There are photographs that make us smile because they return us to another time. And then there are photographs that stop us. When I recently saw photographs of my old friend Talebi in Tehran, I barely recognized the man I had known.
He had aged tremendously. His face seemed to carry something much heavier than the passing of years. It carried the weight of a country, fear, isolation, and, according to what he subsequently told me, physical suffering. More than two decades ago, I knew a very different Taleb.
He was a well-connected Iranian tourism professional who worked with Iran’s handicraft and exhibition sector and shared something fundamental with eTurboNews: a belief that tourism could build bridges between people even when governments were divided. He had plans to introduce the first US-Iranian Tourism Organization. That belief brought eTurboNews to Iran at an extraordinary moment in history.
The Iran I Remember After September 11, 2001
Only weeks after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the United States, a very young eTurboNews participated in a tourism and handicraft exhibition in Tehran. We were the only Western group presenting there. I did not know exactly what reception awaited us, and many friends had advised me not to go.
What happened remains one of the most emotional experiences of my career in travel and tourism. Ordinary Iranians lined up for hours simply to speak with us, at the stand we had under our International Coalition of Tourism Partners name in Tehran at the Olympic training center.
Some of the ladies who stood in line to speak to us brought cookies. Others carried photographs of relatives living in America. Men and women approached us wanting to say a few kind words. And many had tears in their eyes. They wanted us to take one message home: their condolences to the American people.
Think about that for a moment.
The United States had just suffered one of the most horrific terrorist attacks in its history. The political relationship between Washington and Tehran was deeply hostile. Yet ordinary Iranian citizens looked at Americans they had never met and saw grieving human beings. There was no hatred in those encounters. There was humanity.
eTurboNews was still a young publication. Yet our decision to attend attracted national attention and enormous appreciation in Iran.
For me, however, the most important story was never the publicity. It was the people standing in that line. It was the cookies, the meals, the performances, the smiles.
It was the photographs of sons, daughters, brothers and cousins living in Los Angeles, New York or elsewhere in America. It was the tears.
That is the Iran I have never forgotten. And this is why receiving Taleb’s messages today hurts so much.
“The Tolling of Death Bells From the Land of Tourism”
Taleb calls his message “the tolling of death bells from the land of tourism.”
His words are sometimes political, sometimes angry, and sometimes desperate. Some of the claims he makes are extraordinary and cannot be independently established through this personal conversation. They must therefore be understood as Taleb’s allegations and testimony—not as facts independently verified by eTurboNews.
But beneath those allegations is something that deserves to be heard regardless of political affiliation: A frightened Iranian tourism professional is asking the outside world not to forget ordinary people.
Taleb describes an Iran crushed by inflation, unemployment, poverty, homelessness, hunger and hopelessness. He believes Iranians are being trapped between their own government’s policies and pressure from abroad.
“When governments are at war,” he told me in essence, “nations must not be allowed to become victims in the process.”
That sentence should matter far beyond Iran.
- Governments fight.
- Governments sanction.
- Governments threaten.
- Governments negotiate.
… but ordinary people still have to buy bread the next morning.
The Man Who Once Promoted Tourism Says He Can Barely Speak
Then our chat became intensely personal. Taleb explained why he would not call me. “The reason I’m not calling is that I can’t speak properly,” he wrote.
According to widespread media reports, tens of thousands of Iranians had been arrested for participating in protests and accused of attempting to bring about regime change. Leaked reports include allegations that accused were blindfolded during interrogation, and often punched so severely that teeth were broken.
“Those who cannot hear the voice of my criticism would have to make sure I could never speak again.” “And I think they succeeded in that.”
eTN: I cannot independently verify those details. But I can read the words of the man I have known for decades. And I can look at his photograph. For someone who remembers the energetic tourism professional welcoming visitors to Iran and dreaming about international friendship, it is heartbreaking.
Perhaps the cruelest irony is this: a man who spent part of his professional life believing in communication between nations now tells me that speaking itself has become physically difficult.
- Still, he writes.
- Still, he thinks.
- And remarkably, still he hopes.
“I do have serious physical issues,” he told me, “but I can still think clearly.”
His Pain Is Not What He Wants Us to Write About
What struck me most was that Taleb repeatedly tried to redirect the conversation away from himself.
He described his alleged mistreatment, but then essentially told me: Do not focus on me. Focus on Iran.He spoke of young people, children, parents and elderly Iranians.
He described scenes so traumatic that he said he could no longer sleep.Yet the anguish in his messages is unmistakable. “When I think of them,” he wrote, “I forget my own pain and weep.”
Yet the anguish in his messages is unmistakable. “When I think of them,” he wrote, “I forget my own pain and weep.” And then, almost incredibly, he tried to comfort me. “Don’t let yourself get upset; focus instead on Iran’s bright future.”
Imagine that. A man who says he is terrified is worried that I might be upset. This reveals something about the person I remember from Tehran.
An Appeal for a Social Support Fund
Taleb’s most constructive proposal has little to do with changing governments. It is about helping people survive.
He wants Iranians abroad, particularly the enormous Iranian diaspora in the United States and elsewhere, to consider creating a transparent international Social Support Fund for Iranians.
His idea is simple: millions of Iranians live outside the country. Even very small recurring contributions, pooled together, could become substantial humanitarian assistance. Taleb suggested contributions as modest as $2 per week.
His larger argument deserves examination: rather than making ordinary Iranians dependent on the outcome of geopolitical confrontation, could the Iranian diaspora, humanitarian organizations and trusted international mechanisms develop transparent ways of getting legitimate assistance directly to people in need?
Such an initiative would obviously require careful legal, financial and sanctions compliance. Distribution mechanisms would need stringent safeguards against diversion, corruption and political exploitation.
But the principle is difficult to argue with. Hungry people should not have to wait for geopolitics to be solved.
Trump, Washington and a Plea to Separate People From Governments
Taleb has strong views about the United States and President Donald Trump. Some are critical. Others express hope that Washington might find ways to relieve the suffering of ordinary Iranians.
His central appeal to American policymakers is not really about choosing one Iranian political faction over another. It is about separating the Iranian people from their government.
“The Iranian people do not interfere in the political disputes between governments,” he said, “yet they expect not to be victimized in the process.”
That should be the message Washington hears. Whatever policy the United States pursues toward Tehran, ordinary Iranian families should not become collateral damage in a geopolitical struggle.
Taleb argues that frozen Iranian funds and resources from the global Iranian community should be explored as possible sources of humanitarian support, provided assistance can reach civilians safely, lawfully, and transparently.
It is an idea worth discussing.
Reza Pahlavi and Taleb’s Political Hopes
Taleb also speaks strongly about a possible role by Prince Reza Pahlavi in Iran’s future. He suggested inviting Pahlavi into discussions with the World Tourism Network about tourism, international relations, and Iran’s eventual economic reconstruction.
Others inside and outside Iran will strongly disagree with them.
This article is not an endorsement of a future Iranian government, monarchy, republic, political leader or opposition movement. The future of Iran belongs to Iranians.
But Taleb’s desire for dialogue is entirely consistent with the man I met more than twenty years ago. He still believes that tourism can help nations rediscover one another.
Tourism Is Not About Governments
This is where Taleb’s story becomes bigger than Iranian politics.
Those of us who have spent our lives in tourism sometimes repeat phrases such as “tourism is a bridge to peace” so often that they risk becoming slogans. In Tehran after September 11, I saw what those words actually meant, and I invited again in 2008 to Teheran and was able to travel with Louis D’Amore, president and founder of the International Institute for Peace Through Tourism, to join on a second trip, where he was able to be the first American to be allowed to speak in the Islamic Hall of The People about Peace Through Tourism.
Peace through tourism was an Iranian mother handing an American visitor cookies. It was a man showing us the photograph of a relative living in the United States.
It was strangers standing patiently in line because they wanted Americans to know that they mourned with them.
- No government ordered those people to feel compassion.
- No diplomatic agreement was necessary.
- Human beings simply recognized other human beings.
That is tourism at its most powerful. It allows us to meet a population before somebody else tells us what that population is supposed to be.
I Want to Meet My Friend Again
Toward the end of our exchange, Taleb wrote something I have been unable to forget: “I hope to live long enough to see you again in a free Iran.”
More than twenty years ago, Iran welcomed us at a moment when Americans desperately needed friendship. Today, an Iranian friend is asking us not to look away when his people desperately need friendship.
- I cannot verify every terrible thing Taleb says he has witnessed or experienced.
- I cannot predict Iran’s political future.
- I cannot know whether Taleb’s preferred political outcome will happen.
- But I know what I witnessed in Tehran in 2001.
- I know the warmth ordinary Iranians showed us.
- I remember the people waiting in line.
- I remember their photographs.
- I remember their cookies.
- And I remember their tears for Americans they had never met.
Perhaps now is the time to return some of that humanity.
A Request to the Tourism World
So I close this opinion piece with a request.
To my friends in tourism, to travel professionals, to members of the World Tourism Network, and especially to colleagues and friends in the United States:
Please share Taleb’s message.
- Share it not because every political claim in it has been proven.
- Share it because behind the politics are human beings.
- Ask policymakers how humanitarian assistance can reach ordinary Iranians without strengthening those responsible for repression or becoming another instrument of political conflict.
- Ask Iranian communities abroad whether Taleb’s proposal for a transparent Social Support Fund deserves serious consideration.
- Ask tourism leaders to preserve relationships with ordinary Iranians even when relations between governments appear impossible.
- And ask ourselves whether “peace through tourism” means anything if we invoke it only during peaceful times.
Taleb ended one of his messages with words that are difficult for me to read:
“I hope that with your support, I can be useful during this final stage of my life.”
I hope he is wrong about that being his final stage. I would rather believe another sentence he sent me: “Focus instead on Iran’s bright future.”
That is what I choose to remember. Not the image of an aging, injured, and frightened man hiding from authorities.
- I remember the tourism professional I knew in Tehran.
- I remember a hall filled with ordinary Iranians welcoming foreigners shortly after September 11.
And I hope that one day Taleb and I can sit together again—not secretly, not fearfully, and not talking about governments, sanctions, interrogations, or death.
Perhaps we can sit somewhere in Tehran with a cup of tea and talk about tourism.
- About old friends.
- About the visitors coming to Iran.
- About Iranians traveling freely around the world.
And perhaps we will remember that remarkable day in 2001 when, during one of the darkest moments in American history, ordinary people in Iran stood in line for hours simply to tell us:
- We are sorry.
- We are with you.
Today, more than two decades later, perhaps it is our turn to tell the ordinary people of Iran:
- We remember you.
- We hear you.
- And we have not forgotten that behind every government, every conflict and every headline are people who simply want to live.
Leave a Comment