Iran, my homeland, is where I was born, raised, and like millions of other people was taught to be grateful to God for bestowing on me – undeservedly of course – the best country to live, the best faith to follow, and the best rulers to be subject to.
I do not know how it all started to change for me, but I am sure it was not much a matter of choice. All I did was learn “some” English and fall in love with literature – something that has been stifled into a coma in my country for many years. Before long I found myself enjoying 1984, Fahrenheit 451, and reading over and over Auden’s Unknown Citizen.
Gradually, I became conscious of a deep hatred of totalitarian regimes rooted inside me. In the meantime, an amusing yet sometimes disturbing feeling found its way into my heart, as I drew parallels from those fictitious societies to what actually happened in my real one. I still laugh at myself when I remember how pathetically I used to try to convince myself every time I saw Khamenei’s picture, our supreme Leader, on the murals, that he was not “Big Brother” – that he could not be.
After a while, these dystopian works seemed to be more saddening than amusing to me, as if they were written solely to tease me. The way I felt was not much different from what Romeo and Juliet’s parents would have felt if they had seen the play. The pain was just too real.
Reading other works of literature helped me realize the fact that we, as Iranian Shiite Muslims, are not the only creatures endowed with a brain to think and a heart to feel. It might seem a dull truism to you, but not to one who has been living all his life in an isolated, self-righteous society.
With new eyes I saw new things. The evident truths turned into big lies, big lies into bitter truths, and miracles faded into commonplace accidents.
I became obsessed with paradoxes that could not be reconciled in any way. Not that I was not aware of them before, but I used to seek the source of their “apparent discrepancy” in my mind rather than outside. “Who the hell do I think I am to defy his holiness?” I used to remind myself. (Later I learned that technically this type of paradox is called an oxymoron.)
Little by little, these faint ideas turned into beliefs, and at the time when I was losing faith in everything, they became my only convictions.
Then came the lies, loads of them, from everywhere. Sometimes they were so gross that I really wondered if these were lies or the fantastical projections of my own mind. How could our president declare “We are the freest country in the world” and get away with it? How could one talk about there being no prisoners of conscience when their dead bodies are being hauled off from Evin Prison?
Now I think I realize these were all an oxymoron, where lies and cruelties come from. They require a very strong and justifiable cause. There is only one cause which could have such blinding power: the truth.
If you believe you are right, then every terror, every lie, every torture, every murder and every crime loses its ghastliness. They suddenly turn into “not desired yet inevitable measures that have to be taken if necessary,” the lesser-evils, so to speak and all that nonsense.
Of course our rulers are not the only ones who have resorted to these kinds of methods. Let us be practical. Every group believes in things that it holds to be true, and certainly sometimes, if not always, acts according to the ancient motto that the “ends justify the means.” But there is a limit for applying these means, and it is in disregarding these kinds of limits that authoritarian regimes make themselves so notorious.
These limits constitute what is commonly known as human rights. Their definition and affectability lie in their being both fundamental and universal. Hence what our rulers say about “Islamic Human Rights” – or the need for defining a new frame of rights “according to our historical and religious backgrounds” – is another example of an oxymoron.
Informing people of these rights is an indispensable part to the whole idea of human rights. In fact, ignorance of them has become one of the main obstacles in realizing full-fledged democracy throughout the world. Unfortunately, this is one of the few instances in which Iran is not an exception. What your children know by heart, most Iranian adults have not been able to read even once.
We should keep in mind not to blame the people for their ignorance. What with the state-run TV and media, which try their best in distorting the facts and providing a schizophrenic image of the outside world, and with their apocalyptic messianism for saving the “corrupted world,” it is surprising to see that Iran is not already wiped off the map of the world. Fifty years ago, I am sure such a system would have led to a catastrophe, or nothing less horrible than a world war.
Overshadowing all other issues is the role of religion. The importance of this matter cannot be overestimated, and any consideration of transition towards democracy without giving its due attention would at best lead to an erroneous estimation. Islam forms the most powerful binding force with which the Middle Easterners identify themselves. Yet what makes Iran’s case so special is the way her state makes use of this binding force in manipulating its subjects.
What Islamic Republic of Iran (IRI) claims to have accomplished is finding a middle-ground between Islam and democracy. Perhaps – if we do not want to be obsessed with conspiracy theories – this was what was in our founding fathers’ minds. But what has been realized since then is far from it. There has never been a middle ground and what the reformers had tried to do – and now are barred to do anymore – was to find a small ground for democracy to be built on, in an enormous misty sphere of Islam, whose grasp on the secular life, like other Middle Eastern religions, has never been clear enough to anticipate.
IRI’s credibility is almost wholly based on a peculiar interpretation of Islam and sustained by it. So it is not surprising to witness the state’s passionate efforts at institutionalizing this queer version of Islam in the mass’s minds. That is why the political and religious rhetoric are so intermingled that they hardly can be disentangled. That is why the most ardent supporters of the state are also, according to the regime lexicographers, the most pious ones as well. This one might seem a little ludicrous: that is why if suddenly and without the due preparation, the current system of government collapses, many Iranians will, as the saying goes, “lose their faith” and form the biggest atheist community in the world.
The good news is that the sparkles of change are flashing in our youths’ minds, especially those who can connect to the Internet and get some facts. But I think our fears outweigh our hopes. That is why I have decided to assign just three lines to the good news part.
All that the United States can hope to do is to help Iranian know their rights as individuals; to help them realize that there are better alternatives to their current system of government; where their religious and national concerns would not be overlooked; where no one would be beyond the jurisdiction of law; where the majority would rule while ensuring the rights of the minority; where her declining economy would thrive through foreign trades; in short to help them feel guaranteed that a better future awaits them; maybe not an Eden, but certainly something happier than this hell, while always having the flexibility to get even better and better.
Genital mutilation, forced marriages, and stunted education. Girls my age generally have stopped their education after elementary school and their only route to “emancipation” is marriage, which is itself doomed to failure. Indeed, girls are conditioned from a very young age not to think for themselves, not to feel, nor to love, because any freedom given to a woman is considered to be one too many. I still remember, as an example, the scandalous scene thrown by one of my cousin when I went to study abroad (as a female alone). Society imposes upon young women so many obligations. I have observed girls forced to hide things elsewhere considered banal. I have observed this society, which at first glance would seem to be most sane, smothering individuals under the weight of customs and traditions. I see girls who no longer want to hide a girlfriend or a boyfriend, girls who want to have opinions and a say in their own future.
I needed a way to react, a way to give these girls an outlet to express their frustrations and pain. I started a blog, with the help of friends from the region – anonymously of course – to discuss problems facing women in Mauritania and to a spokeswoman. I did not at all see this blog as a revolution of morals, but as a simple tool of expression. In a week, readership surpassed a thousand. With a critical eye, I discussed issues like marriage, family, racism, sexuality, homosexuality, religion, and the challenges facing my generation. I spent hours in beauty salons, living rooms, by the university, and other places where women gather, just listening. In the evening I would transcribe the conversations and analyze their opinions.
Unfortunately, the blog was too successful, the readership boom fatal. I received many threatening letters, and my identity was quickly revealed. Bowing to family and social pressures, I was forced to stop the blog – though I kept writing anonymous articles for independent newspapers.
What crime have I committed? Did I not have the right to express myself without vulgarity or indecency? All I did was say loudly what women were thinking quietly, a truth that clearly conservatives had no desire to hear.
Stopping the blog, was for me, a deep wound. I came to ask: “Where is the freedom of speech? Where are all these rights that our governments have signed on and all political parties have supported?” They are buried three feet in the ground under the weight of tradition and resistance to inevitable change. But this pain was only a premonition of one to come. As the French saying goes, “Calamity never comes alone.”
Shortly after stopping the blog, I met a man. A very ordinary occurrence. We came to know each other and bonded. Then we fell in love. So we decided to get married. It was far from my mind that the right to choose the person with whom you wish to share your life is one freedom too many, in my country. This attitude earned me my family’s wrath, as I could clearly tell. It seems logical to everyone that my parents and my brothers know better than I who would bring me happiness and that in due course, they would find me a socially and tribally suitable partner.
I should add that I am not a troublesome woman. It is funny to say, but it is true. Without any pretension, I have always been a good student, a good daughter, a sincere friend and a model employee. I am not perfect. I have my shortcomings, but no one could explain to me why I was not allowed to choose my own spouse.
You might ask me: “What is to be done? Just give up and curse your fate!” I disagree. Despite all, I know that one needs to fight to attain one’s freedom. Martin Luther King struggled, and Ghandi as well, same for Mandela. No fanfare or gunshots. One must wage this silent war in the quest of liberties and respect for human rights. Voltaire said, “He who shouts his rebellion shall not be heard.” I am living proof, writing this essay locked up in my room while all are asleep.
So, how to improve the situation? How to succeed in making women in my country understand that they are not as privileged as they think? How to make them admit they do have the right to choose who they want to live with, that they may disagree with their own families, and that they can decide their destiny, not necessarily through a marriage?
How I do hope to see the situation in a few years? I already hope that women in my country understand they can take destiny in their own hands and that marriage is not the universal answer. I hope they come to realize they don’t only have duties to this conservative society that wants to subjugate them to traditions that should no longer exist. (Please do not misunderstand me. I am not anti-tradition per se. To the contrary, I respect and appreciate my country’s culture, yet reject unjust traditions.) And I pray they receive the education they deserve and that their opportunities equal the opportunities for men in this country. I also hope that a woman who speaks out and argues, regardless of her opinion, will not be considered shameless or ill-mannered. This hoped-for evolution is what you might call my dream deferred.
At this moment, from the depths of my room, I tell you tonight that I continue to support the girls of my generation through my writings. I will continue to fight for them and for those who want their rights respected without being marginalized. I will be content if even one girl in Mauritania reads my writings and re-considers her life, seeing the denial of her rights as an injustice. I could be charged with being a coward because I chose the easy way out. I admit that I am protecting myself. But every evening, I go to bed with a clear conscious for having at least tried to fight with my weapons - my words - for the rights of women in Mauritania.
O Middle Eastern reformers who refuse to live in shackles anymore! O gallant Americans who wish to help spread your human rights values in the "world's least free region"! Here are ten tips for how you can achieve your noble aim through non-violent campaigns for civil rights.
Two, use your technological devices to help. Announce yourselves via the blogosphere. Adopt proxy servers to overcome repressive Middle Eastern regimes that censor access to the Internet. Develop an online forum where Middle Easterners can publish real stories about the violations of human rights in their countries. This is a perfect chance to let the world hear from our own mouths what is going on in our countries. Lucky Americans – you might not be punished for mocking the Egyptian president or the Moroccan King.
Three, make use of creative art. Produce a play about the tragic situation of the Middle East, with an optimistic, cheerful end. Produce a song in simple informal Arabic or Farsi about the basic human rights that individuals need to know and fight for. If such works are not to be broadcast on TV channels, publish them online. Concerned Americans could share financially in such works and may even share artistically.
Four, make use of software programs. Design a children’s game that would instill the concepts of civil rights in the minds of young people. The idea of the game might be a protagonist's struggle to free the prisoners of conscience in Middle East countries.
Five, make use of manual games, which still have their glamour in the Middle East. Create a chess-like game with pro-civil and anti-civil armies. Create a game like snakes and ladders, with a prisoner of conscience trying to escape his jail, sometimes hindered by a snake (a mock-image of a dictator), sometimes fostered by a ladder (an American or Middle Easterner reformer) depending on the number the player gets by dice.
Six, produce a documentary historical film about the violations of human rights in the Middle East. Gather the scenes of this film from daily life, jails, and conversations with Middle Eastern citizens. Broadcast this movie on the Internet, via American TV, or via Middle East stations, if possible.
Seven, produce a commercial about human rights. Tell the Middle East citizens what their rights are. Tell them that religion and sex are personal choices, and that free economy is a modern necessity.
Eight, design an illustrated poster or booklet of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Make it available in libraries and bookstores in the Middle East. Stress the fact that most of the Middle East countries have already signed to this declaration.
Nine, if you want to help oppressed Middle Easterners secure their rights and cannot do one of the previous ideas, here is what you can do: Launch contests like the HAMSA essay contest. Launch a contest for the best blog, play, manual game, etc. concerning human rights in the Middle East. Announce your contests on the websites frequently visited by Middle Easterners.
Saudi Arabia is the most repressive country in the region when it comes to be case of civil rights. This repression is almost omnipresent in nature. Each minuscule rule existing in the society serves as a jabbing reminder that though we are free, we are not really free. It is all an illusion.
I do not intend to describe the story of a single abuse here. Instead, I desire to draw a picture depicting a variety of civil right abuses, violations, and injustices to impart briefly better understanding of this place to the world.
How would a layman define the term freedom? He would include the simplest things like the right to freedom of expression, equality of women in all aspects of life, dignity and rights of labor, and the right to exercise religion freely.
Volumes have been written on the above topic for Saudi Arabia and other Middle Eastern countries. I will present, however, classic examples of civil rights violations in these countries, particularly Saudi Arabia.
Freedom of expression in Saudi Arabia is, for now, a distance dream. Everything, from the news channel to radio broadcasts to newspaper, is subject to severe restriction by higher authorities. Owing to the austerity of such constraints, no one who is not insane would willingly come forward to make their views public without putting everything he owns [and in several instances, their lives] at stake. History offers an archive of proofs that speak for themselves: the fate of those who tried to speak their mind in the open.
As Abraham Lincoln said, “To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.” However, during the past decade of my life here, I do not remember seeing any kind of rally, public gathering, even of a peaceful nature. That is the condition of the locals. If some foreign nationals dared to carry out any kind of demonstration, they are arrested and “confessions” are extorted from them in a language they do not even understand.
I have never had the chance to be able to write what I feel in a standard newspaper. Why? I get the same answer from everyone: “We cannot take the risk.” I used to write in a magazine distributed throughout the Gulf called Teen Stuff, which is published in Egypt and provides knowledge on a multitude of issues to young people. It has now been banned under the excuse that it was contaminating Saudi society. I could not disagree with this utter sham more. Doubtlessly, in the long run, this act of muting the societal voice will only lead to an explosive upheaval of pent-up sentiments that never had any healthy outlet.
If there is any place in the world where the basic rights of women are being brazenly discarded, it would be Saudi Arabia. Women have been almost completely censored out of the political landscape, professional life, and elite educational facilities. Basically, they have been bared from every single activity that gives them the right to assert their individual identity: i.e., financial independence and the ability to stand firm without a man’s constant support.
In this part of world, a woman is perceived as a child-producing machine with little right to personal desires of her own. She exits solely for the needs of everyone but herself.
Owing to this bizarre interpretation of a woman’s role in life, it comes as little surprise that 95% of Saudi woman do not know how to drive. As is obvious, the reason is not ignorance, it is a complete lack of a basic amenity: letting woman drive.
Education is scarce. Colossal universities like KFUPM and King Faisal University do not have a department even for Saudi women. Few universities accept expatriate undergraduate female students, and if they do, they charge exorbitant fees unaffordable for ordinary people.
I wonder how many people know the tradition of attending a feast in this country. Many people will be shocked to know that women, on these occasions, eat after all men are finished. Some times the women sit down with the men’s left-over food.
Women are not allowed to travel without being accompanied by a male; they cannot work in the same offices, and so on. I was barred by a guard from collecting my passport in an office because I was a woman.
Saudi Arabia is economically one of the most prosperous countries in the region. Constantly involved in improving the economy are ten million expatriate workers, comprised primarily of Asian nationals who have come in the hope of a better life and better earnings. I present a few cases here to demonstrate the cost these labors pay for the anticipated better life.
Slavery may well have been abolished in Saudi Arabia in 1962, but the hearts of the people on ground know better. Working conditions here are characterized by impossibly long days, no promotions, and no incentives. If my father’s employer wants, he can terminate my father’s employment agreement within a matter of minutes without any reason and with no consideration to his twenty years of service in the same company. Employees have no guarantee if they will be on the job next day… or the next hour. It completely depends upon the employer, since passports are confiscated from the employees the same day they land in this country.
Even if an expatriate employee lives and works here for 100 years, he cannot be the citizen of this country. There are countries in this world where the person lives just for a couple of years and is granted the citizenship of that country, thereby having all the rights given to natives. I was fascinated to hear that a lady visiting a relative in a western country prematurely delivered a baby girl here. As a result the baby girl was given citizenship just for the reason that she was born on that soil! These two contrasting scenarios display once again that rights are being denied from the people here.
Freedom for individuals to exercise their faith freely is non-existent. People of religions other than Islam practice their faith in a most secret manner. Even people from different schools of thought within Islam are not allowed to practice their faith freely. In case of any religious gathering, minorities ensure that even their footwear are taken inside the house and no noise from inside should attract the attention of public and police. If by chance they are captured, they are arrested and, in case of being expatriates, deported.
I find myself at that stage of life at the threshold of commencing work to realize my dreams. But as an 18 year old female resident, I cannot help but feel forbidden to be a dreamer. I am but a representative segment of an entire canvas of this society that has been crippled by stringent laws. The problems that I face are also the problems that are being faced by the society at large and vice-versa. The oppression that I have personally faced, and society continues to face, makes me feel as though we are all puppets with no will of our own. We move only when the master of the show pulls the strings… to move to his rhythm and provide spectators with a momentary mimicry of life.
H.L. Mencken said: “The average man does not want to be free. He simply wants to be safe.” This is, perhaps, the very line of action Saudi society has adopted: safety at the cost of freedom. But isn’t freedom the essence of the existence of mankind? Sadly, freedom is precisely what is lost under repression. And why lose freedom? Why be repressed and oppressed, just for safety alone.
And just as she finishes her question, all dash without warning to throw accusations and call my name: “Oh, Teacher! Mona uncovers her face!”
Suddenly, with no introduction, I find myself under assault from all and in the position of the defendant. Before everyone calms down, my friend Hiba grabs me and says: “Mona, deny what they say, just for the sake of avoiding problems.” I smile to her and then turn my face to the Teacher, who greets me with a smirk.
I feel everyone in the room angry with me because of my bravado. If they could stone me, they would not hesitate.
The Teacher tries to expand her argument hopelessly, as if she has never heard of the different schools of interpretation. And, as usual, our opinions diverge and clash.
We are deadlocked. I say that difference of opinion in our world is a blessing, and this is one of the laws of the universe, while the Teacher replies by citing the temptation of women showing their eyes and nose. She delves into the absolute materiality of her responses, and I cannot discuss with her logical ideas.
She repeats, “You need to change your ideas, Mona.” And she declares that I have “departed from consensus” [a strong charge] and impugns my patriotism. She is interrupted by the bell. The class ends with an undeclared war, and it is clear that its fires are still smoldering.
I look at blackboard after the Teacher leaves. I see that it reads: “Difference of opinion does not spoil friendship.”
During the break, everyone gathers around me, determined to dissuade me and strip me of my religious freedom and irrecoverably reject our difference of opinion.
At the end of the school day, as I walk past the Prayer Room, the Teacher walks by and calls, “Mona, please!” I go with her to hear what saddens me.
She then takes out of her bag all the books she previously borrowed from me and returns them, saying: “Thank you.”
I am shocked. I walk away, dragging my feet with heavy heart, staring astounded at the books. I feel that the Teacher has violated the fundamental premise: “Difference of opinion does not spoil friendship.” Indeed, differences of opinion has ended our friendship.
Days pass. The Teacher comes in to class and writes on the blackboard: “Rational Evidence of the Existence of God.” I look over the answers and the pre-packaged evidence that is simply an exercise in linguistic rhetoric… or learning new skills to solve Algebraic formulae. As I am drowning in my silence, the Teacher’s voice peaks, calling me.
After her barrage of questions ends, I respond in a chocking voice.
I sit on my chair and sigh. At that point, my classmates turn to the teacher, seeking confirmation that what I have said is correct, as they have deemed me a pariah who cannot be trusted without the Teacher’s accreditation!
Later on, my friend Hiba justifies the Teacher’s initial position by telling me while grasping my hand firmly: “Mona, we live in an age plagued with challenging internal strife to the Umma… especially a woman’s face.”
Tell me, why do they think I am impugning religion and a liberal simply because I have a different opinion?
Why does the Teacher monopolize and censor the process of interpretation while restricting me to one path of religious thought?
Why has uni-polarity of thought and religious opinion come to mean to us the truth and anything else false and in need of suppression?
Where is the intellectual and religious pluralism whose rhetoric we hear but whose application never materializes?
How can you explain the Teacher’s implicitly threatening words of my severe punishment on judgment day, while I never disbelieved in the almighty God?
Truth be told, sister, we are waging undeclared war against one another because of our difference of opinion and because of the freedom granted to us by religion and rite. Dear sister, the strife resides within us and within our souls, and not in our time in era.
HONORABLE MENTIONS
At the Tunisia-Libya border crossing, a young woman runs smack into the sexism and petty repression that continues to hold back her society. The site of a cat roaming freely outside her car only deepens the pain. But that pain also produces a poetic rumination on the status quo… “until something happens to change this reality.”
Samar Al-Mazghani, Tunisia, Age 19
Here Dreams are Postponed
Gabriel García Márquez, in his famous novel One Hundred Years of Solitude, describes one of his heroes under the chestnut tree: “When he was alone, [he] consoled himself with the dream of infinite rooms.” He dreams of getting out of bed, opening the door and going into an identical room, from that room into another that was just the same. He continues doing so until he sees Prudencio Aguilar and touches his shoulder. Then, he heads back, from one chamber to the other, in a reversed route. He wakes up to find Prudencio Aguilar in the room with him in reality.
This description made me think about the different meanings of the mysterious rooms. I wondered why dream rooms get mingled in my world and why I cannot find myself in the real room? Why are our dreams destroyed in silence? Why do we suppress our dreams inside ourselves until they wane away or until we dream that we dream?
* * *
When I was crossing the Tunisia- Libya border in a car with my mother and brother, I felt bitterness choking my throat and spread on my tongue. I felt sick with anger and resentment. I felt tremendous power to protest, to say “No.” The next moment I found myself swallowing my anger and pushing it back to my internal world. It was one of those moments that we keep in denial, we wish to wipe out from the records of our memory forever…
The customs officer looked at my brother sitting behind the wheel; at my mother who stretched herself to give him the passports and at my body diminishing in the back seat. He asked: “Are you the male companion of these two women?” My brother replied “Yes.”
When I think of my and other Arab women’s condition, I face a void. When I talk to my female friends and sense their burden of living, I desperately look for a word that established as unshaken belief yet has become rotten in their minds for so long. I look for the word “No.”
* * *
In this Arab world, I cannot travel alone. Not because I am illiterate, ill, criminal or terrorist, but because I was born a woman in a world dominated by men.
In this Arab world, a woman is deprived of her biological rights because she is a woman and is deprived of her civil rights because she is a human being,
In this Arab world, words are blown in space, exaggerated with deferred dreams, and mushroom until words turn into mere nonsense.
In this Arab world, we are good in tying our neckties, fixing our scarves, and signing off blank papers.
In this Arab world, we repeat our lies time and again, until we discover it is a bitter lie we have believed in.
In this Arab world, we do not express. We live on the margins of life and express deep regret for all those concepts we never understood, such as freedom of opinion.
I bet half of the Arabs go home, switch on their TVs, watch a comedy and laugh, laugh, laugh – then cry over their hysterical laughter.
Are the Arabs heading to madness?
Here we are… in the same place we were left centuries ago, identical like mice, stagnant like the rigidity of men or hills, as if one woman has given birth to all of us and breastfed us with the same lethargy. We carry our betrayed dreams, the disgrace of our perpetual humiliation, and the disease of succumbing to anything and everything, numbed by soft violence. The chains that hamper our movements became soft hands tickling us; violence practiced by Arab governments has hypnotized us, stealing our rights while falsely assuring us that we are well.
This invisible hand stifles Arab thinking, tricking us that the illusive image is reality. This unlimited ability to fake the truth manages to intoxicate critical thinking. This force that fossilized Arab thinking is a dangerous weapon that can turn facts upside down and hide obvious contradictions. Velvet violence is practiced to convince Arab individuals of the existence of civil rights, such that even when Arab government policy fails to uphold these rights, it succeeds in establishing them in our imagination so that we pay no attention to the flagrant contradiction between the insanity of the reality and the hallucination of the mind.
* * *
At the Tunisia-Libya border, I stood watching the sunrise in the distance. I saw a cat among the queue of waiting cars, traversing the border with confidence. It was without a male companion. I heard its purr. It seemed confident and free to purr without fear of being stopped.
Here, we envy the animals that have fulfilled their dreams. Here, we live with no dreams or… we dream with no life. We remain for years in isolation under the chestnut trees, among the perpetual rooms. And our dreams are postponed … until something happens to change this reality.
A straightforward yet compelling vision from a young Iranian of what her society could look like instead. The author has a dream.
H. Abdolreza, Iran, Age 22
Iran - I will Reconstruct You Once Again
I wish to see an Iran where there is freedom of speech and opinion; where the leaders are truly elected by the people. An Iran where the students and University scholars dare to express their opinions and thoughts; where there will be no more news about repression of opinions.
I wish to see an Iran where all the levels of the society live in economic and moral welfare; where instead of repressing the protests of the working class, their grievances are solved; where teachers and scholars, who are among the most valuable groups of the society live in welfare.
I wish to see an Iran where there is freedom of religion and where all religions can live and coexist in peace and friendship next to one another; where no one is obliged to follow another’s religion, and everyone is free to choose their religion and have their own opinions. Where all religions are free to follow their religious precepts; where our girls and women are free in choosing their clothing.
I wish to see an Iran where there is equality of civil and social rights between men and women. Where, women, due to the strict religious believes of men are not subjected to limitations, harassment and pestering. Where, the road is open for the progress and development of women and girls - as prominent men are born from educated girls. In the hope of an Iran where women will not be forced to prostitute themselves because of financial need, and where they will not be subject to sexual harassment by men.
I wish to see an Iran where all the individuals in the society are given an equal opportunity for acquiring knowledge, and where all have the possibility to acquire that knowledge; where education can be free, and where it cannot be reserved only to the wealthy.
I wish to see an Iran where Iran and Iranians have honor and dignity. Where Iranians can recover their original culture and offer their culture to the world, and embrace cultural exchange with other countries, and benefit from the good cultures of other countries. To reach an open cultural space, where Iranians may have social dignity throughout the world, and feel proud and honored in the entire world.
I wish to see an Iran where there is an open economic atmosphere; where industrialists have equal rights, and where everyone is able to produce far from ganging and bribery, and where the business transactions with other countries is far from sanctions, threats and sabotage.
And finally I wish to see an Iran where Iranians with any religion and opinion, and political tendency, can hand in hand reconstruct Iran once again in freedom and justice; so that we may return to our golden age; the period of Achaemenid and Darius the Great who wrote the first charter of peace and freedom. We, Iranians have been the pioneers of freedom, peace, and social justice since a longtime. What has become of us, the leaders of justice and freedom today, that has made our country go through so much repression and oppression? There is no more news from justice and freedom movements; if anyone utters something he is silenced and no one supports him. So what has happened to our courageous youth? What happened to our youth to be dragged into the limbo of addiction due to cruelties?
You Iranians – I wish to see an Iran and Iranians united, who will eradicate corruption and addiction, and destroy ignorance and destruction; be in charge of their own future and not accept tyranny and oppression. It is only through unity that one can achieve justice and freedom – the greatest gift of society, and there is no other path but this.
That day is not far.
A young Bahraini reporter identifies three litmus tests of civil rights in Middle Eastern society: free expression through art, treatment of religious minorities, and women's equality. Though his society appears to fall short, he has some hope for the future.
R. Al-Gayeb, Bahrain, Age 24
The Crisis of Music, the Minorities and the Bahraini Woman
Music classes have been banned in some Bahraini public schools, because some “Islamist” parents have recently been complaining about them. They are strongly against music because they think it is “a religious taboo,” so they asked to have these classes canceled. The Ministry of Education agreed.
The traditional debate about music is not an issue between two sides: the first listens to music, and the other poke their fingers in their ears to keep away the sound. It is somehow different in Bahrain, the state of the lovely islands at the center of the Arab Gulf. It has been scientifically proven that the mood of islanders is completely different from that of the inhabitants of the lands that are far from the sea. Islanders exceed others with their tolerance, friendliness, and pleasent personalities, which seem to be found in the genes of Bahrainis.
It goes without saying that islanders’ main profession is working in the sea. This was the main source of Bahrainis’ livelihood for decades before the discover of oil, this “black gold” that gave the Arab Gulf such a strategic importance.
Bahraini ancestors were divers hunting precious pearls, and they stood on the deck of giant fishing boats, called “Bawaneesh” in the local dialect. They were all the time singing “ Holo and Yaman,” the most famous folkloric ballads. They used to sing and sing to amuse themselves and alleviate the pain of homesickness.
Ironically, banning music in public schools has actually prompted students to try to discover the world of Bahrain’s music by participating in music festivals and joining music schools. Though only a few are undertaking serious musical projects, like making bands that imitate the Arabic and Western fast beat, the rest, being the great majority, choose to be only fans and spectators to what is going on in the concert venue.
A few days ago, I asked an Islamist MP, during a press conference- before he handed the head of the parliament the final report of a parliamentary commission of inquiry on the “excesses of an artistic festival” organized by the Ministry of Information- whether this “ House of the People”, (i.e. the parliament) would turn from being the protector of public and individual rights to becoming another oppressor that does not take into account the free attitudes that are not represented by MP’s due to parliamentary distribution injustices. He enthusiastically answered “39 MP’s out of 40 are from the Muslim Brotherhood and this percentage reflects the desire of the Bahraini voters to avoid what harms Islamic principles.”
Manipulating numbers has become another crisis facing the supporters of the freedom of expression and the human rights activists in Bahrain, because the numbers game is highly ambiguous and misleading. Many people misunderstand the concept of majority-minority relationship, thinking the minority must succumb to the majority only because they are a majority. True pluralism is definitely absent due to disregard of the necessity of balancing between the majority and the minority.
A Christian female deputy in the Shura Council has complained about not taking into consideration some laws the parliament passes regarding religious minorities in Bahrain. Unfortunately, this deputy doesn’t say this aloud; she only told one of her colleagues in the council about her uneasiness. This complaint made the Women's bloc in the council-no more than nine women take the side of their colleague with her complaint. But, as usual, the complaint was ignored by the majority, again due to the numbers game.
The same thing happens repeatedly with non-Moslem youth in Bahrain. Through the youth NGO I belong to, I knew a Baha’i student. The number of Baha’is in Bahrain does not exceed 500. This Baha’i student is sometimes shy and afraid to reveal his beliefs in fear of the reaction of the society. More than once he avoids getting into debates that might affect his social status and that of other Baha’is.
He is my friend, and my friendship with him is far more than partnership in the NGO to which we belong. My curiosity-as a journalist-compels me to explore the Baha’i community. I both attended a prayer session for the Baha’is, and joined them in some of their festivals and ceremonies. I used to call my friend in the mornings of March, (March is the fasting month for Baha’is), hearing me sipping my coffee and tea. He laughs and takes it easy, and comes back to do the same thing with me in Ramadan!
The suffering of the Bahraini woman is not different from that of the crisis of music or the minorities. By the way, in the Arabic language, the words “music, culture, and minority” are all FEMININE words and not MASCULINE, and maybe this is the problem!
The Bahraini government has endorsed the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), but it expressed reservations on some items of the convention. I believe this is similar to not signing the agreement.
The convention’s main item is the one that equalizes man and woman in legislation, which includes matters related to marriage and divorce. The government thinks that this item is against Islamic belief, which is the main source of legislation.
Despite pleas for removing this reservation, the government gave the civil society institution a deaf ear. Unlike in other examples, the formula of the majority fails this time when it comes to giving woman (i.e., the majority of the population) their equal rights.
The majority that calls for removing the reservations on the items of the convention has organized many events to spread awareness among Bahraini women in the hope to have some of them elected by voters in the parliament. Only one woman succeeded.
The problem is that most of the roles to achieve women’s hopes and desires are given to elite, not ordinary Bahraini women. Those elite do not meet public women in villages or funerals, and they believe that TV programs and press releases are enough to have the message delivered to the general public women whose simple awareness and low level of education make them follow and submit to men in their decisions.
The sad fact the female elite tries to hide is that those who attend their speeches and watch their TV programs have not changed themselves, and if any change happens it is only for the worse.
What is really needed of women blocs is to intensify their efforts to foreground the important role of women in the society. It is also necessary to choose the best to represent women to help them have their equal rights. It is not acceptable to let the “talkative women” be in the front line since their presence have already discouraged other women from public bases. I am focusing here on those “talkative women” because we have a lot of them in Bahrain. Those women have a very bad effect on the struggle for women’s rights and instead of moving ahead, they lead us behind.
I hope that Bahrain will pass a new Law of Personal Status, in order to do justice for women who are suffering endlessly in our courts due to the slow litigation in women cases. There is a proverb that says “ Slow litigation is murder to justice.” This proverb needs to be heard and taken into consideration because we have thousands of unresolved cases of divorce, custody, and so on.
In spite of these bad aspects in the society, there are other graceful and promising cases. For example, Bahraini schools now are witnessing student council elections. These councils are not simply dead letters, but have effective roles in helping schools solve their problems. Some councils have succeeded in negotiating with the school administrations to improve student meals. Others pressure teachers to improve their pedagogy and methodology.
In the press and media these days, there appears the “phenomenon” of speaking freely. And this political breakthrough which Bahrain has been witnessing since the accession of King Hamad Bin Essa in 1999 has reduced many red lines. My testimony here might be rejected by the press since I’m working in the royal court of her majesty the Queen, even though, I think that the press in Bahrain has a promising future due to the pluralism in our six (soon to be seven) newspapers.
It has become ordinary to have newspaper articles criticize ministers and high ranking officials by name. In response, the authorities have begun sending press releases to journalists because they understand that the media is now considered the “lung” of the society.
Still, there is an urgent need to have a modern law to organize the body of the press and publication. Journalists are calling for a law under which the reporters would not face imprisonment due to the opinion they defend. The King himself has supported this idea when he denounced imprisoning journalists for their opinions.
It seems that some political and parliamentary blocs have some reservations on the idea of not putting journalists in jail for their opinions, and this attitude evokes anger amongst journalists.
I still remember the title of the article that I suggested to the editors of the newspaper I work for on the day of the parliament session in which press law was discussed: “A test of freedom before the parliament today.”
In any way, I consider the press law important not only for journalists and those who work in the body of the press but also for the criterion of the freedom of expression in the country.
We hope the legislative authority would succeed in its “test of freedoms” because its success is the success of Bahrain which we want it to be a typical example in achieving constitutional citizenship and the provision of legal and constitutional guarantees that ensure public and personal freedoms.
“Is it of my fault that I have a breast and a female genital apparatus?” asks the author, detailing simple yet profoundly hurtful restrictions placed on her simply because of her gender. She adds: “Don’t I have the right to pursue and fulfill my dreams?”
Souad Adnane, Morocco, Age 23
Women's Equality: The Path Towards Open Societies
When I was in primary school, one of the first sayings of the prophet I learned was “Heaven is underneath mothers’ feet.” The majority of children in my country, Morocco, at least those who go to school, are taught this saying in their first years of education. They are also taught, from the Arab literature, that “women are half of society” and that “the mother is a school that by building up well, we build up a good people.”
While growing up, however, I was exposed to different discourses, behavior, and attitudes that directly and indirectly contradict what I had previously learned. Girls should help out their mothers at home while boys should be with their fathers outside. A girl should always be subordinate to a man, first to her father, if not, to her brother or uncle or to any other male relative until she gets married and becomes subordinate to her husband. A girl cannot travel alone, cannot live alone, cannot go out with boys, cannot do business, cannot be leader, cannot speak loud in the presence of men, cannot decide, cannot even go to school nor choose her husband in many cases and the list is long, while her brother can, while any other boy can.
So why are girls – future mothers whose underneath their feet is Heaven – treated as such? How come they are subordinate to men while somehow they are controlling Heaven? What happens when half of society is subordinate? What happens when the school that teaches people is not well founded? What happens when this school teaches people dependence, compliance and subordination, when it shows them daily examples of weakness and submission? Well, what happens is the widely known phenomenon called… “the MENA [Middle East and North Africa] region”!
This is in brief the experience of millions of girls and women in my country and in the MENA region, and to an extent my own experience. I had the chance to go to school and attend university, but was prevented from pursuing my studies abroad for the mere reason that I am a girl.
Is it of my fault that I have a breast and a female genital apparatus? I am still a human being with a mind and soul. I dream like my brother does, like any other man does; why then don’t I have the right to pursue and fulfill my dreams? Is it God’s will, as many have tried to convince me? No, it is not, for the simple reason that God cannot contradict Himself. If my body would really be an obstacle to reach my dreams, God would not put in it such energy, would not fill it out with great ambitions and enthusiasm.
If girls are not destined to learn and go to school, if they are really destined to stay home, God would not give them a mind to think, would not bless them with the intelligence and desire to learn. Each creature is destined for a specific role and is equipped with what is necessary for that role; nothing is haphazard; nothing is needless, flowers have thorns to protect themselves, birds have beaks to feed their babies, monkeys have long tails to get from one tree to another to look for food and flee danger. And if I, if women, have energy, intelligence, ambition, and dreams, it is necessarily for something.
When I could not travel abroad to study because I am a girl, I felt the greatest injustice ever. I felt I did not have the right to decide on my own life, on my own future for God has made me a woman. I felt my freedom restricted, annihilated. I felt discriminated against by men, by society, by culture and traditions. At some moments, I wished I were a man but then told myself that being the oppressor is not any better than being the oppressed.
Not being able to travel abroad to pursue my studies was only one among many examples of discrimination I have had to go through because I am a woman. It was maybe the one that marked me the most and pushed me to raise infinity of questions. I still consider myself lucky though, because I could go to university, because I could work, because I could choose to live alone, because I could succeed to be autonomous on many aspects, but my fight is not over and my dream, the dream of million of women, has not yet come true.
Martin Luther King once had a dream. He dreamt of a society where black and white people would be treated equally, where they can live in peace without hatred or prejudice, where the difference of their skin color would melt in the respect they would have for each other.
Now I have a dream! I dream of a society in the Middle East and North Africa that treats men and women equally, granting them the same rights and esteem. I dream of a society where all little girls can go to school, can play outside, can be friends with boys, where women can work, can be leaders and ministers, can choose their husbands, can decide on their own lives, can move freely without any risks, without being harassed or threatened, without being conceived of as weaker creatures. I dream of a society where no husband would beat his wife, insult or humiliate her, where no husband would consider his wife as a mere object for sex and child-making. I dream of a society where all men would understand that women are equal to them in all senses and have the same rights to think, dream, work, move, and decide freely. I dream of a society where men would find no shame in helping their wives clean dishes, wash the floor, cook, and take care of the children. I dream of a society where men, everybody, would understand that there is no advance possible for a society if half of it is subordinate and disabled.
It took Martin Luther King’s dream decades of hard work and serious activism to begin to come true. For my dream to come true, it needs the joined efforts of grassroots activists and organizations in the MENA region and in the US to promote women’s rights and gender equality in the region. For these efforts to succeed, I believe that it should all start with education. American and Middle Eastern activists and organizations should work together to devise and put to work a regional education program creating the necessary conditions for girls to pursue their studies and illiterate women to benefit from literacy courses. Similar efforts are carried out in my country within the Education Project of the USAID, Alef, where actions, such as the construction of community centers for girls, are implemented to allow girls in rural areas to go to school. If such a project is developed and extended to cover the most excluded/traditional regions in the MENA, more girls and women will have the chance to reach a higher level of education and hence will be more aware of their rights and will have more opportunities to work and be autonomous. To be effective, this joined effort to promote girls’ education should go hand in hand with a well devised plan of sensitization to promote gender equality and women’s rights.
Changing people’s ideas and attitudes has nothing of an easy task; it is a gradual process that needs experience, patience, time, and resources, all of which can be provided for by international cooperation.
French
Houda Sidatt, Mauritania, Age 23
Droits civiques, mon histoire, ma bataille
Quand on m’a parlé de cet essai, je me suis c’est une occasion en or pour pousser la sonnette d’alarme. J’ai 23 ans et je vis dans mon pays la Mauritanie ou je travaille depuis deux ans dans une institution internationale. N’ayez crainte, je ne vous ferai pas une longue argumentation sur les droits civiques. Je ne vous parlerai que de ma vie. Aussi bizarre que cela puisse paraître, ce n’est pas facile de parler de soi, mais j’ai la conviction que mon expérience est une illustration concrète de l’aliénation des droits universels, et de la lutte quotidienne et acharnée d’une jeune femme pour un bout de liberté, une once de droit.
Quand je suis rentrée dans mon pays après mes études, j’ai été frappée par le conservatisme de ma société et son hypocrisie. Beaucoup diront que c’est à cause de mon éducation francophone. J’étais outrée par la situation des jeunes filles de ma génération, qui subissent souvent sans même le savoir ou sans se plaindre (puisqu’elles ignorent même qu’elles ont des droits) ce que je considère encore aujourd’hui comme d’abominables aliénations des droits les plus basiques. Mutilations génitales, mariages forcés ou encore faible niveau éducatif. Les filles de mon âge qui en général se sont arrêtées au niveau élémentaire scolaire n’ont comme moyen d’émancipation que le mariage qui est souvent lui-même voué à l’échec. Elles sont condamnées très jeunes à ne pas penser pour elles, à ne pas ressentir, à ne pas aimer parce que toute liberté donnée à la femme est considérée comme une de trop. Je me souviens encore et là ce n’est qu’un exemple de scènes de scandales données chez moi par des cousins lorsque je suis allée étudier à l’étranger. Pourtant la société conservatrice impose aux jeunes femmes tellement de devoirs. Alors, j’ai observé ces filles qui devaient se cacher pour faire des choses somme toute très normales et banales. J’ai contemplé cette société qui aux premiers abords parait des plus saines mais qui en fait étouffe sous le poids des coutumes et traditions, ces filles qui ne peuvent plus se cacher pour appeler une amie ou un ami, ces filles qui voudraient avoir des opinions et qui voudraient avoir leurs mots à dire sur leur avenir.
Bien sur, il me fallait le moyen de réagir, une manière de donner la parole à ses filles, un moyen d’exprimer leurs frustrations et leurs maux. J’ai alors ouvert avec l’aide d’amis à l’étranger et d’autres un blog (sous l’anonymat bien sur) pour parler des problèmes de la femme en Mauritanie, pour être son porte parole. Je ne voyais pas du tout ce blog comme une révolution des mœurs mais comme un simple moyen d’expression. En une semaine, les lecteurs étaient déjà plus de mille. J’y évoquais des questions comme le mariage, la famille, le racisme, la sexualité, l’homosexualité, la religion avec toujours des problématiques et les questions que se posent ma génération. Je passais des heures dans les salons, chez les coiffeuses, sur une brique près de la faculté, ou autres lieux ou se réunissent les femmes pour écouter et pour le soir retranscrire et analyser leurs dires. Malheureusement pour moi, le blog a eu beaucoup trop de succès et ce boom a eu raison de moi. J’ai dans un premier temps reçu beaucoup de lettres de menaces et le secret de polichinelle qu’était mon identité a fait surface. Pressions familiales et sociales obligent, j’ai du arrêter le blog, en gardant toujours un pied dans l’écriture à travers d’autres écrits anonymes envoyés aux journaux indépendants. Qu’avais je fais de mal ? N’avais je pas le droit de m’exprimer sans vulgarité ni indécence ? Je n’ai fait que dire tout haut ce que les femmes pensent tout bas, une vérité que visiblement les conservateurs n’ont pas envie d’entendre.
Arrêter le blog a été pour moi une véritable blessure. Parce que j’en suis arrivée à me demander ou était la liberté d’expression, tous ces droits pour lesquels nos gouvernements ont signés et sont tous supportés ? Enterrés trois pieds sous terre, à coups de traditions et de résistance à l’inévitable changement. Mais cette douleur ne faisait qu’en présager une autre. Comme on dit en France, un malheur n’arrive jamais tout seul.
En effet, à un niveau plus personnel, peu de temps plus tard, j’ai rencontré un homme. Chose somme toute banale, nous nous sommes connus, appris et enfin aimés. Nous avons donc décidé de nous unir religieusement par les liens sacrés du mariage. J’étais loin de penser que le droit de choisir la personne avec laquelle on vivrait était aussi considéré comme une liberté de trop chez moi. Je me suis donc attiré le courroux de ma famille, car visiblement, il est logique pour tout le monde que mes parents et frères savent mieux que moi celui qui fera mon bonheur, et que le temps voulu, on me trouvera un partenaire socialement et tribalement adéquate. Alors vous comprendrez pourquoi je dis que ma vie n’est qu’une suite d’aliénation de mes libertés individuelles. Pourtant, je ne suis pas une femme à problèmes. C’est drôle à dire mais c’est vrai. Sans prétention, j’ai toujours été une bonne élève, une bonne fille, une amie sincère, une employée modèle. Je ne suis pas parfaite, j’ai mes défauts mais aucun ne peut expliquer qu’on ne me laisse pas le choix !
Mais, me direz vous que faut-il faire dans ces cas là ? Faut-il baisser les bras et maudire son sort ? Je ne suis pas de cet avis. Malgré tout, je sais qu’il faut se battre pour mériter ses libertés. Martin Luther King s’est battu, Gandhi aussi, Mandela idem. Pas à coups de trompettes et de fusils, il faut se battre de cette guerre silencieuse qu’est celle de la quête de libertés et du respect des droits humains. Voltaire a dit « celui qui crie sa révolte ne sera pas entendue ». J’en suis la preuve car j’écris cet essai enfermée dans ma chambre alors que tous dorment.
Alors, comment améliorer cette situation ? Comment faire en sorte que les femmes de chez moi comprennent qu’elles ne sont pas aussi choyées qu’elles le pensent ? Comment leur faire admettre qu’elles ont le droit de choisir avec qui elles vivront, qu’elles ont le droit de ne pas avoir la même opinion que leurs familles, qu’elles peuvent décider de leurs destins sans que cela passent forcément par un mari ?
Comment j’espère voir la situation dans quelques années. J’espère déjà que les femmes de mon pays auront compris qu’elles peuvent prendre leur destin en main, que le mariage n’est pas la réponse à tout. J’espère qu’elles auront pris conscience qu’elles n’ont pas que des devoirs envers cette société conservatrice qui les veut piliers de traditions qui n’ont plus lieu d’être (entendez moi bien, je ne suis pas anti traditionaliste, au contraire, je respecte la culture de on pays et l’apprécie, mais je refuse les coutumes injustes). Je prie aussi pour qu’elles reçoivent l’éducation qu’elles méritent et que leurs chances soient égales à celles des hommes d’ici .Qu’une femme qui parle et soutient une argumentation qu’elle que soit son opinion ne soit pas considérée comme une effrontée ou une mal élevée. Voilà comme je souhaite voir les choses évoluer. Voilà ce que vous appelez mon rêve reporté.
Pour le moment, moi, du fin fond de ma chambre, je vous dis ce soir que je continuerai à soutenir les filles de ma génération à travers mes écrits. Je continuerai à me battre pour celles qui veulent que leurs droits soient respectés sans se marginaliser. Il me suffit de savoir qu’une fille en Mauritanie lit mes phrases et qu’elles la font réfléchir sur sa vie, sur le fait que beaucoup d’aliénations de ses droits sont une injustice. Certains diront que je suis lâche, que j’ai choisi la solution de facilité. Je l’avoue, je me protège, mais tous les soirs, je me couche la conscience tranquille d’avoir au moins essayé de lutter avec mes armes, mes phrases, pour les droits des femmes en Mauritanie.
Arabic
Samar Al-Mazghani, Tunisia, Age 19
هنا... تؤجل الأحلام
يقـول الروائي العالمي غابريال غارسيا ماركيز في روايته الخالدة "مائة عام من العزلة" متحدّثا عن أحد أبطالها تحت شجرة الكستناء " إنه عندما يكون وحيدا، يسلّي نفسه بأن يحلم بغرف تتتالى حتى اللانهاية .
كان يحلم بأن ينهض من سريره، فيفتح الباب ليدخل إلى غرفة مشابهة تماما، ومن تلك الغرفة ينتقل إلى غرفة أخرى كأنها الغرفة الأولى ذاتها، ويظل على تلك الحال حتى يصل برودينـسيو أجويلار فيلمس كتفه ...
وعندها يعود من حجرة إلى أخرى، سائرا بخط عكسي، عائدا على إثره، ويستيقـظ شيئا فشيئا بقدر ما يرجع إلى الوراء، حتى يجد أمامه برودينـسيو أجويلار في غرفة الحقيقة ."
استوقـفتـني هذه الفقرة كثيرا، وحيّرتـني معانيها المختلفة، وأتعبت ذهـني الحجرات الهذيانية الغامضة وتساءلت لماذا تختلط حجرات الأحلام في عالمي ولا أجد نفسي في غرفة الحقيقة حين أعود؟ لماذا تهترئ أحلامنا وتتمزق ثم تتساقط أشلاؤها في صمت؟ لماذا نجتر أحلامنا داخلنا حتى تذبل أو تتبخر أو حتى نحلم بأن نحلم؟
***
عندما أفتح عيني لأرى الشارع العربيّ، يُطارد الحياة، أفـكّر أنه، في أعـماق الكواليس، بعيدا عن الشّاشات المصطَـنعَة، حيث لا يُمكن لأحد أن يتـفرج، هناك شوارع عربية، تَطـرد الحياة وتـتركها تسير بعيدا .
عندما أغمض عيني لأرى نساء عالمي يتهاوين في ذاكرة التشريعات القانونية والدينية والاجتماعية، أفكر أنه، في عالمي العربي هذا، كل ما أحتاج إليه لأمتلك العالم هو عضو صغير بين فخذي .
لا أدري لماذا تؤجل أحلام المرأة العربية، لماذا يحتجز جسدها رهينة حتى إشعار آخر، لماذا تحرم من مساواة فعلية عادلة تحررها من القيود الاجتماعية التي تكبلها .
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كنت حينها أعبر الحدود التونسية الليبية في السيارة مع والدتي وأخي حين أحسست بمرارة تخثرت في معدتي وصعدت بضغط عال إلى حنجرتي ثم مرت من حلقي وانتشرت على لساني مثيرة لدي انطباعا راسخا بأني على وشك أن أتقيئ حنقي. شعرت بطاقة هائلة تدفعني إلى لفظ كلمات الاحتجاج المنتظِرة على لساني. ولما كنت أوشك على الانفجار، انغلق فمي وتدحرج الغضب في كلمات متفرقة ليعود من حيث أتى ويقبع في داخلي .
كانت لحظة لا تنسى، من تلك اللحظات التي نحاول أن نحجبها عن تاريخنا، من تلك اللحظات التي ننكرها وننفيها، من تلك اللحظات التي نمحيها من صفحات دفاترنا وندفنها في ذاكرتنا إلى الأبد .
انحنى حرس الحدود على نافذة السيارة ونظر إلى أخي الجالس وراء المقود ووالدتي التي تمد جوازات السفر وإلى جسدي الذي يتلاشى في المقعد الخلفي. من هناك، سمعته يقول لأخي:" هل أنت مَحرَم هاتين المرأتين؟ "
أجاب أخي:" نعم !"
حين أنظر إلى حالي وحال غيري من النساء العربيات، عندما أحاول أن أخترق تأملات الآخرين فأصطدم بالفراغ، عندما أتحدث إلى صديقاتي وألمس التثاقل ومواصلة العيش على وتيرة واحدة، أبحث بيأس عما تغلغل في قلوبهن حتى الإيمان ولكنه تعفن في عقولهن لزمن طويل: كلمة "لا !"
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في هذا العالم العربي، لا أستطيع أن أسافر إلى معظم البلدان العربية وحيدة، وليس ذلك لأني أمية أو مريضة أو مجرمة أو إرهابية وإنما لأني ولدت امرأة.. في عالم يتربع على عرشه الرجال .
في هذا العالم العربي، تُسلب المرأة حقوقها الطبيعية لأنها أنثى وتحرم من حقوقها المدنية لأنها إنسان .
في هذا العالم العربي، تطير الكلمات في الفضاء، تنفخ بالهواء، تتضخم بالأحلام المؤجلة، تصيبها عدوى التكاثر الجنوني فتتوالد وتتضاعف وتصير الكلمات هرا ء .
في هذا العالم العربي، نجيد ربط ربطات العـنق ونُحسِن وضع المناديل الأنيقة ونعرف جيدا كيف نُوقّع على الأوراق البيضاء .
في هذا العالم العربي ينتهي بنا الأمر إلى أن نعيد الكذبة مرات ومرات، ونحفظها في كل المناسبات، ونقنع بها أشدنا عنادا وتمردا، إلى درجة أننا، نكتشف فيما بعد، وبلا ذاكرة مجـدية، أننا كذبنا على أنفسنا مرارا وتكرارا حتى صدقنا كذبتنا ...
في هذا العالم العربي، لا نعبّر بل نعبر على هامش الحياة ونعرب عن أسفنا الشديد للمفاهيم التي لم نفهمها بعد كحرية التعبير والرأي .
أرجِّحُ أنّ نصف العربِ على الأقل، يعودون إلى منازِلهم، يفـتحون شاشَاتهم الصغيرة، يتفرَّجون على مسرحية، يضحكون على المواقف الهـزليّة، يضحـكون، يضحـكون على أنفسهم، ثم يـبكون من ضحـكهم المجـنون .
فهل اقـتيد العرب إلى الجنون؟
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ها نحن هنا، في المكان الذي تركونا فيه منذ قرون مضت، متشابهون كفئران التجارب، جامدون كرجال الهضاب العليا أو كالهضاب ذاتها، كأنما قد ولدتنا أم واحدة فأرضعـتنا نفس الخـمول الذي يبدو علينا جميعا، نحـمل أحلامنا المهترئة، وعار خـضوعنا الأبدي الدائم ووباء القبول بكل شيء وأي شيء، يهدهدنا العنف الناعم المسلط علينا لكي ننام بهدوء وسلام .
صارت القيود التي تكبلنا تدغدغنا والحواجز التي تعيقنا أيادي ناعمة تهدهدنا. صار العنف المسقط علينا من الحكومات العربية عنفا ناعما يخضعنا دون أن نستفيق من سباتنا، يخادعنا دون أن ندرك ما يجري لنا، يسلبنا حقوقنا في ذات الوقت الذي يرسخ فينا اعتقادا عميقا بأننا بخير والحمد لله .
هذه السلطة الخفية اللامرئية التي تقمع فكر الإنسان العربي بطريقة ناعمة سلسة توهمه بأن الصورة المزيفة هي انعكاس حقيقي للواقع، هذه القدرة اللامحدودة على التمويه وتزييف الحقائق إلى درجة تخدير الفكر النقدي، هذه القوة التي تحجر الفكر العربي وتقولبه بطريقة جماعية وتكبت ما تحرر من قيودها، هي سلاح خطير من شأنه أن يقلب الحقائق رأسا على عقب ويخفي التناقضات الفاضحة .
فمن خلال قمع ناعم يتلاعب بنا ويخدر آرائنا ويسكت صوتنا، تُكرَس وسيلة مثلى للإيهام بتوفر الحقوق المدنية في العالم العربي. وبذلك، وإن فشلت السياسات العربية في إسناد هذه الحقوق على أرض الواقع فإنها تبقى قادرة على تحقيقها في عقول المواطنين عبر ادعاء هذه الحقوق وتسخير كافة التقنيات المتاحة لإثبات ذلك حتى لا أن ننتبه إلى التناقض الصارخ بين لاعقلانية الواقع ولاواقعية العقل .
***
على الحدود التونسية الليبية، تأملت شروق الشمس. ومن بعيد، لمحت قطة تمر بين السيارات الموقوفة. كانت تتهادى عابرة الحدود دون أن تتوقف أو تتردد. كانت وحيدة دون محرم .
سمعت مواءها يرن في أذني بلا انقطاع. بدت واثقة مما تقول. بدت حرة تموء دون أن يسكتها أحد .
هنا، نحسد الحيوانات التي تتحقق أحلامها دون أن تتسمر في تاريخنا المحكوم ب"العودة غدا لتسليم مطالبنا". هنا، نعيش دون أن نحلم، أو نحلم دون أن نعيش.هنا نبقى طوال سنوات من العزلة، تحت أشجار الكستناء وبين الحجـرات الأزلية... نحلم. هنا تؤجل أحلامنا حتى يأتي ما يخالف ذلك ...
سمر سمير المزغني
Mona Musleh Al-Harbi, Saudi Arabia, Age 19
حريتي
صباح يوماً جديد ، وأنا في طريقي إلى صفي "الأول ثانوي" وشعور كل
يوم يراودني "لاشيء جديد" ، جلست على مقعدي ،وألقيت السلام على
صديقتي " هبة " ،ثم انهالت علينا الدروس . وبعد سويعات أتت معلمة
الثقافة الإسلامية (و لا أخفي سراً لقد نشأت بيني وبينها علاقة ودية راقية
كنا دائما ما نتجاذب أطراف الحديث سوياً حول موضوعات متفرقة ،
ونتبادل الكتب الفكرية ونتحاور حولها ).....
قالت لنا : اليوم سوف يكون الدرس عن " الرد على من أجاز كشف وجه المرأة " وقبل أن نخوض في الشرح ، من منكــــّن تعتقد بجواز كشف الوجه ؟ وما أن انتهت من السؤال حتى هـــّب الجميع من دون سابق إنذار يلصقون التهم و الإفترات بي و يهتفون بإسمـــــي قائلين : منى يا أستاذة منى تكشف وجهها !!
فجأة وبدون مقدمات وجدت نفسي مهاجمة من الجميع وقابعة في قفص
الإتهام .
وقبل أن يهدأ الجميع أمسكت صديقتي هبة بي وقالت : منى أنكري
ما يقولون لا لشيء فقط لتتلافي المشاكل .. ابتسمت في وجهها ، وأدرت
وجهي لمعلمه كي تستقبلني بعلائم التجهم .
قالت : أنت يا مـــــــــــنى صحيح .
قلت :" بكل قوة وإقدام " نعم أنا .
شعرت بأن الجميع غاضبأً مني ومن جرأتي ولو استطاعوا رشقي بالحجارة لن يتوانو في ذلك ..
قالت معلمتي: أنتِ إنسانة عاقله وتؤمنين بالحجة وسوف
أحاجكي وأنا متأكدة أنك سترجعين إلى جادة الصواب .
ضحكت قائله: بالحجة الدامغة وليس رغماً عني .
قالت : طبعاً لكن في البداية كما تعلمين المرأة كلها فتنة وبأخص الوجه
ونص الآية القرآنية يؤكد ذلك .
ردت قائله : كما تعلمين أن الآية لم تأتي صريحة بفعل ذاك أوترك ذاك وقد اختلاف العلماء في تفسيرها ...
قاطعتني قائله :ولكن الأرجح يا منى ماذا ...
قلت : ليس هناك الأرجح في الاختلاف كلنا صواب وهذا اختلاف رحمة
و كي يستوعب كل أطياف البشر ..
ولكن عبث تستفيض هي في شرح الردود وكأنها لم تسمع قط باختلاف العلماء .
وكالمعتاد وكما في كل نقاش تباينت وتضاربت وجهات نظرنا ً .
قلت لها : بعيداً عن الحجج والدلالات ديننا الحنيف به أربعة مذاهب
تشريعيه نستقي منها الإحكام والواجبات وتضمن اجتهادات علماء وشيوخ
الإسلام وكل اجتهاداتهم صواب من وجهه نظر ديننا ، ونحن لنا حرية بتالي اختيار المذاهب الذي يناسبنا ،وهذه الإجازة التي تعترضون عليها هي من ضمن اجتهادات المذاهب الذي أنتمي إليه .
استوقفتني قائله : ولكن في بلدنا نتبع مذاهب واحد يجب علينا أن نلتزم به جميعاً .
قلت لها :ماذا يعني ذلك أتقصدين لأجل أن أكون مواطنه صالحة يجب أن تسلبوني حريتي الدينية . قطعاً غير منطقي ..
وبالتالي وصلنا إلى جدال عقيم ،أنا أقول لها : نحن مختلفون و اختلافنا رحمة وهذي سنه من سنن الكون ..
وهي ترد : فتنه العيون و الأنف ..إلخ فتغوص هي في فرط مادية ردودها و لا أستطيع أن أناقشاها في الأفكار منطقية تقاس ... ..
تردد هي:يجب أن تغير فكرك يا منى
وبدأت تنعتني بالخروج عن المألوف وتزايد على وطنيتي ، يقاطعها صوت الجرس وتنتهي الحصة بحرباً غير معلنة ولكن المؤكد أن نارها إشتعلت ..
نظرت على اللوح إثر خروجها وقد كتب عليه"اختلاف الرأي لا يفسد للود قضية "
وبعد و هله تكالب الجميع حولي عاقدين العزم على تغير رائي، وسلبي
حريتي الدينية، ورفض اختلافي عنهم رفضاً قاطعاً لا رجعة فيه ..
وفي أخر الدوام وأنا بجوار المصلى تمر معلمتي وتناديني: منى من
فضلك ،أذهب معها لسمع ما يحزني قالت : منى أعلم أن رأيك لن
يتغير ولكن رجائي الوحيد أن لا تفتني صديقاتك في دينهم ،رأيك احتفظي به لنفسك .
وأخرجت من حقيبتها كتبي التي استعارتها مسبقاً وأعطتني إياها دفعت واحدة قائله :شكراً لكِ .
خضني المواقف، مشيت بتثاقل وأنا أنظر في الكتب بدهشة ،وأعتقد أن
الأستاذة ضربت بعرض الحائط شعار" اختلاف الرأي لا يفسد لود قضية
"وأظن القضية فسدت و أوصر الود قُطعت بينا بسب اختلافنا في الرأي ...
و دارت الأيام وجاءت معلمتي مجدداً وكتبت على اللوح " الأدلة العقلية
على وجود الله " و شرعت في شرح الدرس ،وأنا أتمعن تلك الأجوبة
و الأدلة المعلبة التي لا يجنى منها سوى إثراء اللغة ، أو تعلم مهارات
جديدة لحل المعادلات الجبرية ، وأنا غارقة في صمتي يعلو صوت
معلمتي يناديني :منى مما ذكرته ليوم عدّدي أهم النقاط ..
رددت قائله : وضربات قلبي تسابق كلماتي ،قبل ذلك لدى ما أقوله وقد
يتعارض مع ما قيل سابقاً ...
اقتربت مني ويعلو محياها الدهشة وهي تتلعثم قالت : للحظة أريد أن أسالك
أتؤمين بالله ،بوجوده ، بأسمائه ،وصفاته ،أتؤمنين ؟
وبعد أن أوقفت أسئلتها المتواترة
رددت عليه بصوت متهدج :نعم بتأكيد .
"وفي الحقيقة ما آلمني موقفها العدائي وشكها بعقيدتي "
قالت : إذا تفضلي .
قلت "وأنا لا أكاد أسمع صوتي " كيف لنا أن نقول الأدلة العقلية على
وجود الله ؟ كيف نعطي العقل البشري الحق يأتنا بأدلة وحقائق وهو
المحدود بزمان ومكان على وجود من خلق الزمان والمكان ،لا ننكر أنه
يستطيع ولكن الأمر نسبي ، وأول دليل يأتي به قصور عقله أمام هذا الخالق الجبار .
"نظرت إلى المعلمة وهي في غاية السعادة والحبور " وهي تقول: بارك الله
فيك أثلج الله صدرك تراجعت بطمأنينة إلى الخلف وقالت: ليس المعنى أننا
اختلفنا في الأمر الفرعية أننا مختلفون في الدعائم و الأصول .
جلست على مقعدي وتنفست الصعداء ، هتف الجميع ماذا قالت ،
هل صحيح ما تقوله يا أستاذة "لأنهم صنفوني كشرذمة فلن يصدقوني
مطلقاً إلا بإجازة من المعلمة "..
بررت لي صديقتي هبه موقف المعلمة في المرة الأول .
قالت لي : وهي ممسكه بيدي بقوة "منى هذا عصر فتـن وأن كل شيء أصبح فتنه ومصيبة وبأخص وجه المرأة ..
رددت قائله :أختي العزيزة الفتنه ليست في وجه يسجد ويمرغ وجهها الله
خمس مرات في اليوم و الليلة ،بل في قلوب و نفوس عميت أبصارهم
وبصائرهم عن فقه الاختلاف ،قول لي لماذا اعتبروني متطاولة على الدين و متحررة من أجل رأي مختلف عنهم ؟
لماذا تحتكر وتصادر معلمتي الأفكار والاجتهادات لمذاهب واحد ؟
لماذا أحادية الفكر والمذاهب والرأي أصبحت تعني لنا الصواب وغير ذلك خطأ و لا يجوز ويجب الحظر عليه ؟
لماذا تزايد على وطنيتي لأجل حريتي الدينية ؟
أين التعددية الفكرية و الحرية الدينية
أين شعارات الاختلاف التي نسمع جعجعتها ولا نرى طحنها ؟
بماذا تفسري كلامها لي المبطن بالتهديد والتخويف من الآخرة وأنا لم أكفر بالله تعالى؟
لماذا أساة الظن بأخر لأجل اختلافاً في رأي لمرة واحدة ؟
صدقاً يا أختي نحن نخوض حرباً غير معلنة على بعضنا البعض
بسب اختلافنا في آراءنا ولأجل حريتنا التي كفلها لنا الدين والعرف ..
أختي العزيزة الفتنة فينا وفي أنفسنا وليست في عصرنا ...
صدقاً يا أختي
نعيب زماننا والعيب فينا و ما لزماننا عيب سوانا
ونهجو ذا الزمان بغير ذنب و لو نطق الزمان لنا هجانا ...
H. Abdolreza, Iran, Age 22
ای ایران می سازمت دوباره
آرزوی ایرانی دارم که در آن آزادی بیان و اندیشه باشد.سردمداران آن منتخب واقعی مردم باشند.ایرانی که داشجو و دانشگاهیانش جسارت بیان افکار و اندیشه خود را داشته باشند.دیگر خبری از سرکوب اندیشه نباشد .
آرزوی ایرانی دارم که در آن تمام اقشار جامعه در رفاه اقتصادی و معنوی باشند.بجای سرکوب اعترضات قشر زحمتکش کارگر به اعتراضات آنها رسیدگی شود.به رفاه فرهنگیان و معلمین پرداخته شود که ازشمندترین قشر جامعه هستند .
آرزوی ایرانی دارم که در آن آزادی دین و مذهب باشد.تمام مذاهب با صلح و دوستی و احترام در کنار هم زندگی کنند.دیگر کسی مجبور به پیروی از مذهب دیگر نباشد.هر کس آزاد در انتخاب مذهب و عقاید خود باشد.تمام مذاهب آزادانه به اجرای احکام مذهبی خود بپردازند.دیگر دختران و زنان ما در انتخاب پوشش خود آزاد باشند .
آرزوی ایرانی دارم که در آن بین زنان و مردان تساوی حقوق مدنی و اجتماعی باشد.زنان به دلیل عقاید خشک مذهبی مردان مورد محدودیت و آزار و اذیت قرار نگیرند.راه برای پیشرفت زنان و دختران باز باشد که از دختران آگاه مردان بزرگ به وجود می آید.به امید ایرانی که در آن زنان به دلایل اقتصادی مجبور به خود فروشی نباشند.مورد آزار جنسی مردان قرار نگیرند .
آرزوی ایرانی دارم که در آن تمام افراد جامعه از فرصت مساوی یرای کسب علم برخورداز باشند.همه توانایی کسب علم را داشته باشند.آموزش به صورت رایگان باشد.آموزش مخصوص قشر مرفه نباشد .
آرزوی ایرانی دارم که در آن ایرن و ایرانی درای شان و منزلت باشد.ایرانیان فرهنگ اصیل خود را باز یابند.فرهنگ خود را به جهانیان عرضه دارند.به تبادل فرهنگی با سایر کشورها بپردازند.از فرهنگ خوب کشورهای دیگر استفاده کنند.به فضای باز فرهنگی برسیم.ایرانیان در تمام دنیا دارای شان اجتماعی باشند.سافراز و سربلند در تمام دنیا .
آرزوی ایرانی دارم که در آن فضای باز اقتصادی باشد.صنعتگران دارای حقوق برابر باشند.همه به دور از باند بازی و رشوه به صنعت و تولید مشغول باشند.مبادله آزاد تجاری با سایر کشورها به دور از تحریم و تحدید و کار شکنی .
و در نهایت آرزوی ایرانی دارم که درآن همه ایرانی ها با هر مذهب.عقیده.دین.گرایش سیاسی در عین آزادی و عدالت اجتماعی دست به دست یکدیگر داده ایران را دوباره بسازند.به دوران طلایی خود باز گردیم.دوران هخامنش.دوران داریوش کبیر که اولین منشور صلح و آزادی را نوشت.ما ایرانیان از دور زمان پرچمدار آزادی.صلح و عدالت اجتماعی بوده ایم.حال امروز ما سردمداران عدالت و آزادی را چه شده است که این چنین در کشورمان سرکوب و بیدادی است.دیگر خیلی خبری از جنبش عدالت و آزادی نیست.تا کسی نیز بانگی بر می اورد خاموش میشود و کسی نیز از او حمایت نمیکند.پس شیر جوانان ما چه شده اند؟چه شد که جوانان ما بر اثر نا مهربانی ها به برزخ اعتیاد کشیده شدند؟
ای ایرانیان آرزوی آن دارم که ایران و ایرانی متحد شوند.فساد و اععتیاد را ریشکن کنند.جهل و نابودی را نابود کنند.خود آینده خود را رقم زنند.زیر بار ضلم و ستم نروند.و در سایه اتحاد است که می توان عدالت و آزادی بزرگترین نعمت یک جامعه را بر پا کرد و جز این میسر نیست .
دور نیست آن روز .
R. Al-Gayeb, Bahrain, Age 24
أود التوضيح أن مشاركتي للإجابة على السؤال
أود التوضيح أن مشاركتي للإجابة على السؤال الثالث لشبان دول الشرق الأوسط ولكن يوجد خلل تقني في الصفحة الإلكترونية بحيث لا يتسنى لي إختيار المحور الثالث وهو الإجابة على سؤال ما هو حلمي المؤجل وقد لجأت مضطرا لإختيار المحور الثالث لشبان أمريكا من أجل ضمان وصول المشاركة لكم لكن آمل تحويل مشاركتي للمحور الثالث لشبان الشرق الأوسط، وعنوان مشاركتي هو محنة الموسيقى والأقلية والمرأة البحرينية
المشاركة
محنة الموسيقى والأقلية والمرأة البحرينية
حُرِم طلبة بعض المدارس الحكومية في مملكة البحرين من حصص التربية الموسيقية؛ بسبب شكاوى أولياء أمور ذوي توجهات اسلامية، لديهم موقف "متشدد" من الموسيقى، بإعتبارها "حرام"، وطالبوا بإلغاء هذه الحصص، واستجابة لهم وزارة التربية .
الجدل التقليدي حول الموسيقى ليس أمرا طارئا بين فريقين، الأول يصم أذنيه عن الموسيقى، والثاني يتذوق بأذنيه .
إلا أن الأمر في البحرين، أرخبيل الجزر الوادعة التي تتوسط الخليج العربي، يبدو مختلفا قليلا عن دول جارة، فالتحليل العلمي لمزاج أبناء الجزر يختلف عن مزاج أبناء المناطق البعيدة عن زرقة البحر المحيط بالجزر وهوائها العليل، يتسم أبناء الجزر بالتسامح والتعايش المفرط والروح المرحة، وهي السمات المتوارثة في "جينات" البحرينيين .
وكما هو معروف فإن المهنة الرئيسية لأبناء سكان الجزر تكون "الحرث في البحر"، وهو المصدر الرئيسي لتأمين قوت يومهم في عقود سابقة قبل اكتشاف النفط، الذي أكسب دول الخليج العربي أهمية استراتيجية بسبب تزينه بـ "الذهب الأسود ".
الأجداد المؤسسون للبحرين امتهنوا الغوص لصيد اللؤلؤ، وكانوا على ظهر قوارب الصيد الضخمة، التي تُسمّى باللهجة العامية البحرينية "البوانيش"، يرددون أغاني "الهولو واليامان"، وهي من الأغاني الشعبية والفولكلورية المعروفة والشهيرة، لتسلية الأجداد في غربتهم في وسط البحر وبعيدا عن الوطن وأحباؤهم على أرضه .
وفي المقابل، فإن حرمان طلبة من تعلم الموسيقى ببعض المدارس الحكومية تحوّل لأداة محفزة لهم للتعرف على "عالم الموسيقى"، من خلال اشتراك كثير من هؤلاء الطلبة في مهرجانات موسيقية أو معاهد للتدريب على الموسيقى، وإن كانت القلة انتظمت في مشاريع جدّية للعمل الموسيقي، كتشكيل فرق موسيقية شبابية تحاكي الإيقاع العربي والغربي السريع، إلا أن البقية، التي تمثل الشريحة الأكبر، إرتأت أن تصطف في مدرجات المتفرجين والمتابعين الحريصين لما يجد على الساحة الموسيقية .
قبل أيام سألتُ نائبا اسلاميا قياديا بالبرلمان البحريني، خلال مؤتمر صحفي قبيل تسليمه لرئيس البرلمان تقريرا ختاميا لقرارات لجنة تحقيق برلمانية حول "تجاوزات مهرجان ثقافي فني" نظمته وزارة الاعلام، عماذا اذا تحوّل "بيت الشعب" من ضامن للحقوق والحريات الفردية والعامة إلى "قيد آخر" لا يراعي خصوصيات توجهات عديدة غير مُمثلة برلمانيا لأسباب تتعلق بعدم عدالة التوزيع الانتخابي؟
أجاب بحماس: 39 نائبا في البرلمان من أصل 40 هم نواب اسلاميون وهو أمر يعكس رغبة الناخب البحريني في تجنب ما يمس "الثوابت الاسلامية ".
اللعب بالأرقام هي محنة أخرى تواجه أنصار حرية الرأي والتعبير ونشطاء حقوق الانسان في البحرين، لأن الداخل في "لعبة الأرقام" مفقود والخارج منها مفقود !
أقول هذه العبارة بسبب افتقار كثيرين للمفهوم الواعي للأكثرية والأقلية، يعتقد كثيرون، وهم غالبا من الأغلبية، بوجوب أن "تنصاع" الأقلية لهم في كل شئ، ليس لشئ سوى أنهم "أغلبية ".
تغي