What Judgment on Rafsanjani?

Few events, like the death of Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, could provoke such varied reactions in social media and non-governmental media, especially abroad. Some refer to Rafsanjani as a 'suppressor,' 'architect of the Islamic regime,' 'main partner in the crimes of the Islamic Republic,' 'criminal,' and 'looter,' particularly highlighting his role in the cultural revolution, the suppression of universities, the horrific massacre of political prisoners in 1988, and the assassination of political opponents abroad. For this group, Rafsanjani was a key player in the bitter events of the past decades, and they express sadness that he left this world without trial or punishment. Conversely, others view Rafsanjani as a 'pragmatist,' 'reformer,' and 'reformist' within the regime. They consider his support for the Green Movement in 2009 and his deteriorating relationship with Ayatollah Khamenei as clear signs of his desire to reform Iran's political system. Such vastly different judgments exist in public opinion, although a small group alongside independent media attempted to view both aspects of Rafsanjani's character together and avoid one-sided judgments. A fair assessment reveals that many reasons cited by both supporters and opponents of Rafsanjani for their judgments are not incorrect or unrealistic. However, the problem lies in forgetting or denying other parts of the reality and oversimplifying them. It seems that in the psychology of these individuals, an opponent or enemy cannot have anything positive in their record. This logic inversely applies to those who are his friends. The discussion is about selective engagement and one-sided judgments, forgetting realities that do not align with their 'truth' and moral order. In some contexts, ethics take precedence, while in others, politics does. A re-examination of many writings regarding Rafsanjani's record indicates two methodological errors and a reductionist approach: first, ignoring the temporal dimension in referencing Rafsanjani; second, separating the subject of Rafsanjani from the social context of each period of his life. Those who, in dealing with Rafsanjani, show no inclination to discuss his repressive policies or actions in the 1980s or 1990s, or for any reason overshadow them, commit a significant moral and political error. It is the right of the families of the victims of this painful and bitter period to know the truth about their children and relatives and to demand a public trial to address these suppressions. Transitional justice and recognizing what happened to the opposition forces during this period contribute to the formation of a new order in which human rights and democracy values must become the public culture of society. An order in which no citizen should be suppressed for their beliefs and opinions. Those who do not see Rafsanjani's gradual shift and reduce his political record to suppressions and murders abroad also fall into a different kind of moral and political error. Rafsanjani, like many other political leaders in Iran and the world, distanced himself from his past for reasons related to his specific experiences and the transformations of the Islamic Republic and the world. This shift from a fundamentalist and revolutionary Rafsanjani to a pragmatic and then critical Rafsanjani was neither hypocritical nor meant to break from the ruling political system and critically reinterpret his previous actions. The complex and contradictory phenomena surrounding someone like Rafsanjani also stemmed from his contradictory position. Let us not forget that Rafsanjani and others who brought the Islamic Republic project to power emerged from a great popular revolution. They were intoxicated by the victory of the revolution, believing that they could bring about a religious utopia for humanity with Islamic teachings. Just as the Bolsheviks in Russia and communist parties in Eastern Europe, China, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Cuba sought to establish their ideal society, millions of people lost their lives in this pursuit. This experience of the failure of the Islamic revolution's ideals and the loss of the utopia of the 'Islamic Mother of Cities' led Rafsanjani and some others to critically re-examine the initial project. However, this critical engagement within the regime did not mean separating from the Islamic system, and he believed until the end of his life that it was possible to achieve a form of controlled religious democracy within the framework of this government. At the same time, this limited separation had significant symbolic and political meaning in a society that has been living in a kind of stalemate and persistent political crisis for years, and the opposition outside the government has little influence on the situation. The relative importance of Rafsanjani's position and similar figures in this disillusioned society without an opposition outside the government and without a clear outlook is understandable. It should not be forgotten that since the end of the 1980s, all major political crises in Iran have been a direct consequence of internal government conflicts. The reaction to Rafsanjani's death is also an interesting case study for understanding the type of relationship with the painful past in our society. The fundamental question of how to relate to the pains and historical wounds of the past exists for almost all countries. In societies that have experienced tragic and horrific events in the past, this question may be raised with greater sensitivity. In the aftermath of any dictatorship, war, mass murder, or repression, the question arises for a generation that inherits this painful and ominous past: how should they cope with this history, what becomes of the suppressors of yesterday, and how should they support the victims? Especially since supporters and operators of the 'undesirable' order cannot simply be cast into the sea or destroyed. The new order must be formed with their participation, and dissatisfied elements within the 'undesirable' order can serve as a bridge to the future. The 20th century is filled with experiences of transitions to democracy and peace, and various countries have found pragmatic answers to these fundamental questions in political practice. Europe and Japan after World War II, Spain, Portugal, and Latin American countries after the fall of dictatorships, South Africa after apartheid, and Eastern Europe after the fall of the Berlin Wall faced this important question. This question also arose in Iran in 1979 and in Tunisia, Egypt, Iraq, and Libya following the fall of dictatorships. Today, all these experiences are before us. Where men and women or visionary forces have stepped forward to ensure that the turning of history is not left to fate and chance, this difficult transition has been accompanied by less pain and suffering, either in a real or symbolic sense. Where this culture, creativity, and moral and political dynamism were absent, the destructive cycle of violence and hatred continued, and the pathological relationship with the past was reproduced without interruption. Thus, in some places, they learn and consciously accept to 'forgive but not forget' or 'forgive and forget,' while in others, the field falls into the hands of unfortunate consciences, and people 'neither forgive nor forget.' In the experience of Iran in 1979, revolutionary forces chose the logic of 'we do not forgive and we do not forget.' In this understanding, there was no room for compromise, even with someone like Shapur Bakhtiar. The new order sought its legitimacy in the complete negation of the 'undesirable' order. We all know the fate of the revolution. In the processes of complete and revolutionary break with the past, the oppressed and victims of the Pahlavi era became the new suppressors in the cycle of violence. Iranian society and a large segment of its activists and intellectuals at that time lacked a culture of compromise and tolerance, and perhaps for this reason, the experience of 1979 became a mirror reflecting our political immaturity. It is evident that the experience of 1979 is very different from the current conditions. However, at the same time, there is often a strange similarity in the way some activists and intellectuals approach societal issues between these two experiences. In 1979, the common approach was to avoid complexities and lean towards simplification and one-sided judgments. At that time, the essentialism that dominated the psychology of political actors effectively made a broad and constructive dialogue at the elite and societal levels impossible. What we are witnessing these days sometimes reproduces the same approach and attempts to escape from understanding complex, contradictory, and ambiguous phenomena. The tendency towards simple answers within linear dichotomies is nothing but seeing phenomena in black and white. A culture that makes fair judgment, constructive re-examination of experiences, pains, and past sufferings, political pragmatism, and intelligent transition to a new order very difficult in critical moments. The intelligent passage through deadlocks and opening a new chapter in the life of a nation depends on the ability of society and its elites to free themselves from the heavy burden of past pains and sufferings. Thus, in a society like Iran, which has lived and reproduced decades of accumulated hatred and revenge, thinking about how to deal with the painful past becomes a central question for constructing a new culture that must transform the spirit of society and public conscience. Because the tools and approaches used to deal with the past often relate more to the future of a society than to the goals.