The external view of the “Human Right Activists, HRA” is visible to all, mostly through its news agency HRANA, and at a different level, through its monthly journal Peace Mark; however, the interpretations and perceptions of it may vary. What is the internal view of this organization, especially from the eyes of “one of its own?” Perhaps there is the need to dig deeper and farther than what is visible on the surface. Walter Benjamin speaks of this as two different views of the same country road — the view from the eyes of the person walking along the road and the view from the eyes of a passenger flying over the road in an airplane: “The power of a country road when one is walking along it is different from the power it has when one is flying over it by airplane… The airplane passenger sees only how the road pushes through the landscapes, how it unfolds according to the same laws as the terrain surrounding it. Only he who walks the road on foot learns of the power it commands, and of how, from the very scenery that for the flier is only the unfurled plain, it calls forth distances, belvederes, clearings, prospects at each of its turns like a commander deploying soldiers at a front.” (One-way Street, 1978, P. 27-28)
This point of view might be interesting because I was not one of the founders or primary members of HRA. In fact, I came across HRA entirely by chance, and I had to start my activities at the lower levels of the organization. When opportunities for promotion within the organization were possible, I climbed to higher levels and have continued my activism as one of its core members. As someone who is not the founder but is considered one of the second-generation members of the organization, the reason behind my devotion to the organization could raise many questions.
To address the most common one, elaborate on the motivation for my involvement and simultaneously answer the question, “why did I choose to be a human rights activist and why did I choose to join and stay with HRA as a human rights organization,” I will narrate five stories of five different intervals of my world, from the limited confines of my personal life to when it slowly transitioned into a collective life.
First story: In the winter of 2009, I was sitting on a bench at Daneshjoo Park beside a friend whom I knew from the virtual world of blogging. We gradually became friends in the real world as well. In order to organize and manage my activism, he had asked me a couple of times to collaborate with a civic group that at the time was following the demands of a particular social strata/group. Even though some of these demands were similar to my own, I always rejected the offer because I could not choose between those demands and my other concerns. Perhaps I was a little into pluralism, and I cared about demands and interests that were not directly of my own. Moreover, I could not simply ignore and justify the fact that those at the top of these organizations were social and political aristocrats. Our discussion was moving in this direction again, though this time he mentioned that he had started collaborating with a young and emerging human rights activists’ organization founded by Keyvan Rafiee. He also mentioned that the news agency of the organization would start working in a few months, and they were looking for volunteers. I asked a few questions and then assured him that I would think about it.
Other than a few petitions, reports and pictures of the tortured prisoners published by this organization, I did not know much about the way it operated. I did not know much about the founder of the organization, either, even though I had once previously shared the news of his hunger strike in prison. I pretty much did not know any of the members of the organization in person. The more I asked, the more I heard, and the more curious I became. Eventually, after a few weeks of query, thinking and consideration, I felt a growing interest in their kind of activism. Days later, I called my friend to let him know I was in. A short time later, I contacted Jamal Hosseini (who I knew by his pseudonym, “Esfandiar Baharmas”) and volunteered to start working with HRANA.
Honestly, at the beginning, I looked at working at HRANA as a place for more coherent and organized activism, especially in an atmosphere that was pushing me towards individual or, at best, academical activism. At the time, I perceived human rights (according to the politicized view of it) as a Western term and, therefore, I did not completely believe in it.
Second story: In May 2009, I had been working for HRANA for about three months. Over a few days, I started what I thought would be smart shenanigans: for instance, I started highlighting the news of the prisoners who had similar political beliefs as I did. One of the prisoners was sentenced to 3 months of imprisonment and, on the same day, another prisoner (whose beliefs and activism did not share my ideals) had been sentenced to 6 years of imprisonment. One day, one of the authorities of HRA contacted me to let me know that my collaboration was not needed anymore! Although I could guess my trickery had been exposed, it felt unexpected and sudden. When I asked why, he replied, “we have
noticed that you hold back certain news and publish other news even though both are subjected to human rights violations and need to be reported in the important news section. Unfortunately, this organization cannot work towards your personal beliefs and interests.” I insisted that I should stay!
He suggested that, if I was really interested, I should take a week off and study further about human rights. Then after a short probation period, if approved, I might continue to work with the organization. During that week, more than studying about human rights (which I was not fully uninformed about), I thought about whether I would stay or leave the organization; if I were to stay, I had to change my perception of people and groups and learn to view everyone as equal when it came to the violations of his or her human rights. At the time, such a decision was incredibly difficult for me… but it was not easy either to forget all that the organization had given me in such a short period of time, such as the satisfaction that I felt from believing that I was making a difference. Therefore, with respect for our collective work (which I generally believed in), I tried to put aside my individualism and become a team player. To be totally honest, I also wanted to get to understand the issues deeper. About 10 days later, I resumed working for HRANA again.
Third story: I was trying to be more involved and engaged at work. If I am not mistaken, it was about this time that HRA was developing the daily and weekly reports of human rights violations for publication; I volunteered to participate. This greater involvement opened my eyes to things that were new to me. The group was well-organized, and it was evident that such an order came from a capable leadership team. For example, if a report took too long, there was always someone who would remind me about it by repeatedly following up and messaging me until it was done! This leadership had adopted honorable objectives; politics and gaining political power had no value to them. I am emphasizing this because, at the time, campaigning for the presidential elections of 2009 had started. By the time it reached its peak, most of the youth in my circle and people I knew (especially university students) were interested in being involved in one of the candidate’s campaigns. Although the nature of such activism was not pleasing to me, it was understandable. It was not acceptable to see that most would participate in building political power blocks or would involve themselves in occasional short-term activism with goals that were defined without sufficient knowledge, or even activism that was born out of excitement. It is disturbing that as a student activist sometimes one would be “forced” to go along with the student association. For instance, I was the editor of the political science association journal of our university and almost all the members were in favor of supporting a particular presidential candidate. I was frequently put in the position of choosing between my own views and the influences of my peers.
During those days, it was not only the names of prisoners and other victims (which we published daily) that passed through my head; but the numerous events of the past would also come alive and pass by my eyes, like a scene from a movie: the death of our neighbor, who was the night guard of a construction site and had fallen from the scaffolds one night, did not make it into any newspaper or website. Many people in the community blamed him for his own death, citing neglect as the cause! People wondered why there was no insurance. In less than a year, his family had to sell their home and move out of the neighborhood. The demolition and burning of Dervish’s Hussainia in Qom in the winter of 2006, which I was an eyewitness to, changed nothing, rather some even took pride in it! I heard one of my acquaintances proudly talking about throwing a stone at Dervish’s head and shamelessly laughing. One of my maternal relatives would occasionally, for leisure and entertainment, wake up in the morning and go to watch a public execution in our city. She had even started videoing the executions on her phone so she could more voraciously tell others about the live experience of the moment when the convict was being smothered in front of those who were gathered. Once when she was showing me one of the videos, it was as if one of the men was staring at the camera and smiling from the top of the gallows. It was a strange reaction to be close to an execution. But in those very days, a worker (who they had gotten into the campaign HQ with the excuse that he should have a drink and rest a bit) was asked whom he would vote for. This man said his vote would go to the candidate who would bring down the price of meat because it had been two months since he had been able to buy a kilo of meat for his wife and children. They did not even let him finish his thought before promising that their candidate was going to lower the price of meat!
Honestly, even though I was majoring in political science, I was not meant for politics; I hate the hypocrisy that surrounds it. Those days when I heard “Aftab-Karan-e Jangal 1” from the speakers in the town, I just tried to swallow a painkiller as fast as possible: Home, Computer, dial up internet, and finally the holy moment of publishing news on HRANA!
The fourth story: The intelligence services of the Revolutionary Guards arrested 46 people who somehow had connections to HRA (a few of them were my close friends), and they were still after me. They even weaved together a ludicrous story along with my picture and information and published it in the media such as Gerdab, Fars, and Keyhan2. There was no escape; I only had a few days or maybe a few hours before they arrived to take me. I had a serious choice to make: to stay, to be imprisoned and to await my unknown future or to go, to leave everything behind and face an unknown future. This was the most difficult decision I had and probably will ever face as a man on the verge of turning 20! These very words still sound like a distant audience (the same passenger who sees the country road from the plane).
Considering the interest of the group that was so dear to me despite the members’ suggestions to protect myself, and even at the price of being exposed, I was not willing to give up any opportunity to lift the slightest weight off their shoulders. For instance, I used to go to internet cafes so that I might be able to edit my short report. As I sat there working, my mind occasionally drifted to the question of whether I would be more useful for the organization as an imprisoned member who was willing to cover the prison news, or if I would be more useful as a member working for the organization from Turkey? At the time, the organization was under severe attacks from the security and intelligence services of the country. Not only did it lose many members to the frequent arrests, but it also had lost 6 websites, 33 addresses, and the operations at many of its other facilities have been interrupted. In simpler words, I had to decide if I should become a political prisoner or try to become the voice of the political prisoners and those who were silenced!
Choosing the second option allowed my approximate one year of engagement with HRA, to continue under refugee circumstances in a different country. The move and the lifting of security barriers brought me closer than ever to the organization. About then, it was proven to me that the leaders and members of HRA are faithful to their activism and are concerned about human rights. I visited the place where one of the leaders of the organization lived and worked from in the city of Van in Turkey. It was no longer a home really. It was little more than a ruin with the only valuable things being an old computer, a few hard drives and electronics. This was an end to all the rumors that the security services had started to spread and publish about the organization. Some people unintentionally or deliberately had shared and confirmed propaganda about the organization and were making it more difficult for it to continue its activism. I was encouraged by the sleepless nights and the consistent selfless work that I was witnessing. It did not matter how tired people would be; it was almost impossible to leave a shift without a replacement ready to pick up where one had left off. The work was always superior to personal issues. In our deplorable financial conditions, we could not afford to upgrade to the high-speed internet or telephone lines or even good meals. Of course, such a lifestyle, which had become a part of my own life, was totally different from my previous one. I had found so much faith and devotion in our group (brought on by the atmosphere there) that I was ashamed to even think about these problems. Imagine what it was like for us when Farzad Kamangir3 was sentenced to execution or other prisoners were calling from the prison to announce a hunger strike”; then not only time would find a different meaning, but even the common occasions would lose their significance. The dates of arrests, sentences and executions would replace the birthdays and other such occasions. I felt I belonged to this organization and its members more than ever, and I was confident that I was blooming in the healthiest of atmospheres. It might sound like a propagandist slogan, but it is true that I learned to regard two people with different beliefs as equal; today I deeply believe in it.
Many at that point believed that I would either intentionally or unintentionally seek a personal life after the refugee period ended and that I would move to another country.
The fifth story: It was a year and a month since I had moved to Canada, and I tried with tooth and nail to not let their predictions come true, and not to seek and get lost in my personal life. During this period, I even had set my schedule, including when I slept, so that it coincided with time in Iran. For many reasons, specifically financial hardships, I could not do so for too long. I had to find a full-time job, and therefore I was becoming less and less active at HRA to the point that the around-the-clock working had led to writing only a few news reports per week or later to only 2 or 3 pages of reports per month. I was truly perplexed; on one hand, I was constantly asking myself how essential, effective and important my work at HRA was, especially since many more people had started working for HRA, and I thought they could easily replace me. Almost every time, I reached an answer abruptly. For instance, once I answered the phone call of an inmate who contacted HRA regularly and was imprisoned at one of the border cities of Iran. He asked how I was doing and why I had been away for so long. When I told him why, he replied: “People like you are our only hope, and if you were to leave, this little window of hope would be closed.” On another hand, it was disturbing that I had stripped myself from the satisfaction that collective work had given me. In the past 6 years, I reminded myself many times why I left my country behind.
These internal tensions and conflicts, the friendships that were and are increasingly becoming deeper and holier, and the group needing me had resulted in leaving my full-time job in order to be able to spend more time working for HRA. We decided that it would be better if, instead of working for HRANA, I continue my work for HRA at its monthly journal, the Peace Mark. That was where I worked from July 2013 till today.
The experience of 7 years of teamwork with HRA has led me on a different path in life. It has been a path full of ups and downs, in which the flame of hope for an ideal future might have dimmed at times but has never burned out; and with any spark, it has blazed brighter.
To me, HRA is not a “group” or “organization” but it is what I prefer to call a “family” — the family whose sorrow I feel and happiness I share as I live through their successes and failures. Experiences have proven that they feel the same towards me. Honorable colleagues whom I love just like my own family—at times, maybe even more. Not being beside these forgotten people while they are making history would only be possible when I had forgotten and abandoned myself.
I am proud of that sacred moment of calm that I achieved by repeating this sentence to myself: “the truth will find its way!” when hearing unfair judgments or false accounts that intentionally and unintentionally were trying to stop us. I heard this sentence for the first time from Keyvan Rafiee, based on the testimony of a prisoner before execution, with the explanation that “the truth is like the limpid water of an ocean that might be covered with foam and sludge; with time it is the foam that leaves and the limpidity that stays.”
I am proud to breathe in the air that Farzad Kamangar and Seyed Jamal Hosseini once breathed in. I am proud to have been a witness to all the difficult moments—arrests, sentences and the sorrowful ones of death or execution of a friend. To grieve or to stay faithful to the path once you have walked alongside them is an honor. These are the emotions and moments that I would not have experienced to this extent outside of HRA.
With all that being said, I deeply believe there is a virtue in suffering that cannot be found in happiness.
