As part of a class assignment, I recently read A Thousand
Farewells by Nahlah Ayed.
As a reporter for The Canadian Press and the CBC, Ayed
covered conflicts throughout the Middle East including between Hamas and
Israel, uprisings associated with the Arab Spring, and the American occupation
of Iraq.
Ayed was born in the St. Boniface neighbourhood of Winnipeg.
When Ayed was 6, her family moved to a refugee camp in Jordan so the kids could
discover their Palestinian heritage.
“I concluded within days of our arrival that we kids must
have done something so terribly wrong that Al-Wihdat was the only suitable
punishment,” Ayed says in the book.
Ayed moved back to Winnipeg when she was 13. While she
resented living in the refugee camp, the linguistic and cultural lessons she
learned allowed her to effectively communicate with people affected by conflict in the Middle
East as a war correspondent.
What worked
To me, the greatest strength of the book is the human
element.
As a graduate of the Political Studies program at the
University of Manitoba, I studied many of the conflicts Ayed describes in the
book, along with political theory.
The operations of many insurgent groups Ayed talks about are
reminiscent of theory outlined in Mao Zedong’s book On Guerrilla Warfare, in
which Zedong discusses Chinese tactics for fighting a stronger Japanese
occupying force.
Democratic peace theory, as I learned in class, may
provide insight into the struggles of countries such Iraq, Egypt and Afghanistan that are in the process of becoming democracies. While this theory argues
democracies do not go to war with each other, young democracies are often more
violent as old bodies of power struggle for control of the new state.
Political theory can also explain the mentality of paranoid
ruthlessness in strongmen like Saddam Hussein, Moammar Gadhafi and Bashar Assad.
The more force a dictator uses to crush potential enemies, the more actual
enemies he creates and the more force he must use.
While political theory can be an effective tool when
discussing conflict, terms like civilian casualties and battle deaths can be
dehumanizing.
Likewise, I believe journalism can sometimes focus on the
strategic and political implications of conflict at the expense of the people
who are affected.
Ayed has made a career from telling the stories of these
people, including grieving mothers, survivors of torture and family members
searching at Baath mass burial sites for the bones of their relatives.
“People are not quotes or clips, used to illustrate stories
about war and conflict. People are
the story, always,” Ayed says in the book.
What didn't work
At times, I felt it difficult to follow the narrative
between different conflicts and people.
I also would have liked to know more about the effect covering
conflict had on Ayed.
At times the book is very personal, with Ayed discussing the
trauma she experienced after being assaulted by a mob in Iraq, and how the life
of a war correspondent affected her personal relationships and health.
I would have appreciated more of this, particularly in the middle
of the book. At times, I feel in telling the stories of other people, she
misses some of the opportunities to tell her own story.
Final Thoughts
I really enjoyed A Thousand Farewells. While the violence
and atrocities discussed in the book can be hard to read, it has made me
reexamine the way I consume news, and how I approach journalism.
In my future journalistic writing, I too will seek out and honour the human side of the story.
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