Electronic Iran

Niki Akhavan

• Publisher: Rutgers University Press
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9780813561929
• eBook ISBN: 9780813570877
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Media Studies
• Index: Social Sciences

Electronic Iran introduces the concept of the Iranian Internet, a framework that captures interlinked, transnational networks of virtual and offline spaces.

Taking her cues from early Internet ethnographies that stress the importance of treating the Internet as both a site and product of cultural production, accounts in media studies that highlight the continuities between old and new media, and a range of works that have made critical interventions in the field of Iranian studies, Niki Akhavan traces key developments and confronts conventional wisdom about digital media in general, and contemporary Iranian culture and politics in particular.

Akhavan focuses largely on the years between 1998 and 2012 to reveal a diverse and combative virtual landscape where both geographically and ideologically dispersed individuals and groups deployed Internet technologies to variously construct, defend, and challenge narratives of Iranian national identity, society, and politics. While it tempers celebratory claims that have dominated assessments of the Iranian Internet, Electronic Iran is ultimately optimistic in its outlook. As it exposes and assesses overlooked aspects of the Iranian Internet, the book sketches a more complete map of its dynamic landscape, and suggests that the transformative powers of digital media can only be developed and understood if attention is paid to both the specificities of new technologies as well as the local and transnational contexts in which they appear.

Chapter 1

Reembodied Nationalisms

The early years of the Iranian Internet, which coincided with the rise of the reform movement in Iran and the expanding information technology bubble of the late 1990s, stirred much excitement among participants and observers alike. With the 1997 presidential victory of the reformists, who largely owed their surprise success to young voters with no lived experience of the 1979 revolution, came hopes about a new kind of politics. Outside Iran, the increasing popularity of the Internet and the boom of dotcom start-ups fueled the sense that great possibilities awaited the Internet enthusiast, especially if that individual had entrepreneurial leanings. The Iranian Internet emerged at a time when a mood of hopefulness buoyed users who were becoming active participants.

It is not surprising that the mood of positive anticipation encompassed issues pertaining to the Diaspora, women, and political activism. The ability of Internet technologies to transcend geographical borders dovetailed with similar claims about the Diaspora in the late 1990s, raising the hope that nationalism and other narrow bases for community formation might give way to more inclusive forms of identification. The Internet seemed poised to transcend other rigid power structures such as those pertaining to gender. In short, new media seemed to provide the perfect ground for initiating innovative social relationships and political activism. All of these possibilities gained extra force when applied to the case of Iran, whose ruling system identifies in religious terms and women’s roles within that system are limited.

Members of Iran’s vocal and relatively prosperous Diaspora—particularly those writing in non-Iranian languages—initially dominated the Iranian Internet and were influential in shaping early practices and discourses. The ascendancy of the Diaspora in this early period was largely due to a number of technical reasons. For example, members of the Diaspora had better access to the Internet, and because uniform font codes for Persian were not yet developed, those who could communicate in the language of their host countries were at an advantage in being able to participate online. Inside Iran, the state played an important role in the development of the Internet. For example, it allowed the construction of the telecommunications infrastructure necessary for the Internet to function and expand. It also granted permission for ISPs to provide and set the conditions of service. But despite the state’s formative role, it was individual users who were most visible in their embrace of the new technology.

With the advent of Web 2.0 in the first years of the new millennium, a series of major shifts become apparent on the Iranian Internet. In this period, material written in Persian, mostly by Iran-based bloggers, began to appear, signaling the dawn of the blogosphere era. Organs of the state provided another sign of what was to come. While Iranian state actors adopted mechanisms for filtering and blocking sites, they also took to the Internet to participate in the production of certain types of content and to lay claim to a range of digital materials, including those that expressed opposition to the ruling structure.

The Internet and Nationalisms

Both the Internet and the concept of Diaspora have inspired optimistic claims about the potential for liberation. The notion of Diaspora raised hope that the repressive boundaries of nation-states, nations, and national identities could be challenged and transgressed. This line was particularly evident in the literature of the early to mid-1990s, when Diaspora studies enjoyed a surge in attention and knowledge production. Khachig Tölölyan, who famously referred to Diasporas as the “exemplary communities of the transnational moment” (Tölölyan 1991, 3), was influential in constructing a conceptual framework that situates Diasporas beyond the nation-state. In Tölölyan’s model, members of a Diaspora are immune to the mechanisms states use to define the terms of political expression, national identity, and social formation. Similarly, James Clifford stressed the “empowering paradox of diaspora[s]” (Clifford 1997, 269) because of their ability to relate to two or more places when articulating notions of belonging. Other theorists share Clifford’s mostly positive view of how the hybridity of the Diasporic condition can allow for identity negotiation (Hall 1990; Mercer 1988).1

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the Internet and its technologies similarly inspired a range of hopeful assessments of its potential, especially in terms of issues of nationalism, national identity, and national borders.2 Some argued that the shrinking of physical distance would make national borders less relevant and lead individuals to form bonds as members of global rather than national communities (Cairncross 1997). Similarly, the idea that digital media makes it possible for users to form a “virtual community” based on choice rather than on physical or political restrictions was posited early on and continues to be popular among Internet users (Rheingold 1993; Rheingold 2000). In 1997, Nicholas Negroponte, the architect of the One Laptop per Child project who at the time was the director of the MIT Media Laboratory, went so far as to claim that within twenty years, the impact of the Internet would be such that children would “not . . . know what nationalism is.”3

While these promises remain alluring, Diasporic realities—particularly in intersection with digital media technologies—have offered contrary tendencies. Some members of Diasporic populations use the Internet as a vehicle for promoting nationalism (Eriksen 2007),4 and the literature includes case studies describing the disturbing outcomes of mobilizations of Internet technologies by Diaspora members. For example, Ien Ang’s case study of a diasporic Chinese website has shown the conduciveness of the Internet to ethnic militancy, Vinay Lal has traced the relationship between the Indian Diaspora’s use of the Internet and the rise of fundamentalist Hinduism, and John Sorenson and Atsuko Matsuoka have highlighted the resurgence of Absyinnian fundamentalism among the Ethiopian Diaspora online (Ang 2001; Lal 1999; Sorenson and Matsuoka 2001).

Some of the virulence of Internet-enhanced versions of “long-distance nationalisms” may be explained in terms of the Diasporic condition itself (Anderson 1998, 74). Predating the rise in scholarship about what Sheffer calls “diasporas’ militancy” (Sheffer 2003, 5), Edward Said argued that revolutionary nationalism in exile taps into the nostalgia of individuals and a group’s shared sense of exclusion from the dominant society, giving meaning to the marginalization the Diaspora experiences (Said 2000). Studies on Tamils in Norway, Hindus in Holland, and Pakistanis in the United Kingdom, for example, have noted how dual alienation helps account for the articulation and appeal of long-distance nationalism (Fuglerud 1999; Jacobsen and Kumar 2003; Werbner 2001). Attention to digital media is also key to understanding why online arenas easily cultivate nationalisms. Paradoxically, Internet technologies produce spaces of togetherness and exclusion at the same time. While they allow disparately located individuals to converge in one place, they also provide the means to bar the participation of those whose views differ from the group that is gathering. The dangers of the spaces created through practices of selective inclusion are twofold: because they have the potential to draw together geographically dispersed participants, they may easily feed the notion that the dominant views espoused in these spaces represent the views of a wide constituency. In addition, the exclusion of voices of dissent may fuel a false sense of consensus where none exists.

Some see digital media technologies as a threat to fundamental elements of democracy, education systems, and social relationships (Carr 2010; Sunstein 2002; Sunstein 2007). Some of these dystopic warnings appear to be as exaggerated as the utopianism of early celebrations of the Internet era. However, simultaneously considering the celebrations of new technologies and the concerns of alarmists allows for the emergence of more nuanced accounts of the social and cultural impact of digital media.

Although the increasing diversity of viewpoints in assessments of Internet technologies is a welcome development, gender is a largely unintegrated component of such accounts, even as the literature on nationalisms offers insightful arguments about the importance of gender analysis. Making steady dents in the vast literature on nationalism, feminist scholars have brought attention to the centrality of gender in the construction of nationalism and national identity (Kandiyoti 1991; Kandiyoti 2000; Nagel 1998; Walby 1996; Yuval-Davis 1997). Similar inroads have been made in scholarship on Iran: a number of works cover historical and recent formulations of the nation, national identity, and nationalism using analysis that highlights the role of gender (De Groot 1993; Moallem 2005; Najmabadi 1998; Najmabadi 2005).

These three topics—how people use developments in new technologies, the role of nationalism in online mobilizations, and the centrality of gender to such mobilizations—converge in the debates about the Persian Gulf I consider in this chapter. They show that while participants on the newly formed Iranian Internet used new technologies creatively to promote collaboration, the Internet was also a place where troubling constructions of nationalism and national unity emerged.

Claiming the Persian Gulf: Origins of a Conflict Online

From its early years, the Iranian Internet has been conducive to the propagation of nationalisms, and many of the successful mobilizations it has generated have been fueled by nationalist sentiments. Ironically, the transnational connections the Internet makes possible do not necessarily translate to a transcending of national boundaries; in fact, they often work to entrench them. And while the Internet may facilitate the coming together of geographically dispersed individuals, nationalism is often the glue that precipitates and maintains such transnational connections. Indeed, often the most intense instances of Internet-enabled actions and those that participants perceive to be successful uses of digital media depend heavily on nationalism and nationalist sentiments.

These tendencies are best illustrated by one of the earliest and most consistent examples of transnational mobilizations on the Iranian Internet: the debate about the name of the Persian Gulf. Few issues that have engendered widespread responses in the online Iranian community have been more explosive and have had more longevity than this one. The controversy is related to the appearance of the name “Arabian Gulf” for the Persian Gulf. This term has been increasingly used not only in the region among Arabic speakers but internationally as well. The use of “Arabian Gulf” to describe the body of water—even if it is used with rather than as a substitution for the label “Persian Gulf”—has generated online activity among resident and Diasporic Iranians alike.

Although the question of the proper way to refer to the Persian Gulf is often linked to the contemporary political situation in any given moment of perceived crisis, the core issues of concern remain relatively stable, thus providing a constant for measuring how developments in digital technologies are used. It is a useful case study not only for examining the relationship between nationalism and the Internet but also for tracing broader changes on the Iranian Internet as it transitioned from being largely the domain of members of the Iranian Diaspora to a more diverse arena made up of both resident users and members of the Diaspora and both state and nonstate actors. Similarly, as one of the few issues that agitates a wide spectrum of individuals, no matter what their political persuasion and/or where they are located, it provides an opportunity to begin uncovering the diversity of the Iranian Internet. Finally, following the mobilizations around the issue of the name for the Persian Gulf illustrates the involvement of the Iranian state, showing that the state’s role goes far beyond simply obstructing access to new technologies, contrary to the bulk of analysis about the Iranian Internet. In fact, the state not only actively uses these technologies but also often co-opts the efforts of those who are trying to use the Internet as an expression of opposition to state policies.

The early development of the Iranian Internet and the mobilizations around the name for the Persian Gulf are best captured in two periods. The first begins in the second half of the 1990s, at the cusp of the popularization of Internet technologies, and carries through roughly the first years of the new millennium.5 At this time, Diasporic and non-Iranian languages dominated the Iranian Internet for two main reasons: the infrastructure for Internet access was not yet widely available in Iran, and Persian character sets had not yet been developed. During the second stage of the early years, static Web sites continued to play a large role in the virtual landscape but were soon overtaken by Web 2.0 technologies. Developments in Iran’s telecommunications infrastructure and an increase in the number of private ISP providers made possible widespread participation within the country. This transitional phase is also characterized by the increasing dominance of the Persian language on the Iranian Internet and the open participation of the state in online arenas.

The starting point of the online responses to the Persian Gulf issue goes back to the late 1990s. This early instance—which may indeed be the first such instance—of Internet-enabled transnational mobilizations among Iranians unfolded in 1996 on the Web site The Iranian (or Iranian.com, as it also came to be called). In 1995, when it was founded, Iranian.com was a no-frills, static site that was typical of the early phases of Web 1.0. However, it did allow readers to interact through a discussion bulletin. In less than one year, the site established itself as a popular and primarily English-language online forum for mostly Diasporic Iranians. Over the years, it has become a hybrid site that includes both edited and user-generated content.6

The catalyst for activism came in the form of a letter to the site by a reader who had recently flown on KLM and was incensed to discover that the electronic in-flight map used the term “Arabian Gulf” instead of “Persian Gulf.” Taking advantage of The Iranian’s broad reach, he used the site to call on “all patriotic people to boycott KLM flights.”7 This simple request, expressed on a forum that drew the participation of geographically dispersed Iranians, received an immediate and passionate response. Readers of the forum began registering their complaints with KLM, many of them using the Internet to communicate with the company. Significantly, many heeded the call to action, reproducing the text of their complaints on the forum provided by Iranian.com. The Web site thus had a magnifying effect: participants shared what they had done, gave one another feedback on what to say and how to say it, and offered advice about what should be done and how best to do it. A heated discussion developed about the importance of the name “Persian Gulf,” the broader ramifications of a possible name change, and the best way to address the issue.

Less than two weeks after the original poster complained about the issue, KLM announced that it would change its in-flight software. This development was celebrated in the online forum. The sense of accomplishment was so great that Iranian.com eventually memorialized the action by gathering many of the posts to the forum and archiving them under a section dedicated to the debate.8

Although KLM responded quickly in a way that satisfied the site’s participants, the moment of perceived crisis was short lived and the debate it engendered was limited. Yet this first...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction: Nascent Networks
• 1. Reembodied Nationalisms
• 2. Uncharted Blogospheres
• 3. The Movable Image
• 4. Social Media and the Message
• Conclusion: New Media Futures
• Notes
• Works Cited
• Index
• About the Author