When civilians pay the price

I was sitting in a bank in Muscat waiting while my wife dealt with some account matters, when a quiet moment turned into an unexpected conversation.

Beside me sat a gentleman whom I greeted with ‘“Assalamu Alaikom’. When I asked where he was from he said he was Iranian. Naturally our conversation turned to the situation affecting his country.

I expressed my sympathy for the people of Iran, especially innocent civilians — women and children — who are suffering and dying through no fault of their own. My concern was not political but human.

A short while later a woman approached me. She appeared to be in her mid-forties and said she too was Iranian.

At first I assumed she was connected to the man I had been speaking with, but that was not the case. She leaned in and quietly warned me, pointing towards him as he walked away, that he was ‘“pro-government’. Her tone suggested I should take note, though I was unsure what she expected me to do with that information.

I explained that my concern was not about politics or government positions but about innocent people caught in violence. She replied, “You mean people like me”.

I said yes — people like her, her family and others who may still be living in Iran. It seemed she misunderstood my point. I was not making a political argument but expressing a moral one.

My moral view is simple. If you intentionally harm innocent people, you are in the wrong. If you defend innocent people, you are in the right.

For me it does not matter what flag someone follows, what religion they belong to or whether they wear civilian clothes or a military uniform. These identities do not override the basic principle of protecting innocent life. That said, reality is not always clear-cut.

History offers examples where the idea of innocence becomes complicated.

The bombing of Dresden during the World War II is one such case. Thousands of civilians were killed and the morality of that action is still debated.

Many German citizens supported Hitler and the Nazi regime which had launched a devastating war. Does that support make them complicit and therefore less than innocent?

There is no easy answer. Even so, asking who the primary aggressor is can help guide moral judgement. My brief exchange in the bank also revealed the diversity of opinion within any society.

Two people from the same country, standing only a few steps apart, can hold very different views. No nation speaks with a single voice. It also made me reflect on how political narratives can distract from what truly matters.

In the noise of competing armies, the safety and protection of innocent people can become secondary. I am often told that I am highly political but I do not see it that way.

My views are grounded in a concern for human life rather than allegiance to any ideology.

I cannot claim deep knowledge of Iran’s political system, nor what it is like to live under its government. My experiences with Iranian people, however, have been positive.

I have found them kind and welcoming. The wider situation may well be more complex than my own moral framework allows. Even so, one belief remains firm.

Whatever the circumstances, the loss of innocent life should never be accepted as inevitable. My brief encounter in a Muscat bank was a reminder of both the complexity of global issues and the importance of holding on to simple human principles.