Iranians Celebrate, Embracing an Unknown Future

The following article was written by an Iranian citizen journalist on the ground inside the country, who writes under a pseudonym to protect her identity.

Soon after President Hassan Rouhani’s victory was announced, Iranians were out on the streets of Tehran celebrating the resounding defeat of the country’s hardliners.

“Our message is clear: The house arrests must end,” a gentle voice called out from the throngs of people gathered in the capital’s Valiasr Square. Soon, everyone was shouting out, echoing the voice and demanding the release of the reformist Green Movement leaders.

Over the last few weeks, the whole country has been caught up with the election, whether people were pro-Rouhani or critical of his administration. It started when Ebrahim Raeesi entered the race, but when it became clear that he was going to be the president’s main rival, people really started becoming engaged. During his campaign, Raeesi made populist promises, including to increase cash subsidies to almost everybody. And his past — his time in the judiciary and his role in the 1988 mass execution of political prisoners — spurred people on. Suddenly, people who had no intention of going to the ballot box on May 19 changed their minds and turned out to elect Rouhani to a second term.   

On Saturday, May 20, a day after the election, people treated themselves to a big celebration — despite the fact that Rouhani’s campaign had declared it was against the law to hold celebrations in public spaces. In fact, other cities around the country started their celebrations first, but Tehranis waited to hear the president speak on television before they took to the streets. Some people were hesitant. No prior arrangements had been made for the occasion. But they knew what to do. As with other recent celebrations, they did what has become a new tradition: Show up at Valiasr Avenue in central Tehran and take it from there. 

The spontaneous celebration started in front of the City Theater complex and, little by little, expanded northward. Sections of the Karim Khan Zand Boulevard were jam-packed with cars, and nobody expected to be able to move anytime soon. As people approached Valiasr Square they could hear the crowds, and young men and women clapping and calling out Rouhani’s name.

Many held up posters of Rouhani, as well as posters of the 2009 reformist presidential candidate Mir Hossein Mousavi, his wife Zahra Rahnavard and the reformist leader Mehdi Karroubi, all of whom have been under house arrest since 2011. As the crowds grew, the chants got louder. People called out loudly for an end to the house arrests. Some also held up posters of former president Mohammad Khatami, calling out his name too. Khatami had played his part in persuading many an undecided voter to go to the polls and wait in long lines to vote for Rouhani.

People gathered around the central enclosure of the plaza, and some stood inside the enclosure. Police were stationed around the square and on the street, but apparently they had not been instructed to arrest anyone. “We are here to keep people safe,” a policeman was heard saying. “God forbid, nobody will want to disrupt the ceremonies.”

Green Ribbons, Violet Balloons

People waved green ribbons and violet balloons — the colors of the Green Movement and Rouhani’s campaign, respectively. The few cars in the square had their doors open; the sound of music coming from inside them filled the square. People were acting spontaneously, and nobody was telling them what to do. There were other chants, including “Rouhani, we are with you; we believe your promises,” “free political prisoners” and “Hail Khatami; Greetings, Rouhani!” But by far the most popular refrain was about ending house arrest. “Our message is clear: The house arrests must end.” 

Suddenly Tehran’s cloudy sky lit up. Colorful firecrackers went off, one after another, filling the square with light. A crowd of perhaps 200,000 people moved north of Valiasr Square, and a number of young Tehranis were dancing shoulder to shoulder in the Kurdish style.

To the south of the Taleghani Intersection, in a space known as “Paradise Veranda,” a group were chanting the name of Mir Hossein Mousavi. They knew the space was designed and built by Mousavi, who is an architect. They sang “My Schoolmate,” a song sung by the dissident Iranian student movement as its battle cry after the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Young people held hands and danced while singing. Paradise Veranda also echoed with the name of Neda Agha Soltan and others who had lost their lives in the violent aftermath of the disputed 2009 election. “My martyred brother, my martyred sister, I recouped your vote,” some called out. Some men and women chanted in unison for gender equality.

Others had a message for the holy city of Mashhad, Iran’s second biggest city, where Ebrahim Raeesi oversees the Astan Quds Razavi foundation, the largest religious endowment in Iran. “We will bring Mashhad back to Iran,” said a young woman, “right from here, from Tehran.” Near the Valiasr Intersection, a young man carried a newspaper that proclaimed “Mashhad Was Liberated!” 

A merry tune could be heard here too, and dancing people filled the intersection. They were determined: Tehran and Iran would end the night of May 20th with joy, and with hope for the future.

Zohreh Khosravani, Citizen journalist