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Women and the Politics of Resistance
in the Iranian Constitutional Revolution

Maryam Dezhamkhooy
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Women and the Politics of
Resistance in the Iranian
Constitutional Revolution
Maryam Dezhamkhooy
Women and the Politics of Resistance in the Iranian
Constitutional Revolution
Maryam Dezhamkhooy
Women and the

Politics of Resistance
in the Iranian
Constitutional
Revolution
Maryam Dezhamkhooy
Heidelberg University
Heidelberg, Germany
ISBN 978-3-031-28096-2 ISBN 978-3-031-28097-9 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28097-9
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To the people
of my land who have risen in the seek of life.
Foreword
Rarely has a feminist book been published with so much relevance to the
present. Following the death of Mahsa Amini in Teheran on 16 September
2022, at the age of 22, political protests broke out that quickly spread over
the whole of Iran. The young woman had been arrested for allegedly
wearing an inappropriate hijab—a piece of cloth, which carries so much
meaning. A symbol of piety and religiosity for some, others see it as a
means of systematic oppression and disenfranchising of women.
The starting point of protests against the regime in Iran is a piece of
material culture, which demonstrates how important ‘things’ remain as
symbols within contemporary society. Through the production and use of
material culture, gender and power relations have been and are negoti-
ated, confirmed, and challenged. Here we have a comprehensive assess-
ment of this process in the recent history of Iran—a vital contribution to
global understanding.
Contemporary archaeologists, who study societies through material
remains, are well placed to analyze, interpret, and comment on social
change. In this book, Maryam Dezhamkhooy has taken up the challenge
of highlighting the role of women in the socio-political developments of
early twentieth-century Iran. Then and now, women are at the frontline of
resistance. Women, as those responsible for childcare, care work, and
maintenance activities, are the primary reproducers of family structures,
societies, and entire nations.
In her work, Maryam Dezhamkhooy tackles how the everyday, lived
experience of women is intertwined with political movements across the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries and describes how their active
vii
viii FOREWORD
engagement plays a significant role in making change. Writing women

back into our political and economic histories becomes an urgent task for
historians and archaeologists, if we wish to understand the full extent of
society and social change.
Vienna, Austria Katharina Rebay-Salisbury

Liverpool, UK Rachel Pope
Lisbon, Portugal Ana Cristina Martins
November 29, 2022
Acknowledgment
This book is based on research conducted on the Iranian women’s move-

ments by the author between 2020 and 2022. During this time, I enjoyed
the generous support of Alexander von Humboldt Foundation. I am
grateful to a number of friends and colleagues for encouraging me to start
the work. I thank Thomas Meier and Leila Papoli-Yazdi for their academic
support. I would like to thank the AGE (Archaeology and Gender in
Europe) board, Katharina Rebay-Salisbury, Rachel Pope, and Ana Cristina
Martins, who wrote a wonderful foreword to the book. I am also grateful
to Andria Sinclair who developed the language of the text and Hasan
Mousavi-Sharghi who worked on the format. Eventually, many thanks to
all those Iranian scholars and activists who worked, researched, and resisted
despite all difficulties. Their efforts paved the way for the younger genera-
tion of Iranian scholars like me and encourage us to step further.
ix
Contents
1 Introduction 1
2 W
hy Women Are Absent from Political and Economic
Histories? 11
3 T
he Pre-Revolution Struggles and the Emergence of New
Classes 23
4 W
omen, Daily Life, and Street: Women’s Participation in
the Nineteenth-Century Demonstrations 49
5 E
conomic Crisis, the Coloniality of Consumption, and
Women’s Resistance 77
6 F
rom Resistance to Repression: Modernization and
Transformations of Women’s Movement109
7 Epilogue123
Index 131
xi
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
Abstract The introduction puts forward a short history and chronology

of Qajar Iran and a brief entry into the Western encroachment and the
economic crisis. The author explores the overflow of consumer goods and
how it has been utilized as a policy by Europe in the nineteenth and twen-
tieth centuries. Second, the absence of research on women’s contribution
and their critical engagement with the economic crisis has been in-sum
explored. Eventually, the sources and research method and content of
each chapter have been in short introduced.
Keywords Qajar Iran • The Constitutional Revolution • Women’s

movement • Pahlavi dynasty • Feminism
Concerning Iranian women’s efforts in the Constitutional Revolution, do

veiled Iranian women not deserve to be admired publicly? (Shuster The
Strangeling of Persia, 1912: 242)
The Qajar era (1794–1925) was an epoch of change, encounter, and close
contact with the West. From a socio-political perspective, at this time, Iran
should be considered a country that was searching for modernity. As a
result, Iranian society underwent considerable social transformations and
was marked as a transitional society.
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2023
M. Dezhamkhooy, Women and the Politics of Resistance in the
Iranian Constitutional Revolution,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28097-9_1
2 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
The Constitutional Revolution in Iran refers to the period between

1906 and 1911. This era is when the Iranian government changed from
the Qajar absolute monarchy to a constitutional monarchy and a
Parliamentary system, Majles (Odabaei 2016: 98; Abrahamian 1998;
Amanat 1993: 163). The introduction of a charter of Fundamental Law,
Qanun-e Asasi, limited the power of the monarchy and precipitated the
rise of modern political organization. Indeed, the Revolution marks the
birth of Iranian modernity (Matin 2012: 37).
Several studies have been conducted on the Constitutional Revolution
(see Ajoudani 2003; Katouzian 2012; Abrahamian 2015). Most of this
research have focused on the role of two specific groups: intellectuals and
the clergy. Whereas, the study of women has remained marginal to
Constitutional Revolution research. The role of women has continued to
be ignored despite their widespread participation in the Iranian
Constitutional Revolution, as evidenced by concurrent sources. Only a
small handful of research, such as that of Afary (2006, 2009), have
addressed the role of women in the Revolution. However, these research-
ers have chiefly focused on women’s achievements within the realm of
women’s rights. This simply means that other aspects of women’s activities
have widely remained uninvestigated.
Feminist political theory has demonstrated the significance of the study
of the socio-political aspects of women’s life in all disciplines (see Lugones
2007; Murphy 2010). Historical and archaeological scholarships have
been inevitably influenced by this advancement. Indeed, “scholarship on
women is required if we want to write comprehensive histories” (Gilchrist
1991: 499). The aim of this research has been twofold: first, this study
presents one of the very first historical and archaeological contributions to
women’s political actions and their resistance to modern consumerism in
Iran. Second, and in relation to the first objective, this research attempts
to demonstrate the biased nature of knowledge production in the studies
of women in past societies.
To grasp how women could initiate organized activities, I will investi-
gate women’s lifestyle and social life in the nineteenth century. It is worthy
of note that some sources consider the participation of women in the
Revolution as unexpected and without any background (see, e.g., Shuster
1912). To methodologically challenge this, we should notably examine
women’s life before the Revolution. In this study I examine the possibili-
ties and potentials inside the traditional lifestyle of urban Iranian women.
Seemingly, these possibilities and experiences, and their coping strategies
1 INTRODUCTION 3
and skills helped women to organize themselves in the Constitutional

Revolution.
Modern consumption is fundamentally a dynamic concept with a his-
torical perspective that can vary socially and chronologically in different
societies (see Matthee 2016: 1; Hansen and Schrader 1997; Fairchilds
1993: 850). Generally, “early modern Iran shares the underdeveloped
state of research on consumption with many parts of the non-Western
world” (Matthee 2016: 2). Remarkably, we can track the rise of modern
consumption in Iran in the nineteenth century.
The Industrial Revolution in Europe introduced significant changes in
political and economic relations worldwide and expanded European coun-
tries’ encroachments and the rise of capitalism in the nineteenth century.
During these years, the imposition of colonial conventions and the “sus-
tained attention of European imperialism” on Iran guaranteed the eco-
nomic interest of Europe in Iran (Cronin 2008: 197). European mass
products gradually destroyed Iranian workshops and traditional industry
products, particularly in textiles (Floor 2009; Abtahi and Emami-Meibodi
2015: 4; Lambton 1996: 181; Ivanov 1977: 14). This led in turn to a
subsistence crisis and poverty, on the one hand, and transformations of
social and daily life, on the other hand. Women were among the groups
who reacted to this situation.
Drawing on feminist scholarship (see Lugones 2007, 2008), I apply the
term colonialism in the broader context of the Iranian economic crisis and
discuss the coloniality of early modern consumerism. It is worthy of note that
Iran was never officially colonized, but the economic penetration of Western
powers implies an element of coloniality. In fact, one of the fundamental axes
of Western dominance was through the prevalence of consumption among
the (world’s) population. The coloniality of consumption emphasizes dura-
bility and its long-term effects. In Quijano’s words, an issue with “a colonial
origin and character” “has proven to be more durable and stable than the
colonialism in whose matrix it was established” (Quijano 2000: 533).
Women approached the economic crisis through the concept of house-
hold management, tadbir-e manzel/tartib-e zendegi. They claimed the
importance of home management and the promotion of women to the
household managers (Najmabadi 1998: 91). Frugality and economy as
science and less consumption turned into critical words in women’s litera-
ture and writings. It was proposed that a proper daily routine and less
consumption could support mam-e vatan, “the homeland”, and the econ-
omy. Drawing on home management they insisted on women’s education
4 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
and its critical role in sustainable household consumption. Remarkably

women’s activities were not only limited to home management. They
established organizations and initiated public activities to support domes-
tic products and resist hyper consumption. Hence, by this time, daily life
was assumed as politics. Women initiated a novel approach to enter the
emerging public sphere, as they constituted household management as a
socio-politically charged concept.
Since women considered daily life the same as politics, I will consider
women’s activities in the context of daily life accordingly. It is worth
emphasizing here that I have tried to avoid the production of Qajar
woman “as a singular monolithic subject” (Mohanty 1988: 61).
Appreciating diversity in women’s worlds and experiences, feminist stand-
point scholars encourage us to pay attention to the unique perspective of
each group of women to their social reality (Haraway 1991; Longino
1999). To avoid problematic generalization, I shall try to show that
women also had different understandings and attitudes toward progress,
the independence of homeland, and their own freedom. While for groups
of women, avoiding consumerism and reducing the import of Western
goods was one of the essential missions of each citizen, particularly women,
some women were very welcoming to Western goods. It is noteworthy
that the modern Iranian woman has several and sometimes contradictory
faces which should also be methodologically considered (see Chaps.
4 and 5).
With the rise of the Pahlavi government in 1925 in Iran, the tension
finds more complex dimensions. The government’s economic policies had
failed to support domestic products. Moreover, the authoritative regime
suppressed independent organizations, including those of women. This
study shows how activists and governments had different interpretations
of citizenships and women’s role in public. For example, the Pahlavi patri-
archal government imposed a modern gender system and (again) tied
women to domestic space. Women turned daily life into an arena for con-
stitutionalism and resistance to foreign powers, while the Pahlavi govern-
ment defined women’s role mainly inside the family. Eventually, the
tensions between the government and reformists, including female activ-
ists, resulted in imprisonment, assassinations, exile, and a ban on the press,
on the one hand, and transformations of women’s activities, on the
other hand.
Chronologically, I have focused on a period of 35 years (1906–1941),
from the early days of the Constitutional Revolution to the end of Reza
1 INTRODUCTION 5
Shah’s reign. However, I have included the eras of Mohammad Shah

(r.1834–1848) and Naser al-Din Shah (r.1848–1896) as a necessary back-
ground for discussions about the history of importation and consumption.
In order to understand the women’s movement, especially the first gen-
eration of women’s newspapers and writings, I also needed to go back a
little bit and examine the political, social, and economic condition of Iran,
at least since the Naser al-Din Shah’s era. This era is socially an era of dra-
matic changes and politically the time of the collapse of a dynasty and rise
of a new dynasty. So, in every sense, we are viewing a transitional society.
Here an attempt has been made to provide a timeline tailored to these
developments and the historical course of women’s participation:
Late Naseri Era1 (late nineteenth century)

Constitutional Revolution (1906–1911).
First Post-constitutional era (1911–1921). This period chiefly coincides with
Ahmad Shah’s reign and lasted until the Black Coup d’etat of 1921.
Second Post-constitutional era (1921–1945). This period begins with the
Black coup d’etat and the appointment of Reza Khan as the secretary of
war in 1921. Although Reza Khan was crowned in 1925, I have set the
year 1921 as the dividing point, given the fact that almost all women’s
press was banned from publishing after the Coup d’etat.
From a methodological perspective, this research is chiefly text-based. I

have relied more on written documents and sources to examine the wom-
en’s movement and activities in the late nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries. Investigating first-hand documents, such as memoirs and news-
papers, I have tried to consider the transformation of agents, press, and
policies. Also taking into consideration that, after the establishment of
Pahlavi dynasty, some activists changed their point of view and started
cooperating with the government. Hence, I have attempted to trace
changes in strategies and attitudes of the agents and consider transforma-
tions of their social and political life. In fact, the potential of historical
documents as multi-layered texts should be contextually examined.
To decode and understand the role of women’s newspapers, we also
need to investigate those published by male journalists, especially wom-
en’s writings in these newspapers. Accordingly, I have also considered
women’s writings in a number of prominent newspapers of the time, such
1
Naseri era refers to the long reign of Naser al-Din Shah.
6 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
as Iran-e Now. Interestingly, some dialogues and discussions took place in

articles and notes between male and female journalists.
It should be considered that as an archaeologist, the way that I consider
text is a bit different. Thanks to archaeological methods, it is sometimes
possible to read layers of texts related to materialities. Indeed, I have cho-
sen to track material culture and visual evidence in texts; in this regard
small things such as newspaper advertisements, clothes designs, fashion,
and make up pages have been considered as materiality of consumption.
I have also investigated material culture, such as imported European
cosmetic products, accessories, textiles, and clothing preserved in muse-
ums or by families. Regarding the latter, Women’s Worlds in Qajar Iran,
the digital archive supported by Harvard University facilitated access to
data and materials preserved by individuals and families and by research
centers as well. It is worth mentioning that in this study I have tried to
overcome barriers and misunderstandings due to translation. The Persian
language is a gender-neutral language. Gender identification articles do
not exist in Persian. Therefore, I have tried to choose the words and gram-
matical structures which more appropriately convey Persian words and
meaning. For example, I have applied the words “man” and “woman”
instead of “male” and “female” whenever possible, as “man” and “woman”
in their singular form are used in Persian. Also, I have used the plural
forms, “women” and “men”, as the plural forms have been applied more
in original Persian texts which refer to social structure and the recognition
of a plural identity especially among women.
The book is divided into seven chapters. Chapter 2 puts forward meth-
odological concerns on the relative absence of women from political and
economic histories. Archaeological and historical methodologies that rely
on the binary category of man and woman mask the complexity of social
life and of women’s role in public life. I will argue that an analytical focus
on women’s everyday lives, as the context of interaction, where the bor-
ders between public and private fade, provides a manifold methodology
that embraces the entanglement of public and household.
Chapter 3 reviews the social and political aspects of Iranian society in
the nineteenth century. As a component of this, it looks at the long-term
circumstances that contributed to the Revolution. It also considers the
social order, traditional powerful classes, and the emerging social forces in
Qajar society, including women. This background helps us to contextual-
ize women’s contributions to the revolution, their programs and demands.
1 INTRODUCTION 7
Chapter 4 examines the background of women’s presence in public

before the emergence of the modern public sphere. The chapter empha-
sizes the participation/organization of demonstrations by women. Here I
have chiefly tried to investigate the role of ordinary women in bread riots.
This role has been discussed as a background for women’s contribution in
public life. The chapter also considers the traditional lifestyle of women
and its role in articulating new forms of women’s contribution in public at
the turn of the twentieth century. The misogynistic discourse of didactic
literature, women’s reaction to this, and emerging forms of resistance and
participation in society have also been briefly investigated.
Chapter 5 investigates the Constitutional Revolution and new forms of
women’s social contribution. It puts forward women’s different strategies
of resistance to Western economic encroachment and their call for active
participation in public and responsibility for the country.
Chapter 6 analyses the modernization project as a multifaceted project
that stimulated the institutionalization of the modern gender system. It
discusses how this process implied new notions of housework as apolitical
and pushed women into domestic space.
The concluding chapter draws together the main arguments and results
of the research, highlighting the dynamic nature of women’s lives and
resistance against Western encroachment.
The book is a preliminary contribution to the study of the role of
women in the contemporary history of Iran. This research attempts to
recall the forgotten voices of women to challenge official versions of the
past and replace them with alternative narratives and truths (Buchli and
Lucas 2001). Fortunately, archaeological and historical methods allow us
to bring forgotten things and people partly back to collective memory.
There is no need to say that our research reflects the issues, tensions, and
challenges of the contemporary world and doing research would be the
first step to turn criticism into transformative action. I hope this research
will generate fruitful debates and stimulate elaborated research on women,
which appreciates the complexity and intersectionality of gender research.
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Iran, Case of Study: The City of Yazd Traditional Motifs. Journal of Iran and
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———. 2009. Sexual Politics in Modern Iran. New York and Cambridge:
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Buchli, Victor, and Gavin Lucas. 2001. The Absent Present: Archaeologies of the
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Floor, Willem. 2009. Textile Imports into Qajar Iran: Russia Versus Great Britain:
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Hansen, Ursula, and Ulf Schrader. 1997. A Modern Model of Consumption for a
Sustainable Society. Journal of Consumer Policy 20: 443–468.
Haraway, Donna J. 1991. Simians, Cyborgs, and Women. New York: Routledge.
Ivanov, Mikhail Sergeevich. 1977. The Modern History of Iran. Translated by
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(in Persian).
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A. Kowsari. Tehran: Nei Publishing.
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———. 2008. The Coloniality of Gender. Worlds & Knowledges Otherwise 2
(2): 1–17.
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1 INTRODUCTION 9
Matthee, Rudolph. 2016. Patterns of Food Consumption in Early Modern Iran.

Oxford University Press: Oxford Handbooks Online.
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CHAPTER 2
Why Women Are Absent from Political

and Economic Histories?
Abstract This chapter considers methodological concerns on the relative

absence of women in political and economic histories. Archaeological and
historical methodologies that rely on the gender binary of man/woman
mask the complexity of social life and women’s role in public life. Moreover,
the chapter discusses the dominance of harem discourse in the studies of
women in Muslim-majority countries, highly influenced by orientalism
and colonialism. These have led to a set of binaries such as public and
private. The chapter emphasizes the necessity of moving beyond the
dichotomies and considering daily life as a dynamic context of interaction
between public and private. Moreover, the chapter provides an overview
of groundbreaking concepts such as the everyday forms of resistance, the
dailiness of women’s life and maintenance activities, which argue for the
significance of daily life. The chapter argues that the reinvestigation of
methodological challenges indicates that we do not necessarily need new
data but new methodological concerns in favor of gender equality and a
more dynamic picture of past societies in research.
Keywords Feminism • Gender binary • Muslim women •

Methodology • Orientalism • Qajar Iran • Everyday forms of resistance

Switzerland AG 2023
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28097-9_2
12 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
During the last decades, the increasing attention within women’s history
on how women have configured and expressed their political actions has
enriched the picture of women’s lives. This interest has respectively led to
methodological concerns. Women’s archaeology and history are deserv-
edly growing subfields, “with concerns that run from the power (im)bal-
ance between the sexes in the present practice of these disciplines to the
technical and methodological questions of how gender issues are or are
not recoverable from archaeological and historical contexts” (Gilchrist
1991: 495).
When I came across the evidence of women’s activities against the
import and consumption of European mass productions in Iran I asked
myself why they have still remained uninvestigated. As Murphy (2010: 21)
has subtly demonstrated, traditional political history has told stories about
men and masculine actions performed within narrowly defined political
institutions. Political historians equated politics with parliaments and
(mainly male) parliamentarians and thus have overlooked political activi-
ties that fell outside these parameters (Murphy 2010: 21). In this chapter,
I would like to put forward some methodological concerns which are
deeply connected with the relative absence of women, particularly Muslim
women, from economic and political histories.
“From a gender perspective, researchers have noted that traditional
methodologies, epistemologies, and methods are not scientifically
objective but the opposite: they generally ignore women’s knowledge
by showing bias towards the male perspective” (Beetham and
Demetriades 2007: 199). It is worth noting, any (un)intentional effort
to reverse this power imbalance would be methodologically polemical.
Feminist scholarship has been largely concerned with critique.
Methodologies used for research on women in development were devel-
oped from critiques of particular sex, class, and race biases found in
traditional research methodologies (Beetham and Demetriades 2007:
199). What we need in historical studies of women is the promotion of
self-criticism and the constant re-evaluation of our methodologies. This
means that we should be aware of dominant perspectives in knowledge
production and of our standpoints and subjectivities which highly influ-
ence our work and interpretations.
2 WHY WOMEN ARE ABSENT FROM POLITICAL AND ECONOMIC HISTORIES? 13
Methodological Traps: West/East, Man/Woman,

Public/Private
Historical studies of women in Iran are embedded in a set of binaries
which can be recognized as methodological traps. These traps are deeply
connected to the West and East encounter, and to the establishment of
Western knowledge, chiefly expressed as Orientalism, in the region. The
developing West/backward East binary has framed the studies of eigh-
teenth- and nineteenth-century Iranian art, culture, and history. Histories,
travel literature, and the visual imagery of eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century European Orientalists have reinforced this image (Booth 2010: 3;
Grigor 2008: 24).
At the beginning of the twentieth century, orientalists, chiefly men,
were invited by the Pahlavi government to assist in the revival of Persia
(see Grigor 2016: 54; Grigor 2008: 27). For Pahlavi scholars and Western
orientalists, the Qajar kings were blamed and belittled in Pahlavi histori-
ography for backwardness, despotism, and lack of taste (Grigor 2016: 54).
For example, German archaeologist and orientalist Ernst Herzfeld “not
only methodologically was categorizing Iranian cultural history into neat
periodic compartments but also constructing the classic Orientalist east-
west binaries” (Grigor 2008: 27–28).
This colonial framework has unfortunately persisted to the present and
has adversely affected research and studies of Qajar Iran, including gender
and women’s studies. This model extremely reduces Qajar Iran and its
social, political, economic, and cultural characteristics to a simplistic ver-
sion: of a male-dominant, backward, and decadent culture. Accordingly,
the oppositions of man and woman, public and private, are recognized as
the cornerstones of Iranian culture and social life in the Qajar era.
Highly influenced by the conservative framework of Qajar studies,
studies of women in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries use these
oppositions to analyze historical and archaeological evidence about women
(e.g., see Bahrami-Borumand 2018; Varmaghani et al. 2016). This frame-
work oversimplifies the lived experience and social agency of individuals.
Women are simply considered as the ones who are not men. “Women are
defined in relation to men, the norm. Women are those who do not have
a penis; those who do not have power; those who cannot participate in the
public arena” (Oyěwùmí 1997: 34). “Women’s behaviour has been recog-
nized as deviant to a standard which is male” (Gilchrist 1991: 498). These
approaches contribute to subsume female agents as passive agents who
14 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
suffer “the absence” of men’s abilities, power, and privilege. This has led
to generalizations that attribute homogenous subjectivities to women and
fails to see women as an independent and internally heterogeneous
category.
To clarify the case, I shall briefly discuss an example from Qajar Iran.
The duality of man/woman has affected the analysis of textual evidence
and of material culture, particularly architecture. The binary of biruni as
the male, public, and visible sector of domestic architecture versus anda-
runi as the female, less visible, and socially unimportant sector has
extended beyond Qajar studies and becomes the basis of Iranian architec-
tural studies in all eras. Indeed, the gender duality of man/woman implies
a hierarchical perspective and the descent of women. “The distinction
between high and low social visibility has been gendered as a division
between public and domestic life. The most ‘high social visibility’ activi-
ties, such as political action and resistance, are attributed to men, and most
‘low social visibility’ activities, such as domestic activities, are attributed to
women” (Voss 2008: 868). It comes as no surprise then that the role of
women in politics, economics, and trade which are traditionally consid-
ered men’s domains is ignored. This artificial division between public and
private has led to the removal of women from Iranian intelligentsia and
reformists of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The histories of
Iranian intellectualism in Qajar Iran are currently dominated by a mascu-
line model, while commonly women have been investigated by female
scholars who may be considered at best women activists and publishing in
“women only” contributions (see Afary 1998; Sanasarian 1985, 2005).
This view is itself rooted in orientalism. According to Saied (1994: 7)
Orientalism “is a collective notion of identifying us Europeans as against
all those non-Europeans”. Saied believes that Western knowledge is also
produced within this discourse. The biased nature of Western knowledge
toward Muslim-majority societies has resulted in the dominance of harem
stories. “The harem [is] as an almost ubiquitous element in Western rep-
resentations of the Oriental Other” (Booth 2010: 6).
“The Euro/American imagery unambiguously placed ‘Eastern’ women
in an envisioned harem of Western making” (Booth 2010: 3). A harem
symbolized the duality of aggressive men and oppressed women. It is a
metaphor for the passivity and inferiority of Muslim women (see Ahmed
1982: 522). Elie (2004: 139) calls this harem syndrome a complex ensem-
ble of ideas and of nearly indelible images that have constituted a kind of
doxology informing the discourse on gender in the Middle East.
Yet, in the West, images and attitudes that the discourses and images of
orientalism shaped continue to saturate assumptions about Middle Eastern
and Eastern women (Booth 2010: 3). It is worth noting that this dichot-
omy has also been produced and reproduced by non-Western and native
scholars (see Booth 2010). In fact, the dominant discourse in Iran’s his-
torical scholarship on Qajar women is still harem stories. Qajar women
have been simply pictured as plump hairy women who were obsessed with
two things: love affairs and conspiracy (see, e.g., Motazed 2000). This
oversimplified image has then been widely generalized. As Mohanty states
(1988) each scholar, regardless of race and color, who joins in this dis-
course, reproduces this dichotomy.
Postcolonial and poststructuralist feminist theories raise questions
about whether binary categories of analysis are adequate to interpret the
material culture (Voss 2008: 861). A number of feminist commentators
have already called for identifying “the androcentric and indeed Eurocentric
assumptions underlying the ways in which women and men are portrayed”
(Smith 2008: 164). Women of color and Third World feminisms have
consistently shown the way toward a critique of this and understood the
gender binary introduced by the West as a tool of dominance (Lugones
2007: 197; Oyěwùmí 1997: 35). They have already called for “the urgent
need to redirect the debate on gender in the Middle East” (Elie 2004:
139; Ahmed 1982; Bullock 2010). Scholars have been dissecting Orient-
scapes and explicating them as politically loaded and romantically infused
products of European and American minds, pens, and ambitions over time
(Booth 2010: 3).
Therefore, understanding the gender system in pre- and non-modern
societies is pivotal to understanding the place of women in these societies.
The reason to historicize gender formation is that without this history, we
keep on centering our analysis on a binary, hierarchical, oppressive gender
formation that rests on male supremacy (Lugones 2007: 187). Instead we
need more dynamic gender studies that deconstruct the dichotomy that
has resulted in presenting a monolithic and ahistorical image of women in
general and non-European women in particular.
Indeed, any attempt to deal with women and the production of histori-
cal scholarship on the women of the nineteenth- and early twentieth-
century Iran necessitates a deconstruction of these firmly established
oppositions. Overall, researchers should move toward a syncretic model of
society in which multiple active gendered agents contribute to public and
social life. In historical and archaeological studies of women, it is vital to
16 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
reinvestigate the link between women and domestic work and the prohibi-
tion of women’s presence in public. These together assist us in including
women and other genders as active agents involved in cultural transforma-
tions in favor of a more inclusive picture of past societies.
One of the main goals of this research is to show the diversity and mul-
tiplicity of women’s subjectivities in Qajar Iran. Instead of emphasizing
the differences between men and women in the binary, particularly in Iran
as a country with a non-binary gender system (see Najmabadi 2001,
2005), we should seek differences between women. Methodologically, it
is also polemical to put all women in a unitary model. Class and other
distinguishing factors, such as literacy and cultural differences, have com-
municated their economic and political viewpoints and influenced goals
and strategies (see Chaps. 4 and 5). This should be recognized and trans-
lated into methodologies. Instead of treating women as a homogeneous
and passive group, we should acknowledge that women, like men and
other genders, were politically and socially charged human beings. This is
the point that intersectional feminism has brought into the foreground.
I will attempt to challenge the image of Qajar women as incapable,
disempowered, and secluded through the investigation of their resistance
against European economic encroachment. I begin with a brief investiga-
tion of women’s everyday life in pursuit of women’s agency and strategies
of coping. Then, I will investigate women’s participation in the economic
uprisings of the nineteenth century, known as the bread riots, and the
formation of organized resistance to the overflow of Western industrial
mass products.
Daily life as an analytical component has been less favored in gender
research, especially in archaeology and history (see, e.g., Mohaghegh
Neyshabouri, unpublished PhD thesis 2020: 2; Papoli-Yazdi and
Dezhamkhooy 2021). Inspired by novel approaches in social science, the
need for proper theoretical archaeologies and histories which address the
daily lives of men and women has been already adequately discussed by
feminist scholars (Gilchrist 1991: 499; Aptheker 1989).
Like many other societies, daily activities had a significant role in the life
of Qajar women. I will consider women’s resistance in the context of daily
life and explore how political, social, and economic factors have trans-
formed the meanings of women’s daily routines. Indeed, making women’s
concrete experiences the “point of entry” for research and scholarship
exposes the rich array of new knowledge contained within women’s expe-
riences (Brooks 2007: 58). It is noteworthy that traditional research using
the binary model has “failed to notice the coping abilities these women
exercised on a daily basis” (Swigonski 1994: 391).
Anthropologist James Scott (2008: 33) criticizes the ignorance of
everyday forms of resistance in favor of the emphasis on “open political
action”. Instead, Scott discusses the less visible, everyday forms of resis-
tance, particularly among lower classes and subordinate groups, such as
women. He calls them “the ordinary means of class struggle. When they
are widely practised by members of an entire class against elites or the
state, they may have aggregate consequences all out of proportion to their
banality when considered singly” (ibid.: 34). Scott’s research reveals the
significance of resistance strategies in daily life as a “prosaic but constant
struggle” between the subordinate and the powerful (Scott 2008: 33;
Bayat 2013; Chaudhary et al. 2017). According to Scott (2008: 42) a
prominent aspect of everyday forms of resistance is their cumulative
impact, which participates in the massive socio-political transformation.
Equally noteworthy is that feminist scholarship has also argued for the
significance of daily activities and their role in women’s life and raising
resistance from a gendered perspective (see Aptheker 1989; Brooks 2007:
54; Collins 1998, 2000). In seeking to make visible women’s political
activities outside of conventional masculine institutions, feminist scholar-
ship has revised scholarly understandings of what constitutes politics
(Murphy 2010: 2021) and has argued for the alternative understanding of
power. Hartsock (1997: 607) has subtly discussed that “to be without the
power of dominance is perceived as being very nearly without the power
to act at all, or at least as being without the power to act effectively”.
Starting our investigation of power relations from the standpoint of
women exposes us to experiences that changes the way we see and define
power/power relations (Mohaghegh Neyshabouri 2020: 43). Defining
power as “capacity”, or as Hanna Pitkin suggests, replacing “power over”
with “power to” brings our attention to other aspects of power, especially
the “powers of the allegedly powerless” (Pitkin 1985: 276; Mohaghegh
Neyshabouri 2020: 43).
Feminist standpoint theory has put forward striking methodological
discussions in terms of women’s different lived experiences. According to
feminist standpoint theory, knowledge is socially situated and research
should begin with the lives of the subordinate. It seeks to uncover the hid-
den knowledge that women have acquired “from living life on the mar-
gins” (Brooks 2007: 77; Bowel 2021: 16).
18 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
Connecting the links between standpoint feminism and the theory of

everyday forms of resistance, I have attempted to consider the emerging
intellectual and modern middle-class women in Iran as a dynamic group
who applied different strategies in daily life to resist Europe’s economic
penetration and the growing consumerism. Generally, their strategies to
resist Western encroachment and their attitudes toward Iran’s political and
economic crisis were notably different from men.
Drawing on “the dailiness of women’s life” (Aptheker 1989), I try to
consider daily life’s implications and significance as the building block of
social life, which was strongly linked to the issue of women’s presence in
the public sphere in the Constitutional era. In doing this, I have adopted
the term “maintenance activities” (Montón-Subías 2018; Montón-Subías
and Sánchez-Romero 2008; Montón-Subías 2010) introduced by Spanish
archaeologists to avoid the duality of public and private and to transcend
the limiting and biased nature of conservative terms, such as domestic
activities. It is through the material practices enacted in daily life that soci-
eties change.
Hence, a multiscalar focus on women’s daily life can draw attention to
the overlooked aspects of resistance during the Constitutional Revolution.
Women’s resistance and revolutionary activities in the nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries were highly structured by their different lived experi-
ences. The renewed investigations of women’s role promise new perspec-
tives on the less investigated aspects of Qajar Iran as a diverse and
multicultural society.
A set of theoretical, methodological, and, of course, political issues are
involved in the absence and the downplay of women. It is the responsibil-
ity of historical scholarship, among other disciplines, to unmask the biased
nature of knowledge. Critical engagement in “studies of women in the
past and in our own historiography promise a greater balance for the
future understanding” (Gilchrist 1991: 500). It is of hope that this mod-
est effort challenges the existing attitudes toward the role of women in
Qajar Iran.
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CHAPTER 3
The Pre-Revolution Struggles

and the Emergence of New Classes
Abstract This chapter reviews the social, economic, and political aspects
of Iranian society in the nineteenth century. Indeed, it looks at the long-
term circumstances that contributed to the Constitutional Revolution. It
also considers the social order, traditional powerful classes, and the emerg-
ing social forces in Qajar society, including women and the Babi move-
ment, and their role in the revolution. This background helps us to
contextualize women’s contributions to the revolution, their programs,
and their demands.
Keywords Iranian intelligentsia • Babism • Reforms • Female

intellectuals • The Tobacco Concession • Foreign trade •
Economic crisis
The Court, Government, and Roaya in the Late

Nineteenth Century
Iran in the nineteenth century was a country with an absolute monarchy
under the rule of the Qajar dynasty (1794–1925) (Abrahamian 1979: 386).
The year 1794 marks the rise to power of Agha Mohammad Khan, the
founder of the dynasty (Abrahamian 1998). However, some researchers

Switzerland AG 2023
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28097-9_3
24 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
consider 1796 as the year that marks the coronation of Agha Mohammad
Khan (Fashahi 1981: 16). The Qajar dynasty came to power by conquering
the Zand dynasty (1750–1794) and defeating Lotf-Ali Khan-e Zand after a
series of battles, and the betrayal of Mirza Ebrahim Khan-e Kalantar, who
surrendered Shiraz, the capital of the Zand Dynasty, to Agha Mohammad
Khan. Agha Mohammad Khan ruled over a vast territory including present
Iran, parts of present-day Afghanistan, and the Caucasus. However, a large
part of this territory was lost during Fath-Ali Shah’s reign (r.1797–1834) in
the Iran-Russian Wars, known as the Russo-Persian Wars (Shafiyev 2018;
Baumer 2018) and the Herat War (between Iran and England) during
the reign of Mohammad Shah (r.1834–1848) and Naser al-Din Shah
(r.1848–1896) (see Nategh 1990; Fashahi 1981: 94).
Although some researchers, particularly in the last century, have applied
concepts, such as Oriental despotism (Momeni 1966; Abrahamian 1974:
9; Abrahamian 2015: 17; Fashahi 1981: 21) and autocracy, to analyze the
political structure of the Qajar dynasty, considerable evidence suggests
that in fact Qajar authority did not exceed the capital and its surroundings,
as they relied on local governors and influencers to control their territory
(Abrahamian 2008: 72; Keddie 1971: 3–4). Hence, despite references in
Qajar times and afterward to the absolutism of the Qajar shahs, careful
study shows how limited their power really was (Keddie 1969: 34). In fact,
Qajar bureaucracy and their military and financial resources were unable
to meet the requirements of an authoritarian government. The Qajars
lacked a centralized political-administrative structure (Keddie 1971: 3;
Deutschmann 2015: 23) as one of the main requirements of despotism.
Interestingly, Abrahamian (1974: 9) has described the Qajars as “despots
without the instruments of despotism”. Power granted the Shah personal
authority, but the mutual interests and dependency of the government
and citizens caused the society was able to restrict the Shah. The citizens
not only had the power to negotiate with him, but they did not always
heed his commandments (Martin 2008: 32).
Due to this form of indirect relation, it can be stated that the govern-
ment based in the capital, especially the Shah himself, was unable to cor-
rectly assess the situation in the country. Instead, the Qajars expanded
their influence through intermediaries, such as local rulers, landlords,
sheiks, and tribal chiefs. Although, powerful established groups, such as
clerics and tribes, “were potentially in opposition to a weak government.
The tribespeople generally followed their leader on whichever side they
chose” (Keddie 1978: 311).
3 THE PRE-REVOLUTION STRUGGLES AND THE EMERGENCE OF NEW… 25
Indeed, nineteenth-century Iran was a delicate balance between tribal

groups, urban merchant communities, religious elites, ulama, and an auto-
cratic monarchy (Deutschmann 2015: 22). Essentially, in emergencies,
such as chaos and unrest, which frequently occurred in the nineteenth
century, the government invoked clergies and influential local elites.
“Merchants played the role of bankers and moneylenders in the absence of
a modern banking system, and often supplied money to the government
and its representatives” (Keddie 1972: 71). It is also worth mentioning
that at times of financial crisis, such as during Naser al-Din Shah’s and
Mozaffar al-Din Shah’s rule, the government negotiated with prominent
merchants to provide loans and financial support (see Martin 2008;
Abrahamian 2008), as merchants were one of the powerful and wealthy
classes of Qajar society (Keddie 1978: 307).
Generally, economic decline and fiscal difficulties were some of the
main problems of the Qajars, which were partly due to the institutional
arrangements (Masroori 2000: 658; Ivanov 1977: 15). The Qajar govern-
ment budget balance was always precarious, and the government faced a
budget deficit (Keddie 1983: 592). “Fiscal crises occurred with some reg-
ularity in Qajar Iran especially in two waves from the 1820s to 1850 and
from the 1880s onwards” (Foran 1992: 140). The Qajars’ finance relied
specifically on an old and inefficient tax system. While the rich classes, such
as high-ranked ulama, were exempted from taxation, “nearly all taxation
fell directly or ultimately on the peasantry, and a smaller amount paid by
tribes and artisans. Despite the oppression of the taxation system the rev-
enues that actually reached the central government were not large”
(Keddie 1972: 64–65).
The loss of the fertile north which had supplied a significant part of the
Qajars’ tax revenue also severely affected the government’s budget (Matin
2012: 49). The explosive growth of the court from a simple tribal base
that had consisted of the Shah and a handful of courtiers now turned into
an extensive apparatus composed of the Shah, his numerous wives, chil-
dren and grandchildren, wives of ex-Shahs and their children. Moreover,
the administration became more stratified and sophisticated, and the gov-
ernment explored all possible options to resolve these issues (Malek 1991:
69–70). Therefore, a fundamental and long-lasting challenge of the
Qajars was simply the appropriation of funds. As a matter of fact, the
Qajars appropriated the lion’s share of money for short-term or long-
term needs and requirements of the aforementioned groups, in terms of
employee salaries, harem costs, pensions to princes and non-specialists
26 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
who did not provide specific services (see Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000; Kia
2001: 103).
Seemingly, in the Naseri era, the government suffered a relative lack of
expertise and specialization in government offices (Keddie 1978: 309;
Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000: 816; Mahdavi and Nategh 2004: 254). Some
professions and titles, such as high-ranked tax officials, the mostowfian,
who were responsible for tax accounting, were hereditary. Hence, it was
very common that people who lacked proper expertise and competence
achieved high rank, key positions, and gained professions requiring highly
specialized skills. Qolam-Ali Khan, who later received the noble title Aziz
al-Soltan, the nephew of Amin Aqdas, Naser al-Din Shah’s powerful wife,
was granted the position of Amir Toumani, “general”, as a child and allo-
cated many properties by the Shah. Almost the whole family, including his
uncle and father and aunt, could enjoy the benefits of this relationship. His
father, Mirza Mohammad, repeatedly received royal consideration and the
Qazvin cavalry was entrusted to him (see Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000; Shirazi
2018; Yarshater 2001: 191).
One of the other main problems of the Qajar era was the systematic
corruption that caused significant financial difficulties (Fashahi 1981: 35;
Bakhash 1971: 147; Ivanov 1977: 14). The official documents and per-
sonal writings of the Naseri era largely evidence this crisis. The memoirs of
Etemad al-Saltaneh (2000), the head of the Royal Publication Department
and a close attendant of Naser al-Din Shah, from 1875 to 1876 and 1881
to 1895, demonstrate that corruption systematically occurred in the Qajar
bureaucracy. It was possible to buy titles, govern provinces, and obtain the
medals and baldrics of nobility by paying an offering to the Shah or influ-
ential courtiers and to eunuchs who acted as middlemen. Etemad al-
Saltaneh’s (2000: 816) diary on June 7, 1892, describes the Shah’s trip to
Mahallat, a town in central Iran. Meanwhile, he complains that official
positions and titles have turned into hereditary titles ten years before that
date. Then, using ironic language, he complains that it is no surprise that
knowledge, grace, and art are also considered inheritable properties in the
royal court these days. Consequently, Etemad al-Saltaneh, who denounced
the situation (at least in his writings), especially the management system of
the young prime minister Amin al-Soltan in the early years of his work,
tried to get closer to Amin al-Soltan in the following years, especially in
1891 and 1892, to benefit from this friendship.
Mirza Ebrahim Badaye Negar, a bureaucrat who was famous for grace
and knowledge, and who worked in various official positions in the court
of Naser al-Din Shah, describes the situation of the court, government,

and nation in the thirtieth year of Naser al-Din Shah’s reign:
Naser al-Din Shah’s work is exclusive to talking and having fun, enjoying new
mansions and construction projects and inappropriate arbitrary dismissals,
appointments and promotions. The government, if there is any at all, exclu-
sively operates to collecting tax in trivial amounts of money or as goods and
agricultural products from poor people and widows, and giving it to improper
irresponsible people. Consequently, the nation lives in misery and in the danger
of decline. (Badaye Negar n.d., no 469, The Library of the Faculty of Law
and Political Science, University of Tehran)
Iranian society was a rural society, and therefore agriculture continued

to play a key role in the country’s economy. Due to the absence of an
official demographic census, information about Iran’s population in the
nineteenth century is scattered and contradictory. Katouzian (1981: 32)
estimates the population of the country in the early nineteenth to be
between 6 and 7 million. Abrahamian (2008: 2) has noted that at the end
of the nineteenth century, the total population was fewer than 12 million.
Of this, 60 percent of Iran’s population lived in villages, 25–30 percent
were nomads, and approximately 10–20 percent lived in cities (Martin
2008: 35; Abrahamian 2008: 2). According to Abrahamian (2015: 17),
the urban population resided in 80 towns. Tehran, Tabriz, Hamadan,
Shiraz, Isfahan, Yazd, Kerman, Urmiah, Kermanshah, and Qazvin were
the most populated cities of these. Noteworthy, influential groups and
classes, such as merchants, clergy, landlords, some tribal chiefs, sheiks, and
the emerging intelligentsia lived in cities.
Illiteracy was a popular phenomenon and its rate was high among the
population, both men and women. Apart from 5 percent, the remaining
people were illiterate (Martin 2008: 128; Masroori 2000: 667). Epidemic
diseases, corruption, and the cruelty of local rulers and tax agents (see
Adamiyat and Nategh 1977: 488) have led to the poverty, disorder, and
immigration of citizens, particularly peasantry. Many reformists, especially
bureaucrats, such as Mirza Ebrahim Badaye Negar, considered agriculture
and trading as the basis of the economy (see Nategh 1979: 145). However,
peasants and landowners constantly struggled with local rulers and with
environmental problems, such as low rainfall, drought, and soil fertility.
In his memoirs, Etemad al-Saltaneh (2000: 927) repeatedly reports
that many Khorasani peasants sought refuge in Russian territory accepting
28 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
Russian citizenship due to poverty and to the violence and cruelty of rul-
ers. Therefore, “it was not only the central government that ignored the
people, but there were several authoritarian power centers always involv-
ing in conflict, and each of which tried to eliminate the others, and people
were plagued by lawlessness, murder, and looting” (Katouzian 2012: 118).
The central government lacked the proper mechanisms to support its
citizens while imposing pressure on them for tax (Bakhash 1971: 147;
Lambton 1953: 145). “Granting concession to foreign companies wors-
ened the situation, especially at a time when the value of land taxes, as the
major source of income (Foran 1992: 140; Bakhash 1971: 146; Momeni
1966: 8), and taxes were constantly declining due to inflation. It was prev-
alent that peasants and even landowners could not afford to pay taxes.
Generally, obtaining tax turned into a very difficult task for the officials”
(Martin 2008: 47).
From these years, we have access to numerous reports of epidemics,
poverty, and inflation (Nategh 1979; Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000; Ettehadieh
et al. 2013; Afkhami 2019). To make matters worse, the spread of cholera
and plague was usually accompanied by famine. Cholera outbreaks had
become so frequent that the disease persisted in the country and became
endemic in some areas, such as Gilan, north Iran (Nategh 1979). The
disease took thousands of victims in each period of the outbreak. Badaye
Negar mentions the population of Iran as nine crores,1 according to the
Russian annals, and warned of a slowing population growth rate (Badaye
Negar n.d., quoted by Nategh 1979: 143).
One of the most widespread cholera outbreaks of the Qajar era was the
cholera that plagued the country in 1856. Count de Gobineau (1976:
94–95), the French aristocrat staying in Tehran in the same year, wrote
that everyone who could escape fled the capital to save his life. So many
people died it was like leaves were falling from trees. Although there are
no statistics on the number of the dead in Tehran, he speculates that more
than a third of Tehran’s inhabitants died of cholera. Issawi (1971: 21)
discusses nine cholera outbreaks for the years 1851–1861. Generally, the
government of the time was directly responsible for the spread of cholera
and its consequences, as when the epidemics occurred, they left the capital
and hid the truth. To avoid blocking the roads, officials did not announce
the news to other countries. The government also opposed quarantine
1
An ancient Iranian numbering system. One Crore is equal to 500,000.
that was needed to manage food supply and expenses (Nategh 1979: 25;
Seyf 2002: 171).
In cities poverty forced people to commit minor crimes, while some
women prostituted themselves. Petty crimes, such as fraud and petty theft
(furniture theft, bathing accessories, or clothing), were occasionally
reported (see Shaykh Rezaei and Azari 1999; Floor 2009). Generally,
small robberies of cheap utensils tragically illustrate the growth of poverty.
For example, a young woman was arrested on Tuesday, April 10, 1887, in
the Sangelaj neighborhood on charges of robbery:
The wife of Hassan, the hookah seller, has stolen three minor bathing accesso-
ries from the public bathroom. The police have arrested her and taken her to
the head of the neighborhood. Because she had a breastfeeding baby who can-
not stay without her mom, the head of the neighborhood handed her over to her
husband to satisfy the owner of the items. (Shaykh Rezaei and Azari
1999: 432)
From the last years of Naser al-Din Shah’s reign, there have been
reports of food shortages and rising food prices, especially for bread and
meat. It is worth noting that the price increase was largely artificial and
caused by the interference of local influentials and politicians, such as
Kamran Mirza Nayeb al-Saltaneh, the son of Naser al-Din Shah, who was
in charge of Tehran’s administration (Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000: 1036;
Fashahi 1981: 60).
Starvation and food shortages, especially bread shortages, due to poor
harvest or wheat hoarding, could lead to riots and public disturbance.
From time to time it was known that government agents, local nobles, or
imams have hoarded wheat (Martin 2008: 134). Investigating bread riots
and food shortage, Ranin Kazemi (2016: 342) emphasizes the socio-
economic factors involving in the hoarding or exporting of the surplus
grain. According to Kazemi the majority of food shortages didn’t entail a
significant drop in the food supply of the local community.
By this time, several bread riots with considerable participation of
women had occurred in the capital and other cities, especially Shiraz,
Isfahan, Mashhad, Tabriz, and Ardabil (Martin 2008: 45; Cronin 2018:
845). Sometimes, like the 1893 riot in Shiraz, they appeared as the leader
and organizer of the protests (Martin 2008: 45; see also Chap. 4). We
shall return to the presence of women in the protests in Chap. 4. In 1861,
during a bread riot in Tehran many men and women stopped the Shah’s
30 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
carriage and protested against the lack of bread and its high price. As the
riot continued, the Shah, who was in great fear, ordered the execution of
the sheriff of Tehran. The famine of 1894 in Tabriz also led to a public
riot. In this revolt, the demand for bread became a political slogan against
the Qajar monarchy (Nategh 1978: 53). Etemad al-Saltaneh writes about
food scarcity and rising prices in his memoirs on Saturday, March 19, 1894:
Meat is scarce in Tehran, and bread is very expensive. No one is thinking about
people. God protects our king from the curse of the people. (Etemad al-Saltaneh
2000: 939)
There is a subtle point in the quote mentioned above from Etemad al-
Saltaneh. He calls Naser al-Din Shah “our king” and places this against the
phrase “the people”. This distinction marks a continuing chasm between
the population and the government of the day. This short description is
one of the most accurate descriptions of the Qajar king’s relationship with
the citizens. The king was, in fact, king of the courtiers, servants, and his
affiliates. He did not even know the situation in Tehran, which was his
capital. Also, Tehran was governed by its own governor and minister.
As a matter of fact, a logical solution to all these problems was the
introduction of some structural reforms (Malek 1991: 70). Abrahamian
(2015: 81) applies the term defensive modernization to explain Qajar
strategies. He states that Qajar efforts at statewide defensive moderniza-
tion were not so remarkable and were limited to a few showy actions in
Tehran. In a nutshell, attempts at reform were never far-reaching nor were
they long-lasting (Bakhash 1971: 141).
It is worthy of note that Amir Kabir and Mirza Hossein Khan Sepahsalar,
the reformist Chief Chancellors, attempted to introduce reforms to the
Qajar government and bureaucracy. Amir Kabir started a series of reforms
including attempts to set up Western style factories (Malek 1991: 77) and
reduced salaries, but he was confronted by the hostility of the court.
Eventually, he was expelled and killed as a result of a courtier’s conspiracy.
Mirza Hossein Khan Sepahsalar (2017: 10) prepared Tanzimat, a booklet
of regulations, to reintegrate and revive the unfunctional and obsolete
bureaucracy and taxation and to protect peasantry and citizens against the
brutal and improper tax system. However, the Shah eventually dismissed
him and the reforms remained unfinished.
Moreover, the government’s efforts failed because of the inability to
increase tax revenues—a problem caused by a staggering price increase of
up to sixfold over a century (Abrahamian 1998: 80). Generally, the

reformist bureaucrats failed to introduce long-term and stable reforms to
the government (Masroori 2000: 658). “It could hardly be expected that
the bureaucrats themselves could become the instrument through which
the system that financed and supported them might be reformed”
(Bakhash 1971: 147).
The Qajars reacted to their declining power through a series of mea-
sures. Lacking determination and a solid base, the authorities opted for
easier options, such as the sale of noble titles and receiving offerings in
exchange for governmental positions, particularly the governing position
in cities and states (Malek 1991: 70; Martin 2008: 48). Public offices were
auctioned regularly on an annual basis and allocated to the highest bidders
(Malek 1991: 70). Another temporary and inefficient solution, which in
turn gave rise to other dilemmas, was the converting of the status of
Crown lands. Lambton (1953: 152) believes that the process started in
1878–1879. Consequently, a substantial proportion of Crown lands was
sold to the nascent bourgeoisie (Malek 1991: 70).
From the mid-nineteenth century onward the Qajars adopted a second
strategy for survival. They started to sell commercial and economic con-
cessions to foreign capitalists, primarily Britain and Russia (Matin 2012:
49), and to acquire foreign debts as well. This process was initiated by
Naser al-Din Shah in 1872 (Abrahamian 1998: 80; Bakhash 1971: 159;
Keddie 1983: 584) and this improper system facilitated the political and
economic encroachments of foreign governments, particularly Russia and
British India (Deutschmann 2015: 14). In order to obtain concessions
and commercial contracts, the Russian and British governments and for-
eign companies bribed the Shah (referred to in the texts as an “offering”,
ta’rof ), or influential individuals, such as Amin al-Soltan and even Etemad
al-Saltaneh (see Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000; Yarshater 2001: 192).
However, sometimes concessions, such as the Tobacco Concession,
placed the government at risk of a public revolt and, on the other hand, of
substantial financial loss. In this case, Naser al-Din Shah granted a British
subject a total monopoly over sale and export of tobacco. The Tobacco
Concession was undoubtedly against the economic interests of business-
men who were more active in this revolt than any other group. Tehrani
merchants started a protest in solidarity with the clerics (Keddie 1983:
584; Keddie 1969: 47; Kazemzadeh 1968; Lambton 1987: 248). Soon
the majority of the nation, even ladies of the royal harem, joined the pro-
test (Foran 2007: 254; Kazemi 2014: 282). It led to a vast crisis, not only
32 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
for the government, but also for the person of Shah and for Amin al-
Soltan, whom the nation saw as a British agent. Under the pressures and
threats from various groups, the Shah declared on January 5, 1892, the
official annulment of the Tobacco Concession (Keddie 1966: 3;
Mottahedeh 2000: 218) and had to pay compensation of £500,000 to the
British company to annul the contract which in turn led to the rise of a lot
of debt (Martin 2008: 46; Keddie 1966: 125). However, the people did
not stop protesting, indicating that the crisis and dissatisfaction went well
beyond the Tobacco Concession (Lambton 1987: 223; Etemad al-
Saltaneh 2000: 789). Anonymous letters were sent to Amin al-Soltan,
threatening him with death, while apparently, Mirza Hassan Shirazi issued
a fatwa for his ex-communication, which remained secret for a while
(Keddie 1966: 65; Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000: 788). Part of the memoirs of
Etemad al-Saltaneh describing the days after the cancelation of the conces-
sion demonstrates that the country was in turmoil:
Friday, January 15, 1892

His Majesty left Tehran for a seven-night stay at Doushan Tappeh. His Majesty
thinks that the rebellion is finished and everything is working properly. However,
the whole of Iran is in a riot, nobody tells the truth to the Shah, and the Shah
himself does not want to hear the truth. (Etemad al-Saltaneh 2000: 789)
In the final years of Naser al-Din Shah’s reign, especially after the
Tobacco Protest, which lasted for months, the Shah’s popularity among
the people and foreigners declined sharply. During the crisis, both the
Russians and the British (the Imperial Bank of Persia) refused to give a
loan to the Shah to solve the problem. Etemad al-Saltaneh (2000: 845)
narrates that many ambassadors attributed insanity and foolishness to the
Shah. In another case, on September 15, 1892, the Shah, who had left the
capital to travel to Iraq (present Arak in central Iran), intended to enter
the capital city after six months. Unfortunately, the Shah’s arrival in the
city coincided with the cholera outbreak in the country. Tehran’s minister
Mirza Isa urged people to light up the city. Instead, the people refused to
decorate the city and swore at the Shah (ibid.: 830).
According to the aforementioned, on the eve of the twentieth century,
Iran was a developing country with a sluggish economy and an inefficient
governing policy. Describing the Qajar governance system, especially in
the years before the Constitutional Revolution, Abrahamian (2008: 33)
rightly used the allegory that “their state—if it can be called
that—hovered above, rather than controlled and penetrated into society”.

This government had minimal obligations to citizens and provided them
with very few services.
Naser al-Din Shah ignored the riots and protests that frequently
occurred during his rule, and the government refused to carry out its
duties while putting the nation under pressure of taxation. The cost of
foreign loans, corruption, the Shah’s foreign travels, and the intervention
of foreigners in domestic and foreign policy were practically imposed on
the citizens who were getting poorer day by day. At the end of the nine-
teenth century, posts, telegraphs, railroads, customs, revenues, forests,
river fisheries, and all conceivable natural and mineral resources were sold,
rented out, or given as security for debts to Russia and Great Britain.
Literally, there was nothing left in the country worth selling which had not
been sold already (Malek 1991: 70).
Foreign Trade and the Pervasive Economic Crisis

Iran’s pervasive commercial relations with the West hark back to the six-
teenth and seventeenth centuries when the country reached the relatively
highest level of centralization and prosperity under the Safavid Dynasty
(1501–1736) (Keddie 1972: 62). Indeed, “the Safavid polity rested on
geopolitical accumulation and long distance trade” (Matin 2012: 48). By
that time, European merchants imported silk and luxury items to the
country (Keddie 1972: 62).
In a nutshell, Iran’s foreign trade flourished during the Safavid era.
Iranian government dispatched delegates and merchants traveled across
the world to supply raw material, such as copper, to the flourishing domes-
tic industry (Jamalzadeh 1935: 5; Minowa and Witkowski 2009: 296;
Taghavi 2009: 57). According to John Cartwright, a foreign observer, in
the early seventeenth century the amount of raw silk which was imported
to Kashan was more than the cotton that was imported to London (quoted
by Jamalzadeh 1935: 5). Moreover, the Safavids established a prosperous
transit economy. This included the export of silk to the West, overland and
maritime trade of various consumer goods from India and Southeast Asia
westward, and the flow of precious metals back into the Indian subconti-
nent (Matthee 2012: 31–32).
It is noteworthy that the decline of the Safavids and the political insta-
bilities afterward resulted in the gradual erosion of economic and trade
infrastructures. Several factors, such as pandemics, war, famine, the loss of
34 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
purchasing power, the rise of trade costs, and the bellicose policies of the
Shahs, contributed to the decline of the economy. However, the relative
recovery of the economy was established particularly after the rise of the
Zands to power, yet the prosperous economy and trade of the Safavid era
was never revived (Keddie 1972: 62; Floor 1992: 68). Considering the
geopolitical context and the global economy some scholars discuss that
the long-distance trade which was established by the Safavids was extremely
decreased as the modern Western powers dominated the geopolitics of the
region and Euro-Asian trade (Matin 2012: 48).
“In the course of nineteenth century, Iran was drawn into the network
of the international economy mainly through foreign trade” (Issawi 1983:
229). Several factors were involved in the expansion of Iran’s foreign trade
and incorporation into the international economy: political treaties, which
also guaranteed the commercial interests of the West, particularly Russia
and Britain, granting concessions to European countries, the relative
development of channels of trade, and the introduction of new communi-
cation technology, such as the telegraph and post.
Evidence demonstrates a relative economic stagnation for the period
between 1800 and 1914 (Keddie 1972: 59; Issawi 1971: 50; Issawi 1983:
229). Again noteworthy is that Anglo-Russian rivalry in the geopolitical
context of West Asia played a crucial role in the decline of Iranian trade
(Keddie 1972: 61; Matin 2012: 48). The treaties with Russia severely
affected the composition of trade and the agents of trade (Issawi 1983:
232). The Treaty of Turkmenchay, imposed on the Iranian government in
1828, limited tariffs on Russian goods to 5 percent ad valorem. In 1801
the Iranian government signed an economic treaty with Britain which
privileged British subjects in trade, construction, and establishing firms
around the country. Consequently, in a period of 50 years British firms
took over 50 percent of the total import-export trade of Iran (Issawi 1983:
232; Malek 1991: 73).
Historically speaking, the crisis that began after Iran’s defeat in the
Russo-Persian wars (1804–1813 and 1826–1828) also severely affected
the era of Mohammad Shah and Naser al-Din Shah, as its economic and
social consequences became more and more apparent, and gained new
dimensions (Shafiyev 2018: 16–42; Amanat 1993: 35). Vanessa Martin
(2008: 103) believes that the serious trade depression, long-term unem-
ployment, and the post-war recession after the Herat War (1837–1838)
also severely affected ordinary people. “As Qajar Iran began to integrate
evermore into the global economy, an appreciable increase followed in the

outbreaks of food shortage across the country” (Kazemi 2016: 337).
Interestingly, the financial crisis in the country did not effectively decrease
even when trade infrastructure was expanded (Keddie 1983: 592) as there
was no salient change in the living conditions of the masses.
The opening of the Suez Canal and shipping on the Karun River, in
southwest Iran, in 1888 and the arrival of steamships helped expand for-
eign trade in Iran (Martin 2008: 47; Keddie 1972: 59; Issawi 1983: 236).
British steamboats were transporting merchandise through Karun along-
side local marine transport, but over time Iranian businessmen who saw
local business at risk of decline became unhappy with the situation, as they
were financially harmed by Western competition (Keddie 1971: 6).
However, the arrival of English ships made an excellent profit for some
local elites (Momeni 1966: 15). Sheikh Khazal bin Jaber, the ruler of
Mohammareh (present Khoramshahr), who dominated both Karun and
south Iranian customs, against the will of the central government, estab-
lished a strong relationship with the British and had high revenues from
taxation and from the expansion of trade in the south (see Strunk 2010;
Fashahi 1981: 34).
In northern Iran, the Russian Tsar paid, at his own expense, for dredg-
ing Bandar-e Anzali’s lagoon, one of the most crucial northern ports of
Iran, and deepening it, as well as creating a suitable path between Anzali
and Tehran. Indeed, the Tsar intended to expand Russian control to
Anzali and facilitate Russian ships traveling into Pir Bazar as much as pos-
sible (Keddie 1972: 59; Fashahi 1981: 97; Momeni 1966: 35; Etemad
al-Saltaneh 2000: 960). According to Etemad al-Saltaneh (2000: 960),
Naser al-Din Shah had given this concession to the Russians in his third
trip to Europe during his stay in Russia in exchange for free residency and
reception of the Tsar. In Etemad al-Saltaneh’s words, sponging off the
Tsar, the Shah granted the concession to the Russians without thinking
about its future troubling outcomes.
“Indeed, Iran’s foreign trade grew steadily throughout the nineteenth
century and up to the First World War” (Malek 1991: 71). However, “the
balance of trade became increasingly unfavorable to the Iranians as the
price of Iranian raw materials fell relative to those of the imported manu-
factured goods” (Keddie 1972: 72–73). Although, while Iran’s export
rate had increased over the years, notably due to the rise in carpet, raw
material, and agricultural exports, particularly cash crops, such as opium,
36 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
cotton, fruit, and nuts (Martin 2008: 46; Keddie 1983: 581; Momeni
1966: 7), the import rate continued to surpass that (Abtahi and Emami-
Meibodi 2015: 14). Charles Issawi (1983: 231) believes that until about
1860, Iran’s exports and imports seem to have about balanced. After that
time, imports were considerably higher than exports—often twice as high.
By the 1880s trade increased from £7,000,000 to £7,500,000, composed
of two-thirds imports and one-third exports (Curzon 1892: 562–563).
As the structure of trade drastically changed, Iran increasingly exported
raw material, particularly silk and cotton and later oil, which were in high
demand by Russia and Britain (Issawi 1983: 233; Malek 1991: 70).
Furthermore, the direction of trade changed and trade with neighboring
countries, such as Turkey, Afghanistan, and Bukhara in central Asia, was
severely curtailed (Issawi 1983: 232–233). By the 1870s Russia and
Britain had control of over 90 percent of foreign trade (Malek 1991: 73).
All these transformations led to a crucial change in the agents of foreign
trade. While at the beginning of the nineteenth century, Persian mer-
chants, including Muslim and non-Muslim, dominated Iranian foreign
trade, by the middle of the century a considerable part had transferred to
Europeans (Issawi 1983: 237). Moreover, foreign merchants were not the
subject of the internal custom fees that Iranian merchants were required
to pay (Keddie 1972: 64). The latter also had to pay road tax every time
their merchandise passed through Iranian internal roads and cities (Issawi
1983: 237).
One of the most obvious consequences of these policies was the bank-
ruptcy of merchants and the drastic decline in domestic industries, espe-
cially textiles (see also Chap. 5). Mirza Ebrahim Badaye Negar in his
autobiography describes the situation for businessmen at the end of Naser
al-Din Shah’s reign:
Merchants and businessmen had to pay usury at 1 or 5 percent interest rate and
pay for telegraphs, and tried to visit influential and noblesse, in the purpose of
making their business. Consequently, they have all become beggars and poor.
[…] There is not a trader for whom 1,000 tomans2 have been credited. (Badaye
Negar n.d., quoted by Nategh 1979: 145)
The foreign economic penetration, especially the active presence of

Russians and the British merchants in Iranian trade, provoked outrage
2
The Iranian toman was one of the official currencies of Qajar Iran.
among Iranian businessmen (Moaddel 1992: 455; Torabi-Farsani 2009:

29). Therefore, merchants should be considered as one of the first dissatis-
fied groups that could organize the protests.
The Pre-Revolution Struggles and the Emergence

of Modern Classes
The period of 1800–1914 saw increased economic conflict between

Iranians and Europeans, which eventually went from the economic into
the political sphere (Keddie 1972: 73). “The chief productive classes in
the cities were the merchants and artisans” (Keddie 1972: 70). Traditionally,
bazaars and craftsmen had a distinct self-regulating guild division, and
each guild usually had its guild council (Moaddel 1992: 454; Abrahamian
2008: 121) which played a protective role.
“By the mid-nineteenth century, the import of Western manufactured
goods has accelerated the bankruptcy of the craftsmen in most branches of
traditional industries” (Malek 1991: 75). Merchants and artisans orga-
nized collective actions through their guilds and sent several petitions
from different parts of the country to the Shah urging him to prohibit the
import of European manufactured goods, but many of these efforts failed
(Malek 1991: 76; Keddie 1972: 71). According to Issawi (1983: 232) the
government was more concerned with the interests of the military and
bureaucracy than with those of craftsmen and other producers. Hence,
artisans and craftsmen didn’t receive proper support from the government.
Generally, during these years, associations, trade councils, cooperatives,
and companies were gradually established (see Martin 2008). These efforts
can be formulated as different strategies designed to protect the interests
and benefits of different social and economic groups who attempted to
cope with the growing crisis. Newspapers, such as Akhtar, which was pub-
lished in Istanbul, encouraged businessmen to establish trade unions and
companies to counter the economic influence of foreigners, particularly
England (Afshari 1983: 150; Eskandari-Qajar 2007: 518). “Beginning in
the 1880s there was a development of Persian merchant companies com-
bining several merchants or representing a single wealthy merchant with
manifold activities” (Keddie 1971: 72) to cope with the growing penetra-
tion of foreign merchants. A few years later, in the days of revolution,
observers reported the well-organized participation of even very impover-
ished bazaar guilds, such as carpenters, sawyers, and walnut vendors in a
“sit-in strike”, bast neshini, held at the British Embassy (Abrahamian 1998).
38 M. DEZHAMKHOOY
Another powerful group who settled in the urban centers was the reli-
gious class. With established institutions and the ability to organize, the
clergy have long played a significant role in Iran’s urban life (Keddie 1978:
310). The high-ranked clerics, ulama, retained considerable independence
and long-term established power based on their steady income from the
Muslim community, particularly the bazaaris, from the control of religious
educational centers and waqf, the endowment and land ownership (Keddie
1972: 60). Thus, clergies’ lives were primarily based on receiving funds
from the bazaar (Keddie 1983: 584; Abrahamian 2008: 116).
Abrahamian (2008: 35) states that for the first time merchants and
ulama became conscious of their common grievances against the govern-
ment and the foreign powers. As a result, merchants and bazaar classes
who were hostile to Western economic penetration aligned with powerful
ulama (Keddie 1978: 310). The high-ranked Mujtahids and clerics could
mobilize people by issuing fatwas, while lower-ranked clerics and preach-
ers, akhund, could stimulate the masses through lectures and sermons
inspired by Shi’a history (Keddie 1971: 5). In several cases, such as the
Tobacco Concession, they supported the bazaar and forced the Shah and
the government to withdraw by issuing fatwas (Homayoun Katouzian
2012: 83; Kazemi 2014: 265).
It is worthy of note that the clergy consisted of different groups in
terms of religious education and their access to power. Most scholars
believe that the main body of the clergy, including the high-ranked clerics
affiliated with the court, such as the Imam of Friday Prayer, in the Naseri
era remained conservative, close to the monarchy (Momen 2012: 329;
Masroori 2000: 658) and the most potent opponent to modernity and
freedom (Ajoudani 2003: 250; Masroori 2000: 658; Bakhash 1971: 152).
Essentially, the final years of Naser al-Din Shah’s reign should be con-
sidered as years of dissatisfaction and the gradual formation of opposition
groups. In these years of chaos and political instability, new social forces,
classes, and groups were emerging that played a crucial role in restructur-
ing Iran’s politics and society in the following decades. This issue has also
been considered by foreign travelers and observers who reported the
emergence of new social forces that challenged the authority of conserva-
tives and monarchists. According to a foreign observer, “rationalism is
spreading in this land. The mullahs are not able to stop this stream. Today,
skepticism is the tendency of all the upper classes and the educated groups
of Iranian society. Soon, it gives rise to a pervasive public movement”
(Sepsis 1844: 111).
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12. LEMPI JA MINÄ.
Yksinäinen ihminen tuli luokseni ja kysyi:
»Tiedätkö minkälainen on lempi?»
Vastasin: »Näin vain ohimennen».
Hän pyyteli: »Selitä minulle mitä näit, miltä lempi näytti?

Vaappuiko se kuin kuoleva soturi hämärtyvällä tappotanterella?»
»Oh ei», minä virkoin, »näin juhlivan kuninkaanpojan, joka nelisti

kultaloimisella orhillansa valtateitä ja siroitteli lahjoja jokaiselle, ken
vastaanotti, — oman aarteistonsa liikapaljoudesta. Minä seisoin
tienohessa silloin, ja ne, jotka enemmän tiesivät, sanoivat:
»Se on lempi.»
13. ONNI JA MINÄ.
Vanha ystävä, minä pelkään.
Pieni rakas, mikä sinun on?
Olen niin nuori ja elämän pitkä tie on vasta edessäni.
Pelkäätkö, että suru tulee siellä sinua vastaan ja laskee raskaan

taakkansa heikoille harteillesi?
Ei, sitä en pelkäisi, mutta minä pelkään, että suuri onni odottaa
minua elämäntien varrella, ja sitä suurta onnea minä pelkään, — sillä
minä en ole sitä ansainnut. Tiedän, että tulen työntämään sen pois.
Ja minun sydämeeni koskee, kun ajattelen, että minun täytyy olla
kova ja käyttää tylyjä sanoja minun onnelleni. Minun täytyy seisoa,
kun onnenlinnan ovet minulle avataan, kuin pieni kerjäläistyttö, joka
katselee paljaita jalkojansa, pudistaa päätänsä ja menee pois. Sillä
ainainen huuto sisässäni: »Minä en ole tätä ansainnut», estäisi
minua tuntemasta onnea, — vaikka olisin ottanutkin vastaan
onnenlinnan. Turhaan kukkisivat kukat ja laulaisivat kultahäkeissä
linnut. Minä näkisin vain oman kehnouteni ja kuulisin vain oman
rintani tuomion äänen. — Ja murhe minun myötäni olisi astunut
onnenlinnaan.
Ystävä, kuinka voisin olla niin julkea, että veisin sen sinne. Mutta
pelkään, etten jaksa olla kovakaan ja käydä sen ohi, kun sieltä
kuuluu huokaus: »Miksi hän hylkäsi»?
Ystävä, sitä ohitsekäymisen hetkeä minä pelkään, kun minun

täytyy olla tyly minun onnelleni, eikä se onneni tiedä, että olen tyly —
rakkaudesta.
Vanha ystävä, pyydä kanssani jumalia, että he eivät lähettäisi

tielleni ystävää, joka olisi sitä täydellisesti, sillä se olisi suurempi onni
kuin voin kestää, suurempi lahja kuin olen ansainnut, — ettei minun
täytyisi itse työntää sitä pois.
14. MESTARI JA MINÄ.
Keskipäivän vaiheilla on tuntematon opettaja tullut kaupunkiin. Kaikki

kansa on mennyt toreille kuullaksensa mitä hänellä on puhuttavaa.
Ihmiset, jotka asuvat katuni varrella, ovat kolkuttaneet ovelleni ja

sanoneet: »Tule sinäkin katsomaan häntä, joka on hiljan tullut».
Mutta minä olen vastannut: »Mitäpä minä siellä», pannut oveni
säppiin ja antanut heidän mennä menojaan.
***
Katuja kulkeissani olen eksynyt sattumalta suureen

kansanjoukkoon, joka oli kokoontunut kuuntelemaan häntä. Hänen
äänensä oli syvä ja lempeä ja kantoi yli kaikkien päiden, aina sinne
torin laidoille saakka, missä minä seisoin. Kuulin tahtomattanikin
hänen sanansa — ja ääni sisässäni kuiskasi: »Noiden sanojen
sanojaa sinä olet ikäsi etsinyt, siinä hän on». Mutta toinen ääni
minussa virkkoi: »Kuinka olisin minä sitä odottanut, jota nämä
juoksevat kuuntelemaan». Ja minä katsoin kansaa katujen vierillä,
käännyin selin ja menin pois.
***
Läpi ovi-telkien ja verhottujen ikkunoiden tuli minun korviini kadulta
huuto. Kuulin, että he olivat kivittäneet hänet torilla ja jättäneet sinne
yksin. Silloin minä ilosta huusin, työnsin oveni auki ja juoksin sinne,
minne he olivat unohtaneet hänet. Suutelin hänen haavojaan ja
virkoin: »Suo anteeksi, Mestari, ylpeyteni, joka esti minua
tuntemasta sinua heti».
15. MINÄ JA MINÄ.
Minä kiersin yksin kuin mielipuoli öisiä katuja synkän minäni kanssa.
Silloin tällöin katsoi joku ohimenevä kummastuneena hurjaa
kulkuani, mutta mitä minä siitä.
Aamusta iltaan ja illasta aamuun mietin minä sen oman minäni

kurjuutta, se vei kaikki voimani, en jaksanut ryhtyä muuhun, siitä tuli
minun ainoa työni. Toisinaan tylsistyin välinpitämättömään
alakuloisuuteen, toisinaan nousi minussa hurja raivo ja syöksyin sen
ajamana ulos. Vihasin itseäni, kirosin itseäni, olisin tahtonut lyödä
sitä ja kiduttaa jokaista jäsentäni kuin fakiiri, — mutta sillä en olisi
siitä päässyt. Viimein luulin löytäneeni sen päästön — itsemurhassa.
Ilostuin siitä ja kulutin oudossa ilossani pitkät päivät. Mutta kun ensi
riemu oli ohi, aloin ajatella — ja tunsin epäilyksen terävästi pistävän
povessani: »Eikö se olisi vain ruumiini kuolema»? Ja minä tunsin,
ettei se ollut se, jota kirosin ja jonka olisin tahtonut jalkaini alle tallata
niin ettei se ikinä nousisi. Ei, yhtä elinvoimaiseksi se jäisi, jonka olisin
tappaa tahtonut, vaikka ruumis makaisi valkeana maassa. Ja minä
lähdin jälleen kiertämään kuin mielipuoli pitkin pimeitä katuja ja
huusin hiljaiseen yöhön: »Eikö ihminen voi millään itsestänsä
päästä»? Ja kun huutoni oli laannut, jalkani juoksemisesta uupunut
ja minä kuuntelin hiljaa oman sydämeni väsynyttä lyöntiä, tuli vähin
erin jostain, en tiedä mistä, minun tietoisuuteeni uusi ajatus:
Unohtamalla itsensä». Ja minä palasin sinä iltana kotiini kuin
ihminen, joka on saanut suuren lahjan.
***
Unohtamalla itsensä! Unohtamalla itsensä! Siitä on tullut nyt

minun ainoa ajatukseni niistä ainoat sanat, jotka ovat sanomisen
arvoisia. Se on sotahuutoni, jokapäiväinen päiväkäskyni, — mutta
päivät tulevat ja menevät ja yhä on se täyttämättä.
Etsin epätoivoisesti jotakin, johon voisin elinvoimani antaa —

päästäkseni siitä. — Mutta en löydä. Tahtoisin huutaa
kanssaihmisilleni: »Voi, antakaa minun elää teidän tähtenne, — ettei
minun tarvitse elää itseni tähden, teidän nimeenne — unohtaakseni
oman nimeni», — mutta yksikään heistä — ei tarvitse minun
elämääni.
Ja minun täytyy jäädä kahden itseni kanssa ja toistaa

epätoivoissani sitä yhtä ja samaa kysymystä: »Eikö ihminen voi
millään itsestänsä päästä»? Ja vastata siihen alati:» Kyllä,
unohtamalla itsensä». — Mutta sitä ei voi. Siinä totuus, tiedän sen,
mutta se ei voi minua vähääkään auttaa. Yhtäkaikki täytyy minun
alati kysyä samaa, vastata samaa — ja sanoa lopuksi se sama
totuus. Ja minä alan uskoa ikuiseen piinaan.
YSTÄVÄNI JA MINÄ.
Omistettu monille
16. HE JA MINÄ.
Joku tahtoi tulla tyrannikseni, — vaan minä vältin hänet.
Toinen kertoi olevansa vankini, — minä tahdoin hänet vapauttaa.
Eräs pyysi päästä orjakseni, — tulin alakuloiseksi ja vastasin,

etten ole sellaista vailla.
Ja päivä päivältä istun minä yksin ja tähystän autiolle tielle, — eikä

yksikään tule ja kysy minulta ystävyyttäni.
17. HÄN EI TIETÄNYT.
Minä pyysin, että hän toisen kerran kulkiessaan kiertäisi minun

syrjäisen kyläni kautta. Seisoisin silloin uudinten suojassa ja
huiskuttaisin raitaista huiviani hänelle, kun hän kulkisi ikkunani ohi
kylätiellä.
Hän kysyi: »Aukaisisitko ikkunasi ja antaisit minun suudella

ujostuvaa poskeasi — vastalahjaksi?»
Minun silmäkulmani rypistyivät, vastasin: »En.»
Hän ei huomannut alakuloisuutta otsallani ja kasvoillani ja virkkoi:

»Matka on pitkä — tullakseni — turhaan.»
Minä vastasin: »Älä tulekaan, kenties rasittuisit», ja ajattelin: Hän

ei tiedä vielä, että rakastava on kuin erämaan profeetta, joka jätti
kaiken mitä hänellä oli sillä hetkellä, kun tunnusti ikävöivänsä vain
sen Yhden luo, jätti kaiken, eikä pyytänyt mitään.
Toinen katsoi minua silmiin ja ihmetteli nopeaa päätöstäni, mutta

minä toistin vain ennen sanomani, kielsin häntä tulemasta minun
syrjäisen kyläni kautta.
18. LEMPI JA VAPAUS.
Se side on sitovin, — joka ei sido.
Sillä hetkellä, kun annoit minulle vapauteni — tulin minä sidotuksi

sinuun.
Kun sanoit: »Tee niinkuin tahdot» — oli minun ainoa tahtoni tehdä
niinkuin sinä tahdot.
Kun sanoit: »Mene vapauteesi, en tahdo olla vanginvartija» —

vastasin:
»Miksi enään etsisin sitä muualta, kun sinun luotasi sen löysin.»
Sillä, — kun vankilan portit avataan, lakkaa se olemasta vankila.
Kun lintu on häkissä, tahtoo se vapauteen ja hakkaa siipensä sen

ristikkoja vastaan, ja kun häkin ovi avataan, lentää se kylläkin pois,
— mutta palaa takaisin ja laulaa onnellisena häkkinsä orrella.
Kun olin pikku tyttö, oli minulla sellainen lintu, — ja nyt on se

sinulla, ystäväni. Ja jos tahdot sen linnun pitää, niin älä koskaan
sulje häkin ovea.
19. LUULETKO?
Sinä olet kysynyt minulta monasti, miksi näet silmistäni vain sen,
minkä jokainen vastaantulijakin näkee. Syy ei ole minun — vaan
sinun. Sinä luulottelet minusta kaikenlaista, joka tuskin on totta
lainkaan, sitten ihailet sinä sitä luulemaasi. Pyydät nähdä minua ja
kuitenkin aivan toisaalle katsot.
Luuletko sinä, että huomenaurinko voisi paistaa huoneeseesi, jos

rakennat talosi ikkunat länteen?
20. KUN ENSI KERRAN TULIT.
Kun sinä tulit minun kaupunkiini, näkyi syksy jo Boulevardin puissa ja

vaimot lakaisivat punaisia ja keltaisia lehtiä katujen vieremillä, ja
syksyn kuu katsoi kirkkaana yli kattojen.
Sinä tulit yksinäisenä ja outona, eikä ainoakaan koko kaupungissa

sinua tuntenut, — ennenkuin suuri Sattuma toi minut sinua vastaan.
Sinä katsoit silmiini ja näit niissä — tuttusi. Kun vastasin
katseeseesi, oli kuin olisin jotain ihmeellistä nähnyt, mutta jos ken
tahansa olisi kysynyt, en olisi tietänyt vastata, — mitä. Hämmennyin
vain ja menin kotiini ja istuin yksin puoleen yöhön ja olin kuin olisin
jotain ihmeellistä nähnyt.
Sinä päivänä näkyi syksy jo Boulevardin puissa, ja syksyn kuu

katsoi kirkkaana yli kattojen.
21. MINUN SYDÄMEENI ON TULLUT
JOULU.
Kristus — rakkaus syntyi maailmaan kerran. Jouluksi kutsutaan sitä

päivää. Itämaan viisaat lukivat silloin tähdistä, kun se oli tullut.
Minun sydämeeni on tullut se tänään. Lue, ystäväni, se silmistäni

ja viettäkäämme pyhä juhlahetki.
Joulu on ensikerran tullut minun sydämeeni. Lue, ystäväni, se

silmistäni ja ota vastaan Kristuslapseni. Katso, se ojentaa
käsivartensa ja hymyilee — sinulle, tämä sydämeni uusi asukas.
Kristus on rakkaus, ja jouluna hän syntyi.
Ystävä, tänä päivänä on joulu tullut minun sydämeeni. Tule

pöytääni, sytyttäkäämme kynttilät ja juhlikaamme minun sydämeni
joulua.
22. KUN RAKKAUTENI HERÄSI.
Silloin, kun en vielä tuntenut rakkautta enkä sinua, tunsin minä

olevani kuninkaantytär, jonka sielu oli suuri ja rikas kuin isänsä
valtakunta, ja minä kannoin korkealla päätäni.
Mutta kun sinä tulit ja rakkauteni heräsi ja tahtoi antaa sinulle

ruhtinaallisia lahjoja, — silloin huomasin, että minun sieluni oli vain
pieni kerjäläistyttö, joka ei voinut niistä ainoatakaan täyttää. Painoin
pääni alas ja ojensin sinulle käteni hyvästiksi.
Älä käsitä väärin, ystävä, lähtöäni. Älä luule, että rakkauteni kuoli,
vaikka ojensin sinulle käteni hyvästiksi, — sillä rakkauteni käskystä
sen ojensin.
Ystävä, älä pyydä minua jäämään, vaan salli minun mennä, sillä
minun sieluni on repaleinen kerjäläistyttö ja häpeää köyhyyttänsä
rakkauteni edessä. Salli minun mennä ja vaatettaa se ja koota sille
rikkauksia, jotta se voisi täyttää rakkauteni vaatimukset ja antaa
ruhtinaallisia lahjoja.
Salli minun mennä, — sillä rakkauteni käskystä minä menen. Salli

minun jättää sinut, — sillä sinulle elääkseni — minä Sinut jätän.
23. YHTÄ SIINÄ YHDESSÄ.
Me kuljimme rinnakkain, sinä ja minä, pitkinä pimeinä talvisiltoina,

kun maa oli valkea ja taivas musta ja tähdet tuikkivat sen
pimennosta niinkuin enkelien silmät. Katsoimme niitä yhdessä ja
puhuimme siitä ikuisesta Yhdestä, josta me olemme osia, jossa
olemme, elämme ja liikumme. Emme sanaakaan puhuneet sinusta ja
minusta, niin kuin ei meitä olisikaan, — sillä mehän olemme yhtä
siinä ikuisessa Yhdessä, jota ainoata molemmat pyrimme
ymmärtämään.
24. LEMPEMME PUU.
Meidän lempemme on kuin elämä — ja elämä on kuin puu, joka

työntää aina uusia oksia uusiin suuntiin. Silloin, kun me yhdessä
pienen vesan istutimme, emme tunteneet muuta kuin onnen, — sillä
siinä oli vasta yksi oksa. Älä luule, että se puu kuoli, vaikka tuska on
tullut, — se on vain uusi oksa meidän lempemme puussa.
Älä pelkää, vaikka tulisi välinpitämättömyys ja viha, — sillä ne ovat

puhjenneet samasta puusta. Ja jos katsot, kukkii siinä myös se
ensimäinen onnenoksa.
Ja mitä enemmän syntyy uusia oksia, sen kauniimpi ja suurempi

vain on meidän lempemme puu, — sillä meidän lempemme on kuin
elämä.
25. HULLUT HETKET.
Hän tahtoi antaa minulle nuoren lempensä — ja vakuutti sen

kestävän ikuisesti.
Pudistin päätäni ja hymähdin: Lempi on olematon, — olevainen

vain lauluissa, joita hulluina hetkinä luodaan. Saippuakupla, jolla
lapset leikkivät. Ja elämä on päästänyt minut jo lapsuudesta ja
säästänyt hulluudesta.
Hän sanoi: Etkö tiedä, että lapsen huulilla on elämän totuus,

hulluissa hetkissä sen ikuisuus.
Vastasin: Nehän ovat vain pettävää silmänräpäystä. Sano, missä

on niiden ijätikestävyys?
Hän virkkoi: Siinä, että ne ikuisesti — uudistuvat. Tarttui käteeni ja

katsoi minua nauraen silmiin: Tule, ystäväni, ja tulkaamme lapsiksi ja
hulluiksi, että tietäisimme uskoa lemmen olevaisuuteen, emmekä
työntäisi sitä valheena pois. Sillä lapsen huulilla on elämän totuus.
Hulluissa hetkissä sen ikuisuus.
26. EHKÄ NIIN ON PARAS.
Kerroin ystävälleni:
»Näin hiljan unta. Me kävelimme kuutamoisen joen vartta aukealla

niityllä ja katselimme suuria sinisiä kukkia, tummia kuin metsä
kaukana vainioiden takana. Sinä olit vaiti ja pitelit kättäni omassasi.
Kävin hiljaa vierelläsi, pelkäsin hengityksenikin särkevän niiden
kauneutta. Emme poimineet yhtään kukkaa.
Sellainen se oli.»
Tartuin ystäväni käteen ja innostuin: »Tule, mennään katsomaan,

onko siellä todella suuria sinisiä kukkia.» Hän katsoi lempeästi
minuun ja virkkoi: »Takaisin palatessamme kertoisimme, ettei niitä
ollutkaan siellä. Katso, tämähän ei ole unta. — Ja meidän suuri
uskomme kauneuden olemassaoloon olisi taaskin hiukan
pienentynyt — ja elämä tullut vähän harmaammaksi. Ei, älä mene.
Istu viereeni paina pääsi povelleni ja kuvitellaan aurinko korkealle,
paljon kultaperhoja niityille ja suuria sinisiä kukkia puhkeamaan joka
askeleelta, jonka otamme, sinä ja minä.»
27. JA MINÄ ITKIN HILJAA.
Tänä päivänä me kuljimme rinnan, hän ja minä, syksyistä tietä pitkin.

Ja minun mieleeni tuli se päivä jona Natsarealainen Mestari ratsasti
Jerusalemiin. — Ja minä aloin hiljaa itkeä, niin kuin sinä päivänä
Hän.
Me kuljimme rinnan, onnellisina kuin kaksi jumalaa. Taivas oli

kirkas, aurinko korkealla ja maailma kaunis ja olemassaolo ihanaa,
— sillä meidän rakkautemme oli hiljan herännyt. Syksyn viimeiset
linnut lauloivat sen kunniaksi, niin kuin joukot Hoosiannaa Davidin
pojalle ja puut heittelivät punakeltaisia lehtiä jalkojemme tallattaviksi,
niin kuin kansa kukkia Hänen tielleen. — Ja minä aloin hiljaa itkeä,
niin kuin sinä päivänä Hän.
Ystäväni kysyi kyynelteni syytä, mutta en tohtinut sanoa: Kerran

vielä huudamme tälle rakkaudellemme, jota me tänään juhlimme:
ristiin naulitse se! ristiin naulitse! Niin kuin kansa Jerusalemissa
Davidin pojalle. Sillä kaikki kaunis ihmiselämässä särkyy. Kaikki
suuri maailmassa ristiin naulitaan. Me ihmiset olemme vielä lapsia,
jotka rikkovat kauneimmat korunsa.

Women and The Politics of Resistance in The Iranian Constitutional Revolution Maryam Dezhamkhooy All Chapter

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Women and the Politics of Resistance

in the Iranian Constitutional Revolution

Women and the

ISBN 978-3-031-28096-2 ISBN 978-3-031-28097-9 (eBook)

engagement plays a significant role in making change. Writing women

Vienna, Austria Katharina Rebay-Salisbury

This book is based on research conducted on the Iranian women’s move-

Abstract The introduction puts forward a short history and chronology

Keywords Qajar Iran • The Constitutional Revolution • Women’s

Concerning Iranian women’s efforts in the Constitutional Revolution, do

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

The Constitutional Revolution in Iran refers to the period between

and skills helped women to organize themselves in the Constitutional

and its critical role in sustainable household consumption. Remarkably

Shah’s reign. However, I have included the eras of Mohammad Shah

Late Naseri Era1 (late nineteenth century)

From a methodological perspective, this research is chiefly text-based. I

as Iran-e Now. Interestingly, some dialogues and discussions took place in

Chapter 4 examines the background of women’s presence in public

Abtahi and Emami-Meibodi. 2015. The Evolution of Textile Industry in Qajar

Matthee, Rudolph. 2016. Patterns of Food Consumption in Early Modern Iran.

Why Women Are Absent from Political

Abstract This chapter considers methodological concerns on the relative

Keywords Feminism • Gender binary • Muslim women •

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 11

Methodological Traps: West/East, Man/Woman,

Connecting the links between standpoint feminism and the theory of

Aptheker, Bettina. 1989. Tapestries of Life: Women’s Work, Women’s Consciousness,

Lugones, M. 2007. Heterosexualism and the Colonial/Modern Gender System.

Scott, James. 2008. Everyday Forms of Resistance. Copenhagen Journal of Asian

The Pre-Revolution Struggles

Keywords Iranian intelligentsia • Babism • Reforms • Female

The Court, Government, and Roaya in the Late

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 23

Indeed, nineteenth-century Iran was a delicate balance between tribal

of Naser al-Din Shah, describes the situation of the court, government,

Iranian society was a rural society, and therefore agriculture continued

up to sixfold over a century (Abrahamian 1998: 80). Generally, the

Friday, January 15, 1892

that—hovered above, rather than controlled and penetrated into society”.

Foreign Trade and the Pervasive Economic Crisis

evermore into the global economy, an appreciable increase followed in the

The foreign economic penetration, especially the active presence of

among Iranian businessmen (Moaddel 1992: 455; Torabi-Farsani 2009:

The Pre-Revolution Struggles and the Emergence

The period of 1800–1914 saw increased economic conflict between

Yksinäinen ihminen tuli luokseni ja kysyi:

»Tiedätkö minkälainen on lempi?»

Vastasin: »Näin vain ohimennen».

Hän pyyteli: »Selitä minulle mitä näit, miltä lempi näytti?

»Oh ei», minä virkoin, »näin juhlivan kuninkaanpojan, joka nelisti

Vanha ystävä, minä pelkään.

Pieni rakas, mikä sinun on?

Olen niin nuori ja elämän pitkä tie on vasta edessäni.

Pelkäätkö, että suru tulee siellä sinua vastaan ja laskee raskaan

Ystävä, sitä ohitsekäymisen hetkeä minä pelkään, kun minun

Vanha ystävä, pyydä kanssani jumalia, että he eivät lähettäisi

Keskipäivän vaiheilla on tuntematon opettaja tullut kaupunkiin. Kaikki

Ihmiset, jotka asuvat katuni varrella, ovat kolkuttaneet ovelleni ja

Katuja kulkeissani olen eksynyt sattumalta suureen

Aamusta iltaan ja illasta aamuun mietin minä sen oman minäni

Unohtamalla itsensä! Unohtamalla itsensä! Siitä on tullut nyt

Etsin epätoivoisesti jotakin, johon voisin elinvoimani antaa —

Vienna, Austria Katharina Rebay-Salisbury