The Price of Life
Excerpt from An Inside Story of Modern Syria: The Unauthorised Biography of a Damascene Reformer by Omar Imady
Case: Colvin et al. v. Syrian Arab Republic
Civil Action No: 2016–1423
Decision: February 1, 2019
Judge: Amy Berman Jackson
Funeral expenses: $11,836
Solatium Damages: $2.5 million
Punitive Damages: $300,000 million
Marie Catherine Colvin was born in Astoria, in the New York borough of Queens. She died in Baba ‘Amr, Homs. On the 1st February 2019, Amy Berman Jackson, a District Judge for the District of Columbia, ruled that “… the Syrian Arab Republic engaged in an act of extrajudicial killing of a United States national by planning and executing an attack on the Baba ‘Amr Media Center, and is liable to plaintiffs for the resulting injuries.”[i] Marie Colvin’s family were awarded a total of $302,511,836.[ii]
I read carefully document number 59, constituting “the redacted public second amended memorandum opinion” by Judge Jackson. Thirty-six pages that cover everything from the arrival of the Arab Spring in Syria to whether or not Marie had planned on retiring by age 65. Thirty-six pages that aimed at calculating the price of the most precious of all human experiences: life.
How does one go about calculating the price of life? How much would it take, for example, to compensate for the loss of Ghiath Matar? Ghiath, only twenty-six and a father-to-be, was known for giving out flowers and water to soldiers who were attacking peaceful protesters in early 2011. Do we have a figure for Mohamed Abyad, the Syrian doctor working for Doctors Without Borders who was only twenty-eight when he was abducted and killed? Or perhaps we have one for Razan Zaitouneh, the human rights lawyer and civil society activist and recipient of the International Women of Courage Award, who was abducted in 2013 and has not been seen since. Do we have special figures for children? Like Rua Ismail, an eleven-year-old girl who was killed by an explosion in Salamiyyah; or Hamza Al-Khateeb, the thirteen-year old who was tortured to death. Do we have figures for mass killings? Families killed in Zara’a, Houla, Aqrab, and Darayya? All of those killed had names, though we may only be able to document the identity of some. But all, like Marie, had family, friends, and loved ones. Some died reciting a prayer, others died suddenly and unexpectedly. Some died while being tortured, others drowned as they attempted to escape a country that had become a factory of death.
The attempt to document Syria’s economic damage has become quite popular in recent months, but neither this approach nor its conclusions capture what I am after. It almost seems cold and out of touch to attempt to place a price tag on reconstructing a country which is yet to determine what exactly it has lost in terms of human life. Over 500,000 people have been killed since March 2011. How does one attempt to capture the price of these lives? How does one begin to reconstruct the lives of their families and loved ones? To follow the logic of Judge Jackson’s decision is to award $302,511,836 to each of those killed in Syria since 2011. This would amount to approximately $151 trillion, or over three hundred times as much as the highest estimate for the cost to reconstruct Syria’s economy.[iii] But even this fails to fully capture the price we have paid; the price Syria has paid. Even $151 trillion does not seem sufficient to heal the wounds that have evolved over the last ten years into deep faults, time bombs buried deep within Syria’s earth, waiting for the right, or wrong, moment to explode all over again.
And who exactly would be found liable for the killing of over 500,000 Syrians? Perhaps the most tragic aspect of all of this is the fact that in the vast majority of cases, those killed in Syria since 2011, were killed by Syrians. Loyalist fighters, opposition fighters, secularists, jihadists — they believed in different visions, and fought for different Syrias, but in the end, they killed Syrians. We have the tendency to use abstractions when it comes to identifying those responsible. Judge Jackson identified the ‘Syrian government’, and at times even ‘Syria’ as liable for the killing of Marie Colvin. We often speak of the Syrian regime as liable for most of the killing. Jihadist organizations are described as having had the will, but not the capacity, to kill as many as those killed by the regime, a regime with a long history of actual and alleged acts of violence against civilians.
But all of this is far too intangible. In the final analysis, Syrians were killed by Syrians. Barrel bombs were not dropped by abstract entities. They were dropped by Syrians. Mortar shells were not fired by organizations, they were fired by Syrians.
No doubt, thousands of foreign fighters contributed to Syria’s tragedy and, needless to say, the role and actions of regional and international players were often destructive and at times even tantamount to war crimes. Yet, despite the strong tendency of my Syrian friends and family members to attribute responsibility to various conspiracy theories, it is clear, in my mind at least, that the primary authors of Syria’s tragedy were Syrians.
At the heart of the logic of Judge Jackson’s decision is the idea that significant financial penalties act as deterrents. Fine a company that sold harmful products millions of dollars, and you deter other companies from acting in a similar manner. Syria, however, seems immune to this logic. Severe economic sanctions, even 59 Tomahawk cruise missiles, have made little, if any difference. This is not a geography that has shown itself open to the logic of deterrence.
My search for the price of life in Syria usually ends with reaching out to The Forgiveness Project: Stories for a Vengeful Age, a book by Marina Cantacuzino, with a forward by Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. The book is, in essence, a compilation of stories, stories that provide a very different take on the price of life. Here ‘life’ is not something that can be numerically quantified. Life, rather, is measured by the extent to which the living are willing to protect it, to create a conducive climate for its sustainability; and, indeed, to act in a manner that is not consistent with the violence inflicted upon them. Cantacuzino draws our attention to the fact that, in the context of violence, no ingredient is more critical for the preservation of life than the capacity to forgive. Forgiveness is not an irrational act of kindness. Rather, it is a calculated act that aims at ending a cycle of violence that is immune to deterrence and only thrives when confronted with more violence.
My favourite story is that of Kemal Pervanic, a survivor of the notorious Omarska concentration camp, set up by Bosnian Serb forces. Kemal eloquently summarizes the price of life when he states:
I didn’t decide not to hate because I’m a good person. I decided not to hate because hating would have finished the job they’d started so successfully.[iv]
Kemal had reached the conclusion that as long as we act in a manner consistent with the pain we suffered, we empower the narrative of those who have committed acts of violence against us. And yet, even Kemal could not have forgiven a person who stubbornly and arrogantly continues to degrade, wound and kill. Even Kemal required a genuine apology before his forgiveness could be extended.
In Syria, more than ten years after this tragedy began, no one is willing, or ready, to apologize.
[i] Colvin v. Syrian Arab Republic, No. CV 16-1423 (ABJ) (D.D.C. Feb. 1, 2019). https://ecf.dcd.uscourts.gov/cgi-bin/show_public_doc?2016cv1423-59
[iii] Lucas, S. (2018, December 16). Syria Daily: Assad – Give Me $400 Billion for Reconstruction. EA Worldview. https://eaworldview.com/2018/12/syria-daily-assad-give-me-400-billion-for-reconstruction/
[iv] The Forgiveness Project. (n.d.) Kemal Pervanic. https://www.theforgivenessproject.com/stories/kemal-pervanic/