By Conny Lenneberg
The ancient city of Aleppo is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. But the name Aleppo now evokes apocalyptic scenes of destruction and despair, a city reduced to rubble, a child wiping blood from his face. Aleppo has become a byword for human misery.
As bombardment intensifies, hundreds have been killed in this past week. Food has run out, and no hospitals are functioning. The situation is catastrophic.
Yet early last week, China and Russia vetoed a draft resolution at the UN Security Council that called for a seven-day ceasefire – a space to negotiate an end to the fighting and to bring in essential medicines, water and food. Tens of thousands have fled eastern Aleppo in recent days, while diplomats met in Paris to call for an end to the violence, as air strikes continue to hit civilians in what US Secretary of State John Kerry called "crimes against humanity".
This internationally condemned veto was a stark demonstration of how the UN system has failed to stop these devastating conflicts – the reason for which it was established post World War II.
Men walk past damaged buildings and shops in the eastern Aleppo neighborhood of al-Mashhad.Credit: Wissam Zarqa via AP
All United Nations member states, including Australia, have a responsibility to unite for peace through the General Assembly in the case of the Security Council deadlock.
Aid agencies such as World Vision are working at Aleppo's outskirts, but we've been unable to get into the city for months. People risk their lives to flee. Bodies in the street can be seen with suitcases beside them. This is the deadliest conflict the 21st century has seen, but our horror amounts to handwringing unless real and urgent action is taken.
The UN's special envoy to Syria, Staffan de Mistura, warned that the UN cannot allow "another Srebenica, another Rwanda". Meanwhile, seven year old Bana Alabed tweeted from Aleppo on November 28: "Tonight we have no house, it's bombed and I got in rubble. I saw deaths and I almost died."
It's hard now to recollect the brief month of hope that rose from the Arab Spring in February 2011.
A Syrian army soldier places a Syrian national flag during a battle with rebel fighters at the Ramouseh front line, east of Aleppo.Credit: AP
On my first trip to Lebanon, I noticed a young staff member wore a Tahrir Square badge. At the time Tahrir Square was news: when protests erupted in Egypt demonstrators in Cairo marched towards the city square with its powerful name – tahrir means liberation. But why did this young Lebanese woman care about what was happening in Egypt? Lebanon had its own problems. She told me that she'd visited Tahrir Square.
"Because it shows that young Arabs can be part of driving change," she said.
It gave me goose bumps. That badge stood for peace, for hope, and for freedom from autocratic regimes.
We Australians take our human rights for granted. Not so for Middle Eastern peoples, as I was shocked to witness when the Arab Spring spread to Syria and, within weeks, peaceful Friday demonstrations deteriorated into civil war.
The statistics tell the story:
In Syria, up to 470,000 people have been killed and 13.5 million people need humanitarian aid; 6.5 million are internally displaced and 4.8 million people have fled the country; more than 800,000 people have sought asylum in Europe. The cost? More than $US450 billion in lost GDP and rising but the children's losses can't be measured. Lost fathers, mothers, siblings, friends. Lost homes, toys, dreams. Lost education.
Behind these statistics are real people, real children suffering real pain.
As aid workers, we're always meeting people we can't help enough. I'll never forgive myself for a boy, Adel, who slipped through our safety net. He fled to Lebanon with his mother and three younger sisters after his father was killed in Aleppo. As the family's only breadwinner, he had to raise $200 to rent space on a potato field. Adel's sisters cried at night and he worried about keeping them safe. When we returned to help, the family was gone: probably pushed back into Syria.
These seismic changes are not only destabilising the region but our world.
Before their city was destroyed, citizens of Aleppo had lives much like ours. They worked, their children went to well-run schools and at night families gathered for their evening meal and to watch TV. Well-informed, connected, they can see the choices that we are making. Would the international community be so complacent if it was Australians, Canadians or even Russians?
As Australians, we must pressure our leaders to urgently take measures to protect civilians caught up in this crisis, to work constructively in the United Nations to resolve conflicts, and to increase aid. We can't let the scale of the catastrophe paralyse us; every action makes a difference.
Conny Lenneberg is the regional leader for Middle East and Eastern Europe.