Chapter SIX

Sahand O mountain of pure snow,
Descended from Heaven with Zoroaster
Fire in your heart, snow on your shoulders
With storms of centuries
And white hair of History on your chest…1
(Yadollah Amini (Maftun).)

I had been sent to Elmieh School by my father when the Democratic Party of Azerbaijan formed an autonomous government in Azerbaijan, which lasted from 1945 to 1946. My father did this under the influence of ayatollahs and mullahs, who opposed the Democratic Party. They maintained that Islam was in danger, but in fact the interest and landowners and merchant families upon whom they were dependent were possibly more threatened by the social reforms.
Most aspects of the education system at Elmieh School different from state schools but I was able to learn much from the history teacher there and, indeed, from what was happening every day in the world outside school. The atmosphere in the school and my home was similar, but in society as a whole it was very different. There was a new openness; many things were happening all at once and for a child like me it was a new life and significant experience. I used to take part in demonstrations and peaceful processions of musicians, artists, schoolchildren, workers, peasants and teachers, as well as other kinds of public performances.
The women also participated in these processions and my sisters used to come outside to watch them. It was like a festival and spring of fresh happenings. The police were replaced by youth organizations in every district of Tabriz. The young people who guarded their own area were called Fidais (volunteers or sacrificers). They were respected and loved by the public and I do not remember ever seeing them acting violently or interfering with people’s private lives. Women now went out in the streets with or without chador; men wore any clothes that they could afford; even mullahs were free to preach and wear their special religious garments.
I remember most of what happened during this time but there are a few events which I recall vividly. Firstly, the national revolutionary leaders like Sattar Khan, Baqir Khan and Sheikh Muhammad Khiyabani were reintroduced to the public and the writers and poets of Azerbaijan were highlighted. Many meetings were held by women, and educational and health films were shown. New schools were being built; the University of Tabriz was established; a radio station was opened; pipes were laid for fresh water and young men and women were trained as nurses and first-aid personnel and then sent out to the villages.
I remember Sattar Khan’s statue being erected in the middle of the city’s public garden (called Gulestan Baghi, or the Garden of Flowers). He was introduced to the schoolchildren and special attention was paid to the role of ordinary people in the history of Iran in general and Azerbaijan in particular.
The district where Izzat and Humai lived was called Amir Khiz (Amir – or leader – producing area). This is the district from where the two important leaders of the Constitutional Revolution (1905 - 1911), Sattar Khan and Baqir Khan, came. As in my childhood I had heard a lot about Babak, so had I also heard about these men from Izzat and his neighbours, who had seen them in the flesh and in action. They talked of Sattar Khan with great pride and patriotism. He was known as Sattar Milli (the national leader).
I had heard how Sattar Khan had defended Tabriz against anti – Constitutionalists and fought against the army of the despotic Muhammad Ali Shah and his feudal supporters such as Rahim Khan. In fact I knew the grandson of Sattar Khan and we went to the same school. But he was not all that clever, which surprised me because I expected Sattar Khan’s grandson to be very intelligent and know all the details of his grandfather’s life. I was disappointed when in later years I put questions to him about Sattar Khan which he could not answer. However, I liked him and enjoyed walking back home with him.
Sattar Khan rose to prominence in 1908, when he heard that Muhammad Ali Shah had closed the Majlis, or parliament, and ignored all the achievements of the Constitutional movement. After the subsequent coup d’état he invited the people of Tabriz to resist and defend the Constitution. Tabriz was divided between Royalists and Constitutionalists. My parents’ district was predominantly Royalist. My father said that he did not take sides, “I was neither Royalist nor Constitutionalist”. But Amir Khiz, Izzat’s district, was the heartland of Constitutionalists. In June 1908, after the bombardment of the Majlis, and Muhammad Ali Shah’s coup d’état, Sattar Khan rose in Tabriz. After eleven months of struggle, he not only brought back the Constitution to Tabriz but also saved all of Iran.
I remember my history teachers at both Elmieh School and, later, Nizami Secondary School taught us the background of the Constitutional Revolution of 1905. They used top say that in order to understand the Constitutional Revolution one had also to understand the society of the Qajar period.
When the Qajars came to the fore, at the end of the 18th century, the Iranian population was made up of a mosaic of ethnic, cultural and linguistic minorities. Geographically, Iran is split by three mountain ranges bordering a central arid plain, making communication between communities a rare occurrence – save for the factional feuds which occurred regularly at this time. The bellicose nature of the tribesmen is aptly summed up in a quote from a tribal chief; “I against my Brother. I and my Brother against my Cousin. I and my Cousin against my Tribe. I and my Tribe against the World.”
When Agha Muhammad Khan made the first moves towards Qajar supremacy, he did it through forging alliances with tribes or conquering rebellious factions himself. He was at heart a tribal leader and respected the tribal system, but in attempting to bring the whole country under one ruler ha was trying to create a united society out of what had been geographically, culturally and economically diverse one.
After his assassination, however, and with the eventual accession of Fath Ali Shah in 1797, his policy was reversed. Fath Ali Shah and his successors, Muhammad Shah (1834 - 1848) and Nasir al – Din Shah (1848 - 1896), disregarded the tribal aspect in favour of the ancient traditions of the Imperial Shah of Shahs. They tried to protect their position by creating an effective army and state – wide administration and legitimize their dynasty by imitating the court manners of previous emperors.
They failed in all these respects. The administration involved the deputizing of provincial governors to collect taxes and run particular regions. The scheme floundered as the Shah failed to realize that a governor was completely powerless outside his own village.
The creation of a viable army collapsed for similar reasons. Each province was required to provide a regiment of cavalry which would understandably be headed by a tribal chief, who naturally held the interests of his tribe much dearer than those of the Shah. Tribal life continued in the provinces whilst Qajar court lived in a luxurious lifestyles of its ancient predecessors. They remained in power by a policy of “divide and rule”. To outsiders looking on, the period of Qajar supremacy seemed to be a period of absolutism. In fact it was not as a result of their strength that the Qajars retained the Peacock Throne, but merely of the inevitable weakness of the disunited society of the country. (This was also the case with the late Shah, whose strength was the result of social disunity.)
Iran began to be influenced by the West early in the 19th century. Military pressure in the north from Russia resulted in the treaties of Gulistan (1813) and Turkmanchai (1828) – both embarrassing to Fath Ali Shah and resulting in a indemnity payment of some £ 3, 000,000 to the Tsar, as well as the imposition of certain conditions by the Russians. The Russian dominance was soon followed by British offensives – eager to halt the Russian advance they extracted a treaty of Paris (1857) which too resulted in Iran making a number of consessions.
These concessions gave foreign merchants an almost free hands to exploit Iranian resources and manpower, and to remain exempt from any tariff duties, local travel restrictions, and the jurisdiction of the Sharia Courts. The Qajars were defenseless against the economic penetration by the West, an example of which was the notorious Reuter concession by Nasir al – Din Shah in 1872. This involved the profits from customs’ duties going to this British firm as well as the right to finance a state bank and exclusive mineral rights within the country. This particular concession was later withdrawn as a result of national and international pressure, but the Shah continued to permit the Western exploitation of Iran’s resources. As we saw earlier, this began to disrupt the traditional bazaars within Iran, as cheap manufactured goods from abroad flooded the market. On the one hand, a number of the bigger merchants grew wealthier, but on the other, the traditional smaller traders and craft workers began to decline. All this helped to unite the traditional forces in the bazaars, who were closely backed by certain progressive and religious leaders (whose livelihood depended on the bazaar).
Meanwhile, Nasir al – Din Shah was continuing to permit the rise in foreign interest in the country, purely as a means of obtaining some cash. It was at this time that Nasir al – Din Shah sold the tobacco concession to Major Talbot (described in chapter 4) which had led to the strike of leading bazaars and other opposition. This came to be known as the Tobacco Revolt.
I remember my history teacher covering this period and talking about Mirza Taqi Farahani (Known as Amir Kabir), vizier of Nasir al – Din Shah and founder of the famous Dar al – Funun (Abode of Learning) college in Tehran, and explaining how he was sentenced to death by Nasir al – Din Shah in 1852. At this point he became emotional and tears appeared in his eyes. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped away his tears.
Nasir al – Din Shah’s policy proved to be a mistaken one, as the effects of improved communications, such as telegraph lines built by foreign investors, were for the first time permitting anti – dynastic feelings to unite across the country. It was ironic that the Western infiltration which the Qajars had seemed so eager to allow, apparently to protect their position at the head of society, in fact set the wheels in motion for the downfall of their dynasty. The state was in no way weakened by the increase in foreign influence, but society was greatly strengthened in that it was galvanized into united action against a common enemy – the foreign menace. (We saw a similar thing happening at the fall of the Shah in 1979. The clergy (ayatollahs and mullahs) were united with the bazaar merchants against the Shah and his Western backers.)
The assassination of Nasir al – Din Shah in 1896 brought Muzaffar al – Din Shah to the Peacock Throne. He immediately threw Iran’s gates wide open to concession hunters and appointed a Belgian, Monsieur Naus, Director of Customs. His liberal policies, he hoped, would satisfy his political opposition. However, they merely encouraged the formation of clandestine societies sworn to the overthrow of despotism. Many such societies sprang up, such as the Revolutionary Committee, the Society of Humanity, the Social Democrat Society and the Secret Society. The Secret Society was organized in Tabriz by twelve young radicals. There was a close link between Tabriz and Baku. The Social Democrat Party of Iran was formed in early 1904 in Baku by a group of immigrants who were active in the Social Democratic Party of Russia, headed by Nariman Narimanov, who was an Azerbaijani schoolteacher. He later became the president of the Soviet Socialist Republic of Azerbaijan.
By 1905 Iran was moving rapidly towards a political revolution. The traditional middle class was now economically, ideologically and politically alienated from the ruling dynasty. The actual revolution took place in three stages – each one becoming more decisive than the last. After a bad harvest, and a sudden disruption in trade caused by the Russo – Japanese War, some 200 shop – owners staged a peaceful march. They demanded the removal of the Belgian, Naus, and the repayment of loans. The Shah agreed to these terms, but failed to keep his word.
The second protest was more vehement and resulted in a Tehran general strike. Again Muzaffar al – Din Shah gave in and then failed to honour his promise.
In the summer of 1906 a preacher was arrested for denouncing the government in public. This infuriated the secret societies and they marched on the police station. In the disturbance which followed, a theology student was shot dead. The following morning a larger mob set out with his body for a public funeral in the central mosque. They were met on the steps of the mosque by Cossacks and bloodbath ensued – 22 dead and more than a hundred injured. The Qajars now found the religious leaders openly denouncing them. Islam, the most powerful unifying force, had turned against the despotic rulers. (The opposition of religious leaders to the Qajars should not be interpreted as their support for the Constitutional Revolution. In fact, leading religious leaders, except for a very few, were mostly against the Constitutional laws. For example, Ayatollah Sheikh Fazlullah Nuri, to whom Ayatollah Khomeini refers frequently, was fanatically opposed to the Constitutional laws.) Muzaffar al – Din Shah had no choice and on 5August 1906 he signed a proclamation convening a Constituent Assembly.
The power of the Shah had finally been reduced and the rift between state and society was dramatically reduced in size.
When Muhammad Ali Shah ascended the throne in early 1907 he was determined to rejuvenate the power of the Qajars. Hen tried to reinstigate tribal rivalry and even proposed that he should have the right to select the entire National Assembly. His proposals were met with public protests in cities throughout the country. His premier, Amin al Sultan, was assassinated and he himself had to retire meekly before the National Assembly.
In the meantime, however, the Liberals were pressing ahead with ambitious reforms – trying to reduce the power of the traditional middle class in the Assembly and distribute it more evenly amongst the provinces. This, understandably, did not meet with the complete approval of the bazaar merchants in the city and the Shah now found himself with increasing support. The traditional middle class opposed both the Shah and foreign powers until they achieved what they wanted. The people in the street did not matter much to them.
In June 1908 the Shah, supported by a Cossack division and reactionary mullahs staged a successful coup d’état. Martial law was imposed in Tehran and civil war broke out. The slums were hotbeds of reaction, while the middle-class regions had become the bastions of revolution. The initial success of the Royalists soon turned into defeat as the provinces rose in revolt and two rebel armies converged on Tehran. The royalists fled the city and the Shah sought asylum in the Russian legation. The civil war was over. So was the despotism of the Qajar period.
Muhammad Ali Shah was deposed and his twelve – year – old son Ahmad took his place. Cabinet posts were distributed among notables who had supported the constitutional movement only for their own limited interest.
The Shah remained as the nominal monarch, but power had finally been wrested from his grip. August 5th, 1909, saw the calling of the Second National Assembly. The revolt of traditional bazaar merchants against the feudals had ended with the merchants having one foot on land and one foot on commerce. Feudalism was far from defeated. With regard to a National movement against Tsarist Russia and Britain, the latter ended up with more influence and power than ever before – having friends among feudals, intellectuals, traditional bazaar merchants and, above all, religious leaders.
When I used to go to collect the children to come and work in the factory I used to think about Sattar Khan, Baqir Khan, Haydar Amu – Oghli and Sheikh Muhammad Khiyabani, who were popular amongst the workers. Mir Taqi, a senior carpet – maker, used to bring literature about these people to the factory and read it during his lunch break.
The story of Sattar Khan’s constitutional achievements was a great contrast to my childhood experience of Reza Shah’s dictatorship. But during the government of Firqa – yi Dimukrat – i Azerbaijan (The Democratic Party of Azerbaijan) I came to know these national figures through my own experience.
One thing I clearly remember about Sheikh Muhammad Khiyabani (1879 - 1920) was the appearance of his monument with a picture of him at Sigat – al Islam school (Sigat – al Islam was one of the progressive religious leaders in Tabriz who fought for the Constitutional Revolution of 1905). It was surrounded by flowers and the people visited the place. I too went there a number of times. When the Democratic government fell, this memorial and the statues of Sattar Khan and Baqir Khan disappeared. I do not remember any statue of Haydar Amu – Oghli but I remember seeing handsome photographs of him wearing a cossack hat.
My history teachers had told me about Khiyabani and his uprising against the unpopular British treaty of 1919 with Vusuq al – Dowlah’s government (1918 - 1920) and especially how Britain had helped Vusuq and his succeeding governments to suppress the Khiyabani movement and other democratic movements such as the Jangali movement of 1917 – 1920 led by Mirza Kuchek Khan and Haydar Amu – Oghli in Gilan.
In order to give a more detailed picture of this important figure, Khiyabani, and the historical context in which he defended the Constitution of Iran I will include in the next few pages some of Khiyabani’s speeches and articles, translated by Dr Tabatabai whose PhD thesis on Khiyabani I had the honour to supervise in 1984.
Khiyabani’s struggle was in the line with the Constitutional Revolution of 1905 – 1911 and he made clear his concern for the practice of Constitutional law from his very first article in Tajaddud, the newspaper which he published. In one article, published on 5 May 1917 he declared:

With the example of the rebellion in the neighbouring country, it is impossible for the Iranians to surrender to the despotic regime which we have been facing. Now what have we to do? First of all we must realize that this freedom and our Constitutional Laws have been achieved by our good and brave patriotic fellow countrymen and women. By sacrificing their valuable lives they have helped to keep our freedom alive. We should like to ask our government, which came to power as the result of direct election, to act in accordance with the Constitutional Laws …

In another article three years later Khiyabani revealed his love not only for Iran in general but for Azerbaijan in particular:

While Azerbaijan is living and its freedom fighters are alive the “Constitutional Law” will not be left defenceless …
(Tajaddud, 16 April 1920)

Khiyabani wished to see the people of his country truly and democratically represented. To this end he wished to see the parasitic and reactionary elements of the society eliminated:

Law – givers of the present time must believe in the principle of democracy. Democracy should not be entrusted to the aristocracy. We want a parliament which is created by the sincere wishes of the people and which knows their needs and problems; not a parliament which is used as a net of hypocrisy and treachery in the government of Tehran …
(Tajaddud, 11 May 1920)
With the outbreak of the First World War and its subsequent circumstances for Iran, the country had suffered a collapse of political structure; by the end of the war the revival of political activities was once more encouraged.
Iran’s declared neutrality in 1914 had been ignored, and Britain and Russia continued to keep their troops in Iran and interfere with the country’s internal affairs. The third Majlis, which was elected in June 1914, failed to meet. The balance of rivalry between the British and Russians was interrupted with the 1917 Russian Revolution, which on the one hand had led to a further state of anarchy in Iran and on the other hand had helped the growth of nationalist feelings and movements in different parts of the country. The subsequent treaty between the British government and the Iranian premier Vusuq al – Dowla was forcibly abandoned under internal nationalist pressure. It was in this context that the nationalist uprising of Khiyabani in Azerbaijan gathered momentum.
In spite of the accusations made by the aristocratic and pro – British forces, Khiyabani was a patriot and nationalist in his tendencies and policies. He refrained from obtaining foreign support, despite the fact that it was readily available in neighbouring revolutionary Russia. He also refused to follow a separatist policy, even though his influence and authority was restricted to Azerbaijan.
Despite his significant role in modern history of Iran in general and Azerbaijan in particular, he remains an ambiguous character. The following quotation from Khiyabani provides a general picture of the ideas of a man who left a great mark on the history of my country and influenced a whole generation from whom I had much to learn:

We are looking for a common source of light to cover all our country. To create such a light, no doubt a clear and progressive policy is a must …It is the aim of our uprising to cease anarchy and disorder, and to cut off the hands of the traitors … thieves … criminals … Our policy is not confined to Azerbaijan, it is not our aim to have a separatist programme … We know that our voice is now kept unheard beyond Tabriz but we shall carry on our activities until the establishment of a lasting democracy throughout Iran…
(Tajaddud, 23 May 1920)

Mushir al – Dowla, the governor of Azerbaijan, eventually offered a peace talk to Khiyabani. Khiyabani accepted his invitation. However, while the talk was in progress between government representatives and Khiyabani’s group, Mushir al – Dowla, backed by the British army, attacked Khiyabani’s forces. Khiyabani himself was shot dead in his own house.
Khiyabani’s monument was about twenty minutes walk from my parent’s house. Most of the people in our district, including my father, had visited the place. Sayyid Jafar Pishavari, who was elected leader of the Democratic Party and Government of Azerbaijan repeatedly mentioned and highlighted Khiyabani’s uprising of 1919 – 1920. Pishavari delivered a speech on the occasion of the unveiling of Khiyabani’s statue in 1946, in which he declared:

If there is a pride for Azerbaijan the Azerbaijanis themselves and their pride secure this … The Sheikh was a great thinker … The uprising of Khiyabani, no matter how it ended, has a great importance in Iran. Our movement is the continuation of his uprising …

About this time, my parents used to take us to the newly built schools to watch educational and agricultural films. For the first time I saw how the peasants lived in the villages of Azerbaijan. Azerbaijan is one of the most fertile parts of Iran. It is sometimes called the country’s “basket of grain” and “land of various fruits”. Despite this, the peasants have lived and suffered under suppression and deprivation for centuries. The large landowners and feudals treated the inhabitants of their villages as objects and their property. The villagers would be bought and sold along with their villages and lands. The most fearful force in the villages was the gendarmerie, which acted as the arm of the landowner. They would arrest, punish, imprison and kill peasants according to the wishes of their landowners. If a peasant failed to provide the landowner with grain, butter, eggs and other dues, then he would be punished. The government would take their sons as soldiers and landowners their products for their own profit; and the gendarmerie served both these forces. The peasants were frightened and would shiver at the very name of gendarme.
Once I remember I was staying with my mother’s relative in their village. It was summer and her huge brick – built house towered above the other buildings, which were no more than humble huts. The peasants lived with their animals in the same room or area. They seemed poor but they were kind and hospitable. The village headman informed Mrs Badir, my hostess, that a few peasants had failed to pay their debts and had not brought the required amount of wheat. Mrs Badir ordered the village headman to summon all these peasants to her house. In an hour’s time, they were all brought before her like slaves. They entered and bowed to Mrs Badir and her sons, and were ordered to sit by the door. Mrs Badir asked why they had not paid their debts and brought the grain. There was silence for a few minutes. She repeated her question more forcefully and threatened them with calling the gendarme. They were frightened and responded immediately by giving their excuses: their crops had failed; one man’s wife had given birth to a child and could not work, another said his father died and he had to sell his cow to pay for his funeral; yet another said his cow had become ill and died and he could not work without the cow.
Mrs Badir’s youngest son, Kaykavus, was a captain in the army and wore a very showy uniform. He came to his mother’s assistance and retorted, “What you say are you personal problems. You must pay our debts, otherwise …”
To my horror younger men began to cry and the old men bent their heads. The younger men begged Mrs Badir and her son not to call the gendarme and promised to sell their animals and pay their debts; but the old man sat pale with their heads still bent.
A British visitor to both Iranian and Soviet Azerbaijan in 1945, Mr Philip Price, MP, observed the contrasting conditions of the villagers there. In an article in the Manchester Guardian (Tehran, 20 December 1945) he wrote:

The centre of interest today is Azerbaijan, in the northwest. This is the Iranian province bordering the Caucasus. It is inhabited by people who are the same in speech, religion and history as those who live in the adjoining territory of the Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan, in the eastern Trans – Caucasus.
Now Soviet Azerbaijan had made tremendous progress, culturally and economically, since the October Revolution. I have recently spent some time there and was able to compare the state of the Moslem population today with what I saw 33 years ago when I was there last. Then they were priest – ridden and backward, the women veiled and subjected, education virtually non-excited. Now I found Moslem Azerbaijanis in all the Government offices, in the educational, scientific and research institutions, and stuffing them up 75 per cent. Such has been the effect of 25 years of union with the Soviets.
Here (in Iranian Azerbaijan) the peasants can see that north of the border the feudal magnates have gone, irrigation works are in full swing, and the tractors plough the land on collective farms, where the peasant reaps the benefit of his labour. Meanwhile they scratch the land with primitive ploughs, as I saw with my own eyes the moment I crossed the borders into Persia, and have to deliver anything up to 50 per cent of their produce to absentee landlords who live in the fine houses in Tehran.

Sabir, a famous poet from Azerbaijan (1826 - 1911), wrote at the beginning of this century about the miserable conditions of the peasants. When the people of Iran heard the news that their country was to have a Constitution, the old man fell on his knees in the fields and exclaimed:

Great Allah be praised; over Iran, our prison,
The dawn of the Constitution has a long last arisen.
The very foundations of evil have suffered a blow;
No more will the village elder plunge us in woe.
The foul flam of tyranny has been put out.
Iran will again be a paradise, no one can doubt.
The wanton authorities have been bridled at last.
And the peasants’ sufferings are a thing of the past.
The ploughman will never be beaten again any more,
He will not be insulted, maltreated again any more.
The landlord won’t squeeze us out any more,
No, from now on he will never curse and shout any more!

No sooner had he finished, than a farrash (official) sent by the authorities appeared on the scene and, in full sight of his family, tied the old man’s and bade him go to the landlord on foot, while the official himself rode after the peasant on horseback.
The landlord came out holding a whip in his hand and thus addressed the peasant:

Yeah…a whole month has gone by since the day
When the wheat was threshed and stored away,
And where have you been, you worthless old lout?
You took all the crop for yourself, no doubt!
And what did you bring your landlord, eh?
All the fruit from your garden you hid away.
Neither barley nor wheat have you given your lord,
Neither peas nor beans have you given your lord.
You ought to be pinched a little, peasant,
To teach the rest of you people a lesson.

The first thing that Pishavari did was replace these village gendarmes with Fidais, as he had in the towns. My grandfather called these Fidais thugs! In the absence of gendarmes and landowners the peasants began to act freely and formed their units if support to the Democratic government. During a single year of Pishavari’s government in Azerbaijan, the faces of villagers had been transformed (but my grandfather did not receive as many presents from the villagers as he did before). Health, education and above all land reform were introduced to villages. This government policy combined with the absence of fear of the gendarmerie gave even the poorest peasants a new personality and hope that I can vividly remember. Many peasants still remember those days and continue to talk of them with pride and enthusiasm.
I remember Pishavari in Tabriz. The Pishavari government started to built new schools on old and delapidated burial grounds – despite protests from the mullahs who said that it was dishonouring the dead. But the dead could surely not rest in those neglected places! During the school building programme I remember the powerful lamps at every corner of the graveyards turning the night into day. The building workers worked three shifts a day, for it was a 24 – hour programme. I was astonished to see the work completed so quickly. Three schools were constructed, two primary and one secondary, made of brick and with tin roofs which gleamed like silver under the sun. One primary school was for girls, the other two were for boys. The secondary school was called Razi, (after the famous Persian scientist and physician Zakariyya Razi, known as Rhazes in the West).
Razi School was mostly attended by poor and working – class children. I did not study there but did it in later years, when I taught in one of the neighbouring schools called Taqi Zadeh, which was also built on the ruins of a graveyard.
It was situated in front of the Davachi Bazaar, which had a huge dorr like the one at the karvan – sarai.
Tea – houses, charcoal and firewood shops were in its neighbouhood. A few yards away from the school there also stood a very large bakery which sold sangak bread. Bread plays a significant part in the daily diet of Iran and is a necessary accompaniment to every meal. I used to go in the mornings and evenings to buy fresh bread for my parents. Sangak was sold in metre – long thin strips and was crispy and brown, delicious hot although you had to avoid the odd stone from the oven which sometimes stuck to the cooked bread. I often used to eat the end of the sangak on the way home; between meals I would sometimes make myself a snack of sangak, fresh herbs and cheese, while warm sangak, with ice – cold butter and thick, dark honey was a rare and special breakfast treat.
The bakery itself was a source of interest and delight to me. In the front of the shop was a scale suspended from ceiling. A man stood behind the scale and weighted the bread as it came out of the oven. Next tot the scale was a platform on which the people spread the hot bread to be cooled before weighting, because they thought hot bread was heavier. The oven was situated in a large area behind the counter and separated from it by a door. We used to go inside and often queued up to receive the bread from a man who stood in front of the oven to remove the bread and keep an eye on the oven’s temperature. When I was younger the oven was heated by wood or khar (a kind of thorny bush brought from the mountains), but later it was fuelled by diesel oil.
The shatir or baker stood to the left of the oven, taking dough from huge pots and flattering it on a wooden board connected to a long wooden handle. After shaping the dough into a square with his fingertips, the shatir lifted the board with the dough still on it, placed it inside the oven and manoeuvred the dough onto the bed of hot stones in the oven by twisting and turning the long handle. He then withdrew the board from the oven and placed on the flat end on a stone which stuck out of the wall and the long handle on a V – shaped piece of wood two metres below on the ground.
While the shatir started on another piece of dough, his companion, the vardast, took a stick with which he reached for the bread in the oven and, sliding it gently underneath, loosened the bread from the stones and carefully withdrew it. He then quickly put his hand to the oven and pulled out the bread. This process was repeated over and over again, as the oven was only able to bake 10 to 15 sangaks at a time.
Watching all theses processes with the noise, heat and hustle and bustle was very interesting for a child. But there were other reasons why I was always willing to go to this bakery or another one near our house. I met and chattered with my classmates or friends there. If no one I knew was around I also used to read my school books. Sometimes I stayed there for a couple of hours and found it pleasant to sit by myself, think for myself and observe the other people from a corner of the basement bakery.
Apart from the workers at the front of the shop there was another man who toiled at the back, often covered in flour. He made the dough, in two or three large mixing pots. He first poured the water into these, before adding flour from large sacks. He mixed the dough by hand, continuously thumbing across and against the sides of the pot until it was finally ready to be passed on to the baker. It was then usually left for a few hours to rise. If bread was cooked from dough which had not risen sufficiently then the customers would complain, especially my father, who would grumble that it was not tasty and was indigestible.
During the government of the Democratic Party of Azerbaijan, the bakeries were well organized and bread was plentiful; sometimes in the past greedy bakery owners had hoarded flour to create an artificial shortage and so put up prices. Kaviyan, a member of Pishavari’s government, made routine checks on the Tabriz bakeries to make sure this did not happen. One day he arrived at a bakery to find queues of people waiting for bread, the staple diet of the poor. He called the shopkeeper to account for his delay. After listening to his excuses, Kaviyan said that he wanted to see bread on sale for both the waiting customers and future customers. If there was no bread then he would bake the owner and the baker in their own oven! Needless to say, the bread materialized. News of this event quickly spread and made a great impact on community. The Pishavari government would not tolerate two types of people – professional criminals, and those who tried to artificially increase prices.
There was a man in Tabriz called Qarni Yirtik Kazim (stomach – torn Kazim) who was terrifying: he used to rob people’s houses and attack both the public and police. No – one dared to challenge him. One day, I remember, the news broke out in the city that Qarni Yirtig Kazim would be placed on trial by the Pishavari government for raping a woman. At the trial he was sentenced to death and later hanged. There was great relief among the people of Tabriz and from then on other minor criminals did not dare to harm the public.
I remember also when the health service became free. The workers in my father’s factory and the poor people in Izzat’s area now had access to doctor’s and hospitals without worrying about the cost. Young girls and boys were attending six – month courses to become nurses and first aid helpers in the villages. They were proud to graduate from this course: there were several fro my parents’ district who had attended this course and had received a diploma or certificate, which they then showed to other children.
Two of these girls were the daughters of a man called Mirza Hussein Vaiz. Although their father used to wear priest’s garments and preached in public, he was different from other mullahs. He was a progressive man who supported the government of Pishavari and an outstanding supporter of women’s emancipation and education. Mirza’s daughters were well known for their political and progressive views. They did not even wear the chador and were educated. They organized meetings for women, especially from the working and middle classes. After the fall of Pishavari’s government, I heard that Mirza’s daughters had been imprisoned and Mirza was forbidden to preach in public. He was placed under house arrest and without income – probably relatives and friends helped him.
Years passed and I did not know what had become of Mirza and his daughters. I had not forgotten them and often wondered what had happened to those sparkling, outspoken and revolutionary girls. Eventually I came to Scotland and there occurred one of those astonishing coincidences which sometimes happen in life. One day in June – July 1969 I was asked by the British Council in London to act as interpreter for a visitor from Iran. I eagerly accepted the job, firstly because the visitor, a Colonel Rezvanpour, was from Azerbaijan and spoke my mother – tongue, and secondly because the fee would be a welcome addition to our income!
The colonel arrived in a chauffeur – driven car which had been placed at his disposal. He looked spruce and handsome and was in early middle – age. Speaking in Azerbaijani, he told me that he was originally from Tabriz and had been in the police force for twenty years.
The first day the car took us to see Sir Walter Scott’s house, at Abbotsford. The second way we visited the Police Training College and watched the graduation ceremony. I interpreted for the colonel, the police chief and members of the college. We had lunch and enjoyed good hospitality. Afterwards we visited Saughton Prison in Edinburgh. The colonel was eager to see everything: single cells, shared rooms, workshops and recreation centers. He was surprised to find no “interrogation” room. He asked many questions about punishments and whether, where and how prisoners were tortured. It was a dreamful experience to stand on the cold and black stones of a prison cell and interpret these kinds of question. I could not help thinking about the impression the colonel must have been making on our host and wondered, desperately, whether I could misinterpret some of his questions. I was also acutely aware of the significance this all had for the situation in Iran. I felt sick and wanted to leave.
I was particularly sickened on two occasions. Once was when he was discussing and telling his surprised host about the method of torture in Iranian prisons. The colonel turned to me and said: “They do not know how to torture – if I were them I would know how to handle these prisoners, especially the political ones.” I had long opposed the Shah’s treatment of political prisoners, but had to contain my anger and listen politely. The second occasion was when we were visiting the prison workshops. The combination of the colonel’s self – satisfied, pompous demeanour and fatuous questions on the one hand, and the angry, contemptuous faces of the prisoners as they overheard our conversation on the other made me feel nauseated. By the time I had taken the colonel back to his hotel and returned home I was physically and spiritually so exhausted that I felt as if myself had been under hard labour and mental torture for days.
On the third day, on our way to visit some cultural centers, the colonel began, as usual, to tell me about his adventures and the important posts he had held in Iran. Suddenly I pricked up my ears. He said: ” As a young officer, I became a member of the Democratic Youth Organization in Tabriz and gave the names of members to the police. So they were arrested and the organization was destroyed.” He particularly mentioned how the daughters of Mirza Hussein Vaiz had been arrested, imprisoned and tortured. “I personally tortured them,” he told me, proudly. Hearing this, I did not know what to do. I wanted to strangle him on the spot. I was afraid of the driver and thought of the consequences. My body was at first as hot as fire, then I felt cold and began to shiver inside. I kept quiet and tried to keep my feelings hidden. I had my mother, sisters, brothers and many relatives in Tabriz. This man could easily have harmed them. Nobody could have learned and understood the reason.
I remained quiet. He, however, was still talking, explaining what he had done to the daughters of Mirza and how cheeky, shameless and courageous they were: “One day I asked the guard to bring the two sisters to my room in the prison. I asked each of these sisters to confess their guilt and errors against the Pahlavi royal family. I invited them to announce their loyalty towards Muhammad Reza Shah (The son of Reza Shah), stop their political activities and be released from the prison. Otherwise they would have to face more imprisonment and torture. But before I finished my talk the elder girl jumped up and slapped my face and younger girl shamefully sat at the corner of the room urinating on the ground and saying, ‘I am urinating into your Shah’s mouth’. The elder sister’s unexpected courage and her younger sister’s shameful performance made me so angry that I started torturing and cut off an ear from each.”
After hearing all this I began to think about and question his visit. Who had invited him to the UK? If the British Council had invited him, what was the connection between a police chief and the British Council, which is known to be a cultural institution? Who had paid his expenses and arranged the trip? Why was such a person treated as VIP? Many other such questions flooded my head? I had to control myself and remain patient.
One day, just before his departure, his wife joined him in Edinburgh. They asked me to take them shopping and his wife asked my wife to accompany her to Princes Street, to help her in the choice of purchases. My wife politely went out with her once and thereafter hastily excused herself because she had to look after our children. So I found myself trapped in yet another embarrassing episode. They both handled things in every shop and were like petulant children – opening packages and complaining about the colour, size and price of the goods. In Marks and Spencers they seemed to think I could bargain for them over the price of the underwear. I was exhausted.
At four o’clock in the afternoon we were sitting having tea at the hotel.
The colonel asked me if I knew how to change sterling into Iranian currency and then transfer it to Iran; he also wanted me to telephone a company in London and ask for an extension to his stay. Regarding the exchange of currency, I suggested he should go to the National Bank of Iran in London and they would arrange the transaction. (While saying this I was wondering how and from where he had got several thousand pounds. In those days, even one hundred pounds was a lot of money for a university teacher like me.)Regarding the colonel’s request for an extension of his stay, I asked to look at the file that he was carrying so that I could find the telephone number of the company he wanted me to contact. He seemed reluctant to hand over the file and searched for the telephone number himself. However he could not read English and recognize which letter was which, and in despair gave me a letter which he had received from the company which showed its telephone number and address.
When I had read the letter, a copy of which I include in this chapter, I asked the colonel how he came to know this firm. Answering my question, he proudly said, “I am the chief of police in Arak and this British company has a factory in the city. I have helped the company control the workers and punished and put the wind up them for going on strike. In return for my looking after this company they have invited me and my wife to visit Great Britain and their company in England.” “Don’t you think it is rather immoral and indeed unpatriotic to support a company against workers because of a holiday or money?” I asked him. “Nowadays, who thinks about the workers and the country?” the colonel answered. He then concluded. “The Shah and his Prime Minister Hovida are willing and, indeed, flattered to be asked to do such favours for foreign companies. They do this and many other things, so why should I not do also?”
The colonel and his wife concluded their stay with a visit to a psychiatrist in Edinburgh (because he was complaining of nightmares and insomnia). They then left Edinburgh, but his story of the torture of Mirza’s daughters never left me. I never heard of the girls again

Pishavari’s government did not interfere with the religion and traditions of the people. I remember the government even had its own official priest, called Mullah Fatali, who preached in the barracks to the soldiers, and in the streets to the public. During the month of Ramadan he had told the soldiers and the workers that they were, from the religious point of view, allowed not to fast when they had to work, or could fast for only half a day. This was greeted with strong reaction from the traditional and fundamentalist mullahs, who regarded Mullah Fatali as an improper priest. Even my father did not approve of him, but I liked him as he used to mix with the public and was very informal and energetic. However, I did not, at the time, understand my father’s cynicism and a particular mullah’s opposition to Mullah Fatali. I remember this mullah used to ride a motorbike while wearing his loose cloak and turban. As he sped along the road the wind used to lift up his cloak and cause it to billow out. From a distance he looked like a huge samovar sitting on the bike, and I was both amused and fascinated by this image.
Mir Taqi, a master workman in my father’s factory, was the source of my information about Pishavari. Mir Taqi had a friend called Mir Jamal who used to visit Mir Taqi in the factory bringing with him an Azerbaijani newspaper in which most of the news about the Democratic Party of Azerbaijan and Pishavari’s speeches were published. Mir Jamal, who used to work in the newspaper office or was a journalist, would sit next to Mir Taqi and read to him from the paper and I used to stand at the carpet loom and listen. Both were very kind to me. Several times I asked a questions, which Mir Taqi tried to answer, relating to what Sayyid Jafar Pishavari had said in his latest speech to the City Assembly or at public meetings. I remember one of his speeches well. It was about why Pishavari and the City Assembly decided to form the government of the Democratic Party of Azerbaijan.
The rejection of Pishavari’s credentials (he was elected as representative from Azerbaijan) by the 14th Majlis forced him to return to Tabriz from Tehran in September 1944 and form the Democratic Government of Azerbaijan. This decision was viewed as a protest by the people of Azerbaijan against the central government. Pishavari and his committee members met on 5 September 1945 and decided on the following points under the title “These are our Mottoes”:

1. While the Democratic Party respects the independence and territorial integrity of Iran, it also seeks autonomy for Azerbaijan so that it might improve its culture …

2. In order to achieve this, a provincial body should be elected to begin work immediately. It would be active in cultural, economic and medical spheres …

3. The Azerbaijani language is to be taught up to third – year level in all primary schools, and thereafter both Azerbaijani and Persian, as the state language. The establishment of the National Academy of Azerbaijan is one of the essential aims of the Democratic Party.

4. The Democratic Party will try very hard to improve industry and increase the number of factories in Azerbaijan. It will also aim to reduce unemployment through encouraging and expanding hand and machine industry.

5. The Party considers increase in trade as a very serious and essential concern …

6. One of the essential aims of the Party is the development and improvement of Azerbaijani cities … One of the immediate aims is to supply Tabriz with piped water.

7. The Party recognizes that` the wealth and well – being of the country depends on the peasants, and therefore will be responsive to the movement among them … The party will try to solve their problem in a way that satisfies both peasants and landowners. The latter will be given security and will be encouraged to do their best for the improvement of peasants and their own lands. The lands of the state and those landowners who have left Azerbaijan will be distributed amongst the peasantry … Besides these, the Party will try to provide land and agricultural equipment for the peasants of Azerbaijan through simple and easy methods.

8. One of the most urgent duties of the Party is the fight against unemployment … Immediate alleviation of unemployment would be effected by building factories, increasing trade, and constructing a railway network and new roads.

9. Concerning the election laws a great injustice is done with regard to Azerbaijan. The Democratic Party of Azerbaijan will try to achieve the right to have members of parliament according to population. This, approximately, will form one – third of the parliament. The Party supports absolute freedom of election for parliament. The election should take place on the same day throughout Iran.

10. The Party promises to fight against corruption among civil servants … At the same time we will encourage and appreciate honest government employees. The Party will especially prevent corruption by improving living conditions and increasing wages …

11. More than half of the tax raised by the central government will be spent by the Party on internal improvements within Azerbaijan, and they will try to reduce the amount of indirect tax demanded.

12. The Party wishes friendly relations with all democratic countries, especially the Allied Powers …

My father used to take part in the meetings between factory owners and the government. At home he would tell us that Pishavari’s government looked after is workers better than he did: “In fact the government is doing what every factory owner should do. The workers are sent to health centers for examination. They are sent to bath – houses free of charge. At least they are now free from lice and dirt. They are better clothed. The government insists that workers should not work more than eight hours and they must have centers for sports and recreation.” We used to tease our father by saying, “You like Pishavari so you like Communism.” He used to answer gently, “I am not in love with the eyes or eye – brows of Pishavari, nor do I understand his ideology, but I see reality and what he is practically doing for our people.”
While my father admired the Pishavari government for these actions, he did not like its support of trade unions, interference with wage level and the restrictions on employing young children in factories. Me father was well aware that without young children the carpet factories would grind to a halt; besides, he argued, employing adults for the same job would be costly. Child labour formed the basis of essential work in the carpet factories. In fact Pishavari realized that it would be impossible to stop child labour being used all at once; so rather than forbid children from working he stressed the importance of their receiving an education, suggesting that it would be better to sent the children to schools, which were free for all levels, than to factories. This, indeed, was not met with approval by factory owners like my father. However, my father co – operated by sending the children and even adults to evening classes so they could learn to read and write. I remember how the children would bring their books with them and look at them during their lunch break; they seemed very happy and proud to be receiving an education. Some of them even used to ask me to help them with their reading and arithmetic. Mir Taqi was also very helpful and encouraged many to go to evening classes. This meant they had to leave the factory at a certain time and not work more than eight hours. For this reason and others almost all the workers eventually joined the evening classes. One of them, Habib Farsh – baf from Qara – Dagh of Azerbaijan began to write poetry. Here a quote part of his poems:

Thump, thump. Noise is coming from making carpets;
The factory is too hot and dusty to breathe.
The pale fingers are cut
And make red lines on the frame.

During working hours all the workers talked among themselves about what had happened at the evening class. Their stories were often humorous. They made jokes and imitated teachers and their fellow students, then all laughed together. They used to argue about whether or not the girls should share the same classroom with boys. Mir Taqi said, “If we work together in the factory then we should be educated together too.” This pleased the girls and they giggled and whispered to each other.
Pishavari’s government was in favour of co – education, but in order to avoid the inevitable attacks and accusations by religious fanatics they did not press the issue. However, meetings for women and the formation of women’s associations were strongly encouraged despite opposition by the majority of mullahs. I attended several of these out of curiosity. One was at Surkhab Qapisi and was called Qadinlar Jamiyyati (Women’s Association); I used to peep in on my way back from my father’s office in the bazaar and see a large gathering of women in the yard, standing and listening to a woman speaker. I do not remember my mother or sisters ever talking part in these women’s associations; even if they had wanted to my father would not have approved. The mothers and sisters of the workers in my father’s factory were often involved. In fact some of them were elected as leaders of their local associations. I remember seeing a suntanned, lovely smiling faces of old and young women in colorful skirts, shirts and scarves waiting to get on special buses to take them to work or meeting places. They looked cheerful and proud. Some of them used to wear medals as assign of distinction. These medals were awarded by the government, to both men and women, as a mark of their service to the community.
As the list of Pishavari’s aims had stated, his government was against unemployment. So much work, especially building work, was created that there were storages of labour. People used to go to Pishavari to see him in person and tell them about their problem. Once Pishavari visited our district and the people quickly surrounded him and were asking questions. When he started to leave a young man shouted, “Comrade Pishavari!” Pishavari stopped, turned back and, seeing the young man, said to his ministers, “Let the man come forward and say what he wants to say.” The young man stepped forward and, facing Pishavari, said, “You say there is a job for everybody – yet I have been without a job for weeks.” Pishavari replied, “I am not supposed to be looking for you – you ought to come to our relevant departments and ask for a job. What can you do?” The young man said, “I can drive, build and work as a joiner.” Pishavari called over to one of his companions and said, “Take this gentleman and give a lorry and send him to bring grain from Ahar (a city about 100 kilometres from Tabriz) to Tabriz.”
Under Pishavari’s government the relationships between different ethnic and religious groups improved along with the communication between cities. The different tribes and people from cities throughout Azerbaijan used to visit Tabriz in groups and take part in celebrations and street processions. The Democratic Party of Kurdistan, which had also formed its own autonomous government under the leadership of Qazi Muhammad, used to send a group of supporters and traditional dancers and musicians all clad in their colourful national costumes. Armenians and Assyrians, who constituted the largest religious minority in Tabriz, were encouraged to participate in the building of industrial units and offer their views on the establishment of cultural centers. They also had representatives in Pishavari’s government.
One of the most striking features that I remember from this time was that I came to learn about some great poets and writers of Azerbaijan and other parts of Iran. Azerbaijani culture had been devalued and suppressed by the central government since the coup d’état of Sayyid Ziya in 1921 and the rise of Reza Shah. Pishavari and his minister of education, Mr Biriya, encouraged teachers to introduce the poets and writers of Azerbaijan to the people. Newspapers, literary magazines and radio programs were all allocated for this purpose. I remember dozens of plays being staged in Tabriz, as well as other cities and villages of Azerbaijan.
Among the poets I came to know, Mirza Ali Akbar Sabir (Tahir - Zadeh) (1862 - 1911) and Mirza Ali Mu’jiz Shabistari (1873 - 1934) were popular.
Here I will quote a poem from each of them:

My friend, in what state is your glorious city today?
God be blessed, it’s the same as it was in Noah’s day.
Have you new schools for the young of your country to learn in?
No, we’ve only Madrassahs, which stand since the year Adam was born in.
Do the citizens in your land read newspapers every day?
Some literate madmen do, but I don’t, I must say.
Now tell me, my friend, are there libraries in your town?
Young people opened a few, but we turned them upside – down.
Are the hungry helped in your country by other men?
God sees their sufferings himself – why should we help them, then?
Do you take care of widows and women that are in need?
To the devil with them – can’t they marry again, indeed?
Is the need for unity talked about in your land?
Yes, it is, but for eloquence’s sake, you must understand.
Is the nation split into Shi’ites and Sunnites still?
What do you mean? For such words, young man, you ought to be killed.
Well, there is nothing else I can say to you, so good – bye.
Good riddance! I wish you to fall in a pit and die!
Just look at him! Look at his face – what loathsome sight!
The way he talks! Why, he can’t even put his cap on right!
(“Questions and Answers” by Sabir)

Allah be praised, at last our nation is glad:
Nakhichevan in a crimson gown is clad.
Just Soviet power has been established,
The exploited masses are ruling the land.
The Shah is mated, his viziers dismounted,
The elephant tramples on the khans uncounted.
Buds are unfolding, the season of flower has come,
The nightingale’s singing his song of love.
The people everywhere feast and rejoice.
Other regions envy Nakhichevan for its choice;
Tabriz, Khamina, Shabistar show their envy
Together with Azerbaijan in one voice.
Not in vain is our envy, its cause is clear:
While they’re having a wedding, we’re mourning here.
And yet, Mu’jiz, do not weep bitter tears:
The day of delivery for us, too, is near. (A poem by Shabustari)

Another important personality and thinker about whom I had heard was Ahmad Kasravi (1890 - 1945), who wrote famous history books on the Constitutional Revolution, on the 18 – year History of Azerbaijan and on the 500 – year History of Khuzistan. He was born in Tabriz and lived in a district called Hukm – Abad. He was a companion and also a critic of Khiyabani.
I remember two news items about Kasravi which had been widely discussed in Tabriz. One was about how (as a judge in a court of law) ha had passed a verdict in favour of a peasant against Reza Shah. The peasant had complained to the House of Justice in Tehran that Reza Shah had confiscated his land (as he had the lands of thousands of other peasants). After examining the case, Kasravi ruled against Reza Shah and declared that the land should be returned to the peasant. Reza Shah, on hearing the verdict, ordered Kasravi’s dismissal saying that, “Kasravi should be dismissed and should wait until he is called again.” Kasravi replied thus: “He should wait for me rather than I wait for him …”
At a later date people talked about how Kasravi had claimed to a prophet. Kasravi had once started training to become a mullah, but gave it up and instead to criticize religious hypocrisy, especially Shi’ite rituals, such as beating oneself or cutting one’s head with a knife or sword. I remember that he was imprisoned and put on trial in 1945. While he was before the court a man named Seyyid Hussein Imami, who was connected with a fanatic muslim group called Fida’iyan – i Islam entered the courtroom and shot him. I clearly remember the news of his death reverberating round the city like thunder that evening. He is still is spoken of in Azerbaijan and indeed all over Iran and is regarded as an honest historian and social critic.
Izzat’s neighbours, who were mostly either retired peasants or villagers who had come to Tabriz to work, talked of Pishavari and his land reform with admiration. They were disappointed when his government did not last and wondered why Pishavari had fallen from power. The question of Pishavari’s fall has long preoccupied the people of Azerbaijan and Iran as a whole. My father and his friends believed that the central government’s army was much stronger than Pishavari’s forces (which were not meant to constitute an army and could not stand up against such an army). Furthermore, the Soviet Union failed to give practical support to the Democratic Government of Azerbaijan, which was resented by my father and his friends. Some argued that because the Pishavari government was put into power by the Russians, it did not have national and local support. (Mir Jafar Baqir, the president of Soviet Azerbaijan, had played an important role and had misled Pishavari.) More sophisticated and political commentators argued that Qavam (the Iranian prime minister at the time) had met Stalin and promised the Soviet Union an oil concession, and therefore Stalin had decide to withdraw his support for Pishavari. Among all these speculations, however, people knew that the conservative government in Iran, backed by Britain and the United States politically (through the United Nations) and militarily, was chiefly responsible for the fall of Pishavari’s government.
There were, however, some people in Britain who were critical of the British and American governments’ stand against Azerbaijan and their support of the central government in Iran. Philip Price, MP, wrote in the Manchester Guardian on 20 December 1945:

…a dangerous situation has now arisen in which Russia supports anm autonomous regime of reforms in Persian Azerbaijan while we and the Americans are in fact supporting the most reactionary elements in the country …

Britain was practically worried about the strong influence of Socialism and the democratic movements in the Middle East, and regarded the government of the Democratic Party of Azerbaijan as a threat against its interests in the area. According to John Kimche, writing in the British weekly, Tribune:
Arab leaders have told me that they regard present – day British strategy as a defence against Russian penetration into the Middle East. They see a line of British military bases extending from southern Persia through Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Palestine and Egypt to Greece to protect the Persian Gulf, the Middle East, the eastern Mediterranean and to back Turkey in her stand.
(25 January 1946)

Whatever the causes, the fall of the Pishavari government, and the massacre of thousands o his supporters (especially in the cities of Zanjan, Miyaneh, Sarab, Ardabil and Tabriz), were devastating. O. Douglas visited Azerbaijan and wrote in his book Strange Lands and Friendly People:

When the Persian army returned to Azerbaijan it came with a roar. Soldiers ran riot, looting and plundering, taking what they wanted. The Russian army had been on its best behaviour. The Persian army – the army of emancipation – was a savage army of occupation. It left a brutal mark on the people. The beards of peasants were burned, their wives and daughter raped. Houses were plundered; livestock was stolen. The army was out of control. Its mission had been liberation; but it preyed on the civilians, leaving death and destruction behind.
On the heels of the army came the absentee landlords. They demanded not only the current rentals but also; they also laid claim to the rent which had not been paid while Pishavari was in power. These back payments were a severe drain on the food supply of the peasants.

One early morning my farther sent me to buy fresh sangak bread. I bought the bread and came out of the bakery. A few meters away I saw a soldier running towards Izzat’s district. Someone stopped him and asked what was happening. He said, “It is all over, our forces are defeated in Zanjan …” A woman standing next to me cried out, “Alas …”
Pishavari crossed over to Soviet Azerbaijan and at least lived to tell his tale. He died in exile. If he had not escaped he would have faced Khiyabani’s fate. This is a child’s memory of Pishavari, but there are still many people in Azerbaijan, outstanding historians among them, who could write or say more if they were allowed.
At the moment “spirit”, both in the human body and bottles, is forbidden in Iran. But one should not despair. Living in similar circumstances, Mu’jis believed that the Muses have an inspiring and powerful influence in society:

My poet, don’t regret; this is a transient world.
Only the spiritual world will last, believe my word.
Now go, in service to mankind seek your reward.
Only in truth can lasting joy be found, so let your word
By all the world, by all humanity be heard …