these situations were particularly serious. I was probably not in danger of being arrested. Of course, if I had accidentally photographed something of a sensitive military or governmental nature, the situation could have been very different. But that is pretty much the same in many countries these days.

One thing I did not attempt was to photograph police officers arresting or detaining young people for wearing too much makeup or having the wrong kind of hair. From the perspective of documentary-style street photography, these scenes were often compelling and would have made wonderful photographs. However the police officers made it clear that they were totally against such photography. I didn't want to try their patience.

Unfortunately the Iranian justice system can be highly politicized. As is widely documented, innocent people can be detained for long periods while being denied their basic human rights. This fact alone can certainly make oneself cautious. Outside of Tehran, however, it seems to me there is little reason for any special caution. Iran remains a wonderful place in which to photograph.

Learning Farsi in Isfahan Part 2

Girl with blue ball, Isfahan

After reading my previous blog entry, many people have contacted me requesting information about studying Persian at the University of Isfahan. A common problem is that when emailing the university, it can take a long time to get a response. It is hard to say if this is because of internal bureaucracy or technical difficulties with the university's email system (their IT systems are often unreliable). You can also try iinternationaloffice@yahoo.com (note the two i's at the beginning of the address).

I had intended to study again at the University of Isfahan this summer. Unfortunately I was not issued a student visa. The university claimed I had not sent them an application, which was bizarre, because I certainly did. I was later informed by my academic advisor that when an visa application is declined, instead of saying so, it is considered polite by Iranian officials to say it was not received. The university encouraged me to apply for a tourist visa, but this was neither declined or issued. Instead, the application simply languished.

I was surprised to have my visa application rejected. I had not had significant problems with being issued an Iranian visa in the past. Moreover, I have not engaged in any political activity related to the elections last year. An Englishman who also studied Persian last year was also not issued a visa.


Ahmadinejad looks on, Isfahan

In July I received an email from the university stating "I hereby inform you that the regulation of issuing visa is slightly changed from 4th of July 2010. According to the new rules those visitors who enter Iran with a tourist visa can not apply for short course Persian learning programs and their period of stay will not be extended. Therefore any applicant, who would like to learn Persian, should apply for a student visa (through the Office of International Scientific Cooperation).It is important to note that for this kind of visa, the applicant should apply at least three months prior to travel."

Unfortunately the university has not been forthcoming in providing information as to why a visa was not issued to me earlier this year. The Iranian Embassy in New Zealand was similarly unhelpful. This leaves my research plans in Iran in tatters. I am writing this blog entry in Khujand, Tajikistan. I will likely do my anthropological PhD research in Tajikistan, with a different project to that I had planned in Isfahan.

Many Americans study Persian and Tajik in Dushanbe, where they learn from Iranian teachers. Having not participated in their course, I cannot comment on the quality of the instruction as compared to Isfahan.

The American Jewish Committee and Iran

Today I received an e-mail from the American Jewish Committee (AJC). The AJC says it "has worked since 1906 to safeguard and strengthen Jews and Jewish life worldwide by promoting democratic and pluralistic societies that respect the dignity of all peoples". Their objective is laudable and sensible, and indeed has much to commend it. The AJC has chosen an objective that is both pragmatic and stirring. I support their stated idealism. Life is difficult, injustice is pervasive, and genuine peace so often seems elusive. As a minority population, the Jewish people have been acutely aware of this for thousands of years. Their history makes a compelling case for their goal—their idealism is firmly rooted in the knowledge that when the dignity of all peoples is respected, everyone benefits, especially minorities. Their idealism is grounded in realism.

How strange it is, then, that their e-mail contained a video produced by them which could hardly do more to contradict their ideals. The video highlights alleged and actual Iranian government acts, encouraging viewers to take action to stop Iran acquiring nuclear weapons. These acts include the 1994 bombing of a Jewish Center in Argentina (an act for which no one has yet been proven guilty in a court of law, which the video does not mention), public hangings within Iran, and recent Iranian government action against protesters. The public hanging scene is extremely disturbing, showing the twitching legs of a man in the last moments of his life. The method the video uses to convey its message is intriguing. It combines the familiarity of everyday things—trucks, motorcycles, and cranes, as well as homely music—with sights that are meant to be perceived as grotesque and jarring. Here it draws upon Sigmund Freud's idea of the uncanny. In this video, the Iranian government is familiar, yet monstrous. It is like us, but unlike us in the most awful ways imaginable. Given the frequency with which the uncanny occurs in cultures worldwide, Freud was onto something, which the producers of the video cleverly exploit.

The AJC is hardly alone in producing a video of this character. Naturally, videos and e-mails are commonly produced by individuals, organizations and governments that highlight what they see as monstrous acts by the Israeli government. An abundance of imagery exists of large numbers of civilians being killed by not only Israeli military weapons, but everyday things like bulldozers. An Israeli soldier once told me a story about some of his colleagues who were convicted for playing football with a Palestinian boy's head. They had made a video of themselves doing it. Important, influential intellectuals within Israel, such as Yehezkel Dror, openly advocate the use of Israel's nuclear weapons in the case of a "sufficiently grave" threat.

What I find so strange is that the AJC is so willing to give us simply more of the same. It thus gives the appearance of being nothing more than a partisan in the midst of a propaganda war that it is determined to win. How refreshing it would be if the AJC mustered the imagination to do something different. For example, the AJC could make a video that showed the effects of violence on ordinary people regardless of their nationality or religion, and then demonstrate how this is ultimately a threat to everybody's well-being. That would be keeping with their stated ideals.



Tragically, Israel and Iran have been both victims of mass violence, heavily marking the psyches of their peoples. But they have both been perpetrators of it too. It would be courageous if the AJC were to acknowledge the violence inflicted by the Israeli state, and the ongoing pain and injustice this has caused for its victims. It would be wise if they were to advocate for a truth commission to examine the many varieties of violence in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories—violence that strips away the dignity of everyone living there, regardless of religion, race, gender, age or nationality. The AJC could vigorously campaign for for a world free of nuclear weapons, including Israel's. That would certainly respect all people's dignity.

Is the AJC ever likely to do any of this? I remain hopeful. Conflict between and among peoples is inevitable, and can even be healthy. But mass violence is neither inevitable or healthy. To work toward its own objective, the AJC needs to practice conflict transformation, not contribute to the world's already overflowing cesspool of manipulative propaganda.

A riot of color

Click on the image to view the slideshow

Politics plays with words, images and ideas, tossing about the known and the imagined as if they were one. Art does too.

I have my own words and ideas about Iran, but here I want these images—snapshots in time of what I have seen in this vast and beautiful land—to convey the feeling I have in my heart.

What do you think? Leave your comments below.

Learning Farsi in Isfahan

I am three weeks into a Farsi course at International Scientific Cooperation Office (ISCO) at the University of Isfahan. There is very little information available on the Internet detailing student experiences of learning Farsi in Iran. I have therefore decided to share some impressions and personal experiences.

Because the ISCO does not provide a handbook for new students, most of the information I've provided here you need to figure out by yourself or with your fellow students. My hope in writing this blog entry is that some people will find it helpful.


In the classroom

As a warning to the reader, I must say at the outset that I am not especially good at learning a new language. I have little natural talent for it. I am almost always the slowest student in the class. I was not taught grammar in when I was a student in New Zealand. Furthermore, I did not undertake any formal study of Farsi before coming to the course. I had done a little self-study with the Rosetta Stone Farsi language CDs.

Before arriving, the University applied for a three month student visa on my behalf. It took about five and half months for it to be issued. It took so long that I had to change my plans and shorten my course of Farsi study. Shorter length tourist visas, suitable for shorter periods of study, can take much less time to be issued.

As of mid 2009, the classes are small. This provides many opporunities for individually tailored language instruction. Classes run from 8:30am till about 11:45am, with a small break in between. The teachers are all women. They are interesting, engaging and friendly teachers. They have without expception been patient, polite and a pleasure to learn with. They are all well educated. Almost of them speak adequate English, which is helpful for beginners like me, when explanations are needed. However those who are more advanced in their knowledge of Farsi will of course prefer their teachers teach in Farsi.


Sheikh Loft Allah Mosque, Isfahan

The classrooms are located in a very beautiful part of the campus, beside a lovely garden. Nearby insects can sometimes be heard creating a enticing symphony of chirps, which can be a welcome respite from the feeling of being overwhelmed by the unfamiliar and strange sounds of a new language.

In the beginners class, a text book called Let's Learn Farsi is used. It can be purchased from a bookshop near Siosipol Bridge (a teacher will tell you where to buy it from). Accompanying the text book is an audio CD, which is not for sale. However this is not a problem as the MP3 files from the CD can be copied from computers at the ISCO. The book is helpful. It contains helpful phrases which are immediately useful in places like shops and homes. It is professionally produced, and has some interesting music to accompany it. However in the accompanying audio, the dialogue can proceed at such a tremendously rapid rate that it is impossible for the beginner to keep up. This can be frustrating. The aim is laudable—ordinary Iranians are inclined to speak fairly rapidly, and the student needs to learn to listen to conversational Farsi sooner or later. However, in my opinion, it would be useful for the audio guide to include the option of dialogue spoken more slowly, in addition to the existing dialogue. Furthermore, new words can be introduced without an explanation of what they mean. Sometimes the meaning can be guessed, but it means that without a dictionary, the teacher's guidance is truly essential.


Fruit and vegetable market, Isfahan

Fellow students may be fluent in Arabic (which makes it far easier for them), or may have English as a second or third language. One of my classmates is from Korea. It is very difficult for him to pronounce Farsi. He is much better at understanding Farsi than I am (he has been in Iran for more than a year), but I have an impossible time understanding what he is saying when he speaks Farsi.

I have found it very helpful to continue using the Rosetta Stone Farsi language CDs outside of class. They are logical, and the accompanying audio is always extremely well spoken. I also appreciate the pedagogy they use, where written words and audio accompany images, without any translation into English. Although the text book uses a similar approach, personally I strongly prefer Rosetta Stone to the text book, because of its structure and pace (of course, there is nothing like being in a classroom to ask questions and have errors in pronunciation corrected). To use Rosetta Stone you'll need your own computer, obviously.


Friday Mosque, Isfahan

I recommend bringing your laptop, if you have one. You can use it in the accommodation to connect to the Internet using a LAN connection in your room. Otherwise Internet access on campus is not easy. A Internet cafe not far from the Guest House is basic, and closes during summer, when most students are on their break.

The University of Isfahan has a truly vast campus—easily the largest campus I have ever seen. Free buses are available to transport students and visitors to various points throughout the campus. The campus rests on a gently sloping hill, providing a splendid view of the city. Gardens, lawns and at least one orchard are scattered about the campus. Unlike any other University I've attended, fences dominate the campus . One gets the impression that the planners deliberately made it difficult to walk from one place to another using a direct route. Instead of handy gates or walkways between building and fences, one must circumnavigate them to get where one needs to go. That can occasionally add many minutes to one's walk.


View from the Mehmansara

The accommodation provided for most students in the course—those who do not already live here in Iran, or who do not have families with them—is in the University Guest House (Mehmansara). It is a bit like budget hotel. The rooms are spacious and functionally furnished. I have not needed to share my room, but that could change if the number of students were to increase. The quality of room you will receive may vary dramatically depending on exactly which room you get assigned. In the first room I stayed in, the telephone and Internet did not work at all. The shower hardly worked and the toilet was problematic. The balcony was very dirty. After a couple of weeks, when despite repeated requests to the Mehmansara staff it became clear they would not be fixed, I requested a room change from the ISCO. My new room is far superior.

The quality of the Internet connection varies. Sometimes it works without issues. At other times, it does not work at all, or runs very slowly. Naturally, censorship of the Internet is in place, as required by the Government.

There is no laundry facility in the Mehmansara, and it is unclear as to where the nearest laundromat is. The restaurant at the ground floor of the Mehmansara is vegetarian unfriendly. The only suitable vegetarian dish is a mediocre salad. There are a couple of stores a few minutes walk away, selling dry goods, as well as fruits and vegetables. However almost all the rooms in the Mehmansara are not designed for cooking in. If you're lucky, you might be one of the few people to be provided with a small heating element, but don't count on it. If you're going to stay here for three months, that could be a problem.


Armenian Orthodox Church, Isfahan

Not far from the Mehmansara is a handy bus stop, which is regularly served by buses that can take you straight into the center of town. If you are contemplating learning Farsi in Iran, and you've never been to Iran, it is helpful to know that Isfahan is a very beautiful and often charming city. Its architecture can be stunning. Some of my photos of Isfahan (also spelled Esfahan) can be found here and here.

Update, August 13 2010: You can view a followup to this blog entry here: http://www.edgeofconsciousness.net/2010/08/learning-farsi-in-isfahan-part-2.html.

Defeated, dethroned, and now, defaced

Mohammad Reza Pahlavi was Iran's monarch from 1941 to1979. He ruled the country for 37 years, and was unceremoniously removed from power in 1979 by Ayatollah Khomeini and his many millions of followers. He died in 1980. Today his wife, Farah Pahlavi, divides her time between the West and Egypt.



A lavish photo book extolling the glories of Iran's present and past, called Persia: Bridge of Turquoise, was produced during the king's reign. The photography was by Roloff Beny, and it included an essay by the renowned Iranian scholar Seyyed Hossein Nasr. The forward was written by Farah Pahlavi.



The book contains a few images of the king and his wife, both of whom look eminently regal in appearance. When I was browsing through a copy of this book a few days ago in the Morrison Library at UC Berkeley, I was momentarily stunned and slightly bemused to find an X a previous reader had drawn using a red ball point pen on one of the pictures. It was scribbled directly on the face of the former king. Someone had literally defaced the king.



The vandalism of a library book is a librarian's nightmare, of course. Damage done to any book is often permanent, and can be disastrous when the book is impossible to replace. UC Berkeley's library is one of the finest in the United States. It provides an outstanding environment for scholarly research. One simply doesn't expect to find random acts of permanent political protest within the pages of its library books, even at a campus with a progressive reputation like Berkeley. In such an august environment, is such an act by a reader a stirring rebellion in favor of humanity's dignity and justice, or merely the uncouth work of a hasty barbarian?

What was the vandal thinking? Was it spontaneous? Maybe seeing a few images of regal splendor was more than the vandal could handle, and the defenseless book was the object of their frustration. I imagined a face, angry at first, eyes ablaze, a red pen held aloft ready to strike, but then softening to reflect a warm, satisfied glow. Or perhaps it was a measured act, plotted after a night of determined reflection. My mind formed the image of a student tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, with angry thoughts coursing through his tender mind. Perhaps his uncle had been tortured and killed by the king's intelligence services, and he was taking revenge. Perhaps he hated the outlandish wealth of the king, while the ordinary people suffered.

I became fascinated with the defaced image. It represented something for me, but what was it exactly? There are many oppressive forces that bear down on us. We may feel like we have little control over our destiny. We might well be aware that many of our leaders are selfish and perhaps even overtly corrupt, like the former king of Iran was, but we probably feel we have little power to change the situation. Defacing an image might be one way for someone to feel like they're doing something productive.

The king was a handsome man. His wife was undoubtedly beautiful. Iranians often place a premium on looks. They can afford to. They're an attractive and refined people. An Iranian American was recently telling me of his displeasure at what he considers the rampant materialism and all around shallowness found within much of his community in southern California. Yet the red X disregarded all of that decadent aesthetic pleasure. It said “I don't care how handsome and beautiful you are, you're still a dastardly scoundrel.”

Perhaps the fact that I am a photographer myself makes me sensitive to these issues. I'm often intrigued when there is a collision between ideals and ideology, or beauty and ugliness. Images I've published on the Internet are often used for political or artistic purposes by individuals and organizations. Sometimes people ask me for permission, and they occasionally even pay me for the privilege. At other times they use an image without bothering to contact me. Sometimes they respect the dignity of the people in the images, sometimes not.

All in all, the vandal got me thinking. I don't like how they did it, but I have to admit they left their mark on more than just the book.

Baba Kuhi and Hafez

Shiraz has long been Iran's cultural capital. It has produced poets and mystics of such renowned quality that some parents of neighboring countries like Afghanistan and Pakistan teach their children Farsi, just so they too can drink from the cup of divinely inspired verse and prose.


Baba Kuhi's tomb overlooking Shiraz

Hafez, born approximately 1320 A.D., is among the most famous of Iran's poets. Everyday masses of visitors and locals flock to his magnificent tomb, touching his grave and reciting his poetry. They know him especially for his romantic poetry, but he also composed poems on God and in protest of oppressive political rule. He has become a cultural icon. This was not always so. In fact in his lifetime he had enemies who were jealous of his prodigious talent, including among the conservative religious clergy, who accused him of not being Islamic. However his talent was too great to repress, and the common folk adored him. These days even mullahs may occasionally be seen praying beside his grave.


Hefez's tomb

Baba Kuhi, who died approximately 1050 A.D, is less well-known. Indeed many Iranians know little about him, if they have heard of him at all. Unlike Hafez's tomb, which is prominently located in the city, Baba Kuhi's tomb is found perched on the side of a small mountain ("Baba Kuhi" translates into English as "father of the mountain"). There are no sign posts pointing the way to his tomb, and it is not even located on tourist maps produced by an elegant hotel nearby.

Baba Kuhi appears to have reached the highest levels of divine union, as evidenced by his classic poem, Only God I Saw:

In the market, in the cloister -- only God I saw.
In the valley and on the mountain -- only God I saw.

Him I have seen beside me oft in tribulation;
In favor and in fortune -- only God I saw.

In prayer and fasting, in praise and contemplation,
In the religion of the Prophet -- only God I saw.

Neither soul nor body, accident nor substance,
Qualities nor causes -- only God I saw.

I oped mine eyes and by the light of his face around me
In all the eye discovered -- only God I saw.

Like a candle I was melting in his fire:
Amidst the flames outflashing -- only God I saw.

Myself with mine own eyes I saw most clearly,
But when I looked with God's eyes -- only God I saw.

I passed away into nothingness, I vanished,
And lo, I was the All-living -- only God I saw.

(The translation is from Reynold A. Nicholson, The Mystics of Islam, London: Arkana, 1989).


Baba Kuhi's modest grave

When I visited Baba Kuhi's tomb, I soon discovered it was being reconstructed, from top to bottom. The grave itself was tiny and nondescript. The site was covered in fine dust. Rickety old chairs stood to one side. I looked up and admired what I thought was the handsomely painted ceiling. Only after clambering up the scaffolding using a makeshift ladder did I realize that the ceiling work was made from countless ceramic tiles which had been patiently cut into pieces and neatly arranged, including the detailed geometric designs. The man undertaking the work, Hamid, proudly showed me his handiwork. One day his children will come, and tell their children that it was their grandfather who built the ceiling, piece by piece.


Ceiling tiles at Baba Kuhi's tomb

Hamid left me at the tomb and headed back into town. I then meditated using Baba Kuhi's poem as my passage, concluding with a different passage that Sri Ramakrishna used to enjoy singing from. I wondered who might have come to this place before me and likewise drawn on these two mystical figures.

I headed down the mountainside and stumbled across Baba Kuhi street. Soon after I saw a woman in her late forties sitting beside the road. Next to her was a battered old car. I asked her if she minded being in a photo. She looked puzzled. I tried to explain that her face would not be seen. She looked even more puzzled. I took the photo. Soon a rotund man from across the street joined us. I showed them the image and they seemed to conclude I was a little deranged. "He's a tourist" she muttered to him, and he nodded in agreement.



There is a charming story linking the lives of Hafez and Baba Kuhi that deserves to be more widely known. As a young man, Hafez had fallen in love with a beautiful woman, Shakh-e-Nabat. His love was a hopeless love, however, as she was due to marry a local prince. In desperation he remembered the legend that if he were to stay awake for forty nights at Baba Kuhi's tomb, he would be granted immortality, the gift of poetry, and whatever his heart wished for. Determined, Hafez undertook a lonely vigil at the tomb. By the end of the forty nights, his most fervent wish had changed. His longing for Shakh-e-Nabat was supplanted by a longing to achieve union with God, which he achieved forty years later.


A girl from among a group of school children singing Hafez's poetry at his tomb talks to her teacher

I thought it was rather neat that I had the good fortune to visit Baba Kuhi's tomb as it was being reconstructed. The symbolism of the two tombs is dazzling. Hafez, poet of the masses, awaits his many visitors in a manner befitting his role as a great troubadour of love. Meanwhile, his spiritual father quietly looks down from the mountain, seeing God in everyone and everything. Just like his tomb, true love is something that always needs to be worked on. Perhaps in future more visitors will come to his tomb and find what they may. Before leaving I had my own conversation of sorts with Baba Kuhi. "It is time", I told him. I hope he agrees.

Longing for home

Late last year I made a slideshow incorporating some photos I had made in Iran. I had made it primarily for friends, and assumed that it would not be of particularly great interest to anyone. How wrong I was! Recently it exploded in popularity, with tens of thousands of people viewing it.



The feedback I received from Iranians living abroad was encouraging. Some said how they were moved to tears. Some talked of their childhoods, and others of their planned trips home. From this I realized expatriates can be very much moved by images of their homeland, especially by imagery which is outside the mainstream that they can easily see everyday.

I had originally hosted the website on which this slideshow is located on a webserver in Aotearoa New Zealand, using the company OpenHost NZ. I found their service to be excellent, and I can highly recommend them. There was a problem, however. Given the bandwidth constraints of hosting a website in NZ, I had to quickly find a hosting provider outside of NZ. OpenHost NZ worked constructively with me and I found a new one in the US, where bandwidth limits are practically non-existent in comparison.

The dysfunctional relationship between the U.S. and Iran

In a piece sadly typical of the mainstream U.S. news media, Adam Goldman's idea of critical news journalism is to join the chorus attacking Iranian President Ahmadinejad. I certainly have no problem with any journalist critiquing the powerful, including of course President Ahmadinejad. The job of any decent journalist should be to understand power, to expose lies and to report the truth. Naturally a critical stance is absolutely fundamental to this. Like any powerful leader, there is plenty to write about President Ahmadinejad and his supporters. Yet Mr Goldman uses his critical stance only to critique the enemies of successive U.S. government administrations, including President Ahmadinejad. The U.S. entirely escapes his critical glare. His use of quote marks to describe American aggression are particularly revealing.

Missing is any acknowledgment of the deeply dysfunctional relationship between the U.S. and Iran, going back decades now. Few Americans are aware that in the 1950s Iran had a democratic government and a popular Prime Minister in Mohammed Mossadegh. This government was destroyed by the combined talents of the British and U.S. intelligence services, who in 1953 sponsored a coup and replaced it with a dictatorship far more accommodating to Western oil companies. The dictatorship led to the Iranian revolution in 1979.

During this entire period the relationship between the two countries could only be described as dysfunctional. Even the years of the dictatorship in 1953-1979, when government-to-government relations were good, the type of relationship between the two countries can hardly be described as healthy. U.S. support for the dictatorship was in no way meant to be something designed for the betterment of Iranians and their country. Instead, it existed to further the power and wealth of Western companies. Any benefits to Iranians were tangential to this objective.

The 1979 Iranian revolution of course dramatically changed the nature of the government-to-government relationship, and from my perspective the two governments did much to ensure the relationship between the two countries would remain poor. There were significant exceptions of course, such as the efforts toward dialog during the administration of former Iranian President Mohammad Khatami. Yet on the whole, progress has been disappointing, which is the responsibility of both countries.

It is ironic that Mr Goldman's article finishes with a recognition of the right to free speech, given how much his own article resembles those found in countries with strict media censorship. It's all pretty much the same fare - "we are the good guys, with superior values and deeds, and they are the bad evil doers". It's an approach to journalism that any dictator would be satisfied with.