Free A State of Fear by Dr Reza Ghaffari

damaged from the last ghapani session and the agony was doubled. I was taken down when I passed out and my limp body was thrown back into the corridor.
    The torture session continued every two or three days and I looked and felt like I had been pulled from a serious car wreck: both of my feet were bleeding; my collar bone had broken again;a particularly vicious blow to the head had led to the loss of 95 per cent of vision in my right eye; both of my eardrums had ruptured; the vertebrae in my lower back were bruised and damaged from guards constantly kicking and stamping on me; teeth had been punched out. My back was incredibly painful; I would scream so loudly that other prisoners would carry me on their shoulders to the infirmary, pleading for injections of painkillers. To this day, loss of balance, constant tinnitus and back injuries continue to make my life miserable. The damage is irreversible.
    Four months into my ordeal I was taken to a room where, under the blindfold, I could make out a large table around which a number of people were sitting. I could hear voices from different parts of the room – different accents and dialects including Azeri and refined Persian. I had a strong feeling that those around this table held my life in the balance. ‘Is anyone else in your family involved in political activity against the Islamic Republic?’ A lumpen southern Tehran accent, very coarse.
    ‘No.’
    ‘How about your in-laws? Weren’t they helping you financially?’
    ‘No. In fact, they’ve made a fortune as a result of their activity in the market in this war, so they wouldn’t be interested in politics.’
    ‘Lumpen’ specifically asked if two of the named in-laws had helped me. He seemed to know them – and me – calling us by first names throughout.
    ‘Do you believe the Islamic Republic is revolutionary?’ A voice from my left side this time – a strong Arabic accent.
    ‘The Islamic Republic came about as a result of a revolution against the Pahlavi regime, which was a stooge of American imperialism.’ Dodge the question altogether.
    ‘Do you believe the Islamic Republic is a stooge of imperialism.’
    ‘The Islamic regime is acting independently from American influence.’ I was phrasing my answers very carefully. Here I simply repeated the position of our organisation about the regime’s foreign policy.
    ‘Do you believe in the Islamic revolution? Are you ready to go to the front to fight Iraqi aggression?’
    ‘I participated fully in the revolution which overthrew the Shah, and I am still a believer in those principles. As for going to the front, I can’t stand on my feet. I’m old and frail. I don’t have anything to contribute.’
    Another question from another man, this time with a thick Azeri accent and an educated tone: ‘What are your views on the Soviet Union?’
    ‘I have always rejected any intervention and influence in my country’s internal affairs by any foreign power, be it American imperialism or the Soviet Union.’
    ‘If so, then why have you tried to raise discussions on socialism?’
    ‘I am in favour of a balanced representation of all views,’ I said, quickly adding, ‘including the Islamic point of view.’
    ‘What are your views on current developments in the Soviet Union, and the successes they have had so far?’
    Tricky question. Be careful . ‘You are asking me to talk about the successes of the Soviet Union. My understanding is that at this stage they themselves don’t claim that they have achieved all their goals. In a country where you still have queues for essential goods, I can’t see how you can claim they have succeeded.’
    After more questions, accusations and abuse, they called in a guard who took me to an adjacent corridor, where another guard led me to a solitary cell.
    Solitary was a relief because this was only the second period since my arrest that I was free to remove the rank prison blindfold. The first thing I saw was a big iron toilet