Iran's New Revolution

[iran_c...@my-deja.com]

Foreign Affairs
January, 2000 / February, 2000
Copyright 2000 Council on Foreign Relations, Inc.

Iran's New Revolution

By Robin Wright*

*a former Middle East correspondent for The
Sunday Times (London), currently covers global affairs for the Los
Angeles Times. She is the author of The Last Great Revolution: Turmoil
and Transformation in Iran.

PROMISES, PROMISES
A GENERATION after it seized power, Iran's revolutionary regime is
deeply
troubled: fractured by intense political divisions, endangered by
economic
disorder, discredited by rampant corruption, and smothered in social
restrictions no longer acceptable to large sectors of its changing
population.
To the outside world the Islamic Republic of Iran often appears to be
at a
precipice, its unique theocratic government on the verge of imploding
from
internal tensions. Over the past year, its domestic drama has played out
visibly, and sometimes violently, in killings by a rogue death squad,
newspaper
closures, student unrest, political trials, local elections, charges of
espionage against the Jewish minority, and as always, relations with
the United
States.

Yet Iran, often in spite of the theocrats, has begun to achieve one of
the
revolution's original goals: empowering the people. New social and
political
movements are blossoming defiantly in ways that put Iran on the cutting
edge of
the Islamic world on issues ranging from religious reform and cultural
expression to women's rights. So, although the theocratic regime that
seized
power in 1979 is unlikely to survive in its current, austere form
because of
profound internal problems, the driving force behind the revolution has
proven
durable and, in the end, adaptable enough to allow Iranians to go out
and get
for themselves what the theocracy has failed to provide.

DARK HORSES

IRAN'S REVOLUTION was about more than getting rid of an unpopular king
or
ending 2,500 years of dynastic rule. In the quest for empowerment, the
upheaval
of 1979 was an extension of earlier challenges to the state's central
power: the
1905-11 Constitutional Revolution that diminished the monarchy's
authority, and
the nationalist rule between 1951 and 1953 that briefly forced the shah
into
exile. Both earlier attempts at evolutionary change were ultimately
aborted.
Thus the coalition of parties seeking a greater say in public life
resorted to
revolution. Iranians were not alone in trying to end autocratic rule.
Iran's
upheaval was part of global change, including the demise of communism
in Europe,
white rule in Africa, and military dictatorships in Latin America.

But the process of empowerment was hijacked in the early days of the
revolt
by a clique of Shiite clerics who used their networks, legitimacy, and
leadership to unite the disjointed opposition. After the shah's ouster,
the
coterie around Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini gradually purged its
partners and
crafted a theocracy instead of a democracy. Human rights were virtually
ignored
during the decade-long "First Republic," which lasted from 1979 until
Khomeini's
death in 1989. With typical revolutionary excess, the regime's zealots
became
obsessed with deconstructing the past and winning converts to their
cause, both
at home and in the region. The fragile new state was also nearly
overwhelmed by
plummeting oil prices, economic sanctions, international isolation, and
the
region's bloodiest war in a century. It survived only by crushing
dissent,
spending its foreign exchange reserves, and tapping into fierce, age-
old Persian
nationalism.

Nonetheless, seeds of public empowerment were planted and grew. The
Construction Jihad (teams of development experts and builders) brought
progress
in the form of schools, social services, clinics, electricity,
television, and
roads to the countryside. The revolution particularly excelled in
education, in
quantity if not always in quality. In the late 1970s, only half of
Iran's youth
between the ages of six and twenty-four were literate; two decades
later, the
number had grown to 93 percent -- even though the population itself had
doubled.
Iran succeeded in part because traditional families trusted an Islamic
government to educate their children, especially girls. Students also
remained
in school longer. The number of university graduates soared from
430,000 in the
late 1970s to more than 4 million in the late 1990s. This success
spurred
expectations of a greater role in the system and access to new
instruments of
progress.

In the "Second Republic," from 1989 to 1997, Iran graduated from
reacting
against the past to realistically dealing with the present. During
President
Hashemi Rafsanjani's tenure, the government of God plummeted back to
earth --
with a thud. The new leadership initially promoted physical
reconstruction,
economic reform, and a diplomatic thaw. But without the ayatollah's
authority,
long-standing political divisions deepened and paralysis set in.
Despite a
brief try at privatization, including reviving the monarchy's stock
market,
promises of change remained largely unfulfilled. In the end, the
regime's
blatantly manipulative tactics kept it from achieving its goals, instead
spawning corruption, deepening debt, and social turmoil.

Paradoxically, the very policies that Rafsanjani introduced to win back
the
support of a war-weary public inadvertently jump-started the empowerment
process. The regime sporadically tolerated cultural freedoms and
relaxed some
of its social restrictions. It also facilitated a consumer spending
spree on
imports by making credit available. The outside world soon flooded back
in,
through satellite dishes, videos, computers, and even textbooks full of
ideas.
From that point on, the tide of information could no longer be
controlled,
however hard conservatives and clerics tried.

The Second Republic also overlapped with the end of the Cold War, which
Iranians felt deeply because of their shared border with the Soviet
Union. The
collapse of Soviet rule -- in a country with superpower resources --
sent a
powerful warning about the vulnerability of revolutionary regimes.
Finally,
Iran's return to peacetime pursuits, its flirtation with pragmatism,
and the
pressure of social problems all unleashed unusual initiatives, largely
outside
the government but also within the circles of power and even the clergy.

Iran's theocracy slowly came to recognize that it was endangering its
own
agenda by ignoring the state's real problems, such as its population
policy. In
the 1980s, millions of women complied with the theocrats' dictate to
breed a new
Islamic generation that would defend the revolution. Within seven years,
Iran's population jumped from 34 million to more than 50 million; it is
now 70
million. The clerics soon realized that soaring numbers were more
likely to
undo the revolution than to save it, and they introduced one of the
world's most
extensive family-planning programs. Every form of birth control, from
condoms
and pills to sterilization, became free. All couples now have to pass a
family-planning course before obtaining a marriage license. Thousands
of women
mobilized by the Health Ministry have gone door-to-door to explain the
necessity
of birth control. Clerics, preaching the benefits of small family size,
have
issued fatwas approving everything from intrauterine devices to
vasectomies.

Sensing a reluctant realism within the regime, Iran's increasingly savvy
population began taking stands, making demands, and even defying the
theocrats.
In the 1997 presidential election, which had the highest turnout since
the
Iranian people endorsed revolution a generation earlier, 70 percent of
Iran's
voters spurned the theocrats' candidate of choice and instead elected a
dark-horse cleric named Mohammad Khatami, a former minister of culture
and
Islamic guidance who was purged in 1992 for "liberalism"
and "negligence." The
election marked the onset of the "Third Republic" and the burgeoning of
what is
now a very public fight for empowerment. Its outcome will be determined
partly
by Khatami's success in restoring the rule of law, fostering a civil
society
(two of his campaign pledges), and wresting power from the religious
superstructure -- the theocratic part of Iran's system -- that limits
the
government's powers. But more likely, Iran's future will be decided by
the
newly energized popular forces that made Khatami's election possible in
the
first place. Three movements reflect how the revolution is being
redefined:
daring Islamic reformers, an adventurous film industry, and spirited
women's
groups.

BRAVE NEW WORLD

THE MOST INNOVATIVE MOVEMENT in Iran today is the Islamic reformation.
Iranian thinkers have injected energy and ideas into a disparate
movement,
spreading from Egypt to India, that has been struggling for more than a
century
to reconcile a seventh-century religion with modernity. By using Islam
as a
popular political idiom, by weaving Islamic tenets into a modern,
Western-style
constitution, and by putting clerics in charge of the state, Iran
became a live
test and a venue for debate on the proper relationship between Islam
and the
modern world. Ironically, the failure of the world's only theocracy to
empower
its populace provided the biggest boost for new, progressive
formulations about
the modern Islamic state. Much of the most profound discourse within
Islam
today is taking place in Iran's newspapers, courtrooms, and classrooms.
Even
clerics who once held high office and intellectuals who were Khomeini's
proteges
are now challenging the religion's basic precepts as well as the
specifics of
theocratic rule.

Tehran was engrossed last autumn in the trial of Abdollah Nouri, a
cleric,
former Khomeini aide, and editor of the newspaper Khordad who served
during the
Third Republic as vice president, interior minister, and Tehran city
councilor.
The Special Court for the Clergy, which operates as an independent
agency,
charged him with multiple counts of "insulting" Islam, the prophet
Muhammad, and
Khomeini. Nouri's specific offense was running articles in Khordad that
questioned everything from the Islamic concept of eye-for-eye justice
to the
clergy's automatic right to hold power. At his trial, Nouri, dressed in
a white
turban and clerical robes, astonished Iranians by taking the stand and
denying
the court's right to judge him: "I totally reject the court, its
membership, and
its competence to conduct this trial, and any verdict you reach will
have no
legitimacy." After his conviction he refused to appeal, on the same
grounds. In
late November, Nouri was sentenced to five years in prison and was also
barred
from political activity for five years, a punishment tacitly designed
to prevent
Khatami's closest ally from running for speaker of the parliament. And
Nouri's
newspaper was banned, although his staff defiantly pledged to launch
another
publication -- the new way of getting around forced closures.

Six months earlier, Tehran had been absorbed in a similar trial -- that
of
Mohsen Kadivar, a popular young cleric and seminary professor whose
sister was
an adviser to Khatami and another Tehran city councilor; his brother-in-
law was
Khatami's minister of culture and Islamic guidance. The Special Court
for the
Clergy charged him with "disseminating lies and disturbing public
opinion" for
writing articles advocating the separation of political and religious
institutions. Kadivar also dared to compare practices in the Islamic
republic
with the shah's repressive controls on the freedom of expression and
questioned
the powers and righteousness of the theocracy. "From both a legal and
religious
point of view, it's quite permissible to criticize the Supreme Leader
or the
ruling establishment," he argued. Like Nouri, Kadivar rejected the
clergy's
right to judge: "Investigation into political and press offenses must
be carried
out in the presence of a jury and by a qualified court of the
judiciary," he
told the court. He was convicted and received an eighteen-month
sentence.

Kadivar's case gained him celebrity status. Posters of the young
cleric, who
came from a noted religious family in the city of Shiraz, were
plastered all
over Tehran. Students held a candlelight vigil in the hills near Evin
prison,
where he was being held without bail. Chanting "freedom of thought,
forever,
forever," they released doves as a symbol of liberty. More than 200
journalists
also signed a petition that condemned Kadivar's arrest as
unconstitutional and
called it an "offense" against Iran's writers and intellectuals. These
responses to Kadivar's imprisonment reflected a newly emboldened
population.

Both trials involved an issue more fundamental than the freedom of
expression: the separation of religion and government. In an Islamic
society,
who has the ultimate power -- the elected officials or the clergy?
Since Islam
is a monotheistic religion that offers not only spiritual values but
also a set
of rules to govern society, sorting out the allocation of power is
critical to
any genuine reform. Hence political change and religious reform are
often
intertwined in Muslim societies.

Over the past five years, Iran's leading philosopher, Abdul Karim
Soroush,
has fueled public debate by offering a framework -- on the basis of
faith -- to
blend Islam and democracy. He argues that to be a true believer, one
must come
to the faith without coercion or pressure -- in other words, freely.
That
principle is the origin of all other freedoms. He never abandoned the
tenets of
his faith; he believes that sharia (Islamic law) can be a basis for
modern
legislation. But he breaks from Iran's theocrats in his declaration that
Islamic law is not static, but is flexible and adaptable because it has
only
begun to be understood by imperfect human beings.

Soroush was a long-time follower of Khomeini, who appointed him to the
Committee of the Cultural Revolution to conform university curricula to
Islam.
But a decade after the revolution, Soroush began to see the ayatollah
as an
instrument of transition, not as the goal. In books, magazine columns,
and
lectures at the three universities where he taught, Soroush warned that
Islam,
like any other religion, should never be used to rule a state, because
it opens
the door to totalitarianism. Often called the Martin Luther of Islam by
students, Soroush is also widely popular among intellectuals,
reformers, and the
clergy. Many of his former students and followers launched new,
reformist
newspapers -- most notably Jameh, Tous, Neshat, and Asr-e Azadegan,
or "Era of
the emancipators" -- all of which were closed down by the judicary.

The goal of Soroush, Kadivar, Nouri, and other reformers is to be Muslim
without being fundamentalist, to be reverent but free, and to find a
world-view
that is both Islamic and modern. As the only Shiite-ruled country, Iran
is
unique in the Muslim world. Yet the work of Iran's reformers is
nonetheless
spreading throughout the 53-nation Islamic bloc, the last group of
countries to
hold out against the wave of democratization that has swept the rest of
the
world.

CINEMA VERITE

THE FRONTLINE in the conflict over Iran's identity and its future is
between
artistic freedom and Islamic correctness. Some of the earliest and
boldest
challenges to the Second Republic came from artists. In a 1994 open
letter
titled "We Are Writers," 134 writers, poets, journalists, and scholars,
including many who had once rallied around the regime, demanded the
freedom to
associate in a writers' union, noninterference in their personal lives,
and an
end to censorship. Within months, more than 200 film directors and
actors
petitioned for an end to the "strait-jacket regulations and complicated
methods
of supervision" of Iran's movie industry, including everything from
script
approval to the distribution of raw film stock.

Iranian cinema has led a major countercultural revolution since the
early 1990s. Despite often ridiculous restrictions, filmmakers have
been able to exploit the subtleties of their medium to make bold
statements about sensitive political and social issues. Characters are
challenging the status quo; plots focus on the shortcomings of the
Islamic system; dialogue is extending the boundaries of public
discussion. Indeed, few subjects are now off-limits. The White Balloon,
one of Iran's most famous postrevolution films, jabs at the country's
failures to address poverty, racial bias, and child exploitation.
Dariush Mehrjui, the father of modern Iranian cinema, wrote a quartet
of films -- Banoo (1992), Sara (1993), Pari (1995), and Leila (1997) --
about the professional and personal plight of women in Islamic society.
Each ended with the lead female character defying convention or leaving
her husband to head out on her own -- a radical move in a society where
women must get written permission to leave the country. Mehrjui's
Hamoon, ranked the best movie in Iranian history in a 1997 poll of
Iranian film critics and audiences, was a dark comedy about modern
Iranian life that examined people's fixations with Islamic religious
figures. Today's increasingly independent film industry is thoroughly
undermining the theocrats' draconian effort to create a new society
centered around the devout Shiite. Indeed, the change in the social
climate is stark.

In the 1980s, the regime had forced artists and writers into silence or
exile. Bookstore shelves were emptied and state-controlled television
and radio were limited to religious programs, children's shows, sports,
news programs, and staid documentaries. In the 1990s, a bookstore was
firebombed for publishing an "un-Islamic" book. Theaters were attacked
for showing films accused of religious insensitivity. One leading
writer died mysteriously in prison; three others were murdered by a
death squad tied to the intelligence ministry. Nothing was too trivial:
the theocrats even endorsed new, Islamically correct dolls -- Sara and
her brother Dara -- to supplant the influence of Mattel's Barbie and
her boyfriend Ken.

But Iran's isolation proved to be a boon to the movie industry. The
theocrats' ban on most foreign films in public theaters created a
captive audience for Iranian cinema at a time when other countries were
dominated by American movies. For the first time, Iran developed its
own artistic film business. And like religious reformers, film
directors with reformist views enjoyed a certain legitimacy, since many
of them were once the regime's closest allies. Mohsen Makhmalbaf, who
spent five years in the shah's jails, was known in the 1980s for
ardently religious and pro-revolution films. But in the 1990s,
his films shifted to secular stories that coyly challenged
revolutionary truths.

Makhmalbaf's fifth film was blatantly antiwar, and two were banned by
the government. His seventh film, A Time to Love, was a controversial
tale -- with three endings based on three perspectives -- about a
married woman who pursues a younger man. But critics were concerned
less with the illicit affair than with the film's message: Perception
varies, and so can the truth.

In 1998, Makhmalbaf's teenage daughter Samira made her film debut with
The Apple, the true story of an illiterate man who had locked his
twelve-year-old twin daughters at home since infancy, for fear that the
girls' purity would be spoiled by strange men's gazes. The movie
revolved around the gradual exposure of the girls -- almost mute,
unschooled, and both physically and mentally disabled -- to the outside
world. "I wanted the film to make this point: All it takes to imprison
many, many women is one man," Samira told reporters when the film
opened in New York in 1999. "What I noticed about those two girls is
that the more they came into contact with society, the more complete
they became as human beings. For me, that became a metaphor for all
women. Women in Iran are like springs. If they want to be free, and if
they try, they burst out with a lot of energy."

Iran's countercultural revolution has had a major boost since Khatami
took office. During his 1997 confirmation hearings, Minister of Culture
Ataollah Mohajerani described his ministry as the "laughing stock" of
the government. "Islam is not a dark alley. Everyone can walk freely in
the path of Islam," he told parliament. "We must create an atmosphere
of peace and tranquillity in all centers of culture, where all citizens
can express their ideas and where the seeds of creativity can blossom."
Iran's filmmakers are several steps ahead of the bureaucrats -- and are
gaining international attention. Children of Heaven was one of five
films nominated for the 1999 Academy Award for best foreign
film. The White Balloon won the 1995 Cannes Camera d'Or prize for best
first feature film and the 1997 New York Film Critics award for best
foreign film.

Taste of Cherry won the Palme d'Or at Cannes in 1997. Other films have
won festival prizes in six continents for best picture, best foreign
film, best director, best script, best actor, best documentary, best
short film, and best jury. In defining the modern Islamic agenda,
Iran's cinema is proving to be more appealing -- and effective -- than
the theocrats' campaign to export religious militancy.

FROM UNDER THE CHADOR

THE MOST ENERGETIC MOVEMENT to emerge since 1979 is the women's
movement, which is shattering the starkest stereotype of the Islamic
republic: the chador-clad female. A generation after the revolution,
Iranian women are by far the most politically active in the Persian
Gulf and are among the most empowered in the Islamic world. In 1996,
200 women ran for the 270-seat parliament, and 14 won. In 1997, four
women registered to run for the presidency. Although all were
disqualified by the Council of Guardians that vets candidates, the
decision was not based on gender. Five months later, Khatami appointed
a female vice president. And in 1999, 5,000 women ran in local
elections, and 300 won.

Today, more than 40 percent of university students are female, as are
one-third of faculty members. Thousands of women educated after the
revolution work as engineers, doctors, scientists, lawyers, and even
clerics. More than 340 directors-general in government ministries are
female. Iran has 140 female publishers, enough to hold an exhibition of
books and magazines published by women only. Women have become
painters, authors, designers, photographers, movie producers,
directors, stars, and sculptors crafting "anatomically correct"
female figures (otherwise known as nudes).

A fierce women's movement was not what the theocrats intended. Their
original goal was more akin to gender apartheid. After the revolution,
the regime dismissed almost all women who had risen to positions of
importance. A former female education minister was executed for
promoting "prostitution" among girls. The revolution's severe
intentions were reflected in the new Islamic dress code and the
lowering of the minimum age at which women could be married
to nine. The new constitution also removed critical women's rights in
divorce and child custody battles.

A generation later, restrictions still border on the bizarre. A woman
may have an equal vote in parliament or equal powers among the vice
presidents, but her testimony in court carries only half the weight of
a man's. Women can head universities and publish newspapers but cannot
leave the country without their husbands' written permission. They can
act in plays and movies alongside men, but they cannot sing in public
or ride in the same section of a public bus.

Iranian women, however, have proven irrepressible. In defiance of the
theocracy, they are putting their imprints on diverse aspects of
Iranian life. Beginning in the mid-1990s, pressure from women changed
laws on employment, divorce, and maternity leave. Women packed a
courtroom to protest child-custody laws after the brutal death of an
eight-year-old girl -- weighing only 35 pounds, with a fractured skull,
two broken arms, and burn marks covering her body -- at the hands of
her father, a drug addict with a criminal record and a documented
history of child abuse. Islamic tradition allows a mother to keep a
daughter until the age of seven and a son until the age of two; full
custody then switches to the father. Parliament subsequently revised
the law in 1998 to stipulate that a child could no longer be awarded to
an unfit father, defining the custody qualifications in a way that
could often disqualify men.

Women have challenged other male bastions as well. Thousands of women
broke a long-time barrier preventing females from attending male
sporting events when they poured into Tehran's stadium to greet the
Iranian soccer team after it qualified for the 1998 World Cup. Women
are also playing sports. Tehran alone has eighty-five women's
basketball teams in five leagues. Only ten thousand women engaged in
intramural sports on the eve of the revolution; today, two million
participate in soccer, basketball, swimming, tennis, handball, skiing,
aerobics, fencing, judo, shooting, volleyball, rowing, horseback riding,
gymnastics, golf, table tennis, karate, tae kwon do, and even water-
skiing -- despite the slightly absurd waterproof coats and scarves
women must wear to demonstrate modesty. And women have forced the
theocrats to acknowledge their participation officially; at the 1996
Olympics, for the first time, a female athlete led the Iranian team
onto the field.

The new activists are as distinct as their political environment. The
most outspoken women are no longer Westernized or upper-class elites,
but have emerged from within the revolution. Many are from traditional
families, clerical circles, and rural areas -- none of which had
previously produced female activists. Some women would continue wearing
conservative dress, even if it were not required. But all dare to
challenge the regime on far more critical issues, from centuries-old
Islamic traditions to recent clerical interpretations of Islam.

Women's publications have been brazen on reform issues. Zan (Woman), the
newspaper published by Faezeh Hashemi, a member of parliament and the
daughter of former President Rafsanjani, editorialized against child-
custody laws, the use of stoning as a punishment, and "temporary
marriage" -- the practice of contracting a short-term wife. It ran an
expose on the return of prostitution and reported on a New Year's
message sent to Iran by the former empress. The theocrats banned Zan in
1999. Another publication, Farzaneh, is trying to reconcile more robust
women's rights with the Islamic faith; its articles have
included "Human Rights of Women in Islam," "A History of Silence and
Debates Today," "How to Proceed," and "The Long Way Ahead."

Iran's women still face serious discrimination. But their participation
in society has already helped to reshape the political scene. In a
country where women have the franchise from the age of 15, Khatami's
stunning upset victory would not have happened without the female vote.

Like the world around it, Iran is still undergoing a profound
transformation. More internal turmoil lies ahead, as the revolution's
early passions are replaced by hard-earned pragmatism, and as arrogance
gives way to realism among many sectors of Iranian society. Gradually,
the government of God is being forced to cede to secular statecraft --
and to empower Iranians. In the process, Iran has begun contributing to
the spread of public empowerment around the world.

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Before you buy.

[YekI...@ee.net]

iran_c...@my-deja.com wrote in message <8644ma$rse$1...@nnrp1.deja.com>...

>Foreign Affairs
>January, 2000 / February, 2000
>Copyright 2000 Council on Foreign Relations, Inc.
>
>Iran's New Revolution
>
>
>By Robin Wright*
>

[..]

>Yet Iran, often in spite of the theocrats, has begun to achieve one of
>the
>revolution's original goals: empowering the people. New social and
>political
>movements are blossoming defiantly in ways that put Iran on the cutting
>edge of
>the Islamic world on issues ranging from religious reform and cultural

"cutting edge of the Islamic world" This meaning compared to Afghanistan and
Saudi Arabia Iran is cutting edge. Also worth mentioning is "in spite of the
theocrats". The revolution was in spite of the theocrats as well.
[..]

>But the process of empowerment was hijacked in the early days of the
>revolt
>by a clique of Shiite clerics who used their networks, legitimacy, and
>leadership to unite the disjointed opposition. After the shah's ouster,
>the
>coterie around Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini gradually purged its
>partners and
>crafted a theocracy instead of a democracy. Human rights were virtually
>ignored
>during the decade-long "First Republic," which lasted from 1979 until
>Khomeini's
>death in 1989. With typical revolutionary excess, the regime's zealots
>became
>obsessed with deconstructing the past and winning converts to their
>cause, both
>at home and in the region. The fragile new state was also nearly
>overwhelmed by
>plummeting oil prices, economic sanctions, international isolation, and
>the
>region's bloodiest war in a century. It survived only by crushing
>dissent,
>spending its foreign exchange reserves, and tapping into fierce, age-
>old Persian
>nationalism.

Doesn't speak so well about your hero ZahAk Khomeini. O' I forget you are
not a Khomeini worshipper.

Somebody should have told her Mr. Rafsanjani and sons own most of the
industry in Iran as well as a newly purchased Island in Australia.

So what does that tell you about Akhoonds. If what they were saying before
was word of god and god's word is final then why did they change their mind.
I guess even though ass kissers like you hate to admit it, akhoonds make
mistakes. What am I saying, Akhoonds ARE mistakes.

SHe is right on this. Since Khatami is nothing more than asprin pill for a
cancer Iranians call Akhoond'e kaseef.

be omide nAboodeeye IRI

Yek Irani