Most of you have heard about the recent military conflict between Iran, Israel, and the US. It was headline news for several days until the temporary cease-fire was put into place on June 24. Most of you who know me are aware that I migrated to the US from Tehran, Iran, about 40 years ago (exactly 40 years ago this August). I grew up in Tehran and moved here when I was 20 years old, so I like to think that I migrated to this country as a boy and became a man here. This country, for all practical reasons, is my home. I call it home when I am travelling abroad, and I feel like coming back home when I am returning. I love this country and the life I was able to create for myself here. Almost all my contacts, friends, colleagues, and social network are in the US. I have only been back to Iran once, for about three weeks, and about 22 years ago. However, there is still a portion of my heart, a significant piece of me, that is emotionally entangled with Iran. The connection is very real and so deep that, for example, I cry when it's bombed, and cheer when it's sports teams win in global tournaments. I am concerned about its youth and their future, and have tried to help in small ways whenever possible. I have provided financial assistance to help with educational expenses or necessary medical needs. I have also tried to echo their voices through my music, explain the complexity of their culture in my writings, and contribute in any other way I can.

In the days of the armed conflict and bombings, all Iranians who live outside of the country in the diaspora have been fixated on the news coming out of Iran. However, not everyone was unhappy with the war efforts, and some believed that it could be a way for Iran to free itself from the tight grip of the Islamic autocratic regime, which has been ruling it since 1979. In fact, there is an odd dynamic within the Iranian diaspora in their opposition to the current regime. Obviously, most of them love Iran and care for its future, but are sharply divided in how they foresee that path. Many believe that it will only happen through outside influence and force, including military intervention or a coup d'état. Some believe it needs to happen from inside and through another popular revolution. And some think that it will take a gradual transition rather than a sudden transformation, which might take years, if not decades. They perhaps all share the same degree of love for, and emotional bond to, Iran, but differ in their vision for its future.

The division within the Iranian diaspora regarding their prescription for the best path to a better future for Iran is somewhat similar to the sociopolitical division I have been witnessing in the US over the last two decades or so. I remember hearing the phrase, "existential threat," by both political parties of the US at least in the last three Presidential Elections. I have written about this phenomenon in several of my recent pieces, mentioning that the recent political environment in the US reminds me of what I witnessed in Iran during the 1979 revolution. Families were fighting and arguing passionately about their differing viewpoints, which often resulted in deep divisions within them. Siblings, parents, couples, and cousins went incommunicado for months or even years. In a sense, all are coming from a caring place and share a deep love for the country they left behind, but differ in the way they envision it, which is somewhat similar to how I see my American friends fight and argue about what's best for this country.

I have not been immune to this and have argued with friends and participated in lengthy discussions about my thoughts and feelings regarding what's best for the future of Iran. I have joined demonstrations, contributed to various political groups and movements, and created music that reflects some of the unfair practices of the current Iranian regime toward its people. However, I have not been as depressed and concerned over the past few years about Iran as I have been over the last few days of bombing. Although the bombings were pretty much countrywide, they primarily affected and flattened many areas of Tehran, the city where I grew up. Maybe because some of the neighborhoods destroyed were alleyways and streets that I used to play soccer in as a kid, or walk to school from, or pass love letters to my teenage crushes in, or talk for hours in a payphone kiosk on its corner, etc, etc. The pain I have been dealing with this time has cut too deep and camped too close to my heart to the point that I have started pondering its root cause. I say root cause, since, of course, and on the surface, it is obvious that I still have an emotional bond with the country where I spent the first 20 years of my life, not to mention that I have a few relatives and friends still living there. But I started talking to friends and meditating on my pain more (as Rumi says, look for answers to all your questions within) and realized that there is an undeniable element of guilt present. There is a part of me that feels heavy with guilt for leaving that country to create a better life for myself outside of it, as if I escaped a burning building with my life and left all the other occupants behind to burn. It is actually not factitious to say that I escaped with my life, since it was during the Iran/Iraq war when Saddam was attacking Iran with long-range rockets. Even sadder than that, I lost one of my closest friends in that war!

I have carried that "cross" on my back ever since I arrived here, and it has been weighing on my shoulders over the past 40 years. It has been with me during all my sadness and joy, all my failures and achievements, all my climbs and falls. Not that I don't feel lucky and blessed for the life I've made for myself. Not that I don't recognize the amazing chance and am not thankful for the great opportunity given to be here and thrive in a free country, and do as I like with my life. But there is a part of my psyche and a nagging voice in my head that blames me for leaving and not staying to burn. I know it's not logical to think that way, but most affairs of the heart defy logic. The weight of that cross is also one of the primary reasons that I don't allow myself to make plans, to prescribe paths for salvation, to decide for the people of Iran and ask them to do what I think is the right way to gain freedom, from my safehouse, thousands of miles away from the fire. Again, I know this might not sit well with many of my dearest friends from within the diaspora, but I somehow have a hard time rooting for bombing the country that I escaped from.

I was very active in another movement that started from within the country about two years ago, the Women, Life, Freedom movement. I protested, donated, spent time and resources to provide support for kids who were fighting the regime from inside the country, so brave! Many have lost their lives, many have lost their sight (they were shooting them in the face with BB Guns), and many are still in the draconian prisons of the criminal regime, being tortured. To me, that was different. That was a movement that arose from within the country, mainly led by its youth, who were literally fighting for a better future. I was 100% behind it and still am to this day, but bombing? I'm not too crazy about that. I just have a general problem with wars, all wars for that matter. I feel the same sense of disgust from the war between Ukraine and Russia, the war in Gaza, and the current situation in Iran. As a species, we have not evolved and still fight wars for the same reasons and in much the same way we have for the last several thousand years. Old men send young men & women to die for their arguments and disputes, and kill innocent bystanders as collateral damage in the process. That's just beyond stupid; it's shameful! Is this really the statement we are making about humanity in the 21st century? Have we learned nothing?! Are we really that primitive to still use military conflicts and wars to resolve our differences or to impose our powers? Haven't we killed enough of our own in the last several thousand years and still feel the need to fight over whose god's better, who was here first, and need all the resources, and who can show more might by killing more of the other side? Is that really how we still define victory, by the number of buildings we destroy and people we kill? Close to a million people have died so far in the Ukraine/Russia conflict, which continues to this day! Most of them were young men and women who left their lives behind, just like my dear friend Saeed, who died about 40 years ago in a war that he had absolutely nothing to do with. We had plans to leave the country together and build a life in the US. I still hang his "dog tag" around my neck when I go on stage, or have a lecture, or pretty much anytime I am basking in the fruits of my hard work in America, I never forget.

I heard somewhere that we have two choices when faced with harsh situations in life: either let them define us, or refine us. I am sad to see that we often let our differences and disagreements define us rather than learning from them and allowing them to refine us. I like to end this piece with a phrase from Mahatma Gandhi: "There is enough on this planet for everyone's need, but not everyone's greed."

Be well,
Siamak