Thousands of kilometres from the Sturm und Drang of whirling leadership speculation in Canberra, another power struggle erupts with much more deadly consequences. The best guess is that 92,000 people have died in the Syrian crisis. That’s a figure worth repeating. Some 92,000 human souls lost. People are dying at the rate of 5,000 a month. More than 1.6 million people have been forced from their homes and are living in desperately hellish circumstances in neighbouring countries. And the world is at a loss to know what to do. The recent decision of the Obama administration to give arms to selected rebel groups marks the first step into the realm of international intervention. Syria is one of those wicked problems in which those who argue both for and against Western intervention have powerful points on their side. We are witnessing the most dramatic humanitarian crisis of the past ten years, and we are largely bystanders. After Rwanda, we said ‘never again’, and yet it is happening. Syria is ignoring the entreaties of the Arab world and has thumbed its nose at the world by shelling the city of Homs after China and Russia had vetoed intervention on the UN Security Council.

At the same time, there are powerful arguments against further intervention. There has been no real planning of a viable and peaceful post-Assad Syria, and indeed it is impossible to see that there can be, with such dangerous tension between religious groups and a disparate opposition. The lessons of post-war Iraq and Afghanistan (and post-revolution Egypt) are constant reminder to us to be careful what you wish for. As the author of the Responsibility to Protect doctrine, Gareth Evans, has pointed out, a necessary precursor to military intervention is reassurance that military involvement would not lead to more death and destruction than would otherwise be the case. It is very hard to reach that conclusion in the case of Syria with any sense of certainty.

Diplomatic engagement to end this crisis has failed miserably, with the resignation of special enjoy Kofi Annan in frustration at the lack of national and international will to find a sustainable resolution. Military intervention is fraught with risks and the world stands paralysed as thousands die. No one has all the answers, but is the international community asking the right questions? Every nation will be keen to see an ally stay in place to protect a fine geopolitical balance in the Middle East, but can the international community continue to make co-operation to save these lives such a low priority?

In all the writing about the Syrian crisis, there is one element which gets little attention: the plight of Christians. A town among the most adversely affected is Aleppo, which is also the town in which the largest number of Christians live. Many Christians who fled Iraq amid the sectarian violence after the fall of Saddam Hussein sought refuge in Syria and received some measure of protection. Thousands have had to flee again, living in terrible circumstances in Lebanon and other neighbouring countries. Many Australians of Iraqi and Syrian heritage have relatives in these desperate circumstances. The increase in Australia’s humanitarian intake has meant that at least some of these people have had the chance of a much safer life in Australia. I’ve personally witnessed the sheer relief felt by those so rescued and their grateful relatives. Stories like theirs will never reach the nightly news in the daily drama of the asylum-seeker debate, but their fate and our opportunity to help should not be forgotten.

In my last column, I wrote of my esteem for the works of LBJ biographer Robert Caro. Caro recently spoke of his admiration for the 19th century English novelist Anthony Trollope. There is much to love in Trollope’s works. While his most famous works are the Chronicles of Barsetshire, it is the Palliser series of six novels which stand out for those of us who love political literature. Trollope provides a wonderfully readable account of House of Commons life in the 19th century. Filled with the stories of colourful and memorable characters such as the roguish Irish member Phineas Finn and the conscientious hung parliament Prime Minister Plantagenet Palliser, the books are particularly enjoyable for those of us who live the modern version of parliamentary life. Caro, showing his usual attention to every detail of his subject matter, has read them three times. They are worth at least one read. You may then be tempted to go back and read them again.

While a long-time reader of Trollope’s works of fiction, I have only recently become acquainted with his two-volume account of his travels through Australasia, published in 1873. It is a delight to read the account of one of the most famous novelists of his day on his travels through our country. Trollope travelled from one coast to the other, making notes and recording insights into the sights he saw and characters he met. The published work is a sort of literary travel guide which now qualifies as fascinating history. Written 50 years before D.H. Lawrence used his experiences travelling through our country to inform Kangaroo, Trollope’s works deserve similar prominence on our national reading list.

This is Chris Bowen’s last column in The Spectator Australia.