Eat and Be Quiet

Leaders and their legacy: bas relief at Persepolis...

Switch on any Iranian telly, flick through the five or six state-run channels on offer and you would be forgiven for thinking that the country is inhabited by a seething mass of flag-waving maniacs who spend most of their time running from the mosque to a meet-and-greet with the Supreme Leader (as Ayatollah Khamenei is lovingly referred to) and back. The unrelenting flow of images showing manifestations and mullahs trying to sing through their nose is only interspersed with something that outshines all: Premier League football.

My favourite bit is the English-language ticker on the national news channel. Here, the obsession with the U.S. and Israel reaches great heights. The world could be on fire and you wouldn't know, but you'll hear all about it when nurses in Minnesota go on strike or a soldier of the 'zionist regime' accidentally kills a mouse by stepping on it. Anything negative or defamatory will do.

Switch off the telly and leave the room, and you'll find a different Iran. Compared with certain parts of Turkey religion is a rather subdued affair. In Shi'ite Iran, the call to prayer sounds three rather than five times a day, and many women dress as liberally as they can possibly get away with. Politics, much to my surprise, is something that leaves most people cold. Mention the president's name and chances are you'll hear a deep sigh.

Of course, things were different three years ago, when thousands upon thousands of young Iranians took to the streets to protest what they believed were fraudulent presidential elections. 'There was something in the air,' a young carpenter told me. 'For a few days, we felt that we were on the brink of a new era. But we never stood a chance. I remember being at the head of a crowd, watching the Basij militia advance. When I looked over my shoulder, my friends had disappeared. I was beaten up so badly... I didn't have the guts to return the next day.'

...and a mural in Esfahan

'They wanted to teach us a lesson,' a bank clerk from the south told me. 'They wanted to make sure it wouldn't happen again. And it hasn't. The forces we are up against are too strong. Look at what's going on in Syria at the moment. People are being massacred by the hands of the forces that are supposed to protect them. And the world just stands by.'

'But there must be more to the current docility,' I said. 'Aren't people simply too well-off?' 'Oh, absolutely,' he smiled. 'Most of us are doing relatively well. You'd think twice, wouldn't you, before risking everything you have. People have a mortgage to worry about, they want to be able to send their children to university. As long as they get by they're willing to sacrifice part of their freedom.'

A retired teacher in a small town gripped his cane and looked me in the eye. 'Eat and be quiet. That's what this regime wants us to do. Eat and be quiet. Like animals. And we obey. We live life to the best we can and steer clear from politics. Don't forget it's only a minority that supports this regime. But it's a very determined minority.'

'Have you never thought of leaving the country?' I asked him. Every year tens of thousands of educated Iranians take the plunge and build up a new life elsewhere. It is estimated that the Iranian diaspora amounts to four million, with large concentrations in the U.S., Canada, Australia and Sweden.

'No,' the old man said. 'I've seen the world. I've been to many places. But this is where I belong, here, in this town.' Then, with a flush of anger: 'I want to live like a gentleman in my own country. Is that too much to ask?'