Rabbi Froman's daughter's wedding

In the second half of 2005 I was doing an internship in Jerusalem as part of my MA in Peace Studies from the Kroc Institute at the University of Notre Dame. It was a fantastic experience and I highly recommend the Kroc program to prospective students. In November of that year I was most fortunate to be invited by Eliyahu McLean to a wedding being held in an Israeli settlement deep in the West Bank in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. One of Rabbi Froman's ten children was being married — one of his daughters.


The bride dances

The wedding turned out to be a magical evening, and not only because it was my first time to attend a Jewish wedding. It was an evening to never forget because the Palestinian religious peacemaker Hajj Ibrahim also came to the wedding — he was delayed and arrived late, but made a grand entrance. Luckily I was able to document some of the evening's events with my camera.


Hajj Ibrahim dances with Rabbi Froman

Earlier that year I'd started to learn the craft of photography. There was a lot to learn! Some aspects have taken me several years to master. I've also had access to better equipment and software than when I started. In the past several weeks I've reprocessed the photos I originally took, improving their look. The first thing to get right was the white balance, and then the color and noise control. The conditions were difficult photographically — like almost all wedding halls, it was dimly lit. I made the choice to make the photos bright and colorful, reflecting how the event felt emotionally.

You can see the photos and the original writeup I penned at the time at a gallery on PBase.

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.

The death of Jawahar Abu-Rahmah of Bil’in

Noam Sheizaf has written a detailed account of the death of Jawahar Abu-Rahmah at the village of Bil'in.

Poor Ms. Abu-Rahmah was killed by exposure to tear gas during a protest in which she was a bystander — and instead of the Israeli government and Israeli Defense Forces pausing to take a deep breath, and reassess why they protests are occurring, a deluge of shameless lies emerges.


Blind Palestinian villager during protest on September 2, 2005.

I’ve been to Bil’in. This is an audio slideshow of a protest in Bil'in I made in 2005.

The events Mr. Sheizaf describes are very much disturbing — in a way that I cannot quite make rational sense out of. As Mr. Sheizaf suggests, to be killed or wounded in the places where everything is going on — in the middle of the action among the bullets, tear gas and rocks — is not at all surprising. Yet Ms. Abu-Rahmah was standing on a hill, away from central action, and the gas rushed towards her and ultimately killed her. Perhaps it is a kind of metaphor for the unintended consequences of deploying mass violence to repress problems. The gas, carried by the wind, is our foolishness and arrogance, our failure of the imagination, and our greed. We cannot control the wind, and no one in the history of humanity has been able to control all the flow-on effects of choosing violence over nonviolence, repression over dialogue, and arrogance over genuine collaboration between people with differences.

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.