« Back to part 1 | Speaking of revolutionary thinking, today, April 25^th is also the anniversary of Portugal’s 1974 Carnation Revolution, which took place five years before the Iranian Revolution in 1979. The Carnation Revolution was a single day culmination of a long struggle, but was notable in that in its last stages the revolutionary soldiers and people did not use direct violence, but came together peacefully to overthrow and transform the Portuguese government from a dictatorship to a relatively successful democracy. It has been said that “the population, holding red carnations, convinced the regime soldiers not to resist. The soldiers readily swapped their bullets for flowers.”

Image source.

I’d like to read about Portuguese history and the coming of the Carnation Revolution this summer, but as it is said a picture can speak a thousand words– and some pictures of the carnations in the gun barrels in various blogs today remind me not of pages from a history book, but the people I saw last summer in the streets of Tehran. In particular, they reminded me images I witnessed with my own eyes and recorded on July 17^th, 2009. Here’s a brief excerpt from my notes:

The past few days people across the country have been anticipating the Friday prayers this week. One of the former presidents, Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani is scheduled to give the Friday sermon. [...] Some commentators have been calling it a potential turning point, «روز مبادا», while others are more hesitant. We’ll see, I suppose. [...] Passing through Northern Tehran, I’ve seen so many who have donned black chadors, which is a rather peculiar sight here. But people are waiting for buses, I guess everyone is going to the same place. [...] The streets are packed with cars starting near Tarbiat Modares University, in fact I am guessing the 3-5km radius around Enghelab square is fully packed [...] Passing through Dr. Fatemi street, the concentration of police has increased significantly [...]

[...] A police-man just seriously beat some poor guy, likely a storekeeper, sitting on the steps of his store to watch the people passing by. Horrifying. [...] I just saw a young soldier in a green uniform walking in the grassy area in middle of the avenue, against the current of people, with a carnation in his hand. He was holding it was as if it was a fragile thing, looking at it, dazed, smiling. I wonder who gave it to him.
Perhaps there is hope yet.