The Seven Obstacles to Publishing in Iran

Ebrahim Nabavi
Ebrahim Nabavi

I used to think that this new Renaissance around the world would change anything for ‎mankind, but during the last six months things have really changed: Fidel Castro is no ‎longer in power, Putin is no longer the president of Russia, Berlusconi and Sarkosy are in ‎power, and I think in the next six month Bush will probably leave the White House in the ‎United States, and Ahmadinejad too will be a nobody in Iran. But the new Renaissance ‎will continue.‎

 

 

Seven Obstacles to Publishing in Iran

 

 

 

First Obstacle: the State‎

 

In order to understand how difficult life in Iran is let me remind you, first of all, that ‎Ahmadinejad continues to be the president of Iran. I say this so you know that the first ‎obstacle to publishing in Iran is the state. I do not mean the government because even ‎though the government has the official duty of controlling publishing, in Iran the state too ‎intervenes in whatever you wish to publish. So while the government may approve of ‎something that you may wish to publish, the judicial court of the state may prevent you ‎from doing so, even though you have a license from the government.‎

 

 

Second obstacle: government‎

 

Officially the government in Iran is responsible for controlling the publishing of books. ‎Every time you wish to publish a book, you need to get a license from it. But you must ‎also remember that in Iran the government does not translate into stability or coherence. ‎

So, for example a government that bestows a freedom one day may take it away later. ‎Similarly, you may obtain a license to publish your book this month, but the very same ‎government will stop you from publishing it the next year. There are eight people in a ‎specific government agency in Iran who decide whether your book may be published or ‎not. They can do anything they want and they regularly make these kind of changes to ‎your text: “a girl friend” is changed to “a fiancé”, “a kiss” to “a look”, “sexual relations” ‎are altered to “marriage”, “an automobile” becomes “a bus”, “a blossom” turns into “a ‎carrot”, etc. Let me be clear, there is no stable law or rule and so while your support of ‎Fidel Castro this year may send you to prison for three years, your opposition to him ten ‎years from now will result in a ban on the publishing of your book. These eight people ‎are the happiest people in the Islamic Republic of Iran because they have a chance to read ‎about kissing, life, sex, truth and freedom, while at the same time they ban them for all ‎others so that you and others do not end up in hell.‎

The history of the Islamic Republic has shown that almost all those people who are ‎engaged in the censorship of books are viewed as opponents of the Islamic Republic after ‎a few years of work because they come to know all those things that are banned in the ‎country.‎

 

 

Third Obstacle: the Publisher‎

 

The government’s business extends to everything that is published. Publishers must even ‎set their clocks to match those of the government’s. The third obstacle to publishing is ‎undoubtedly the publisher. ‎

For example, when I wrote a book about my mother and took it to a publisher, he read the ‎book, put it aside, and said, “Would it not be better if you wrote something about a young ‎woman instead of your old mother?” I told him no because I wanted to write about my ‎mother. But the publisher insisted that nobody read books about mothers because young ‎women were more important, again inviting me to write about young women. I reminded ‎him that I had a book about my mother that I wished to publish. “I read your book, but ‎young women are more important. You should write that young women are challenging ‎things around them and wish to change everything,” he said.‎

So I decided to write a book about young women. It took me three months to finish it, ‎and when I did I took it to the publisher. I brought back my first book on my mother and ‎placed it at my sick mother’s bedside. Three months later I get a telephone call at 8am ‎from my publisher who asked me to visit him. When I arrived at his office, he seemed ‎angry and yelled at me, “Do you wish for them to kill me? You want them to confiscate ‎my car and my house? You want to destroy me? You want my wife to divorce me? You ‎want to discredit my publishing house?” I denied such intentions, and tried to calm him ‎down. To explain his thoughts, he asked me a question: “Did you not think that if I ‎published a book about the freedom of women I would be destroyed?”, to which I ‎expressed my ignorance and probed, “Why? Has anything happened?” He explained the ‎situation in these terms, “Yes. Today the minister of culture was changed and they said ‎that your book was not publishable, and so they returned your book to me.” He then ‎quickly added, “But look, with this new minister, I think your first book, the one about ‎your mother, has a better chance of being published.‎

The new minister only likes old women. So if you can write a book about your great ‎grand mother they will issue a publishing license in three days, about your grand mother ‎in two weeks and about your own mother in one month.” A month later my mother ‎smiled at me; she was pleased with the minister of culture.‎

 

 

Fourth Obstacle: the Editor

 

Living under dictatorship makes us fortunate in one respect. There are always people who ‎think for us. They identify dangers and thus protect us. One such people are editors. ‎These people have usually been to prison for 5 years in their youth and so nobody can tell ‎them what truth is. An editor has seen the truth without even putting on his shorts. So he ‎thinks for me. He does not know how to write, but he surely knows what I should or ‎should not write. He knows exactly which words need to be changed so that I and others ‎do not end up in hell or in jail. My editor changes the words of my text in a manner that ‎ensures that my book is published. These are some of the kind of changes that he makes: ‎‎“is” becomes “is not”, “love” becomes “hate”, “was” becomes “was not”, “cold winter” ‎becomes “beautiful spring”, “I wanted to kill myself” becomes “I wanted to save others”, ‎and, “I ran away” becomes “I resisted”.‎

 

 

Fifth obstacle: the Iranian Nation‎

 

We are, after all, Iranians, even if we were not born in Iran and even if we do not speak ‎Persian. Even if we have been driven away from Iran, we continue to be Iranians. We ‎love Iran. One of the principal sources of censorship is Iran and its people. We can say ‎any joke we like about ourselves, but if that extends that to a criticism of Iranian customs ‎or morals, we are immediately labeled as traitors. This is something that will always ‎hinder our work. We have absolutely no right to be critical of the behavior of Iranians.‎

 

 

Sixth Obstacle: the family‎

 

An obstacle greater than myself is my mother, brothers, sisters, children and even my ‎friends. I would like to say that our private lives are our sixth obstacle. I cannot write ‎about love or hate in my father’s house. I cannot write I have fallen in love with my wife. ‎If I do, then I will be viewed as a criminal. So, if I fall in love before marriage, I will be ‎viewed as a criminal, and if I love her after marriage, nobody will believe me. I cannot ‎even write about my relations with my children. I cannot write that my daughter has a ‎boyfriend because if I do, then people will look at me as if I am an immoral and corrupt ‎person. ‎

 

 

Seventh Obstacle: the Writer‎

 

Now we come to the biggest obstacle of all when it comes to writing in Iran. And this is ‎none other than me, me, me, and me. I cannot openly be who I am. I cannot be a regular ‎writer, a normal person, or a regular citizen. In a country like Iran, I am seen as a ‎statesman, because readers expect me to speak on behalf of all politicians.‎

In a country like Iran, I am seen as the leader of a political party because there is no ‎political party, and so I must speak like the leader of a party. In a country like Iran, I must ‎act like a moral-ethics teacher and guide people to heaven, especially because all ‎previous moral-ethics teachers have ended up in hell, and so no one believes in them any ‎longer. In a country like Iran, I must be a politico-social hero because this is what people ‎expect of me. But in reality I am neither a statesman, nor the leader of a party, not a ‎political fighter, and not even a moral-ethics teacher. This is why I must always present a ‎picture of myself that is different from who I really am. I do not have the right to say that ‎I am in love, that I get drunk, that I dance, that I am sometimes discourteous, that I am ‎scared, that I am afraid of prison, etc. I cannot write my true memoirs. I must always ‎appear to be powerful like God, invulnerable like a superman, and perfect like a priest. ‎But in reality I am none of these. I am an ordinary and simple human being. The only ‎difference is that I write.‎

 

I am afraid of the state, because I am an ordinary and simple human being. I am afraid of ‎anybody who changes my writing. I am afraid of my parents. I am afraid of my friends. I ‎am afraid of my fellow-Iranians. I am even afraid of you because what I say here may ‎one day be passed on to others. Fear is an inseparable part of writing in my country. And ‎this is a country in which everything is a tragedy while at the same time being a comedy.‎