Sawt al Niswa | صوت النسوة - opinions

Syria: Abundance of Images but Absolute Lack of Frame of Thought

Azadeh Faramarziha — Tue, 06 Mar 2012 21:38:12 +0000

Sawt al Niswa

Nayrouz Abu Hatom

(Nazareth-Palestine)

The waves of revolutions in the Arab world have challenged so many assumptions, opinions, political streams and even political structural relations around the world, on macro and micro levels. Some link the revolutions to the same point of origin, some think they are product of global processes and others think they are informed by local political, economic, religious tensions.

The different revolutions that multiplied through specific fertile fields did not produce as much political tensions and radicalizations as did the ongoing Syrian protest against the rule of its dictator.

The case of Syria, like other Arab states, is complicated. Yet, one simplicity of analysis floats on the surface of many political streams. The simplicity of binary thinking, that is a product of long terms imperial and colonial discourses imposed on this region (and others), has been internalized and reproduced by many of the Arab intellectuals to this day.

Here in Palestine, Palestine of 67 or of 48, most political parties used the scenes and stories from the Syrian revolution to show off their commitments to these binary structures. We have political parties (I refuse to mention their names or post links or videos of their positions) that support the revolution against the secularist colour of the Syrian state; others support the revolution hoping for a neoliberal version of Syria, while a third faction voice their support for Bashar al Asad’s regime and celebrate his so claimed “anti-imperialist and anti-Israeli” stand. And some political individuals and groups stand beside the new (I claim neoliberal) constitution. We also have these forms of different political stands on Syria going out to the streets of central cities in Palestine and becoming a mini battle with verbal and physical violence.

The hegemonic narrative is of two camps reduced to two meta-narratives: One envisioning a pro-Islamic anti-Secular, anti-Asad Syria on the one hand and another of the Pro-Asad anti-imperialist Syria persuasion. This division also implies that pro-Islamic is also pro-Imperialism. It also implies that Asadist Syria is actually secular and stripped from religious sectarianism and that Bashar al Asad in specific is good for the Palestinian cause (as a Palestinian, I never could figure out this is the case) against the Israeli and U.S imperialism in the region. The fields of politics between these two camps are absented.

I choose to focus on those who always disappoint first: the Arab intellectuals of the so-called anti-imperialist position.
There is a tendency among many ‘leftists-anti-imperialists-socialists’ in the Arab world (Palestine and Lebanon and obviously in Syria) to believe that what they see on television or hear from the news about Syria is in fact external-Islamists pro-American forces destroying the stability of the socialist regime, of the great Syria that many Arabs are proud of.

This tendency, however, comes only to reaffirm this binary thinking that modernity, and the shadow of modernity that many Arab intellectuals find their comfort-zone in, brought to the world. These are binaries of ideologies that are sustained through sharp swords: that one is either is pro the Asad regime or pro U.S-Imperialism; as if one cannot generously and genuinely be against the cruelty of Asad’s military regime and against imperialist, capitalist or colonial regimes.

To my mind, this is a specific illustration of the way defeated intellectual and political positions inform and are informed by this binary discourse. It is beyond the concept of propaganda. You say ‘Syria’ and you invoke a rich political history of a hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Syria the representative of remaining Arab nationalism and the Moqawama (resistance) to the neighboring Zionist entity. You say ‘Syria’ and you relate to how so many Arab countries are sellouts to U.S imperialist regimes, but forget about the colonization of Iraq.

Yes, Syria represents all that, but its Asadist regime has also sustained a particular level of political oppression that has prevented the news of the massacres from reaching out to the world’s consciousness, and then comes the current slaughtering of thousands people and the bombardment of whole towns and cities.

This binary thinking is not only an ignorant judgment or an uninformed framing of the revolution in Syria, but it is also a defeated frame of thought. It is these internalized sentiments that claim that ‘Arabs cannot handle change’ or that ‘Syrians are not capable of leading a revolution.’

The minority of us, those of us outside Homs, Dar3a, Idlib, Hama and the longer list of all the brave Syrian towns, cities and villages, have a critical complicated humanitarian sense of both sadness and pride at the same time. A sense of honest anti-imperialist ideals as well as anti-Asad propaganda. Even the majority of Palestinians are torn about their support of the revolution in Syria and hesitant to express their full support for the Syrian people, while those same people in Syria have often showed ideological and national solidarity with people in Palestine.

Not surprisingly, being here, in Palestine, I have noticed that it is mostly people with feminist, anti-oppression, critical and freethinking ideologies who have broken this binary of “either one supports the U.S camp or the Asad camp”; they have reached a conclusion that, between Asad’s oppression and U.S imperialism, there is an invisible thin line or a lie. A lie, a hegemonic narrative, that Syria is a rule of heroes, while in fact it is a rule of the defeated hearts. The real heroes are on the fields attending one funeral after the other of men, women, and children. Sometimes whole families are killed by political suffocation.

Once, perhaps, an image was thousands words, it moved people to the streets. Today not even one thousand images can bring words to those who are sadly defeated from inside and to those who have internalized the reaction of silence: a thousand images are worth zero words.

The saying ‎’seeing is believing’ was never really accurate. People come with a frame through which they see the image. This is how you can view an image of a thoroughly bombarded city like Homs, with dead bodied everywhere and tanks invading their own lands, and pro-Asad subjects watching these images or those who are suspicious of the intention of the revolution can say:”it is external forces who have bombarded Homs and killed everyone there”!

We live in an age (perhaps a post First Gulf war age) where we have an abundance of images but an absolute lack of frame-of-thought, of anti-hegemonic thinking that knows that what we see is filtered through many oppressive-political frames.

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كيف عم نموت ب البلد؟

hiba — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 22:00:00 +0000

نسرين خليل

نشرة الأخبار: مبنى منهار و٢٧ قتيل، مباني أخلوها من سكانها، عيال تشرّدت على الطرقات، هيدا عند خالتو

وهيدي عند ستها، الأم عند أمها والأب بنام بالسيارة. الناس موهولين وبدّن يفوتوا ع بيوتن وقوى الأمن عم يتمرجلوا عليهم: “ما في تفوت عالبناية!” طيّب فهمنا كرمال سلامتن بس هودي بيوتهم وأغراضهم وذكرياتهم، الفقير بتعنيلو الكرسي ولو مكسورة لأنّو كان في مناسبة لما اشتراها، والسجادة يلّي صمّد حقها وتيابو يلّي اشتراها عالعيد، ما في يتخلى عنها بسهولة.

وبنشرة الأخبار كمان، جسر إلهن سنين بقولو بدو يوقع بس مين سئلان؟ بِمِتلو شي كم مية واحد (بالناقص!) وبيركضوا المصورين والاذاعات وببلّش السبق ع سكوب إعلاني وبشرّفوا معاليهم يترحّموا ويتفلسفوا ويسَكّروا طرقات ويخبطوا العالم.

والأجور… يا عين علأجور! اتحاد بلا شرف بينشري وبينباع، ووزراء بيتخانأوا ع صياغة الجملة، وتجار بس يشمّوا رائحة زيادة الأجور ببلشوا نهب وسرقة. يالله يا مين يسرق هالشعب، يا مين يقشّطو معاشو. قرّب عالسلخ. قرب إنت وراسك بالأرض متل الكلب مجبور تشتري ربطة الخبز المعمولي من شي بيشبه الطحين، تشتري أكلك الضروري، بس مش ضروري كل يوم لحمة، وتعبّي بنزين، قصدي تشمّم السيارة رائحة البنزين.

خلص ما عاد بدي إسمع. طفيت التلفزيون وسرحت… لأيمتى بدنا نضلّ قابلين بهالذل وساكتين؟ يا ريت ساكتين! منّق عالوضع نحنا وعم نشرب النسكافه الصبح أو لمّا يمرؤ شي خبر وهاي هيّي. تاننزل نسَكِّر طرقات ونعلن عن عصيان مدني ونسَقَّط حكومة ونواب ونكون التغيير، صعبة…

sخيّي ع راسي، ما بدّي سقّط حدا بس ليه ما بحاسب؟ ليه ما برفع صوتي وبطالب بحقي؟ ليه ما بقول خلصنا بقى رجّعولي كرامتي؟ خلّي يطلع شي زعيم طائفي ويقول: “بدنا ننزل على الشارع، نكاية بهوديك كانوا أكتر منا“. إيه والله تنركض متل الغنم ونجرّ يلّي بنعرفوا ويلّي ما بنعرفوا. ويوزعولنا القمصان والكاسكيت والأعلام وكلّن بنفس اللون ومنصير نشبه بعضنا؛ ما أصلاً بنظر الزعيم كلنا متل بعضنا: “عدّلي كم راس كان في. مش عاجبني اللون، عم فكّر السنة يلّي جاي غيرو، المدام بتحب هيداك اللون“. وع فكرة، بدّي إعتذر من الغنم لأنن علقليلي بيركضوا ورا أكلاتن!

ويل لأمةٍ طلابها وطالباتها أصبحوا كطلاب لبناننا، وشاباتها وشبانها أصبحوا دمى لزعماء الطوائف!

كل عمرن طلاب الجامعات يسَكّروا بيروت ويسَقطوا قانون ويحصلوا على مطلب. رزقالله، هيدا كان من قبل، لمّا كان إلهن روس تفكر، لما كان في نخوة وروح الثورة والطموح. الله يرحم روح الشباب… إيه الله يرحمها لمّا تتغلغل فيها روح الطائفيه والزعامة والتبعية.

نطوشت من أفكاري ورجعت دورّت التلفزيون وطلعت بوجّي مجموعة صيادي سمك مْعَتّرين مش باقي ولا سن بتمّن، تحت الشتي عم بينضفوا شْباكن من نفايات البحر، نفايات مكب صيدا. هالمعتر مين عم يطّلع فيه؟ ومش فارقة معو أجور ما أجور، همّو ما يفقع سخني ويموت بفرشتو.

أخ يا بلد! متل ما كتبت أحلام مستغانمي: “خلقنا تنموت كرمالك يا وطن، صرنا عم نموت فيك!”

نهار الأربعاء القادم في الخامس والعشرين من كانون الثاني الساعة السادسة والنصف أمام المبنى المنهار سيتجمع عدد من الناشطين/ات وعائلات الضحايا لإضاءة شمعة عن أرواحهم.
كما نشجع أصدقاء وعائلات الضحايا إصطحاب صورهم لنصبها على ركام المنبى المهدوم

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رزان مرّت من هنا

Azadeh Faramarziha — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 22:00:00 +0000

Sawt al Niswa

Sara Emiline AbuGhazal

معطف الممانعة الاحمر

‎ له أناقته الخاصة، فهو يحمي من التغيير ويدفئ القلوب الخائفة والمرعوبة من إسرائيل، فتسكّنها وتهدئ من روعها. معطف الممانعة يعطيك قوى خاصة، فتستطيع التنظير على الثورة السورية لأيام متواصلة، حتى ولم تكن سوريّاً، ولم تعش هناك ولم تُذل هناك، ولم تقهر هناك. معطف الممانعة يعطيك الصلاحيّة ان تُنظّر على السوريين أنفسهم وتلغي تجاربهم الخاصة وتجارب أجدادهم على الارض. معطف الممانعة يعطيك هذه الجرأة. يعطيك قلب الاسد. تستطيع ان تذهب الى كل الاماكن دون ادنى تردد، المعطف يقي من الرصاص ويليق بكل الفصول والمناخات.”تم اعتقال رزان”. يأتي الخبر، تضع فتاة ما يدها على فمها، ”هوريفاينج ” وتضع معطفها الاحمر عليها وتمشي في حال سبيلها، المعطف يحيل دون الشعور بالذنب او مراجعة الذات .

ترتدي معطف الممانعة الاحمر، حين تؤمن بأن الانظمة تحميك من اسرائيل لا الشعوب ، ترتديه حين ترعبك فكرة الحرية لأي كان، في حق الشعوب في تقرير مصيرها وتحريره بالطرق الناجعة. ترتدي معطف الممانعة الاحمر، اذا كنت تخاف من التغيير ومواجهة الظلم، حين تريد ان يتركك النظام في حالك، يترك لك فلسطين كي تعمل على تحريرها ويعزلها ويعزلك معها. فلسطين يبدأ تحريرها من دمشق ومن بيروت ومن عمان تحديدا، لا من جولان او الجنوب. معطف الممانعة الاحمر يحميك كفرد، فلا تضطر ان تفكر بغيرك، فتفكر بنفسك وموقعك وامتيازاتك ويجعلك تحس بالاختلاف لا ان تكون الاختلاف. معطف الممانعة الاحمر، أنيق ويمنحك شعور بأنك بطل خارق، فهو يوهمك بأن لك قوى خارقة، كأن تعتقد السياسة التي تنادي بها هي اخلاقية اكثر من غيرها، وانك في مأمن من الشبيحة والقوى الامنية. يوهمك المعطف انك خارج النظام، رغم أنّ ارتدائك له، يجعلك أداة له، فتخوّن كما يخوّن هو، وتهدد كما يُهدد هو، واحيانا تَضرِب كما يَضرب هو. ومرات اخرى، تحاول ترطيب الاجواء فتتوسط لدى الشبيحة، بأن يدعو “صديق لك” وشأنه. معطف الممانعة الاحمر، يوهمك انك في الوسط، لكنه لا يخبرك انك في الوسط الاقرب الى الدماء.

كل البنات نجوم، والسوريات قمرهن .
‎١٥٠معتقلة + رزان في السجون السورية، قد تخرج البعض منهن قبل الأخريات، وقد لا تخرج البعض منهن أبدا. في خروج السوريات تحديدا الى الشارع دليلاً على سعة الثورة لتحمل الم الاكثر وجعا في مجتمعاتنا الذكورية، ان يتقبّل الأب والأخ والصديق والزوج منهم حريّتها كجزء مكمّل لحريته، كأن يعيد التفكير البعض منهم، ولو بعجقة الثورة والاحداث، بحرية الانثى/المرأة السورية، وضرورة مشاركتها في تحرير ذاتها كمواطن اولاً وكجسد ثانياً .

‎لا أدري كيف يشعر الناس حين يختفي اولادهنّ، لكني اعرف كيف اشعر في ظل اعتقال رزان. الخوف وحده سيد الموقف. الخوف على صديقة رأيتها تخوض تجربتها السياسيّة في بيروت وتتعلم من أخطائها. على عكس الكثيرات منّا، تُجاهر رزان في اخطائها وتفخر في قدرتها على ذلك وهذا بالتحديد مصدر قوّتها الشخصية. إعتقال رزان وصديقاتها يمس العديدات منا في القلب. اولاً لاننا لم نجعل من بيروت مكان آمن لهم ولنا في طبيعة الحال، ولم نستطيع في نفس الوقت ان نكون اقرب لما يحصل في سوريا .

إنّ خبر اعتقال رزان، بالنسبة للاصدقاء في بيروت، يجب أن يتحوّل، من خبر إلى دعوة لأولئك الذين ”يتمنّعون ” عن المطالبة في اطلاق سراحها بالتفكير مليا فيما يجري، في الباحة الخلفية لبلدهم، ما يجري في عكار وسوريا . حقيقة الامر، وبالرغم من خوفي الشديد على سلامة رزان وأمانها، أوّد ان يكون خبر إعتقالها فرصة للافراد الممانعين، في صون حرياتهم وحريات غيرهم، في غسل ايديهم الملطخة بدماء النظام . فمن يريد تحرير فلسطين، عليه أن يعلم أنّ طريق فلسطين تبدأ في تحرير رزان وغيرها من المعتقلات والسجون السورية، ان يرى اليافطة الكبيرةعلى طريق العودة الى فلسطين : رزان مرّت من هنا.

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I Want My Colors Back

Lamia Moghnie — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 08:30:00 +0000

Rana K.

Remember the days when colors belonged to us all?

A few years ago my sister bought nifty travel mugs for the family. My sister got the pink one, my mom the blue one… I got the orange one. I was thankful, but I cringed. Orange? Can’t I have another color? No, the orange one was for me. I didn’t cringe because of my particular political leanings, I cringed because I knew that this mug would not go unnoticed. She said that it was ok, since I was going to be living abroad for a year. It wouldn’t be a problem there.

See, in Lebanon, colors are apparently not free for all. Political parties have hijacked many of our most common colors. And for one reason or another, orange seems to be the one that is most readily identified with a political party, one that is loved by many, and of course hated by many as well.

I did go abroad, and the orange travel mug became my loyal companion, keeping my coffee warm and safe on those cold morning bike rides to class. But then I returned. And of course, my mug came home with me. I still use it, almost every morning, as I am rushing to work. It is sometimes the only assurance I have that I will be fully awake (or almost) once I reach the office.

It also happens to fit perfectly in my car’s cup holder. That fateful cup holder that protrudes from my dashboard and is just high enough for all the world to see. I cannot count how many times fellow drivers have felt compelled to stop next to my car, roll down their window, and tell me what they thought of what seemed to be my political statement. But I can say with relative certainty that this happens almost every single time I use it.

It is always men, young to middle-aged, who stop to say anything from:

“Are you happy with yourself? Carrying that mug around these parts?” (“These parts” being the main street of Ashrafieh.)

To: “How can you dare use that mug?”

“Why, is it bothering you?” I ask, visibly annoyed yet maintaining my cool.

“On the contrary, I think you are very brave! Bravo.”

Ummm… thanks?

To the more banal: “Nice mug,” accompanied by either a disgusted gaze or a proud smirk.

My mug has made complete strangers either love me or hate me, by virtue of having a color that is apparently owned by a party.

Once, in the midst of the World Cup fever, a fellow driver asked me:

“What does that mug mean?”

“It’s a mug. It means I drink from it.”

“No I mean, is it for Holland or Aoun? I hope it’s for Holland,” he says, almost proud to have made this statement.

“Drive away Rana. Just drive away,” I think to myself. What was he expecting me to say? “Actually mister, it IS for Aoun, I am aouny, wanna fight about it?” as I put on my best tough face (which is really not that tough) and pull my sleeves up? Or perhaps a slightly more eloquent response, such as an elaboration on why if I did support Aoun, I would be free to do so without being subjected to juvenile drive-by bullying, in this “democracy” we are so lucky to live in. Or maybe a historical recounting of all the many concepts, people, parties and countries the color orange has represented in its many years of existence, and that, as such, he should not assume that my using the color so conspicuously in Beirut has any direct bearing on which Lebanese political party I may or may not support. Or, perhaps, an angry one-liner about how sometimes a color is actually just a color.

Many of my friends are well aware of my orange mug adventures, and tell me the solution is simple: just buy another mug. Yes, that does seem pretty simple, thanks for the tip. But why should I feel pressured into making all my public belongings, from clothes to key chains, politically acceptable to all who may see them? Why can’t I have an orange mug without constantly being judged accordingly? Why do I have to give in to this pressure? No, I say, I will keep my orange mug, and people will simply have to start realizing that a color is just a color. But really, this is pointless, because I would have to stop the car and explain that I carry this mug because I like it, because I like the color orange, and not because I support Aoun. Without an explanation I would be hardly making a point. But then I would have to repeat this to a few million people before anything could truly shift. And even then, the most I would hope for is becoming a funny anecdote, “that crazy girl with the mug.”

However, I admit that, like many, I do give in to this pressure. When I buy something which strangers are likely to often see, I consciously avoid colors like orange, because I don’t want another mug debacle. I don’t have the energy or patience, or power for that matter, to attempt to break the link. It is too entrenched in our psyches; these colors will never be just colors anymore. At least not for the next few decades.

So I arrive to the refuge that is my workplace, at long last, and I am no longer a walking target (or should I say, a driving target). But as I undergo the daily car search, performed by 3 or 4 security guards, I am invariably greeted with at least one of them saying either “See, I knew she was with us!” or “Orange? Hmmm…” or sometimes “Where is your mug? You finally wised up, huh?” Yes, thank you. I have seen the error of my ways and changed my mind about local politics and gotten rid of that mug as a symbol of my political rebirth. I am so glad you approve.

Unfortunately, this kind of comment should really not surprise me. This is how we like to see each other. You are either with “us” or with “them.” It makes things simpler, and makes people easier to deal with. A heuristic device, or a mental shortcut, like any other stereotype or prejudgment. Black or white. Or should I say, orange or blue? Or yellow or green or pistachio…? It’s as though we didn’t already have enough objects of contention in this tiny little country. From sex to religion to race, we wear our differences on our sleeves. Must color be added to the list?

In any case, I must admit it is rather interesting that by the time my drive to the office has been completed, I have often already had several conversations, made a few ‘friends’ and collected a couple of ‘enemies’. And this is one thing I love about Lebanon. That people constantly interact. Whether it is a furious scream from the driver behind you, a warm wish from a store clerk, or an inquiry from out-of-towners. We are always in touch with one another, in the best and worst ways. This communication is built into our culture, it is part of our architecture. I like to call it human friction. It may be taxing at times, but I always miss it when I visit a cold city with even colder communication styles.

Here in Lebanon we always seem to have something to say to one another, and as a wise friend has pointed out to me, the abundance of symbols and our shared understanding of them seem to provide us with ample vehicles for such communication. It is likely that our insatiable desire to interact is what brought about the creation of all these symbols in the first place. Even the act of color-coding our divisive political affiliations may therefore serve to simplify, facilitate and induce communication, by creating a shared language of symbolic commonality.

Be that as it may, I believe that we might have crossed the line of over-symbolization. Not everything necessarily represents who we are or what we believe, and symbols often mean different things to different people. In our rush to oversimplify our differences, we risk forgetting this. And so, although I never thought of my orange mug as a symbol, it has indeed become one. It is a quiet protest against the hijacking of our colors, a tiny homage to the days where they were free for all. It says that a color is sometimes just a color, that I am free to use them all, and that, most importantly, my orange is not necessarily your orange. It is an attempt to take my colors back.

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