Before the image of Shaimaa El-Sabagh retreats from our memory, let us look
once again at her final moments, as she marched through the streets of Cairo,
carrying flowers to commemorate those who had fallen in the chaos that has
gripped Egypt's over the last four years, unaware that she would soon follow
them.
We all saw the images of Shaimaa's final moments, which were captured on
camera—but did we really stop to contemplate the picture? It was a truly
heart-stopping scene: Shaimaa, covered in her own blood after being shot,
falling to her knees as her shell-shocked husband attempts to keep her
standing, holding her with both arms; a shocking, poignant image. But if we
look closely we see other things here as well: passersby catching a fleeting
glimpse of the girl with the flowers in her hand, approaching to watch . .
only to avert their gazes and continue on their way as if nothing had
happened.
One day Shaimaa's young son will grow up and, I wonder, if he were to meet
these people, would he be able to say anything to them face-to-face, or would
he simply stare at them incredulously, unable to fathom why they chose to
ignore the sight of his mother's blood spilling out before them and the sound
of his father's anguished cries as he tried in vain to keep her alive. But
these people are not alone. How many other pedestrians in our region, whether
in Egypt, Libya, Sudan, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, or even Yemen, have witnessed
similar scenes and then simply sauntered off on their way immediately after.
These people, through what is no doubt some kind of process of
desensitization borne of familiarity with violence, have become numb to
scenes such as this, witnessed on a daily basis in a region filled with
crises and dangers.
Last week during the 70th anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz
concentration camp, historians rehashed the perennial question which many
have pondered ever since the Holocaust: how did otherwise ordinary people
fall silent and allow one of the worst crimes in modern history to take place
in their midst? Historians and others have also addressed the question as to
whether or not we should hold ordinary Germans responsible for what happened
in the Second World War, for despite not actively taking part in the murder,
they were facilitators whose silence allowed the crimes to go ahead.
Traudl Junge, Adolf Hitler's former secretary, has said that despite now
considering Hitler a truly evil man, she had no inklings whatsoever of the
Führer's true nature during her long years working closely with him. Her
story does not differ from those of countless others from that time, who were
also blissfully unaware of what was going on around them.
These examples from Germany and Egypt allow us to understand how totalitarian
regimes can consolidate their tyranny by seducing their populations. These
ordinary people certainly do not participate in the violent actions carried
out by the state, but their silence, obedience and reluctance to question
authority provides an unwitting, tacit approval of state violence and
oppression. Hitler was able to carry out his genocidal plan because
throughout the whole time he had a secret ally aiding his efforts: the rest
of the world and its silence. The Führer had long been planning this, but
began by implementing it slowly and cautiously for years until it reached its
frenzied zenith toward the end of the war.
German pastor Martin Niemöller penned a famous poem after the Second World
War which perfectly captures the situation regarding the silence of the
majority: ''First they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I
was not a Jew; then they came for the Catholics, and I did not speak
out—because I was not a Catholic; then they came for the socialists, and I
did not speak out—because I was not a socialist; then they came for the trade
unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist; then
they came for the Protestants—but by then it was too late: there was no one
left to speak up.''
It has become common now for people to compare the violence, killings and
murder that happen around us to the crimes of the Nazis. But isn't this
exactly how such massive crimes begin, with individual smaller crimes that,
with help of millions burying their heads in the sand, eventually grow so
large that they consume us all?
Diana Moukalled is a prominent and well-respected TV journalist in the
Arab world thanks to her phenomenal show Bil Ayn Al-Mojarada (By The Naked
Eye), a series of documentaries on controversial areas and topics which airs
on Lebanon's leading local and satelite channel, Future Television. Diana
also is a veteran war correspondent, having covered both the wars in Iraq and
in Afghanistan, as well as the Isreali "Grapes of Wrath" massacre in southern
Lebanon. Ms. Moukalled has gained world wide recognition and was named one of
the most influential women in a special feature that ran in Time Magazine in
2004.
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