Iran's Peace Museum: the reality vs. the glories of war

The museum and monument were inaugurated in June on the 20th anniversary of the Iraqi gassing of Sardasht, in western Iran, which left more than 100 dead, mostly civilians. For Iranians, Sardasht is a symbol of Iraq's extensive use of chemical weapons in the war against Iran, the first use since World War I.

"That terrible suffering gave us a new understanding of the cruelty of war, the terror of weapons of mass destruction, and the importance of peace," the inscription reads. "Until the day when all people on Earth can live in peace, we will continuously send messages of peace to the world…."

Even the opening ceremony broke new ground. "For the first time it was a celebration, instead of mourning; it was a new way of respecting," says Khateri. "There were a new kind of people, children drawing for peace, and no longer Revolutionary Guards shouting 'death to America' and stepping on flags."

Steve Fryburg, director of the Dayton Peace Museum in Ohio, has visited Iran twice to work with the Tehran Peace Museum. "The people of peace around the world, including the Middle East, far outnumber the violent," he says. "Yet it is the violent people and violent news that is given priority in media coverage. This only distorts people's perceptions of other countries and cultures, increases fear, and reduces the chances for peace."

"At such a critical time in our relations with Iran, it is very important for people not to get a distorted view about Iran and its people," says Mr. Fryburg. "And with the rhetoric from Washington always concentrating on the Axis of Evil line, [there should be focus] on some of the positive things that are happening in the Middle East and in Iran."

The idea for the museum emerged in 2005, when Khateri was in Ypres, Belgium, at a conference marking the 90th anniversary of the first modern use of chemical weapons. He met the coordinator of the global peace museum network, who gave strong encouragement.

While many nations honor sacrifices made in war – Arlington National Cemetery is but one example in the West – many issues of setting up a peace museum here are specific to Iran. For Khateri, it had to start with his own epiphany more than a decade ago, when he was part of a group collecting remains of soldiers from mine-laced front lines near Iraq.

"Dozens of my close friends were killed in the war and hundreds were wounded, so I really respect their cause," says Khateri, who fought for three years. "[I]t was very important for me to discover the roots of the Iran-Iraq war. Why was my older brother killed? Why was my city Kermanshah almost destroyed by Iraqi missiles?"

During the war, Iranians were told that they were soldiers of God, fighting Iraqi infidels. Copies of the Koran found in captured trenches had been planted, Khateri recalls being told, to give the impression that Iraqis were believers.

In fact, the Sunni Arab Iraqis were believers. And when Khateri's group returned remains of Iraqi soldiers to their families at the border, there were other unexpected similarities that made his heart turn against war and toward peace.

"They call them 'family of martyrs,' just as we do," says Khateri. "It was really shocking psychologically to see those mothers, just like Iranian mothers, crying with photos in their hands, candles, and Korans."

Deep respect now drives his effort with the museum, despite right-wing critics. "I am happy with the ideological challenge, because it is a sign of growing democracy," says Khateri. "We have a chance to challenge officials on what was a red line."

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