Column: A city of peace in the Middle East

I try to make time to watch the BBC Arabic TV channel — it shows a side of the Middle East that is not entirely hate and despair and offers a more complex view than most non-Arab viewers may expect.

About a year ago, the channel hosted a panel of young, earnest women, fresh from protesting corruption and bad politics in Egypt, Lebanon and Iraq. As in the U.S., these protesters sometimes face police violence, but none were deterred.

The Iraqi woman explained:

“In Iraq, we demonstrate weekly and we’re not protesting anything complicated,” she said. “We want simple things: human rights and stability.”

Once, BBC Arabic interviewed an Iraqi refugee in Turkey. As a boy, his mom read him books mostly set in America or Europe. Now, he makes itty-bitty scenes of the places he remembers reading about, dioramas you can hold in your hand: miniature balconies on a street in Italy, a Parisian bookstore, a pile of firewood in a grate, a tiny toy horse in a tiny bedroom.

“I do this to remove myself from my reality. One day, Inshallah (if Allah wills it), I’ll make a diorama of a place in Iraq, and it will fill me with joy. If I do it now, it will surely fill me with pain,” he said.

In 2013, BBC Arabic reported on youth who arrange the annual “Baghdad City of Peace” festival, replete with music, plays and break-dancing. The festival coincides with the International Day of Peace on Sept. 21.

That day in 2013 seems long ago. One man interviewed said of the festival: “It was wonderful! It deserves to be known worldwide. This festival has a big role to play in advancing Iraq. I have faith in this type of campaign, because they will change attitudes in the coming years, Inshallah.”

And instead the three years since have reeked of bombs and flat-out war.

In 2004, the Iraqi government declared that female genital mutilation does not occur within its borders.

While researching for a documentary, two Kurdish filmmakers found evidence to the contrary in some rural villages; they video-taped witch doctors hovering with knives over screaming girls.

They interviewed a feisty girl who reenacted how she refused the witch doctor’s ministrations, snatched the knife and tossed it away. As she told her story, her friends gathered about, giggling at the tale.

Upon the film’s release, Iraq’s female lawmakers arranged a viewing in Parliament, but the men were too embarrassed to join.

So, the women watched alone, discussed it with their male colleagues and in 2011, Iraq passed a law banning genital mutilation.

The filmmakers returned to the villages and a lot of the mothers said: Well, since it’s now forbidden, and we understand the dangers more, we will stop. We just didn’t know before.

I hope everyone working hard to improve the world can hang on in the coming years and that one day, it will be their voices shining and not those of brutes.