Iraq is in fragments. Over the period since 2002 the government of my country, the US, took a number
of decisions whose effect
(quite regardless of their intention,
something of which we can speak later) has been to destroy the
country’s state apparatus and institutions and to fracture the dense
network of social and political relationships that previously held it
together.
I am very sorry indeed that I and those other US citizens who knew all
along– based on the understanding that many of us had about the nature
of Iraq, the nature of Middle Eastern societies, and also, yes, the
often quite unexpected effects of the use of military poower–
that the Bush administration’s decision to invade Iraq would turn out
very badly indeed, and who did what we could to prevent the invasion
from being launched in the first place, were unable to prevent it.
I feel deep shame, as a US citizen, that it is the government of my
country that has visited this death and terrible, terrible destruction
on the people of Iraq. Also, that our President was re-elected,
or as we might say, elected for the first time; but anyway, returned to
the presidency by the citizenry in a generally free polling process– even in the fall of 2004,
once it was already becoming increasingly clear that (1) the invasion
and its after-effects were inflicting increasingly high levels of
death, damage, and destruction on Iraqis, and (2) the WMD ‘pretext’
that had jerked most of the US citizenry, and most of our lawmakers,
into supporting the invasion had zero evidentiary basis and indeed had
been considerably hyped, exaggerating, and one might even say
manufactured by the Bushites.
During the month-long journey in and around three Arab countries that I have just completed, I had
a much starker and more vivid sense of what the destruction of Iraq
must be like and must feel like, for Iraqis. I had already, some
30 years ago, lived through the destriction that prolonged civil war
(and intermittent Israeli attacks) visited on that country. And
now, most recently, here I was again– driving through the settled
fields and olive groves of southern Syria; driving along the canals,
through the date-groves and the new ex-urban conglomerations that ring
Cairo; hearing the call to prayer ring out in a city in northern Jordan
as we passed it; seeing the citizens of all three of these Arab
countries going about their daily business with focus and good humor,
more or less confident (most of them) that they could continue to
pursue this very well-rooted but also remarkably adaptable lifestyle
throughout the months and years ahead, perhaps save a little for their
children’s future, perhaps move a bit toward their long-held dream of
winning more real accountability from their governments, enjoying their
friendships and their webs of relations with people from different
communities, sitting around their coffee-shops and sheesha-houses,
going to their mosques and their many ancient churches… with tomorrow
generally fairly well predictable from today, and crucially, a general
(though not complete) environment of public security and public safety.
And there in Iraq, just a few hundred miles away, people who are very
similar to these Arab citizens in so many ways, and who had been lives
very similar to those I was seeing here, had had all these things taken
brutally from them and were now living (and dying) in a state of
generalized, existential fear and uncertainty.
All the citizens of these other Arab countries with whom I spoke
conveyed passionately to me how deeply, deeply disturbing they found
the developments inside Iraq, especially the more recent rounds of
inter-sectarian killing..
(I read a really cruel and stupid Tom Freidman column recently in which
in his most accusatory and preachy was he was ‘bemoaning’ the alleged
fact that no Arab or Muslim leaders have spoken out against the
sectarian carnage being enacted in Iraq. What complete and utter
nonsense!! Has Tom Friedman actually been to any Arab countries
in recent months and heard what opinion leaders of all sorts are saying
there? Has he even spoken to any Arabs at all in recent weeks,
apart from Mamoun Fandy, whom he quoted there, who lives and works here
in London?)
And the destruction in Iraq all seemed so much more vivid to me, when I
was there so close, and in such a very similar environment.
I realize this is mostly because of my own failure– when I sit in the
distant US of A– of being able vividly enough to imagine the lives and
conditions that the people of Iraq currently have to suffer.
When I was in Syria and Jordan– as recently as last Saturday– I both
wanted to visit with and talk with some of the million-plus Iraqis who,
because of what the US has done to their country, have had to flee
their homes and loves there and rush to those two countries to seek the
raw physical survival of themselves and their families; and I also
feared doing that.
What could I say to such an Iraqi refugee?
I had a few small encounters with Iraqis, in Jordan. But still, I
confess that I found it easier to talk about the Iraqi refugees
with Syrians and Jordanians than I thought I would find it to talk to Iraqi refugees in either
place.
I feel ashamed about that, too.
However, Bill and I did get a chance to sit down and talk in Amman with
two Iraqi friends of fairly long standing. These are people who
have not– yet– fled their country completely. They are people
whom I like and admire a lot, but with whom I have in the past had some
strong disagreements. primarily over the US decision to invade
their country, which both of them supported strongly at the time,
overwhelmingly on human-rights grounds. But because I like
and admire them both so much, and really care about their wellbeing, I
have tried to keep in touch with them as much as all of our busy
schedules have allowed, and I am glad that they have done the
same. Our meeting in Amman last week was the first time I’d seen
them since January 2006. We all had a lot to talk about.
Let me tell you a little about what we discussed with these friends, whom I’ll call ‘T’ and ‘J’…