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The worst of
two worlds
My homeless
existence began on 11 September.
By Tarek
Atia
cairolive.com, October 8, 2002
My homeless existence began
on 11 September. Sometimes it really does feel that way.
 For
while most people's idea of home as a safe haven was forever taken away,
this devastating dilemma was made doubly diabolical for me by the
unrelenting fact that both of my homes -- America and the Middle East --
became involved in a complex entanglement of frayed relations and
palpable tension from that day forward.
Being of both places has always
had its pluses and minuses. You tend to feel positively different
sometimes, and disarmingly alien at others. But when an event like this
ended up pitting the worst of both my worlds against each other, an
indescribable feeling of both physical and mental dislocation (best summarized,
perhaps, as an insecure fear of the future) became embedded in both my
daily routine, as well as the inner sanctum of my mind.
The speed at which the story of
Arab terrorists and American revenge developed was cinematic in scope --
things were happening so fast that it seemed positively futile to try to
halt what looked to be an unstoppable film about civilizational clash.
On Tuesday alone, the US
president had decided that America was "attacked because it is a
beacon of freedom", while Arab pundits were being widely quoted as
saying that the attacks were an inevitable result of tyrannical US
policies.
It was crazy how quickly things
were happening. The Washington Post reported that 94 per cent of
Americans supported the idea of taking military action against the
"groups or nations responsible for the attacks". One young man
interviewed by the paper said, "I would support a complete
slaughter."
Muslim groups in the US were
fearing the same sorts of anti- Muslim violence that occurred after
Muslims were initially blamed for the Oklahoma City bombing.
By 13 September, it was clear
that this was no film. Real firepower was set to be used on people
hiding out in caves, and the world was made to simmer with wonder about
when the US would strike, how hard, and who would support it.
"You're either with us or
against us," Bush had said. But were things really that black and
white? And wasn't a careful consideration of what had happened, and the
ramifications of any reaction to it, a much smarter -- not to mention
safer -- idea?
Then October began. And in an
interesting reversal, CNN aired Al-Jazeera's footage of Osama Bin Laden
and his inner circle, accompanied by a poor translation of Bin Laden
denouncing the US attack, and calling on all Muslims to defend
themselves against US attacks. My immediate reaction was, "Who gave
Bin Laden the right to speak for Islam?"
The answer was: we did. The
media. And because of the nature of the medium and its power, the stakes
were indeed very high -- directly related to the credibility of Islam in
a world that is increasingly dependent on images for its reasoning
power.
But the only clear message coming
out of the fray was that everyone was claiming to be under threat. The
US was claiming that radical Muslims were out to get it. Moderate
Muslims and even secular Arabs were claiming that the US was just as
blood-thirsty...
Who was right? Could they all be
right? Was this a legitimate battle -- and if so, what if you had
allegiances to both sides? Each one of us, in this modern world, has a
little bit of both worlds inside us. Some more than others, of course,
depending on the circumstances -- but in my case, it was equal portions
of both.
Imagine my horror, then, while
watching the speaker of the US House of Representatives Newt Gingrich
say that countries like Saudi Arabia and Egypt had to watch out because
the US's war on terror might head to them next. How he made that leap of
logic I'll never know. Because Bin Laden was originally Saudi and
Mohamed Atta Egyptian? So two entire countries would be punished because
of one citizen each?
Unfortunately, that same kind of
hate talk tends to go both ways. I was shocked when the sheikh at Friday
prayers in Cairo started calling for the destruction of America in the
participational "Ameen" blessings part of his
pre-prayer sermon. After urging heavenly support for the mujahideen in
Palestine and Afghanistan he begged for vengeful destruction of America.
How many of those repeating
"Ameen", I wondered, were thinking of the far-reaching
consequences of what they were asking for?
The conversation I had with the
sheikh afterwards was like walking on eggshells. My goal was to somehow
convince him -- via a mixture of logic and emotion -- that his message
may be misunderstood. He was angry at groups of people, or politicians,
perhaps, but wasn't damning 280 million people going too far?
What about the six million
American Muslims, I asked him.
What about the millions who have
no idea what any of this is about?
He seemed to pause.
"Have you heard?" I
asked him, "of priests in the US who are calling for the
destruction of Islam and saying it's a backward religion?"
He certainly had, and knew that
that kind of talk had its weight amongst the heartland US faithful.
"Do you think what they're
doing is good?"
Certainly not, he said.
"Well you're doing much the
same thing, because if you only mean to condemn certain groups of people
in America, the people listening to you might not necessarily know that.
They're taking it as a blanket demonization of America."
The sheikh was willing to listen.
I'd like to have a similar
conversation with Gingrich and anyone else who's spewed hate from the
other side of the pulpit, to tell them that even though they may be
fuming with anger at certain groups of people or ideas coming out of the
Arab world, there's a far more complex story to be told.
I'm not just talking about the
differences between Arabs and Americans, or Arabic and English and any
other language, but the basic message that people in different countries
are trying to send at any given time. Is it being understood properly,
or has something quite vital been lost in the translation? I'd say quite
a few nuances, and a deeper meaning or two, are often conveniently
dropped from the equation.
After all, we are still debating
the meaning of the word terrorism. We are still doubting the intentions
of the other. And -- perhaps most importantly -- we are still caught up
in a complete mistrust of the other's writing of history, the present
and the future. Misunderstandings like these between people and nations
tend to result in even more complex transformations, dragging the world
deeper into the throes of a dangerous universal conflict.
We can no longer afford to ignore
the realities of a new world where everybody can talk to anybody else,
anytime. There can no longer be a monopoly on the communication of a
people's sense of self to the other. With ample channels for a more
democratic dialogue now readily available, the voices of reason do have
a chance to prevail.
Today, everyone's speaking, and
only a few are bothering -- for better or worse --- to put things in
perspective.
We've heard enough from those who
simplify matters on both sides via slogans and war-mongering. It's now
time for those who are able to sympathize and connect with views on both
sides -- even while disagreeing with them -- to try and be a bridge
communicating both views.
After all, making even the
smallest dent in a lesser nuanced world view may hold the hope that what
was broken can be rebuilt again.
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