Who Cares About Iraq?

“There is a man sleeping in the grass. And over him is gathering the greatest storm of all his days. Such lightening and thunder will come there has never been seen before, bringing death and destruction. People hurry home past him, to places safe from danger. And whether they do not see him there in the grass, or whether they fear to halt even a moment, but they do not wake him, they let him be.” ― Alan Paton, Cry, the Beloved Country, p.97

I've come from the US to Amman Jordan because there is a long standing health crisis for children in Iraq and I am an advocate for those children.   Long-standing crisis is, I realize, an oxymoron. The term crisis implies a certain point, on an edge beyond which lies disaster if no action is taken.  An ongoing crisis runs the risk of becoming the norm--normal-- and that is what has happened with the children's health crisis in Iraq. Nonetheless,  I'm in Jordan looking for Iraqi partners, for solidarity and support for projects and programs, for action to help remedy the situation. It's not my first trip to the Middle East. I went to Baghdad twice, and when that was too dangerous, I began coming to Amman.  The travel and ongoing work --like the wars, occupation and toxic aftermath that create a need for this journey-- seem endless, the  mission impossible.

The overall well-being of children in Iraq, as measured by the under five mortality rate (U5MR) --considered the most significant indicator of overall well being for a country's children -- declined 160% in the decade 1990-2000.  In those ten years following the first Gulf War children declined overall in only seventeen countries in the world and of those Iraq was the worst by far, twice that of the next worst country. While pediatric cancer rates remain relatively stable in the US,  the cancer/ leukemia rate for children in Iraq has doubled in the last fifteen years,  increasing from 3 per 100,000 to 8.5 per 100,000.  In some places, like Basra,  it has quadrupled.  In Falluja things are even worse. Researchers found a 38-fold increase in leukemia, ten-fold in female breast cancer and significant increases in lymphoma and brain tumors in adults.  Infant mortality, babies dying before their first birthday, was measured at 80 per 1,000 births in Fallujah, compared to  19 in Egypt  17 in Jordan  and 9.7 per 1,000 births in neighboring Kuwait.  ("Cancer, Infant Mortality and Birth Sex-Ratio in Falllujah, Iraq 2005-2009") This is a health crisis.

Who cares about Iraq and Iraqis my Iraqi friends ask me with frustration. Who indeed. The general public doesn't follow research unless it's headline-worthy news, which is never the case for Iraqi children.  So, they don't know enough to care. Policy makers and organizations like UNICEF are aware of the situation, but there is little or no action.  High profile, accomplished writers and journalists have tried to sound the alarm over the years. The  award winning John Pilger has written extensively about it  and in 1999  he produced the documentary film, Paying the Price, Killing the Children of Iraq.   And Robert Fisk, recognized with more British and international journalism awards than any other foreign correspondent,  continues to write about the health crisis in Iraq. But, basically it's "Know nothing.  See nothing.  Say nothing." he says in his latest story on Fallujah (The Independent, April 2012). "It's the same old story."

But, The Green Zone: The Environmental Crisis of Militarism by Barry Sanders.  -- professor, and author of eleven books, twice nominated for a Pulitzer Prize -- offers the possibility of a new story. He looks at Iraq --the destruction, pollution, health crisis and human loss -- as an archeologist might look at a significant vessel in an archeological dig -- something that can only be understood in the larger context in which it is found. Thus his focus on militarism and the environmental crisis. Not new, but new to me, the book (2009 AK Press) lights up an issue that  main stream media and the US public considers-- at best-- old and to some extent irrelevant news. Green Zone is a compelling, headline-grabbing story, even if you haven't found it the headlines of your media-of-choice.

In this broader context,  the question who cares about Iraq and Iraqis is replaced with a new question, one (alas) of greater interest that  concerns a much broader and much larger international public: how much does the US military contribute to worldwide pollution and thus to global warming. And the advocates job --trying to get people, medical and research institutions,   policy makers and governments to care  and take action on behalf of Iraqi children-- is transformed.

Now, the job is not to "get people to care about Iraq and Iraqis" but rather to understand the dangers of militarism and the looming environmental crisis through a lens focused on Iraq and Iraqis --and to some extent Afghanistan and Afghanis-- and to take action. For a long time, doctors, scientists and researchers have linked Iraq's public  health crisis, especially the increase in cancer, leukemia and congenital birth defects,  to the environment, severely denigrated over many years by depleted uranium (DU) and other heavy metals and toxins introduced by the weapons used in the wars. It has been difficult, nearly impossible to "prove" this link. 20+ years of war, sanctions, occupation  and ongoing instability have made it difficult to do substantive research in Iraq. Personal and public records --whole systems--have been lost and destroyed. And more significantly,  there is enormous resistance in high places.  Research in the US and Europe about the possible connection between Iraq's  toxic environment and the disease/ symptoms known as  Gulf War Syndrome in soldiers, is also met with skepticism and resistance. Sanders' book doesn't set out to "prove" or disprove these connections.  In his drama about the fate of the planet,  facts, figures and research that speaks to environmental and human catastrophe sits prominently on the stage next to sick Iraqis, Afghanis  and US soldiers. Hundreds of thousands who have died on both sides of the conflicts lie in the shadows as his main character, the US military, struts his stuff.  His approach is brilliant.

The book is an essay, an attempt to ask the right questions: how much does the military contribute to worldwide pollution and thus to global warming.   And a search for the correct answers which, he says are  "…rough but informed …" The US military, he states in the introduction,  is the world's worst polluter.   In terms of greenhouse gasses "… the numbers stagger the imagination…" threatening the very life of the planet.  Because of this, he concludes, the military holds, "…  our fate in its vice-like grip."  

Sanders lays out an enormous amount of data about the unbelievable volumes of resources needed to maintain and operate a vast number of military bases, troops, and land, sea and air vehicles.  He details   the  kinds of fuel. Some are more polluting and toxic than others but they all contribute heavily to global warming and are consumed at staggering levels. The irony, the absurdity of the situation is frightening. The US quest for control over fuel drives us to war; and in the course of waging war, the military uses --Sanders might say wastes-- extraordinary amounts of the worlds dwindling fuel resources.

He details the horrifying array of weapons, heavy metals, chemicals  and toxins dropped, sprayed and scattered onto the earth.  Their main target is to kill people and destroy buildings, but they  continue to  threaten and destroy life, polluting the sand and soil, the water and air, slipping in all sorts of ways and  indiscriminately into human bodies.   Fact by fact, chapter by chapter he builds the case and we begin to see the enormity of the problem and the horror of the situation.  We begin to understand more and more about Iraq and Iraqis.  We may even begin to weep, crying for the beloved country,  for the senseless destruction that has been wrought on the  people, plants and animals that lived and continue trying to live on that parcel of earth. We fear for the future of their children and grandchildren for generations to come. And, simultaneously, because we are seeing the broader view, we begin to fear for our own futures and for the future of the entire planet, because the case is so clear. And, our work is set out for us.

We should be ready for the next  step,  collective action.  There is no excuse for standing idly by any longer. If you haven't done anything, or if you haven't done enough to stop the never-ending wars, now is the time. The price of continuing is too great for Iraq and Iraqis, for Afghanistan and Afghanis, for Yemenis and Syrians.  The price is too high, much to high for all the creatures and plants, the air, water and soil that make up planet earth.  The price is much too high for all of us.   If you don't believe me, get a copy of Sanders' book, and read it. 

"This is no time to talk of hedges and fields, or the beauties of any country. Sadness and fear and hate, how they well up in the heart and mind…. Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children bereaved. Cry, the beloved country, these things are not yet at an end. The sun pours down on the earth, on the lovely land that man cannot enjoy. He knows only the fear of his heart.”

                                                                       Alan Paton, Cry, the Beloved Country,  Chapter 11

Dreaming of Democracy in Iraq

           "What?" one officer asked her incredulously, " Are you dreaming about democracy?"   Aya Al Lamie was picked up from a peaceful demonstration in Baghdad in February 30 by plain clothes men, who put her into the trunk of a car and took her to  the Jadiriiyah-Baghdad security facility where, she says she was beaten and threatened with rape.  She was speaking at the 3rd International meeting of the Iraqi Civil Society Solidarity Initiative in Erbil, in northern Iraq's Kurdistan region. Hundreds of people, mostly Iraqis but also people and civil society organizations from Europe and the US gathered to talk about issues and develop peaceful, nonviolent strategies to confront and solve problems.  How to get the word out, how to get international media attention for the on-the-ground-reality in Iraq was still a topic of discussion.  Discouraging doesn't begin to describe my reaction.   

            The Dylan song, Blowin' in the Wind, kept running through my head,  Indeed how many times, how many years?  When will we finally draw the line on  Iraq policy, and say we've seen enough, heard enough, we know enough, to demand action and a serious, substantive change  of course?

            I got involved in the movement to Lift the Sanctions against Iraq in 1998 when UNICEF and other reputable agencies on the ground were estimating that as many, and maybe more than 5,000 children under the age of five were dying every month as a result of US supported UN Sanctions.  We didn't know, no one in the US knew, we thought, about the level of suffering.  The main stream media was ignoring the situation.  We put our efforts into educating the public, media activism and pressuring our legislators.

            But the truth, we learned was that some people did know and worse,  they weren't doing anything.  Then Secretary of State Madeleine Albright knew.   She didn't dispute the figures in her infamous interview with Leslie Stahl on 60 Minutes in 1996.  Asked about the deaths of 250,000 Iraqi children under Sanctions, was it worth it?  Albright responded, "I think this is a very hard choice, but the price--we think the price is worth it ..."  What is amazing is that this public admission--that the government knew and was continuing the policy--didn't generate it's own media attention and public outcry.   

            In the late 90s, there was enough reporting about the alarming increase in infant and under 5 mortality, low birth weight and food scarcity resulting in under and malnourishment in children and youth to get attention.  The UN reacted with the  Oil for Food program in an attempt to alleviate the situation, but it wasn't enough. The program's first Director, Dennis Halliday resigned after one year, calling the economic sanctions genocide.  His successor, another long-time senior UN diplomat, Hans von Sponek resigned a year later.  This high-level rejection of the sanctions policy generated some press.  After that, perhaps another honorable man or woman stepped into the position, I don't know. Whomever it was, they disappeared under the media radar, taking the issue with them.

         My project, The Iraqi Children's Art Exchange (2000) tries to raise the media profile on Iraqi children, using exhibits of children's art and photographs to put a face on the humanitarian crisis in Iraq.  I would begin my talks and writing  in those early days by reflecting on the fact that most people in the US knew only two things about Iraq: that Saddam Hussein was the country's evil dictator and that he had used chemical weapons against his own people.  I would spend the next hour talking about the ever increasing cancer and leukemia rates in Iraq, and the every-decreasing capacity to help.  About the daily challenges faced by millions of  men, women and children  in Iraq as a result of the first Gulf War  and the brutal economic sanctions. 

         The ongoing, violent occupation in Iraq has exacted a huge toll on both sides-- in lives ruined and lost, and in financial terms. Despite this, there is still little or no substantive information or analysis getting out in the US. Today, after more than twenty years, I feel almost nothing has changed.  Most people in the US still  know  two things:  the evil Saddam is gone, and (mistakenly) that Iraq had something to do with the 9/11 tragedy.  Go figure! 

         We hear only of car bombings, of soldiers and "terrorists" killed, of neighborhoods being won and lost. How many people know that Iraq is "… ranked the fourth most corrupt country in the world…"  by Berlin-based Transparency International’s 2010 Corruption Perceptions Index. How many hard-earned tax dollars wasted on this destruction?

         And what about  the health crisis…it goes on and on.  Did you hear or read about the study on health outcomes in Fallujah 2005-2009.  The study,  reported in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health in July 2010, investigated the accuracy of anecdotal reports of dramatic increases in birth defects, infant deaths and cancer in Fallujah in the aftermath of our attack on that city.  The study confirmed the situation, calling the increases "alarmingly high".  Alexander Cockburn, writing in the Independent in the UK, quoted the report saying the " …toxic legacy of the assault was worse than Hiroshima."

         Perhaps we don't hear much because it's extremely dangerous to report from Iraq. According to an Al Jazeera Iraq "…ranked as the deadliest country in the world for the press  for six consecutive years,  2003 through 2008." A woman at the conference told me that the first independent TV station in Kurdistan was destroyed five days after it began broadcasting. Others expressed their dismay over the fact that the Iraqi Media Network is funded by the government.  There are lots of papers in circulation they maintained,  but there is little diversity in the news and views expressed.   Then there are the informal source of information, the NGOs and civil society organization, eyes and ears on the ground many of whom have pulled out of central and southern Iraq, taking their capacity to help with this issue with them.

         So, this may be why  I didn't know, why so few people know that in the shadow of the international media lights shining so brightly on the Arab Spring in Tunisia, Egypt and other places, Iraqis also took to the streets.  Who knew that  in February  thousands, maybe tens of thousands, maybe more filled city squares in Iraq?  Who knew that in addition to Baghdad, there were strikes in Sulymaniyah and in Mosul. They are also demonstrating for democracy in Iraq, and more poignantly for me,  they continue to demand what they've been asking for--what those of us working in solidarity with them have been asking for-- since the 1990 war: restoration and improvement of basic services such as electricity and water purification, an end to corruption, more jobs and a release of political prisoners.  You can read more and  see clips from these actions at the web site of The Organization of Women's Freedom in Iraq (OWFI).    

         So, back to Aya Al Lamie, our brave young Iraqi woman  dreaming of democracy.  Isn't democracy the aim of US policy in Iraq; isn't this the outcome we hope to achieve with our billions of dollars?  Isn't democracy what troops have been fighting and dying for in Iraq for the last twenty years?  The answers, of course: yes, yes and yes.   But it seems these youth are not seen as legitimate partners or champions in this struggle. Indeed they are not seen at all.  And, this is the point.  The complicated reality of life on the ground in Iraq has been blacked out, ignored by main stream media in the US for more than twenty years. 

         Why isn't the  US press featuring these youth,  celebrating their commitment and  determination.  They could be seen as a measure of success, although I don't think we can take the credit.  They are acting in solidarity with youth throughout the Middle East.  But whatever authorities are in control don't seem to  recognize them and their fellow peaceful, democracy-loving protestors as enlightened fighters for an Iraqi Spring. Rather, they are branded as terrorists and, it seems in some cases, they are dealt with accordingly.

         Imagine the challenge of the situation in Iraq, a country fractured and wounded by so many years of war, economic sanctions and violence. The OWFI handout decried the occupation. It stole their opportunity to act on their own behalf, they said, denying them the possibility of a unifying struggle to  overthrow their dictator and reform their country on their own.

         What can we, who want to act in solidarity with democracy movements, do in this particular situation?   What can we possibly do to change this media dynamic?  Is the US -- "the west" --supporting the forces standing in the way, terrorizing and trying to silence this democratic movement seeking what other youth around the world seek?

         I have no answers; they are surely blowin' in the wind.  Iraqis--individuals, civil society organizations and NGOs-- have strategies on the ground and I sense a strong commitment, a determination to go on despite the enormous challenges.  We must keep working on this; they need our solidarity and our attention.

          

          

Iraq divided

            Are you f _ _ _ _ing crazy, the woman shouts into the phone, when I tell her there is some chance I will leave Erbil and go to Baghdad. She is offering one in a wide range of opinions on whether it is possible to even THINK of travel outside of Kurdistan.

             I went to the US Consulate, a bunker I guess you'd call it, yesterday with my newly found "driver" a really great young guy who drives a cab for the hotel. Although there are press reports of a formal opening, I couldn't find an address or phone number.  The hotel owner called a few people and said he thought it was in Ainkawa, a suburb of Erbil.  Just ask when you get there he told Hassan.

            He did as directed, stopping to ask various guards along the road when we got into town.  We turned into the street, stopping at a huge double think door with a small rectangular hole cut into it--a slot to look out of.  Some fifteen feet above us, along with barbed wire, we could see two cameras.  Hassan looked up and whistled. Two eyes appeared on the other side.  I explained myself.  This wasn’t' the right place they said and directed us farther along the road and around a corner.  It is not what one would like for a consulate--attractive and welcoming.  It is a flat concrete bunker.  There was a long three foot high concrete wall, and behind it two men--not in uniform--but with large guns looked at us.  I get out of the car, and explained my situation.  "You don't need a visa to go to Baghdad, " the blond guy said to me.  If they stamped your visa at the airport here in Erbil, you can go anywhere you want, said the other.  Another guy with a gun came out and agreed with this assessment.  I ask if they would write a letter of some sort, that I can carry with me when I leave Erbil.

            At this point yet another man--without a gun-- comes out.  They offer me water, ignoring poor Hassan who I think is not sure what to expect of this trip. I ask for another water, and they say they will check.  The latest arrival is Randy.  He tells me the consulate isn't really open, and there is no one inside who can see me or help me.  After the joyous news reports about the consulate "opening" one expects a bit more than this.

            I tell him my story.  I applied for a visa to Iraq in January 2010.  I have phoned the Iraqi consulate in DC numerous times, and have had people from around the country and around the world write on my behalf, attesting to the fact that I have a project there, and a legitimate reason to visit.  Each time I call to check, a nice guy, Ayad tells me "I don't know what is happening with your visa.  Everything is sent to Baghdad.  There are very few visas being issued." It was Ayad who suggested I contact the US Consulate in Erbil, to see if they could help me. 

            Apparently there is no copying machine at the new US Consulate because Randy takes out a pad of post-it notes and begins to copy the  information from my passport onto small green squares.  He looks very stressed out, with two small cuts on either side of his upper lip - shaving accidents I think.  He tries to be understanding and always addreses me with a military, mam.  I want to give him the written Prospectus I've brought, so they can see there is a real project, with real doctors in Baghdad.  He doesn't want to be responsible for anything, he says, "I'm just a guard."

            He assures me the information from the post-it notes will be sent to Baghdad within twenty four hours.  This sounds very good to me.  I am hoping to leave, with an arranged and trusted driver within the next two days. If iI don't hear anything, I will leave anyway. I imagine myself at a check point with a real, truthful explanation of how I applied early, but the visa didn't come; how I left without it and following directions went to the US Consulate where I was assured there was no need for a visa.  I imagine the guards at the check points will nod, and say, good luck mam if they are US soldiers or contractors. Or, they will just nod if they are Iraqis. My plan was more-or-less sealed, and I was prepared to tell my contact in Baghdad it was a go.

            But, the woman who is shouting (in a friendly way) on the other end of the phone has been working in Erbil for many years, and has, alas, too many horror stories about people trying to fly into Baghdad without visas and suffering terrible consequences.  The idea of going overland puts her over the top. She goes on (in a friendly way) about the people she knows who have been kidnapped and held for high ransoms, She describes the men manning the checkpoints as guys who would love to shoot someone who challenges them or doesn't go by the rules. 

            Despite what I hear on the phone, I am telling myself I don't want to avoid this challenge if at all possible.  I want to be brave enough to do what needs to be done, without being stupid about it.  I imagine myself writing for the paper, on the blog, telling the tale of a dramatic and tense overland journey, the encounters, the frightening experiences--or the lack of all of this.  Perhaps the story would turn out to be one of how scared I was but how the journey was uneventful, proving that one could and should go to Baghdad if you have business there.  Just like you would go to Boston or Paris.

              Isn't it humiliating and infuriating that after 20+ years of war, sanctions, war and occupation  you cannot travel safely --indeed you cannot even get permission to get into Iraq except for the Kurdish region in the north?  Is this what democracy looks like?  In 2000 I bought a plane ticket and flew into Baghdad airport in a plane filled with activists from the US and Europe, with former attorney general Ramsey Clark.  We had boxes and boxes of badly needed medicines with us.   They are still in desperate need of medical supplies today, according to the doctors at the hospital. But, today twenty years, billions of dollars and millions of deaths later,  one activist acting on her own cannot get a travel visa to visit the children's cancer ward at a pediatric hospital in Baghdad.  Is there another place, another situation like this in any place in the world?  Maybe Palestine, it might be comparable although I don't know.  What I do know is that the situation makes me sick at heart, to be so close--indeed to be inside Iraq, but unable to get to Baghdad.  How can this be?

            

Voices of Baghdad

            The play, Voices of Baghdad, was amazing.  Four young Iraqi men, dressed in very basic, uniform clothing that featured a long kaki colored strap wrapped in different ways to create a pattern around their upper bodies.  Annette Henneman, the Italian woman, who has worked with them to create the play is dressed in black, head covered looking like a middle-aged Iraqi woman.  For the most part it is in Arabic.  The four men tell their stories using the straps as their only props. Sometimes they tangle themselves up, sometimes they lead each other around the stage.  Sometimes they are connected; other times they are on their own. 

            There are stories from childhood, one about a boy's seven year wait for  his father to get out of prison and about the terror of home invasions by foreign soldiers.  Sometimes the four are calm and quiet, lying on the floor and then they are soldiers standing up, moving quickly  and making loud shooting noises, fighting, stabbing, dying.  Every now and then the woman speaks in English, telling an abbreviated version for non-Arab speakers.  Sometimes she is an actor.  But, no matter what is being said, we get the drift.  It is like an opera, so evocative that I think I know what is being said and it is all very, very  sad.

            I am sitting in the front row of an audience of 100 or so people, mostly Iraqis.   At first, we don't quiet down, there is talking and people are moving around.  But as the play moves on things change. I can feel the room gathering around behind me, focused on what is taking place in front of us.  The man next to me is shaking his leg so violently that I am also shaking.  Periodically he gives his cell phone to someone next to the stage, and asks for a photo.  A cell phone rings a few seats down on the other side and to my amazement, the man takes a call and talks quietly. Next to him two very well dressed women are talking again. How can this be?  I shift in my seat as a request that they be silent.  Then, at some point I think I begin to understand what is going on.  This is a play about a certain reality for me, but it IS their reality, I begin to imagine how difficult it is to relive this and I stop shifting in my seat.

            At  some points, people clap and sing along with the actors.  They burst into applause after monologues that I cannot understand.  We  are with them every step of the way now.  I am weeping, they are weeping, we are all swept up in the drama unfolding in front of us after a long day of meetings and discussions at a conference in  Erbil,  in northern Iraq. We have been talking about the very serious problems that continue in the country.  We are meeting to discuss and formulate strategies and plans of action --ways  civil society organizations can help.  The context, the background to our discussions is playing out in front of us.

            In the final scene, one of the young men is getting married.  A drum appears and the singing begins.  The five of them are dancing…really dancing,  smiling and  clapping and moving in wild celebration.  After some minutes they dance off the stage. These last moments have transported us away from our sorrows, we feel  the possibility that tomorrow could be better a better day.  What a magnificent ending.

            We jump to our feet, clapping and trilling.  The actors bow with solemn pleasure.  This was their first performance.  People jump onto the stage hugging, exclaiming and posing for photographs.  It is a triumph.  I met Annette earlier in the day, and spent a long time talking with her about Baghdad and theatre. I give her a huge hug and think--next summer in Northampton.

            I am still crying.  I'm  thinking back on the summer's production of Aftermath and the final evening of Having the Life--our three day arts extravaganza.  I remember the heavy drama of Thursday, and then I remember Azeel leading the dancing on Friday evening, handkerchief waving above her head, Layaali playing as we danced in a circle around the room.  The experience is profound--we sit facing a difficult truth together, led through the darkness to experience the other side--the possibility for real joy and reconciliation. 

Off to Erbil

I am leaving tomorrow, Wednesday Oct. 5, flying from JFK to Istanbul and then to Erbil Iraq--the longest continuously inhabited city in the world.  It also looks to be pretty modern at this point, if you look for photos you will see tall hotels.  This is Kurdistan, northern Iraq and there is oil here.  I've never been outside of Baghdad, really, except on the long ride across the desert from Amman.  Honestly, we didn't stop in those days, it was dangerous…we just kept driving until we reached Baghdad.  So, I am excited to see another part of the country and learn about it.

The conference is the Third Conference of ICSSI: Iraqi Civil Society Solidarity Initiative.  You can read about it on the web here: http://www.iraqicivilsociety.org/

But, since I expect most will not do that, I'll  share what most drew me to this conference.  Their mission: to facilitate the process of building concrete links of solidarity…through practical projects that promote human rights, social justice and support the efforts against sectarian divisions, corruption and violence.  ICSSI "…was born out of the wide coalition that organized the biggest demonstration in world history, against the war in Iraq in 2003 and kept working against foreign occupation, human rights and social justice in Iraq.

They list The Principles and Ethics of the Conference, including stating that it has no party, sectarian or religious affiliations.  They are committed to non violence and adopt "…a principle of cooperation and voluntary work, rejecting the organization of lavish events or unjustified exchange or disbursement of money in return for any work or position."  There is a lot more listed, but my final point is "… they believe civil society is a key, not a secondary partner in building a democratic Iraq free from occupation and fascism."

This was enough to get me on board.  In addition, two members of 9/11 Families for Peaceful Tomorrows are going from the US. They were extremely helpful in getting me organized, I was very late with my interest and registration.  And, this is a group that seems to do what ICAE tries to do, to recognize the suffering on both sides of this ongoing war/conflict/struggle. So, I am grateful for their help and encouragement, and also look forward to meeting them.

I am hoping to connect with people and/or organizations who might be willing to partner with ICAE and the hospital on our project on the children's cancer ward.  Or perhaps I will learn of other initiative that ICAE might join; it has been extremely challenging to keep the project in Baghdad going. 

I have no idea how this blogging will go; just as I have no idea how this trip will go.  So, I leap into the unknown, hoping for a good outcome all around.

Children's Art: The Right to Express and have their views taken seriously

We’ve been here before, confronting this question of children’s art, and why it creates such a stir, in May 2006 when Brandeis University cancelled an exhibit of Palestinian children’s art.  This cancellation seems even more egregious because the museum in question is specifically a children’s  museum.

           

Who objects to children’s art in a children’s art museum? And, what should we make of a children’s museum that allows the concerns of those constituents to censor the views of children, denying their right to expression? I’m talking about the Oakland Children’s Museum (MOCHA) and its decision to cancel the exhibit A Child’s View of Gaza, which was to have opened there this week, on September 24. 

           

One can only conclude that those who have objected to this exhibit are troubled by the content.  For whatever reason they want it buried, out of site and out of mind. They must be a powerful group.  They succeeded in convincing the museum’s  board to ignore its stated goal of “...advocating for the arts as an essential part of a strong, vital and diverse community”.   And, they have put the museum in the uncomfortable position of denying Palestinian children their rights as guaranteed by Article 12 of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC): the right of every child to express his or her views and to have those views given due consideration.         

        

“The artist's job is to be a witness to his time in history.” said  the artist Robert Rauschenberg, and so it is with our young artists.  Seeing, as we know,  comes before words.  A child looks and recognizes people, places and things before she or he can speak;  “views” are developing from the moment of birth.  So, imagine the views-- the long, wide-eyed  hours of childhood in  Palestine or Baghdad or Afghanistan. Imagine the faces of preoccupied adults, filled with tension and worry. Imagine the soldiers in their gear, carrying guns  as they patrol the streets, or search homes.  Imagine the hundreds upon hundreds of violent scenes that could and do play out in front of children living in war zones.  This is their world.  It surrounds them day in and day out.  And oftentimes, they have not only no words, but no opportunity to tell us what they think and feel about it.

           

Taking crayon or pencil in hand, a child speaks out on his or her own behalf:  this is me, my situation, this is what my life looks like.  It isn’t easy for adults to bear witness to these stories.   I’ve seen children’s art from Hiroshima,  from Spain during the Civil War, from Viet Nam, from Darfur, from the concentration camps in WWII and from Iraqi children.  What we see in some of this art is the human cost of war, the terror and agony of being a child in an unpredictable,  dangerous and violent world, a world gone inexplicably mad.  A world where you are not safe, where even your parents cannot protect you.

           

This art is not about politics. It is the child's  "view" of him/herself in  their particular circumstance, their moment in history; it is about the human condition.  If we cannot look at it it is because it tells us in no uncertain terms that the world we have created, full of violence and conflict, is not one that is good for children.  The famous 60’s poster with one giant flower said it all:  War is Not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things.  

 

We have a  legal as well as a moral obligation to let Palestinian children, and all children express their views freely and to give those views our due consideration.  If we are disturbed by children’s  images from war zones, we can and should gather our forces and  take action.  It is unconscionable to censor these “views”.  These are children who need our help.  We should gather our forces and work on their behalf to  create a better, more just and peaceful world , a world where children are truly valued and where their care, protection and overall well being is a social, economic and political priority.   To do anything less is to deny the significance of children as the future of our planet.               

           

Aldous Huxley wrote this, in his introduction to “They Still Draw Pictures!  A collection of 60 drawings made by Spanish children during the war” (1938):  The most that individual men and women of good will can do is to work on behalf of some general solution of the problem of large-scale violence and, meanwhile to succor those who, like the child artists of this exhibition, have been made the victims of the worlds collective crime and madness.

           

The museum, in canceling the exhibit has dealt yet another blow to children and their rights; surely a children’s museum, of all institutions, can do better than this.

To see examples from this exhibit:  mocha.org

Welcome!

Welcome to the new blog for the Iraqi Children's Art Exchange.

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