A Divided Country United by the Spirit of Democracy

A brave people went in their millions yesterday to vote for the next president
of Iran.

They went for the right reasons and they went for the wrong reasons but they
wanted a say in how their country is governed. In their tens of thousands,
they waited in Tehran amid the sword-like heat of summer to insist that they
had duties and obligations towards their society. Alas, the clerical blanket
which smothers Iran will ensure that mullahs - not people - ultimately get
their way. Thank you, Ayatollah Khomeini.

Not since the first free Iraqi elections have a Middle Eastern people so
staunchly demonstrated their right to be heard. The last elections in Iran
provided a 60 per cent turnout. Now some were saying it was 80 per cent,
even 85 per cent. I found the mosques and schools of Tehran packed to
capacity, the overflow winding back down the hot pavements and across the
baking highways.

Never before in Iran - not since the Islamic Revolution that brought all this
about - have I heard such a thunder of free speech. No, it is not a new Iran
we are going to see, even if the favourite Mirhossein Mousavi wins the
ticket. (Both Mousavi and the unbalanced Mahmoud Ahmadinejad were last night
claiming victory.) But it will be a little bit stronger than it was before.
Please God, not a little bit more dangerous.

This new spirit could be heard outside the Issar School voting booths in
Shaheed Mozaffarikhah Street - yes, of course this martyr died in the
1980-88 Iran-Iraq war, but then that awesome conflict had a lot to do with
the turnout, as we shall see. "There are different reasons why I am
here," Mariam Amina said to me, the less courageous voters - who didn't
want to talk to the foreign journalist - listening to her every word. "I
was not going to vote - I wasn't. But then I thought my silence would help
someone who is not qualified to be president of Iran. And I thought my one
vote would be worth it and that the person who becomes president would be a
good president." Could there be a better reason for any democrat in the
world to vote? The psychology student did suggest - unwisely, as I pointed
out to her - that the British did not vote in such numbers "because
they don't need to change their government". Corruption, I gently
offered, is not a uniquely Arab or Iranian phenomenon - but her courage drew
others to talk. A trickle of words turned into a waterfall. Ehsan, his
unwillingness to give his family name told its own story - got the day about
right. "Maybe people aren't here for the voting," he said. "Maybe
it's only a political demonstration against the regime. We don't have any
way to say why we need to change."

Minar - suffice it to say that every woman was scarved or chadored, albeit
with ever increasing fringes of hair glistening beneath the sun - thought
the "unpredictable debates" on Iranian television had a role in
bringing the people of Tehran on to their canyon-like streets. "No one
knew what would be said on television. That's why so many people are taking
part in this election. The Supreme Leader [Ayatollah Khamenei] didn't want
those cameras but they were there."

They were indeed, and there was much conversation among the crowd as to why
the long-dead Ayatollah Khomeini had laid this permanent crust of Islamic
rule over a real democracy of the people. Ehsan thought it accounted for the
failure of the Mohamed Khatami government, "the chain over us," he
called it. "There are people surrounding the Supreme Leader and they
are all in line with him."

Then came the shadows that always lie away from the blinding sunlight of
Tehran. A man called Kurosh - "Kurosh" is Persian for Cyrus,
as in Cyrus the Great - took me to the shade on the other side of the
street. He didn't want to be heard. "In the case of Mirhossein
[Mousavi], he might have a successful vote, he could save the country
freely. But I think in the next years, there may be a bloodbath in Tehran,
because there are two totally divided sides in the country. All this is
silent at the moment..."

Quite so. On Thursday, for the second time in five days, the judiciary
authorities closed down the pro-Mousavi newspaper Yaseno. President
Ahmadinejad's boys were at work again. And as I drove to the poverty of
south Tehran - you always know you are heading for the poor here, because
all roads to them lead downhill - there were those childish posters of the
ever-smiling country boy who is still - just - the President. Ahmadinejad
running in his sports clothes, Ahmadinejad among his smiling people,
Ahmadinejad playing football.

Inside the Hasrat Rasoul Mosque - and here we were definitely amid the poverty
of the capital - there were three state television cameras (Ahmadinejad's
work again, of course) and there were thousands waiting to vote, old bearded
men, young labourers, half shaved, in dirty trousers, and on the other side
of the "masjid" a row of women, their chadors billowing in dark
clouds. "For Ahmadinejad, naturally," came the first male voice. "Because
he's an expert and an uncorrupt person. I didn't vote for him last time
because I didn't know him. But his plans have always been complete and
successful."

What was this? The man who has turned Iran into a laughing stock, who clearly
cannot understand economics - reporters do sometimes have to tell the truth
- is "complete" is he? He is "successful" is he?
Though at the end, that's what his election result might prove to be. Then
52-year-old Hassan Danesh revealed himself. He runs a clothing store in the
Great Tehran Bazaar. Same old story, the bazaaris in league with the
clerics, just as they were in the 1979 revolution. Then a shock. A veteran
of the 1980-88 Iran-Iraq war, white-haired now, Asghar Naderzadeh stepped
towards me. He was a Basiji, a religiously inspired volunteer to fight
Saddam, fought at Shalamcheh, arrived on the front lines at the age of just
14. "I want Mirhossein," he said. "The war veterans all know
him as a good person. He managed the war perfectly and controlled inflation
during this period." The old Basiji, it should be understood, were
heroes and died for Iran. The new version, the young men who never fought
but cluster around the Supreme Leader, are a political breed.

Another man, after Asghar, nameless this time but voting once more for
Mirhossein "because of the way he speaks, his promises..." And
then, inevitably, the voice of conservative womanhood. "All the time,
Iran is a victory for Muslims. Everywhere imperialism has intimidated
countries. We are all supporters of the Supreme Leader and the [Ahmadinejad]
government." Untrue. Samaya was voting for the first time, a job in
public relations management, who had listened to all four candidates in the
televised debates. "It's my responsibility to vote for my president,
Mirhossein Mousavi. His personality is fit for being a president."

We were all being watched and listened to - at far too close quarters - by a
young army officer, a lieutenant with an AK-47 rifle, unshaven but with
hard, strong eyes. Was this Big Brother, coming to betray those who wished
to speak their minds?

Again, another woman, 27-year-old Marjan, a student of English translation at
Tehran university, in jeans and a long black cloak and scarf. "I love
my country and I love my revolution and I would like a good president for my
country, Mr Mousavi. He helped save our country." It seemed the 1980-88
war cannot go away.

An older lady now. "We want to protect the blood of our martyrs in the
war. I am the sister of a martyr who died in battle at Fakkeh in Khuzestan,
a housewife with two daughters and I want Ahmadinejad." Then came the
classic illogicality. "I don't want Mousavi to be president because
he's going to promote bad 'hijab'. We don't need more freedom for girls to
go out in bad dresses."

She was not alone. Kobra, a nurse in a scarf and purple coat, wanted the same
as the housewife in front of her. "I vote because of my beliefs,
because of love for this country's Islam and for the blood of our martyrs.
It must be Ahmadinejad. He is the icon of resistance and courage." This
was extraordinary. Kobra was transposing Ahmadinejad from hero of the
1980-88 war - which he was not - into hero of the war against George W Bush,
a war of threats, to be sure, but certainly not a war of weapons. And then
Kobra surprised us all. "I think President Obama is approaching Iran
properly and this will be accepted in our society. We want other people in
other countries to acknowledge us as human beings. All of us believe in God,
like the Christians and the Jews. You believe in Jesus, we believe in
Mohamed. We are all the same. In this election, I am looking for a channel
to express my ideas. Tell everyone that we love Western countries."

This was a deeply moving statement of love and belief to come from an
Ahmadinejad voter but just at that moment, the army lieutenant came up to
me, rifle over his shoulder. "We are persuading these elements that we
are having a democracy in Iran," he told me. "But democracy is for
people who know their own intentions. Iranian people don't know what they
want. Democracy will not work here. People should be educated, then they
know what they want. Don't you believe that?" I said that you cannot
filter out the poor from the educated and let only the rich and the powerful
rule. I guessed the soldier was a bright man - I was right, he was a mining
engineer in civilian life - but then up came the man from the interior
ministry and the man from the governorate and told the soldier he was not
allowed to talk to journalists. And this was when Lieutenant Zuheir
Sadeqinejad of the Iranian army replied. "I was asking the journalist
questions," he snapped back. "And I have the right to speak."

And I wondered if - despite his flawed argument - he wasn't the greatest
democrat of them all.

The expats' view: 'I knew we had to come out'

With its patio cafes and millionaire mansions, Kensington Court in west London
is usually more accustomed to the genteel comings and goings of its
well-heeled residents. Yesterday it could have been mistaken for north
Tehran. Thousands of chanting Iranians gathered outside the Iranian
consulate to cast their vote - something that expats have rarely done during
previous elections. But this year's presidential race has invigorated
Britain's Iranians like never before thanks to the astonishing rallies of
the reformist candidate Mirhossein Mousavi. Maryam Gol, who left Iran in
1974 and now lives with her family in Milton Keynes, was one of hundreds
patiently queuing up to vote yesterday afternoon. It was the first time she
had cast a ballot since settling in the UK. "When I saw just how many
young people came out to support Mousavi,

I knew we had to come out and help them," she said. "People truly
believe that change is on the way." If supporters of the conservative
incumbent Mahmoud Ahmadinejad were present they were keeping their heads
down. Instead the street was filled with hundreds of young, expectant
Mousavi supporters in his green campaign colours and chanting slogans hoping
for change. Students Fasilat Nassiri, 23, and Behrad Parvar, 25, were
queuing with friends who all said they were voting for Mr Mousavi. "Refusing
to vote is not an option," said Ms Nassiri. "I don't think things
will suddenly change but there is a glimmer of hope. We have to seize that."