(Manfred Klimek / pic: Isna / Source: BBC)
It is often the smallest, most trivial news items that tell a bigger story. Amidst headlines about power struggles in Tehran and analyses of the new, old Iranian leadership, this sentence appeared in a report that the regime had largely kept under wraps: Alcohol, particularly wine, is now more or less tolerated in restaurants in Iran’s cities. No law. No reform. No decree. Just a brief subordinate clause. And yet it could reveal more about the behaviour of the Shia regime than many foreign policy commentaries.
For almost half a century, wine in Iran was one of those things that officially did not exist. The Islamic Revolution in 1979 put an end to a millennia-old wine culture. What had long been taken for granted did not disappear from cellars, but from public life. Yet people still drank. Everyone knew it. The black market flourished; home-distilled spirits circulated throughout the country, and smuggled bottles discreetly changed hands. It is said that even sections of the Revolutionary Guards profited from these markets. The state banned alcohol – yet at the same time coexisted with its existence.
Now something seems to be shifting. Not spectacularly, but rather tentatively. When restaurants are at least permitted to tolerate wine or other alcoholic drinks, it is not just consumption that changes. Public space itself is changing. Wine is leaving the living rooms and returning to restaurant tables. That may sound trivial. But it isn’t.
For wine has never been merely a drink in Iran: Persia is home to one of the world’s oldest wine-growing cultures. Long before Europe developed its major wine-producing regions, wine was already being produced between the Zagros Mountains and the Caspian Sea. Persian poetry is full of references to wine. Hafez and Omar Khayyam wrote about it, sometimes in religious code, often with surprising directness. Wine symbolised a zest for life, enlightenment and freedom. The fact that this country, of all places, banished it from public life for almost fifty years was, historically speaking, the exception rather than the rule. But it was precisely the rule in ultra-Islamic countries.
Of course, this does not mean that a major wine industry will return overnight. Neither the legal foundations nor the economic framework are in place yet. But the conditions would be remarkably favourable. Millions of vines are already growing in the country. Iran is one of the leading producers of table grapes and raisins. The owners, many of whom are former winegrowers, know their soils. The climatic conditions in many regions are ideal for high-quality viticulture. There is no insurmountable gulf between growing grapes and producing wine on a small scale. Cellar technology can be purchased. So can know-how. The only thing missing is political permission.
It cannot be ruled out that a development is now beginning there which we are underestimating. Not with grand châteaux or prestigious labels, but with simple table wines. With restaurants that once again serve their guests a glass of wine with their meal. With winegrowers who, for the first time, are allowed to press wine alongside table grapes. A new Iranian wine culture would probably start small. And that is precisely why it would be credible. It certainly won’t be allowed to become really big by the hardline Islamic regime.
Perhaps politicians, too, will discover something in the process that rulers have known for centuries. Wine can bring people together. Not as a narcotic, but as a cultural practice. People who eat and drink together argue differently. Those sitting in a restaurant aren’t sitting on the street. The Roman expression ‘bread and circuses’ takes on a new twist here: perhaps sometimes a single glass of wine – banned for decades – is enough.
That sounds cynical. But it isn’t necessarily so. States have always sought to defuse social tensions through culture and everyday life. Cafés, theatres, football – or indeed restaurants. Wine could actually lead to a small measure of social relaxation in Iran. Not as the freedom of all freedoms. But perhaps as a harbinger of it.
And that is precisely why it is worth paying attention to this unassuming subordinate clause. Not because a Rhône-style Shiraz from Persia will be arriving tomorrow. But because a society often begins to change where people are once again allowed to eat, drink and talk together. It is astonishing that the Revolutionary Guards, who are currently in power (the mullahs have lost influence), are allowing this development to take place. But money is probably tight there too. And the terrorist brigade is looking for new sources of income. Even if it means dealing in alcohol on the black market, which may not remain a black market for long.