I woke up to the great news this morning that Roxana Saberi, the American journalist who had been convicted of espionage and sentenced to 8 years in prison in Tehran, Iran has now been freed and reunited with her parents. She had been arrested in late January, followed by a one-day secretive trial.
My heart sinks every time I hear of a journalist being equated with a criminal or being accused of criminal activity. This case was especially close to home because my family is from Iran. I always remember the fact about how my life would have turned out if we had never left. How differently would I have turned out? Would my passions, goals and dreams have been the same? Would I have even considered becoming a journalist, knowing that because of what I said or did, I could be arrested and put in jail with an 8 year prison sentence? In my heart of hearts, I have to believe that my passions in life would not only have stayed the same, but would have been stronger.
Saberi’s case comes after that of Esha Momeni, a CSUN graduate student I have written about here before, who was arrested on Oct. 15, 2008 for videotaping interviews with members of the Campaign for Equality, a gender rights group in Iran. Momeni was held in the same prison-Evin- which Saberi was held for 25 days before she was released. Unlike Saberi, who will most likely return to her native North Dakota in a few days, she has since been forbidden to leave Iran.
Momeni’s case also hits close to home for me, again because she is from Iran and that CSUN is my alma mater. This could have very well been me.
In the U.S., journalists live and die by not only the deadline, but of the second amendment:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
One only needs to visit the Committee to Protect Journalists to see the attitudes towards journalists displayed in numbers killed, imprisoned and missing.
This cannot be said enough: Journalism is not a crime. Uncovering the truth and changing some tiny part of the world by reporting on it is not a crime. Being brave enough to do what these two women did is not a crime.
I can only hope that now, Momeni’s case be shown such swiftness because Saberi was released. Give her her passport, allow her to return home. You’ve got it all backwards, Iran. The love that your country’s journalists have for their home can be matched by no other. Those who seek to challenge, to bring honesty and bring democracy by their craft to the people and the country that they adore are not criminals. Why? Because they are not indifferent. Because indifference, as George Bernard Shaw said is a sin.
The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them; that’s the essence of inhumanity.
Here is anexcerpt from an essay written by Esha Momeni in 2007, translated by Sudi Farokhnia. Here you are, government of Iran, convicting a woman who has written these words and not allowing her the freedom to leave. Read her words, consider her intentions and then decide. Here is hoping for a quick return home for Esha.
I am dressed in white, head to toe. I am aware that the serenity and peacefulness of white does not represent my city, but when I am dressed in white I feel like a dove that is free, one that has not been earmarked and was never kept captive. As I stroll along the streets of my city, I feel like a bride, a bride that is walking towards a new promise, the dream of equality.
Iran and all that makes it unique - steep streets, narrow alleys and unmarked homes - is still the land of promise that we hold dear to our hearts. The women of this land are peacefully writing a glorious end to the bitter long story of inequality and injustice. Iran is still the covenant to those hands that would like to wash the mud of distress from the yarns of this land in the stream of peace and unity. Only then we can resurrect equality and knit white wings for the dove that represents unity. Meanwhile, behind every closed door, a young girl dressed in white is making history so that she can embrace the future with pride and honor.
My grandmother everyday practices her signature, as evidence of her existence and her uniqueness. Here in Iran, I, you, and our mothers are all brides dressed all in white, and with our peaceful approach we dance in the alleys from house to house so that our promise of equality and unity transforms the sounds of the chains on our feet to the melodies of an anklet.
Los Angeles, Mehregan Festival, 2007 :
A young lady with Channel eye-glasses is standing right outside the bridal booth:
“Excuse me, but may I have a few minutes of your time?”
There is no reaction so I continue.
“Have you heard of the One Million Signatures Campaign?”
She shakes her head as if to indicate “no” (at least I know she understands ¨Persian).
“Would you like to know?”
This time, she doesn’t even move her head so I continue:
“The One Million Signatures Campaign ….. inside Iran…"
She interrupts me: “I don’t travel to Iran.”
A couple of meters farther on, a female artist is discussing the work she has for sale. Self-assured, I walk towards her and it doesn’t take long before she says: “bring me the petition that fixes the root of the problems, these things won’t do the job” and then she walks away.
I attempt to talk to a few others, I get some smiles which have various meanings embedded in them: “forgive me I can’t”, caution, skepticism, pity…
I walk back to the Campaign booth inside the bazaar. I see my imperfections, I feel as if I have forgotten how to speak Persian or I can’t find the right words, or maybe words don’t have the same meaning in different parts of the world. Of course, I did manage to collect many signatures, and each person had their own personal reasons for signing. However, I couldn’t stop thinking: I, my mother, my sisters, Marjan, Azadeh, Maryam,… we were all just images, just like pictures that one quickly browses through in a furniture catalogue.