The Power of Silence

The Iranian regime has announced that it will meet with the other presidential candidates to hear their complaints. It’s the first smart move the country’s rulers have made, showing a little flexibility, a little understanding that they have to address what brought millions into the street. Now, those other candidates ran only after being vetted by the same ruling authorities, so it’s not like they’re meeting with student leaders and hardcore opposition figures. This concession–I’m guessing that’s what the regime views it as–is further mitigated by the fact that security forces are still on the street, periodically beating people, destroying property and doing whatever they can to limit mobility, news gathering, and Internet communications. And there are still government officials making statements like the one attributed to the senior prosecutor in the city of Isfahan, in which he suggested that demonstrators could be executed.

Clearly, the regime does not know how to counter the conduct of the demonstrators. The information campaign has been fascinating to see, but I’d argue that a more important piece of this is the fact that the marchers, while profoundly resolute, have remained non-violent. Some day, I’d love to know how that philosophy was adopted–with battered copies of Gene Sharp books? With input from people inside and outside the country who have studied such things?–but for now, it’s worth regarding and appreciating.

Non-violent campaigns require extraordinary commitment, poise, and conviction. It’s more remarkable when you think that it’s happening in a place where the rhetoric has been so combative for so long, and where there is clearly desperation in the air, as indicated, I’d say, by Iran’s huge heroin problem (which began even before neighboring Afghanistan became an open-air drug market).

But still, we have this silent revolution, these marchers who know to sit down when attacked and to reach out to those charged with breaking their bodies in hopes of breaking the spirit. These are the ones the regime doesn’t know what to do about. Rafsanjani, he’s an old-hand, a veteran of many battles, many of which he lost. I’d guess that’s more familiar and comfortable terrain for the ruling Ayatollahs and their minions in the security forces. Non-violent protesters? Men, women, students, children? This is something I’d guess they never imagined having to contend with. Most repressive regimes would not, because it’s not in their character–and thus, to their minds, not really possible–and it hasn’t been part of their experience, where violence usually begets violence. Did the Brits anticipate it in India? Did South Africa’s apartheid regime expect it from Mandela and the ANC? The Indonesians from the East Timorese? And what would happen if, say, Israel border guards were confronted with thousands of Palestinians who just sat down in front of all the checkpoints and refused to move? Or if the Tamils had done something along these lines before turning over their hopes to the Tigers? (Hypotheticals, of course, sadly.)

How does a regime react when confronted with people who appear willing to sacrifice themselves, willing to die? Those images make an impact around the globe and, more importantly, within the country and on the people who would be charged with actually killing them.  As mentioned previously, only regimes willing to order and condone the slaughter of its own–the Burmese junta, to name one blood-besmirched example–can rely solely on violence and repression.Others have to find another way.

Many Iranians could still die. I’m not suggesting that anything has been won yet. The great fear is that the regime’s bumblings are a prelude to a crackdown. The demonstrators know this better than anyone, however. But they remain. Perhaps, as the LAT’s excellent Brozou Daragahi, along with Ramin Mostaghim, report, and Juan Cole expands upon, it has something to do with the culture of martyrdom threaded through Shia history and beliefs. Perhaps, as Laura Secor hears from a friend who has been in the streets, it’s because the protestors believe in what they are doing and how they are doing it. Whatever the combinatoin of factors, the result is a face-off between two sides looking to provoke the other, to make them do something that reveals them as frauds to all who are watching. The blame-the-US-gambit has been unveiled but it’s been diluted by Obama’s shrewd conduct before and after the fact. In the end, or in the next chapters, the key may be how well each side responds to their own greatest fears of a worst-case scenario. For the regime, that would mean losing some or all of their influence and power. For the protestors, death, which, they might be hoping, could also mean victory.