Saturday, May 08, 2004

In every war there are images that capture the tragedy, that become etched in people's minds and tell the story more poignantly than volumes of words. From the conflict in Iraq, perhaps the most unforgettable image, particularly for the Arab world, was that of Ali Abbas, the 12-year-old boy who lost both arms and his parents in a bombing raid. A symbol of Iraqi suffering, the picture of the terrified boy lying in his hospital bed was eventually eclipsed by the powerful image of the statue of Saddam Hussein falling amid cheering Iraqi crowds.

The falling statue became a symbol of the liberation of an oppressed people, so potent it provoked relief even among the many Arabs who had opposed the war. Eight months later, that image was reinforced by an even stronger one: Iraq's haggard, disoriented dictator being dragged from a hole. Despite Iraq's slide into violence and chaos, the capture of Mr Hussein forced Arabs to remember his tyrannical rule and his humiliating defeat. In the past week, those images associated with America's victory in Iraq have been washed away by the sickening depictions of a hooded prisoner, wired and perched on a box, and the naked bodies of prisoners piled up like animals, all for the viewing pleasure of US soldiers at the Abu Ghraib prison. Throughout the Middle East, the sexual humiliation was played and replayed on television screens, presented as living proof of the decadence of US might and long-presumed American hypocrisy in the Middle East.

But if Arab reaction was even more furious than the disgust expressed by others, it is because the tortured prisoners of Iraq also symbolised a general depression, a reminder of the Arab world's own defeat in a broader war, fought against Israel, against the US and against itself.

Unlike little Ali or the crashing statue, Arabs saw in the images from Abu Ghraib a reflection of everything that is wrong with their region: the perceived arrogance of the US in its drive for domination under the label of the war against terrorism; the denial by Israel - America's close ally - of Palestinian rights to a viable state; and the impotence and repression of their own despotic rulers. Going far beyond Iraq, the most potent impact of the grotesque images, as Ahmad Amorabi wrote in al-Bayan, a United Arab Emirates newspaper, was to remind Arabs that they are "a nation without dignity".

"Had George W. Bush and Tony Blair not been certain of our passivity as Arabs, no American or British soldier would have dared undress any Iraqi detainee to beat them up with a broom while another urinated on them," he says. "Arab regimes would not have been passive in such a situation . . . had it not been, in turn, certain that the Arab nation is dormant and lacks a minimal sense of self-dignity."

The Bush administration rushed to condemn the abuses and later apologise to Arab audiences for them, presumably because it feared the images would destroy any belief among Arabs in America's commitment to a democratic Iraq. But most never had such beliefs.

For many Muslims, the damage lies in the fact that the pictures are the most disturbing in a string of horrifying pictures from Iraq and the occupied Palestinian territories in recent months. Among the more recent pictures, three images have stood out in the Arab world.

First was the US assault on Falluja - most widely seen by Arab viewers via the passionate TV broadcasts of Ahmed Mansour, the correspondent of al-Jazeera, the Qatar-based Arabic satellite network and the only TV covering the town at the time. Screaming with rage against the killing of women and children, he issued appeals to Arabs to help the people of Falluja.

Then there was the burnt body of Abdelaziz Rantissi, the slain leader of Hamas, the radical Palestinian group, assassinated in an Israeli raid in the Gaza Strip. Dying under the cameras, Rantissi became the latest symbol of Israeli impunity - backed by a US administration that refused to condemn the killing. Commenting on TV, Azmi Beshara, an Arab member of the Israeli Knesset, said the remains of Rantissi were also "the remains of the Arab world".

Between these two images was the most disturbing and significant picture of all: Mr Bush, standing next to Ariel Sharon, Israel's leader, at the White House, declaring that Israel could keep parts of occupied Palestinian lands and reject the right of return of Palestinian refugees.

What US officials insist was a simple statement of the facts on the ground was interpreted in the Arab world as a second Balfour declaration, equivalent to the 1917 British document that promised a home for Jews and was considered a devastating betrayal by Arabs.

"It's not so much about the photos, it's an accumulation of fury in general," says Mohammed al-Sayed Said, an Egyptian commentator who tracks public opinion. "There's a sense of real humiliation in the US-Israeli alliance, in the general American attitude, in the occupation of Iraq itself."

In the most revealing insight - and without minimising the revulsion over Abu Ghraib - he says Arabs know that even worse torture happens in their own countries, yet they are rarely as outraged. "The real fury comes from the feelings of injustice on substantive issues. The US symbolises a total identification with Israel and a degrading of Arab dignity and people feel the injustice but can do nothing about it."

The writer is the FT's Middle East editor

By ROULA KHALAF

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