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Version 1 Reality Stuns Human Shield: Saddam Was a Monster Some of the appeasement activists who went to Iraq as human shields got shocked into common sense when reality dashed their passivist fantasies. Kenneth Joseph, a young American pastor with the Assyrian Church of the East, told UPI the trip had shocked me back to reality. Some of the Iraqis he interviewed on camera told me they would commit suicide if American bombing didnt start. They were willing to see their homes demolished to gain their freedom from Saddams bloody tyranny. They convinced me that Saddam was a monster the likes of which the world had not seen since Stalin and Hitler. Their tales of slow torture and killing made me ill, such as people put in a huge shredder for plastic products, feet first so they could hear their screams as bodies got chewed up from foot to head. Susan Sarandon, Michael Moore, Adrien Brody, Chris Cooper and Barbra Streisand, are you listening? Version 2 Subject: Pacifisit says I was wrong Pacifist says I was was wrong - Back from Baghdad, Rev. Ken Joseph now favors liberation of Iraq United Press International March 27, 2003 Rev. I had opposed the war on Iraq in my radio program, on television and in my regular columns - and I participated in demonstrations against it in Japan. I am an Assyrian Christian, born and raised in Japan, where my father had moved after World War II to help rebuild the country. As an Assyrian I was told the story of our people from a young age - how my grandparents had escaped the great Assyrian Holocaust in 1917, settling finally in Chicago. There are some 6 million Assyrians now, about 25 million in Iraq and the rest scattered across the world. Without a country and rights even in our native land, it has been the prayer of generations that the Assyrian Nation will one day be restored. A few weeks ago, I traveled to Iraq with supplies for our Church and family. During a simple meal for peace activists after the service, an older man sounded me out carefully. Finally he felt free to talk: There is something you should know -we didnt want to be here tonight. When the priest asked us to gather for a Peace Service, we said we didnt want to come because we dont want peace. At the same time, it gave me hope for my people and, in fact, hope for the world. Because of my invitation as a religious person and family connections, I was spared the government snoops who ordinarily tail foreigners 24 hours a day. This allowed me to see and hear amazing things as I stayed in the homes of several relatives. The head of our tribe urged me not to remain with my people during its time of trial but instead go out and tell the world about the nightmare ordinary Iraqis are going through. I was to tell the world about the terror on the faces of my family when a stranger knocked at the door.
These images seemed to be on every wall, in the middle of the road, in homes. Everything will be all right when the war is over, people told me. When I told members of my family that some sort of compromise with Iraq was being worked out at the United Nations, they reacted not with joy but anger: Only war will get out of our present condition. This reminded me of the stories I heard from older Japanese who had welcomed the sight of American B-29 bombers in the skies over their country as a sign that the war was coming to an end. I felt terrible about having demonstrated against the war without bothering to ask what the Iraqis wanted. Tears streamed down my face as I lay in my bed in a tiny Baghdad house crowded in with 10 other people of my own flesh and blood, all exhausted, all without hope. I thought, How dare I claim to speak for people I had not even asked what they wanted? Then I began a strange journey to let the world know of the true situation in Iraq, just as my tribe had begged me to. With great risk to myself and those who had told their stories and allowed my camera into their homes, I videotaped their plight. To make sure I was not simply getting the feelings of the oppressed Assyrian minority, I spoke to dozens of other people, all terrified. Over and over, they told me: We would be killed for speaking like this. Yet they did speak, though only in private homes or when other Iraqis had assured them that no government minder was watching over me. I spoke with a former army member, with someone working for the police, with taxi drivers, store owners, mothers and government officials. We may lose our lives, but for our childrens sake, please, please end our misery. By their body language, these men made it clear that they dared not speak but hated their work;
I wondered how my relatives felt about the United States and Britain. They will bomb carefully and not purposely target the people, I was told. What we are afraid of is Saddam and the Baath Party will do when the war begins. The final call for help came at the most unexpected place - the border, where crying members of my family sent me off. The taxi fares from Baghdad to Amman had risen within one day from $100 to $300, to $500 and then to $1,000 by nightfall. For once I experienced what my relatives were going through 365 days a year - sheer terror. He clinically shook his head and without a word handed all the tapes back to me. He spoke the only language left to these imprisoned Iraqis - the silent language of human kindness. Please take these tapes and show them to the world, was his silent message.
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