Witness Statement of Delaram Sadeghzadeh

March 27, 2022

19 minutes read

Witness Statement of Delaram Sadeghzadeh

Name: Delaram Sadeghzadeh

Place of Birth: Tehran, Iran

Date of Birth: November 11, 1991

Occupation: Researcher

Interviewing Organization: Iran Human Rights Documentation Center (IHRDC)

Date of Interview: October 6. 2021

Interviewer: IHRDC Staff

This statement was prepared pursuant to an interview through Skype with Ms. Sadeghzadeh. It was approved by Ms. Sadeghzadeh on January 5, 2022. There are 36 paragraphs in the statement.

The views and opinions of the witness expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of the Iran Human Rights Documentation Center.

Statement

Introduction

My name is Delaram Sadeghzadeh. I was born on November 11, 1991, in Tehran, where I grew up. I currently live in London.

The first time I saw someone having a problem [for being a Baháʼí] it involved my family. When I was seven years old there was an issue with my father’s job, and we were forced to relocate to another city. We were in Semnan for three years. Over there we faced problems because my father was a Baháʼí, and we had to return to Tehran.

Elementary School

The first time that there was a problem [for me personally] I was in the third grade. We were to celebrate reaching the age of majority [under Islamic law], and even though my teacher approached the issue with an open mind, the vice-principal and the parvareshi[1] teacher repeatedly questioned me, saying, “Do you want [to be a Baháʼí] yourself? Let us know if your family are forcing you.” If I did not attend the weekly congregational prayer that my classmates did, they would harass me and tell me that I should no longer go to school. I was little, and I was afraid that they would discipline me if I did not go. When I did attend, I remember that one time they told me that I had made the prayer room najis[2], and that I should not go there. In fourth grade, I held the classroom key. When they realized that I was a Baháʼí they took that key from me. This was in Shahid Behzadi elementary school in Shahrak-e Gharb area in Tehran.

Middle School

The first time I experienced being denied admission anywhere was in sixth grade. [My family informed me] that I [had been denied admission] to Rah-e Roshd middle school. My father told me not to be sad about it, and that I could go to any other school that I wanted to attend. He consoled me.

During middle school, there was disparagement of Baháʼís in religious instruction class. Religion was always a topic, and Baháʼís were always discussed. They told me that my friends should never find out [that I was a Baháʼí].

High School

Good high schools had admission tests. I specifically remember that I took the test for [Sama high school in Farhang Blvd.] and I was accepted. But ultimately they did not even let me register. [The principal] said that they could not register Baháʼís in accordance with what the Ministry of Education had said.

Eventually I went to another high school that had a similar entrance exam. They had also told my mother that we were Baháʼís, and that they did not know what they should do. They said that they had to wait and see. They did not register me for a while. But eventually they registered me, and I went there. That school was named Koushesh, which was on Gandhi Street.

University Entrance Exam

I left Koushesh High School because I was not doing well emotionally. I went to a public school for the last year of my high school. For pre-college I went to an institute that prepared students for the university entrance examination. We had a counselor there who was incredibly sad because she knew that Baháʼís could not continue their education. She used to say, “It’s such a waste. You are a very good student.” We all knew that I probably could not enter university. When you are dedicating a year [to studying for the university entrance examination] you continuously think that there are other things that you can do, or that you can leave Iran altogether. [Because] most likely it was impossible to be admitted [to university]. But I told myself that well, even if we look [at this] as an effort to get a right, I have to do my best toward this goal. Ultimately, I studied for that year, took the entrance examination, and got accepted.

Selecting the study major for Azad University was different from the public national university system. For Azad University we first had to select the major and then take the entrance exam. I am not sure if it has changed now. At that time [us Baháʼís] could not register for or take the Azad University entrance examination. I remember that day very well. Our counselor was sitting down and selected majors for students based on her estimation of their rank. I remember very well that every time she looked at me she would say, “Ahh, so bad.”

Questions on the entrance exam registration forms were different. In the public national university system registration form, they asked which religion we wanted to be questioned about in the exam. [Us Baháʼís] would check Islamic studies because that was what we would be tested on. This way, we could take the public national university system entrance examination. Azad University [registration form] explicitly asked what our religion was. Therefore, Baháʼí students did not take the Azad University entrance exam in the first place. Selecting majors for Azad University took place before the exam. Therefore, this was done when taking the preparatory classes. I did not register [for the Azad University entrance exam]. At that time, we could not. What used to happen in the public national university system entrance examination in the years prior, where they asked about [the applicant’s] religion, [was happening in the Azad University entrance examination]. It was not possible to leave [the form] blank because it was an online form. I may be mistaken since I did not fill it out. But it was not possible to leave it blank or write in “Baháʼí.” There were four choices and you had to pick one.

I took the public national university system entrance examination. I took the exam in the humanities field. My rank was 555. My second choice for major was psychology of special needs children at Shahid Beheshti University’s daytime program. I was accepted for this program. On the first day of registration, I recall that on one of my forms my religion was indicated to be Islam. I crossed it out and wrote “Baháʼí.” In another place the [religion space] was blank. Again, I wrote “Baháʼí.” The person who was sitting behind a desk and was receiving the forms saw it but did not say anything. At least he did not react at that time. From that moment on, and for four years, every day I told myself that they were going to tell me not to go university any longer.

[There were two other Baháʼí students at Beheshti University in addition to me.] But not in my class year. One was a year above me and the other was a year below. The one who was a year above me was expelled before being able to graduate. I think he submitted his thesis, but they did not give him the diploma. I think the one who was a year below me graduated, but she did not go to a master’s program. At that time there were only a few [Baháʼís] who had obtained their bachelor’s degrees. I became one of them. But at that time no one had entered a master’s degree program. I think there are a few [Baháʼís] who have obtained master’s degrees now.

University

Whenever I took a test, I would print out my scores and kept them at a safe place. During those years, any time they gave me a document I kept it as proof that I was a student. At some point a classmate of mine expressed interest in the Baháʼí Faith. He wanted to know more and talk about it. I referred him to a number of sources and told him that it would be better if we did not talk about it in school. I told him these are some sources [that you can read]. Some time passed. I am not sure if these are related, but the university’s herasat[3] office summoned me. [They asked:] “Who in your class knows that you are a Baháʼí? Why do they know? Why do you tell? What do you speak about? Have you brought a book? Have you ever taken anyone anywhere?” Well, I didn’t do these things in university. And if someone asked, I would refer that person to a website or certain books. But that person had gone to my Facebook page and had contacted a number of my friends. The herasat’s questions started after this. I think this was in the beginning of my third year. Overall, I went [to herasat] five times, two times of which were for [warnings over] hijab.

[Herasat asked:] “With whom do you socialize?” They knew the names of my close friends. “Have they ever come with you anywhere? Do you go anywhere yourself? Do you do anything?” At one point I told them that I really was not there [at the university] to promote my faith. I said that if anyone asks me a question, I only refer that person to a source so that he or she could see for him or herself. I told them that I knew that they were sensitive to this. Ultimately, they got a pledge from me to not speak about this topic at all in class. But they did not directly tell me that if I spoke about being a Baháʼí they would expel me immediately. I was not hiding [that I was a Baháʼí]. While I did not promote my faith, if it came up in a conversation, I would talk about it. My close friends knew [that I was a Baháʼí].

Graduation and Master’s Program

Four years were done. The public university system has a program through which the top three students in each class can be interviewed by professors and receive direct admission to the master’s program without taking the [master’s program] entrance examination. These students are called “direct master’s degrees.” This is an intra-university program. The university sends its top students for the master’s program. I had the highest GPA in my class; therefore, I qualified for the direct master’s degree admission. The university told me that in that year the students who qualified for the direct master’s degree admission had to take the entrance examination, but that we did not have to worry about our rank [in the entrance exam]. We did not need to get a score that would normally be required for acceptance. They told us that we only had to obtain a score that was enough for general eligibility, so that we could show that we had not gone off track in our studies. They said we only had to get a score that would show general eligibility for studying in Tehran.

I took the master’s degree entrance examination. My rank was sixth in education psychology. I had been interviewed [as well]. I had taken the entrance examination, and given my rank, I could register at my university in that field [separate from the direct admission program]. In addition, I had received the eligible score and I could register with the direct master’s degree admission. If you registered through the entrance examination route you would receive your student identification card faster because they did not have to conduct an investigation to determine your general eligibility. I picked my field, but I was faced with the “incomplete file” problem [that Baháʼís typically face].

When we receive our rank and choose our field of study there is a day on which you have to go to the website and enter your username and password. When I entered my username and password, a page came up that said my file was incomplete, and that I could not proceed to registration. I knew that this message appears for Baháʼí students. At that point I realized that I could not enter university through the entrance examination route. But I still could register through my university. But when I saw this message from the National Organization of Educational Testing, I knew it was only a matter of time until my university got on the same page as the National Organization of Educational Testing. I thought I would study for one, two or three semesters, but I knew I would not finish this degree program.

I went to register through the university route. They gave me three forms and told me that they would run background checks through three sources: university herasat, the National Organization of Educational Testing, and our own school. There I was further assured that when the background check is returned from the National Organization of Educational Testing I would be expelled. But I registered anyway. In that system they issue temporary student ID cards until the background checks are completed. I studied for a semester and a half. It was precisely before the exams of the second semester that I was expelled.

Expulsion

I was expelled in May 2015. It was the last week of the semester. It all started when I submitted a request for [proof of] matriculation. I think I needed it to give it to an embassy for a trip [abroad]. It was for a rudimentary thing. The way it works is that you submit a request on the university website, and a day or two later you go and pick up that document. I submitted the request, but I went to pick it up a bit later. Maybe a week later. The secretary at that office looked in her papers and told me that my [proof of] matriculation form was not there. She asked when I had submitted the request. I said a week prior. She stated that it was strange, and that it was a simple task and [typically] it is ready on the same day. She said that other students [typically] pick it up on the next day, and that there must be a problem.

I had expected this. The secretary told me that I should see the director of the graduate office. I went to see the director of the graduate office. He said that a letter had arrived about me. He added that the letter stated that since my general eligibility has been denied I could no longer study, and that I should be expelled.

He said that this was very strange given that I was one of the “gifted and talented” students. This term is used for students with high ranks in the entrance examination and students who were admitted through the direct admission program, one of which was me. The director of the graduate office said that it was very strange and saddening. “Why?” he asked. I said, “Probably because I am a Baháʼí. But I am the one who should be asking why my general eligibility has been denied.”

Then he said, “Why do you write [that you are a Baháʼí]? Why do you say it? Isn’t it a waste? You studied. You have reached this point. You have good grades. Why do you say it?” I said, “You should ask this ‘Why do you say it?’ from the person who asks for one’s religion in the registration form and deprives a number of people of their right to education based on the answer. You should not ask this question from us who have told the truth in response to the question we have been asked. Go and ask them why they ask about religion in these forms in the first place, and why on that basis some are denied [education]. I do not lie whether I will be deprived of a right here or given a right somewhere else. The truth is that this is my religion. Now you are depriving me of my right to education.” He got upset and said that I have to sign this letter,

but I do not want to do it in my heart. I said, “Well, then do not do it.” But he said, “You know that I cannot, and these things are not under my control.” He signed it, and in that moment, they sent the announcement regarding my expulsion to my department.

I had studied there for four years. I was a good and a very active student. I was active in the student association. For a while I was the editor-in-chief of a student newspaper. Everyone knew me there. The head of our department was a professor with whom I was in touch a lot. He suddenly came and said, “Delaram what did you do? What has happened?” I said, “Why do you ask this?” He said, “We have received this letter that says you are going to be expelled! What does it mean? I don’t understand!” I said that it was probably because I am a Baháʼí, but this is a question that I should be asking. That day was a very interesting day in our department.

Professors’ Reaction

There was a weekly faculty meeting at our department. One of my professors said that they had discussed me in that meeting because I had been expelled. I was an enrolled student. I had to tell my professors that I could not attend class or take exams starting next week. One or two of my professors were terribly upset and even cried. It was a sad day. Most of my professors were compassionate and expressed their regret. But all of them said that they could not do anything. One of my professors, who was the head of the department, said that he would pick up the phone and make a call if I needed a reference. He helped a lot in getting admission and a scholarship [for my education in the UK]. There was another person who I owe him my job [in Iran]. He said that I should not mind that they have expelled me, and that I should learn how to work. He took me to an institute and taught me how to work.

Most of my professors expressed regret and compassion. There was one who said that I should not have written [that I was a Baháʼí]. He said that I should not have stated [that I was a Baháʼí]. He would not budge. There was another person [whose interaction with me] was very interesting. There was a course like anthropology, which was unrelated to psychology, particularly in the master’s degree program. It was an Islamic course that [reflected] Islamic values. I had gotten into arguments with that professor during the class several times. Once Baháʼís were mentioned. Discussing what Baháʼís say, he referred to Baháʼís as “this misguided sect that is not clear where they have come from.” He did not know that I was a Baháʼí prior to this. The class was just beginning, and the students were in the classroom. When I told him that I had been expelled, in a surprising [manner] he said that I have twenty minutes to go up [to the classroom] and talk about your belief and religion for which you have been expelled. I went to the classroom and spoke for twenty minutes about the Baháʼí Faith, explaining what we believe in. It was a very interesting experience for me in the university. Even a faculty member came inside the classroom, thinking that there was no instructor in the class, and that I was promoting my religion. He came in. He said, “Sorry, I thought nobody is [presiding over] the class].” That professor’s reaction was one of the interesting ones. My classmates were particularly compassionate and supportive. All of my classmates wrote and signed a letter stating that I should return to university.

The president of the university did not let me into his office. I had gone to that place so many times that I even had the phone number of the building guard. He told me that he would let me know whenever the university president was in his office. But I was not able to see him His name was Dr. Tehranchi.

I spoke with the head of the school. He said, “You know that [these policies] come from somewhere else. I am terribly upset that you are leaving, but there isn’t anything I could do.” He was not like others who would say do this or that. He said he was sorry, but he could not do anything. His name was Dr. Mazaheri.

In the university we had to settle all our accounts. And it was a very strange time for settling the accounts. I called the library. They said, “Is this a right time for settling accounts?” So, I had to explain to everyone what had happened again. I recall that when I had gone to the library for settling my account and I was explaining to that lady what had happened that made me go there [for settling my account] in the middle of the semester, a man, who I think was a Ph.D. student, approached me and spoke for a while. He knew about the Baháʼí Faith and expressed sadness and regret that this had happened. He later found me on Facebook. We spoke a bit, and he became more interested. Wherever I went to settle my accounts, from the dining hall to the university website, I had to explain everything.

At that time, I wanted to get my transcript and my diploma from the university so that my undergraduate degree would not be lost. I did not know what would happen, and whether they would give me my undergraduate degree or not. The university held my original diploma because I had started the master’s program. The national public university system has a logic that goes like this: we provide free education provided that you either work or study here. If you want to get your diploma earlier than a certain point in time you have to pay for it. So, I had to settle an account over this too. I would go to different places to obtain the necessary stamps and documents. I was going to a lot of places for about a month until I obtained everything I needed. [After settling my accounts] they gave me my undergraduate diploma. At that time, I think I paid 800,00 toumans for each semester.[4]

Work

I could not say it was a job that I could rely on its income as a source of livelihood, but I started working with the professor who had told me to learn working. It was a parti-time job in an institute. I cooperated with them as a researcher. They had an eight-year project about childhood in Iran. They took tests from children in various stages. They collected the tests, conducted data analysis, and published reports periodically. Another one of their projects was standardization of Stanford-Binet tests in Iran. This was the first time this was being done in Iran, at least with respect to that version of the test. They have to take tests from various people representing different groups and create its norm scales. I cooperated with them on these two projects. We had to travel to different cities and conducted the tests with different groups.

[There was no problem due to being a Baháʼí] because I think we did not sign a formal contract. It was a part-time, project-based work and I had gone there through my professor. It was through an NGO-like organization that was conducting these research projects.

Meeting the Head of the National Organization of Educational Testing

One day I went to the National Organization of Educational Testing to speak with Dr. Nourbakhsh. My question was why my general eligibility had been denied in the first place. [Over there] you first ring the bell, tell them your name, and they tell you where you should go. I told them my name and said that I wanted to see Dr. Nourbakhsh. They said OK, go to that such and such floor. I went to that floor to see Dr. Nourbakhsh. I noticed that there was a file on his desk. I told him my name, and I said I had received this letter, and I wanted to know what the reason for it was. He turned to me and said, “Well, it’s because you’re a Baháʼí. You know that.” I said, “Do you know all Baháʼís with their first and last names?” Because I had not told him anything except my first and last name [and that I had received this letter].

I think I was there for three hours. [He said] that he was always pursuing Baháʼís’ rights to education and I am very upset that this happens to you. But I said, “You have personally signed and sent that letter. How is it that you have been in this position for all these years, you say that you are helping Baháʼís’ seek their right to education, and not only nothing changes, but you also personally sign their expulsion letters?” Spinning my question, he said that there is a board [that does this]. I said, “You are its head. How does a board act against your preference but you still sign it?”

These discussions took a very long time. At one point he said, “If we didn’t want you [Baháʼís] study you would not go to university, and you wouldn’t come here with a big mouth.” I said, “If you wanted us to study, I would finish my education along with all the Baháʼís who wouldn’t see inside of a university, not to admit just a few of us so that you can say that you admit Baháʼís, and nobody can ask what happened to them and at what stage they were expelled.” [That meeting] had a lot of ups and downs. Sometimes he would get angry, sometimes he would not. At the end he told me to write a letter. I said, “I have to write a letter so that you tear it up right now?” He said, “That’s the way it is. I cannot do anything else.”

I was writing the letter [in] another room. He appeared above me. In a vicious tone he said, “Sadeghzadeh, you are too smart.” I said, “Of course, Dr. I was the top student in my field in the university.” He tore up my letter write there and then. He wanted me to see that that he had tore it up.

Leaving Iran

One of my mistakes was that I did not pursue legal options. Some time passed, and I think if two years went by, I could no longer bring a suit. I spoke with an attorney, but I did not file a suit. Time went by. I got married. We were supposed to go to the United States, but Trump came along and that did not work out. I always liked London and UCL in particular. [I realized that going to the] US was not possible and that we could not wait. I started applying for universities in London. I did this for two years. The first year I got an unconditional acceptance from King’s College. I got a conditional acceptance from UCL. My IELTS score should have been higher. But my visa application was rejected for financial reasons. A year went by. During that year not only did I get an unconditional acceptance from UCL, but I also received a scholarship offer. This was for a master’s degree program in cognitive neuroscience. I left Iran in September 2019. I came [to London] and went to school. I finished my studies a year ago. The topic of my research and dissertation topic was about fake news. I currently work at a firm as a researcher.

[1]The term parvareshi refers to a particular program in Iranian schools that focused on ideological indoctrination of students The parvareshi teacher is distinct from the traditional religious instruction teacher, who primarily teaches religious concepts and Islamic law.

[2] The term najis, often translated to “impure” or “ritually unclean,” refers to certain items and persons that are considered to be contaminated under Islamic law. Examples include blood, urine, dogs, pigs, and non-believers.

[3] Governmental organizations and universities in Iran have an intelligence and security office known as herasat. This office is in charge of the university or organization’s security and monitors it for any subversive act or any conduct in violation of the IRI’s strict Islamic code.

[4] This amount approximately equals $241 per the exchange rate in 2015.