House of Saud's blithe indifference

OPINION: We have Agence France Presse to thank for both the most striking headline and photograph of the tsunami devastation…

OPINION: We have Agence France Presse to thank for both the most striking headline and photograph of the tsunami devastation, writes Mark Steyn

The headline was "Tsunami Devastates DiCaprio", and for a moment I couldn't quite place the island: DiCaprio? One of the lesser known Maldives? Wasn't there an old Gracie Fields song - "'Twas on the isle DiCaprio that I found you"? Has Kofi Annan been flown over the devastated DiCaprio so he can marvel rhetorically, "Where have all the people gone?" Well, they're his agent and hairdresser and they've gone to lunch. The devastated DiCaprio turned out to be Leonardo of that ilk, making a few observations on the catastrophe during a promotional visit to Rome. And in his own way he was indeed devastated. He's believed to have given a million dollars to disaster relief, as has Sandra Bullock. Michael Schumacher has given $10 million.

For purposes of comparison, Herr Schumacher's donation is the same as that of oil-rich Kuwait. As for even oil-richer Iran, their government has earmarked $627,000 for disaster relief. For purposes of further comparison, that's barely a twentieth of what was raised at the Sydney Opera House pop concert this weekend. Today's all-star cricket match down under will do more for the beleaguered Muslims of Banda Aceh than Libya, Syria and Egypt combined.

In fairness to the Saudis, they've just upped their commitment to $30 million. But for purposes of one final comparison, consider this: a single Saudi telethon in 2002 managed to raise $56 million. That was for widows and orphans - of Palestinian suicide bombers, both those deceased and those yet to blow. Nothing gets the wealthy elite of Riyadh and Jeddah adding the zeroes to the cheques like self-detonating on an Israeli bus.

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As for the most striking photograph of this disaster, it's by AFP's Jimin Lai. I haven't seen it in any of the papers, oddly enough. It shows a tsunami-devastated village in Galle on the south-western coast of Sri Lanka: a couple of rescuers are carrying away a dead body while, behind them, smack dab in the centre of the picture a young man looks on. He's wearing an Osama bin Laden T-shirt.

I gave up worrying "Why do they hate us?" on the evening of September 11th, 2001. But, if I were that Osodden bin Loser guy watching the infidels truck in water, food, medical supplies and emergency clothing for villagers whose jihad-chic T-shirt collection got washed out to sea, I might ask myself a more pertinent question: "Why do they like us?" The path of the tsunamis tracked the arc of the Muslim world, from Sumatra to Somalia; the most devastated country is the world's most populous Muslim nation, and the most devastated part of that country is the one province living under the strictures of Sharia. But, as usual, when disaster strikes it's the Great Satan and his various Little Satans who leap to respond.

In the decade before 9/11, the US military functioned, more or less exclusively, as a Muslim Rapid Reaction Force - coming to the aid of Kuwaiti Muslims, Bosnian Muslims, Somali Muslims, Albanian Muslims. Since then, with the help of its Anglo-Aussie allies, it's liberated 50 million Muslims in Afghanistan and Iraq. Yes, yes, I know that's not how the west's anti-war movements see it. I found myself behind a car the other day bearing the bumper sticker, "War Is Costly. Peace Is Priceless" - which is standard progressive generic autopilot boilerplate, that somehow waging war and doing good are mutually exclusive. But, when disaster strikes, it's the warmongers who are also the compassion mongers. Of the top six donor nations to tsunami relief, four are members of George Bush's reviled "coalition of the willing".

But this isn't about military or money (though the Aussie government's one billion-dollar pledge is pretty spectacular), it's more basic than that. Most citizens in the west look at the tsunamis' victims and recognise our common humanity. When a chap's pulled down from a tree to survey the wreckage of his home and learn of the loss of his family, we see him first as our fellow man - a man in need. And if, afterwards, we happen to spot the sopping Osama T-shirt, we tactfully agree to overlook it - which is why I haven't seen that Sri Lankan AFP photo in any western newspapers.

By contrast, Muslim leaders divide the world into the Dar al-Islam and everybody else. Yet the deaths of 100,000 members of the club in Banda Aceh alone isn't enough to catch the eye of the bigshots in the House of Saud.

The Middle East's principal contribution these last two weeks has been the usual paranoia: "Was it caused by American, Israeli and Indian nuclear testing?" wondered Mahmoud Bakri in the Egyptian weekly al-Usbu. "The three most recent tests appeared to be genuine American and Israeli preparations to act together with India to test a way to liquidate humanity." Colin Powell was foolish to suggest that, in its response to this crisis, the Muslim world would come to appreciate the true nature of America. Fat chance. "It's OK that aid from the United States is here," said Hilmy Bakar Almascaty, spokesman for the Islamic Defender Front. "But if they open bars, sell alcohol or open prostitution centres, then we will fight them." Geez, man, maybe you should just send a nice card saying "Thank you, you infidel sons of whores and pigs" and leave it at that.

One day the smarter lads in the Osama T-shirts will begin to wonder what they're getting in return for their glorification of a multi-millionaire whose followers these days spend most of their time killing Muslims - in Iraq, in Turkey, in Saudi Arabia, even in Indonesia. With friends like that, who needs tsunamis?