young iranians who want out

1
.. INTERNATIONAL EDITION | THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2021 ANITA HILL 30 YEARS’ WORTH OF PERSPECTIVE PAGE 17 | CULTURE FOOD SCHOLAR A HISTORIAN WITH LIFE SKILLS PAGE 19 | LIVING DREAMING BIG U.S. STATES DUST OFF INFRASTRUCTURE PLANS PAGE 7 | WORLD saw the 2015 nuclear deal with the United States as a reason for hope. But three years ago, President Don- ald J. Trump reneged on the agreement and reimposed harsh economic sanc- tions, leaving these Iranians feeling burned by the Americans and isolated under a newly elected president at home who is antithetical to their values — a Amir, an engineering master’s student standing outside Tehran University, had thought about going into digital market- ing, but worried that Iran’s government would restrict Instagram, as it had other apps. He had considered founding a start-up, but feared American sanctions and raging inflation would block his way. Every time he tried to plan, it seemed useless, said Amir, who at first would not give his real name. He was afraid of his country, he said, and he wanted to leave after graduation. “I’m a person who’s 24 years old, and I can’t imagine my life when I’m 45,” he said. “I can’t imagine a good future for myself or for my country. Every day, I’m thinking about leaving. And every day, I’m thinking about, if I leave my country, what will happen to my family?” This is life now for many educated ur- banites in Tehran, the capital, who once pushed for loosening social restrictions and opening Iran to the world, and who hard-liner vowing further defiance of the West. After years of sanctions, mismanage- ment and the pandemic, it is easy to put numbers to Iran’s economic struggles. Since 2018, many prices have more than doubled, living standards have skidded and poverty has spread, especially among rural Iranians. All but the wealthiest have been brought low. But there is no statistic for middle- class Iranians’ uncertainty and increas- ingly pinched aspirations. Their dark- ening mood can best be measured in missed milestones — in the rush to leave the country after graduation, in delayed marriages and declining birthrates. In conversations around Tehran dur- ing a recent visit, Iranians wavered be- tween faith and despair, hope and practi- cality, wondering how to make the best of a situation beyond their control. Bardja Ariafar, 19, and Zahra Saberi, 24, in Tehran for the day to run errands — he needed a phone, she had govern- ment paperwork — sat on a bench in Daneshjoo Park, exercising one of the subtle social freedoms Iranians have carved out under the strict theocracy in recent years. Despite a ban on gender mixing in public, men and women now sit together in the open. They are friends who work at Digikala, the Amazon of Iran, sorting goods in a warehouse in Karaj, a suburb now full of ex-Tehran residents seeking lower rents. Mr. Ariafar said he was sup- plementing his income as a computer programmer. Ms. Saberi, like many overqualified young Iranians, had not found a job that would let her use her Persian literature degree. If and when Ms. Saberi marries, she IRAN, PAGE 4 A Tehran bazaar. Iran’s currency, the rial, has lost about 70 percent of its value in the past few years, devastating the poor and sharply narrowing the aspirations of the middle class. PHOTOGRAPHS BY ARASH KHAMOOSHI FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES Young Iranians who want out TEHRAN Many see no future in an isolated country with a failing economy BY VIVIAN YEE Supporters of President Ebrahim Raisi in June. No one knows whether the ultracon- servative leader will curb the few social freedoms that Iranians have carved out. Hélène Barre, 35, lost her sense of smell when she fell ill with Covid-19 in Novem- ber, a condition known as anosmia. She was plagued during her slow recovery by disturbing distortions: Peanuts smelled like shrimp, raw ham like but- ter, rice like Nutella. The phantom scent of something burning still bothers her for hours at a time. Those symptoms would be troubling enough for anyone. But Ms. Barre is an oenologist, an expert on wines and winemaking. Her career, her livelihood, her passion — they all depend on one thing: her ability to smell. “It’s our work tool, our way of detect- ing problems,” said Ms. Barre, who works at a wine cooperative in Limoux, a town in southwestern France not far from Carcassonne. “We use it to de- scribe the wine, but also to analyze and criticize it.” “It’s like taking a bricklayer’s trowel away,” she said. “Very frustrating. And nerve-racking.” For millions worldwide, anosmia has become a telltale sign of Covid-19, often accompanied by the inability to taste anything more than basic characteris- tics like sweetness or saltiness. Com- pared with the disease’s more serious symptoms, though, and the risk of drawn-out illness or death, it is often ex- perienced as a minor, if jarring, incon- venience. But for professionals like Ms. Barre, smell is not a lesser sense — especially in France, with its celebrated cuisine, wines and perfumes. For sommeliers, perfumers, oenologists and others, smell is a skill honed over many years of identifying things like subtle notes of cit- rus in a perfume, or parsing the bouquet of a mature Bordeaux. FRANCE, PAGE 2 For them, it’s more than just a side effect PARIS Skilled ‘noses’ of France fear one Covid symptom could end their careers BY AURELIEN BREEDEN A trained and discriminating nose is essential for wine experts like Hélène Barre, who lost her sense of smell after contracting the coronavirus. “It’s our work tool,” she said. DMITRY KOSTYUKOV FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES The New York Times publishes opinion from a wide range of perspectives in hopes of promoting constructive debate about consequential questions. Xu Jiayin was China’s richest man, a symbol of the country’s economic rise who helped transform poverty-stricken villages into urbanized metropolises for the fledgling middle class. As his com- pany, China Evergrande Group, became one of the country’s largest property de- velopers, he amassed the trappings of the elite, with trips to Paris to taste rare French wines, a million-dollar yacht, private jets and access to some of the most powerful people in Beijing. “All I have and all that Evergrande Group has achieved were endowed by the party, the state and the whole soci- ety,” Mr. Xu said in a 2018 speech thank- ing the Chinese Communist Party for his success. China is threatening to take it all away. The debt that powered the country’s breakneck growth for decades is now jeopardizing the economy — and the government is changing the rules. Bei- jing has signaled that it will no longer tolerate the strategy of borrowing to fuel business expansion that turned Mr. Xu and his company into a real estate pow- erhouse, pushing Evergrande to the precipice. Last week, the company, which has unpaid bills totaling more than $300 bil- lion, missed a key payment to foreign in- vestors. That sent the world into a panic over whether China was facing its own so-called Lehman moment, a reference to the 2008 collapse of the Lehman Brothers investment bank that led to the global financial crisis. Evergrande’s struggles have exposed the flaws of the Chinese financial sys- tem — unrestrained borrowing, expan- sion and corruption. The company’s cri- sis is testing the resolve of Chinese lead- ers’ efforts to reform as they chart a new course for the country’s economy. If they save Evergrande, they risk sending a message that some compa- nies are still too big to fail. If they don’t, as many as 1.6 million home buyers waiting for unfinished apartments and hundreds of small businesses, creditors and banks may lose their money. “This is the beginning of the end of China’s growth model as we know it,” said Leland Miller, the chief executive officer of the consulting firm China Beige Book. “The term ‘paradigm shift’ is always overused, so people tend to ig- nore it. But that’s a good way of describ- ing what’s happening right now.” Mr. Xu and his company have mir- rored China’s own economic ascent from an agrarian economy to one that em- EVERGRANDE, PAGE 9 At precipice: A company that grew with China HONG KONG Evergrande finds rules that powered its rise are now being changed BY ALEXANDRA STEVENSON, MICHAEL FORSYTHE AND CAO LI Last week, as images emerged from America’s southern border of Border Patrol agents on horseback chasing Haitians and brandishing reins, the senior U.S. envoy to Haiti, Daniel Foote, resigned in protest over what he called the Biden administration’s “inhumane, counterproductive decision to deport thousands of Haitian refugees” seeking to enter the country. The immediate response from the White House to Mr. Foote’s resignation was to clarify that these were not depor- tations because “people are not coming into the country through legal methods” — a clarification that the American Civil Liberties Union criticized as beside the point because migrants have a right to claim asylum, regardless of their legal status. President Biden once vowed to “undo the moral and na- tional shame of the previous adminis- tration,” which he criticized for “bully- ing legitimate asy- lum seekers.” But at the moment, he is ratifying his prede- cessor’s legacy. Why is this erosion of asylum rights occur- ring, and how enduring should we ex- pect it to be? Here’s a bit of background: Before the Holocaust, the United States made little distinction between people fleeing their countries because of persecution and immigrants seeking economic opportunity. But the end of World War II gave rise to a new system of laws and organizations designed to help European refugees immigrate. In 1951 the United Nations adopted the Geneva Refugee Convention, which defined refugees as those who are un- able or unwilling to return to their coun- try because of persecution — or a well- founded fear of persecution — based on race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group or political opinion. In 1967 the U.N. expanded the scope of that definition, which had been limited to people fleeing events before 1951 and in Europe, to people fleeing any part of the world and to any time. The United States didn’t sign the Geneva Refugee Convention, but Con- gress adopted some of its key provi- sions, including the international refu- gee definition, into U.S. immigration law when it passed the Refugee Act of 1980. In the United States, a person must also meet this definition to be granted asy- lum: The primary difference, according to the International Rescue Committee, Biden takes a beating on immigration Spencer Bokat-Lindell OPINION He promised a “humane” policy. Images of U.S. agents menacing Haitians at the border tell a different story. BOKAT-LINDELL, PAGE 14 Stories that stay with you. Experience the power of The New York Times in print. Subscribe to the International Edition. nytimes.com/powerofprint Y(1J85IC*KKOKKR( +[!"!$!@!; Issue Number No. 43,090 Andorra € 5.00 Antilles € 4.50 Austria € 4.00 Belgium € 4.00 Bos. & Herz. KM 5.80 Britain £ 2.60 Cameroon CFA 3000 Croatia KN 24.00 Cyprus € 3.40 Czech Rep CZK 115 Denmark Dkr 37 Estonia € 4.00 Finland € 4.00 France € 4.00 Gabon CFA 3000 Germany € 4.00 Greece € 3.40 Hungary HUF 1100 Israel NIS 14.00/ Friday 27.50 Israel / Eilat NIS 12.00/ Friday 23.50 Italy € 3.80 Ivory Coast CFA 3000 Sweden Skr 50 Switzerland CHF 5.20 Syria US$ 3.00 The Netherlands € 4.00 Tunisia Din 8.00 Turkey TL 22 Poland Zl 19 Portugal € 3.90 Republic of Ireland 3.80 Serbia Din 300 Slovenia € 3.40 Spain € 3.90 Luxembourg € 4.00 Malta € 3.80 Montenegro € 3.40 Morocco MAD 35 Norway Nkr 40 Oman OMR 1.50 NEWSSTAND PRICES U.A.E. AED 15.00 United States Military (Europe) $ 2.30

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INTERNATIONAL EDITION | THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2021

ANITA HILL30 YEARS’ WORTHOF PERSPECTIVEPAGE 17 | CULTURE

FOOD SCHOLARA HISTORIANWITH LIFE SKILLSPAGE 19 | LIVING

DREAMING BIGU.S. STATES DUST OFFINFRASTRUCTURE PLANSPAGE 7 | WORLD

saw the 2015 nuclear deal with theUnited States as a reason for hope.

But three years ago, President Don-ald J. Trump reneged on the agreementand reimposed harsh economic sanc-tions, leaving these Iranians feelingburned by the Americans and isolatedunder a newly elected president at homewho is antithetical to their values — a

Amir, an engineering master’s studentstanding outside Tehran University, hadthought about going into digital market-ing, but worried that Iran’s governmentwould restrict Instagram, as it had otherapps. He had considered founding astart-up, but feared American sanctionsand raging inflation would block his way.

Every time he tried to plan, it seemeduseless, said Amir, who at first would notgive his real name. He was afraid of hiscountry, he said, and he wanted to leaveafter graduation.

“I’m a person who’s 24 years old, and Ican’t imagine my life when I’m 45,” hesaid. “I can’t imagine a good future formyself or for my country. Every day, I’mthinking about leaving. And every day,I’m thinking about, if I leave my country,what will happen to my family?”

This is life now for many educated ur-banites in Tehran, the capital, who oncepushed for loosening social restrictionsand opening Iran to the world, and who

hard-liner vowing further defiance ofthe West.

After years of sanctions, mismanage-ment and the pandemic, it is easy to putnumbers to Iran’s economic struggles.Since 2018, many prices have more thandoubled, living standards have skiddedand poverty has spread, especiallyamong rural Iranians. All but the

wealthiest have been brought low.But there is no statistic for middle-

class Iranians’ uncertainty and increas-ingly pinched aspirations. Their dark-ening mood can best be measured inmissed milestones — in the rush to leavethe country after graduation, in delayedmarriages and declining birthrates.

In conversations around Tehran dur-ing a recent visit, Iranians wavered be-tween faith and despair, hope and practi-cality, wondering how to make the bestof a situation beyond their control.

Bardja Ariafar, 19, and Zahra Saberi,24, in Tehran for the day to run errands— he needed a phone, she had govern-ment paperwork — sat on a bench inDaneshjoo Park, exercising one of thesubtle social freedoms Iranians havecarved out under the strict theocracy inrecent years. Despite a ban on gendermixing in public, men and women nowsit together in the open.

They are friends who work atDigikala, the Amazon of Iran, sortinggoods in a warehouse in Karaj, a suburbnow full of ex-Tehran residents seekinglower rents. Mr. Ariafar said he was sup-plementing his income as a computerprogrammer. Ms. Saberi, like manyoverqualified young Iranians, had notfound a job that would let her use herPersian literature degree.

If and when Ms. Saberi marries, she IRAN, PAGE 4

A Tehran bazaar. Iran’s currency, the rial, has lost about 70 percent of its value in the past few years, devastating the poor and sharply narrowing the aspirations of the middle class.PHOTOGRAPHS BY ARASH KHAMOOSHI FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

Young Iranians who want outTEHRAN

Many see no futurein an isolated countrywith a failing economy

BY VIVIAN YEE

Supporters of President Ebrahim Raisi in June. No one knows whether the ultracon-servative leader will curb the few social freedoms that Iranians have carved out.

Hélène Barre, 35, lost her sense of smellwhen she fell ill with Covid-19 in Novem-ber, a condition known as anosmia. Shewas plagued during her slow recoveryby disturbing distortions: Peanutssmelled like shrimp, raw ham like but-ter, rice like Nutella. The phantom scentof something burning still bothers herfor hours at a time.

Those symptoms would be troublingenough for anyone. But Ms. Barre is anoenologist, an expert on wines andwinemaking. Her career, her livelihood,her passion — they all depend on onething: her ability to smell.

“It’s our work tool, our way of detect-ing problems,” said Ms. Barre, who

works at a wine cooperative in Limoux,a town in southwestern France not farfrom Carcassonne. “We use it to de-scribe the wine, but also to analyze andcriticize it.”

“It’s like taking a bricklayer’s trowelaway,” she said. “Very frustrating. Andnerve-racking.”

For millions worldwide, anosmia hasbecome a telltale sign of Covid-19, oftenaccompanied by the inability to tasteanything more than basic characteris-tics like sweetness or saltiness. Com-pared with the disease’s more serioussymptoms, though, and the risk ofdrawn-out illness or death, it is often ex-perienced as a minor, if jarring, incon-venience.

But for professionals like Ms. Barre,smell is not a lesser sense — especiallyin France, with its celebrated cuisine,wines and perfumes. For sommeliers,perfumers, oenologists and others,smell is a skill honed over many years ofidentifying things like subtle notes of cit-rus in a perfume, or parsing the bouquetof a mature Bordeaux.FRANCE, PAGE 2

For them, it’s more than just a side effectPARIS

Skilled ‘noses’ of Francefear one Covid symptomcould end their careers

BY AURELIEN BREEDEN

A trained and discriminating nose is essential for wine experts like Hélène Barre, wholost her sense of smell after contracting the coronavirus. “It’s our work tool,” she said.

DMITRY KOSTYUKOV FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

The New York Times publishes opinionfrom a wide range of perspectives inhopes of promoting constructive debateabout consequential questions.

Xu Jiayin was China’s richest man, asymbol of the country’s economic risewho helped transform poverty-strickenvillages into urbanized metropolises forthe fledgling middle class. As his com-pany, China Evergrande Group, becameone of the country’s largest property de-velopers, he amassed the trappings ofthe elite, with trips to Paris to taste rareFrench wines, a million-dollar yacht,private jets and access to some of themost powerful people in Beijing.

“All I have and all that EvergrandeGroup has achieved were endowed bythe party, the state and the whole soci-ety,” Mr. Xu said in a 2018 speech thank-ing the Chinese Communist Party for hissuccess.

China is threatening to take it allaway.

The debt that powered the country’sbreakneck growth for decades is nowjeopardizing the economy — and thegovernment is changing the rules. Bei-jing has signaled that it will no longertolerate the strategy of borrowing to fuelbusiness expansion that turned Mr. Xuand his company into a real estate pow-erhouse, pushing Evergrande to theprecipice.

Last week, the company, which hasunpaid bills totaling more than $300 bil-lion, missed a key payment to foreign in-vestors. That sent the world into a panicover whether China was facing its ownso-called Lehman moment, a referenceto the 2008 collapse of the LehmanBrothers investment bank that led to theglobal financial crisis.

Evergrande’s struggles have exposedthe flaws of the Chinese financial sys-tem — unrestrained borrowing, expan-sion and corruption. The company’s cri-sis is testing the resolve of Chinese lead-ers’ efforts to reform as they chart a newcourse for the country’s economy.

If they save Evergrande, they risksending a message that some compa-nies are still too big to fail. If they don’t,as many as 1.6 million home buyerswaiting for unfinished apartments andhundreds of small businesses, creditorsand banks may lose their money.

“This is the beginning of the end ofChina’s growth model as we know it,”said Leland Miller, the chief executiveofficer of the consulting firm ChinaBeige Book. “The term ‘paradigm shift’is always overused, so people tend to ig-nore it. But that’s a good way of describ-ing what’s happening right now.”

Mr. Xu and his company have mir-rored China’s own economic ascent froman agrarian economy to one that em-EVERGRANDE, PAGE 9

At precipice:A companythat grewwith ChinaHONG KONG

Evergrande finds rulesthat powered its riseare now being changed

BY ALEXANDRA STEVENSON,MICHAEL FORSYTHE AND CAO LI

Last week, as images emerged fromAmerica’s southern border of BorderPatrol agents on horseback chasingHaitians and brandishing reins, thesenior U.S. envoy to Haiti, Daniel Foote,resigned in protest over what he calledthe Biden administration’s “inhumane,counterproductive decision to deportthousands of Haitian refugees” seekingto enter the country.

The immediate response from theWhite House to Mr. Foote’s resignationwas to clarify that these were not depor-tations because “people are not cominginto the country through legal methods”— a clarification that the American CivilLiberties Union criticized as beside thepoint because migrants have a right toclaim asylum, regardless of their legal

status.President Biden

once vowed to “undothe moral and na-tional shame of theprevious adminis-tration,” which hecriticized for “bully-ing legitimate asy-lum seekers.” But atthe moment, he isratifying his prede-cessor’s legacy. Why

is this erosion of asylum rights occur-ring, and how enduring should we ex-pect it to be?

Here’s a bit of background:Before the Holocaust, the United

States made little distinction betweenpeople fleeing their countries because ofpersecution and immigrants seekingeconomic opportunity. But the end ofWorld War II gave rise to a new systemof laws and organizations designed tohelp European refugees immigrate.

In 1951 the United Nations adoptedthe Geneva Refugee Convention, whichdefined refugees as those who are un-able or unwilling to return to their coun-try because of persecution — or a well-founded fear of persecution — based onrace, religion, nationality, membershipin a particular social group or politicalopinion. In 1967 the U.N. expanded thescope of that definition, which had beenlimited to people fleeing events before1951 and in Europe, to people fleeing anypart of the world and to any time.

The United States didn’t sign theGeneva Refugee Convention, but Con-gress adopted some of its key provi-sions, including the international refu-gee definition, into U.S. immigration lawwhen it passed the Refugee Act of 1980.In the United States, a person must alsomeet this definition to be granted asy-lum: The primary difference, accordingto the International Rescue Committee,

Biden takesa beating onimmigrationSpencer Bokat-Lindell

OPINION

He promiseda “humane”policy. Imagesof U.S. agentsmenacingHaitians at theborder tell adifferent story.

BOKAT-LINDELL, PAGE 14

Stories that stay with you.Experience the power of The New York Times in print.

Subscribe to the International Edition.

nytimes.com/powerofprint

Y(1J85IC*KKOKKR( +[!"!$!@!;

Issue NumberNo. 43,090Andorra € 5.00

Antilles € 4.50Austria € 4.00Belgium € 4.00Bos. & Herz. KM 5.80Britain £ 2.60

Cameroon CFA 3000Croatia KN 24.00Cyprus € 3.40Czech Rep CZK 115Denmark Dkr 37Estonia € 4.00

Finland € 4.00France € 4.00Gabon CFA 3000Germany € 4.00Greece € 3.40Hungary HUF 1100

Israel NIS 14.00/Friday 27.50

Israel / Eilat NIS 12.00/ Friday 23.50

Italy € 3.80Ivory Coast CFA 3000

Sweden Skr 50Switzerland CHF 5.20Syria US$ 3.00The Netherlands € 4.00Tunisia Din 8.00Turkey TL 22

Poland Zl 19Portugal € 3.90Republic of Ireland ¤� 3.80Serbia Din 300Slovenia € 3.40Spain € 3.90

Luxembourg € 4.00Malta € 3.80Montenegro € 3.40Morocco MAD 35Norway Nkr 40Oman OMR 1.50

NEWSSTAND PRICES

U.A.E. AED 15.00United States Military

(Europe) $ 2.30