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| A leap forward for Iranian journalism nipped in the bud | A leap forward for Iranian journalism nipped in the bud |
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| In the inaugural issue of Aseman, a centrist daily newspaper launched one week ago, the editors wondered at the political change that allowed such a newspaper to operate in Iran’s thorny media landscape. “A year ago, no one would have thought it possible for us to become newspaper journalists, and behold,” they wrote.Now, as Aseman’s publisher Abbas Bozorgmehr spends the 20-21 February Iranian weekend in Evin prison following a revocation of the newspaper’s license, that transformation seems more toothless than its readers had imagined. Still, Aseman’s short-lived existence presented the national print media market with a progressive journalistic model. Not only did Aseman help define the new line between “taboo” and “fit to print” within the ambivalent ideological constraints of the Islamic republic; it also introduced a balanced, visually friendly publication that catered to the Iranian public’s hunger for in-depth news coverage and showed that, even after eight years of systemic repression under President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Iran’s beleaguered press still has the ability to produce high-quality journalism.Edited by respected journalist and political activist Mohammad Ghouchani, Aseman was independently funded but aligned itself with the moderate approach of centrist President Hassan Rouhani. The first issue included a lengthy op-ed by reformist politician Mohammad Khatami, who expressed hopes that the newspaper would perpetuate the open, inclusive societal dialogue Khatami championed during his 1997-2005 presidential term.Catering to the middle-class, Aseman differentiated itself from existing publications by covering a broad spectrum of political views without coming down in favour of any single political faction, a common practice among Iran’s partisan press. The publication was originally founded as a weekly news magazine last year, and its editors transferred many of the original concepts to the 32-page daily version. Printed in a compact tabloid format, the newspaper looked more like the UK’s Independent or an American-style alternative weekly than a pro-government daily newspaper from Iran, opting for magazine-style feature writing and strong visuals that move away from the traditional breaking news model whose function has been taken over by online news sources.This innovative approach made Aseman an anomaly on Tehran’s newsstands, still occupied by bulky broadsheets like the conservative daily Kayhan, whose form and content have not changed much since the post-revolutionary 1980s. Aseman was more centrist in tone than widely circulated leftist dailies like Shargh, which uses a middle-of-the road format called Berliner, smaller than a broadsheet but larger than a tabloid. Statements and portraits of hardline politicians, including Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, made regular appearances on the front page, juxtaposed with long-form articles on touchy cultural topics to create a sense of balance. The newspaper’s designers also made use of colourful graphics, info boxes and pull-out quotes to illustrate complex economic trends, provide quick-hit information and portray a spectrum of views on a given hot-button sociopolitical topic.For readers accustomed to the wordy, elitist language of Shargh, the dense writing of the business dailies, or the idealogical pontifications of Kayhan, Aseman (which means “sky” in Farsi) was a breath of fresh air. Word of the newspaper’s inauguration spread quickly among Tehran intelligentsia. On Tehran University campus, the issues flew off the newsstands. “I picked it up because I found it visually interesting - it’s much smaller and more colourful,” a 29-year-old reader told Tehran Bureau. “It also has more depth and range of political opinions than Shargh, which I usually read.” | |
| The third issue, published 17 February, featured a front-page piece on the controversial publication of Mahmoud Dowlatabadi’s novel The Colonel, a dark and bloody portrayal of the 1979 Iranian revolution that had been banned in Iran for five years. The article quotes the author as well as a spokesman from the ministry of culture, and goes on to suggest that The Colonel had been a political hot potato for years, tossed around by authorities unwilling to bear the political consequences of its publication. It also indicates that the ban’s principal target was not Dowlatabadi himself, but his Tehran-based publishing house Nashr-e Cheshme.Another cover story, on 19 February, came in the form of a question-and-answer interview with oil minister Bijan Zanganeh regarding the prosecution of jailed businessman Babak Zanjani, accused of defrauding the Iranian government of $2.7 billion while brokering an energy deal. Aseman weighed the oil minister’s arguments against the statements of Zanjani’s defence (which claims he only owes the government $1.3 million), supplementing the article with an info graphic detailing Zanjani’s vast assets (several luxury hotels and banks in two central Asian countries).Compared with the plethora of bristly subjects covered by the newspaper in the course of one week, the text that caused Aseman’s shutdown was relatively obscure. The incriminating article is hidden in the back pages of the 18 February issue, which opens with an explosive cover story on Rastakhiz (Judgment Day), a new film that has rankled the clergy because it features an actor in the role of Abul Fazl al-Abbas, a sacred figure whose image is not typically permitted to be shown according to Shia scripture. Aseman illustrated the story with a large screen shot from the film depicting the blood-stained face of the actor in the role of Abul Fazl. However, the article authorities took issue with was not about Rastakhiz, but a run-of-the-mill reunion of former classmates who studied political science in the 1980s. Recalling personal memories from the era, one class member recalls a former professor he had not seen in 30 years. By way of passing, he mentions that the last time he saw the professor was during a discussion on the ethics of retributive justice as it relates to capital punishment.While rescinded by Aseman’s editor Ghouchani, who said the statement was published due to a technical error, this lone sentence questioning Islamic legal principles has met with a fiery response in the conservative press. One of the more radical reactions came from Tehran University professor Mohammad Sadegh Kooshki, who according to the news agency Mashregh accused Aseman’s editors of heresy - a crime that, according to local law, is punishable by death.Despite the swift reaction from hardliners, the current mood among journalists in Iran suggests that it is too soon for a requiem for press freedom. The media landscape is full of seasoned professionals who are determined to make the best of the political opening the Rouhani administration proclaims to offer. As one veteran journalist who has been to Evin recently told Tehran Bureau, “Now is not the time to be giving up.” | The third issue, published 17 February, featured a front-page piece on the controversial publication of Mahmoud Dowlatabadi’s novel The Colonel, a dark and bloody portrayal of the 1979 Iranian revolution that had been banned in Iran for five years. The article quotes the author as well as a spokesman from the ministry of culture, and goes on to suggest that The Colonel had been a political hot potato for years, tossed around by authorities unwilling to bear the political consequences of its publication. It also indicates that the ban’s principal target was not Dowlatabadi himself, but his Tehran-based publishing house Nashr-e Cheshme.Another cover story, on 19 February, came in the form of a question-and-answer interview with oil minister Bijan Zanganeh regarding the prosecution of jailed businessman Babak Zanjani, accused of defrauding the Iranian government of $2.7 billion while brokering an energy deal. Aseman weighed the oil minister’s arguments against the statements of Zanjani’s defence (which claims he only owes the government $1.3 million), supplementing the article with an info graphic detailing Zanjani’s vast assets (several luxury hotels and banks in two central Asian countries).Compared with the plethora of bristly subjects covered by the newspaper in the course of one week, the text that caused Aseman’s shutdown was relatively obscure. The incriminating article is hidden in the back pages of the 18 February issue, which opens with an explosive cover story on Rastakhiz (Judgment Day), a new film that has rankled the clergy because it features an actor in the role of Abul Fazl al-Abbas, a sacred figure whose image is not typically permitted to be shown according to Shia scripture. Aseman illustrated the story with a large screen shot from the film depicting the blood-stained face of the actor in the role of Abul Fazl. However, the article authorities took issue with was not about Rastakhiz, but a run-of-the-mill reunion of former classmates who studied political science in the 1980s. Recalling personal memories from the era, one class member recalls a former professor he had not seen in 30 years. By way of passing, he mentions that the last time he saw the professor was during a discussion on the ethics of retributive justice as it relates to capital punishment.While rescinded by Aseman’s editor Ghouchani, who said the statement was published due to a technical error, this lone sentence questioning Islamic legal principles has met with a fiery response in the conservative press. One of the more radical reactions came from Tehran University professor Mohammad Sadegh Kooshki, who according to the news agency Mashregh accused Aseman’s editors of heresy - a crime that, according to local law, is punishable by death.Despite the swift reaction from hardliners, the current mood among journalists in Iran suggests that it is too soon for a requiem for press freedom. The media landscape is full of seasoned professionals who are determined to make the best of the political opening the Rouhani administration proclaims to offer. As one veteran journalist who has been to Evin recently told Tehran Bureau, “Now is not the time to be giving up.” |