CrossFireArabia
By Capt. Osama Shaqman
Ten years ago, I ended my official flight, but I didn’t sever my connection with the skies above. When a pilot retires he doesn’t bid farewell to the sky; rather, he carries it in his memory, in his silence, in his gaze upon the earth, and in his understanding of life, people, borders, and destiny.
For over 40 years, I roared above cities, seas, deserts, and mountains. I saw the earth from a height unseen by eyes bound by the earth, and I saw the Arab world stretching from the ocean to the gulf, separated not so much by mountains or seas, but by politics, disputes, fear, and mistrust. From the skies, borders appeared as silent, lifeless lines, but on the ground, they were transformed into high walls separating brother from brother, and Arab from Arab.
From the cockpit
From the cockpit, I learned that an airplane doesn’t reach its destination through loud voices, nor through mere desire, nor through emotional impulse. It arrives when there is a clear destination, a precise plan, a harmonious crew, vigilant monitoring, mutual trust, and discipline that knows no improvisation. Likewise, nations don’t rise with slogans, nor do they weather storms with speeches, neither do they enter the future with divided decisions, conflicting visions, and a fear of their own disunity that outweighs their own weakness.
The higher I ascended in the skies, the more I felt that the Arab world is vaster than our disagreements, that Arab history is deeper than our crises, and that what unites us is far greater than what divides us. A single language resonates in our hearts, a long history of glory and suffering, a shared religion, civilization, culture, and destiny, and peoples who share similar joys and sorrows, dignity and hope. Yet, an Arab still sometimes needs a long journey to reach his brother, the borders between us remain harsher than the distances, and visas and barriers continue to turn our one nation into scattered islands in a single sea.
Today, as I look back on the years from the vantage point of life and experience, I ask myself: When will we break free from this predicament? When will we realize that division is no longer our destiny, but a costly choice? When will we understand that the world does not wait for the weak, and that nations that fail to unite around their own interests will find themselves vulnerable to the interests of others?
We have seen many Western nations unite after long wars, after bloodshed, conflict, and devastation. They learned from their pain, opening borders, unifying markets, bringing universities closer together, and facilitating the movement of people, ideas, and goods. Yet we, possessing bonds what others lack, still hesitate before taking a step that should be natural: which is that for every Arab to feel at home in any Arab land.
I am not advocating for the abolition of homelands; for every homeland is a memory, a dignity, a flag, and a legacy of martyrs. But I call for a broader Arab horizon, for unity of interests, economic integration, educational continuity, research cooperation, open borders, and respect for the sovereignty of each nation, without this sovereignty becoming isolation or estrangement.
Two wings of a single plane
Algeria remains Algeria, Egypt remains Egypt, Jordan remains Jordan, Morocco remains Morocco, Iraq remains Iraq, the Levant remains the Levant, and the Gulf remains the Gulf; but the entire Arab nation can be the two wings of a single plane, not scattered parts of a structure that has lost its ability to take off.
From the skies, I learned that the greatest danger is not the storm, but the loss of direction. A plane may face fierce winds, may fly through dark clouds, may be rocked in the heart of the sky, but it survives if the compass remains working and if the pilot knows where he wants to land. A nation that loses its compass, however, may possess wealth, population, and history, but it remains adrift in a turbulent sky without a clear destination.
Our compass today must be clear: Knowledge before noise, action before slogans, dignity before fear, unity before division, and humanity before narrow calculations. No nation can rise without investing in the minds of its children, and no people can progress while limiting their horizons to the dreams of their youth.
O Arab nation, we have waited too long in the hall of history. It is time for us to leave our seats of waiting and allow the plane of renaissance to take off. We lack neither fuel, for our resources are abundant; nor a runway, for our land is vast; nor history, for our past is glorious. What we lack is resolve, courage, and the confidence that we can be together without one of us negating the other.
Open the borders between minds first, and the borders between nations will follow. Open universities to Arab students, markets to Arab labor, hospitals to Arab people, libraries to Arab researchers, airports to Arab travelers, and hearts to Arab trust. A nation that fears its own children will not be respected by others, and a nation that closes its doors to itself will not enter the future through its widest gates.
I retired from flying 10 years ago, but I did not retire from dreaming. I still believe that this nation is capable of rising if it is true to itself, rises above its petty differences, and understands that the heavens do not recognize the borders created by fear.
From the memory of 40 years in the skies, I say with the sincerity of age and experience: The Arab nation is not poor in potential, but rather poor in resolve. It is not weak in its essence, but rather weakened by fragmentation. It is not incapable of taking off, but it needs someone to unify its direction, awaken its confidence, and open the runway to the future.
So when will we leave the land of division?
When will we break the chains of fear?
When will we open our borders as the heavens have opened their gates to us?
A nation created to have two wings cannot remain with one wing broken. The land I saw from the skies is one, and hearts deserve to see it as well: One in dignity, one in destiny, one in the dream.
This article was first published in the Jo24 Arabic website and reprinted in crossfirearabia.com.
Saleem Ayoub Quna
