Life in the Badia, pt. 2 – Palestine, politics, and more reverse-Orientalism

If I could have changed one thing about my stay in the Badia, it would have been that I spoke Arabic fluently. I managed alright with an elementary education, but that also meant that the subject matter of conversations in Arabic stayed at an elementary level. In some ways this was welcome; it allowed certain topics to be handled with a certain innocence and beauty that’s lost when heady theoretics make their way into the conversation (more about that in pt. 3). Two situations in particular necessitated language advanced beyond my capabilities in Arabic, and fortunately during those times, at least one of my interlocutors in the room spoke English.

The first story takes place in the office of an administrative official, Faysal, at the Ministry of the Interior’s Office. As mukhtar, Farhan visits the MoI daily, and though his role in the bureaucratic apparatus of the modern Hashemite Kingdom is mostly symbolic, he does command the respect of a large part of the constituency in Umm al-Qatayn and has significant political influence there. This particular visit saw us in an office with Faysal, his assistant (whose name I regret missing, as he was one of the livelier characters), Farhan, and another villager, though I never figured out whether he worked for the MoI or was just passing the time in the air conditioning.

Faysal spoke a little English, so we started with the basics in Arabic and then switched to broken English when a stalemate hit. How old are you? Are you married? Will you get married in the Badia (really glad I finally figured out what he was asking)? Is it possible for me to marry an American girl that you know? What are you studying? Why Middle East studies? Religious studies too? Sha-na-na-na: reverse-Orientalism comin’ atchya, bitch!

Right on cue, when the conversation dovetailed in that direction, Faysal explained in great lengths that Osama bin Ladin is not only (emphatically) not a Muslim, but that he sure as hell doesn’t speak for Muslims in Jordan, as I would undoubtedly see on my travels throughout the country. I assured him I had already arrived at that conclusion myself, based on my time in Amman, interactions with the people there and in Umm al-Qatayn, and from studying Islam and the ME at the UofA in America.

To test my reverse-Orientalism hypothesis, I asked the group straight up (in Arabic, no less): do all the people in Jordan think that all the people in America think that they are like Osama bin Ladin? The room lit up in affirmation. These men “knew” that all Americans “know” that all Muslims are like OSB. Textbook. I respond that for a large part of the country this is pretty much the case, mainly because most people’s only exposure to inhabitants of the Middle East is through the media and U.S. government statements when there’s some sort of violent crisis; in the U.S. popular imagination, Islam, fanaticism, and bloodshed are intricately linked by the discursive power of “information” outlets (basically, Said’s central thesis in Covering Islam). And therein lies the fantastic counter-power of education –for me, university-level Middle East studies and Arabic classes.

With the government officials successfully pacified, the next day I moved on to a fairly tougher crowd: the intelligentsia of Umm al-Qatayn, doctors at the local medical clinic.

Farahan took me to the clinic to see the healthcare system operating in the village, which, though pretty humble and unable to handle a major catastrophe, does alright for itself by Western standards. There I met a doctor, Abdullah, with whom Farhan is good friends. Abdullah took us to the doctor’s lounge for coffee, tea, and of course cigarettes. Like I said, you better accept that Winston Light, or in this case, that Marlboro Red. There we met a young doctor (30 years old max) from Iraq, Weesam. Straight off the set of Grey’s Anatomy, a Christian (which I didn’t learn until after we’d left) and he spoke English fluently. I would gang with Weesam and his friends any day.

We started with religion, for reasons I can’t remember, and how I’d never felt uncomfortable in the Badia for being a Christian, that the people there were very accepting and welcoming regardless of religious differences. Abdullah mentions that when he was studying medicine in Russia he married a Catholic woman (who converted). Weesam said that the rampant atheism in the West was getting to be a big problem (naturally), to which I agreed, citing my distaste for the militant atheist likes of Dawkins, Harris, and Hitchens, whom he knew all about. I told them I think these cranks are just as narrow-minded and extremist in their views as Osama bin Ladin is in his. As expected, the doctors quickly countered that OSB is not representative of all Muslims (to which I gave the usual response), BUT this time my interlocutors acknowledged the U.S.’s role in arming or supporting today’s Muslim fundamentalist enemies: the mujahideen, Taliban, and OSB; Saddam Hussein against Iran in the eighties; Iran’s clerical regime by our unbridled support for the repressive regime of the Shah. This naturally led the conversation to American foreign policy, particularly proxy wars against the Soviets and how the Cold War mindset and its accompanying ideology of American hegemony influenced (along with the Israeli lobby) the policy makers responsible for regime change in Iraq in 2003. He then asked me about the election; right now I’m for Obama, I said, (provided he doesn’t do anything else stupid like affirming that Jerusalem should be the undivided capital of a Jewish state in pandering to AIPAC), because even so, McCain is entirely too hawkish. Weesam doesn’t really like either of them (naturally), but does think that McCain will win. Not quite sure why. We talked about health care – how all the doctors there aspire to get to America to practice but that it involves passing the US Medical Exam and 10 grand, how the issue is huge in this year’s election, and how Weesam favored Hillary’s plan to Obama’s (naturally).

Naturally, by this point, you should realize that Weesam is probably the most knowledgeable guy I’ve talked to here in Jordan. So, of course, what do I ask him at this point: what do you think a just solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict would be?

Weesam began by explaining that there are two ways of looking at the conflict: from a religious perspective and from an Arab perspective. From the former, a position that he did not agree with (whether because he is a Christian or social secularist, I couldn’t tell), the land belongs to the Jews, because, as people of the book in Islam, they had natural rights to the land on the basis of their being there before the Arabs. But, he also added, that some Muslims believe a messianic figure will reclaim the land for the Caliphate, drive out the Jews, and usher in the Apocalypse.

The second perspective, the one with which he sympathized, was that there were Arab people living in Palestine under the Ottomans and on through 1948, were forcibly driven from their homes, and denied their own national self-determination, akin (by his admittance) to the theft, displacement, and massacres committed by the United States against America’s native inhabitants. From this perspective, the Israeli Jews are the aggressors and should leave; Israel should not be viewed as a legitimate, sovereign political entity.

I responded in part agreement – Israel is an aggressive occupying force on land that does not legally belong to it. But that as a humanist (betraying my own religious inklings to the group), I sympathize with the suffering on both sides, Jews in Europe throughout the eighteenth and twentieth centuries and Palestinians living under occupation today. So what did I think a just solution would look like, he asked? I tried my best to explain why I am increasingly convinced by the arguments for a single, bi-national state, particularly given the apartheid situation in the West Bank much like South Africa in the eighties, but that a two-state solution might well be what materializes (if ever). Weesam held fast,that he does not think either of these will work, but that this was only his opinion. I countered that younger generations in the West are more and more sympathetic to the Palestinian cause, that its historic one-sided treatment in the media (again, thanks AIPAC) no longer holds the once-incredibly dominant sway. Even though we didn’t agree on Israel’s right to exist in the end, Weesam consented that he was hopeful that this ‘younger generation,’ myself included, would make aware the Palestinian plight; again, I made note, herein lies the great blessing to pursuing the Middle East studies track, and promised to do my best back in the States.

I wished Weesam all the best, and that insha’ Allah (plus $10,000) he would get to America and practice medicine.

Indeed my new Iraqi friend, insha’ Allah.