I want you to do something for me. Set aside your thoughts of yourself and where you are. Put down your phone, pause your music, and just focus on what I'm about to tell you. I want to show you a truth that we have been insulated from for too long, and that is the heart-wrenching horror of what is happening in Syria.
America is very fortunate in the fact that war has not been waged on our mainland for over 150 years. Don't misunderstand me, America has gone through great hardship including recently—nothing will ever wash away the pain of the attacks of September 11, 2001. But we are extremely blessed that total war does not rage over the nation that we so love. We as Americans live free from that fear and horror, thanks to the service and sacrifice of the servicemen and women who keep us safe. However there are people who live in daily fear, far worse than we can even imagine.
Most of you will have heard of the Syrian Civil War. The conflict is incredibly complicated and the war is more like five wars all rolled together (for a brief explanation of what's happening, watch this video). Though the origins of the war are complex, one thing that cannot be misunderstood is how much suffering the Syrian people caught in the crossfire are undergoing. Since the beginning of the fighting, towns have been leveled, families have been forced apart, and tens of thousands of unarmed civilians have senselessly died. Three years ago, the Syrian government launched rockets filled with sarin gas into the city of Ghouta and killed over 1,400 people—including more than 400 children.
Children. Innocent children, caught in the middle with nowhere to go, killed in the faint light of the early morning as they lie in their beds. That's the reality of what's going on in Syria, and it wasn't just a lone occurrence. Children are living in literal war zones, and their little lives are cut short by a bullet or a shell each day. That's why their families are fleeing what were once their homes. That's what 3-year-old Aylan Kurdi was running away from when he, his mother, and four siblings drowned in the Aegean Sea last September. The children are the ones for whom my heart breaks most. I'm on the verge of tears writing this thinking of little Aylan and others like him. This is reality, people—and it's not any less real just because it's 6,000 miles away.
That reality sunk in a little more for us on Wednesday, August 17 when we saw images of yet another little boy caught in the grip of war.
This is Omran Daqneesh of the city of Aleppo. He's 5-years-old, just a little more than a toddler. His house was destroyed in the night by a government airstrike. Miraculously, his family survived. But look at him. Just a child, and shell-shocked into stunned silence. He just sits there, looking about, probably wondering why this has happened.
When I look at him, I see my 4-year-old little brother Quinn. When I saw Aylan's picture last year, I saw Quinn too. I imagine that my situation is switched. I imagine I'm not American, but Syrian. I imagine my little brother living in the middle of slaughter, and I don't know what to say. Honestly, I don't want to say any more about that thought. It scares me too much, and I'm almost never without words or afraid to speak my thoughts.
I'm going to break off for a second here. This isn't Brandon the world news reporter or something anymore, this is Brandon the young college student with fears and sentiments and things and people he loves. I am so damn sick of seeing awful things like this. I know that war is hell and life is hard—that's just how it is. Things like this are going to keep happening, because that is the nature of war. But what pisses me off most is that people post puffed-up rhetoric on Facebook telling Syrians to go back to their own country, and then when things like this appear, they're silent for a little bit before they start back up again. War may be fought by young men, but children especially should never be touched by it. The things that happened to Aylan and Omran should NEVER happen to a child. I'm sick of the ambivalence. You can't ignore the monstrosity of a war on the other side of the world, mocking the innocent people who flee from it, and simultaneously claim to feel sympathy for the ones who didn't flee in time. I'm sick of seeing little boys and girls Quinn's age being gassed, shot, bombed, crushed, or drowned. I'm tired of watching unarmed men and women be cut down in front of their children. If you will refuse to help stop this, don't be so self-righteous as to pretend to grieve when things like this happen. Little Omran will live, yes. But for how much longer? It's impossible to say unless he can somehow make it out of that hell. God bless you, Omran, and all the kids of Syria. You deserve a better life than this.
