December 19

Origin

The Iranian political system is commonly thought of as an expression of a Shiite theocratic tradition. In reality, this isn't the case; it's a personal creation of Khomeini, and one, I would say, that contradicts the traditional Shiite conception of politics.

Various currents participated in the revolution against the Shah, including those inspired by socialism and Western secularism. Khomeini gained almost unanimous consensus because he was considered the heir of the recently deceased Ayatollah Ali Shariati, who held views very close to the Western left of the time. Shariati, a man of vast culture, both Islamic and Western, studied in Paris where he encountered the most vibrant post-war left-wing movements. He translated classics of left-wing thought like Sartre and even Che Guevara into Persian. He was captivated by the revolutionary and utopian ideology of the Western left with its ideals of social justice, a non-alienating society, without exploiters and exploited, which were then interpreted through a Shiite religious lens.

This explains how, in its early period, the Iranian Revolution was seen in both Europe and Iran as a left-wing revolution, albeit with an Islamic character, while it subsequently took the very different path of Khomeini. He quickly managed to marginalize all other components, concentrating all power in his charismatic figure and then developing an original constitution that is still in force today. When he came into conflict with President Bani Sadr, the latter, despite having been elected almost unanimously, had to flee within days, barely saving his life. Currently, Iran's President Pezeshkian, who would have more or less the same powers as Trump, appears to be completely ignored in practice, almost unknown to global public opinion, which instead only hears about Khamenei.

Structure

From a formal standpoint regarding political bodies, the Iranian constitution is similar to many other modern ones: the president of the republic is elected by direct universal suffrage, appoints ministers, and his power is counterbalanced by a parliament also elected by universal suffrage with a single-member system.

But superimposed on this system is an element that profoundly changes everything: the "Velayat-e faqih" (Guardianship of the Jurist), which is a religious authority that controls the conformity of the political bodies' actions with Islamic laws.

The Velayat-e faqih is actually made up of a Rahbar (master jurist), whom we call the Supreme Leader, assisted by twelve experts. This body would correspond to the Constitutional Courts existing under various names in modern states, but in fact, it has assumed a function of absolute power, effectively marginalizing the president.

Indeed, it does not only judge the religious conformity (i.e., the constitutionality) of laws, without delving into the merits of political action. Instead, it primarily judges who can and cannot participate in elections based on greater or lesser religious reliability. It intervenes, above all, in all political decisions, determining what is Islamic and what is not: foreign policy, alliances, the nuclear program, and domestic policy.

It should be noted that in Islam, there is no clergy as understood in Catholicism, as an intermediary between God and man, and therefore no religious leader as a representative of God on earth (the Pope with the keys of St. Peter). Therefore, the Rahbar is not the religious leader of Iranian Shiites; strictly speaking, his power is not a theocracy. The constitutional system is actually ambiguous because the limits of power for religious and civil authorities, both constitutionally provided for, are not well defined.

Even the succession was actually established by Khomeini. By his designation, the "grand ayatollah" Montazeri had been chosen, but when Montazeri began to hold different positions from him, Khomeini had him removed from the succession and placed under house arrest. Immediately afterward, Khomeini indicated Khamenei, whose only merit was absolute loyalty to his line, and who was indeed elected a few months after his death and is still the Supreme Leader.

Shiite Political Doctrine

The Shiite faction arose from the dispute over the succession of the Prophet Muhammad. When Ali, the last caliph (successor) from the House of Muhammad (Ahl al-Bayt; the people of the house) was assassinated and power then passed to the Umayyads, one of Ali's sons, al-Husayn, tried to reclaim power but was killed with 72 followers in Karbala in 680 CE. The Ashura is celebrated in remembrance of this event.

Other descendants claiming succession followed, a total of twelve "imams" starting from Ali. The last of whom was Muhammad ibn al-Hasan, known as al-Mahdī (the awaited one) who is believed not to have died in 874 CE but only to have gone into occultation, to return to earth at the end of time to establish the kingdom of God.

Shiism (the faction) is not, however, reduced to a simple dynastic struggle, but an interesting doctrine was developed that in many ways resembles Saint Augustine's "Civitas Dei." They argue that after Muhammad, a truly "just" community according to the dictates of God's law (Sharia) is not possible on earth.

The death of al-Husayn is not simply an episode of a trivial dynastic struggle, but takes on a universal and metaphysical meaning: it is the demonstration that good cannot triumph on this earth, and al-Husayn, who prefers to die with his followers rather than surrender to evil, is the martyr (shahid) par excellence, the testimony to the wickedness of men that does not allow for a truly just society. Hence the doctrine of "occultation": only at the end of time will al-Husayn return to earth to establish the truly just society.

Thus, we have a pessimism similar to the Christian pessimism of Saint Augustine: evil exists in the world; it will always remain indissolubly intertwined with good until the end of time when the world will be redeemed by the return of al-Husayn (in Saint Augustine, by the return of Christ, who will separate good from evil). In this doctrinal framework, Ashura is not simply the re-enactment of a historical event that happened many centuries ago, but it is mourning for the evil that is in the world, now as then, and in each of us. The painful penance with flagellations and self-inflicted wounds is the expiation of evil, the penance. Similarly, on our Good Friday, we remember not only the Passion of Christ but the evil that is in the world that calls for penance. In medieval traditions that have survived in some places to this day (Cusano Mutri), there are flagellations similar to those of the Shiites: the penitent expiates the evil that is also in himself, in his own sins.

In this complex ideology, the state is necessary to repress the evil that is in man ("remedium carnis," as Saint Augustine said) but cannot establish a truly just society. From this, it follows that civil power must be distinct from religious power; only with the return of Imam al-Husayn will the two powers unite in a single person, beloved by God. Shiites, therefore, like Saint Augustine and even Luther, lean towards obedience to the state even if it is, by its nature, imperfect.

Khomeini, however, superimposed a religious authority on the political power, which assumes a modern elective democratic guise, and this authority is supposed to judge whether its actions conform to God's supreme law. But in this way, political power is actually guaranteed by a religious authority and therefore could only act for the good, which Shiite doctrine properly does not admit. Inevitably, the evil that is inherent in politics by its nature, as in all society, would be transferred to the authority of the interpreters of religious doctrine.

In simple terms, if there is a religious authority that evaluates and guarantees the adherence of government acts to religious laws, then Iranian society should be a society where God's justice reigns. But this is not possible according to the Shiite conception of society, and on the other hand, no one can think that Iran is in fact a perfect society. Yet, the evil cannot be attributed to divine laws and their interpreters. Khomeini's conception is, therefore, in contrast with the traditional Shiite view.

Conclusion

In reality, Khomeini's Islamic revolution has largely failed. The theocracy has been maintained in the country for 45 years but has not spread throughout the Islamic world. In fact, the conflict has intensified, becoming open warfare with the vast majority of Sunni Islam. The ideal of theocratic governments is now pursued only by extremist and fanatical Sunni currents who, moreover, consider Shiites impious and enemies (the caliphate). For 45 years, Iran has mobilized religious consciences and strong national sentiment against an alleged international conspiracy of the entire world against the Khomeinist Revolution, with America as the "Great Satan" mobilizing the "Little Satans" of the Islamic world against the Shiite revolution. But an Iranian who follows world news a little via the internet, not only Western but also Indian, Chinese, Russian, and even Arab media like Al Jazeera, finds no enemy will in the world at all.

For the Ayatollahs, the whole world conspires against the Khomeinist revolution because the whole world fears it, because it is good against evil, light against darkness, truth against lies. But knowledge of Shiite Iran in the world is very modest. Often, journalists themselves show scarce information and, above all, scarce understanding. The world is not fighting with Iran; for the most part, it simply ignores it.

For the world, Iran's Islamic revolution is not the touchstone but merely incomprehensible fanaticism, an expression of backwardness, a danger to be eliminated if it acquires nuclear weapons. It is no coincidence that the followers of change in Iran are students, urban populations, and the bourgeois classes: they are the ones who have access to the internet and can see the rest of the world, while Khamenei's followers are mainly in the poorer, rural areas.

Indeed, in the current tragic events in Palestine, Iran's actions have appeared completely isolated, in contrast with all other Sunni states that are now leaning towards an inevitable recognition of Israel, already present in the Abraham Accords. October 7th was Hamas's desperate attempt to prevent them, which has succeeded for the moment, but at the cost of Gaza's extreme ruin.

The Jewish question, as it used to be called, or antisemitism, as it is more commonly called today, is a problem that continues to resurface in both the Christian Western world and the Islamic world.

In the past, the answer was simple: Jews were those who followed the Jewish religion; when a Jew converted to Christianity (or, less commonly, to Islam), they ceased to be Jewish. By the law of probability, all of us likely have at least one Jewish ancestor.

Since nationality was once defined by religion, Jews formed a separate community that followed its own ethical laws, tolerated to varying degrees by the authorities, who sometimes protected them from popular unrest — but not always. The same was true in Christian countries for Islamic minorities — few in number, mostly in southern Italy and Spain — and for Christians in the Islamic world, whose communities were more substantial. Then came religious freedom, secularization, and with positivism, a cultural battle against religion, seen as ignorance and superstition. At that point, religious faith ceased to be the defining factor of nationality, and most Jews became atheists.

To us in the West, it means being the child of Jewish parents; in Israel, it means being the child of a Jewish mother (mater semper certa), thus a descendant of Israel (whom we call Jacob). One is still recognized as Jewish even if an atheist, but not if they adhere to another faith (Christianity), which seems odd.

A famous Jewish American journalist, Charles Krauthammer (1950–2018), defined Jewish identity by stating that:
“Israel is the only nation on Earth that inhabits the same land, speaks the same language, and worships the same God as it did 3,000 years ago.”

But even though this sounds true at first glance, a closer look reveals that it doesn’t match reality at all.

Hebrew was only a liturgical language, like Latin for Catholics or Assyrian for the Chaldean Church.
By the 5th century BCE, Hebrew was no longer spoken — they spoke Aramaic (the language of Jesus). After the diaspora, Jews spoke the languages of the countries they lived in: from German (later Yiddish) to Ethiopian (for the Falasha). Only recently was the liturgical language transformed into a spoken one, updated with modern terms borrowed from contemporary languages.

After the two revolts against the Romans, Jews were expelled from Palestine. With the rise of Christianity, they were permitted to return, but over the centuries, very few actually did. It wasn’t until the last century that Jewish immigration to Palestine began (the Jewish Homeland).

Most modern Jews are atheists; the religious ones are divided into a multitude of sects and schools of thought: there are the Haredim, who believe it would be blasphemous to leave even a corner of Palestine to the Arabs, and there are others (Neturei Karta) who consider the very existence of Israel to be blasphemous.

The same fragmentation exists in all religions. Even in Jesus’s time, there were Sadducees, Pharisees, Zealots, Essenes, Samaritans.

It is difficult to think of Judaism as a unified faith (unlike Christianity or Islam).
Certainly, Christianity and Islam also have divisions — many of them — but they share core beliefs: such as belief in the immortality of the soul and eternal reward or punishment. Among Jews, even these fundamental beliefs are not universally accepted.

In contrast, we could say that the Greeks, Armenians, or Chinese have spoken the same language for 3,000 years (albeit evolved over time) and have lived more or less in the same lands, even if their religion changed “only” 1,500 years ago.

It seems clear, then: Jews do not have a unified culture but have historically adopted the cultures of the various peoples among whom they lived.

Jews are like everyone else: if we look at the Jews who have had the greatest influence on our civilization — Marx, Freud, Einstein — there is nothing about them that distinctly identifies them as Jewish. The same goes for the countless other Jews living among us: in recent days, amid heated debate over the war in Palestine, I discovered that many, many figures in journalism and culture are Jewish — but nothing had previously indicated that to me.

Consider even Zelensky — he is of Jewish origin, but is there anything recognizably Jewish about him?

The population of Israel is made up of immigrants from many different nations, each bringing their own mindset. From Arab countries came some who still practiced polygamy; from the West came those who championed free love.

There are those who are more fanatical about sex than Bin Laden, and there are girls in bikinis on the beaches.

In more observant communities, there are even separate buses and elevators for men and women, but women also serve in the military just like men.

This process of assimilation is poetically narrated, for instance, in The Garden of the Finzi-Continis, which in my opinion is the finest novel of the past century.

Its author, Giorgio Bassani, tells the story of the Jewish community of Ferrara, which had enthusiastically embraced Fascism, only to be shocked and stunned when it was considered different from other Italians and subsequently marginalized (and, unfortunately, later exterminated). I also recall Margherita Sarfatti, the cultured and atheist Jew, lover of Mussolini, who played a significant role in giving Fascism its Roman identity — a key feature of the regime.

In my opinion, it is the fear of persecution that endured for millennia, culminating in the Shoah — a unique event in all of human history.

The idea of a Jewish homeland in Palestine arose as a solution to the pogroms in Russia and Eastern Europe, often incited by the authorities themselves. But the idea gained traction also because it was becoming clear that, over time, as religious identity ceased to define nationality, Jews would blend into local populations (think of the increasing number of mixed marriages) and thus would disappear from history, as so many other peoples have.

In reality, it was the absurd Nazi persecutions that reawakened Jewish identity. The Nazis believed, without any foundation, that all the world’s evils stemmed from the Jews — that they were not real human beings, but a sort of subhuman enemy of humanity to be expelled, and if not possible, exterminated. Hitler, in his madness, truly believed that even if he lost the war and Germany was destroyed, history would still glorify him for having rid the world of the Jews.

This led to the birth of the idea among Jews that their fate could no longer be entrusted to others — they could no longer simply pray for God’s salvation; they had to secure their own survival through struggle and resistance.

The State of Israel was undoubtedly founded through a historical injustice toward the Arab inhabitants of Palestine. But 80 years have passed: to think that the refugees could return to Palestine by destroying Israel (“Palestine free”) is a baseless utopia. By the same logic, one might imagine Istrian refugees returning to their lands, or Armenians and Greeks returning to Anatolia, or even that America might be returned to the Native Americans by expelling all white and non-Indigenous immigrants.

We must acknowledge this reality — it is a fundamental fact that cannot be ignored.

However, for Arabs, the fight against Israel is not about reclaiming a small strip of land: it is one moment in a metaphysical battle between good and evil, between believers and nonbelievers, against the Great and Little Satan, as Khomeini used to say. Israel, as Khamenei recently said, is a cancer, an infection that will soon be eradicated.

This mindset — this fideistic and utopian vision — has, in truth, been abandoned by all Arab regimes except Iran and Hamas. However, it remains deeply rooted in the Arab masses.

Once again, the Jews of Israel find themselves facing the threat of extermination: one day, they could be overwhelmed by the roughly 500 million Arabs.