TEHRAN
— His son is named after the river born where the Tigris and Euphrates
meet. His wife once complained that he loved a rare species of yellow
deer more than her.
His realm runs from sprawling salt deserts to the snowcapped peaks of
the Zagros Mountains, from southern marshes along the Persian Gulf to
damp northern forests known as the "cloud jungle."
Mohammad Darvish, 47, is Iran's
green gladiator, engaged in a quixotic, often lonesome quest to elevate
his homeland's environmental IQ. In a nation where security and
economic concerns overshadow threats to a varied and fragile ecosystem,
he even dares to oppose nuclear power, sacrosanct to Iran's leaders.
"It is budding, but it is far
from being a movement," the indefatigable Darvish says of environmental
consciousness in Iran. "But I am sure the environment will be a
full-fledged movement one day, and Iran will have Green [political]
parties that will send members to parliament."
Darvish, working from a state-run botanical reserve on the western
outskirts of this traffic-clogged capital, is a subtle but persistent
voice, direct but non-threatening in his message as he warns about
desertification, deforestation, pollution, climate change and other
perils to this mostly arid land.
Unlike the country's understandably edgy political activists, who
face the constant threat of police harassment, Darvish has a carefree
demeanor. Each Sunday, he spreads his message in a morning spot on state
TV. He also writes a widely read environmental column in a moderate
newspaper and a blog focusing on Iran's ecology.
As in the West, much of the public discussion about Iran among its
citizens focuses on the sanctions-driven economic crisis and the
cataclysmic prospect of war, both related to Tehran's nuclear
development efforts.
The West and Israel
allege that Iran harbors a hidden agenda to build an atomic bomb.
Tehran contends that its research is for purely peaceful purposes:
energy generation and the production of isotopes for cancer treatment.
Iran's ever-vigilant information overseers have tolerated Darvish's
anti-nuclear advocacy, perhaps in part because the theme is a relatively
discreet one in his work, far from a crusade. His opposition is based
on ecological threats, he emphasizes, not strategic ones.
"I am not a nuclear scientist, but I believe producing nuclear energy
to be used for electricity is too costly and prone to environmental
hazards," Darvish says, sitting on a bench in a wooden cabin on the
reserve's rambling grounds.
"In any natural disaster, or if Israel attacks us, then nuclear
pollution is our most dangerous hazard.… Why should we increase our
vulnerability by using nuclear plants for energy, while more
environmentally friendly technology is available?"
Darvish avoids polemics. As a public worker — he is one of several
managers at the state reserve — his preferred style is to address
issues, not attack officials.
"Darvish, at the end of the day, is a state employee and civil
servant," says Naser Karami, a climatologist and editor of an
environmental news agency who agrees with many of Darvish's positions.
Karami says Iranians are "being told one lie after the other" about
environmental threats in a country that doesn't get high marks for
safeguarding its natural heritage.
Iran ranked 114th among 132 nations in 2012 on the so-called
Environmental Performance Index, which tracks various indicators of
environmental public health and ecosystem vitality. Switzerland ranked
No. 1; Iraq
finished last. (The United States, where the index was developed on a
pair of Ivy League campuses, ranked 49th, just ahead of Argentina and
behind Australia.)
The air was so polluted in Tehran this week that Iranian authorities
announced Monday that schools and state-run offices would be closed
Tuesday and Wednesday, essentially shutting down much of the capital.
Darvish, a native of Tehran who has a master's degree in
environmental management from Tehran University, traces his passion to
childhood trips to the zoo and summers spent at his grandfather's rural
home. There he was exposed to livestock, wildlife and a sense of
liberation.
"I strolled and daydreamed," he recalls of that youthful idyll.
Iranians are not impervious to environmental concerns. The Internet
and a growing eco-tourism sector have helped raise awareness. Road
construction and pipeline-laying in sensitive areas stir up public
emotions, as do emissions-linked urban air pollution and oil
contamination.
"There is much more awareness" compared with a decade ago, says
Darvish. Still, he says, environmental activism remains largely confined
to elite circles. It is well off the radar screens of most Iranians,
who are focused on paying bills and feeding their families.
