Nurses are digging graves in front of the Al MansourHospital. Baghdad University is a smoking ruin.Other disasters loom, as the Red Cross warns thatBaghdad’s medical system is in complete collapse, andthe millions of Iraqis dependent on the oldOil-for-Food program wait for rations that are nolonger being delivered.

“Water first, and then freedom,” said one Iraqi man on a BBC report Tuesday morning.

Two musicians, Majid Al-Ghazali and Hisham Sharaf,came to our hotel, hoping to call relatives outside Iraq on a satellite phone. Hisham’shome was badly damaged during the war. “One month ago, I was the director of the Baghdad Symphony Orchestra,” Hisham said with an ironic smile. “Now,what am I?” We joked that he could direct the telephone exchangeas he tinkered with our satellite phone’s solarpowered battery. I told Majid we had some sheet musicand a guitar for him. “What are notes?” he said, “Wedon’t even remember.”

Majid had a particularly rough experience. During thefirst week of bombing, a neighbour called the secretpolice and turned him in for visiting with foreigners. He was jailed the next day. After the “fall” ofBaghdad, the same neighbour claimed he was actuallypart of the secret police. Majid is terrified now.”I think they want my house,” he said. “No place issafe.” He put his head in his hands.

I met Hisham at the Baghdad School of Folk Music andBallet in January 2002. Hisham and Majid, bothgraduates of the school, taught there in the daytimeand then rehearsed with the orchestra at night.Knowing how busy Hisham was, I felt presumptuous aboutsuggesting a project for him and his students. I toldhim how meaningful the song “O Finlandia” has been tomany people in the U.S. At least 150 families who lostloved ones on September 11, 2001, had used this peace anthem as partof memorial services. Sibelius composed the melody inthe late nineteenth century. Following World War I, lyricswere created emphasizing the common aspirations anddreams shared by all humanity.

Hisham chuckled and couldn’t resist pointing out theirony that someone from the U.S. wanted to teach hisstudents a peace song. “O.K.,” said he, “Sing it forme. We can do this.” Within two days, an entireclass was singing an Arabic transliteration of thesong.

Saying goodbye to Majid and Hisham the other day, Ifelt a wave of sadness, wondering if the hopeful,idealistic verses might embitter them now.

The next morning they returned, shaken and distraught. They had approached U.S. soldiers the previous eveningasking for help to protect their school. The soldierssaid it was not their job and ordered Hisham and Majidto go away. They went to the entrance of the schoolhoping they could somehow protect it alone. Fivearmed men arrived. Majid, Hisham and Hisham’s brotherpled with them not to attack the school. The lootersargued, “We are simple people. Poor people. Soonthere will be no food, no money, and we have no jobs.You are rich people.”

“Please,” Majid said, “we will give you theinstruments, give you the furniture, but don’t destroythe music, the records, the history.” “No,” the armedmen said. “Baghdad is finished.” They ransacked theschool, broke many instruments, burnt the music andthe records.

Why do desperate people commit deplorable acts ofmindless destruction? I don’t know. But some truthshelp offer perspective. Every day, we who enjoysuperfluous, inordinate wealth and comforts, whileothers live in abject poverty, are ransacking theprecious and irreplaceable resources of our planet. Wehurtle toward burning up all the available fossilfuels that were created over four billion years of theplanet’s history. Our obscene obsession with creatingweapons has cost trillions of dollars that should havebeen spent to meet human needs.

Through decades of warfare and sanctions, powerfulelites in Iraq, the U.S. and the U.K. ignored millions ofIraq’s impoverished people. Hundreds of thousands ofchildren bore the excruciating punishment and then died.Very few people cared.

“Here,” Hisham said, “listen to this. This is all wehave left.” He handed me headphones borrowed from aNorwegian television correspondent. The orchestra wasplaying “O Finlandia.” Listening to the childrencraft their music, I softly sang the words: “This ismy song, O God of all the nations. A song of peacefor lands afar and mine. This is my home, the countrywhere my heart is. Here are my dreams, my hopes, my holy shrine. But other hearts in other lands arebeating, with hopes and dreams as deep and true asmine.” Then I stopped. Hisham had begun to cry.