men masculinity in Iran id 2931 Nieznany

METHODOLOGICAL HESITATIONS

The debate about men and masculinity is recent in Western cultures. In

other parts of the world, feminists and women scholars and organizations are
still too involved with many problems of women’s rights to divert their atten-
tion to masculinity. So it is not surprising that while the literature on men and
masculinity is growing in the West, there is very little debate of this topic in
the Islamic cultures. Such a debate raises methodological and ethical
considerations.

ANOTHER WESTERN CONSTRUCT

For students of gender roles and women’s movements in the Middle East,

discussion of masculinity has the same flavor as the public-private dichot-
omy discussed by Western observers of the region. I had not considered my
life as a veiled girl, raised in the city of Qum, Iran, split between two domains.
I was aware of social norms, what I could do, when and where, and the gender
and age dimensions of our lives. For example, when I was an adolescent, the
gender codes recommended that I either did not acknowledge my father on
the street or did it very formally; he would reciprocate with only a gentle nod.
I was also aware of the variability of the code and that my family was more
stringent than some other families. Indeed, while I was aware of social class,
status, honor, and men and women’s codes, it was not until my introduction to
Western ethnography that I encountered the analytical duality of space.

The same applies to the notions of gender and masculinity. As many non-

Western feminists have pointed out, there is no cultural and language equiva-
lent of gender in many non-Western cultures (United Nations 1995; Fernea
1998). The same dilemma arises when dealing with masculinity as an analyt-
ical category.

MASCULINE AS STANDARD

My native culture has infinite notions of maleness as good, brave, loyal,

and benevolent. Masculinity is so standardized that most Iranians do not see
it as a category. Ayatollah Khomeini’s manhood is taken-for-granted knowl-
edge in the national consciousness. He may be analyzed as a revolutionary
leader, an Imam, a politician, or even a dictator, but not as a man. Had I prac-
ticed sociology in Iran, I would not have considered masculinity a research
topic, and not just because of the closed political climate there. Masculinity is
powerful and, as Filene (1987, 104) suggested, power is significant. There-
fore, masculinity is the normative and the basis for social organization.

258

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

Advocates of men’s studies respond by recalling the Hegelian notion that

the self-evident often is not (Brod 1987, 2-3). We have taken masculinity so
much for granted that we assume we know it. While feminists have detailed
the nuances of Muslim women’s lives under patriarchy, we have left men out
as its beneficiaries (Kandiyoti 1991). In my previous work, I too focused on
the effects of fundamentalism on women only (Germani 1994, 1996).

CRISIS OF MASCULINITY

The emerging literature on masculinity frequently refers to a crisis of mas-

culinity, with an overtone of haste and urgency. Needless to say, shorter life
expectancy and destructive behaviors such as drug abuse or high rate of vio-
lence by men against each other are serious issues demanding scholarly
attention. It is also true that men control the means of power and wealth.
Indeed, as we stand at the beginning of another Christian millennium, a small
group of Western men are accumulating incomprehensible wealth and power.
Given this concentration, the issue of a crisis in masculinity begs for skepti-
cism. More important, does this crisis span across cultures, or is it Western
masculinity only that is in crisis? Is this an issue for affluent Western men
who have the luxury of getting in touch with their inner selves and reconcil-
ing with their fathers? And, more important, will such a debate further cul-
tural imperialism as it pervades wider and deeper into other cultures?

CULTURAL IMPERIALISM

If a cultural concept does not exist in a culture, can one study it by import-

ing it from a dominant culture? Does importation explicitly create the cul-
tural construct absent in the local culture? When does this action become cul-
tural imperialism and not a question of human rights and liberation? When
we incorporated feminist ideas in our women’s movement, we were address-
ing injustice, exploitation, and the dehumanization of women in the name of
tradition, religion, or authenticity. That is different from masculine or even
gender studies. Muslim men suffer indignities due to class, ethnicity, and
other social cleavages, but we are still a long way from claiming any victory
for women’s rights, despite incremental gains. We, the others, have accused
the Orientalists of being intellectual thrill seekers, the upper-class equivalent
of soldiers of fortune or academic bungee jumpers (Ahmed 1992; Said 1978).
Since feminism frowns upon exploring the other for our thrills, what can be
gained from masculinity research in cultures still struggling with basic
human rights for women?

An analysis of masculinity constructs in the Islamic cultures in general,

and in Iranian society in particular, may help sharpen our understanding of

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

259

the fundamentalist trends in the Middle East. Exploring masculinity con-
structs imposed by the clergy can shed light on the current political climate in
Iran. As Western feminists have debunked the heroes and villains of Chris-
tianity by making their private affairs public, Eastern feminists need to do the
same with Islamic mythical figures. The price will be high, as we all knew
and relearned from the Rushdie affair. But a feminist framework provides the
necessary tools for such demystification. A beginning step is the debunking
of masculinity as normative in Islamic cultures.

As I am writing this project in the winter of 2000, two factions inside the

ruling clergy in Iran are fighting about the future of the country and their
future in it. The tone resonates with a nasty political power struggle. At first
glance, the struggle between the reformists and the conservatives is about the
direction of the economy, Iran on the international scene, the structure of the
state, and, more important, the role of clergy in it. But this factional fight also
points to some cultural restructuring of gender roles in postrevolutionary
Iran. The Islamic revolution and the Republic constituted a hypermasculine
social order. This misogynistic order was hard on women, but it also harmed
men. The state’s imposition of Sharia, its harsh implementation of sex segre-
gation and condoning of vigilantism, hurt men as it did women. The recent
rumblings suggest that this order is being seriously challenged. In the presi-
dential election of 1997, women and youth joined forces with reformist
groups and gave the reformist candidate, Khatami, a landslide victory. The
victory was a response to many problems in Iranian society. Economic insta-
bility, high inflation, political oppression, and the reign of vigilantism con-
tributed to a sense of dissonance. In Iran, two-thirds of the population, about
40 million, is younger than the age of twenty-five. Meanwhile, during the
past twenty years, women have learned organizational skills and tactics of
resistance and are finding their own voices. These groups provided the back-
bone of the reform movement (Rajaee 1999).

Khatami’s presidency and the reform movement signal a factional clash

between the reformists and the conservatives among the ruling clergy. The
skirmishes are now played out openly in courts and the media and have
recently spilled into the streets. In July 1999, student demonstrations
demanding better conditions at universities and a guarantee of civil liberties
were crushed by unidentified security forces (Mahdi 1999). The student pro-
test is now smoldering, but the February 2000 legislative elections are the
ground zero of the internal battle among the ruling group. At stake is Iran’s
assembly controlled by the conservatives. A victory for the reformers would
be a devastating blow for the conservatives after losing the presidency in
1997.

A feminist analysis of the gender discourse in the revolution and the

Republic can shed light on the unrest. The subtext of hypermasculinity gener-
ated by the revolution and later enforced by the autocratic regime was one
impetus for the current dissonance. In the next sections, I delineate the

260

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

hypermasculine culture of the revolution and its misogynistic oppression
imposed by the Republic. Then, I analyze three prototypes of masculinities
promoted by the authorities and finally propose some answers that can be
gleaned from the state’s imposition of gender roles harming both women
and men.

GENDER CODES AND MASCULINITIES

IN THE ISLAMIC REVOLUTION

We say do not debase women in the name of freedom and progress. During the
past twenty some years of unveiling what have women gained?

—Ayatollah Khomeini (Muslim Women’s Movement 1981, 3)

Amidst structural changes of industrialization and modernization in late-

1800 America, Michael Kimmel (1984, 142) detected a crisis of masculinity
because structural changes had transformed gender relations, leading to a
discourse of gender role definitions. Others have noted that industrialization
(by removing men from the home) and urbanization (with its concomitant
population diversity) generated a feeling of feminization of America
(Hantover 1978; Pleck 1987). Kimmel (1984) perceived three consequences
of these trends: an antifeminist backlash, a promale backlash, and the emer-
gence of a few profeminist men’s groups.

Antiwoman Backlash and Hypermasculinities

During the Shah’s time, they degraded women and debased women. They said
we want to make Iran like Europe—progressive! They harmed two groups the
most: ladies and the clergy. They forced women to participate in their debauch-
eries. They made men, women, and their daughters mingle in their perverted
parties, in the name of freedom.

—Ayatollah Khomeini (Muslim Women’s Movement 1981, 51)

The postrevolutionary culture disrupted some modification of masculin-

ity that was emerging because of urbanization, Westernization, and industri-
alization. From 1950 to 1977, Iran underwent major structural and cultural
changes that modified the notion of gender roles. Significantly, the role and
place of women were redefined. Secondary gender role changes involved the
redefinition of men and masculinity. The changes led to improved educa-
tional and occupational opportunities for women, increased age of marriage,
and a reduced fertility rate. The legal reforms in the family and labor laws
facilitated public participation of women. Middle-class urban women were
the main beneficiaries of these changes. The revolution and the war with Iraq
stopped most of the changes, reversed some modifications of masculinity,
and created a new version of the traditional man.

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

261

The revolutionary discourse in Iran sprouted in two distinct but very mas-

culine fronts: the urban guerilla and the clergy. For both groups, the urban
middle-class women embodied and symbolized the Pahlavi decadence.
There was a general perception of these women’s vanities and their exagger-
ated conspicuous consumption. Media presentation of this lifestyle, available
only to a few, spread the perception of an epidemic vanity and decadence
among urban women. One common expression for describing an object rot-
ten inside and beautiful outside was “it looks like Tehrani ladies.” Barker-
Benfield suggested that such a perception of American women caused anxi-
ety among men “over the growing number of new, conspicuously consuming,
fashionable lifestyles of city women, their style dangerously attractive to all
women” (Kimmel 1987, 145). In pre-Revolutionary Iran, opposition groups,
men and women, shared this vision of urban women.

For traditional groups, the lower-middle-class and the newly urbanized

rural population, the changes led to a sense of rampant immorality and
intrusion of corrupt foreign influence. Unveiled urban women were the
most visible symbol of this decadence. The antiwomen backlash tone in
prerevolutionary Iran was not limited to the religious faction. The leftist and
the nationalist groups lamented Westernization of urban middle-class
women as well (Al Ahmad, 1977). The so-called painted dolls became the
whipping girls of all opposition groups to blame the Shah and his pro-
Western policies (Najmabadi 1991).

The revolutionary ideologies promulgated by all sides had a strong

promale flavor. Needless to say, the fundamentalist mullahs had the most
misogynistic overtone. But they were not alone. Leftists of all shades, follow-
ing the Marxist line, parroted the notion of urban women as mindless follow-
ers of Western consumerism. The largest leftist organization, the Fedian
Khalgh Organization, organized a huge rally to divert attention from an anti-
hijab rally organized by women. On the eve of the international women’s day,
March 1979, the Ayatollah decreed mandatory hijab for all working women.
Women’s organizations and the Liberation Front planned an anti-hijab rally.
The Fedian Khalgh Organization immediately announced a pro-proletariat
rally the same day and the same time. I, like many who were mindful of the
imperialists’ plot against our revolution, participated in the latter.

In the early days of the revolution, I remember spontaneous or organized

discussions among the leftists regarding their positions on women’s rights
and the issues related to hijab. The Marxist discourse played the
hypermasculine guerilla image of Che Guevara and the Red Army. The party
line claimed that gender inequality was not a central issue in our struggle, and
when we reached the ideal socialist system, with its elimination of class
inequality, subsequent inequalities would be reduced. Depending on the
group’s party line, they would refer to the Soviet Union, China, or other
socialist states as examples of legal reforms that have eliminated gender
inequality with the elimination of class inequality. These groups intended to

262

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

appear gender neutral, which meant masculinization of appearance, conduct,
and an air of macho bravado.

The groups had an implicit or declared dress code. The uniform of the left

for both sexes was pants, preferably blue jeans, and a long shirt. Women were
expected to look as masculine as possible. Indeed, the word rafiq (comrade)
is masculine. An ideal rafiq was a young man with short hair, wearing regula-
tion blue jeans and shirt, an army jacket for winter, heavy shoes, and all
together having a crumpled and unkempt appearance. A must was a heavy
mustache. If a beard was adopted, it must be a goatee for one not to be con-
fused with the Islamic groups.

Women comrades were expected to emulate this appearance as much as

possible. Since women could not duplicate men’s superior facial hair—
reminding one of the Freudian phallic envy—they must strive for as much
masculine demeanor as possible. Makeup was taboo, as was any other femi-
nine air of accessories. A female member of a leftist organization told me that
a male comrade had set up for her to meet her new superior comrade for their
urban recruitment efforts. The contact—the person who connected revolu-
tionary urban cells—had described her in a dress. On one hand, she was thank-
ful because blue jeans were expensive and she did not have the appropriate rev-
olutionary ensemble. On the other hand, she felt slighted for being described
in a dress. Indeed, when the time came for the meeting, wearing a dress and
carrying a purse, as compared with the contact’s masculinized attire, put her
clearly at a disadvantage and signified her lower revolutionary rank.

It was the fundamentalist right that eventually won the battle to implement

its hypermasculine version of social order and gender roles. The right was
larger and thus had more factions, consisting of the Mojahadin Khalgh Orga-
nization, the Imam’s Line group, and many subgroups. Initially, they banded
together under the leadership of the Imam’s Line—a loose federation of stu-
dents, clergy, seminary students, and the Bazzaris, the largest anti-Shah
group.

The most organized group of the right was the Mojahadin Khalgh Organi-

zation, with its stronghold among university students and pro-Islamic profes-
sionals and intelligentsia. Its university cells reflected a slightly different
gender-neutral cum masculine ideal. The men’s ensemble consisted of non-
descript slacks—preferably not blue jeans—and a loose long shirt over their
trousers. They avoided the thick moustaches that had become the insignia of
the left. Following the Islamic prohibition against shaving facial hair, they
sported either complete facial hair or a day-old stubble.

The women of the right brought Hijab Islami to college campuses in the

mid-1970s. Their dress code consisted of a long coat and a head cover, a dif-
ferent ensemble from the traditional chador, the loose long cover worn by
many Iranian women. The new Islamic Hijab signaled several things: (1) it
made women as asexual and nonfeminine as possible, with the long, loose
coat covering any hint of feminine curves and a man’s long, loose, untucked

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

263

shirt hiding his sexuality; (2) it signaled resistance to the state’s secular
stands in public educational facilities; while Islamic parochial schools
required Islamic Hijab, state schools prohibited its wearing, and this brand
new hijab was a declaration of women’s intention to stay in the public space
and to be free from prevalent catcalls and sexual harassment; and (3) it set
them apart from the urban middle-class women, perceived as mindless fol-
lowers of Western fashion.

These organizations emphasized gender neutrality to deflect any appear-

ance of impropriety in mixed groups. But despite the unisex (masculine)
appearance aimed for by the groups, the members’ interactions were fused
with intense sexual energies.

While immorality was perceived as feminine—immodest, pliable, and

shallow—resistance had to be masculine—strong, hard, self-reliant, and
sparse. The hypermasculine culture of the revolution created many proto-
types. Three versions of masculinities in postrevolutionary Iran stand out,
lasting well beyond the revolutionary stage: the martyr as brave and innocent,
the mullah as otherworldly and pious, and ordinary men as sexual and domi-
nant. Women were not discouraged from emulating the manly traits of the
first two prototypes.

Masculine Prototypes

The Islamic revolution discredited some prerevolutionary masculinity

types such as military officers, artists, and even some professionals. As
groups were purged or demoted, their social standing and economic status
declined. Instead, the revolutionary ideologies and the Republic leaders glo-
rified new masculinity types: the mullahs became the leaders of revolution,
martyrs its soul, and men its beneficiaries.

The mullahs. The mullahs had existed in Iranian masculinity as a signifi-

cant peripheral type. In prerevolutionary culture, the central masculine proto-
types were the merchants (bazzaris), the professionals—engineers, doctors,
and professors (doctor -o- mohandes), military officers (sarhang- va- afsar),
civil service employees (karmands), workers (kargar and amaleh), and peas-
ants (dehati). Less significant peripheral prototypes were urban cowboys
( jahel) and misfits (lat-ha).

I grew up in Qum, the capital city of Iranian Shi’ism. The grand ayatollah

of the Shi’ite lives there. It is the site of the mausoleum of Masoumeh, the sis-
ter of the ninth Imam, beloved by Iranian Shi’ite. The mausoleum has an
extensive and well-funded endowment. The city houses one of the major
Shi’ite theological seminaries in the world. Both the city and the seminary
have played important roles in modern Iranian history. In the popular culture

264

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

of the city, the mullahs were both a curse and a blessing. The everyday aver-
age mullah had a lower-middle-class status and lifestyle.

The charismatic leader of the revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini, brought

mullahs to the center of political power. He became the prototype of the mul-
lahs, but a unique one. For some Westerners, he personified Allah. The West-
ern god has a face like the long-bearded, muscular, and handsome-faced god
in the Sistine Chapel, or like Christ, often personified as caring but effemi-
nate. Allah is undoubtedly a male figure. Since Islam prohibits personifica-
tion of the sacred, there is no Jesus-like equivalent of Allah. For Iranians, the
Ayatollah Khomeini represented a multifaceted notion of the country, gov-
ernment, future, Islam, and mullahs. The masculine Khomeini represents the
stern father figure who is exact but compassionate, a benevolent patriarch,
and a role model (Etalaat 1988). He is not the personification of Allah but the
occult Imam, the Mahdi, the absent Imam. Shi’ites believe that the twelfth
generation of the Prophet’s children, starting with his daughter, is absent and
will appear only at the day of judgment.

I knew the Ayatollah’s family early in my childhood when they rented a

section of my aunt’s house. When he became the grand Ayatollah, succeeding
Ayatollah Brujerdi, he was perceived as distinct from the rest. I remember my
father, always scornful of mullahs, stating that Khomeini was different, hon-
est, and a scholar of fiqh (Islamic logic).

A feature of this prototype of masculinity is its cool, dispassionate judg-

ment. When the Ayatollah returned to Iran after fourteen years of exile, a Le
Monde reporter asked him, “How do you feel?” which brought his famous
response: “Nothing.” In the weeks after his arrival, the emergency revolution-
ary court ordered the execution of five generals of the Shah’s military. The
execution took place on the roof of his simple house while he slept. This
notion of Islamic masculinity was also reinforced in early stages of the revo-
lution by the presiding judge over the revolutionary court whom the Western
press labeled as the “hanging judge” (Wright 1989; Taheri 1986). Currently,
members of the conservative faction who persecute members of the reformist
group reaffirm this stern and dogmatic vision of mullahs with their ideal of
dispassionate judgment. It is not surprising that they consider women unqual-
ified to adjudicate.

The long array of bearded mullahs exuding from the Iranian media repre-

sents an antithesis to the seductive perception of the Pahlavi system. This
vision of Spartan, stern, and cold masculinity is crude and unsophisticated. It
is juxtaposed against a vision of the Pahlavi system as feminine: vain, soft,
superfluous, and corrupting. The prerevolutionary period is described by the
word fetneh, or seductress. The pious and vengeful men of God battle the sul-
try femme fatale of consumerism and Westernism. The Republic has advo-
cated a lifestyle of sparse, pious, and joyless devotion to Islam and the

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

265

Revolution. The mullahs and their vigilantes are watchful of deviations. A
deviation of dress code is “bad hijab” and a rejection of the Islamic revolu-
tion. Eating during Ramadan is a rejection of Islamic rules. Public expres-
sions of joy and pleasure are signs of submission to foreign cultures (see the
conservatives’ response to students’ clapping in the 1998 May celebration;
Yaghmaian 1999).

When the Ayatollah died, the government published a book commemorat-

ing his life, a coffee-table replica of the Ayatollah’s life (Soroush 1989).
Missing is the vengeful, stern look. There are pages of the Ayatollah talking
and playing with his grandchildren; walking head down, deep in thought in
his humble yard; and smiling to well-wishers. Here is a man, not a god figure,
an image that has not become part of national consciousness. The conserva-
tives led by the religious leader, Ayatollah Khameini, prefer to keep the som-
ber image of clergy.

The president of Iran, Ayatollah Khatami, is the symbol of compassionate

leadership fiercely denounced by the conservatives. An intellectual, he is
more in tune with public sentiments of the urban middle class. In 1988, I met
him after his speech to an assembly of women commemorating the Imam’s
contribution to women’s rights. At the time, he was the minister of informa-
tion. We talked about his views regarding Iran’s role in the world and the role
of foreign forces in Iran’s destiny. He gave me an interview for that afternoon.
When I arrived, he was out, and I met with his undersecretary, Hojatolslam
Nouri, a junior mullah. He was then in charge of the radio operation of the Ira-
nian National Radio and TV. He gave me the rare edition of the Ayatollah’s
commemorative book. As I finish this article in the winter of 2000, Nouri is
convicted of heresy and has been sentenced to five years in prison and fined
for challenging the absolute rule of clerics. He and his supporters strive to
present a picture of the clergy as democratic, compassionate, and sophisti-
cated (Macleod 1999a).

Martyrs. There are numerous references to the concept of Shehada in the

Qu’ran. The word comes from the Arabic “to see,” “to witness,” or “to testify”
and refers to a person who sees the truth. It is often associated with jihad,
meaning fighting, striving for, and endeavoring. Jihad has multiple meanings
in Arabic, and only in one usage does it refer to holy war. In sura al-Nisa
(women), we read:

The holders back from among the believers, not having any injury, and those
who strive hard in Allah’s way with their property and their persons are not
equal; Allah has made the strivers with their property and their persons to excel
the holders back a (high) degree. (Qur’an 1983, 4:95:83)

It is in this holy facet that jihad and shehada refer to the ideal of shahadat
(martyrdom).

266

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

Martyrdom has an esteemed place in the Shi’ite cosmology, dating back to

the defeat and death of the Shi’ite’s fourth Imam. Hussein objected to the rule
of Khaliphate Yazid, as usurper of the state and faith. In 680, to challenge
Yazid’s rule, Hussein, with his family and an entourage of about seventy-
three, traveled to Karbala to face the well-trained and equipped soldiers of the
Khaliphate. In the ensuing battle, he and some male members of his family
were killed and the rest taken prisoner to Yazid’s court. This act of defiance in
the face of certain defeat is each year commemorated by the Shi’ites across
the world during the first ten days of the lunar month of Moharam. Shi’ites
commemorate this through passion plays, mourning rituals, and alms for at
least ten days. Men may induce bodily harm by beating their chests or backs
with chains to emulate Hussein’s bravery. Women’s participation involves
the less exhibitionist ceremonies of sermons, weeping, and beating their
chests with fists while seated in closed, cramped quarters.

Iran is the largest Shi’ite country. The Iraqi invasion and the ensuing eight-

year war had all the ingredients of a just war with a usurper of the faith and its
imperialist backers. A by-product of the war was the hypermasculine symbol
of the martyrdom (Abrahamin 1993). It produced a discourse on theological
as well as cultural and social implications of martyrdom. In the visual culture
that flourished after the revolution, a new genre appeared devoted to the war
efforts and the martyrs. The martyr is a young, unmarried (virgin, innocent)
man, fearless and strong. He is depicted with eyes cast forward to jihad and
the blessed state of martyrdom. His hair is dark and held back with a bandana
with Qur’anic inscriptions. If depicted in full figure, he wears white, the color
of a coffin, while holding a gun. Sometimes he is depicted in the foreground,
leading a group of women and older male martyrs, or he is depicted in the
foreground of fully veiled women and young girls, protecting them and the
country’s honor.

The Iranian martyrdom developed into a modern system of war and per-

sonal vengeance of men for their honor. The significance of the martyrdom is
reflected in its bureaucratic organizations. Two major bureaucracies were
created to manage the affairs of the martyrs. The Revolutionary Guard
(Pasdaran), as the military arm of the Revolutionary Council (Wright 1989,
69), was responsible for transforming the ragtag Basijis (volunteers) into a
fighting force. It was composed of the Kommieth volunteers, very young or
old Basijis coming from the provinces and rural areas (Katzman 1993).
Draftees were the responsibility of the regular army. From the beginning, the
revolutionary leaders were suspicious of the army’s loyalty to the Shah.
Therefore, creation of a Revolutionary Guard seemed a rational alternative
(Katzman 1993). This force, based on the ideal of martyrdom for Islam, used
the daredevil bravery of the Basiji and the innovative techniques of its uncon-
ventional leaders to defeat the Iraqi army. It acquired more power and eventu-
ally subsumed the regular army under the umbrella of the Ministry of Sepah
(military).

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

267

The second bureaucracy is the Shahid foundation. It is responsible for the

Shahid’s afterlife affairs by providing support and compensation for the
Shahid families and managing the affairs of the veterans of the war, now
called Janbaz, sacrifices to the revolution. This idealized image of pure and
innocent bravery drove many men to volunteer for the blessing of martyr-
dom. Families found respect and status in having given martyrs to the revolu-
tion and Islam. The official line was that when a son was martyred, well-
wishers should congratulate the family, not express condolences. It was to be
an occasion for celebration, not sorrow. Many families welcomed such an
interpretation of giving for Islam and the Ayatollah. In 1985, one of my
friends invited me to meet relatives of her husband from the southern part of
Iran. Although residents of this city were on the first line of attack by Iraqi
soldiers, this family had remained relatively intact. When I arrived, she whis-
pered that out of respect for the guests, I should keep my outside hijab and not
remove my head cover. I met Zahra, who was in her late forties but looked
older than sixty. She was married at thirteen to her paternal cousin and had her
first child at fourteen. She had four sons and two daughters, all married with
children. After initial greetings, she told me about her children and grandchil-
dren. Then, with tears in her eyes, she added, “My dear lady, I have not given a
martyr to Islam yet.” She regretted the fact that none of her sons had been
drafted. She could not keep her head high in her community. Her older daugh-
ter explained that it was an honor to be the mother of a martyr, and she herself
regretted not having a grown son to sacrifice for Islam. In response to my
inquiry about this family, my friend wrote, “Yes, they have been blessed and
lost their youngest son to the war.” She wrote,

The family did not know how to tell Zahra about the death of her son and asked
Rahim [my friend’s husband] if he could gently convey the message. He then
visited the family and told Zahra: “I have good news for you. From now on you
can keep your head high. You have given to our revolution and Islam from your
flesh and blood. You have given a martyr.”

It seemed that the revolution and Islam needed the blood of these young

virgin men to thrive. This image was often captured in posters and paintings
as red tulips sprouting out of the spilled blood of martyrs. All citizens are
required to honor this innocent blood by their self-restraint. Women are spe-
cially singled out to honor martyrs’ blood by their adherence to the strictest
codes. As official slogans and graffiti everywhere read, “My sister, your hijab
is your martyrdom.”

In the current dispute, the veterans of the war and the Shahid families sup-

port the conservatives that keep their sacrifices at the forefront of the Repub-
lic’s agenda. An accusation against the reformists, who want to move beyond
the rhetoric of the revolution and deal with the ailing economy and liberalize
the political structure, is that they have forgotten the martyrs and their blood.

268

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

The conservatives are vested in keeping the “Islamic” an integral element of
the Republic. They are afraid that in the rush to modernize, their sacrifices
will be forgotten and their benefits removed. Needless to say, many volun-
teered to defend the country against an imposed war not because of their
desire for martyrdom.

Here, as among other social groups, there are signs of fissure. The children

of the martyrs benefit from quotas in university admissions or job applica-
tions. But even these special treatments are not enough to keep them all in
line. In the age of the digital village, they know about the luxuries in non-
Islamic societies. Second, being born after the revolution, they lack the revo-
lutionary fervor and do not remember the hardships and sacrifices of their
fathers. Furthermore, they resent the oppression imposed by the regime.

In 1998, the son of the commander in chief of the Sepah defected to the

United States. During the past year, students at some private religious uni-
versities went on strike against inadequate resources. For example, students
at a women’s medical school in the city of Qum cancelled classes to protest
inadequate teaching resources that their gender-segregated institution
offered. Abbas Abadi, one of the student leaders responsible for the Ameri-
can Embassy takeover, spent eight months in solitary confinement in 1993
for criticizing undemocratic practices of the regime (Macleod 1999b). The
breakup in the rank of the revolutionaries is a sign that as far as the sons of
martyrs are concerned, the time for zealous bravery and self-sacrifice for
Islam is over.

Men. The other men, divided into many categories, were not given the

same high standards as the first two groups. If the martyrs were young, inno-
cent (virgin), and brave, and mullahs were pious and rational, then what about
the others? The misogynistic discourse of segregation that emerged after the
revolution was to protect the average men from temptation. Although men of
all ranks were at the risk of women’s temptation, the first two groups had a
God-given armor to protect them, while ordinary men needed more protec-
tion. Ironically, all the sexual advantages given to them according to Sharia
were not enough to protect them from their insatiable sexual desire. Now,
they could marry at the age of fifteen, child brides of nine, and they were al-
lowed up to four wives at a time. They had unilateral divorce and custody
rights and had been given the ultimate authority in the family’s public affairs.
In numerous interviews and encounters, women of all ranks told me that to do
anything outside the house, they needed men’s protection or nominal pres-
ence. It was easier to withdraw money, to sign a contract, or to buy or sell if
done in the name of a man. Still, men needed the protection of the state from
their own women.

While some men took advantage of their new God-given privileges and

married more than one wife, had many temporary marriages, and made their

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

269

working wife stay at home, most men suffered because of the harsh policies
of the Republic. For many visitors to Iran, at first sight, women in their long
coats with oversized shoulder pads seem larger than their stooped men. Once
waiting in a taxi queue, I observed to a friend how small the Iranian men
seemed to me. She laughed and said, “We are in Tehran. You would be even
more surprised in provinces. Their men look malnourished.” Then she
pointed to a man scratching his crotch and said, “What they got are these
meaningless liberties.” I had heard before that “men are careless of their
appearance and look disheveled and blank.”

This notion of pro-men advantages enrages parents of boys. They are

quick to point out how hard it is to raise boys as compared to girls in the
Republic. Even parents dedicated to equal education of their sons and daugh-
ters admit that if all else fails, a girl can marry and be a wife, whereas a boy
cannot take being a husband for granted. To become a husband, a man needs
to become an income earner. If boys survive crowded schools, the corrupting
influence of drugs, and harassment at the hands of authorities and vigilantes,
they face the Herculean task of college entrance exams. The current economy
cannot guarantee that a college degree will buy a middle-class lifestyle. Even
decent employment requires parents’support to secure housing or other large
capital necessities of married life. Without these, boys will not be eligible
bachelors.

In addition, the state’s harsh policies of gender segregation created a cul-

tural discourse on desire and mechanisms of its control. According to the
official rhetoric, women’s bodies arouse men’s desire, and men are victims of
this destructive desire. An uncovered ankle, a lock of stray hair, a hint of
makeup, or a whiff of perfume can arouse a man. Men lowered their gaze, but
those who stared faced no formal sanction. Women who aroused men’s desire
faced the state’s judiciary. From these harsh and comical policies emerged a
cynical discourse regarding men’s sexuality. It is vulgar, absurd, and degrad-
ing to women and men.

The patriarchal bargain that the state offered ordinary men was not worth

the cost of hypermasculinity. For their undisputed power over women, men
had free reign at home and work. But these supposed men’s rights came at a
high cost exacted by the state. Men bore the brunt of economic hardship and
high inflation and faced the state’s heavy-handed intrusion and oppression.
Being in the public, they faced scrutiny in terms of adherence to the manda-
tory Islamic codes. From their clothes, their demeanor, their smoking, or
whether they participated in the office’s noon prayer, men were scrutinized or
questioned.

Furthermore, at the home front, the Republic’s persecution of middle-

class women added to other sources of tension and discontent. Middle-class
women were dissatisfied, and men suffered as a consequence. For their gains,
men paid dearly by lower life expectancy due to high rates of heart attack,

270

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

strokes, traffic accidents, and cancer, not to mention those approximately
1 million who died in the war with Iraq.

The Backlash against Backlash

In 1998, Iran’s win over the U.S. soccer team in the World Cup gave Irani-

ans a sense of vindication and self-esteem. They claimed a political victory
and celebrated openly and joyously. Two men, two clergies, provided two
distinct symbolisms for this victory. President Khatami immediately arrived
at the National TV’s studio at 12:50

A.M

. to congratulate the athletes and the

nation. He smiled and declared this a joyous occasion. The religious leader,
Ayatollah Khamenie, later sent a message from his home in his usual monot-
onous solemn tone.

My Austrian Airline flight landed at the Tehran’s airport immediately

after the game. The airport had an unusual feeling to it. Customs officials
were not their usual grim selves. One of them waved us through and said with
a wink, “Whatever you brought from the Great Satan, it is OK with us.”
Streets were jammed with revelers at 1:00

A.M

., driving around and honking

their horns. One symbolism registered in everyone’s minds is the sight of
young women waving their headscarves out of car windows, daring vigilan-
tes and morality squads.

Never has a masculine sport like soccer been celebrated with such a femi-

nine defiance. During that summer, two events challenged the state’s agenda
and outsiders’ stereotypes of femininity and masculinity in Iran: the World
Cup and the public trial by the conservatives of Tehran’s popular mayor,
Karbaschi, for alleged embezzlement. The late-night soccer game broadcasts
would be followed by tapes of the trial, and everyone was engaged. For the
rest of that summer, I sat at parties waiting for dinner while the hostesses, too
absorbed in the games or the trial, forgot their usual Iranian hospitality and
served dinner in the early morning hours.

Women and men of all ages debated passionately the game strategies and

compared notes on their favorite teams. Unlike Tuesday morning football
analysis by American men, Iranians of all ages were involved in replays and
next-morning analysis. My sister-in-law, a bank analyst and a mother, was as
passionate about the game as was our old and forgetful mother-in-law. My
adolescent nieces and nephews would watch the court proceedings until early
morning hours and later would rush to buy papers to read about it. A new sign
of resistance to the Republic’s intrusive policies is men’s deviation from the
Islamic dress code. The masculine code is more relaxed than women’s, leav-
ing men with less desire to resist them (see Gerami 1996 for description of
various hijabs). However, in recent years, following the women’s lead, men
have started displaying signs of public resistance to the dress and behavior
codes of the Republic. The masculine Islamic hijab consists of a suit of dark

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

271

colors, no tie because of its Western origin, and a day-old beard. If no jacket is
worn, the long-sleeved shirt is untucked. Sandals and large sunglasses will
raise the wrath of morality squads for both sexes. For example, civil service
employees who dislike this code would shave on weekends or holidays and
go to work unshaven. Among the professional men, a clean-shaven face is a
sign of protest emerging at some offices. Add to this a tucked-in shirt, eau de
cologne, and/or a three-piece suit, and the signs of resistance are all there.
Some professionals such as doctors go to the extreme of wearing a tie to reg-
ister their opposition to the mullahs’codes. In 1998, when I interviewed phy-
sicians about abortion, many male doctors in private hospitals came to com-
plete rebellion by shaking my hand (Gerami 1999). A must-obey code of the
Republic’s public etiquette is no physical contact between the sexes.

The open display of defiance by the youth, women, and now middle-class

men is indicative of a coalition among a larger segment of society than the
authorities had predicted. At least these events have blurred the lines, and the
authorities know it. There is a fissure in Islamic masculinities. The privileged
are recognizing that the oppression debases the oppressor as well. The state
oppression of women, minorities, and others has scarred the majority, and
there are signs of tension throughout the society.

An Update

Since I finished this article in January 2000, Iran has wedged further into

the grip of factional unrests. The reformists won the battle to control Majles,
the Iranian Parliament, but lost the war on full-scale reforms. The conserva-
tives control the judiciary, the police, the army, and the broadcast media.
They have closed most reformist papers and imprisoned progressive journal-
ists, lawyers, students, and mullahs. The new Majles started immediately to
accomplish its mandate on reforms. But its first act to reform the press laws
was suddenly aborted by a decree from the Supreme leader. The conserva-
tives have been successful in maintaining their grip on means of state power.
But by all calculations, they are losing in the long haul on mass support.
There are telling signs that the grassroot demand for reforms cannot be
pushed back. The parliament passed a law 137 to 74 to allow single women to
travel aboard for education, and it increased the minimum age of marriage
from nine to fifteen.

In prerevolutionary Iran, there was a voice and a figure symbolizing the

pop culture of the time recognized beyond the borders in the region. Iranians
of varied ethnic, language, and religious backgrounds generally recog-
nized GooGooshes’s sensual dance and her ever-present voice. The
hypermasculinity of the Islamic revolution singled her out as the voice and
image of the Shah’s decadent reign. She was silenced and banned to a virtual
house arrest for twenty years. Not once seen in public and her name literally

272

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003

banned from any public forum, she has remained the most recognized Iranian
singer for all age groups. Now a telling sign of the fissure in the revolution’s
hypermasculinity is that this fifty-year-old singer and actor is allowed to
leave the country and perform abroad to crowds of tearing enthusiastic Ira-
nian expatriots and is receiving rave reviews from the foreign press. President
Khatami’s administration is credited with lifting the ban and allowing her to
leave the country, one more sign of dissonance in the hypermasculinity of the
Islamic Republic.

REFERENCES

Abrahamin, E. 1993. Khomenism: Essays on the Islamic Republic. Los Angeles: University of

California Press.

Al Ahmad, Jalal. 1977. Gharbzadegi (Westoxication). Tehran, Iran: New Books.
Brod, Harry. 1987. The case of men’s studies. In The making of masculinities: The new men’s

studies, edited by Harry Brod, 39-62. Boston: Allen and Unwin.

Esfandiari, Haleh. 1997. Deconstructed lives: Women and Iran’s Islamic revolution. Washing-

ton, DC: The Woodrow Wilson Center Press.

Etalaat. 1988. Imam, a Model in Everything, 4, 7 June.
Fernea, E. W. 1998. In search of Islamic feminism: One woman’s global journey. New York:

Doubleday.

Filene, Peter. 1987. The secrets of men’s history. In The making of masculinities: The new men’s

studies, edited by Harry Brod, 103-20. Boston: Allen and Unwin.



. 1994. The role, place, and power of the middle class women in the Islamic Republic. In

Identity politics, edited by Val Moghadam, 329-49. Boulder, CO: Westview.

Gerami, Shahin. 1996. Women and fundamentalism; Islam and Christianity. New York: Garland.



. 1999. Stories of illegal abortion from Iran. Presented at Women’s World, Trumso,

Norway.

Hantover, J. P. 1978. The Boy Scouts and the validation of masculinity. Journal of Social Issues

34 (1): 184-95.

Kandiyoti, Deniz. 1991. Women, Islam and the state. London: Macmillan.
Katzman, Kenneth. 1993. The warriors of Islam: Iran’s Revolutionary Guard. Boulder, CO:

Westview.

Kimmel, Michael S. 1987. The contemporary “crisis” of masculinity in historical perspective. In

The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies, edited by Harry Brod, 121-54. Boston:
Allen and Unwin.

Macleod, S. 1999a. The enemy of the state? Time, 1 November, 45.



. 1999b. Radicals reborn. Time, 15 November, 56.

Mahdi, Ali Akbar. 1999. The student movement in the Islamic Republic of Iran. Journal of Ira-

nian Research and Analysis 15 (2): 5-46.

Muslim Women’s Movement (Neh-zat-Zanan-Musalman). (1981). Woman from Imam

Khomeini’s perspective. Tehran, Iran: Azadi Press.

Najmabadi, Afsanah. 1991. Hazards of modernity and mortality: Women, state and ideology in

contemporary Iran. In Women, Islam and state, edited by Deniz Kandiyoti, 48-76. Philadel-
phia: Temple University Press.

Pleck, Joseph. 1987. The theory of male sex-role identity: Its rise and fall, 1936 to the present. In

The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies, edited by Harry Brod, 21-38. Boston:
Allen and Unwin.

Qur’an. 1983. Translated by M. H. Shakir. New York: Tahrike Tarsile Qur’an.

Gerami / MULLAHS, MARTYRS, AND MEN

273

Rajaee, Farhang. 1999. Voices of modernity: Contextualizing the students’ protest in Iran. Jour-

nal of Iranian Research and Analysis 15 (2): 111-19.

Said, Edward. 1978. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon.
Soroush. 1989. Image of the sun (Tasvir-e Aftab). Tehran, Iran: Islamic Republic Radio and TV,

Soroush Press.

Taheri, Amir. 1986. The dpirit of Allah: Khomeini & the Islamic Revolution. Bethesda, MD:

Adler & Adler.

United Nations Fourth World Conference. 1995. Beijing declaration and the platform for ac-

tion: Action for equality, development and peace. Geneva, Switzerland: United Nations.

Wright, Robin. 1989. In the name of God: The Khomeini decade. New York: Simon & Schuster.
Yaghmaian, Behzad. 1999. Student movement in the Islamic Republic of Iran. Journal of Ira-

nian Research and Analysis 15 (2): 34-42.

Shahin Gerami is a professor of sociology and gender studies at Southwest Missouri
State University. She has a law degree from the University of Tehran and has practiced
law in Iran. She has worked on issues of religious fundamentalism and gender and has
published works, among them a book titled Women and Fundamentalism: Islam and
Christianity (Garland, 1996). Her current research is on Islamic masculinities and refu-
gee women of Afghanistan.

274

MEN AND MASCULINITIES / January 2003