Article
Comment
Freedom of Belief
Middle East
Politics
6 min read

Bring on the noise: what Trump can do to help the persecuted in Iran and China

Dealing with the dictators in Iran and China needs noisy advocates.

Steve is news director of Article 18, a human rights organisation documenting Christian persecution in Iran.

A fisheye view of a large debating chamber in the round.
The Human Rights Council meets in Geneva.

Pope Francis hosted a delegation from the Islamic Republic of Iran late last year for an event purportedly related to “interfaith dialogue”. 

It wasn’t the first meeting of its kind, and on the face of it at least, there isn’t a lot wrong with the idea. While Iran’s relationship with most Western nations could be described as “strained” at best, the Holy See has taken a different approach, maintaining diplomatic relations with Iran for the past 70 years, including the 45 years since the establishment of the Islamic Republic.  

And it has borne some fruit, helping to secure the release of a few prisoners of conscience, such as Rev Mehdi Dibaj, a Christian convert who once faced the death sentence for his “apostasy”. 

But it has also opened up the Church to accusations of kowtowing to dictators and enabling regimes such as the ayatollahs’ to present themselves in a more favourable light through the high-profile photo opportunities presented by events such as the recent “dialogue” in Rome. 

And it is an opportunity you can be sure the Islamic Republic was not going to pass up, with its state media unsurprisingly happy to misquote the Pope by claiming he had “stressed how Christian minorities in Iran are allowed to freely meet together and worship in churches across the country, without restriction”. 

In actual fact, what the Pope really said was that “freedom of religion [is not] limited to the expression of worship; it also entails complete freedom in the matter of one’s own beliefs and religious practice”. 

So, slightly different. But, no matter, you can be sure that the vast majority of the over 90,000 viewers of Press TV’s account of the event won’t have been bothered to check the accuracy of the claim, and therefore may reasonably have gone away believing that Christians truly are entirely free to worship in Iran. 

Another organisation representing Christians, The World Evangelical Alliance (WEA), faced similar criticism last year when it accepted the invitation to take part in a Human Rights Council event organised by the Islamic Republic of Iran, under the deliberately misleading title, “The Role of Religions in Promoting Human Rights”. 

The WEA was accused of “legitimising” Iran and even “seeming to support its propaganda as a purported defender of human rights”. 

Iran will send another delegation to the Human Rights Council next week for its Universal Periodic Review (UPR), an occasion that has the potential, at least, to be quite significant, being the only UN mechanism with which the regime truly engages.  

Unlike the mandates of fact-finding mission and Special Rapporteur on human rights in Iran, which Iran and its allies regularly decry as “politicised” and “selective”, the UPR is lauded even by Iran as the true and proper place for constructive criticism, as every single country undergoes the review - not only pariahs. 

Several side events will be put on in conjunction with Iran’s UPR, on various themes including the situation of Iran’s Christian minority. But while the WEA last year hosted a similar event on the margins of the Human Rights Council, on this occasion it has declined the opportunity, preferring the path of “quiet diplomacy” and “dialogue” over public criticism. 

Which, again, at least on the face of it, seems reasonable enough. As has been seen with the Vatican, such an approach can undoubtedly bear fruit. But it is not guaranteed.  

On the other side of the debate, you have the human rights organisations who publicly call out Iran for each violation, highlighting individual cases with the hope of embarrassing Iran into change. For as much as Iran is a pariah, it still attaches some importance to its reputation on the world stage.  

And again, such an approach has at times proved successful, as was seen in September with the early release from prison of two Iranian Christians who had been serving 10-year sentences due to their participation in house-churches, and whose cases had been included in a joint submission ahead of Iran's UPR. 

But even this approach is not without its pitfalls. While there may be relief from accusations of kowtowing to dictators, there is also the distinct possibility that the pariah state in question may just stick its fingers in its ears and do what it wants anyway, such as in October when the Islamic Republic executed a German-Iranian political prisoner, Jamshid Sharmahd, despite years of vocal advocacy. 

Advocacy certainly isn’t an exact science, at least when the experiment in question involves an unpredictable regime like the one in Tehran. Both quiet diplomacy and noisy advocacy can clearly work, but in neither case can it be guaranteed when the individual tasked with selecting their response to the advocacy is the Supreme Leader of Iran. 

Surely the only way to ensure real change would be to make it too costly for the dictators to deal with their persecuted minorities in such a brutal fashion.  

Western nations have a similar quandary to religious or human rights organisations. To what degree, if any, should Western governments prioritise human rights concerns over economic or political gains?  

It has been suggested many times that Western nations are more concerned with oil or gas supplies, or other economic incentives, than truly seeking justice for victims of rights abuses. 

When, for example, Keir Starmer speaks of wanting to have a “respectful” relationship with China, while engaging “honestly and frankly” on human rights concerns, what does that actually mean in practice?  

The reality is that a behind-closed-doors discussion about a human rights infringement is unlikely to hold much sway if the violator does not share the belief that any violation has been committed, or even believes the victim to have been deserving of the treatment they received. 

Whether it’s China’s targeting of the Uyghurs, or Iran’s crackdown on the Baha’is or Christian converts, one can be fairly certain that neither the Chinese nor Iranian regime feels the slightest remorse about its chosen approach. 

Perhaps little could demonstrate this more than the mistreatment that continued to be handed out to Rev Mehdi Dibaj after the advocacy win of his release from prison. Just five months later, he was murdered anyway, one of three church leaders killed extrajudicially in the months after his release had been secured, including Rev Dibaj’s friend and chief advocate, Haik Hovsepian.  

So is it really realistic to expect that just because we say we are concerned about the Uyghurs, the Baha’is, or the Christians, there will be any change in approach? 

Surely the only way to ensure real change would be to make it too costly for the dictators to deal with their persecuted minorities in such a brutal fashion.  

As ever, actions really do speak louder than words. And this is why many Iranians are hopeful that with the return of the much-maligned Donald Trump, the “maximum pressure” policy towards the Islamic Republic will also return and, through it, real change may actually be achieved. 

There are many reasons, of course, to find fault with the incoming president, but when it comes to dealing with the dictators, at least, it could be argued that Trump has shown himself to have more common sense than most. The hope, as with the other approaches, is that it actually makes a tangible difference. 

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Article
Character
Comment
Film & TV
5 min read

Traitors reflects an age of deceit and disappointment

Behind the game play, we're yearning for authenticity and connection.

Alex Stewart is a lawyer, trustee and photographer.  

A montage shows a Scottish castle, the host of the V show the Traitors and a dark scary scene.
BBC.

‘What a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.’ 

Some people, it seems, are not cut out to be liars. I felt for Freddie, one of the last contestants to survive on The Traitors, who found out the hard way. A fumbled recounting of a fabricated conversation with fellow Traitor Minah was enough to seal his fate, and soon he too was banished from the castle. The sad irony was that until his last-minute recruitment as a Traitor, Freddy had in fact been a Faithful for most of the show, insistently proclaiming his innocence and now cruelly denied his chance of vindication. But that’s all part of the game: shifting identities and alliances mean nothing is at it seems, and trusting is fraught with risk.  

Part of the success of The Traitors is that it has very successfully tapped into a pervasive national mood: the feeling that we are constantly being deceived, misled, spun or manipulated. This is hardly surprising. Trust in politicians and institutions is at an all-time low, eroded by scandals, misinformation and truth dodging. From the Post Office and the contaminated blood scandals to the manipulation of unpalatable facts to the non-apologies of the guilty, the British public has become increasingly sceptical of those in power.  

The 2024 British Social Attitudes survey, conducted by the National Centre for Social Research, revealed that public trust in the UK's system of government has reached a record low, while a similar survey by the OECD reported that only 27 per cent of people in the UK reported high or moderately high trust in government, well below the OECD average of 39 per cent.   

But it’s not just politicians and institutions that we distrust. The new world of deep fakes, misinformation, and AI-generated content seems also to have had a corrosive effect on our ability to trust one another.  A recent CREST Insights report indicates that only 41 per cent  of respondents now trust their neighbours, while the Edelman Trust Barometer tells us that this distrust has, for some, moved from resignation to outright hostility, with one in two young adults approving of hostile activism as driver of change - including attacking people online and intentionally spreading disinformation.  

With this backdrop, it is hardly surprising that the contestants of The Traitors are susceptible to high levels of paranoia, and see Machiavellian deceit and betrayal as their only way to survive and have any chance of winning.   

But the human cost of betrayal is high and psychologically taxing. The constant need to fabricate stories, remember lies, and manage the stress of potential exposure requires huge cognitive and emotional effort. The effects are tangible as the contestants suffer variously from anxiety, paranoia, and emotional exhaustion.   

Meanwhile the building paranoia is stoked by regular invocations of the dark supernatural as cloaked figures and effigies shift the atmosphere from wink murder to The Wicker Man, and Claudia presides over proceedings with the authority of a pagan high priestess. Even the game operates within a quasi-religious framework of sin, confession, and punishment. Players who lie and deceive will eventually face judgment, from their fellow contestants and the millions watching at home

What appeared to be crocodile tears turned out to be genuine tears of despair as the demands of the game took its toll on her conscience and integrity. “I hate it. I hate how I was.” 

Although everyone knows it’s just a game, the prolonged deception has real world repercussions that continue beyond the show's end.  Many of the contestants struggled to reintegrate into their daily lives, facing challenges in rebuilding trust with loved ones and grappling with their actions during the game. The vicar, Lisa, told of the discomfort of having to explain away her absence on the show as a ‘retreat’, while the winners, Jake and Leanne, both said how difficult it had been to adjust post-show, pointing to a lingering paranoia and the strain of having to keep their victory a secret. 

And yet, while betrayal and deceit define the show, it is often the genuine friendships and moments of trust that resonate most. Few will forget the ‘mother to mother’ pact made by Frankie and Leanne in the kitchen and the emotional final banquet when the suspicion and distrust were briefly lifted. Behind all the game playing, the yearning for authenticity and connection as an antidote to isolation could not be suppressed. 

There are also inspiring moments of hope, vulnerability and redemption. Alexander, the charming diplomat, tells his heartfelt story about his late brother, who had developmental disabilities, which prompted his fans to donate over £30,000 to Mencap. Jake, who suffers from cerebral palsy, overcomes great odds to become one of the winners, and Leanne and Charlotte open up about their struggles to conceive. Each contestant had a back story that humanised them. Even the aloof high priestess herself shed tears, albeit in unaired footage, over her contestants’ traumas.  

But it was Charlotte’s struggles that I found most inspiring. As the final Traitor, she seemed at first to relish her role with a very convincing series of lies, even turning on her fellow Traitor Minah. But it became apparent towards the end that, inside, she was in turmoil. What appeared to be crocodile tears turned out to be genuine tears of despair as the demands of the game took its toll on her conscience and integrity. “I hate it. I hate how I was,” she said later. “I felt so cruel. How I had to be to stay in the game – it was an immense pressure.”   

Catharsis, when it came, was through forgiveness, especially from Frankie, the contestant who perhaps more than any other had reason to be hurt by Charlotte’s betrayal; they had after all been best friends within the confines of the castle. Charlotte later admitted to badly needing her forgiveness, which gracious Frankie was only too happy to give.  

In an age of deceit and disappointment, Charlotte’s honesty, vulnerability and willingness face up to her actions and be reconciled with her victims, rather than justify them or offer a hollow non-apology, and Frankie’s willingness to forgive - offer us the hope that there can be a way out of the doom loop of deceit and broken trust.   

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