Refashioning the Debate on Abortion in Postrevolutionary Iranian Cinema Available to Purchase

In postrevolutionary Iran, cinema, beyond being pure entertainment or an art of expression, has turned into a mirror of social sentiments as well as cultural and political change. The so-called social cinema (sinama-ye ejtemai), which, with an artistic but also realistic and responsive approach, committed itself to people’s problems, became a dynamic and lively space where important social issues have been negotiated. Films as a testimony of social and cultural transformations, although often enthusiastically received by audiences and foreign critics, frequently clashed with the authorities, as they have often leaned on subjects considered taboo. This made making socially engaged cinema in the Islamic Republic challenging. The difficulties faced by Iranian filmmakers have been associated with institutional censorship, and the general guidelines of state policy often conditioned the level of freedom they enjoyed. Although artists enjoyed relative freedom under the presidency of Mohammad Khatami, the former minister of culture, successive presidents maintained tight control over cultural production, because they considered cinema not only a space for preserving the ideals of the revolution but also a front against the “soft war” waged by the West. The presidency of Ebrahim Raisi brought even tighter control over cultural productions and increased the activities of organizations such as Satra, the regulatory organization for audio and video media. The stricter monitoring of cultural productions in recent years, on the one hand, and the intensive development of pro-regime productions responding to the needs of communication with the younger generation of Iranians (Bajoghli 2019: 25) have also met another phenomenon, making the situation even more complex. Depending on the objectives of the regulations in effect, internal and foreign policies, or the government’s intention to shape public sentiments, certain topics were permitted in cinema, even promoted, while others were blocked and censored. The rapid technological development of online tools (e.g., video-on-demand platforms such as Filimo and Namava), at least on some level and for some time, allowed the avoidance of the strict control of state institutions. The availability of new internet tools has contributed to viewers’ gaining access to many productions that, due to censorship, would have never had a chance to be officially broadcast on television or cinema.

Over the years in the Islamic Republic of Iran, the issue of unwanted pregnancy and abortion has proved one of the most controversial social issues dealt with in Iranian cinema. At the same time, both matters can be perceived as taboo topics, which involve morally sensitive cultural issues of shame (sharm) and public reputation (aberu), on the one hand, and religiously based ideas of sinfulness (gonah), on the other.

The stance on abortion has also become part of the state’s family policy; at a time of the fertility reduction policy, the procedure aroused less controversy, and its appearance in cinema productions was not met with criticism and was even accepted, whereas under the policy adopted in recent years aiming at increasing fertility, the termination of unwanted pregnancy has come under criticism. While access to legal therapeutic abortion for years was a state concern in the context of increasing or decreasing fertility rates, it has also been considered one of the key elements of the women’s rights discourse in the context of male control over women’s bodies, their sexuality, but also their physical and mental health.

Although the revolution of 1979 contributed to a significant change in abortion laws by rolling back the regulations in place under Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, after the establishment of the Islamic Republic, the problem was ignored and not addressed in cinema and bypassed or eliminated from the filmic discourse for a long time. At some point, however, several Iranian filmmakers decided to address it, although not all these attempts have been viewed favorably by the authorities. Some of the productions never received a broadcast permit and were available only in unofficial circulation; those welcomed were usually in line with the authorities’ policy at the time. With time, however, the discourse on abortion and unwanted pregnancies in Iranian cinema expanded and diversified, revealing different approaches to the topic. Although researchers in Iran and abroad have already addressed many issues related to both problems, the public discourse on it remains underresearched, especially considering its fluid character.

The present article intends to fill this gap, if only in part, by highlighting some features of the Iranian public debate on unwanted pregnancy and abortion that can be identified by an analysis of popular cinematic works both released into circulation and censored. A preliminary analysis of the source material already allows us to observe that, over time, the discourse on the topic presented to Iranian viewers has faced some transformations. Based on an analysis of several feature and short films, the article argues that in recent years Iranian cinema has revealed a certain shift in the way unwanted pregnancy and abortion have been perceived and discussed.

The initial narrative on the topic was limited to framing abortion in terms of the restriction of women’s freedom and drawing attention to the social, cultural, and legal aspects of unwanted pregnancy. The first attempts at dealing with unwanted pregnancy depicted abortion as a serious personal problem conditioned by Iranian sociolegal reality, closely related to social disadvantages such as poverty, family pathologies, or legal gender-based inequalities. As such, in most films belonging to this group, the question of pregnancy and abortion has been depicted as concerning mainly female protagonists, who are not only left without the financial or emotional support of a man or a family but also deprived of any care from the state or social welfare institutions, whether they want to have an abortion or decide to give birth.

Over time, this social-centered approach was not so much replaced as enriched with a new narrative that considered these issues in a new, broader context. A new discourse emerged that not only paid attention to the limitations of freedom and the obstacles women faced but also took into account their desires, dreams, or life expectations. This optic concentrates on depicting how women try to survive in a male-dominated world as well as how they want to regain control of their lives. I define this as a worldview-centered perspective, a position that takes into account not only external restrictions and regulations that organize attitudes toward the termination of unwanted pregnancy but also, if not mainly, personal inclinations and beliefs. Pregnancy, in this view, becomes less a problem faced by the woman than a choice toward motherhood.

This new approach to the topic is a relatively new phenomenon, which embraces abortion in an entirely different context, in which the willingness to terminate a pregnancy is motivated not by a legal situation (e.g., lack of marriage or of male support), financial difficulties, or social disadvantages but by a woman’s or a couple’s worldview based on various personal beliefs, such as a reluctance to have children in general, a desire to realize one’s professional plans, or an intention to postpone parenthood. This new narrative emphasizes the view of women as holders of the right to decide on their own lives.

A significant number of these new productions, in contrast to previous films, portray the life of educated and professionally active married women, for whom an unwanted or unexpected pregnancy is not a social or financial problem but a personal and mental one. Although a detailed statement of the reasons for this transition requires further research, it can already be assumed at this stage that it is linked to a widening and strengthening of a feminist narrative in the Iranian public space, which postulates the need to accept women’s right to determine their own lives in regard to perceiving abortion in the sociolegal context of male control over women’s bodies and their sexual behavior. Within this perspective, legalized abortion, an important feminist slogan, as argued by Patricia J. Higgins (1985: 480), is still addressed “as another right Iranian women have lost through the reinstatement of the sharia.” The lack of access to legal abortion is often believed to be the result of traditional culture and religious morality, but mostly as an effect of a “complex system of norms and laws regulating sexuality in ways that serve patriarchy” (Mir Hosseini and Hamzić 2010: 84). The widening of the spectrum of narratives toward unwanted pregnancy and abortion becomes visible in the context of social changes that took place in Iran and the development of feminist discourse, placing more emphasis on women and their legal and social limitations. This change can also be seen as being linked to women’s education, their increasing professional activity, financial autonomy, and the changes that are taking place in the understanding of marriage.

The first part of the article presents the phenomenon of abortion in contemporary Iran and its legal, social, political, and religious aspects as a background and context for the main topic under discussion. The second part includes an analysis based on films and discusses the change in the way abortion has been addressed. Two main perspectives—which I refer to as the social and worldview perspectives—are identified and their different aspects are discussed. This is done with an eye to sociopolitical changes in contemporary Iran, the development of a feminist narrative, and also state policies indicating a dynamic transformation in social attitudes and expectations. The third part of the article refers to the place of men in abortion narratives, while the fourth focuses on the aspect common to both discourses, that is, the ethical aspect of abortion as portrayed in film.

Taking this into consideration, the study intends to determine the trajectory of social change by identifying two main approaches to the topic and confronting them with current sociopolitical reality. The study also aims to investigate how the shift in the perspective on abortion in cinema corresponds to the actual state of affairs in Iran.

Abortion in the Islamic Republic of Iran

There are no official statistics on the number of abortions conducted annually in Iran. The available informal data suggest that the number varies between 70,000 and 130,000 cases each year, of which only a small percentage are performed legally (Erfani 2016: 93). As reported in a leading Iranian newspaper, in 2020 the Iranian Forensic Medicine Organization issued only 9,010 permits for remedial abortion (seqt-e darmani). Therefore most abortions have been performed illegally (Ettemad Online2020). However, recent decisions made by the administration of the late President Ebrahim Raisi may change these data. In April 2022 new regulations were introduced restricting access to screening tests during pregnancy, among other things, preventing early detection of many abnormalities. The procedure is often perceived as part of a family planning policy.

Under current legislation, abortion—commonly called seqt-e janin (miscarriage or abortion of a fetus) in Persian—is illegal. The Single Article Act of Therapeutic Abortion, officially adopted by the Iranian Parliament in 2005, allows the termination of a pregnancy only in two cases: a threat to the mother’s health or life or a serious mental or physical impairment of the fetus that could become a burden or cause intolerable difficulties (haraj) for a child or a mother.¹ The Ministry of Health, Treatment, and Medical Education lists around fifty illnesses (of both the mother and the fetus) for which abortion is legally permitted, although, for example, in cases of thalassemia, the procedure has already been applied, based on the fatwa, or legal ruling, issued by Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in 1997 (Tajehamiri 2011: 118).

After the establishment of the Islamic Republic, the liberal law that allowed abortion on the request of parents (after doctor evaluation) introduced in 1976 was replaced by a limitation on the right to terminate a pregnancy only up to 120 days of life of the fetus (Bagheri and Afshar 2011: 353). As per current legislation, the request for termination of pregnancy must be assessed by three specialists and approved by a legal medical doctor; however, the husband’s consent is not needed to perform the procedure anymore. Therapeutic abortion is possible only until the fourth month of pregnancy; otherwise, it is forbidden under the 2005 Medical Abortion Law. Additionally, over time previous regulations introduced after the revolution on the issuance of penalties were also eased. Inducing or performing an abortion (even if the fetus is older than four months) is no longer punished with retaliation (qesas) (Abbasi et al. 2014: 75). Currently, abortion is subject to diyeh payment (“blood money”) for a woman and/or a doctor or any other person who assists with the procedure.²

The four-month cutoff (i.e., 120 days) before which an abortion can be performed legally in the situation described above has been adopted in Iranian state law regulations following the Islamic doctrine, in which a fetus is understood either as possessing a soul (dara-ye nafs) or without a soul (faqed-e nafs), depending on its age. This theological distinction refers to the conviction that the human soul is blown into the body at a certain stage of fetal life and is based on a series of Qurʾanic verses (15:28). According to religious scripture, before ensoulment (woluj-e ruh) a fetus goes through a few developmental stages—for instance, notfeh (zygote), alaqeh (coagulum), and mozgheh (lump of flesh)—which are all mentioned in the Qurʾan (22:5). However, the Qurʾan does not specify the length of each stage. Hadiths also do not provide detailed information about the particular moment of the emergence of the soul in the body or the precise duration of each developmental stage. In the past, theologians linked the appearance of the soul with the movement of a fetus, the development of certain senses, the formation of a spine, or a heartbeat (Hedayat et al. 2006: 653–54; Hussain 2005: 244). The current consensus among senior Shiʿi clerics in Iran that each stage takes around forty days is therefore entirely conventional, based on an interpretation of religious texts, theological considerations, and fatwas issued in the past by Islamic “sources of emulation” (sing. marjaʿ taqlid) mostly about the amount of diyeh payments, which varies depending on the stage of development of a fetus (Emami 2006: 47).

Although theologically there is full agreement on the sinful nature of abortion, the issue of its application still occupies an important place in Islamic jurisprudence, mostly due to continued inquiries directed to eminent Shiʿi scholars by believers seeking advice on the various conditions under which abortion may be morally justified.

According to current fatwas, abortion at any stage of development of a fetus is recognized as a great sin (gonah-e kabireh) and a forbidden act (haram) and is allowed (jayez) only in exceptional circumstances, mainly in health-related cases. Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (2013: 151–69) was quite strict in this matter and believed that terminating a pregnancy is forbidden at all times, regardless of the woman’s personal or social circumstances or the family’s economic hardship. Iran’s current leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, also considers abortion haram and does not recommend it even in cases in which the child is diagnosed with a disability (naqesolkhelqeh), although he allows it when the mother’s life is in danger or when raising a disabled or ill child would cause an unbearable hardship to the family (haraj). However, he emphasizes that after four months of pregnancy no abortion should be performed, even if the mother’s life is in danger, since at this stage the mother’s and child’s lives are of equal value (https://farsi.khamenei.ir/treatise-content?id=113&tid=-1). Another prominent Shiʿi cleric, Ayatollah Makarem Shirazi, has taken a more flexible approach to the issue, declaring that to save a woman’s life, abortion can be performed even after the fourth month of the life of the fetus. He also allows the termination of a pregnancy when the woman fears for her life, although he does not elaborate on the nature of this fear (https://makarem.ir/main.aspx?typeinf0=21&lid=0&catid=46944). Some other religious scholars, such as Iraqi-based Ayatollah Ali Sistani, who is highly popular in Iran, or the late Ayatollah Yusef Saneʿi, have taken an even more responsive approach and ruled that a pregnancy can be terminated if giving birth to a child may involve intolerable difficulties to the mother (https://www.sistani.org/persian/qa/0934/; https://saanei.xyz/?view=01,02,09,3039,0).

Alerted to the existence of a large abortion underground, both governmental and nongovernmental agencies have in recent years reported on the growing number of illegal abortion procedures. As evidenced in sociological studies conducted over the past few years, the main reason for many illegal abortions in Iran has been unwanted pregnancies (bardari-ye nakhasteh) or unplanned or untimely pregnancies (bardari-ye nabehengam). The reluctance to give birth is motivated by various reasons: financial, social, legal, and psychological. Despite the illegal nature of abortion, the procedure has become a reality for many Iranian women of different ages, education levels, ethnic origins, and marital statuses.

Although abortion in postrevolutionary Iran has never been fully legalized, state attitudes toward it have changed with changes in family planning policy. In the 1990s, during the presidency of Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, a family planning policy under the slogan “Two children are enough” (do farzand kafist) was launched. Due to the fear of overpopulation, the government attempted to reduce fertility and offered free contraception and easy access to surgical sterilization such as vasectomy or tubectomy procedures. When in the first decade of the 2000s Iranian authorities observed an alarming decline in the birth rate, abortion, in addition to being a social, legal, and ethical issue, also became a state-related issue. Under President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Iranian policymakers began to change their approach, restricting free contraception and banning treatment to achieve permanent or temporary infertility while developing programs and supporting innovative insemination methods (Karamouzian et al. 2014: 232). In 2021 the government introduced a Family and Youth Protection Law as part of the plan to increase the population (tarh-e afzayesh-e jamʾiyat).

However, all these measures, together with the abortion ban, have not lessened the number of illegal abortions, which in recent years has even increased.³ Investigating the causes requires extensive research conducted in different fields of science, yet what can be stated at this point is that the problem of abortion in Iran is still, to some extent, culturally and legally determined. It is also, at least for part of society outside large urban areas, associated with the commonly accepted rules of morality in which nonmarital relationships are not permitted. Within this traditional paradigm, out-of-wedlock pregnancies can cause not only legal and administrative difficulties (particularly for single women) but also social ostracism and stigmatization among more traditional and conservative communities. At the same time, the growing reluctance of young generations to enter permanent marriages (mainly for economic reasons) and the increasingly widespread trend toward so-called white marriages, that is, unmarried unions (at least in large cities), lead to situations in which pregnancies that occur within these arrangements still constitute an institutional, social, and personal challenge (Rodziewicz 2020).

Abortion in Postrevolutionary Iranian Cinema

One of the first movies to address the problem of unwanted pregnancy and abortion, Dayereh (The Circle), was made in 2000 by Jafar Panahi, a filmmaker known for his inclination toward women’s issues. The film was awarded a Golden Lion prize at the Venice Film Festival the same year, although it never got permission to be screened inside Iran. The movie was considered controversial because it touched on the serious difficulties faced by Iranian women. Similar overtones were depicted in Mania Akbari’s Bist angusht (Twenty Fingers), filmed four years later and also officially screened outside Iran only. Akbari’s picture addressed different aspects of male-female relations accompanied by the clash between different points of view on marriage, divorce, and abortion. However, bringing up the topic of unwanted pregnancy and abortion does not seem to be the main reason for their rejection by the relevant institutions. Both films were made at a time when fertility-reduction policies were being implemented. The failure to obtain broadcast approval should be seen as related rather to their accusatory tone toward Iranian realities. This is confirmed by the appearance of another film produced essentially at the same time, in 2001 by Bahman Farmanara under the title Khaneh-ye ru-ye ab (House Built on Water), which depicts a doctor reproving a man whose wife is expecting their twelfth child. The doctor, in harsh words, criticizes the man for his irresponsibility and for putting his wife through the suffering of another pregnancy. Finally, he suggests an abortion and sends the couple away. Farmanara’s film has been accepted into official circulation and awarded many festival prizes.

Several other movies made in this period and authorized for broadcast did not raise the issue of access to abortion but instead focused on the hardship faced by women who, against the will of their husbands or families, decide to keep the pregnancy. Two films were particularly appreciated by viewers and critics in Iran and abroad. The first was Rasul Sadr Ameli’s Man, Taraneh 15 sal daram (I Am Taraneh, 15), filmed in 2002 and recognized by both local and foreign viewers. That year it won a Cristal Simorgh award at the twentieth Fajr Film Festival for best script, best director, and leading female role, as well as a special prize from the jury of the Locarno Film Festival in Switzerland. The second was Rasoul Mollagholipur’s 2006 production Mim mesl-e madar (M for Mother), which offers a sentimental portrayal of unconditional maternal love, beauty, and the value of life and the challenges of single motherhood. Both films depicted the struggle of mothers to preserve pregnancies against the wishes of husbands and financial, social, cultural, and health constraints.

With the change in state policy on family planning initiated in 2006 and intensive efforts to increase the population’s fertility rate, new productions began to appear. In 2008 a wide discussion on unwanted pregnancy and abortion was sparked by the release of the film Daʿvat (The Invitation) by Ebrahim Hatami Kia, a well-known director associated with socially engaged cinema productions and postwar films. Due to its clear antiabortion overtones, the film has been met with criticism by Iranian women’s rights activists, who accused the director of creating an idealized image that does not correspond to reality and does not consider the social conditions of Iranian society.

However, the next generation of films dealing with the topic of unwanted pregnancy and abortion revealed a new perspective that was not present in previous productions. Films produced more recently addressed abortion as an issue concerning not only socially deprived, uneducated, and poor women but also financially successful, independent women and married couples. Mention should be made of such productions as Be danya amadan (Being Born, dir. Mohsen Abdolvahab, 2016), Behesht-e gomshadeh (The Lost Paradise, dir. Hamid Salimian, 2018), and Nagahan derakht (Suddenly a Tree, dir. Safi Yazdanian, 2019), as well as a few short films presented on online platforms, such as Mat (Mat, dir. Mehdi Ravesh, 2017) and Emruzo yadet nare (Don’t Forget Today, dir. Ahmad Monajemi, 2018). In the following, I provide an analysis of both discourses.

Social-Centered Narrative

The first films that addressed the topic of abortion after the revolution focused primarily on the challenges and obstacles faced by women who wanted to terminate an unwanted pregnancy or, on the contrary, give birth against family, social, and legal obstacles. Most heroines were faced with poverty, social seclusion and ostracism, inability to raise a child, or legal restrictions related to extramarital pregnancy. Therefore the narratives did not focus on their personal desires but were dominated by the external conditions that put these women in difficult situations regardless of individual beliefs, life choices, or decisions made.

Within this social-centered narrative, as referred to in this context, a fear of lone motherhood comes to the foreground. Pari, the heroine of Jafar Panahi’s movie The Circle, a prison escapee, gets pregnant while visiting her death-row husband for the last time before his execution. She cannot get permission for an abortion, as being a widow, she must present the consent of a male family member. Her fear of lone motherhood without a husband and without the support of a family seems to be not only emotionally but also economically and socially based. Without the support of others, Pari, even when finally released from prison, would have to face serious financial and social challenges, and perhaps, like the woman she meets on the street, would be forced to abandon her child, unable to provide for it.

Lone motherhood is also shown as one of the concerns of the protagonist of Hatami Kia’s film The Invitation, and although, in this case, the desire to become a mother prevails, the anxieties are similar. Bahar, who works as a translator, is the temporary wife (sigheh) of a well-off and respected man.⁴ As this may be her last chance to become a mother, Bahar decides to keep the child despite her partner’s reluctance to take responsibility and her fear of loneliness, social ostracism, and other challenges she may encounter as a single mother. Despite social change and evolving perceptions of single mothers in recent years, single parenthood in Iran is still very likely to be associated with material, logistic, and social challenges. Its main obstacle invariably remains a financial limitation. As reported by Hamideh Addelyan Rasi et al. (2012: 839), a significant proportion of single-mother households depend on family help or are supported by social welfare organizations. Additionally, because of traditional gender roles in Iranian culture, embracing women as heads of households might still be difficult for some people. Traditionally, single mothers deprived of male care were described as “unattended” (bisarparast) and frequently, even with goodwill, persuaded to remarry.

While Pari tries to find a way to obtain an abortion, Bahar chooses to keep the child. The social and material challenges faced by women who decide to maintain their pregnancies despite the pressure of their husbands, families, or society constitute another aspect of filmic images. The protagonists’ driving force is their love for the unborn child and their desire to start a family. Taraneh (I Am Taraneh, 15), a young girl in a failed temporary marriage, refuses to terminate her pregnancy (despite her mother-in-law’s insistence), although this means not only serious financial but also legal problems (difficulties in obtaining an identity card for the child). Sepideh, the protagonist of Mollagholipur’s film M for Mother, makes the same decision. Although there is a high chance that her son will struggle with a serious disability, she decides not to terminate the pregnancy. The woman, who had been living in a stable and successful marriage, is forced to take a paying job and provide for the family herself.

Both films portray strong and devoted young women who, against the will of men or social expectations, make an extremely difficult decision that changes their lives forever. In both cases, men who cannot influence women’s decisions leave them, avoiding responsibility and condemning them to dealing with the problems on their own.

The social-centered perspective has also, albeit relatively vaguely, addressed a legal reality that largely conditions the question of abortion. Legal issues gain importance in the case of the lack of a judicial basis for a union between a man and a woman, which translates into a difficult social and legal status for a child born out of wedlock. Such situations have not been addressed very often, due to the taboo nature of such relationships, on the one hand, and the institutional reluctance of the authorities to show morally questionable images, on the other hand, resulting in the fact that any attempt to address the problem of “illegal pregnancy” (bardari-ye namashruʿ) can easily be subjected to state censorship.

Consequently, most of the pregnancies depicted in the analyzed films occur within legal relationships—permanent or temporary. As a result, although the female characters struggle with different types of challenges, that they are pregnant in no way exposes them to criminal liability for having an intimate extramarital affair. Pari’s (The Circle) pregnancy was conceived in a legal relationship, that is, within a marriage, although her husband’s death complicated the situation for her. Bahar’s (The Invitation) and Taraneh’s (I Am Taraneh, 15) cases are a bit more complex, as they were bound by a temporary marriage (nekah-e movaqqat), whose purpose, according to religious doctrine and common popular understanding, is not to establish a family but rather to meet mutual emotional, sexual, and financial needs (Haeri 1989). However, if registered (although often socially disrespected), the temporary marriage is considered a fully legitimate type of union between a man and a woman. Moreover, under the current legislation, children born out of such marriages are protected by law. According to the Iranian civil code, children born through temporary marriage enjoy the same rights as children born in a permanent marriage. Interestingly, from a legal perspective, even the situation of children born from so-called illegal relationships (ravabet-e namashruʿ), that is, extramarital relationships, does not differ much legally under current regulations (they possess most rights of the legal descendants, such as the right to obtain an identification card), though the unregistered unions themselves are subject to prosecution. However, due to sociocultural factors, pregnancies from unregistered relationships are highly undesirable in Iranian society and most often result in abortion. The social and cultural issues mentioned above are not without significance, as “illegal pregnancies” often cause moral controversy, especially among more traditional circles, as well as difficulties in finding accommodation or a job for a woman. According to the religious doctrine, the so-called haramzadeh or zenazadeh, that is, children born outside marriage (as an effect of adultery, fornication, or rape), were traditionally perceived as inferior and had fewer rights. However, in contemporary Iran, Shiʿi religious authorities have generally hardly ever given a moral justification for the termination of such pregnancies. Studies carried out in Iran show that “illegal pregnancies” constitute an essential motivation for many abortions among women, and not only young unmarried women but also older married women whose husbands were, for example, absent for months. In cases of out-of-wedlock pregnancies, abortion is also often forced by the woman’s family to avoid shame and disgrace (Haseli et al. 2024: 9).

Another aspect of the sociocultural perspective is formed by the imperative of saving face (hefz-e aberu), public image, or reputation, which is deeply rooted in Iranian society and can impact decisions about abortion, especially if pregnancy occurs as an effect of nontraditional relationships, outside sanctioned marriage, or at a “wrong” time (e.g., before the wedding or at a mature age), which in traditional circles is considered unacceptable and, although common, can be a source of shame. According to research carried out over the last few years in Iran, many abortions are, in fact, performed during the engagement period or after the marriage contract (aqd) is signed but before the official wedding (arusi) occurs (Razqi Nasrabadi et al. 2017: 117). As one of the female interlocutors of a study conducted in Tehran said about her motivations for abortion: “Who would prove that this child was legitimate [halal]? Everyone would think it was illegitimate [namashruʿ]” (Nejati Hatamyan 2014: 180). In traditional circles (although this has been changing in recent years), it is believed that the couple should not establish intimate relations during this period, as the beginning of their life together comes at the time of the wedding (arusi). Because the period between aqd and arusi has increased significantly nowadays, however, the number of such unplanned pregnancies has risen (Erfani and Shajaʿi 2018: 73). Research shows that for many young people, the appearance of a pregnancy during the engagement period or even after signing a marriage contract but before the wedding is still considered a tragedy (Chini Ghiyan et al. 2007: 225). Fear of losing aberu and the possibility of social stigma as a consequence have been invoked in the short production Emruzo yadet nareh (Don’t Forget Today) by Ahmad Monajemi. The short feature shows a few hours in the life of a young engaged couple. As it turns out, the girl is already in the third month of pregnancy. Her fiancé insists on an abortion, convincing the girl that she will not be able to hide the pregnancy during the wedding, which in turn will expose them and their families to embarrassment and public shame. As the girl hesitates, the man threatens to leave her if she does not perform the procedure.

However, fear of the loss of aberu may also appear for other reasons. In an already mentioned film, The Invitation, the viewer is introduced to an older woman who is paralyzed by the news of her pregnancy. The married couple already have a few adult daughters, and the woman is afraid that the news of her pregnancy might lead to aberurizi, that is, an embarrassment and shame that at such an age, she will become a mother again. Although her husband sees pregnancy as a gift from God (hediyeh-ye khoda), the woman, urged by one of the daughters, goes to a clinic for an abortion. Due to her advanced age and family situation, she manages to get an official permit, but being a pious person, she resigns and decides to give birth. Her initial willingness for abortion is not financially or legally based but relates directly to the value of aberu. As evidenced in research studies conducted among Iranians in recent years, motherhood in old age can be criticized and can involve a sense of embarrassment and shame in front of other children, grandchildren, family, or neighbors (Chini Ghiyan et al. 2007: 227). As noted by Meimanat Hosseini-Chavoshi et al. (2012: 174), there is a widespread belief that “pregnancy indicates continued sexual relations, which is something that should be concealed, not publicized through pregnancy.”

The problem of aberu is also reflected in an already mentioned film, M for Mother, which is a story of a young couple expecting their first child. Because the woman was exposed to chemical contamination during the Iran-Iraq War, it turns out that the child she carries may be disabled. Soheyl, the husband, insists on abortion, stressing that he cannot allow himself, on the threshold of a government career, to have a handicapped child. Because Sepideh resists, Soheyl makes the decision to separate. Sepideh raises the boy by herself. Years later Soheyl tries to win her back, but again, he does not feel ready to become a father to a disabled boy.

These film plots demonstrate how narratives on abortion focus on the social, financial, or cultural challenges faced by women in cases of unwanted or unplanned pregnancies. This perspective dominated in the first few films that managed to address the topic of abortion, no matter whether they portrayed heroines’ attempts for an abortion or struggle to avoid it. A second perspective, as will be demonstrated below, differs from and transgresses this narrative by bringing up new content in the public discussion on abortion.

Worldview-Centered Narrative

Although financial, social, and cultural themes continued to be reflected in cinema, in recent years, the new dominant narrative began to revolve around abortion as a worldview issue. The new trend is based on the belief that abortion concerns not only women at the margins of society—uneducated, abandoned by men, or of low socioeconomic status—but also well-educated and professionally active women who want to plan their motherhood or do not want to become mothers at all. Although within this perspective, similarly to the first one, an unwanted or unplanned pregnancy is depicted as an obstacle, its nature has been described in a significantly different manner.

The main motivation for the termination of an unexpected and unwanted pregnancy for the protagonists within the second narrative is related to women’s work and careers. Pregnancy has been illustrated as an obstacle to the realization of a woman’s professional and life plans. Pari, the heroine of the movie Be danya amadan (Being Born), by Mohsen Abdolvahab, who is a happily married woman and a mother of a teenage boy, works as a theater actress and is preparing for a public premiere. She and her husband, Farhad, did not plan to have another child, as Pari has fulfilled her role as a mother and is devoted to her artistic work. Farhad also seems to be reluctant to become a parent for the second time, especially since he is struggling with some financial challenges and is focusing on raising his family’s standards of living. Therefore, when the couple find out that Pari is pregnant, they decide to terminate the pregnancy. Early in the movie the spectator observes the couple in the waiting room of a gynecologist’s office, where they plan to proceed with a pharmacological abortion. They are both calm and even cheerful when talking about Pari’s work. However, despite taking prescribed abortifacients, no miscarriage occurs.

Like Pari, Sheyda, the protagonist of the first story depicted in Hatami Kia’s film The Invitation, is an actress. She is in the middle of making a new film in which she plays the main role. Sheyda cannot imagine giving up the project and devoting herself to parenthood. Even though her husband Ali has wished to become a father for years, she decides to terminate the pregnancy. Ali, who does not agree with his wife’s decision, stops the procedure.

Both female characters, Pari and Sheyda, believe that this is not a good time to have a child. Pari already has a son and, like Sheyda, wants to concentrate on her work. A similar motivation drives the protagonists of a recently produced movie, Suddenly a Tree, to decide to have an abortion. We meet Mahtab and Farhad, who have known each other since early childhood and seem to be in a happy marriage, in a doctor’s waiting room where they wait for the procedure to begin. Farhad perversely describes himself as “interested and not interested in having a child,” but unlike other male protagonists, he expresses his full support for Mahtab’s choice, regardless of her decision. Finally, after some consideration, the woman decides to undergo an abortion, and the couple speaks of having a child in “a different time” and “on a better occasion.” One of Mahtab’s worries that she expresses before deciding is what would happen to the child if the couple split, an anxiety that is present in other stories as well. The heroine of the film Behesht-e gomshadeh (Lost Paradise) by Hamid Salimian, Aida, who is the survivor of an earthquake, wants to terminate her pregnancy because she believes that the world is bad, unjust, and full of misery and that children should not be born to experience it. The woman is clearly depressed. Her husband, Isa, a schoolteacher, wants to become a father but supports her in her decision. Eventually, due to his care and interest, the woman changes her mind and keeps the pregnancy.

Although different, these stories have some common points. All heroines belong to the middle class, are educated, and are in relatively happy marriages. They do not face major financial or social problems; pregnancy does not endanger their social image, nor does it cause legal problems. However, they, too, face the dilemma of an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy. Their motivation to terminate a pregnancy is not economically or socially based but stems from their personal belief that the child in the current situation can only be an obstacle to achieving life plans and that pregnancy may be postponed until a better time.

The Father’s Role?

While within the first, social-centered narrative, men are generally shown as either absent or as irresponsible partners who want to exercise their will or who demonstrate no interest in a woman’s fate, within the worldview discourse, they are more present and portrayed in a more positive light as those who support their wives. However, at the same time, they become mute participants in the event. Within solid and happy marriages, it is predominantly the woman who has the deciding voice. Regardless of the situation, in many cases in which the husband is not committed to parenthood, his role is limited to providing support. Some male protagonists admit that they have compromised and agreed to abortion or childbirth only because of the woman’s desire. Already in the clinic, Farhad (Suddenly a Tree), asked by his wife what she should do, answers: “You said that you don’t want [it]. I have no objections.” Farhad (Being Born) reminds his wife that she was the one who wanted a child in the first place and that, a few years ago, he agreed. He says: “You wanted to be a mother, and I respected that.” Frequently, one gets the impression that female protagonists perceive pregnancy as an issue that concerns them exclusively and therefore that the abortion decision is also their responsibility. Bahar (The Invitation), when talking to her partner, says: “This is the burden that God has placed on my shoulders. You are free.” Similarly, another character in the Hatami Kia film, Afsaneh, tells her husband: “I told you, this is my problem.” However, this issue is most clearly demonstrated in the statement of the daughter of an older woman who, while convincing her hesitant mother to undergo procedure, says: “What do you need a dad for? You have to decide yourself.”

The picture presented in these films can be seen as wishful thinking by its makers, since, according to data reported by researchers in Iran, men play a significant role in abortion decisions (Nejati Hatamyan 2014: 179, 184). This is another element of the new narrative. Depicting women who possess a full right to decide the fate of their unborn child may also be a reaction to the growing discussions around strict control of female activity and sexuality. The narrative aims to oppose the attempts made by postrevolutionary Islamic authorities and intensified in recent times to control women’s bodies and sexual behavior, achieved by, among other things, as claimed by Homa Hoodfar (1996: 33–34), urging “domesticity and motherhood as the most appropriate roles for women.” By portraying different models of women’s choices, Iranian cinema is attempting to change common perceptions in this regard. This may also be viewed as an attempt to recognize women’s right to decide, keeping in mind that it is the woman who bears the greatest cost of pregnancy and subsequent upbringing of the child. It is not only the heavy burden of pregnancy, which many female respondents to the surveys conducted in Iran complain about, but also the fact that they must give up work or a career and are removed from social life (Erfani 2018: 73). As one of the interviewed women said, “My husband disagrees, he will not agree under any circumstances, but eventually I will do this [abortion] because it is me who must stop all my life plans and devote myself to parenting” (Sepidnameh 2019). Nasrin Afzali, an Iranian women’s rights activist based in the United States, emphasizes that the most important impact a pregnancy has on a woman is on her physical and mental health and the level of her social and economic activities. Because the decision to give birth “affects her entire life,” as Afzali indicates, it “must be entirely left to [the] woman” (Khazr Heydari 2016). This position is supported by many other Iranian activists who are convinced that, as Simin Kazemi, a doctor and sociologist, once said, “legal abortion is the right of all women” (Didar2019). This narrative has undoubtedly been reflected in some of the new productions of Iranian cinema that have focused more on worldview issues than on social or financial disadvantages as reasons for abortion.

Depicting Moral Dilemmas

Accepting the existence of two slightly different perspectives on unwanted pregnancy and abortion in Iranian cinema does not negate certain aspects of these narratives that remain common to both, constituting, as it were, a certain feature of the Iranian debate. This section discusses one important aspect of the Iranian cinematic abortion discourse, which is crucial for understanding its nature and characteristics.

Both narratives (social and worldview centered) refer to issues of a moral nature, although the topic is not raised very often. This is interesting, since, as demonstrated by the studies conducted on Iranian women who have experienced abortion, guilt and remorse are a common outcome of the procedure. Sociological research shows that the ethical aspect of abortion, that is, its recognition as a sin, is an important dimension of this phenomenon in Iranian society (Hosseini-Chavoshi et al. 2012: 175). However, it seems that today’s filmmakers avoid raising the issue of moral aspects of abortion. This claim can be confirmed by the severe criticism of the substantive content of Hatami Kia’s film The Invitation. The filmmaker, in one of his interviews, acknowledges that to avoid ethical or religious judgments in his film, he refrained from showing scenes that would reveal the human character of the fetus (except for one scene of an ultrasound examination when the viewer hears the baby’s heartbeat) (Shafaf.ir 2010).

Ethical considerations have been depicted in a few films, in which the viewer can deduce the existence of moral dilemmas among the protagonists from their behavior. For most other films, the subject has been left out of the narrative. Few Iranian films address the topic as a philosophical dispute on the beginning of life and the ethical aspects of its termination. Pari (Being Born) is one of those characters who struggle with the dilemma of whether she is carrying a child or just an undeveloped fetus, a piece of flesh (gusht), as her husband calls it. In one scene, when talking about the possibility of abortion, she expresses her doubts by saying, “Don’t you think we are killing a human being?” and “After all, we don’t get rid of some trash.” However, Pari’s husband, Farhad, believes that her fear is unfounded and that what is in her womb is not yet a child but a boneless and soulless fetus. Pari’s friend also tries to ease her remorse and insists that the discussion would be different four or five months later, but now there is no need for her to feel guilt. She compares an early pregnancy to an egg. “When you eat an egg, do you eat a chicken?” she asks.

A similar dispute between spouses is depicted by Mania Akbari in her film Twenty Fingers. The discussion occurs between a married couple who already have a child. When the female protagonist, Mania, finds out that she is pregnant again, she wants to terminate the pregnancy, but her husband, Bijan, does not give his consent. She tries to convince him, arguing that giving birth and raising a child is very hard work that rests entirely on her shoulders. The previous pregnancy and the first few years of raising a child have already brought her much hardship. Calling motherhood misery (badbakhti), she argues that during pregnancy she gained weight, and as soon as she goes back to work, she must deal with all the difficulties of maternity again. The couple also argue about the moral dimension of abortion. While the husband believes that what his wife is carrying is already a child, a human being (bacheh, adam) that exists (vojud dareh), and therefore getting rid of it would be a sin (gonah), the woman argues that it is still just a clump of blood that will develop into a human being only in the future. According to Mania, not only is there no question of any sin, but it would be a sin to bring into the world a child that they would later be unable to care for.

Another film in which an ethical aspect of the matter is mentioned is the short film Mat. During a conversation a teenager who is very surprised at the high cost of an illegal procedure asks, “Do they want to kill a man, or what?” The girl replies, “Yes, and what do you think they’re going to do?” This perspective also comes up in a conversation between Sepideh (M for Mother) and her friend, who believes that one has no right to kill a baby in the womb.

These are, however, the only directly articulated objections to the moral aspect of abortion. The dilemmas of other characters can be spotted only in their behavior. Bahar’s husband fears the sin of abortion (gonah-e seqt), although it does not stop him from encouraging his partner to go through with the procedure. The old lady from The Invitation has religiously motivated moral doubts that eventually triumph over the fear of embarrassment and shame that she thinks the pregnancy will bring at her age.

However, what can be observed is that beliefs about when life begins and the religious, moral, and legal consequences of its termination influence people’s perceptions and shape their actions. Many protagonists, guided by the doctrinal caesura of the fourth month, when, according to religious scholars, the fetus receives a soul and becomes a human being, are convinced that abortion in the early stages of pregnancy is religiously and therefore legally allowed. Present in many narratives is a strong conviction that early-stage abortion may be absolved from a moral point of view and should not give rise to much doubt, as there is yet no mention of a man. As highlighted by Pari’s friend and her husband, the longer one waits, the more serious the problem becomes. The situation changes as the fetus develops bones and senses. This optic is clearly shaped by the Shiʿi doctrine and the consensus among religious scholars that at up to four months a fetus possesses no soul, which is blown into the body only after that time.

Although, as claimed by Hosseini-Chavoshi et al. (2012: 176), Islamic teachings assign early abortion less severe penalty than late abortion, Shiʿi scholars generally do not consider abortion permissible even at the early stage. In the overwhelming majority of ulema opinions, 120 days marks the limit when a pregnancy can be terminated in exceptional circumstances, but this action is still considered morally wrong. In Shiʿi doctrine, the sinfulness and ethical impropriety of an early-stage abortion is also emphasized by the injunction to pay for the death, the “price of blood,” although the amount depends on the age of the fetus.

This understanding of the Shiʿi belief has also been attested in public debate and can be observed in the statements of survey respondents in various studies conducted in Iran in recent years and in press articles as well. According to a lawyer’s account (reported on one of the Iranian websites) of her conversation with Parvaneh, a young pregnant girl, she was convinced that there is no moral or legal responsibility, from a religious and judicial perspective, in the case of early termination of pregnancy. The girl argued: “This fetus is only four weeks old. It is nothing more than a blood clot. There is no being whose destruction would be a crime” (Sepidnameh 2019). Another woman whose story has been covered by another Iranian newspaper confessed that one of her motivations for having an early abortion was the belief that, in this case, it would be less sinful than a later abortion (Donya-ye eqtesad2019).

The films also reveal an interesting connection between the legal definition of abortion and its moral perception, which is perfectly depicted in a scene in the film The Invitation, which tells the story of the pregnant older woman. Already at the doctor’s office, the woman’s adult daughter, who accompanies her, tries to convince her of the rightness of her decision by saying that what she plans to do is “neither forbidden nor illegal or unlawful,” referring to the official authorization for an abortion that her mother obtains. The scene shows how obtaining the official approval of the relevant institutions can influence a person’s sense of moral responsibility or even remove it.

However, these were generally pre-abortion moral dilemmas that have been addressed. Post-abortion trauma or guilt has not been addressed in any film. The films’ protagonists express regret not about the abortion they had but only about the marriage that was ruined by their decision. This seems important, given the number of studies that point to the prevalence of this phenomenon, as well as the feminist narrative stigmatizing the religiously conditioned view of abortion as a sin.

Conclusions

It can hardly be said that the issue of abortion is freely addressed by Iranian filmmakers. This fact makes it difficult to fully relate filmic narratives to the actual state of affairs without making a number of assumptions. Most of the available images focus on the dilemma of an unwanted pregnancy rather than the difficulties women face in accessing abortion. It is more common to find films that present alternative solutions to abortion, even in difficult life situations, which can often be explained by censorship, reluctance on the part of the authorities toward abortion, and state policies to increase fertility rates.

Despite the scarcity of research material and leaving aside censorship or attempts to justify government policy, certain phenomena can be observed. The analysis of the footage shows that the once widespread image of abortion as an exclusively social, legal, or financial issue—a problem of single women from the lower classes—has given way to a broader narrative that takes into account worldview and psychological issues, focusing on women’s willingness to become mothers. The approach to the issue has moved from being linked primarily to poverty or social disempowerment to one of choice. The motivations portrayed in the films shifted from economic and social to a worldview driven by a personal belief in parenthood.

The new protagonists in the abortion dilemma are no longer poor, uneducated women who decide to terminate a pregnancy because they have no other choice; instead, they are educated, financially stable, and professionally active married women who have a choice and are prepared to exercise it, thereby exercising control over their bodies, their life plans, and their careers. This shift can be seen as a natural response to the needs of a society in which, as research shows, most abortions are obtained by married women.

This shift is the result of a social and cultural change in the perception of motherhood and an evolving discussion about gaining the right to control one’s own life. It can also be seen in the context of demographic changes in Iranian society and the economic or professional difficulties that lead couples to postpone parenthood. The new perspective on unwanted pregnancy and abortion is thus linked to women’s expectations not only to cope with a world in which many rules reinforce the patriarchal system but also to take control of and shape their lives. Such a shift is linked to the high percentage of educated and economically active women and, thus, to their increasing financial and ideological autonomy.

However, there are also points of contact between the two narratives, showing that some aspects of the debate do not change significantly. One notable feature is the absence of men in the decision-making process. In both narratives, men are missing, albeit for different reasons. In the first narrative, men are usually absent because they avoid responsibility, and it is the women who have to bear the heavy consequences of pregnancy. In the second narrative, men are present but they often do not participate in the decision-making process, presumably in line with the common belief that the decision to have an abortion belongs solely to the woman.

Ultimately, the moral aspect of abortion addressed in cinema does not delve into the religious foundations, instead taking on a more humanistic dimension. Perhaps this stems from a desire to construct the antiabortion narrative outside the constraints imposed by religion and tightly controlled religious morality. However, determining the motivation for this phenomenon would require further research.

Notes

References