Today we celebrate renewal. We welcome a new season, we hope for joy, we reaffirm friendships, we eat together, we celebrate love and life. This year, as we face war and destruction, we also reflect on the bombs that fall, the bullets that fly, and the lives that are senselessly lost. We hear the last sighs of our loved ones and feel the wounds they leave behind in our hearts. This is a bitter Norouz, but Norouz nonetheless.
Der Tod ist eine Blume, die blüht ein einzig Mal.
From ‘Der Tod’, by Paul Celan
Doch so er blüht, blüht nichts als er.
Er blüht, sobald er will, er blüht nicht in der Zeit.
I have been meaning to reflect in writing on the events of the past months, in the hope of gaining clarity. It has, however, been a challenge to concentrate. Today seems to be the day to gather some thoughts. If these sound emotional, so be it. This is a time of war.
BiblioIranica
BiblioIranica is a collective and collaborative effort. As collaboration is both a passion and a firm principle in my academic work, I ordinarily coordinate messages and next steps with my colleagues, with whom I run the blog. This time, I am making an exception by writing about BiblioIranica by my own. My colleagues are not involved in this message.
BiblioIranica is not a political endeavour. In the years since its inception, we have remained silent about world events, and we will continue to do so. In January 2026, however, I could not remain silent when the protests in Iran were brutally suppressed, and we published a short message. I do not have a widely established presence on social media, but from what I could see, some liked the message, some welcomed me as a nationalist or a monarchist, while others condemned the message as an expression of disloyalty to Iran.
Let me make this clear: That message does not belong to any political faction. It was an expression of anxiety in times of uncertainty. BiblioIranica is not a political endeavour. It is not loud or flashy, but a quiet side project: a somehow subversive, under-the-radar academic collaboration. It is an expression of what I love and am deeply committed to: scholarship. And I am privileged to share this commitment with two colleagues and friends.
As an illegal war rages, I remain committed to the original message: I condemn violence and killing. My heart goes out to those who have lost their loved ones, no matter how they have lost them. Bullets flying through the streets and bombs raining down on our country all kill and destroy. I condemn the present war on Iran. I condemn every past, present and future war on any country. I express my sympathy for those who are suffering across the region. This is not a political statement in support of one or the other group. There must be room for us to come together to grieve and mourn. I do not wave flags, and it breaks my heart when I witness the spread of death and destruction.
There remains much more to say, but I am not a commentator. Surrounded by political leaders who appear to compete in presenting ever greater caricatures of intellectually bankrupted and sinister jokers, I can only hope that we all find a moment of calm to reflect on the new day that is about to dawn. Irrespective of your religion or beliefs, please join those who celebrate Norouz in the hope that a peaceful renewal will not remain a distant ideal, but will become a reality.
The message we published was an expression of our humanity, and I would like to renew it. A single candle will burn on my Haft Sin in memory of those who have lost their lives, whether innocent schoolchildren killed in Minab, or protestors killed on the streets of Iran. I also mourn those killed and displaced across our region. As I said, I do not wave flags, and I do not accept the cynicism of those who seek to divide us.
Doch dunkelts dir, doch weicht die blaue,
Paul Celan
die Schwester Welt aus deiner Worte Mitte,
so leg den Riegel vor das Tor der Weite:
verhülln will ich die Scherben an der Herzwand –
In dieser Kammer bleibt dein Gehn ein Kommen.