The streets of Tehran had turned into free public spaces days before the 2009 Presidential Elections. The vibrant scene of groups of people with antagonistic political ideals arguing and debating with one another was truly amazing and unique. After the elections, in a spontaneous concerted act, three million people walked in silence, protesting the results of the election. Those who walked up from Enghelab (Revolution) Square to Azadi Square experienced a sacred time and space. They experienced for a few hours a power that has been engrained forever in their minds. The actors involved created a story and have “started a chain of events,” as Arendt put it in The Human Condition. While they did not walk the path of revolution to freedom, they did experience freedom when they were debating in public corners.

On the days prior to and after the elections, Iranians experienced the extraordinary, because they challenged the “commonly accepted.” They “acted in concert” and owned the streets of Tehran from which they had always felt alienated. The streets of Tehran, ever since, have gained a different meaning. They are a reminder of a moment of “greatness” that will never lose its new acquired significance. It is “greatness” because it breaks through the commonly accepted and reaches into the extraordinary. Whatever is true in common and everyday life no longer applies because everything that exists in the extraordinary is unique. Following Arendt’s political thought and rejecting the tradition of means and ends, Iranians in those days were obsessively involved in the process of the “living deed” and the “spoken word,” the sheer act of performance. They did not knowingly organize and manage the events; rather they were spontaneously involved in actions and words. It is important to acknowledge the meaning of this experience, because it alludes to the “potentiality” of power that can be realized and in fact, was realized, however briefly, in actuality. For Arendt, the end is not the outcome or the result of political action, but the act itself, the coming together of men and women from all walks of life. The act of protests, as means to an end, which could have been protesting until the collapse of the state, would not be political action as Arendt defines it. For her, the men and women walking together is the end of politics and freedom, “because there is nothing higher to attain than this actuality itself.”

The pure moments of freedom and politics, if and should they occur again, are forever to be cherished in memory but cannot be sustained. This temporality could of course be due to the brute force that Iranians face. Perhaps the temporal can be permanent in another context, although I highly doubt it, as every place has its own brute forces and complexities. … In any case, what is at stake here is that the ideal public sphere that many Iranians experienced was only temporary. This temporality does not reduce from the significance of the phenomenon. Yet the bitter reality is that once their sphere of public was crushed they had to look elsewhere, other places where they had always performed politically. Facebook is one of those places. As people resort to this alternative sphere of publics with newly developed political consciousness as a result of their post elections experience, I think, potentially, there may be better days in the future.

Two Examples

Once word spread around Facebook and opposition news websites that Habibollah Latifi, a Kurdish student, allegedly affiliated with separatist and terrorist organizations in Iran’s Kurdistan, was going to be executed in three days, almost everyone in my social circles was sharing the news. Most news feeds on my Facebook page were related to him. Discussions on how to prevent his execution were going on everywhere. A Facebook campaign page called Save Habibollah Latifi- Do Not Execute Habibollah Latif was created; one hundred people became members of this group in an hour. Members shared updated news on his status, relayed his family members’ anecdotes through personal communication with them, and suggested ways to stop the execution. Members suggested calling the Iranian Department of Justice, Kurdish parliamentary representatives, the United Nations, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and in general, any organization that could bring this local problem to the international public. It was hoped that international pressure would affect the state’s decision. Dozens of petitions were created and sent to the Supreme Leader (Ayatalloh Khamenei), the Head of the Judiciary (Ayatollah Larijani), the United Nations (Secretary-General Ban Ki Moon), and any so called “important person” that could have influence. The words and actions of the Facebookers spread ever wider. Iranians inside and outside the country were engaged in a single cause: stopping Habilollah Latifi’s execution.

A few hours before his execution, word spread out on Facebook that crowds of people, including Latifi’s extended family, had gathered in front of the Sanandaj prison calling for the execution to stop. While only a couple of hundred people at most demonstrated, it did have an effect. At five in the morning, the head of the prison came out and urged people to leave the scene, insisting that their presence would have no effect,  promising them that the execution will be carried out as planned. The crowd did not budge. Later, the sentence was postponed and Latifi was transferred to another location.

Facebookers were extremely excited; their intense efforts had worked. They could see themselves as part of a movement. It’s not clear that it were Facebook, news websites, news channels (BBC Farsi, VOA and so on), bloggers and the virtual world that had stayed the execution. It is also not clear that the family’s outspokenness had led to the Internet spiral. Yet a contrasting case is suggestive.

A day after the Habilollah Latifi affair, another Iranian citizen was sentenced to death. Ali Saremi was allegedly a member of Mujahedin, an organization infamous for their terrorist activities right after the 1979 revolution. Mujahedin is officially despised by the Islamic Republic. Although word spread and news was shared on Facebook, not much momentum was created. Perhaps it was too late, or maybe it would have had no effect anyway. In any case, Saremi was executed as planned and not much was done to save him.

Of course there is no way to know what would have happened if more action was taken to stop his execution. However, at the time these two stories were compared and many believed if there had been more action, Saremi could have been saved also.  Such action would have had meaning, as has been indicated by the actions preceding and following the last elections.