The Child Within Us?
If we are waiting around for a sincere change of heart, for something that would appear to be as miraculous as it is momentous, then we are in for quite a wait. That is assuming we will even survive to see the wait bear its fruits. Actually, in many cases, we have already waited for far too long. Have the atrocities of this past year alone not proven that tens of thousands of times over? With each innocent life? With each destroyed future? Hasn’t this been the living testimony of every decimated school, university, hospital, home, and tent left burning in flames? And the testimony of countless healthcare workers, journalists/reporters, the elderly and the young, the women and the children?! I feel ashamed to have to state the obvious ––the well-documented obvious, I might add.
A historian would prefer to contextualize events by referring to a much earlier timeline, perhaps (i.e. years of tit-for-tat, occupation, exodus, etc). But I, along with many of you reading this, have been relatively familiar with the same history for at least an entire year now ––a year of following along and seeing how different “perspectives” (or manipulations, at times) cannot hide barebone facts on the ground. Dear reader, at this point, you are familiar with enough history to say, “enough is enough!” With the facts at hand, I should not have to refer you to the history before this for that purpose. If this magnitude of unjustified destruction is uninhibited despite being livestreamed across the globe today, then it is much less of a mystery now how the massacres of history unfolded before a much less sizeable viewership.
Shame on those who spin the most salient facts to justify an ongoing, let alone expanding, massacre. Shame, yes, shame, by any humane standard –– religious or not –– shame on whoever it may be. Hear the most esteemed voice of conscience you can conceive of saying it, “shame on them!” At least, then, if you feel it deep down inside, you’ll know that you still have a heart that feels something worthy of being called human… It is the least we can do ––if we can do nothing more that would make a difference. It is clearly far from an appeal to set yourself on fire in protest (by the way, that was done already, and, although I definitely do not condone it, I understand how a feeling of helplessness can lead even a decorated Airforce pilot to extreme measures). But if you are a willing agent on the face of this earth, answerable to some call of conscience to do what is in your power to stop the madness, to stop the rampage of destruction in this simulation of life, then weeping over the ashes does not cut it. Admit that you are not God, but take action with your God-given ability now.
The luxury of waiting for a change of heart belongs to a peacetime scenario, not a war zone, to points of caution with a noble adversary, not a pleading for mercy from a manipulative tyrant. The ethics of war must be upheld for one’s own sake, for one’s own sense of decency, of humanity, of good-will ––not because one is so delusional as to think that being ethical will rub off on a despotic foe. Sure, optimism, praying for those who have lost their senses, hoping that there will be a change of heart… that is all great… I encourage it, in fact ––so long as it is not at odds with being simultaneously vigilant and ready to take on one’s inevitable responsibilities. Remember who is on trial here, it is our conscience judging us, it is history judging us, and for the faithful, at least, it is God giving us a chance to be better versions of ourselves before the final reckoning.
If there is little utility in writing, if I am professing to those already initiated, then why do I speak out? Why write? It is an affirmation and a reminder, on the one hand, and it is an artifact left for history on the other. The children who survive the current turmoil will grow up and will be in positions similar to ours. So I write for our children, and whatever innocent child lives on through and within each of us… still vulnerable enough to submit to what is right, whatever/wherever/whenever it may be, and resiliently brave enough to do so despite it being quite the adventure.
In the spirit of writing for children, I take this opportunity to draw the reader’s attention to a line of children’s books that I highly recommend (hint: I am closely familiar with the creators, their vision, and work). The most recent release of “Dr. Heussane” is meant to celebrate personalities that are widely regarded as the pride of humanity, a “spirit of Christmas” ethos in celebrations of various faiths and humane traditions (i.e. not limited to Christianity and Islam). Due to the ongoing atrocities, festivities across the globe have been toned down or postponed, a phenomenon that adds another dimension to the notion of “moving a ‘Mole-Lid’” (the book is titled How the HeussKid Moved the Mole-Lid!). I encourage you to check out the recent releases and to sign up for the mailing lists of family-reading-time communities like this one: www.DrHeussane.com.
Intro to this Blog
I have been considering the pros and cons of focusing this blog on a particular theme or intended readership. With all the merits of specialization, I submit that my academic specialization has me niched enough for the rest of my time on Earth, and that I will be looking forward to this blog as a more diversified avenue of expression. It will still be me, just not always the PhD dissertation mode of me. For that, I beg your pardon, you will have to wait for the occasional academic study I announce here, or read parts of my dissertation (hint to fellow academics, in particular). So you can expect this blog to shed light on the more far-reaching implications of my work as an academic, tailored to a diverse and broad readership, weighing in on current events while also contextualizing and drawing lessons from history. Without further ado, welcome to Ali Moughania’s blog!
