Bashar al-Assad’s Legacy: A Nation in Ruin

The horrors of Bashar al-Assad’s rule in Syria dominate the headlines, exposing the relentless suffering inflicted on the Syrian people over decades. For over fifty years, Assad and his father ruled with an iron fist, leaving a legacy of brutal repression, genocide, and unimaginable devastation.

Media reports have brought to light the atrocities carried out under Assad’s regime: torture and murder in the dark chambers of prisons, annihilated cities, chemical weapon attacks, and mass graves filled with the bodies of innocent civilians. This is nothing short of the systematic destruction of a nation—a genocide inflicted on its own people.

A Nation in Crisis

Over the past decade, the Syrian Civil War has displaced between 13 and 14 million people from their homes. Of these, 6 to 7 million have been forced to flee across borders, seeking safety wherever they can find it. Today, 90% of Syrians live below the poverty line, surviving on less than $2.15 per day. Syria’s plight has become one of the most devastating humanitarian crises of our time.

These numbers, staggering as they are, only tell part of the story. The human faces behind them reveal the true cost of this tragedy.

A Visit to Azraq Refugee Camp

While I have never traveled directly into Syria, I visited the Azraq Refugee Camp in Jordan in 2018. Located approximately 56 miles from the Syrian border, the camp was established in 2014 to provide shelter for refugees fleeing the Syrian Civil War. Today, it houses over 35,000 people who have escaped the violence but remain trapped in an uncertain future.

During my visit, I had the privilege of meeting a Syrian family of four in their modest shelter, accompanied by a translator. The family had fled their farm in Syria after their home, livestock, and equipment were shelled and destroyed in an attack that also claimed the life of their ten-year-old son. With nothing left, the husband, wife, and their infant daughter escaped to the Jordanian border, where they found refuge at Azraq.

By the time of my visit, their infant daughter had grown to a lively four- or five-year-old, and the mother had since given birth to another baby girl. Despite the semblance of stability, the family’s life was marked by profound loss and uncertainty.

Life in the Camp

The father, once a proud farmer, now spent his days taking odd jobs around the camp to supplement the family’s $50 monthly stipend. The mother cared for their two daughters, who had never known life outside the confines of the camp. The older girl received a nominal education, but the children had no exposure to extended family members—no cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents to enrich their lives. Their world was defined by the boundaries of the camp, a place of safety but also of stifling limitations.

Sitting with this family, I was struck by the resilience, grace, and hospitality they displayed in the face of unimaginable hardship. Yet, their story was also a poignant reminder that the consequences of Assad’s atrocities extend far beyond Syria’s borders. The camp, though a refuge, represented the ongoing cost of a regime’s brutality.

The Human Cost

The struggles of this Syrian refugee family are a microcosm of the immense suffering caused by the Assad regime. While those left behind in Syria bear the brunt of the violence, refugees like this family face a different kind of struggle: the loss of their home, livelihood, and connection to a normal life. They are survivors of war, yet they remain trapped by its shadow.

A Call to Action

As the world watches, it is crucial to remember the faces behind the statistics and advocate for solutions to one of the greatest humanitarian crises of our time. The story of this family, and countless others like them, demands that we not only bear witness but also take action to alleviate their suffering and hold accountable those responsible for their pain.

Syria’s tragedy is not just a Syrian problem; it is a human one. Let us not look away.

Turn Around: Great Photographs Are Right Behind You

While I often talk about traveling to over sixty countries throughout my lifetime, I’ve also been fortunate to visit forty-six of the fifty states in the U.S. North and South Dakota, Alabama, and Mississippi are the only states I’ve yet to explore.

In 1753, Louis-Charles Fougeret de Monbron wrote, “The Universe is a sort of book, whose first page one has read when one has seen only one’s own country.” Whether we travel across the U.S., around the world, or simply explore our own backyards, people, places, and things have the power to evoke our senses, emotions, and imagination.

Back in photography school in 1978, I had the privilege of learning from a frequent guest lecturer, Jay Maisel. His portfolio included iconic subjects like Marilyn Monroe and Miles Davis, and he often spoke about the art of capturing light, color, and gesture in everyday life. To this day, two of Jay’s insights have stayed with me:

1. “You can’t take great photographs if you don’t have your camera with you.”

2. “The best photographs are right behind you.”

Jay was right.

Today’s photograph was taken in Twin Falls, Idaho. The Snake River cascades over Shoshone Falls as it winds its way westward to the Columbia River. Over the years, we’ve made countless drives between Salt Lake City and Oregon, often passing through Idaho. Yet, despite all those trips, we never stopped in Twin Falls—until this one time.

Fortunately, I had followed Jay’s advice. With my camera in hand, I paused, turned around, and captured this stunning image of Shoshone Falls.

Nowadays, almost all of us carry a camera in our pocket—the ubiquitous mobile device. So take a moment. Stop, turn around, and discover something amazing waiting just behind you

Reflections on My Time at Intel and the Gift of International Travel

It’s difficult to see Intel facing its current challenges and decline. The recent rounds of workforce reductions have brought many LinkedIn posts announcing retirements and separations — some from colleagues I had the privilege of working with, others I’ve never met. These stories evoke a deep sense of empathy and nostalgia for my time with Intel.

I spent eleven transformative years at Intel, years that shaped me into a better manager, leader, and results-oriented professional. I had the privilege of working alongside incredibly talented colleagues whose dedication and ingenuity inspired me daily. The lessons I learned during those years paid dividends throughout my career, helping me excel in future roles.

Among the many opportunities Intel provided, the one I cherish most is the chance to work with people from around the world and explore global cultures. My Intel days introduced me to international travel, beginning with my very first trip to Hong Kong. Although I now joke that destinations like Hong Kong and Singapore are "Asia 101" compared to some of the more challenging locations I’ve visited, that first trip was a monumental experience.

In college, I studied Chinese and Asian history alongside my accounting degree. I dreamed of visiting China but had started to lose hope that it would ever happen. Then, in 1998, Intel made that dream a reality, and my love for travel has only grown since.

One of the highlights of my Intel career was a short-term assignment in Shanghai, China, and Bangalore, India. Having my family join me in Shanghai for three months made it a truly transformational experience for us all. We immersed ourselves in Shanghai’s vibrant culture, explored its surrounding villages, and even visited iconic landmarks like Beijing and the Great Wall. Looking back, 2008 was an extraordinary time to be in China, especially compared to the current political and economic climate between the U.S. and China.

During my time in Shanghai, I captured thousands of photographs. Now that I’m retired, I hope to finally process and share some of the most impactful ones with you. The photograph I’ve included here is particularly special — it juxtaposes the ancient culture and history of Shanghai with the city’s dynamic modernity. This candid shot of an elderly man sitting down a quiet alleyway during one of our many walks through the city is a favorite of mine.

Thank you, Intel, for the opportunities, the experiences, and the memories.

The Cambodian Killing Fields: A Glimpse into Humanity’s Dark Past

In 2016, I visited Cambodia, a land of breathtaking beauty and profound historical scars. Amid the vibrant culture and the bustling streets of Phnon Penh, one experience stood apart: my visit to the Killing Fields and the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. These sites serve as somber reminders of one of the most brutal chapters in human history.

The Historical Context

Between 1975 and 1979, Cambodia was under the rule of the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot. This regime sought to create an agrarian utopia, a vision that came at an unimaginable cost. Intellectuals, professionals, and anyone perceived as a threat were systematically eliminated. By the end of their reign, nearly two million people—about a quarter of the Cambodian population—had perished from execution, starvation, or disease.

During this time, I was a teenager, busy playing sports, graduating high school, attending photography school, and embarking on my career as a professional photographer. I was completely oblivious to the horrors happening halfway around the globe.

Walking Through Choeung Ek

The Killing Fields of Choeung Ek, located just outside Phnom Penh, is one of the most infamous mass grave sites. Walking through the grounds, the weight of history pressed down on me. Bones and fragments of clothing still occasionally surface after heavy rains, a haunting reminder of the atrocities committed there. The centerpiece of the site is a towering stupa filled with over 8,000 human skulls, a stark and chilling memorial.

Skulls stacked in the stupa memorial.

A memorial stands at the entrance of the site to honor those who were killed and to remind future generations to never let such atrocities happen again. The memorial is made up of skulls stacked several stories high, representing unidentified victims. Bones discovered from the burial sites are displayed in glass cases, some still wrapped with wires that their captors used as restraints.

Victim’s bones extracated from mass graves with wire restrains still attached.

As I moved through the area, I couldn’t escape the silence. It was as though even nature mourned.

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum

Formerly a high school, Tuol Svay Prey High School was transformed into Tuol Sleng, also known as S-21, one of many prison camps throughout Phnom Penh. Victims were arrested and gathered here to endure unspeakable torture, designed to force confessions of crimes levied by the Khmer Rouge. Of the estimated 20,000 detainees who entered S-21, only 12 are known to have survived.

Walking through the museum, I saw tiny cells, walls marked with bloodstains, and haunting photographs of prisoners. Tools of torture used in this prison—waterboarding equipment, car batteries for electric shocks, searing hot metal instruments, and metal handcuffs used to hold victims as their fingernails were extracted and doused with alcohol—stood as stark evidence of the atrocities committed. The faces staring back from the photographs were of men, women, and children, each one a testament to a life cut short. It was overwhelming to grasp the scale of suffering that occurred within these walls.

A classroom used as a room of torture.

Reflections

S-21 and the Killing Fields have left an indelible mark blazed in my memory. While I lived my life during 1975-1979—thinking about friends, sports, and a promising future—hundreds of thousands of Cambodians were being rounded up and slaughtered. This realization has stayed with me ever since, forcing me to confront my own ignorance about the world at that time.

Similarly, a later visit to the Rwanda Genocide Museum, where over 800,000 Rwandans were massacred in the 1990s, came as another sobering reminder of humanity’s capacity for cruelty. Both genocides occurred during times when I was unaware or uninterested in global events. Did I have no clue, or did I simply not care?

Today, we live in an era where global and local news flows relentlessly through our screens and devices. We hear daily about killings in Israel, Gaza, the West Bank, and Lebanon. We hear about the oppression and killings by gangs in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. One in seven people globally are estimated to be exposed to conflict in 2024. Fifty countries rank in the index for extreme, high, or turbulent levels of conflict. While Palestine is rated as the most dangerous conflict zone, countries like Myanmar, Syria, Mexico, Nigeria, Brazil, Colombia, Sudan, Cameroon, and Pakistan follow closely.

Neil Postman’s 1985 book, Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business, critiques how news and information often become entertainment, leaving us numb to social and justice issues. Postman argued, “[M]ost of our daily news is inert, consisting of information that gives us something to talk about but cannot lead to any meaningful action.”

The firehose of information today leaves us with little excuse to remain unaware of the violence occurring globally. I hope that what I saw at S-21 and the Killing Fields remains emblazoned in my mind so that I do not become desensitized to the conflict, suffering, and pain experienced by people every day. Let these memories fuel our collective resolve to act, educate, and promote peace in a turbulent world.