Abdul Karim Mousavi Ardebili: The Ashamed Ayatollah of Iran's Politics

Ayatollah Abdul Karim Mousavi Ardebili was one of the three powerful clerics in Iran alongside Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani and Ali Khamenei until his mysterious withdrawal from Iranian politics after the death of Ayatollah Khomeini. The release of a tape of Ayatollah Montazeri during a meeting with the three-member team responsible for the execution of prisoners in the summer of 1988 once again brought his name to the forefront as the head of the Supreme Judicial Council of Iran from 1981 to 1989. Ayatollah Montazeri, his long-time companion in the Revolutionary Council, accused Mousavi Ardebili of speaking in support of executions during Friday prayers despite being opposed to them, and of not voicing any opposition to Ayatollah Khomeini, only questioning the details of his orders. Even before the release of this tape, the families of victims of political repression from 1981 to 1989 considered him the primary perpetrator of executions, torture, and the issuance of unjust sentences, which were systematically carried out by the Iranian government. Perhaps this is why in his last political and personal statement in June 2012, he said, 'If I have done something I should not have done or have omitted something I should have done, I apologize to everyone and seek forgiveness.' The cleric who came from nowhere was 53 years old when he became a member of the Revolutionary Council by Khomeini's decree in 1979, but he was not a well-known figure among revolutionaries. His 'struggles' included nothing more than a speech against Israel during the Six-Day War and the publication of a book against the Bahá'ís in Ardebil. For years, he was known as one of the writers of the Maktab-e Islam magazine, one of the most conservative religious publications in the pre-revolution years. Throughout his time in the highest judicial position of the Islamic Republic, he never had a distinct and decisive political stance. His speeches during Friday prayers in Tehran, apart from what he said regarding judicial matters, lacked any political significance. At that time, he was more recognized in Iranian politics as the third vertex of a triangle, the other two being Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani and Ali Khamenei. His presence in the founding of the Islamic Republic Party in 1979 was merely a continuation of his association with Mohammad Hossein Beheshti, an active cultural cleric in the pre-revolution years. His neutrality in politics, along with his unquestioning obedience to Ayatollah Khomeini, allowed him to remain in the judicial and political apparatus of Iran. However, after Khomeini's demand for a constitutional revision that increased the power of the Supreme Leader and concentrated more power in the government, and following Khomeini's death, it seemed as if the times had changed. His withdrawal from politics coinciding with the beginning of Khamenei's leadership carried a political meaning that Mousavi Ardebili could never hide behind his conservatism. He was well acquainted with the ruthlessness of politics in Iran. Ayatollah Montazeri was ousted during his time, and he witnessed Montazeri's house arrest in Qom. Therefore, it is understandable why he, like Mir Hossein Mousavi, avoided engaging in the political scene during the rise of their old friend Khamenei. However, the failure of the 'beloved Prime Minister of the Imam' to remain in power and his candidacy in the 2009 presidential elections once again drew this Ayatollah, who had fled from politics, back to the most powerful house of power in Tehran. Mousavi Ardebili, seeking a softer approach towards the protesters of the electoral fraud during the Green Movement, visited the Supreme Leader while sitting in a wheelchair due to illness. This meeting may have been his last failure among the men of politics, especially since the man sitting in Khomeini's place could remind him of the days of his power in the judiciary. Mousavi Ardebili never broke his silence regarding his period of power in Iranian politics and judiciary, whether about what he was responsible for or what his political friends were accountable for. Perhaps this silence was a sign of his loyalty to the man who brought him from obscurity to prominence, even if it meant the loss of his name in history. In 1994, in the early hours of the morning, I, along with a group of colleagues from the Bahman weekly, visited him in Qom to engage in conversation. Perhaps this was his last political discussion, a conversation that was just a step beyond his internal conservatism. After the discussion, he invited us to a simple breakfast. On that table were colorful and delicious jars of jam that his followers from Ardebil had brought as a gift to Qom. The Ayatollah gazed silently at the jars of jam, perhaps longing for the innocent days of a land he left behind before stepping into the realm of politics in Tehran, a land that had nothing but shame to offer him.