Radio Zamaneh - May 25, 2017
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| Asad Seif, the editor-in-chief of Avaye Tab'id, a journal focused on Iranian exile literature and culture. |
The quarterly magazine Avaye Tab'id (The Voice of Exile) does not confine "exile" to geographic borders but rather aligns it with the contemporary world. We spoke with Asad Seif, the editor-in-chief of this newly established publication.
The first issue of Avaye Tab'id, an online quarterly, spans 350 pages and covers literature and culture.
Regarding the aim of publishing Avaye Tab'id and defining the concept of "exile," the inaugural issue states:
"An exile is not only someone who has been banished from their homeland. An exile can also be exiled from their language, culture, and identity. Someone whose poetry, stories, art, thoughts, or ideas cannot be published or distributed in their own country is also an exile. This publication aims to be the voice of exiles. It does not define exile in terms of geographical borders or its classical interpretation but rather in alignment with the contemporary world."
Each issue of Avaye Tab'id is dedicated to a specific theme, with a guest editor managing that particular topic. The contributors have announced their intention to reflect the "diverse voices" of exiled culture and literature.
We interviewed Asad Seif, editor-in-chief of Avaye Tab'id:
Mr. Seif, in your view, does exile literature still hold relevance? What are its most important themes in the current context?
Whether exile literature exists depends on the perspective you take. If we still see the banishment of dissidents, artists, and writers from a country in the world, then exile and exile literature remain relevant. However, we must not fall into the trap of its classical definition. In our culture, terms like "banished" (nafi-belad) and "exile" (gharibati) have been used. In Persian writings, much has been written about the endless and painful solitude of exile and the deaths of the banished. The term gharibati carries a negative connotation, even as an insult or curse. These meanings no longer apply.
In the past, exiles in Iran or ancient Greece might have died alone, but in the modern world, an exile is someone who is thrust into a larger world — for example, moving from Iran to the West. In this world, one can learn, experience, and write for years. This world can be praised for its contributions to thought, culture, and knowledge.
In today's Iran, some people are even exiled from their religion. For instance, Sunnis and Baha’is are not only denied their citizenship rights but are also exiled from the ruling state’s version of Islam. Similarly, residents of this country who speak a language other than Persian are exiled from their own languages and not allowed to read or write in their mother tongue. It is evident that creative and free literature cannot thrive in this country. Can we not say that such literature is, in effect, exiled?
This is why it is said that exile and exiles today are not limited by borders. One does not necessarily have to be banished from a country. It is possible to live in Iran and still be an exile. When a writer is prevented from writing, when censorship limits their vocabulary, when individuality in fictional characters — just like individuality in citizens — is not tolerated, when students, teachers, and intellectuals are barred from work and education for dissent, when personal freedoms in dress and appearance are restricted, when gender and sexual behavior must conform to the Quran, when young people are deprived of youth, and joy and laughter are stripped from society, then people are effectively cast out from the “insider” community. In my view, all these people are exiles. The literature they create is exile literature.
In your opinion, what impact has censorship and self-censorship had on contemporary Iranian literature? Has exile literature managed to mitigate these effects to any extent? What are its manifestations?
Literature cannot be created under censorship. What is produced in such conditions, with rare exceptions, is not truly literature but its semblance. The most significant impact of censorship and self-censorship on Iranian literature has been its chaos. In that country, little is produced that could be called literature in the Western sense. It cannot be produced. Either the regime censors it, or the writers censor themselves.
In a country where contemporary literary figures like Hedayat, Golshiri, and Sa'edi are not allowed to be published freely or to appear on public library and school bookshelves, how can emerging writers become familiar with the literature of the previous generation? On what literature should today’s works be built?
Even translations of prominent non-Persian literature are censored to the point of losing their essence. For example, if we examine Kundera’s works, what is missing from them is the literature of Kundera.
I am not saying all translations are like this, but there are hundreds of examples of mistranslations and distortions. As a result, it is hard to trust a translation. This may not be an issue for the casual reader, but those who wish to learn from these works are led astray.
The most significant manifestation of censorship and self-censorship is the confusion among many young writers and poets who believe they can create postmodern literature in a premodern context.
To be more specific: the vocabulary of our contemporary novels is, on average, limited to fewer than a thousand words. Isn’t this a catastrophe? I say this based on research I conducted on twenty award-winning novels.
The crime is not limited to silencing dissenters. It is a broader crime: thought, ideas, doubt, literature, art, culture, and even science have been killed in this society. The full extent of this disaster will become apparent in future generations — something we cannot yet fully grasp.
Majid Roshangar was the first to discuss "migration literature" in one of the issues of Book Review Quarterly during the 2000s. Is there a distinction between "exile literature" and "migration literature"?
With due respect to Mr. Majid Roshangar, unfortunately, like many of our intellectuals, he defined concepts based on his personal position. If he hadn’t been living in both Iran and the U.S., or if his publishing activities in Iran had been shut down or banned, he would have certainly provided a different definition.
One of our peculiarities as Iranians is reducing universally recognized concepts and categories to fit our own perspective. We create pseudo-versions of everything to our benefit. As a result, Iranian "democracy" doesn’t align with global democracy, nor do our elections. In the social sciences, this tendency has produced unique creations. I don’t understand the insistence on these self-made definitions. Can’t the distinction between a migrant and an exile be found in reputable encyclopedias?
Regardless of my opinion or Mr. Roshangar's, exile literature and migration literature are recognized as two distinct topics and concepts in global literature. One needn’t go far; even Wikipedia can clarify this difference.
With advancements in electronic publishing, to what extent can "exile literature" transcend, as Esmail Nooriala put it, "the borders of a country outside the country"?
There is a truth in Mr. Nooriala's statement that aligns with the contemporary world. Manifestations of this can already be observed in the virtual realm. Digital libraries created by Iranians in cyberspace have blurred these boundaries. These libraries host numerous works that could not obtain publishing licenses in Iran, were published once and then banned, or are authored by writers abroad. Anyone using these libraries can access them from anywhere in the world, as long as they have internet connectivity.
Websites also play this role, including those of Persian-language radio and television channels. Beyond this, access to the archives of renowned universities and academic institutions is a significant boon, made possible only in the virtual world. For example, in world literature, the vast library of Project Gutenberg, initiated by Google, is a great blessing for accessing valuable and famous literary works, especially the classics. All of these developments transcend borders.
How often is Avaye Tab’id published?
Avaye Tab’id is planned as a quarterly publication, with the hope of gradually focusing on specific themes.
Do you plan to publish the journal as a physical book?
Some publishers have suggested publishing it as a physical book or on platforms like Amazon. However, if it is published in this form, its accessibility will be limited. Just last week, thousands of people in Iran accessed the journal through various means, including the Radio Zamaneh website. If published on paper, the cost of shipping and distribution would eventually hinder its publication.
It is preferred that the journal continues to be published online. This way, it will have a larger audience and serve as a bridge between Iranian writers, not only those residing outside Iran but also those inside and outside the country.
The original text in Farsi on Radio Zamaneh's website: https://www.radiozamaneh.com/342655.