The exterior view of the “Iranian Human Rights Activists Group” is something that can perhaps be seen prominently in “Hrana News Agency” and in other places such as “Peace Line Magazine”, although it may be interpreted differently. But how can the internal view of this organization be from the perspective of “one of its own”? Here, it is likely that the issue is more complex than what the audience is presented with. Benjamin compares this issue to two different images of a rural road, one seen by a pedestrian walking on it and the other seen by a passenger in an airplane flying over it: “The hidden power of a rural road is different when we walk on it compared to when we fly over it in an airplane. Airplane passengers only see how the road passes through the fields and changes according to the laws governing the surrounding lands. Only the person walking on the road is aware of the power it holds; for someone looking at it from the airplane, it is nothing more

This is a picture of a beautiful flower.
Human rights for all – Photo from the archive of human rights activists.

This perspective may also be interesting in the sense that I was not one of the founders or initial core members of the group, and in fact, I began my involvement after a chance encounter, at a lower level within the organization, and after the possibility of growth within the group, I continued my collaboration as a responsible individual. Based on this, the reason for my attachment as someone who was not a creator and is considered a second generation, can be questioned.

To address this issue, I have divided and simultaneously answered the question of why I chose to engage in human rights activism and joined the human rights activists in Iran as a human rights organization. I have five narratives from five different time periods of my life, gradually and over time, I have transferred my life and collective work.

First narrative:

In the winter of 1387, I was sitting on a bench in the student park with a friend whom I had recently upgraded our relationship from virtual-blog acquaintances to real-life friends. He had asked me a couple of times to join a civil group that was advocating for the rights of a specific group in society, in order to bring order to my activities. Although some of their demands aligned with my own, I couldn’t separate them from my other concerns and perhaps I was being too idealistic, so my answer was always negative. Additionally, I couldn’t easily fit in with the political and social elites of the group and similar groups. This time, he mentioned that he had recently started working with a young and new human rights group led by “Keyvan Rafiei” and emphasized that they were in need of manpower for their news agency, which was set to launch in a few months. I asked for more details and said I would think about it.

From the few observations, including several statements, reports, and photos of prisoners being tortured that were published by the group, I didn’t have much information about it or its process, and I didn’t know much about the person who was mentioned. Although I had once shared news about his hunger strike in prison on my blog, I didn’t know much about him. I also didn’t know much about the other members of the group. But the more I asked and heard, the more curious I became, and after a few weeks of searching and thinking, I felt that they must be believers and concerned individuals. A few days later, I called my friend to tell him about my positive response. A few days or weeks later, I contacted “Jamal Hosseini” – whom I knew at the time by his alias, “Esfandiar Baharmas” – as a volunteer to start working with Hrana.

To be honest, when I first started my work in Hirana, I saw it merely as a means to a more tangible and structured activity, in a space that was leading me towards individual and ultimately academic pursuits. Even at that time, my understanding of human rights, given the politicized perspective on it, was seen as a Western concept and therefore I didn’t fully believe in it.

“این عکس یک پسر کوچک در حال بازی با گربه است”

“This photo shows a little boy playing with a cat.”
Human rights for all – Photo from the archive of human rights activists collection.

Second Narrative:

In the spring of 2009, approximately two or three months after I started working in Hirana, I had begun to play pranks and schemes, for example, to highlight the news of prisoners who were closer to my political beliefs and to make them more visible to the audience. Even though one person might have a three-month sentence while another, whose thoughts or activities did not align with mine, received a six-year sentence on the same day. One day, one of the officials in the organization called and said that they didn’t think they needed my cooperation anymore. Even though I could tell that he was trying to get rid of me, his words were sudden to me. When I asked for the reason, he said that they had discussed it with other colleagues and realized that I was withholding some news and highlighting others, which had a lower percentage of human rights violations compared to other news. Unfortunately, the organization cannot follow your personal thoughts and interests. I insisted on staying and asked if I

Third narrative:

“I had tried to involve myself more in work than before, and it was during this time that the compilation of weekly and daily reports on human rights violations for publication began, and I volunteered to participate in it. This increased involvement showed me things that were new to me; in a way that it could be believed that such order comes from competent leadership. For example, if someone was always the last to finish a report, there was always someone who would stay until the last minute and repeatedly follow up and give reminders! This leadership had formulated noble goals that were more important than politics and gaining political power. I mention this with emphasis because we were in a time when the election campaigns for the 1989 presidential election had begun and were gradually gaining momentum. The group of young people around me and those I knew, especially university students, were interested in being active in the headquarters of this or that candidate. Such activity, although not pleasant for me personally, could be understandable; but it was not digest

During all those days, it was not just the names of prisoners and other victims that we published daily in Harana; rather, numerous events from previous years were highlighted more than ever before, passing in front of my eyes like a movie screen: why the death of our neighbor, who was a night watchman at a construction site and fell from the fourth floor one day, did not even make the headlines in any newspaper or website; now that everyone considered their own carelessness as the cause of his death, and there was no insurance involved, his family was forced to sell their house and leave the neighborhood in less than a year. Why, when the Hosseiniyeh of Qom was destroyed and set on fire in the winter of 1384, which I witnessed firsthand, not only did no one bat an eye, but one of my acquaintances could proudly talk about throwing a stone at one of the dervishes and laugh shamelessly. Why one of my mother’s relatives

To be honest, even though I studied political science, politics was never my playing field and I was disgusted by the deceit and corruption surrounding it. In those days, when I heard the song “Sunset of the Jungle” from the city’s loudspeakers, I would just try to quickly turn up the volume of my “shelter”: “Home, computer, dial-up internet, and ultimately that heavenly moment of spreading news everywhere!”

This is a caption for the image.
The security device’s attempt to blacken the image of the group by spreading lies.

Narrative Four:

Information from the arrest of 46 individuals who were somehow connected to the organization, some of whom were close friends and were following me; even my photo, name, and family were published in a fabricated scenario in newspapers and media outlets such as Gerdab, Fars, Kayhan. There was no escape and I only had a few days or even hours to decide whether to stay and go to prison, or leave everything behind and create an uncertain future. This has been the hardest decision for me until now, and perhaps forever, in the last days of February 2009, on the verge of my 20th birthday! Of course, these sentences are still more similar to the perspective of an outsider – someone who sees the scenery of a rural road while flying in an airplane. My analysis of the situation that has occurred, considering the group’s interests, which I was not even willing to use in those anxious moments, despite their recommendations and at the cost of keeping myself hidden, was

The reason for choosing the second option was for my activity with the organization to continue for about a year, in another country and under refugee conditions. This change of location and removal of security barriers brought me closer to the organization than ever before. This closeness reassured me about my faith and concerns regarding the leaders and members of the organization. Confronting the living-working place of one of the leaders of the organization in the city of Van, Turkey, which was nothing but ruins and the only valuable items there were an old computer and a few hard drives and other electronic devices, was the end of all the rumors that the security forces had been spreading for weeks. Some people, either unintentionally or deliberately, were making it harder for this pressured group by wearing clothes of prosperity. Another proof of this claim was their constant and unnoticed night-time activities, which I was now witnessing up close. It was almost impossible for anyone to hand over their shift, no matter how tired they were, until a

Many people during that period of time believed that after the refugee period, due to different living conditions in the third country, whether desired or not, I will go after my personal life.

This is an image of a beautiful sunset.
Distribution of the monthly magazine “Khat-e-Solh” in Iran – 1394 – Photo from the archive of the human rights activists’ collection in Iran.

Fifth Narrative:

One year and one month had passed since my arrival to Canada, and I had struggled to prevent others from interpreting my actions and to not get caught up in my personal life. I even adjusted my sleep schedule to match the time in Iran. Due to various reasons, especially financial problems, I was not successful and had to take on a full-time job, which limited my activities in the community to only a few news reports per week and a couple of pages of writing per month. Honestly, during this time, I was experiencing true disorientation; although, I constantly questioned myself about the impact and importance of my activities in the community, especially with the addition of other friends in the group who were able to easily fill my place in the night activities. But I always received a random answer and have accepted it. For example, one day, when I was talking to one of the prisoners in a border prison that I had regular contact with, after a long time, he asked about my well-being

The result of these internal struggles and, of course, the friendships that were deepening day by day and the group’s need for me, was that I left my full-time job to be able to spend more time working in the organization. At that time, we decided that it would be better for me to continue my work in the peace magazine instead of returning to Iran; from July 2013 until now.

I’m sorry, but I am unable to translate this text as it is not provided. Please provide the Farsi text for me to translate. Thank you.

My collective work experience, after 7 years of collaboration with the activists group, has paved a different path in my life. A path full of ups and downs, where hope for the future and the realization of our ideals, although sometimes faint, has never been extinguished; each time ignited by a spark. The activists group is now something that I prefer to call not a “group” or “organization” but a “family”; the same family that I live through their joys and sorrows, successes and failures, and have experienced that they are often the same towards me. Honorable colleagues who I consider as my own family and sometimes even more than that. The unsung heroes who standing by their side and forgetting them is only possible in one scenario; abandoning and forgetting myself.

Honestly, for me, that moment of spiritual tranquility is prideful. After repeating a sentence to myself, after hearing unfair judgments and false narratives, both unintentional and intentional, trying to throw dirt in the eyes of this group, I obtain: “Truth will find its way”! I first heard this sentence from Keyvan Rafiei, based on the will of a prisoner before execution, and in detail that “truth is like the clear ocean, which although may be covered by sediment or mud for a while, but over time it is the sediment that goes away and the clear water that remains.”

Honestly, living and breathing in a place where people like Farzad Kamangar and Seyed Jamal Hosseini have been with me is a source of pride for me. Of course, all the difficult moments of this period, from arrests and convictions to especially those heartbreaking moments of death or execution of comrades, at a time when you don’t know whether to be wounded and sad or still committed to the path that you were walking together until yesterday, you know, have been equally challenging; things that in living conditions outside of this community, I would probably not have experienced at this level of certainty.

With all these circumstances, I believe that there is a virtue in suffering that is not found in happiness.