Syria: Between a rock and a hard place

By guest author, Michael Corgan

Does the ongoing Syrian civil war have echoes of the Spanish civil war of nearly 80 years ago?

Unnamed grave with teddy bear for fallen children in Syria.
Unnamed grave with teddy bear for fallen children in Syria. Photo by Bernd Schwabe used under CC Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

If the conflict were only between the Syrian government and rebel forces (as was true in opposing Franco), then it would be easy for liberal or humanitarian interventionists to oppose what Assad has done to his people and support the rebellion. Indeed, many have already done so.

During the Spanish civil war, as far as outsiders were concerned, there were communists versus Nazis, and a choice was unappealing on those grounds. In Syria today, outsiders of equally unsavory character and practices are intervening for their own purposes, and that makes choosing sides problematic.

Hezbollah supports Assad and Al Qaeda has an increasing role in shaping rebel efforts. How can one aid either side without aiding those Shia and Sunni extremist militant groups so fond of terrorists tactics, and so responsible, in Syria as elsewhere, for the deaths of many innocent Muslims?

As far as outside interests go, you also have the U.S. trying to assert some role in the area versus Russia, which is loath to abandon a long-time client state and lose its only overseas base.

The biggest problem is for the neighboring outsiders. Turkey can probably handle the huge influx of refugees from the fighting, but Jordan is strained and poor fractured Lebanon could fall apart as enlivened Shia-Sunni fighting spills into its land.

There seems to be no workable ending in sight. Nor even a less deadly one. The best that the watching world can do now is to take care of the refugees whose numbers continually swell.

Street sewage in new “democratic” Iraq (Liberate THIS, Part 9)

A continuing series by guest author Dr. Dahlia Wasfi

In February and March 2004, I made a 19-day journey to Iraq. The first memories of my life were from my early years in Iraq. My life would start over again there, too.

Sign: What have you done today for the Iraqi people?
Photo by Peter Rimar, in public domain

With Baghdad International Airport controlled by American occupation forces (as was true for years to come), I flew to Jordan and made the 10-hour car ride to Baghdad.

In Iraq’s capital, a year after the invasion, damage from bombing raids was omnipresent. Iraq had been liberated, alright—from sovereignty, security, electricity, and potable water. The new “democratic” Iraq modeled sewage in the streets, rolling blackouts, shootings, and explosions.

After several days spent visiting my Baghdadi relatives, I needed to reach my father’s immediate family in the south. Ahmed[i], one of my cousins from Basra, drove 12 hours round trip with a friend to pick me up and bring me to visit the rest of the family. With numerous checkpoints and no security, their efforts were Herculean.

To my naïve foreign eyes, Basra’s condition appeared to be much the same as Baghdad’s, except that the damage seemed more extensive. This city had been destroyed during the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s, the 1991 Gulf War, and the 2003 Shock and Awe invasion.  Throughout that time, sanctions and neglect had thwarted the city’s—and her people’s—recovery.

I expected to encounter resentment during my visit.  After all, my immediate family had left Iraq for America during the good days of the 1970s.  So much destruction had been wrought against the Iraqi people by my government since then.

Every destroyed building we passed, every sewage-flooded street, every child suffering in poverty, I despairingly thought to myself, “You’re welcome, Iraq. I helped do this to you.”  I held resentment towards myself and deep shame as an American in this occupied land.


[i] Name changed.