Eyvaz Taha - February 08, 2022
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| Eyvaz Taha, philosopher, writer, and political commentator. |
Many citizens have recounted the suffering they have experienced because of the imposition of the Persian language. The hashtag #ManoFarsi—meaning “Farsi and Me”—created a virtual storm in the truest sense of the term. It elicited numerous responses and provoked nervous reactions from centralists. Yet, despite the hostility of certain ethnocentric figures, this hashtag does not call for the elimination of Persian; rather, it articulates a demand for linguistic justice.
- The position of the Iranists in this matter is clear. Following their chauvinist theorists, they seek to complete the unfinished project of ethnic homogenization. “Whether through honour or disgrace,” they want to preserve an already discriminatory order and make it even more homogeneous than before. They must understand, however, that preserving the hegemony of one ethnic group’s language, culture, and history through such means amounts to opening the gates of hell. This is not difficult to comprehend. The theological violence embedded in this shameful defence of centralism could unleash such tremendous destructive energy that it might culminate in genocide. What ethnocentrists overlook is the possibility of counterviolence. When they attempt to suppress the Other through unrestrained violence, the response of that Other may prove equally violent and bloody.
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The reformists have chosen silence. In 2017, they paid the price for the recklessness of some of their members—members who, standing shoulder to shoulder with the institutions of power, not only turned a blind eye to the suffering of the marginalized but also called for their repression. The outcome was clear: from the height of their popularity during the June 2017 election, the reformists sank to the depths of public resentment during the protests of December 2017 and January 2018. This time, however, their silence has another explanation. As Shiʿism’s role in reproducing social cohesion declines, they imagine that their salvation lies in clinging to an ethnocentrism centred on the Persian language. It is therefore hardly surprising that figures such as Seyyed Mostafa Tajzadeh should sneer at the accounts of non-Persian speakers, or that Emadeddin Baghi and the foot soldiers of ethnocentrism, such as Mohammad Ghouchani and Hamid Reza Jalaeipour, should revive worn-out conspiracy theories. Nevertheless, the reformists’ contempt for the fundamental rights of the country’s citizens is understandable: they are preoccupied with their own political and economic interests.
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Meanwhile, the silence of certain cultural and political activists who claim to support democracy is astonishing. There is no doubt that, because of persistent denial and the obstruction of channels of power, the accumulated excess of national demands in Iran will spill over into violence. These activists could play a role in preventing such violence. Yet, in their efforts to establish a democratic order, they continue to observe certain prohibited boundaries—boundaries at which their commitment to democracy comes to a halt, reducing their advocacy of change to something merely decorative. They are less committed to the circulation of power, wealth, and discourse than they are to preserving the hierarchical foundations of a century-old order. They fail to recognize that the discriminatory nature of this discourse has now been exposed and that it can no longer reproduce its naturalized appearance. A century-old Persian-centred discourse can no longer secure social cohesion or generate the necessary political passion among the half of Iran’s population that has been harmed by it. Beyond this lies the question of moral responsibility. Thousands of existing documents demonstrate that, during Reza Shah’s nation-building project, languages such as Turkish, Kurdish, and Arabic were suppressed in racist and violent ways. The moral responsibility of these individuals is to acknowledge and stand in solidarity with the immense suffering of those who were suppressed—not to deny the existence of an ethnic group called Persian as a means of denying other human beings their fundamental rights.
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But why is the Left silent? The Left pays even less attention than Stalin did to linguistic discrimination, even though it lies at the heart of the national question. A large part of the Left, imagining that it must not taint itself with nationalism, has fallen into the trap of ethnocentric nationalism. It therefore stands ready to justify its overt irresponsibility and concealed centralism by stigmatizing every spontaneous protest against ethnic discrimination. Why have figures such as Behrouz Khaliq, Shidan Vossough, Mohammad Reza Shalgouni, Morad Farhadpour, Omid Mehrgan, and Saleh Najafi remained silent on this issue? From a safe distance from social reality, they immerse themselves in theoretical radicalism; yet, when confronted with this concrete problem, they retreat into the posture of the Hegelian “beautiful soul.”
- Mohammad Reza Nikfar argues that, with the decline of Shiʿism’s role in maintaining social cohesion, the country’s principal divide will be between Turks and Persians. Yet he does not acknowledge that another factor widening this fault line is the growing awareness of the discriminatory position occupied by the Persian language—a position constructed at the cost of the destruction of other languages. As the backbone of a century-old hegemonic discourse, Persian is also the symbol of overlapping circles of discrimination: discrimination between centre and periphery, ethnic discrimination, and religious discrimination. It is time for the bearers of this language to place it in an equitable position so that other languages may have room to breathe. Otherwise, neither the vine nor the vine-grower will remain.
Eyvaz Taha’s Telegram Channel: @eyvaztaha