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Honouring Aylan Kurdi by ending the war in Syria

Sep 20,2016 - Last updated at Sep 20,2016

A photograph, no matter how emotionally wrenching, can only do so much,” wrote Paul Slovic and Nicole Smith Dahmen in QZ.com.

The photograph referenced in their comment was that of three-year-old Aylan Kurdi, whose body was washed ashore on some Turkish beach in September 2015.

It has been over a year since that tragic photograph — of an innocent child, face-down and lifeless — haunted and captured the attention of the world, alerting the international community to the urgency of the horrific war in Syria.

Estimates vary, but it is fairly certain that anywhere between 400,000 and 500,000 people have lost their lives in Syria’s ongoing war, so far. Tens of thousands of those are children.

The conflict in Syria is, perhaps, the most multifarious since World War II. There are too many parties and too many proxy wars happening all at once.

Despite the international despair generated by Aylan’s photo, the image was disturbingly used by various parties to validate their reasons for war.

In some way, the photograph had, itself, become a weapon in the hands of the warring parties, instead of a rallying cry for an urgent ceasefire and eventual peace.

In fact, current talks between the United States and Russia seem largely focused on achieving an accord that meets the political interests of two fiercely competitive countries and, to a lesser extent, their war proxies. 

The interests of the Syrian people — the likes of Aylan and his family — hardly seem paramount.

This reaction to Aylan’s tragic death was no different from the one to the more recent release of a photo of five-year-old Omran Daqneesh, his little body seated alone in the back of an ambulance after being dug out from underneath rubble — his tiny hands on his lap, his face dirty, bloodied and dazed.

This pitiful image was barely used as an opportunity to make a strong case for reaching a ceasefire, for ending the war. 

It was but a lost opportunity to unite the world in its anger and horror against this war.

Instead, the picture found its way to the stifling media arguments made by those who continue to stoke the fire for yet more firepower and greater military interventions.

The image of Omran was circulated not long after the beheading of Palestinian boy Abdullah Issa by a vile extremist. 

Instead of serving as a reminder of the revulsion against war, the horrifying video of the gruesome murder merely instigated a propaganda campaign by all sides of the war in Syria.

What has become of Syria and its people?

This nation that was unparalleled in its beauty, history, poets and intellectuals (which, like Iraq, have been equally destroyed) is now encapsulated in photographs — of a dead child, or another dying — that make an occasional buzz on social media circles, but eventually fade away.

It seems that the more the Syrian war drags on, the more desensitised people become to its harrowing images.

Quite often, the media grandstanding on Syria seems to translate into trifling or no action at all, even when a platform for action is presented.

For example, the World Humanitarian Summit held in Istanbul last May was rightly criticised for failing to adequately address the greatest humanitarian disaster in over 70 years.

Certainly, lots of slogans were tossed around and fiery speeches were made, but aside from verbal empathy and generalised media action plans, nothing much of practical worth was agreed upon.

If the enthusiasm for war in Syria had been met with similar enthusiasm in addressing its humanitarian consequences, the situation for Syrian refugees would not have been as dire as it is today.

To put things in perspective, one only needs to see the numbers: Syria’s population is 17 million people, of whom 6.6 million are internally displaced and 4.7 million are refugees in the region (approximately 2.6 million in Turkey, 1.1 million in Lebanon, 637,000 in Jordan, 245,000 in Iraq and 118,000 in Egypt); this in addition to nearly 1 million seeking asylum in Europe, most of whom arrived on the continent atop small dinghies, and of whom thousands died trying.

According to Mercy Corps, of the whole population, 13.5 million Syrians are in need of urgent assistance; many perished or are dying because of malnutrition and starvation.

There are two ways in which these numbers can be viewed. One, as a way to exploit them to score pitiful political points — as many, unfortunately, do.

Another, as a way to recognise the hideousness of war and unite all efforts to end it with a dignified political settlement that recognises that in a situation so exceedingly grim, there can be no winners.

But that political settlement cannot be an exclusive political affair of concern only to the great powers.

Aylan, Omran and Abdullah are dead, but it is children like them who will have to carry the burden of Syria for many years to come — to heal the deep wounds of their nation, to rebuild it, struggle through the pain of cope with its bloody past.

The best way to honour these children is to understand that the future of Syria’s children cannot be determined by the whims of American and Russian politicians, but by the Syrian people themselves.

Meanwhile, we should all refrain from fetishising Syria’s tragedy without contending with the roots of its conflict or playing a constructive part in pressuring various governments to find a solution that could end the ugly war and spare the lives of children.

Aylan, Omran and Abdullah, and 50,000 other dead children in Syria deserve better, and the world has collectively failed them.

We cannot deny that, but it is never too late to do our utmost to ensure the survival of those who are still alive, barely subsisting in refugee camps or on the run in their own country.

 

 

The writer, www.ramzybaroud.net, has been writing about the Middle East for over 20 years. He is an internationally syndicated columnist, a media consultant, author of several books and the founder of PalestineChronicle.com. His books include “Searching Jenin”, “The Second Palestinian Intifada” and “My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza’s Untold Story”. He contributed this article to The Jordan Times.

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