The Syrian’s Struggle


Syrians are a people of a long, illustrious, sage and vibrant heritage. Damascus is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, and Syria is a nation that completes the eastern crescent of the Mediterranean, and, though Syria itself was only formed after the First World War, its territory sits atop a junction of ancient Empires and Kingdoms, most notably the Eblan civilisation of around 3000BC. Cattle breeding and simple agriculture hail from the classical Syrian region above Egypt and Arabia and the nation has historically been seen as one of relative wealth and stability.

However, since the formation of modern Syria in April of 1946, and its subsequent independence from the short-lived United Arab Republic in 1961, Syria has been ruled by two men from the same family. Haffez al-Assad ruled Syria from 1970 until his death in 2000, and his regime was a brutal one for the Syrian. The authoritarian nature of al-Assad Senior’s rule ruthlessly stamped out the vast majority of all protest against the monopoly of his government, and, save for a relatively minor uprising in the late 1970s from fundamentalist Sunni Muslims, Haffez al-Assad’s rule was one of ensured, introvert peace and pragmatically oppressive government. However, the violence currently seen in Syria was unheard of during al-Assad senior’s regime.

In the subsequent decade, Haffez’ son Bashar has continued the political dominance of the al-Assad family, and since mid-2011, Syria has seen some of the Arab Spring’s most brutal and sustained violence. The UN and other humanitarian organisations estimate that nearly six thousand Syrians have perished at the hands of Bashar al-Assad’s brutal and ruthless ‘security forces’, and the Syrian National Council, an organisation established in August of last year to front and organise the revolution, holds estimates nearer ten thousand than six. The world has looked on in increasing horror recently, as stories of the systematic destruction of the city of Homs have made their blood-soaked way to our front pages and news websites. Marie Colvin, one of the world’s most respected and longest-serving war reporters, was killed at a makeshift media centre alongside French journalist Remi Ochlik in an attack condemned as ‘intentional and utterly unacceptable’ by the Foreign Secretary William Hague.

The Syrian people are fighting not just for their lives, but for their livelihoods, their homes, their cities, their honour, their dignity and their national identity. This morning brought news that the last bastion of resistance in the city of Homs, the besieged Baba Amr district, has fallen to the forces of the despotic Assad regime, and eyewitnesses have reported frequent sightings of summary executions carried out by government forces. The photographer Paul Conroy, who was trapped in Baba Amr for days with serious injuries, said in an interview to Sky News on sunday that he “has worked in many war zones. I have never seen or been in shelling like this.  They’re systematically moving through neighbourhoods with munitions that are used for battlefields. It’s unfathomable, the sustained barrage.” Indeed, I recently read an article which made the point that, if Western nations do not reach an agreement over a potential direct military intervention or no fly zone similar to that seen in Libya, we will look back in twenty years and view Homs in the same category as Srebrenica and Rwanda, both examples of massacres on an unimaginable scale which could very easily have been prevented had Western nations simply stopped bickering and wised up to the gravity of the situation. The situation is dire, and every day that Russia and China maintain their despicable stance against intervention in Syria, hundreds of Syrians die.

It took the death of one of our own to finally shake the British media into a Syrian frenzy, and this conflict is one that cannot last forever. If UN leaders fail to reach an agreement within, at most, a month or two, the lives of ten thousand plus Syrians will rest squarely on their shoulders. Stories of massacres frequent our front pages, summary executions are commonplace and Syria’s Third City of Homs has been systematically destroyed, neighbourhoods shelled one after the other. A war zone, then. Yet there is one deafeningly silent absence from the Syrian conflict. There is no enemy. There is no impostor, no great evil threatening the Syrian nation. And yet, through decades of unchallenged, despotic and monopolised government, the great evil of Syria has become its government, fighting for its life on the streets of its own cities, against its own people. Internal conflicts such as the Syrian and Libyan civil wars lack a uniting force, because they are fought over politics, not land or sovereignty or territory. There will always be support for dictators, however small, and as long as people align themselves according to their ideology, blood will be shed. It has happened right the way through history, and the world was nearly laid to nuclear waste as a result of complete ideological difference. But the Syrian civil war is different. It is about the Syrian on the streets of some of the Middle East’s most historic and beautiful cities, and what independence, freedom and other basic rights mean to him. It is about the men fighting on the street without enough ammunition to go round, moving from cover to cover in the name of survival, life’s most basic instinct. It is not about the politics or volatility of the region, Lebanon and Syria have had their fair share of military engagement in recent times, but for the moment, the Syrian government is focussing on how best to put down a revolution that gathers support and momentum every day that Bashar al-Assad remains in power.

Indeed, the Arab Spring, or perhaps more appropriately the collective Arab Revolutions, have shown the world that the long-standing, corrupt and heavy-handed dictators of the Middle East and Northern Africa are no longer the impregnable fortresses of power and oppression that they once were. Revolution in Egypt occurred largely without bloodshed, but Libya and Syria have showed us that, should the time and need for political change come and pass, desperate dictators can be removed, given strong and lasting opposition. All it needs is the will of enough people to make the decades-old dreams of a generation to become the reality for these young, modern nations full of potential with an outward, progressive look on the world that is crucially mixed with a gritty realism that can only come from years of living under political oppression. Syria is hardly a land of excess, aside from the upper realms of power, and they are a humble, uncomplicated people in terms of material requirements.

Where the Libyan and Syrian revolutions differ is in the depth and breadth of governmental military might. Colonel Gaddafi’s force consisted of a fleet of 20-year-old Russian MIG jets, some old RPGs and a few thousand well-trained militiamen loyal until the fall of Tripoli to Gaddafi himself. The Libyan rebels, though they faced organisational issues early in their campaign and were in fact almost obliterated at Misrata and Benghazi on a number of occasions, had a much easier job – by simple virtue of the ancient nature of Gaddafi’s military – of overthrowing their dictator than their Syrian counterparts. Granted, Libyan rebels did have NATO air support for almost seven straight months – an immeasurable advantage, but the fact is the Syrian men and women fighting on the streets of Homs and Aleppo and other cities right across the country need some kind of external assistance if they are to have a hope of overcoming the might of the Syrian Red Crescent Army, led by President Assad’s brother, Maher.

Saudi Arabia has recently spoken about the possibility of supplying Syrian fighters with weapons, and if it weren’t for Russia and China’s mutual obstinacy, I doubt very much President Assad would still be in power; Western intervention would be simply too large an obstacle for his regime to overcome. I shan’t delve into the politics behind their objection to the UNSC’s proposed resolution; I know next to nothing of Russian or Chinese politics, but it is telling that America and the UK have not pushed the two objectors harder to resolve the Syrian crisis. Syria just does not have the same resources or materials that Libya does and, slimy though it is to say, Oil is the lubricant for global politics – at least it is when America is involved.

So: Syria slips further into a bloody civil war every day, particularly now that the cameras are gone; Russia and China stubbornly refuse to agree to any UN resolution for reasons unknown and Saudi Arabia keeps talking about arming the Syrian fighters but is yet to actually make any move at all. Part of me agrees with the realist view that to intervene in Syria would be to break the sovereignty of a great country, but if we are to claim any kind of conscience or collective humanity, we must intervene, for the sake of the Syrian fighting and dying every day on the streets of Homs.

The situation is dire in Syria. If we don’t act now, Assad will move from city to city throughout Syria, systematically exterminating any and all resistance his tanks come across. Summary executions, mass rape and the murder of innocent women and children will continue, and yet the West will be unable to do anything save sit and watch as the deaths of thousands more Syrians pile squarely on their shoulders.

It is high time we, as the leaders of the globalised world, took the initiative and began saving Syrian lives. Streets are literally running with blood, rivers flowing red and district after district fall under President Assad’s ruthless barrage of shelling. If we don’t, it shall be too late, and we shall have another mass killing on a scale similar to Rwanda and Srebrenica.

Vladimir Putin and Hu Jintao: enough lives have been lost as a consequence of your politics and stubbornness. It is a travesty to play games with the life of another human being, let alone 10 000 of them. For your own consciences as much as the Syrian people, it is time you allowed the UN a clear path to a resolution. We face decades of guilt and bitter regret if you don’t.

The Lightning of 2011


Many things happened in 2011. The western world rejoiced at news of the deaths of two vile men and the overwhelming of another; it sat dumbfounded as Japan was given a wholly unfair pounding by Mother Nature and we remain on edge, to say the least, about the entirely precarious state of the Euro. It was a year in which death was everywhere, change even more so, and hardly a month went by without some sort of wildfire moment that grabbed the world’s attention. It may be an economically tough time to get by, but it’s certainly an interesting time to be a spectator.

It was a year of change, incremental and lightning-quick. In fact, some have gone as far as to say that 2011 was a year in which the events of a generation occurred. The fall of three of the Middle East’s three longest-serving and perhaps most brutal dictators shocked the watching world and sent reverberations buzzing around the globe, leading to furious public movements such as Occupy Wall Street, a gathering that has since inspired similar scenes in over 900 cities around the world.

But the change we witnessed in 2011 was vastly different to the change we saw over the preceding decade. The global financial crisis sparked by the meltdown of Lehman in 2008 was fast and destructive, but only in the ways that a global economic crisis can be. Now, just over three years since the start of that crisis, the world waits with bated breath to see whether the inordinately territorial european leaders can reach some kind of agreement to save the Euro. However, it is almost unheard of for such wildfire momentum to spread across an unsettled people, as has occurred in the Middle East this year. The toppling of the world’s great dictators (Stalin, Hitler, Castro) has largely occurred through old-age, disease or decades-long unhappiness from a politically impoverished people. But, as was the case with Hosni Mubarak, who has incidentally been called out recently as deserving of execution for his crimes, the deposition of the almost monarchically powerful dictators of the Middle East this year has, by and large, occurred at a rate unlike any deposition before. January 25th became the symbolic date of the culture-wide revolution, and the twitter hashtags #Jan25 and #Tahrir remained the two most talked about topics on Twitter for weeks. The occupation of Tahrir square in central Cairo by over 200,000 protesters eventually led, eighteen days later, to the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak and the jubilation of millions of tired Egyptians.

But in some places, the change we all saw as generational and entirely revolutionary quickly turned stale and regressive. The Egyptian Military, championed as the people’s primary vehicle in the uprising against Mubarak, promised fresh, legitimate elections by the end of the year, and yet, when the time came for the supposedly ‘legitimate’ elections, all we saw was an outdated, senile organisation clinging desperately to the power it had so effectively torn from the heart of the Mubarak regime. Scenes of violence and chaos erupting in Tahrir Square once again tarnished our televisions, and hospitals were overwhelmed once more by the number injured in the name of legitimacy and real democracy.

This leads to another question. With the rise in prominence of humanitarian intervention over the past three or four decades, the West has sought to project the images of its own stable political institutions as beacons of inspiration to the troubled nations around the globe. After 9/11, it became clear that not only America, but the UK, Germany, Italy, Spain and even countries such as Finland and Canada were not going to put up with any kind of breach of sovereignty, whether those breakthroughs be implemented by terrorists, lone individuals or foreign establishments.

The American-led coalition began in 2003 to try to implement an idealised, Western style of government in Iraq, under the pretence that, ‘they have WMDs and we know where to find them’. What they, and we forgot, was that Iraq was no England, it was no United States. It was, and is, a society based upon entirely different values, laws and practices. How could our ‘dear leaders’ possibly have been so naive as to think that Western democracy would work in a country emerging from two shattering wars and decades of brutal dictatorship under Saddam Hussein? I’m no politician, but even I find it excruciatingly obvious that a greed-based, capitalist and centuries-refined system of legitimacy and convention would never, ever succeed in nations as troubled as Iraq and Afghanistan.

The Americans have finally, over nine years later, withdrawn from Iraq, and David Cameron has said that all British combat operations in Afghanistan will cease by the end of 2014.It looks exceedingly likely that two wars, which both cost the American taxpayer $1,000,000 per day, will finish without a hint of long-lasting stability, without even a modicum of ‘success’. There will be no ‘Mission Accomplished’, no banners and no presumptions of victory from our governments. I should think that we would all keel over with laughter at the imponderable naivety of another Bush-esque moment of grandiosity. The presumptuous and wholly arrogant swagger with which ‘we’ invaded and obliterated Iraq’s sovereignty for the best part of a decade is staggering, and goes against the wholes supposed philosophy and aim of the operation. It’s just not sensible to aim to help a country that is best left to itself to sort its problems out, like Iraq.

So, what have we learnt from a year of lightning change and revolution? The first week of 2012 has afforded us all a chance to reflect on the year before. So far, the only events that Murdoch and co have seen fit to broadcast have been Diane Abbott’s ‘misunderstood’ tweet about Divide and Rule, and Ed Miliband’s unfortunate Twitter typo. There has been no real news to speak of, and perhaps that is a good thing. Whilst there should be no rest for the leaders who got us into the economic, military and social debacles we find ourselves so deeply quagmired in, for the common man and woman, the past week has been a blissful opportunity to look back and evaluate.

2012 is the year of the Olympics for London, a time of political change in America as Obama seeks reelection and it is, for the fourth year running, a time of great financial uncertainty for billions around the world. We look ahead to a year of boiling tensions with Iran, an ongoing Arab revolution and continued public fury on the streets of the world’s biggest cities. These ‘events’ may not be exactly pleasant, but they are the bitter pill the world must swallow if we wish to proceed peacefully throughout the 21st century.

‘It is well that war is so terrible, lest we should grow too fond of it’ – Robert E. Lee.

What Do We Work For?


For most of documented history, the ruling elite of our society have been primarily concerned with three things: making a profit from any commodity, advancing our technologies and the education of our children. All three concerns tie into each other, and, whilst making profit with the sole intention of personal gain is questionable to those of a Communist disposition, are all acceptable in their importance to society. Without making a profit, our governments cannot allocate funds to scientific research and those who look to further mankind’s dominance over the world, and without technology our education would be stuck in the era of chalk board simplicity. This might not necessarily be a bad thing, indeed, there are those who would argue that, due to the enormous reach and influence of technology over our everyday lives, education should form some kind of respite from the storm of interactive whiteboards and electronic projectors. The ideals of these people raise a very important, and perhaps slightly too large philosophical question: if we feel that we have to shelter our kids from the very world we seek to educate them about, what is the point in educating them at all?

There are two sides to this argument. One can take an entirely factual and scientific frame of mind when discussing it, arguing that, without education, society simply cannot advance and profits cannot be made and man would lose its way in the world with the maturation of an entirely unintelligent generation, and make no mistake these people are correct; their opinions are based in fact and experience, after all, one cannot devise an operable and sustainable business model without prior know-how having been imparted on them by those of a wiser countenance, this rendering their opinions habitually irrefutable. The people who would support this argument are also those who would state that education is the fundamental component of an upwardly mobile society; no education means no profit and no advancement. In a literary sense, the educators and traditionalists who support this idea are the educational ‘modernists’ of our day; they are the blunt realists who state that there is no argument against scientific proofs, any argument with substantial evidence simply cannot be disproved or even so much as argued against. Those who oppose them are the ‘romantics’ of an enormously scientific society, the people who favour the larger questions in life and who argue that, if we are bound to return to that from which we came, (i.e. the inevitability of death), there is no emotional reason to educate our children, to coop them inside for years if the only outcome is a wholly finite product of another man’s previous thoughts. In other words, they argue that there is no compassionate reason to deprive children of their most valued years of childhood.

So, if there are two well-supported arguments in favour of as well as wholly against the financial expenditure engendered by the education of our children, one can argue that there is no real point to manufacturing profits and deepening government coffers if the most basic human form of expenditure is that of funding education without an entirely convincing reason why, or even why not. Indeed, no form of education sets all children on the same level and there are no unfair advantages and opportunities for those of a more beneficial and perhaps privileged education and background. This argument stems from the fact that, if we do not educate our children, they cannot learn how to operate companies and organisations whilst also running at a profit if they have not been educated in the methods of the commercial and working world.  The romantics of this situation would argue that education is futile if we are bound to die before we can put to full use the knowledge we gain through education, whereas the modernists would argue that there is nothing more important than the increase of societal wealth, and that this can only occur through the continued and sustained education of generation after generation of children.

The romantics will inquire as to the reason behind education, claiming that there is no point in depriving children of the majority of their childhood, whilst the modernists will state that the world has simply become one enormous profit-making, goods-manufacturing machine, and that we are stuck with what we have whether one likes it or not. If there is no tangible sense of logic or reason behind the pointless waste of thousands of the hours of our adult lives, a romantic says that there is therefore no specified reason why one should not enjoy one’s life to the fullest possible extent; life is too precious and short to be spent slaving away, hour after hour, in a completely bland, electronic office block.

So, one might now inquire as to why we spend out entire adult lives working long, tedious hours in search of profit if the only tangible result is an entirely finite period of stability. The romantics would quite convincingly argue that, if the entire purpose of mankind is to widen profit margins and continually conquer the natural frontiers which face us, then we, as a society and as a race, have lost sight of the (apparent) real purpose and beauty of humanity, the instinct to reproduce and the enjoyment of the natural beauty around us.

Politicians are long past their infinitely corrupt heyday, and now, it would seem, is the time of the individual. Yet there is as little room for creativity in society as there has ever been. This is the tragedy of our time.