Book Reviews 153

The Ayatollah Begs to Differ: The Paradox of 
Modern Iran
Hooman Majd

New York, Doubleday, 2008. hbk. 272 pages

Hooman Majd, a former writer for the Rolling Stone and movie producer, 
is uniquely qualified to write a book about Iran for an American audience. 
As he admits, “A friend once told me that that I was the only person 
he knew who was both 100 percent American and 100 percent Iranian. 
Oxymoronic as that sounds, I knew what he meant. I was raised and 
educated completely in the West, but am the grandson of a well-respected 
Alameh (learned) and Ayatollah; my first language is English, but I am also 
fluent in Farsi and am told that I speak it without an identifying accent. 
But more important, my Western outlook on life doesn’t interfere with my 
complete ease in the company of even the most radical of Iranian political 
or religious figures (and often theirs with me), and in my travels to Iran 
I have often thought there must be a toggle switch somewhere along the 
electrical system in my brain that is magically triggered to ʻEast’ when 
my plane crosses into Iranian airspace (8‒9).” Due to this toggle switch, 
Majd is able to highlight the very important role Persian culture plays 

mailto:sadekhamid@hotmail.com


The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:3154

in Iranian history and politics ‒ challenging the assumptions often made 
about Iranian clerics, politicians, and citizens. 

This is an especially useful work for those seeking an introduction 
to Iran, a nation more readily associated with black chadors and burning 
American flags than pop singers and high fashion, but it is not an academic 
study ‒ a point Majd is clear on from the first pages, where he discloses 
his intentions to “provide the reader a glimpse of Iran and Iranians, often 
secretive and suspicious of revealing themselves, that he or she may not 
ordinarily have the opportunity to see (16).” Still, the fact that the author 
is related to former President Khatami allows for unprecedented access to 
the inner workings of Iranian politics as well as a deep understanding of 
the status of Shiʻa clergy in Iranian society. 

For those unfamiliar with the nation’s twentieth-century history, 
Majd provides a good introduction ‒ covering the overthrow of Mossadeq 
in 1953, the Revolution, the Iran-Iraq War, the politics of Khatami and 
Ahmadinejad, the roles of various clerical councils in the government, and 
the Supreme Leader’s influence, or lack of influence, in post-Khomeini 
Iran. As Majd maintains, “Still, despite all the political power the Supreme 
Leader wields, and despite his religious authority as one among a handful 
of senior Ayatollahs in Shi’a Islam, he is decidedly not as infallible in the 
eyes of the pious Shias who choose, as they are quite free to, their very own 
marja-e-taqhlid, or ‘source of emulation,’ from among those Ayatollahs 
(59‒60).” The book’s revelations about Iranian politics are illuminating, 
especially for those unfamiliar with the Islamic Republic’s constitution 
and governmental organization, but it is Majd’s revelations about Persian 
society that are most illuminating. Central to Persian culture is the code of 
manners known as ta’arouf, which Majd describes as “a defining Persian 
characteristic that includes the practice, often infuriating, of small talk, 
or frustratingly and sometimes incomprehensible back-and-forth niceties 
uttered in any social encounter (39).” 

Majd cleverly titles each chapter to reflect the story told within 
it. The first chapter, appropriately titled “Persian Cats,” uses the laat (the 
ubercat of the neighborhood) to introduce the jahel, the tough guy who 
runs the neighborhood and epitomizes mardanegi, or Persian chivalry 
(24). In the following and very brief chapter, “The Ayatollah Has a Cold,” 
Majd discusses the controversies surrounding the Supreme Leader. 
Despite the fact that he is not an ayatollah, he is nonetheless referred to 
as a “Grand Ayatollah” by the religious establishment. “If It’s Tuesday, 
This Must Be Qom,” describes an afternoon of opium-smoking in the 
holiest city in Iran—with a very religiously devout family. As in many 



Book Reviews 155

other chapters, “Pride in Humility” discusses the role ta’arouf plays in 
Persian society in this particular case, in political life. As Majd writes, 
“[Ahmadinjed’s] deceptively blunt language has always been laced with 
ta’arouf, just as much as it has been an unequivocal defense of haq” (110). 
Like Christopher de Bellagiue’s In the Rose Garden of the Martyrs: A 
Memoir of Iran (2005), Majd’s book does not follow a timeline of Iranian 
modern historical events but instead presents a collection of revealing 
stories. The author’s participation in the Ashura practice of zanjeer-zani 
(chain-beating, is, like much of the book, told in both an informative and 
witty manner, “I’m sure I grimaced when they [the chains] connected with 
my back and made facial expressions that must’ve convinced my family, 
deeply religious though they are, that I was suffering from a mental illness 
of some sort, for no sane Westernized Iranian, certainly not one who had 
lived abroad all his life, could possibly be interested in mourning the death 
of Imam Hossein with a bout of self-flagellation (p. 133).”

If there is a weakness to The Ayatollah Begs to Differ, it lies in the 
fact that the work was published before the Green Movement, thus leaving 
the reader wanting more. Thankfully, Majd published a second volume on 
Iran in late 2010 (The Ayatollahs’ Democracy: An Iranian Challenge); this 
one focused almost exclusively on the 2009 election and its aftermath, a 
situation that is still unfolding.

Sophia Rose Shafi
University of Denver 

Visiting Assistant Professor of Islamic Studies
at the Iliff School of Theology

sshafi@iliff.edu

mailto:sshafi@iliff.edu