A week has passed since the photo of a bloodied Syrian boy sparked an international sea of compassion. The rest of the Western world rubbed its eyes and stared at the loss of innocence as Omran Daqneesh stared vacantly off into the distance.
For a moment we allowed our natural instincts to take over as we opened our arms to a scared little boy. Sadly, we have seen boys like Omran before, swept away as they looked to us for compassion.
Outrage lasts for a few days before we go back to arguing about keeping refugees outside our secure walls. Instead of opening our hearts to a frightened five year old boy, we move on and allow the rants of fear cloud our benevolent judgement.
Donald Trump once boastfully claimed he would deny letting Syrian children into the United States.
“I can look in their faces and say ‘You can’t come’. I’ll look them in the face.”
Sadly, this generalized dehumanization is met with raucous applause. Perhaps the audience didn’t realize the effect war had on the children as they cheered. Amongst the cheers, the mindlessness of political rallies have somehow managed to dehumanize children to where we ignore their cries in the same breath as we mention terrorism.
Vague promises of keeping America safe have veiled the hate within our ovations. Logic and compassion are foresworn as the emotion of the crowd moves us to high five and cheer the worst aspects of humanity. Imagine listening to people applaud the prospect of leaving your child in the horrors of war.
We paint enigmatic identities as if the children in Syria somehow don’t dream or play like our own sons and daughters. But how are our children any different from Omran? Perhaps this is why Omran is so special. In his innocent stare, he smashes our generalizations and through his face we see a boy just like the boys who roam our neighborhood.
We can imagine him in our child’s class or a member of our son’s baseball team. But perhaps the most extraordinary thing about Omran is the ordinary way in which we can imagine him laughing and smiling just like our own children.
Let’s not let Omran become another face washed within a wave of images. Let’s not stand behind the facelessness of the crowd and cheer while politicians talk of leaving children like Omran outside the safety of our embrace. Now that you see Omran, could you applaud and let him perish under an assault of violence?
Think about Omran or any other child’s face the next time a crowd suggests we close our arms to the plight of children ravaged by war. Will you simply clap along, blindly cheering behind the facelessness of the crowd or will you get up and walk away. And through walking away instead follow your own heart and find the embrace within.
Image is a YouTube screengrab.
