TIME FOR ARABS TO TAKE THE LEAD ON FREEDOM

  Artículo de Jamil Khoury en “The Washington Post” del 27.04.2003

 For some, perhaps -- including many Arab Americans -- the rightness or wrongness of the war in Iraq is a simple question. For me it has not been. Rather, it has created within me a painful conflict of conscience.

I've found myself torn between my strong antiwar impulses and a keen awareness of the horrendous suffering inflicted by the regime of Saddam Hussein. This inner conflict has put me at odds with many people I know, both on the American left and among Arab Americans. At the same time, it has raised my hopes for a new frontier in Middle East activism.

Although Hussein's crimes are well documented, including the destruction of more than 4,000 Kurdish villages, the near eradication of the ancient civilization of the Marsh Arabs and the gassing of civilians, what exemplified for me the full horrors of the regime were the personal narratives. Since the mid-1980s I have been speaking to Iraqis, both in the Middle East and in the United States, who have shared graphic and heart-wrenching stories of torture, disappeared loved ones and murdered family members. These stories were often too painful to bear, let alone ignore, and it became clear to me that justice in Iraq could not be achieved through appeasing or containing a criminal dictatorship, but only through ensuring its demise.

Unable to trivialize or deny the courageous voices of Hussein's victims, or to be unmoved by the nearly universal support for war among organized Iraqi exiles, I landed in the precarious position of supporting military action to topple Hussein's regime while remaining highly skeptical of this war's architects and their geopolitical objectives. I adopted a lesser-of-two-evils equation, in which the nightmare of war paled beside the nightmare of the Iraqi status quo.

This has been most trying for me on the home front -- "home" being at least in part the American left and the Arab American community, both nearly unanimous in their opposition to the war. Early on, I attended antiwar rallies and marches and found myself feeling alienated. I was dismayed by the failure of rally organizers to articulate an alternative (and realistic) vision for ending Hussein's dictatorship and promoting freedom for Iraqis. I was also struck by the noticeable absence of Iraqis and Iraqi Americans at such rallies and was greatly affected when local Iraqis expressed hurt and dismay about the protests.

An argument can be made that as American citizens our role is to try to influence the actions of our government, not involve ourselves in the "domestic" affairs of another country. It is an argument that offers little hope to Iraqis and falls on its face when judged against efforts by the American left to advocate freedom in other parts of the world. Much to my dismay, I found many in the antiwar movement to be uninterested in discussing the behavior of the Iraqi regime. Moreover, the fact that many on the left seemed more intent on seeing Bush fail than Hussein fall revealed a skewed sense of priorities.

I am not questioning the sincerity and integrity of those involved, nor do I believe they are naive. It was difficult for me to break ranks with people whose opinions I respect and draw inspiration from. But for me, the prospect of ending Hussein's regime trumped all else.

While the left fell short of expectations, though, it was Arab American activists from whom I felt most estranged. I was appalled to see high-profile Arab Americans essentially dismissing the pleas of Iraqi exiles, some going so far as to suggest that the exile leadership lacked legitimacy. Instead of deferring to those most affected by the Iraqi regime -- those with family members living in Iraq -- the activists effectively removed Hussein's horrors from the equation and framed the discussion in terms of the United States vs. the Arab world. Yet the question remained: Who better than Iraqis to differentiate between liberation and foreign aggression and to define the best interests of their homeland?

As an Arab American, I am deeply proud of Arab Americans' accomplishments and our contributions to the rich fabric of American life. Arab American leaders and spokespeople are by and large sophisticated, principled and committed. Yet I am compelled to demand more from them and more from myself. It is high time we began to publicly and aggressively criticize the despotism of Arab regimes. We must demand that our government not only stop supporting those regimes but also adhere to the principles of promoting democracy and human rights. After all, there exist no greater violators of Arab human rights than Arab regimes.

It is time for Arab Americans to place a higher premium on freedom in the Arab world than on romantic notions of Arab nationalism or fidelity to the failed statist ideologies of yesterday. Just as we defend the civil rights of Arab and Muslim Americans, and demand an end to Israel's occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, we must be equally vigilant in demanding freedom for Arabs. To be fair, I don't know any responsible Arab American who thinks well of the Arab regimes. Yet all too often our criticism is either muted or treated as a distraction from some "larger" issue, when indeed it is the larger issue.

It bothers me that American progressives and Arab Americans woefully cede discussion of democracy in the Arab world to neoconservatives with discernibly dubious motives. Shouldn't we be the ones taking the lead on these issues? Shouldn't we be the ones brainstorming ways to support a free Iraq, instead of gloating and peddling worst-case scenarios? This is an exciting and important time for Arabs. Iraq today stands a chance of becoming a model of civil society for the entire region.

The writer is an instructor in Middle East studies at the University of Chicago Graham School of General Studies and the artistic director of Silk Road Theatre Project.