Imagine the Syrian war from the point of view of ordinary Syrians, from a variety of backgrounds. They are most likely to offer a different perspective and to hold entirely different expectations than most other parties involved.
A resident of Idlib, a villager from Deraa, a housewife, a teacher, a nurse or an unemployed former prisoner from anywhere else in Syria would distinguish their relationship to the war in terminology and overall understanding that is partially, or entirely, opposed to the narrative communicated by CNN, Al Jazeera, Russia Today, BBC, Press TV and every other available media outlet that is concerned with the outcome of the war.
Media tailors its coverage and, when necessary — as is often the case — slants its focus in ways that would communicate its designated editorial agendas, which, unsurprisingly, are often linked to the larger political objectives of their respective governments. They may purport to speak in accordance with some imaginary moral line, but, frankly, none of them do.
Surely, the stories of ordinary Syrians are not prepared in advance or communicated via press conferences in an articulate, guarded and predictable manner. Of course, there is no single truth in explaining the war in Syria, and not even an unmitigated people’s narrative can change that. It seems every country is concerned about the Syrian people and the sanctity of their lives. However, considering that more than 250,000 Syrians have been killed in the war so far, with many more wounded, and six million having been rendered refugees, one can be certain of the fact that the world community doesn’t actually care for Syrian lives.
Those who perished in Syria have been victimised by all warring parties, and the bullets that killed, the shells that devastated neighbourhoods and the rockets that randomly toppled homes originated from too many directions to count.
In other words, there should be no room for a polarising narrative on Syria any more, as in good guys vs bad guys; evil regime vs opposition; terrorists vs a sovereign government; or regional forces that are attempting to invite stability and peace vs those espousing chaos.
These thoughts, and more, crossed my mind as I began recording the experiences of Syrian and Palestinian refugees who managed to cross to Europe via Turkey and Greece. After reading countless articles about the war, listening to a thousand news broadcasts, consulting dozens of ‘experts’, Arab and non-Arab alike, I found the hours I spent with the refugees far more enriching and informative.
When it was explained to me, for example, how the Yarmouk siege came about, and after I cross-checked the information with other refugees — who may hold a different political perspective on the war — I found out that our understanding of what took place in the refugee camp was almost completely misguided, or rather, politicised and therefore slanted, self-serving and generally untrue.
Khalid’s journey from Damascus to Idlib, Homs, Hama, all the way to Qamishli, then to the Turkish border sets the narrative free from its polarising hue. He was a target for everyone. Indeed, his suffering continued even when he crossed the Turkish border, took a boat to Lesbos, attempted to enter Macedonia, then Serbia, and so on. It took him four months to reach Sweden, with about ten different stops in different jails.
His narrative contained no references to good guys vs bad guys, in any collective sense. Any act of kindness he encountered on his journey was surely a random one and depended entirely on the goodness of ordinary people, like himself.
The same sentiment was conveyed through Maysam’s story, whose peers at the Syrian Red Crescent Society were arrested and tortured because they treated fighters from the Free Syrian Army at the Palestine Hospital. She fled before the mukhabarat (intelligence police) came looking for her at her house in the Zahra neighbourhood in Damascus.
Many more are no longer able to convey their own story of the war because they were killed, either by Syrian government forces, the opposition, other parties or in the United States-led air strikes. A particularity moving account was of the execution of a 16-year-old girl in a public square near Al Hajar Al Aswad, after she “confessed” to being a “spy” for the regime. The “confession” was extracted after she was shot, point-blank, in the palm of her right hand. It was alleged that she had placed GPS devices in opposition areas so that the Army could guide its missiles based on signals it received. The child was shot in the face six times.
Ordinary Syrians’ narratives are often used in media coverage of the war, but in a selective fashion — never as an honest and true sampling.
When the war is over, the warring parties will reach the conclusion that they have either achieved their objectives or can no longer do so. Only the Syrians will be left to put their lives back together. When the remaining dead are buried, the missing found or declared dead, the prisoners released or kept indefinitely, only then winning and losing will cease to hold any meaning at all.
The tragedy in Syria is that the war being fought in the name of the Syrian people has little to do with the rights of the Syrian people and the voices of Syrians are either entirely neglected or used and manipulated to achieve specific political ends. And once it is all done, media jackals are likely to fan the flame of some other conflict in some other place.
It is already late for too many Syrians whose stories have been buried with them, but it is certainly not too late for those who are still alive. We need to listen to the Syrian people, who have been at the receiving end of death, but are yet to articulate their own aspirations for life and their ongoing tragedies.
Dr Ramzy Baroud has been writing about the Middle East for over 20 years. He is an internationally-syndicated columnist, a media consultant, an author of several books and the founder of PalestineChronicle.com. His latest book is My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza’s Untold Story (Pluto Press, London). His website is: www.ramzybaroud.net
