The scales fall from Roger Cohen's eyes on Iran - sort of

I've argued for engagement with Iran and I still believe in it, although, in the name of the millions defrauded, President Obama's outreach must now await a decent interval.

Iran exists still, of course, but today it is a dislocated place. Angry divisions have been exposed, between founding fathers of the revolution - Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, the supreme leader, and Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, the former president - and between the regime and the people.

Khamenei, under pressure from Rafsanjani, appeared ready to let the election unfold, but he reversed course, under pressure, or perhaps even diktat, from the Revolutionary Guards and other powerful constituencies.

A harsh clampdown is underway. It's unclear how far, and for how long, Iranians can resist.

On Vali Asr, the handsome avenue that was festive until the vote, crowds swarmed as night fell, confronting riot police and tear gas. "Moussavi, Moussavi. Give us back our votes," they chanted.

Majir Mirpour grabbed me. A purple bruise disfigured his arm. He raised his shirt to show a red wound across his back. "They beat me like a pig," he said, breathless. "They beat me as I tried to help a woman in tears. I don't care about the physical pain. It's the pain in my heart that hurts."

He looked at me and the rage in his eyes made me want to toss away my notebook.