Home  

Constructing Against Colonialism

By Hossein M.

In July 2005 the Iranian Student News Agency covered the execution of Mahmoud Asgari and Ayaz Marhoni in Mashhad. The incident quickly drew international attention when disturbing photos of the hanging were widely distributed on the Internet.  The executions of the two teenagers divided the human rights community over whether it was a gay rights issue or a violation of the international convention against execution. The initial report from the ISNA, a government press agency, had stated that they were hanged for homosexuality; after the international outcry, the Iranian government stated the hangings were primarily for raping a boy. In this paper I intend to demonstrate how prescribing universal definitions of agency and homosexuality has counter-reacted to the developing discourse of sexuality in modern Iran. I argue that coming in terms with the ‘sexual revolution’[1] in Iran calls for indigenous studies of sexual trends and social relations in Iranian society. I have drawn parallels from Pardis Mahdavi’s Passionate Uprisings to support my argument. In other terms, I assert that the discourse on homosexuality in Iran calls for indigenous scholars who can engage with the community and elaborate on it. 

Same sex relationships were implicitly recognized cultural practices in pre-modern Iran, so long as they remained discreet.[2] However, as in many pre-modern cultures, homosexual relationships were asymmetrical, involving people of different age, class, or social standing. In such relationships one partner assumed the ‘masculine’ gender conventions and the other took the ‘feminine,’ in an effort to harmonize the practice with heterosexual relationships. Scholarship shows that in the pre-modern western world, one’s sexual identity was not determined by their subject of desire, rather their tendency to one gender conventions (supposed positionality).[3] Homoeroticism and same-sex relations have a long history in the Muslim-Iranian tradition. Aside from a large collection of written documents, poetry, and prose on the topic, homoeroticism was a well understood matter in the society. Until the mid 17^th century male houses of prostitution (amrad khaneh) were recognized, taxpaying establishments. Intellectual conversations as well as homoerotic interactions between servers and clientele were common practices in such establishments. However, in 1694 -during the Safavid dynasty- religious orthodoxy was ascendant and the mujtahids became the mediator between God and human. Following that a decree was passed prohibiting music, dance and drinking and hence bringing an end to establishments like many coffee houses and the consumption of recreational drugs and alcohol. It has been stated that “Islam became strongly homophobic since the 1700, perhaps also under the influence of colonialization by European powers.”[4] That being said, there are verses in the Qur’an that address the issue of sodomy and call for highest punishments for it (with references to the story of Lot and his people). Furthermore, under the current Shari’a laws, Iranian judiciary system prohibits any such behavior, and harshly condemns and punishes those who engage in it. With the recent outbreak of arrests, public punishments and numerous cases of capital punishment sentences for homosexual individuals, the importance of studying this discourse is increasingly essential.

            The main thesis in Joseph Massad’s “Re-Orienting Desire”[5] was that promotion of gay rights in the Middle East is a conspiracy led by western orientalists and colonialists which “produces homosexuals, as well as gays and lesbians, where they do not exist”. Massad is against what he calls the Gay International (GI) and the view that every homosexual individual or activist should follow GI’s model of homosexuality. According to Massad, the GI claims that their model is the only possible and universally applicable one.[6] He adds that “as same-sex contact between men has not been a topic of government or journalistic discourse in the Arab world of the last two centuries, the Gay International’s campaign since the early 1980s to universalize itself has incited such discourse.”[7] He claims that such campaigns have led to a “call by the press and conservative Islamists for explicit laws criminalizing same-sex practice”[8] where such laws didn’t before. The historical and social roots of homosexuality in a nation like Iran can be traced back to the pre-modern times,[9] but the culturally idealized definitions of masculinity and femininity of the Victorian era hugely affected the social norms in Iran. According to Najmabadi, what happened was that with the depiction of Iranians as homoerotic in the travelogues of Europeans who visited Iran in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and also by Iranian modernist who visited Europe with fascination, “Iranian modernity simultaneously identified itself with, and disavowed this abject position, emerging through s triangular interaction of gender, sexuality, and nationalism with paradoxical effects.”[10] What Massad highlights is the introduction of homophobic laws into the juridical system of countries like Iran as a response to the growing harmonized homosexual discourse. It is not far from reality to believe that much of the homophobic reactions of Iran’s Islamic government came as a direct response to the toleration of homosexuality under the former Shah. Furthermore, scholars such as El-Rouayheb go as far as arguing that the western-centric concept of homosexuality did not exist in the Islamic world until very recently and after the colonial times. Theses concept, as presented by European, did not fit well into the religious and cultural dynamics of Iran and thus resulted in extreme reactions. This becomes evident through studying the rejection of a homosexual discourse among traditional families in Iran. Much of Iran’s society deems homosexuality as a product of liberal views of sexuality in the west. I argue that Iran’s society could have adopted a more tolerant view of homosexuality had it not been illegalized by the government. Considering the long history of homoeroticism and same-sex relationships, Iran would appear as a unique society in social tolerance of homosexuality.       

Once we have studied the social history of homosexuality in Iran,[11] it becomes evident that homosexuality is not an alien discussion in Iranian society.  Thus I argue that we need to instead develop a serious appreciation of differences among societies in the world as products of different histories, expressions of different circumstances, and manifestations of differently structured desires. Lila Abu-Lughod introduces a discourse on cultural relativism by examining the United States’ mission of liberating or saving Afghan women by means of dominating the nation while ignoring much of their cultural and historical background. She argues that rather than seeking to "save" others (with the superiority it implies and violence it entails) we might better think in terms of working with them in situations that we recognize as always subject to historical transformation; and considering our own larger responsibilities to address the forms of global injustice that are powerful shapers of the worlds in which they find themselves. Similarly, any discussion of a ‘liberation movement’ articulated by western powers for saving homosexuals in Iran without a correct understanding of the unique historical and social situation in the country is doomed to fail. In a similar matter Mahdavi observes that recognizing or rejecting the dress code enforced by the government is not universal, and styles exercised in the public signal various opinions among Iranians.[12]  I argue that the horrifying reaction of Iran’s government through increasing number of arrests, public punishments and even execution has largely to do with publicizing the discreet homosexual relationships in the society.  

On a different level we must consider individual understandings of the situation and their needs and expectations. Iranian young adults are growing up in a clerical environment, under a regime that challenges their notion of agency and citizenship.[13] Society's ignorance toward the so-called “moral values” of the Islamic regime is a way of protesting for young Iranians against the regime’s prescribed way of life. Saba Mahmood’s discussion of agency and the alternative definition that she proposes helps understand this idea better. She argues that agency may be thought of not necessarily in secular terms of self-fulfillment and self-empowerment, but also in religious terms of virtue, fear, and hope. Thus, it requires a different conceptualization of subjectivity than the secular liberal subject which is desirous of rights and freedoms. Young Iranian’s actions such as drinking, partying, etc. - all illegal according to the governments enforced regulations- is a kind of protest against the oppressive regime.[14] Mahmood speaks against a universal understanding of desire; she maintains that it is habitus, rather than free choice or free will, that informs the agency of individuals. Instead, she refers us to Aristotelian ideas about ethics and ethical practices that are referenced in Michel Foucault’s concept of ethical practice as the techniques through which a subject transforms herself in order to achieve a particular state of being. Thus participating in the “illegal” practices that involve acts of self-disempowerment, and fear indicate the existence of agency of a different kind since it is governed by a doddering habitus. Furthermore, she argues that while an agent understood in the secular sense struggles for individual fulfillment, for the Muslim believer individual faith and community action are seen as integral to each other.[15] Thus discreet sexual behavior, exercised by most Iranians, can be seen as a way of achieving social acceptance. Membership in the community is an aspect of personal agency, which may express itself in practices of cultivating virtuous conduct in oneself as well as in others.

Last but not least let us discuss Mahdavi’s work as an indigenous anthropologist who has returned to her native Iran to conduct research; an Iranian-American who spent most of her life in the United States, but grew up in an Iranian family that celebrated their heritage. Her intimate knowledge of the vernacular, the ability to quickly “set up shop” in the field, and familiarity with the people and environment are some of the immediate advantages of her insider status.[16] Also, as Altorki points out, her reconciliation generates data on an experimental level different from that to which an outsider could bear witness.[17] Mahdavi has clearly defined her role as an insider researcher; describing how she interacted with her informants and how her “position as an Iranian-Armenian affected her research.”[18] She even admits “the line between informants and friends was regularly blurred.”[19] I argue that her status as an insider allowed her to observe and collect certain data that she would not have accessed otherwise. Considering Mahdavi’s concern for the misuse of published information by the conservative government against the studied people, and her sensitivity on being transparent about her research, she offers a coherent insight into Iran’s sexual revolution. As Nakhleh observes, this is undoubtedly a matter of greater concern to the indigenous researcher.[20]  

            Although I spoke in favor of a sexual revolution developed by young Iranians, there are limits to the changes that sexual and social revolutions can achieve.[21] Iran’s sexual revolution has yet much to achieve, both in terms of how people view homosexuality and in terms of changing governance. Iran has changed gradually, yet dramatically, since the early years following the Islamic revolution of 1979. Mahdavi asserts that many of the changes in the social environment and in social and sexual attitudes and practices can and must be attributed to the young adults and their yearning for social change within their own country.[22]  I believe that instead of formulating mission to ‘save’ Iranians their desire for social and sexual change has to be appreciated and respected. I argue that a coherent understanding of this movement requires indigenous studies undertaken by Iranian scholars (like Mahdavi) who understand the unique social and cultural circumstances.    

-------------------------------------

Bibliography

Abu-Lughod, Lila. “Do Muslim Women Really Need Saving? Anthropological Reflections on cultural Relativism and its Others.” American Anthropologist 6 (2002): 783-790. 

Afary, Janet. Sexual Politics in Modern Iran. Cambridge, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009.

Aftab Khan, Muhammad. Sex and Sexuality in Islam. Lahore: Nashriyat, 2006.

Altorki, Soraya, and Fawzi, Camillia (eds.). Arab women in the field: studying your own society. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1988.

 El-Rouayheb, Khaled. Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic world: 1500-1800. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2005.

Floor, Willem. A social history of sexual relations in Iran. Washington, DC: Mage Publishers, 2008.

Mahdavi, Pardis. Passionate Uprisings. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009.

Mahmood, Saba. “Feminist Theory, Embodiment, and the Docile Agent: Some Reflections on the Egyptian Islamic Revival.” Cultural Anthropology 6 (2001): 202-236.  

Massad, Joseph Andoni. Desiring Arabs. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007.

Najmabadi, Afsaneh. Women with mustaches and men without beards: gender and sexual anxieties of Iranian modernity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005.

 Nakhleh, Khalil. “On being a native Anthropologist,” in G. Huizer and B. Manheim, eds., The Politics of Anthropology. The Hague: Mouton, 1979.

Donate IRQR

Your donations to IRQR helps us pursue every legal avenue to save the lives of people who are at risk of persecution on base of their sexuality.