June 3, 2004 – Manaf Sababi
This year, as in previous years, hundreds of thousands of freedom-loving and justice-seeking people are gathering at Babak Khorramdin Castle to demonstrate resistance against injustice and colonial domination.
If I am not mistaken, about 6–7 years ago, upon the suggestion of the renowned Azerbaijani historian, the late Professor Zehtabi, around 150 people gathered at the castle for the first time to commemorate Babak’s birthday as a symbol of courage and resistance against oppression and invasion. Since then, every year, thousands upon thousands of Azerbaijanis from all over Iran—especially from Tehran and various Turkish-populated cities—travel to the town of Kaleybar in early July. Through dance, music, speeches, and theater, they celebrate Babak Khorramdin’s birthday while also demonstrating solidarity against injustice. In other words, this large cultural gathering, which carries within it a message of protest against discrimination, acts as a catalyst for a broader political movement under the cover of music and celebration.
For the first time, I attended this political-cultural event in 2001 together with a friend from Urmia. The massive presence of people—men and women, young and old—truly astonished me. The image I had previously held of a society paralyzed by fear and repression turned out to be largely incorrect. People were dancing freely everywhere and loudly expressing their thoughts, and there was no visible presence of pressure groups or even police. Despite the fact that many women and girls did not observe the Islamic dress code required by the regime, there were no signs of harassment or conflict. The participants’ civil and democratic behavior was truly remarkable. More than half a million people, without any formal organization or management, willingly respected each other’s rights. Even the heavy crowd did not create serious traffic problems. This atmosphere reminded me of the early days of the revolution, when people acted with sincerity, solidarity, and mutual support.
Music and dancing could be heard from every corner. People were scattered across an area as large as hundreds of football fields. At dawn on Friday morning, most people began moving in groups toward the castle. Some associations had organized spontaneous ceremonies at the top. Due to the dense crowd along the several-kilometer ascent, we were delayed and reached the castle around 11 a.m. Unfortunately, because of the overwhelming crowd, we could not observe the ceremonies at the summit.
It was clear that the security forces had not anticipated such a massive turnout. The small number of traffic police and the absence of patrol units in the area confirmed this. Without doubt, more than half a million people were present, although no precise statistics exist due to obvious reasons. Participants were dispersed across a wide area, making accurate counting impossible. Estimates likely ranged between 500,000 and 1.5 million, depending on the observer’s perspective. Unfortunately, both domestic and international media failed to properly cover this significant event. After returning from Iran, it became clear that such a large gathering had not received the attention it deserved.
Some time later, the longing to revisit my homeland arose again. In early July 2003, I traveled to Iran with my brother. Encouraged by my previous positive experience, I decided once again to attend the gathering at Babak Castle. We arrived late Thursday night at my mother’s home, and early Friday morning—without even having time to visit relatives—we set out again for the castle. That year, as in 2004, the event coincided with the mourning period of Fatimah Zahra, daughter of the Prophet of Islam. As a result, the celebration was postponed by one week to July 18, which coincided with the student movement anniversary.
At that time, the Iranian government was under intense pressure from Western countries regarding the signing of the Additional Protocol on nuclear weapons. Political analysts believed that internal and external pressures had reached a point where the regime’s survival was uncertain unless external pressure was somehow neutralized. Therefore, the political atmosphere in July was tense, chaotic, and at the same time somewhat hopeful. Fear and rumors—such as alleged negotiations between Iranian officials and American generals—were widespread. The sensitivity of the situation was palpable. The intelligence services had warned prominent Azerbaijani figures not to attend the gathering.
Even before reaching within 100 kilometers of the castle, police stopped our car and recorded our names, destination, and purpose of travel. Again, 20 kilometers before Kaleybar, the Revolutionary Guards stopped all vehicles, searching for musical instruments, banners, leaflets, and loudspeakers. Since we had nothing but sandwiches, we passed without difficulty. A third checkpoint at the entrance to Kaleybar involved fewer questions.
Given the heavy presence of security forces along the road, I initially thought participation would be low that year. However, seeing at least 200,000 to 300,000 people gathered around the mountain once again amazed me. Unlike previous years, security and pressure forces were fully prepared. Nearly 10,000 security personnel were deployed around the castle. Loudspeakers had been installed throughout the area, continuously broadcasting religious chants, Quran recitations, and mourning songs—creating a rather absurd atmosphere. Units of the Revolutionary Guards and Basij marched collectively while performing mourning rituals, despite being mocked by the public.
Nevertheless, music and dancing could still be heard everywhere, and security forces were unable to suppress it. People courageously understood that the vast open space limited the effectiveness of repression. At the same time, it became clear that many participants were not solely motivated by political goals; recreation, unity, and social connection were also important factors in the gathering.
A week later, I was summoned to the intelligence office and interrogated for two hours about my participation. I openly expressed my views about the cultural and political nature of the event. Interestingly, the interrogator repeatedly insisted that only 50,000 people had attended, which I firmly but respectfully rejected. My interrogation coincided with the killing of Zahra Kazemi, the courageous Iranian-Canadian journalist. It seemed the interrogators, aware of the consequences of excessive force, treated me cautiously. They alternated between threats and promises, seeking information about opposition activities abroad. Since I was not involved in any political organizations or gatherings outside Iran, I had no such information to provide.
Instead, our discussion shifted to the rights of various ethnic groups in Iran, including Azerbaijani Turks. Contrary to my expectations, the interrogators believed that national movements among ethnic groups were artificially created by foreign countries. Because I was confident that detaining me would only create negative publicity—especially in Swedish media—and that they were aware of the consequences following Kazemi’s case, I did not hesitate to express mild criticism of the regime and challenge their arguments. After two hours, I was released, but I remained anxious until I left the country. I promised myself not to attend the Babak gathering again unless fundamental changes occurred in the system.
This year, we are once again approaching Babak’s birthday on July 10. Due to its coincidence with the mourning of Fatimah Zahra, debates have arisen regarding the appropriate date for the ceremony. Recently, a statement signed by 151 Azerbaijani political, social, cultural, and student organizations proposed postponing the event to July 18–19. Some groups still support holding it on July 11–12, but it appears that the majority favors July 18–19 in order to maintain unity and avoid weakening this large gathering. Under these circumstances, the authorities would have no legitimate reason to prevent the event.
With hope for even greater participation in this national celebration.