ASSAD’S WALL
ARAB SPRING FORWARD ARAB SPRING BACKWARD
Nobody can deny the heart-rending story of Muhammad Bu’azeezi, the Tunisian young man, who, despite his secondary school education, was not able to find a job in his society and was relegated to peddling vegetables to support himself and his family.
Nobody can deny the heart-rending story of Muhammad Bu’azeezi, the Tunisian young man, who, despite his secondary school education, was not able to find a job in his society and was relegated to peddling vegetables to support himself and his family.
Even his effort to hawk sundries met with failure when a Tunisian policewoman scuppered his enterprise with legalistic impediments that evolved into crass insult, a spit in the face and a last curse upon the memory of his father.
Efforts to immediately obtain redress were rebuffed by an insensate bureaucracy. He burned himself to death in a public act that enraged the people of this North African country and brought about the much-ballyhooed Arab Spring.
I grew up in the United States during the middle Fifties onwards. My father and mother sent me back to the Old Country every summer to spend time with relatives and to maintain my facility with the Arabic language.
During this time, the memory of Palestine was more than fresh – it was a scalding vision of British tyranny and an indictment of the Arab governments which fumbled their way into abject defeat at the hands of Jewish refugees from Nazi Europe who were backed by one of the world’s most sophisticated networks of disinformation known up to that time.
The propaganda machine that was to kite the libelous slogan, “Give the land without a people to the people without a land”, was a minor intimation of what was to come when the Western powers and the pre-Iron Age troglodytes of Arabia combined to destroy the Syrian Arab Republic. My father was an ardent nationalist and adored Jamaal ‘Abdul-Naasser, the Egyptian leader who accidentally donned the cloak of Pan-Arabism and found it to his liking.
All of us repeated the same mantra: “If the Arabs could only rid themselves of their tyrannical leaders and unify their ranks, the Zionist Entity would cease to exist”. Nasser was the man who was going to galvanize Arab societies and break the back of imperialist schemes to keep the Arabs as backward as they obviously were. The Egyptian leader was tall and handsome with the demeanor of the simple man speaking in an unadorned style.
But, Nasser failed miserably. The tyrannical leaders, on the other hand, succeeded in not only delivering a heart attack to him, but also in keeping the Arabs locked somewhere between the Stone Age and the Ice Age.
Enter the Arab Spring
No one could have predicted Bu’azzeezi’s act of self-immolation. But, there were parties who had planned for the eventuality of an Arab popular outburst that would rock the foundations of their corrupt governments.
There were plans hatched since at least 2007 by the CIA, MI6, Mossad and the Saudi/Qatari Perso-phobes to expel the Ba’ath Party from Syria in as ignominious a manner as that self-same process in Saddam’s Iraq.
It had to wait, however, for the right moment when the gaskets, corks and stoppers were compromised by the pressure of demoniacal forces bursting out like a giant volcanic eruption, spewing fire that would sweep away every vestige of Arab nationalism, leaving the way open for a Dark Age, an Arab Winter of obsequious altar boys prone to every fetish nestled in the folds of the deviant Wahhabist brain.
Zaynul-‘Aabideen Bin ‘Ali, Tunisia’s former president-for-life, a favorite of the French colonial regime in Paris, was ousted through self-exile. He, like Idi Amin, was welcomed in Saudi Arabia, which at the time had established itself as the Club Med for despised autocratic presidents, traitors and avowed cannibals.
His departure was met with jubilation in the streets of Tunisia. Muhammad Bu-‘Azeezi’s slow, agonizing death had begun to deliver on its promise – it was like a Celtic rite of Spring or a fertility sacrifice – the burning wicker man to end the drought and bring forth the abundance of the earth. As of today, the Tunisians are fortunate they have not started to feed off one another.
Mua’mmar Qadhdhaafi
The Libyan supremo, Pontifex Maximus and Messiah, did not have the opportunity to retire in Saudi Arabia where he would have been beheaded anyways. He was the second casualty of the misnamed Arab Spring.
His death at the hands of a sociopathic ape-adolescent wielding the leader’s personal pistol followed by a post-mortem act of sodomy were repugnant acts no doubt celebrated in Washington D.C. by the Neo-Con flophouse proprietors in an animistic act of self-celebration worthy of their Nazi progenitors.
Libya, stands today for the proposition that the British and French, when bound together by a common purpose, can only engender chaos, at best, and the Void, at worst. Libya is a monumental catastrophe nobody can treat. It is a suppurating chancre promising blindness and an horrible death.
Husni Mubaarak
The long-serving Pharoah of Egypt, was probably flummoxed by the protests to end his reign during which he and his sons amassed a significant fortune.
Like the Tunisian and Libyan leaders, he too had sons ready to step in and continue the dynastic rule over his largely proletarian peoples who subsisted on fava beans, affordable hashish and the immortal, but false, Egyptian motto: “Egypt is the Mother of the Universe”.
Now too old to matter, and on the brink of a peaceful departure into the realms ruled by Osiris, he is preparing for the ultimate kiss-off to his beloved people: a pardon from President Al-Sisi and a probable hospice in Saudi Arabia where he can shrivel up, like a mummy, in the dry air of the pitilessly desiccating sands of Arabia. In truth, and I don’t say this in order to minimize Bu ‘Azeezi’s suffering or the reasons for his private auto da fe, his death has come to mean nothing more than failure – more failure for the Arab people.
Instead of being the start of a movement to bring Arabs together, it has highlighted the reasons why they cannot. It has furthermore emblazoned the role of former imperialist powers and the servitude the Arabs were programmed to relive while under their tutelage.
That is, until the imperialist powers came up against the Ba’ath Party of Syria and President Assad!
It was the chance of a lifetime….a lifetime spread over geological eons of time. Finally, with Ben-Ali, Qaddafi and Mubarak gone, Assad would fall also, and so, with that, all the planning in Tehran for the Shi’i Arc across the Fertile Crescent, which, like a Sword of Damocles, pendulously swung over the offered necks of the European Jews in order to finally end the charade and put to death the mythology of a God who metes out real estate lots like the president of Century 21.
All the ducks were in a row: the trained agents provacateurs, a crackpot American ambassador willing to travel around Syrian cities to motivate traitors and anti-minoritarian activists, the propaganda factories to illustrate how juvenile delinquents in Der’ah could become heroes of the revolution, Saudi and Qatari money spent on arms to challenge the power of the Ba’ath Party and its huge ideological army.
It was all there. How could it fail? It’s NATO, right? The Arab Spring was exposed as a canard after Tunisia, Egypt and Libya fell into a doldrum of Islamist mismanagement followed by a riotous plunge into the unknown. While some Syrians took the bait, most wanted to wait and see. Syrians, more than any other people, know a lot about their own country and how it’s administered.
Syrians know it isn’t easy to dislodge the Ba’ath, especially when there are over 100,00 members! All throughout the tissue of the Syrian state is the presence of an arrogant and proud Arab nationalism that sniffs out imperialist plots and works to unravel them.
The symbols of fire and ice, used so much in this article, are forces of nature that have come up against the Wall of Assad. Like the Great Wall of China or Hadrian’s, it will stand the test of time.
NATO and its simian allies in Arabia will beat their collective heads against this wall, which, unlike Herod’s in occupied Jerusalem, is a real wall, in a real place and with a real purpose; where the promise of Arab unity still lives and whose glowering, terrifying eyes beam down on the hapless invaders raining annihilation, Greek Fire and Hell’s Ice, upon them.
Read more
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River to Sea
Uprooted Palestinian 
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