Time to look away, again
One day of ceasefire, and we can look away. Time to turn our attention to more pressing matters. Talk about the politics of your own country, another book, the last film.
Nevertheless, from the first pages of most newspapers today, it does strike me the multitude that is facing the horror. I stare, almost in disbelieve at the procession of cars that go back home, to their home in Lebanon.
In one way or another those masses today remind me the few photos that I, as southamerican, have been able to see in museums. The photos of germans after the carpet bombings of Berlin, the photos of Warsaw totally destroyed after the bulldozers of the the nazi army. Photos that almost always fail to give me any inkling into the people there, in the paper. How could you go back to that? What are you going to do?
Well, actually I am not being very fair. It looks like Unifil is getting some reinforcement, and a part of the west will not be looking away. In the months to come we'll see again, if the international press allow us, blue helmets in between the ruins. Those young soldiers from other universes that will come and patrol, that will try to give some feeling of security to the ones that, right now, are waiting patiently in a car to move another meter, just another meter... and eventually discover if home is still there, or there will be the time, again, of building the walls, the roof.
Normally, when in other columns that I have written I get to this moment, it's time to reveal my own position, say my ideological or pragmatical evaluation of the facts so exposed. It will be so nice if I could do that now. Imagine that i could craft some sentences about the government of Israel, of Lebanon, of Iran. Some few sentences that could allow my conscience to look away again, my role of commentator of international politics fulfilled. Alas, that is not the case. At least for me, is still time of not look away. The drama of our century keeps on unfolding itself in the east. I can only go on looking, with the encountered feelings of the politically responsible citizen and the voyeur. The katiushkas did not fall in Utrecht, nor were all inhabitants of Caracas removed and send away to give place to other newcomers. We in the west are foreigners to the tragedy of the east. But we can look at it.
Nevertheless, from the first pages of most newspapers today, it does strike me the multitude that is facing the horror. I stare, almost in disbelieve at the procession of cars that go back home, to their home in Lebanon.
In one way or another those masses today remind me the few photos that I, as southamerican, have been able to see in museums. The photos of germans after the carpet bombings of Berlin, the photos of Warsaw totally destroyed after the bulldozers of the the nazi army. Photos that almost always fail to give me any inkling into the people there, in the paper. How could you go back to that? What are you going to do?
Well, actually I am not being very fair. It looks like Unifil is getting some reinforcement, and a part of the west will not be looking away. In the months to come we'll see again, if the international press allow us, blue helmets in between the ruins. Those young soldiers from other universes that will come and patrol, that will try to give some feeling of security to the ones that, right now, are waiting patiently in a car to move another meter, just another meter... and eventually discover if home is still there, or there will be the time, again, of building the walls, the roof.
Normally, when in other columns that I have written I get to this moment, it's time to reveal my own position, say my ideological or pragmatical evaluation of the facts so exposed. It will be so nice if I could do that now. Imagine that i could craft some sentences about the government of Israel, of Lebanon, of Iran. Some few sentences that could allow my conscience to look away again, my role of commentator of international politics fulfilled. Alas, that is not the case. At least for me, is still time of not look away. The drama of our century keeps on unfolding itself in the east. I can only go on looking, with the encountered feelings of the politically responsible citizen and the voyeur. The katiushkas did not fall in Utrecht, nor were all inhabitants of Caracas removed and send away to give place to other newcomers. We in the west are foreigners to the tragedy of the east. But we can look at it.
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