How Iran's true believers pass the torch
Hardline conservatives share the core values of the Islamic Republic from father to son through the celebration of sacrifice and martyrdom.
from the March 27, 2007 edition
Page 3 of 4
"They transformed those war zones into a national and religious sacred place," says Mr. Taraghi. Visitors today "are the same young people that would support the country if it goes to another war. It's very nice to see [them] praying on that soil, kissing that earth that has been wet by the blood of those soldiers."
Behind those front lines, 45 miles from the border, the cities of Ahvaz and Dezful claim stature as two that have produced hosts of martyrs – and those willing to follow in their footsteps.
In Ahvaz cemetery, banners carry portraits of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, leader of the revolution and wartime chief, and Iran's current supreme religious leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. One banner reads: "Hussein is my guiding light, and the ark of my salvation." Another: "Martyrdom is the art of the men of God."
Some graves appear never to have been washed. Others receive constant care, like the dark slab for Sayed Ali Akbar Fatemehzadeh, who "attained the holy rank of martyrdom" at 17, according to the inscription.
"He was a great man, the nation owes him ... because if martyrs were not here, we would not have Iran," says Ali Akbar Khoshnazar, named after the martyr, a friend of his father. Ali Akbar, who is 18, came here alone, poured water over the stone, and prayed. "When I come here, my soul relaxes," says Mr. Khoshnazar, an electronics graduate who wears a silver religious bracelet. "My father says he was a spiritual person."
Indeed, the young martyr played an key role in the life of Khoshnazar's father, Gholamreza Khoshnazar. Early in the war, the father was 16 when he saw a 12-year-old guard with a heavy machine gun in his street. Uncomfortable that a boy was "guarding" him, he signed up for the volunteer Basiji force at the mosque.
The father and his friend Ali Akbar fought and studied in turns, and then were together in one offensive battle. Ali Akbar's unit left 30 minutes before Gholamreza's. "He was hit with a rocket and half his face was gone – that was a severe shock to me, because we really liked each other," recalls Gholamreza, a print-shop owner whose fist-length beard exhibits a plug of gray. "Then I promised God: If I was given a son, I would name him Ali Akbar."
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