A Critical Analysis of Today’s Society: An Interview with Naser Fakouhi / Part Two

You have referred to the issues that are currently transforming Iranian society; however, I would like to ask you this question: on a more personal level, what are the specific issues that you, Dr. Fakouhi, experience daily—both as a citizen and due to your academic position—that you find troubling, that occupy your mind, or that you consider to be your main concerns these days?

Answering the question you’ve raised is not easy—and it becomes even more difficult when it is directed at someone engaged in the social sciences. For a person so deeply involved with society, whose professional focus is society itself, separating oneself from the social system is a very complex task. Especially when the question is asked of someone like me, who belongs to a minority that is not directly affected by many of the hardships others experience. After all, someone who is a university professor and enjoys a relatively better income and social status than many ordinary people cannot be used as a benchmark for analyzing society’s overall condition, and their personal concerns cannot be equated with the broader concerns of the general population. In my view, the condition of the most vulnerable—those in the absolute minority—is always the best measure for evaluating the state of a society, not those who, in one way or another, benefit from certain privileges. But to answer your question, I must say that what troubles me the most is the social disarray and the general lack of rationality that we are constantly confronted with. And even more troubling is the irrationality of those who are supposed to be the source and origin of reason—namely, the elites, intellectuals, and academics. However, let me be clear: I do not mean all of them. Many academics, intellectuals, writers, and thought leaders in our society—with whom I have personally had the best relationships and who have rendered the greatest services to the culture of this country—have always been, and continue to be, active and dedicated in their work. What I mean are the newly emerged elites—those who, much like nouveaux riches in the economic sphere, either carry a degree in their pocket or have managed to cobble together a “reputation” through a few authored or translated books and scattered appearances here and there—or at least believe they have. These are individuals who know better than anyone else that they are the ones being referred to, and precisely for that reason, they tend to react harshly even when no names are mentioned. Even more than that, they often incite their “followers” or “devotees” to respond with personal attacks, aggression, and insults—reactions which, under different circumstances, would each be grounds for legal action. Most of these individuals are young and are expected to take on intellectual and decision-making roles in the future—people we will need if we aim to foster rationality in the country. This is what troubles me most. As I mentioned earlier, I have, for years, been the target of various attacks accusing me of all sorts of shortcomings and failings—from financial impropriety to psychological issues, envy, or misuse of my academic position. What deeply disturbs me is witnessing how such behaviors are becoming more widespread in certain segments of society—especially the rise of a kind of irresponsible “intellectual lumpenism” that defends claims known to be false. It’s equally troubling to see how those who position themselves as champions of rationality are often individuals who, through superficial translations of great philosophers and thinkers—often aided by dictionaries and Google—suddenly emerge as “experts” in intellectual fields, quickly turning into public “figures” or “intellectual stars.” All of this is deeply disheartening to me. Such behavior may not seem burdensome to those who understand the intense pressures faced by these actors, or who recognize their lack of direction, depression, confusion, and especially their intellectual and mental isolation from the world. However, it is not something one can remain indifferent to.
Our position is similar to that of a physician who shares a terrifying diagnosis with a patient and wishes to help them heal, only to be met with insults and hysterical reactions in return. While the situation is understandable, it remains deeply troubling. Although the ability to tolerate such mental confusion, simplifications, lumpen behavior, and the shallowness of the followers, fans, and students of various so-called “figures” and “intellectual heroes” diminishes with age—especially when one considers our intellectual legacy over the past century—this is nonetheless the price that must be paid for a diagnostic approach. I cannot withhold my diagnosis of the illness simply because the patient might respond with a predictable act of aggression. However, I never mention any individual, institution, or specific detail that could be considered insulting, nor do I ever engage in anyone’s personal matters—even though I am fully aware of how much personal issues contribute to these social pathologies. Nevertheless, the responses I receive are almost always personal and private in nature. The assumption behind them is that no real argument has been made, and the way to counter arguments is through highly personal and offensive attacks—something I’ve said is, to me, completely understandable, yet regrettable.

What tools, you ask?
For instance, understanding the social mechanisms that produce such violent reactions. I am able to comprehend that when you confront someone ensconced in an ivory tower—a position created for them by their followers—and you reveal the illusions they live under, along with the social processes that construct those illusions, you simultaneously equip yourself to better endure the resulting aggression.
Do you think many of our great thinkers over the past century endured countless attacks without such understanding? I by no means compare myself to those great figures. I see myself as a minor actor, someone who will likely be quickly forgotten. Yet even within this brief span, I believe I must do all I can in the name of what I see as my responsibility. And I have the ability to continue doing my work.Therefore, what truly disturbs those of us—like myself—who are actively working, who try to carry out our tasks free of illusions and empty claims (and there are many of us), is not the lack of clear standards or goals. We have various tools at our disposal to shield ourselves from these disturbances and continue with our work. Someone like me can enjoy a relatively worry-free financial life, and I consider this a great privilege—provided that the individual can control their own materialism enough to leave room for engagement within the social system. After all, if someone does not want to be a social critic, they will need to enter a kind of social isolation that, to some extent, protects them; they don’t need to interact with everyone. Many writers, intellectuals, and academics today have chosen this path—that is, they have minimized their relationship with parts of the social system so they can do the work they love, which is often very useful, necessary, and fundamental.
My choice as a sociologist and social critic could not have been like that. I have always maintained a broad media and social presence, and I don’t think I am the kind of person who can step back, write only for myself, or quietly think about generating income behind closed doors. Those who know almost nothing about academic and practical relationships, because they fundamentally lack the ability to participate even at the level of simple expertise in such practical programs, do not realize that the best way to earn income in fields like social sciences and humanities is to stay as far as possible from the media, minimize media involvement in social systems, and especially avoid conflicts or criticism so as not to alienate anyone or any institution. This is something I have never been able to do, and I have paid the price in terms of lost job opportunities and especially through the lumpen attacks targeted at me. If I had to start over again, I would do the same thing a hundred times over. However, I can understand many of my friends who, not out of self-interest but simply to protect themselves from the harm of these violent and foolish waves of modern ignoramuses—who sometimes even dare to call themselves “critics”—have wanted to keep themselves entirely out of the reach of these mentally ill individuals who do not want anyone to remind them of their illness. Yet even people like me, who are very familiar with the mechanisms of social disorder and anomie, sometimes prefer to have less contact with those parts where possible.
Here’s the English academic translation of your text: For example, on the “Anthropology and Culture” website, which is the most visited Persian-language site in the field of interdisciplinary cultural approaches and which I manage, we benefit from the collaboration and consultation of the most prominent Iranian academics, intellectuals, and many global scholars. From the very beginning, we removed the “comments” section because this section, in almost all websites—even despite the concerns of website administrators—has turned into a space for professional paid commenters or people who consider this realm of “anonymity” a paradise to vent their frustrations, engage in “exposés,” “catching mistakes,” and targeted attacks on individuals. Of course, by discrediting this institution, they have also deprived those who genuinely seek intellectual participation of their very valuable right to express opinions. This is the same thing we have done to many other institutions: to universities, newspapers and the press, websites, and intellectual systems that we destroy and then attribute our own misbehavior to the inherent flaws of these institutions. Whether I have succeeded or failed is for the public to judge. But I have never claimed, nor will I ever claim, to be faultless, because such a claim is a sign of the disease becoming acute. I have never been able to sever my connection with society, because in that case, my capacity for understanding would diminish; however, I also do not wish to be excessively involved in these relationships, because I know what goes on in these cycles of mental corruption. Let me give another, quite different example: I have to drive in the city to understand how traffic and people’s behavior in driving are. Therefore, I do not want to stop doing this; because if I do, I will not be able to provide an objective and analytical opinion about the disorderliness in driving we have, and the resulting death of several thousand people each year.
But I cannot stop others from not driving or entering the system; because I know this system is harmful and affects people’s nerves. In this regard, I consider myself a social pathologist. However, many neither accept this responsibility for themselves nor have the expertise for it. Unfortunately, one of the afflictions of social sciences in Iran is this: sociologists, anthropologists, and those in social sciences have assumed that, like people in other disciplines, they can confine themselves to the university. This is a mistaken assumption and is not possible.
As individuals active in the field of social sciences, we must remain within the social system—whatever its condition—and contribute to its improvement. The better the social system becomes, the better the situation will be for all of us. However, the main point I raised was this: our standard for being present in society is not the position of a social science expert, but rather the position of someone who is in the most vulnerable social condition.

This interview with Azadeh Shams was conducted within the framework of cooperation between Anthropology and Culture and ISNA News Agency, and was published on October 26, 2015.

This text is an AI-generated translation of the first part of an interview with Nasser Fakouhi. The original Persian text can be found at the following link:

آسیب‌شناسی جامعۀ امروز/ گفت‌وگو با ناصر فکوهی / بخش دوم