When I moved from a small town in Eastern Kurdistan (northwestern Iran) to Tehran for higher education, I encountered a completely different world. In the dormitory, my roommates came from all over Iran, each with a different language, dialect, religion, and culture. Living alongside them unintentionally taught me that, despite differences, there are fundamental similarities among cultures. From within those differences and similarities, dialogue was possible, diversity could be appreciated, and sometimes, one could deeply empathize with other ethnicities.
This experience not only made me question my beliefs, but also helped me understand more deeply that truth does not belong to me alone, nor to anyone exclusively.
While this awareness broadened my perspective, it also left me filled with doubt. At times, I couldn’t take action: on the one hand, I was afraid of repeating history and saw the futility of activism; and on the other hand, when I saw the faith and hope of some of my friends, I felt guilty. Sometimes I felt I had fallen into relativism, as the Austrian-American sociologist Peter Ludwig Berger defines it, even though that word didn’t fully describe my state.
Mostly in silence, I searched for a truth that made sense to me personally, more than one that would lead to activism. This confusion made me feel I belonged nowhere; and occasionally, I envied those who passionately followed a belief. They belonged to something, and I only felt the absence of it.
Doubt in theory, doubt in fiction
In the end, I was torn inside until two books from two very different worlds – In Praise of Doubt: How to Have Convictions Without Becoming a Fanatic, the 2009 book by Berger and co-author Anton C. Zijderveld, and Bachtyar Ali’s 2019 novel Deryas u Lashekan (Daryas and the Bodies) – helped me reach a clearer understanding.
I read Berger’s book first, but its impact only became clear after reading Ali’s novel, which gave concrete form to the ideas Berger and Zijderveld describe. The character Daryas was the person I wished I could be. Perhaps not all readers would feel this way, but for me, the two characters of Daryas and Elias represent two key concepts: doubt and faith. Through them, Ali shows how doubt and uncertainty can be a form of resistance, and why, in fundamentalist societies, doubt is seen as something to be rejected. As Berger and Zijderveld also emphasize, reasonable doubt is essential for democracy and dialogue.
Berger and Zijderveld present a few key concepts in their book that are clearly reflected in Ali’s novel.
First, the true believer is someone who sees their beliefs as absolute and unquestionable truth. For them, faith means the unconditional acceptance of a single, fixed truth, and doubt is a kind of betrayal. They follow an ideology or leader without the capacity for inner dialogue or questioning. In the novel, Elias is such a person. He sees truth only through faith in the character of General Bilal (about whom more later) and the revolution. His faith is blind and submissive. Although he seeks change, in practice he surrenders to total obedience.
In contrast, the agnostic is someone who not only allows doubt, but sees it as a moral necessity. Fair doubt allows a person to reach beliefs with intellectual and ethical grounding. Daryas is such a character in the novel. He not only doubts and questions, but continues his search for truth even in isolation. Doubt is his way of understanding more.
The third concept is certainty: that is, belief in a fixed truth that, if rigid, leads to prejudice and fundamentalism. Berger warns that faith without doubt is dangerous and can lead to violence. In the novel, Elias represents this certainty. In contrast, Daryas shows a balance between faith and doubt.
Finally, Berger and Zijderveld warn about the dangers of relativism: endless doubt can lead to meaninglessness and disbelief, where no truth is worth defending. The goal of their book is to find a balance between blind faith and endless skepticism. In the novel, Daryas neither falls into disbelief nor becomes a fanatic. His doubt is committed, and this quality makes him an independent actor.
Elias the believer, Daryas the questioner
From the beginning, Elias needs something to worship. He reads religious books and biographies in search of someone or something to revere. When he finds General Bilal, he instantly devotes himself to him. He never questions the general’s goals. Truth doesn’t matter to him; what matters is having faith. When Daryas asks if he himself needs the revolution or the General, he replies: “My life began the moment I believed in the General.” He even threatens his own brother, who tries to shake him from this blind faith: “Never speak badly of the General, or I’ll treat you like an enemy.”
For Elias, faith means belonging – and for the sake of that belonging, he is ready to kill and be killed. He is the true believer: with absolute faith, denying doubt, and ready to commit violence in the name of certainty.
Daryas is everything Elias is not. He is described as antisocial, clumsy, weak, but always inquiring. From the start, he separates himself from illusion and seeks answers to his questions. In a city where people are either silent or fanatic, he remains a questioner.
While others elevate the General to the level of a god, Daryas studies archives to understand the city’s past and the roots of the revolution. At the General’s funeral, while the crowd chants “The General is immortal,” he says: “No, he dies too” – even though he’s the only one who has seen the General after his staged death. Daryas doesn’t seek worship, he seeks answers. He realizes that history in this city keeps repeating and people keep forgetting; that this revolution, like the ones before it, does not want real change. He concludes that people “fight over the names of God, not His existence.”
But for Daryas, doubt and independence bring loneliness. He suffers from isolation and doubt and, while he occasionally tastes the brief joy of belonging, he knows he cannot be part of this madness. Even when he helps an old woman collect corpses, his brother threatens him – because they collect the dead without caring which group they belonged to. He is afraid, he does not appear strong, but he seeks truth, even when that truth separates him from the crowd. He is accused of inaction, but he is one of the few who doesn’t get caught in the cycle of violence and fundamentalism – and at times, he even breaks it.
Daryas stands against social expectations and remains independent. Despite all his weaknesses and loneliness, he is willing to look at the violence –violence led by his own brother – with open eyes, to suffer, but not to become part of it. His brother says he never thinks about his actions because he and the revolution are inseparable. In the end, Daryas buries his brother’s body in an unknown place so that the followers of the General won’t turn him into another idol.
The characters of Elias and Daryas made Berger and Zijderveld’s book more real for me. I feared Elias’ faith and envied Daryas’ doubt. From the perspective of both books, the certainty of believers creates new gods in the form of political leaders, ideologies, or any other fixed idea – and ultimately leads to violence. But productive doubt and questioning are essential for building a healthy society. Daryas symbolizes what we need now more than ever: a human being who dares to doubt and seeks truth, rather than blindly following.
Tala Rostami is a researcher with a master’s degree in sociology.
