Do we really value stones and artefacts more than human flesh and blood?

There’s nothing like a bit of cultural vandalism to get people hot under the collar and a prime example came in the wake of David Cameron’s surprise victory in Britain’s general election. Those who feared that a Conservative government would create an even wider gap between rich and poor, more food banks, child poverty and further austerity rallied near Parliament Square to vent their outrage at the turn of events and things to come.

The protest was ignored widely by the media until someone sprayed graffiti on a memorial honouring the courageous women of the Second World War. Suddenly, the protest became headline news unleashing a flood of words of condemnation from across the political spectrum.

Momentarily, I was also shocked when I heard what had been done. I then reflected about the women represented by the memorial and thought that they too would be angry; not at the yob who used the spray can, but at the fact that in the 21st century children in Britain are going hungry, food banks are keeping families just above the breadline and many decent citizens are sinking into further poverty.

These were the women, after all, who fought for a country which gave birth to a welfare state that was once the envy of the world. Now, in this age of corporate greed it looks as if life holds little value and we are living in an era where stones are more valuable and loved than real people.

Perhaps the journalists would have better served their readers, listeners and viewers if they had reported the concerns of those on the demonstration instead of turning the entire event into a story about an act of mindless vandalism.

The episode reminded me of a conversation I had with my Taliban captors back in October 2001 when I was being held in Afghanistan after an undercover assignment for the Sunday Express had gone belly up. A few days after sneaking into the country in the aftermath of 9/11, I was arrested by the much-feared regime and suspected of being a spy; war was just around the corner and they didn’t believe that I was a bona fide journalist.

During one interrogation session with around eight fearsome, bearded and turbaned men from the Kabul intelligence agency there was a pause in the questions; I enquired, through an interpreter, if I might ask one of my own.

The stern-faced group looked surprised but nodded abruptly in the affirmative and so, to their surprise, I asked why they had blown to smithereens the Bamiyan Buddhas in March 2001. They looked at each other, some half-smiling, some huffing and puffing wearily in exasperation before the response came, again through the interpreter.

“Millions of our people were starving, some were forced to dig through the snow and try to find grass to eat with their bare hands. There was no food but all you people cared about were stones. We received deputations, phone calls, communications in the hundreds from around the world begging us to save the statues, while no mention was made of the famine our people were suffering. There were even aid teams wanting to come to Afghanistan and preserve the statues and repair them but no one offered even a crumb for our women and children.

“You valued the stones and rocks in Bamiyan above human life and so we thought ‘you want rocks, let’s give you them’ and so we did.”

Of course, never one to miss an opportunity to attack Islam, the world’s media reported that the Taliban’s spiritual leader Mullah Mohammed Omar had ordered the destruction on “Islamic religious grounds”, declaring that the Buddhas were idols. Had this been the case then surely the scores of other statues in Bamiyan’s valley 140 miles north west of Kabul would also have been destroyed, but they were left untouched.

So is it possible that their act of cultural vandalism against the 6th century statues carved into a sandstone cliff was done more out of the Taliban’s anger over Western values which appeared to put rocks and relics above people than any idealistic religious dogma? Sadly, I wasn’t allowed to enter into a further discussion that day because I’d had my “one question”.

Meanwhile another argument over another set of rocks is set to unfold in a British courtroom with the news that international human rights lawyer Amal Clooney is going to fight for the return of the famous “Elgin Marbles” to Greece.

The marbles can be seen in the British Museum in London which, according to critics, is also home to many other “stolen goods” brought there by archaeologists and explorers who pilfered and looted their way around the world in the name of the British Empire.

Amal Clooney, whose London Doughty Street Chambers has been advising the Greek government on possible action, has filed a 150-page report outlining a strategy to ensure the return of the 5th century BC statues. They were removed from the Acropolis in Athens by the Earl of Elgin in the early 19th century, and were bought by the British Government in 1816 and placed in the museum.

Now while I have a degree of sympathy with the Greek people and think that Britain should return the stolen items, I have to question the wisdom and timing of launching such an expensive legal battle just now. Greece, you may recall, is literally running out of cash. Athens emptied an IMF reserves account to pay the international body this week, but now faces wage and pension payments later in the month and fresh debt payments in June.

“The Greek economy, and Greek people, are paying from their own flesh and as they continue to pay… this hurts any prospect of growth,” said government spokesman Gabriel Sakellaridis, adding that Athens would try its best to meet obligations but needed more cash. So why launch a legal bid just now for the return of the marbles?

In Iraq, meanwhile, once home to some of the most culturally rich architectural buildings and museums in the world, priceless pieces have been “lost”; first at the hands of the US military’s “shock and awe” during the invasion and occupation of Iraq in 2003 and more lately at the hands of the ISIS vandals.

Mindless thugs from ISIS ransacked Mosul’s central museum and were videoed wrecking priceless artefacts from the Assyrian and Akkadian empires. Once loaded on to the internet, the shocking scenes in classic ISIS video nasties drew outrage from the international community.

Mosul fell under the control of ISIS last June when fighters advanced rapidly across the north of the country. But the anger became even louder in March when more video footage revealed the destruction of the ancient Assyrian archaeological site of Nimrud in Iraq, with UNESCO describing the act as a war crime.

The dropping of chemical weapons and barrel bombs on the trapped civilians of Aleppo and elsewhere in Syria by the Bashir Al-Assad regime is also a war crime but that drew less international condemnation and hyperventilation.

Back in Iraq, the ancient city of Babylon was beyond the grasp of ISIS, although the 5,000 year old Mesopotamian symbol of a glorious and ancient past had already been vandalised – by invading Americans. Unbelievably, the US military constructed a base in the ruins of the ancient city of Babylon by flattening a 300,000 square metre site. It must rank as one of the most reckless acts of cultural vandalism as the camp was built on the site of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, once hailed as one of the seven wonders of the world. This barbarism was carried out by Kellog, Brown and Root, a subsidiary of Haliburton, the company formerly run by US vice president Dick Cheney, and went virtually unnoticed.

The media, though, has found its voice again as the ISIS fighters head for Palmyra; alarm bells are ringing their way around the world as this architectural gem, known as the “Venice of the Sands” comes under threat.

I’ve wandered through the exquisite ruins of Palmyra and its beauty is undeniably jaw-dropping. However, I can’t for the life of me understand why any rebels, let alone ISIS, would target the Syrian desert city which is tucked away, roughly half-way between the Mediterranean coast and the valley of the River Euphrates, in the Syrian desert.

No one lives there; the last occupants bailed out in 1932 leaving behind an architecturally rich site of 120 acres. It has no military importance, no strategic value, but ISIS knows that the smashing of one icon, the destruction of a single column or the obliteration of a temple statue will get the world on its feet in outrage. The vandalism of Palmyra will give the self-declared Caliphate the oxygen of publicity it craves while serving as a useful distraction from the continued war crimes of the dictator Assad.

The real story here is not the destruction of a city long abandoned in the Syrian sands by an ancient civilisation; the real story is the Syrian people – every last man, woman and child fighting for their very survival, their very existence, at the hands of one of the most brutal dictators the world has ever seen. I don’t know if the two are working together in some sort of hideous partnership but it has to be said their atrocities have so far proved to be mutually beneficial. Less than 20 per cent of ISIS actions have so far been directed at the Assad regime while the infamous limb-chopping activities of the group have been focused on other rebel fighters and innocent bystanders caught up in their path.

The real story to emerge this week is about the heroic team of “Syrian Truth Smugglers” who have risked their lives to gather and preserve documents that provide evidence of war crimes committed by the Assad regime, but apart from one story in the Guardian newspaper in London it has been largely ignored.

To date, nearly a quarter of a million people are thought to have been killed in the Syrian civil war, more than double the death toll of the war in Bosnia two decades ago. Eyewitness accounts tell us that barrel bombs are still being dropped on residential areas and the torture dungeons are still jammed with men, women and children who are being starved to death, as well as being beaten and abused.

And while the cruel axis of evil – Assad and ISIS – forge ahead with their continually crossing paths of destruction it seems that the media and politicians can only express their outrage over the threat of what amounts to a few stones.

Yes, Palmyra is beautiful and we should be angry at its wanton destruction, but I put the life of one Syrian child above any ancient city; so should you if you value human flesh and blood above stone.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.