Eutopian nightmares

 
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By Boštjan Videmšek/DELO

By raising the drawbridge in the face of desperate refugees and succumbing to bigotry and hatred, the EU’s utopian ideals are being abandoned for a dystopian reality.

Photo: © Jure Erzen/DELO

Photo: © Jure Erzen/DELO

Wednesday 1 June 2016

When Slovenia’s army began to erect a barbed-wire fence on its border with Croatia in November 2015, almost a decade had passed since that historic day when the former Yugoslav republic was admitted into the European Union. During this period, we had become accustomed to the wonderful fact that there were no borders within the EU – at least not of the visible kind. Despite the savage quickening of the economic, financial, social and political crisis, free travel all over Europe had become a matter of great simplicity. It was something one could count on, something that almost went without saying.

And so we only started to debate this entire business of borders, fences, barbed wire and “the strengthening of Europe’s external borders” when these outer frontiers were already in great peril. But contrary to popular belief, that peril didn’t really come from the refugees and economic migrants who started pouring in on a large scale in 2014 and 2015.

In fact, the refugees and the migrants were the ones who, by breaking through the physical frontiers, were making clear that Europe’s borders had never been truly eliminated. Quite the contrary. The more the old continent had been opening up internally, the more it had been beefing up its outer ramparts. And so, slowly but inexorably, a thing some of us like to call Fortress Europe had been born – this enormous yet infinitely fragile and self-obsessed ivory tower… And the more fragile and self-obsessed it became, the more removed from its lofty freedom-loving ideals its immediate future had become. And in 2015, that immediate future had finally merged with the present.

The discourse – both in private and in public – was soon radicalised beyond repair. The cankerous genie of the far-right had broken out of its bottle, and its twisted worldview soon became the norm. The differences between Europe’s high castles and “the streets” were soon dissolved. Instead of the alarm that should be ringing out in every house and every soul still clinging to a shred of human decency, all one could hear was a thunderous silence. The core of the entire continent has been radicalised with a ferocity quite unprecedented in modern times.

The people of Europe took to acting as if it was quite natural that the incoming refugees should have no names, faces, fates, stories and future. Even worse: we started treating people on the run from war zones as if they were so much nuclear waste; as if we had all been stripped of any semblance of historical memory; as if the entire continent had been living a giant all-pervasive lie, which had clouded our judgment and had left us quite satisfied with this vague and infinitely flimsy idea… An idea that – a quarter of a century after the collapse of the iron curtain – had been thoroughly humiliated by the construction of the two walls on the Hungarian-Serbian and the Slovenian-Croatian borders.

As hard as it is to state this out loud, the flood of refugees and terrorism Europe has witnessed in recent years is partly a consequence of its failed foreign, immigration and integration policies. Its neglect of its neighbours in the Middle East and Central Asia, and its neglected immigrant neighbourhoods at home, not to mention the active role a number of European countries have played in fuelling conflict, war and despotism in the Middle East, have blown back in the form of large-scale radicalisation.

For the European Union, the crises it is experiencing today are the consequence of decades of living in a bubble, of distancing itself from reality – both within Europe and in its neighbouring regions – while immersing itself ever further into the heartless algorithms of an ever-burgeoning bureaucracy. What happened was the consequence of decades of catastrophic delusions and of failed immigration policies and processes; of our being unable to grasp the realities, let alone confront them or respond to them in a constructive and proactive manner which could result in (at least) our moral distancing from the wars and conflicts in the Middle East and Central Asia. Instead we fuelled them, through our indifference, ignorance, arms exports, ill-conceived military interventions, our favouring of trade over human rights and dignity, our support of dictators and violent, authoritarian regimes.

It is little wonder Europe was so quick to adopt the language of war: Europe, after all, had proven quite adept at starting wars while being absolutely awful at putting a stop to them. Given its historical legacy, it is hardly surprising the continent was so quick to renounce its ideals and keel over before the challenges of the present moment.

The post-terror developments in Europe are also tragic in their predictability.

First, the shutting down of borders, both inwardly and outwardly. Then the “Americanisation” of our security and the systematic creation of fear. The rapidly escalating division between “us” and “them”. The spine-chilling rise of private security firms. The radicalisation of policies, fomenting grave polarisation within society, increasing our internal frictions and fostering the rise of the far-right and even neo-Nazis, the European equivalent of Daesh. The outbreak of populism, the vanishing of what remained of our common European identity, the strengthening of both benign and malignant strains of nationalism. The crumbling of the masks dictated by our mostly feigned political correctness and the streamlining of both racism and xenophobia. The triumph of reflexes over reflection. The dehumanisation of refugees, who have left their ransacked homes fleeing the exact same demonic violence Europe had first faced in Madrid, then in London, then Paris and now Brussels.

Above all, the dehumanisation of ourselves.

These developments are something to be feared at least as much as the next terrorist attacks, which are at this point inevitable. We should be at least as afraid of these developments as we should be afraid of the thunderous silence created by our lack of reflection and the by now chronic absence of critical reasoning… That awful, inexcusable silence of our ever so comfortable European minds, the silence that will ultimately enable the extremists to shriek at the highest possible frequencies. This is what the so-called Islamic State could understand as their victory.

As early as 2004, the Dutch migration researcher Paul Scheffer told me that Europe is treading a dark and dangerous path. He went on to explain he felt that its grave mistake was to ignore some fundamental parts of human nature, and all under the guise of multiculturalism and tolerance. Holland was, he said, the best example of that wishful thinking with (socio-economically) limited expiry date.  “We were passing each other by looking the other way so determinedly that we ended up colliding,” Scheffer opined at the time when Europe was facing its first major terrorist attack in Madrid and the Dutch film director Theo Van Gogh (the maker of Submission) was murdered in Amsterdam by a Dutch-Moroccan Muslim Mohammed Bouyeri. The idea of the functioning multicultural society was for the very first time shaken to the bones. Even a dozen years ago, Scheffer was well aware of what was likely to happen to a continent steeped in a chronic lack of reflection in the times of growing open conflicts.

The tragedies were as awfully, inexcusably predictable as the future we are now facing – a future we have done virtually everything in our power to facilitate.

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War crimes v thought crimes

 
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By Boštjan Videmšek/DELO

While war criminals walk free, Florence Hartmann landed in solitary confinement for her insider leaks on the politicisation of the Yugoslav tribunal.

Photo: © Jure Eržen/DELO

Photo: © Jure Eržen/DELO

Tuesday 12 April 2016

Florence Hartmann – a journalist, author and human rights activist – was recently imprisoned by the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY), for whom she had worked as a spokesperson between 2000 and 2006. For six days, she was kept in solitary confinement in a cell where the light was on 24 hours a day while every 30 minutes she was checked up on by a prison guard because she was a supposed “suicide risk”.

Hartmann’s only crime had been to tell the truth. In her book Peace and Punishment (Paix et châtiment), published in 2007, she revealed that the Hague-based tribunal, heeding the wishes of Serbian authorities, intentionally neglected to take into account the documents linking the former Serbian leader Slobodan Milošević and the Belgrade establishment to the Srebrenica massacre. Charging Hartmann with contempt of court, the ICTY fined her to the tune of €7,000, which the court maintains she never paid, but Hartmann claims the opposite: “I paid the fine in France in order to  seek remedy through the French judge who would have been appointed to authorise the ICTY to transfer the money.  the €7,000 is still in the dedicated bank account and will be used to pay the translation and the fees for the upcoming legal actions.”

The court, nevertheless, changed Hartmann’s sentence to seven days imprisonment in 2011. She was arrested on Thursday, 24 March 2016, when she dropped in to witness the historical sentencing of Radovan Karadžić. Thus far, the tribunal has financially sanctioned four journalists while sentencing one to a month in prison.

Word criminal

Having met up with the Mothers of Srebrenica activist group, Hartmann arrived on the square in front of the tribunal’s headquarters to await the reading of the sentence of one of the most infamous war criminals in the Balkans. The time has come for the final act of a long-lasting judiciary procedure, which – among other things – conclusively demonstrated Karadžić’s responsibility for the Srebrenica genocide.

Suddenly, a number of police officers with UN insignia burst onto the scene. In a manner described as “rough” and “humiliating”, they seized Hartmann and transported her to the nearby Scheveningen prison. The arrest distracted the public eye from the sentencing of a war criminal.

“To me it came as a total shock. I absolutely did not expect it to happen. They simply stomped in and basically kidnapped me. And this in front of a crowd of Bosnian war victims, who had come to see justice being served,” a confounded Hartmann said. “For them, it was yet another in a long line of humiliations. I saw a woman being shoved to the ground… I myself was pushed and pulled around and lost my glasses,” she added, her voice more disappointed than angry.

In her years as the ICTY’s spokesperson she had encountered numerous cases of war criminals escaping justice, as the tribunal was barred from arresting them on foreign territory.

“There are many cases where the tribunal was well-informed of these people’s whereabouts,” Hartmann says. “The prosecutor, Carla del Ponte, managed to set up a tracking system. But we were unable to go in and arrest them, since the UN hadn’t been given the madate for such a course of action. Apparently, it didn’t matter that these people were responsible for some of the most heinous crimes against humanity in history. Yet now it is entirely unproblematic for the UN to arrest me in a foreign country? The ICTY has no mandate to do so, as it was my duty to explain to the press about a million times in my years as the tribunal’s spokesperson.”

Hartmann has repeatedly pointed out that the tribunal did not sanction her in her capacity as a former spokesperson but as a journalist. “They say I broke the code of silence, yet I wrote my book as a journalist, not as the spokesperson for the tribunal. To claim otherwise is sheer manipulation, though one that is now being repeated as a mantra by many members of the press.”

Solitary Confinement

Florence Hartmann, 53, is an intrepid and level-headed journalist who reported on some of the most savage attrocities of the Balkans conflict. As the Karadžić sentence was read out to the public, she was already in solitary confinement in the notorious prison which, over the years, housed numerous war criminals from the Yugoslav wars.

Her lawyer Guénaël Mettraux immediately sprang into action, but almost instantly hit a wall. As soon as the Karadžić sentence had been read out, the tribunal’s personnel departed for the Easter holidays. Mettraux placed call after call, yet no one was there to answer. At least not until the morning of 29 March, when the staff returned to their desks and Mettraux was finally able to put in an official request for her release.

During the time of her incarceration, the sole visitor permitted to Hartmann was the French consul who brought her newspapers. Yet in the end, even the consul – the ICTY requested Hartmann to be handed over five years ago, yet Paris refused – proved powerless to help.

What was it like waiting for assistance in her permanently lit-up solitary confinement cell? With a smile, Hartmann replies she felt much safer than while reporting from war zones. She was the only resident of her part of the prison, and she was never let out of her cell – unlike a number of convicted war criminals. “I was never let out in the open air for the one hour of activities to which other inmates are entitled. This was denied to me – a measure that was never justified to me or to my lawyer. I was watched over by guards around the clock, during the night only by men. They treated me well. They even offered me some reading materials. I told them I don’t much care for novels or love stories or anything of the sort,” Hartmann laughs in reminiscence. Her wish was to read Julian Borger’s The Butcher’s Trail, a book detailing the Karadžić hunt she had saved on her laptop.

“Never again”

Hartmann endured her prison sentence stoically. She now claims to feel perfectly fine.

Yet she also feels she has been through one of the weirdest experiences of her life, which is saying something. “Perhaps the most painful experience for me has been the eruption of mass violence in Europe at the end of the twentieth century. My generation had been brought up never to expect that sort of thing again. How many times have we heard the sentence ‘Never again’ being spoken,” she reflects. “Yet it is happening all over again. The Geneva convention is no longer in effect. In these past few months, some 30 hospitals have been bombed all over the globe. Merely the suspicion that a hospital may be harbouring suspects is enough for them to murder doctors and patients in the building. The Saudis, the Russians and the Americans are all doing it – and with absolute impunity. Also, torture has returned to the democratic countries,” the visibly exhausted author of many books explained in her Parisian apartment, adding that the 21-st century has also seen journalists imprisoned in the heart of the privileged European Union.

“ICTY failed to do its job”

Two days after Hartmann’s release, the ICTY judges reached the decision that Vojislav Šešelj, one of the key figures of the Great Serbia project and steadfast ideologue of its crimes against humanity, would get off scot-free.

Things could hardly get any more ironic. The distinguished arbiters were quite clearly communicating from a place where Franz Kafka had met Monty Python to write one of the most poignantly Orwellian stories of our time.

The International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia was set up in 1993. This was two years before Srebrenica, where more than 8,000 Bosnian men and boys were massacred. It was also six years before the end of the Balkan wars, two and a half years before the signing of the Dayton agreement, which ended the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina and, by legitimising the Republika Srpska, also helped legitimise much of the ethnic cleansing.

Time went on. The historical record was slowly eroded, and the Balkan conflicts were soon forgotten. With the exception of Readovan Karadžić, the ICTY failed to pass sentence on any of the major culprits behind the wars. Hartmann has repeatedly pointed out that even the case against Slobodan Milošević, who died in detention, was built on very shaky ground, mostly due to political machinations and outside interests. The acquittal of the Chetnik duke Šešešlj is thus set to put the final nail in the coffin of the catharsis of the Serbian society. The Serbs had certainly failed in their attempts to complete the process of de-nazification, and the ICTY’s sluggishness and incompetence were a major contributing factor.

Slobodan Milošević wasn’t toppled for having started wars. He was toppled for having lost them. All of them.

Today, Hartmann can barely control her outrage. “At the end of the 20th century, we set up a system designed to bring punishment on those responsible for the genocide. But a few judges sabotaged the project. As far as the ICTY was concerned, Vojislav Šešelj was free to bay for war and remain unpunished,” she laments.

Hartmann’s arrest brought on a fierce response from European intellectuals, many of whom signed the petition for her release. According to the French journalist, the impunity bestowed on many of the key figures in the Balkan conflicts is utterly unacceptable. A system of swift supervision should be put in effect, she says, yet she is also afraid that by now this is no longer possible.

“We are living in a time and place undergoing a crescendo of barbarism. And the only response to barbarism we’ve managed to come up with is more barbarism,” Hartmann observes. “National and the international law should be synchronised to prevent future conflicts. To get justice, I intend to use every legal resource at my disposal. I’m proud to say I never faltered when they told me to stop and keep my mouth shut about their illegitimate secrets.”

 

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Discovering Sushi Islam

 
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By Raya Al-Jadir

By following two young girls on their voyage of discovery of Sunni and Shia Islam, a new documentary highlights the insanity of Islamic sectarianism.

Screen Shot 2015-07-03 at 02.07.09

Monday 11 April 2016

Why Can’t I be a Sushi is a documentary by Hoda Elsoudani that follows the journey of two young sisters – half Iraqi-half Argentinian Niamh (10) and Sofia (8) – who are curious about the ongoing sectarian conflicts amongst Muslims.

The two girls seek to find out how and why the decisions of the past have created a growing number of extreme Muslims with an intolerant mentality. The decision to use two young girls to navigate such a complex documentary was motivated by Elsoudani’s desire to take Muslims back to their roots, and to remind them of the simplicity of their religion. She felt that addressing such a complex and sensitive issue “through the eyes of two innocent yet mature children” helps connect people to “the child within and makes us reflect on our actions, behaviour and thought patterns more than if it was a documentary presented by adults”.

The documentary premiered at the Tricycle theatre in London to a packed audience on 6 March 2016 and was attended by the entire crew and cast.

Elsoudani is a British-Iraqi documentary filmmaker, humanitarian, cinematographer and the creative director of a small production company. In a world where the film industry is mostly dominated by men, it is challenging for women, but in Elsoudani’s experience, people were very supportive and encouraging of her work and “even more so because there aren’t many British-Iraqi female directors around.”

One challenge that she does admit to experiencing and believes that many may relate to is the “difficulty of fitting in the mainstream media and getting our voices heard as an ethnic minority.” This is one of the reasons behind her effort to continue her filmmaking journey: to pave the way for more female directors from different ethnic backgrounds to enter the scene.

The idea of the documentary started many years ago when Elsoudani was still a student and was constantly asked or pushed into a sect, though she insisted on describing herself as just a “Muslim”. “I personally have seen a lot of discrimination and misjudgement towards followers of the opposite sect. Shias would speak badly of Sunnis and Sunnis would speak badly of Shias and all the misconceptions would be flying everywhere passed from one person to another as if there were [indisputable] facts,” the director recalls. As she got older, Elsoudani discovered that the same attitudes prevailed in the workplace.

At one particular institute, Elsoudani felt that she was very much discriminated against because she simply refused to belong to either of the sects. “It’s very disappointing that as Muslims we hold such forceful, judgmental mentalities and that we have forgotten the countless similarities we have in common with one another,” she admits. Elsoudani believes humanity comes first: “To treat each other with mutual respect, believe what we want to believe and leave the judgement to God.”

Elsoudani describes herself as a ‘Sushi’, in the sense that she takes a bit from both sects, as a reaction to this factionalism. She added that she also felt that there were many mutual misconceptions between Islam’s two main sects. “People needed to be reminded to go back to their roots and embrace the simplicity of just being a Muslim, regardless of which sect one follows.”

The sectarian conflict in Iraq impacted Elsoudani’s work greatly. “When you hear about a suicide bomber who has just killed X number of souls targeting a particular sect, you’re left with a bitter, angry feeling where you wish you can do something to help but you feel immensely helpless,” she explains. Elsoudani decided to direct this energy into a film that would enlighten people, especially the younger generation. She recalls how Iraqis from different faith groups and sects once lived very peacefully together. There were even mixed marriages. “People may have an opinion that the film is painting a romanticised picture of Sunnis and Shias uniting but I would say if it existed once, then it can exist again,” the filmmaker insists.

She believes strongly that we must “be less arrogant and more accepting of the other sect, and that’s why in one scene in the film I decided to interview a Sunni- Shia couple.”

Ensuring that the film was approached in a balanced way was a top priority for Elsoudani, although she admits it was tricky at times because “I would often question whether I was representing each sect fairly.” The last thing she wanted to do is “add more fuel to the fire especially because it’s such a sensitive subject, so I kept it 90% scripted and mainly focused on what concerns each sect has towards the other. Whether I achieved my goal or not, I would leave that for others to judge.”

Elsoudani’s aim was to interview as many people with diverse opinions as possible, because she wanted to keep the film “realistic, rich in content and welcoming to different kinds of people.” She wanted to include more influential figures who could have boosted the film’s impact, such as Tariq Ramadan or Sayed Fadhil Milani and even Sami Yusuf, who sings regularly about the issue of Islamic unity. Unfortunately, some declined the interviews and others didn’t respond or could not make it in time for the deadline. Quite naturally and understandably, she believes some had a “fear of being misrepresented in the documentary, as it’s difficult to trust everyone’s journalism in our modern times.”

The point of Why Can’t I be a Sushi, Elsoudani says, is not to ask why there are differences of opinion, but rather why these differences have led to violence and animosity. “To me the conflict seems to be more political than religious, although it may be hiding behind the religious language, as Dr Anas Altikriti pointed out,” she notes.

Overall, the documentary aims to “break down the misconceptions so that some kind of bridge can be built between the two sects once they realise that they have so much in common”, elaborates Elsoudani.

Elsoudani describes the reaction received from the diversely mixed audience as “phenomenal”. The Cinema theatre was packed to the seams and it seemed as though the people there were very enthusiastic and hungry for such a film. Prior to the screening most people were very supportive of the film and eagerly waiting it’s release, notes Elsoudani, although she did receive a handful abusive emails from individuals “who would not care to unite Muslims and would rather wage a war than wave a peaceful flag”.

Elsoudani’s passion for exploring cross-cultural issues and building bridges pushes her to persevere with her efforts to produce original works. “I mostly love addressing unspoken social or political subjects that we tend to shy away from,” she maintains, “and that’s why I recently established my own production company.”

The project Elsoudani is currently working on is a short video in support of refugees.

Read Raya Al-Jadir’s full interview with Hoda Elsoudani.

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Birth behind bars

 
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By Khaled Diab

A new Palestinian film fictionalises the plight of female Palestinian prisoners of conscience: from hunger-striking to child birth.

Tuesday 29 March 2016

The new Palestinian film 3,000 Nights fictionalises a story that has quite literally been told a million times in real life: the experience of being a political prisoner in Israeli prison.

As many as a million Palestinians prisoners of conscience have been detained or jailed by Israel since 1948, according to figures released by the Palestinian Ministry of Detainees, with the majority since 1967.

Directed by documentary-maker Mai Masri, her first feature film brings to light the experiences of women prisoners, the relative minority of detainees, estimated at over 12,000 since 1967.

Through eye-catching and hauntingly beautiful cinematography, Masri brings to life the story of newly wed Layal (Maisa Abd Elhadi) who, in the early 1980s, lands in jail after innocently giving a lift to a young Palestinian who is alleged to have undertaken an attack on an Israeli checkpoint.

She is sent to Ramla prison, where she winds up in a cell with Israeli women implicated in criminal cases, which causes the other Palestinian women to be standoffish towards her and to suspect that she is an informant or collaborator.

It is only when she is transferred to a Palestinian cell and reveals to her cellmates her shocking new discovery, that she is pregnant, that the suspicion begins to disappear. And when she gives birth to the overwhelmingly adorable and irrepressibly joyful Nour (played by Zaid Qoda), her Palestinian cellmates’ hearts melt, as do those of the audience.

Although this seems like a contrived dramatic ploy, there have been real-life incidents of this. A strikingly similar case involved a woman from Gaza whose son spent the first 21 months of his life in prison with her, but she was a member of Islamic Jihad and was arrested for, and later admitted to, planning to carry out an attack.

Despite numerous moving moments, the characters in the film seemed half-formed. Like traditional Arab films which explore a political theme, 3,000 Nights is high on poignant symbolism, but to do so sacrifices too much human and psychological depth.

To transform complex and conflicted individuals, with all the ambiguities that make up human nature, into symbols necessitates a certain simplistic caricaturing. Cinematographically, this is reflected in the Hollywoodisation of the characters.

Pretty much all the Palestinians in the film are beautiful or have gravitas, and both when it comes to the leads. Meanwhile, the Israelis are middling to ugly and ooze hostility, with the exception of the human rights lawyer defending Layal and a Mizrahi Jewish inmate who becomes sympathetic, presumably due to their shared Arab heritage.

That said, based on my conversations and interviews with former prisoners, the film depicts accurately the details of the daily reality faced by Palestinian prisoners, from those tempted to become informants to those who live “sumud” (steadfastness). Some of the film’s most amusing scenes relate to the elaborate methods prisoners use to communicate secretly with each other, including Morse code, sign language, slips of paper secreted on their person and concealed holes in walls.

As illustrated by the recent case of Muhammad al-Qiq, who almost died after refusing food for 94 days in protest at his detention without charge, hunger-striking has been a common tool of protest for Palestinian prisoners of conscience since at least 1969.

Like in 3,000 Nights, Sulaiman Khatib was involved in a mass hunger-strike in the pre-intifada 1980s. “In jail, there was nothing for free,” Khatib told me in Ramallah. “So we had to engage in non-violent activities, such as hunger striking, so that we could improve our daily conditions.”

Given their serious consequences on the prisoners’ health and bodies, hunger strikes were not entered into lightly by the prisoners. Hunger-strikes are a gruelling ordeal on the inmates’ bodies and minds, so they used psychological tricks to endure them.

“Food controls your thoughts and dreams,” Khatib said, as he sipped thoughtfully on his coffee. “There’s a rule for hunger strikers: you’re not allowed to talk about food.”

Another coping strategy was the sense of solidarity between prisoners and with their supporters beyond the prison’s walls. “[This] creates a wonderful and profound solidarity. You become one with the group,” Suleiman observes.

One surprising effect of hunger-striking, I learnt, is that as the body declines, the spirit soars. “You begin to believe you’re a legend, you’re extraordinary, you have superpowers,” Bassam Arameen, who was also a political prisoner in the 1980s, recalled.

Many Palestinians describe their time in prison as a kind of multifaceted school, in which they immersed themselves in reading, learning, debate and reflection. Numerous ex-prisoners I have spoken to also recall how their time in prison radically altered their view of the path to Palestinian liberation and made them regard Israelis more humanely – not in a Stockholm Syndrome, but in a Nelson Mandela, kind of way.

“Before I knew about Gandhi or Mandela, I learnt with the other prisoners that non-violence works because most of our hunger strikes succeeded.” Khatib elaborates.

Today Khatib is a veteran peace activist who believes in the peaceful resolution of the conflict alongside Israeli allies. He is the co-founder of Combatants for Peace, a grassroots group of ex-Israeli and Palestinian fighters who have decided to lay down their arms because they believe that there can be no violent resolution to the conflict.

____

Follow Khaled Diab on Twitter.

This article first appeared in The National on 19 March 2016.

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The myth of the European jihadist hordes

 
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By Khaled Diab

The terrorist attacks in Brussels will reinforce the idea that returning jihadists pose an existential threat to Europe. But the facts say otherwise.

Bruxelles est (Re)belle. Miguel Discart https://www.flickr.com/people/miguel_discart_vrac/

Bruxelles est (Re)belle.
Miguel Discart https://www.flickr.com/people/miguel_discart_vrac/

Monday 28 March 2016

It has been described as a “treasure trove” and “goldmine”. German intelligence has reportedly obtained the recruitment documents of 22,000 members of Islamic State, also known as ISIS or ISIL.

While some have cast doubts on the authenticity of the information released in the media or raised questions about whether this was perhaps an intentional ISIS leak, the German security services are satisfied that the documents are authentic.

One thing this cache of documents and earlier finds clearly point to is the basic breakdown of where ISIS recruits come from. An analysis of 1,700 ISIS documents obtained by Zaman al-Wasl found that nearly three-quarters of recruits were from Arab countries, with Saudi Arabia leading the pack, followed by Tunisia, Morocco and Egypt.

Interestingly, Syrians only make up under 2% of the recruits listed in this cache, lending greater credibility to the notion that ISIS’s blood-soaked theocracy is a kind of foreign imposition.

However, while ISIS depends heavily on foreigners with no connections to the local social fabric, thereby facilitating its brutality, this figure is probably too low, especially considering how long the terror group has now ruled.

“It’s possible that [Syrians] are mentioned in other documents, and these are mostly about foreigners,” Hassan Hassan, co-author of the acclaimed ISIS: Inside the Army of Terror, told me. “Syrians have a sizeable presence within ISIS, particularly young people or former insurgents.”

Despite all the media hype and political frenzy accompanying the phenomenon of European jihadists, only a small minority of ISIS recruits in the leaked documents actually come from Europe.

This chimes with the estimates of Western intelligence agencies and independent think tanks. In early 2015, the International Centre for the Study of Radicalisation (ICSR) at King’s College London estimated the presence of 4,000 Western European fighters in Syria and Iraq. At the end of 2015, another estimate, released by intelligence consultancy the Soufan Group, put the number of Europeans combatants in Syria and Iraq at 5,000.

Although the number of European recruits appears to have risen significantly over the past couple of years, it still represents a miniscule proportion of Europe’s Muslim minority.

The European Union is home to 13-20 million Muslims, while Europe as a whole has a Muslim population of 44 million. This means that European jihadists in Syria and Iraq represents a maximum of 0.04% of the EU’s Muslim population.

Despite this microscopic fraction, the concave mirror of sensationalist politicians and media outlets makes it appear to be a monstrous phenomenon of giant proportions – as if a European jihadist foreign legion is marching to the Levant, while a similar army, disguised as refugees, is marching in the other direction, to conquer Europe.

This magnifying and amplifying effect has serious real-world consequences. One significant effect is how the hype shifts government responses away from holistic policies and towards narrow, security-focused punitive measures.

While fear of the terrorism potential of returning jihadists is understandable and we must be vigilant so as to prevent future atrocities, such as the recent attacks in Brussels which left at least 31 dead, this overlooks the fact, as the experience of some Muslim countries shows, that the most effective form of de-radicalisation of jihadists is often “jihad” itself. Confronted with the discrepancy between their “utopian” ideals and the ugly, murderous reality, many return wishing to turn over a new leaf and reintegrate into society.

Instead of locking ex-jihadists up and throwing away the key, or stripping them of their nationalities, thereby giving them no path towards de-radicalisation and re-integration, we need a more nuanced approach.

Though war crimes committed should be punished, the growing ranks of disillusioned ISIS defectors can be utilised to undermine the group’s appeal and propaganda, and assist in state efforts to prevent radicalisation among vulnerable individuals.

“Governments and civil society should recognise the defectors’ value and make it easier for them to speak out,” contends Peter Neumann, ICSR’s director. “Where possible, governments should assist them in resettlement and ensure their safety.”

Moreover, the exaggerated hype around jihadists makes ordinary Europeans feel far, far unsafer than they actually are and shakes their trust in their Muslim compatriots. It also causes a sense of greater marginalisation and isolation among ordinary Muslims in Europe, as they endure a mounting wave of racism and hate crimes.

“It’s like I can’t do anything anymore without feeling unsafe,” a young Muslim woman from Brussels told me recently. A young Arab man in Brussels told me that he was now afraid of his own beard and name.

This hysteria strengthens the hands of extremists. Islamist and jihadist recruiters are able to prey on the vulnerabilities and sense of alienation felt by young, disaffected Muslims to radicalise more of them. It also weakens and undermines the role of secular and moderate Muslims as cultural bridges.

Far-right and neo-Nazi hatemongers exploit the actions of the few jihadists to demonise the majority of peaceful Muslims – a strategy exploited by groups as diverse as the Front National in France, Jobbik in Hungary and numerous Republican presidential candidates in the United States, most vociferously by frontrunner Donald Trump.

In fact, the fixation on jihadists, Islamic terrorism and Muslims is distracting much-needed attention away from the odious and troubling phenomenon of the rise of far-right white and Christian supremacism and extremism, both in Europe and the United States.

On the other end of the scale, it has given the distorted impression that the bulk of Westerners are hostile towards Muslims. While this holds true in places like Italy and Poland, this is not the case in Western Europe.

Despite two major Islamic terrorist attacks in France over the past couple of years and the growing vocalness of the far-right, the vast majority of French people have a positive view of Muslims (76%), according to a Pews survey. Britons and Germans also hold similarly favourable views.

This points to a way forward out of the growing hate and animosity marking the public discourse. The silenced and increasingly side-lined sensible majority must seize back the podium from the extremists, whether they be Islamists or the anti-immigrant far-right, and the media and politicians must pay greater attention to us.

____

Follow Khaled Diab on Twitter.

This is the updated version of an article which first appeared on Al Jazeera on 17 March 2016.

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Syria: Return to a dying land

 
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By Boštjan Videmšek/DELO

As Europe turns its back on refugees, Syrians who can’t afford the “luxury” of fleeing are making the perilous journey back to their ruined homeland.

Syrian refugees in Turkey cross back into Syria, placing their lives in grave danger. Photo: © Elio Germani

Syrian refugees in Turkey cross back into Syria, placing their lives in grave danger.
Photo: © Elio Germani

Monday 7 March 2016

On the Saturday morning when the ceasefire in Syria came into effect, a weeping woman slowly approached the Turkish-Syrian border crossing Bab al Salama (Oncupinar) near Kilis. She was carrying a little girl, wrapped up in a heavy blanket. For an hour, she begged the Turkish policemen to allow her back into her broken land before she gave up.

Her aim was to take her visibly depleted and painfully pale little girl to the hospital in Azaz, located a mere four kilometres from the border. Yet the Turkish men refused to let her pass. The woman kept crying and stroking the poor girl, who soon passed away in her hands. It was only then that the Turks allowed her to cross the border.

To avoid the possible consequences.

___

Right before the border with Syria, the Turkish army vehicles turned off the main road leading to Aleppo. The blue sky above nearby Azaz was empty, violated neither by Russian jets nor the regime’s bombers. For the moment, it was also clear of Turkish Army artillery fire, which had been inflicting a week’s worth of heavy pummelling on the members of the Syrian Kurdish militia YPG. At the moment, the border into Syria was open only to a number of heavy trucks flying the insignia of various Turkish and Qatari humanitarian organisations. The drivers were frightened. One of the vehicles was filled with bread ovens. Lone refugees or couples were trickling in from the Syrian side, having set off from the refugee camps located between Azaz and the border.

Large bands of refugees were resting on the grassland near the border. The majority of these were really extended families, mostly children, all of them absolutely clueless as to where or whom to turn to next. A few goats and a decrepit-looking horse were grazing close by. The Turkish policemen were simply biding their time, gazing at the sky. From the look of things, accidental visitor could be easily forgiven for failing to notice he or she had just come up on one of the Syrian conflict’s most important frontlines.

“I come from a village north of Aleppo. My youngest daughter was killed last week in a regime air raid. I buried her back home in Syria and then ran away along with the rest of my family. I myself was wounded, too – my head had been hurt,” I was told by a man named Ibrahim, who pointed to the blood-soaked rags on his head. He had received medical assistance in the hospital located in the Turkish town of Kilis, where the population had more than doubled since the beginning of the Syrian war. Over the past five years of armed conflict, the far from affluent Kilis has absorbed more than 120,000 refugees and has done its best to accommodate them in a decent and humane fashion. This is the reason why the town is one of this year’s candidates for the Nobel peace prize.

“They took really good care of me. But now I have to return to the refugee camp on the Syrian side. My entire family is there,” Ibrahim clarified. From his shrapnel-nicked face, it was clear he was lucky to be alive. His humble ambition was somehow to find a place for himself and his family in Turkey, but the chances of that were looking exceedingly grim.

Turkey is hosting more than 2.5 million Syrian refugees. Last week, 35,000 refugees arrived at the Oncupinar crossing in the space of 48 hours. Suleyman Tapsiz, the local governor on the Turkish side of the border, claims Kilis and the neighbouring towns will not be able to take them in. “Our doors are not closed. But there is no need to let these people into Turkey right now,” he said. Some 140,000 people are currently stuck between Azaz and the border. Should Aleppo fall, which could happen quite soon, at least 600,000 more are expected to bolt for Turkey in a matter of days.

Even a few days ago, it looked like the Turkish army was about to take control of the area between the border crossing and Azaz, thereby preventing the strategically vital town from falling into the hands of the YPG. Without doubt, that would have been a horrendous strategic blunder, triggering a human tragedy of unimaginable proportions. According to our sources, the Turkish government has opted to take “a time out” for now – mostly on account of all the pressure exerted by both the EU and the United States, especially since NATO is as yet unwilling to risk a military showdown with Russia. If the Turkish forces were to take over Azaz, such a showdown would become an inevitability.

The border is still being crossed by humanitarian convoys, merchants, those refugees who can no longer afford to stay in Turkey and members of certain rebel groups supported by Turkey. I managed to talk to some of the fighters who were waiting at the border to be readmitted to Syria. Two of them, both 18, were from the Free Syria Army (FSA), And on their way back to the front north of Aleppo after having spent the previous 10 days in a Turkish hospital. “We are under attack from all sides: ISIS, regime forces, Russian planes, and now the Kurds as well… We are all alone. No help is on the way. But we shall fight until the very end,” I was told by one of these two young fighters, who refused to tell me his name. He did relate that his family was living in Turkey, yet despite all his injuries, his only wish was to return to the frontlines as soon as possible: “My friends are dying. I am fighting for my homeland.”

After the regime’s forces and Russian planes cut off the supply lines to Aleppo, a few hundred members of various Syrian rebel groups entered Syria from Turkey. They have done so with Ankara’s official support. The Turkish authorities are desperately trying to prevent the fall of Azaz because it would mean all the Kurd-dominated areas in the north of Syria would become connected into something resembling a unified whole. In addition, the fall of Azaz would almost certainly spell the fall of Aleppo, the Syrian conflict’s decisive battlefield.

Quite the privilege

On the Turkish side of the border, about a hundred people, mostly civilians, arrived to wait to be readmitted into Syria each day. Many of them are wounded or seriously ill, their lack of funds forcing them to return home after a brief stay in one of the Turkish public hospitals. Most of the ones I talked to were not returning to their homes but rather to some form or another of temporary lodgings. As far as the world’s attention is concerned, the heart-wrenching misery of the people who had lost their homes and remained in Syria is almost forgotten. Yet inside the ransacked land, almost half of the population is currently not living at their normal addresses. These are the people who cannot afford to flee – not even to Turkey, let alone the European Union. One of the great modern ironies is that, in some quarters, being a refugee is now justly considered quite the privilege.

A number of utterly exhausted people were standing in front of the metal-wire barrier on the Turkish side of the border, waiting to be allowed to pass into their homeland. Among them, two glassy-eyed little boys were sitting on the concrete floor. Their heads were seemingly turning uncontrollably, their eyes darting hectically all over the place. It was obvious they had been profoundly traumatised and were in urgent need of medical assistance. All they had on them was one plastic bag each. The others were simply ignoring them.

Mohamed Rahmo and his blinded son, Mustafa, on their way back to Syria. Photo: © Elio Germani

Mohamed Rahmo and his blinded son, Mustafa, on their way back to Syria.
Photo: © Elio Germani

While on the Syrian side more than 100,000 people staying in refugee camps were hoping to be allowed to enter Turkey as soon as possible, a man named Mohamed Rahmo was trying to convince his 16-year-old son to get up and rejoin the line of those waiting to return to Syria. Tears were streaking down Rahmo’s cheeks, yet his son Mustafa remained seated, his gaze aggressively pointed to the ground. He kept hiding his face away from the light.

A little over a month ago, a Russian air raid on their small village north of Aleppo had cost Mustafa his left eye, while the right one has been severely damaged. His entire face was covered in burns. His father decided to take him to Turkey – back then, the border was still open. Mustafa underwent surgery at the public hospital in Gaziantep, but the operation was not a success. Soon after he lost the sight in his right eye as well. His father then took him to a private doctor who told them the only procedure capable of saving the eye would cost $4,000. By then, the two of them were penniless, and their only recourse was to return to Syria.

“We have to get home. I need to take care of my family. The bombing raids have cost us everything we had. Our house is badly damaged. It is so horrible, but there is nothing I can do for Mustafa. We are so poor. We cannot even afford to remain in Turkey. How could we possibly press on to Europe? We cannot afford to buy bread. Yesterday was the last time we had something to eat. We are starving,” Mohamed Rahmo recounted with a heavy heart.

With a visible effort Mustafa finally stood up. Still staring at the ground, he broke into sobs and placed himself in the queue, where most of the people were not at all eager for conversation. They were patiently waiting to be allowed to be readmitted into a war zone.

Neighbouring on ISIS

A concrete wall and a small minefield are what now separates two formerly closely connected towns, the Turkish Karkamis and the Syrian Jarablous. Today, this artificial border is one of the most unusual – and dangerous – ones in the world.

The Syrian side is controlled by ISIS fighters. At the moment, the Islamic State also controls another 50km of the Turkish border stretching westward. As far as Turkey is concerned, this area forms a sort of buffer zone with no armed Syrian Kurdish presence. For some time now, members of the YPG have been trying to gain control of Jarblous, but the town is still firmly controlled by the Sunni extremist militia. The area east of the town, on the other hand, is controlled by the Kurds.

Up until the end of last year, the border was rather peaceful. From 2012 on, a hundred people or more were crossing it daily in both directions without major problems. Many of them were foreign fighters aiming to join the various insurgent groups in the north of Syria. Some of them were certainly crossing the border to join ISIS. The part of the border stretching between Karkamis and Kilis was the most porous segment of the more than 900-km-long border between Turkey and Syria.

The conditions started to deteriorate when Turkey officially entered the war against ISIS. This, it is worth remembering, was after a long period of what some have termed “Turkish active passivity” which enabled the terrorist militia to grow in strength.

It certainly holds true that, for a while, Ankara had found the Islamic State activities quite useful. But then things began to change. A series of suicide bombing attacks came to pass, and the geo-strategic situation grew more complicated as well. Turkey suddenly found itself in a rather unenviable position. At the same time, the Kurdish question was reopened, and in a rather spectacular way.

The Turkish authorities’ first move was to shut the border with Syria, then to send in heavy military reinforcements, while placing kilometres and kilometres of concrete walls and barbed wire along the frontier. As numerous watchtowers rose up to the sky, the closing of the border severely hurt the prospects of the Syrian civilians trying to flee the war crimes perpetrated by all sides. Tens of thousands of people remained trapped on the Syrian side of the border, while some 100,000 Syrians are currently staying at Karkamis and the neighbouring refugee camps.

On the other side of the border, the members of ISIS have set up minefields to shield themselves from any possibility of Turkish incursions. To the Islamic State, Jarablous has become a key strategic operation. The only question is why the almost 70 countries which make up the coalition against ISIS are so reluctant to attack the positions of extreme Islamists around theis small town which has been deserted by most of its civilian population.

At the end of January, Karkamis saw the first direct clash between ISIS and the Turkish state. The ISIS fighters began to fire at the Turkish soldiers who had come to clear the minefield. Several gunshells came crashing down on the small impoverished Turkish town. The Turkish army responded by deploying tanks. A few days later, the Turkish security forces captured a group of people from Jarblous trying to illegally cross the border. They were equipped with suicide-bomber belts and headed for Gaziantep, located about an hour’s drive from the border.

Since then, Karkamis, situated in the immediate vicinity of the Euphrates river, the region’s key water resource, has been plunged into a state of turmoil. The residents live in constant fear of new ISIS attacks and the Syrian war spreading to the Turkish territory. The entire town has become militarised. Police cars are patrolling its every silent and dusty street, and if you are a foreign visitor, your every step is closely monitored if not actively hindered.

Streets apart

“Life here is extremely hard. You have to be on the lookout all the time,” I was told by Merwan Kaya in his small kebab shop. A year ago, Kaya escaped from Jarablous to Karkamis. “You see that street over there? If you were to follow it to the railway station, you would reach the place where my old shop used to be. The spot is precisely 400 meters away from where we are standing now. It’s incredible, isn’t it? When the Islamic State took over Jarablus, things changed. My store was destroyed, and I was forced to flee to Aleppo and then to Karkamis. Now I am a refugee who lives two streets away from his former home.”

As he recounted his tale, Kaya brewed us tea while his two sons prepared the food. There are not very many inns in Karkamis, so the talkative Syrian was quite pleased with his earnings. “Over here, a kebab costs about six times what it costs in Syria,” he laughed, right before answering the phone. The call was from his daughter, checking in after a lengthy period of time. At the moment, she was living in Latakia, a Syrian coastal town and regime fortress.

The streets in the centre of the border town were almost deserted. Up until the fighting broke out, the residents hadn’t really been all that trouble by the ISIS presence only a shot away. Less than 200m now separate the population of Karkamis from the ISIS positions, and many expect their town will become yet another frontline in the Syrian conflict, which is evidently entering its decisive phase.

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Lesbos: “No matter how hard you swim, you can never save all of them”

 
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By Boštjan Videmšek, DELO

Despite the massive efforts of volunteer lifeguards, refugees are losing their lives in the Mediterranean. Europe must act… and out of compassion.

These conscientious and courageous lifeguards take time off work to volunteer to save lives. Photo: ©Elio Germani

These conscientious and courageous lifeguards take time off work to volunteer to save lives.
Photo: ©Boštjan Videmšek

 

Thursday 28 January 2016

Still shivering with the cold even in the golden foil they’d been wrapped in, two young Afghan girls were having a lively chat. Their mother was gazing out to the sea, mostly back towards Turkey, which they had departed two hours earlier on a grey dinghy.

Some 20km from the shores of Lesbos, the grey rubber boat’s engine had given out. The boat started rapidly filling up with water, but fortunately the passengers were spotted by the staffof the Spanish NGO Proactiva Open Arms. All of its members are experienced lifeguards, veterans of Catalonian and Basque beaches. Almost routinely, they set out and made sure the three rubber boats reached the small port in the picturesque village of Skala Skaminies, where at least 20 lifeguards from all over the world are currently stationed.

“It is cold, but I’m very relieved. We were getting desperate, but now we’re finally safe. I am so grateful to the people who came to rescue us,” smiled a black-garbed elderly lady from Douma, one of the quarters in Damascus hit hardest by the war. Madam S has lost both her sons to the conflict. On her long journey to Lesbos, she was accompanied by her grandchildren and the widow of her eldest son. They had seen and experienced it all. They were visibly exhausted and not up to a long conversation.

“We just want to get safe. We’re hoping Europe will take us in,” shrugged the younger of the two boys while fiddling with a pile of fake life-jackets. Most of these deadly fakes, it should be noted, had actually been made by Syrian children in garage factories all along the Turkish coast. Right now, the Syrian children are the ones who can provide the dirt-cheapest labour to be found.

Proactively saving lives

"The worst part is when you have to decide who you're going to save and who is going to be left to drown… no matter what you do, no matter how hard you swim, you can never save all of them.” Photo: ©Elio Germani

“The worst part is when you have to decide who you’re going to save and who is going to be left to drown… no matter what you do, no matter how hard you swim, you can never save all of them.”
Photo: ©Boštjan Videmšek

On Lesbos, countless NGOs and volunteers are toiling without pause to contain the tidal wave of human tragedy. But no matter how hard they try, it is never enough. The migrants and refugees keep dying on a massive scale.

“We’re all trying to the best of our abilities,” a thickly bearded man named Joaquim Acedo told me as we stood out in the cold winter sun. “Most mornings, we are already at sea by six when the first boats start coming in. Our first and only objective is to save lives. As for politics, it is not something I care to think about. I’ve got no time for that.”

But Acedo added an important afterthought. “Reaching Lesbos from Turkey by regular ferry costs €10 and is absolutely safe. Getting here by rubber boat costs €1,200 and can easily cost you your life.”

Acedo is the co-ordinator of the hi-tech Spanish rescue team. Proactiva Open Arms has certainly risen to the occasion.  “There’s quite a lot of us: Sea-Watch, Greenpeace, Doctors Without Borders (MSF), the Portuguese coast guard, the Greek coast guard, Frontex, the American,” the tired young man explained. “We’re co-ordinating our efforts as best we can and pushing our limits every day. But we really can use all the help we can get. Especially now, with the weather improving and more and more people pouring in every day.”

This was Joaquim Acedo’s second tour on Lesbos since Proactiva joined the action in September. Each team normally serves for 15 days, then its members go home utterly exhausted. All of them are participating on a purely voluntary basis, which means that the ones with regular jobs have to use up their vacation in order to be allowed to save lives.

“The worst part is when you have to decide who you’re going to save and who is going to be left to drown,” Acedo added somberly. »Sometimes there are 40 people in the water, all of them screaming for their lives. And no matter what you do, no matter how hard you swim, you can never save all of them.”

No compassion without direct action

Last year alone, almost 450,000 people entered the EU through Lesbos – almost half of everyone who reached the Greek Islands through Turkey. Lesbos, one needs to keep in mind, is an island with some 90,000 residents and an exceptionally weak humanitarian infrastructure. Despite all that, it is now the EU’s key entry point for migrants and refugees.

As things stand, there is almost no EU presence on the island, if we discount Frontex, the EU agency for securing the union’s external borders. In the months to come, the Frontex personnel’s jurisdiction is sure to widen considerably. The EU’s main “strategic” answer to the humanitarian tragedy is to strengthen its outer border, especially the border with Turkey. A part of this “solution” was the recent deal with the Turkish authorities to take on most of the responsibility for the incoming migrants and refugees. The sum handed over to Ankara by the European Union was €3 billion.

Last year, around 350 people drowned on the perilous trip from Turkey to Greece – enough of them so that a new location for a graveyard had to be found in Mytilini since there was no more room in the old one. This year, 70 souls have already been lost to the journey. This particular crime against humanity is only getting worse.

On the day I visited their venerable operation, the Spanish lifeguards saved more than 50 lives – lives that the European political elites and European public opinion increasingly perceive as a threat to their Christian way of life.

“But how can this be? Such a view is absolutely unacceptable to a Christian,” exclaimed Father Christophoris, an Orthodox priest who I sat down with in a smoke-filled café in the nearby mountain village of Sikaminia. Almost 14 years ago, Kristoforis himself had made the long journey here all the way from California. This is why he now considers helping the migrants and the refugees to be the focus of his life’s mission as a priest.

“The refugees have been coming here to Lesbos for 15 years now,” he explained to me over a steaming cup of coffee. “First from Afghanistan, then from Iraq, and now from Syria. Our duty is to help them as much as we can. All of us could be in their place but for the grace of God. This is our chance to choose between being good and being evil – it is as simple and straightforward as that. There is nothing more Christian than helping out a fellow human being. It is a sacred duty of each and every one of us. And it is also at the core of this great humanistic culture the EU is founded on, at least in principle.”

This remarkable blond-haired holy man is now at the heart of refugee relief co-ordination on the northern part of the island. The last time there was such an influx of desperate souls in these parts was in 1921 and 1922, when many Greeks were on the run from Turkey. They, too, had been very much a burden to the locals.

“There is no compassion without direct action,” father Christophoris informed me with a wistful smile. “And that is why the contribution of all the volunteers and the locals here has been priceless. They have come here from Greece and from all around the world, and they replaced the state. They clearly demonstrated precisely what needs to be done. They have done what was humanly possible to preserve the face of civilisation.”

The warmth of a cold reception

Cold in Moria. Photo: ©Elio Germani

Cold in Moria.
Photo: ©Boštjan Videmšek

Most of the people at the Moria refugee camp were shivering, some of them uncontrollably. On this day, the entire heart of the Mediterranean was wretchedly cold. The nearby mountain peaks had recently been whitened with snow, making the refugees’ journey even more ardous.

Wrapped in swathes of golden foil and blueish blankets, the refugees were very grateful for each cup of hot tea handed out by the volunteers. The children kept clinging to each other as the women wrapped themselves tight in their shawls and headscarfs. The men were seeking out what information they could get on how to continue with their journey. Most of them were disheartened to find out that, owing to a shipworkers strike, all the ferries to Piraeus had been cancelled. For a while, all they could do was stare at their cellphones while trying to come up with a plan B.

I was approached by a man named Said, hailing from the greater Aleppo region. “We’re so cold,” he told me. “How much longer will we have to stay here? Is it true that Germany has already closed its borders to the refugees?”

Said had reached Lesbos early that morning, accompanied by his wife, six sons and three daughters. The eleven of them formed a close huddle. Freezing half to death, most of them did not much feel like talking. They’d had to wait nine days to cross from Turkey to Greece. They borrowed most of the money they needed to reach Europe from their relatives. They have no idea how they will be able to repay them.

“We are running for our lives. We were hoping to remain in Syria, but it was not possible. Things get worse there every day. I had to protect my children,” Said explained his predicament. Unlike many of his fellow refugees aiming for Germany or Sweden, this hollow-cheeked man with an understandably distracted look in his eyes didn’t really care where his flight would deliver him. “All we want is to be safe. We simply want to find a place where we will not be bombed every day.”

Closing the borders

“I spent a great deal of this summer connected to the internet and watching footage of our people being warmly greeted in Germany,” Farouk confided. “And so I eventually decided to set out myself. I knew that if I remained in Syria, I would almost certainly be murdered. I don’t have any powerful friends on either side. I’ve also been against the war from the beginning. But I couldn’t leave my parents, could I? They were the ones who suggested I should join one of the refugee groups headed for Turkey.”

I was talking to Farouk under a metal awning in Mytilini, where he and some comrades had sought shelter from the icy rain. The men were sifting through their options. They had no money to sleep in a hotel, and the combination of the rain, the cold and their utter exhaustion was preventing them from walking back the 15km to the refugee camp.

After a while, a few stray dogs entered our grimy resting place. The Syrian youths twitched in something quite akin to panic, so the freezing animals took flight and retreated under a nearby staircase.

The distance between the comfort zone and the bottom of the food chain is so often a matter of geographical and temporal coincidence.

Farouk proved exceptionally well-informed about every aspect of the so-called Balkan refugee route. On leaving home, he knew that his chances of securing a new life in Europe were much slimmer than they would have been a few months ago. But staying put would have meant a much graver risk. The fact that Farouk hailed from Syria certainly increases his chances of breaking through to where he wants to go. But the chances of him actually being granted asylum are slim to none.

The European (anti-)refugee and (anti-)migrant policies are degenerating by the hour. Within EU territory, several hundred thousand refugees have been waiting for months to enter the job market. Even Germany, having set an example by opening its doors wide open, eventually decided to reach for the handbrake.

In many ways, it is little wonder. The Merkel administration is facing ever-more bitter opposition from within the ranks of its own party. The German open-door policy is irrevocably over. As a consequence, the Balkan refugee route is closing down.

Last Tuesday, the Austrian authorities decided only 37,500 people would be allowed to apply for asylum this year. The regime at the Austrian-Slovenian border, where for the past three months the Schengen arrangements have become but a wistful memory, is sure to get even stricter than it is today.

In the weeks and months to come, the Germans will start returning thousands of people to Austria, while the Austrians are bound to start funneling them off to the small barricaded country of Slovenia. At the same time, the Macedonian authorities have temporarily closed their Greek border at Gevgelija. As early as last autumn, the Macedonians at the border with Greece had begun to turn back the refugees who were not from Syria, Iraq or Afghanistan.

According to our information, there is a rather substantial chance of them soon sealing the border entirely. The way things stand, the most likely scenario is that the brunt of the burden will once again fall on the economically ransacked Greece. Brussels, which recently sold its share of responsibility for the refugees to increasingly unstable Turkey, is about to re-sacrifice Greece at the altair of its own short-sighted interests.

From here to the final rise of the neo-Nazi movements like the Golden Dawn is but a short step. The anti-refugee sentiment has become the European state of mind. This is true both at the level of the increasingly xenophobic public opinion and at the level of the political elites, which have finally been freed from wearing the masks of political correctness. This not only pertains to the former communist parts of Europe, but also to countries like Switzerland and Denmark, where on arrival the refugees are now stripped of a part of their assets.

“We will never go back”

Contrary to popular rightwing myth, the majority of people waiting to board the boat were women and children. Photo: ©Elio Germani

Contrary to popular rightwing myth, the majority of people waiting to board the boat were women and children.
Photo: ©Boštjan Videmšek

Last Friday night, several thousand people were waiting in the icy wind at the Mytilini port to get a ferry to Pireaus and Kavala. Due to a long shipworker strike, some 3,800 refugees were stranded on the island. Around 65% of them were women and children.

All over the port, the refugees were seeking relief from the savage cold. Very few of them were appropriately dressed for such arctic conditions. Some of them were forced to wait out in the cold for five hours or more. Almost none of them felt like talking. The only thing they were interested in was the hour when the two ferries were scheduled to leave.

Three Afghan youths had managed to set fire to a garbage heap and were now standing beside it to keep warm. They had been on the road for 30 days. “We will never go back. All three of us have borrowed money to get here. We first have to work hard to pay it back – only then can we start taking care of ourselves and our families. I want to work in the computing industry,” said 19-year-old Reza from Kabul.

The half a dozen Greek policemen in charge ordered the great mass of freezing refugees to form three long columns. The two enormous ships were not set to leave for another two hours.

By the time the refugees were finally allowed to board, most of them were so tired and cold they were unable to feel any joy. It was as if they were all too aware of what awaited them on the remainder of their Balkan journey.

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ليست سورية هي المسألة، المسألة هي العالم

 
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بقلم بوستيان فيدمشك

في لقاء موسع، يتحدث الكاتب والناشط البارز ياسين الحاج صالح هنا عن سوريا الماضي، الحاضر المأساوي والمستقبل المجهول.

صوري 1

الأربعاء 27 يناير 2016

ياسين الحاج صالح، من مواليد 1961، كاتب سوري يعيش في تركيا منذ خريف 2013. كان سجينا سياسيا شيوعيا أيام حافظ الأسد لمدة 16 عاما. زوجته سميرة الخليل مخطوفة منذ الشهر الأخير في عام 2013 من دوما في غوطة دمشق، وأخوه فراس مخطوف من قبل داعش في الرقة منذ تموز 2013. وله كتب منشورة عن الشأن السوري، وعن الإسلام المعاصر، وعن تجربة السجن.

نشرت هذه المقابلة باللغة الانجليزية هنا

ترجم المقابلة عن الانجليزية فاتح تامر، وراجعها ياسين الحاج صالح

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كيف حالك؟ وأين تعيش اليوم؟
أنا بخير، شكراً على السؤال. حين كنت في سوريا اعتدت على القول: ليس لدي أسباب شخصية للشكوى، ولا أسباب عامة للرضا. لكن بعد الثورة، واختطاف زوجتي سميرة وشقيقي فراس، ثم عيشي خارج البلد، في اسطنبول، صار ما هو شخصي عاماً وسياسياً أكثر من أي وقت مضى، وما هو عام وسياسي صار شخصياً جدا. إنها حياة صراع.

بماذا تشعر عندما ترى الكثير من أبناء بلدك ينزحون من النزاع الأسوأ في وقتنا الحالي؟ هل توقعت هذه الهجرة الجماعية؟
قبل أسابيع، ساعدت شخصيا بتهريب زوجة أخي وابنهما من تركيا إلى اليونان. وكمبتدئ في هذه الصنعة، استشرت أصدقاء، والتقيت بمهربين، واخترت أحدهم في النهاية. كنت قلقاً على سلامتهم، واسترخيت طبعا لدى وصولهم إلى بلد أوروبي، وإن لم يكن البلد الذي أرادوا الوصول إليه في البداية. يبقى الآن تدبير أمر النصف الآخر من العائلة، أخي وابنيه الأصغرين، ليلتحق بالنصف الأول. وبمساعدة أصدقاء، نعمل الآن على تأمين شقيقي الآخر وعائلته في بلد آخر، هذا بعد أن تم اغتيال صديق مشترك لنا، الصحفي والمخرج الوثائقئ ناجي الجرف في 27 كانون الأول 2015 في تركيا.
كما ترى، ندعو أنفسنا إلى عالم لم يكن كريما معنا ولم يساعدنا على التحرر في وطننا.

لا، لم أتصور يوماً إمكانية حصول نزوح واسع كهذا. لم أتوقع أن يتمكن النظام من قتل مئات الآلاف من السوريين، وأن ترتفع حظوظه بالبقاء بالسلطة كلما ازداد عدد ضحاياه. لم أتوقع نشوء كيان متوحش مثل داعش. ولم أعتقد بإمكانية مشاركة حوالي 70 دولة في قصف بلدي، قصف لا يستهدف المجرم الذي يحكم البلد، بل قوة إجرام جانبية.

كيف ترى التعاطي الأوروبي مع أزمة اللاجئين؟

كلي إعجاب بكثير من الأشخاص من البلدان الأوروبية، متطوعات ومتطوعين أفرادا. معجب بكرمهم وشجاعتهم، وأراهم يشرفون الجنس البشري. تأثرت كثيراً برسالة وصلتني من امرأة نرويجية قبل حين، جاءت من بلدها لتساعد اللاجئين في جزيرة ليسبوس اليونانية. أما بالنسبة للحكومات فليس من العدل أن تشمل بمجموعة واحدة، ألمانيا ليست كهنغاريا، والسويد ليست كالدنمارك، لكن أظن بأن الدول كلها تعمل على بناء أسواء عالية حولها لمنع تدفق اللاجئين إليها، وبشكل خاص الفقراء والضعفاء منهم.
تقوم الحكومات الأوروبية منذ شهور بالضغط على أنقرة لعدم السماح لللاجئين بمغادرة تركيا. في تشرين الثاني 2015 دفعوا للحكومة التركية مبلغ 3 مليار يورو مقابل حماية الحدود الأوروبية من خطر اللاجئين.
مع كل هذا الدم الذي أريق تحت أنظار العالم خلال الأعوام الخمسة الماضية قادت البشري نفسها نحو الفقدان الكامل للشعور الأخلاقي. أعتقد بأن عدم الاكتراث الذي أظهره العالم بخصوص المحنة السورية سيؤدي بالمؤسسات السياسية كلها إلى إحساس أدنى بالمعاناة الإنسانية في كل أنحاء العالم.

في وضعٍ غارق بالفوضى كهذا، أين ترى يمكن الحل أو الحلول؟
يمكن للمرء أن يفكر بتسوية تاريخية تنهي الحرب، وتضمن انسحاباً شاملاً للقوات الأجنبية، وتؤسس لبيئة سياسية مختلفة كليا في البلد. يمكن لحل سياسي مستدام أن يبنى حصراً على أساس أكثرية سياسية جديدة في سورية. ولا يمكن تحقيق هذا الأمر عن طريق مواجهة داعش لوحدها، أو النظام لوحده. يتطلب وجود أكثرية سورية جديدة حدوث تغيير سياسي جوهري، وهو الأمر الذي لا يمكن تصوره بدون وضع حد نهائي لحكم سلالة الأسد، وهي في السلطة منذ أكثر من 45 سنة،وتتحمل المسؤولية عن حربين كبيرتين في البلد: حرب 1979-1982 وحرب 2011 الجارية الآن.
هذا التغيير هو الشرط السياسي والأخلاقي المسبق للوصول إلى حرب على داعش بمشاركة واسعة من قبل السوريين. ما زالت القوى العالمية حتى الآن تحاول وضع العربة أمام الحصان عن طريق استهداف داعش وحدها، متجاهلة جذورالعسكرة والتطرف والطائفية خلال السنوات الخمس الماضية، أعني نظام الأسد. هذه سياسة قصيرة النظر ومحكومة بالفشل، بصرف النظر عن أنها لا أخلاقية. إنها وصفة مثالية لحربٍ لا تنتهي.
يمكن أن يتم بناء سوريا الجديدة على عدد من الأسس الجوهرية: اللامركزية، اعتبار الجماعات الإثنية والدينية والمذهبية المختلفة جماعات متساوية تأسيسيا، مساواة حقوقية وسياسية بين المواطنين الأفراد (عرب وكرد وآخرون، مسلمون ومسيحيون وآخرون، سنيون وعلويون وآخرون: متدينون وعلمانيون وآخرون). من غير المقبول الحديث عن سوريا كدولة علمانية، كما تنص وثيقة فيينا الموضوعة في 30 تشرين الأول 2015، حين لا تتطرق الوثيقة نفسها لأي شيء عن العدالة والمحاسبة، وتتجنب كلمة الديمقراطية. هذا الضرب من إعطائنا محاضرات عن العلمانية يذكر بأسوأ خصائص الخطاب الاستعماري.

ماذا يجدر بما يسمى “المجتمع الدولي” فعله؟ وماذا عن الأمم المتحدة؟
السنوات الخمسة الماضية كانت فرصة ممتازة لمتابعة آلية عمل المؤسسات الدولية والقوى العالمية. بالنسبة لي لم تعد القضية قضية سورية وحدها، إنها قضية العالم. ليس الأمر أنني لا أتابع ما يجري في بلدي، لكن العالم حالياً موجود في سوريا (70 دولة دخلت بالحرب هناك).
أرى أن عالم اليوم يفتقر إلى كوامن العدالة والحرية أكثر من أي وقت مضى منذ نحو قرن. في كانون الأول من 2015 ألمح فلاديمير بوتين إلى إمكانية استخدام الأسلحة النووية ضد “الإرهابيين”، هذا تصريح استثنائي وغير مسؤول، وقد قوبل بصمت مطبق من المجتمع الدولي. بعده بأيام قال الرجل نفسه بأن العملية العسكرية الروسية في سوريا “لا تشكل عبئا على الميزانية… بل إن من الصعب تخيل تدريب أفضل منها للقوات الروسية. يمكن أن نتدرب هناك لمدة طويلة من دون أن نلحق أي ضرر بخزينتنا”. تصريح مليء بالغطرسة الاستعمارية، لكنه لم يستثر أي ردة فعل على الإطلاق من الأمم المتحدة أو القادة الغربيين، ولا من مجموعات حقوق الإنسان أو المنظمات اليسارية في العالم.
تطور الوضع في سوريا من ثورة ضد الطغيان الى مسألة عالمية، المسألة السورية. أرى أن صنع المسائل هو النهج السياسي للأقوياء في صنع التاريخ. المسائل أوضاع معقدة تبث اليأس في النفوس، وهي تدوم عقوداً أو أجيالاً بأكملها أو “إلى لأبد”، كما يقول أحد شعارات موالي الأسد، وخلال هذا الوقت الطويل ينشبك الفقراء والضعفاء في أوضاع معقدة لا مخرج منها. وعلى النقيض، فإن نهج الضعفاء السياسي هو الثورات التي تخلق الوضوح والأمل. إن سحق الثورات في سوريا والمنطقة عموماً هو المهمة المتشكرة التي تجمع الأقوياء في سوريا والمنطقة والعالم عموماً. هذه العُقدة الغوردية التي يعقدونها ستبقى معنا لوقت طويل للغاية.
تاريخياً، سارت المسائل والحروب الكبيرة سارت معاً على قدم وساق. المسألة الشرقية انتهت مع الحرب العالمية الأولى، والمسألة اليهودية وجدت “حلين نهائيين” في الحرب العالمية الثانية وما تبعها، الثاني منهما كان على حساب الشعب الفلسطيني. ويمكن للمرء أن يضيف المسألة الكردية: منع الأكراد من تشكيل دولتهم، وهو أيضاً منبع للكراهية واليأس والحرب. سوريا مساحة تقاطع لهذه المسائل الثلاث معا.
لهذا السبب فإن سوريا هي تمثل عالماً مصغراً ومثالاً عالمياً. لا حاجة للقول بأن الأمم المتحدة والمجتمع الدولي هما صانعو مسائل، بل هم قوى ثورة مضادة. لا ينتظر المرء منهم أن يكونوا قوى ثورية، لكن دورهم كان إجرامياً بحق.

هل الانقسام السني-الشيعي أعمق اليوم من أن يحل سياسياً؟
إنه كذلك. ولكن لا يوجد حل سياسي للانقسامات الطائفية. وعلى كل حال، ليس الانقسام بحد ذاته هو المشكلة، المشكلة هي الصراع العنيف بين الجماعات الاعتقادية. وعلى العكس من الاعتقاد السائد في الغرب، فإن هذا الصراع ليس شيئا يترتب تلقائيا على وجود سنة وشيعة. في الحقيقة وعلى النقيض من ذلك، الصراعات الاجتماعية والسياسية هي التي تحرك هذه الانتماءات الخاملة وتشحنها بكهرباء سياسية خطرة. فتحولها عمليا إلى أحزاب سياسية، بل عسكرية. وهذا أيضاً من مناهج الأقوياء في إضعاف الشعوب المتمردة لتحويل الصراع من النطاق السياسي الاجتماعي الذي يتمثل بالمواجهة بين النخبة والفئات الأضعف إلى النطاق الثقافي الاجتماعي المتمثل بالمواجهة بين الضعفاء على جانبي خطوط الانقسام الدينية والاعتقادية. ما أريد قوله هو أنه يلزم أن تدرك بصورة أفضل ديناميكيات وعمليات النزاع السياسي الاجتماعي في بلدان مثل سوريا، العراق، البحرين، إيران والسعودية، وكذلك والنزاعات الاقليمية من أجل فهم الانقسام السني الشيعي نفسه. هذا الانقسام يتعمق اليوم بالتأكيد، ويجري استخدامه كأداة للسيطرة على الجموع وتعميق الهيمنة على المنطقة. الطائفية عموما هي استراتيجية للسيطرة السياسية. والمسألة في النهاية مسألة سياسة، ليست مسألة دين أو ثقافة.

هل بإمكاننا القول بأن سوريا لا تزال قائمة كبلد، كدولة؟
مجدداً، سوريا اليوم هي العالم. هناك أكثر من 70 دولة مشتركة بالحرب بشكل رسمي، ويوجد أيضاً جهاديون من أكثر من 70 دولة موجودون أيضاً هناك. سوريا مسألة عالمية، رمز فريد للظلم واللامبالاة والنسيان. لدينا سوريا هذه على الأقل، سوريا الرمز.

يؤسفني القول بأنني لست واثقاً من بقاء سوريا كبلد قابل للحياة. الاحتمال الوحيد لنجاة سوريا هو تغير سياسي جوهري. سوريا كما هي الآن بلا تغير تموت، عاجلاً أم آجلاً. فقط سوريا المتغيرة ستكون قابلة للحياة.

إن الأسباب الأولية لنشوء الحرب ووحشية النظام هي أمور قد تم بشكلٍ أو بآخر نسيانها في الرواية الغربية عن الحرب. لماذا؟

بشكل رئيسي بسبب علاقة تماه بين النظام والقوى العالمية العظمى على المستويات البنيوية والرمزية. ان عقيدة الحداثة هي مسألة مشتركة بين الفاشي بربطة عنق، بشار الأسد، وهؤلاء القادة ذوي ربطة العنق في الغرب الذين ينقصهم بعد النظر والإحساس بالمسؤولية العالمية. للأمر صلة بشكل ما مع تكون النخبة السياسية في الغرب، وهي مكونة من أشخاص ذوي دخل عال، منعزلين تماماً عن المعاناة الشعبية الناجمة عن السياسة. وهذا أحد مصادر أزمة الديمقراطية في الغرب ذاته. فالديمقراطية تموت حين تنفصل عن الصراع من أجل العدالة. نحن نشاهد بأعيننا كيف أن الديمقراطية تتقلص الى مجرد تكنولوجيا سياسية لإدارة الأزمات. منهج إدارة الأزمة، بانفصاله التكويني عن القيم وقضايا العدالة هو اليوم المنهج السائد في السياسة خلال السنوات ال25 الماضية، حتى في الغرب. هذا المنهج ليس نافعاً في شيء سوى خلق المسائل، والشرق الأوسط هو التجسيد الفعلي لهذه السياسات اللاأخلاقية.
وترجع بعض جذور ضعف الذاكرة الى تكوين الوسائل الاعلامية الكبرى في الغرب، حيث يتجه التفضيل إلى ما هو مثير على حساب ما هو هام إنسانياً وسياسياً. على سبيل المثال، قطع رأس رجل ما أكثر إثارة من قتل 100 آخرين ببرميل متفجر، وأكثر نيلا للاهتمام والتغطية الإعلامية. نتماهى مع من يقتلون بطريقتنا، جرائمهم مثل جرائمنا ليست أخبارا ولا تغطيها أقنية الأخبار التي نتحكم بها. لكن يصيبنا الهلع من هؤلاء الذين يقومون بالقتل بطريقة مختلفة، هنا الجريمة خبر جدير بالاهتمام، إلى درجة قيام وسائل الإعلام الغربية بشن حملات دعائية لداعش على مدار سنتين.
على فكرة، أعتقد بأن هذا الافتتان بداعش، وقد بدأ في صيف 2013، مرتبط بصورة وثيقة بالصفقة الكيماوية المشينة بين الولايات المتحدة وروسيا. فهم منها نظام الأسد ضمنياً أنه من المقبول أن يقتل الناس بأسلحة أخرى، ليس تلك التي قمنا نحن بتحريمها. كانت وسائل الإعلام الرئيسية مطيعة للغاية بتغطية كل ما تقوم به داعش وتهميش كل جرائم النظام، هادفةً لإضافة الشرعية على تلك الصفقة الخسيسة بين حاميي السلام  العالمي المفترضين.
الهوس بداعش هو وسيلة متبعة لغسيل عار تلك الصفقة. ترغب وسائل الإعلام والنخب القوية أن تبقى الشعوب متسمرة أمام العجيب المعروض، وتظل أذهانهم معلقة بقاطعي الرؤوس الوحشيين، المختلفين تماماً عنا وعن شعوبنا العزيزة. أريد أيضا أن أضيف شيئاً فيما يتعلق بمسألة الهوس بداعش. يخيل لي أن هذا المستوى المجنون من القتل والسيطرة الذي تمارسه داعش في المناطق التي تحتلها هو المستوى الذي تطمح النخب القوية في “العالم المتحضر” لتقليده. هذا العنف له وظيفة رئيسية: إنه يرفع سقف ما يمكن فعله بالشعوب في بلاد أخرى، معطياً نخب السلطة في كل مكان إحساساً بالسيطرة والحرية. فاذا كان من الممكن القيام بهذا الفعل هناك اليوم، فلعله سيكون ممكناً هنا أيضاً يومأ ما. داعش تمثل التجارب المخبرية التي يراود مخيلة نخب غربية محاكاة ما تفعله يوماً ما. طوباهم هذه هي كابوسنا. ولهذا بالضبط ينبغي أن تشعر الشعوب في الغرب بالقلق مما يجري في سوريا في السنوات الخمس الماضية. لا تدافعوا عنا، بل دافعوا عن أنفسكم!

هل هنالك أي جهة على الاطلاق تقوم بلعب دورٍ ايجابي؟
جهة خارجية؟ ربما لا. لكنه سيكون خطأً كبيراً ان استنتجنا من هذا الكلام أن كل الأطراف متساوون بالسوء. السجل التركي معقد، لقد قامت باستقبال حوالي مليوني ونصف لاجئ، وضعنا هنا مقبول، وحتى الآن أخذت تركيا موقفاً متسقا من نظام الشبيحة في سوريا، لكنها سببت العديد من المتاعب بسبب مخاوفها غير المنصفة وغير العقلانية حيال الكرد على جانبي الحدود. موقف فرنسا كان غالباً ثابتا أيضاً. كلا البلدين كانا واضحين طوال الوقت وحددا أن المجرم هو نظام الأسد، وأنه يجب أن يتم التخلص منه وحاولا التصرف على هذا الأساس، ولكن تم كبحهما عن طريق الولايات المتحدة. مثلت واشنطن العدو الأسوأ للثورة السورية، أسوأ حتى من روسيا، التي كانت عدواً صريحاً منذ اللحظة الأولى، بالاضافة لايران وتوابعها العراقية واللبنانية. لست مناهضا أصوليا للامبريالية على طريقة من يعتقدون أنها جوهر سري مكنون في مكان ما في الولايات المتحدة، ربما في البيت الأبيض أو البنتاغون أو السي آي إيه، ولكني حاولت جاهداً أن أجد أي عوامل إيجابية في السياسة التي انتهجتها إدارة أوباما حيال سوريا، ولم أفلح. العالم بأكمله أصبح مكاناً أسوأ من ذي قبل، وخاصةً بعد الصفقة الكيميائية والتي كانت بمثابة هدية كبيرة لداعش وجبهة النصرة، وبالتأكيد للأسد.

أما بالنسبة للأطراف الداخلية، فأعتقد أنه يمكن تعريف الظلامية بأنها القول بعدم وجود جيدين في الصراع السوري، وأن الكل سيئون. أرى بأن هذه نظرة أصولية، تشبه أسلوب داعش في التعامل مع قضيتنا. أنا لا أقول بأنه لا يوجد سيئون، هنالك كثير منهم، ولا أريد القول أيضا بأن هناك الكثير من الأشخاص الجيدين، وهو صحيح طبعا، ما لم يكن الواحد منا روبرت فيسك أو باتريك كوكبيرن أو فلاديمير بوتين. عوضاً عن كل ذلك، أريد إحداث تحول في الباراديغم من التوزيع الرجعي لتصنيفات جيد وسيء إلى النظر في الديناميكيات الفعلية للصراع. سبق وألمحت الى المجزرة الكيماوية والتي قضى بها 1466 سورياً على يد النظام الأسدي في آب 2013، والصفقة الكيماوية بين الأميريكيين والروس والنظام. دعني أتوقف هنا قليلا: ما كانت تلك الصفقة؟ كان هنالك أربع أطراف، وليس ثلاثة، في ذلك الوقت: النظام، الأميركيون، الروس، ثم ملايين السوريين الذين كانوا يقاومون نظام الطغمة الأسدية لأكثر من سنتين وخمسة أشهر حينها، سلميا في البداية وبالسلاح لاحقاً. لم يكسب النظام من تلك الصفقة المخزية نجاته فحسب، بل أيضاً الحصانة والإفلات من العقاب. تمكن الروس من إنقاذ نظام عميل لهم وكسب دور أعظم في المنطقة والعالم بشكل ملحوظ، في حين نجحت الولايات المتحدة (ومن خلف الكواليس، اسرائيل) في تجريد النظام من أسلحته الخطيرة والتي كان يفترض بأنها رادعة لاسرائيل.
الطرف الذي تم التضحية به بشكل كامل هو الطرف الذي كان قد فقد لتوه 1466 شخصاً في ظرف ساعة واحدة: السوريون الثائرون. لهذا السبب كانت هذه الصفقة خسيسة، وكذلك كان “أبطالها”، وعلى الأخص من اسمه باراك أوباما.
وبسبب وحشية النظام، وخسة أنوات العالم الكبار، انطلقت موجةٌ من التطرف والأسلمة والعسكرة والاستماتة، وغيرت كل شخصٍ في البلد، ومن بينهم أنا. في أيلول 2015، تواجدت في أوسلو لعدة أيام، وهناك ظهرت في برنامج تلفزيوني. قبل البرنامج، سألتني المقدمة إن كنت معتدلا؟ أجبتها: لا، لست معتدلاً. ارتاعت لبرهة، فأرادت أن تطمئن: لكنك علماني، أليس كذلك؟
تقرر العادات الخطابية في الغرب أن كلمة “معتدل” تعني بأنه يقف معنا (نحن كمركز للعالم)، وهي مرادفة أيضا لكلمة “جيد”. وتكون “متطرفا” و”سيئا” إذا وقفت الى جانب شعبك.
من جهتي، أنا سيء.

كيف ترى التورط التركي في الشأن السوري؟ وما هو مستقبل المسألة الكردية؟
هذا هو المنبع الرئيس لأهم أخطاء الحكومة التركية في سوريا. لم تتمكن تركيا من التعامل مع المشكلة الكردية في أراضيها على أساس من المساواة والحرية والأخوة. الآن هنالك حرب حقيقية في المناطق الكردية في تركيا، يجري فيها إذلال للناس الفقراء وتشريدهم وقتلهم. وقد صدَّرت الحكومة التركية إلى سوريا تجربتها السيئة بالتعاطي مع الأكراد. وكي تصير الأمور أسوأ، قام حزب الاتحاد الديمقراطي الكردي السوري باستيراد تجربته في تركيا إلى سوريا، واستورد معها مطبقيها، ومعها الرمزيات الخارجية للإيديولوجية الحداثية الرثة، المصمم خصيصاً لسحر المُعنّسين (الذكور غالبا) من يساريي للطبقة الوسطى في الغرب. سبب هذا الكثير من المعاناة حتى الآن، وأخشى أنه في سبيله إلى تسبيب المزيد. ما نشهده الآن برأيي هو عملية بناء نظامٍ حزب واحد مغالٍ في النزعة القومية الكردية، وله علاقاتٍ خفية مع نظام الأسد وإيران، وأخرى أقل سريةٍ مع الولايات المتحدة وروسيا.

كيف يمكن قتال داعش بصورة فعال؟ شخصياً، أنا لا أرى أي إرادة سياسية حقيقية لمحاربتهم بالقوة المطلقة.
أنت محق. لا ترى إرادة سياسية لقتال داعش لأنها غير موجودة ببساطة. هنالك إرادة سياسية لاستمرار الحرب طويلاً. وبقاء داعش جيد للحرب كي تستمر. زوالها هو الشيء السيء من وجهة النظر هذه. ولهذا يبدو العالم موحداً في وجه هذا التنظيم الفاشي ضعيف التسليح، بدون تحقيق أي تقدم في سبيل هزيمته.
أعتقد بأن المنطق الأميركي لتحليل المشكلة هو كالتالي: داعش قوية برجالها، لذلك علينا أن نحاصرهم في منطقة محددة، كي لا ينتشروا في كل مكان كما حدث بعد غزونا (الهستيري) لأفغانستان في 2001. ثم أنه يجب أن يبقى بشار نظراً للدرس الذي تعلمناه من غزونا (الإجرامي) للعراق وتفكيك الدولة فيه. أما بالنسبة لهؤلاء الذين هم ضد داعش ويحاربون الأسد، يعني… يعني هم غالباً “سيئون”. وربما يسير التفكير الروسي هكذا: نريد لبشار أن يبقى بالسلطة. ولتحقيق هذا علينا أن ندمر أولئك الذين يحاربونه حقاً. طبعا سنتكلم علناً عن حرب على الإرهاب فقط، وعن وقتال داعش. أليس هذا ما كان الأميركيون يطنطنون به طوال الوقت؟ عندما نسحق كل هؤلاء الذين هم ضد داعش وبشار، فإن التفاهم الضمني بيننا وبين الأميريكيين سيصبح علنياً، وسنقرر مصير سوريا والشرق الأوسط سويةً. اسرائيل ستقف معنا. نحن نستطيع أن نعطيها أكثر من ما يمكن أن يعطيها الأميركيون.

فلندع جانبا هذا التخطيط الاستراتيجي الافتراضي، أعتقد أنه ليس من الصعب أبداً قتال داعش، لكن لا يمكنك أن تفعل ذلك وأنت تتجاهل بشكل ممنهج القوات المحلية التي واجهت هذا الكيان في الماضي، وبينما أنت تعتمد على تنظيمٍ فاشيٍ آخر، نظام الأسد.

هناك ثلاث مستويات لصراع مثمر مع داعش. أولاً، يجب أن يتم تحديد قضية عادلة لهذه الحرب، ولا يمكن لهذه القضية أن تكون سوى العدالة والحرية لهؤلاء الذين تقمعهم داعش، وهو ما لا يمكن تحقيقه مع تجاهل المصدر الرئيسي للقمع والظلم، نظام الأسد. كيف تريدني أن أحارب داعش وأنت تتعامل من وراء ظهري مع نظام طغموي قتل أو تسبب بقتل 300000 من أبناء بلدي؟
ثانياً، يجب أن تكون هناك رؤية سياسية واضحة لدعم انتقال ديمقراطي للسلطة في سوريا والعراق. ستكون أوضاع الانتقال فوضوية في كلا البلدين لسنوات قادمة أو حتى أكثر، لكن هذا سيكون أفضل بكثير من حرب تستمر لأجيال طويلة ضد داعش، كما قال كل من جولي بيشوب وزير الخارجية الأسترالي ومارتن ديمبسي رئيس هيئة الأركان المشتركة الأميركية السابق، في كلمات مماثلة منذ عدة شهور.
ثالثاً، نحتاج استراتيجية عسكرية واضحة ومن الممكن تطبيقها خلال شهور أو سنة أو سنتين. ما أراه الآن هو حرب من دون هدف معلن بوضوح، بدون جدول زمني، وبدون حلفاء محليين (حزب الاتحاد الديمقراطي ليس حليفاً حقيقياً، فهو مرتبط بعلاقات مع النظام الفاشي، وهو غير ديمقراطي في تعامله مع السكان المحليين، دعك عن أن الاعتماد المنفرد عليه سيؤدي الى التسبب بمشكلة إثنية كبيرة في سوريا).

التعبئة الدولية اليوم ضد داعش تحفزها نزعة إبادة، وليس تحقيق العدالة. وهذا بالضبط ما يميز التعبئة التي تقوم بها داعش ضد العالم. هل من المستغرب حقاً أن نعترف بأن داعش هي انعكاس لصورة عالمنا الحالي على المرآة؟ كيف يمكن أن نفسر هذا الانجذاب المرضي للكتابة والحديث عن داعش في وسائل الاعلام الغربية بغير ذلك؟ بغير هذا النزع لنزع السحر عن وجه العالم؟
ربما هذا هو السبب الحقيقي لانعدام الرغبة في قتال هذا العدو العالمي المفترض.

ما سيكون دور داعش المستقبلي في سوريا والعراق؟
لا شيء على الإطلاق.
داعش هي مزيج من استعمار استيطاني ونظام فاشي وإرهاب عدمي. وهي بذلك مضخة للشر والموت يجب أن يتم تفكيكها بالكامل.
لكن من الضروري أن يكون هناك تغيير كبير بالتعبئة الحالية النازعة لإنسانية المسلمين، التي قد تتسبب بمجزرة كبيرة. أفضل نقطة للانطلاق هي فهم حقيقة داعش كقوة في العالم وتفسيرها بأدوات تحليل علمانية. ليست داعش شيئا دينيا، ولا هي نمو لبذرة في صلب الإسلام عابرة للزمن.

ومن المؤسف أن المرء لا يرى فرصة لتغيير، عندما نرى أشخاصاً مثل سلافوي جيجك يتبرع بالمشاركة في هذه الحملة الهستيرية، مزوداً إياها بمنطق تصنيفي حربي من قبيل “نحن” و”هم”، وتعميمات جاهلة عن الصراع السوري (صراع زائف حسب رأيه) وعن سوريا التي لا يعرف إطلاقاً شيئاً عنها، لا عن مجتمعها ولا عن تاريخها ونظامها السياسي واقتصادها السياسي وبيئتها الإقليمية. هذا النجم ما بعد الحديث كتب مؤخراً مقالةً ذات نزعة أكثر حربية بعد عن العلاقة بين تركيا وداعش، مقالة مبنية بالكامل على معلومات مغلوطة وعلى شغف بالكراهية. إذا أخذنا هذه الوقائع بعين الاعتبار، أخشى بأن الآمال بتغيير في مسارات التفكير أصبحت أضعف بشكل ملحوظ.

يخيل للمرء بأن داعش على قدر ما هي سيئة للسوريين والعراقيين، هي شيءٌ جيد للغرب ولروسيا. لذلك فالسؤال عن مستقبل داعش يجب أن يكون: هل سيقومون يوماً ما بفعل شيءٍ حقيقي لتفكيك هذا الكيان؟ هل هم حقاً معادون لهذا المزيج من استعمار استيطاني ونظام فاشي وتنظيم إرهابي؟ لعلهم يتعرفون في داعش على أشياءً يتعرفونها جيدا في أنفسهم.

هل ما يجري هو إعادة ترسيم للحدود في المنطقة؟
من المحتمل أننا داخلون في عملية كهذا. رسم حدود الشرق الأوسط كان نتيجة ما انتهت إليه الحربان العالميتان الأولى والثانية، والتغيرات التاريخية في مسألتين رئيسيتين، المسألة الشرقية والمسألة اليهودية، وجرى بإشراف القوى الاستعمارية التي شكلت النظام العالمي الحالي. سوابق حربي العراق ولبنان تفيد أن إعادة رسم الحدود ليس بالموضوع السهل. لكي يقع شيء من هذا القبيل يجب أن يحدث واحدٌ من شيئين بالضرورة: نظام عالمي جديد، و/أو تطهير عرقي على مستوى هائل، يتسبب بضحايا أكثر مما وقع في رواندا.

ولا أرى كيف من الممكن أن رسم حدود جديدة للمنطقة سيؤدي لحل أي مشاكل معلقة فيها. منذ الآن تبلغ أعمار الدول الموجودة في منطقتنا مئة عام تقريبا، وهي أقبل للإصلاح من دول جديدة ستكون إما صافية عرقيا أو طائفيا، وبالتالي أقل قابلية للترقي السياسي والأخلاقي لسكانها، أو مختلطة، لكن بدون ضمانات لعدم تصاعد الأوضاع لحلقة جديدة من الحروب العرقية أو الطائفية. وفي كلا الحالتين ستسعى كل من هذه الدول الجديدة الصغيرة لحماية نفسها من نظيراتها عن طريق اللجوء إلى القوى الاستعمارية القديمة نفسها التي رسمت الخرائط القديمة، ورعت الصراعات الحالية نفسها.
أنا مع (1) إصلاح دولنا (لامركزية، استقلالية محلية واسعة وحكم ذاتي، إلخ…).
(2) دولة فلسطينية سيدة.
(3) دولة كردية سيدة.
أتطلع أيضا إلى قيام كومونويلث شرق أوسطي حيث يعيش سوية العرب، الاسرائيليون اليهود، الأتراك، الأكراد والايرانيون، على أسس من المساواة والاحترام والرخاء المشترك.

سوريا تدمرت، يوجد الآن أكثر من 4.5 مليون لاجئ وأكثر من 11 مليون نازح داخل وطنهم. الدولة انهارت، جيلان على الأقل أصيبوا برضوض نفسية شديدةوتحطمت حياتهم بشكل غير قابل للعكس. ما الذي يمكن فعله للمساعدة؟ كيف يمكننا الانطلاق من الصفر؟ كيف نعيد بناء المجتمع؟
أولاً، علينا أن نسحب السكين من الخاصرة. نظام الأسد هو سكين، سكين مسمومة، لن تتعافى سوريا أبداً قبل إزالتها. ثانياً، سوريا ستحتاج الكثير من الوقت لتتماثل للشفاء. انه أمر مؤسف للغاية أنه لا يمكننا أن نتوقع المساعدة من المجتمع الدولي الذي ساعد بالأحرى في غرز السكين في مكانها منذ البداية. التعافي الوطني أصبح مهمةً غاية في الصعوبة، لكن ما تحتاجه سوريا بشدة هو إطلاق دينامية معاكسة لما سبق من دينامية عسكرة وتطرف وطائفية، دينامية مصالحة واعتدال واستيعاب للجميع. الناس الآن ناقمون ونزاعون إلى الثأر ببساطة لأنهم لا يزالون تحت القتل. من شأن دينامية مختلفة أن تقوي الاستعداد للتعاون والتفاهم المشتركين.

أعتقد أن عددا متزايدا من الناس سيعملون من أجل سوريا جديدة وأكثر استيعابا في اللحظة التي تنزع فيها السكين الأسدية من الجسد السوري. هم الآن متناثرون في كل أنحاء العالم، لكن حدوث تغير حقيقي في البلد وبناء سوريا جديدة سيكون قضية  جامعة لأكثرهم.

معظم المتعلمين غادروا البلد. كيف ترى المستقبل في وطنك؟
سؤالك مؤلم. إن لم تمت سوريا، فالعديد من هؤلاء الذين غادروا البلد سيعودون. وسأكون واحداً منهم بالتأكيد. أنا بانتظار أصغر فرصة للعودة. علي أن أقتفي أثر زوجتي وشقيقي الذين خُطفا في 2013.
أعتقد بأن إبداعية الناس يمكنها أن تفعل الكثير. اتحاد الضعفاء والمحرومين هو أمر ممكن، وهو ما سينقذ سوريا. أرغب بالعيش في سوريا جديدة أو سوريا تتغير، وسط الناس الذين يصارعون من أجل الحياة. لقد عشت هناك حياتي كلها.

كيف تؤثر مأساة شعبك على طريقتك بالكتابة؟
أنا بالأساس كاتب مقالات. أجد متعة في ذلك وأعيش منه.
ولما كنت الناجي بعد أن اختطفت زوجتي وشقيقي والعديد من أصدقائي بدون أي معلومات عنهم، فأنا أحاول أن أروي قصصهم، كي لا تضيع وتنسى. هذا أحد أهم المواضيع التي أكتب عنها.

وككاتب، أعتقد بأن مساهمتنا النوعية ككتاب في الثورة المخذولة تتمثل في إحداث ثورة في مجالنا الخاص، مجال الكتابة، والثقافة عموما.
الثورة ثقافية هي أمر ضروري جداً في سوريا والعالم العربي، وهي المشروع الوحيد الذي من الممكن يصون كرامة المخطوفين والمعذبين والمقتولين. أعرف أن عملي مشرب اليوم بحس مأساوي جاء مما أصاب سورية، وأصاب أحبابي، وأصابني شخصيا. في اللغة العربية هناك علاقة اشتقاقية بين كلمتي المعاناة والمعنى، وأعتقد بأنه يجب إعادة بناء ثقافتنا على أساس من معاناتنا وتجاربنا المريعة.
إلى ذلك، أرى أن الثقافة ميدان استراتيجي لصراعنا في هذا الوضع الاستثنائي. لقد قلت فوق شيئاً عن الأعداء وميادين الصراع. يمكن أن تكون الحرب أداةً في الصراع عندما يكون لك عدو واحد (طغيان السلالة الأسدية)، لكن السياسة هي الوسيلة عندما يكون لديك عدوين (لنقل الأسديين والجماعات الدينية المتطرفة)، أما الثقافة في الميدان الأنسب عندما تكون بمواجهة ثلاث أعداء: سلالة الأسد، المجموعات الإسلامية العدمية وقوى الامبريالية العالمية، روسيا والولايات المتحدة أساسا. بالطبع يجب أن تتشكل الثقافة بالطريقة الأنسب للرد على التحدي المتمثل بهذه القوى الثلاثة اللاانسانية. ما يوحد هذه الميادين الثلاثة من الصراع هو الذاتية والإبداع.
إنها مسألة انعتاق.

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Yassin al-Haj Saleh: “Syria is a unique symbol of injustice, apathy and amnesia”

 
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By Boštjan Videmšek/DELO

In an exclusive interview, prominent Syrian writer and dissident Yassin al-Haj Saleh talks about Syria’s past, tragic present and uncertain future.

صوري 1

Wednesday 20 January 2016

Yassin al-Haj Saleh is a leading Syrian writer, a former political prisoner and one of Syria’s foremost intellectuals. Ever since his student days, Saleh has been a vocal critic of the Assad regimes. He was arrested in 1980 during the presidency of Hafez al-Assad and spent the next 16 years as a prisoner of conscience.

During the early days of the Syrian uprising, his voice became louder than ever. In 2012, he was given the Prince Claus Award (supported by the Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs) but was unable to collect it, as he was living in hiding in Damascus. In 2013, he fled to Turkey. His wife and brother were abducted the same year. He is the author of several books,  including Deliverance or Destruction? Syria at a Crossroads (2014).

Here, he speaks to Boštjan Videmšek about Syria’s past, tragic present and uncertain future.

How and where are you right now?

I am fine, thank you. When I was in Syria, I used to say: I have no personal reasons to complain of, and no public reasons to be contented. After the revolution, with the abduction of my wife Samira and my brother Firas and my living in exile in Istanbul, the personal has become public and political much more than before. The public and political has become personal. It is a life of a struggle.

How do you feel when you see so many of your fellow citizens on the run from the most horrible conflict of our time? Did you expect an exodus like that?

Weeks ago, I helped smuggle my sister-in-law and my nephew from Turkey to Greece. As a beginner, I consulted friends, met smugglers, and chose one.

I was anxious about their safety, and was relieved when they arrived in a European country, even if it was not the one they wanted to go to. The other half of my brother’s family, he and his two younger sons, are to join the first half someday. With the help of friends, we are trying to arrange things for another brother and his family to take refuge in another European country, after a mutual friend of ours, the journalist and film maker Naji Jerf, was assassinated in Turkey on 27 December 2015.

We are helping ourselves to a world that did not help to liberate us at home. Never had I contemplated the possibility of such an exodus. I did not expect that the regime would kill hundreds of thousands of people and that its chances of staying in power would grow bigger as the numbers of its victims soared. I did not expect the emergence of a monstrous creature like Da’esh [ISIS]. I did not expect that around 70 countries would be partners in bombing my country: not against the ruling criminal, but against an offshoot of his monstrosity.

How do you see the European handling of the refugee crisis?

I am impressed by many people from many European countries, mostly individual volunteers. Their generosity, courage and humanity dignify the human race. I was touched by a message from a Norwegian woman who was in Lesbos helping refugees. As for governments, while it is not fair to include all of them in one category – Germany is not like Hungary, Sweden is not Denmark – I think they are unified in building higher walls in the face of the influx of refugees, specifically the poorest and most vulnerable ones.

For months now, European governments have been pressuring Ankara not to allow refugees to depart from Turkey. In November, they promised to pay €3 billion to the Turkish governments to guard European borders.

With all this blood that has been spilt over the past five years right under the world’s nose, humanity has led itself down the path to full ethical numbness. I suppose the indifference the world showed towards the Syrian ordeal will lead to even less sensitivity to human suffering in political institutions everywhere.

Where do you – in this chaotic situation – see the solution(s)?

One could think of a historical compromise that ends the war, guarantees full withdrawal of foreign forces, and is the basis of a wholly different political landscape in the country. A sustainable solution can only be built on a new political majority. This cannot be achieved through facing Da’esh alone or the regime alone. A new Syrian majority requires a substantial political change that is impossible to envisage without putting a full-stop to the rule of the Assad dynasty that has been in power for 45 years, a dynasty responsible for two big wars in the country: 1979-1982 and 2011-…

This change is the political and ethical precondition for a war against Da’esh with the broad participation of Syrians. The global powers have so far been putting the cart before the horse by targeting Da’esh only, ignoring the root cause of the militarisation, radicalisation, and sectarianisation that has occurred over the past five years, namely the Assad regime. This is a short-sighted and failing policy, not to mention unethical. It is a prescription for an endless war.

The new Syria could be built on a number of essential principles: decentralisation; thinking of different ethnic, religious and confessional communities as equal constituent communities; full equality among individual citizens (Arabs, Kurds and others; Muslims, Christians and others; Sunnis, Alawites and others; religious, secular and others). It is not acceptable to talk about Syria as a secular state, as the Vienna document of 30 October 2015 states, when the same document says nothing about justice and accountability, and avoids the word democracy. Lecturing about secularism reminds one of the worst traits of the colonial discourse.

What should the so-called international community do? What about the UN?

The past five years were a great chance to follow the international institutions and the world powers. For me, it is no longer Syria, it is the world, which is in a deep crisis. It is not that I do not follow what is happening in my country, but the world is in Syria (around 70 states are at war there).

I tend to think that the world lacks the potential for freedom and justice more than at any time over the past a century. In December, Vladimir Putin raised the possibility of using nuclear weapons against “terrorists”, an extraordinarily irresponsible statement that was met with utter silence form the international community. A few days later, the same man said that the Russian offensive in Syria “is not a serious burden for the budget … It’s hard to imagine a better exercise [for the Russian forces]. So we can train there [in Syria] for a long time without any serious harm to our budget.” Full of colonial arrogance, this statement stirred no reaction at all from the UN or Western leaders, not even a word from human rights groups, or any leftist organisations in the world.

The situation in Syria has developed from a revolution against tyranny to a global question, the Syrian question. Creating questions is, in my opinion, the political method of the powerful in shaping history. They create complicated, despair-inducing situations that last decades or generations (or forever, as an Assadist slogan says), during which the poor and weak are entangled in ineffectual struggles. By contrast, the method of the vulnerable is to create clarity and hope through revolutions. Crushing the revolutions in Syria and in the region has been the common job of the powerful local, regional and global powers. The Gordian knots they create will be with us for a long time.

In history, questions and big wars walked hand in hand. The Eastern Question ended in the First World War, and the Jewish Question found two “Final Solutions” in the Second World War and its aftermath (the second at the expense of the Palestinian people). One might add the Kurdish question: denying the Kurds statehood, which is also a source of hatred, despair, and war. Syria is an active field for this question now.

That is why Syria is a microcosm and a global metaphor.  Needless to say – the UN and the international community are creators of questions, or are, indeed, counterrevolutionary powers. I do not expect them to be revolutionary, but their role was criminal indeed.

Is the Sunni-Shia divide now too deep to overcome it politically?

It is. But there are no political solutions to confessional divisions. However, division in itself is not a problem; the problem is the violent struggle between the confessional groups. Contrary to the common wisdom in the West, this struggle is not something primordial that emanates from the very fact that there are Sunnis and Shia. Actually, it is the opposite: social and political struggles mobilise these idle belongings of ours and electrify them, or charge them politically. They transform into political, indeed military, parties. This is also the method of the powerful in order to weaken rebellious people and transfer the struggle from the socio-political field (the underprivileged v the elite) to the socio-cultural field (our underprivileged against theirs). What I want to say is that we need to know better the dynamics and processes of the social and political struggle in countries like Syria, Iraq, Bahrain, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the regional struggles to understand the ‘Sunni- Shia divide’. This is deepening indeed. It is being used as a tool to rule the masses and to exercise regional influence. Sectarianism, in general, is a strategy for political control. So it is politics, not religion or “culture”.

Can we say that Syria still exists as a country, as a state?

Again, Syria is the world. More than 70 countries are formally at war in the country, and jihadists from more than 70 countries are also there. Syria is a global question, a unique symbol of injustice, apathy, and amnesia. We have this Syria, at least – the symbol.

I am sorry to say that I am less sure about Syria as a viable country. The only chance, however, for Syria to survive is substantial political change. Unchanged, Syria is a dying land, sooner or later. Only changed will Syria become viable.

The reasons for the war and the brutality of the regime have been more or less forgotten in the Western narrative of the war. Why?

Primarily due to the identification between the regime and the major powers on the structural and symbolic levels. The modernist ideology is a common issue between the fascist with a necktie, Bashar al-Assad, and those neck-tied leaders in the world who lack vision and global responsibility. This issue is, in a way, related to the formation of the political elite in the West: high-income people who are fully isolated from politically inflicted human suffering. One source of the crisis is democracy in the West. If separated from the struggle and human aspiration for justice, democracy dies. In front of our eyes, we are witnessing democracy being reduced to political technology for dealing with crises. Crisis management, with its innate divorce from values and issues of justice, is the dominant method of politics over the past 25 years, even in the West. This method is good for nothing but creating questions, and the Middle East is the incarnation of these extremely unethical policies.

Some additional roots of this amnesia are related to the constitution of the powerful mass media in the West: the exciting is always more preferable to feed the masses on than what is humanly and politically important. For instance, beheading a man is more exciting than killing 100 with a barrel bomb. We identify with these who kill the way we do (their crimes, like ours, are not news), but we are enchanted with those who kill in a different way to the degree that we have offered Da’esh free propaganda for two years.

By the way, I think this enchantment with Da’esh that began in the summer of 2013 has deep connections with the sordid chemical deal between the US and Russia, which practically informed the Assad regime that it was okay to kill people with other tools, not with the one we had forbidden. The mainstream media was obedient in highlighting whatever Da’esh did and sidelining the crimes of the regime in order to legitimise that despicable deal between the two big global keepers of the peace (read: war). Da’eshmania is a way of suppressing the shame of that deal. Media and power elites want the masses to remain mesmerised, with their minds fixated on those exotic decapitators, who are absolutely different from us and our dear masses.

I want to add one additional thing concerning this fascination with Da’esh. I suspect that the mad extent of killing and control that Da’esh is practising in the regions it occupies is the level the power elites in the “civilized world” aspire to imitate. That violence has an essential virtue: it pushes past the limits of what can be done to the population at home, giving the power elites everywhere a sense of mastery and freedom. If this can be done there, it will be possible here someday. Da’esh is the laboratory test the elites like to peep at and hope to imitate someday. It is their utopia and our dystopia. That is why the population in the West should be anxious of what has been happening in Syria for the past five years. Do not defend us, defend yourselves!

Is there any player at all who has  a positive role?

External players? Maybe not. However, it would be a big mistake to conclude from that that all the players are equally bad. Turkey’s record is mixed: it welcomed around 2.5 million refugees. Our situation here is acceptable and, so far, Tukey has had a consistent position towards the Shabeeha regime in Syria, but it caused a lot of trouble because of it is irrational and unjust concerns about the Kurds on both sides of the border. France’s position was mostly a consistent one, too. Both countries were clear all the time that the culprit is the regime and it should be overthrown and they tried to act accordingly, but were kept back by the United States. Washington has been the worst enemy of the Syrian revolution, worse even than Russia, which was a clear enemy from the first moment, along with Iran and the latter’s satellites in Lebanon and Iraq. I am not an essentialist anti-imperialist who thinks that imperialism is an essence hidden somewhere in the US, maybe at the White House, the Pentagon, or the CIA, but I tried hard to locate any positive elements in the Syrian policy of Obama’s administration in Syria. The world at large has become a worse place, especially after the chemical deal which was a big gift to Da’esh and al-Nusra Front (and, of course, to Assad), than it was before.

As for internal players: I think one can identify obscurantism as the position of saying that there are no “good guys” in the Syrian conflict; they are all bad. I see this as an essentialist, Da’esh-like way of approaching our cause. I do not imply that there are no bad guys, there are many; neither do I want to say that there are many good guys, which is of course true, unless one is Robert Fisk, Patrick Cockburn, or Vladimir Putin. Rather, I want to make a paradigm shift from that reactionary distribution of labels of good and bad, to the actual dynamics of the struggle. I alluded before to the chemical massacre in which 1,466 Syrians were killed at the hand of the Assad regime, and to the chemical deal between the Americans, Russians and the regime. What was that deal? There were four actors, not three, at the time: the regime, the Americans, the Russians and millions of Syrians who had been resisting the thuggish regime for more than two years and four months, peacefully at the beginning then with arms. The regime gained not only its survival from that sordid deal but also impunity; the Russians managed to save a client regime and won a greater recognised role in the region and the world, while America (and from behind the scenes, Israel) succeeded in disarming the regime of the dangerous weapons that were thought of being deterrent to Israel. The party that was completely sacrificed is the one who had just lost 1,466 people in one hour: the rebellious Syrians. That is why that deal was despicable and its “heroes”, especially the one named Barak Obama, were extremely villainous.

Due the regime’s brutality and the baseness of the big egos of the globe, a dynamic of radicalisation, Islamisation and militarisation, was triggered and changed everybody in the country, myself included. In September 2015, I was in Oslo for a few days, where I appeared on a TV programme. Before this show, the presenter asked me, if I was “moderate”. No, I am not, I replied. She was alarmed, but she wanted to be sure: “But you are secular, aren’t you?” For the discursive habits in the West, ‘moderate’ implies that siding with us (“We are the centre of the world.”) and “good” are synonyms. You are “extremist” and “bad” whenever you side with your own people.

Of course, I am bad.

How do you see Turkey’s involvement and the future of the Kurdish question?

This is the main cause of the Turkish government’s biggest mistakes in Syria. Turkey has not been able to deal with its own Kurdish problem on a basis of equality, freedom and fraternity. Just now, there is a real war in the Kurdish regions in Turkey, with poor people being humiliated, displaced and killed. To Syria, the Turkish government exported its bad experience in dealing with the Kurds. And to make things worse, the Syrian PYD imported from Turkey its experience there, people to apply this experience, and with spades of the modernist ideological rubbish, designed specifically to enchant middle class left-wing spinsters (mostly males) in the West. This has already caused a lot of suffering, and I am afraid it will only cause more. What we are witnessing is, in my view, the building of an ultranationalist, one-party system, with hidden connections to the Assad regime and Iran, and less hidden ones with the US and Russia.

How can we effectively fight Da’esh? Personally, I don’t see any substantial political will to fight them with full force.

You do not see political will to fight Da’esh because there is none. There is political will for the war to go on. Da’esh is good for the war to continue. Its demise is the bad thing from this perspective. That is why the world seems unified against this ill-equipped (in military terms) fascist organisation, without making progress toward defeating it.

I think the American reasoning goes this way: Da’esh is strongest in its men. We have to besiege them in a certain area, so they will not spread everywhere the way they did after we (hysterically) invaded Afghanistan in 2001. Bashar should stay according to the lesson we learnt from our (unjustifiable) invasion of Iraq and dismantling the state there. As for those who are against Da’esh and fighting Bashar, well, er… they are mostly bad. The Russian monologue maybe goes like this: we want Bashar to stay in power. To achieve this we have to destroy those who are really fighting him. Of course, we will talk only about a war against terror and fighting Dae’sh, is it not that what the Americans have been droning on about the whole time? When we crush all those who are against Bashar and Da’esh, the clandestine understanding between us and the Americans will become public, and we will decide the fate of Syria and the Middle East together. Israel will side with us. We can give it more than the Americans are able to do.

Imaginary strategising aside, I think it is not at all difficult to fight Dae’sh, but you cannot do so while systematically ignoring the local forces that did face this entity in the past, and relying on another fascist organisation, namely the Assad regime.

There are three levels of a fruitful struggle against Da’esh. First, to honestly build a just cause for this war, and this cannot be but justice and freedom for those oppressed by it, which in turn cannot be achieved while ignoring the main source of oppression and injustices, the Assad regime. How do you want me to fight Da’esh while you are dealing from behind my back with a cliquish regime that killed 300,000 of my fellow citizens? Second, there should be a clear political vision of supporting a democratic transition in Syria and Iraq. Things will be messy in the two countries for years to come or even more, but this is still far better than a war that goes on for generations as both Jolly Bishop, the Australian foreign affairs minister, and Martin Dempsey, the former American head of staff, said in similar words few months ago.

Third, you need a clear military strategy that can be achieved in months or a year or two. What I see now is that we have a war without a clearly expressed aim, with no timeframe, with no local allies (The PYD is not that ally: they have relation with the fascist regime, and they are not democratic, let alone that relying solely on them will creating a very big ethnic problem in Syria). The international mobilisation against Da’esh is annihilation-oriented (not geared towards justice). But this is also the essential feature of Da’esh’s mobilisation against the world. Is it that far-fetched to say that Da’esh is a mirror reflection of the present world? How else can we explain this morbid attraction to talking and writing about Da’esh in the media of the West? This dis-disenchantment of the world?

Maybe this is the reason for this reluctance to fight this supposed global enemy.

What will be their role in the future of Syria and Iraq?

Absolutely nothing.

Da’esh is a mixture of settler colonialism, a fascist regime, and a nihilist terrorist organisation. As such, it is a pump of evil and death that should be completely dismantled.

But there should be a big shift in the current dehumanising mobilisation that affects all Muslims and promises us only a huge massacre. For effecting such a shift, the best starting point is to understand Dae’sh as a worldly power and explain it through secular tools of analysis. It is not a religious thing, not a flourishing of a primordial seed within Islam.

It is a sorry fact that one does not see any prospect for such a shift, when even people like Slavoj Žižek volunteer in this hysterical campaign, providing it with a warring classificatory logic of us and them, and stupid generalisations about the Syrian struggle (a pseudo struggle according to him) and Syria that he knows absolutely nothing about – its society, history, political system, political economy, regional environment. That postmodernist superstar wrote recently an even more combative article about the relationship between Turkey and Da’esh – one based on false information and a passion for hatred. With this in mind, I am afraid hopes for a change of course become considerably slimmer. One may even think that Da’esh, as bad as it is for Syrians and Iraqis, is something good for the West and Russia. So the question of Da’esh’s future is: will they ever do anything real to dismantle this entity? Are they really antagonistic to this combination of settler colonialism, fascist regime, and terrorist organization? Maybe they are identifying in it things that they know very well in themselves.

Are the old borders in the region being redrawn?

It is possible that we are in the process. Drawing borders in the Middle East was an outcome of two world wars and historical shifts in two questions (the Eastern and the Jewish one), under the supervision of the colonial powers as they shaped the present world system. The precedents of Iraq’s and Lebanon’s wars denoted that creating new states and redrawing borders is not as easy as we may think. For such a thing to happen, one of the following two is a pre-requirement: a new world system and/or a massive ethnic cleansing; one that surpasses Rwanda.

I do not see how redrawing new maps in the region will solve any older problems. Our present states are already a century old at least, and they are reformable far more than new states that will be either pure, and consequently less capable of ethical and political promotion, or mixed, with no guarantees of not spiraling into a new circle of ethnic or sectarian wars. And in both cases these new smaller states will seek protection from each other by resorting to the same old colonial powers that drew the old maps, and that patronised their very present struggle.

I am for (1) reforming our states (decentralisation, autonomous regions, etc.); (2) a sovereign Palestinian state; (3) a sovereign Kurdish state. I look forward to a Middle Eastern commonwealth, where Arabs, Israeli Jews, Turks, Kurds, and Iranians live together on a basis of equality, respect, and shared prosperity.

Syria has been destroyed, with 4.5 million refugees and more than 11 million people displaced inside their own country. The state has collapsed, at least two generations have been deeply traumatised, their lives irreversibly shattered. What can be done to help? How do we start from “ground zero”? How do we rebuild society?

First of all, you have to remove the knife from the loin.The  Assad regime is a knife, a poisoned one, that Syria will never recover from without it first being removed. Second, Syria will need a long time to convalesce. It is regrettable that one cannot expect help from “the international community” that helped plunge the knife in the first place. National recovery has become a formidable task, but what Syria needs most is to launch an opposite dynamic to that of militarisation, radicalisation, and sectarianisation – one of reconciliation, moderation and inclusivity. People are vengeful now just because they are still being killed. A different dynamic will encourage a predisposition towards co-operation and mutual understanding.

I believe that an increasing number of people will work for a new, more inclusive Syria, the moment the Assadic knife will be plucked out of the Syrian body. They are now scattered all over the world, but real change in the country and building a new Syria will be a collective cause for the majority of them.

Most of the educated people fled. How do you see the future of your country?

Your questions are painful. If Syria does not die, many of those who fled would come back. I will be one, definitely. I just want a minimal chance to go back home. I have to track down a loving wife and a brother, both abducted in 2013.

I believe that the creativity of people can do a lot. The alliance of the vulnerable, the underprivileged, is possible, and they will save Syria. I only want to live in a changing/changed Syria, among the people who are struggling for life. I lived there all my life.

How does the tragedy of your people affect the way you write?

I am essentially an essayist. I enjoy doing this and I am living off it.

Having survived after my wife, my brother and many of my friends were abducted with no information about them, I am trying to tell their stories, to prevent them from lapsing into oblivion. This is one of the main topics of my work.
As a writer, I think our specific participation as writers in the let-down revolution is to achieve revolution in our own sphere: writing and culture in general. A cultural revolution is extremely vital in Syria and the Arab World, and it is the only project that radically dignifies those abducted, tortured and killed. I know that my work is now imbued with a tragic sense, derived from what befell Syria, my beloved and me personally. In Arabic, there is a telling etymological relation between suffering and meaning, and I think that our culture should be rebuilt around our horrible experiences of suffering.

Besides, I feel that culture is a strategic field of our struggle in this exceptional situation. I said something before about enemies and fields of struggle: war could be a tool of struggle when you have one enemy (Assad dynasty tyranny), politics is the method when you have two enemies (say tyranny and religious extremism), but culture is the right field when you have three enemies, as we have: the Assad dynasty, the nihilistic Islamic groups and global imperialist powers, principally the US and Russia. Of course, culture should be formed in a way that responds best to the challenge of these three inhumane powers. What unifies these three fields of struggle is autonomy and creativity.

It is a matter of emancipation.

 

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The UN’s Insecurity Council

 
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By Khaled Diab

The UN Security Council has a long track record of failing to resolve conflicts. Now it is also in danger of bringing the major powers to blows.

UN SC

Wednesday 4 November 2015

United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon’s recent surprise visit to Israel and Palestine followed fast on the heels of France’s efforts in the UN Security Council to issue a presidential statement in support of the deployment of international observers at the Haram al-Sharif/Temple Mount and other holy sites in Jerusalem.

Such a flurry of activity by and within the UN is clearly intended to calm the violence that has been escalating for the past month. But even with the best intentions, does the UN in its current form have any capability or credibility in this conflict?

The French draft on international observers, by focusing on the Haram al-Sharif/Temple Mount, above all gives credibility to the myth that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is about religion – but it also confuses a symptom with the disease.

The Temple Mount is only a microcosm of the wider conflict and it is not where the greatest abuses occur. It would be far better and more useful if international observers were deployed across the occupied territories and in East Jerusalem to monitor the daily transgressions there.

Better still would be an international peacekeeping force, which would be good for both sides. For Palestinians, it would offer protection from Israel’s arbitrary and repressive military rule. For Israelis, it would provide security without the corrupting domestic influence of draconian militarism. For both sides, it could offer the breathing space required to rebuild bridges burnt over the past couple of decades.

However, it is near impossible that such an ambitious proposal would fly, if even the idea of proposing international guardian angels at Jerusalem’s holy sites is meeting with such stiff resistance.

Israel is adamantly opposed to the French proposal. “Israel is not the problem on the Temple Mount; it’s the solution. We maintain the status quo,” Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu claimed defiantly.

And Israel, through its patron and ally, the United States, holds an effective veto over the UN. Washington has exercised its veto right, as one of the five permanent member of the Security Council, to shield Israel dozens of times, not to mention the threat, or fear, of a veto on numerous other occasions to stifle resolutions at their inception.

But it is not just the US that has exploited its veto power irresponsibly to undermine global and local security. Other permanent members have been similarly reckless.

Take Syria as an example. Moscow, along with Beijing, has vetoed four resolutions on Syria. Displaying a multilateralism of sorts, all five of the Security Council’s permanent members, either directly or indirectly, have been involved in the Syrian civil war.

Rather than working for the common global interest of, first, preventing, and now, ending the Syrian conflict, they have selfishly been pursuing their own perceived narrow national interests. Moreover, the Security Council’s failures do not just stop at the here and now. The council’s inability to defang conflict is legendary, with one of the most alarming examples being the Rwandan genocide.

This is partly because the Security Council’s architecture is not fit for purpose. Intended primarily to prevent global conflicts involving the major powers, it is ineffective in regional or proxy warfare.

The Security Council has arguably succeeded in this mission and, even during the Cold War, it helped prevent direct confrontation between the major powers of the capitalist and communist camps. However, they did, and continue to, engage in proxy conflicts, with Syria being the most notable current example.

Additionally, most conflicts today are local or regional ones, and so are difficult to defuse with this architecture, especially the incredibly problematic veto right, which blocks the ability for collective action if just one permanent member objects.

Moreover, we have reached a dangerous fork in the road. Nowadays the Security Council is in danger of magnifying, rather than dissipating, conflict, as its paralysis over Syria and the involvement of its permanent members in Syria demonstrates.

There is an urgent need to reform the UN’s architecture to make it a more effective force for global peace and stability.

A growing chorus of voices argue that the number of permanent members of the Security Council should be enlarged to reflect the contemporary reality of the world and to better include unrepresented regions. Candidates put forward include India, Brazil and the European Union.

However, an enlarged Security Council in which its new permanent members also exercised a veto would likely paralyze this body even more than it already is. It is my view that, with or without enlargement, the veto has to go.

Given the gravity and importance of the issues it deals with, a supermajority voting system could be established in which  a resolution would pass if, say, at least two-thirds of the 15 members of the Security Council (including the 10 temporary one).

However, this does little to address the fundamentally undemocratic and paternalistic nature of the Security Council, which effectively subordinates the will of the international community of nations to that of just five countries.

This can be addressed by making the Security Council subordinate to the General Assembly, and the executor of its will. Of course, for the current permanent members, who would have to agree unanimously to such a step, it would be tantamount to turkeys voting for Christmas.

In addition, if that kind of power is transferred to the General Assembly, larger countries would justifiably say that this unfairly discriminated against them. The UN’s current system of one country, one vote means that tiny Tuvalu, with a population of just under 11,000, carries as much weight as China’s 1.35 billion. This means that if the General Assembly were to start handling issues of international security directly, it would also need to be reformed, with a weighted voting system reflecting individual country’s populations – or the division of larger countries into voting regions, each of which would receive a seat at the UN.

Some small or pariah countries, such as Jewish Israel and Shia Iran, feel that the General Assembly has an intrinsic bias against them. Many Israelis are convinced Israel is held to a different standard.

Whether or not this view is accurate, such situations are possible. Just like a national democracy can turn into a dictatorship of the majority, the same can occur within an international democracy. Avoiding such eventualities would require a powerful constitution to govern the UN’s reformed security mandate and a “do no harm” philosophy.

But even if the Security Council were reformed to overcome its inertia, could it resolve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?

Many peace activists on both sides are convinced it could, while the Palestinian Authority and PLO have premised their global diplomatic strategy on the idea that the international community, represented by the UN, holds the keys to peace.

At a certain level, this is a valid point of view. Centralising the international response and rooting it in international law would, at the very least, remove the foreign meddling that created and fuels the conflict. At best, it would empower the international community to address the root causes fuelling the conflict. However, this would require a shift away from the long-deceased Oslo paradigm and towards a civil rights platform, identifying and empowering local partners who can build the popular support necessary to lead their peoples towards peaceful coexistence.

But even if the international community were able to act as a single voice and find creative ways to tackle and address the root issues, this would not necessarily resolve the conflict. After all, the UN played a major role in helping create the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in the first place.

When it voted for the partition of Palestine in 1947, the newly conceived UN failed to ensure local buy-in, and this foreign hubris had dire consequences. Back then, failing to gain Palestinian and Arab acceptance led to war. Today, failure to gain Israeli support also risks leading to war or, at the very least, Israel openly embracing its pariah status, entering into self-imposed global isolation, and taking the gloves off completely.

The UN and the wider international community can only help lead Israelis and Palestinians to water. But they cannot force them to drink from the font of peace against their will.

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Follow Khaled Diab on Twitter.

This is the extended version of an article which first appeared in Haaretz on 20 October 2015.

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