Trigger warning: This article mentions several forms of violence, including genocide. Although the article does not go into detail, some of the links in this article contain more details which can be experienced as disturbing.
February 24, 2022, the Russian army invaded Ukraine, subverting the expectations of many experts on the region. In a large military operation – a term Putin would soon adapt to describe the entire war – Russian troops entered Ukraine from the North, East and South. The plan seemed to be to seize Ukraine’s major cities, including Kiev, the capital, as well as to capture the most important members of its government, practically winning the war before Ukraine could even respond.
Reality turned out to be different, Putin’s plan failed. In the following months, in part thanks to material support from the west, Ukraine brought the Russian invasion to a halt, even reconquering some of the territory Russia had occupied in the first weeks.
Equally impressive to Ukraine´s military accomplishment, was the incredible display of solidarity throughout the world. Videos of atrocities committed by Russian soldiers rapidly spread across social media: everyone was now aware of Ukraine. Rarely had the world – or at least Europe and its political allies – appeared to be this undivided: condemnation of Russia’s aggression, as well as expression of solidarity with Ukraine, was widespread.
The reactions on our campus were no different: The university was quick to condemn the invasion, students started fundraisers, and people could donate supplies for Ukrainian refugees at Wijnhaven’s Spanish Steps. Throughout the following months, protests, fundraisers and other expressions of solidarity would continue. Like the international community, our campus seemed practically undivided, standing in solidarity with Ukraine.
Despite this incredible display of solidarity, I felt mixed emotions. I was incredibly happy to see so many people undertake action to help the innocent victims of violent conflict. At the same time, I was confronted with something I have been so often confronted with while studying the African region: the selectiveness that decides our solidarity.
Because while everyone – students, politicians, and seemingly everyone else who knew about the war – tried all they could to help Ukraine, the deadliest war of 2022 took place not in Europe, but in Africa. Since 2020, Ethiopia had been in a state of war. Forces of the Ethiopian Federal Government along with the Eritrean army, fought against soldiers of the TPLF, a political party and military group representing the Tigray region – or at least claiming to do so.
With the war came war crimes. Reports spoke of the most cruel atrocities being committed, against soldiers and civilians alike, some victims four years old, some eighty years. In the spring of 2022, at the Hague central station, I saw a group of ten women, carrying Tigrayan flags, likely on their way to a protest: one of very few. The world didn’t just seem to not care, worse, it appeared as if the world didn’t even know. Although the conflict eventually came to an end, the word peace does not describe what followed. Tensions between the federal government and certain Ethiopian regions remain. No one has been persecuted for war crimes committed during the conflict, and with the UN ending its investigation into the conflict, it seems unlikely anyone ever will be.
Ethiopian refugees fleeing to Saudi Arabia were oftentimes deported back to Ethiopia, resulting in the abuse and forced disappearance of thousands of Tigrayan refugees, HRW reported on January 5, 2022. “At the start of 2022”, Leiden University accepted a donation of 100.000 USD from Saudi Aramco, a company owned by the Saudi Arabian state. Later reports by HRW described how many Ethiopian refugees were also deliberately killed by Saudi Arabia, with some being shot at with artillery fire, and some executed from close range.
Israel’s violent, still on-going attack on the Gaza strip, as well as the 7 October Hamas attack, confronted me again with how incredibly limited human solidarity is.
On October 8th, rather than protesting against a – at the time yet to start – Israeli attack on Gaza, Students For Palestine organized a protest “in solidarity with operation “Al-Aqsa Flood”, the operation during which, just one day earlier, an estimated 846 civilians were killed. Although the Instagram post announcing the protest has since been deleted, it can still be found on Students for Palestine’s Facebook page.
As a response to the attack, the Israeli Army has been causing death and destruction throughout the Gaza strip. The percentage of inhabitants of Gaza killed, wounded or displaced, still growing by the hour, is historically high. I could mention an estimated number of civilian casualties, but the painful truth is that by the time this article is published, the estimate will likely already be outdated. Throughout the Netherlands, and throughout the world, people have protested – and continue to protest – against the horrors committed against Palestinians. At university, students and staff members have been expressing solidarity with Palestinian victims, as has been done for Ukrainian victims.
And yet, much louder than these protests is the silence. Leiden University’s reaction on the violence in Gaza was notably less outspoken, shockingly vague, compared to the statement released briefly after the invasion of Ukraine. The contrast between the reaction of students and staff members on one hand, and the university’s far-from-outspoken approach on the other, seems painfully representative of how differently the world reacts to what Israel has been doing in Gaza compared to how the world has been reacting to the war in Ukraine. While in both cases, many people have condemned the violence, on a political level, very little has been done for the people in Gaza, showing a painful contrast with the case of Ukraine. Testimonies and images of the terrible consequences of Israel’s attack on Gaza are shared over the internet on a scale never seen before, yet neither this, nor pressure on Israel by the international community, has thus far led to peace.
The world watches, as innocent civilians are being killed.
Oftentimes I catch myself with the same questions I had in 2022: where is such media attention for African victims? Where are the protests, the expressions of solidarity?
In Sudan, the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a paramilitary engaged in a civil war with the Sudanese army, are committing a genocide against non-Arab Sudanese people.
It´s neighbour Chad, which hosts over a million refugees and sees over two million people facing food insecurity, is expected to no longer receive aid from the United Nations World Food Programme, as there is insufficient funding. The Sahel region has become the epicentre of a violent conflict involving various armed groups. As military governments take over in the region, the human rights situation continues to escalate.
These situations are talked about less than similar situations in other places. As thousands are being killed, and millions are displaced, it seems as if the world remains silent.
I sometimes feel like a hypocrite, caring so much about the things that happen in one part of the world, yet being awfully unaware of things happening elsewhere: Only now, almost finished writing this article, I realize I completely forgot about the Rohingya genocide, the millions living in awful conditions in refugee camps in Bangladesh. Support for Ukrainian victims is decreasing, and I worry that it’s only a matter of time before the attention shifts away from Gaza.
Why is it so easy? Forgetting things, deeply caring about one thing, remaining blissfully unaware of others?
If I’m honest, I don’t want to know why. I’m afraid the answer is too depressing.
There is a lot I’m wishing for this Christmas, but if I can only wish one thing, it’s this:
Please, everyone, keep informing yourself of what happens in the world.
In the places you already know about, and the ones you don’t yet know about.
Care. Do it as much as you can. It matters.
– Diederik Bouwman
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Image from Unsplash
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