Showing posts with label middle east. Show all posts
Showing posts with label middle east. Show all posts

Friday, 13 July 2007

Sex and the medina

Khaled Diab
The time is ripe for a Middle Eastern sexual revolution and there are signs that a quiet one is in progress. But will young Arabs openly stand up for their right to get laid?

Arab societies are in desperate need of a sexual revolution. This idea may shock religious conservatives who believe that a righteous stance (moral erectitude, if you like) is the only thing standing between society and all-out anarchy, decadence and HIV/AIDS. But I believe that a love liberation is a great way to cure Arab society’s sexually transmitted dis-ease.

Every time I go back to visit Egypt, I’m struck by how much more conservative the country has grown in the mean time. Along with the increasingly overt religiosity has come American-style out-of-town mall culture and Muslim-style televangelism in the form of the apparently charismatic Amr Khaled.
In fact, the number of people I know wanting to make a decent Muslim out of me is so sobering that I sometimes find I need a drink as an antidote and we head off to one of the city’s fine watering holes.

On Cairo’s streets, the sexual, economic and political frustration is almost palatable. The discerning eye can pick out naked sexual desire pursuing young people like a lead shadow in the hot and sticky metropolis. With polite society being what it is, female desire cannot strut around as starkly as its male counterpart but must veil itself demurely in a telling fluttering of the eyes or seductive smile.

It is a tribute to Egypt’s power of social cohesion that, despite the pent-up rage of unemployment, sexual frustration and overcrowding, Cairo is still one of the safest cities on the planet.

But isn’t it about time that Egyptian youth cast off the shackles of restrictive tradition and idiotic, counterproductive attitudes?

I’ve always had trouble understanding why society views sex with such suspicion. Why is physical intimacy seen as so destructive? Perhaps the underlying reason is that, by controlling access to sexual gratification, the elders of society can better control the young.

If the religious brigades are to be believed, society’s stealthiest enemies have stockpiles of sex bombs which they use to incapacitate legions of unsuspecting youth. But it is sexual frustration that is a ticking time bomb, as people marry later and society comes under greater religious scrutiny.

At uni, I was baffled by those macho guys who gave themselves full sexual licence but branded any girl who would sleep with them ‘sluts’ and ‘whores’ and said they would never marry a girl like that. Why not? If it’s okay for you, why not for her? These were questions I found myself regularly ask to that sort of lad.

Why is virginity – particularly amongst women – such a coveted condition, not just in Muslim countries, but in all traditional settings? Is it the ultimate sign of youth? Purity? Innocence? Shouldn’t experience be its own reward, too?

A sexual devolution
This Arab ‘sexual devolution’ raises the interesting question of why it is that the secular societies of the Middle East which had about the same level of sexual freedom as the west in the 1950s and 1960s have regressed in subsequent decades. Part of the issue is economic. The western sexual revolution was a by-product of wealth and the increased financial independence of young people.

In Egypt and other Middle Eastern countries, most young people do not enjoy the same level of financial independence and often rely on their families for some support – which has made a distinctive youth culture less forthcoming. I’ve always believed that a crucial factor in my quest for personal emancipation was financial self-reliance – something I strove to achieve at an early age. If no one ‘owns’ you, no one can dictate your life.

After money, comes family. The majority of Arab youth – particularly women – are exceedingly reluctant to rebel against their families and the extended support network it provides. Many is the friend I’ve had who has kept certain fundamental aspects of their lives concealed from their loved ones or, worse, abandoned their dearest dreams to keep in line with their parents’ expectations.

At a more collective level is the issue of conflict and trauma. In Europe and the west, the value systems of the old world were buried under the rubble of Two World Wars. The ‘baby boomers’ of the post-WWII years grew up with an instinctive rejection of the staid values of their forebears – and they had the economic wealth to act on this and create a counterculture.

In 1967, while the West was mellowing out in its summer of love, the Arab world came face to face with the trauma of conclusive and humiliating military defeat. Although secularists continued to call the shots for the next few years, the trouncing had turned the tide and more and more people began to believe the Islamist claim that it was our moral transgressions which were behind our weakness.

In addition, Anwar al-Sadat, in a cynical attempt to sideline his political opponents started portraying himself as the ‘pious president’ and openly embraced the Islamists. This was a move he lived to regret, but the genie was out of the bottle and his attempts to force it back in through repression only backfired. Add to that, Gamal Abdel-Nasser’s earlier systematic persecution of the Muslim Brotherhood and the hundreds of thousands of expatriate Egyptians exposed to ultra-conservative Wahhabi Islam in the Gulf.

With discredited secularists who never recovered from 1967 and highly motivated and hardened religious conservatives determined to set the tone, society has drifted towards increasing conservatism over the last three decades.

All through this time, a sizeable minority counting in the millions have maintained and upheld liberal values. However, faced with the ire and unwavering conviction of the religious fanatics, many have been intimidated and go about their liberal lifestyles increasingly discretely.

But in Egypt and across the region there are growing signs that the young are restive. Islam has always been open to the recreational aspects of sex and a quiet, Islamic sexual revolution is occurring. Egypt has been hit by a tidal wave of urfi or informal marriages, often entered into between boyfriends and girlfriends to give their sexual relationships a sheen of legitimacy. There has also been the gradual emergence or re-emergence of temporary marriages. The Shia’a have mut’a, a time-limited marriage contract, and zawaj al-misyar (‘marriage in transit’) is emerging in some Sunni countries, including Saudi Arabia.

Of course, many of these mechanisms are an attempt to give outward social legitimacy to something people still, ultimately, regard as ‘wrong’. The next step is for society to drop the hypocritical devices and be honest about its sexuality.

©Khaled Diab.

Tuesday, 19 June 2007

The Middle Eastenders


Khaled Diab


This weekend I went to London for a mini trip to the Middle East for an encounter with Jewish, Israeli and Palestinian (not to mention Sikh!) intellectuals, as well as a reunion with old friends from Egypt.

After a massive delay on the Eurostar owing to a broken rail in one of the tunnels, I arrived in Hackney at around midnight. Hatem, one of my oldest and dearest friends, and I stayed up late into the night shooting the breeze, despite the fact he had to get up early to go to work, even though it was the weekend. We caught up on everything that had happened in the nine months or so since we’d last met, swerving and veering and flowing with the conversation – with Hatem puncturing the late-night silence with his rapid-fire fire and brimstone-style impassioned delivery. When he speaks, he can make an offer of coffee sound like a revelation.

The next morning we all got off to a late start, delayed by conversational congestion. We heard on the TV in the background that Salman Rushdie had been made a knight – and it disappointed me to learn that he’d accepted it. Why is it ageing radical rockers and novelists seem to go gooey at the knees in middle-age and allow the establishment they once pilloried to claim them as its own?

To my mind, the author of such daring and creative post-colonial literature as Midnight’s children, The Moor’s last sigh and The satanic verses, which mock, deride and sympathise with history’s human products and progenerators. For someone who was born, like the characters in Midnight’s children, the year of India’s independence, I would’ve expected him to turn down that ultimate symbol of empire and refuse to become a ‘knight of the realm’, particularly given how mocking he is of England.

But, then again, he has increasingly become an establishment figure in recent years, with his cheerleading of the American policy, etc. Despite his obvious talent and rebelliousness, elements of haughtiness and vanity bedevil his persona and his works. I also think his own condition must prey on him and this is reflected in the fact that the antiheros of his novels always seem to have fetched up in some degenerate cul-de-sac of the soul. Sir Salman, you’ve lost your edge.

As we discussed whether or not he should’ve worshipped the ground beneath the Queen’s feet, we thought London had been transformed into Baghdad as fighter jets flew overhead. Luckily, it was only the Red Arrows engaging in their acrobatic amaze and awe, rather than the Royal Air Force’s bloodier version, shock and awe.

Finding a break in the clouds and avoiding the pomp and ceremony around the palace, we headed for SOAS, where Manuela, Hatem’s girlfriend is doing an MA on Arab perceptions of their black minorities.

Would future immigrants have to attend trooping the colours ceremonies as part of their citizenship ceremony proposed by Ruth Kelly and Liam Byrne I wondered, as I overheard SOAS faculty lampooning the Kelly-Byrne package in the student bar. My interest in all issues multicultural meant that I could not hold my tongue and joined the fray in mocking the proposals.

Political encounters
Later, I met Brian Whitaker, The Guardian’s Middle East editor, in what has become something of a tradition whenever I’m in London. We went for a drink in Islington and talked about a Middle East angle for the ‘summer of love’, honour killings, the situation in Gaza and how the future might pan out.

In the evening, I went to dinner at Linda Grant’s place in north London. The novelist and writer had started up a correspondence with me during my trip to Israel and Palestine and I had been invited for one of her Middle Eastern ‘diwans’.

To get to her house, I had to go via Finsbury park, the famous one-time home of Abu Hamza al-Masri, or ‘Captain Hook’, as the tabloids colourfully call him. With some time to kill, I stopped off for a cappuccino at an espresso bar which turned out to be run by Algerians. When I remarked that they were a long way from the normal Algerian destinations, they told me that everyone was looking for a way out of that den of extremism.

When they counted zena (adultery, i.e. pre-marital and extra-marital sex) as one of the issues bringing down the country. I was flabbergasted that he could put sex on a par with political and financial corruption, nepotism, extremism and violence. “What’s sex got to do with it?” I asked.

“Well, they’re enraging God,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Let’s leave religion aside for a second.”

“No, we can’t do that!” he said, slightly offended.

“Please, just for the sake of argument.”

“Okay.”

“When a young couple go off and make love to each other, who are they hurting?”

“It’s haram. They might have an illegitimate child – they’ll be hurting that child.”

“But they’re not hurting society. If they are hurting anyone, they are only hurting themselves, whereas a corrupt politician or a violent Islamist is hurting everyone.” He conceded that I had a point. Depressed by the state of sexual liberty in people’s minds, I cheered myself up by with the thought that I’d dropped a small sex bomb into their cosy bigotry. Ahh, when the sexual revolution comes, they’ll realise that making love makes the world a better place.

Linda had invited Palestinian writer Samir el-Youssef, Israeli photojournalist Judah Passow and Sikh journalist Sunny Hundal. However, Judah was stuck in Amsterdam airport and so was unable to make it.

The conversation also went to Gaza and what could be done there. Samir also recalled his spectacular debate with a Hamas politician at the Hay festival in which he professed his atheism. I noted my view that agnosticism was the most rational choice, since no one could prove conclusively either way whether or not a god existed. This sparked a lot of controversy and a long debate on comparative religion. Sunny provided us who came from the Abrahamic tradition with a lot of interesting insights into Sikhism, Hinduism and Buddhism.

After much food for thought, it was off, with Hatem and Manuela, to a Moroccan restaurant in Covent Garden for the birthday party of an old friend from the Cairo days, Jessica. Sunday was spent in true Middle Eastender style, kicking back and wondering around the markets of the Eastend and strolling along the Embankment.


©Khaled Diab. Text and images.

Monday, 16 April 2007

Landmarks on the ‘Without a road map’ tour

The plans for my trip are really taking shape and it looks like I’ve got a hectic time ahead. Some landmarks to look forward to include:

Road to Jerusalem
My trip will take me to Tel Aviv and Jaffa, Pardes Hana, Galilee and the Golan, Jerusalem, Ramallah and el-Khalil/Hebron.

The real McCohen!
Penetrating deep into ‘hostile’ territory, your intrepid journalist will stay for some days with several generations of a ‘real’ Israeli family in a small town not far from Tel Aviv. And they have stated it as their express mission to show me the human and peaceful face of Zionism. They also want to see Israel through me eyes.

Meeting the peacemongers
I will meet a number of prominent Israeli and Palestinian peace activists, including that ‘godfather of shalom’, the veteran activist and writer Uri Avnery. I will also meet representatives of Gush Shalom, the Panorma Centre, the Peres Peace Centre, an Palestinian-Israeli Peace NGOs Forum, a group of refusniks called Yesh Gvul, and much more.

Visions of the future
Too much of the conflict is about letting the past paralyse the present. I will ask ordinary Israelis and Palestinians about their personal visions for a peaceful future.

Life under occupation
This year marks the 40th anniversary of the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza. I will visit Ramallah and el-Khalil (Hebron) to see how ordinary people lead their lives.

Oasis of peace in the valley of conflict
Neve Shalom/Wahet el-Salam (Peace Oasis) is an experimental community where Palestinians and Israelis live side-by-side in the same community, are educated together and work together. It provides an alternative vision of what Israel-Palestine may one day be like. I am currently arranging a visit.

Journos and Jerusalem
No busman’s holiday would be complete without meeting up with fellow hacks from various wire services and newspapers. They will include Guardian columnist Seth Freedman and Alex Stein, the founder of False Dichotomies.

Cyprus: the Promised Island and the world's first Zionist?

Khaled Diab
Almost four hundred years before the creation of Israel, Cyprus was on the cards as a Jewish colony and safe haven for Europe's persecuted Jewish minority.
I found this little nugget while brushing up on my history in preparation for my trip to Israel and Palestine.
The idea was the brainchild of the colourful Jewish financier and statesman Joseph Nasi (1524-1579), one of the 16th century's top movers and shakers. Born as a 'New Christian' or Conversos in Portugal half a century after the start of the Inquisition in neighbouring Spain, he was a 'secret Jew' or Marrano. As the Portuguese Inquisition kicked off in earnest around 1536, he fled that and moved north to the Habsburg Netherlands and settled in Antwerp, where he was very successful and much respected, until the Spanish Inquisition caught up with him there, whereupon he moved to France and Venice.
But, like many Jews of the time, he settled in the far more tolerant Ottoman Empire and became one of the Sultan's most influential advisers. He also openly professed his faith for the first time in his life. What I find interesting about his life story is how different Jewish attitudes to Arabs and Muslims were back then – and vice versa.
Nasi is best remembered for starting the first resettlement programme of European Jews to Palestine, when the Ottoman sultan appointed him Lord of Tiberias (in Galilee) and allowed him to set up a small colony there of a few hundred Jewish families.
But Tiberias was actually a consolation prize offered by Sultan Selim II, who was not too keen on Nasi's Cypriot designs. At the time, the majority of Jews saw Palestine as a pilgrimage destination, at the very most, and believed they would only 'return' there with the coming of the Messiah. For uninformed Christians and Muslims, Jews do not believe the 'anointed one' has arrived yet.
But what if the Sultan had reacted favourably to Nasi's plan. How different would subsequent history have been and how different would today's geo-political landscape be? How long would the colony have lasted? How would the native population have reacted? Would there have been a local 'intifada' against the colonists? Well, as it so happens, when his negotiations with the local Jewish community were uncovered, the non-native Jewish population of Famagusta was expelled in 1569 - native Jews were allowed to remain.
Would Cyprus have attracted Jewish immigration? I suppose 'Next year in Nicosia' would not have quite the same ring to it in Jewish ears as 'Next year in Jerusalem'. But there had been a large Jewish community there since Greek times and Jews were facing persecution in many parts of Europe, so these may have been major selling points for the colony. Would there have been a long and bitter conflict, like the one currently plaguing Israel-Palestine and, if so, how would it have been resolved? Would Cyprus have joined the EU as an island divided along a different Green Line? Would the subsequent colonisation of Palestine have taken place?
The original Zionist?
Binyamin Ze'ev – better known as 'Theodor' – Herzl is widely regarded as the father of Zionism. But given his various attempts at establishing Jewish colonies, does Nasi deserve the title of the first 'Zionist'? Both men were motivated by the persecution of their people: the Inquisition for Nasi and the pogroms in eastern Europe for Herzl, as well as the infamous Dreyfus Affair in France.
"We Jews are even now constantly shifting from place to place, a strong current actually carrying us westward over the sea to the United States, where our presence is also not desired. And where will our presence be desired, so long as we are a homeless nation?" he wrote in Der Judenstaat, the first book on Zionism.
However, Nasi had just about managed to keep one step ahead of being personally persecuted himself and seemed to be driven mostly by the pragmatic need to protect his people and give them somewhere where they could practice their faith in peace. He also set about avenging his near persecution and that of his people by stirring up trouble against the intolerant Spanish, such as encouraging he Calvinists in the Netherlands to revolt against Spain and promising the Ottoman support, as well as
On the other hand, Herzl was a comfortable member of the European intelligentsia – German-speaking Jews of his time were well integrated and more often than not part of the affluent middle and upper classes. Of course, he revealed a certain amount of pragmatism in that he was ready to form his Jewish state away from Palestine: the Jewish State is conceived as a peculiarly modern structure on unspecified territory," he wrote in Der Judenstaat.
But it was Palestine which he yearned for, in a secular manifestation of the Promised Land: "Palestine is our ever-memorable historic home. The very name of Palestine would attract our people with a force of marvelous potency," he extolled. In addition, his ideas were effused with the 19th century brand of cultural chauvinism, racism, imperialism and disregard for the will of the local population. "We should there [in Palestine] form a portion of a rampart of Europe against Asia, an outpost of civilisation as opposed to barbarism," he said in the same book.
Although the only Arab character in a novel he wrote was grateful for the then fictional Jewish colonisation of Palestine, Herzl's memoirs reveal a darker intention for the local population of whatever piece of land would become the Jewish state: "Spirit the penniless population across the frontier by denying it employment… Both the process of expropriation and the removal of the poor must be carried out discreetly and circumspectly," he wrote in his diary in 1895. Of course, this kind of cavalier attitude towards the will of the native population was fairly common in pre-20th century colonialism (including the Arab and Muslim variety). But it find its most perfect implementation in the near wholesale erasure of the native population of many parts of the Americas.

We are living with the consequences of Herzl's unrestrained drive to build a Jewish nation at any cost and the tragic near-extermination of European Jewry in the first half of the 20th century.

Written on 12 April 2007

©Khaled Diab

The unseen undercurrents of the Arab-Israeli conflict

Khaled Diab
Land, history, ideology, religion - these are what most people associate with the Arab-Israeli conflict. But dive beneath the surface and a whole other barely mentioned conflict is keeping a settlement at bay.According to ancient Arab wisdom, wells are good keepers of secrets. And appropriately water is, and has been for decades, one of the hidden undercurrents driving the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians, as well as neighbouring Lebanon and Syria.
Why did talks with Syria break down: over the large inland lake known as the Sea of Galilee - you know, where Jesus reportedly fed the 5,000 and walked on water - into which the Jordan River flows. But no such miracles visited the ill-fated talks over the Golan Heights in 1999.
During the Oslo years, why was Israel so reluctant to cede any of its main settlement blocks in the West Bank? Partly because they sit on the Jordan River's main aquifiers.
Under the Oslo accords, four-fifths of the West Bank's water was allocated to Israel, though the aquifers that supply it are largely replenished by water falling onto Palestinian territory. Under the same deal, Palestinian were earmarked 57 cubic metres of water per person per year from all sources. Meanwhile, Israel had a fourfold allocation of 246 cubic metres per head per year. And in the four decades that Israel has controlled the West Bank, Palestinians have been largely forbidden from drilling new wells or rehabilitating old ones.
The politics of water
A study released this month found that the situation was far worse than even the lop-sided Oslo accords envisioned. Carried out by the Applied Research Institute-Jerusalem (ARIJ), it found that Israel consumes annually around 82% of the renewable water resources in the underground water aquifers of the West Bank.
"In the case of a water crisis in the Palestinian territories, the problem is not the quantity of the available water, but the priorities and policies of the state of Israel," the report claims.
The Jordan River basin - which is shared by Jordan, Israel, Palestine, Lebanon and Syria - provides 50% of the water needs of Israel and Jordan, but only 5% of Syria and Lebanon's, which is a cause of major political tension, according to ARIJ.

If the situation is not addressed honestly and equitably in the quest for peace, then it could be the cause of conflict in the decades to come, especially as climate change kicks in and makes the Middle East drier.

Ever since ancient times, tribes and nations in the region have gone to war over control of vital wells and waterways (and this is one of the causes of the current Darfur crisis). Oil may fuel conflict in the Middle East today, but 'water wars' could well be next if we are not careful.

First published on 11 April 2007

©Khaled Diab

Sir, did you pack that political baggage yourself?

By Khaled Diab
I prefer to travel light. After all, if you want to be mobile on holiday, you can't carry around too much luggage. That is why, at the airport, I'm constantly baffled by people who go away with half a dozen, hard-shelled and impractically shaped suitcases.
Despite my propensity for minimising luggage, I realise that, for my forthcoming trip to Israel and Palestine, I'll be weighed down by our collective political, historical and ideological baggage. For a simple soul like me, that is no sneezing matter. In fact, I'll barely be able to sneeze - and I do that a lot, especially in spring - or scratch without my gesture being riddled with political implications, historical significance and ideological confirmation of the firmly held views and prejudices of one group or another!
I can imagine myself rocking up to the check-in desk and the ground stewardess smiling politely before informing me: "Sorry, sir, but your political baggage has exceeded the maximum limit."
"But it's not just mine," I'd protest. "It's all of ours. I've tried to shed as much of my own as I possible can and know I carry only this tiny ideological backpack."
"Okay, sir, but did you pack it yourself?"
Or how about at Tel Aviv airport. "Have you got anything to declare?" the customs official would ask.
"Well, just this rucksack and laptop," I would begin. "Oh and decades of conflict, a cold peace and mutual distrust between our peoples." Seriously, I'm not sure how I'll be greeted at the airport and whether I may trip up at the first hurdle. I've asked the advice of friends and have decided that honesty will be the best policy when I'm interviewed.
The burden of history
The Middle East is weighed down and sometimes crippled by the past - as well as the geopolitical importance of its mineral wealth. The recent passover celebrations commeorate the divine slaughtering of my forefathers as retribution for their enslavement of the Hebrews more than 3 millennia ago. Then they fled in their exodus and did battle with their cousins the Cannanites and Philistines to gain their so-called 'Promised Land'. Although forgiven, its hard-wiring into religious tradition means it will never be forgotten.
Today is Good Friday, the day on which another unforgettable Middle Eastern tragedy play was enacted with the crucifixion of Jesus, the uncrowned 'King of the Jews'. Shortly thereafter, much but not all, Iudea's Jewish population was expelled by the Romans, planting the first seeds of the current conflict.
For the Palestinians, their displacement and oppression still lives on and is very concrete - especially in the refugee camps of the West Bank and Gaza, Lebanon, Jordan and Syria.
A few hundred kms further east, another ancient politico-religious feud began with the assassination of Ali and the botched attempt on his rival Muawiyya's life aimed at ending the civil war over the Islamic succession. Instead, the party of Ali (Shi'ite Ali) felt hard done by, and the Umayyad began their persecution. And the legacy burns on in Iraq - with a lot of help from the US invasion.
The sins of the father are visited on the sons. An eye for an eye.
But it does not have to be like that. Politico-religious feuds are not unique to the Middle East. Look at India. Until the late 19th century, the Catholic-Protestant schism threatened to tear Europe asunder, and still lives on, to some degree, in Northern Ireland.
Of course, in a manner of speaking, the sins of the parents do live in the children, if those past crimes are the basis for present injustices, as is the case with the treatment of the Palestinians, the Shia'a in Iraq and the Gulf, the Roma in Europe or African Americans in the USA.
But once the sons and daughters right the sins of their fathers and mothers, then everything should be forgiven and Middle Easterners should let their pragmatic streak shine through. After all, as we say in Egypt, we are all children of today (ihna awlad enhar'da).

Originally written on 6 April 2007
©Khaled Diab