Listening to the Syrians

Syrians from a variety of backgrounds are most likely to offer a different perspective on the war in their country and to hold entirely different expectations than most other parties involved.

A resident of Idlib, a villager from Daraa, a housewife, a teacher, a nurse or an unemployed ex-prisoner from anywhere in Syria would distinguish his/her 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, the BBC, Press TV and every available media platform that is concerned with the outcome of the war.

These media tailor their coverage and, when necessary, as is often the case, slant their focus in ways that communicate their designated editorial agendas, which, unsurprisingly, is often linked to the larger political agenda of their 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 so articulate, guarded and predictable a manner. That is a job that has been reserved for, and perfected by, politicians who represent countries with vested interests in the war.

But how could a story that is so thoroughly covered and discussed round the clock in so exhaustive a fashion be so far removed from the reality at hand?

Of course, there is no single truth in explaining the war in Syria, and not even an unmitigated people’s narrative can change that.

The Russians, for example, justify their latest intervention as action needed to stave off Daesh‘s progress, although the Russians themselves are accused by everyone else, save Iran, of targeting other opposition groups.

The Russians, in turn, accuse everyone else, but Iran, of either initiating the problem in the first place, empowering or funding Daesh, or failing to do anything meaningful to bring the war to an end.

If seen from others’ perspective — the Arabs’ (especially Gulf countries), Turkey’s, Iran’s, Hizbollah’s, the US’, European countries’ and so on — every country seems to communicate its understanding of the war, thus explaining the nature of its involvement by using all sorts of upright and righteous rationales.

It seems as if they are all united by their love for the Syrians and the sanctity of their lives.

However, considering that over 300,000 Syrians were killed in the war so far, and many more wounded, and that 6 million are displaced or became refugees, one can be certain of the fact that none of these governments actually cares for Syrian lives, including, sadly, their own government and the opposition.

One can be certain that the survival of the Syrian nation is not a top priority for those who are using Syria as a ground for their proxy war.

Those who perished in Syria were victimised by all warring parties, and the bullets that killed, the shells that devastated neighbourhoods and the rockets that randomly destroyed houses originated from too many directions to count.

In other words, there should be no room for polarising narrative in Syria any more, as in good guys vs bad guys; evil regime vs opposition or terrorists vs. a sovereign government; or regional forces that are attempting to invite stability and peace vs others 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 with 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-referenced 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 — thus slanted, self-serving and generally untrue.

Khaled’s journey from Damascus to Idlib, Homs, Hama, all the way to Qamishli and then to the Turkish border deprives the narrative of its polarisation.

He was a target for everyone; indeed, his suffering continued even after 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 10 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. Her 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 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 the US-led air strikes.

A particularity moving account was that of the execution of a 16-year-old girl in a public square near Al Hajar Al Aswad after she confessed to be a “spy” for the regime.

The “confession” was extracted after she was shot, point-blank, in the palm of her right hand.

The claim was that she placed GPS devices in opposition areas so that the army may guide its missiles based on signals it received.

The Syrian army’s barrel bombs, of course, are not smart bombs and, in fact, none exist.

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 in an honest and true sampling.

Al Mayadeen’s version of “average Syrians” is almost entirely different from that of Al Jazeera.

Syrians are used to supplement existing media agendas, just like their country is used to advance political agendas.

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 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 will winning and losing cease to hold any meaning at all.

The tragedy in Syria is that the war 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.

When all is said and done, the media are likely to fan the flame of some other conflict in some other place.

It is certainly already late for too many Syrians, whose stories were buried with them, but it is not too late for many 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 tell their own aspirations for life and their ongoing tragedies.

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 latest book is “My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza’s Untold Story” (Pluto Press, London). He contributed this article to The Jordan Times.