I read Karam Nama’s commentary on my article, “The cowards’ playbook”, published by MEMO last week, with interest. While I appreciate his generous words regarding my past work and physical courage, I fear that he has missed the point of my article. Moreover, I think that he misunderstands what true journalistic and intellectual courage actually means. In my experience, it does not mean reacting to every tragedy on earth simultaneously; it means speaking truthfully about the specific matters before you, which is what I did in “The cowards’ playbook…”.
Nama mistakes my focused lens for a blind eye. It’s true to say that my MEMO article was not an exhaustive encyclopaedia of global tyranny. Had that been the case, it would have filled volumes, spanning the West’s hidden black sites to the brutal prisons of the Global South. And Iraq would no doubt have figured prominently.
Instead,
I focused on three specific cases: Rached Ghannouchi, Imran Khan and Bilal Abdul Kareem; two politicians and one fearless journalist. These three men are not just names on a news wire as far as I am concerned; they are individuals who I know personally. I chose to write about what I know intimately, a standard practice that grounds journalism in reality rather than distant speculation.
Nama questions whether I know about the horrors, the forced disappearances and the militia-driven ecosystem of modern Iraq. I can assure him that I am neither blind nor indifferent to the profound suffering of the Iraqi people, not least since the catastrophic 2003 Western invasion and its grim aftermath. I was in Iraq some weeks ahead of that invasion, although I have not visited since.
Furthermore, the suggestion that I “hesitated” to confront Western narratives or feared opening the file on Iraq is, frankly, rather amusing. I am no stranger to the prisoners of Iraq. Among those I have known over the years was the former Iraqi Vice President, Tariq Aziz. He was being held by the US in Kazimiyah Prison (historically known as Camp Justice [sic] or Camp Al-Adala), the very site where the 2011 secret jail scandal erupted.
I know exactly what happened there. In late 2010, the Iraqi authorities transferred more than 280 detainees to a secret, undisclosed detention site within that sprawling military base. The facility was controlled directly by the Iraqi military office of the then Prime Minister Nuri Al-Maliki, more specifically the Army’s 56th Brigade and the Counter-Terrorism Service. Classified documents and interviews obtained by Human Rights Watch revealed that prisoners inside this secret site were subjected to severe abuse and torture to extract confessions. The expose had significant political fallout in Iraq, forcing official investigations into the unauthorised jail and highlighting the systemic issues of extrajudicial detention and the absence of the rule-of-law during the US occupation years.
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I would have relished the chance to go out there. Because Aziz was a Christian, I raised his case directly with a high-profile envoy from the Church of England. I was entirely prepared to go out and visit him myself, but the occupying British and American forces did not want me anywhere near him.
Saddam’s top diplomat had already given me one exclusive interview in Baghdad for Channel 4 News, and I was confident that he would speak to me again. Sadly, it was not to be and he eventually died on 5 June 2015 in Al-Hussein Hospital in the city of Nasiriyah, at the age of 79.
I am not driven by faith, nationality, skin colour or culture in my work; I am motivated simply by the struggle for justice and doing what I consider to be the right thing.
If my criteria for advocacy were based purely on personal affection or proximity, my priority would not have been Iraq; it would have been Saudi Arabia, and my dear friend and mentor Dr Ahmed Farid Moustapha, who was 82 years old when he was forcibly disappeared from his home in Madinah in 2020. Today I don’t even know if he is still alive.
Contrary to what Karam Nama believes, I do not fear the Iraqi file, nor do I fear any other.
Right now, my immediate, burning concern is for Dr Hussam Abu Safiyah in Gaza, a physician held with neither charge nor trial by Israel for over 18 months who is now known to be held in solitary confinement.
The occupation authorities refuse to show an ounce of human compassion towards him or any other Palestinian. This is a current, bleeding crisis demanding our immediate focus.
Furthermore, Bilal Abdul Kareem and I have been actively working on a global Prisoner’s Islamic Charter precisely because we recognise that prisoner welfare is a systemic, universal crisis across the Muslim world and beyond. My track record proves that I do not wait for an invitation or permission to fight for the oppressed.
I do not possess an “unaligned moral compass”, as Nama claims. I am very focused. If the victims of Iraq’s broken system and their supporters want their stories told, they do not need to scold me from the sidelines. My door has always been open. Come to me, present the facts, and I will fight for them without fear or favour, just as I have always done for others.
True courage is not shouting at everything all at once; it is fighting the battle that is in front of you, while planning and preparing for the next. As a journalist and writer himself, Karam Nama should know this.
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The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.
