12/3/00

Pirate's penance

    Reza Jaberi is misunderstood. His family doesn't understand him, his country doesn't, the people he worked for, the judge, his lawyer, his fellow prisoners, the media, in fact for a few days in 1995, the whole world misunderstood him. He can't understand why, because his message was simple: His country, he tried to explain in halting English, was evil.
    And that was why he hijacked an airplane.
    It was a curious story at the time: a domestic Iranian flight with 174 passengers was commandeered by its own flight attendant. Two Arab countries refused the pilot's request to land, and then running out of fuel, in desperation he asked to land in Tel Aviv. Arch-enemy Israel, fearing a kamikaze attack but unable to ignore the plea, let them land at Uvda air field north of Eilat.
    While Iran shrieked about a "Zionist conspiracy" and demanded the safe return of its citizens, the hijacker requested political asylum. In court, he reportedly announced his intention to convert and find a Jewish woman to marry.
    Never a dull moment, we all chuckled in amusement, and the episode was soon forgotten.

"I WANTED to make a noise about Iran," Reza says. "I didn't just want to leave; if I had simply asked for asylum, no one would have noticed. I wanted the world to pay attention to what's happening there, because nobody understands how bad it is. I wanted the Iranians to talk about things like freedom."
    A handsome young man of 33 from a town near Tabriz, Reza is gentle and softspoken, but coolly shrewd. He performs his interview with an intensity broken by the occasional flashy smile.
    "When the revolution happened I was 12 years old. I grew up with it, and I saw it was wrong. When I decided to leave, I was not allowed, because I was a Hercules flight technician in the air force." The army continued to hold his passport when he went to work as a steward for Kish Air, a military-operated domestic airline.
    Despite his plum job, he considered himself a prisoner of conscience. He was not free to leave; he says he was required to pray, and to observe Islamic discipline, although he is avowedly non-religious; he could not speak his mind.
    His plot germinated over the course of a year, while he contemplated his options.
    "I could have crossed the border illegally, but I saw what happened to the three million Iranians who left like this. They are in a bad situation, and they can't go back. That was too dangerous. I would lose my family, my friends, my property, everything."
    Not that his prospects are any better as a convicted air pirate. But, he says, he wanted to make a splash, a political statement about his wayward country.
    Once he had control of a plane, where to take it? Many Iranian pilots had defected to Iraq, and no one paid any attention to them. And Reza was going to be noticed. There was a fine choice of other Arab countries, but no; he could do better.
    "Why Israel? Israel and Iran are enemies. I was sure if the media knew about it, I wouldn't be returned for any price. Israel is a free country, I know the media from all over the world have contacts here, and I could speak to journalists here. And coming to Israel from Iran would be so sensitive, surprising, strange: It never happened in history." 
    Reza used his savvy as an insider to plan a foolproof hijacking. That bit about Saudi Arabia and Jordan rejecting his request to land was a ruse. "I went to the cabin, showed the pilot my gun, and said to go to Saudi Arabia." Reza knew that international policy is to automatically refuse the first request. "The pilot said he would ask again, but I said no, they don't want, don't ask again. We'll go somewhere else." He didn't say Israel first because he was afraid it would continue to say no; he gave Israel no choice after Jordan, too, refused. "Israel also said no the first time, but I said we should keep asking."
    Clever Reza. "The pilot said, 'but I don't have a map (for Israel).' I said that's ok, I brought a map."

REZA JABERI is a bit sensitive about this thing being called a hijacking. It is, he says, a misunderstanding.
    "I can't say it was a hijacking; I wanted to transmit one airplane full of passengers from Iran to a free country."
    Transmit.
    "My idea was to go to Tel Aviv and talk to the media, to tell why I did it. I wanted to explain that I was sorry about it, it was wrong -- if I had another choice maybe I wouldn't have done it.
    "I planned a program to transmit one airplane, but I know in the law it's a hijacking, yeah." He explains the difference: "But in a hijacking they need something: money, a prisoner. I was just a hijacker who wanted to make noise. I know many hijackers want freedom, they go to America, or from China to Taiwan, they want just freedom. I didn't want to kidnap passengers, I didn't want to [make threats].
    "I didn't want to hijack, I wanted to transmit one airplane."
    He smiles expansively. "Israelis joke with me: Maybe I'd like to do it again, with an El Al plane? No. I was very sorry. When the plane landed I asked to speak to the passengers, to explain why I did it, and to say I was sorry."
    As it turned out, he didn't have to apologize to all the passengers: six of them promptly asked for asylum. They were turned down. "If Israel had accepted them it would have been so nice, they could have talked like I wanted to talk, about why they didn't want to go back, and they would not have been in prison."
    Prison was not part of his plan.
    "I didn't think I would go to prison," he laughs. "Never. For a short time yes, I thought, to check that I am not a spy. I expected Israel would understand my situation, and understand me. But I know it was a hijacking, against international law, and I am also against it. I think anyone who hijacks a plane from one democratic country to another, they should get very harsh punishment. But from Iran, because of the situation there, I thought they would understand me."
    Reza could have been sentenced to 20 years, but he got eight. President Weizman commuted one year, and Reza was released for good behavior a month ago, after serving four and a half years. An Iranian Jew in the Tel Aviv area, who had taken up his cause, sheltered him until a few days ago, when temporary sanctuary was provided by a kibbutz near Hadera.
    It is ironic that he finished his jail term precisely when Iranians were about to vote for reform. Now that he is finally free to justify his crime to the media, no one is moved.
    Sometimes, he says, he is frightened by himself, by what he did. "It is so hard to be called a criminal. The word 'hijacker' is very strong. In my heart I am not a criminal. I am against any crime."
    To help set the record straight -- such as that part about wanting to convert and marry a Jew ("No, I didn't say that, my first lawyer didn't understand me"), and when he flashed a two-fingered "V" in his first court appearance ("I meant it to say 'peace,' but the journalists didn't understand, they thought I meant 'victory,' as if I was a big hero") -- he is planning to write a book about the adventure.
    He feels he has some explaining to do. "Iran was very against me, I'm sure. They think I'm a traitor, but I'm not, I love my country, I love my people. To Iran I say, let the people express their opinions, let the majority decide. Yes, they are angry with me in Iran."
    He was able to telephone his family direct, but they never knew he was in prison. "They think just that I'm outside Iran all this time. They miss me so much, I miss them so much. I have a sister and three brothers. My mother was sick, she needs a kidney transplant. But they are safe, the government didn't make any trouble for them.
    "My family is very sorry, very angry at me. But they are my family, I am their child. It hurts, because they cannot understand me."

UPDATE: Reza took up residence in Eilat, where he is working in a hotel.