A story of an abusive relationship with the people of Iran: Azadeh Moaveni's honeymoon in Tehran

The memoir Azadeh Moaveni's Honeymoon in Tehran chronicles her more recent life in Iran, both before and after getting married.
The last third of the book, which is devoted to her marriage, is not simply about her marriage; it also discusses her relationship with Iran, including its traditions, political situation, and population.
Moaveni's honeymoon was in many respects a continuation of an abusive relationship with Iran, and both that relationship and the one that most Iranians have with their government are abusive.
What else would you call it when the government strictly enforces laws against possessing satellite dishes and violating dress regulations, only to ignore those same laws later on before enforcing them once more? Such behaviors lead to unsteady relationships. The population experience a brief period of safety and freedom before being returned to terror, fear, and paranoia.
The government frequently disrupts satellite television and the Internet. Despite the fact that it is against the law to own a satellite dish, millions of Iranians do. They emphasize how much better things are now than they were in the past, when government personnel would arrive to kick down the dishes, they would be disrespectful to the families and doormen instead of marching up to the roof, kicking them down, and taking them away.
Any victim of abuse who is trying their best to identify a positive aspect of the relationship they are either unable to leave or are afraid to leave will make this pleading argument. Moaveni's response is no different, either.
Iranians are aware that installing satellite dishes violates the law, but they continue to buy more dishes and install them again in an effort to enjoy a little freedom and the opportunity to view channels other than the intrusive religious and state-run ones that are permitted.
The same holds true for dress codes. Extremely devout women wear the chador, a traditional shapeless black, occasionally patterned gown that covers them from head to toe and is held together by the hand or teeth.
The manteau is a long coat that must be worn in public, but modern Iranian women who are less religious and more secular wear shorter and tighter manteaus when the government police and Basiji, members of a volunteer paramilitary group or civilian militia, are less proactive. The Basiji are mostly young people from Tehran and the poorer regions of the country.
The same holds true for head scarves. Women use translucent and colourful head scarves while the government is on a crusade to punish and arrest any Iranian lady who does not wear an opaque and bulky head scarf. Secular Iranians have learned to manage, just as Moaveni did, dancing along a precarious razor's edge between the cycle of rage and honeymoon with the government and her motherland. The trouble is that no one knows when the administration will change its tone and mood.
Contrary to what the West thought, Ahmadinejad, possesses a totally different level of commitment and belief among educated and contemporary Iranians. The majority of Iranians, with the exception of those on the religious right, despise Ahmadinejad and endure hardship under his leadership.
They are ashamed of his outbursts against the West and his stance on Israel, but they are unable to stop him from leading the country because he was selected by the mullahs (religious authorities) to do so.
Iranians have seen their already fragile economy collapse under his leadership as Ahmadinejad and the mullahs fund Hamas, Hezbollah, and other terrorist groups while provoking the West by continuing work on nuclear weapons instead of concentrating on supplying clean and secure electricity as publicly stated.
When Moaveni spoke with a mullah shortly after Ahmadinejad was elected, he inquired as to why those who desired a secular government chose to pick someone "who thinks graves ornamental." "Do you believe the folks who voted for him even realized that," he replied. He just discussed the economy and jobs. People were dissatisfied with the eight years of failed political reform. It rendered them uninterested in politics.  They reasoned that if they could. They might as well have better jobs and more reasonable rent if they don't have total independence.
Ahmadinejad emerged from obscurity with the motto "We Can and We Will," which "implied combating corruption, not building the bomb." Despite his aggressive demeanor and his inexperienced budgetary policies that further destroyed the economy, many Iranians initially praised him.
Iranians are aware that the government is following a risky path that could put the populace in danger, but those who have no other choice remain and endure, hoping that they will be able to withstand the dangerous changes in domestic policy as educated Iranians flee the country in large numbers, crippling Iran's economy and further dragging Ahmadinejad and the mullahs' rule into the sand.
Iranians appreciated Bill Clinton because "he had charmed them without making any moves to end the long-standing hostility between the two countries."
The percentage of Iranians who approved of the United States at that time was at a record high (79%), but "Iranians, by and large, disliked George W. Bush for all the same reasons that much of the rest of the world did: his administration's failures in Iraq and Afghanistan, its arrogant manner of addressing the world, and its inflexible rejection of Iran's right to nuclear power."
No one appreciated Ahmadinejad's somewhat absurd, partially offensive letter to President Bush and thought it was embarrassing to Iran and Iranians, notwithstanding the "... cozy affection [for America] that had gone under President Bush." Yet Moaveni convinced a friend who wished to attend her wedding in California that "...[I]t's safe! Americans are adored here. Most likely, you'll receive marriage offers on the street.
Iran's culture is beautiful, and it recalls the majesty of its past before Islam entered the Persia of old and famous, which is interspersed with the country's darker side.
Iran sounds like a paradise in Moaveni's descriptions of her extended family and the setting they live in, or at least in the dwindling pockets of paradise bounded by a toxic world where people get sick and die from the pollution or take their own lives when they go food shopping or take a stroll with their kids.
Fruit salespeople put a few extra pieces of fruit into their customers' bags when they realize that they are purchasing less fruit due to the state of the economy. Western retailers briefly sparkle until censors cover up offensive images and language.
In poor districts, gangs of Basiji thugs harass women who are not properly or modestly clothed, and uneven sidewalks trip and kill the naive. On days when there isn't a thick haze of smoke and pollution, the distant mountains glitter with snow, and families confined to drab cement structures divided into apartments flee to family estates in nearby rural settlements where fountains cool the air of walled gardens and children play and laugh with their families.
Azadeh Moaveni's Honeymoon in Tehran is an attempt to bridge the gap between Western conceptions of Iran and the realities of its beauty and perils. Iran is a world of opposing perspectives, modern urban sensibilities, and an unstable administration stressed by secular and religious concerns.
Moaveni's Western education, sensibilities, and romanticized vision of her grandmother's beloved country are naive and out of touch, even among her distant family in Iran. Moaveni is a brilliant journalist, but she is careful in what she says and how she says it to avoid the torture and jail that would inevitably follow if she lifted the veil and exposed Iran's true nature.
She freely admits that she fabricates her stories and articles in order to appease the authorities, which makes most of what she writes dubious and unreliable.
After experiencing harassment and being terrified of being imprisoned or worse, Moaveni turns into a soft journalist who avoids controversial subjects and produces what she views as neutral pieces, only to learn along the road that there aren't any "neutral stories." The shortcomings of the regime could not be avoided.
She acknowledged to Lily, her publisher friend, after publishing Lipstick Jihad, "...that despite all my efforts it ended sorrowfully. I really don't want to write a depressing book on Iran. Why is it going down this path?
"With a knowing smile, [Lily] added, "It's not your fault. You can't take the grief out of Iran's story, as they say.
Honeymoon in Tehran is ultimately a closer look at an Iran that the majority of the West has never seen and would not otherwise know, and for that reason, Azadeh Moaveni's views of Tehran are well worth reading despite all of their flaws and shortcomings.
It's worth seeing the world through the shattered rose-colored spectacles of sadder but wiser women. The memoir of Moaveni is a riveting journey through the soul and heart.