Jamil Maidan Flores: Beirut and Paris — A Tale of Two Tragedies
The tale begins with a series of onslaughts on the innocent. On Nov. 12, two motorcycle-riding suicide bombers, one after the other, blasted the Burj el-Barajneh district of Beirut, Lebanon, instantly killing 43, wounding scores.
The next day, a Friday the 13th, eight terrorists carried out coordinated attacks in Paris, beginning with two suicide bombings near a football stadium. Black-clad terrorists then drove downtown spraying bullets at people. By the time that the gunmen entered a concert hall where a rock band was playing to a full house, they had killed 39. Inside, they killed 90 more and wounded over a hundred before a responding security force cut them down.
Within hours the floodgates of sympathy for the French people swung open and unleashed a global outpouring reminiscent of the compassion showered on the American people in the wake of 9/11.
The presidents of major powers offered their condolences. President Obama waxed eloquent: “This is an attack ... not just on the people of France, but... on all humanity and all the values that we share.”
Facebook deployed its “Safety Check” feature in Paris, then a one-click option to overlay a user’s profile picture with the red, white and blue of the French flag. Famous landmarks and monuments across the world were lit up with the tricolor. On print and online, the victims of the Paris attacks were named and honored with biographical sketches.
Across the world, multitudes joined the French in their mourning, in their cry to heaven for justice and in their defiance of terror.
Meanwhile, not much was said of the carnage in Beirut, no biographies of victims, no Safety Checks, no green silhouette of a cedar tree projected on even just one famous landmark. As if to rub salt on the wound, an early news report gave the impression — false, of course — that Burj el-Barajneh was a stronghold of the Hezbollah, an organization that the West regards as terrorist.
What’s behind the disparity in the world’s treatment of the two tragedies? Whatever it may be, I’m not ready to call it heartlessness, religious bigotry or, least of all, racism. It’s perfectly understandable that we’re profuse in giving the French our sympathy and admiration in their time of sorrow.
They’re a great people. They’ve contributed much to world culture and civilization. And if their tricolor stands for universal values, then we all share those values. Let the tricolor stay on those landmarks.
For that matter, the Lebanese, too, are an amazing people. Their Phoenician ancestors were the great navigators and traders of antiquity. They helped mold Greek culture, which, in turn shaped Western civilization. Today’s Lebanese diaspora is spangled with famous names.
At the end of the day all nations are exceptional in some way and are equally deserving of sympathy when collective tragedy strikes them. The problem is: when we empathize with the grief of people in far-away places, we look for connections.
That’s the easiest to do with Paris. It is, after all, the setting of so many people’s romantic fantasies. Among many Muslims of Southeast Asia, especially those who have worked in the Middle East, Beirut may ring a louder bell. They’re not, however, the gatekeepers of world opinion.
Perhaps the real tragedy that we are dealing with here is that we look for a connection with all those victims of terrorist attacks, and fail to see that we already have one that is fundamental and enduring. If we think less of these victims as citizens of countries or members of ethnic groups or inhabitants of cities and more as the loved ones of parents and children, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, we should have no problem sharing their grief.
We are all members of families that have known and will, time and again, know the pain of human loss. If we remember this as we confront the news of carnage in distant lands, we should be able to feel deeply for all who suffer man’s inhumanity to man. We should be able to take it personally.
President Obama said that the Paris massacre was an attack on all humanity. It would have been more helpful if he had said that all terrorist attacks are attacks on all humanity. He would have covered not just Paris but also Beirut, Mali, the Russian airliner recently brought down by a bomb, and all terrorist attacks past and future.
The poet John Doone said it best when he wrote a long time ago: “Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”
Jamil Maidan Flores is a Jakarta-based literary writer whose interests include philosophy and foreign policy. The views expressed here are his own. He may be contacted at jamilmaidanflores@gmail.com.
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