Arina Zarei 13 August 2021 Witness Statements This is the first in our new series of Witness Statements. For a summary of Arina’s story, you can read our feature article here. Introduction 1. My name is Fatemeh (Arina) Zarei. I was born in 1975, in Isfahan, to a Muslim family with strong religious beliefs. My older brother, who was martyred in the early days of the war [with Iraq], was one of the commanders of the IRGC [Revolutionary Guard], of equal rank to [conservative politician] Mohsen Rezaee. However, I converted to Christianity in 2008. 2. My acquaintance with Christianity developed after my separation from my husband. The problems I had with my ex-husband also caused problems for me. That’s why I decided to go to a group called Food Addicts Anonymous, which was a kind of group therapy like other anonymous associations. In these meetings I met people who were Christians, and my acquaintance with Christianity was first through them.3. Later I learned more about Christianity through a Christian woman named Atena, and this relationship led me to my conversion. Shortly after I became a Christian believer, I started being active in a house-church in Isfahan, and I continued with my Christian activities until my arrest and eventual departure from Iran. Christian activities 4. My active involvement in the house-church started from the first two or three months after I joined. I met with other Christians, and tried to encourage and strengthen them in their faith. And because I had a car, I could visit nearby cities and encourage even more Christian believers. I met with the leader of the house-church network, and was later also invited to be a leader. In this group, I was responsible for the finances and participated in training seminars inside and outside the country.5. I also talked to some of my co-workers about Christ. Our manager realised this, and although he was an open-minded person, I gradually felt insecure in the work environment. The increase of my church activities also led me to quit my job. But I didn’t say anything to my family, so they still thought I was going to work. Arrest 6. On 20 February 2013, I went to the home of my friends Nasrin and Ramin, in Shahin Shahr [a city just outside Isfahan], to attend a meeting of house-church leaders from Isfahan. The meeting lasted several hours and was coming to an end, and since my mother’s nurse only stayed with her during the daytime, I wanted to go home as soon as the meeting was over to take care of my mother in the evening and get her ready for bed. 7. Suddenly the doorbell rang and Ramin went to open the door. Then he said that several men were behind the door, holding a camera. We found out that they were intelligence agents, and so we had no choice but to open the door. When the door was opened, about seven or eight male agents entered the apartment. Nasrin and Ramin’s apartment was a small one, with two bedrooms, and our number was relatively large. There were about 15 of us, and with the arrival of these agents the space became even smaller. 8. There were also three children at the meeting that night: Bita’s daughter, Sarina, who was in primary school; Daniel, the son of Maryam and Reza, who was about three years old; and Armita, Leila and Peyman’s daughter, who wasn’t even two years old. They were in another room with the person who took care of the children. The small space we were in and the large number of people created a more tense atmosphere, and Armita especially was very scared. Her older brother and Sarina were more aware of what was happening, but of course they were very scared too.9. From the very beginning, the agents created fear and shock through their violent behaviour. While filming the whole process, they shouted at us: “Don’t talk to each other! Don’t touch anything! Put your books on the table, and write your names on your books!” Books, documents, laptops and CDs were confiscated. The appearance and behaviour of the agents had made us all extremely anxious. We were worried about what we should say if they asked us about the other members of our group and house-church, and how to make sure we told them the same things. Our biggest concern was what information we shouldn’t give them, so others would be protected.10. The stress made us all want to go to the bathroom a lot more than usual, and the agents noticed this and made fun of us. Then they separated us, so they could have more control over everything and the opportunity to coordinate with each other. We women had to go into one room and put on our headscarves and manteaux [long jackets]. There was only one woman among the agents. Later, the fact that we hadn’t been wearing our headscarves was used against us in our case as “immoral” behaviour.11. As time went on, I became more and more worried that it was time for my mother to go to bed and that I should prepare her for bed, and that there was no-one taking care of her. My brother and his family lived with us, on the second floor of our house, and my younger brother lived in a room next to ours, so I kept asking the agents to let me call my mother. I begged the agents and their supervisor many times, and at the same time my mother kept calling and the phone rang continuously. Finally, they let me answer my mother’s phone calls and I told her I was still at work and wouldn’t be home until later.12. The agents knew I had a car, so they told me: “We’ll take you separately because we have to come and search your home.” 13. I was very worried that their presence in our home would cause my mother to have a stroke through shock and anxiety, so I did everything to warn them about this danger, but it was useless and they insisted on coming with me to my home anyway. Search of home 14. It was about 8.30pm when they raided our meeting, and around 10pm when they made me go with them. We got in my car. Two agents were in there with me, one in the front seat and the other in the back. Another agent was following me in a Peugeot. I had CDs, Christian books, and other items in my car that they also confiscated. The drive to our house in Isfahan took about 45 minutes, and during all this time they humiliated and insulted me as much as they could and said such nasty things to me.15. Still in shock, I worried about my mother’s reaction to the agents and begged them to use the entrance to my room, not to the room where my mother was. But they refused to do so, even though I kept insisting. At 10.30pm, when we arrived at our home, they asked me to drive the car into the parking lot of the house and I asked them again not to come inside where my mother could see them. They said very rudely: “Take us inside in the same way you take other [men] with you inside your house at night!” I became very angry with their rudeness and warned them about their shameless words and insults. I said: “Be very careful what you say! What are these insults you are saying to me?”16. One of the agents said: “Go and open the door for us into your room.” When I entered, I saw Mojtaba, my nephew, lying in front of the TV and watching a movie. I signalled to him to open the door and, as soon as he saw the agents, he was very afraid. I explained the situation to him and said: “These are the agents of the Ministry of Intelligence and they have arrested me. Keep quiet so that my mother doesn’t hear anything”.17. The agents continued to insist on coming inside, so I opened the door from the other side of the house. To take care of my mother and get her ready for bed, I had to walk between the two sections of our house regularly. I had to take off my coat and go to my mother, then put it on again and go back to where the agents were searching and confiscating my personal things. After my mother fell asleep, the agents wanted to go and search down there as well.18. A few moments later, one of them noticed my mother’s Martyrs Foundation membership card [for those who lost a loved one during the war with Iraq] and her bank cards, which were on the table. Seeing the card of the Martyrs Foundation, the agent was filled with anger and rage. He raised his voice and began to swear and say inappropriate things. He was very angry to discover I belonged to a martyr’s family [and would therefore be receiving government aid] and had become a Christian. I warned him to keep his voice down so my mother wouldn’t wake up. One of the agents, who behaved more respectfully, warned the aggressive agent, who was called “Ghasemi” and showed a lot of disrespect, because of his rudeness. 19. During the house search they looked through all my personal belongings, and even my underwear. I had a lot of books and Christian items at home and they confiscated everything – from CDs and personal photo albums, to money, cheques, identification documents and my mobile phone and computer. I had no more than two pieces of jewellery with cross symbols on them but they confiscated all my jewellery, whether gold or fake, along with a small photograph of Jesus Christ on the wall of my room, and my personal journals, as evidence of a crime. And they never returned my cross jewellery.20. Finally, after an hour, they had searched the whole house – even the items in the refrigerator. There was only Mojtaba’s room left. My nephew was a student and in his room there was a bookshelf with old books and some Islamic books, and also his own textbooks. I asked the agents not to take these books with them, and not to harm his studies. They didn’t agree initially, but at my insistence they were thinking about ending the search when one of them spotted the book “Who is my spouse?”, written by [Iranian-Armenian pastor] Rev Edward Hovsepian, which was on the table in Mojtaba’s room. 21. A few days before, I had given this book to Mojtaba to read, so it was on his desk. When they saw the book, they became angry again and said: “No, we must take all these books with us!” I was very worried that they might want to include Mojtaba in my case and arrest him, so I explained that this was my book and that when I was reading it, I left it on the table in his room. Finally, they agreed to leave the books on the shelf.22. As they prepared to leave, one of the agents said: “You’ll be our guest for a few days, so collect your clothes and personal things and bring them with you.” Not knowing how many days I would be held or what personal items I should take with me, I asked him what I would need. He said to take towels, clothes and other things like that. I asked the agents if they would take my car too. They said “no”. I asked: “Where are you taking me?” They said: “Dastgerd Prison.”23. I went to my mother to say goodbye and explained that I had to go on a business trip the next day and wouldn’t be back for a while, and that I would tell my sister, Zohreh, to come and take care of her for a few days. I also told Mojtaba: “Tell your aunt to come to take care of my mother for a while. You can also tell my father and your uncle [Mohammad] about my arrest.” Mohammad, my younger brother, is a religious person, a supporter of the regime, and a staunch supporter of velayat-e faqih [clerical rule in Iran]. I was worried about their reaction to the news of my arrest because of my Christian faith, but I decided to let them know anyway. Dastgerd Prison 24. It was only about 15 minutes from our house to Dastgerd Prison, but during this short time the agents said a lot of nasty and humiliating things to me, without any reservations – especially because they had found out I was from a martyr’s family. And now that I knew my mother was safe, I began to answer back to the things they said. 25. For example, they said: “Your activity in the house-church was illegal and your gathering was illegal.” And I responded: “Does a religious community need permission? My mother holds prayer and religious meetings at our home several times a year during [the Shia holy months of] Muharram and Safar, and she never had to get permission. Why do we have to get permission to gather with friends in a house and worship together?” These responses made them even more angry and they accused me of being rude.26. They said: “If you want to make these mistakes [form a house-church], leave this country! This country has a law, and if you don’t want to live according to this law, you must leave this country!” I said that Iran was my country, that I loved it and I didn’t want to leave.27. Ghasemi asked me: “What’s the matter with you all anyway, making these strange noises like a turkey?” After this and a few other things he said, I realised they had monitored our prayer meetings and that he was speaking about some of our members speaking in tongues.28. When we arrived at the prison, I discovered that the agents hadn’t actually even had any permission to enter or search our homes. We had to wait outside the prison for a few minutes because the agents weren’t allowed to enter. After many phone calls, they were finally allowed to enter and took me to Ward “Alef Ta”. We entered a large corridor, and there I saw Nasrin, Bita, and two other leaders. A little later, I heard the voice of Sahar [another leader]. Ramin was there too, but I didn’t see him. We were placed on chairs with little desks attached to them, and sat at a distance from each other. At that moment I didn’t know where Sara or Atena [two other leaders] were.29. Bita had two children and apparently she had called her family at the time of her arrest and they had come and taken the children with them. So the agents arrested Bita and took her away. Leila and Maryam also had small children. Maryam’s younger brother had come and taken her child home, but Leila’s child was sick and her condition worsened during the arrest, so Leila was allowed to take her to the hospital and then appear for interrogation.30. Everything was shocking to me, but at least I was relieved about my mother. Since the agents had separated me from the others, they didn’t know about what had happened to me, but I managed to signal to Nasrin, who was sitting in front of me, that I was also now in prison with them. Interrogations 31. Early in the interrogations, the agents took the main leader of our group with them to another place. I had back pain that got worse after sitting for a long time, and for this reason I stood up for a few moments. But then I was shouted at: “Sit down! It’s as if you still don’t know that you have been arrested, or where you are now!” There were many different interrogators, and we could hear the voices of other interrogators talking loudly to other detainees. Their raised voices and shouts themselves increased our fears. Sahar’s interrogator insulted her a lot. He spoke to her in a very loud voice and with a lot of aggression. 32. One interrogator put a piece of paper in front of me and told me to write down my personal details. They also wanted us to write down the details of our family members: their occupations, who they were in contact with, and other things. One of the questions was about religion. I left this part blank, but the interrogator kept coming and leaning over my head and insisting that I write something there. Finally I wrote: “Christianity, but Christianity is not a religion but a way to reach God.” When the interrogator saw this answer, he kicked me in the thigh so hard that my chair was knocked over and I fell against the wall. “What did you write!” he shouted. “Why are you [wasting the money the government paid for this paper]? He gave me a new sheet and told me to fill it out again. This time I only wrote “Christianity”.33. One of the interrogators was an elderly man with a very ugly face and ugly behaviour. Another interrogator was a younger and more handsome man in comparison to the others, but his behaviour was disgusting and filthy. When Nasrin was still in front of me, the young interrogator approached Nasrin in such a way that he was very close to her. He even once tried to sit on the handle of Nasrin’s chair. It was under these circumstances that a argument broke out between him and Nasrin. Suddenly the interrogator kicked Nasrin in the thigh in the same way my interrogator, Ghasemi, had done to me. Nasrin fell to the ground, and after she stood up, the interrogator’s shoe print was clearly visible on her trousers.34. The chief of the interrogators, who was professional in how he went about his business, also asked a number of questions to us, on top of those the other interrogators had asked. He went up to Nasrin, but Nasrin said: “I won’t answer! Whether I answer or not, you’ll hit me, so why should I answer?” The interrogator tried to calm her down and persuade her to speak again. I think they beat Sahar too. I could hear her screaming loudly several times. They said ugly things to her because of the [darker] colour of her skin. I was then taken to a room upstairs, where I was placed in front of another interrogator, who was obese. The upper floor was relatively large, and from it you could hear the sounds from the other cells via the air-conditioning vent. It was there that I heard Sara’s voice. She was being interrogated strongly, and treated very badly.35. The interrogators found out that I was in charge of the church’s finances and tried to extract information from me more gently. They said: “You are from a respectable family. We understand that these people have tempted you, and you have been deceived. We want to help you.” I answered: “No, I have become a Christian as a result of research, and in full awareness. I have neither been deceived, nor am I ignorant!” As soon as they found out about my divorce, they said insulting and humiliating things to me. I was treated like a prostitute, and they insulted both me and my family.36. They asked for names and addresses [of other church members], but I really didn’t know the answers because I didn’t know many of them. The interrogations lasted all night, and it was around 8.30 in the morning when we were taken to the cells. For most of our detention, we were taken for interrogation at night. During one of the interrogations, I protested and said: “Why don’t you interrogate us during the day? At night, we are tired and sleepy, so we can’t think straight!” The interrogator said: “Do you think you came to your aunt’s house! We also work in shifts and have to come here at night to do our interrogations. The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we will let you go back to your cell so you can sleep!” Cell conditions 37. Afterwards I was taken to a cell downstairs. As soon as the door of the cell opened, I saw Sahar, Bita and Sara. I was encouraged to see them all together and became very emotional. We talked about the interrogators’ questions and the answers we gave. But less than five minutes later the door of the cell opened and my name was called and I was told to come out. Worry and shock came over me again. But in fact I only had to change my cell. I was taken to a cell next door and entered and saw Nasrin sitting in one corner. I was glad that we were together. In addition, I knew that our other friends were in the next cell.38. In the cell, we had a TV and a refrigerator, some crockery, and a bathroom that had no door but only a short wall that separated the bathroom and shower area from the rest of the cell. Prison officers didn’t knock any time they came but just suddenly opened the door and entered the cell. Especially one of them, who was very rude, would open the small opening on the door, without knocking, and look inside our cell. In general, we felt we had no privacy, and we objected to this. Because of this behaviour we couldn’t take a shower for fear that they would open the door and enter at any time. We had to sit and wash ourselves hidden behind the short wall, with a lot of fear and shivering.39. On one wall of the cell former prisoners had even written Bible verses and other Christian phrases. I was fortunate in that I had my personal belongings with me. The others had been brought directly to the detention centre from the place where they were arrested, so they weren’t given the opportunity to take anything with them. 40. They gave us blankets, but no pillows, and a little later they brought us breakfast, which was a small piece of bread, some tea, and a small packet of tahini sauce to eat with the bread. On other days, there was some cheese, or a piece of butter and a small bowl of jam to eat with the bread. After breakfast, I told Nasrin that we should eat and sleep, saying: “If we don’t have a lot of strength, we may become weak and nervous during the interrogations.” In addition, I thought that if we were obviously troubled and weak, it might make them bolder. We were very worried about the other members of the group. Nasrin was very worried about her husband, Ramin. But at the same time, God’s presence gave us special comfort.41. After we talked a little and were comforted by each other, I tried to sleep. For me, sleep helps me to feel more calm in stressful situations. But I also needed to regain my physical strength. So I slept, and when I woke up Nasrin said: “I was surprised when I saw how comfortably and deeply you can sleep in these conditions!” But in fact, I didn’t have much to lose; I was divorced and living alone. I didn’t have many ties. I thought they would eventually decide either to keep me there, or execute me, and I was relieved that my mother now had someone who would take care of her.42. Atena, who had come from Tehran and had handed herself in to the MOIS [Ministry of Intelligence], was interrogated with us during these days, and held in the same cell as Nasrin and me. Family visit 43. I think it was the second night when Ghasemi took me again for interrogation. His behaviour had changed a little. He apologised for kicking me the night before, and begged me not to curse him for it. “Everyone has a job, and that’s my job,” he said. “Don’t curse us, for God’s sake! I have a family too! They haven’t done anything to deserve to be cursed by you!” I began by telling him a little about Christ’s teaching about forgiving enemies and not bearing grudges or cursing them. First he listened for a while, but then he said: “OK, that’s enough! Stop promoting Christianity to me!”44. Two or three days later, they took me to a room and asked me how I was. They asked: “Do you want to talk to your brother? If he comes here and wants to talk to you, would you be willing to talk to him?” I didn’t expect this, but because of my brother’s connections and influence, it wasn’t that extraordinary either. Finally, I said: “If he comes here, I’ll be happy to see him.” I was taken to another room in the same hallway, and there I saw my brother, Mohammad, in whose face I could see fear. He was very worried about what had happened to me. I told him: “You know what dirty creatures these people are; otherwise a simple arrest wouldn’t scare you so much!”45. My brother tried to convince me to recant my faith in Christ, and aimed to take responsibility for my conversion. He had a doctorate in psychology and, although he lived in Tehran, he had even come all the way to Isfahan [nearly 450km] to give my ex-husband and me counselling during our marriage difficulties. But now he was telling me: “Maybe after the divorce, we should have supported you more. But because you didn’t have that support, you believed the lies of the Christians and were attracted to them.” I replied: “I have been a Christian for three years now and I am active in the church. My faith isn’t an emotional reaction to the situation I was in; I came to faith through personal research, and I’m not willing to give it up.”46. The discussion with my brother took a long time. I told him firmly that I had no intention to leave the path I was on. I said: “I have found God in Christ, and if necessary I’ll remain in this prison to follow Him. Of course, I don’t want to stay here, but if they won’t accept my conversion, I’ll accept the troubles of prison.” My brother was very upset and dissatisfied with my reaction. He said: “If that’s what you think, it’s your decision but, you know, whoever makes a decision has to live with the consequences.” I answered: “No problem. Thank you for coming. I’m proud to have a brother like you.” He replied: “If this is your final decision [to stay firm in your faith], you are no longer my sister.” Prosecutor’s office 47. The same day, or the next day, we were taken to the prosecutor’s office and there the bail of 20 million tomans [approx. $7,000] was set for our release. After the court hearing, I asked to call my family. At first, the officials said in a contemptuous tone: “You don’t seem to know where you are! Even if we were to deliver your corpse to your family, we would have done you a great favour, let alone allowing you to call them!” But an hour or two later I was allowed to make a call. My sister, Zohreh, picked up the phone. She was very worried, and crying. I tried to calm her down and tell her I was fine. I said: “Don’t worry about me. Everything is fine and comfortable here. We even have a refrigerator, and a TV!” As soon as I said that, the official said: “Don’t give additional information!” And he immediately hung up the phone. Further interrogations 48. I had written down all the information about the finances of the house-church on Excel, but I’d written it in such a way that the interrogators couldn’t work out what any of it meant. They put the Excel sheet in front of me and asked: “What do these things mean?” When I answered that I didn’t remember correctly, they said: “You are the one who wrote them, so you should know what they mean!”49. Other topics mentioned during the interrogations included the house-church’s finances and bank accounts. The interrogators wanted to separate my mother’s and my bank account details and find out how much of my money belonged to the church. They also wanted to know where we got the money from. I explained that our church members donated one tenth of their income to the church, and that this was our source of income. The interrogator said: “That’s not possible. How come we have to suffer so much to get money from people, but then people will so easily give a tenth of their income to the church?”50. They asked: “How did you spend this money?” I said: “We helped those in the church who were in need, or paid for food during training seminars.” Because the interrogators had seen the bills of the seminars’ expenses, and the receipts, they responded by joking: “You didn’t have much food!”Since I wasn’t scared anymore, I answered back, and they told me I was cheeky, and rude. They even said: “Your husband divorced you because you are so impolite! You made him miserable!”51. They had also printed out photos from our computers and phones, and wanted me to give them information about the people in the photos. In addition they had a list of different addresses and asked me about those places and the people who lived there. When I insisted I didn’t know any of the addresses, they told me I’d been to each of them on such and such a date. “Why do you deny it?” they said. And so I found out that they had been monitoring us for some time, and when I saw that they had a lot of information about a particular case, I understood it would be difficult to hide things from them. Most of all, the interrogators wanted to know what our activities were, and in what ways we did them.52. We were in separate rooms during the interrogations. I was once taken to a cell for interrogation. In the middle of the cell was a chair, with its back to the door. The interrogator, knowing that I had severe back pain, said: “Sit on the chair and don’t look back until we get you up.” I had been sitting on the chair for more than two hours when I heard Bita screaming and crying. Once, during Bita’s interrogation, I heard the sound of a chair breaking and, because I had been beaten, I wondered what was happening to her. I was very scared that night. Because they didn’t allow me to turn my head, I felt that they were standing behind me, waiting for me to move so that they could beat me. Then the interrogator came and put me back in my cell. From the cell, we could hear the sound of other people crying out in pain. They inflicted a lot of psychological torture on us like this, and threatened us, and asked us many insulting questions about our families.53. I was in ward Alef-Ta for a week, and during this time I was interrogated every night. Little by little, my initial fear and anxiety went away and I and the others became familiar with the interrogators’ methods and behaviour. Towards the end of the interrogation period, they even became like old acquaintances to us, and it seemed like they considered us as a kind of research project. Women’s ward 54. After the interrogations, we spent a week in “quarantine” [where prisoners are held before being transferred or released], which was next to the women’s ward. Then the officers took us to the women’s ward, through the back door, and did a full strip-search, until we were completely naked. During this inspection, they discovered that Sara had head lice, and didn’t allow her to enter the ward with us. Instead, she was returned to quarantine.55. The interrogators had warned us not to talk to anyone else in the ward, nor to tell them the reason for our detention. But some of the other prisoners saw our arrival through the glass of the room where the officers took our fingerprints, and they were curious to know about us. One of the girls came to the fingerprint office to do something, and saw the word “Christianity” as our charge, written on a piece of paper. When she returned to the yard, she told the other women. For this reason, as soon as we arrived, we had a great opportunity to talk to others about our Christian faith and the reason for our detention. There were a large number of women in the women’s ward of Dastgerd Prison, and almost everyone there found out why we had been brought there.56. After the physical examination and fingerprinting, we were ready to go inside the ward, when all of a sudden the officers said: “You can’t enter the ward with these clothes! You have to wash your clothes thoroughly, and then go inside.” We said: “We have no other clothes – only what we are wearing.” But they insisted that this was the rule, and that otherwise they couldn’t allow us to enter. Finally they brought out some old clothes left behind by former prisoners for us to put on. Then we washed all our clothes – from our jackets to our socks; everything we had with us. The “mothers” of the ward [older, experienced prisoners] came and helped us, and gave us some detergent.57. We didn’t know where to dry our clothes. On the one hand the weather was cold and the clothes wouldn’t dry easily, and on the other we were told: “If you hang your clothes on the line, you should stand next to them; otherwise they’ll be stolen in an instant.” We decided to stay together, now that there were five of us, so that no-one would hurt us. So we took it in turns to stay next to our clothes, in pairs, until they were dry. Finally we discovered some pipes that were hot, and spread the clothes out over them to dry them. And after all of that, they were mostly dry, so we took them with us and entered the hallway of the ward.58. Prisoners were divided into cells based on age groups. Because we were in the same age group, we stayed together. We were worried about being harmed by other prisoners – some of whom were very strange. Bita, Nasrin and I were married women, but Sahar and Atena weren’t, so we were especially worried about them. We asked if there were CCTV cameras there, or other ways to ensure the safety of prisoners. The “mother” of our ward explained: “There is a camera, but most of all you have to take care of yourselves.”59. Our “mother”, who realised we weren’t very familiar in that environment, also took care of us. But we later found out that before our arrival the prison officers had told the other prisoners not to talk to us. There was no bed for us to sleep on. We were told to lie down on the floor, in the space between the beds, and sleep there. But the other prisoners were awake until morning, and every night they used to gather together and sing sad songs – so, in the end, none of us slept until morning.60. The next day we were taken for another interrogation. The interrogator, who didn’t seem to know that we had been held in the women’s ward, became very angry when he found out. He shouted at his colleagues, and at us: “Who gave you permission to take these prisoners to that ward?” He ordered that we should be returned to quarantine. Of course, we were happy about this, because it was safer, and Sara wouldn’t be alone anymore. But even after Sara had been separated from us, we used to find out about her condition through our “mother”. That interrogation was our last interrogation, and the interrogators joked more during it and behaved more leniently. The honourable guard 61. During our detention, on the day of Sara’s birthday we wanted to do what we had seen in films and send a birthday message to her by hitting the cell wall. So we hit the wall with my metal hair clip, but because of the noise an officer came and said: “What’s the matter with you! You’re taking this place apart!” We explained and said: “It’s our friend Sara’s birthday, and we would like to ask you to give her this gift for us” – a sweet treat that Ramin or another leader had sent us. The officer seemed to be a very good and honourable man, and agreed to do so. He then took the gift, and gave it to Sara. We prayed a lot for him, and thanked him for his respectful behaviour during our detention. 62. After Arash and another leader were arrested, we also heard about them through this same honourable guard, but, of course, only to the extent that they were still in detention and in a relatively good condition. It seemed that Ramin hadn’t given them much information, so the interrogators had threatened him: “We’ll abuse your wife [Nasrin] if you don’t talk!” Finally, at one point, they took Nasrin to Ramin, to encourage him to write down some information. And after seeing that Nasrin was all right, and thinking that the information he was trying to hold on to was already known by the interrogators anyway, Ramin gave in and wrote some things. Quarantine 63. There were six of us in quarantine. There were also three other detainees, one of whom was a Baha’i girl. She said that she had been arrested and quarantined for about a month. I think her name was Baharak. We had two bathrooms and a toilet in the quarantine. And there was a window above the door. The ground in the quarantine cell was made from stone, and very cold. A 12-sq-metre carpet was laid on the floor. We also had a heater, which was broken, and water was dripping from it, which had also made the carpet wet. So it was always very cold there. To sleep, we spread our blankets under us. We didn’t have much space, so we had to sleep at an angle, and warm ourselves from each other’s body heat. And if we wanted to turn around, we all had to move together! 64. There were also some drug addicts in the prison, who were experiencing withdrawal symptoms and made very horrible sounds. And there were also others in the prison with terrible diseases, like HIV. We helped clean the ward, and care for the sick, which made the other prisoners respect us even more. The “mother” from the main ward also came to bring us snacks. 65. Bita was sometimes restless and cried because she was so worried about her children. We reminded ourselves of Bible verses, and worshipped, played games, and danced regularly, which helped keep our spirits up. In the second week of our detention, we were allowed to call our families. Leila and Bita’s husbands transferred money onto our prisoner’s shopping cards from outside the prison, so we could buy sanitary products or food from inside the prison. Release 66. When our bail was set, I was worried about who might be willing to bail me out. For some of the others, their spouses or parents did, but I wasn’t sure if my religious family, who were against my faith, would be willing to post bail for me. Every day in quarantine, in the afternoon, the names of those who could leave were announced. 67. The first one of us released was Sara, followed by Bita and then Nasrin. Eventually, my older brother deposited his pay slips as bail for me, and I was released, together with Sahar. We were very worried about Atena, who was the last one to be released. The Baha’i girl had also already been released. I was in quarantine for about four or five nights, and in prison for a total of about 12 days. Post-release interrogations 68. After my release, I had to report to the MOIS office for at least two further interrogations. I had to go to the MOIS office in Shahin Shahr, but before the interrogations I went to Nasrin and Ramin’s house. When I left, I noticed that their house was under surveillance, and at the interrogation I was told: “We know you went to their home before you came here!” 69. In the last session, I asked if we were allowed to communicate with each other now that our interrogations were over. They said: “You can’t have church meetings like in the past, but ultimately you are friends, so you can communicate with each other.” Confiscated items 70. They returned my confiscated items, apart from my books and other Christian items. They put my cash and bank cards in a box in front of me, and asked: “Do all these belong to you?” I said: “Yes.” They said: “Take whatever is yours. Whatever belongs to the church, leave it there. We don’t want you to have dirty money in your life!” There was about 600,000 to 700,000 tomans [approx. $250] of cash in front of me. I left about 30,000 tomans to avoid further questions, and took the rest. Then I went to the bank with the cards, and I was very happy to see my accounts weren’t frozen. About 3 to 4 million tomans [approx. $1,300] of the money that belonged to the church was in my bank account. I withdrew it, and took it to Leila’s house and handed it to her. Many of the others lost their jobs after we were arrested, and had no source of income, so this money was very useful in meeting their needs. Court 72. I didn’t attend the first trial at the criminal court, which took place on 30 June 2013 and was related to us having a satellite receiver and “inappropriate” hijab – under the charge of “unlawful relations” [for gathering with non-relatives of the opposite sex]. Our lawyer, Mr Mehdi Jahanbakhsh Harandi, told us: “You don’t need to attend.” In that court, Nasrin and her husband were fined for having a satellite receiver, and we were all sentenced to 40 lashes for our “inappropriate” hijab. But I attended the first hearing at the Revolutionary Court on 20 May 2013, which also issued a verdict. We were convicted of “anti-state activity through conducting house-church services”, and sentenced to one year’s imprisonment. 73. On the advice of our lawyer, Leila, Atena, Sara and I sent letters to the Article 90 Parliamentary Commission [a parliamentary complaints body], state prosecutor Gholam Hassan Ejei, the Supreme Court, the Parliament, the Deputy of the Chief Justice of Iran, the Office of the Supreme Leader, the Judiciary’s Civil Rights Office, the Head of the Judiciary, the Office of President Hassan Rouhani, and the head of the Islamic Consultative Assembly, Ali Larijani. In these letters, we sent an explanation about our situation and how we had been treated, as a complaint, and also protested against the false accusations made against us that led to our sentences. Leaving Iran 74. I left Iran on 20 February 2014, so I didn’t participate in the appeal-court hearing. My mother died six months later. After I left, the agents called our house twice, and asked about me. Both times my sister answered the phone. Their first call was after Persian New Year. My sister said: “She’s on a trip.” They replied: “We know she has gone to Turkey!” The second call was made in the summer. My sister answered again and said: “Don’t call here anymore; you know she went to Turkey, and we don’t know what she is doing. Don’t bother us!” Then they didn’t call anymore. 75. The bail amounts of all the others who left for Turkey were confiscated. My bail, however, strangely wasn’t seized.
Living in the Shadows of Oppression: The Situation of Christian Converts in Iran 12 August 2021 Reports The “systematic” oppression of Christian converts in Iran is the focus of a new in-depth report by the US-based Iran Human Rights Documentation Center. Available in both English and Persian, the report highlights the myriad ways in which converts to Christianity have been and continue to be oppressed in the Islamic Republic, in violation of both national and international law. From charges of “apostasy”, leading in some cases to the death sentence, to the extrajudicial killing of church leaders, the report highlights how Christians from numerous denominations have been affected, and particularly those belonging to the burgeoning house-church movement. The report begins and ends by analysing the Shia understanding of “apostasy”, noting that “although there are considerable disagreements and ambiguities regarding acts that could constitute apostasy”, Shia jurisprudence suggests it is a crime punishable by death. And it is in this context, the report suggests, that the treatment of Christian converts in Shia Iran should be understood. Beyond charges of “apostasy”, the report outlines the other charges levelled at converts, including “acting against national security”, or propagating so-called “Zionist Christianity”. It also provides numerous examples of Christian leaders, as well as regular house-church members, who have suffered under the regime’s campaign of “mass arrests and imprisonment”, while also detailing the known cases of extrajudicial killings of Christians since 1979. The report provides examples of confiscations of Christian properties, and explains how this practice is tied in to the Islamic Republic’s efforts, “since its early days … to diminish Christians’ presence in the country and limit it to small groups of ethnic Christians”, as opposed to converts from Muslim backgrounds. The final section of the report outlines the ways in which the Islamic Republic has violated its own constitution, as well as international law, before concluding: “Christian converts not only have been denied the right to practice their religion openly, freely, and without fear of repression, but they have also encountered the Iranian government’s repressive and discriminatory policies and practices. “Christian converts have been labeled as unrecognized or unofficial, their properties have been seized without compensation, and their due process rights have been violated. “Several pastors and Christian converts were murdered, many were sent behind bars, and many were forced to go into exile. “The Iranian governments’ actions in the prosecution of Christian converts are contrary to international human rights law and Iran’s Constitution.”
Christian convert fitted with electronic tag 9 August 2021 News Christian convert Reza Zaeemi was yesterday released from prison, on the condition he wears an electronic tag for the remainder of his nine-month sentence. He is also banned from leaving the country for two years following the completion of his sentence. Reza has spent 80 days in detention overall, including just over two months in Karaj’s Central Prison since starting his sentence there on 2 June. He is one of an increasing number of Christian converts to have been convicted of “propaganda against the Islamic Republic” in recent months. In Reza’s case, the charge sheet listed that his “propaganda” was specifically the “promotion of evangelical Christianity”. Article18’s advocacy director, Mansour Borji, said: “Article18 welcomes the news of Reza Zaeemi’s release, although he is not ‘free’ in the full meaning of the word. “We believe that no-one should have to endure even one day of imprisonment for exercising their right to religious freedom, and every day that Reza and many others like him currently serving prison terms for their Christian beliefs and activities are held is a contravention of Iran’s commitment to international law.” Reza is not the first Christian convert to have been forced to wear an ankle bracelet this year, in what appears to be an increasing trend. The same was true in the case of Farhad Mohebbi, also from Karaj, who was one of a number of Christians arrested during a series of raids on their homes in Karaj, Tehran and Malayer last June. Farhad and three others – Reza N, Alireza M and Arash R – were subsequently sentenced to 10 months each in prison, again on the charge of “propanganda against the state through the promotion of Christianity”. The four men began serving their sentences in February. Farhad was released with an electronic tag a month later, while the other three men have also since been released – on the condition they do not “re-offend”. Background Reza was arrested on the street outside his home on 27 November 2020. He was blindfolded and handcuffed, then taken to an unknown location, where he was interrogated for four hours, before being transferred to a detention centre belonging to Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps. After two days, he was taken to the prosecutor’s office, where the charge of “propaganda against the Islamic Republic” was read out to him. Reza was then taken back to the Revolutionary Guard detention centre for a further eight days, before being transferred to Ghezel Hesar Prison. A week later, he was released on bail of 60 million tomans (around $2,750). He was not allowed to call his family for the first eight days of his 17 days in detention. On 25 January 2021, Reza was sentenced to 18 months in prison at the 4th Branch of the Revolutionary Court in Karaj, but on 25 April an appeals court reduced his sentence by half. After his sentencing, Article18’s Mansour Borji noted: “It is quite clear from the charges against Reza that he is being sent to prison only because of his religious beliefs, in spite of the regime’s repeated claims that ‘no-one is imprisoned on account of their beliefs in Iran’. “We call on the Iranian government to immediately revoke this sentence and to explain why, contrary to its claims, Christian converts and other unrecognised religious minorities continue to be prosecuted and imprisoned for no other reason than their personal beliefs, in violation of the international covenants to which Iran is a party, and also of Iran’s constitution, which states that ‘no-one may be molested or taken to task for holding a particular belief’.”
Four more Christian converts charged with ‘propaganda against the Islamic Republic’ 4 August 2021 News Left to right: Mohammad Ali (Davoud) Torabi, Mohammad Kayidgap, Esmaeil Narimanpour, and Alireza Varak-Shah. Four Christian converts from the south-western city of Dezful are the latest Iranian Christians to be officially charged with “propaganda against the Islamic Republic”. The charge was read out to Esmaeil Narimanpour, Alireza Varak-Shah, Mohammad Ali (Davoud) Torabi, and Mohammad Kayidgap at the 4th branch of the prosecutor’s office of the Civil and Revolutionary Court of Dezful yesterday. Meanwhile, the lawyer for the four men, Iman Soleimani, told Article18 that while the other four Christians who are part of the same case – Hojjat Lotfi Khalaf, Alireza Roshanaei Zadeh, Masoud Nabi, and Mohsen Saadati Zadeh – have not yet been officially charged, he has “no doubt” that they too will be summoned to the next Revolutionary Court hearing. No date has yet been set for that hearing, but the four charged Christians were each forced to appoint a guarantor to pay their 30 million toman ($1,300) bail should they fail to attend. Four of the eight men – Esmaeil, Davoud, Hojjat, and Alireza Varak-Shah – were arrested in April and released two days later, after signing statements pledging to appear when summoned. The other four named Christians and several others were interrogated at the same time and ordered to sign commitments to refrain from further Christian activities. Some of the Christians, including Esmaeil, were beaten during these interrogations. The charges against the men fall under Article 500 of the Islamic Penal Code, one of two articles controversially amended earlier this year. Several other Christian converts have faced charges under the amended Article 500 so far this year, including three men in Karaj who in June were given the maximum prison sentence of five years. Two other Christian converts, Hamed Ashouri and Reza Zaeemi, recently began serving their own prison sentences – of 10 and nine months, respectively – on the same charges. In every case, the charges relate to their membership of house-churches, which Iran’s judiciary has labelled “enemy groups” of a “Zionist cult” but in reality are no different from the “house groups” attended by Christians around the world, with members coming together to read the Bible and sing Christian worship songs. In Iran, Christian converts are not permitted to attend the churches of the Assyrian and Armenian ethnic minorities – recognised as “Christian” by the regime – while converts are not allowed to build churches of their own. Therefore, these underground house-churches are converts’ only option for worshipping together with other Christians, and they only remain “underground” because they are not allowed to exist “above-ground”.
Abbas and Sakineh – Iran’s forgotten Christian martyrs 30 July 2021 Features The deaths of an elderly Iranian couple following a violent raid by intelligence agents on their house-church in 2008, though a relatively recent event, remains a largely untold story. Abbas Amiri, who was 63, and his wife Sakineh Rahnama – both converts to Christianity – died on 30 July and 3 August, respectively, due to injuries sustained during the 27 July raid on their home in the Malek Shahr neighbourhood of Isfahan. Abbas’s injuries – especially to his chest – were so severe that he was taken, in a coma, straight to intensive care in Isfahan’s Shariati Hospital. He died three days later. It was reported at the time that the agents had intensified their beating after learning that before his conversion Abbas had made the pilgrimage to Mecca and had also been a veteran of the Iran-Iraq War – both sources of immense national pride. Following Abbas’s death, his family were warned not to make too much noise about his passing, nor to mourn him too publicly – for example by erecting black flags outside their home. A photo of the couple’s graves. Instead, they held a quiet ceremony in Abbas’s hometown, Masjed Soleyman, where he was laid to rest the day after his death. Three days later, Abbas’s wife’s body would be laid beside his. Sakineh died from a heart attack, believed to have been brought on both by the injuries she sustained during the raid, and the distress of her husband’s passing. Yet even though these tragic events took place just 13 years ago – much more recently than most of the other known killings of Iranian Christians – little else is known about what happened. For example, a reported eight men, six women and two minors were arrested during the raid on the couple’s home, but nothing is known about these individuals – who they were, or what happened to them afterwards. It seems that in this instance, the authorities’ threats had exactly the desired effect. After Sakineh’s death, their son was reportedly told to immediately leave the city, and their home placed under surveillance. Despite calls at the time by religious-freedom groups for an independent enquiry into Abbas and Sakineh’s deaths, the event was simply swept under the carpet and has today even been largely forgotten in Iranian Christian circles. We remember them today.
Christian convert begins prison sentence for ‘propaganda against Islamic Republic’ 28 July 2021 News Christian convert Hamed Ashouri has begun his 10-month prison sentence for “propaganda against the Islamic Republic”. The 31-year-old submitted himself to Karaj’s Central Prison yesterday. Before doing so, he recorded a short video, in which he explained that he had been arrested for his Christian activities. He added: “I thank God for considering me worthy of enduring this persecution because of Him.” Hamed was arrested by Ministry of Intelligence agents two and a half years ago as he left his home in Fardis on the morning of 23 February 2019. The intelligence agents proceeded to raid his home and confiscate all Christian items, including Bibles and other literature, as well as computer hard drives. He was then taken to Rajaei Shahr Prison in Karaj, where he was held in solitary confinement for 10 days, before being transferred to Ghezel Hesar Prison, also in Karaj, for another two days. During interrogations, Hamed was offered a large monthly salary if he “cooperated” by becoming an informant against other Christians. When he refused, he was beaten. Hamed was finally released on bail after submitting guarantees in the form of payslips. Hamed and another family member were then forced to attend “re-education” sessions with an Islamic cleric. After four such sessions, Hamed refused to participate in any more, and it was then that the court proceedings against him began. The case against him was delayed by the Covid-19 pandemic, but Hamed was eventually sentenced in April 2021 following a court hearing a month earlier at the 4th Branch of the Revolutionary Court in Karaj. He was summoned to begin his prison sentence after the failure of his appeal on 26 June. Hamed was initially told to submit himself to prison within 10 days of his failed appeal, but he was later given a few weeks longer.
Christians summoned to answer charges of ‘propaganda against the Islamic Republic’ 23 July 2021 News Left to right: Alireza Varak-Shah, Hojjat Lotfi Khalaf, Mohammad Ali (Davoud) Torabi, and Esmaeil Narimanpour. (MEC) Eight Christian converts in the southwestern city of Dezful have been summoned to answer charges of “propaganda against the Islamic Republic of Iran”. The eight Christians – Hojjat Lotfi Khalaf, Esmaeil Narimanpour, Alireza Varak-Shah, Mohammad Ali (Davoud) Torabi, Alireza Roshanaei Zadeh, Masoud Nabi, Mohammad Kayidgap, and Mohsen Saadati Zadeh – were summoned on Tuesday, 20 July, to appear at the 4th branch of the prosecutor’s office of the Civil and Revolutionary Court of Dezful within five days. Four of the men – Hojjat, Esmaeil, Davoud, and Alireza Varak-Shah – were arrested in April and released two days later, after signing statements pledging to appear when summoned. Several other Christians were also interrogated at that time and ordered to sign commitments to refrain from further Christian activities, while some of the Christians, including Esmaeil, were beaten. Davoud has previously been arrested for his Christian activities – back in October 2017, when he was detained for a month. The charges against the eight men fall under Article 500 of the Islamic Penal Code, one of two articles controversially amended earlier this year. ARTICLE 19, an organisation dedicated to the protection of freedom of speech, called the changes to Article 500 in particular “a full-on attack on the right to freedom of religion and belief”. It is not yet clear whether the charges against the eight Christians will contain the new phrasing of Article 500, but this was the case when three Christian converts in Karaj were given the maximum sentences of five years in prison last month for “engaging in propaganda that educates in a deviant way contrary to the holy religion of Islam”. Dezful is part of Khuzestan province, where protests have erupted in recent days over a water shortage, and there have been reports of a heavy-handed response to protesters. One local told The New York Times: “We kept shouting, ‘We want water, just water, we don’t have water!’ They answered us with violence and bullets.”
‘Iranian judiciary intent on suppressing independent lawyers and rights defenders’ 16 July 2021 Analysis Embed from Getty Images An Iranian human rights lawyer says the latest move by the judiciary to stifle the independence of lawyers shows the presence of “even a small number of human rights defenders is intolerable for the judiciary”. Hossein Ahmadiniaz, who now lives and works in Europe, was speaking to Article18 after new regulations were introduced last month, giving the judiciary the power to issue and revoke lawyers’ licenses – a power until now held by Iran’s independent Bar Association. “For 42 years, the Iranian judiciary has been trying to undermine the relative independence of the Bar Association and gain more control over it,” Mr Ahmadiniaz explained. “All the efforts and goals of the Iranian judiciary are to suppress independent lawyers and human rights defenders. The judiciary itself has become a tool of repression and violation of the law of advocacy.” Mr Ahmadiniaz pointed out that the new regulations are only the latest in a long line of efforts to stymie the independence of the Bar Association, such as the passing of the “Third Development Plan Act” in 2000, which allowed the judiciary to establish an office for the “supervision” of lawyers. “We have been protesting ever since, but because [the judiciary] have the power, they continue to act against the law,” he explained. “Because the Iranian judiciary is not independent, it does not want the Bar Association to be independent.” The National Union of Iranian Bar Associations has opposed the new regulations, describing them as a “violation of the rights of citizens to defend themselves”. In a statement on 3 July, the union said they will not implement them until they are amended. Many Iranian human rights defenders have landed up in jail for their work, such as Nasrin Sotoudeh, and Amirsalar Davoudi, whose clients have included Christian converts like Amin Afshar-Naderi and Nasser Navard Gol-Tapeh. Meanwhile, though under Iran’s constitution every defendant is entitled to a lawyer of their own choosing, Iran’s judiciary continues to illegally vet which lawyers prisoners can use – particularly in “security” cases, such as those of Christian converts – or even completely deny them their legal right to counsel.
Bishop’s house ‘to be turned into a museum’ 14 July 2021 News A photo of the front of the house during the bishop’s time there, courtesy of the Dehqani-Tafti family. The former house of Iran’s first ethnic Persian Anglican bishop is to be turned into a museum, according to the state-funded Mehr News Agency. As Article18 reported last year, the house was confiscated by order of an Islamic Revolutionary Court judge in November 1979 and stood empty for decades until it was taken over by a state organisation in the past couple of years, and restored. Mehr says the museum will be “for public use and culture lovers” and will display “the art and history of the country”. It adds that the renovations cost the Mostazafan Foundation, an organisation directly ruled by Iran’s Supreme Leader, 4 billion tomans (around $175,000). The Mostazafan Foundation purportedly exists to support the poor – “mostazafan” literally translates as “oppressed” – but it is one of the richest organisations in the country, and its dealings are far from transparent. Bishop Guli (the youngest) with her siblings in the garden of what was their family home. Reacting to the news, the former bishop’s daughter, Guli Francis-Dehqani, who is now herself a bishop in the Church of England, told Article18: “If it is to be a museum, I hope it will in some way reflect its history, which was that it used to belong to the Persian Christian Church.” Last year, following the news that the Mostazafan Foundation had taken over the site, Bishop Guli reflected on her memories of growing up in the Bishop’s House: “I had a very happy childhood in the Bishop’s House, which was my home and where I spent my formative years,” she said. “I have countless memories of so many people who passed through the doors – colleagues of my father, friends and many, many guests. “My parents were very hospitable. When we left and the house was confiscated, it still included all our belongings – other than those we had taken in one suitcase each. “In the last few months it was the scene of unhappy events such as a raid and the attack on my father’s life. [Guli’s brother and the former bishop’s only son, Bahram, was later killed.] “The house, which belonged to the church, was unlawfully confiscated and the injustice of that still stings. “However, after 41 years of being vacant, I hope it will now at least be put to good use and that it will truly be used as a place from which those who are dispossessed and poor may be helped.” This was my childhood home and where I spent my formative years. So many memories, mainly happy ones. After unlawful confiscation 40 years ago, I hope and pray it will now become a base to help those in need until perhaps one day it will be handed back to the church. https://t.co/hGeBazohQw— Guli Francis-Dehqani (@Guli_FD) September 18, 2020
‘Just because I’m Christian, I’m deprived of any promotion’ 13 July 2021 Analysis Photo: IranWire An Iranian-Assyrian Christian claims he was denied a promotion and received much less compensation than he was entitled to after an injury at work – only because he is a Christian. “Farough” told IranWire that after losing three fingers due to a lack of safety provisions at his factory, “they were supposed to do an expert examination and pay me [compensation], but when I was paid, I realised that the amount I received was much lower based on the fact that I was a religious minority”. He added that when he returned to work, he was offered an office job due to his injury, so he decided to get a university degree to further his career; but after gaining a degree in business management – in an attempt to secure a promotion – Farough says a Muslim colleague was promoted instead of him. “One of my colleagues has been promoted and given a raise, because he is a Muslim,” Farough said. “I meanwhile have all the right conditions for employment and career advancement but, just because I am a Christian, I am deprived of any promotion.” When he complained, Farough says he was told “not to pursue this issue anymore or I would lose what I have”. “I know that expelling me is easy for them,” he added. “Being a religious minority gives me the right to be discriminated against by the authorities.” ‘Equality before the law’? Farough’s story is part of a longer analysis article by Turkey-based journalist Maryam Dehkordi, focusing on the myriad ways in which religious minorities are discriminated against in Iran, in violation of the Constitution. Dehkordi notes that, according to Article 14 of the Constitution, “the Government of the Islamic Republic and all Muslims are obliged to treat non-Muslims well and to respect ‘Islamic justice’ and their human rights”, as long as they don’t “conspire against Islam and the Islamic Republic of Iran”. Converts to Christianity are routinely charged with “actions against national security” – a sly way of ensuring such provisions do not apply to them. But Iranian-Assyrians are claimed by regime officials and their sympathisers to enjoy “equal rights”, as stipulated in Article 3 of the Constitution, which mandates that there should be “equality of all people before the law”. Dehkordi uses Farough’s story and those of other religious minority groups to suggest that in reality this principle is not applied. A Yarsani citizen tells her: “Yarsans have no social, administrative or political status, due to not being recognised in the Constitution, and their identities are being denied. In legal disputes at work, Yarsan citizens are generally forced to hide their beliefs and identities in order to receive their rights, and have to present themselves as Shiites and Muslims; otherwise, their complaints will not be processed. Photo: IranWire “Their loss can be physical injury and disability or death. In these cases, Yarsan citizens have no choice but to hide their identities; unless the issue somehow gets into the media and the authorities have no chance of concealing them.” The Yarsani citizen, who did not want to be named, gives the example of the murder of Mitra Ostad, a fellow Yarsan who was killed by her husband, the former mayor of Tehran Mohammad Ali Najafi: “The case of Mitra Ostad being a Yarsan was mentioned during the investigation of the case and was raised in the media. The allegation was made with the aim of acquitting Mr Najafi. “They wanted to make it permissible to shed the blood of this young woman by raising this issue, so that only ‘blood money’ should be paid to the accused and the victim’s family could not even demand retribution.” Dehkordi explains that, according to the Iranian penal code, “retribution” must be provided if their victim is a Muslim, “but under the same law, if the victim is from a religious minority, the punishment for the murderer is simply the payment of blood money” – and this is only possible for the recognised religious minorities, which does not include the Yarsan. But even for recognised minorities, Dehkordi notes that “the blood-money value of a non-Muslim is not equal to that of a Muslim”. Dehkordi recalls how the Assyrian former member of parliament, Yonathan Betkolia, once lambasted the Guardian Council’s rejection of a parliamentary bill aiming to address the inequality of “blood money” provisions, though it was eventually approved by the Supreme Leader. The former MP also took issue with Article 881 of the Civil Code, which refers to religious minorities as “infidels” in inheritance laws. “We are upset, because the civil law that was passed in 1937 and again in 1991 has created a situation in which I not know today if I am regarded as an infidel or a religious minority; because this law says that an infidel does not inherit from a Muslim,” he said. “This means that if the son of a religious minority family becomes a Muslim and dies, the other members of the family cannot inherit from him. Or my son, who knows this law, if he formally becomes Muslim, he is the only one who can inherit from me, and my other children will not inherit, which will destroy the families of religious minorities.” Photo: IranWire Other examples Shahin Milani, the Baha’i executive director of the Iran Human Rights Documentation Center whose father was the victim of a forced disappearance, told Dehkordi: “Many Baha’is have been persecuted since the beginning of the Islamic Revolution in Iran, but what has bothered some families is that not only are there no punishments for those who kill Baha’is, there is not even a search for the killer or killers.” Meanwhile, a Mandaean citizen named Salem, who lives in the southwestern city of Ahvaz, told Dehkordi that the status of his grandfather’s house has been “in limbo for years”. “The municipality has encroached on the Mandaeans’ lands … and we have neither permission to renovate nor permission to sell,” he says. “The municipality does not accept to buy the land. Once or twice we went to negotiate and sell but the price they offered was so low that we laughed. “This year, Ahvaz was introduced as the city of Mandaeans, but we, the Mandaeans, are wandering around town looking for the smallest amount of legal work.” Dehkordi concludes with another example from former MP Betkolia, who noted how an Assyrian church in Tehran agreed a Muslim committee could use their premises for a year, but that “seven or eight years passed and the committee did not leave. “Even my meeting with Ali Younesi, Hassan Rouhani’s special assistant for ethnic and religious affairs, was useless, and he said that he could not do anything about it. We interviewed the press and media about this for two years, until we were finally able to get back the church land.”