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Jamie Dettmer is an independent American-British foreign correspondent. He has been on the staffs of the Times of London, the Sunday Telegraph, The Hill, Business AM, and the Washington Times and was a foreign affairs columnist for the Scotsman Group and the Irish Sunday Tribune. He has reported from the Middle East, Europe, Latin America, and Africa. He writes now for Newsweek/Daily Beast and also reports for Voice of America. He has been a think tanker and was a special media advisor to the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization.
Foreign Fighters in Syria and the Threat of Domestic Terrorism in Europe
Westerners who have joined the ranks of radical groups fighting in Syria have been likened to time bombs—and in May one of them exploded in Brussels. Belgian police released chilling images from surveillance cameras of the lone gunman’s attack on Brussels’ Jewish Museum in Sablon, a neighborhood of genteel antique stores and chocolatiers.
In most wars combatants wield aid as a weapon, circumscribing humanitarian access and impeding assistance to civilians in enemy-held territory, hoping that hunger will starve resistance into submission or undermine the morale of foes. In no war is this truer than in Syria, where the horror of a prolonged vicious conflict has been compounded by aid being held hostage to politics and combat. The lack of adequate medical care, food, and shelter has added to the death toll and misery that has made Syria the world’s worst humanitarian catastrophe this century.
Last month, when Secretary of State John Kerry sought to dispel the mounting skepticism of lawmakers over the advisability of launching punitive air strikes against the regime of President Bashar al-Assad, he portrayed the rebel fighters in the Western and Gulf-backed Free Syrian Army (FSA) as pluralistic and democratic, distinguishing them from jihadi groups and hard-line Islamists.[1]
The sun is beating down and it isn’t even midday. Clutching the all-important paperwork that will get them coveted UN food vouchers, Syrian refugees look harried. The women pull at their children to hurry through the litter-filled yard of the sports club in the town of Bar Elias that serves as a distribution center for the UN’s hard-pressed World Food Program (WFP). Unlike their men, who head for the shade to smoke and exchange news, the women don’t dally, making for the snaking lines into a crowded hall where they will be called in groups by registration numbers.
