David Michael's Open Salon Blog

The ramifications of revolution

Mon, 7 Feb 2011 12:02:39 -0500

It is difficult, even for those of us with limited attention spans, to bring ourselves apart from the developments in Egypt and the region at large. Nearly all of us are impressed with a great and palpable sense that history is moving in seismic shifts even as we watch. This sense is compounded by the speculation we all indulged in, a little more than a week ago, as to whether other countries in the Middle East would follow Tunisia’s example. To be sure, the self-immolation of Mohammed Bouazizi, as well as the subsequent toppling of Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, was more likely than most things to set off such massive demonstrations elsewhere, but most of us tend to quietly believe that history never progresses quite at the rate we would have it move if we were the deities of such things, and that the best realistic outcome was a few minor demonstrations scattered over the region, followed by the usual arrests.

On the other hand, nobody who knows anything about the Middle East could say that the demonstrations were unprecedented. Indeed, their coming to pass was inevitable, and the only unknown factor was time. There have been smaller demonstrations in the past, as well as a spiriting and dispiriting array of incarcerated opponents of Mubarak, not to speak of the opinion of most members of the Egyptian diaspora. More generally, as economist and political scientist Timur Kuran says:

A feature shared by certain major revolutions is that they were not anticipated.Here is an explanation, which hinges on the observation that people who come todislike their government are apt to hide their desire for change as long as theopposition seems weak. Because of this preference falsification, a governmentthat appears unshakeable might see its support crumble following a slight surgein the opposition’s apparent size, caused by events insignificant in and of themselves. Unlikely though the revolution may have appeared in foresight, it will in hindsight appear inevitable because its occurrence exposes a panoply ofpreviously hidden conflicts.

But the possibility of predicting, in principle, the current crisis, does not remove from how unprecedented it feels. Whether or not they succeed, the demonstrations in Cairo, Alexandria, Suez, Sinai and Ismailiya represent a turning point in the politics and culture of the Middle East.

To get a measure of how large the effect will be, one need only observe the hesitant reactions of Western politicians when the news first broke. US Vice President Joe Biden, for instance, was quoted as saying, “Mubarak has been an ally of ours in a number of things and he’s been very responsible on, relative to geopolitical interests in the region, Middle East peace efforts, the actions Egypt has taken relative to normalizing the relationship with Israel … I would not refer to him as a dictator.” President Obama, as well as British Prime Minister David Cameron and many other Western heads of state, were all considerably less blundering than that, but they all seemed united in withholding their support for the demonstrators, and in merely doing the easiest thing possible: condemning the violence.

It is easy to be cynical about these reactions. It has become commonplace to hold up the tear gas canisters, emblazoned with the words “Made in the US”, and the fact that Egypt has consistently received one of the largest portions of the US foreign aid budget, as evidence that the West (and the US in particular) has behaved cynically in the past, and that therefore it is really in their interest to keep Mubarak propped up in power. But the question of the correctness, moral or political or otherwise, of these past actions, though important, bears only lightly on what is happening now. To be sure, the US might have done more in the past to keep Mubarak out of power. But most Western citizens hardly voiced a whimper in protest until these current protests. Spare a thought for Obama and Cameron and Merkel and Sarkozy, if you will. They were not the creators but the inheritors of the status quo, and their position is as difficult as it is possible to get in politics. Much as they might want Mubarak to leave, they must do battle with the question of political expediency, and of what is right in the long term.

And apart from our unavoidable deaths, the long term is an extremely difficult thing to work out. What are the potential consequences of the revolution, should it succeed? There are many worst-case scenarios that should be dealt with. One major complaint is the question of Israel. Egypt has been a reliable ally of Israel’s since 1979, and thus has been one of the major guarantors of its security. The fear of many is that a democratic Egypt, even if not taken over by the Muslim Brotherhood, would not necessarily maintain this alliance, leaving Israel in greater peril. That may be so (it is impossible to say with certainty), but if it is, that would make up for the greater long-term prospects for the region. Democracy, as is often said, is the best stability. The question of quite when a country is “ready” for democracy should be moot, since in Egypt’s case it is clear that the people want it, and what better indicator of its suitability is there than that?[1]

The possibility of the Muslim Brotherhood taking over has been much discussed, and it seems to be the consensus in the liberal media that it is rather unlikely. After all, the Brotherhood have about 100,000 supporters in a country of 80 million, as we are often told. This is an encouraging statistic, but not unambiguously so. The Brotherhood are the most popular opposition party in a state in which opposition parties are effectively outlawed. So the current 100,000 might turn into 10 million when its ideological brethren don’t have to live in so much fear. The number, therefore, might be misleading. However, there are other signs that its influence is not as strong as it would like. The New York Times has a piece showing that throughout the demonstrations the Brotherhood has been a bumbling and barely acknowledged presence. At first, it wavered on whether to support the protests, and later it wavered on whether to support ElBaradei. It does not seem to know its own place, and indeed one member of the Brotherhood categorically stated that the revolution had nothing to do with Islam, still less Islamism, and everything to do with the people.

Obama’s very careful and gradual Middle East policy has arguably been dealt an unexpected and significant blow. He called for change in the region, and was forthright about its need for democracy in his Cairo speech. “Let me be clear,” he said, “no system of government can or should be imposed upon one nation by any other. That does not lessen my commitment, however, to governments that reflect the will of the people.” Thus, the way he deals with the current crisis may turn out to be the defining point of his term, as far as foreign policy goes. If he is too eager to support the demonstrators, he risks weakening his alliances elsewhere in the region. If he does the opposite, then he will appear to be perpetuating the decades of US foreign policy that have hardly charmed the leaders and citizens of the Middle East. It is an unenviable position.

That is, if it really is his position. Perhaps the very impossibility of taking decisive action hints that it is not actually the place of the US President, or any other world leader, to do so. Rather, their position is a subtler but probably easier one. They must promote democracy implicitly, by the use of cultural rather than diplomatic influence, by exposing the citizens of the world to the liberating effects of democracy. This is, of course, not enough in itself, but it is a vitally important factor in the awakening of the democratic mind. Once the aspiration to democracy has taken hold, as it evidently has in Egypt, events must be allowed to take their natural course. The only official position, then, of a statesman qua statesman, should be a bold stand against violence, as well as a covert support of the protesters. As for the position of a statesman as a human being, that is another matter entirely.

Picture courtesy of http://yfrog.com/h0onggjj.

[1] See “Theories of Democratization” by Christian Welzel, for more on this, and a lot of generally interesting theories on democracy.

Is it even wrong, within Islam, to depict Mohammed?

Tue, 27 Apr 2010 19:04:22 -0400

South Park recently aired two episodes in which the prophet Mohammed is depicted—or, perhaps more accurately, not-depicted. The conceit is that the litigious celebrities who have been the butt of the comedy series' jokes want access to Mohammed so that they can take his “goo”, which would mean that they would acquire the Power To Not Be Ridiculed. At one point, Mohammed is supposedly ferried around in a bear suit (to avoid accusations of depicting him—though this makes no sense within the reality of the show itself), but it is revealed that in fact it is Santa Claus in the suit. This, of course, cleverly anticipates any extremist reaction: Mohammed was not represented as a bear, nor even as being dressed as a bear, yet there will still be controversy around his role in the episodes. At other times, Mohammed is covered with a giant “CENSORED”. Matt Stone and Trey Parker, its creators, have hinted that Comedy Central have censored more than was intended. The extent of this is unknown, but it seems certain that the censoring of Mohammed was deliberate on Matt and Trey’s part, since when Mohammed’s goo is transferred to Tom Cruise, the recipient is censored as well. The comment is clearly on the seeming arbitrariness of who can be made fun of.

So far the only reaction to South Park’s not-depiction of Mohammed has been from a fringe group based in New York, making liberal use of the freedom of speech they would deny to others. Of course, when Mohammed has been directly represented in the recent past, the reactions have been considerably less muted. Not only have there been death threats, but actual murders as well; and although this reaction has hardly ever been condoned, there are many in the more politically correct quarters of the West who have pinned the blame on those to whom the violence was directed, arguing for the respect that they say religion deserves. But clearly such a violent reaction is not warranted even if Islam was clear that illustrations of Mohammed are sacrosanct.

The Qur’an contains absolutely nothing about depicting Mohammed. It is only the Hadith, most of which came several hundred years after Mohammed’s death, that discuss this—one of them bans all depictions of living creatures outright, and another merely says that such illustrations are not to be encouraged, but does not decree that those found guilty are to be punished. The major reason it is widely considered wrong to depict Mohammed, especially among the Sunni majority of Muslims, is that it might encourage idolatry. This might be fair enough within the Islamic world, but is clearly absurd to apply outside of it. After all, non-believers cannot make themselves any more guilty of non-belief or idolatry by drawing pictures. But if the justification behind fatwas against depicters of Mohammed is based in the Hadith, then clerics would have to issue fatwas against all those who draw pictures of living creatures—a crime which virtually every person on earth is guilty of.

As is usually the case with the more extremist sections of the Muslim community, many of the ideas they are so convinced of are far more modern than they would have us believe, and have their origins in human invention that is clearly separate from the holy texts. Mohammed has been visually depicted many times in the past, both by Muslims and non-Muslims, presumably without a word spoken of blasphemy. The following are a few examples:

The Investiture of Ali at Ghadir Khumm, MS Arab 161, fol. 162r, AD 1309/8 Ilkhanid manuscript illustration.

A 16th century Persian miniature painting with a veiled Muhammad's ascent into the Heavens, a journey known as the Miraj.

Muhammad's Call to Prophecy and the First Revelation; leaf from a copy of the Majmac al-tawarikh (Compendium of Histories), ca. 1425; Timurid. From Herat, Afghanistan. In The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The second of these, given that the painter saw fit not to include any facial detail, is the only one to betray an element of ambiguity, but it is a depiction nonetheless, and it is in the minority.

Reasoning with extremists is clearly impossible. Once groups like Revolution Muslim have been convinced that visual depictions of Mohammed are the height of blasphemy, and that threatening (or not-so-subtly hinting at) death to those who do so is perfectly moral, not even the wisest, most knowledgeable scholar of Islam could convince them otherwise. More responsible Muslims, though, should do far more to promote a good, unbiased understanding of Islam, both in the West and in the Muslim world, than they are currently doing: only a truly concerted effort will prevent the fear that presently accompanies something so basic as freedom of speech, and, consequently, the feeling of persecution experienced by many Muslims in the West.

Captions borrowed from Wikipedia.

Catholicism and Polish exile

Fri, 23 Apr 2010 16:04:59 -0400

“People, it’s time to tell the truth! This is a great crime! A conspiracy of Tusk, Obama and Putin!” Thus shouted one man through a loudspeaker in Warsaw when the coffin of Maria Kaczynska, the Polish president’s wife, was being carried through the streets. In itself, this was unusual—if not necessarily the theory expounded, at least the public voicing of it in such a time of national mourning—but what followed was perhaps even more so. A white-shirted member of the public pleaded with the man to calm down, put away the loudspeaker, kneel on the ground and pray to God for forgiveness. The bewitched conspiracy theorist did so, after which he silently left the scene of the crime, loudspeaker in hand.

One wonders at the level of conviction necessary to leave one’s home, loudspeaker in hand, and brave the grieving crowd, surely aware all along that they none of them would agree with you, and finally to shout at the top of one’s voice. But such a thing is a relative commonplace in history. It is curiouser still to speculate on the lone protester’s thoughts when the man asked that he pray, and then during the prayer itself. Could he have been embarrassed? It seems that such a feeling must not register in the mind of one with such conviction. Most of us would be terribly embarrassed at spouting absurdities through a loudspeaker in the first place. But something must have engendered in him this apparently drastic a change of heart.

Poland’s identity is defined perhaps more than that of any other nation by its historical state of exile. The national anthem goes, “Poland is not yet lost, while we still live”. This was composed in 1806, while Poland had no official statehood, divided as it was among the hungry imperial powers of Russia, Austria, and Prussia. The words have not lost their relevance since then: after gaining independence, there was only a very brief window before the Nazi invasion, followed by half a century of Soviet rule, during which time a “government in exile” resided in London more as a symbol of continuity than a wielder of any real power. For most of modernity, the Polish people have been in exile from statehood, but kept a strong identity in other ways. Roman Catholicism was one of them. The Solidarity movement, arguably, may not have happened if it wasn’t for the leadership of Pope John Paul II, who spoke soon after his accession to rapturous crowds. Many of those who came to hear him speak or watched on television imagined that the pope spoke directly to them, and recall that moment as a turning point in their political awareness. The social glue of Catholicism, so often a conservative and unbending force, now became a crucial catalyst for change.

As in so many Catholic nations, many of its citizens hold their religious identity even while disbelieving. Perhaps it is hypothesising too far to suggest that the man with the loudspeaker was, in a cultural sense, deeply Catholic, and that it was his Catholicism that caused him, more efficiently than common sense would have, to see the fruitlessness of his tirade. Perhaps it is overanalysing to suggest that his Catholicism made him see that there is more that unifies the Polish people than residential coincidence. Perhaps so. But if such a theory is true of any nation, it must be of Poland.

Source: here.

Is Griffin's Question Time appearance the end of the world?

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:10:41 -0400

After the furore over Nick Griffin’s Question Time appearance has died down somewhat, perhaps we might be able to see more clearly its potential consequences for the British political landscape. Dianne Abbott, Labour MP for Hackney North and Stoke Newington, argues in The Independent that it was not the triumph for free speech that “white metropolitan liberals” tend to think it was. On the contrary, she says that it “legitimised” Griffin, and brought his extreme views a level of acceptance they would not otherwise have achieved. She makes the point that although Griffin has the right to express his views however he sees fit within the law, it is by no means his right to appear on the BBC with other “legitimate” politicians. That is true enough; however the reason for his appearance was not only the fact that he represents a small minority of voters, but also that he would inevitably expose his views for how ignorant and unacceptable they really are.

Although Abbott speaks confidently about “legitimisation”, she provides no real evidence for her thesis, and indeed fails to make clear what she means by it. What does it mean, really, to say that Griffin has become legitimised? In any case, does it not show—especially for a politician—a worrying faithlessness in democracy that merely because a political party is legitimised we must all fear that the ignorant British public won’t be able to resist the deviously seductive call of the siren-like British National Party? To extend the metaphor: surely Griffin’s appearance is rather the political equivalent of a map of the seas, which if a sailor should look at closely enough, he will know to avoid the sirens entirely.

So then, what does Abbott mean by “legitimate”? It may seem obvious. And perhaps it was obvious to Abbott when she wrote the piece. What she means by it, probably, is “to be treated the same as other politicians.” If that is what she meant, then clearly that isn’t the case. By devoting the show almost entirely to Griffin and his party, that’s a very clear statement that they’re treating him very differently to other politicians. Furthermore, it implies that there won’t be many editions of Question Time in which Griffin gets a say at all. If they were to legitimise him in the above sense, then they would have to have spoken on topics unrelated to the BNP, and Griffin would merely contribute his opinion like the rest of the panel. If his treatment on Question Time is legitimisation, then he is now the most legitimate politician in Britain.

This kind of legitimisation is no bad thing. Griffin is still very clearly cast as an outsider in the political realm, and such appearances as we witnessed on Thursday will only happen very rarely if at all. The British public still won’t be as exposed to his views as often as they would be to those of the three major parties. At the same time, they would be thoroughly more exposed to them than before, and if the BNP is as much of a threat as many think, then that can only be a good thing.

Perhaps the only risk with this kind of very limited legitimisation is that political debate may well focus more than it previously did on the BNP’s policies. This would only be something to fear if these policy discussions crowded out all other subjects. But that is unthinkable—after all, the BNP’s policies deal with a very limited range of issues, and as important as immigration is, it is not quite on the same level as extracting the country from the economic mess, an area which as far as I know Griffin has no proposed solutions for.

Abbott writes of Thursday’s Question Time that “although they were denouncing the man, the debate stayed firmly on territory delineated by the BNP. Thus does the introduction of the BNP into mainstream discourse drag our politics further rightward.” A very strong statement to make, by any measure, and yet again she offers no proof. Apparently, the BNP are a vicious animal introduced into a helpless, New Zealand-like ecosystem in which the animals have lost the ability to defend themselves. The discussion on the show may have been in some sense dragged rightward, but only in the same way that a Tory would be dragged leftward in a debate with a Labour politician. One of the major reasons for the BNP’s rise is the fact that they can walk unchallenged in policy areas that the other parties don’t dare to tackle directly. The occasional injection of extremist fringes into mainstream discussion can only be a healthy thing for our collective immune system, acting like a vaccine and better equipping us to fight.

Afghanistan has never been conquered. So?

Fri, 2 Oct 2009 09:10:02 -0400

The tide seems to have turned on Afghanistan recently. We were all so sure it was the just war, and we were all so sure of our intentions in going there. Iraq did nothing to us, and it turned out it wasn’t a threat after all, but Afghanistan’s rugged mountains sheltered the Taliban, who in turn sheltered Al Qaeda. At the same time, we had a very big stone with which to kill a second bird simultaneously: the Taliban were enough of a hindrance to Afghanistan’s people by themselves for it to be morally justifiable to take them out, regardless of who they sheltered. For such an obviously good war, there have recently been an awful lot of second thoughts about it. Asking the average person in the street, the answer you expect more and more is, “I don’t even know why we went in there in the first place.”

That answer seems wilfully ignorant. Anybody who has been paying the slightest bit of attention knows “why we went in there.” To be sure, the situation in Afghanistan has become rapidly more difficult, and coalition troops are facing some of the highest casualties of the conflict so far. In these times of economic difficulty, it is a tough task to persuade the voting public that such high casualties in so distant a land are ultimately for a good cause.

One particularly prevalent question being mooted these days is this: Afghanistan has never been conquered, not by the Russians in recent times, and not even by Alexander—who, lest we forget, was called “the Great” for a reason—so how can we be so arrogant as to think we will succeed where they failed? Perhaps the motive behind this question is well-placed. It is a fascinating historical fact that Afghanistan has never been tamed by invading armies, and it is the responsibility of all of us, politicians included, to learn from history. But it surely is not learning from history to conclude that just because Afghanistan has never been conquered, that it never until the end of human civilization shall be.

What is necessary is to analyse why past attempts have so ruinously failed. That is a difficult question, and must have a lot to do with the two obvious answers, namely, the terrain and the people. The Taliban and Al Qaeda hide among one of the most ruggedly mountainous regions in the world, but more importantly, they know their mountains well. It is one of the most astonishing facts of warfare that, no matter how much more well-equipped you are than your foe, if you don’t know the terrain, you are likely to be humiliated. The same thing, of course, happened in Vietnam, and this is the comparison drawn by those against the war to prove its ultimate futility.

The nature of the war in Afghanistan is different to previous wars there, however, and this difference is crucial. The coalition troops are fighting an ideology more than a people. It may be naive to say that all Afghans actually hate the Taliban and would fight them if they only dared. But it is equally wrong to say that the citizens of Afghanistan cannot be mobilized to defeat the Taliban—not militarily, but ideologically. Extremist groups all too often prey on people in dire need of food and resources—take, for instance, the Islamist Shabab movement, linked to al-Qaeda, who are bringing Somalians on side by taking advantage of the recent drought and lack of Western aid—and it is that theatre in which the bloodiest battle should be fought. The Taliban may know the mountains well, but they are not the only Afghans who do.

The conflict in Afghanistan should perhaps not be thought of as a war, but rather—and I say this at the risk of sounding like a politician—as the Afghanistan Project. The primary aim is still to defeat the Taliban and crush al-Qaeda. But the secondary and arguably more important aim is to prevent a future Taliban. This will undoubtedly require many years of effort, but it will be worth it—the result will be a genuinely tamed Afghanistan that can no longer play host to international terrorism.

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