Unexpectedly large turnout in Iran vote

Political indifference among reformists and critics of conservative clerical rule in Iran began setting in during the late 1990s, when the popular reform-leaning President Mohammad Khatami was unable to turn huge electoral victories into a catalyst for change.

Bitterness at the lack of progress was so deep by the end of Mr. Khatami's second term that many reformist voters gave up on elections altogether and boycotted the vote, helping pave the way for a conservative victory by Ahmadinejad – and total control by conservatives of all levers of power in Iran.

That was a lesson for reformists like Kaveh Jazani, a gel-haired engineering student who stood in line to vote outside a downtown mosque.

"[Absolutely], if reformists had voted then, we would not have Ahmadinejad as president," says Mr. Jazani. "This [election] is the only thing we can decide. Usually not a lot of people vote for the city council, but everything is being controlled by conservatives, and we want some reformist seats."

"A lot of people have given up on elections, and they won't come," says Navid Naderi, another engineering student standing in line beside Mr. Jazani, his long hair keeping out the winter chill. "If those who did not take part in the presidential election vote today, it could make a difference."

"Everyone's decision is different," protests a man standing behind the two students in line. "I voted for and support Ahmadinejad, and I don't live [in a poor area]. And so does my son."

"Khatami came to power with 27 million votes, and Ahmadinejad had just seven million," argues back Jazani.

But the man and his son were not the only Ahmadinejad believers waiting in this line to support his conservative faction again. Law consultant Khosrow Shahin says he took the president to task four years ago, when Ahmadinejad was mayor of Tehran.

"I argued with him, very hard. Very rough. But then he laughed, and kissed me, and said: 'Sit with me, you are my friend,'" recalls Mr. Shahin, in English. "He accepts criticism. And now, when I wrote a 10-page letter to the president [critical of all levels of government], they telephoned me, and one by one, page by page, item by item, they answered it."

Ahmadinejad "is really without ceremony, without lying," says Shahin.

That enthusiasm is not shared on a sidewalk 100 yards away, where Hamid and his wife have decided it is not worth voting.

"We're tired of the system," says the real estate dealer. "It's 27 years since the revolution. There have been lots of people in power; the situation has changed a lot, but none have done what they are supposed to do."

But their son, Iman, decided to vote for Ahmadinejad, who he said was "somebody who would be familiar with society, and not make promises but do things." Some 70 percent of his friends will vote, he figures, and the rest will not.

Such dilemmas do not afflict most people in the president's home neighborhood. There is a different reality at the mosque where Ahmadinejad voted, in front of which, during his 2005 presidential victory, large American and Israeli flags were painted onto the street for motorists to desecrate by driving over.

"He's an angel! This guy's an angel!" shouts one man, in tears as he makes his way though the throng and security guards to the president.

"Nobody accepted me, but this one ... he went through a lot of trouble to get me a job," the man announces. "I'll give my heart to him, if he wants it. I'll even give my eyes for him. He has given me much!"

"Ahmadinejad is like the truth. He's from here," says Hassan Hosseini, after the presidential motorcade finally departed. "You saw the example: He stood for an hour and answered every question. He could have just driven off."

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