I’ve been reflecting over the last ten days on FIFA’s ban on the participation of Iran’s women’s football team in the Olympic games qualifiers, for failing to observe international football dress codes — Iran’s Islamic strip included a headscarf.
Once again the Islamic Republic’s infringement on people’s rights has excluded Iranians from the world community. Despite the obvious enormous disappointment for the team, my first reaction was one of hope.
Ultimately this action is one of many that will lead to greater discontent, pushing citizens to breaking point as an inevitable process for eventual change. And of course despite the ramifications for the individual women, for the leadership — whose limelight has been stolen by the “Arab spring” — it was just an opportunity to pipe up with anti-Western rhetoric and to re-establish its victim stance. Indeed Ahmadinejad didn’t waste the opportunity, ironically adopting the words “dictator” and “extremism” not to describe his own leadership or Iran’s approach, but to describe FIFA. As though Iran’s stance against such behaviour as essentially wrong was well established with the outside world.
The vicious circle persists. Whenever international bodies take a stance against the nation in any context, Iran uses the moment to show how unjust the West is, and no doubt garner support from sympathetic corners.
Despite the fact that the country’s internal political, social and economic health is in disarray and basic issues need tending to, the leadership continues to bury its head in the sand. The perfect demonstration of this bullish determination to follow its own path occured last week week as the government deployed 70,000 members of the country’s moral police to enforce its strict dress code.
As men (for wearing necklaces) and women walking on the pavements of Tehran are stopped, now so too are those in the apparent safety of their cars. The latest directive allows enforcers to force offenders out of their vehicles and confiscate their cars for one week.
The comments of Iranian passersby in this clip reinforce my claim that change can only come once the people’s anger reaches a peak. As my father always said “bashar be omid zende ast” — a somewhat less poetic translation: “one lives in hope.”
