What’s your life worth? It depends on your passport

As an American who was born in Iran, my life is now worth far more than that of my childhood friend Majid, whose family decided to stay — or didn’t have the means to leave — before the Islamic Revolution took over the country. My parents’ decisions more than 45 years ago seemingly increased my life’s worth.

Put my friend and me next to each other, and you couldn’t tell the difference — I’m a touch taller, he has lighter skin. Yet, in the unfortunate event of us being held hostage by some militant group, there would be louder outcries for my release, and I would most definitely be the first to be rescued. If I am ever killed by an errant missile, my picture and name will adorn our national newspapers, whereas Majid would be nameless, but of course tragic, “collateral damage.”

Am I a better person, more compassionate, more humanitarian than Majid? Have I contributed more to the betterment of humankind than him? It’s a disheartening reality that in the era of modern terrorism and warfare, our value is often measured by our citizenship.

The 9/11 Memorial holds the names of 2,982 people who died in the horrific attack by a ruthless man, Osama bin Laden, and his terrorist organization, Al Qaeda. Bin Laden was protected by the Taliban, and, in a highly justified response, the United States invaded Afghanistan. At the time, I was on an assignment with the British Ministry of Defence as an analyst, and I was confident it would be a quick, surgical war that would destroy the terrorists with very few civilian lives lost.

I was wrong. The war lasted 20 years, and in those decades, more than 46,000 civilians were killed (along with 100,000 Afghan fighters and more than 2,400 American service members). Fifteen Afghan civilians, who had no hand in the atrocity of 9/11, died to pay the price of each single American terror victim. Fair price, some would argue, and we all have our logic in this math.

But sadly, our retribution did not stop there, as we also attacked Iraq (though not Saudi Arabia, which was at least partially responsible) and disposed of its merciless leader, Saddam Hussein. Most people, especially those affected by Saddam’s criminal operations and those who had lost loved ones during the bloody Iran-Iraq war (which includes my family), rejoiced in his demise.

But our effort to invade and reshape the country resulted in the death of about 8,000 Americans and took the lives of 200,000 Iraqi civilians, according to military.com. Now the ratio is about 82 foreign civilians for each American who was killed on 9/11.

What should be the threshold for this ratio? That has never been a point of discussion.

Today another democracy is entangled in a conflict spurred by anger and vengeance. On Oct. 7, Hamas orchestrated a horrific, inhumane attack that killed more than 1,200 Israelis. There was a clear and appropriate international condemnation of this brutal act. Inarguably, no matter the Palestinians’ grievances against Israel (and there are many), there is no justification for killing civilians. Right?

Sadly, not everyone agrees. Almost two months since the attack, the Israeli military has killed more than 14,000 Palestinians (almost half children), and the ground assault is still in its early stages. A 12-1 ratio, if you are keeping track. Some feel that may be a justified ratio, even a fair one. New York Times columnist Bret Stephens declared, “Hamas bears the blame for every death in this war.” Yes, they indeed bear the blame because if they had stayed on their side of the border and not killed 1,200 Israelis, Israel would not have killed 14,000 (and counting) Palestinians — about 1 out of 200 Gaza residents.

But what about the Israeli government’s role? Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is highly responsible for propping up Hamas in order to disempower the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank. He saddled the Israeli military and weakened the country’s defense in his effort to stay in power. Although Hamas bears the moral responsibility for its inhumanity, there must be accountability for Netanyahu’s hubris as well. However, his Israeli passport trumps the Palestinian pseudo-passport any day.

The world’s injustices are perpetuated not only by colonial legacies but, sadly, by some victims themselves. Hamas also helps to propagate the worthlessness of Palestinian citizens. Hamas certainly knew killing Israeli civilians would unleash a massive response that, even in the best of circumstances and even if Bibi’s government was the most benevolent, would kill many Palestinians.

But in Hamas’s calculus, a Palestinian life does not equal an Israeli life. In 2011, Hamas released a single Israeli military prisoner, Gilad Shalit, for 1,027 Palestinian prisoners, including Yahya Sinwar, the architect of the Oct. 7 attack. Palestinians may see this exchange as a sign of Hamas’s power, especially since the current Hamas political leaders assess their recent attack on Israel as a success, despite the human toll in Gaza. So, using their arithmetic, one Israeli is worth more than 1,000 Palestinians?

I’m not naive to believe achieving complete equality in valuing lives is feasible. The stark contrast between the value placed on some lives and the perceived worthlessness of others seems almost ingrained, given the existence of collateral damage, intentional or otherwise.

However, in a world striving for justice, there can be no equation where my friend Majid’s life is deemed less valuable than mine. Acknowledging this reality, where some lives are undervalued, prompts larger questions — how did we construct a system where such disparities exist, and how can we pivot toward greater alignment now?

In the wake of centuries of conflict and the tragic loss of innocent lives, the imperative should be to acknowledge the sanctity of every civilian life, irrespective of citizenship. Our focus must shift toward understanding how we’ve perpetuated these disparities — and, crucially, how we can recalibrate our collective values to honor the inherent worth of every individual.

Mahyar Amouzegar is provost and senior vice president of academic affairs at the University of New Orleans and a writer. He formerly was a senior analyst at RAND Corporation, researching military policy issues. His latest novel is “The Hubris of an Empty Hand.”