Elias Khoury at Words without Borders

Words Without Borders is featuring the new translation of Elias Khoury’s “Yalo” in its Book Club page. The section includes an introduction to the book, with a good analysis of Khoury’s style, and a discussion by translator Paul Theroux of the process of translating this work. There is also an open discussion forum, and more articles will be posted throughout the month. 

Khoury is probably best known for his novel “Bab El-Shems” (The Gate of the Sun), a large, dense work based to a great extent on oral interviews Khoury conducted with Palestinian refugees in Lebanon. I took a class with Khoury at NYU a few years back (he teaches there every Spring). Since he’s not only a major novelist but a major intellectual figure in Lebanon, it was a great way to learn about Lebanese literary and political history. I admire his work, although sometimes it strikes me as stylized and ideologically (for lack of a better word) driven. He’s definitely a post-modern writer; his work, which often involves repetitions and conflicting narratives, addresses the very problems of giving a coherent narrative of events. This strikes me as a theme that is particularly relevant to Lebanon, where it seems to me that arriving at a common, agreed-upon history has long been a challenge. I was also struck by what he told us of his writing process; he writes his stream-of-consciousness books in several drafts; he writes once, then starts over, without referring to the original, and re-writes the whole novel several times.

New ARB site, Tammam on recanted jihadis

Be sure to check out the revamped website of the Arab Reform Bulletin, which now aims to be a continuously updated site with news as well as the monthly analysis we’ve come to know and love.

Of particular interest in the current issue is an article by Hossam Tammam, a leading Egyptian analyst of Islamist movements (once close to the Muslim Brothers, he wrote a trenchant book-length critique of the stagnation of the movement in 2004). In this article Tammam discusses the trend in the past decade, for imprisoned Islamists from the Gamaa Islamiya and Egyptian Islamic Jihad to abandon their old belief in the use of violence. While of course the long experience of prison was a determining factor in getting this result, Tammam argues that these ex-prisoners just want to get on with their lives and in many cases regret their youthful activism.

For the 20,000 to 30,000 Islamists who were released over the past decade (there are no clear numbers, it might be less if you consider that a good part of that number could be people who were never involved in any violent incidents or even espoused violence ideologically, since the methods of state security tend to cast a wide net), a return to what remains of their lives is the priority. Some, notably from the Gamaa Islamiya, have revamped their organization’s ideology and are trying to “mainstream” it, making a tentative return to politics and a u-turn on previous political attitudes, notably embracing Nasser and Sadat. But it’s unlikely they will return to violence, despite their lack of opportunities and wasted lives:

Despite the political, economic, and social frustrations they face, Jihadists have not rescinded their repentance or returned to violence. Skeptics question their sincerity and argue that the despair brought on by current political conditions in Egypt will drive jihadists back to violence, but this is extremely unlikely. Most penitent jihadists are over the age of 50. Having spent twenty years or more in prison, they lack the ability to communicate with members of the young generation who would take up arms in any confrontations with the regime.

I am reminded of an anecdote Saad Eddin Ibrahim told me a few years ago. Ibrahim shared a ward of Tora prison with some of these Islamists when he was imprisoned between 2000 and 2002. He said each Islamist group had taken up a profession in the prison — cooking, washing clothes, etc. — through which they earned money from other prisoners, especially from the VIP section where wealthier convicts (such as former officials caught on corruption charges) serve their time. One former Gamaa Islamiya member he knew ran a lucrative fried fish business, using various prisoners’ right to have food delivered by their families to secure daily supply of fresh fish. He earned enough money to take care of several of his fellow prisoners and send money home to his family.

When that prisoner came to repent and was about to be released, around 2004, Ibrahim had already left the prison. One day he received a visit from that prisoner’s mother. She had a dilemma on her hand. She wanted her son to come home, but was worried that outside of jail he would not find the same money-making opportunities. Tacitly, she was asking Ibrahim (who kept in touch with these prisoners) to convince him to stay a little bit longer, at least until some younger siblings of his were married and had a stable job. In the end, the prisoner did as his mother wished (although I recall he later got out and set up his own food cart in Alexandria).

The anecdote is not unlike the experience Morgan Freeman’s character has after being released from prison after several decades in “The Shawshank Redemption”. These prisoners are returning to an Egypt with few opportunities, but also a radically different Islamist environment. They are out of sync in more than one ways, and discredited (in the eyes on younger potential jihadis) because of their very public recantation. Since it’s quite plausible some of them are sincere about their involvement in violent acts, it’s a shame they are not put to good use to dissuade younger Islamists from going down that path.

One important difference Tammam highlights is the lack of large-scale organization among contemporary radical Islamist groups in Egypt:

Beyond the question of violence, the changing nature of religiosity in Egypt also diminishes the jihadists’ current relevance. Until the mid-1990s, belonging to a particular organization was a cornerstone of Islamist activism. Now, religiosity has taken on a remarkably individualized form. This model is based on a sort of free-market of religious ideas, which offers a broader array of choices, none of which is necessarily binding. Unlike the religious commitment (peaceful or violent) of the past, which required organizational affiliation, today’s religious commitment does not require any direct connection with Islamist organizations or a particular ideological framework.

Understanding these dynamics makes clear why there is no reason to fear that released jihadists will reorganize and return to violence. Individual disgruntled activists might resort to violence in response to a certain feeling of despair—despair about social conditions in Egypt and U.S. policies that push religious and nationalist sentiments to the limit. But any such violence would be diffused and limited to small cells linked by social or occupational interests, unlike the organized jihadi violence of the past. That sort of violence also is more likely to be fueled by the desperate social conditions that Egypt is witnessing than by an Islamist ideology.

I’ve long been pretty skeptical on the poverty-breeds-violence explanation of jihadist terrorism. While it certainly makes recruitment easier (as does the current general disgust with the state one hears everywhere in Egypt), the decisive factor is going to be the ability of even loose extremist movements like al-Qaeda to recruit, train and fund. We’ve heard little about this in Egypt, but the experience of other countries suggests that just because we haven’t heard about it does not mean it’s not there.

Links September 9th to September 11th

Links from my del.icio.us account for September 9th through September 11th:

Links September 7th to September 9th

Links from my del.icio.us account for September 7th through September 9th:

Watching ‘Friends’ in Gaza: Why is that a Culture Clash?

The New York Times yesterday had a long, kind of strange article that was (I guess) about cultural life in Gaza. It had two main points. The first, which gives the article its title “Watching ‘Friends’ in Gaza: A Culture Clash” is that people in Gaza, despite being–I’m not sure exactly, Palestinians, Arabs, Muslims, under a Hamas government?–are into Western pop culture. The first half of the article elaborates on this false clash despite the fact that the very first quote in the story actually lays it to rest. 

Do Gazans living under Hamas buy much Western music or many Western movies? Mr. Kihail [the owner of a video store] looked baffled, and maybe even a little annoyed, by the question.

“Of course,” he said.

The article ends up discussing, in its second half, Hamas’ alleged censorship of cultural life in Gaza. This is more interesting to me, although I don’t necessarily trust the Times’ coverage entirely. For example, the article states that:

[..] Gallery Mina, a Ministry of Culture art space that for years hosted poetry readings, films and Western-style art exhibitions, was among hundreds of organizations recently raided by Hamas, with the excuse of flushing out Fatah links; now Mina has been turned into a home for Hamas-approved events.

This is a bit vague and makes me wish the author had given a few examples of the difference between “Western style art exhibitions” and “Hamas-approved events.”

The piece goes on: 

The Culture and Free Thought Association, a nonprofit organization in Khan Yunis, a town in southern Gaza, with a theater, a summer camp and a variety of arts programs, was looted not long ago by Hamas security forces who held the woman in charge at gunpoint and later went to her home. Leaders of Hamas in Khan Yunis apologized afterward, claiming, like Mr. Taha, that the raiders were renegades.

It’s noteworthy that the places raided by Hamas aren’t book stalls selling sex manuals or cafes showing sitcoms, but cultural centers promoting art that aspires to be more than an opiate for the people, implying an organized attack. “Hamas wants to create an impression in Gaza that they are not controlling individual life or suppressing cultural freedom, and they want that message to reach outside,” said Jamal Al Rozzi, director of the Palestinian Theater Association in Gaza, whose office was also attacked. “But at the same time, everything is under its control. Hamas doesn’t officially tell us that we can’t do anything, but you can be taken away to prison and beaten for 30 days and no one will even know where the hell you are.”

The article takes (disturbing) anecdotal evidence and suggests an “organized attack” against high-brow culture. I’d be curious to here from people who know more about the situation in Palestine than I do as to whether this is true.

Nina Berman photos

I know this isn’t work by a Middle East photographer, but I stumbled across Nina Berman‘s photographs recently and found them striking. She has an Afghanistan series, “Under Taliban,” (which raises all the usual questions about photographing women in burkas–is she exoticizing? or recording reality?). But more strikingly, she has a series of incredibly disturbing photos of US soldiers back from Iraq and Afghanistan with very serious injuries. The “Marine Wedding” series–which shows the wedding of a young marine whose face was basically blown off–has won her particular attention. It shows the price some American are paying for this war in a way that we usually avoid doing.

Links September 1st to September 5th

Links from my del.icio.us account for September 1st through September 5th:

On the New York Subway

Just arrived in New York (to finish my Masters in Middle East Studies). Spent Sunday at Coney Island, among throngs of sunburnt New Yorkers lapping up the last days of summer. On the way back, riding the F train, I sit opposite a young drunk couple. They’re both baby-faced, pink from the sun, nursing big bottles in paper bags. Having a loud conversation of slurred non-sequiturs. She does most of the talking, and from what she says (“when I was in the hospital”, “I’m with him ’cause I don’t want to be alone,” “what I can’t f***ing stand is people f***ing staring at me”) not to mention what look like a lot of small self-inflicted cuts on her arm, I find myself easily picturing many past and future years of drug and substance abuse, violence, bad relationships, cycles of family disfunction. 

It’s a long ride from Coney Island to Williamsburg, where I’m staying. The girl knocks over her bottle. She gets aggressive with another passenger. She boy spends most of his time trying to calm her down, nuzzling in closer, making her giggle. But she seems to enjoy getting riled up–this long drunken ride, with someone paying attention her, with the whole compartment pretending not to listen and look, might be just her idea of fun. When I’m only a few stations away from my destination, I hear her say something about “getting back into the military.” “I wanna go shoot some sand-niggers,” she says. “That’s what we call ’em. That’s what I like to do. Shoot me some sand niggers. Over in … Baghdad. In…uh…Pakistan! ‘Cause I hate those people over there.” The boy tries to shush her a little, but that only makes her keep going, louder–daring anyone to react. She says it over and over again–this young drunk American girl, with her hot pants and her obvious troubles–how she can’t wait to go shoot “sand niggers.” 

(Completely unrelated P.S.: I took a bit of a hiatus with the Arabist Review, but am back to posting now).