One Cartoon Sums Up the Insanity of Syria’s Crackdown

[tabatha]

On August 25, the 60-year-old Syrian political cartoonist Ali Ferzat was driving home from his office in Damascus when a car with tinted windows blocked the road. Men dragged Ferzat from his car, stuffed him in a van, beat him severely and broke both his hands in what they called “a warning” and dumped him on the side of the road.

“Once my fingers have healed, I’ll go back,” Ferzat told an interviewer in December, after finally leaving the hospital.

Above is Ferzat’s latest, a stunning indictment of Syria’s absurd and self-defeating crackdown. Egyptian blogger Bassem Sabry called it “one of the most amazing cartoons I have ever seen.” The man in the blindfold has Ferzat’s unmistakable beard, though the cartoonist is using himself as a stand-in for Syrians as a whole.


Syrian security forces have so far killed over 5,000 civilians, including hundreds of children, and have imprisoned, tortured, and often killed many outspoken critics such as Ferzat. Syrian troops are believed to be defecting with increasing rapidity, creating a nascent insurgent movement. As Ferzat’s cartoon suggests, President Bashar al-Assad’s decision to wage total war on his own people may in fact be dooming his regime, a process of self-destabilization that seems to be accelerating.

http://mar15.info/2012/01/one-cartoon-sums-up-the-insanity-of-syrias-crackdown

[barbtries]

1. courageous cartoonist.

i hope he'll be all right.

[riverwalker]

2. The man with the broken fingers

Between this artist with fingers broken by Syrian army, and the waiter in Florida whose finger was broken by a displeased billionaire, the meme of the day seems to be broken fingers. There is a deeper meaning there.


Written by Carl Sandburg 1942

“THE MAN WITH THE BROKEN FINGERS”

by Carl Sandburg



The Man with the Broken Fingers throws a shadow,

Down from the spruce and evergreen mountain timbers of Norway –

And across Europe and the Mediterranean to the oasis palms of Libya –

He lives and speaks a sign language of lost fingers.

From a son of Norway who slipped the Gestapo nets, the Nazi patrols,

The story comes as told among those now in Norway.



Shrines in their hearts they have for this nameless man

Who refused to remember names names names the Gestapo wanted.

“tell us these names. Who are they? Talk! We want those names!”

And the man faced them, looked them in the eye, and hours passed and

No names came – hours on hours and no names for the Gestapo.

They told him they would break him as they had broken others.

The rubber hose slammed around face and neck,

The truncheon handling pain with no telltale marks,

Or the distinction of the firing squad and death in a split second –

The Gestapo considered these and decided for his something else again.

“Tell us those names. Who were they? Talk! Names now – or else!”

And no names came – over and over and no names.



So they broke the little finger of the left hand.

Three fingers came next and the left thumb bent till it broke.

Still no names and there was a day and night for rest and thinking it over.

Then again the demand for names and he gave them the same silence.

And the little finger of the right hand felt itself twisted,

Back and back twisted till it hung loose from a bleeding socket.

Then three more fingers crashed and splintered one by one

And the right thumb back and back into shattered bone.



Did he think about violins or accordions he would never touch again?

Did he think of baby or woman hair he would never again play with?

Or of hammers or pencils ho good to him any more?

Or of gloves and mittens that would always be misfits?

He may have laughed half a moment over a Gestapo job

So now for a while he would handle neither knife nor fork

Nor lift to his lips any drinking -cup handle

Nor sign his name with a pen between thumb and fingers.



And all this was halfway – there was more to come.

The Gestapo wit and craft had an aim.

They wanted it known in Norway the Gestapo can be terrible.

They wanted a wide whispering of fear

Of how the Nazis handle those who won’t talk or tell names.

“We give you one more chance to cooperate.”

Yet he had no names for them.

His locked tongue, his Norwegian will pitted against Nazi will,

His pride and faith in a free man’s way,

His welcoming death rather than do what they wanted –

They brought against this their last act of fury,

Breaking the left arm at the elbow,

Breaking it again at the shoulder socket –

And when he came to in a flicker of opening eyes,

They broke the right arm first at the elbow, then the shoulder.



By now, of course, he had lost all memory of names, even his own.

And there are those like you and me and many many others

Who can never forget the Man with the Broken Fingers.

His will, his pride as a free man shall go on.

His shadow moves and his sacred fingers speak.

He tells men there are a thousand writhing shattering deaths

Better to die one by one than to say yes yes yes

When the answer is no no no and death is welcome and death comes soon

And death is a quiet step into a sweet clean midnight

[ellisonz]

8. Kick for this post.

[Capitalocracy]

3. Here's an avatar-sized image of Mr. Ferzat

his first cartoon after having his hands broken:

[tabatha]

4. I found this page on Ali Ferzat

Some of the cartoons are excellent.

?w=440&h=520

?w=640&h=420

http://aparadigmofcolors.wordpress.com/2011/09/06/cartoonists-support-ali-ferzat/

[ellisonz]

5. I really like the second one.

Thank for posting all this tabatha!

[Quantess]

6. Good thread.

k & r

[Duppers]

7. Excellent article / excellent thread.

Attention: Mods/"Hosts" - I was on my smart phone some minutes ago and accidentally altered on this topic when I meant to have recommended it. Dang the tiny phone screen! Sorry.