When the Reeds Stirred

By Lama Al-Rakad

On a strange day in the calendar of history, the ancient civilizations of the East convened an urgent session.
Not because of a great war, nor the darkening of the sun, but because of a small piece of news, repeated over and over in the bulletins of the twenty-first century:
When the peoples of the Middle East grew weary of their rulers… they would march into the streets, raising the banner of another power.

This was no ordinary report.
In the eyes of history, it was a political invention of a staggering nature, unseen for thousands of prior centuries.

The Court Assembles
The judges took their seats in the grand hall.
Pharaohs on the right, their golden crowns gleaming.
Babylonians and Assyrians on the left, clutching tablets of ancient clay.
Canaanites and Arameans in the center, bearing the first alphabets.
Phoenicians arrived slightly late, having moored their ships in the harbor of history.
The Nabataeans came from Petra, keys to the rose-colored city in hand.
Even the Persians appeared, draped in imperial robes, curious to witness the unfolding drama.

The chief judge rose and spoke:
“Today, we judge a new phenomenon in this region that gave birth to us all.”
He raised a fresh parchment and asked:
“Is it true that when peoples despise their rulers… they call for external powers by raising foreign flags in protest?”

Silence fell.
A stunned hush among the civilizations.

An old Pharaoh peered at the page:
“In our time, the people sometimes chafed against the Pharaoh…
But never did anyone march in the streets of Thebes, raising a Hittite banner.”

The Babylonian laughed:
“Nor in Babylon did anyone raise a Persian flag to plead for help.”

The Assyrian added, quietly:
“And in Nineveh, no one sought Egyptian rule because the king displeased them.”

A Canaanite lifted an alphabet tablet:
“We invented writing so peoples might express themselves…
Not to send petitions importing new rulers from afar.”

The Modern Middle East Speaks
Then the envoy of the twenty-first century stepped in, slightly uneasy:
“Your Honor, the matter is simple.
When local systems fail, it is only logical to summon the original rather than the agents.”

Murmurs arose across the hall.
A Phoenician patted his companion’s shoulder:
“I see… instead of solving your own problems, you summon the regional manager.”

The Grand Ritual of Concession
Here, one observer suggested with a sly grin:
“Since you’ve reached this stage, why not cut to the chase?”
He began to recite a list of offerings:

• The Nabataeans would formally cede Petra, making it a station for the original.

• The Canaanites would present the Ugaritic alphabet as a symbolic gift.

• The Phoenicians would grant the eternal right to build ships.

• The Arameans would offer their historic language for emergency proclamations.

• The Babylonians would provide celestial charts to map the region’s borders.

• The Assyrians would undertake the design of the new empire.

• And the Persians smiled:
  “Do not worry… we have ruled this region before, thousands of years ago.
  It is arduous work, but it seems you still seek an external overseer.”

The Bitterest Moment
The old Pharaoh paused, surveying all, and said softly:
“The strange thing is not that the great powers intervene…
This has always happened.
The strange thing is that peoples dwelling on the lands of ancient civilizations
have reached the point where raising another’s flag expresses more hope than their own.”

Silence engulfed the hall.

The Judgment
After long deliberation, the Judge of History declared:
“This region that bore Pharaohs, Babylonians, Assyrians, Phoenicians, Canaanites, Nabataeans, and Persians—
lacks neither history nor civilization.
What it lacks today is one thing only:
the confidence to govern itself.”

The Dark Epilogue
The ancient civilizations departed the court, shaking their heads.
The Assyrian whispered to the Babylonian as they left:
“Do you believe it? After all these empires,
the greatest political dream of this region is to summon an external overseer to manage chaos.”

The Babylonian smiled bitterly:
“History, my friend… is not always a straight line.”
He added softly:
“Sometimes… it turns in a circle.”

About the author:

Lama Al-Rakad is a Syrian media personality.