Demise of ERTI

Introduction

By 1978, Iran was engulfed in economic turmoil. Persistent inflation showed no signs of abating and attempts to control it proved deeply unpopular. This paradox frustrated the public: How could a nation enjoying a dramatic increase in oil income witness such a decline in purchasing power? Disillusionment spread, casting a shadow over Iran’s future and signaling the approach of a political storm. Ironically, the inflation was exacerbated by the surge in oil prices. Higher oil revenues put more money in people’s pockets, fueling demand for goods and services. However, Iran’s domestic industries and agriculture could not keep pace with this rising demand. Scaling up production required a massive infusion of skilled labor—millions of trained workers to bridge the gap between supply and demand. Yet, the country lacked enough qualified managers, supervisors, and frontline workers to expand production and stabilize prices.

Even importing goods offered little relief. A severe shortage of trained truck drivers meant that imported goods often languished at ports along the Persian Gulf. Crates of sensitive equipment and perishable items were left exposed to the elements, resulting in damage or spoilage which led to those items being discarded. It would take months, if not years, to train qualified drivers to respond to this transportation bottleneck. The resulting supply shortages deepened dissatisfaction, particularly among Tehran’s long-established bazaar wholesalers. Already discontented with the rapid pace of industrialization, these merchants felt their traditional trade practices—rooted in customs dating back to the heyday of the Silk Road several centuries ago—were being undermined. Modern procurement, distribution, marketing, and sales methods posed existential challenges to their way of life.

Government policies further complicated matters. Efforts to protect fledgling domestic industries by restricting imports disrupted traditional commerce but failed to deliver viable alternatives. As new industries struggled to mature, the bazaar merchants—many of whom were wealthy and influential—grew increasingly impatient. Their frustration boiled over into vocal opposition against the government’s ambitious development and reform initiatives. The wave of disenchantment did not stop at the central bazaar but swept over small shopkeepers throughout Tehran. Thousands of neighborhood retailers were forced to pass on higher prices from the wholesalers in the main bazaar to their customers. To make matters worse, a perplexing local ordinance exacerbated their struggles and those of their regular patrons.

For decades, storekeepers in Tehran had enjoyed the freedom to set their own hours, opening and closing their shops as they saw fit. However, in the midst of this economic crisis, they were suddenly required to comply with a new city regulation that restricted their business hours. This ill-timed policy was introduced under the pretext of reducing traffic congestion in Tehran’s busy streets. While there was no doubt that traffic woes adversely affected everyone and heightened public stress, regulating the operating hours of neighborhood stores was not the most appropriate solution. The ordinance not only failed to ease traffic as intended but also served as a catalyst for spreading discontent. Frustration among Tehran’s citizens reached epidemic proportions, with many perceiving the policy as an unnecessary and thoughtless burden. It was as if policymakers, whether intentionally or not, were determined to further distress an already overwrought population.

General disenchantment with the state of affairs became a topic of widespread discussion. The poor and the rich, the powerful and the powerless—everyone shared a common sentiment: dissatisfaction. This pervasive disenchantment found its way into weekly Friday sermons delivered by clergy in mosques, where worshippers from all walks of life gathered. Even elite elders and experts, members of select committees tasked with advising government agencies, voiced their discontent.

Remarkably, even the monarch expressed dissatisfaction. His frustration stemmed from the lack of progress in negotiations with the American government over oil prices in international markets. Similarly, high-ranking officials at the National Iranian Oil Company (NIOC) were deeply concerned about the future of the oil industry. The 25-year contract with a consortium of Western oil companies, established in 1954, was set to expire in 1979. Amid ongoing disputes with Western nations over oil prices, NIOC officials faced uncertainty in planning for this pivotal transition. Western oil companies, notoriously opaque in their operations, conducted business behind closed doors, offering little insight into their intentions. This lack of transparency fueled anxiety about how they might respond once their contracts expired in 1979. Informal conversations within the offices of the NIRT News Unit suggested that preliminary negotiations held in Los Angeles with an American member of the consortium had already failed. There was little optimism that similar talks with the remaining consortium members would yield better results.

Iranian negotiators, in fact, were not eager to renew their commitments to the Western consortium of oil companies. Instead, they were prepared to take full control of the industry, assuming responsibility for exploration, extraction, refining, distribution, and marketing. This shift would complete the transfer of ownership, management, and operation of the oil industry to Iran. Given the diminished role this transition would leave for foreign oil companies, it was unsurprising that they were likely opposed to such a development.

An Effort for Political Renewal

Amidst these economic woes and uncertainties, Iran faced widespread political challenges as well. The country lacked robust political parties capable of channeling the activities of large groups of people into democratic institutions. Loyal opposition groups to the government and monarchy, such as the National Front and the Freedom Movement, continued efforts to expand their membership. While these groups were popular among the educated elite, they struggled to gain significant support from farmers and workers across the country.

Iran was largely an agrarian society, with rural residents focused on their farms and small businesses at the village level. Many in these communities saw little connection between their local concerns and the activities of political parties based primarily in Tehran. Opposition groups attributed their limited appeal to the broader population to a lack of political freedom. They frequently complained about harassment by security services, which targeted their leaders and prominent members, often resulting in imprisonment. Additionally, they protested the censorship of their newspapers and publications.

These restrictions left partisan politics to a small circle of lay urban educated elites and politically active members of religious circles, who persevered despite the constraints. Iran-e-Novin, the ruling party, was no more successful than the opposition groups in attracting a large following. Originally founded by the late Prime Minister Hassan Ali Mansur to appeal to educated youth, the party was now led by then-Prime Minister Amir Abbas Hoveyda. A consummate politician, Mr. Hovevda enjoyed significant personal support among political and intellectual circles. However, most politically active youth perceived the party as merely an extension of the government, failing to embody their ideals of freedom and democracy.

Safeguarding the Reforms and the Development Projects

Complicating matters further, following the assassination of Prime Minister Mansur by a member of the terrorist group Fada’iyan-e Islam, the monarch assumed a more active role in the executive branch of government. Presumably, this was intended to ensure that reform and development projects were implemented as effectively as possible, despite strong opposition from the clergy, wealthy bazar merchants aligned with reactionary religious leaders, feudal landowners, communist organizations, and their sympathizers among the educated elite.

Loyal opposition groups, religious circles, and left-leaning political leaders immediately criticized the monarch’s new posture. They argued that, consistent with Iran’s long-standing traditions, the monarch should remain a symbol of national unity and territorial integrity, uninvolved in the day-to-day affairs of governance. They warned that engagement in routine politics would inevitably undermine his unique role, leaving it less effective in extraordinary national emergencies where his intervention might be the only viable solution. Some critics also invoked the constitution, asserting that it designated the prime minister as the sole authority over the executive branch. They argued that the monarch’s involvement in overseeing and promoting development projects and reform measures constituted a violation of the nation’s governing legal framework.

But these were not ordinary times. In the late 1960s and throughout the 1970s, the monarch took a prominent role in managing national affairs that he deemed required his personal attention. He actively pushed for reforms and development projects, insisting that he could not take pride in ruling over a poor country. He also played a key role in securing higher oil prices in international markets to finance these initiatives. However, his actions centralized executive power within the monarchy, further alienating opposition groups and even some members of the government.

Simultaneously, security forces intensified their efforts to suppress political activities among radical religious circles opposing the reforms. Clergy delivered fiery sermons expressing outrage over measures such as elevating the status of women in society, implementing land reforms, and introducing new industries to Iran. They particularly condemned the elevation of women’s roles, claiming it violated Islamic principles. Radical counter-traditional clergy went further, calling for the abolition of the monarchy, which they viewed as a corrupt and irredeemable institution, and its replacement with an idealized Islamic government. In response, several radical clerics were detained and imprisoned for varying lengths of time to prevent them from engaging in what the state deemed nefarious activities.

Security forces also targeted members of a new wave of Islamic-Marxist-Maoist guerrilla organizations who advocated violent revolutionary regime change, detaining many of them as well. Although loyal opposition groups refrained from instigating violence, these intensified security measures significantly curtailed their political activities, with some of their leaders also imprisoned. These actions deepened the rift between the opposition groups and the monarchy, creating an enduring division.

An Attempt to Unify the Politically Active

To unify the nation during a time of deep division, one initiative sought to merge all political parties and organizations into a single entity. The hope was that a unified political party would foster positive dialogue among disparate groups protesting the policies of the government and the monarch. This national umbrella organization aimed to encourage constructive discussions among its members, ultimately rallying everyone around the flag for the sake of national unity and the country’s territorial integrity.

For a brief moment, the new party, named Rastakhiz (Resurgence), showed promising results. It successfully engaged more women in the political process and established county councils to encourage broader participation in local affairs. These councils were modeled after thousands of village councils formed during the implementation of land reform, prior to the creation of the Rastakhiz Party. The village councils had proven effective in addressing and arbitrating local issues, and this grassroots model of political participation was now extended to the county level under the Rastakhiz banner. However, in its formative stage, the Rastakhiz Party became mired in administrative chaos, with its various functions proving disorderly and confusing. Over time, it became evident that despite its initial success in attracting hundreds of representatives from all provinces to a large general assembly in Tehran, the unruly party was unable to provide a coherent platform to lift the nation out of its prevailing gloom.

Most political activists were skeptical about the viability of a single political entity. They believed that the formation of a single party further diminished their chances of presenting unique ideas to the public. Some members of the ERTI staff, who formed a professional precinct and actively participated in the party, soon realized that they could not find effective channels to voice their grievances or resolve outstanding issues through party mechanisms. Efforts to form neighborhood precincts in urban areas were even less successful. While professional precincts were established in various government agencies and some private institutions, neighborhood precincts largely failed to materialize. People either lacked the motivation to organize their neighbors or did not possess the leadership skills to do so. Hope for this umbrella party of national unity quickly faded as leaders of various political groups gradually withdrew and resumed the activities within their previous separate formations and organizations.

The Warning Clouds Over ERTI

In this tense political and economic atmosphere, some members of the highly talented and imaginative Graphic Unit requested a meeting with this author to express their dissatisfaction with various professional issues. A few minutes into the meeting, and in the polite mannerisms of the time, they began using legitimate professional concerns as a thin veil to voice their broader unhappiness and frustration with the prevailing political conditions. The meeting lasted several hours but, unlike many similar gatherings previously, this one ended without clear, actionable outcomes. Most attendees left in a stoic mood, realizing that issues concerning an entire nation could not be resolved within the confines of a professional meeting framed as technical discussions.

Perhaps because the meeting with the Graphic Unit members failed to yield tangible results, a larger group—including staff from several units—went on strike a few days later to protest the quality of food in the cafeteria. While complaining about the food was not unreasonable, nor improving cafeteria service an unachievable goal, it was clear that the quality of the food was not the real issue. The strike was a means to display broader dissatisfaction by boycotting the food service. Although the matter was quickly addressed—additional resources from NIRT were allocated to improve the cafeteria service—the underlying discontent persisted. Over time, it became increasingly evident that some of ERTI’s best talents were shifting from forward-looking professionals to dissatisfied political activists. Their energy and talent were being redirected away from advancing projects and toward sympathizing with, and perhaps even assisting revolutionary groups.

At this critical juncture, when the cohesion of ERTI’s staff as an effective workforce was under strain, Mr. Rahmanzadeh left ERTI to work with Mr. Cyrus Ramtin, the Director of the International Affairs Unit of NIRT. Specializing in international relations, Mr. Rahmanzadeh was in his element working on programs and projects related to international affairs. His master’s thesis, written in 1972, argued that foreign forces needed to leave the Persian Gulf as a precondition for Iran to gain full control over its territorial waters, natural resources, and political destiny (Rahmanzadeh, 1972). This thesis reflected his comprehensive understanding of Iran’s aspirations for an independent national policy and his deep sense of patriotism.

As deputy managing director of ERTI, Mr. Rahmanzadeh’s unique diplomatic skills and personable nature were instrumental in managing the day-to-day operations of the organization. He held numerous lengthy meetings with individual staff members and groups to listen to their concerns, address professional issues, and resolve problems efficiently. His collaboration with this author to move ERTI forward contributed to the rapid expansion of broadcast services nationwide and an increase in in-person training workshops for schools in many provinces. These visible successes also elevated ERTI’s standing in leading international organizations, such as UNESCO and ABU. Mr. Rahmanzadeh was a dedicated professional who believed in a democratic and prosperous Iran and viewed ERTI as playing a pivotal role in transforming the country’s educational system to achieve these ideals.

After his departure, this author spent more time with the staff, holding multiple daily meetings with various groups to hear their issues and resolve their concerns. In a general staff meeting held in a television studio to accommodate everyone, it became clear that most participants were proud of their achievements and firmly believed in their mission to improve educational services across the country. However, a notable number argued that their efforts were being wasted because the government either lacked the will or the ability to create the conditions necessary for their success.

When this author asked more probing questions, a few of the more outspoken staff members criticized the MOE for its slow adoption of the innovations being introduced to schools. For the first time, at least in a formal meeting, a few staff members raised concerns about the MOE’s image as a largely corrupt organization. One producer boldly claimed that questionable practices were widespread among high-level administrative officials in the MOE, both in Tehran and other major cities. The discussion of the MOE’s administrative inefficiencies was overtly political, marking a shift from the usual focus on professional issues. While some technical and professional concerns were addressed during the meeting, it ultimately ended on a loud and critical note, condemning the moral failings of the MOE—an organization the ERTI staff were ostensibly tasked with assisting.

The Approaching Storm

Corruption was indeed a core issue in both the public and private sectors. In some institutions, it had become deeply entrenched, making it difficult to eradicate. In recent years, the relative abundance of petrodollars exacerbated the problem. While most government contracts were legitimate, met the country’s needs, and were free of wrongdoing, some were implemented for questionable reasons. Opposition leaders vehemently protested these deals, demanding that individuals associated with the royal court recuse themselves from all government contracts and commercial ventures to preserve the monarchy’s integrity.

As calls for investigations into corrupt practices grew louder, this author had a conversation during an informal dinner meeting with a high-ranking American consultant involved in several projects across various government agencies, including NIRT. Representing a prominent consulting firm based in Boston, Massachusetts, his focus was on organizational development, not political matters. Nonetheless, somewhat unexpectedly, he shifted the conversation to politics and raised the necessity of “opening up the political space” (fazay-e-siyasi) in the country.

Hearing this phrase from Iranian cultural elites demanding greater political freedom was not surprising. However, hearing it from an American professional consultant was puzzling, if not unsettling. Until then, the confrontation between opposition groups and supporters of the status quo had been a domestic matter, akin to a family quarrel. But now, for the first time—at least for this author—an American advisor to the government was advocating for “opening up the political space” in the country. His assertion added a new dimension to the unfolding events, raising the possibility of direct Western involvement in fomenting unrest and elevating political discontent, at least in the mind of this author. Given the history of British and American intervention in the country’s political affairs, it was not far-fetched to suspect that some recent disturbances might have been influenced from Western countries that seemingly were friendly to Iran.

Within weeks, the phrase “opening the political space” began to appear in several newspapers and was echoed in the speeches and writings of leading political activists. As it gained traction and was repeated often enough to become a cliché, it took on a wide range of interpretations. For university professors, students, the cultural intelligentsia, and the urban middle class, it signified greater freedom to express political ideas in public gatherings, newspapers, and other publications. It also called for reducing the role of security services in suppressing political activities and, perhaps most critically, for the release of political prisoners. For the more religious-minded, such as the clergy, bazaar merchants, and feudal landlords—alongside radical Marxist-Maoist groups and their intellectual sympathizers and students—“opening the political space” meant something far more radical: complete freedom of action to overthrow the status quo and replace it with a religious authority.

In this atmosphere, politically active clergy began raising the issue of corruption within certain government bureaucracies during their sermons. The grand ayatollahs, a few high-profile Friday imams, and even some ordinary preachers positioned themselves as self-appointed moral arbiters, intensifying their criticism of the bureaucracy and the monarchy on moral grounds. They highlighted allegations of bribery in securing lucrative government contracts and outright theft of public funds in some institutions as a convenient pretext to agitate the public and urge them to rise up and challenge the existing order.

For the clergy, corruption was not merely a financial issue. It also encompassed, as they described it, the love and admiration for Western culture. In their view, the Western way of life was corrupting Iranian society. This critique extended to the industrialization of production, the mechanization of agriculture, educational reforms, and the increasing participation of women in public life.

While university students were at the forefront of the opposition movement, militant members of religious circles vilified universities as purveyors of Western ideas and cultures, calling for their Islamization. In fiery and emotional sermons, preachers argued that drastic change was necessary to put an end to these corrupt practices. They asserted the need to return to a bygone era—one they claimed existed centuries ago—when Muslims behaved piously in utopian communities free from depravity. Prominent bazaar merchants, who were among the most devout religious believers and staunch supporters of militant clergy circles, added their voices to the chorus of discontent and echoed the sentiments of the clergy. These influential merchants commanded significant respect among the more religious strata of society and were highly effective in rallying public support for the clergy’s cause through generous financial contributions.

However, it was the militant members of religious circles who openly advocated for the use of violence to overthrow the established order. They called for a general armed uprising against the government and the state on moral grounds. Several Marxist guerrilla organizations, some of which exhibited an unusual affinity for Islam, also joined the fray, intensifying their violent activities. Yet, they never convincingly articulated how they reconciled their simultaneous belief in Islam and Marxism-Maoism.

Radical Groups

Militant preachers had a wide audience throughout the country. Their influence on several radical guerrilla organizations that emerged in the 1960s and 1970s was particularly noteworthy. Prominent among these organizations were the Mujahedin and Fedayeen, who were believers in Islam, though many among them also adhered to Marxist and/or Maoist beliefs. These communist groups interacted with radical members of Shi’a religious circles, influencing them and being influenced by them. There was an unlikely synergy between these two groups: the clergy were primarily rooted in Muhammadan beliefs, while the guerrillas were mainly inspired by Marx and Mao. Despite their ideological differences, they found collaboration useful for their common objective of destroying the status quo.

Nonetheless, the primary source of inspiration for these guerrilla organizations was not the radical clergy. Events in the Soviet Union and China had a profound impact on their ideas, tactics, and day-to-day activities. As the 1970s approached, many members of the Tudeh Party remained loyal to the Soviet Union. However, the Soviet Communist Party’s perceived docility led most militant members to gravitate toward Maoism. For personal and political reasons, members of these organizations often moved between guerrilla groups. Leadership changed frequently, resulting in constant splintering and reorganization. (Abrahamian, 1989). As such, it was difficult to determine which ideas were dominant and who was in charge at any given time.

Ultimately, their misguided actions served the goal of defying international communism rather than benefiting the people of Iran. The more radical elements quickly embraced revolutionary action inspired by Chairman Mao Zedong. For them, Maoism provided the necessary ideology, strategy, and tactics to introduce revolutionary ideas to farmers in Iran’s mostly agrarian society. Maoism advocated mobilizing poor and disenfranchised peasant masses to engage in tactical actions against feudal oppressors and their urban supporters. It encouraged farmers to participate in perpetual revolutionary action, as only in a revolutionary state could they triumph over class enemies and sustain their victory.

However, the form and nature of this victory were not clearly defined in Iran. The Leninist message of the Soviet State—focused on industrial workers—was less relevant in an overwhelmingly agrarian society. As such, guerrilla leaders saw Maoism as better suited to instigating revolution than the Soviet style Leninism (Lovell, 2019). In China, Mao periodically re-enged in revolutionary action for the sole purpose of keeping China’s Communist Party (CCP) in power and hold total control over political affairs. Opposing the CCP was equated with being anti-revolutionary since revolution was seen as the Party’s monopoly.

In contrast, Iranian agricultural villages were vastly different. Most farmers were staunch Muslims who could not understand the necessity of adopting a godless ideology focused solely on material gains without concern for spirituality. Nevertheless, the Fedayeen, one of Iran’s prominent guerrilla organizations, adopted Mao’s revolutionary strategies and tactics, considering them necessary for their triumph. Following Chairman Mao’s edicts, one of the most visible revolutionary actions by the Fedayeen occurred when a small group of members converged in a wooded region in northern Iran and raided a small gendarmerie outpost. Although the attack failed, it achieved its strategic purpose by gaining widespread publicity. It became a symbol of revolutionary action against the status quo, despite being a failed attempt.

The violence continued in Tehran and other urban areas. Guerrilla groups assassinated an American military advisor, robbed several banks, and destroyed businesses both large and small. These acts of killing and destruction provoked a violent response from security forces. As some guerrillas were arrested, they faced harsh punishments and, allegedly, unlawful treatment in certain cases. These actions attracted the attention of international human rights organizations, leading to widespread criticism from Europe and the United States about the violation of their human rights. This international attention further eroded the legitimacy of the bureaucracy and the monarchy, emboldening militant groups to escalate their violent activities. In turn, this provoked even harsher reactions from security forces, creating a vicious cycle of violence. This cycle had disastrous consequences for the country.

The Role of the Intellectuals

Many among the cognoscenti, ideological soulmates of the small guerrilla groups, exalted their “epic lives” in poetry and prose, saturating the literature with praise that often exaggerated the impact of their perceived triumphs. Although these groups lacked roots among the broader population, popular writers and commentators invested their intellectual capital in glorifying their destructive revolutionary thoughts and actions. Poets and writers invoked the heroes of the Shahnameh to describe and lionize them.

The dialectical tradition of these political commentators pitted ordinary Iranians against one another in the name of a historic class struggle. The reality, however, was that the struggle unfolded between radical groups and those engaged in the many constructive projects aimed at elevating the nation’s economic and political prospects. By focusing on the revolutionary ideology, strategy, and tactics of the radicals, the literary elite ignored the monumental efforts of young professionals involved in implementing hundreds of development projects and serving farming families in thousands of villages. Particularly overlooked were the contributions of young professionals in education, such as rank-and-file members of the Knowledge Corps (Sepah-e-Danesh). Their efforts were dismissed in Marxist terminology as a “historical necessity,” implying these projects were merely inevitable byproducts of the passage of time.

The intelligentsia disregarded the painstaking work of engineers and technicians who built new institutions and revitalized old ones in both the public and private sectors. These individuals were disparaged as “technocrats,” a term used pejoratively. The literary elite misguidedly and erroneously portrayed essential development projects—designed to expand education and reduce poverty—as illegitimate simply because they were products of Western sciences and technologies. Similarly, grassroots private sector initiatives to build new small businesses were condemned because their entrepreneurial character did not align with revolutionary Islamic or Marxist/Maoist templates.

Their prolific and misleading portrayal of contemporary Iranian history dwarfed alternative narratives. To this day, their negative depiction of the 1960s and 1970s dominates both academic and popular literature, presenting a skewed picture of the time. This narrative omits the monumental steps professional Iranians took to alleviate poverty and create the conditions necessary for democratic progress. A purely ideological zeal blinded these intellectuals to the extraordinary contributions of Iranian heroes like NIRT director Mr. Reza Ghotbi, who, under challenging circumstances, built new institutions and brought together countless men and women to serve the nation honorably.

Polarization of the National Narrative

The narrative of the intellectuals in the 1960s and 1970s aligned closely with that of the leading counter-traditional radical clergy. The radical clergy particularly despised projects that applied science and technology to solving societal problems. They rejected these tools, which they viewed as Western imports, but failed to offer practical alternatives for addressing the aspirations of the educated class for economic prosperity and political freedom beyond adherence to Islamic rituals.

Ironically, many intellectuals blindly followed this perspective and failed to highlight the rich history of Iranian sciences and engineering. They rejected development projects solely based on their dogmatic stance against science and technology and presented their case in an emotional language that was devoid of rational thinking. As a result, they failed to offer an independent literature that fairly analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of development projects methodically. In the absence of balanced criticism, institutions like NIRT and a few other government sources became the primary proponents of reforms and development projects.

This created a polarized environment where the public faced two choices: Either believe the government or trust the clergy. Over time, particularly for those engaged in political matters, trust shifted to the clergy. The clergy had crafted an image of themselves as skeptics of government programs, which resonated with many. In this polarized atmosphere, even some professionals working on reform and development projects began to question the legitimacy and value of their efforts. This caused thousands in the middle class—the driving force behind the nation’s rapid economic development—to lose confidence in their work. They began to doubt whether reforms and development efforts could succeed, truly reduce poverty, and expand political freedoms. As a result, support for these initiatives waned. Many came to view the idea of building Iran through reforms and development projects as mere “government propaganda,” lacking credibility. The narrative of reform and development became offensive to the Iranian people and was ultimately discredited and silenced.

Toward a Reactionary and Regressive Hierocracy

This shift in public opinion reflected widespread dissatisfaction with economic and political prospects. The government’s narrative of economic development no longer excited the public, as it had failed to deliver the expected levels of material prosperity. In politics, instituting village councils was not seen as a sufficient first step toward institutionalizing democratic processes, nor was establishing county councils viewed as the next logical step toward further democratization in a deliberate and measured manner. The public wanted “political freedom” now, but their leaders did not offer a clear definition of what the phrase meant.

With no political solutions at hand, thousands among the middle class gravitated toward the religious authorities. A middle class that seemingly sought political freedom found itself in the company of reactionary members of religious circles, who philosophically and theologically had no tradition of democracy. The clergy’s program for the future was unmistakably antediluvian, harking back to an age when democratic institutions did not exist in the realm of Islam. Their ideal society was one in which people adhered strictly to the religious precepts of Islam as a matter of unquestioning faith. These precepts, based on Islam’s political philosophy, left no room for ordinary citizens to participate in decisions about important social matters. In the absence of the Hidden Imam, such decisions were solely vested in the hands of elite clergy.

Ayatollah Khomeini, emerging as the political leader of counter-cultural and radical Islamic circles, took this philosophy even further. He openly propagated the concept of rule-by-the-jurist, or “velayat-e-faqih,” which had no precedent in traditional Islam. Over several years, he formulated and taught this concept to his students in religious circles. However, the mainstream clergy rejected it as an undesirable “innovation” with no place in their theology or practice. Under the rule of the jurist, all powers were vested in a single turbaned individual, establishing a hierocracy with no room for liberty, freedom of speech, or equitable application of law.

Despite this, neither the leaders of lay opposition groups nor the international communists who supported Khomeini questioned the substance or form of establishing a hierocracy. These figures endorsed the Khomeinist movement wholeheartedly, despite knowing little about the intentions of its leader. With an astonishing lack of interest in analyzing the consequences of an Islamic regime, they joined forces with radical religious leaders to topple the government and dismantle the parliamentary constitutional monarchy.

The Clergy Take Center Stage

Neither the lay opposition groups nor the international communists and their intellectual allies had the organization or funds to advance their respective political agendas. Although their primary political objectives differed substantially from those of the clergy, they lazily turned to the organization and resources found in the network that thousands of clergies had established throughout the country. This network, consisting of hundreds of mosques and other religious institutions, had been built over centuries. At times, this religious web was weakened by calamities that affected all Iranians. However, by the 1970s, it had grown tremendously in financial strength and social and political influence.

Rich bazaar merchants and well-to-do feudal landlords funded this religious complex through contributions to local endowments and charities, as well as by paying their customary alms. In effect, they provided the material resources the militant clergy needed to establish God’s government on Earth. Consequently, the political ideals of liberal-minded lay opposition groups, such as the National Front and the Freedom Movement, first became secondary to those of the radical religious groups and were eventually sidelined entirely.

It did not occur to the liberal-minded intellectuals, seasoned engineers, physicians, university faculty, poets, literary elites, and French-educated tribal leaders that by allying themselves with the clergy, they would reduce themselves to a negligible appendage of the vast network of religious circles. This author was astonished when prominent professors at the School of Law and Political Science at the University of Tehran spoke in support of militant religious authorities. These distinguished personalities, who were mainly educated in European universities and were widely recognized for their liberal and democratic tendencies over several decades, suddenly set aside their teachings about individual rights and bowed to a religious dictator.

These long-time, highly educated and sophisticated activists naively believed that once the “Islamic revolution” succeeded, the leading members of the religious circles would retreat to their seminaries and leave governance to them. They were proven astonishingly wrong. First, their independent, liberal-minded narrative was subordinated to the discourse of the closed-minded militant religious circles. Then, lacking independent financial and political support, they were compelled to yield to the clergy’s wishes.

Under these circumstances, the narrative of the clergy became dominant. They used unique idiomatic expressions familiar to the people to sustain their support. For instance, they preferred the term jihad over revolution, the favored term among Marxists, nationalists, and intellectuals. Traditionally, jihad among the clergy referred to an inner struggle with one’s demons as part of a process of self-improvement. However, over time, militant clergy redefined the term. They popularized jihad to mean a violent physical struggle against the enemies of Islam. They argued that drastic change through violent means was necessary to restore the country to the superannuated mores of the 7th century, a time when Islamic society ostensibly adhered to the religion’s original precepts.

By the end of 1978, the various groups with distinct political viewpoints, diverse ideas, and unique occupational interests had ceased to pursue their individual causes. Instead, they all converged around a single center of political gravity: Ayatollah Khomeini. Khomeini, a semi-literate man with questionable religious credentials, revealed himself to be thirsting for the blood of the very people he claimed to lead. As an Islamic hegemon, he harbored neither empathy for Iranians nor respect for them. He declared upon his return from exile that his mission was “to make human beings out of them,” implying he saw them as a mindless flock of sheep needing a shepherd to guide them to the right path, as they were incapable of independent thought. Khomeini spoke colloquially rather than in the formal manner of educated Iranians. While his apologists argued that this was his way of connecting with ordinary people, many found his banal intonation reflective of his prosaic ideas. To most, he offered little beyond misery, death, and destruction.

The arrival of Khomeini in Tehran from Paris signaled the onset of a calamitous upheaval. What followed uprooted the lives of millions and brought war, death, destruction, poverty, and social misery not only to Iran but to several other countries in the region as well. By 1979, a process of national revival and development that had begun in the early 1800s came to a sudden and complete halt. The Islamic Republic that replaced the Iranian government and the parliamentary constitutional monarchy abandoned policies that had previously brought unprecedented economic growth to Iran, albeit unevenly distributed. Furthermore, the constitutional framework, which contained the seeds of a democratic system, was dismantled. Any hope for expanding political prospects toward a fully realized democracy dissipated. Ironically, achieving greater political freedom had been the primary slogan of the National Front, the Freedom Movement, and many other groups formed by the educated class to oppose the status quo. These ideals briefly became part of Khomeini’s rhetoric but were quickly discarded once he consolidated his power.

Disintegration of the Staff

Shock waves signaling the emergence of these astonishing political currents had been palpable at ERTI for some time. Following a strike protesting food services, some staff members began referring to themselves as Islamic Marxists in both casual and formal conversations with this author. They believed their work at ERTI was insufficient to achieve the changes they envisioned and felt compelled to intensify their political activities to bring about the desired transformations.

Concurrently, a few other staff members—some with degrees from American universities—requested time off to participate in a religious circle led by an agha, a respectful term for a clergyman. Though enthusiastic about these gatherings, they displayed a surprising lack of understanding of radical militant Shi’ism’s tenets. In conversations, they appeared uninformed about the radical clergy’s recent violent history and their intentions to establish a hierocracy. Their interest in Islam was purely emotional, lacking intellectual curiosity. Nonetheless, the content of these religious meetings thrilled them. For some, the prospect of revolutionary action to create a new political system was far more exciting than the painstaking work of designing instructional systems for MOE schools. Even female employees eagerly attended these meetings, exploring jihadist actions they could take to support the impending revolution. They seemed oblivious to how empowering the clergy could lead to the loss of their social status and personal freedoms.

Meanwhile, other staff members skipped work to join gatherings hosted by prominent poets, filmmakers, and authors who were vocal critics of the status quo. Ironically, many of these luminaries contributed content to NIRT’s radio and television networks while complaining about their lack of freedom to speak! They displayed a profound lack of self-awareness about their role in aiding the opposition and steering the country toward a hierocracy that would eventually bar them from any form of self-expression. As more employees gravitated toward religious and lay radical groups, work at ERTI visibly slowed. Routine meetings between producers and subject matter experts from the MOE ceased, and IIDI workshops came to a standstill. Adding to the uncertainty, the primary NIRT contract with UCIDT was nearing expiration, requiring an imminent decision on whether to renew it.

Meanwhile, as street demonstrations intensified in Tehran and other cities, managing the organization’s affairs in a normal fashion became increasingly difficult. By 1978, the sloganeering of marchers reached a fever pitch. Among the politically active, the prevailing belief was that, once the dust settled, Iranians would retain the same opportunities they currently enjoyed—but with added liberties, privileges, and wealth that the existing government either withheld or failed to provide. A careful analysis by the NIRT research group attached to the News and Public Affairs Unit sharply contradicted the widespread belief in an optimistic future. Prominent news analysts including Mr. Mahmoud Jaafarian, NIRT’s deputy director general in charge of news and political affairs, predicted that a suffocating theocracy would descend upon the nation, extinguishing any hope for a bright future for all Iranians. They pointed to a confluence of domestic and international events as paving the way for an absolute dictatorship under a single religious leader. This would result in a hierocracy that excluded all other groups from the political arena.

The concept of rule-by-the-jurist prescribed concentrating all power in the hands of a single turbaned individual who would enact the will of God on earth on behalf of the Hidden Imam. Implementing this unprecedented doctrine in Shi’ism would completely disrupt the delicate balance of power between political and religious authorities that had held Iranian society together for over 2,500 years. The ruling jurist would wield absolute political control and, for the first time in the nation’s history, command the armed forces. No other sources of authority, knowledge, or culture would be recognized as legitimate. The ruling jurist would define all acceptable knowledge and cultural expressions, with those deviating from his edicts facing severe punishment without due process—ranging from summary execution to mutilation, such as severing limbs. Draconian restrictions on civil rights, particularly for women, would be imposed. Harassment would become systemic and ubiquitous, with immediate punishment for noncompliance with the jurist’s dictates. Efforts to informally share this analysis with staff, especially female employees who made up more than half of ERTI’s workforce, proved futile.

As the cold winds of winter swept in by late 1978, disobedience among some key employees became apparent. Sabotage of unit managers’ efforts to maintain daily production schedules became commonplace. By year’s end, workflow in several key departments ground to a complete halt. Enough staff abandoned their professional duties in favor of political pursuits that, for all practical purposes, ERTI was effectively shut down.

During 1979, ERTI continued to exist in name only under a new and inept management that lacked the qualifications to lead its highly talented and educated staff. The organization became rudderless, eventually disbanding, with its well-trained personnel—skilled in achieving systemic results through collaboration—scattered across the sprawling government bureaucracy.

The new religious regime, adhering to the dictatorial maktab system of education, was fundamentally opposed to teaching and learning methods that encouraged independent thinking and problem-solving. Instead, tabliq—a specific form of Shi’a propaganda and dogmatic indoctrination—became the dominant policy for educational communication. This approach was imposed not only on schools and universities but also across all media platforms. In such an atmosphere, ERTI’s forward-thinking mission was incompatible with the constraints of an anachronistic regime.