One can only be horrified by the atrocities that have recently unfolded in the “Alawite country,” just a few hundred kilometers from our television screens.
In the age of smartphones, the images have reached us, more graphic and harrowing than ever before. The interim Syrian president, Ahmad al-Shareh, has promised an investigation and the arrest of the culprits, but will anything come of it? Will he condemn to death the individual who, in a state of war frenzy, executed men on the ground, forcing them first to crawl on all fours and bark? What form of rehabilitation could be possible in such a case? Are they not still among us—those who planted bombs near our bakeries and at the entrances of our supermarkets? It would be hypocritical to condemn the atrocities of others while turning a blind eye to the massacres—similar, if not worse—that have marred our own war-stained history.
This is not about individual perpetrators, but about societies steeped in the potential for violence, almost as if under an overpowering influence. These are societies where traumatized memories resurface, where conditioned reflexes from childhood remain ingrained, where religious anathemas are instilled year after year, and where atavistic defense mechanisms run deep. In these societies, external forces often inject greed, twisted incentives, and deceptive promises.
What should we do with these memories and the sometimes criminally nurtured fantasies they carry? First and foremost, we must never forget that they exist, that they persist, silently operating in the shadows, and gradually eroding everything in their path. They lie in wait, biding their time until the moment to strike ripens.
Pope John Paul II warned George W. Bush that “War is a defeat for humanity.” By arrogantly ignoring this caution, the US proceeded to invade Iraq in 2003 under false pretenses. This decision indirectly laid the groundwork for the emergence of the Islamic State group (ISIS) and set in motion a chain of events whose consequences continue to reverberate throughout the Middle East to this day.
Yes, war is a defeat for humanity because it exposes the darker side of human nature—the “old man”, as Christian anthropology describes him, with his covetousness. To ignore this is to pave the way for all manner of errors and utopias. This is the truth expressed by the Russian philosopher Nicolas Berdiaev, a contemporary of the Bolshevik Revolution (1917). “Every great revolution,” he wrote, “claims to create a new man. Yet, creating a new man is an infinitely more radical and challenging task than creating a new society. After a revolution, we may see a new society take shape, but the new man remains conspicuously absent. This is the tragedy of revolution, its fatal failure... It is the old Adam… who drives both the revolution and the counter-revolution.” (From Slavery and Freedom of Man, Nicolas Berdiaev, p. 253, DDB, 1990).
This is exactly why no springtime of history, as we witnessed in 2019 and as Syria is experiencing today, should be idealized or sanctified. Such a spring is not a natural phenomenon; it is made by human hands. Only by recognizing this can we shield ourselves from the discouragement that comes from the “disillusionment of the days that follow,” from setbacks, poor decisions, stagnation... and barbarism.
True progress—whether in individuals or societies—can only be found in the cultivation of inner values, those that unite the human community, guided by a force that comes from beyond and above man.
Particularly telling is the experience of the Churches of the Middle East, all of which have endured persecution, tribulation, the dagger, the rope, and the bullet. All have been expelled from their homeland, sometimes more than once: the Armenians, the Syriacs, the Maronites, the Chaldeans. All have suffered and, by reflex, retreated into themselves, allowing themselves to be hardened by clericalism, careerism, factionalism, and dogmatism—forms of tyranny in their own right.
All are now immersed in a process of renewal and transcendence of what Christian anthropology, following Saint Paul, calls “the old man” with his “diseases.” This fight is daily, ending only in death.
Remembering this truth is key to overcoming history’s disappointments and building the strong state we have long aspired to. We are finally moving closer to it, “Weary of others’ wars on our land,” as President Joseph Aoun told an Iranian delegation, we edge closer—scarred by massacres but daring to hope “this time, it’s allowed.” Still, we must stress: it’s a daily battle.
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