After the 1979 revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini – who himself wrote poems riddled with mystical references to wine – enforced a policy of strict prohibition, supposedly turning Iran into a permanently ‘dry’ country. Severe penalties were imposed on the production, trading and consumption of alcohol. Punishments included steep fines, flogging, and in extreme cases, execution. These draconian measures added a new dimension to the secular Iranian approach to intoxication: defiance of the regime!
Significantly, the ban on alcohol never applied to Iran’s religious minorities, mainly Jews and Christians. They were, and still are, allowed to brew or distil alcohol. It is an open secret that some of it finds its way to the Muslim population as well. The Islamic ban was never able to suppress the national and popular traditions relating to the consumption of alcoholic drinks.
Clandestine drinking is no longer a marginal activity, but ranges from recreational and countercultural to excessive and self-destructive. In fact, virtually all kinds of drinks are available in the Islamic Republic. Illegal imports, mainly through neighbouring Iraqi Kurdistan, cater to a strong niche demand for expensive European beers, wines, whiskies and other spirits. But cheaper domestic production is much more developed. Few people make wine in their own homes, but many make local araq – often called ‘vodka’ – from keshmesh (raisins) or other fruits. Iranians consume strong, dangerous alcoholic drinks not just because they are cheaper, but because there is no official, legal alcohol production in the country. Strong alcohol is produced by amateurs at home, or in clandestine distilleries without proper equipment or quality control which sell only very strong alcohol, over 80 proof, rather than safer, less potent drinks. These counterfeit products create periodic outbreaks of mass poisoning, leading to blindness, liver failure and sometimes death.
1,300 deaths in one and a half years
The latest such incident was widely reported in the Iranian media on 29 April 2024, when 29 physicians in Shiraz consumed toxic alcohol, with six of them hospitalised and one dying. Such accidents occur frequently but, of course, are usually sidelined by the mass media, since drinking alcohol is more socially stigmatised than taking narcotics, which ironically are more available. Smoking opium is condoned in cultural circles and rural areas as an ancient communal tradition, and is even sometimes permitted on ‘medical’ grounds, while heroin and hard drugs are considered anathema both culturally and legally. Nevertheless, they are used both by well-off elites and by the marginalised poor. Treating drug addiction has long been a well-developed national policy, but there was no equivalent for alcoholism.
In modern Iran, normative guard rails for moderate or social drinking are largely absent, so escapist and defiant drinking produces a unique form of alcoholism, closer to hard drug addiction and far removed from the romantic images of Persian poetry. In the last five years, alcohol consumption has increased sharply in Iran, particularly among women, adolescents and even 10- to 12-year-old children. A report from the president of the Asia-Pacific Association of Medical Toxicology states that cases of alcohol poisoning increased during the Covid 19 epidemic and caused the death of 1,300 people in a year and a half, especially in the 15–50 age group.
Treatment, not punishment
According to the World Health Organization (WHO), per capita alcohol consumption in the East Mediterranean region is significantly below the 11–15 litres per annum reported for American and European populations. But over 90% of the population in this region declare themselves lifelong teetotallers, so the consumption levels of those who do drink, averaging 25 litres, far exceed the Western rates. Predictably, the health outcomes of addiction for this group are more alarming. The Iranian government acknowledged the problem by convening an international conference on the issue (21–23 May 2014), and the Ministry of Health acted, establishing a collaborative, multi-sectoral initiative to address the challenge. But none of these measures have significantly improved the statistics of addiction and death.
Given the gravity of the situation, an alternative approach has been evolving in recent decades. Although alcoholism and other kinds of addiction continue to be considered major civil and religious offences, for penitents demonstrating willingness to abstain, the notions of ‘crime’ and ‘sin’ are suspended (both officially and culturally) and replaced with terms such as ‘maladies’ and ‘diseases’ in need of treatment. Consequently, greater leniency has prevailed. The afflicted, for their part, assume what sociologists define as the ‘patient role’. They declare their helplessness and show willingness to seek a cure. So it is not surprising that public and private medical and spiritual treatment centres for controlling alcohol and drug addiction operate and advertise openly in the country. Alcoholics Anonymous in Iran
It is noteworthy that, although AA developed in the Western Christian world and originally had a Christian ethos, it remains popular in the non-Western and Islamic worlds because of its non-specific spiritual orientation. In Iran, despite widespread disenchantment with the official version of Islam, around two thirds of the population still espouse religious or spiritual beliefs. So it is not surprising that even secular Iranians are also receptive to a non-specific ‘higher power’ (ghodrat-e bartar) that could help them overcome their addiction. The Iranian branch of AA is one of the most popular among a host of private initiatives and local associations set up to address the problem of alcoholism, working independently or in collaboration with the medical establishment and its treatment centres. Similar programmes such as ‘Narcotics Anonymous’ and ‘Co-dependents Anonymous’ (ham-vabastegan) have avoided using the word ‘alcoholic’ in their titles, because of the stigma attached to the term alkoli in Persian.
The first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous in Iran took place in 1993 and was private. Because of political conditions, it was not followed up until a first official meeting on July 17, 1999, in Tehran, at the start of the mandate of reformist President Mohammad Khatami. However, the meetings remained sporadic and not very effective until a number of people from Mashhad, trained in AA methods, organised the association and set up branches throughout the country, with the consent of the authorities and the assistance of doctors and hospitals.
Nearly three decades on, activities are now well organized and structured, directed by AA’s headquarters in Mashhad: books and brochures are printed and distributed, meetings organised, facilitators trained, information made available to the public and patients, and relations with the authorities managed. The website www.aairan.org, bilingual in Persian and English, provides practical information and advice, and hosts live exchanges and online forums. There are now hundreds of AA and similar non-governmental organizations established all around the country, even in many smaller towns. The association is active in 96 cities in 24 provinces, but not yet in the west of the country (Azerbaijan, Kurdistan, Lorestan, Khuzestan).
AA’s network manages numerous small groups and private meetings, usually weekly, some daily. In-person meetings take place in the buildings of charitable organizations, neighbourhood clubhouses, and even in public halls. There are also many virtual groups with their own websites that daily feature recorded testimonies and advice, as well as information about upcoming meetings and topics. They use platforms such as WhatsApp, Telegram or Free Conference, because of the privacy they offer. These groups base their approach on the AA template. They feature elected leaders, treasurers, sponsors (rahnama) and speakers. Some branches, like that in Tehran, also have [their own website – > https://tehranaa.org].
Online or in-person sessions might have a specific topic, and are arranged for men only, women only, or mixed. The meetings are always announced with very precise information in order to attract participants, such as this notice for a physical meeting in the city of Bojnurd (North Khorasan Province) issued by a branch of a larger group named ‘CoDA’ (Co-Dependents Anonymous):
Group name: Freedom Path.
The meeting is mixed. Wednesday, April 23, 2024. Time: 6:00-7:30 PM.
Address: Bojnurd (GPS map).
Topic: ‘Be mindful that this Power (the will to be free from addiction) is watching over us and has our best interests at heart’.
Source: Part of step 2 of the green book of CoDa.
Secretary: Mohammad, Representative: Darioush.
Bathroom: available. Wheelchair access: not available. Elevator: not available.
Message: ‘God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.’
Mirroring Iran’s social crisis
Alcoholism is not confined to a limited number of the poor, but pervades Iranian society, from the despairing westernized or traditional elite to the younger generation of the Islamic political class using the proceeds of corruption, and a middle class hit by the country’s economic collapse under US and European sanctions. It is impossible for the police to enforce the ban on alcohol while the use of hard drugs is out of control.
Testimonies written or recorded on the various websites of the Iranian AA convey a sad image of the real contemporary disarray of Iranian society, between the Islamic culture, the repression of those who do not accept prohibition, and the medical/social issue.
The following text, taken from the ‘Women’s Personal Stories’ section of AA’s Mashhad website, highlights the dramatic situation of a marginal but growing part of Iranian society:
My childhood was full of fights and affrays, with my father frequently imprisoned. My mother was forced to take menial jobs to keep a roof over our head. I grew up with rich people and always hated them [...].
I distinctly remember when my heart first skipped a beat for someone of the opposite sex. I was only 13. The object of my interest, X, was the son of one of my mother’s employers. He immediately noticed my interest. I remember, it was 3 November 19 years ago. He did not hesitate to exploit my feelings. He poured me a large quantity of alcohol. I didn’t want to lose him, so I drank it all, and passed out. When I woke up, I found myself on the bed. Unbelievable: my first sexual experience and my first use of alcohol coincided.
Three years later, X drove me out of his life, though I had become extremely dependent on him. I became depressed and could not study any more. The only thing I thought about was revenge. I wanted to do the same thing he did to me, to all the other men I met. I had become a weak, poor, banished, dislikable girl. When I used alcohol, I would feel good. Before the age of 25, I had relationships with several rich men. To me, they were nothing but sugar daddies to provide for me and my family. That February my dad, whom I hated, passed away. By now I had become what I had feared all those years ago: an alcoholic and an addict. I felt that judging my father had landed me in his position; so, I would learn that we are all alike .
[...] I felt if I didn’t “use”, I would be nothing. My unhealthy way of life continued. I was on a one-way road. I wouldn’t let my mother work anymore. I formed a band with some friends. We would do anything from DJing to brewing or distilling alcohol. I was also in charge of parties. I lived to drink and to think of revenge.
The 30th year of my life was the worst. I remember it was my boyfriend’s 35th birthday. I brought my innocently oblivious mother to his place; we cooked and prepared the house all day. I wanted to surprise my boyfriend. My mother had no idea that I was an alcoholic and my boyfriend a bootlegger. She thought this guy would soon be marrying into the family. We got very drunk that night. Driving my mother home, we had a terrible crash. My mother died and my boyfriend sustained a serious spinal cord injury. After my mother’s death, I added narcotics to my alcohol addiction. I still carry the guilt.
At 32, I found AA in a mental hospital. It took me seven months to accept that I am an alcoholic. Admitting one’s alcoholism is, I think, the hardest stage of the process. Now, almost 35, I have been clean for an entire year. I will find myself with the help of my sponsor. Most important of all, I forgive myself for my bitter past. I ask the compassionate God to guide all others who are in the clutches of alcoholism. I ask God to guide all of us to a path where we can taste the sweetness of life again.
Despite the new policy of treatment rather than criminalization adopted in the 2000s, substantial challenges remain. The primary healthcare system is heavily overstretched, hampering collaboration between government, the private sector and NGOs. This makes AA and similar groups, self-supporting and flexible in their approach as they are, the best available solution. The assumption of a non-specific religion, and the ethos of honesty, humility and service espoused by such groups, are already embedded in traditional Iranian culture, making this the most practical route to salvation.