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Think about it. How many times have you seen films or news articles which celebrate the rich cultures of those with whom we go to war?

On the contrary, we are shown images which dehumanise them. Their lands are presented as barren deserts, their cities as ramshackle concrete jungles.

Where do we see their bustling street life? Their beautiful gardens and parks? Their vibrant communal spaces? Their world-heritage architecture? Their mountains and streams?

Where the smiles on people’s faces? Where the interviews with the ambitious youth? Where sight of doctors, teachers, engineers, artists, musicians? Where children playing at the fun fair?

All we are allowed to see are dour women shrouded in all-enveloping fabric, worn down by their relentless oppression. For our eyes, only men in military fatigue carrying weapons.

Tales of death and destruction, and all-consuming anarchy. The millions of citizens given one identity, the complexity we see in ourselves denied of them.

In truth, we project onto them what we want to see. An uncultured people unworthy of respect. Lands that can only be improved with shock and awe, and the civilising force of the world’s military might.

For us to live our own vibrant lives, theirs must be undermined. Our way of life demands a pervasive racism which justifies our perpetual residence in far-off lands, always ready to strike at will.

But I wonder. Would the common man have an appetite for these adventures if they were more mindful of the tapestry of life in those lands? What if they could see the humanity of those women and men?

What if they could look beyond the racist caricatures drawn for them daily? What if they could set aside their prejudices for just one day, to engage with the other on natural terms?

Perhaps they would then be surprised by the sweetest of hospitality or the kindest of words. Perhaps they might then perceive their humanity.