IT had all started as a rather pleasant, if not exciting evening. We had
heard a speech from British Foreign Secretary Jack Straw once again
trying to "explain" the evil of Islamofascim in
pseudo-theological, rather than political, terms. But that had been
compensated by the recitation of a poem of the great mystic poet Roumi
by Iranian journalist Nazanin Ansari.
Apart from the usual contingent of "the great and the
good," most of the 800 or so people present were media people and
their friends, come to cheer or boo as the Foreign Press Association in
London distributed its annual prizes. The evening was of special interest to me not only because I had been
one of the judges but also because so much of the news stories,
articles, and radio and TV programs submitted for consideration dealt
with issues that, in one way or another, had something to do with Islam
and the Middle East. In fact almost two-thirds of the prizes eventually
awarded went to items dealing with those issues. But there was an even bigger reason why I was interested in the
occasion. The FPA had decided to award its very first prize for a
dialogue of cultures to Akbar Ganji, an Iranian investigative reporter
who is on a hunger strike in Tehran's Evin Prison. Together with several colleagues, I had been trying for months to
persuade the Western media to take an interest in Ganji, a former
Khomeinist revolutionary who is now campaigning for human rights and
democracy. But we never got anywhere because of one small hitch:
President Bush had spoken publicly in support of Ganji and called for
his immediate release. And that, as far as a good part of the Western media is concerned,
amounts to a kiss of death. How could newspapers that portray Bush as
the world's biggest "violator of human rights" endorse his
call in favor of Ganji? To overcome that difficulty, some of Ganji's friends had tried to
persuade him to make a few anti-American, more specifically anti-Bush,
pronouncements so that the Western media could adopt him as a
"hero-martyr." Two years ago, similar advice had been given to
Shirin Ebadi, the Iranian lawyer who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
She was made to understand one stark fact of contemporary life: You will
not be accepted as a champion of human rights unless you attack the
United States.
Ebadi had accepted the advice and used her address during the prize
ceremony in Oslo to launch a bitter attack on the United States as the
arch-violator of human rights. To the surprise of many Iranians, she had
eulogized the 400 or so alleged terrorists held in Guantanamo Bay, but
made no mention of the thousands of political prisoners, including some
of her own friends and clients, who languish in mullah-run prisons
throughout Iran. Would Ganji adopt a similar tactic in order to get media attention in
the West? The answer came last January and it was a firm no. The result was that Ganji, probably the most outspoken and courageous
prisoner of conscience in the Islamic Republic today, became a
non-person for the Western media. Even efforts by the group Reporters
Without Frontiers, and the International Press Institute, among other
organizations of journalists, failed to change attitudes towards Ganji. Hundreds of editorials have been published in major Western
publications in sympathy with the prisoners in Guantanamo Bay or Abu
Ghraib. But, to my knowledge, there has been none in support of Ganji or
the thousands of political prisoners held by the mullahs. So, it was heart-warming to see the FPA honor Ganji as a champion of
freedom. An audio-message from Ganji's wife, smuggled out of Iran, was
broadcast, creating the evening's highest moment. But then things went pear-shape as a petite middle-aged lady dressed
all in black was invited to come on stage to make a symbolic offer of
the award to an absent Ganji. (The mullahs had not even allowed Ganji's
wife to travel to London to attend the occasion.) The lady in question was introduced as one Bianca
Jagger, whose title is UNICEF Ambassador. What her day
job is, however, is a mystery to me. She started by telling us about her recent trips to Tehran and
Damascus, presumably the two capitals of human rights that she likes
best, and how she had been told "by officials and others" that
she and other Westerners had "no moral authority" to talk
about human rights and freedom. She then proceeded by saying it is all very well to remember Ganji
but that should not prevent us from remembering "those held in
Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib, and all other secret prisons" that
the United States is supposed to be running all over the world. The rest of the little speech had nothing to do with Ganji and
everything to do with the claim that the United States is drawing an
almost sadistic pleasure by practicing torture. I couldn't believe my
ears. There was this caricature of a "UNICEF ambassador" equating
Ganji — a man who has fought only with his pen — with men captured
armed in hand on the battlefields of Afghanistan and Iraq. Those men at least had access to lawyers and could be visited by the
Red Cross. Ganji's lawyer, however, had himself become a prisoner after
trying to defend his client. Nor is the Red Cross, or anybody else, allowed to visit Ganji. I was also surprised that the "UNICEF Ambassador" had no
difficulty in equating the United States, which, after all, is a
democracy with checks and balances, with the Islamic Republic in which a
self-styled "Supreme Guide" claims to rule on behalf of God. In his "Nichomachaean Ethics," Aristotle warns against any
confusion of categories when it comes to good and evil. Translated into
modern discourse, this means that imposing a moral equivalence in the
name of multiculturalism — or the Nietzschean scheme of transcending
good and evil — is a sign of crass immorality. Having swallowed my anger, I gave the "UNICEF Ambassador" a
piece of my mind. She seemed surprised. No one had ever told her such
things, especially not in a polite society of dinner jackets and long
robes. "Is Ganji the same as the alleged terrorists in Guantanamo
Bay?" I asked. "Well, yes, I mean no, I mean yes," she mumbled. "But
they are all prisoners, aren't they?" Having witnessed the verbal altercation, a colleague from the BBC
filled me in on the background of the "UNICEF Ambassador." It
seems that she had once been married to a British pop singer. And that,
of course, is enough to qualify you as a "UNICEF Ambassador"
touring the world, attacking Western democracies and flattering the
tyrants of Tehran, Damascus and Havana among others. Well, it had been a good evening. In the end, however, as the lady's
husband had once crooned: I could get no
satisfaction. I don't blame him!