Azar Nafisi: "Cecilia Sala has given hope to Iranians"

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"People like Cecilia Sala bring hope, showing us that when it comes to human rights and connection, there are no boundaries of distance or language. She brought great hope to the Iranians who spoke with her, knowing that their stories would be heard," Iranian writer Azar Nafisi tells Il Foglio. Nafisi, who recently wrote a letter for Sala—detained since December 19 in Evin Prison after being arbitrarily arrested by the Iranian regime—emphasizes the need for action: "We must do everything possible to secure her release."

Quoting Václav Havel, Nafisi elaborates: "Hope is not the conviction that what you do will be rewarded, but doing something because it is right, because it has meaning. It is the hope of women and men who go to prison. They know they could die at any moment, but as long as they live, they do not allow the regime to win by seeing them beg or change."

Nafisi, a long-time opponent of the Iranian regime, is the author of Reading Lolita in Tehran, which has recently been adapted into a film by Eran Riklis, as well as Read Dangerously, a collection of essays on the subversive power of literature. Speaking from Washington, where she has lived in exile for thirty years, Nafisi hesitates when the infamous name Evin Prison is mentioned.

“It’s very difficult for me to talk about it,” she says. “The mere mention of its name evokes fear and unease in people. What can I say, other than it’s a terrible place? Being imprisoned in solitary confinement, surrounded by people who don’t speak your language, is in itself a form of torture.”

Cecilia is alone, in solitary confinement. The psychological violence “is in some cases more effective than physical violence,” Nafisi continues. “You feel as though the world doesn’t know about you, doesn’t care about you. But that’s not true. That’s why it’s so important to establish contact with prisoners, to let them know they are not alone, that the world is thinking of them. In Cecilia Sala’s case, the ambassador’s visit is a very positive step: she knows efforts are being made for her.”

Is there a network of solidarity between those inside Evin and the outside world? “Different ways of communicating are always found, such as Morse code.” According to Nafisi, people today are braver than in the past and find ways to speak to the outside world. She also believes the regime has grown weaker. “The violence it resorts to, like Cecilia’s arrest, is a sign of desperation. Violence is the only language left to the system. But the opposition, where figures like Cecilia are vital, does not use weapons, nor does it burn everything down. It silences the noise of bullets by singing and dancing.”

“Woman, Life, Freedom” is a vital force. “It’s not a political slogan; it’s existential. Without freedom, there is no life. When I lived in the Islamic Republic and had to dress in a way that didn’t reflect who I was in public, for me, that was a form of death. It’s deeply painful to surrender your identity, to deny who you are. Iranian women have refused to give up their identity. The regime has tried every form of repression, but it cannot do anything about this: they are ready to give their lives.”

As Nafisi writes in Reading Dangerously, rebellion is expressed through small yet profound acts of defiance: clandestine book clubs that she led with her female students over the years, but also shaking hands with a male colleague, applying body lotion, or holding hands with one’s partner in public. These everyday gestures in a totalitarian regime declare, "You don’t own me, you don’t control my actions, my feelings, or my thoughts."

Daily rebellion against pervasive control and the worst forms of violence is exhausting, but it’s crucial not to grow accustomed to it. As Nafisi emphasizes, one must “not allow brutality or the confiscation of individual freedoms to become routine, the norm.”

Totalitarianism, Nafisi asserts, is like a bad novelist, while narrative fiction is inherently democratic. “There are many voices, and even the villain has the opportunity to express themselves. In autocracy, the ruler’s voice is the only one, confiscating and silencing others.” Fiction, therefore, reveals truths.Journalism shares this mission: “Journalists, and thus women like Cecilia Sala, who have no weapons, who are not spies, but have only the truth, are dangerous because they expose facts. Facts are not favorable to autocrats.”

The day before her arrest, Cecilia Sala narrated the story of Zeinab Musavi, a stand-up comedian who had been imprisoned, in her daily podcast Stories (Choramedia). Is there room for humor in Iran? “In Iran, we make jokes about everything: the system, the regime, and ourselves. It’s a way of saying no, of asserting that those who use power to kill are not as significant as they believe. That we, unarmed, possess an unbreakable strength,” Nafisi explains.

In Reading Dangerously, Nafisi discusses numerous writers (she calls herself "promiscuous" when it comes to books) whose imaginations have opened pathways to freedom—figures like Shahrnush Parsipur, Elias Khoury, David Grossman, Margaret Atwood, Nora Neale Hurston, and James Baldwin. Yet, in this conversation, she revisits the story of Shahrazad from One Thousand and One Nights, which has its roots in Iran.

In the tale, a king, upon discovering his wife’s betrayal, executes her without trial or explanation. He then marries a virgin every night and kills her by morning. Shahrazad, when her turn comes, uses storytelling to delay her death. Her narratives captivate the king, fostering curiosity and empathy, which eventually transform him. Shahrazad's power lies not in violence but in igniting curiosity and compassion. “Literature opens our eyes by showing us both good and evil, not through judgment, but through understanding,” Nafisi says. She has recently finished writing a letter to Cecilia Sala, assuring her that efforts are underway to bring her home and that she is not alone.