This book is an ethnography of religious rituals in contemporary Iran. Through detailed descriptions of these practices, it offers a portrait of Iranian society that is often difficult to access from the outside. Since the 1979 revolution, Iran has projected the image of a religious state, pursuing an independent course in international politics. Even non-Muslims are expected to follow Islamic norms in public spaces—women must wear a headscarf, for instance, and no shops are permitted to serve alcohol. Politically, the regime promotes anti-Americanism, at times organizing state-sponsored demonstrations in which US flags are publicly burned.
Yet even a brief visit to Iran reveals another, often-overlooked side of Iranian society. One is likely to witness, for example, women who had left their hair uncovered in international airports hurriedly donning their headscarves just before landing in Tehran. Encounters with people who espouse liberal or secular views critical of the regime’s ideology are far from rare—and often occur in English. As such, alternative portrayals of Iran, ones that emphasize this latter perspective, have gained significant traction. These narratives commonly assert that Islam advocated by the authoritarian regime is fundamentally different from the beliefs of the Iranian people. Such conflicting discourses—frequently rooted in external observations—are not limited to outsider commentary; they reflect active and ongoing debates among Iranians themselves, both within the country and across the diaspora.
This book does not seek to resolve the question of whether the ideology of the Islamic Republic authentically represents the Iranian people, or whether it can be deemed genuinely “Iranian.” Rather, it examines how the lives of ordinary Iranians embody these questions in ambivalent and complex ways. I do not argue that one side is more “real” than the other; instead, I suggest that both are expressions of Iran’s multifaceted social reality.
To understand contemporary Iran, one might begin by envisioning a horizontal spectrum. At one end are those who endorse the Islamic regime’s ideology; at the other, those who oppose it from a secular standpoint. Yet Iranian society does not align neatly with this binary. Cutting across the spectrum is a vertical axis of ambiguity—occupied by individuals who do not fit squarely on either side, but instead embody aspects of both. In times of heightened political polarization, such individuals may be appropriated or disavowed by both camps. In my view, they in fact outnumber those who can be unequivocally positioned at either pole. Historically, it is this ambivalent middle that has played a decisive role in shaping Iran’s political trajectory. One could argue that
The Russian-born anthropologist Alexei Yurchak (2005) criticized similar forms of representation in his Everything Was Forever, Until It Was No More, where he showed how life under the Soviet regime was often depicted in stark binaries: either as composed of loyal supporters or as populated by quiet critics. Instead, Yurchak illustrated the ambivalence of people who belonged to neither category. He argued that this ambivalence was precisely what sustained the illusion of permanence in the Soviet system, while also laying the groundwork for its collapse.
The individuals who perform the religious rituals examined in this book similarly defy conventional dichotomies. At first glance, their participation in Shia rituals may appear to signal submission to the regime’s Islamic ideology. But closer scrutiny of their everyday lives reveals elements of transgression—of rebellion. This book explores the ambivalent practices of such “ordinary people” and, through them, the ambivalent character of Iranian society as a whole.
An approach that relativizes existing stereotypes may be perceived as evasive or ethically compromised, especially in the context of sharp political conflict. One might accuse it of tacitly endorsing the violence and repression wielded by an authoritarian regime. I unequivocally reject such an interpretation. Rather, even if my approach appears to relativize political stances, I argue that it is precisely by acknowledging this complexity that we can begin to develop a framework for engaging with ordinary people.
The standpoint of this book is grounded in the ethical commitments of cultural and social anthropology. The discipline has long produced uncomfortable discourses—such as cultural relativism—within academic communities. This book, written in the form of an ethnography based on my three and a half years of living in Tehran as an anthropologist grounded in disciplinary training, is an attempt to extend that tradition. If it succeeds in provoking further discussion, I will consider its purpose fulfilled.