The Children Are Still Dying: Violence
is Not News
19 August 2012By Ramzy Baroud
Protracted conflicts don't make life any less
precious, or children any less innocent. (Kathy Kelly)
Somewhere in my home I have a set of photo albums I
rarely go near. I fear the flood of cruel memories
that might be evoked from looking at the countless
photos I took during a trip to Iraq. Many of the
pictures are of children who developed rare forms of
cancer as a result of exposure to Depleted Uranium (DU),
which was used in the US-led war against Iraq over two
decades ago.
I remember visiting a hospital that was attached to
Al-Mustansiriya University in Baghdad. The odor that
filled its corridors was not the stench of medicine,
but rather the aroma of death. At a time of oppressive
siege, the hospital lacked even basic anesthetic
equipment and drugs. Children sat and stared at their
visitors. Some wailed in inconceivable pain. Parents
teetered between hope and the futility of hope, and at
prayer times they duly prayed.
A young doctor gave a sweeping diagnosis: "No child
that ever enters this place ever leaves alive." Being
the young reporter I was at the time, I diligently
made a note of his words before asking more questions.
I didn't quite grasp the finality of death.
Several years later, Iraq's desolation continues. On
August 16, 90 people were killed and more were wounded
in attacks across the country. Media sources reported
on the bloodbath (nearly 200 Iraqis were killed this
month alone), but without much context. Are we meant
to believe that violence in Iraq has transcended any
level of reason? That Iraqis get blown up simply
because it is their fate to live in perpetual fear and
misery?
But the dead, before they were killed, were people
with names and faces. They were fascinating
individuals in their own right, deserving of life,
rights and dignity. Many are children, who knew
nothing of Iraq's political disputes, invited by US
wars and occupation and fomented by those who feed on
sectarianism.
We often forget this. Those who refuse to fall into
the trap of political extremes still tend to process
and accept violence in one way or another. We co-exist
with tragedy, with the belief that bombs just go off
randomly and that surviving victims cannot be helped.
We somehow accept the idea that refugees cannot be
repatriated and the hungry cannot be fed.
This strange wisdom is most apparent in Sudan. In the
Upper Nile state, people are dying from sheer
exhaustion before they reach refugee camps in Batil.
Some walk for weeks between South Kordofan and the
Blue Nile, seeking respite and any chance of survival.
Those who endure the journey - compelled by fighting
between the Sudanese army and rebels groups – might
not survive the harshness of life awaiting them at
Batil. The BBC News reported on August 17, citing a
warning by Medecins Sans Frontieres, that "[p]eople
are dying in large numbers in a refugee camp in South
Sudan."
I almost stumbled on the ‘humanitarian catastrophe' in
Batil (as described by MSF's medical co-ordinator,
Helen Patterson) while reviewing reports of the
deteriorating situation in some Darfur refugee camps.
Batil now hosts nearly 100,000 of the estimated
170,000 refugees who recently fled their homes.
According to the medical charity, 28% of the children
are malnourished, and the mortality rate is twice that
of the accepted emergency threshold.
Darfur is, of course, a festering wound. Many of the
internally displaced refugees often find themselves in
a constant state of displacement, as was the case
earlier this month. UN officials say that ‘all' 25,000
people in a single refugee camp, Kassab, went on the
run again after armed groups clashed with government
forces. They settled in another ‘shelter' nearby, the
town of Kutum. According to the African Union-United
Nations Mission in Darfur (UNAMID), the supposed new
shelter ‘lacks water, food and sanitation' (CNN,
August 9).
Since then, the story has somewhat subsided. Not
because the fleeing refugees are in a good standing,
but because this is all the attention that 25,000
refugees can expect from a media awash with news of
two-faced politicians and celebrity scandals. It might
take a ‘peacemaking' celebrity to place Batil or
Kassab on the media map for another day or two, and
surely nothing less than a sizable number of deaths to
make the refugees a relevant news item once again.
That said, no attention-seeking VIP is likely to
venture out to Mali anytime soon. While the
humanitarian crisis in West Africa is reaching
frightening levels, the media continues to address the
conflict in Mali in terms of the logic of Western
interests being threatened by rebels, coups and
jihadists. Aside from the fact that few ask of Western
complicity in the chaos, 435,000 refugees are flooding
neighboring countries. This was the most recent
estimate by the U.N. Office for the Coordination of
Humanitarian Affairs on August 16, but the fact is
ignored by most media.
The World Food Program says that the food crisis is
devastating - not only for distraught refugees, but
also for millions within the country. Malian children
are, of course, outnumbering all other victims. They
are helplessly dragged around through endless deserts.
When they die, they merely leave a mark as yet another
statistic, estimated without much certainty, and,
sadly, without value.
However, here may lay the moral to the story. Every
Malian, Sudanese, Iraqi, Syrian, Palestinian, Yemeni
or Rohingya child matters immensely to those around
him. His or her life – or death - might conveniently
serve to fortify a political argument, make a good
National Geographic reportage, or a Facebook photo
with many ‘shares' and ‘likes'. But for parents,
families, friends and neighbors, their children are
the center of their universe, however poor and
seemingly wretched. Thus, when UNICEF or UNRWA
complains about a shortage of funds, it actually means
that thousands of innocent people will needlessly
suffer, and that centers of many universes will
dramatically implode, replacing hope with bottomless
despair, and often rage.
It may be convenient to assign conventional political
wisdom to explain complex political issues and violent
conflicts. But protracted conflicts don't make life
any less precious, or children any less innocent. It
is a tragedy when Iraqis seem to be on a constant
parade of burying their loved ones, or when the
Sudanese seem to be on a constant quest to save their
lives. It's a greater tragedy, however, when we get so
used to the unfolding drama of human violence that we
can accept as destined the reality of children
crossing the Sahara in search of a sip of water.
- Ramzy Baroud (www.ramzybaroud.net)
is an internationally-syndicated columnist and the
editor of PalestineChronicle.com. His latest book is
My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza's Untold
Story (Pluto Press, London.)
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