As I write this disclaimer, the one that says that I’m not looking to draw any sort of parallel between the Islamic Republic of Iran’s current media crackdown and the filtering policy employed by the school district in which I work, I realize that you, the reader, are probably going to assume that I, as a teacher who works in a school with a really dumb strict filtering policy, am going to draw such a parallel. If you see it, it’s your problem, not mine. You savvy?
Once again, there’s massive political turmoil in a country in which I have good friends. I remember the protests in Serbia in early 2008, and the worry I felt for my friend Alek, whom I’d met in Scotland the year before. And the violent demonstrations in Greece later that year, during which I hoped fervently that Ioanna would keep her head down. Now, in June of 2009, with Mahmoud Ahmedinejad apparently the victor in a very fishy looking election, I hope that Kasra and Amir and their friends and loved ones are safe.
I think, though, that the current situation in Iran represents the danger of insisting that your way of doing things is the only correct way, to the exclusion of all other opinions, methods, or beliefs. In any human endeavour, there has to be communication and empathy. Hardliners in any situation–whether it be a theocratic dictatorship or a family squabble–prevent reason from prevailing. Shutting out the other side’s views can’t work.
We see that in Iran right now. The government has blocked a lot of internet traffic, as well as disabled text-messaging and cell-phone transmissions. It can’t shut everything down, though. As stupid as Twitter seems to be–and that would be plenty stupid–it might have found its niche as a way to disseminate otherwise-censored information:
Jonathan Zittrain, co-founder of the Berkman Center for Internet & Society at Harvard Law School, says Iran — like a university campus — pipes the Internet into the country through a central, controlled gateway. That allows the government to block Web sites and do other kinds of filtering.
But, like resourceful American students in search of Facebook, many Iranians can get around blocks, using proxies and other methods. Complicating matters for the authorities, Zittrain says, is the fact that social networking services tend to be decentralized.
Twitter and other proxy-accessible social networking sites are great for calling the world’s attention to what’s happening as the regime attempts to impose a national blackout. The current state of Iran + Twitter offers some very interesting educational possibilities, too, according to Will. Even more importantly, though, the voices of dissent online remind the regime that their claim to the only official reality is shaky. It is important to remind those with whom we disagree that we disagree–not necessarily in a violent confrontation, but in a respectful way.
My parents will celebrate their 35th wedding anniversary later this year. I didn’t grow up in a calm family; however, we generally were good at letting each other know when we disagreed with what was happening. There were screaming matches, of course, and tantrums and silent treatments and that sort of stuff. But under all of that was an undercurrent of constructive criticism that, when I look back on it, has led to a pretty strong bond between the five of us to this day. My sister and I were talking yesterday about how, despite our definite lack of family perfection, we are in a much better place than a lot of families we know, where the adult children now don’t speak to each other or their parents, let alone acknowledge their existence.
Conflating a repressive regime with the comparative insignificance of suburban American family dynamics is kind of silly, I admit, but my head’s been in this space for the past few weeks. Since Erica and I got engaged in early May (and even before that) one of the things I’ve been trying to figure out is how our two very different immediate families will become one. Her family is more traditionally welcoming, I think, than mine–it could just be because I’m still a guest when I go over there, but they’re quicker than my family is to do the traditional host/hostess stuff. My family is mostly quieter and less protective, but when things blow up, they blow up pretty big. Both families are capable of holding grudges (I still don’t know why my parents and one of my aunt/uncle sets didn’t speak for years when I was in middle and high school) and both families are capable of astounding demonstrations of love and affection.
When we try to imagine what our family will be like, we naturally gravitate toward the environments in which we each grew up. I foresee myself as a parent the way my parents were (and are) parents, and Erica does the same thing for her family. The reality, of course, is that neither of our families will be the exact model for the new unit that we’re creating. All we can do is try to emulate what we admire and attempt to avoid the negative examples that have been set. It’s not going to be easy, but I know we’re both up to the challenge.
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