It’s hard for us as well

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That night in April, when we heard the news that the Islamic regime of Iran had launched a major strike against Israel, our feelings were a combination of confusion, anxiety, fear and wrath. Confusion because of the stupidity that had happened, fear because of the vague future, fear because of the possible bloodshed, and wrath because it reminded us that a group of rigid reactionaries, whom a wise man once said their minds had never been updated in the past thousand years and that they are in fact incapable of updating their minds, are ruling our homeland. By we, I’m referring to my friends and I as a small Iranian community residing in Milan, Italy.

Social media was full of videos showing ascending flames from missiles tearing through the darkness of the night sky. Under normal circumstances, and if someone didn’t know that these flames were from a missile, it could be a poetic image. But, obviously not for us. While constantly checking the news, one was weeping because she had a nephew doing his military service in Iran and could be in danger if a real war broke out. The other was talking to his mother in Iran. The mother was trying to comfort him and reassure him that everything would be all right in the end. And I was telling a Swiss fellow how the events in the Middle East are more like a dark comedy than a tragedy! I showed him a Mr. Bean waiting meme with this text: Israel in wait for Iranian drones!

Originally, this idea of a dark comedy, not a tragedy, didn’t come to me that night. I first thought about it a few months earlier. But at that moment I brought it up not because of that meme, but because a childhood neighbor and friend of mine had sent me a video of one of those rising flames. This missile was coming out of a mountain that was quite familiar to us. Our neighborhood was in close proximity to it. Almost a decade ago, when we were in high school, Iranian state television released a video of an underground missile base. It was the first footage the Iranian regime had revealed of its huge missile bases. And since the TV report said that there are plenty of underground bases like this all over the country, and since we heard in the non-government TV channels (the Iranian opposition has been broadcasting several Persian channels via satellite since the 90s) that these military bases are probably built under mountains, we once argued whether there is a missile base under this mountain near our homes or not. I said “yes, I think there is one” (I didn’t know, it was just a child’s guess) but my friend was opposite. Well, he sent me the video of a missile coming out of that very mountain with this text: “How did you know?” Well, I was aware that no one can laugh at this story, but I considered it a dark comedy at that particular conditions.

None of us slept that night until the news announced the end of the attack, and frankly, the success of the Israeli air defense systems was a relief. In the days that followed, the attack and its aftermath was a topic of discussion with our non-Iranian friends, but we hardly talked about it among ourselves. It was like a trauma that we tried to avoid remembering. In fact, the next time I talked about it with an Iranian was when a member of our group of friends who was a political science student (the one who cried for her nephew) told me: “Today one of our professors, who is known to be a leftist, said in class that Iran’s failure in the attack was intentional and that the Islamic Republic regime didn’t want to kill and escalate the situation. They just wanted to maintain their reputation among their supporters”

Personally, I don’t have any idea whether the Islamic regime in Tehran is just a mockery without having the strength to harm Israel, or whether the failure of April was intentional to avert a battle. Such thoughts could not help us in the last eight days, and this week we all suffered from overthinking. After all, who can guarantee that this attack, if it happens, will be just like the previous one.

Iranians in Iran often despise us, the Iranians in the diaspora, that our sympathies are pathetic and fake. Because we are safe and they are trapped in the country, waiting for one week to see what their fate would be, war or the status quo. The emotional pain we have endured this week sounds so pampered to them. I wonder if the Israelis feel the same way or not. I think it’s important that you at least know it’s hard for us as well.