The silence of our friends

On January 26, a spark caught fire in Syria. It was kindled by the past transgressions of that country’s brutal leadership—the Assad regime—and now, despite months of killing, Bashar al-Assad has yet to contain that fire. He has failed to understand that every Syrian father, mother and child he kills is fuel for the revolution’s persistence. Yet even the most stubborn protestors must succumb to force eventually. Even the loudest rally is no match for bullets. And as I watch the videos of peaceful crowds being mowed down by Syrian soldiers and government thugs, my heart sinks. Without help, these people will fail; the flawed doctrine of “might makes right” will prevail. And although much of the world claims to champion freedom, and therefore to be friends of these activists whose sole desire is democracy, the international community has so far met the protestors’ demands with silence. It is a silence of hypocrites.

In large part, the government crackdown can persist because the West has not firmly expressed concern. Assad knows he can commit atrocities without facing consequences, as he would if the international community threatened force. But as someone with Lebanese roots, I am deeply concerned. For three decades, Lebanese civilians suffered torture, intimidation and terrorism from the Assad regime. Now Syrians are being murdered in their homes by the same government.

Enough is enough.

Background

In late January, Syrians took to the streets to call for the same political and civil reforms other Arab nations were demanding. Their government met these protests not with an open ear, but instead with intimidation and force. Families were sundered as activists disappeared from their homes at night; snipers stationed on rooftops shot protestors at random; prominent lawyers and journalists were tortured to death. Despite all this, the revolution rages on. On March 18, activists marched through several Syrian cities and chanted, “God, Syria, Freedom”—a slogan undoubtedly challenging the traditional pro-regime slogan, “God, Syria, Bashar.” The protestors’ implicit demand was that Assad must step down.

But no despot yields power easily. Since the protests began, Syrian forces have besieged Deraa, Homs, Baniyas and Hama. Army tanks are shelling residential areas. Thousands of refugees are still pouring out of Syria and into Turkey, Lebanon and Jordan. Hundreds have been estimated dead, and thousands—many of whom were likely swooped from their homes by the Syrian secret police—are missing. In the meantime, the West has done little but impose narrow sanctions; Russia and China, whose interests align with Assad’s, have kept quiet; and with the exception of Iran—a nation that actually supports the thug—Middle Eastern nations have merely twiddled their thumbs.

A Silence of Hypocrites

So here we are. People are dying for the simple reason that they yearn for democracy, yet the West—despite intervening in Libya on the behalf of armed rebels at a time when fewer had died—has done little but watch as Assad murders unarmed protestors. How can we, or anyone else in the world, call ourselves champions of democracy if we watch and do nothing? The Syrian revolt is now a fire, a flame, but unless the protestors receive a boost from the world now when they need it most, it will inevitably dwindle to just a flicker. We need only remember the tragedy that occurred during the Hama protests in 1982, when Bashar’s father Hafez used tanks and aircraft to slaughter 20,000 of his own people. If the West remain silent, who knows how high the death toll could climb? If Assad believes he faces no consequences for his actions, he will continue to do whatever he thinks he must in order to keep power.

Yes, we have interests in Syria; yes, those interests could be helped—or hurt—by intervening. But simple humanity calls for us to do something. We don’t even need to send in missiles; no, sending words would do. But the words we send must be more potent than what has already been said; we—the West—must demand rights for the Syrian people, that Iran cease its intervention and that Assad step down. Only then can we bolster a people who have been treaded on for so long.

The Syrian protesters are a ragtag group of rebels demanding freedom from oppression. Their situation is not unlike that of the American rebels of the eighteenth century—poorly equipped citizens fighting for freedom from a vastly more powerful force that refuses to represent them. Yet even our ancestors had help in attaining liberty—and unlike the Syrian civilians, they were armed. They could fight back.

All the protestors are asking of us now is to know that we care—to know that the world cares. Even if democracy wins out in Syria, I fear that later our inaction will bear heavily on the minds of those who have shed blood to attain liberty. In the words of Martin Luther King Jr., “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Not all Syrians consider us friends, but Assad has never been our friend. And now we have this one chance to show the people who could replace him that our defining ideology—freedom—is not only an ideal, but a reality, and a reality that extends to all people, regardless of race or religion.

Eventually, Assad or his sons must cease power—history teaches that no repressive regime lasts forever. But how long until the family falls? How long until “might makes right” is replaced by morality, until the pen and law and human decency really do triumph over the sword? How much longer can the world stand by and do nothing while democracy-loving, decent people are tortured so much that their bodies are mangled beyond recognition? I’m done standing by. We must act. We must do something.

Silence is murder. As of today, the entire world is silent. The world is, by sheer complacency alone, on Assad’s side. It is the Syrian protestors versus the world.

They don’t stand a chance.

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