In Italy, where I currently live, the ego is practically a national monument. When I’m sitting in a cafe here in Messina and an Italian student wants to answer a question, they start with a loud, chest-thumping “Io” (I). They own the opinion. They own the space. It is absolute “Main Character Energy.”
If you do that in Tehran, people will hate you.
Okay, “hate” is a strong word. But if you walk into a room in Iran and constantly say Man (من) , the Farsi word for “I” , you will be perceived as arrogant, raw, and socially uncalibrated. You might know your Farsi grammar perfectly. You might know that Man technically means “I”. But if you tell a potential father-in-law “I decided this,” you sound like a dictator.
To speak like a local, and not like a tourist with a textbook, you have to understand a fundamental rule of Persian etiquette: The individual does not exist. The group does.
The “Reverse Royal We”
In European history, kings and queens used the “Royal We” (Pluralis Majestatis) to inflate their size. “We are not amused,” said Queen Victoria, implying she was so massive she counted as multiple people.
In Iran, we use the plural to shrink ourselves. It is a Reverse Royal We.
When you refer to yourself as Ma (ما) — “We” — instead of Man (من) — “I” — you are signaling humility. You are suggesting that your opinion isn’t just yours; it’s a collective thought, or that you are simply too insignificant to stand alone.
If you say Man mikham (من میخوام) — “I want” — you are making a demand. If you say Ma mikhastim (ما میخواستیم) — “We wanted” — you are making a suggestion. Even if you are literally the only person in the room, using the plural softens the blow of your presence. It turns a command into a collaboration.
Strategic Ambiguity: A Political Science Perspective
I study Political Science, so I look at language through the lens of power dynamics. In a high-stakes culture like Iran, language is your primary defense system.
Using “We” isn’t just about being nice; it is strategic ambiguity. If you say, “I propose this plan,” and the plan fails, you are the idiot. You own the failure. But if you say, “We propose this plan,” and it fails, it was a collective misalignment.
By using Ma (We), you spread the risk. You remove the target from your back. It is a linguistic insurance policy against the “Evil Eye” (Cheshm) and social judgment. In the West, we are taught to take credit. In Iran, we are taught to deflect blame.
The Ultimate Humility Hack Enter “Bandeh”
If Ma is for general politeness, then Bandeh (بنده) is for when you need to completely disarm someone.
Bandeh literally translates to “Slave” or “Servant.”
Now, don’t freak out. When a businessman in Tehran says, Bandeh arz kardam (بنده عرض کردم) — “This servant stated…” — he isn’t offering to clean your shoes. He is performing a verbal bow. He is voluntarily lowering his status so that your status appears higher by comparison.
This is the core of Tarof (Persian ritual politeness). In the West, negotiation is about two people trying to look big. In Iran, the winner is often the one who knows how to look small to gain trust.
However, there is a grammar trap here that catches almost all my students. If you use Bandeh, you generally keep the verb singular. You are a servant, but you are still one person.
- Correct: Bandeh goftam (This servant said).
- Wrong: Bandeh goftim (This servant we said). That just sounds confused.
So, Who Are You Today?
Don’t go around calling yourself a slave at a hip pizza place in Northern Tehran. You will look like a weirdo or a sycophant (Chaploos). Context is everything.
If you are with your friends or family, use Man (I). Be authentic. If you are with strangers, professors, or taxi drivers, switch to Ma (We). Be safe. If you are talking to your boss, a police officer, or a potential client, deploy Bandeh (The Servant). Be diplomatic.
Language frames your reality. In English, the reality is “Me vs. The World.” In Farsi, the reality is a network where standing out is dangerous. If you want to survive the social streets of Iran, stop being an “I” and start being a “We.”
Reading this is easy; using it is hard. I’m a PolSci student in Italy, and I can teach you the real context behind these words.
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