We live in a world full of hypocrisy, not least shown in British politics.
My MP was amongst those who rejected to accept 3,000 unaccompanied children to the UK, back in 2016. Yet, he belongs to a party who's leader stated that we striked Syria recently on humanitarian grounds. So in essence we have the money to bomb a country on humanitarian grounds yet no money to help the very same civilians who require safety from chemical weapons, bombs, bullets and torture.
We also have an opposition leader who was formerly part of the Stop the War Coalition and advocating for no British involvement (and in extension no Western involvement) in Syria militarily yet we hear no words of condemnation of Russian and Iranian terrorism in Syria despite the continuous Russian vetoes at the UN security council. It's ironic how Stop the War activists complain about British and American imperialism but not one word in protest of Russian and Iranian imperialism in Syria. One Russian ambassador stated that "the Syrian people support Russian involvement". Anyone care to find a Syrian that welcomes Russian fighter jets dropping bombs on schools, hospitals and residential areas? (Scrap that, I can imagine all the pro-Assadists being gleeful about bombing "terrorists".)
It would be great to see the opposition leader give alternative solutions to military intervention if that's what he so passionately believes in and change the debate from "let's not intervene militarily" and doing nothing else to paving the way for real change in how British foreign policy deals with the Middle East so that as a country we can intervene in a way he believes is humanely possible. But all we have is an opposition leader who gives talk of diplomacy but when it comes down to it, doesn't walk the walk and a government who bombs and strikes a country on humanitarian grounds as a result of chemical weapon use but doesn't extend the courtesy of helping the very same people who require safety from the very same chemical weapons use we are supposedly making a stand against as well as bombs, bullets and torture. But we also have a government who finds it perfectly acceptable that the Syrian government and its allies use barrel bombs, bullets and torture on Syrians, just as long as it ain't chemical weapons. Go figure.
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Tuesday, February 06, 2018
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Nostalgia
It was the summer of 2002 and I was in Latakia and I kept hearing this song everywhere I went. I hated Arab songs, with a passion. But this one was stuck in my head. I remember I put on the TV one time I was in the hotel, for something to play in the background whilst I was getting ready. And the song came on. I remember watching the music video. I always felt that Arab singers were incredibly cheesy (with this singer being no exception). But nonetheless I liked the the melody. I'm not sure what it was but it always put me in a good mood.
Now when I hear it, I'm always transported back to the sandy beaches and salty waters of Latakia, with clear blue skies and a temperature in excess of 40oC. And then there was the hustle and bustle of the outdoor market areas not far out from where we were staying. I remember the first time I bargained with someone on one of the stalls and I was so chuffed with myself as I had brought a purple inflatable teletubby for my younger sister for less than half its price. Then there was the other time we went to the outdoor food market, which wasn't incredibly busy but the stall owners were nonetheless shouting away, calling out the prices and offers of their produce. I was just watching them thinking how different life is here to what I'm accustomed. Time always stood still as if it had no meaning. Nothing happened. A time when all the young people seemed to be flirting with each other but still appearing innocent in front of the elders. And this song, in my mind, was Latakia. And I miss those moments of calm, serenity and innocence. For me, Syria wasn't just about the people. It was the ancient history so embedded in the fabric of the country. The cobbled streets. The markets. The beaches. The food. The cars honking away. And people just getting on with their lives in a timeless era.
I often wonder now, the fate of those I met and knew. Do they still wander the sandy shores of Latakia? And the stall owners, are they still there, shouting away the price and offers of their produce? And the young lady in the grocery store who turned 30 on that summer of 2002 and didn't want to marry but wanted to make her own living and depend on herself (whom I admired immensely), is she still there? Maybe, ignorance is bliss so that memories can live on without being tainted. Of a time that stood still.
Now when I hear it, I'm always transported back to the sandy beaches and salty waters of Latakia, with clear blue skies and a temperature in excess of 40oC. And then there was the hustle and bustle of the outdoor market areas not far out from where we were staying. I remember the first time I bargained with someone on one of the stalls and I was so chuffed with myself as I had brought a purple inflatable teletubby for my younger sister for less than half its price. Then there was the other time we went to the outdoor food market, which wasn't incredibly busy but the stall owners were nonetheless shouting away, calling out the prices and offers of their produce. I was just watching them thinking how different life is here to what I'm accustomed. Time always stood still as if it had no meaning. Nothing happened. A time when all the young people seemed to be flirting with each other but still appearing innocent in front of the elders. And this song, in my mind, was Latakia. And I miss those moments of calm, serenity and innocence. For me, Syria wasn't just about the people. It was the ancient history so embedded in the fabric of the country. The cobbled streets. The markets. The beaches. The food. The cars honking away. And people just getting on with their lives in a timeless era.
I often wonder now, the fate of those I met and knew. Do they still wander the sandy shores of Latakia? And the stall owners, are they still there, shouting away the price and offers of their produce? And the young lady in the grocery store who turned 30 on that summer of 2002 and didn't want to marry but wanted to make her own living and depend on herself (whom I admired immensely), is she still there? Maybe, ignorance is bliss so that memories can live on without being tainted. Of a time that stood still.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
"Two gangs. My people, be aware of both!"
Khaled Khalifa's novel, 'In praise of hatred' was originally published in Syria in 2006. It was subsequently banned in Syria by the regime and then republished in Lebanon a year later. In 2008, it was short-listed for the International Prize for Arabic Fiction. Since then, the book has been translated from Arabic into other languages. Throughout this post, I've referenced Leri Price's (2012) English translation of the novel.
The novel deals essentially with fundamentalism in a 1980's Aleppo. Both the secular regime and the Islamic organisation mentioned (although not acknowledged by name, the novel implies the Muslim Brotherhood and the Assad government) are portrayed as two sides of the same coin and hence portrayed as two fundamentalisms at war. Both of whom are engaged in a cycle of hatred and violence; both bring out the worst in each other and both display extremes in their behaviour. What's interesting, is that whilst the novel was a fictional portrayal of the events that occurred during the 1980's and published in 2006, it could easily describe the events taking place in Aleppo, and the wider country, over the past six years.
Continuing on from the idea of two fundamentalisms at war, it's interesting to note the narrator's own thoughts when she stated: "I used to think: if people die as martyrs for God, how do both the killers and killed enter paradise?" Both sides often claim superiority over the other (as the narrator does as the novel develops) and believe truth and right are on their side. The author's underlying message encapsulates the idea that violence would never really achieve much other than breeding a cycle of further violence, death and hatred. Consequently, only non-violence initiatives and dialogue will break the cycle and will bring about change and peace. In the novel, we don't see any dialogue between the "other sect", a reference to the Alawites who've dominated major positions within the government and army, and the majority Sunni population. Even between the secular and religious groups, little dialogue takes place. The little interactions we see between these groups in the novel illustrates the friction between them for example when the secular girls at the school mock those who wear the hijab by calling them the penguin club. They were even "frank about their hostility to us". The narrator continues to relate that "there was an unwritten pact between us and those girls. We openly exchanged spiteful glances and hatred as we sat in school like respectable classmates...we also concurred tacitly in our hatred of the Mukhabarat sympathisers". There is little respect and dialogue between the different groups and on the most part they all try to ignore each other, which can be illustrated the most when the narrator mentions that "the city was secret, the streets were secret, so were the stones and the people, houses, rooms, hearts...even laughter was secret in a city that celebrated secrecy ad where everything was enacted far from others' eyes. Recently I had started feeling that everyone was conspiring against everyone else." Even now, in reality, we can see how little the Assad regime wants to listen to the Syrian population with any dissent is met with imprisonment, bullets and barrel bombs. Or whether it's the Islamic State whose ideology is far from Islamic and a world away from representing the thoughts, wishes and demands of the typical Syrian yet they force their ideals by bullets or chemical weapons as well as hurling people off buildings and setting people on fire.
Sectarianism is prominent throughout the novel which portrays elements seen within Syrian society today. As previously mentioned, the novel refers to the Alawites as the "other sect" and describes how they dominate major positions across the country whether in government or in the army.
It's interesting how the author narrated the story through a female fundamentalist rather than through the eyes of a male "mujahid". Intriguingly, over the past few years we have heard of women leaving Western countries to join ISIS in Syria and Iraq. Obviously, the situations of the women and girls leaving to Syria are very different to the scenario painted in the novel but it's interesting to realise that women can be very much involved and impacted in fundamentalism when traditionally we only envision men being a part of. In the novel, the narrator is very much propelled into fundamentalism which she somewhat tries to use an escape from her home life and an attempt to find freedom and meaning. Furthermore, it was a way for her to show agency on her own merits but it only leads to further imprisonment within herself and society.
The novel highlights quite well that hatred is never inbuilt and it takes time to be cultivated. No one is born to hate and there's an inherent compassion within us all as shown with the narrator herself. The author proposes that the lack of dialogue and understanding between people are what causes us to hate each other. Furthermore, the regime, from its inception had built itself by force which further fuelled hatred as the regime wasn't built on Syrians' wishes or dreams nor did the regime wish to represent Syrians.
In Leri Price's translation of the novel, Robin Yassin-Kassab quotes Hassan al-Khayyer (an Alawi poet who was kidnapped and killed in 1980) in his foreword. The quote is incredibly powerful and summarises the extremes that has plagued Syrian history as well as current day-to-day life:
The novel deals essentially with fundamentalism in a 1980's Aleppo. Both the secular regime and the Islamic organisation mentioned (although not acknowledged by name, the novel implies the Muslim Brotherhood and the Assad government) are portrayed as two sides of the same coin and hence portrayed as two fundamentalisms at war. Both of whom are engaged in a cycle of hatred and violence; both bring out the worst in each other and both display extremes in their behaviour. What's interesting, is that whilst the novel was a fictional portrayal of the events that occurred during the 1980's and published in 2006, it could easily describe the events taking place in Aleppo, and the wider country, over the past six years.
Continuing on from the idea of two fundamentalisms at war, it's interesting to note the narrator's own thoughts when she stated: "I used to think: if people die as martyrs for God, how do both the killers and killed enter paradise?" Both sides often claim superiority over the other (as the narrator does as the novel develops) and believe truth and right are on their side. The author's underlying message encapsulates the idea that violence would never really achieve much other than breeding a cycle of further violence, death and hatred. Consequently, only non-violence initiatives and dialogue will break the cycle and will bring about change and peace. In the novel, we don't see any dialogue between the "other sect", a reference to the Alawites who've dominated major positions within the government and army, and the majority Sunni population. Even between the secular and religious groups, little dialogue takes place. The little interactions we see between these groups in the novel illustrates the friction between them for example when the secular girls at the school mock those who wear the hijab by calling them the penguin club. They were even "frank about their hostility to us". The narrator continues to relate that "there was an unwritten pact between us and those girls. We openly exchanged spiteful glances and hatred as we sat in school like respectable classmates...we also concurred tacitly in our hatred of the Mukhabarat sympathisers". There is little respect and dialogue between the different groups and on the most part they all try to ignore each other, which can be illustrated the most when the narrator mentions that "the city was secret, the streets were secret, so were the stones and the people, houses, rooms, hearts...even laughter was secret in a city that celebrated secrecy ad where everything was enacted far from others' eyes. Recently I had started feeling that everyone was conspiring against everyone else." Even now, in reality, we can see how little the Assad regime wants to listen to the Syrian population with any dissent is met with imprisonment, bullets and barrel bombs. Or whether it's the Islamic State whose ideology is far from Islamic and a world away from representing the thoughts, wishes and demands of the typical Syrian yet they force their ideals by bullets or chemical weapons as well as hurling people off buildings and setting people on fire.
Sectarianism is prominent throughout the novel which portrays elements seen within Syrian society today. As previously mentioned, the novel refers to the Alawites as the "other sect" and describes how they dominate major positions across the country whether in government or in the army.
It's interesting how the author narrated the story through a female fundamentalist rather than through the eyes of a male "mujahid". Intriguingly, over the past few years we have heard of women leaving Western countries to join ISIS in Syria and Iraq. Obviously, the situations of the women and girls leaving to Syria are very different to the scenario painted in the novel but it's interesting to realise that women can be very much involved and impacted in fundamentalism when traditionally we only envision men being a part of. In the novel, the narrator is very much propelled into fundamentalism which she somewhat tries to use an escape from her home life and an attempt to find freedom and meaning. Furthermore, it was a way for her to show agency on her own merits but it only leads to further imprisonment within herself and society.
The novel highlights quite well that hatred is never inbuilt and it takes time to be cultivated. No one is born to hate and there's an inherent compassion within us all as shown with the narrator herself. The author proposes that the lack of dialogue and understanding between people are what causes us to hate each other. Furthermore, the regime, from its inception had built itself by force which further fuelled hatred as the regime wasn't built on Syrians' wishes or dreams nor did the regime wish to represent Syrians.
In Leri Price's translation of the novel, Robin Yassin-Kassab quotes Hassan al-Khayyer (an Alawi poet who was kidnapped and killed in 1980) in his foreword. The quote is incredibly powerful and summarises the extremes that has plagued Syrian history as well as current day-to-day life:
"There are two gangs: one is ruling in the name of patriotism but has none of it.Another gang claims good faith; and religion forbids their sayings and acts.Two gangs. My people, be aware of both! Both drink from the same evil waters."
Monday, May 15, 2017
Musings...
On a whim, I opened YouTube and started watching the countless protest videos I once saw, tweeted and blogged. A part of me is amazed, that the ones I watched took place 6 years ago. 6 whole years. I can't believe how events in Syria transitioned during that time. I look back to those videos and I actually smiled. They were full of hope, solidarity and unity.
My mind has often wondered back to my memories of Syria, a Syria that's now long gone. Over the past 6 years, I have mused over what being Syrian means, I'm not even sure if I know any more. I've blogged less because I'm lost as to where to begin, how to continue and who I am anymore.
I spent nearly a year in Turkey. There was quite a large Syrian (and Iraqi) community already established in the city I was living in. During the time I was there, it surprised me how different I was to the average Syrian there, and how alien I was to them. On the trips I took to Istanbul, I felt even more hopeless, seeing Syrian children begging on the streets, particularly around and near Yusufpaşa and how Syrians interacted awfully with each other on a day to day basis.
Maybe I'll come back to blogging properly in the future. Amidst all that's going on, it seems pointless me sitting here and blogging.
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