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We Arabs love rhetoric. We love talking about the shared language and experiences of foreign oppression that create our bonds of Arab fraternity. We love dreaming about the potential power of Arab unity. And what mode of expression better suits this purpose than a 45-minute song that articulates all the hopes, fears and frustrations of the Arab mind?
The Arab world has seen a number of pan-Arab national songs over the last half-century, but the latest one, Al Dameer Al Arabi (The Arab Conscience), aired regularly on one of the Arabic satellite music channels, has taken desperate measures to wake us up. Instead of the usual images of 30 Arab singers standing on stage singing their hearts out for the Arab homeland, Al Dameer Al Arabi shows a tragic saga of the atrocious events that have occurred in the Arab world in the past 10 years.
Israeli massacres in Palestine and Qana—the torture of prisoners in Abu Ghraib—Sunni-Shia fighting in Iraq—obliterated homes—severed limbs—dying children. The kind of images that give you goose bumps and send shivers down your spine, coupled with the kind of words that bring tears to your eyes and evoke feelings of anger, frustration and grief, all at once. The kind of images that make you cringe in pain and turn your head away every time you see them on the news. Ten years’ worth of images that make you question humanity altogether.
These images are not new. They’ve been all over the news for years. Every day we count the death tolls in Palestine, in Iraq, in Sudan and then brush them off as if they were to be expected. Have we become so desensitized to these images and events that we need to see them all lumped together in a heart-shattering 45-minute production to recognize the magnitude of these atrocities or evoke some kind of reaction?
But even the reaction is often not enough. Maybe the song will inspire or renew sentiments of Arab fraternity. Maybe we’ll shed a few tears and lose a couple nights of sleep trying to shake off the images. Maybe the lyrics will resonate in our ears for a few days: People’s hearts have died. ‘Nakhwa’(roughly, fortitude) has died inside us. Maybe we’ve forgotten one day that Arabs are brothers. Then, eventually, we’ll push them to the backs of our minds and go on with our lives, either because they’re too painful to deal with or because we believe in the myth that we’re too powerless to make a difference.
And while we struggle with our feelings of powerlessness, those actually in power have given up on the ideal of pan-Arab fraternity, let alone unity. As I write this, Syria is preparing for an Arab Summit on March 29-30. But attending this so-called summit are low-level officials: Egypt is sending a delegation led by a junior cabinet minister, Saudi Arabia is sending its Arab League ambassador and Lebanon is boycotting. Looks like even the Arab leaders no longer buy into the pan-Arab rhetoric.
And all we’re left with is a song.