It’s rather fitting to interview Robert Fisk at The Pilot Tavern, so named in homage to the brave pilots who fought in the Second World War.
Fisk is currently on a speaking tour to promote his new book, The Great War for Civilization: The Conquest of the Middle East. He named it in tribute to his father, a First World War soldier, whose campaign medal had the phrase ‘The war for civilization’ inscribed on the back.
War is central to Fisk’s life, having been a Middle Eastern correspondent for 30 years, covering wars in Algeria, Afghanistan, Lebanon, Iran, Iraq, Israel, and Palestine. Wars, he argues, that began as direct or indirect results of the 17 months after the Second World War during which the arbitrary drawing of the Middle East’s borders took place.
Fisk stopped by U of T on his tour last Wednesday, and The Varsity spoke with him about the number of dead Iraqis, his “curse,” and the damning tale told by the history books about the West’s presence in the Middle East.
The Varsity: Why haven’t we learned the lessons of history?
Robert Fisk: Well, because we don’t read them. Because we are always setting off on our ideological wars, thinking that we’re right and that it’ll work out the way we want it to. Why bother wasting our time with what happened in 1920? It was different then. But it wasn’t; it was the same of course. We have General Sir Angus Moore in Iraq in 1917 saying, “We come here not as conquerors but as liberators to free you.” We do the same again in 2003.
We are always going to the Middle East in this way, but we are never concentrating on what the Middle East says to us, like, ‘Can we have some freedom from you?’ You know? People want justice before they want democracy and you can’t found democracy on sand.
V: These borders don’t seem as though they were created with peace or justice in mind. If there is peace and justice, what would it look like? Can it even exist?
RF: Look, immediately after the First World War the American diplomats in the Middle East all told the [U.S.] State Department we should have a modern, democratic Arab state. The borders of Europe are largely formed by defensible frontiers-rivers, mountains, valleys, etc. We paid no attention to that, with one or two rare exceptions.
V: Well, weren’t they drawn quite arbitrarily and with conflict in mind?
RF: With conflict in mind, but with oil in mind. The state of Iraq was drawn to give the French the largest proportion of oil in the north and the British in the south. It was drawn up on the basis of economic resources, largely.
V: Can you describe the scenes at the Iraqi mortuary where the death count was not released to the press, which you mentioned in your talk?
RF: Look, we don’t care about the Iraqis. I’ve said that. They don’t want you to hear how many Iraqis have died. It is a shameful thing that the Blairs and the Bushes connive to prevent us from knowing the tragedy of the Iraqi people. One thousand one hundred in July alone. But we don’t acknowledge that humanity. When you don’t acknowledge the suffering of a people, you no longer acknowledge their humanity. They cease to be human beings. That’s the problem.
V: They say with great privilege comes great responsibility. You speak about the “curse” of your book. Is your curse part of the privileged responsibility of writing history’s first pages?
RF: No, it’s the fact that I spent 30 years of my life watching wars and not having a safe life, bringing up a family. I think I’d still do the same thing again if I had my life over again. You cannot but reflect upon the fact that you spent 30 years of your life witnessing the most appalling things and managing to keep going, and stay sane, and still write well.
V: Do you have any advice for the young and naïve who hope to pick up where you have left off?
RF: Be prepared to take risks with your career to tell the truth. And if you’re asked to compromise in telling the reality of the story as you see it, fight, and go on fighting. Look at Seymour Hersh. He’s done a real job of monitoring the centres of power. So has Amira Hass. If that means you lose your job at a paper, then go and get a job at a better paper. I left the Times of London for the Independent, which is very unstable. The Times, for the first time, had censored a story I wrote on the Middle East. So I left. That’s it.
