Turmoil deepens bleak Tehran
winter By Jason Rezaian
It's miserable this time of year in
Tehran. The short days are darkened further by the
annual submersion of the city under a thick layer
of exhaust and smoke. With the surrounding
mountains and weak wind and winter sun, the
pollution hovers for days, prompting the
government to issue regular warnings to the
elderly, pregnant and those with heart conditions
not to go outside.
But their declining
health is not what is on the minds of most Tehran
residents today. Rather it's their deteriorating
standard of living and the unshakable feeling that
the world is conspiring against them which has
Iranians most vexed.
With the double
threat of a military attack by the United States
or Israel or both, and the increasing instability
of the Iranian
economy as witnessed last
month in the currency crisis that continues to
grip the capital, the feeling of hope that once
pumped through the city in the days before the
2009 election, and arguably even in the weeks that
followed, is nowhere to be found.
The
reality is that the situation is not that bad,
yet. Most signs point to a financial well-being at
its lowest levels for average citizens than at any
point since Iran's eight-year war with Iraq, when
shortages were the norm.
While Iranians
have complained about their lot for years,
statistics simply have not matched up with the
population's level of economic discontent. Heavily
subsidized fuel and utilities, access to basic
necessities and a decent education never seemed to
register for a population who wanted to have their
cake and eat it, too.
Until last year,
Tehran consistently ranked as one of the cheapest
major cities in the world for its residents.
Some of these things are still available,
albeit in rapidly diminishing fashion, and for the
first time it seems there is a growing awareness
that things could become drastically worse in
short order.
The currency crisis is the
most recent sign of what may lie ahead and one
that poignantly affects the lives of millions of
Iranians, as this has become a conspicuously
consumptive society that can't keep up with its
own demands. Domestic production has nearly
disappeared, and imports are getting tougher to
come by, with ever-tightening trade sanctions
placed on Iran by Western powers by the day.
This is affecting all aspects of daily
life.
According to young mothers,
"Pampers", as all foreign diapers in this
brand-conscious society have come to be known, are
becoming nearly impossible to find, and when they
are available the cost is the equivalent of a
prohibitive US$1 per diaper.
For a society
where the average monthly income hovers around
US$500 this is very steep, but as 26-year-old
Samaneh explained, "The domestically produced
diapers give my baby a rash that is even more
expensive to treat than buying Pampers."
Near a major local hospital in the Tavanir
neighborhood of Tehran, the walls of apartment
buildings are plastered with a photocopied
message: "URGENT: due to desperate financial
situation I am selling one of my kidneys. Type 0+
blood. Please call."
The private sale of
organs in Iran has long been legal, and the health
ministry touts the fact that there is no waiting
list for kidney transplants inside the Islamic
Republic, but currently the supply seems much
greater than the demand.
Still, there are
some in Tehran doing extremely well. In the
northern part of the city, long considered to be
the Westernized quarter of money and liberalism,
many residents seem to be doing better than ever.
These people have often mistakenly been
identified as the primary engine of domestic
opposition to the regime, but with the influx of
luxury cars and expensive bags bloating the area,
there is clearly a segment of the society that is
thriving in the current environment of currency
and land speculation. While they may not be ardent
supporters of the regime, they have remained
quietly complicit as long as their interests are
intact.
Not too far away, in most of the
major squares of northern and central Tehran, the
morality police emerge daily, with their
chador-covered female officers and green and white
vans, waiting patiently to pick up hejab
(Islamic dress code) offenders seemingly at
random. While the arrests have decreased in recent
years and the punishments are less severe, average
citizens are more disdainful than ever about the
stifling rules.
"As if we don't have
enough problems already," says 28-year-old office
worker Taraneh, who was arrested recently along
with a mother and her five-year-old daughter for
wearing jackets deemed too short.
"I think
they just send these people out to keep them
employed," said 35-year-old Hassan, as he watched
the arrests. "What they don't realize, though, is
that everyone that sees this harassment, religious
or not, simply curses the system."
Indeed,
even President Mahmud Ahmadinejad has said it's
not the government's business to police what
Iranians wear. Apparently, though, there are some
in positions of power who still consider this an
issue of national security.
Some residents
are starting to see little distinction between
these defenders of the system and those driving
Porsches that cost over $300,000 in northern
Tehran.
"They all represent the hypocrisy
that we've lived with for centuries," says history
teacher Nima. "Unfortunately, this is a part of
this 2,500-year-old culture we're all so proud
of."
That pride, though, is eroding for
many, and everywhere one goes in the capital,
plans to escape the current situation can be
overheard at all levels of society. With an epic
brain drain that sees 50,000 to 80,000 citizens
leave each year, there are plenty of success
stories for young Iranians to try and emulate.
Actually going, though, is getting
increasingly difficult. It is not that the Islamic
Republic is holding them back, but an Iranian
passport seems to be one of the least valued on
earth. Even tourist visas are hard to come by, as
many Western countries worry that Iranians will
simply stay in their countries if they are granted
short-term entry.
The ever-tightening
sanctions that the United States continues to
implement, as well as the EU's looming embargo on
Iranian oil, are further reminder for Iranians
that their friends are few in the world.
Says small business owner Majid, "I never
had a bad thing to say about [United States
President Barack] Obama until he signed that bill
[on December 31]. Now I'm really angry with him.
Lots of people feel the same here."
It is
another sign that US attempts to win over Iranian
hearts and minds are failing. Islamic Republic
authorities, meanwhile, remain defiant, ignoring
the growing chorus of concerns by the Iranian
populace.
"Sanctions will not have any
impact on our nuclear course and they [the West]
will not achieve their aims," Foreign Ministry
spokesman Ramin Mehmanparast said in his weekly
press conference on Tuesday, adding, "Our history
has shown that sanctions, which are totally
illogical, have accelerated our nation's
progress."
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