I once wrote and performed a play in which my alter ego travelled from London to Iraq before the <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/opinion/comment/2023/04/06/the-invasion-of-iraq-is-an-unfinished-story/" target="_blank">2003 US-led invasion</a> to find out if the reality of his birthplace matched the portrait he was being shown every day on the news. Life imitated art several months later, when <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/opinion/comment/in-post-saddam-hussein-iraq-hope-turned-into-despair-but-wheels-are-beginning-to-turn-again-1.909195" target="_blank">I went to Baghdad</a> as a journalist to report on the post-war rebuilding and recovery. Unsurprisingly, both versions – real and fictional – found themselves in a country that was far removed and infinitely more complex than the place they had seen on television. For me at the time, there were (at least) two versions of Iraq. The one for western consumption; saved by the actions of the US and its allies, put on the path to redemption, only for its future to be hijacked by the very extremists the war had been waged to destroy. There was also my personal version. A land filled with people not much different from anywhere else, doing their very best to get on with things under the <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/opinion/comment/clear-and-present-danger-iraq-is-at-a-tipping-point-of-chaos-and-confusion-1.903769" target="_blank">worst possible circumstances</a>. They wanted the same “normal” life as anyone else might. Men and women who were everyday heroes and who deserved our respect and support (and still do). Over the more than two decades since, a lot has changed and yet so much is still the same. Stereotypes do not easily shift. Western audiences are fed a steady stream of them. It’s not just about Iraq. Name a culture, country or region of the world and you will find that stereotypes about them are alive and well in the news reports published and broadcast in the English language. That this region has had more than its fair share of this treatment leaves me bitter and angry. Most countries in this region are being lumped together in a fictional construct called “The Middle East”. A place to be feared. A place rife with sectarianism. A place desperate for a strong dose of western values. A place <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/world/uk-news/2022/03/02/online-backlash-from-arabs-and-afghans-over-uncivilised-ukraine-commentary/" target="_blank">not quite as civilised</a> as Europe or America. “The Middle East” viewed in the West as an accursed monolith. Except of course it isn’t like that at all. “The Middle East” as the news describes it does not exist and never has. Anyone who visits the region will tell you that. Each country has its own narratives. Within them there are competing storylines. Some positive and some negative. Much like anywhere you might have been. After 9/11, in the absence of social media, we might be forgiven for swallowing the self-serving and simplistic narratives in the West about “The Middle East”. Perhaps, too, we should acknowledge that progress has been made since, and a general lack of knowledge has given way to a greater, albeit imperfect, understanding. Audiences in the West had to be enticed away from their prejudgment with stories about seven-star hotels and luxury first-class air travel. Now they have access to daily reports about the Gulf becoming a <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/opinion/comment/2024/02/08/the-west-is-turning-inward-heres-how-the-brics-countries-can-surpass-it/" target="_blank">hotbed for innovation</a> and the massive amounts of investment being made in AI, education and health care. But the horrifying and deadly destruction in Gaza and the current, heartbreaking <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/news/mena/2024/09/30/beirut-lebanon-israel/" target="_blank">escalation in Lebanon</a> have once again provided ample opportunity for western media outlets to dispense with any pretence at nuance. Take, for example, Matthew Syed, writing in <i>The Times</i> on Saturday, putting it as crudely as “in the conflagration that is coming, I back Israel 100 per cent, the West 100 per cent, civilisation 100 per cent, progress 100 per cent”. How is it still so easy for audiences to accept such sentiments? Does it make it easier to throw your hands up in the air and say “well, what can we do, it’s a lost cause, they did it to themselves” and absolve themselves of any responsibility for thinking deeper or demanding policies from governments in the West that are not so damaging? Not really. Not when a glance through the posts on the apps on your phone might disabuse you of any wilful ignorance. No one who cares about the future of this region – including the people who actually live here – can support the wave of death and terror unleashed by Israel. This is despite the arguments about common enemies and realpolitik that, once again, are an oversimplification. It is also an arrogant way to treat people who live in the countries of the region. In parts of “The Middle East”, especially the UAE, quality of life is higher than in Europe or America. Access to quality health care and education is more equitable. Meanwhile, we could just as easily point to systemic failure and corruption in “The West”, without distinction between countries and governments in Europe and North America. In “The West”, societies have been going backwards in terms of values of tolerance and acceptance in the 21st century while “The Middle East” has been making progress the other way. The philosopher and author Yuval Noah Harari has argued that in modern times, wars are not driven by territorial or resource reasons, but are about fighting for the stories we believe to be true. There is a fight playing out daily across media platforms and outlets, pitting values of “The West” against those of the “The Middle East”. We have the power to change the story to end the conflict any time we choose to.