My 10-year-old sister was on a school field trip at a local waterpark on Sunday when the sirens started going off for the first time.
She had coordinated matching swimsuits and flip-flops with her friends, packed her sunblock the night before, and woken my parents up at 5 a.m. because she was “too excited to sleep.”
Within an hour of arriving at the waterpark, the Bahraini government informed schools they needed to shut down immediately. Teachers quickly herded grades three to six back onto the buses.
My sister wasn’t thinking about how the U.S. had just bombed Iran, or how their Fifth Fleet– the only permanent U.S. navy base in the Middle East– lies in Bahrain, the 10-mile-wide island we live on.
She wasn’t worried about the fact that Bahrain sits directly between Iran and Qatar.
She was just sad she didn’t get to ride the waterslide.
As the U.S. announced a ceasefire between Iran and Israel, I was left to think about who is really being affected by the actions of these global powers.
With no clear information about the presence or destruction of nuclear weapons, we still found ourselves keeping off the roads. Those abroad were unable to return home. The entire region saw a pandemic-like sweep of supermarkets, with many people having to prepare for the threat of war for the first time in their lives.
Days before the chaos, the U.S. embassy announced the evacuation of its non-essential personnel from both the naval base and the embassy in Bahrain. Now that American lives were no longer at risk, everyone else on the island was a player in the game. This is especially true for world leaders who so choose to conduct their diplomacy through provocative social media posts while demanding “unconditional surrender.”
As an Arab woman and an international student in today’s America, I am unable to voice how angry I am at the responsibility of certain parties involved, or the complete lack of consideration for civilian lives and livelihoods. I am unable to openly discuss how disconnected I feel from my college friends who don’t understand what it’s like to fall asleep to the sound of the news playing. I cannot even explain how excited my sister was to ride that slide.
What I am able to do, however, is point toward a greater pattern of Middle Eastern countries being used as pawns in a game of political chess. In times of such instability, I find myself having to remember that what happened in Bahrain this month was just a privileged preview of what other Middle Eastern countries have been experiencing since the early 20th century.
Unlike us, they do not have the ‘privilege’ of hosting the American Navy, and therefore, do not have the political protection that this entails.
The idea that the Middle East is, in the words of media personality and model Julia Fox, “an armpit,” serves as a flippant yet introspective insight into the world’s perception of the region. And, for the last century, foreign interest has completely shaped this image.
While governments exchange billions and missiles in the name of diplomacy and national security, the lucky ones on the ground are left refreshing the news and changing plans, while the less fortunate plan evacuation strategies and funerals for their loved ones.
Over 600 Iranians — both military personnel and civilians — have been killed just this week as a result of the strikes. At least 56,000 Palestinians have been killed in two years. An estimated 186,000 Iraqis have been killed since 2003. A further 377,000 lives were taken in Yemen as of 2021.
Beyond death tolls, about 90% of schools in Gaza have been destroyed as of April 2024. About 14.56 million Syrians face food insecurity today. At least 63 healthcare facilities in Yemen have been “attacked or damaged,” with many reporting shortages in equipment, staff and supplies, according to UNICEF.
Had these same numbers applied to a Western nation, the global response would differ completely. I thought back to the global outcry in response to the LA wildfires in January, or the Notre Dame fire in April 2019. Why is it that when the third-oldest church in the world is stuck in Gaza, people choose neutrality?
Whether it’s micro-traumas in the Gulf — like the cancellation of a local graduation ceremony in anticipation of airstrikes — or major life-changing events in the Levant and North Africa, like the complete carpet bombing of whole countries, it becomes evident that Arab or Muslim lives do not seem to matter to the West.
Prior to October 7, 2023, the U.S. had spent about $8 trillion on wars in the Middle East, according to Brown University.
To put this in perspective, Public Citizen estimates that a budget increase of about $3.78 trillion per year would be enough to make healthcare free for everyone in the U.S. Or, the cost of one $80 million F-35 fighter jet is enough to provide free insulin for every diabetic in America for one year.
These numbers raise questions about the basis of global interest in the region. In recent years, even U.S. leaders who have promised to end “endless wars” or have signed off on military engagement across Middle Eastern countries like Iraq, Syria and Yemen. But numbers alone cannot express what it’s like to lie under the weight of these decisions.
Even scrolling through USC Sidechat and seeing comments mocking and even celebrating the strikes on Iran points to a desensitisation phenomenon in which young adults perceive war in the Middle East not as a tragedy, but rather, something to be celebrated. This is done with no regard for the real human lives being affected on almost a daily basis.
I remember sending a friend a picture of my favorite local bakery last summer, only to be told that the street looked like a Call of Duty background. To many, they have been subconsciously conditioned to perceive our culture, our land, and our people as players in a somewhat naturally occurring or even deserving warzone. The instability could not be further than organic. It has historically been imported and left to absorb here, whilst civilians take the brunt of its consequences.
If all were fair in love and war, I would not be sitting here wondering whether writing this piece is brave or dangerous. I would have to hope that the world can read between these lines. And I would have to watch every neighboring country around me get turned into a cautionary tale in the name of strong leadership.
Instead, we are told that our strengths lie in domination and global superiority, not in empathy or fairness.
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