Free Children of Jihad: A Young American's Travels Among the Youth of the Middle East by Jared Cohen Page B

resist the opportunity to booze it up when the mullahs weren’t looking?
    The whole experience was beginning to remind me of my teenage years. Before we could buy alcohol legally, my friends and I would drink just about anything for the indulgence of a little bit of youthful insubordination. The foul taste of the alcohol in the white jugs would prove reminiscent of the concoctions we used to contrive from whatever we could smuggle from our parents’ liquor cabinets. The only difference here—and it wasn’t a small one—was the stakes. In high school, getting caught drinking will get most kids grounded. In Iran, getting caught with alcohol will almost certainly result in a lashing for the offender.
    When I inquired about where he and his friends bought their alcohol, Cirrus told me that they used to call an illegal alcohol distributor, who would come over on a moped and deliver the goods. Cirrus and Pedram, however, had the fortunate connection of a friend in Tehran who prepared alcohol in his bathtub and sink, at least when his parents, with whom he lived, were away on vacation. Even though I drank the stuff, I would be lying if I didn’t say I found it pretty rough and potent. Iranian moonshine.
    All things considered, the setting seemed somehow familiar, and I found myself increasingly comfortable. As he drove, Cirrus talked about his romantic dilemma: He had been dating one girl for two years, but she was very conservative and pressuring him to get married, which Cirrus was not at all prepared to do, telling me he “still wanted to have my fun.” He sounded like a typical American college student having a candid chat with a friend. They loved hearing stories about what American nightlife was like and I did my best to accommodate them with descriptions. While they thought the big clubs, fancy lounges, and lively bars that I spoke of sounded exciting, I was drawn to and excited about the prospect of underground secret parties in Iran. I guess we all want to experience what is unfamiliar to us.
     
     
     
    P edram also had a romantic dilemma. Unlike Cirrus, who had met his girlfriend in school, Pedram’s love had developed over an Internet social network called Orkut. He described an Internet courtship that involved flirtatious messages, postings on each other’s profiles, and eventually an arrangement to meet. “Jared, it was love at first sight,” he told me. If the Internet has become a newly acceptable way for people to meet in America—JDate, Friendster, MySpace, and other sites—it did not surprise me that in a restricted and censored society, youth would look to digital connections as a replacement for clubs and bars.
    What did surprise me was the digital freedom that Iranian youth experienced. The Internet is growing in Iran, and while owning a computer remains the luxury of the upper classes, the growing number of Internet cafés has made the Internet widely accessible to a broad swath of Iranians. The Internet is a place where Iranian youth can operate freely, express themselves, and obtain information on their own terms. As they communicate with one another, users of the Internet in Iran can be anyone and say anything they want as they operate free from the grips of the police-state apparatus. The Internet cafés allow young Iranians to interact over the World Wide Web without having to worry about the government tracing their IP address back to their homes. While many Iranians are still without Internet access, the number of those connected is rapidly increasing each day. Under the pretenses of an ambiguous or fake identity, young Iranians really do exercise a relative amount of autonomy in their thinking over the Internet. It is true that the government tries to monitor their online discussions and interactions, but this is a virtually impossible enterprise. The regime focuses most of its efforts on targeting the blogosphere and specific opposition Web sites for blocking. Resilient as they are,