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What we're witnessing in Iran over the last several days is the power of nonviolence.
Unarmed Iranians by the hundreds of thousands, and across all ages
and classes, have flocked to the streets of Tehran, defying bans and
brutal paramilitary squads, to demand one simple thing: that their
votes be counted fairly.
The democratic longing, and the democratic thronging, shows no signs of letting up.
What we're witnessing in Iran over the last several days is the power of nonviolence.
Unarmed Iranians by the hundreds of thousands, and across all ages
and classes, have flocked to the streets of Tehran, defying bans and
brutal paramilitary squads, to demand one simple thing: that their
votes be counted fairly.
The democratic longing, and the democratic thronging, shows no signs of letting up.
"Every day, the number of people attending the protests is
increasing," says Camelia Entekhabifard, author of Camelia: Save
Yourself by Telling the Truth--A Memoir of Iran. "It's drawing people
from all generations and societies, from the very cultured to the very
traditional. This is a national movement."
Entekhabifard, speaking to me from Dubai, says she's concerned about
the safety of her family back in Iran. "My mother, my sister, and my
brother, they're hearing gunshots every night in Tehran," she says.
"They tell me that people are going to the rooftops to show their
solidarity with the protesters and chant, 'God is great.' But then the
civilian-clothed militia smashes down their doors. This is unheard of."
Entekhabifard says the protesters don't trust the government to do a
fair recount, since the guardian council that is supposed to do it is
packed with Ahmadinejad supporters.
"There is no option other than to repeat the election in the near future," she says.
She believes that the most powerful man in Iran, the head cleric,
Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, will not be foolish enough to crack down harder.
"Today, there isn't word about toppling the regime of the Supreme
Leader," she says. "But within a weak of a crackdown, the slogans will
be against the Supreme Leader. I'm sure he wouldn't want that."
An Iranian-born friend of mine, Homi Moossavi, is not convinced that things will end peacefully.
"It is hard to gauge the events from outside," he says from San
Francisco. "Even those living in Iran are having difficulty predicting
the future. At this moment, there seems to be still some chance for
change, but there is also great potential for more violence and severe
repression."
But he feels uplifted by the massive, spontaneous nonviolent protests.
"It is the wave that I am inspired by," he says. "Watching the sea
of Iranian people demanding accountability and asking for their basic
human rights, freedom, and democracy is truly moving. It indicates that
some real political maturity has taken hold among the people whose only
unifying slogan thirty years ago was 'Death to the Shah.' "
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
What we're witnessing in Iran over the last several days is the power of nonviolence.
Unarmed Iranians by the hundreds of thousands, and across all ages
and classes, have flocked to the streets of Tehran, defying bans and
brutal paramilitary squads, to demand one simple thing: that their
votes be counted fairly.
The democratic longing, and the democratic thronging, shows no signs of letting up.
"Every day, the number of people attending the protests is
increasing," says Camelia Entekhabifard, author of Camelia: Save
Yourself by Telling the Truth--A Memoir of Iran. "It's drawing people
from all generations and societies, from the very cultured to the very
traditional. This is a national movement."
Entekhabifard, speaking to me from Dubai, says she's concerned about
the safety of her family back in Iran. "My mother, my sister, and my
brother, they're hearing gunshots every night in Tehran," she says.
"They tell me that people are going to the rooftops to show their
solidarity with the protesters and chant, 'God is great.' But then the
civilian-clothed militia smashes down their doors. This is unheard of."
Entekhabifard says the protesters don't trust the government to do a
fair recount, since the guardian council that is supposed to do it is
packed with Ahmadinejad supporters.
"There is no option other than to repeat the election in the near future," she says.
She believes that the most powerful man in Iran, the head cleric,
Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, will not be foolish enough to crack down harder.
"Today, there isn't word about toppling the regime of the Supreme
Leader," she says. "But within a weak of a crackdown, the slogans will
be against the Supreme Leader. I'm sure he wouldn't want that."
An Iranian-born friend of mine, Homi Moossavi, is not convinced that things will end peacefully.
"It is hard to gauge the events from outside," he says from San
Francisco. "Even those living in Iran are having difficulty predicting
the future. At this moment, there seems to be still some chance for
change, but there is also great potential for more violence and severe
repression."
But he feels uplifted by the massive, spontaneous nonviolent protests.
"It is the wave that I am inspired by," he says. "Watching the sea
of Iranian people demanding accountability and asking for their basic
human rights, freedom, and democracy is truly moving. It indicates that
some real political maturity has taken hold among the people whose only
unifying slogan thirty years ago was 'Death to the Shah.' "
What we're witnessing in Iran over the last several days is the power of nonviolence.
Unarmed Iranians by the hundreds of thousands, and across all ages
and classes, have flocked to the streets of Tehran, defying bans and
brutal paramilitary squads, to demand one simple thing: that their
votes be counted fairly.
The democratic longing, and the democratic thronging, shows no signs of letting up.
"Every day, the number of people attending the protests is
increasing," says Camelia Entekhabifard, author of Camelia: Save
Yourself by Telling the Truth--A Memoir of Iran. "It's drawing people
from all generations and societies, from the very cultured to the very
traditional. This is a national movement."
Entekhabifard, speaking to me from Dubai, says she's concerned about
the safety of her family back in Iran. "My mother, my sister, and my
brother, they're hearing gunshots every night in Tehran," she says.
"They tell me that people are going to the rooftops to show their
solidarity with the protesters and chant, 'God is great.' But then the
civilian-clothed militia smashes down their doors. This is unheard of."
Entekhabifard says the protesters don't trust the government to do a
fair recount, since the guardian council that is supposed to do it is
packed with Ahmadinejad supporters.
"There is no option other than to repeat the election in the near future," she says.
She believes that the most powerful man in Iran, the head cleric,
Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, will not be foolish enough to crack down harder.
"Today, there isn't word about toppling the regime of the Supreme
Leader," she says. "But within a weak of a crackdown, the slogans will
be against the Supreme Leader. I'm sure he wouldn't want that."
An Iranian-born friend of mine, Homi Moossavi, is not convinced that things will end peacefully.
"It is hard to gauge the events from outside," he says from San
Francisco. "Even those living in Iran are having difficulty predicting
the future. At this moment, there seems to be still some chance for
change, but there is also great potential for more violence and severe
repression."
But he feels uplifted by the massive, spontaneous nonviolent protests.
"It is the wave that I am inspired by," he says. "Watching the sea
of Iranian people demanding accountability and asking for their basic
human rights, freedom, and democracy is truly moving. It indicates that
some real political maturity has taken hold among the people whose only
unifying slogan thirty years ago was 'Death to the Shah.' "