IranWire has published a new book written by a political prisoner in Iran.
The book tells the compelling story of a young man sentenced to death, exploring the issue from various perspectives.
It's titled:
Forgiven. No Need to Execute Him
Forgiven? No Need to Execute Him?
Forgiven. No. Execute Him
Mahnaz Tarah, an outspoken opponent of the death penalty, authored the book while held in Evin prison.
Tarah attempted suicide on Tuesday to protest the death sentences of fellow prisoners, including Sharifeh Mohammadi and Pakhshan Azizi.
After being taken to Loghman Hospital in Tehran, she was returned to prison the following day.
During the Woman, Life, Freedom movement, Mahnaz was violently arrested on the street in 2022 and transferred to Qarchak prison in Varamin near Tehran.
She was released a few months later during an amnesty for some political prisoners declared by the leader of the Islamic Republic.
However, on January 3, 2023, she was retried and sentenced to three years and eight months in prison for "collecting and colluding to commit a crime," and to eight months for "propaganda against the Islamic Republic."
Her sentence was eventually reduced to two years and nine months, which she currently serves in Evin prison.
IranWire interviewed Mahnaz Tarah about her book and her motivations for addressing the issue of the death penalty.
According to Amnesty International's latest annual report, nearly 75% of all recorded executions in 2023 occurred in Iran, primarily for drug-related offenses, murder, corruption, and "waging war against God."
The Islamic Republic has increasingly used the death penalty to instil fear and enhance control, especially after the September 2022 Woman, Life, Freedom movement, with a reported increase of about 40 per cent.
Unspecified and unrecorded cases further exacerbate the issue.
The newly published book by IranWire narrates the story of a death row convict through multiple perspectives.
The main character, a young man named Hamid, is in prison during the final days of his sentence.
He reflects on his past, revisiting his childhood, adolescence, and his relationship with a girl named Senobar—a romance that leads to crime and imprisonment.
The story critiques the societal injustices, cultural poverty, traditional thinking, and decayed religious beliefs that contribute to such crimes.
Mahnaz Tarah, born in 1975 in Tehran, underscores the need to reassess laws that have historically failed to deter crime.
Through this story, she underscores the need to reassess laws that have historically failed to deter crime.
She grew up in Narmak in Tehran, with a father who was a secretary at a government office and a mother who was a nurse.
She has one sister and two brothers and completed her education up to the diploma level.
Although she has written extensively, this is her first long-form narrative.
What was your goal in writing a story on this subject?
Ever since I became aware of executions, I have been troubled by this inhuman sentence.
In 2021, when I was transferred from Ward 1A to Qarchak Prison, I encountered women who were sentenced to death for murder or drug offenses.
Hearing about executions is one thing, but seeing the terrified faces of those awaiting death is another.
This experience compelled me to write about a unique form of death.
How do these people feel in general, and how has their outlook on life changed? Do they have more passion for life, or are they completely indifferent to the world?
What I understood from their feelings is that they are caught in a struggle between life and death, and that’s it.
How did you feel the first time you closely encountered a woman sentenced to death? How was she different from others, and what caught your attention?
I first saw Senobar, a young Afghan girl with an oppressed and broken demeanour, wandering the corridor like a ghost.
Her life story differed from mine, but I used her name in my story. Then there was Ladan, sentenced to death for murdering her landlord.
She was transferred to solitary confinement, returned with a suspended sentence, and executed a few weeks later.
Ward 8, for political prisoners, was usually off-limits, but when Ladan returned from Rajae Shahr prison, she came to Ward 8’s door and recounted her harrowing night.
Her body was trembling, her eyes full of terror, as if seeking help.
After facing someone who has committed murder and listening to their pain, have you ever judged them differently?
In Qarchak, many women were imprisoned for spousal murder. They were housed with us, the political prisoners.
One woman was in contact with her boyfriend in another prison. I once argued with her over a phone call, but later, she shared her life story with me. I still regret judging her.
How much of your story, with all its realistic and documented details of women’s and men’s prisons, is based on what you have seen and heard from those sentenced to death, and how much is fictional?
The main part of the story is a blend of experiences from women’s prisons, men I knew, incidents in a troubled society, and my personal views on laws that not only fail to prevent crime but also facilitate it.
The characters in your story are grey [nuanced], exhibiting human thoughts and behaviors in inevitable situations. For instance, Senobar’s father-in-law or “Uncle Kamal,” despite their injustices, is also a victim. How did you develop this perspective?
The characters are grey because humans are grey, and I have lived in a society where everyone is, to some extent, a victim.
While writing, were you more influenced by the oppressive atmosphere of the prison, or did you imagine yourself in the outside world as a normal, free person?
While writing, I focused on challenging the notion that human death is a solution.
Who are you addressing in this book that will remain for future generations? People, your own family, civil and social legislators, or human rights activists?
I address both the people and legislators.
I have no expectations from human rights defenders, as human rights have long been traded for material gain.
Perhaps I can prevent a disastrous relationship or prompt a legislator to realize that if executions were a deterrent, we would have the lowest crime rate after years of record executions in this land.
And the final word?
Now that the law shows no mercy, and the legislators trample on humanity, let us forgive each other.
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