"Will you allow people to drink alcohol?" [adapted]
During their fifty years of Ba'athist rule, Hafez al-Assad killed forty thousand in Hama alone. His son killed half a million more. He displaced three million people to the ends of the earth. He bombed them with chemical weapons and barrel bombs, targeting them even in their tents. Over 200,000 people remain missing, their fates known only to Allah.
The gates of Saydnaya prison were opened, and the world discovered that all the literature written about prisons could not capture even a single chapter of its horrors. Yet, throughout all these years, Bashar al-Assad remained president, and no one—neither in the East nor the West—seemed alarmed.
In the East, he was invited to summits as a head of state. He ascended platforms to lecture about Israel's crimes in Gaza—crimes not so different from those he committed against his own people. Still, he provoked no fear, even though everyone knew he was the most ruthless bloodsucker of modern times. His allies whispered that he handed over their coordinates. They realized, too late, that his only loyalty was to his throne. Yet, until the morning of his escape, he inspired no alarm whatsoever.
Then the revolution triumphed. Syrians returned to their homes, families, and memories. But suddenly, the entire globe was gripped with fear.
Damascus became a hub for diplomats from every direction, all seeking to understand how the victors would govern their country. Television networks spoke about them, and they dominated the headlines. The BBC conducted an interview with their leader, posing an endless stream of condescending and nauseating questions. But with all the above in mind, two of the most baffling questions were:
"Will you allow women to be educated?"
"Will you allow people to drink alcohol?"
Now, all of a sudden, the world was concerned about the right of Syrian women to education. But where was this concern for their right to life? For thirteen years, women were bombed with barrel bombs and chemical weapons. For thirteen years, they were widowed, systematically raped, their children were killed, and husbands buried alive. Yet no one in the world moved a finger. Not a single feminist conference was held for them. Europe didn’t rise to their aid as it did for Ukraine. But now, the world conveniently rediscovered its conscience, asking:
"Will Syrian women have the right to education?"
This is an all-too-familiar pattern.
The world didn’t weep for Afghan women as they succumbed to years of aerial assaults, but the moment the U.S. withdrew, the world suddenly rediscovered Afghan women whose “rights needed protection.”
Similarly, who among the elites cries for the women of Gaza today as they face annihilation for 446 days? But you will see—once the genocide ends, Gaza’s women will suddenly have rights that need to be demanded.
And then there’s the BBC’s second question:
"Will you allow people to drink alcohol?!"
Where were you when the tyrant was drinking their blood before your very eyes? Where were you when men tasted utter despair and humiliation in prisons, when scores were condemned to executions on a daily basis, when women gave birth to their children in captivity, the fathers of whom were their very captors?
For fifty years, the regime was left unchecked, free to do as it pleased. In fact, Blair even suggested knighting Bashar, and was offered royal accommodation at Buckingham Palace—all while Syrians were being incinerated in mass graves.
But who cares?
Yet when the oppressed finally revolted and freed themselves, the world was suddenly gripped with fear, rediscovered morality, and asked:
“What about women’s education and alcohol?”
What a world of hypocrisy.