The Sanctity of Life: Compassion as a Colonial and Melanin-based Variable

We often hear claims of human rights and equality as its core principles, particularly in the Western world, so why is compassion still distributed selectively?

Why is one life deemed more valuable than another, based on the colour of your skin, your faith, your nationality, or how 'civilised' the world perceives your country to be?

This world is shaped by a colonial Western narrative that continues to influence and perpetuate these disparities

These questions stem from a term I coined as?colonial selectivism, where the open hypocrisy of racial and geographic discrimination rears its head. In plain terms, one life is mourned while another is ignored simply because of who they are and where they are from. It is no longer just subliminal or disguised; this blatant disregard is present in media headlines, political rhetoric, and global responses to man-made disregard for the sanctity of life.

Colonial Selectivism in Action

Sabreena Ghaffar-Siddiqui, Ph.D. ?and?Alan MacLeod have gathered poignant examples that expose the glaring disparity in global empathy. These examples below reveal the uncomfortable truth: the value of life fluctuates based on your melanin, hair colour, religion, and whether or not you fit into the Western narrative of "civilised society."?

Charlie D'Agata, a CBS correspondent, highlighted this overt hypocrisy during the Ukraine conflict when he stated that Kyiv was a “relatively civilised, relatively European city,” implying that the suffering in places like Iraq or Afghanistan is somehow more acceptable. This blatant double standard speaks to the deep roots of colonial thinking, where some regions are considered more worthy of global empathy than others.

Life’s Worth According to the Melanin Count

This pattern becomes even more evident when we examine how refugees are portrayed. Refugees fleeing from countries like Syria, Afghanistan, or Sudan are often seen through the lens of desperation, poverty, and crisis—rendering them "less worthy" of compassion. However, as?Al-Jazeera?pointed out, when Ukrainian refugees were described, they were called "prosperous, middle-class people" who "look like any European family you'd live next door to." This sentiment underpins a much deeper colonial bias: those who look more like Western populations are inherently viewed as more deserving of empathy and assistance.

We saw this starkly during the Syrian refugee crisis, where refugees were often met with xenophobia, suspicion, and hostility when they arrived in European countries. Despite fleeing war, persecution, and unimaginable hardship, they were greeted with barriers rather than bridges. Media outlets, particularly in Europe, fuelled these negative perceptions by framing these refugees as threats to national security, culture, and jobs. The Daily Mail and other tabloids even coined terms like the “Migrant Crisis,” which only served to deepen public fear and reinforce xenophobic attitudes. The message was clear: these refugees were not "like us," and therefore, their plight did not warrant the same compassion and urgency.

In sharp contrast, the response to Ukrainian refugees was one of open arms, hospitality, and humanitarian aid. European countries that had previously been hostile to refugees from Syria, Afghanistan, or Africa swiftly altered their policies to provide housing, food, and support to Ukrainian refugees. The reason? These refugees were described in the media as “civilised,” “middle-class,” and “European”—in other words, “like us.” This clear double standard exposes how deeply rooted colonial and racial biases continue to shape global responses to human suffering.

The Guardian has consistently reported on this stark disparity, highlighting the inconsistency in the treatment of refugees based on their nationality and race. When the media portrays people from the Global South as inherently different or dangerous, it perpetuates a harmful hierarchy of suffering. This hierarchy dictates which lives are worthy of outrage, intervention, and support and which are deemed less important or disposable.

This isn't just about language but how the world responds. Language creates reality. When refugees are described as “swarms” or “invaders,” as they have been in much of the right-wing press, it fosters fear and resentment among the public. These narratives fuel policies that further marginalise those who are already vulnerable. In contrast, when refugees are humanised when their stories are told in ways that evoke empathy, we see a mobilisation of support, action, and solidarity.

Thinking Points:

To address the colonial selectivism that governs global compassion, we must first reflect on how we, as individuals, have internalised these biases. The following questions are designed to help you critically assess your views and challenge the narratives shaping our global responses to suffering.

· Examine the language you consume: Reflect on how refugees and migrants are described in the media you read. Are they depicted as threats or human beings with stories, struggles, and rights? How might this influence your perceptions?

· Question double standards: Why are refugees from some regions treated with more empathy and support than others? How do race, nationality, and faith factor into these responses? Do you notice yourself empathising more with people who resemble your own cultural background?

· Consider the impact of media framing: How might portraying refugees as a crisis or invasion affect public opinion and policy? What responsibility do media outlets have in shaping more balanced and humane narratives?

· Reflect on your own responses: When you hear about global crises, whose suffering moves you? Do you feel more compelled to act when the victims resemble people from Western or developed countries? Why might this be the case, and what biases could influence this?

· Think about global equity: How can we advocate for a world where compassion is extended to all human beings, regardless of where they come from? What steps can you take to challenge the selective empathy that continues to exist in the media, politics, and society at large?

Flags, Public Displays of Support, and Government Policy

One of the most visible markers of this selective empathy has been the public display of support for Ukraine. In the wake of the Russian invasion, Ukrainian flags were raised on government buildings, businesses, homes, and social media profiles around the world. Many Western countries, including the UK, quickly implemented policies to aid and support Ukraine, rallying behind the narrative of protecting democracy and standing against aggression.

Where, though, is this same public outcry and government action for conflicts in the Middle East? The wars in Syria, Yemen, Iraq, and Palestine have claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, yet there are no widespread displays of solidarity—no Middle Eastern flags being waved by the public or hoisted on government buildings. Why does this visible, symbolic support seem reserved for conflicts that occur in Europe, while the suffering of those in the Middle East, which has been shaped by decades of proxy wars led by the USA and UK, is largely ignored?

Conflicts in the Middle East are not new, and much of the region's instability is the direct result of foreign intervention, with Western powers pursuing their own geopolitical interests. In Yemen, for example, a humanitarian crisis has been fuelled by weapons sales and military support from the UK and the US. These are not isolated or natural conflicts but proxy wars where global powers play a central role in the destruction. Yet, Western countries remain silent regarding offering the same kind of vocal public support seen in Ukraine. The stark contrast between flag-waving solidarity for Ukraine and the deafening silence for the Middle East reveals just how selective global empathy has become.

The display of flags, hashtags, and policy action isn’t just symbolic—it’s a declaration of whose lives matter enough to garner international attention and swift governmental responses. In Ukraine, governments and citizens rallied behind the cause, while Middle Eastern conflicts remain an uncomfortable backdrop to Western foreign policy. The same governments that condemned Russia’s actions have been complicit in wars in the Middle East that are often seen as distant, inevitable, and somehow less deserving of global attention.

The Power of Media Framing

The way the media talks about refugees and victims of conflict isn’t just about words—it affects the way the world responds. If we paint victims from the Global South as inherently different or “less like us,” we create a hierarchy of suffering where only certain lives are considered worthy of global outrage and intervention. This media framing shapes public opinion and ultimately determines which conflicts receive international support and which are allowed to continue in silence.

Thinking Points:

• Examine public displays of support: Consider how often you see flags or public displays of solidarity for different global conflicts. Why do you think there was such a public and government-led outpouring for Ukraine but not for conflicts in the Middle East or Africa? What does this say about how we perceive different regions and people?
• Reflect on government policies: When conflicts arise, governments often align their foreign policies based on strategic interests. How do you think government policies influenced public opinion and media narratives around Ukraine versus Middle Eastern conflicts? Do these policies reflect genuine humanitarian concerns or political interests?
• Consider the role of proxy wars: Reflect on how proxy wars in the Middle East, driven by Western powers, complicate global empathy. Why do you think countries like the US and UK are more vocal in condemning certain aggressors while remaining silent or complicit in others? What role do media and public perception play in justifying or ignoring these interventions?
• Question selective symbolism: Flags, hashtags, and social media campaigns often signal solidarity, but why are some conflicts "trending" while others are forgotten? How does this selective symbolism reflect deeper biases about whose lives are worth mourning and whose are dismissed as collateral damage?
• Recognise media influence: The media plays a powerful role in shaping how conflicts are framed, and public support is galvanised. Reflect on how your views of different conflicts might be shaped by the media you consume. Are you seeing balanced reporting that humanises all victims or selective narratives favouring certain lives over others?

Considering these questions, we can deconstruct the selective empathy that has long been part of global narratives, particularly concerning conflicts in non-Western regions. True global solidarity cannot be tied to race, nationality, or strategic interests—it must be rooted in the universal value of human life.

You can explore this in further detail below:

https://www.theguardian.com/uk/immigration

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/immigration/index.html

The Hypocrisy of Global Compassion

Alan MacLeod’s work highlights many of these hypocrisies. During the Ukraine conflict,?Daniel Hannan?wrote in the?Telegraph?that “this time, war is wrong because the people look like us and have Instagram and Netflix accounts.” His words were a shocking admission that war is only truly shocking when it affects people who resemble Western populations.

This line of thinking has deep roots in colonialism, where the lives of people from the Global South were deemed inferior, dispensable, and irrelevant. It’s a mindset that continues to influence our modern-day responses to conflict.

The New York Times?subtly implied that countries in the Middle East have only a “tepid interest” in democracy, suggesting that the fight for freedom in Ukraine is somehow more noble, more urgent, and more deserving of global attention. CNN, too, echoed this sentiment when they expressed shock that Europeans were experiencing chemical warfare, as though it were somehow less tragic or shocking when these atrocities occur in Syria.

Compassion Beyond Colonial Boundaries

So, where do we go from here? How do we undo centuries of entrenched racism and geographic bias that dictate who deserves compassion and who doesn’t?

The first step is acknowledging the hypocrisy, as?Dr. Sabreena Ghaffar-Siddiqi?and?Alan MacLeod?have aptly pointed out.

See link to images here: https://www.dhirubhai.net/posts/ifza-shakoor-09b054a6_im-tongue-tied-over-everything-thats-happening-activity-7251870523192655873-ETVo?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop

The lives of those in Gaza, Afghanistan, Lebanon, Yemen, Syria, The Democratic Republic of Congo, Kashmir, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan or Sudan are no less valuable than those in Kyiv, London, or New York.?

Colonial selectivism?has no place in a world that claims to stand for human rights and justice.

We can no longer allow ourselves to be complicit in this selective empathy. It’s time we decolonise our thinking, deconstruct the hierarchies that assign more value to certain lives over others, and extend our compassion universally.

?Toolkit for Tackling Colonial Hypocrisy: Reflecting on Our Biases

All of us can play a role in confronting and dismantling these harmful narratives. Here are some ways you can reflect on your own biases and challenge the colonial thinking that still influences global responses to crises:

• Recognise your biases: Take a moment to reflect on how you respond to global crises. Do you feel more empathetic towards certain groups of people over others? Why is that? Is it because they look like you or share your cultural values?
• Diversify your news sources: The media plays a significant role in shaping how we perceive global events. Seek out news sources that provide different perspectives, particularly those from the Global South. Challenge yourself to listen to the voices of people often marginalised in mainstream media.
• Call out double standards: When you see selective outrage in action, call it out. Whether in a news article, a political statement, or even a casual conversation, challenge the narrative that certain lives are worth more than others.
• Educate yourself on colonial history: The roots of this selective empathy go back centuries. Understanding colonial history and its impact on global power dynamics will help you see how these biases continue to shape today's world.
• Amplify marginalised voices: Follow, read, and support journalists, activists, and organisations from the Global South. By giving space to their stories and perspectives, we can dismantle the echo chambers that reinforce Western superiority in our empathy.
• Shift your language: Be mindful of the language you use to describe victims of conflict. Are you unwittingly reinforcing stereotypes that dehumanise certain groups? Words matter, and how we describe people in crisis can either reinforce colonial thinking or help break it down.
• Hold media accountable: When media outlets perpetuate these biases, write to them, comment, or raise awareness on platforms like social media. Hold them accountable for portraying global events and demand more equitable coverage.
• Use your platform: Whether it’s in your personal, professional, or academic circles, raise awareness about the dangers of colonial selectivism. By creating more inclusive and critical discussions, we can contribute to the global shift needed to bring true equality.

A Universal Compassion?

Compassion should never be a scarce resource, rationed based on race, religion, or geography. True global solidarity must be universal. Injustice will continue to flourish until we dismantle the frameworks that have long dictated which lives matter and which can be overlooked.

The sanctity of life must be our guiding principle—free from the constraints of colonial selectivism and free from the biases that still dictate who is worthy of empathy.?

As a collective, we must call out these disparities wherever we see them.

Listen to the voices of refugees and survivors directly. Read books, watch documentaries, and follow their accounts on social media. By hearing their stories in their own words, we can challenge the dehumanising narratives that the media often perpetuates.

We can create true change if we consciously unlearn the colonial frameworks that continue shaping our responses to suffering. Our humanity, and the humanity of those we claim to stand with, depends on it.

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