In this article Dr. Hafazi explores the extraordinary and complex power that reputation exerts in Iran’s greatest literary epic Shahnameh. He shows how in searching for the good name the Persian warrior becomes a tragic victim of contradictory paradoxes.
As the West again renews its commitment to involvement in Central Asia, it is vital that the importance of reputation in Eastern society is understood.
Dr. Ghulum Hafizi
In the farcical Persian novel, Da'i Jan Napuliyan1, everyone laughs at the pompous 'hero' who thinks his life is ruined by a 'suspicious sound' that was heard while he was boasting about his battles at a family gathering. The constant obsession was: "Our hundred years of reputation (abru) has gone to the wind!"
But a "good name" is no laughing matter. In fact, this quest to gain and maintain reputation and the fear of losing one's face is one of the most fundamental motivational forces in traditional Persian culture. This is supremely reflected in the medieval Persian epic, which glorifies the heroic feats of the Pahlawan (the heroic warrior, champion), which many in Iran still want to emulate.
1. IRAN'S GREATEST HERO - RUSTAM
The greatest of the Persian epics is the 1000 year-old Shahnameh (Book of Kings) of Firdawsi (ca. 1010) in which the poet immortalizes the ancient legendary kings and heroes of Iran. The supreme hero of the Shahnameh is Rustam who encapsulates the entire aggregate of virtues normally characteristic of a knight of chivalry. Although some modern Persian scholars see Rustam as a patron of arrogant chivalry, oppressive patriarchy and national hegemony2, the Persian-speaking world in general has celebrated Rustam as its national hero. Champions and wrestlers often compared themselves to Rustam, and extolled his exploits in the zur-khana (wrestling arena). Even though Rustam was superseded by the saint-hero, Ali, during the medieval period when Sufism became interwoven with the notion of manly heroism, the Rustam-ideal never disappeared. In the twentieth century, young boys saw their fathers as being Rustam-like,3 political activists were compared to Rustam,4 and the citizen was challenged to a Rustam-like patriotism to fight for the freedom of Iran. "Rustam [is] the crystallization of all the desires of the Iranian people, representing the epitome of all human aspiration."5 Basic to the Persian appreciation of Rustam is his quest to attain a "good name" through the manly virtues of heroism. His good name and heroic spirit are seen as an inspiration to others in their struggle to gain a good name: "Rustam is the representation of a good name. For him, all of existence is for the sake of a good name. Without this, life has no meaning …."6
2. A CLOSER LOOK AT THE IRANIAN HERO'S 'GOOD NAME'.
To understand the incredible influence the power of reputation has in Iran, it is important to look at the key elements of the hero's 'good name' separately.
Rooted in lineage
No hero was a hero in isolation; rather, he was rooted in lineage, and his name revealed this. Hence, his lineage was sacred as well. One reason that genealogies have traditionally been so important is because honour and reputation was associated with the family name. Rustam considered himself a man of good reputation because his ancestors had noble birth and hence, they possessed good reputation. Their nobility was passed on to him. In the stories of battles, we constantly notice how the warrior boasted of his own name and lineage prior to the actual combat in order to instil dread in his opponent. Rustam never ceased to shout out, "I am Rustam, son of Dastan, son of Sam." Since lineage was linked with reputation, a warrior sought to defame his rival prior to public combat by questioning his identity: "What is your lineage? Tell me, if you are worthy of challenging me, very well, if not, I will go back."7 Rustam refused to fight without knowing the identity of his foe.
Must be well spoken of in public
Public opinion of the warrior's renown was the very essence of a good name and honor,8 and so he was obsessed with "what others thought about him" - the struggle for public recognition. To be sure, the desire to win public approval is a universal quest for self-legitimisation, especially in community-oriented societies, where an individual has little sense of self-worth without societal affirmation.9 Hence, every individual and certainly the hero - because of his very public life - staked his identity on society's public appraisal of him. One could be a great Pahlawan, but if there was no social acknowledgement of it, he was, in fact, without significance and his exploits became invalid. When a warrior was about to venture out on a dangerous exploit, his ultimate concern was that "as long as the world stands, people will talk about it."10 The greatness of an exploit lay not in the feat itself, but in the response it elicited from the spectators.
The greatest fear: losing the "Good Name"
While the Pahlawan strove for public praise, his greatest fear was gossip or public ridicule that could ruin his reputation. Fear of public shame was society's means of control and for the Pahlawan, it was his motivation to live up to society's expectation of noble character.
At one point, Rustam, outraged at the capricious Iranian king, Kay Kavus, declared he would no longer defend Iran. The Iranian warriors pleaded with Rustam to return because he was the protector of Iran. Unable to convince him, one warrior used the threat of public shame to persuade Rustam to return. Trapped by the fear of what others might think of him, the conflict was resolved because he feared the loss of his noble identity.11 Death was better than being considered a coward:
[Rustam] said to him, "If my heart is afraid, I would rather not remain alive, but die.
You know that I don't flee from battle."12
A warrior sought to destroy an enemy's reputation in different ways. The aim was to inflict shame upon the opponent by bringing tears to his eyes, by 'yellowing' or 'blackening' his face, causing him to hang his head or to grimace in pain - all signs of weakness and failure, and therefore, meaning the loss of one's honour. One of the interesting tests of manliness in the Shahnameh was the hand-crushing duel.13 The challenge was not only to outdo the opponent, but also to endure pain without any visible sign of failure. An enemy ruler ordered one of his warriors to bring Rustam to tears: "Do whatever it takes to fill his [Rustam's] face with shame / Bring forth warm tears from his eyes."14 This would signal Rustam's defeat. However, in the hand-duel, Rustam crushed his foe and forced him to reveal pain and admit defeat. At the same time, he showed himself to be above pain, thus demonstrating his manliness:
From pain [Rustam's] hand turned all blue,
[But] he didn't grimace and held anxiety far from him.
His manliness shone out as from the sun,
He crushed hard the hand of Kalahur,
His nails fell off like the leaves from a tree ...
[Kalahur] could not keep his pain hidden.15
An Eternal Name
The Pahlawan feared the horror of extinction which death could bring upon him. The challenge of the warrior was to overcome this finality by ensuring that his good name continued after his death. Rustam's ultimate struggle in his battle with the prince, Isfandiyar, was not primarily whether or not he should kill the prince, but the horror at the thought that if he were defeated or died, his own name would fall into disgrace and there would be no trace of it left in the world.16 Defeat, then, meant the death of the Pahlawan, because without the honour of a good name (which one gained in battle), the warrior had no life. "The good name of a noble freeman is the glass of life. If it falls to the ground, life is automatically over."17
The warrior's motivation in everything he did was that "as long as the world stands," people would speak of his deeds. When a female warrior, made her debut into the school of champions through what was considered an unconscionable act, her motive was clear - to gain a permanent reputation: "Oh soul, I will act with heroism, so that as long as the world stands, they will talk about me and I will gain a good name from this, though it is wrong and not what warriors do."18
Good reputation, then, was the equivalent of overcoming death. Hence, although fate was able to defeat the greatest of warriors (because immortality was impossible), it was through the cultivation of a good name, which continued after his death, that the heroic warrior tried to overcome its finality.
Sons From Virgin Brides
The role of a firstborn son to continue the name of his father is another essential dimension to the notion of good reputation. The adventures of Samak-i Ayyar began with a worried king who near the end of his life still did not have a son: "Since I do not have a son, when my time of death arrives and there is no son to keep the place of the father, a stranger will take my place and my name will remain hidden." And so a woman had to be found for the king who could be "the shell of that jewel", and thereby bear him a son.19
In many traditional patriarchal cultures, the purpose of marriage and the role of the woman has been to bear a son for the sake of the man's on-going reputation. Without sons a man's 'glass of life' comes to an abrupt end at death. In other words, his "name" no longer exists. It is dead. The purpose of marriage, then, is to procreate sons so the man can maintain his reputation in society. A woman's womb is the vehicle through which a son is brought into the world for the sake of the man. In this sense, the woman is seen as a garden whose body belongs to the man for one function in life: to produce a son for her husband.20 It is understandable, then, why marriage is seen as a contract of purchase (`aqd) whereby the husband-to-be is given ownership of his new bride-to-be.21 The great obsession of the male-protector of the family is that this garden-like womb must not be soiled by another 'gardener', for if it is, the identity of the child will be uncertain, and one's 'pure' lineage will be brought into question.
It is for this reason that in traditional cultures around the world, the highest domestic virtue is the virginity of a bride and the chastity of a wife.22 This ethic is directly related to secure certainty of the son's relationship to his father and thus his reputation. And so, the more secluded a woman was, the more honourable the man became. In Shawhar Ahu Khanum, Sayyid Miran was considered a noble man because he strictly enforced the veil further: "This was also one of his manly characteristics. When he strictly enforced restrictions for women [in his household], his respect in the eyes of the public increased." 23
The Measure of Good and Evil
Because good reputation was all-important, it became the standard measure of good and evil. In other words, moral choices were made on the basis of public opinion. Any deed that resulted in a good name was a noble deed and a deed that resulted in shame was ignoble.
According to the Shirazi poet Shaykh Sa`di (d. 1292), the proverbial generosity of the legendary Hatim Ta'i of pre-Islamic Arabia, was motivated by his desire to establish his good reputation. Upon hearing of a challenge to his generosity, Hatim increased his liberality. He would not be outdone in generosity, "for my name must be known in the land."24 The noble man performed good deeds, not because they were good in and of themselves, but because they increased his good name. Furthermore, he would not refrain from deeds normally considered evil - revenge, ridicule, lying and deceit - if through these deeds he enhanced his good name.
The pursuit of good reputation, then, motivated the warrior to perform exploits, which society considered noble, but which could end up in chaos and tragedy as well. It led the heroic warrior into frequent dilemmas and a "duality of attitudes" concerning good and evil.25 Hence, while the heroic warrior is presented as the icon of ideal manliness and as being worthy of emulation, in his quest to gain and guard his reputation, the warrior frequently ended up marring his reputation. The irony of heroism is that the very pursuit of greatness eventually destroys the hero.
3. TRAGIC CONTRADICTIONS FOR THE SAKE OF REPUTATION
While a heroic warrior was confident of his supremacy in every aspect of life, the virtues he supposedly embodied often created contradictions within him. Although he was supposed to be reckless in battle, at the same time, the warrior had to embody circumspection and caution. The Pahlawan considered himself to be free from all attachments and obligations in life, yet on the other hand, he was indebted to serve the king and his fellowman. While carrying out an act of revenge was seen as an act of honour, similarly, "passing over a sin", i.e. responding with magnanimity enhanced one's good name as well. The warrior stated that he never lied, even at the expense of his head,26 yet at the same time, he would carry out his deeds with cunning and deception. So he was faced with numerous internal conflicts.
These conflicts are played out most profoundly in Rustam's encounters with Suhrab and Isfandiyar, stories that are well known to the Iranian reader. In both encounters, to avoid shame and defeat and retain his "good name", Rustam committed what may be seen as "ignoble acts". In the first episode, he used deceit to save his own life and then unwittingly killed his son, the person who normally continues the name of the father after his death. Rustam thus destroyed his own immortal reputation. And in the second episode, he killed the prince of Iran, which contradicted the very purpose of Rustam's life.
Deceit and death for the sake of reputation
At the outset of the Suhrab-Rustam episode, the reader is made aware that Suhrab is Rustam's son whom he has sired from his short-lived, one-night marriage with Tahmina. In the morning when Rustam was about to bid farewell, he left his distinctive armband with her so that if she bore a son, he would have a sign that he was the son of Rustam. Suhrab grew up to be a young warrior in Turan, Iranian's traditional enemy, where he heard that the great invincible warrior, Rustam was his father. His plan was to attack Iran, install Rustam on the Iranian throne and then they would attack Turan and together rule the world. When the two renowned warriors meet, neither knew that they were father and son.
After the first day of battle, Suhrab's taste of victory and boast is contrasted with Rustam's dread of possible defeat. For him to withdraw from battle was unthinkable; on the other, to continue in battle meant possible defeat and therefore loss of his reputation before two watching armies, which was also unthinkable:
Today I've lost hope in my manliness,
From the hand of one not experienced in battle,
Not a hero, not renowned among the great.
I am weary of the days of life,
Both armies are watching this battle.27
Though Rustam always considered himself a truthful man, in his fight with Suhrab, he committed the ignoble act of deception.28 Suhrab, suspecting the opponent was his father, repeatedly demanded his identity. Rustam, however, lied and adamantly denied his name. On the second day of battle, Suhrab greeted Rustam with unusual friendliness and suggested they leave the battle and relax, which Rustam considered were deceptive attempts to bring about a conciliation. On the day before Rustam had repeatedly deceived Suhrab regarding his own identity, while now he emphasized his truthfulness: "I will not be deceived by listening to this …I am not one for words of deception and feigning."29 The fight soon led to hand-to-hand combat, Suhrab's blow to Rustam was so severe the renowned warrior was finally forced to grimace. Having gained the upper hand, Suhrab seized Rustam's belt and threw him to the ground. When Suhrab drew his sword for the kill, Rustam saw public death was imminent and saw no alternative except to resort to an unmanly scheme. In desperation, he declared that according to Iranian custom, a warrior could only kill his opponent after he had felled him twice. Though Rustam previously condemned the use of scheming as cowardly, he had no hesitation to use deception himself. Since it was the only way to escape disgrace and death, it was acceptable for him to resort to guile.
This poses a critical question: Who is the true hero? The one who resorts to deception or the one who fights fairly? Suhrab was a hero, but he lacked the necessary perception required of a warrior. This is seen as a 'flaw' which would cost him his life for on the third day of battle, Rustam soon felled Suhrab, but knowing that his opponent would rise again, he defied the 'Iranian law' which he had used to deceive Suhrab, drew his sword and put an end to his opponent's life. The battle of who was the true hero ended in irony, for as Suhrab lay dying, Rustam saw his own armband on Suhrab's arm and realized, all too late, that he had killed his own son.
Rustam, who had boasted of fairness and truthfulness, emerged as the victor by being a master of deception. Although Rustam was aware of the colossal tragedy and cursed his hands (the symbol of a warrior's power), he would not take responsibility for his act. For a warrior to assume responsibility at this point implied admission of failure, which in essence meant he was weak and wrong. No warrior could admit to that. As a consequence, the 'blame-game' and scapegoating began. Rustam first accused Human of Turan for concealing his identity to Suhrab. Human, in turn, blamed the Iranian Hujir, who had tried to guard the border against Suhrab and had been the first one to conceal Rustam's identity from Suhrab.
Rustam and Isfandiyar: treachery and death for the sake of reputation
Rustam's final battle was to deal with Isfandiyar, the Iranian warrior-prince who was vying for his father's throne, and had been ordered by his father to challenge Rustam. The dilemma was intense: On the one hand, Rustam was the national support of the Iranian throne and so he must not fight the prince. On the other hand, he could not submit to chains, for that symbolised defeat. After a lengthy and belligerent diatribe between the two warriors about the most honourable course of action, Rustam decided to fight the prince, bind him up and carry him back to Iran where he would set him upon the throne. However, when the battle finally began, Isfandiyar's attack severely wounded Rustam. Badly wounded and unable to oppose the invincible Isfandiyar, Rustam resorted to deception as he had in his conflict with Suhrab. At the outset of the confrontation, Rustam had vaunted his 'honesty' in his effort to avoid battle with the prince: "I am not seeking grandeur (furugh) in this speech / Nor am I am trying to throw up lies (durugh)."30 Isfandiyar had endorsed the same ethic. It was self-understood that warriors sought greatness through fair combat, and that durugh was incompatible with their ethic.
However, when Rustam saw defeat was imminent, he could only resort to scheming. As with Suhrab, he procrastinated. Pretending it was too late in the day to continue fighting, he suggested a truce so he could refresh himself and then he would surrender the following day. Even though he had no intention of doing so, he gave his word. Having been able to 'buy time,' as he had done with Suhrab, the next day Rustam felled the prince of Iran with an enchanted arrow. However before his death, Isfandiyar made a final speech about who the real warrior was. About one thing he was certain: Rustam had not killed him heroically; he had acted with guile:
The son of Dastan did not kill me by his manliness;
Look at this 'arrow' in my hand.
It is with this piece of wood that my time has come,
From the Simurgh and from Rustam, the schemer.
It is deceit and Rustam's father set this snare,
Because he knows cunning and the world's traps.31
Rustam could not deny the damning accusation. The warrior who had inflicted pain on many warriors throughout his career, was now contorted in shameful anguish himself:
When Isfandiyar spoke these words,
Rustam grimaced and wept with pain ...
It was as [Isfandiyar] said, every word of his,
One does not lay the foundation of manliness through guile.32
When Isfandiyar finally died, Rustam not only mourned the death of a prince, but also the death of his own good reputation: "My name was renowned in this world / It was from Gushtasp (Isfandiyar's father) that my end turned evil."33 Rustam's zeal for world renown and his refusal to tolerate any failure or defeat finally undid him.
So the question is, did Rustam win or lose the battle? Certainly he defeated Isfandiyar, but it was only at the expense of his good name. True, Rustam had retained a fundamental quality of the heroic warrior - his invincibility. However, in order to remain pre-eminent, he had to sacrifice everything, including his reputation - because he had killed the prince of Iran, which was an inherent contradiction for the warrior whose one duty had been to serve the Iranian throne. Though Rustam took up the duty to raise Isfandiyar's son with the hope of regaining his reputation again, Rustam's story is now over. Because he would not accept defeat, he had fought against Iran, an act of treachery which violated the spirit of heroism. The arrow of death had not only pierced Isfandiyar's eye, but Rustam's life as well.34 As with his battle with Suhrab, in the end he resorted to deceit, ruining his heroism forever.
5. CONCLUSION
Because the warrior's all-consuming quest is to build and maintain a good name, his life actually becomes filled with paradoxes. Though he strives to be pre-eminent in each virtue, it is impossible because at times the virtues are inherently contradictory to each other. He cannot be fully independent and, at the same time, renowned as the loyal servant of the king. Even though the champions condemn the use of duplicity and guile, they repeatedly resort to it. Rustam, depicted as the ideal warrior, is forced to choose one virtue of manhood at the expense of another, and this dilemma ultimately defeats him. The Pahlawan is never able to be a perfect champion and thereby secure a permanent name for himself.
The stories of the ancient and medieval warriors, at times, seem amazingly modern. Although the "struggle for recognition" may not be as bloody - though that may be questioned as well - modern man is still bound to the court of public opinion. He is prone to live his entire life with this in mind: what will the people say. Maintaining his public name, rather than developing true character (which embraces both the private and public world of an individual) is that which dictates his ethics. His speech - even cloaked in beautiful spiritual rhetoric - is more of a boast of imaginary 'exploits' to enhance his image in public than words of truth and reality.
However, like the heroic warrior, modern man can never win completely. When modern man faces failure or defeat, like the traditional warrior, he too is compelled to deny it, hide it or blame others - be it fate, a political system or one's family or whatever. The quest to win and the obsession for a "good name" invariably ends up in defeat.
Without some understanding of the importance of reputation and its dilemmas in Iranian society, the Christian minister may easily misunderstand people. The challenge this insight gives is to be sensitive to the importance of the good name, while at the same time showing by word and deed that in the divine plan it is when individuals first acknowledge their weaknesses and failures, it is then they find a new name, are accepted in the Beloved, and the "struggle for recognition" is over.
Dr. Ghulum Hafizi is an expert on Persian literature.
1
Iraj Pezeshkzad, Da'i Jan Napuliyan (Tehran, 1351/1972) , 134, 151. See also My Uncle Napoleon, translated by Dick Davis (Washington: Mage Publishers, 1996)
2
See, for example, Farzaneh Milani, Veils and Words: The Emerging Voices of Iranian Women Writers. (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1992) and Reza Berahani, The Crowned Cannibals: Writings on Repression in Iran (New York: Vintage Books, 1977) .
3
Sayyed Mohammad Ali Jamalzadeh, Isfahan is the Half the World: Memories of a Persian Boyhood tr. by W.L. Heston (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983), 24, 29-30.
4 Roy Mottahedeh, The Mantle of the Prophet (New York: Pantheon Books, 1985), 114, 133.
5
Peroz Alburz, Shukuh-i Shahnama dar Ayina-yi Tarbiyat wa Akhlaq-i Pahlawanan [The glory of the Shahnama in the training and morals of the heroic warriors] (Tehran, 1369/1990), 129.
6 Islami Nadushan, Dastan-i Dastan-ha [The story of stories] (Tehran, 1351 / 1972), 177.
7
Faramarz bin Khudadad, Samak-i Ayyar 6 Vols. ed. by Parwez Natil Khanlari (Tehran, 1362-64/1983-85), 1:94. See also Samak Ayyar, 1:214, 235.
8
Anthropological studies define a man's honor as the opinions which both the individual and society confers on a person. Much more than what an individual thinks of himself, good reputation is society's opinion of the individual. "Public opinion forms therefore a tribunal court before which the claims to honour are brought, 'the court of reputation' as it has been called, and against its judgements there is no redress. For this reason it is said that public ridicule kills." J. Pitt-Rivers, "Honour and Social Status," in Honour and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society, ed. J.G. Peristiany (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 27.
9
In Sir Thomas Mallory's Morte d'Arthur (ca. 1469), the quest for public praise is illustrated by the life of the legendary knight, Sir Lancelot of Arthur's Round Table. Like the Persian warriors, Lancelot did everything for the sake of gaining a good name in society, or as C.S. Lewis as stated, in order to "win worship". C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory and other Addresses, ed. Walter Hooper (New York: Touchstone, 1996), 15.
10Samak Ayyar, 1:80. See also 1:123, 204, 269, 372.
11
Jalal Khaliqi Mutlaq, "Anasir-i Daram dar barkhi az Dastan-ha-yi Shahnama" [Dramatic elements in the Shahnama], Iran Nama 10.1 (1991): 63.
12
Abou'l Kasim Firdouwsi, Le Livre des Rois [Shahnama], 9 vols., tr. and ed. Jules Mohl (1838; reprint, Paris: Librairie d'Amerique et d'Orient, 1976), 2:122.607-608 (The citations from the Shahnama refer to volume, page and line; so vol. 3, page 6, lines 115-116; from hereon the Shahnama is cited as SN.
13
Perhaps somewhat akin to the modern-day arm wrestle or hand-twist, two warriors would grab each others' hands and squeeze (fashurdan) them until one of them could not endure the pain anymore.
14 SN, 1:550.768.
15 SN, 1:550.771-77. See also SN, 1:546.709; 1:550.760-762; 4:624.3147-3151.
16
In the Shahnama a warrior's death was often seen as ignoble (patyara), which Nadushan links with the pahlawan's realization that he cannot prevail over death. In the Babul epic, the greatest hero of Mesopotamia, Gulgamash, desired only one thing in life: to overcome death. He sought every possible door, but the gods did not accept his request for eternal life; rather they gave him eternal repute and the title of world championship. His epic was the struggle to overcome death and the truth that even the greatest of heroes could not prevail over death. Hence, death always was an enemy and therefore, ignoble. Nadushan, Dastan-i Dastan-ha, 99 n, 2.
17
Nadushan, Dastan-i Dastan-ha, 98. In legends of Iran, each demon was in possession of a bottle or glass of life (shisha-yi `umr), its most precious asset. The only way to defeat or remove the demon was to break its glass. Similarly, if one's reputation is soiled, it is as if one's life has come to an end. In Sadiq Chubak's novel, Tangsir (1936), when the protagonist Muhammad lost his reputation after others had swindled his life's savings, he similarly expressed the idea that life without reputation is no life at all: "Before the eyes of the people, I felt like cotton that somebody pissed on. I can't lift my head up high before the people of the town. So this is what you call life? You think I can get my reputation (abru) back with something besides the bullet of a gun?" Sadiq Chubak, Tangsir (Tehran, 1346/1967), 91.
18
Samak Ayyar, 1:269. In this feat, Ruz Afzun killed her own brother in order to defend Samak.
19Samak Ayyar, 1:1-2.
20
This is a theme which Daneshvar brings out in her story, "A Snake and a Man." Simin Daneshvar, "Mar wa Mard" in Bih Ki Salam Kunim? [To Whom Can I Say Hello?] (Tehran, 1363 / 1984), pp. 117-182.
21
Note the chapters, "Marriage as Contract" and "Permanent Marriage: Nikah", in Shahla Haeri, Law of Desire: Temporary Marriage in Iran (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1989), pp. 23-48.
22
Although the study on marriage by John and Vera Mace, Marriage, East and West, does not cover the cultures of the Middle East, the similarities are striking.
One factor in fitness for marriage was emphasized above all others- the chastity of the bride. By contrast, there was little inquiry into the sexual past of the bridegroom. This "double standard" has been bitterly attacked in the modern West as an evidence of unjust discrimination against the woman. The explanation is simple when we remember the all-important function of the woman - to give her husband sons. A man wanted sons above all else, but he wanted his own sons, not those of some other man! The womb in which he planted his seed must not be contaminated by any alien seed. This might lead to falsification of the family line, which would bring down upon all concerned the curse of the ancestors. A man, therefore, was entitled exclusive rights over the sexuality of the woman he married. He must be able to rely upon her completely in this respect. A girl who would consent to have sex relations before marriage rendered herself unfit to be any man's wife. She proved herself incapable of the self-control needed to guard her integrity. ... Her husband would never be able to trust her out of sight. He could never be certain that the children she bore were his, and truly of the family seed. Such a wife would be worthless for the fundamental purpose a wife existed to serve. David and Vera Mace, Marriage: East and West, (New York, Dolphin Books, 1960), p. 43.
23
Shawhar-i Ahu Khanum, 186. See also 88, 307. In her study on male domination in Middle Eastern society, Mernissi reflects the same idea: "The man's prestige is embodied in the seclusion of his female relatives. A man whose wife wanders around in the streets free is a man whose masculinity is in jeopardy." Fatima Mernissi, Beyond the Veil: Male-Female Dynamics in a Modern Muslim Society (Toronto: John Wiley and Sons, 1975), 90.
24
Kulliyat-i Shaykh Sa`di (Tehran, 1365/1986), 281.
25
The anthropologist Bourdieu observes that in a society ruled by the code of honour, the goodness or evil of a deed is based on who or what is worthy of honor. That is why moral responses differ depending on the circumstances. Bourdieu says, "[Such a society] is fundamentally opposed to a universal and formal morality which affirms the equality in dignity of all men and consequently the equality of their rights and duties … This duality of attitudes proceeds logically from the fundamental principle, … according to which the modes of conduct of honour apply only to those who are worthy of them." Bourdieu, "The Sentiment of Honour in Kabyle Society," 228.
26 The story, Samak-i Ayyar, repeatedly mentions that "warriors do not lie" (Samak Ayyar 1:224, 247, 377). The Shahnama emphasizes that lying and guile are signs of weakness and debasement: "Manliness (mardumi) and truthfulness (rasti) are our duty / Through guile (kazhi) comes decline (kasti)" SN (Bertel's edition), 4:232.349. Apparently in classical Zoroastrianism, lying or breaking a promise was considered to be as serious a crime as murder. Moshen Zakeri, Sasanid Soldiers in Early Muslim Society (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1995), 317. The History of Herodotus provides the following description of the ancient Iranian people: " The most disgraceful thing in their estimation is to tell a lie, and next to this to owe money, this is for many reasons, but especially because it is necessary, they say, for him who owes money, also to sometimes lie." The History of Herodotus, tr. G.C. Macaullay (London: Macmillan & Co., 1890), 1:70.
27SN, 2:148-150.929-931.
28Nadushan, Zindagi wa Marg-i Pahlawanan, 348.
29SN, 2:162.1079-1082.
30SN, 4:600.2871.
31SN, 4:680.3829-3831.
32SN, 4:680.3832-3834.
33SN, 4:686.3903.
34Nadushan, Dastan-i Dastan-ha, 111.
For further reading in English on Persian poetry:
Pezeshkzad, Iraj. My Uncle Napoleon. translated by Dick Davis. Washington: Mage Publishers, 1996.
Milani, Farzaneh. Veils and Words: The Emerging Voices of Iranian Women Writers. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1992.
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