"Where is Arab Unity?"

by Karen Button

Today I will go to Cairo where the Arab Lawyers Union will put Bush, Blair and Sharon on trial. But I will be without the company of my Iraqi friends who also wanted to attend and who both possess press passes. The tribunal is important; it’s the first to be organised by Arabs and to be held in an Arab country that will address the war in Iraq. At the Egyptian Embassy I was told that as an American I can easily obtain a visa in Cairo at the airport. Ahmad and Hana were told Iraqis must apply for a visa that will take at least two weeks; it doesn’t matter that they are Arabs going to an Arab country, nor that they are wanting to attend an event that affects their own country.

I watched as my friend Hana argued through a hole in the glass window with the dispassionate man who sat behind it. Where was Arab unity? she wanted to know. Why was it that those from the US and Israel could just fly into Egypt, while an Arab could not? Her anger exposed the double-standard that divides the Middle East along a line which grows more complicated—those who are aligned with the West for economic and political reasons and those who fall within the so-called axis of evil, which now must include Syria.

Iraqis can cross freely into Syria, while I must apply for a visa, but it makes sense to me. After all, the US has been threatening Syria since 9/11 and has turned up the rhetoric in recent months. However, the return to Jordan for an Iraq is not so easy. An Iraqi friend who was in Damascus for a conference last week was turned away at the closest border crossing and told he must cross near Iraq. When he finally arrived there he was told the border was closed and he would have to wait until morning. Fortunately, there was a nearby mosque where he could sleep, though the night was cold and he had only his jacket. He arrived in Amman exhausted.

Similarly, a Jordanian friend who wants to go to Iraq cannot. Why? Because he is Arab and the American-aligned government of Iraq has decided foreign Arabs who want to come to Iraq must be part of the mujahadin. Interestingly, Jordan—close friends of the US—has recently decided that no American can be tried here.

But back to yesterday. After the embassy, our next stop was the police station. All visitors to Jordan must go within two weeks to have their passports stamped , allowing for an extended visa. The trim officer in his crisp uniform took our documents. He looked at mine, routinely entered information into a computer, stamped it and gave it back. However, the Iraqis, he said, must go to another office first to get a health certificate. Why?

“Because the Arabs have money,” was his cynical answer.

This was painful to watch. The officer told Hana and Ahmad he was sorry, but was only following orders. Hana was in heated debate with him. Where, she asked, was his dignity as an Arab to be treating other Arabs, under occupation, in such a way. He responded by saying she should take her complaints up with her embassy.

At this, she began to cry. “I have no one that represents me. There is no Iraqi government; we are under occupation!!”

Tears rolled down my face now too—for her, my friend that I care about; for Iraqis, whose country is being taken away from them more and more each day; for my shame at being American and the helplessness of seeing what’s being done and not being able to stop it.

Shamed also was this Jordanian police officer who softly said, “please, don’t make me cry too,” as he quietly picked up both Iraqi passports and became, for a minute, not an officer but the human underneath his uniform, and stamped them each.