Looking at Iran from afar

He cast his vote thousands of miles away, but Mohammad Mirhosseini feels more united with his fellow Iranians than ever.

It was mid-afternoon on June 12 in Champaign, where a polling place was set up for Iranian citizens to vote in the presidential election. But results were already in: Mahmoud Ahmadinejad had retained office by a landslide, claiming 63 percent of the vote.

Mirhosseini, an economics professor at Northern Illinois University's DeKalb campus who backed reformist Mir Hossein Moussavi, was instantly depressed by the news, he said. The polls were slow after that, but one man came right before the polls closed, offering words that encouraged Mirhosseini: "I tried my best," the voter said.

"Many people participated because they felt it was an opportunity for them to say 'no,SSRq" Mirhosseini said of the recent election. But the post-election turmoil has local Iranians wondering what that participation – through voting or by protesting the results – means for Iran's future.

Moussavi supporters took to the streets a few days after the election, the largest protest since the 1979 Islamic revolution. The next day, foreign media were banned from the streets of Tehran, Iran's capital city.

Because phone and Internet connections are blocked, it has been difficult for Mirhosseini to communicate with friends and family back home, he said. He's able to reach his mother by phone every few days, but it sometimes takes several failed attempts before he can connect.

When he called his mother two days after a shooting that happened about a block from where she lives, she recounted her view from the window: people running, gunshots being fired.

Like Mirhosseini, Pejman Arbabi has had a hard time connecting with family and friends during the unrest. Both rely on information from Facebook, YouTube and other Web sites because of the ban on foreign media.

Arbabi, 23, is a graduate student studying industrial engineering at NIU. Born and raised in Tehran, he represents what he calls "the new generation" – a generation that was born into the current regime and has somewhat been turned off by Islam because of its ubiquity in setting policy. Arbabi considers himself a "free Muslim," one who doesn't follow Islam strictly.

"You can't base politics on religion," Arbabi said. He believes that a change in political power will mean a freer Iran, a richer Iran and a better-educated population. The election was an "excuse," he said – a trigger for showing opposition to the status quo that had been building for years.

Arbabi's relatives in Tehran are safe from the violence. He said it's too early to tell how the last few weeks' uprising will affect everyday life, but for now, his relatives avoid the main squares if they go shopping around Tehran.

On Monday, Iran's Guardians Council recounted 10 percent of the total ballot boxes after defeated candidates alleged that Ahmadinejad's victory was rigged. The outcome was the same, but Arbabi is hopeful that it doesn't end there.

"This is the beginning of their end," he said.

Mirhosseini, on the other hand, is less hopeful over what the election and its aftermath might mean.

"Personally, I don't feel good about the future," he said, noting that the disconnect between the administration and the people it serves may backlash with more violence and stricter policies.

However, as both Iranian men watch from DeKalb as their nation takes the spotlight, they hope the world will gain a new understanding of those directly affected by the actions.

"People in Iran are really trying to get free," Mirhosseini said.