Relating to the previous post about Iran and its young people, ‘No-one Knows about Persian Cats’ was a film featured at this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival. It is a great insight into the lives of young people in Iran.
Ash Koosha and Negar Shaghagai are young Iranian rock singers. They star in a film called ‘No one know about Persian Cats’, which charts the story of Tehran’s underground rock scene. On Saturday the film debuts at the London film festival and next week it will screen at the Doha Tribeca Film Festival.
Although the film is a drama, their story is real. The movie is part fiction, part documentary. They are very much part of Tehran’s music scene and they have suffered at the hands of a political establishment unwilling to accept their form of art. Some members of their rock group have spent time in jail after being caught performing at illegal outdoor rock concerts.
The young rockers have been in Europe since earlier this year, helping to promote the film and play gigs. Shortly after the Cannes film festival it became obvious that returning home was no longer a real option. Going back to Tehran would mean an uncertain future and possibly even arrest. They sought asylum here in Britain (as Al Jazeera reported back in August), and it has now been granted.
Saturday is a big day for Ash and Negar. The film screening in London is an important part of their journey, but their story is most definitely not over yet.
In this two-part series, Gabriella Haynes talks to some of the young people who joined the ‘Green movement’ following the June elections in Iran in which the incumbent President Mahmoud Ahmedinejad returned to power. Read Part 1 here.
On a plane between Shiraz and Tehran, a young teacher talked about her struggle between fight and flight. For her, the experience of joining the ‘Greens’ had been overwhelmingly positive, describing the Qods day marches as ‘beautiful’. “It was such a nice feeling,” she said, with an air of relief. It had brought together two sides of many Iranian lives. ‘Real’ life is lived primarily in the home, or other private spaces. Here, away from the pan-opticon effects of living a surveyed society, people are able to live as they would like.
In the movie Persepolis, Marji listened to Iron Maiden and debated politics with her parents. For many young Tehranis, privacy might provide the opportunity to remove the headscarf, gather with friends, and listen to music. For this teacher, the private world had been brought out into the open during the protests, where friends were able to openly declare their hopes and appear in public with like-minded people.
“If all of the people who think differently leave, there’ll never be any change.”
She ventured that it was fateful we had met – she and her husband had been applying for citizenship in Australia. When I asked if she had been there, she said no, but that she loved it anyway. “I have heard it is so beautiful,” she said.
Despite attempts to move out of Iran to various other countries without success, her involvement with the protests had nutured conflicting feelings about leaving the country, because, as she put it, “if all of the people who think differently leave, there’ll never be any change.”
Iran’s political situation is never static. Ahmedinejad is now meeting with officials from the U.S, Russia and France to discuss Iran’s nuclear program, in the most extensive thawing of relations between Iran and the West in years. Within the country, stories of rape and torture of detainees following the protests continue to circulate and opposition leaders continue to deny the government’s election victory. The leadership is also faced with dissatisfaction over rising unemployment and oil prices. Change will not necessarily only be the responsibility of the country’s young people; it will be pushed along by many other factors.
In Persepolis, though Marji’s time abroad brings isolation, her return does not provide resolution. She realises the country has become more restrictive in her absence. In a perfect metaphor for the confusing intersection of the personal and the political, her feelings of depression over the state of politics are misdiagnosed as a nervous breakdown. Unfortunately a simple prescription can’t resolve this very complex and ever-present dilemma, for Marji or for the many young Iranians still facing it.
For more background on the 1979 revolution and the context for recent events, see The Iranian Revolution: 30 Years On – The Guardian reflects on the legacy of the Iranian revolution using some stunning news photography.
In this two-part series, Gabriella Haynes talks to some of the young people who joined the ‘Green movement’ following the June elections in Iran that saw Mahmoud Ahmedinejad returned to power. She learns that these young adults make many decisions typical for their age about family, travel and friends – but also carry a political burden.
Part 1
The 2007 film Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi remembers her life as a teenager living under the newly established Islamic republic of Iran. Despite the hope brought by the revolution, Marji and her family are disappointed by the increasing restrictions imposed by the regime, and the young woman shows her rebellion in small but significant ways. Fearing for her safety, her parents encourage her to study in Vienna, Austria, but her migration brings loneliness, isolation and ultimately, depression. Unable to relate to the superficiality of her adopted society and made to feel ashamed of being Iranian, she returns to Iran.
When news of large protests in Iran broke following the announcement of election results in June of this year, Western viewers anticipated a revolution to echo the deposition of the Shah in 1979. This was perhaps a logical scenario to expect from outside of the country; Iranians had rebelled against oppression once, so they surely would again. Yet within Iran’s borders, a belief in neat solutions and simple divisions are impossible to adhere to. Those who oppose Ahmedinejad continue to live their day-to-day life in a country about which they feel compelling passion and unending frustration. There is, particularly for young people, constant conflict between politics and everyday life, public and private, personal and collective.
“Maybe change will come if we engage with the next generation.”
Though briefly rekindled by the Qods day march in September, the movement contesting the Iranian election results has slowly lost momentum, at least in the public sphere. Not far below the surface, however, restlessness persists. During our travels through the country in October, we had been approached by English speaking teachers, students and tourism operators who were eager to express their differences with the current government. A student in Tehran told me it was because people wanted to let us know, as representatives of the West, that not all Iranians thought the same way as Ahmedinejad.
A committed participant in the ‘Greens’, the student had protested alongside his peers in the post-election protests. He spoke about the movement with nostalgia, despite the continuing fervour of his peers. He confessed that recently he often couldn’t bring himself to check his email because the political debate was so intense and overwhelming; a result of the combination of extreme passion and fading hope as sentences were handed down to protesters and reports of violent retaliation circulated.
Like Marji in the film, he had lived overseas and been lucky enough to gain citizenship in a safe, ordered Western country, yet escape had not been a simple matter of visas. He too had felt isolated, misunderstood, and far away from his family. Despite having an easy option to withdraw from the political confusion, he now prioritised family and sought a sense of freedom through his activism. As he understood it, this decision to engage with Iran and all its problems would not necessarily bring benefits in his lifetime. “A lot of my friends are starting to study education,” he said. “Maybe change will come if we engage with the next generation.”
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