Hossein Kharrazi's bicycle was leaning against the wall of his parents' house in Isfahan. Mrs Kharrazi told me to come in, rearranging her chador so it wouldn't slide off her head. I took off my shoes and she showed me into a living-room that looked onto a courtyard with a persimmon tree in the middle. There was a big mural on one of the walls, a copy of a photograph I'd seen before. It showed Hossein in combat fatigues, talking into two microphones that had been taped together. He was telling his men why the war against Iraq was a sacred war, and that if they were killed they would go to paradise.

LRB 2 January 2003 | PDF Download