Bashir, Siniora, and a Betrayed Nation

by Dr. Abdul-Sattar Kassem

Fouad Siniora ought to have resigned from the premiership, and Omar al-Bashir from the presidency of the republic. Siniora sought strength against his own countrymen from the Zionists, the Americans, and Arab collaborators, yet could not hold out even for the time it takes to prepare a cup of coffee, and his entire manufactured empire collapsed, its ministers taking refuge in silence, waiting for an American rescue that never arrived. As for Omar al-Bashir, his very capital was violated by hundreds of fighters and combat vehicles that crossed vast distances in complete safety and ease.

I am not inciting internal fighting, and see no benefit in it, but whoever wants to talk tough must first be a man. Siniora is no man, and neither is Bashir. At the very least, each of them could have punished himself for the humiliation he chose for himself, packed his bags, and gone somewhere no one could see him. Whoever wishes to defend a regime, a state, an honor, or a woman must possess chivalry, manliness, dignity, and self-respect. Why did Siniora choose, from the very start, the American-Israeli path? Arab rulers tempted him, and it proved too much for him to stay clear of the swamp of treachery, so he decided to conspire against the resistance. And why, after all these long years of fighting, does Sudan still lack surveillance, monitoring, and communications equipment? Guarding the nation’s security requires efforts Sudan’s leadership simply does not possess.

Siniora woke up to find Beirut transformed, gently and quietly, without any commotion, and the message was a deafening, unmistakable one for Lebanese and non-Lebanese alike. As for Bashir, he never explained to us how the military vehicles and their rebel riders crossed hundreds of kilometers across Sudan and reached Omdurman without anyone intercepting them.

Without shame, Siniora appeared on television with a resounding speech, laying the responsibility for what happened on Hezbollah, attacking the weapons of the resistance and calling them weapons of national sabotage; and likewise Bashir, who came out before us in his military uniform, laden with medals and decorations, vowing that he would choose the appropriate time and place for revenge — without ever explaining how the rebels reached his capital. How should I describe these two great Arab leaders? Were I to describe them as fallen women boasting of their honor, many readers would object to the language; were I to describe them as harlots lecturing on lofty ethics, I would face criticism; were I to call them a pair of rabbits not yet old enough to menstruate, I would find pens rebuking me. I am certain they deserve the vilest of descriptions, and I leave it to the reader to choose whatever epithets he likes for them.

It seems that baseness is not confined to rulers, but extends to those who tolerate such base men. Perhaps whoever stays silent before baseness is baser still than the base man himself.

The Arab peoples must move against these reckless rulers who are dragging the nation toward further decline, collapse, and ruin. Our fate, we the Arab peoples, is in our own hands, and we must choose between a silence that will drive us into the depths of humiliation, submission, and enslavement, and raising our voices — which will surely rid us of these treacherous, dwarfish rulers, slaves to their own appetites.

Source: Translated from the original Arabic, “البشير والسنيورة وأمة مغدورة” by Dr. Abdul-Sattar Kassem.