Reuben, 4, and his words inspired this post. I wouldn’t normally write about politics, I don’t consider myself educated on the topic enough – but I am a parent, and I’m scared.
“War? Mummy, I don’t want to go to war! I don’t want my sister to die!” Those little words, that little voice.
What do I say to you Reuben?
We’ve all heard about what’s going on in Syria by now and the air strikes that Britain voted to carry out there earlier in the week. What does this mean for us now? I don’t know, but a small nagging part of me feels that this is going to be the beginning of war, and I don’t want to go to war, whatever type of war that might be. I really don’t.
I was talking to Adam about the air strikes on Thursday morning, in front of the boys because I am a firm believer that this kind of thing shouldn’t be hidden from them, and we were discussing the future and what this will hold for us, for the Syrians that are stranded in Raqqah and how this will affect ISIS as a whole. From my point of view, I believe that the country should have been given a referendum on the matter – let’s be fair, this will not end with air strikes, we will have to put troops on the ground at some point. Even if only to clean up the mess we make. Unlike the majority of the extreme left wing, I don’t presume to speak for Britain – the obscene amount of people taking to twitter last night to shout about their unheard voices and how “Britain doesn’t want this”, statements like “Not in my name!” “I’m ashamed to be British” etc were only as disturbing as the influx of extreme right wingers who were shouting about eradicating all of “them”. No, I can’t speak for Britain and I can’t even give you the statistics because it really depends on which poll you want to quote as to which way the country swings – the only way to have solved that question was for a referendum.
Anyway, we didn’t get that – a few hundred very out of touch politicians had a chat and took us where I (remember, only talking for myself over here) don’t want to go. You can’t bomb an ideology Mr Cameron, you are purely bombing people – and believe me, it pisses people off when you kill their families, when you destroy their homes and when you try eradicate their way of life. You are going to grow the next generation on a diet of hatred and despair and that will only have one outcome. The problem is, I don’t know what we do – I don’t believe in unicorns as it would appear Mr Corbyn does, we’re not going to talk this one out over tea and biscuits, however quintessentially British that might be. It’s unlikely to be anymore effective than bombing and, unlike Corbyn, I don’t feel like chit-chatting with terrorists, be that ISIS or Hamas like he did a few years ago. One side is telling us we are ‘terrorist sympathisers’ if we are anti-strikes, another side is telling us we won’t be able to wash the blood off our hands if we back the strikes. In reality, we’re just a bunch of shit-scared people who don’t want anybody to die, ours or theirs.
I can’t help but feel such a sadness in my heart for the innocents in Syria, what about them? Now, I differ to my Mum with this – she is very apathetic towards the topic. In her mind, if you are in Raqqah, you are clearly helping to ‘protect’ ISIS fighters, it’s too small for you not to know who is doing what. Not only do I disagree with that, but I also can’t help but think about my children and ask myself, “would I give someone up if it meant there was a good chance that they would kill my kids or worse?” I hate myself for the answer to that question, and I think it speaks volumes about the type of person I am, but, truth is – rather yours than mine. Whether you want to admit it or not, I believe that the majority of people would feel the same.
I believe that something has to be done, and what that something is I don’t know – I wish I did. Only time will tell how this will affect us in this country. It won’t take much time at all to find out what will happen to the innocent Syrians and their children, whether it will do anything to ISIS is really another matter.
