Under Which Sky Do We Live? My Freedom, Another’s Destiny (2)
S. Rouzbeh
2026-10-13

But now another question also stands before us: can we, alongside this perseverance and solidarity, learn the art of cooperating with those who do not think as we do? We may live under different skies, have memories

S. Rouzbeh – In the first part, we began with an imagined scene and a simple question: “Under whose sky do you live?” It was a question that led me to reflect on Iranians who have been far from their homeland for years, yet remain concerned for the fate of its people. Some live in free and safe countries; their children have grown up in those same lands, and some have never even seen Iran. Even so, they devote their time, energy and sometimes their comfort to striving for the freedom of the people of Iran.

But is all this solidarity and effort, however valuable, enough to achieve freedom? What can unite the efforts of people with different beliefs and viewpoints around a common goal?

To clarify this question, let us imagine a village whose people have lived there for generations. One day, a group takes control of it, deprives its residents of control over their lives and decisions, and suppresses their protests. Some villagers are forced to leave and build new lives in other cities and lands. Years pass; fathers and mothers die, and their children and grandchildren grow up in different surroundings. Yet the memory of that home, and the fate of those who remained, still matter to some of them.

Now suppose that the scattered descendants want to help restore the rights and agency of the people of that village. One proposes dialogue, another considers a different course more suitable, and a third believes they should first find more allies. Differences over methods are natural; but if dialogue turns to hostility, competition to destruction, and disagreement to accusations, how much of their capacity will be spent on the main goal?

This village is merely a hypothetical example. Iran is not the exclusive property of any one group, but the shared home of all its citizens. To reclaim that home means restoring the people’s right to govern their own destiny.

Even in a family of five, not everyone needs to agree on the route and means of transport for a trip together; but they must know the destination and be able to agree on how decisions will be made. Without such agreement, everyone may go their own way and the shared journey may never begin.

Let us now return to Iranians abroad. Many people, with different backgrounds and beliefs, write about Iran, engage in cultural and human rights work, attend rallies, or bring the voices of those who have suffered to others’ attention. These efforts can be valuable, even when they are independent and dispersed. But the question is: how can their capacity be brought to bear on a common goal?

Meanwhile, we must not overlook one problem: disputes that sometimes lead, instead of to an examination of ideas and programmes, to personal rivalries, labelling, mistrust and denigration. When people’s energy is spent answering accusations or proving one movement’s superiority over another, there is less opportunity to discuss the real needs of the people.

Of course, not all disagreements are pointless. Differences over the form of the future government, the strategy for transition, citizens’ rights or the conduct of political leaders are serious and legitimate subjects. In the name of unity, we cannot ask others to set aside their questions. Supporting Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi, or any other political figure or movement, does not make their decisions and actions immune from criticism. Respect for an individual is not incompatible with the right to question and disagree.

What we should distance ourselves from is not disagreement, but turning disagreement into hostility and being unable to cooperate on the rights we share.

So what could our common ground be?

Could we not, despite our differences over a republic or a monarchy, agree on ending repression, freedom of expression, equality of citizens before the law, an independent judiciary, and the people’s right to determine the future political system? Could an assembly elected freely by the people and the establishment of accountable institutions not form part of this shared vision?

Such an agreement does not mean abandoning one’s beliefs. No one has to hide their political identity or stop criticising others in order to cooperate. The question is whether we can distinguish between competing for the ideas we favour and cooperating to secure rights that belong to everyone.

Of course, not all the difficulties of achieving freedom should be attributed to disagreements among Iranians abroad. The repressive structure, political and security restrictions, the dangers faced by people inside Iran, and the difficulties of organising are also fundamental obstacles. Even broad agreement among opponents, by itself, cannot guarantee freedom. Effective cooperation requires a programme, an understanding of realities, a sense of responsibility and attention to the demands of the people inside the country.

But one question remains; a question whose answer may matter for Iran’s future:

If today we cannot manage our differences through dialogue, tolerance and mutual respect, how do we expect to live tomorrow in a democratic society? For we have not learnt democracy and must learn it anew.

Democracy does not begin on the day a ballot box is set up. Before that, we must learn that an opponent is not an enemy; that the majority has no right to deprive the minority of its freedom; and that no individual or movement has an exclusive claim to the truth. We must be able both to defend our own beliefs and to recognise another person’s right to disagree with them.

Freedom is not merely liberation from a repressive government; it is an opportunity to build a society in which no one is deprived of their civil rights because of their beliefs, views or political dissent. If the way we treat our opponents does not change, there is a risk that, after power changes hands, the same patterns of exclusion and humiliation will continue in another form. And Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi, in remarks he made, distanced himself from them and issued the necessary warning.

At the beginning of this series, a child, in an imagined portrait of a man who had been away from his homeland for decades, asked: “Aren’t you tired?” Perhaps this is a question we could ask many Iranians who are still striving for freedom in their homeland.

But now another question also stands before us: can we, alongside this perseverance and solidarity, learn the art of cooperating with those who do not think as we do?

We may live under different skies, have different memories and beliefs, and disagree about Iran’s future. Even so, we can agree on one principle: to recognise in others the same freedom and rights that we want for ourselves.

Perhaps this is the first step towards building a free Iran: learning, before freedom is attained, to live with differences of opinion and shared responsibility.

Source: https://srouzbeh.com/en/posts/entry-1791936968250-229900aa
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