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Introduction

This is a book about the situation of young people in Iran at the beginning of the third millennium. The book concerns the battle over the right to identity. On one side, there is the state’s effort to construct a hegemonic identity for young people. On the other, there is the pervasive struggle by the young people to resist a subject position imposed on them from above. The book examines how young Tehranis struggle for subjectivity—in the sense of individual autonomy. It also deals with the generational divide in Iran between those who made the Revolution and those who reject it.

I intend to examine how transnational connections have been the catalysts for generation-based structured changes of lifestyle. How has the power built its social order? How do Iranian young people struggle to make sense of their lives? Concerned with such issues, the core of the book is the continuous struggle over power between the Iranian authorities and young people, and especially how this struggle manifests itself in spatial relations.

Spaces of Defiance

Domination is realized through arrangements of space. Space is fundamental in any exercise of power. Michel Foucault (1977) borrowed the model of the “Panopticon” as a metaphor for the spatial arrangements of surveillance that he saw as central to the way deviant individuals were disciplined.¹ Faced with the possibility that they are under constant surveillance and the threat of immediate punishment for wrongdoings, the observed discipline themselves.

But while spatial relations contribute to the creation of “docile subjects,” space can also provide opportunities to contest power. Michel de Certeau (1984) describes two opposed forms of power in relation to spatial practices: “strategies” and “tactics.” Strategies create and control specifically marked “places” by putting them under the control of the powerful state. Opposed to these are tactics that appear in situations which are not completely under control. Tactics produce spaces. Tactics rely on the use of time. Those who employ tactics are “always on the watch for opportunities that must be seized ‘on the wing’ ” (de Certeau 1984: xix). Resistance builds on catching the elusive moment when it is possible to realize individual preferences, when individuals can challenge the rigid organization of place and turn it into a space for defiance. De Certeau argues that the oppressed cannot escape the system that has dominated them, but can continually manipulate events within the system in order to precipitate “fragmentary and fragile victories of the weak” (1984). These tactics are not necessarily political in the sense of organized and institutionalized political goals and actions, but are usually tricks and distortions that subvert the repressive order at an individual level. These “everyday practices” enable people to survive the oppressive structure of society and achieve limited practical kinds of autonomy. People create alternative spaces for social actions and ideas. In the context of this book, these include shopping malls in Tehran, basements (playing rock), coffee shops as meeting places for the young, the mountain retreats north of Tehran—all places that act as sites for the expression of alternative ideas, opinions, and even moralities.

Although this book is about resistance, it tries to go beyond what Scott (1985) calls the “everyday forms of resistance” to look at the pervasive dissatisfaction among Tehrani young people, who not only defy the authorities but also oppose the parental generation and question the very basis of the hegemonic social order. Individual acts of defiance and cultural escape are dominant aspects of young people’s social life. Not necessarily part of organized acts of resistance, they can be seen as simple acts intended to challenge and provoke the representatives of the authorities. Given the long history of despotism, a culture of mistrust and hostility has developed between the central power and the Iranian people. A large part of what a scholar might classify as the “glorious resistance” of Iranians against the regime is a national habitus that goes back a long way in history. These forms of everyday “resistance” “require little or no coordination or planning; they often represent a form of individual self-help; and they typically avoid any direct symbolic confrontation with authority” (Scott 1985: 29).² This is seen ubiquitously among Iranians but is rarely referred to as moqavemat (resistance). Since many everyday activities among young people are classed as criminal by the Islamic state, even trivial acts such as dancing or wearing a T-shirt can be seen as “resistance.” When Tehrani young people dance or mingle with the opposite sex at a party, they presumably do not consider whether they are resisting, doing moqavemat. Yet in acting as they do, they in effect reject the subject position the regime attempts to impose upon them, whether they intend to or not. I would like to make a distinction between resistance as a deliberate and organized response to state oppression (e.g., student movements) and the practice of defiance as a spontaneous, uncoordinated everyday challenging of the social order.

The ubiquity of resistance studies in anthropological research in the 1980s (see Brown 1996) has been criticized because of its failure to provide sufficiently detailed ethnography (Ortner 1995). Thin ethnography allows a homogenization and romanticization of the resisters and disregards aspects of gender, age, and class.³ Moreover, as Ortner puts it, resisters “have their own politics” (Ortner: 1995: 177, emphasis original). Within resistance there are power relations based on class, gender, age, and ethnicity, which make relations between the dominant and the dominated more ambivalent and ambiguous.

Based on ethnography, this study looks at the cultural defiance of young Tehranis as constituting creative and transformative projects rather than merely being actions of opposition. How do oppressed young people create their own culture? How do gender, class, and age shape the framework of power along both a vertical axis (authorities versus youth; parents versus children) and a horizontal one (men versus women; poor versus rich; Tehranis versus non-Tehranis)? Young people defy the dominant order by, for example, engaging in global youth culture, but defiance is not solely restricted to this “new” arena of modernity. Youth’s defiance has also grown out of tradition (Dirks et al. 1994: 20; 1994: 483). As I show in Chapter 6, along with taking part in “global youth cultures,” young Tehranis utilize Sufism, and pre-Islamic Persian cultural forms to shape their defiance. Paradoxically, under the theocratic rule, a pre-Islamic Persian renaissance has emerged among young people, who use both the religious visions of the romanticized mysticism of Sufism and Zoroastrianism and the rituals of these movements (e.g., Chaharshanbeh souri) in order to reject the identity imposed from above.

The first two chapters of this study examine the efforts by the authorities to set up a social order based on a “caring” discourse, as well as on the social organization of power which produces the kinds of bodies, souls, and sexualities the regime desires.⁴

Generation

In anthropology, generation is a form of social identity alongside class, ethnicity, and gender. Rather than defining generation in relation to kinship or descent structures, anthropologists see generations as cohorts of people born in the same time period who have experienced the impact of common historical events and cultural forces (Lamb 2001). Generational identity is produced by common experience, which provides the stuff of a symbolic culture and leads disparate individuals to feel bonded to one another (Newman 1996: 376). Karl Mannheim in his classic essay “The Problem of Generations” (1952) asserts that a generation is a group of people who confront the same historical events. Not all members of a generation react to an event in the same way, but what makes a group a generation is its connection to that event and to shared historical and social experiences. Each generation thus differs from other generations. Developing Mannheim’s theory, John Borneman asserts that generational disposition refers to the objective conditions and environment in which a generation lives and to which it reacts: “a generation is determined not only by the shared problems of the time, but by the responses to these shared problems” (Borneman 1992: 48). Each generation’s experiences are categorized and periodized by the aesthetic and ideational frameworks set in relation to the policies of the state and other historical contingencies (285). Social and historical events and objective conditions become articulated in terms of generational consciousness. Furthermore, the social organization of any generation is built on the members’ place in the social division of labor, their differential access to information, and their local, national, and transnational connections.

Generational consciousness is often seen as articulated in terms of youth culture and symbolism. By the creativity in social and symbolic practices and the selective use of global youth culture, Iranian young people construct individual as well as generational identity. In the influential youth studies of the “Birmingham School” of the 1970s and 1980s, youth culture has been approached as a class culture within the framework of hegemony and resistance (see Willis 1977; Hall and Jefferson 1983).⁵ Youth culture, however, is both generational and class-based. It is generational in the sense that youth is a life stage within which a certain youth culture exists and in some way challenges the adult generation (Pais 2000), but also in the sense that each cohort of youth faces new circumstances. Youth culture in Tehran varies more with generation than with class. The authorities in Iran suppress young people whether they are from the upper middle or working class. The hegemonic order created by the parental generation has somehow caused a homogenization of the young people’s demands. Youth culture does not idealize classlessness but puts the class background in the shadows. It can be defined as knowledge learned outside the established curricula of school or family (Thornton 1995). Heterotopias, like the Golestan shopping center and Tehran’s many coffee shops, provide central spaces where this extra-curriculum is rehearsed, as we shall see further in Chapter 4.

Since 2001 a new emic generational classification has emerged in the public debates. The basis of this classification is the Revolution of 1979, and it does not match the analytical classification of generations. However, the young generation labels itself “the Third Generation” (nasl-e sevoum). The concept (elaborated in Chapter 5) refers to those who were born after the Revolution. They were what the clergy hoped would be “children of the Revolution,” whom Ayatollah Khomeini called “an army of twenty million.”

The First Generation made the Revolution. At the time of the Revolution they were in their twenties and older. They had spent their youth under the Shah’s rule and had experience of pre-Revolutionary Iran. In the 1970s, thanks to the oil boom, they witnessed a relatively expansive economy and Westernizing urban life. They lived their youth in an Iran that was connected to the global village and aimed to be one of the most modern countries in the world. But what unites them as a generation is, perhaps, their experience of the Revolution. The Second Generation (to which I belong) was in its early teens at the time of the Revolution, born between 1965 and 1970. It has vague memories of the time prior to the Revolution. What unites them as a generation is spending their formative years during the eight-year war with Iraq between 1980 and 1988. This generation makes up a large part of the expatriates who left Iran in the 1980s. The Third Generation, who have just come of age, make up more than half the present population and have no memory of the Revolution. Unlike the First and Second Generations, the Third Generation has been totally formed under the rule of the Islamic regime. In their own words: “We are the product of the Islamic Republic.”

Iran is one of the most youthful nations in the world. Iran’s population increased drastically from almost 33 million in 1976 to more than 70 million in 2006. According to the 1996 national census, 68 percent of the total population are twenty-nine years old or younger. In other words, 68 percent were born after the Revolution (1979)—the Third Generation (see Table 1). The youth population in Iran is categorized as between fifteen and twenty-four. In 2006 this category made up almost 20 percent of the total population (Statistical Center of Iran 1385/2006). The huge demographic change over only two decades has caused huge social difficulties. Incapable of meeting the demands of young people and fueled by “moral panic” (Cohen 1972), the Islamic Republic views them as “a threat to the health and security” of the society. The young, associated with an “ethical crisis” (bouhran-e akhlaqi) in the society, are depicted as self-alienated, unauthentic, bidard (without pain), and biarman (without ideology). Utilizing a discourse corresponding to what Foucault would call “pastoral power” (Foucault 1983), the “caring” religious order characterizes young people as being particularly vulnerable to cultural threats from both within and without. As we shall see, much of the focus of the Islamic regime has been on how to protect them from moral hazards and to prevent them from becoming gateways for “cultural invasion” from the West. Accordingly, a large part of the youth culture has been redefined as crime. However, the Third Generation carry on their shoulders the social and economic burden of the Revolution for which their parental generation is responsible. As the statistics below show, it is within this generation that one finds a majority of the unemployed, the delinquents, and the mentally ill.

TABLE 1. POPULATION OF IRAN BY TEN-YEAR AGE GROUP, 1996 CENSUS

Source: Statistical Center of Iran, 1375/1996.

On the eve of the Revolution and during the war, the theocrats forbade contraceptives as well as abortion and encouraged people to have more children. The Revolution needed children. In the mid-1980s, the rate of population growth in Iran had reached 4 percent. With pragmatic new politicians after the war and after the death of Ayatollah Khomeini, the state launched a nationwide program to control the growth of the population. Accordingly, in the mid-1990s the rate fell to 1.5 percent. The earlier expansion has caused social crises, such as increasing unemployment, poverty, and criminality.

According to official sources, the unemployment rate in 2002 was 14.2 percent. In numbers, about 3.5 million of the active population—between fifteen and sixty-four—are currently out of a job. The official sources indicated that between 50 and 60 percent of the job-seeking unemployed were young people between fifteen and twenty-four.⁶ The same sources warned that in the mid-2000s at least 5.5 million high-school graduates will join the jobless population. The unemployment rate will subsequently rise to 24 percent.⁷ Unofficial financial experts suggested that the real rate of unemployment in the country in 2002 was 20.2 percent and would reach 27 percent by 2004.⁸ A study of the country’s manpower indicates that an average of about 760,000 persons enter the labor market annually. To keep this already high average of unemployment static, there is a need for 760,000 new job opportunities per year. However, between 1991 and 1996 the Ministry of Cooperatives established only around 72,000 employment opportunities per year, not even 10 percent of what is needed.⁹

The need to contain the ever-increasing growth of unemployment has been a prime concern of the state since the mid-1990s. To control unemployment the country needs an annual economic growth rate of 6 percent, a remote possibility in the current situation. According to official sources inflation was 17 percent in 2002, and according to independent sources as high as 25 percent.¹⁰ The petroleum-based economy of Iran, where the state still gets more than 80 percent of its revenue from petroleum, restricts the scope for development of the non-oil sectors. Moreover, the lack of foreign investment, as a result of political insecurity, the U.S. embargo since the Revolution, and the UN sanction for nuclear activities in 2006, leaves no hope of any improvement in the near future. Traditionally, higher education has always been seen as a way to make a career. For many young persons, however, higher education is an unrealizable dream. The annual number of applicants taking university entrance exams (konkour) is around 1.2 million, only 15 percent of whom are admitted to various higher education institutes and universities.¹¹ Furthermore, a university degree does not automatically guarantee employment. One of every 12 unemployed Iranians holds a university degree.¹² Unemployment and impoverishment have facilitated the growth of a series of social problems. Drug addiction has drastically increased in the 1990s. Iran’s Welfare Organization and the United Nations Drug Control Program estimate that there are over 2 million addicts in Iran, more than 60 percent of them between twenty and forty.¹³

In a similar manner, criminality and prostitution have also increased. More than 650,000 persons are imprisoned every year in Iran;¹⁴ 65 percent of those in prison are under forty.¹⁵ Poverty is the preeminent reason behind the increasing criminality among young people. Robbery constitutes 47.4 percent of the offenses committed by male delinquents; “prostitution” is the most common among female delinquents.¹⁶

More optimistic young people seek remedy in emigration. All the young people I met in Iran saw emigration as a last resort. Everyone I came in contact with wanted to leave Iran for a better life abroad (kharej). According to the statistics from the Population Reference Bureau (2006) Iran is one of the five largest sources of immigrants. Almost 300,000 persons leave the country annually, the majority unemployed people with a university education.¹⁷ Their reasons for leaving are not necessarily economic. While the best qualified (for instance, IT professionals) and the wealthiest easily find a relatively safe life in more developed countries, less privileged young men pay large amounts to human smugglers in the hope of seeking asylum in the West, joining the slavery-like underground labor market in Tokyo or Dubai.

Identifying themselves as victims of the Revolution and calling themselves a “burned generation” (nasl-e sokhte), they blame not only the official ideologies but also the cultural norms of their parental generation. “The Third Generation” is producing a social movement of change that permeates different layers of Iranian society. One way to approach the social world of young Tehranis is to focus on the local debate on “modernity.”

Tradition and Modernity

The generational conflict and the tension between young people and the Iranian state are articulated partly in terms of the dichotomy between sonat (tradition) and tajadud (modernity). This dichotomy is expressed both temporally, in terms of generational gaps, and spatially. Places are classified as traditional or modern, representing the dichotomy between local and global influences. Instances of this are Shahrak-e Gharb versus Javadieh (in Chapter 3) and the Golestan shopping center versus the bazaar (in Chapter 4). Before going further, I want to point out that this book is not about modernity per se but rather about the local “debates about modernity” (Appadurai and Breckenridge 1995: 16).

Such discourses of “tradition” and “modernity” have played a crucial role in the configuration of contemporary social patterns in Iran, and have blueprinted two major social movements in the Iran of modern times, the Constitutional Revolution (1905–1911) and the Islamic Revolution (1979). A similar split is now characterizing the youth movement in Iran.

Explicit attempts to struggle both for “modernity” and for the revitalization of “tradition” have been made in Iranian political and social domains since the early twentieth century. Although these ideologies have precursors that can be traced back several centuries, they received an impetus in the mid-1920s, when the systematic modernization of Iran and the construction of a nation-state was started by Reza Shah Pahlavi (r. 1925–1941). Following the kemalist model in Turkey, Reza Shah attempted to transform Iran rapidly into a secular, industrialized, modern country. His first steps were to replace the Islamic law, sharia, with the Swiss Civil Code, and to “emancipate” women by removing their veils by force. Modernization accelerated during his son’s rule (1941–1979), thanks to the oil boom and the dramatically increased revenues it brought for the government. Western lifestyles and culture became more noticeable among the urban-based upper and middle classes after the Shah’s modernization program. In other words, “modernization” became synonymous with accepting Western habits, which were seen to be based on mass consumption. Thus, the marketing and consumption of Western goods became salient features of “modern” Iran. Questions concerning the disjunction with the old patterns of life have been raised with increased intensity in the last few decades, due to the intensification and proliferation of transnational connections and the increased mobility of cultural products and meanings. The project of a rapid Westernization of Iran in the 1970s was followed by a wave of “Islamization” in the 1980s, a vast effort to revive “Islamic tradition.”

The collective life-changes are followed by the development of a “split loyalty,” on the one hand to Iranian “traditional” patterns of life and on the other hand to “Western modernity.” The difficulty Iranians have had in adapting to “modernity” has been diagnosed as “cultural schizophrenia” (Shayegan 1992) or the “social malady” of “Weststruckness” (gharbzadegi) (Al-e Ahmad 1982). Many analysts see the 1979 Revolution as a reaction to this “social malaise” represented in Iranian modernity, all emblems of “Western” and non-Islamic culture, popular culture, and the consumption of Western goods among young people.

The conceptual dichotomy between sonat and tajadud is heavily gendered. In Iran and other Islamic countries, the most characteristic distinction is the way it is reflected in the duality of veiling/unveiling and thus explicitly imprinted on women’s bodies and voices (Milani 1992: 32–39; see also Najmabadi 2005). Iranian women have been seen as the hallmark of efforts toward tajadud since the Constitutional Revolution in the early twentieth century. “Compulsory unveiling” (kashf-e hejab) in 1936 was the focal point of the modernization project, started by Reza Shah Pahlavi. Barely a half-century later the Islamic Republic’s search for “authentic” culture began with veiling the women and pushing them back into the patriarchal private spaces.

While veiled women have been seen as a touchstone of sonat, unveiled ones personify the tajadud. In this book, I shall use the dialectics of veiling and unveiling to approach questions on the disjunction or conjunction of “tradition” and “modernity” in Iran. The veil in its general meaning is not only an expression of sex segregation per se but also an indication of de-individualization, concealment, and a walled (untransparent) society (see Chapter 2). Societal veiledness negates the presence of voiced individuals. It connotes a normative modesty, the silence and absence mainly of women but also of men (as I develop in Chapter 2). Unveiledness indicates self-assertion and characterizes all who oppose normative modesty.

This book has two goals: to explore the contexts out of which the current cultural politics has emerged and to provide an ethnographical description of the practices of everyday life, with which young Tehranis demonstrate defiance against the official culture and construct their own culture. Hopefully I shall contribute also to a scanter but optimistically growing number of urban anthropologies of Iran and ethnographical works on contemporary Iranian urban life.

Fieldwork

Doing urban anthropology in general and studying youth in particular in Iran indeed meant starting from scratch. In Iran anthropology has preeminently been interpreted and practiced as nomadic studies.¹⁸ The handful of anthropological studies of urban life (here I refer only to works done in English) in Iran are based mainly on ethnographical inquiries prior to the Revolution.¹⁹ However, a few major academic works on the urban life of young people in Tehran have recently been published, Yaghmaian (2002), Shirali (2001), Varzi (2006), Amir-Ebrahimi (1999), and Adelkhah (2000).

In search of a suitable field location for my study, I was looking for centers of young defiance. Shortly after my arrival in Tehran I found that the young people I was looking for were those referred to as bidard, biarman, and gharbzadeh (Weststruck). As I discuss in Chaper 3, dard (pain) is a significant feature in how young people are represented. Dard is associated with inner purity (safa-ye baten), conscience, and responsibility. Bidard (without pain, painfree) is, accordingly, associated with ignorance and frivolity. They were concentrated in a modern middle-class affluent neighborhood called Shahrak-e Gharb, a center for production, reproduction, and spreading of Western youth culture in Iran. These young people were viewed by the authorities, the parental generation, and experts as “nonrepresentative” or “atypical” of Iranian youth (I elaborate in more detail in Chapter 3). The local construction of a Westernized youth identity opposed to the native youth identity attracted me to this neighborhood and its young people. Hence, persons in my study were selected not as being representative and typical middle-class young people, but as being part of a specific youth culture.

Although I conducted my fieldwork mainly in this “modern” middle-class neighborhood, my study also includes young Tehranis from other parts of Tehran, particularly from poor neighborhoods in South Tehran. Throughout the fieldwork I worked with 46 young Tehranis, 15 of them south Tehrani with a working-class background. Of the 46, only 11 were female. For the obvious reason of Iranian gender segregation, I had restricted access to female informants. In most cases, the young women I interacted with were girlfriends or sisters of my male informants. Moreover, the tacit ethical codes in Iran for communication between the sexes impeded talking with girls about a range of topics, particularly sexual ones. My informants were all between eighteen and twenty-five years old. I also obtained valuable information from older people around, usually their siblings or parents. I was curious to know what non-Tehrani young people in the periphery thought about their Tehrani contemporaries, and generally wanted to explore Iranian youth culture. So, in addition to the first group, I interviewed 12 young men and women in Isfahan. I came to know many of my informants quite well, others not so well. I interviewed some only once, others several times. Although I met the majority of them regularly, only two turned into what could be called “key informants.” Simon and Dara became good friends from an early stage of my fieldwork.

There is a strong emphasis on “locale-centered ethnography” in this book. My choice is based on ethical and political considerations—to protect people involved in the study. The ethnography, therefore, moves through a spatial arrangement of power in the first two chapters; spaces in Shahrak-e Gharb in Chapter 3; the Golestan shopping center in Chapter 4; cinematic spaces in Chapter 5; heterotopias of everyday life in Chapter 6.

The fieldwork was a combination of “appointment” anthropology (Luhrmann 1996: vii) and conventional participant observation. There was not a fixed group of young people for me to join. Therefore I met my informants individually. I spent many mornings meeting officials or interviewing film-makers, musicians, and journalists. Other days I used the mornings reading through documents and publications in libraries or visiting “Houses of Culture” to make a note of their activities. In the afternoon and early evening I hung around with my informants in the Golestan shopping center or elsewhere in Shahrak-e Gharb. In the late evening I socialized with Dara or Simon, who did not like each other, so it had to be with one at a time. We met in more intimate milieus, usually in their homes but also at my apartment. Sometimes we went to the cinema or a concert. Only four of the Tehrani young people in my study belonged to the basij (volunteer militia). As I explore in more detail later on, several reasons contributed to makeing the presence of young basijis so small in my study. It was preeminently a matter of access. As guardians of Islamic values and norms, basijis stood opposed to the majority of young people in this study. My Iranian background robbed me of the chance to position myself in the field as an anthropologist first and an Iranian second.²⁰ Furthermore, regular contact with basijis would definitely damage my other informants’ confidence in me.

Despite my background as an Iranian, this book is not “anthropology at home,” either spatially or temporally. Both Tehran and the Third Generation were unfamiliar for me. Writing about Tehrani young people and their cultural identity after more than a decade of being outside Iran put me in relation to a different generation from my own as well as in a city I never had visited before. However, as an Iranian, I enjoyed privileged access to certain kinds of knowledge, though I had an in-and-out experience during the fieldwork.

The fact that I grew up in Iran often faced me with the question as to when exactly my fieldwork began. Did I really start my fieldwork in May 1999? If I include all the knowledge, experiences, and emotions of the first two decades of my life before I left Iran, my fieldwork started long before I became an anthropologist. However, since the official start of my fieldwork in May 1999 I have spent eight months in Tehran, followed by regular visits once or twice a year, usually lasting not more than a month. Although my most recent research visit was in Summer 2006, I have followed, or rather been followed by, information and new data through all the links that connect me to Tehran, not least through digital networks. In Stockholm, the Internet offered a way for me to refresh my information, to get access to public debates (newspapers, youth radio channels, youth magazines) and public as well as private homepages and blogs written by young people. My cyber-ethnography even included long talks with young Tehranis in chat rooms. Sometimes I had access to more information about things happening in Tehran through the Internet than Dara, who was living in Tehran.

The Structure of the Book

The first two chapters provide an anthropology of societal order; the rest of the book is concerned with the anthropology of change. Chapter 1 explores the structure of authority and social control. I analyze the processes used by the “caring” Islamic state in order to guard the “health and purity” of the society. I shall argue that, alongside the overt modes of disciplining—the metaphoric “panopticon,” education, media, and punishment—the social order is based on the “pastoral modality of power,” paternalistic care. As has been mentioned, in the Iranian case this is formulated as the principle of mutual discipline, amr-e be ma´rouf va nahi az monkar (the promotion of virtue and the rejection of vice. The anxieties felt by the Iranian authorities are expressed through campaigns that mainly target the younger generation and their lifestyle and have led to the criminalization of a large part of youth culture, under the label jorm-e farhangi (cultural crime).

Chapter 2 examines the ways the religious authorities have sought to anchor an Islamic order of things in the bodies and subjectivities of individuals. While Chapter 1 deals with the structure of authority, Chapter 2 examines its aesthetics. I look at the aesthetic notions of the authorities themselves and how they are implemented by the practices of social control. “The aestheticization of modesty,” as I call it, is manipulated through three schemes: a Revolutionary romanticization of poverty; the practice of veiling; and the emotionalization of politics. I show how theocratic aesthetics view “pain” (dard) and “suffering” (ranj) as hallmarks of dignity and purity. Accordingly, “bidard-ness” is seen as a sign of immorality and an anti-Revolutionary stance.

Chapter 3 provides the reader with a sense of the spatial layout of the setting of my fieldwork, Shahrak-e Gharb. The chapter begins with a brief illustration of the urban milieu of Tehran. It continues with a presentation of how people in Tehran perceive the city, how it is structured by the dichotomies of poor/rich, modern/traditional, and local/global. With reference to a “distinct” mentality, social organization, and neighborhood identity, the young people of Shahrak-e Gharb try to dissociate themselves from the wider society, through claims on culturalized lifestyle choices, such as “being modern,” individual autonomy, secularism, and globalism. This chapter shows how geographic indications reveal a status hierarchy in the city as a whole (north versus south Tehran), but also inside the Shahrak-e Gharb neighborhood.

Chapter 4 takes us to the Golestan shopping center. I argue that the center is, above all, a space of “imagination.” It is also a site where the knowledge of “how to be modern” is communicated. I demonstrate that the production of modern identity in the Golestan shopping center is formed in opposition to the “traditional” marketplace, the bazaar. For young people, the bazaar is synonymous with a traditional lifestyle that is seen as reactionary and allied with the Islamic regime. Chapter 5 takes as its subject the Third Generation and the generational conflict that characterizes Iranian society today. The chapter also examines the parental generation’s views on the Third Generation. Chapter 6 is a collection of narratives of defiance. It illustrates the tactical ploys used by youths to negotiate hegemonic social order. Rarely planning and organizing “resistance” in a collectively structured and reflected way, young people utilize any opportunity that arises to assert their autonomy.

In the Conclusion I discuss how the predicament of young people is related to imagination and modernity. I underscore the significance of access to the means of imagination (read means of modernity) for young Tehranis’ struggle for subjectivity.