Foreign Policy

Winter 1999–2000

 

Jame’ehshenasi-ye Nokhbeh Koshi dar Iran
(The Killing of Iran’s Elites: A Sociological Study)
By Ali Rezagoli
Reviewed by Afshin Molavi and Kaveh Basmenji

 

As the winds of liberal reform buffet Iran, the country’s modernist intellectuals can be forgiven a certain degree of pessimism. After all, this old and tormented land has seen a colorful parade of failed reformists and false messiahs wave their pamphlets and their dreams, only to be cut down by reactionary monarchs, foreign powers, political backwardness, or their own hubris and ineptitude. Ali Rezagoli, a Tehran sociologist wounded by a painful reading of Iran’s past, is one of those intellectual pessimists, observing history from the gallery and wincing at the tragic scenes. In a soul-searching cultural inquiry into modern Iranian political history, his book, The Killing of Iran’s Elites, concludes that Iranian soil is not fit for reformist leaders—an important claim in the era of President Mohammad Khatami.

The errant iconoclasts of reformist and innovative thought, Rezagoli argues, are quickly killed or overthrown by a patriarchal, tribal, traditional culture that fails to appreciate their efforts. “Generally speaking, Iranian society produces corrupt rulers,” he laments in this 240-page polemic that zoomed to the top of Iran’s bestseller list during the past year. In those rare instances when “great” (in Rezagoli’s view) leaders emerge, “the culture quickly corrects itself and kills these great ones within a year or two.”

Rezagoli focuses on three great leaders brought down before their efforts could bear fruit: 19th century reformers, Prime Ministers Qaem Maqam Farahani and Amir Kabir, and 1950s prime minister and nationalist icon, Mohammad Mossadeq. Although the author deliberately avoids discussion of post-1979 Iranian politics, he owes his book’s runaway success mostly to today’s highly charged political atmosphere. The central theme of reformist leaders brought down by an unsophisticated political culture resonates in contemporary Iran, where Khatami is seeking to introduce liberal values amid conservative opposition.

But even in hyper-politicized Tehran, the book might have achieved only marginal success were it not for the timing of its release: The Killing of Iran’s Elites was published during the arrest and trial of Tehran’s popular mayor, Gholamhossein Karbaschi—acts widely seen as a conservative attempt to quash a key reformer and Khatami ally. Suddenly, newspapers and readers alike shouted, today’s Iran had a living testament to the Rezagoli theory: a popular and effective reformist leader, who is brought down by a reactionary and hostile establishment with a minimum of popular protest (readers began to call Karbaschi “today’s Amir Kabir”). Word quickly spread about The Killing of Iran’s Elites and 14 print runs later, it had become the bestselling book of the Iranian year (ending on March 20, 1999). Iranian readers ignored the critics, who snubbed the work as unsophisticated. By embracing Rezagoli’s argument, these readers have strayed from the traditionally middle-class Iranian stance of blaming their country’s problems on “foreign conspiracies” or a corrupt central government.

Beyond the political excitement generated by the book, Rezagoli raises some important points about the effect of Iran’s culture on its politics. If Iran’s culture is patriarchal, deeply traditional, and tribal, then it would follow that only a charismatic strongman can rule Iran. History has given us ample proof of that proposition. However, in studying culture’s effect on politics, Rezagoli fails to do the critical reverse calculation: the effect of politics on culture. More than 2,500 years of absolute and often despotic rule in Iran have bred a traditional, anti-authoritarian, and sometimes cynical political culture. With kings, princes, ministers, and clerics either oblivious to or unable to meet the concerns of the average citizen, the man on the street would naturally turn to tribe or family for support. With governments to be feared, the Iranian Everyman would inevitably view politics as a dangerous game played by elites. In this light, the fall of Amir Kabir or Mohammad Mossadeq becomes merely the latest act in an old tragic play.

Further, the cases Rezagoli uses—Mossadeq, Kabir, Maqam—are weak foundations for his argument. In none of these cases were the Iranian people, or even Iranian culture, involved in the leader’s fall. Kabir and Maqam were killed by palace intrigue, and Mossadeq was brought down by a CIA-supported coup and his own hubris and mismanagement.

Perhaps Rezagoli might have looked into another important aspect of Iranian political culture: hero worship. The Iranian is quick to swoon, to embrace the charismatic leader with a bagful of promises. The people invest all their hopes and dreams and goals in this leader, this redeemer, this hero figure, who has come to save the day. When he fails to meet those unrealistic expectations, the old Iranian cynicism surfaces.

In this kind of political culture, the best a leader can hope for is a timely death, before his attempts to reform fail against the crushing weight of tradition. Then the reformist becomes a martyr and a “what might have been” hero figure in the minds of the people. Mossadeq, in particular, departed at the right moment. The secular nationalist movement he led was crumbling under increasing mismanagement and authoritarianism by the time the CIA decided to break down the already cracking wall in 1953. Mossadeq was exiled to his estate, where he lived under house arrest until he died, and his name became synonymous with Iranian nationalism. His greatest legacy is the dream he left behind to the millions of his admirers: the dream of Iran as a liberal, nationalist democracy, unexploited by foreign powers, progressive and prosperous, resource-rich, and militarily strong.

Nearly half a century later, President Khatami, a child of the seminary and a student of the West, provides Iran its brightest hope for melding liberal democratic values within the country’s Islamic traditions. His two years of rule have already dramatically altered the political discourse of the nation, with talk of civil society, the rule of law, and freedom of the press ruling the day. But can Khatami and his liberal reform movement survive? That question is the unspoken theme of Rezagoli’s book.

There is cause for some optimism. Khatami, a man of religion, unlike Rezagoli’s secular heroes, understands the importance of safeguarding Islamic traditions as he works toward democratic foundations. Like the proverbial general who can make the peace, Khatami’s clerical credentials boost his movement enormously. Moreover, Khatami is a popularly elected leader, which grants him a powerful legitimacy not accorded to most past reformists or, indeed, to many of his opponents. And he is the beneficiary of that old friend of political movements: propitious timing. By May 23, 1997, the day of Khatami’s election, Iran was debt-ridden, demonized, sanctioned, war-scarred, economically faltering, and humiliated. The old anti-West, Third Worldist slogans of the Khomeini era had lost their resonance. Khatami, a smiling cleric who called for greater political and social freedoms, captivated the Iranian electorate, winning in a landslide.

Perhaps the most important element of Iran’s liberal reform movement today is that Khatami is not alone. This is not a revolution from above. Although the old Iranian hero worship can be seen in the massive support for Khatami, the president is flanked by a powerful and growing group of liberal reformists from all walks of life. Even if Khatami were to suffer “a timely death,” chances are his movement wouldn’t die with him.