Issue No. 48 - Al Jadid Magazine

Transcription

ALJADID
A Review & Record of Arab Culture and Arts
COPYRIGHT 2004 AL JADID
FILMS
‘DOES AN ARAB
LIVE HERE?’
VOL. 10 No. 48 SUMMER 2004 $6.95
Special Issue
Books
Gulf Capital and Arab Satellite Television
onSecular
Books
Tradition
By Lynne Rogers
THE LAST INTERVIEW OF
EDWARD SAID
By
By Mohammad Ali al-Attassi
Louis Awad:
Relentless Advocate of
Beige Adams
By Brigitte Caland
By Mohammad Dakroub
YOUSSEF CHAHINE’S
‘ALEXANDRIE...NEW YORK’
Rethinking Edward Said’s
‘Orientalism’: an Interview
with Charbel Dagher
By Miranda Bechara
THE KILLING OF
ZAHRA KAZEMI
By Elie Chalala
By Emaleah Schakleton
IRAQI KURDISH WOMEN
FIGHT ‘HONOR KILLING’
By Beige Luciano-Adams
INTERVIEWS
WOMAN AND WAR:
CONVERSATION WITH
SUSAN KAHROODY
By Judith Gabriel
EXHIBITIONS
ALTERNATE VOICES,
EXPANDING DIALOGUE
By Doris Bittar
BOOKS
THE DOMAIN OF
ARAB TARAB
By Anne Rassmussen
AL JADID SUMMER 2004
www.ALJADID.com
1
Interviews
Rethinking Edward Said’s ‘Orientalism’:
An Interview with Charbel Dagher
Charbel Dagher, a professor at Balamand University, Lebanon, has been an active and prominent voice on the
Arab cultural scene, mainly in the fields of poetry, Arabic language, and Arab and Islamic arts. In Islamic arts,
Dagher published several major works which have received high praise from diverse groups of critics in the Arab
world. His long list of publications on Islamic art (all in Arabic) include “Islamic Art in Arabic Sources,”
“Mazahib al-Husn: a Lexicographical-Historical Reading of Arab Arts,” “The Arab Painting: Between Context
and Horizon,” and “Art and the East” (two volumes in a book). In his latest, “Art and the East,” Dagher raises
serious methodological and theoretical questions about Edward Said’s “Orientalism.” Through this interview,
which was conducted in Arabic and by phone, I asked Dagher about the limitations and criticisms leveled at
Said’s “Orientalism.”
BY ELIE CHALALA
able to offer such a serious and in-depth
criticism of Orientalism.
Chalala: It appears that you are
breaking away from Arab and Islamic
discourse when you say that any serious
study of the Orient should start from
Orientalist discourse. Can you spell out
the major limitations of Arab/Islamic
discourse which have led you to dismiss
it as the main source for studying the
Orient?
Dagher: Edward Said will not find a
methodology in old Arab/Islamic
literature to assist in understanding the
discourse of the West on the East. Thus
my problem with Said is simply
methodological, focusing on his
approach. Said’s approach is based on a
confrontation between the West and the
East. Were one to be governed by the
logic of such confrontation, the suitable
discourse on criticizing Orientalism
should come from the East. In practice,
Said uses Western methodology to
criticize Orientalism.
I take issue with Said’s reliance on
Western discourse to criticize
Orientalism. I consider the methods
developed in the West valid for us as
well as the Orientalists. These methods
are useful and effective analytical tools,
and the fact that Said himself employed
them to criticize the Western discourse
illustrates my point. Had he returned to
major Arab scholars like Ibn Khaldun,
or Al Farabi, or classical Arabic texts like
Ilm al-Kalam, he would not have been
2
Chalala: You identify a set of
differences between you and Said,
which are evident mainly in his book,
“Orientalism.” A key issue that
separates you is the time period of
Orientalism. Orientalism for you started
in the 15th century, while for Said it
began with Napoleon Bonaparte’s
Campaign in Egypt and ended with
World War II. What is the significance
of this difference, and what does a
period of 200 years add to our
knowledge of Orientalism?
Cover of the “Arts and the East”
Cover of the “The Arab Painting Between
Context and Horizon”
www.ALJADID.com
Dagher: Certainly, I differ with Said on
the time period, as you mentioned in
your question. By the 15th century, the
Europe of today had already emerged
in the world – Portugal, Spain, France,
Holland, and Britain. During the 15th
century they added new discoveries,
namely the New World. Hence, the world
during the 15th century, including
America, was a sphere of competition,
conquest, and the acquisition of natural
resources like gold.
During the same period, the
Ottoman Empire was the dominant
power in the East. Europe was unable
to penetrate and dominate it because
the East was highly developed and
superior. In light of this, Europe’s entry
into that world was influenced by
curiosity, especially by its interests at
Continued on page 4
CONTEN
TS
ENT
essays &
featur
es
ures
6.
Gulf Capital and Arab
Satellite TV by
Mohammad Ali al-Attassi
10. Louis Awad: Relentless
Advocate of Secular
Tradition by
Mohammed Dakroub
13. Feminism Beyond
Gender by
Rafif Rida Sidawi
14. A Life Under Fire: Inside
the Gaza Occupation
by Satoshi Yamaji
18. Samir Nakash: The
Wandering Arab-Jew by
Mohammad Ali Atassi
20. A Year After Sunset,
Remembering Amina
Rizk by
Miranda Bechara
22. Ahmad Dahbur: In
Pursuit of Blackness
by Mark H. Grimes
interviews
2.
Rethinking Edward
Said’s ‘Orientalism’: An
Interview with Charbel
Dagher
by Elie Chalala
24. A Critic’s Search for a
Truer Vision of War
by Inayeh Jabber
26. Landmark of Arab Music
Heritage by Mai Munasa
54. Women and War: The Art
of Earth, Fire, and Milk
by Judith Gabriel
music
books
f ilms
29. Chahine’s ‘Alexandrie...
New York’
by Miranda Bechara
30. Three Post-9/11
Documentaries
by Lynne Rogers
32. “Feminizing” Politics
and Transforming the
Culture of Conflict by
Beige Luciano-Adams
33. One Woman’s Crusade
Against State Terror by
Beige Luciano-Adams
34. Fearing Her Camera’s
Eye by Emaleah
Shackleton
36. Documentary Captures
Syrian Complexities
by Bobby Gulshan
37. Ingredients of the
Creative Self: An
Intimate Look at
Edward Said by
Doris Bittar
38. The Last Interview of
Edward Said by
Brigitte Caland
40. Mideast Youth United
by Anxiety by
Bobby S. Gulshan
41. Women, Honor,
Patriarchy: Progress in
Kurdish Iraq by
Beige Luciano-Adams
42. Legacies of War and
Ghosts of Normal Life
by Lynne Rogers
Al Jadid, a Review of Arab Culture and Arts
EDITOR: ELIE CHALALA
ASSOCIATE EDITOR: MAUREEN D. TINGLEY
CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: JUDITH GABRIEL, PAMELA NICE,
PAULINE HOMSI VINSON
EDITORIAL INTERNS: BOBBY GULSHAN, BEIGE ADAMS
WEBSITE & COMPUTER: LAHIRU COLLURE
ART: ZAREH
PRODUCTION: INTERNATIONAL DESKTOP PUBLISHING
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT: MARY GAO
Al Jadid (ISSN 1523 - 746X) is published quarterly by Al Jadid
Magazine Company, P.O. Box 241342, Los Angeles, CA 900241342,Telephone:(310) 470-6984, E-Mail: [email protected]
Web site www.aljadid.com Subscriptions $18.00 (individual);
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any use of translations, editorial or pictorial content is prohibited.
Translations to English of artistic and cultural titles are those of
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own Arab or Mideast authors. Trademark registered. Articles
signed represent the opinions of their authors and do not
necessarily represent the policy of Al Jadid. Use of any person’s
name or description in fiction or humorous features is purely
coincidental and not the responsibility of Al Jadid. We encourage
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mainly about books, films, music, fine arts, theater, and science.
Al Jadid assumes no responsibility for unsolicited materials.
Manuscripts or artwork not accompanied by stamped, selfaddressed envelopes will not be returned. Printed in Los Angeles.
49. World Music Releases
Blend Folk Classics and
Innovation by
Judith Gabriel
Cover Artist: “Triumph” (2004), an installation by Salah
Saouli. Saouli is a Lebanese artist who lives in Germany. Please
www.ALJADID.com
see “Cover Artsist” on page 53.
Cover Design by LAHIRU COLLURE
46. The Indivisible Domains
of Tarab by Anne K.
Rasmussen
51. The Perennial Refugees:
Steadfastness in a World
of Forgetfulness by
Doris Bittar
exhibition
52. Alternate Voices,
Expanding Dialogue by
Doris Bittar
poems
25. A Visit
by Moayed al- Rawi
28. The Successor of
Bedouins
by Fadwa Toukan
cover artist
53. Salah Saouli
contributors
Beige Adams (“Feminizing
Politics and Transforming the
Culture of Conflict,” p. 32; “One
Woman’s Crusade Against
State Terror,” p. 33 and
“Women, Honor, Patriarchy,” p.
41) is a Los Angeles-based
journalist and performing artist.
Mohammad Ali al-Attassi
(“Gulf Capital and Arab
Satellite TV,” p. 6 and “Samir
Nakash: The Wandering ArabJew,” p. 18) is a Syrian author
and critic. His articles and
reviews appear regularly in An
Nahar Literary Supplement.
Miranda Bechara (“Chahine’s
‘Alexandrie...New York,’” p. 29)
is a Cairo -based author and
critic.
Continued on page 35
3
Interviews
Charbel Dagher Takes Issue with Edward Said
on East vs. West, the German Orientalist School,
and the Periodization of ‘Orientalism’
Continued from page 2
the time: the desire to seek knowledge for
cultural and developmental purposes.
The subsequent period Said studied
was quite different from the earlier. By the
time Napoleon invaded Egypt, Europe had
become more powerful and was
capable of dominating the East. This
was possible because the Ottomans,
primarily in some of the areas they
dominated, had begun to grow weak
and even paralyzed. This explains
how Bonaparte easily invaded Egypt
and defeated the Mamlouk armies.
Said chose to begin with
Napoleon’s Campaign because he
wanted to emphasize the
relationship between knowledge and
domination. Had he started before
Napoleon’s Campaign, his theory
would not have been convincing. He
ended his study of Orientalism by
WWII for different reasons, linking
the United States to the Orientalist
project started by Europe. I believe
that the Orientalist project reached
its peak of success in WWI, when
Britain and France and others were
able to dominate vast territories of
the Ottoman Empire. As the Ottoman
Empire neared its end, the Western
and European model of the East
began to be presented in Eastern
countries themselves. In WWI, the
Western model reached its peak of
ambition, as Eastern countries started to
adopt the Orientalist discourse about
themselves.
Chalala: You are critical of Said for
excluding the German Orientalist school
in his study of Orientalism and argue that
this factor has denied scholarship the
positive contributions of this school.
What are some of these positive
contributions?
Dagher: Said’s theory is based on the
notion of ascribing knowledge to interest
based on domination. This approach
4
applies very much to both the British and
French schools, but of course does not
apply to the German school or even parts
of the Russian school. Said dealt with
Orientalism eclectically, choosing parts
without any doubt of its academic value.
They do not hesitate to use those studies
in universities throughout the Arab world.
Meanwhile, we find ourselves forced to
review carefully most of the studies
produced by the British and French
schools about the East. We do this
because these studies contain
substantial distortions about the East,
propagating
judgments
and
assumptions which are misleading,
incorrect or incomplete.
Chalala: Is this true for all historical
periods of the German school?
Dagher: Yes, it applies to all the
periods because the German school,
or Germany, did not have imperialist
designs on the East. In the research
for my book “Art and the East,” I
found some German expansionist
interests – or designs on the East –
during the 14th century. But these
were few and isolated cases. In the
absence of a colonialist policy,
Germany’s culture was confined to
studying and investigating texts. In
my book I attribute this discipline to
the Protestant tradition in Germany, a
tradition influenced by the efforts of
Martin Luther, who inspired the
Charbel Dagher by Saliba al-Duweihi, Paris, 1990
efforts to translate the Bible from Latin
to German. This led to the
establishment
of a German school based
of it to substantiate his assumptions. Had
on
respecting
the
manuscripts through the
he covered other Orientalist schools, his
process
of
examination
and translation.
theory about the European discourse on
The
East
and
the
Eastern
texts benefited
the East would have found partial rather
from
the
policy
of
carefully
examining
than complete validations. The German
manuscripts.
school, for example, was particularly
interested in investigating old Arabic
texts. This school had met considerable Chalala: You disagree with Said over the
success; its accomplishments are relative weight of text and history when
respected and widely referred to in Arab you claim that Said gave importance to
culture. I teach at a university and was the text over history. Can you clarify this
taught at a university, and I know of point and give us some examples?
colleagues throughout the Arab world who
accept the studies of the German school
www.ALJADID.com
Interviews
Dagher: Said’s preference for the text over
history is attributed to his influence by
the early writings of Michel Foucault,
namely his early book “Words and
Things,” published in 1966. To avoid any
confusion, we should note that Said was
influenced more by the early than the late
Foucault, because the late Foucault had
adopted a different approach (Of course,
since Said’s Orientalism” was published
in 1977 it could not have shown an
influence by late Foucault). Foucault’s
earlier book “Words and Things” ignored
history in favor of the texts; his readers
found no reference to what was occurring
outside of the texts Foucault was
studying. Said in “Orientalism” was not
as strict as Foucault in neglecting the
historical factor. Still, Said gave
considerable importance to the texts,
while ignoring the historical context
reflected in the books of the time.
The problem of Said’s approach to
analyzing the texts is clearly evident in
the following examples. French
intellectuals or Orientalists who studied
the East had worked for their government
most of the time either as state employees,
sent as part of excavation and research
missions, or enlisted in the colonialist
government in Algeria. British
Orientalists, however, had been more
independent from their government than
their French counterparts. They tended to
be members of scientific and other
professional associations which were
quite autonomous from the government.
Thus, the distinction between the
professional roles played by Orientalists
is a key to understanding Orientalism.
Unless we understand this, for example,
we cannot understand much of the
colonialist policies of Britain and France.
To sum up, Said treated all texts
equally. What do I mean by that? He
treated, for example, a narrative text by
Flaubert in Egypt the same way he treated
a political speech by a British minister in
the House of Commons – or an
archeological text. As linguistics and the
theory of discourse tell us, these texts are
different: different in their compositional
nature, goals, and subjects. A narrative can
be based on either facts or fiction. Political
speech, for example, is based on
Europe, particularly France and Britain,
in their relationships with the East.
Chalala: How do you analyze the texts
on art in your book, the “Art and the East?”
Cover of “Islamic Art in Arabic Sources”
“Mazahib al-Husn: a LexicographicalHistorical Reading of Arab Arts”
immediate and effective influence.
Without going into much analysis, these
three types of texts – literary, political,
and archeological – are different. To be
accurate in our research, we cannot treat
them equally, as Said does. A study of
Orientalism ought to place the study of
the texts within the historical processes
that moved the obsession, the quest for
domination, which was demonstrated by
www.ALJADID.com
Dagher: In my book, I distinguish
between three issues in every text about
art. The first is what we call the informative,
i.e. the information about the East: here
we can accept the information, amend it,
or invalidate it. If the Orientalist says Al
Jahiz was born in a specific year, we have
the options to accept this date, correct it,
or dismiss it. We cannot claim that the
Orientalist discourse is mistaken,
incorrect, or misleading in its entirety. The
informative element has contributed to
our appreciation of many German texts.
The second issue is descriptive. The
process of description is also subject to
truthfulness or falsification. For example,
if someone described the Umayyad
Mosque in an incorrect way, we can
correct the erroneous description
The third issue, however, presents the
major problem in the Orientalist discourse
about art. This element is the evaluative,
i.e. the process of judging the information.
The evaluative is an opinion, and cannot
be right or wrong. Here we find essential
differences between the Orientalists and
the Easterners. What an Easterner views
to be beautiful, the Orientalist may deem
otherwise. Most differences between Arabs
and Orientalists lie in the evaluative
process; we see different interpretations,
judgments, and opinions. Consider that
today when we open any dictionary about
the East, we find immense information
about this writer or that, this mosque or
that church, or a classic art book; all this
information, in large part, are the fruits of
the Orientalist works on the heritage of
the East. This information is accepted in
dictionaries and books for it can be
subject to either validation or falsification.
We accept these facts without any
question. Our difference with the
Orientalists lies in the evaluative and
judgmental processes – in the
assumptions, ideas, perceptions, and
misperceptions which govern our attitude
toward things. In this very area, the views
5
Essays & Features
Gulf Capital and Arab Satellite Television
The author questions the heroism of Al Jazeera and the notion that Arab satellites
contribute to democratization in the Arab world
B Y MOHAMMAD ALI ALATASSI
AL-A
Television emerged in Egypt, the
largest Arab country, in the mid 1950s.
Soon it spread into other Arab countries
with the governments maintaining
complete control of broadcasting and
channels. Television became a
prerequisite element of sovereignty which
Arab governments took pride in, along
with the flag, national anthem, army and
diplomatic corps.
For 40 years, national television
channels played a major role in
disseminating official propaganda and
glorifying Arab rulers, while preventing
any dissenting social and political
discourse from reaching viewers.
When military coups were frequent
in the Arab world, the national armies
seized the television studios to announce
Declaration Number One, a process seen
as essential in enabling military officers
to gain control of the state and its
machinery. Under these conditions, radio
stations which broadcast in Arabic from
Europe or the United States (such as BBC,
Voice of America and Radio Monte Carlo)
were the only remaining window for the
Arab citizen to hear a discourse different
from the official one.
Satellite Broadcasting
This media has undergone
fundamental changes since the late 1980s
with the introduction of satellite
technology into the Arab world and the
increasing number of satellite dishes being
placed on rooftops in Arab cities and
villages. The second Gulf War in 1991 and
the central role played by the American
media, particularly CNN, alerted the Saudi
Arabian government and the other Gulf
countries to the importance of satellite
channels in making news and influencing
Arab public opinion. The war revealed to
6
the Saudi ruling elite the extent of to the mix. It is only within the last few
increased hostility toward the kingdom’s years that the Arabs have had satellite
foreign policies as well as the increased capability such as Arab SAT and Nile SAT,
Arab public rejection of the
presence of American
military bases in Saudi
Arabia.
As soon as the war
ended, influential Saudi
businessmen with close
ties to the royal family (the
two brothers of King
Fahd’s wife, Mohammed
and Walid al-Ibrahim)
launched the MBC
(Middle East Broadcasting
Center) from London on
September 18, 1991. This
was the first Arab satellite
channel directed toward
the Arab viewer and
broadcast in all Arab as
well as some European
countries. It recently
The number of Arab Satellite TV Stations are many. Some
moved to Dubai. MBC was
followed in September of these are identified by the above logos. ART channel (Arab
Radio and Television); LBC (Lebanese Broadcasting Company)
1994 by the European- Egyptian Television (logo first from left of the second row) and
based Orbit channel, Nile Drama, also Egyptian (logo third from right of the second
which is Saudi-financed row).
through the group Al
Muraad, owned by Khalid bin Abdullah which enable most Arab countries to have
bin Abd al-Rahman. Some estimate that it their own national satellite channels
is one of the highest media investments broadcast to all parts of the Arab world,
in the world. The channel moved later from Europe, and North and South America.
Additionally, some special satellite
Rome to the Jordanian capital, Amman.
In 1995, the ART channel (Arab Radio channels were introduced in Lebanon,
and Television), which is Saudi-funded – Egypt, and the United Arab Emirates,
with a budget of approximately $600 focusing on sports, religion, education or
million dollars – by the group Dalla al family issues. Both the private and the
Baraka and owned by Sheikh Saleh government-owned channels remain
Abdullah Kamel began broadcasting. The commit-ted to official Arab policies and
year 2000 saw two other channels depend on public funding, which can be
established, LBC (Lebanese Broadcasting attributed in part to the weakness of
Company) and Al Mustaqbal, both advertising revenues. Moreover, the Arab
Lebanese and sympathetic to Saudi countries do not have laws that regulate
Arabia, and since then the two channels the media to ensure its freedom and allow
Abu Dhabi and Dubai, both from the these channels to transform themselves
United Arab Emirates, have been added into self-supporting institutions.
www.ALJADID.com
Essays & Features
The common denominator
of all these satellite channels,
totaling approximately 200
television channels, is a
sensitivity to the Saudi
kingdom and a goal of not
violating its political and
religious prohibitions. The
kingdom maintains great
influence over the Arab
countries as well as directly
funding these channels. One
must also keep in mind that the
Saudi petro dollar is the major
mover of the advertising
markets in the Arab world.
The Birth of Al Jazeera Channel
In the midst of these changes, the
Qatar-based Al Jazeera channel was born
in April 1996. It was established and
funded by the new ruler of Qatar, Sheikh
Hamad bin Khalifa al-Thani, who deposed
his father on June 27, 1995. With
American support, he started a political
modernizing process which expressed
itself in allowing municipal elections,
and $10 million for program production,
with the rest going to the salaries of the
journalists and workers in offices spread
throughout the world.
If the Qatari state is one of the
smallest Arab countries from a
demographic perspective (its population
is 769,152 of which 150,000 are Qatari,
only 20 percent of the population), its
important strategic position in the Gulf,
the presence of the largest regional
withdrawing in protest of the
channel’s interview with a
London-based Saudi dissident,
Mohammed al-Massari, and the
broadcasting of the funeral of a
Saudi princess, violating Saudi
religious
and
political
prohibitions. Al Jazeera
benefitted from this opportunity
by employing 120 journalists
and technicians who had been
left virtually unemployed. The
professional experience of this
group constituted the spinal
cord of the new channel and left
its mark upon it (according to a
June 2001 article by Louay Y.
Bahry for Middle East Policy).
Starting in September 1996, Al
Jazeera started broadcasting news from Al
Dawha, the capital of Qatar, for about six
hours daily, eventually increasing to 12
hours. Since January 1, 1999, it has been
broadcasting 24 hours of news and
political programs. The political
programs are broadcasted live and last
about two hours, such as “Crossfire”
hosted by Faysal al-Qasim, in which two
The logic of the spectacle aims at more excitement in order to preserve and grow a
large viewing audience. It turns Al Jazeera into an accomplice of the kidnappers of
innocent civilians whose messages it transmits.
granting women the right to vote,
eliminating the Ministry of Information
on March 3, 1998, and distancing himself
completely from the tutelage of his Saudi
neighbor and its political prohibitions.
For the launch of Al Jazeera, the prince
allocated an amount approximating $130
million (according to a March 7, 2000
article by Gilles Paris for Le Monde) and
appointed Sheikh Hamad bin Thamer alThani head of Al Jazeera’s board of
directors, while assuming simultaneously
the post of the head of the administrative
council of radio and television in Qatar.
Experts such as Jon Alterman at the
Washington Institute for Near East Policy
estimate the channel costs the Qatari
treasury about $44 million annually, $4
million for renting satellite equipment
American military base on its territory, and
its possession of a huge reserve supply of
natural gas have allowed the young prince
to benefit from the swamp of Arab inertia
and play a political role disproportionate
to the size of his country, helped by an
aggressive diplomacy and an
unconventional television channel.
The birth of Al Jazeera coincided
with the failure of an Arab news channel
project, started two years earlier in
London, under the name BBC Arabic TV
Station. This failed project was a
cooperative effort between the Saudi
channel Orbit and the British channel
BBC, in which the Saudi channel would
invest $150 million at an estimated $26
million annually. The termination of this
station is traced to the Saudi partner
www.ALJADID.com
rivals debate a hot political subject, and
“More Than One Opinion” hosted by Sami
Haddad from London, where several
specialists discuss major current events.
In another program, “Without Borders,”
host Ahmad Mansour mediates major
figures who present on his or her own area
of expertise. A religious program, “Islamic
Law and Life,” is hosted most of the time
by the Qatari-based Egyptian Sheikh
Yusuf al-Kardawi. Al Jazeera recently
launched a new program, “For Women
Only,” in which Luna al-Shibl hosts
women who debate and discuss subjects
related to Arab women. All of these
programs receive phone calls from
viewers on the subjects presented for
discussion.
7
Essays & Features
Al Jazeera has 11 offices, 38
correspondents and 500 employees
scattered throughout world capitals (see
Louay Y. Bahry’s article). What
distinguishes Al Jazeera from the rest of
the Arab satellite channels, making it the
most watched channel in the Arab world
(it attracts about 35 million viewers,
according to a survey conducted in 2002
for Al Jazeera by the British institution
Spot Beam communication), is that it
dares to present political issues which are
normally prohibited or suppressed and
does not take into consideration the
sensitivity of any Arab regime, especially
not of the Saudi one.
Political opposition figures in many
Arab countries are often welcome on Al
Jazeera to express their opinions and
criticisms of the ruling regimes. And this
is what causes many diplomatic crises
between the government of Qatar and the
domestic stability and American
protection Qatar enjoys, the immense
wealth by which it is blessed, and its small
population. It is important to note here
that Al Jazeera rarely allows any criticism
of the Qatari government, and if this
happens, it only comes in the context of
polishing the image of the channel as a
media outlet completely independent
from any government. The facts show that
most of the time, the reportage is directed
in the end to serve Qatari interests. For
example, on April 18, 2003, after the head
of the Islamic Ulema Association in Iraq,
Shaykh Ahmad al- Qubaysi, gave a speech
from the podium of Imam Abah Hanifa
Mosque in Baghdad, Al Jazeera broadcast
part of the speech urging unity between
Shiites and Sunnis and calling for the end
of American occupation. But Al Jazeera
edited out an important section, where alQubaysi ridiculed the prince of Qatar and
who imagine that Al Jazeera alone is
capable of threatening the stability of any
Arab regime are mistaken. The extent of
the changes that can be reasonably
expected is the other governments
restructuring their media policies and
moving away from the doctrine of direct
instruction – and adopting a policy of
indirect instruction to give the viewercitizen the illusion of “television
freedom.”
The media vacuum and its
consequences have led to an increasing
role for Al Jazeera and the Qatari
government in Arab politics. This fact has
changed the rules of the game within the
Arab media, which remained for a long
time hostage to Arab official discourse and
of the traditional Saudi prohibitions. This
vacuum prompted the rest of the overseas
Arab satellite channels, most of which are
funded by oil capital, both Saudi and Gulf,
This media diversity will neither contribute to increasing the margin of political freedoms
nor will it serve the democratic transformation in the Arab world. The new media outlets
are imposed from above, operating in isolation from Arab societies, and responding only
to the priorities of the ruling regimes and Gulf capital.
rest of the Arab governments. The
recalling of Arab ambassadors from Al
Dawha to their home countries (Algeria,
Tunisia, Jordan, Saudi Arabia) for
consultation has rarely stopped over the
past five years of Al Jazeera’s existence;
Al Jazeera offices are frequently closured
in many Arab capitals.
To counter the criticism Arab regimes
leveled at Al Jazeera’s daring
programming, the Qatari government has
maintained that the management of the
channel enjoys freedom and complete
independence, and thus Qatar does not
interfere in the channel’s media policies,
despite its financial support of the
channel. But the unpublicized goal of the
Qatari government remains the
continuation of Al Jazeera and its ability
to cause political storms which enable this
small country to remain a major player on
the political stage of the region. It does
not worry about any pressure from its Arab
neighbors, namely because of the
8
called upon him to reduce his weight,
return to his natural place, and have Qatar
stop playing roles larger than its natural
size.
Despite this, one cannot understand
the role that Al Jazeera channel plays in
the Arab media without mentioning that
the remaining Arab satellite channels lack
the same level of freedom enjoyed by Al
Jazeera. Certainly the importance of this
channel and the vast audience it has
differs from one Arab country to another.
For example, in Lebanon, there are many
private radio and television stations, and
as a result Al Jazeera plays a less important
role than in countries like Saudi Arabia,
Syria, and Libya, where there is no other
media alternative to the official point of
view.
This channel disturbs most Arab
governments and creates some problems,
which are attributed to the repressive
structure of these governments and their
inability to accept criticism. But those
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to attempt to catch up with Al Jazeera by
engaging in political issues.
The Saudi variety satellite channel
MBC, which operates from London and
Dubai, launched a news channel called al
Arabiya in March 2003 which broadcasts
news throughout the hour and presents
political talk shows similar to the
programs on Al Jazeera. It has even enticed
broadcasters and talk show hosts of Al
Jazeera’s successful programs to leave the
Qatari station and join the new team of Al
Arabiya. Saudi, Kuwaiti, and Lebanese
capital, estimated at 300 million dollars
spread over 5 years, funds this channel.
The LBC satellite channel signed a
partnership agreement with the Londonbased Al Hayat newspaper (owned by
Saudi Prince Khalid bin Sultan, a deputy
Saudi defense minister) to broadcast news
from a joint studio in London,
incorporating it into the programs of the
LBC. This agreement was presented as the
first step toward establishing a joint news
Essays & Features
channel broadcasting around the clock. and political events, not only in Arab
In December 2003, the Saudi Prince Walid countries but in different parts of the
bin Talal bought 49 percent of LBC’s world. In the Arab world, however, such
stocks.
an influence is in one direction only. In
The Kuwaiti government is also these nations, the very modern media
preparing to launch an Arab satellite news technology impacts vulnerable Arab
channel in collaboration with some societies. The societies are controlled by
private capital. In April 2004, the the ruling regimes and denied civil social
American administration launched an
Arab satellite news channel called Al
Hurra which broadcasts from
Washington D.C. It is directed by the
METN (Middle East Television
Network) and financed by Congress
with $62 million annually. To complete
the picture, the Israeli government has
studied the launch of a satellite news
channel directed at viewers in the Arab
world.
This media war has not yet affected
the role played by Al Jazeera in
influencing Arab public opinion, or the
leading position Al Jazeera enjoys. It
appears that the only benefit that the
Arab viewers have from these new
channels is the possibility of viewing
some of the faces of the Qatari
opposition, prohibited from appearing
on Al Jazeera. It is unlikely that these
new channels, which claim
independence and which are funded by
Saudi, Kuwaiti, Israeli, and American “The Arab Media War: Can a Moderate TV News
capital, will allow dissident and Channel Succeed in the Arab World? Remaking
Al Arabiya” is the major title and subtitles of a front
oppositional forces against the cover feature article in the New York Times
sponsoring governments.
magazine.
This media diversity will neither
contribute to increasing the margin of institutions, their political will paralyzed
political freedoms nor will it serve the by illiteracy, poverty, and unemployment.
democratic transformation in the Arab They are expected to view themselves –
world. The new media outlets are imposed through the screen of Al Jazeera and other
from above, operating in isolation from satellite channels – in a Hollywood-style,
Arab societies, and responding only to the commercial entertainment way, in war as
priorities of the ruling regimes and Gulf well as in peace, in politics as well as in
capital. Today, Arab societies do not have culture.
the possibility to counterbalance the Gulf
Western media, electronic and print,
media’s influence, mainly because they saluted the appearance of Al Jazeera,
are deprived of the freedom of expression calling it an Arab CNN, thus inaugurating
and the right to form political parties, the onset of the Arab world’s entry into
associations, and independent media the age of media. This analysis makes
institutions which would produce sense since Western media play a role in
cultural, social and political figures their societies similar to that Al Jazeera
capable of better representing them. One plays in Arab countries. Yet, there is an
cannot deny the increasing role of the essential difference: the West enjoys
media in forming Arab public opinion, alternative media, civil institutions, and
influencing politics, and fabricating social dissident political trends – all forces
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capable of bringing the citizens a
discourse different from the one-sided
view set by major Western media sources.
The extravagant praise for Al Jazeera
has come even from the alternative press.
Consider the French Le Monde
Diplomatique, a long-established
publication, known for its in-depth
criticism of Western media and its
exposition of the domination and power
relationships that sustain it: like other
media, it published laudatory articles
in praise of Al Jazeera, comparing it
positively to CNN (see Le Monde
Diplomatique of August 2000).
Ignacio Ramonet, the editor-inchief of Le Monde Diplomatique,
cautions in his book, “The Tyranny of
Communication,” regarding the danger
of firmly establishing the division of
the world into one media for the poor
and another media for the rich, just as
the population of the North and South
are sharply unequal in terms of their
economic and material resources.
What concerns us is having
Western critical thought divided into
one tradition offering a poor analysis
of the developing world and its media,
while at the same time another tradition
offering a deep critical analysis of the
rich, mainly in its deconstruction and
analysis of the forces that govern the
relationship of the media with the state
and capital. It is unacceptable today for
certain critical thinking trends in the
West to continue expressing simplistic,
ambivalent, and sometimes exotic
feelings toward the phenomenon of an
Arab media channel such as Al Jazeera,
while at the same time practicing their own
sharp criticisms of a similar media
phenomena in their own societies.
Many optimistic observers believe
that Al Jazeera allowed a shakeup of the
complete Arab political media swamp and
enabled some political dissidents and
human rights advocates to reach large
segments of the viewers and restore
dynamism to certain Arab-Arab debates
on the television screen – beyond political
borders or censorship. However, what they
are neglecting is that this shakeup is
9
Essays & Features
Louis Awad: Relentless Advocate of Secular Tradition
Dakroub recalls Awad’s commitment to democratic and liberal ideals, tolerance of the Other
BY MOHAMMED DAKROUB
“My Life Papers” is the penultimate
book written by the late Egyptian
intellectual and scholar, Louis Awad. Part
One, “The Formative Years,” published in
1989, comprises the first part of Awad’s
unfinished autobiography. In his book,
Awad recounts that Mansour Fahmi, who
had become a conservative, gave a
university lecture on “respect for
tradition and the necessity for sons to
imitate their fathers, and the fathers their
forefathers.” At the end of the lecture,
Awad, who was still a student, stood up
and asked, “If each generation is
obliged to follow the customs, manners,
and ideas of the generation that came
before it, how then is there room for
progress?” Awad tells us that Fahmi
replied, “This is a difficult matter, a
difficult matter that only time will
solve.”
Through
his
productive
intellectual life, Awad came to see that
time alone does not solve this “difficult
matter,” but rather individuals who
work toward improving life by seeking
new literary and intellectual solutions
as well as social transformations. For
Awad, it was unnatural not to progress
– for sons to be replicas of their fathers.
Indeed, one can perhaps say that the
hallmark of Awad’s work is his
persistent efforts to find an answer to
this pressing question.
In his book, Awad recounts how his
father always made him aware of the
role that the British occupation played
in fueling the strife between Muslims
and Copts in Egypt, just as they had done
between Muslims and Hindus in India.
According to Awad, there is a general
atmosphere of awareness of sectarian
issues among Egyptians, both Muslim and
Copt, following the 1919 revolution. In
“Life Papers,” Awad writes: “You could
feel a burning nationalism in the
conversation among the educated
10
throughout the city, in the streets, in
schools, and in the newspapers.” Awad
concludes that this early awareness of the
role that occupation plays in exploiting
religious differences was “foremost in
shaping his understanding of the question
of nationalism and in defining his position
with regard to the relationship between
religion and the state, and between
religion and society.”
Louis Awad by Oscar Galilea Jr. for Al Jadid
From these beginnings, Awad
becomes convinced that a democratic state
belongs to each of its citizens equally, and
not to the followers of a particular religion
who leverage it against those who
practice any other faith. Awad sees the
importance of leaving religious matters
for religious figures, and at the same time
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he understands that they need to stay away
from politics except as it concerns them
as state citizens.
According to critic Naseem Mijalli,
Awad is consistently and emphatically
against the formation of a religious state.
Awad says, “Whether according to
Christian Papacy or the Islamic
Caliphate, a religious state is based upon
a comprehensive program that is presided
over by an absolute ruler who
combines within himself
religious and worldly power, or,
if you will, one who governs
over ethical and worldly matters
according to the authority he
believes is granted to him by
religion.” A state of this type
stands contrary to the meaning
of democratic rule and equality
among its citizens.
Indeed, the establishment of
a democratic state, free from
oppression and sectarian rule, is
a basic component of Louis
Awad’s revitalizing intellectual
endeavors.
Just as Awad opposed the
creation of a religious state, he
also critiques the manner in
which religious instruction was
conducted in the schools,
which, to him, encouraged
segregation among the children.
He expresses his painful reaction
to this issue recalling: “When I
was in elementary school, I used
to feel greatly distressed –
without knowing why – for an
hour each week during the
period of religious instruction,
when they used to divide the class in half,
and the Muslim children would go to one
room, the Christians to another in order
for each group to receive its own religious
teachings separately. It is as if all the
religious scholars failed to find a common
ground from the teachings of Christianity
and Islam that they could then impart to
Essays & Features
all the students together, without the need
for deepening this feeling of difference
between two boys who normally sit on
one school bench together.”
Based on his personal experiences,
inner turmoil, and democratic thinking,
Awad considers that religious teaching
belongs to the domains of the family and
the religious institutions to which the
individual belongs, not to the domain of
the state. He sees that religious teachings
in the schools would “if not encourage
religious intolerance among children, at
least deepen the differences among the
citizenry.”
While Awad formulated his positions
regarding the relationship between
religion and the state based upon his
hopes for establishing a democratic state,
he came under attack from some
conservatives who objected to his ideas,
not from any basis in democratic thinking,
but simply because Awad was a Christian.
Indeed, they came to see all his positions
regarding language, nationalism, and
though, toward the end of his life, he saw
the rise of sectarian violence that resulted
in the attempt on the life of Naguib
Mahfouz, Awad nonetheless held on to the
hope that rationality, forgiveness,
freedom, and social equality would stand
in the face of fanaticism, domination, and
oppression in all their guises.
While so many others deliberately
misconstrued his position as arising from
his religious leanings rather than from a
rational approach, the critic Shukry
Muhammad Ayyad took a position
different from all those who attacked
Awad. In Al Hilal magazine (October
1990), Naseem Mijally quotes Ayyad
saying: “If we want to compare the views
of Louis Awad to those of previous Arab
thinkers, we immediately see how clearly
his thinking comes close to the balanced
positions of Toufiq al-Hakim, or even to
the reconciliatory middle ground that so
many see as the distinguishing feature, if
not the basic feature, of Arab Islamic
thought. We don’t ask that those who
Pharaonic past to his Christianity, as
others insinuate, or else it would be
necessary to attribute the interest in
Pharaonic Egypt that we find in the
Muslims Taha Hussein, Naguib Mahfouz,
and Hussain Fawzi to their religious
affiliations as well. Does this seem
reasonable? The whole matter from the
start was linked to Egyptian nationalism,
itself antagonistic and confrontational
toward British occupation. This Pharonic
emphasis remained one of the
foundational roots of Egyptian
nationalism, a root that by no means
conflicts with its Arab character in our
modern age. This is especially so as Awad
and others like him had a great influence
through their intellectual work upon not
only Egypt but also the whole Arab world.
In this regard, Jaber Asfour insists, “Awad’s
Pharaonic emphasis does not conflict
with his Arabism, but rather complements
it. His Arab character is the basis for all
his erudition and endeavors. Certainly,
his writings and productions have
Insofar as Awad criticizes racist leanings within Arab nationalism – and he is very right
in his criticisms – he appears to be applying his criticism to all who espouse Arabism and
Arab nationalism...We can add that he was also progressive and realistic in his understanding
of Arab nationalism, especially in his rejection of its racist tendencies and his arrival at a
progressive view that ties national unity with democracy, social regeneration, and progress.
culture as somehow influenced by his
Christianity, rather than stemming from
his efforts as a democratic intellectual.
Such views disappointed Awad and
hurt him greatly, making him feel as if he
were in a marginalized minority, denied
full citizenship. For this reason, he narrates
in his autobiography the outcomes of his
struggle for freedom against British
occupation and of his continued advocacy
for Al Wafd, the party of the majority, as
well as for his decades-long call for
rational debate and democracy.
Writing in “The Age of the Novel,”
Jaber Asfour contends that Awad
maintained his adherence to rational
thought to the end without falling into
any sectarian reaction in spite of both the
general atmosphere around him and the
sectarian attacks against him. And even
speak against him count him amongst
Islamic thinkers (though in our opinion it
is a very reasonable matter), but simply
that they set aside the man and admit that
his critical works fall within the heart of
our single Arabic culture, which they are
free to describe as they will.”
In “My Life Papers,” one can find
references to Egypt’s Pharaonic roots. This
view finds justification for Egyptian
nationalism in ancient history. In this
regard, Louis Awad was no different from
so many other Egyptian thinkers and
writers, among them Naguib Mahfouz,
Taha Hussein, Hussein Fawzi, Salama
Moussa, and many others. Because Awad’s
inclination necessitates research into the
country’s ancient history – which is a
nationalist and modern concern – it is
unfair to attribute his interest in the
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contributed to the Arab heritage in ways
which so many of his detractors who
vaunt their Arabism and claim to protect
Arabism have not.”
Awad’s thinking on the subject of the
Egyptian and Arab natures of Egypt
becomes clear in his claims regarding the
complementary relationship between the
two expressions and in the ways in which
matters concerning Egypt are tied to Arab
concerns and to the future of an Arab
union.
In 1978, there arose a debate between
Tawfiq al-Hakim and Louis Awad
regarding an article that al-Hakim
published in Al Ahram on March 3, 1978,
called “Egypt’s Neutrality,” in which alHakim discusses Egypt’s neutrality
between Israel and the rest of the Arab
world. The one who truly challenged al11
Essays & Features
Indeed, they [his critics] came to see all his positions
regarding language, nationalism, and culture as somehow
influenced by his Christianity, rather than stemming from
his efforts as a democratic intellectual.
Louis Awad
Hakim in this regard is none other than
he who is accused of having Pharaonic
rather than Egyptian allegiances, Louis
Awad. Awad responded in four articles that
he published in Al Ahram: “Political
Myths”
(4/7/78),
“Nationalist
Reproaches” (4/20/78), “The Meaning of
Nationalism, Part 1” (5/11/78), and finally
“The Meaning of Nationalism, Part 2” (5/
25/78). He republished these articles later
in his 1989 book, “Studies in
Civilization.”
Awad wrote his responses in the
aftermath of the failed union between
Egypt and Syria, and for this reason,
perhaps, his text is as harsh as any rational
Arab Egyptian could produce. According
to Awad, this experiment taught Arabs that
a quick union that does not fully account
for the differences and similarities in
circumstances as well as necessary
democratic interactions between the two
countries is not a realistic arrangement.
He saw all of these factors contributing
to the failure of the union. For Awad, plots
or conspiracies cannot succeed in
undermining a unified structure, unless
the material, rational foundations to this
structure themselves fail to be deeprooted, realistic, and compatible with one
another.
Awad labels the neutrality which alHakim calls for a myth, and says: “This
isolationist myth is no less far-fetched
than the myth of consolidation which
tries to mimic the Arab nationalist call by
claiming that the people of the area from
the Gulf to the Atlantic are one nation,
not only culturally and socially but
racially and ethnically as well.”
Insofar as Awad criticizes racist
leanings within Arab nationalism – and
12
he is very right in his criticisms – he
appears to be applying his criticism to all
who espouse Arabism and Arab
nationalism. Awad tread on this ground at
a time when the experimental union
between Egypt and Syria had made those
who espouse democratic union, which
ties nationalist union with future interests
rather than with past ethnicities, increase
in number in the Arab countries.
According to Naseem Mijalli in his
article, “Louis Awad, the Tenth Teacher,”
Awad’s ideas “angered some
conservatives who wrote to him, accusing
him of talking like the evangelists who
endeavor to split our national from our
religious natures.” Awad responded : “The
search for secret motives in people’s
consciences that drive them to hold and
express certain ideas, instead of
concentrating on rational debate of the
issues, does not support, but rather
weakens the argument, and belongs to the
type of inquisition that has characterized
our sad human history.” Awad then
reminds his accusers that “they have
forgotten that the first to have called for
Egypt’s isolation from the Arab world were
the pair Tawfiq al-Hakim and Hussein
Fawzi, seizing by the collar the one who
takes a balanced middle ground and
refuses both isolationism and
unionization.”
He who was accused of being a
Pharaonic isolationist (and we see that
Pharaonic history is certainly a basic
component of Egyptian national history)
remained attached to his Egyptianness
without denying his Arabness. He was,
however, unable to decide between the
expressions “the Arab world,” “the Arab
nation,” “Arab civilization,” or “Arab
nationalism.” A careful researcher, Awad
adopted opinions from a sense of national
and intellectual responsibility, and
formulated a view towards the future in
his declaration that the dream “of Arab
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unity and the Arab nation is not
impossible to achieve if its first principle
could be secured, namely the unification
of the Arab world within a state that
governs all its citizens and treats them
equally before the law.” In other words,
he advocated a unified democratic state
based upon democratic principles.
After studying “My Life Papers” and
other works by Louis Awad, we can clearly
see what he said about himself, that he
was “intellectually progressive in the
areas of politics, economics, culture, and
religion.” We can add that he was also
progressive and realistic in his
understanding of Arab nationalism,
especially in his rejection of its racist
tendencies and his arrival at a progressive
view that ties national unity with
democracy, social regeneration, and
progress.
Through this study of Awad’s life
work, we can perhaps understand some of
the reasons behind the deep sadness that
he expressed in the conclusion of his
autobiography. This sadness seems to
stem from having been falsely accused by
those who failed to examine seriously the
intellectual merit of his ideas and to see
that his positions stemmed not from his
religious affiliation, but from his
intellectual convictions.
In the final page of his “Papers,” we
read: “I am now about 50 years removed
from those events that I am recalling with
sadness. But in spite of the 50 cups of
bitter dregs that I have swallowed, I do
not regret the choices I have made in my
life.” AJ
The Arabic version of this essay
appeared in At Tariq Journal. Translation
and publication right granted by the
author and the journal. The English
version appears exclusively in Al Jadid.
Translated from the Arabic by
Pauline Homsi Vinson
Essays & Features
A Feminism Beyond Gender
The author looks at the evolution of sex
in the Arab novel
B Y RAFIF RID
A SID
A WI
RIDA
SIDA
A majority of the literary community
agrees that the 1960s were critical to the
emergence of the modern Arab novel.
This period produced a large number of
works and many different narrative
experiments, both in terms of expression
and artistic form. Sizable but
ideologically varied segments of the Arab
intellectual community embraced the
novel as a means of expression suitable
for nationalist struggles as well as other
issues affecting human existence.
In the 1960s, trends including
socialism, Nasserism, liberalism,
nationalism, and internationalism
promised freedom, development, and
justice for Arab societies. These ideas
impacted cultural and literary life as well.
Novels were categorized as Palestinian,
feminist, or politically committed. These
categories are clearly a legacy of the
1960s, a period during which progressive
and revolutionary ideas led to the
movement of Arab literary criticism.
Empowered by the ideologies of this era,
the novel established its forms, acquiring
the general characteristics which still
mark the Arab novel today.
However, though the Arab novel was
connected with the conditions of its
development and the advocacy of reform,
even before the 1960s it had begun to
move beyond the traditional concept of
sex as exclusively the instinctive
relationship between man and woman.
The early Arab novels and stories told
tales of platonic love and hidden romantic
outbursts, all leading to some loss for both
man and woman. These stories varied in
purpose from one generation to another,
but all played a role as part of a social
reformist goal. Mustafa Lutfi alManfaluti (1877-1924) represented
women in his writings as mainly weak
creatures easily exploitable by man, thus
needing man’s guidance, for he is stronger.
Gibran Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931)
embraced the romantic structure and
secular and materialist tendency of the
reformist goal, urging the union of lovers’
hearts regardless of their religious or class
affiliation.
These tales were connected with the
moral standards of society even though
they represented a revolution against its
norms (especially Gibran’s). The
traditional reformist nature of these early
novels and stories meant compliance with
moral standards. The authors moved
beyond sex to other issues, reducing sex
to a prohibited instinctive relationship
that woman is specifically warned against,
as we see in al-Manfaluti’s writings. Given
the cultural and social conditions which
dominated the early period of the last
century, it is difficult to find complete
liberation from the burden of Arab cultural
discourse. Fiction was heavily influenced
by traditions and ideas opposed to sex and
the entire nature of woman – a trend that
continues today. These themes are
apparent in traditional elements
including mythology and the “odd” or
“strange” tales; the latter portrayed
woman “to be closer to nature, to the
animalistic situation.”
During the 60s, the concept of sex
started to acquire an important symbolic
place in the novel, especially those works
categorized as “feminist.” As authors
separated sex from its conventional
meaning and strict moral standards, it
distinguished itself by the use of different
formal structures and techniques.
Novelists adopted a variety of voices,
languages, association of ideas,
introspection, recollection, and other
modern techniques, and intensified the
symbolic roles of narrative elements such
as time and place. The novel expanded
and “sex” in the novel became more than
merely an audacious portrayal of personal
relations.
The novels portrayed personalities
who were worried about the future and the
inevitability of death, explored education
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Untitled by Emile Menhem, 2005 (This artwork
appeared in the Literary Supplement of An
Nahar newspaper. It is reprinted by permission
of the artist).
and its impact on the psychological
balance of the characters, and concerned
themselves with other issues related to
details of human existence in general and
Arab reality in particular. The concept of
sex gradually confronted the
fundamentals of authority in patriarchal
society. It is through this authority that
possession and rape afflict both woman
and man suffering together in the maledominated Arab society, even if the form
and extent of suffering differs.
Thus, liberating opinions about sex
or love and the relationship of woman to
man in the modern novel are not alone
sufficient to determine that this or that
novel offers an in-depth meaning of sex.
Admittedly, these opinions often express
a departure of sex from its traditional
meaning as well as the liberation of the
novel from both reformist and moral
norms. The increasingly widespread
appearance of the “feminist” novel,
mainly in the 1960s, has reflected the
gradual liberation of the Arab narrative
text from these dominant norms,
especially since the feminist texts express
to some extent the daring of woman to
reveal herself and her desires, an attitude
prohibited at earlier times.
Some “feminist” novels lack artistic
maturity, instead merely serving as a forum
for emancipating ideas which often
13
Essays & Features
A Life Under Fire:
Inside the Gaza Occupation
A journey causes a photographer to step out
from behind the camera
BY S
AT OSHI Y
AMAJI
SA
YAMAJI
“An Israeli bulldozer is coming!”
A homeowner and member of the Rafah-based resistance
group rushed into my simple room where I was preparing to
take a nap. Instead I began loading film into my Nikon F5,
and slid a 256MB memory card into my Nikon D1X. I hurried
out with my cameras on my shoulders and ran towards the
sound of Caterpillars in Block J. The street was so silent. I
found the streets deserted and heard nothing except for the
sound of the bulldozer.
When I arrived at the site, I saw the 60-ton Israeli
behemoths, especially designed by Caterpillar for house
demolition, moving straight toward the house selected for
demolition. There was so much noise, and no announcement
or explanation why. It took less than 15 minutes to
completely destroy the home. The owner lay down on the
ground in front of a heap of rubble, the remains of his home.
He was screaming, “Why my house!? Why are you doing
this!? Oh, Allah…”
This is a tragedy that happens so often, almost every
other day, at Rafah refugee camp in Gaza strip. Rafah refugee
camp is one of the most internationally recognizable camps in
Israel. It is the southern-most camp in the Gaza strip, adjacent
to the Egyptian border. The camp was established in 1949 to
house 41,000 refugees from the newly-founded State of Israel
and was expanded in 1967 when Israel occupied Gaza.
After the establishment of the State of Israel, the camp
was the largest and the most concentrated population of
refugees in the Gaza Strip. However, several thousand
residents have since moved from the camp to a housing
project in nearby Tel es-Sultan. Today, the camp is almost
indistinguishable from the adjacent town of Rafah. Since the
start of the second Intifada in September 2000, Rafah has
suffered from a campaign of demolitions by Israeli military
along the Egyptian border. Several hundred families have
been made homeless.
“Are you really going to Rafah? Don’t go. You will get
killed!” exclaimed my good Palestinian friend and the
concerned owner of an Arabic food restaurant in Ramallah,
when I announced my destination.
I was on assignment from the Palestine Media Center, a
Ramallah-based media company, to cover the activity of the
14
Two Palestinian Children protest against Israeli occupation in the
Rafah Refugee Camp, Gaza.
- Photo by Satoshi Yamaji
Canada-based human rights group, the International
Solidarity Movement (ISM), in Rafah. ISM is one of the bestknown international human rights groups recognized for
raising awareness regarding the struggle for Palestinian
freedom and the ending of Israeli occupation. It became even
more internationally recognized after one of its members,
Rachel Corrie, was killed by the Israel Defense Force while
protecting Palestinian residents. The shocking news of her
death was front page material for most international
newspapers, largely because she was a citizen of the United
States, Israel’s largest supporter.
When I got off a shuttle bus in the center station of Rafah,
I noticed a sand-colored clock tower. Five minutes to three
o’clock. As the sun drenched my head and the heat hung over
my neck, thick in the dusty air, I noticed that the black asphalt
streets were mostly covered with sand. There were a few stores
around the station, but only two of them were open. The
shutters of closed stores displayed posters of martyrs, and I
was surprised to see that some of them were women. The
biggest poster was a Hamas poster, as big as a Hollywood
movie advertisement, a green-framed drawing of armed
martyrs, and an aggressive message against Israel. I felt as
though they were watching me as I walked by.
Five hours had passed since I left Gaza city, which is only
25 km north of Rafah; it took me so long because of IDF-
www.ALJADID.com
Essays & Features
Palestinian refugee children with model guns imitate adults who resist the Israel Defense Force. Khan Yunis Refugee Camp, Gaza.
controlled checkpoints spread throughout the Palestinian
Territory. One of the biggest checkpoints is called Abu Holi
Junction, located on the highway from Gaza City to Rafah,
and is highly restricted compared to those in other areas. It is a
huge wall, 30m in height, over 70m wide, and heavily armed.
From the windows of the second floor, IDF soldiers squint
over rifles aimed at people below. The IDF has set up only one
gate in the middle of the wall, and its hours are not fixed. If
you are really lucky, you don’t have to wait at all, just drive
straight through; but if you’re less fortunate you must wait
over three hours as some Palestinians do every day.
I called Susan, an ISM member in charge of the whole
Gaza Strip. “We are waiting for you,” she said. “Can you see
the pink-colored building? Our office is on the seventh floor.”
I could see no such building.
A group of Palestinian children recognized me as a
foreigner, and approached me, circling me and asking the
same question in Arabic over and over: “What’s your name?”
I repeated my name more than ten times, but they didn’t stop.
I assumed that they were not able to recognize my name, so I
offered them my Arabic nickname given to me by my
Palestinian friends: “Mustafa.” Finally, they understood, and
the tallest child told me in English, “Are you Mustafa? I’m
Atouua. Follow me. I can take you to there.”
Atouua was very quiet. He never asked me any further
questions such as my age, my nationality, why I was there, or
why I had a Muslim name. When we arrived at the pink
building, he finally asked me a single question, “Are you
Japanese?” Yes, I told him. “I like Japanese people. See you
later.”
According to Susan, the ISM office was set up secretly to
hide from IDF searches, but it is impossible to hide from the
IDF; foreigners stand out in Rafah, where no tourist visits.
Susan explained the ISM’s function as essentially “a
human shield.” They set up tents between Israeli tanks or
bulldozers and Palestinian residents in order to prevent any
further house demolitions. When Israeli bulldozers make a
move heading toward Palestinian residents, they come out of
tents and shout, “We are international. If you kill any of us,
you have a problem!”
Out of 17 blocks in Rafah, two blocks are most likely to
be the target of demolition: Brazil and Block J. Both of those
are located in the southern end of Rafah, adjacent to the
www.ALJADID.com
15
Essays & Features
Egyptian border, where there is suspicion of illegal weapon
and aid trafficking to Palestinian resistance groups.
Susan took me to Block J. It reminded me of ground zero
after 9/11: everything was collapsed, yet much to my surprise
I saw about 30 children clamoring around the ISM tents
wearing big smiles. The older children mostly stayed some
distance away and just watched. I recognized Atouua in the
latter group.
Atouua came up to me with his three friends; Abdo, Ali,
Mustafa. These four high school students were known as the
“bad boys” among residents. Atouua was the leader of the four
and was known as the “tough guy” in school. He was always
ready to fight, but was not aggressive; he fought only when it
is necessary, such as when a friend was in trouble with another
group. Abdo was considered “the guy with a master plan.” He
was a good confidante and advisor to Atouua. He never got
excited in a fight and gave objective and accurate advice to
Atouua. Ali was the student with a serious attitude. He spent a
lot of time studying and was a very pious Muslim. He always
tried to convince me to become Muslim. Mustafa was deaf. He
was very smart. He surprised me by quickly understanding
Japanese grammar and script after I gave him some brief
lessons.
Atouua was on a two-week winter vacation from school.
His day began with a small breakfast, after which he went out
on the street to sell cigarettes with his cousin. The cigarettes
he sold were illegally imported from Egypt and much cheaper
than those in the stores. They set up a handmade street stall;
they painted a study desk red, built up a roof and a sign
reading “cigarettes” in Arabic, and kept some change in a
drawer. Cleopatra brand is one of the bestsellers and costs
only 60 U.S. cents. Another bestseller, Imperials, are slightly
more expensive, one U.S. dollar, but these are the only
Palestinian cigarettes you can find among other imported
cigarettes. They are sweet and strong compared to others.
When Atouua had a day off, he would spend it playing soccer
with other children at school. However, something else has
that caught his curiosity since the second Intifada in 2001:
foreign press and activists coming to Rafah. He really enjoyed
hearing about their home countries because he had never left
Rafah.
One day, I had a chance to play soccer with Atouua’s
group and other Palestinian children. ISM members, including
me, played against Palestinian kids, mostly teenagers.
Because the school was closed, we jumped over the fence. The
game started. I could see soccer is very popular here. Some of
the children wore uniforms of professional European soccer
clubs and were really good players. Our team, on the other
hand, was not very good. None of us could kick a ball the way
we intended, but we tried to play the game anyway.
“Inamoto!” one of the Palestinian children shouted when I
made one goal very accidentally. I was surprised – Inamoto is
the one of the best-known Japanese professional soccer
players, but I did not expect any Palestinians to know about
him. In the end, we lost completely: 10-2.
16
Two Palestinian boys sit where their house used to be, looking
over the border toward Egypt. Their house was destroyed by an
Israeli bulldozer. Rafah Refugee Camp, Gaza.
Sports are the most popular entertainment for Palestinian
children in refugee camps. Unlike the kids in developed
countries like Japan, they do not spend too much time indoors
watching TV or playing games like PlayStation. (Here only
about 1 in 10 houses have a television.) They go out instead.
Because most refugees are below the poverty line, they play
the sport that does not require that much equipment: soccer.
All you need is the ball.
Another means of entertainment is music. I always heard
Arabic pop wherever I went on the street, and, to be honest, I
got tired of it after the first week of my stay in Palestine. I
could hear it from when I woke up until I went to bed.
However, they do not listen to Arabic pop all the time; they
like to sing traditional folk songs, too.
“Ana Mustafa, Ana Mustafa…” sang Atouua. The song
had a melancholy melody and little upbeat rhythms. They
taught me how to sing that song in Arabic and dance.
At the Egyptian border, the sun went down. The Israeli
bulldozers loomed as shadow silhouettes with the Mustafa
www.ALJADID.com
Essays & Features
A Palestinian refugee girl lost her younger sister in crossfire
between Palestinian fighters and Israel Defense Force, Rafah
Refugee Camp, Gaza.
song as background music. But the background music
changed into the sounds of gunfire after sunset.
I spent most of my spare time with Atouua’s group. I only
had to send photos when a sudden military action occurred, so
I had time to talk around the town. Right after I finished
sending the breaking news photos of house demolitions to my
editor, Atouua came up to my place alone – I had a studio in
the center of Rafah. Usually I could see a kind of confidence
on his face, but now he looked depressed, serious, and
helpless.
“Mustafa. Why did you come to Rafah? Are you crazy?
Do you know anything about Fatah?” Everybody knew the
Al Fatah faction in Palestine. “I want to join the jihad as a
member of the Fatah against Israel, America… against all
enemies.”
Atouua started telling me his life story; how he ended up
being the child of refugees, why he lived with his uncle. He
had a very hard life for a child only 15 years old. “My dad
owned a small store, but Israel destroyed it,” he told me. He
remembered that his dad was running a local business when
Atouua was very young. Even though it was very local, it
made enough money to take care of the whole family. He had
two older brothers who both joined the resistance group of
Rafah (this was not part of any Islamic group), and one
younger brother and sister. His mother was the quintessential
Muslim woman: very loyal to her husband and home, a good
cook, a good wife, and wise mother. It was not as good as life
in the West, but Atouua at least had a home and a family.
His house was located on Block J. In fact, his family had
lived there since Atouua’s great-grandfather bought it, far
before the establishment of Israel in 1948.
One night when Atouua was nine years old, he woke at
midnight from a dream in which he was playing soccer. His
house was under demolition. He heard his father screaming,
“Stop! Why?” Atouua could not catch his father’s exact words
because Israeli bulldozers moved toward his house very
noisily. It was so noisy, he remembered. His mother fled to
their neighbors with her two younger children. Both older
brothers, in their late teens at that time, were extremely angry
and tried to prevent the demolition, but were stopped by
neighbors. There was nothing they could do against these
behemoths. The bulldozers were coming closer and closer, and
stopped suddenly right in front of the house, announcing,
“Leave.” Atouua’s family left because they did not want to
die.
“There was no reason.” Only that Atouua’s family was
located close to the Egyptian border. Israeli authorities
announced that they had found a suspected weaponssmuggling tunnel there, but Atouua said, “We were sacrificed.
We were just a warning to other Palestinians. It’s like, ‘Don’t
do anything against Israel or you die.’” All of the male adults
in Rafah joined the resistance group. After that, his father and
two brothers participated in the resistance more actively,
actively enough to die fighting. His father was shot to death a
year after the demolition, and one of his brothers was killed
accidentally – when he was shopping – by a stray missile
intended for the office of Hamas. His mother and several other
victims were buried under the demolished house that they
moved to temporarily. His younger sister died of sickness at
the age of three. Only Atouua and his younger brother
survived. This is not unusual in Palestine.
Since the beginning of the second Intifada in September,
2000, in response to the failure of the Oslo Accords, Israeli
military activity has been escalating, especially against
children. According to the Palestine Monitor, 395 children
under the age of 18 have been killed by the Israeli army and
Israeli settlers, almost 20 percent of the total number of
Palestinians killed since September 28, 2001. About 37
percent of Palestinians injured are children. The children are
also denied access to schools: about 850 schools have
temporarily closed down because of Israeli closures and
curfews, 197 have been damaged, 11 completely destroyed,
and 25 have been used as detention centers and army barracks
during invasions. 2,500 pupils have been wounded on their
way to or from schools.
www.ALJADID.com
17
Essays & Features
Samir Nakash: The Wandering Arab-Jew
The author condemns the treatment of the Iraqi novelist by both Arabs and Israelis
B Y MOHAMMAD ALI AL- ATASSI
The film “Forget Baghdad,” by the
Swiss director Samir Jamal al-Din, who is
of Iraqi Shiite descent, portrays four
Iraqi-Jewish intellectuals who
ended up in Israel. Samir Nakash,
one of the four, appeared for the first
time to Arab audiences on channel
Al Arabiya which broadcast the film.
Nakash spoke in his Iraqi accent,
describing the tragedy of
immigration to and exile in Israel.
secular school owned by a Lebanese
teacher.
In 1941 there were episodes such as
the famous Farhood violence against Iraqi
Jews. The Farhood violence marked the
The Wandering Baghdadi
Nakash was born in Baghdad
in 1938 and spent his childhood in
the suburb of Al Battawin, between
the White Palace and the Victory
Court. Later when he left Iraq for
Israel, Nakash recounted how he was
once forced out of a bus, searched,
and insulted at the hands of the
Israeli police after passengers
reported that he was reading an
Arabic newspaper and looked Arab.
This story is an example of the
transient and unsettled life which
Samir Nakash by Oscar Galilea Jr. for Al Jadid
Nakash lived in Israel – until he died
without Iraq ever leaving him. Arab culture
remained at his heart, inhabiting him even beginning of a series of tragic events in
though he was not allowed to live in it. which the ignorance of the public
Israel did not provide him either more than converged with the designs of the Jewish
marginalization, isolation, racism, and the Agency to force Iraqi Jews to leave for
inspection which he endured upon Israel at any cost. In 1950, the Iraqi
landing at Ben-Gurion airport, as he government decided to revoke Iraqi
painfully recalls in the film. He belonged citizenship from those wanting to leave
to a long-standing Jewish-Baghdadi for Israel, and expedited their departure.
family, Al Shaeed, which goes back to the The well-to-do family of Samir Nakash was
beginning of the Abbassid period. His forced to leave for Israel in 1951, when
grandfather was a jeweler specializing in Samir was 13 years old. As soon as they
artistic engraving, which explains the arrived in Israel, they were received in
family’s new name. He is proud that his refugee camps. Samir’s father attempted,
grandfather was the one who engraved the through many ways but without success,
seven minarets of Al Kazemi Mosque. to leave the Israeli state, and died in pain.
Nakash began his education in a Jewish He left that desire as a legacy for his son –
school in Baghdad, and then moved to a the determination of not accepting the
18
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status quo and not recognizing Israel as
an alternative nation to Iraq.
Nakash recalled, in an interview in
the London-based Asharq Al Awsat
newspaper, published on August 30
2003, the forceful immigration and the
necessity to overcome it: “The
decision to leave Israel wasn’t sudden
and would have nothing to do with
politics or literature. To leave was an
old decision the family had since
setting foot in Israel. My father exerted
great effort in collaboration with a
group of Iraqi intellectuals to leave but
the Israeli government had crushed all
these attempts, leaving my father
unable to sustain the shock, thus dying
early in 1953 after a brain
hemorrhage.”
The next year, Nakash attempted,
with his cousin, to leave Israel for
Lebanon on foot, but the Lebanese
authorities arrested him and put him
in prison for six months, after which
he was to return to Israel. Then upon
his return Samir was incarcerated and
tortured for five months, accused of
espionage. But he remained obsessed
with the return to Baghdad and
maintaining his Arab identity. With the
doors of Arab capitals closed in his
face, he started searching for other places
that would take him closer to Iraq. In the
Asharq Al Awsat interview, he explains
that in 1958, “I attempted to find a new
outlet; I went to Turkey, Iran, India, and
back to Iran again where I stayed for four
years. But I was forced to return to Israel,
and after the conclusion of the peace
agreement with Egypt, I attempted to go
there, but without much success. I also
attempted to go to Morocco, but it only
welcomed its Jewish citizens. And here I
am at last, in Britain, despite my
reservation toward the West in general,
and despite my wish to settle in any Arab
country.”
Essays & Features
Nakash’s “The Kurdish Shlomo, I, and Time”
Nakash lived for four years in Britain
working for an Iraqi opposition paper.
Once this newspaper was moved, with
many of its writers, to Iraq following the
collapse of the Saddam Hussein regime,
opportunities again closed in his face and
conditions became difficult. He was forced
to return temporarily to Israel, but he died
less than two months after arriving in the
town of Betaah Dekfa (or Bayt al-Taqwa,
as he insisted on calling it by its original
name). Anyone who thinks Samir Nakash
gave in at the end and returned to Israel to
die need only to read the following,
uttered only months before his death
while he was still in Britain: “I arrived in
Israel at the age of 13, an Iraqi foreigner,
and left it after 50 years the same way my
father left it, as a pure Arab. And even if I
am forced to return to Israel, I will remain
that Iraqi Arab – loyal to his language
and his heritage”(Asharq Al Awsat, August
30, 2003).
Language is his last nation
Nakash’s loyalty to the Arabic
language and his insistence on writing in
it made him one of the few literary figures
among Arab Jews who remained writing
and publishing in Arabic from within
Israel, despite the bureaucratic difficulties,
small number of readers, and lack of
communication with the greater Arab
world. He published his first collection of
stories in 1971 under the title “The
Mistake,” and after that he published 12
books, including novels, plays, and short
stories. The last of his novels, published
by Dar Al Jamal in Germany, was “The
Kurdish Shlomo, I, and Time.”
Most of Nakash’s work focuses on his
autobiography and the environment of
Baghdad in the first half of the 20th
century. Though he wrote in classical
Arabic, most of his works are rich with
colloquial Iraqi dialects, especially those
of ordinary Iraqi Jews, dialects which have
been extinguished today.
Despite the domination of memory,
history, and the peculiarities of Iraqi Jews
in most of his works, Nakash remained an
author obsessed with presenting a
comprehensive picture of people in
literature: “Is there anyone who can
escape from his skin? I, as a human being,
Iraqi in all my feelings, carry in me an
ancient history of Iraq. My whole makeup
is Iraqi. My language, my traditions, the
food I love, the music I prefer, and the
people I feel comfortable towards. All this
is pure Iraqi. But as an author, I think that
every writer wishes for human and global
comprehensiveness”(Asharq Al Awsat).
But neither his Iraqi peculiarity nor
his comprehensive humanism reconciled
him with Arabs and Iraqis or even with
the Israelis, the sons of his Jewish heritage.
The name “Samir Nakash” has remained
absent in the world of Arab culture, and
his books are missing from the markets
and book fairs. Even in Beirut, it is
impossible to find one of his novels. In
Israel, most of his books were not
translated to Hebrew, and no one would
recognize them as Nakash’s work, as he
remained a stranger in face, hand, and
tongue alike.
Regarding language, he told Asharq
Al Awsat: “Arabic is my language and I
know of no other language… I wasn’t
influenced by the dominant Western
culture in Israel and did not find its
language until now. And even if I tried to
write in Hebrew like Shamon Blass and
Sammy Michael and others, I wouldn’t
have been able to… The real difficulty
from which an author or poet in Israel
suffers being an Iraqi Jew who writes in
Arabic is that nobody can recognize him;
he’s not considered either one of the
www.ALJADID.com
A Life Under Fire
“No future, Mustafa,” said Atouua with
downcast eyes. “There is nothing I can do in
the future. Because my father died and his
store was destroyed, I have to work.” Then
Atouua laughs, “I’m lucky. I don’t have to
go school that much, you know why?
Because of curfews.” But then he continues,
“It doesn’t matter how hard I study. I will be
arrested and charged of unclear reason if I go
to university. There really is no future. That is
the reason why I want to join Fatah.”
Actually, Atouua doesn’t care which Islamic
group he joins. He could join Hamas or
Islamic Jihad, the most hardcore anti-Israel
groups, but he picks Al Fatah because one of
his relatives is a member. “I’m telling you,
Mustafa. I want to fight, I want to kill
Israelis, I want to join Fatah because there is
no future.”
Atouua’s group is recognized not only
as “the bad boy” but also as active “Intifada
leaders.” They organize the Intifada well with
guerilla tactics; they divide over 40 children
into four groups and place a couple of guards
on roofs of buildings. The guards warn other
children when the IDF comes up closer; then
one of the groups attacks from behind,
throwing hand-sized stones – a squall of
stones. The IDF turns around and fires back.
The group disperses with minimum
resistance to attract its attention. Another
group shows up behind the IDF, and delivers
another squall of stones.
I saw innumerable stones fly above my
head. I heard the sounds of shotguns and
children’s screams echo on the street. I just
held my Nikon cameras tightly, and shot the
scene of the Intifada. “Ali!” Ali, one if the
boys in Atouua’s group, the most pious
Muslim among them and a serious student,
fell down suddenly without saying anything.
A couple of children carried him behind the
thick building where the IDF could not see.
Everybody gathered around him. He was shot
in the back. He was bleeding, but not
breathing, and his eyes were glazed open just
like a packed fish at the supermarket. Ali was
dead.
“Mustafa, I told you there is no future.”
Atouua looked really energetic, powerful, and
confident to me.
I still keep in touch with Abdo, who was
Atouua’s best friend and a wise boy. He told
me that some of the Palestinian children in
Rafah whom I knew have been killed since I
left there in March 2003. Among them was
Atouua. AJ
19
Essays & Features
Samir Nakash
Hebrew writers nor an Arab writer. Starting
from this, he’s denied all the benefits and
the rewards and the support to publish that
other writers are entitled to.”
Dreams Aborted
The tragic life of Samir Nakash is a
moral indictment not only of the nature
of Zionist thought and the foundations of
the Israeli state, but at the same time, it is
an indictment of how Arab countries deal
with their Jewish minorities. It is also an
indictment of the assumptions of Zionist
thought penetrating current Arab culture,
although in reverse. The broad sector of
this culture embraces the same
assumptions, although they were
employed in a way to foment hostility not
only for the Israeli state, but everything
Jewish. As Zionism has pulled out of the
circle of discussion and political struggle
toward its religious realm, which is full of
mythologies and lies, Arab culture and
politics did nothing except sink into a fear
afflicted by twisted logic.
The Arabs, in general, and particularly
in Al Mashreq, started their aborted
renaissance at the end of the 19th century,
under the slogan, “Religion is for God,
and the nation is for all.” They rebelled
against the Ottoman authorities,
attempting to construct the national state
with this perspective. But European
colonialism not only aborted their dreams
but exported its own problems with its
Jewish minorities, thus fomenting the first
modern religious state.
Neither the Arab world, nor ArabIslamic culture, throughout their long
histories, ever embraced anti-Semitic
thinking. Despite the less-than-equal
position of the non-Muslim minorities,
the Jews were not persecuted, and no
crimes or massacres were committed
against them based on faith, something
that did take place in the European West.
The past 50 years witnessed a gradual
Arab retreat from the principal position
which condemns Zionism for being a
racist ideology, combining religion and
nationalism along with the position that
20
whoever is Jewish is a potential Israeli,
and culminating in considering those
embracing the Jewish religion to be
followers of the state of Israel. This is
precisely the mistaken essence of the
Zionist ideal.
To add insult to injury, we Arabs
started importing the worst of what antiSemitic thought produced: clichés in the
portrayal of Jews, such as usury practices
and the Protocols of the Elders of Zion.
We even bestowed religiosity on this type
of thinking by citing certain Koranic
verses and interpreting them in a narrow
direction, generalizing about Jews in
every time and place, forgetting that there
are other verses which are warmer to the
Jews and call for their good treatment.
A few years ago, those in charge of
the Beirut Theater issued invitations to
some Arab Jews opposed to Zionism to
come to the Lebanese capital to
participate
in
the
activities
commemorating 50 years of al nakba, but
their daring attempts failed due to the
threats they received. Today we ask once
again, isn’t it a shame that an author of
the caliber of Samir Nakash leaves us
without the opportunity to visit any Arab
capital, and without participating in a
panel or a study about the modern Arab
novel, when his own work constitutes an
inseparable part of it?
And if Samir Nakash, Shamon Blass,
Simon Bitton, Salim Nassib, Edmond
Umaran al-Malih, and other Arab Jews
who oppose Zionism had not existed, we
would have to create them in order to
debunk the Zionist propaganda and the
false foundations upon which it is based.
Yet we in the Arab countries remain today
refusing to see them, to interact with them,
or to reintegrate them in Arab culture,
which is part of them as much as they are a
part of it. AJ
This Arabic version of this article
appeared originally in Al Mulhak (The
Literary Supplement of An Nahar
newspaper). The English version appears
exclusively in Al Jadid. It is translated
and published by permission of the
author.
A Year After Sunset:
Remembering
Amina Rizk
BY MIRANDA BECHARA
A year ago, the famous Egyptian
actress Amina Rizk died at the age of 93
after a rich artistic life. Born in 1910, Rizk
started her career at an early age when
she moved to Cairo from Tanta with her
mother, grandmother, and aunt after the
death of her father. Her aunt, Amina
Mohamed, was an actress with the Ramsis
Theater, which had been established by
the late Youssef Wehbi. Because of her
aunt’s example, young Amina entered the
magical world of acting.
When she was 13 years old, Rizk had
the opportunity to act in a supporting role
in front of the theater founder; this
occasion began her career as one of the
pillars of the Ramsis Company. She acted
in about 500 plays, among which were
classics such as “Rasputin,” “Les
Miserables,” and “Le Misanthrope.” She
also appeared in the silent movies of her
day and, in 1928, she acted in the first
Egyptian talking movie, “Souad the
Gypsy,” directed by Jacques Shutz.
A capable actress, Rizk moved freely
between Egyptian theater, cinema, radio,
and television. She acted in more than
150 films, and was particularly known for
portraying mothers. Despite the fact that
she never married or had children, her
motherly features and genuine acting
made her the quintessential mother figure
in Arabic movies. She always declared
that she was wedded to her art. Rizk was a
staunch defender of the arts and artists
and always stood up in the face of stifling
traditions and customs. She received
many awards in Egypt and other Arab
countries. In 1991, she was appointed to
the Shura Council, the lower legislative
body of the Egyptian government; Rizk
became the first female artist to sit on the
Contemporary Art - Paintings by Zareh
Translated from the Arabic
by Elie Chalala
www.ALJADID.com
http://www.artistzareh.com
Essays & Features
The young Amina Rizk
Amina Rizk after 70
council. Her voice as Shehrazade in the
“One Thousand and One Nights” radio
series still echoes in many Arab
households. Amina Rizk was one of the
last living witnesses of the belle epoque
of Egyptian art and culture. Her place will
be very hard to fill. AJ
Talking P
eace
Peace
A Documentary
by Mark Freeman
February 9, 2005, 7: 00 p.m.
Aztec Athletics Center
Auditorium at SDSU
For more information call
(619) 594-5497 or
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A Beggar at Damascus Gate
By Yasmine Zahran
1995,155 pages $12.95
ISBN:0-942996-24-0
“Cold and alone in an ancient Palestinian
village, a traveling archeologist finds the
threads of a narrative that will direct his life
for the coming decade. Its characters are a
Palestinian woman and an English man, each
deeply committed to the conflicting demands
of love and national loyalties. As the
narrator slowly pieces together the fate of
the two unfortunate lovers, he also uncovers
a tale of treachery, duplicity and passion that
highlights the contemporary plight of the
enormous number of displaced Palestinians:
the final resolution surprises them both and
reveals a depth to their commitments that
neither had previously realized.”
– Cole Swensen
Sitt Marie Rose
By Etel Adnan
1978, 1989 $11.00
ISBN: 0942996-27-5
“It has become clear that maps of the Middle
East and their accompanying tests have failed
to account for the religious, economic, and
political divisions that rage within these
borders, defined in history by people who did
not live there. ‘Sitt Marie Rose’ visualizes the
struggle in Lebanon in terms of ethical
borders that the West never sees, presented as
we are with pictures of the ‘Arab morass.’
Adnan gives sterling credence to a moral and
political literature, a literature that sets about
to inform.”
– New Women’s Times
Rumi & Sufism
By Eva de Vitray-Meyerovitch
Translated from the French by Simone Fattal
Illustrated with 45 photographs, charts, and
maps; index and bibliography
1989 2nd edition,167 pages $12.95
ISBN: 0-942996-08-9
“In this fine volume all of the arts come
together in a splendid unfolding of all that is
Rumi Sufism. The photographs and paintings
play against vibrant prose, open all of the
locked doors leading to the universality of
Rumi and his teachings. The great care taken
in the translation is a marvel unto itself.”
– The New England Review of Books
Of Cities & Women (Letters to Fawwaz)
By Etel Adnan
1993, 85 pages $11.00
ISBN:0-942996-21-6
“But where ‘Paris, When it’s Naked’ delves
into the accumulated layers of the self, ‘Of
Cities & Women’ is more concerned with the
nature of race itself, its definition and
redefinition, through philosophical
speculation, observations on the relations
between artists and their ostensible subjects,
between women and cities, between women
and men.”
– Ammiel Alcalay, The Nation
There
By Etel Adnan
1997, 70 pages
$13.00
ISBN 0-942996-28-3
“‘There’ is a poem of hidden seams, fissures
that we cross unsuspecting. A smooth surface
conceals a universe of sudden shifts and
transitions from one level to another – a
philosophical level which pursues the
mysteries of consciousness and place, a second
level which asks the same questions in a
committed social and political vision, a
passionate and engaged post-modernism.”
– Michael Beard, Univ. of North Dakota
Screams
By Joyce Mansour
1995
80 pages
$10.00
ISBN 0-942996-25-9
“Joyce Mansour, one of the most important
poets of twentieth-century France, has until
now received no first-rate, full-length
translation. The risk taken is great, for
there are no translations to build upon,
argue against, except one’s own. This risk,
in this case, proves fully worth undertaking.
Gavronsky, one of the most knowledgeable
writers on contemporary French poetry and
poetics, has devoted himself to this project,
as he does to all his projects, with energy,
acumen, enthusiasm – and success.”
– Mary Ann Caws, Cuny
New Release
Vampires: An Uneasy Essay on the Undead
in Film
By Jalal Toufic
2003, 400 pp $15.00
ISBN 0-942996-50-x
The Post-Apollo Press
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Tel: (415) 332-1458, Fax: (415) 332-8045
Email: [email protected] – Web: www.postapollopress.com
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21
Essays & Features
Ahmad Dahbur: In Pursuit of Blackness
BY MARK H. GRIMES
Palestinian poet Ahmad Dahbur might have written these
lines on the streets of Jenin, almost three years after the invasion
by the Israeli army on April 3, 2002, during the second Intifada.
I do not exonerate the vipers of the oil wells
or pass light sentence on their petrodollars
for I pursue a black rose growing in my heart
while the evidence overwhelms me.
Or he may have written these lines in his poem “In Memory
of ‘Izziddin al-Qalaq,” 15 years earlier during the first Intifada.
Or perhaps, as memory of suffering is long and often anticipates
more of the same, he may have written these lines any time in
the intervening years: “. . .for I pursue a black rose growing in
my heart.” This “pursuit of blackness” infuses Dahbur’s vision
with the contradiction latent in all surrender: that justice for the
one surrendering lies anywhere but in this act of self-negation.
To chase after anything else, therefore, even something
unnameable beyond simply calling it “blackness,” is what
Dahbur must do, for, as he says, “I do not exonerate the vipers.”
This apparent determination, bleak as it is, is haunted even further
by the realization that “the evidence overwhelms me.”
The “evidence” Dahbur refers to, it is safe to say, is common
knowledge among historians of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,
no matter on which side of this century-long tragedy those
historians stand. The “evidence” concerns bloodshed for both
peoples from the beginning of what Avi Shlaim calls (in “The
Iron Wall”) Israel’s “War of Independence” and Arabs call
“Nakba,” the disaster.
Ahmad Dahbur was born in Haifa, 1946, two years before
the creation of the state of Israel. In 1948 his family was forced
to flee to Lebanon where Dahbur, though lacking a formal
education, took to the task of articulating the suffering of his
people.
Dahbur currently lives in exile in Syria, where he writes for
the Palestinian Authority-controlled newspaper Al Hayat alJadidah. Dahbur has published eight volumes of poetry,
including “The Story of the Palestinian Boy” (1979), “Mixing
Night and Day” (1979), and “Twenty-One Seas” (1980). Dahbur
grew to maturity during a time when, as Edward Said says in
“Blaming the Victim,” “to be a Palestinian...either meant exile
for the 780,000 Palestinians who were driven out in 1948, or it
meant an indecent subaltern existence within Israel for the
remnant of 120,000 who managed to stay on.”
To attempt to chronicle the many egregious assaults the
Palestinians have suffered is far beyond the scope of this article.
One could easily take history’s camera, so to speak, and “zoom
in” on innumerable tragic moments that tell the tale of early
22
incipient “disaster,” current “disaster,” and likely future
“disaster.”
Young men often die at the end of a gun barrel wielded by
soldiers of the Israeli Defense Forces. And they often – perhaps
even more frighteningly – simply disappear. Elsewhere, in “In
Memory of ‘Izziddin al-Qalaq,” Dahbur writes of the sudden
disappearances that occurred during the occupation.
Am I watching mountains fall
or writing a poem?
He said goodbye and made a joke
“You probably won’t see me again.”
Dahbur lives a life in pursuit of an attempt to “see again”
his friend ‘Izziddin, not only in spirit, but also in body, even if
this “body” is merely a desperate metaphorical attempt for
something hard and substantial, something corporeal – like a
homeland:
They kill you
but each morning tells again
the story of your resurrection . . .
This is a tale of recurrent death, of one death reverberating
so thoroughly through the waking hours it subsumes the life of
the still living under a never-ending litany of despair, hope, and
guilt at not being “worthy” of such a legacy:
if we can’t reach him
he’ll find a way to find us,
this recording spirit
whose blood unites us, inflames us
but if we do not rise up
to meet him worthily
then his blood is on us
his blood is on us.
The death of the poet’s friend becomes not only an icon of
conscience, of what will implicitly happen to a people if such
disappearances are forgotten and not acted upon in some resilient
or retaliatory act of strong affirmation; such a death also veritably
becomes a “recording spirit,” a daily tally of “what we survivors
have not done.” It is as if dying at the hands of an oppressor, in
however immediate or peripheral an “action,” puts oneself into
a pantheon of the truly principled. His death was not a
meaningless death: “. . .whose blood unites us, inflames us.”
Rather, it served as a measure of a people’s hope for existence,
with the horrible caveat that to indeed exist as a people,
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Essays & Features
innumerable citizens must die, not on the “classic” battlefronts
of history’s wars, but in the homeland streets of a Jenin, a Nablus,
a Hebron, a Ramallah, where the mosque and the market are,
where the family farm lies just up the hill, fenced off and patrolled
by the Israeli army or armed Israeli settlers.
In the poem “The Terms of Ambition,” Dahbur seems at first
to reduce the vast needs for hope, the determination that:
. . . each morning tells again
the story of your resurrection
to something far less than an apocryphal “resurrection.” Instead,
he would apparently settle for anything that serves as an anchor
against the chaos of loss, though with the smirk that this is
indeed still some kind of “ambition”:
I assemble my points of ambition –
to drink tea at dawn, and spin freely
in the city
of my buried treasures
and to correspond with her
who has lightened my stress.
Ahmad Dahbur by Zareh for al Jadid
“Tea at dawn,” however, balances precariously under the
tremendous weight of life under occupation, wherein for the
most simple of moments,
For the sake of tea, a dawn, paper, and stamps
the poet has to imagine the defenses of an entire nation for
support:
I need armed fortresses,
weapons to help me stand and defend.
For, when he asks in the poem “I Do Not Renounce Madness”
who the enemy is, he answers:
Dahbur’s reasoning seems to be a frenzied tautology, a
harried redundancy: “The Enemy is the Enemy.” But he quickly
balances the equation in this exquisite rationale: that
“occupation” so consumes a life, it encompasses the easy and
familiar sight of “these locusts” as indistinguishably as it does
the vast and hopeful belief in possibility of a homeland, one
now under “siege.” Like a cancer, the tentacled reach of the
enemy’s presence would seem to devour the entirety of the
Palestinian world, but that there is an “essence” to a people that
is beyond even the most far-reaching intrusion:
And in the end, the “battleground” for Dahbur seems not to
be in the streets and at the barricades, where bullets and missiles
indeed tragically kill. Rather, the “battleground” lies in the
perseverance of love and cohesion among a people, where “we
generate new life in wombs and the dead return and multiply.”
For Dahbur, and for many Palestinians, there is such a strong
sense of history and an equally strong sense of family, that the
“dead” assume the power of resurrection for the bereaved. Just
as the belief in “return” to a homeland before the Israeli invasion
is manifest in the Palestinian Intifida, so there is a belief in the
“return” of the lost to the living as manifest in the womb.
We generate new life in the wombs
and the dead return and multiply.
The Enemy is the Enemy
These locusts are the Enemy
This siege is the Enemy
The sea is treacherous
the sky is treacherous
The enemy extracts the essence from olive trees
but the essence is in the eyes and the roots
and we shall not die!
The enforced squalor of life in the camps of the Gaza Strip
and the West Bank reiterates on a daily basis that “the siege is
the Enemy,” but:
chains aren’t sufficient
to close the playgrounds, and one clear day,
the children shall
return in the same boats.
Dahbur’s “pursuit of blackness,” then, breaks through the
deaths and disappearances of so many to a resurrection of his
own.
I have died so often before
But when I promise to
return, I always return.
www.ALJADID.com
23
Interviews
But a recent collection of Dahbur’s
poetry (“Kashay’ la luzumalhu,” 2004)
signals a shift. Mohammed Ali
Shamseddine, a noted Lebanese critic and
poet who reviewed the new collection
(which translates into Arabic as
“Unnecessary Thing”) in the Londonbased Al Hayat daily, found Dahbur’s latest
collection surprising for its close
penetration into the self, leading the poet
to examine painful questions of existence,
identity, illness, life and death. Through
these very questions, Shamseddine notes,
Dahbur’s latest collection
...[leads] the poet to examine
painful questions of existence,
identity, illness, life and death.
the poet approaches the questions of the
nation, the country, identity and Palestine.
The new collection, according to
Shamseddine, moves the poet away from
the public or the political, which
characterized his early works as well as
his fellow Palestinian poets like Mahmoud
Darwish, Samih al-Kassem, Salem Gebran,
and lands him in the realm of “private,”
the “personally worried, the tormented, the
afraid, the threatened by death.” These
words, Shamseddine adds, “are not public
but rather private” and for good reason:
“the illness is Dahbur’s personal illness,
the fear is Dahbur’s own fear, and death is
his personal death, and life in its details is
his own...”
The text in Dahbur’s new collection
reveals the retreat of “previous certainties,
cheers, and so the tone of preaching and
rhetoric,” while the “political concern,
which marked much of Palestinian poetry,
disapears.”
Shamseddine finds a very telling
correlation between Mahmoud Darwish’s
“Jidarriyya,” which translates into “a long
poem or dialogue.” In fact, it is a dialogue
with death, written after the noted
Palestinian poet was hospitalized for a
major heart ailment.
Do poets, or for that matter, all of us
withdraw from the public and the political
to the personal, the parochial? It is
certainly a part of this poet’s journey, a
journey that belongs uniquely to each
person, and each poet. AJ
24
A Critic’s Search for a
Truer Vision of War
An Interview with Rafif Rida Sidawi
Sidawi claims creativity in literature should not be defined by
subject or cause
B Y INA
YEH JJABBER
ABBER
INAYEH
Rafif Rida Sidawi is a serious critic.
Her latest work is “The Narrative
Perspective of the Lebanese War.”
Employing sociological analysis, she
examines selected Lebanese narrative
texts. The following discussion is about
her newest book and its research
problems.
Scientific Criticism
Jabber: Does the novel or any other
literary genre benefit from literary
criticism, and did you yourself benefit
from other critics, Lebanese or otherwise?
Sidawi: Allow me to clarify my position
from the criticism you are referring to. I
believe only in scientific criticism which
produces knowledge. Criticism in
general, which we often find scattered on
the pages of magazines and newspapers,
is subject to the standards of collegial ties,
kinship, and factions and becomes closer
to commercial criticism. Scientific
criticism acquires its scientific nature by
producing knowledge rather than
advocating a position through the media
– like promoting a certain commodity.
Scientific criticism benefits literature, and
I myself have profited from Lebanese,
Arab and foreign critics, both modern and
traditionalist, without being entirely
convinced sometimes by the intellectual
background of their work.
Jabber: Do you find treating many
novelistic types, as you did in your book,
sheds light on what you want to say, or is
it possible to arrive at your analysis by
concentrating on two or three novels?
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Rafif Rida Sidawi
Sidawi: Undoubtedly, the issue of volume
depends on the goal of research, and we
take into consideration the field of
knowledge to which this or that research
belongs. In my sociological study, I
started with the belief in the ability of the
novel to say and reveal what culture and
political discourses cannot, especially in
a difficult time such as war. At this time,
authors and intellectuals suffered a dual
violence: the obvious military violence
as well as moral violence – if such a term
can be used – resulting from a schism
between ideology and reality caused by
the dominance of fanatic sectarianism. As
a result, I found it more useful to treat
several novelistic types (represented by
19 narrative texts by 12 novelists),
reflecting the diversity of the views of the
war held by the authors. It was significant
to note their differences as well, especially
with the rise of new novelistic styles and
a new novelistic generation which
Interviews
...a phenomenon as
important as the Lebanese
war will undoubtedly make
its way into the narrative,
whether the author wished
this or not...
emerged during the war. I would also
comment that I did not interpret the
novelistic view of the war as the image of
the war in the novel, but rather, the view
of the novel toward the war. This
distinction points at a difficult social and
cultural reality, of which the war was but
one stage. Thus, I am convinced it is
important to focus on many narrative
examples.
The War Novel
Jabber: Did you choose the critical works
of some novelists and not others, and why?
Sidawi: I have already discussed my
reliance on several narrative texts. Your
question adds another aspect I did not
tackle, that I declined in my book to pass
general judgments. I devoted all my
interest to gathering narrative material
which would make it possible to discover
a diverse novelistic vision of the war,
reflecting simultaneously diversity and
difference. The novelists that I chose had
written during the war and about the war,
starting from its origins and examining it
at various creative levels. Thus the
narrative reality imposed itself upon me,
especially when I defined the research
period as the years 1975 to 1995 for
procedural reasons. What does it mean that
there are some novelists, men and women,
who are not included in my research,
despite the high literary value of their
work? These novelists include but are not
limited to Iman Hmaydan Unis, whose
novel “Beirut” was published in 1996, and
Najwa Barakat, whose novel “Ya Salam”
was published in 1999. I have referred to
this issue in my book.
Jabber: Is it necessarily true that the war,
which reflects a social tendency
of an extremely violent nature,
sets its own narrative rules, or is
it possible for literature to rise
above the national and the
political?
A Visit
B Y MO
A YED AL
-RA
WI
MOA
AL-RA
-RAWI
When sleep weighs heavy on my eyelids,
Sidawi: When we speak about
every morning,
literature in general and the novel
A mysterious bird comes to knock
in particular, we cannot impose
on my closed windows and
our standards and thoughts, such
pulled down shutters
as claiming that the novel should
tackle this or that subject because
Perching on the snow covering the courtyard,
the novelist as an artist has the
the bird knocks on the pane.
freedom to choose what element
of his social life he wishes to write
It does not chirp.
about. However, a phenomenon
It only wants to talk about the
as important as the Lebanese war
mountains it crossed,
will undoubtedly make its way
the cities it beheld,
into the narrative, whether the
the people to whom it sang its songs.
author wished this or not, whether
the artist was conscious of this or
The bird comes to spill the scent for me,
not. This phenomenon embodies
From the tape of bygone memories.
itself not only through the
The Mysterious bird, with its wings,
content, but also through the
steals the air from me.
development of the novel’s form
because the relationship between
form and the content is defined
by Noel Abdulahad
by social conditions which
supercede the individual choices
of the author. It is possible, for
example, for a given novel to treat the war tackles. There are other factors defining
without the war being its only basic whether a narrative or poetic text is
theme; that is to say, without having the creative or not. If I have chosen narrative
texts in my book that deal with the war,
war as its main subject.
The other part of your question centers meaning an important issue which is
on the possibility of the literary work related to the nation, it is because my
staying away from national concerns; this research goals necessitated that. AJ
is different because it is connected with
the orientation of the authors themselves This interview was adapted from a longer
and with their respective visions – that is text which appeared in the Beirut daily
to say, the totality of their ideas and As Saffir. Translation and adaptation are
feelings. Our Arab literary archives, by permission from the newspaper and the
generally speaking, are rich with the author.
choices of literary figures who defended
just causes: fighting imperialism,
Translation and adaptation
repression, prisons, dictatorial regimes,
by Elie Chalala
denouncing Arab defeatism in the loss of
Palestine,
not
to
mention
underdevelopment, poverty and exile,
AL JADID ONLINE
and hundreds of specific local issues. But
I should like to express an important
observation in this context: Creativity in
literature is not defined by the subject or
with the just nature of the cause which it
Frequently updated
On the Web at
www.aljadid.com
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25
Interviews
Landmark of Arab Music Heritage
Victor Sahab discusses new encylopedic work on Um Kulthum
covering life, love, and songs
BY MAI MUNASA
On my way to meet Victor Sahab and
his brother Elias, I wonder about the
meaning of a newly published
encyclopedic work. These brothers, in a
historic workshop, produced three
volumes on the personal and artistic life
story of Um Kulthum. Their work
addresses, in an organized alphabetical
order, perhaps all aspects of the artist’s life.
As I discussed with co-author Victor
Sahab, this work also sheds light on the
various poets and composers who have
worked with the miraculous voice of
singer Um Kulthum.
Munasa: An encyclopedia contains all
knowledge; how can an entire
encyclopedia be about one person?
Sahab: Since the 18th century, from the
“Encyclopedia of Diderot & d’Alembert”
to the Palestinian Encyclopedia, there
have been encyclopedias that address a
very specific topic. The Palestinian
Encyclopedia is in two parts, and each
part has four sections further broken down
by subject: Music in Palestine, Customs
and Traditions, etc. The writer is entitled
to choose the content of his or her
encyclopedia. Writing an encyclopedia
requires strict adherence to all facets of
the subject matter, as opposed to “regular”
writing where the author has almost
complete freedom.
Munasa: Why did you choose Um
Kulthum?
Sahab: It was the idea of the publisher,
Abdullah Uqail. He is a businessman who
established the Musiqa al-Sharq company
with his partners, Rafiq and George Nahas.
Uqail founded it out of his love of music,
and created the concept of a series of
encyclopedias. My brother and I initially
26
collaborated with them with the intent of
producing one on Muhammad Abd
al-Wahhab, although it may require
many volumes to do this genius
justice.
who were inspired by her voice and
composed their best works for her,
beginning with Abu al-Ala Muhammad,
her first teacher after her father, to
Muhammad Abd al-Wahhab, Baligh
Hamdi, and Sayyid Makkawi. Every
composer left a mark on her life.
Munasa: What is the difference
between Um Kulthum and
Muhammad Abd al-Wahhab?
Sahab: In our research on each of
them, we found that Abd al-Wahhab
sang 250 songs, while Um Kulthum
sang 330 songs. On the other hand,
Abd al-Wahhab composed 200
songs for other singers as well as 60
instrumental pieces. This totals 510
pieces. The first volume will cover
his biography and the follow-up
ones will analyze the music and
lyrics of his songs.
Munasa: How does your
encyclopedia compare to other
published books on Um Kulthum?
Victor Sahab
Sahab: We add biographical information
missing in the books by Mahmud Kamel,
Khalil Masri, Izis Fathallah, Ratiba Hafni,
and Nimat Fouad. They all wrote about
Um Kulthum’s life. We, on the other hand,
probe deeper into her cultural formation
from her early days in the countryside to
the period of performing in a maledominated society. We examine her move
to the city and look at the problems she
faced in each period. This includes a
network of overlapping and opposing
forces, factors that became part of her art.
We also examine her life in the context of
her relationship with poets and
composers.
Munasa: No doubt, poets and composers
were attracted by her beautiful and strong
voice.
Sahab: We have counted 11 composers
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Munasa: And among the poets, did Ahmad
Rami have the biggest impact?
Sahab: This poet played a fundamental
role in her life. Um Kulthum was a country
girl, and Egyptian farmers, like most rural
societies, are very conservative and
family-oriented. When Um Kulthum came
to Cairo, the light song format call taqtuqa
was in fashion, with all the moral
corruption that it manifested. She never
considered entering this field since she
began as a religious chanter singing about
the life of the prophet.
Munasa: How did she make the transition
to romantic songs?
Sahab: She had an opportunity to start
singing secular songs after several men
had chipped away at her father’s “wall of
Interviews
stubbornness” and his insistence that she
adhere to religious chanting. The dignity
of the songs performed by Abu al-Ala
Muhammad softened her father, who then
began to allow her to sing poetry modeled
after the works of Abdu al-Hamuli. In
addition, Fatima al-Milaigi, Um
Kulthum’s mother, played a major role by
encouraging her daughter to sing and
treating her as an equal to her male
siblings. After Abu al-Ala, Ahmad Rami
was the second factor to soften her father.
In 1924, Rami returned to Cairo from the
University of Paris-Sorbonne with a
doctorate in Persian literature, and heard
that a girl has been singing poems
composed by Muhammad al-Qasabji. He
rushed to hear her and was fascinated with
her; she was the love of his life until he
died.
the taqtuqa of Muhammad al-Hirawi and
Abd al-Latif al-Banni to a fantastic level,
as exemplified in her song “Ana Fi
Intizarak Malyait,” composed by Bayram
al-Tunisi with lyrics by Ahmad Rami.
Munasa: Why did he switch from classical
poetry to colloquial language when
writing for her?
Sahab: Of course she is. In my thesis I
described one of her missing songs that
says: “I rush life in order to meet her just
to end up crying about the life I missed.”
It is a beautiful song, listed in Khalil Masri
and Mahmud Kamel’s books as written by
Ahmad Shawqi. However, we recently
found a recording of this song and other
rare missing recordings with collectors in
London and Kuwait. We salvaged about
15 songs from the era of King Farouq. The
announcer in this recording stated that the
lyrics were by Ahmad Rami and the
melody composed by Riyad al-Sunbati.
The announcer is supposed to know, but
what if he was wrong and Kamel and Masri
were right?
Sahab: Rami felt comfortable writing in
the spoken dialect for Um Kulthum.
However, remember that these were poems
of a high literary type, different from silly
popular songs such as “Spoil Me In Bed”
and “My Husband Married Another
Woman.” Um Kulthum’s father saw in
Rami a dignified poet about whom
nobody could speak badly. This was
around the time that Um Kulthum’s
competitors and detractors also started to
appear. Munira al-Mahdiyya reputedly
started rumors about Um Kulthum that
upset her father and made him want to
take her back to the village. Sheikh
Mustafa Abd al-Razzeq, who later became
Egypt’s Grand Mufti, advised Um
Kulthum’s father to ignore the rumors.
Munasa: Perhaps Um Kulthum found the
right path at a young age and never
deviated from it.
Sahab: The girl who grew up singing
about the life of the prophet did not sing
secular songs except to bring them to an
elevated level. Her intuition made her rise
with the poets and composers; and with
that, she brought the Egyptian song from
Lami al-Hurr eventually found this poem
in the collections of Ahmad Rami. These
are the type of doubts that a historian is
obligated to research and to report
honestly to readers, rather than simply
imposing his own personal preferences.
Munasa: With what academic authority
can a researcher write an encyclopedia?
Sahab: I viewed this work as a historian.
My training and doctoral work centered
on history. My master’s thesis was about
the “Seven Greats” of modern Arab music.
My doctoral work was about the history
of the Quraish (the tribe of the prophet),
which was not related to music, but the
academic methods are the same.
Munasa: Is Um Kulthum among the
“Seven Greats”?
Munasa: How did you finally confirm the
identity of the poet?
Sahab: I could not find this poem among
the works of Shawqi in the 1950s. I
contacted Dr. Yousef Najm, a great
resource in the culture of 20th century
Egypt. He checked even the unpublished
works of Shawqi and felt that it was not
his work and was probably written by
Rami.
Munasa: Were you convinced?
Sahab: I did not stop there. My friend
www.ALJADID.com
Munasa: Were you thinking about Um
Kulthum before the request from the
publisher?
Sahab: I have been fascinated with Um
Kulthum since my childhood. My family
had refined taste in music; my brother
Salim is a professional musician. I started
writing about music in 1981 when Riyad
al-Sunbati died and An Nahar newspaper
asked me to contact Salim about writing
an article on al-Sunbati for the paper. Salim
was upset that he had not been contacted
directly and refused to write the article. I
wrote it myself with help from my brother
Elias and Dr. Yousef Shibl. The joint effort
was published as an article in my name.
This was very encouraging and as long as
I am a historian, I can certainly discuss
the history of music. I note here that Mrs.
Zahia Qadora, chair of the History
Department at the Lebanese University,
told me that my work is suited for
universities instead of commercial
publications, since students use these
publications for reference. Because of her
27
Interviews
feedback, I asked her to supervise my
master’s thesis about the Seven Greats.
She replied: who am I to supervise a thesis
about music?
Munasa: Her objection was an honest
reaction.
Sahab: She was an educated and cultured
lady. Since there were no other faculty
members qualified for this subject, she
accepted, despite her reservations about
other people’s reactions. The risk she took
opened the door at the Lebanese
University for a variety of other
dissertation topics since then.
Munasa: Do you believe that there is a
rich library that discusses Arab music?
Sahab: Such a “library” requires passion
and attention as well as an educated
approach. Every single piece of paper that
Mozart or Beethoven scribbled on is now
in a museum, after rigid historic and
scientific verification. These are living
nations. What a few individuals
accomplish in the Arab world is based on
their passion to follow the examples of
other nations.
Munasa: How did you distribute the
content in three volumes?
Sahab: Elias Sahab dedicated his research
to the biographical volume that covers
Um Kulthum’s life from birth to death. The
second volume contains her songs in the
period 1924-1940, arranged chronologically in one section. The third section
contains the songs from 1940 to the last
melody composed by Baligh Hamdi,
titled “Hakam Alyna al-Hawa.” Um
Kulthum had recorded the song and
intended to perform it in a concert, but
the concert was delayed many times and
never took place. Each song takes up at
least two pages, the lyrics on the left,
carefully checked, and the four elements
on the right: historical data, writer,
composer, and date of first performance
in a concert or film. There is a discussion
on the relationship between the poem,
song, and form.
28
work. Pride aside, I hope this work moves
musicologists who know more about
music than I do to pay attention to our
musical heritage. AJ
Munasa: Do you consider this major work
a gift to music conservatories?
Sahab: Prior to this book, I wrote a book
on Arab musical forms in which I
explained the development of the
taqtuqa in the 20th century. I also
discussed the qasida, mawwal,
monologue,
muwashah,
and
instrumentals such as longa and dulab,
etc. I was proud of that book, especially
since we had entered the 21th century
with the Arab “library” missing such
The Arabic version of this interview
appeared in the Lebanese daily An Nahar.
The English version which appears
exclusively in Al Jadid is by permission
from the author.
by Sami Asmar
The Successor of Bedouins
B Y FFADW
ADW
A TTOUKAN
OUKAN
ADWA
“Always in the wake of a new, green land”
To Ghada al-Samman
I
The time of arrival becomes pleasant
The heart’s pomegranate effervesces, the juice fresh, eliciting
I say: right here our ultimate ending
And next, O wanderer, we rest
The earth, orbiting, flips the seasons
And around us the coil of wind in the skyline swirls
Effacing the drawings of our steps on the gown of sand
And our glass is hurled, bleeding juice
The heart reaches towards wandering
I counter: Enough O traveler
Now is the time to rest
……………………
Proceeds the successor of Bedouins unswerving
Directing our howdah towards the wind
II
From the voyage’s beginning
He told me about his effervescent blood
The hurdle of nomadism, the impossibility of decision
He told me about the wind and sand
I didn’t listen when he said:
Don’t follow me, don’t …
And I followed, followed, followed him
And followed him all through the journey of life!
Translated from the Arabic by Elissar Haikal
From Fadwa Toukan’s collection “Tammuz wal-Shay’ el-Akhar” (July and the
Other Thing)
www.ALJADID.com
Films
Chahine’s ‘Alexandrie… New York’
A Personal Look at Arab-American Relations
ALEXANDRIE…NEW YORK
Directed by Youssef Chahine
BY MIRANDA BECHARA
In the fourth chapter of his
autobiography, internationally acclaimed
Egyptian film director Youssef Chahine,
78, sheds light on his relationship with
the United States. His newest film,
“Alexandrie…New York,” is about an
aging film director who returns to New
York after some years, meets his old love,
and discovers he had fathered a son with
her.
Born into a Christian family in
Alexandria, Egypt in 1926, the son of a
Syrian lawyer, Chahine attended the
prestigious Victoria College. He dreamed
of the cinema and theater, watched
Hollywood musicals, and in 1946 left to
study drama in California. “Sixty years
ago, I fell in love with the United States.
But things have changed – America
has changed,” stated Chahine in his
downtown Cairo offices recently.
Chahine reminisces about the golden
age of American cinema with Busby
Berkeley musicals, Fred Astaire, and
Frank Sinatra.
“Alexandrie… New York” opens
with the Egyptian filmmaker character
deciding to travel to the United States
despite his unease over its support for
Israel. The plot wanders into flashbacks
about his education at a Pasadena,
California, drama school. He enters into
a tender affair with an aspiring actress.
They separate but have a fling years later
that produces a son. However, the son
grows up to be a harsh young man who
sees himself as American rather than Arab.
While the flashbacks focus on the
dream-like love story between Ginger and
Yehia, the current events portray the
tension in the relationship between Yehia,
the famous director finally being honored
in the United States, and his disavowing
son Alexander, a father-son tension
further exacerbated by the present grim
American-Arab political situation.
Chahine’s movies have been always
sentimental and filled with handsome
young characters in love. Sometimes, he
puts fantasy dance numbers in the middle
of it all. Carmen, a la Arabian Nights, is
Chahine’s fantasy for
almost 10 minutes in
this movie.
Initially, the movie
was called “The Anger”
but was later changed to
“Alexandrie…New
York”; two cosmopolitan cities that are
miles apart, yet each
captures the essence of
civilizations – old and
new. The initial movie
title also tended to type
the film as yet another
Arab work criticizing Youssef Chahine
Chahine received a lifetime
achievement award at the 50th Cannes
Film Festival in 1997, where he presented
“The Destiny.” Set in 12th century
Andalusia, the film is an exuberant
historical fresco with profound
implications for today as Ibn Rushd
(Averroës), the great philosopher, stands
in the face of politically driven fanaticism.
In 2002, Youssef Chahine was commissioned by the French producer Alain
Brigand for the Arab episode of “9/11”;
an essay film bringing together 11
Memory is very important to Chahine’s work as is the city
of his childhood, Alexandria, during the era between the
two world wars: a city tolerant, secular, open to Muslims,
Christians and Jews.
U.S. politics towards the Middle East. In
fact, the movie does not delve much into
politics – as one might expect – but rather
focuses on human relations. It is for the
viewer to draw the analogies, if any. As
with any autobiographical work, the
movie tends to err on the narcissistic side.
“Alexandria...Why?” (1978), “An
Egyptian Story” (1982), and “Alexandria
Again and Forever” (1989) are Chahine’s
other three autobiographical movies, each
focusing on a particular social historical
context of the filmmaker’s life. Memory
is very important to Chahine’s work as is
the city of his childhood, Alexandria,
during the era between the two world wars:
a city tolerant, secular, open to Muslims,
Christians and Jews.
www.ALJADID.com
filmmakers from 11 countries, each
contributing an episode that runs exactly
11 minutes, 9 seconds, and 1 frame
reflecting their reactions to the September
11th attacks.
“Alexandrie…New York” – an
Egyptian/French co-production – was the
closing film of Un Certain Regard in the
2004 Cannes Film Festival. It was also the
opening movie for this year’s Arab Film
Festival at the Institut du Monde Arabe in
Paris. It opened in theaters in Europe and
the Middle East this summer and received
mixed reviews. In Egypt, it has been one
of Chahine’s few movies to perform well
at the box office. With more than 40 films,
Youssef Chahine remains one of the most
prolific and significant independent Arab
filmmakers. AJ
29
Films
‘Does an Arab live here?’
Three post-9/11 Documentaries
Ordeal of Arab and Muslim Immigrants
BROTHERS AND OTHERS: THE
IMPACT OF SEPTEMBER 11 ON
ARABS, MUSLIMS AND SOUTH
ASIANS IN AMERICA
A film by Nicolas Rossier
2002, Arab Film Distribution, 60 minutes
PERSONS OF INTEREST
Directed by Alison MaClean
and Tobias Perse
2003, First Run/Icarus Films, 63 minutes
EVERYTHING IS GONNA BE
ALRIGHT
A film by Tamer Ezzat
Myth & Semat Productions, 80 minutes
Subtitles English/Arabic, 2003
B Y LLYNNE
YNNE R
OGERS
ROGERS
Three recent documentaries examine
the lives of Arab Americans, Arabs, and
Muslims living in America after 9/11.
While the first two films focus on the
abuse committed under the shield of the
Patriot Act, the third film testifies to the
love many Arabs feel for New York City.
“Brothers and Others” documents the
quiet tragedies of immigrant hopes
devastated by 9/11 and the rippling effects
of the Patriot Act on Muslims living in
America. The interviews with two
Pakistani housewives and three Muslim
males are supplemented by the
commentaries of well-known politicians,
intellectuals, and activists. The
commentaries capture a wide range of
opinions on the Patriot Act from the
professed idealism of U.S. Representative
Lamar Smith, who sees Americans
reaching out to the Muslim community,
to U.S. Representative Tom Tancredo,
who wants “them” to “stand up and
denounce terrorism in the mosques.”
With a wider appreciation of the
political context and the concern for civil
30
rights, Noam Chomsky
regrets that the fear of
terrorism and the escalation
of war has fueled anti-Arab
prejudice as “a legitimate
form of racism,” while James Zogby
observes that the majority of persons
arrested as a result of the Patriot Act were
only guilty of routine visa violations.
Nevertheless, while politicians,
activists, and lawyers debate the
legitimacy of the Patriot Act, families are
being destroyed in spite of their American
patriotism. Zahida Parveen, whose
husband was arrested, and Uzma Naheed,
whose husband and brother were arrested,
both understand the need for America to
protect itself and initially cooperate with
the authorities. However, when the heads
of the households are held for more than
five months, the resulting financial, social,
and psychological damage force the
women to return reluctantly to Pakistan.
Ali, an Iranian, is arrested in Montana
while on vacation with his fiancée. After
five months in prison, including 40 days
in a holding cell during which he suffered
a stroke and was denied medical
attention, and with legal bills in the range
of $30,000, a released Ali awaits his visa
hearing and contemplates changing his
name to Tony. Gomma Farraq, an Egyptian
American shopkeeper, laments the lost
vibrancy of his Arab-American
neighborhood.
Today, fearful wives do not dare to
venture outside their homes while the men
seek to avoid attention quietly traveling
to work and home. Imran Ali, a young,
preppie computer engineer, recounts his
bewildered intimidation at being
questioned by the FBI after they received
an anonymous tip. Although cleared of
suspicion, Imran was subsequently laid off
from work. Disappointment in the
American ideals of freedom and equality
unites the individuals portrayed in both
www.ALJADID.com
Courtesy of Arab Film Distribution
“Brothers and Others” and “Persons of
Interest.”
“Persons of Interest,” produced by
Lawrence Konner, won awards at the 2004
Sundance Film Festival, Human Rights
Watch, the Berlin International, Rotterdam
International, and Amnesty International
Film Festivals as well as the Amnesty
International Humanitarian Award. This
artistic documentary includes 10
interviews with detainees or their family
members. Shot during Ramadan, the
participants appear in their mosque
clothes with their families and
rambunctious children. They clutch onto
family photographs, creating an
alternative domestic narrative to that of
illegal immigration.
While the interviewees bashfully or
tearfully face the camera, they recount
their personal stories. The bare set of a
wooden bench and small window creates
a hygienic cell allowing the audience to
easily imagine these detainees in solitary
confinement. After being handcuffed,
many spent over a month in solitary
confinement and some were kept for over
a year. Ironically, the film includes three
Palestinians who left the Israeli
occupation to find work and freedom in
the United States only to be incarcerated
on a visa violation or an anonymous tip.
Shokeria, an Afghani American from
Albany, New York, remembers her father
locking the door to their family home in
Afghanistan, leaving it to the Russian
occupiers. Now after her husband has been
secretly deported to Jordan, she wonders
if she will have to do the same. An
American woman married to a PakistaniAmerican Ph.D. in criminal justice
tearfully describes her family’s ostracism
Films
Courtesy of First/RunIcarus Films
From “Everything is Gonna Be Alright”
Each of these three videos offers the valuable
contribution of human faces to the discussion of racial
profiling and documents the price of the Patriot Act. All
three demonstrate the pain and hopes shared by Arabs,
Muslims, and Americans after 9/11.
by friends and family members frightened
at the mere mention of the “terrorist” word.
A Latino woman married to an Algerian
describes visiting her husband three
months after his arrest. Shocked to see his
unkempt “crazed” eyes and his frail body
incapable of holding himself up, she is
struck speechless. Their stories recount
both the legal and illegal attempts to stay
in a “free” country where most have joined
other family members.
These international families paint a
new American nuclear family being
ripped apart by the very politicians
proclaiming to protect the family. The
closing portrait of the group breaking fast
is reminiscent of a church supper of those
who came here for religious freedom. The
film concludes with a follow-up on the
participants, those who have been rearrested, those whose families have
separated, and those who have left for
another country or have been deported.
In conclusion, the film cites the Human
Rights Watch condemnation of the
present situation under the Patriot Act,
reinforcing these poignant stories of failed
American dreams.
In a welcome contrast to the
foreboding pessimism of the previous
documentaries, “Everything is Going to
Be Alright,” a title taken from the Bob
Marley song, balances the joys and
complications of being an Arab in New
York City. The Egyptian filmmaker, Tamer
Ezzat, visiting New York City to study
directing and special effects, was only a
few blocks away when terrorists hit the
World Trade Center. Distracted from his
original film idea, Ezzat decides instead
to interview four of his Egyptian friends
who were living in New York at the time.
The result, a fond and thoughtful postcard
sent back to America from home in Cairo,
re-examines the familiar complaints about
American media, yet includes a newsreel
clip that concretely supports each
accusation.
This innovative film shares with
Americans the genuine love and
appreciation for New York City felt by so
many Middle Easterners. Ezzat begins his
quest in Times Square to catch the city’s
rhythm. Rather then reiterate the tired
East/West split, the film highlights the
similar urban life energy found in Cairo
and New York City. Dalia Bassiouny, an
anchorwoman, professor, and theater
student, notes the rags to riches panorama
in both cities while Usama Abdel Azziz,
www.ALJADID.com
formerly of Fox News, pinpoints that the
“great thing about New York” is “all the
people live together.”
In a painful reflection on life in the
city after the tragedy, Hossam Fahr, writer
and interpreter, worries about his young
son becoming a “self-hating Arab.” The
articulate Khaled Fahmy, a New York
University professor, elaborates on the
issues and draws a comparison between
the United States and imperial-age Great
Britain.
These four interviews are interspersed
with quick exchanges with two friendly
hot dog vendors, who reflect the warmth
and Egyptian readiness to smile
transplanted to the streets of New York.
While the film could have used a little
more editing, the film’s framework, one
Arab speaking to another in their native
tongue in their homes in a foreign
country, gives the American audience an
insider’s glimpse into professional Arabs
living in the United States in today’s
political climate. In a fairly intimate
atmosphere, “Everything is Gonna is Be
Alright” voices their frustration and
concerns as well as their admiration.
The film’s closing shots of the streets
of Cairo highlight the vibrant vitality of
the Egyptian city, and reinforce the
beauty of both cities. Each of these three
videos offers the valuable contribution
of human faces to the discussion of racial
profiling and documents the price of the
Patriot Act. All three demonstrate the pain
and hopes shared by Arabs, Muslims, and
Americans after 9/11. AJ
31
Films
‘Feminizing’ Politics and
Transforming the Culture of
Conflict
Palestinian conflict in her second film, “Secret Hebron: The
School Run,” (2003), which focuses on the plight of Palestinian
children, systematically denied education by the Israeli
government. Using a hidden camera, she documents their difficult
trek to school in the occupied territories, and their dangerous
confrontations with the armed Israeli soldiers who try to stop
Donna Baillie’s camera captures opposition them.
In “Women in Black” Baillie follows WIB members to the
to Israeli occupation that Westerners cannot West Bank where they bring aid to the Palestinian people and
international attention to their cause. The film’s focus is mainly
easily ignore
on Western women – professionals, academics, and activists –
who use their position of privilege as internationals – their U.S.
WOMEN IN BLACK
and British passports – to go where Palestinians cannot for fear
By Donna Baillie
of being shot. The women play mother to fresh-faced Israeli
The Cinema Guild, Inc., 2002, 53 minutes
soldiers while their colleagues interrupt checkpoints and
roadblocks, so that Palestinians can simply travel in and out of
BY BEIGE LUCIANO-ADAMS
their towns for supplies, work, hospital, etc.
In considering this creative form of activism, it is important
Donna Baillie’s “Women in Black” is
to keep in mind the
a documentary film profiling the
gravity of the situation
international activist group of the same
and the risks they
name. Begun in 1988 by a handful of
take. One is reminded
Israeli women who opposed their
of the death of Rachel
government’s treatment of the Palestinian
Corrie, a young
people, Women in Black has grown to
American activist with
incorporate women of many diverse
the
International
backgrounds who organize in cities around
Solidarity Movement
the world as well as make periodic visits
(ISM) who was run
to Israel and the occupied territories to
over by a bulldozer in
protest the Israeli occupation and advocate
Gaza while trying to
a more humanitarian approach to conflict
protect a Palestinian
resolution.
house
from
Describing themselves as an
demolition.
“international peace network” rather than
Women in Black
an organization, Women in Black focuses
member Liz Khan, a
on mobilizing global non-violent protest
social worker from
Batya Makover in “Women in Black”
of war, hatred, rape, and related human
London, is featured in
rights abuses. They wear black as a symbol of sorrow for the the film as she attempts to bring supplies to people in affected
victims of such abuses and hold vigils, standing in “visible areas. Soft-spoken and articulate, Khan patiently works toward
silence” to inspire an internal meditation – a noiseless reflection her purpose – one person, one bag of food, and one day at a time.
on the violence and destruction that plague humanity.
She also visits for tea and dialogue with both a Jewish settler
The film opens with scenes of innocent Jewish children living in Gush Etzion, and a Palestinian family living nearby
playing, juxtaposed with the destruction of Palestinian homes, under ever-worsening conditions of the occupation. The level
to give the viewer a sense of the dichotomous nature of the of interaction between Khan and the Palestinian family is
conflict. The deep-seated chasm is further manifested in heated substantive, and it is obvious that they know each other beyond
confrontations between peace activists and militant Israeli what the scenes suggest. An older Jewish member of Women in
protesters, as well as between Palestinians and Israelis arguing Black laments that the occupation is a horrible thing for the
over “which side God is on.”
Palestinians, but for the Jewish people – as an affront to the
“Women in Black,” filmed almost entirely in the West Bank, cherished spirit of Jewish society – it is a tragedy. The mother of
is Baillie’s first film. The filmmaker has herself said that she was the Palestinian family interviewed by Khan, remarking that she
not initially interested in making a picture about Palestine: “At does not foresee a solution, a state, or freedom, says plainly, “We
the time I thought I was pretty well informed on the situation in do not see a light at the end of the tunnel. . . we live without
Palestine, but nothing that I had read or seen in the media had hope.”
prepared me for what I found. The sense of oppression in the
Despite the effectiveness of scenes like this, the film seems
West Bank was overwhelming.” She later revisited the Israeli- to lack a specific thematic focus or narrative point of view,
32
www.ALJADID.com
Films
offering what is closer to a series of vignettes, snapshots of the
circumstances of occupation, rather than analysis of its causes,
or a demonstration of the subject group’s real impact on the
situation.
The scenery is moving and purposeful: the hand-held camera
captures the saturated sun and earth, the rolling hills and olive
trees, and the gray rubble of bombed-out houses. Earnest and
simple, the film conveys the tragedy of oppression and
displacement in small towns and refugee camps, against an everpresent layer of hopelessness. While “Women in Black” does
not go far enough to explore some of the themes it introduces, it
is to be commended for credibility rather than propaganda.
Women in Black is part of a growing global movement to
“feminize” politics, and to transform the culture of conflict. As a
marginalized group able to operate outside of the dominant
political power structure, women members can uniquely
challenge oppression and subjugation by creating roles for
themselves in an alternative approach to conflict resolution.
The result is a subtle yet powerful subversion of established
knowledge and power structures, which attempts to bring a
fresh perspective to conflicts and restore the possibility of
dialogue. AJ
One Woman’s Crusade
Against State Terror
Filmmakers draw attention to Turkey’s
inhumane treatment of dissent and minorities
RAINMAKERS II: YILDIZ TEMÜRTÜRKAN IN TURKEY
Directed by: Luc Côté
Bullfrog Films, 1999, 26 minutes
In recent years, Turkey’s human rights record has come
under intense scrutiny from the Western world, primarily because
of its anticipated admission to the
European Union. With the world watching,
activists have finally been afforded the
opportunity to voice their grievances
before a receptive audience. According to
recent reports from Human Rights Watch,
Turkey has made continued progress in
raising human rights standards in such
areas as freedom of the press and minority
rights. However, the reforms haven’t been
sufficient and activists continue to be
concerned with the existence of torture
and the government’s treatment of the Kurds. As external
pressures and the prospect of economic rewards may be the
driving forces behind reform, it remains to be seen whether the
promised reforms will take effect.
“Yildiz Temürtürkan in Turkey” is a short (26 min.) episode
in the second installment of the award-winning documentary
series “Rainmakers” by Montreal-based filmmakers Luc Côté
and Robbie Hart. Côté and Hart have traveled to diverse ends of
the globe in search of young activists transforming their
communities, often in the face of overwhelming adversity. Their
films focus on obscure individuals and the peculiarities of their
struggles: on the local, humanistic details of progress and
activism. The result is an idiosyncratic narrative that raises
questions and promotes dialogue about change on a global scale.
The time restriction – under 30 minutes – allows them to present
short, powerful narratives that relate to a diversified
demographic.
This installment follows Yildiz Temürtürkan, a young human
rights activist in the capital city of Ankara. Filmed in 1999, it
captures the corruption and violence that were rampant in Turkey
a mere six years ago. Through his lens, Côté shows us Ankara in
a grey cast: the drab offices, diffused natural light, and
impossible, impermeable bureaucracy. Such imagery evokes a
bleak mood, which is contrasted by the character and energy of
the protagonist.
Yildiz is the director of the Ankara office of the Human
Rights Association in Turkey. At the time of filming she was 30
years old and had spent much of her life devoted to human
rights, fighting a corrupt and insulated government under which
thousands of ordinary citizens have been mysteriously
kidnapped or killed.
When she was 10 years old, Yildiz witnessed the Marasher
massacre in which women and children were brutally slain by
their neighbors. Their crime was being Alawite – a small offshoot
sect of Shiite Islam. An Alawite herself, Yildiz’s mother told her
not to reveal her religious identity to fellow students for fear of
being killed. This incident left a distinct impression on her,
perhaps helping to define her future commitment to human and
minority rights causes. While she is one of the strongest critics
of her government’s policies, Yildiz expresses a deep love for
her country. Happy to return to Ankara from a human rights
conference in Montreal, she takes a taxi home, gregarious and
chipper with the driver as she looks out the window and declares,
“Turkey is my home.”
In 1980 a military coup ushered in an era of authoritarian
rule in Turkey. The military arrested leading politicians, dissolved
the National Assembly, banned political activity and rewrote
the constitution, significantly constraining freedoms of speech
and political organizing, etc. Though civilian rule was restored
a few years later, the military continued to exert significant
influence over the government and political process. In the years
since, hundreds of thousands of people have been arrested or
disappeared. According to the film, of about 600,000 people
detained, some 100,000 of them have been imprisoned. As Yildiz
says, “For the first time, torture had become a social issue in
Turkey.”
www.ALJADID.com
33
Films
Fearing Her Camera’s Eye
Film probes photographer’s death amid deception
Zahra Kazemi
(Washington Post, AP)
LAST DAYS IN IRAN
Directed by Diana Hill
Discovery Times Channel & BBC, 2004
BY EMALEAH SHACKLETON
The circumstances behind the
shocking murder of 52-year-old
photographer Zahra Kazemi have been
further illumined in Discovery Time’s
documentary about the Canadian national
who died July 11, 2003 in the country of
her birth. “Last Days in Iran” accomplishes
three major tasks, providing the viewer
with sound historical context and a sense
of Kazemi as a mother and artist, a
narrative of the events leading up to and
following her tragic death in the summer
of 2003, and her case since it was being
taken up by Nobel Peace Prize winner
Shirin Ebadi.
“Last Days in Iran” begins by
interweaving Zahra Kazemi’s remarkable
character and life with the history of
modern Iran through a series of interviews
with close friends and family and images
of recent Iranian political history. Kazemi
was born in 1949 in Shiraz, and spent a
34
comfortable childhood in middle class
Iranian society. In college, she wanted to
study film, but soon discovered she had a
passion and gift for photography.
Kazemi left Iran for Paris during the
final days of the Shah’s reign, as he began
imposing extreme measures of control
such as outlawing dissent and banning
political parties. In France, she studied at
the Sorbonne under filmmaker Eric
Roemer, and attempted to run a small
bookstore before moving to Montréal
with her son, Stephen, shortly after the
1979 Iranian revolution.
Her son, Stephen Hachemi, now 26
and an advocate for justice in his mother’s
case, describes her as “strong,
independent, drawn to troubled countries,
passionate about human rights and people
living in the shadow of war.” Her intense
devotion to social justice issues resonates
in her photographic depictions of war-torn
locales and suffering peoples.
Her dual passion for both
photography and political causes led her
to faraway places: Africa, Asia, the Middle
East. But her last destination was the
country of her birth, Iran. She was drawn
by the 2003 protests that erupted on the
streets of Tehran – mainly students calling
for democratization. The struggle
compelled a harsh crackdown on the
dissenters, many of whom found
themselves in the notorious prison of Evin,
a symbol of fear. It was in this prison that
Kazemi was eventually held and beaten.
The film manages to effectively piece
together the fragments of information
comprising Kazemi’s last days, using a
combination of anonymous eye-witness
reports, statements from police files, and
direct interviews with family, friends, and
government officials.
The bare facts seem to be these:
Kazemi was arrested on the pretext of
taking pictures in a forbidden zone
surrounding the prison. There, at Evin, she
was interrogated for three days, transferred
to a reformist institution, and hospitalized
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soon thereafter. Hours after arriving at the
hospital Kazemi fell into a fatal coma. The
cause and effects of these simple facts have
been debated, speculated upon,
manipulated, and in varying degrees
concealed repeatedly. Her death was at
first said to have been caused by a stroke.
Later reports claimed that Kazemi fainted
as a result of a hunger strike and fatally
injured her head due to the fall. Finally,
word leaked out that the acclaimed
photojournalist suffered multiple blows
to the head and died as a result of severe
brain hemorrhaging.
Stephen Hachemi and Kazemi’s
family in Iran, with the support of the
Canadian government, insist upon an
investigation into the cause of her death.
Hamid Mojtahedi, a human rights lawyer
working in Canada, shares his impressions
with the filmmakers after meeting with
Said Mortezami, Iran’s general prosecutor,
a man “known for closing down proreform newspapers.” Mojtahedi insists
Mortezami had a personal, vested interest
in the case, despite the government
official’s insistence that he happened only
to “poke his head in” on Kazemi during
her incarceration. This is the extent to
which the film indicates the role
Mortezami played in Kazemi’s death.
However, other publications have gone so
far as to accuse the government official of
being directly responsible for inflicting
the deadly blows. Two reformists were
indicted and subsequently cleared of
charges for “quasi-intentional killing.”
The film thus raises important
questions, but remains very diplomatic
about pointing fingers and laying blame.
Mortazami is presented as “untouchable,”
a “personal favorite of Iran’s Supreme
Leader.” A PBS piece titled “Forbidden
Iran” describes Said Mortazami as
“condemned for refusing to justify
Kazemi’s detention to Parliament, for
accusing Kazemi of spying and
announcing the cause of her death as a
stroke.” Iran Press Service quotes the
French daily “Liberation” as reporting
that “Mortazami personally beat on
Kazemi’s head with his shoe… at his own
office.”
The concealment and confusion
regarding his mother’s case have led
Films
One of the many protest scenes against the killing of Zahra Kazemi
Stephen Hachemi to demand a fair trial in
an international court. Moreover, the
apparent injustice has compelled the
participation of internationally
acclaimed human rights activist and
attorney, Shirin Ebadi.
Hachemi, with the assistance of the
Canadian government, attempted to have
his mother’s body brought back to
Canada, hoping that an independent
autopsy would lead to some answers. The
Canadian government’s intervention
came arguably a bit a late. Moreover,
Ottawa’s protest was largely a symbolic
one, pulling its ambassador from Tehran
in a diplomatic gesture of disapproval.
Kazemi’s mother, who visited her
comatose daughter in the hospital, alleged
that Kazemi’s body was black and blue
all over. A brain scan taken while Kazemi
was still in the hospital revealed a series
of hemorrhages resulting from multiple
blows of varying intensity. The scan
suggests the possibility that the deadly
blows were struck only days before the
patient was brought to the hospital.
However, Hachemi’s request was denied,
and Kazemi’s body was finally buried in
Shiraz.
What exactly happened between the
time of Kazemi’s incarceration and her
death remains a mystery. The sense of
confusion, even of outright deception, is
heightened by the convolutions within the
very institutions that held sway over
Kazemi’s last days. The film does well to
(CBS News)
highlight the intense schisms in Iranian
politics, a political system divided
primarily into two rival camps: the
Reformists, led by elected president
Mohammed Khatami, and the hard-liners,
under the control of the unelected
Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. The two factions
have struggled intensely with each other
since the election of Khatami in 1997.
What remains hidden is the exact
relationship between the rival parties as
far as the Kazemi case is concerned. Forces
loyal to the hard-liners had opposed the
protests and made the arrests, including
Kazemi’s, that concluded at Evin.
However, Kazemi was transferred to a
facility run by the Intelligence Ministry,
an agency loyal to Khatami and the
Reformists, and institutional rival of
Mortazami and the Prosecutor’s Office.
Only after having passed through the
hands of both competing factions did
Zahra Kazemi arrive at the hospital in
Tehran where she would spend her final
hours.
In his interview in “Last Days in Iran,”
Iranian Vice President Mohammad Ali
Abtahi insists that the investigation
should be carried out “with sensitivity”
as the reputation, respect, and
“personality” of Iranians is “under
investigation as well.” What the film calls
the “suddenly political” nature of
Kazemi’s death resonates throughout the
piece, and to this day remains an
impediment to the pursuit of justice. Shirin
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Ebadi is quoted in The Guardian saying,
“I will pursue this case until my last
breath.” The legal team Ebadi leads has
suggested that the real killer was a
judiciary official in Evin prison. The BBC
reports that Stephen Hachemi wishes the
case to be taken to The Hague if necessary.
“It’s a cover-up,” he said in the same story,
“They’re not ready to implicate Iranian
officials. I have only three letters – ICJ –
the International Court of Justice.”
Meanwhile, the New York Times has
quoted Ebadi as determined to employ
“all necessary legal means to seek
justice… If our legal demands are not
taken into consideration, and if justice is
not served, we will have no choice but to
take our case with the request of Ms.
Kazemi’s family to international courts
and the United Nations.” AJ
contributors
Doris Bittar (“Ingredients of the Creative
Self,” p. 37; “The Perennial Refugees,” p.
51 and “Alternate Voices, Expanding
Dialogue,” p. 53) is a San Diego artist,
academic and critic.
Brigitte Caland (“The Last Interview of
Edward Said,” p. 38) is a Los Angelesbased writer, translator and a contributor
of this magazine. She translated Edward
Said’s “Out of Place” into French (“A ContreVoie,” published by Le Serpent a plumes
(2002). Caland is currently studying
Hebrew and Semitic languages at UCLA.
Mohammed Dakroub (“Louis Awad:
Relentless Advocate of Secular Tradition,
p. 10) is a prominent Lebanese author, critic
and editor of the Lebanese journal At Tariq.
Mark H. Grimes (“Ahmad Dahbur: In
Pursuit of Blackness,” p. 22) is an associate
professor of English at Harvard Community
College, Columbia, MD.
Inayeh Jabber (“A Critic’s Search for a
Truer Vision of War: an Interview with Rafif
Rida Sidawi,” p. 24) is a Lebanese poet and
art critic for the Beirut-based As Safir
newspaper.
35
Films
Documentary Captures Syrian
Complexities, Dilemmas
Saul Landau’s enthusiasm leads him to people
Westerners miss, but prone to a zealous
partiality
BETWEEN IRAQ AND A HARD PLACE
Directed by Saul Landau
Cinema Guild, 2003
BY BOBBY GULSHAN
It wasn’t long after the invasion of Iraq that speculation on
Washington’s next move began to focus on the nation of Syria.
Poised delicately between Israel and an American occupation
in Iraq, Syria emerges at the center of Saul Landau’s 2003 short
documentary. Landau’s Syria, however, bears little resemblance
to the nation so vilified in the American popular press. “Between
Iraq and a Hard Place” presents to viewers a nation with rich and
complex historical, religious, and social identities.
The film opens with a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, spoken
in Aramaic, the language of Jesus and the apostles. The camera
then cuts to scenes of the Syrian street, the sidewalks and markets,
finally returning to the Aramaic community of Maaloula. The
priest of a Roman Catholic church, Father Tawfiq, tells us that
when people say Arab, they automatically assume Muslim,
though in Syria, this is far from the truth. In fact, another voice
in the film explains that not only is Islam not the only religion,
but among Christians there are divisions, just as there are among
Muslims. While the inclusion of these scenes does help paint
the picture of a pluralistic Syria, the relevance of Aramaic is a
bit overdone as the ancient tongue is essentially a dying
language.
The narrative of the film shifts between images of and
commentary on the historical Syria, as well as the contemporary
nation. Dr. Bouthaina Shaaban, Syrian Minister for Emigrant
Affairs, adds her voice to the many that speak out against the
American occupation of Iraq. Given her particular official post,
Shaaban’s participation adds a distinct public relations element
to the work. In attempting to dispel myths about women in the
Middle East, Landau includes a discussion about compulsory
education and the role of women in professional capacities,
which further imbues the film with a public relations tone, as if
the film is attempting to sell Syria to a reluctant Western
audience. The average Syrian voices ultimately bring Landau’s
vision to life. Time and again, Syrians tell the viewer that it is
not Americans that they despise, but rather the policies of an
aggressive government.
An archeology professor, Amar al-Azm contributes perhaps
the most cogent and relevant statements in the film. Al-Azm
admits the need for reform in Syria, yet explains that the threats
36
Courtesy of Cinema Guild
of military action from the United States will hardly provide the
incentive necessary. The lingering occupation next door in Iraq,
coupled with the diplomatic pressure and belligerent chatter
from Washington, only create an atmosphere of fear and
intimidation, distracting Syrian leaders from productive, positive
reform and essential development issues.
The film follows the format of a rather straightforward
documentary, making use of seated interviews as well as
capturing the voices of people on the street. Landau,
unfortunately, is not immune to historical inaccuracy: the film
claims that the Baath party came to dominance immediately
after World War II, when in fact the party didn’t really assert its
power until 1963. Also, Hafez al-Assad secured the post of
defense minister some 15 months before the beginning of the
Six Day War, contrary to the statement in the film. Ultimately,
Landau attempts to cover too much in too little space. He seems
to want to provide a viewer completely unfamiliar with Syria
with a comprehensive vision of a complex and rich nation.
Simultaneously, so much seems to be taken for granted; it is as if
the viewer should already know certain things about the place.
Amar al-Azm, for example, talks about how there is a need for
reform in Syria, but we are not told what those reforms might be,
or even what they would address.
If the viewer is invested in questions about contemporary
Syrian life and politics, they probably already have some
knowledge about the nation’s complex social and historical
fabric, rendering the better part of the film redundant.
Nonetheless, for the viewer unfamiliar with the complex social
makeup of Syria, Landau’s film is a good place to begin. AJ
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Films
Ingredients of the Creative Self:
An Intimate Look at Edward Said
SELVES & OTHERS: A PORTRAIT OF EDWARD SAID
Directed by Emmanuel Hamon, 2004
Distributed by Arab Film Distribution
54 minutes in English
B Y DORIS BITT
AR
BITTAR
“Selves and Others” offers a
compelling portrait of a steely and
complex man. In the months before
his death, a film crew captured
Edward Said in his family apartment
and New York environs. French
director Emmanuel Hamon cuts
back and forth from Said’s
interpretations of family photos,
both humorous and dour, and a
reflection on his academic
accomplishments, to street scenes
of Manhattan and a concluding
panel discussion with Daniel
Barenboim.
Taking his cues from Said’s
moods, body language, and train of
thought, Hamon’s cinematic
strategy is careful, detached, and
bereft of sentimentality or romance.
This deprivation builds and we are
forced to scrutinize and dwell on
Edward Said
(New York Times Magazine)
the sheer power of Edward Said’s
words and his persona as an ordinary man who happens to be an intellectual giant. This
deprivation is ruptured by a painfully intimate piano performance showing Said’s intense
love for music.
The first anniversary of Edward Said’s death was commemorated by the American
Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee, San Diego chapter, by showing Hamon’s “Selves
and Others” as part of its monthly film series. A lively discussion followed the film in
which the audience focused on the fact that even though Said makes compelling
arguments for Palestinian rights, he tends to display a distanced stance toward Palestine
as a land or a baladi that he longs for.
The film confirms that Said did not have the usual attachments that we recognize as
an integral part of the Palestinian experience – to a plot of land, a stone house, or grove.
This can be disconcerting as we hear him insisting on a permanent state of exile from his
homeland as well as from the United States, his country of citizenship. Said discusses
his tenuous relationship to New York City. Because so many disconnected lives reside
within the city, he reasons, it is a perfect space for an exile.
Hamon’s formal strategies accentuate Said’s dilemma. The cuts of Manhattan’s midtown and upper west side are anxious and spliced in at regular intervals, patterned as if
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37
Films
‘The Last Interview’ of
Edward Said
A documentary observes Said working
relentlessly as if there is no end in sight
THE LAST INTERVIEW
First Run/Icarus Films
Directed by Mike Dibb
Interviewed by Charles Glass, 114.48 minutes, 2004
BY BRIGITTE CALAND
When I first met Edward Said, I had just finished translating
his memoirs “Out of Place” into French. The translation took
seven months, during which he was always available. We used
to communicate through the internet, sending e-mails back and
forth, and he would kindly answer my questions and give me
references to read or to listen to. At the end of spring 2002 I
visited New York, and although he was very sick and under
heavy chemotherapy treatment, we had lunch in a restaurant
near Columbia University. He came in, walking with his cane,
sat down, and started talking as if we had known each other for
a long time.
He ordered a steak and French fries but could hardly eat
anything. The food stayed on his plate; he nibbled on it while
talking. At the beginning of the meal he said, “I am too tired to
walk, but I need to go to the hardware store across the street and
get some small things for the house.” He was waiting for his
daughter to come and accompany him for a while during the
afternoon. Tired from the treatment, he was concerned about
being alone.
So we walked to the light to cross the street. He stood straight
but leaned on his cane whenever we stopped. He finished his
errand and said, “Let’s go to my office.” Nothing could stop him
from going, working, doing what needed to be done. He decided
to cross the campus to his office, located a few buildings away.
Students came towards him. He stopped, pleasantly, and took
time for each one of them, suggesting that, if needed, they could
e-mail him during summer, and he would answer and stay in
touch. I could feel he was exhausted but not willing to give up
or to show how much he was affected by this long struggle that
had lasted over 10 years. I was extremely impressed by his
willpower, his courage and determination to carry on each one
of his lives: he was writing for newspapers, attending his students’
Ph.D.s, finishing a book on the “Last Period,” and making
corrections on the last draft of “Parallel and Paradox” – dialogues
with Daniel Barenboim, his friend.
Watching “The Last Interview,” listening to Edward Said
talk about the major topics and interests of his life, brings back
memories of his tenacious character and the fact that he never
38
gave up. Comfortably sitting on a couch, wearing an orange
sweater to cheer his face, he admits he always thought with
determination and will power, if he put himself to it, he could
get over it and do anything. For some time, he thought he had
mastered his illness intellectually, but eventually realized he
could not get rid of it and was discouraged. The treatment was
exhausting, but the attitude he inherited from his father, the
“the keep going and not look backwards,” his total refusal to
relax or to rest, and the physical revulsion these words gave
him, were the motor that allowed him to continue toward the
goals he had set for himself.
Throughout this documentary, with simple but accurate
words, he talks in front of a still camera, in natural light, about
his life, thoughts, and political positions, answering the
questions of Charles Glass, a friend. He goes over the process of
writing “Orientalism,” “Culture and Imperial-ism,” and “Out of
Place,” his motivations,
how they fit in time, and
the reactions they
provoked.
When the Palestinian question is brought
up, his words are
incisive and sharp, as he
explains his feelings
about the leadership,
the P.L.O., the Oslo
peace accords, the
reasons he knew it
would not succeed, as
well as his visits to the
Middle East and the
land he was born in:
Palestine-Israel. He says,
although he was raised
apolitically, his ties with Edward Said
courtesy of First Run/Icarus Films
the Middle East were reestablished in the 70s
after marrying his wife, Miriam.
Going back and forth between his childhood in the Middle
East – Palestine, Cairo, and Beirut – and his life in America, he
takes us through his very specific path: Growing from a young
boy with perfect pitch and a perfect memory who loved music
and books, into one of the most prominent intellectuals of our
time, a free thinker, whose English was amazing and whose
books are controversial. Talking about music, he mentions that
his friendship with Daniel Barenboim opened his life to new
landscapes, unfolding fields that sustained him.
Edward Said shares a story about his father asking his
teachers at his graduation, “So, how did Edward do?” He was
first or second in class and the teachers answered, “Well, he did
fine.” “Yes,” said his father, “But did he do his best?” “Not
quite.” “So he could have done better.” He grew up feeling that
there was always something he could have done but did not do,
and talks about “filiation,” what you get, and “affiliation,” the
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Films
connections you make when the other does not function. Said
mentions Vico, Conrad, Rossini, and their influence, the fact
that he had no regrets leaving Cairo because living in America
allowed him to have the best of the two worlds.
To the question, “Why do you teach? What is the point?”
Edward Said answers: “When students finish high school, they
are a finished product
that are taught not to
question the state. In
teaching literature –
classics – as well as high
classes, art and music, I
try to put my students in
contact with these
subjects and I try to
trouble their minds
instead of allowing it to
settle.” He enjoyed
teaching and did not
find it futile. Writing, he
said, is important. The
possibilities the internet
offers today are precious,
especially for the Arab
world.
At the time of the
interview, he was
working on “The Last
Period,” and told Charles
Glass
about
two
alternatives: when one
grows old, one settles his
quarrels, reaching a
semi-holy state. Another
alternative is that the last period brings a greater intransigence,
a greater complexity. The second one was more to his interest.
One does not shut down at the end, but tries to open avenues for
younger people, friends, others.
For those acquainted with Said’s work and life, “The Last
Interview” is a wonderful moment spent with a great mind. Those
who discover the man who always felt “Out of Place,” the scholar
who wrote more than 20 books, will be amazed by the thought,
the courage, the energy. This documentary will enable everyone
to understand his struggle against illness and the courageous
positions one of the greatest thinkers of our time took throughout
his entire life.
The greatest thinkers and contributors to humanity have
often been outsiders and usually have led alienated and exilic
lives, metaphorically if not in fact. Palestinians are arguably
today’s perennial exiles, not accepted within their own lands as
citizens and often not accepted elsewhere. They are certainly
outside the socio-political frame of discourse in the United
States. However, through certain prodigious individuals, such
as Edward Said, an exilic point of view may have the unexpected and stealthy ability to grasp and synthesize truths for all of
us. AJ
Comfortably sitting on
a couch, wearing an
orange sweater to cheer
his face, he admits he
always thought with
determination and will
power, if he put himself
to it, he could “get over
it and do anything.” For
some time, he thought he
had mastered his illness
intellectually,
but
eventually realized he
could not get rid of it and
was discouraged.
One Woman’s Crusade
In the film, Yildiz interviews university students who were
interrogated, tortured, and bribed to work as informants. Drawing
on news archives, Côté includes clips of street demonstrations
in which police beat people indiscriminately, making the viewer
flinch with empathy.
The film opens and ends with a resolute Yildiz leading a
demonstration under the Human Rights Statue in Ankara. She
stands in a densely packed crowd of people who have come to
protest their government’s woeful treatment of its dissenters.
Parents hold framed pictures of their children – all tortured,
kidnapped, and killed. One father speaks emotionally about his
19 year-old son, a university student who was kidnapped and
found hanging in a university bathroom.
After every such demonstration the government hauls Yildiz
into court in a thinly veiled attempt to tire, harass, and intimidate
her and her colleagues. Côté captures one such instance on film
– a unique perspective that adds dimension to film. At the time
of filming, there were more than a dozen cases pending against
her. Here the government’s attitude is marked by a blatant double
standard – while Yildiz is on trial for non-violent protest, those
who torture, kidnap and murder innocent people go free.
Yildiz Temürtürkan has given up much of her life to the
struggle for basic human rights. She has shunned the diversion
and comfort of a normal existence in favor of a more dangerous
and austere one. As she says, she has “chosen to live by her
ideals.” What the film taps into, and what is most important for
us to grasp, is her decision to live consciously – to keep her
eyes open to the harsh reality facing people in her community,
and identify her place in changing it. Her story is another
valuable addition to an already increasing library of human
rights documentaries and films. AJ
Intimate film on Edward Said
to measure and punctuate Said’s remaining time. These jarring
scenes are used, perhaps unfairly, as haunting reminders of
alienation and mortality. Hammon’s choice of metaphor
underscores Said’s self-described “out of place” reality, which
Said may consider necessary for an astute mind engaged in
creative pursuits. AJ
contributors
Mai Munasa (“Landmark of Arab Music Heritage,” p. 26) is a
Lebanese novelist and art critic for the Beirut-based An Nahar
daily.
Anne K. Rasmussen (“The Invisible Domains of Tarab,” p. 46) is
an associate professor of music and ethnomusicology, and director
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39
Films
Mideast Youth United by Anxiety
A documentary finds Mideast youth
dissappointed with leadership at home and
with the U.S. – once a beacon of democracy
20 YEARS OLD IN THE MIDDLE EAST
By Amal Moghaizel
Produced by AMIP/ ARTE France,
First Run/Icarus Films, 2003
BY BOBBY S. GULSHAN
It is two months since the fall of Baghdad. Life for the
youth of Middle Eastern countries goes on, as normal as can be
expected. Amal Moghaizel’s documentary shows us just what
that version of normal is. Taking us on a journey beginning in
Amman, then to Damascus, Beirut, back to Syria, Iran, then back
to Lebanon and Jordan, Moghaizel paints a poignant and at
times bleak picture of life for the youth of these nations. Filmed
in a rather spare documentary fashion, the filmmaker sets out to
discover what remains for young people, whose societies and
very lives have been fashioned from conflict and despair.
One of the central issues addressed by the film is the need
for direction in the lives of youth, the models by which they can
develop vision and ultimately hope for future reality. It is
important to note that the youth depicted in the film are not
stereotypical, ideologically driven suicide bombers or jihadists.
Rather, they are upper-middle class kids one would normally
expect to have every expectation of an ambitious and prosperous
future. At a medical school in Damascus, the filmmaker interjects
a question about the American presence in Iraq. One student
tells us that the best hope for protecting themselves against the
West is education, to develop the skills necessary to advance
and strengthen the nation. One student exposes a certain naïveté
about the U.S., suggesting that America’s scientific advancement
is wholly dependant upon immigrants. This comment is
contrasted by the professor, who argues that such advances cannot
be made in Syria while the government diverts budgetary
resources to national defense.
In one scene, Abbud, a 21-year-old student in Amman,
receives a phone call from Palestine. Abbud has come from
Palestine to study, attempting to free himself from the reality of
war back home. As he speaks on the phone, he is suddenly taken
aback, and we hear him ask “How many dead?” Most striking
about this scene is the sense of casual heartbreak that is part and
parcel of life in the region. Despair is reflected in the words of
Kamal, a young man living in Lebanon, whose father has
survived three wars, describing the bitter disappointment of
seeing various moments of hope dashed by further strife. For
Kamal, “there are no references” pointing towards a better future.
The myth of the great Arab state has dissolved. Palestine and
Iraq are lands of violent occupation. The only options remaining
40
Courtesy of First Run/Icarus Films
are escape or passivity. The youth of the Middle East are not
moved by any grand vision, but rather are united in their anxiety.
While the first half of the film highlights a generalized
sense of despair among Arab youth, the latter portion focuses
more on the ways that they do find hope. The filmmaker presents
various strategies of moving forward and creating identities.
Lila, a young woman in Syria, uses photography as a means of
representing Syria in ways she hopes will counter the often
stereotypical and skewed visions of the land and its people.
Zaina, meanwhile, decides that the path to dignity and strength
lies in rediscovering core values and traditions; she chooses to
wear the hijab, something even her mother doesn’t do. Others
redefine their relationship to the West, boycotting McDonalds
and Coke. As Professor Yahya Sadowski points out, the image of
America has significantly shifted in the last 30 years. What was
once thought of as a beacon of democracy and freedom, an
efficient and organized economic marvel, has now taken a
menacing posture. American music is no longer the pop-culture
lingua-franca. Some youth have given up on the idea of the
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Films
Women, Honor, Patriarchy:
Progress in Kurdish Iraq
Documentary celebrates tangible results for
Kurdish feminist activism
IN THE NAME OF HONOR
Directed by Alex Gabbey (24 minutes)
Bullfrog Films, 2000
When documentaries as well as print and electronic media
coverage bring honor killings in Mideast societies to light, such
exposition is either linked to politics or to a celebrity – such as
when Queen Nour of Jordan launched a campaign against this
inhumane practice a few years ago. This practice was highlighted
after September 11 as one element of the neo-conservative case
for transforming the Middle East from a patriarchal society that
exploits and kills women into a “democracy.” Although “In the
Name of Honor” was filmed in 2000, its theme became or has the
potential to become more relevant after the recent wars in
Afghanistan and Iraq.
Even in “The Name of Honor,” which shows improvements
in the lives of Kurdish Iraqi women, such improvements are
linked to politics. The role Kurdish women activists played
might not have been possible were it not for the 1990 Gulf War
that resulted in Kurdish semi-autonomy in the no-fly zone of
northern Iraq. Emboldened by new freedom from the oppression
of the Saddam Hussein regime, Kurdish women seized the
opportunity to speak and work on gender questions, including
honor killings.
The film opens with the last light of day, the sun settling
behind the mountains of the striking, barren landscape of northern
Iraq. Women in dust-green military uniforms put down their
kalashnikovs to sing and dance a dabke. They are Pashmergas, a
Kurdish para-military force. All have been subject in one way or
another to the horrors of war and to brutal persecution under the
previous regime of Saddam Hussein. Their commander, Reza,
spent two years in Saddam’s jails; her brother, father, and fiancé
were all killed by his regime. She is teaching her troops to fight
for the Kurdish cause, but more important to her, she is
empowering them to fight for their freedom as women. In a maledominated society where most women have known few options,
this government-backed female Pashmerga force seems like an
accelerated advancement of equality. However, this
advancement does not mitigate the fact that Kurdish society
still permits and reinforces the brutal murder of its women.
Interestingly, the women’s movement (which was enabled
by the 1991 Kurdish uprising following the Desert Storm military
operation) seems to have elicited a backlash from traditional
Courtesy of Bullfrog Films
societal elements, which are legitimized by a regressive
patriarchy, religion, and traditional politics. As men feel the
pressures of conflict, war, and persecution, they adhere to
established norms of patriarchal behavior; feeling disempowered,
they use more aggressive and brutal tactics to maintain the
subjugation of women, citing honor and religion as justifications.
“In the Name of Honor” follows Kurdish women’s struggles
by tracing the work of four women activists who are making
significant progress in various areas of society: a former medical
doctor who leaves her profession to found the Independent
Women’s Organization (IWO) and shelter; a lawyer who
specializes in the defense of women’s cases; a women’s group
literacy teacher; and a Pashmerga commander. Working mostly
in and around Sulaimanya, a major city in the Kurdish semiautonomous region of northern Iraq, they protect women from
the failings of outdated legal and law enforcement systems. They
use education and socialization to empower women, both
individually and collectively, so that they take active part in
changing their futures.
According to Beyan, the lawyer-activist who specializes in
defending women’s cases, men use both honor and women as a
type of capital. Honor relies on traditional concepts of morality,
which can be invoked by mere gossip. Thus, even an imagined
infidelity or illicit contact can be deadly. As the film shows us,
even being the victim of rape can put a woman in danger of
being killed by her father.
Marriage would appear to offer women security, but for those
who are unhappy in their marriage, or for the many that have no
say in determining who they are promised to, it can be an abusive
prison without recourse. In a festive wedding celebration the
camera shows us a jovial groom dancing with his bride while
Beyan dances nearby. We do not see the bride’s face. Beyan
narrates over the scene, telling us that this façade is misleading:
marriage does not always mean happiness. She explains that
separation or divorce for a woman is difficult and usually amounts
to a loss of personal freedom, as she cannot live alone, and must
find a way to provide for her children. Generally this means a
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41
Films
return to her father’s home, where she will be under the
supervision of a male family member.
These dreadful circumstances and a gross lack of
alternatives drive many married women to commit suicide by
dousing themselves with kerosene and lighting themselves on
fire. According to IWO team members, in the year before the
film was made, more than 150 women died of such burns in
Sulaimanya alone.
Although only 24 minutes long, “In the Name of Honor”
offers a view of honor killings and oppressive patriarchy in
contemporary Kurdish society. The four protagonists are
intelligent, articulate, and each very personally connected to
their work. Their stories provide useful insight and context for
a very weighted discussion of the issues. Director Alex Gabbey
alternates interviews with intimate scenes of everyday life to
create a diversified yet focused and effective narrative.
The result is a rich, if brief, resource for critical consideration
of women’s rights. Sounds and imagery that convey the apparent
banality and convention of women’s daily lives also capture
subtleties and hint at more complex human meanings – such as
a woman’s bored or contained expression during a lively
wedding celebration; the polite shyness but strongly implied
solidarity among women in a literacy class; or the routine horror
of a disfigured teenage burn victim, recounting to the camera in
the matter-of-fact way of a child why she lit the match.
“In the Name of Honor,” which is a chapter of “Life: A
Series About Globalization,” is a film by Alex Gabbey, a
photographer and director based in Nepal, who has worked
extensively with the BBC. In addition to his BBCcommissioned films, Gabbey has also produced an impressive
body of his own work. Most of these are poignant, smallbudget films that offer a fresh critique of globalization
through creative narrative journalism, for which he has
garnered widespread admiration and awards from human
rights and anthropology film festivals. AJ
contributors
of the W&M Middle Eastern Music Ensemble, the College of
William and Mary, VA.
Moayed al-Rawi (“A Visit,” p. 25) is a prominent Iraqi author,
essayist, poet who lives in Germany.
Lynne Rogers (“’Does an Arab live here?’ Three post 9/11
Documentaries.” p. 30, “Legacies of War and Ghosts of Normal
Life,” p. 42) is a professor and author of many articles on the
Palestine question in professional journals and books.
Emaleah Shackleton (“Fearing Her Camera’s Eye,” p. 34) is a
former assistant editor of this magazine. She is a graduate of UC
Berkeley in political science.
42
Legacies of War and Ghosts
of Normal Life
Documentaries captures days amid ruins
and checkpoints
SUSPENDED DREAMS
Directed by Mai Masri and Jean Chamoun
Bullfrog Films, 1992. 49 minutes
SUCHA NORMAL THING
Directed by Rebecca Glotfelty
Real People Production, 2003.
3 CM LESS
Directed by Azza el-Hassan
First Run/Icarus Films, 2003. 60 minutes
B Y LLYNNE
YNNE R
OGERS
ROGERS
The three documentaries, “Suspended Dreams,” “Sucha
Normal Thing,” and “3 Cm Less,” investigate the protracted
bequeathal of war in Lebanon and Palestine. Each film vividly
fuses individual tragedy to the collective plight and quietly
acknowledges the personal exertions for a just and safe
environment.
Mai Masri and Jean Chamoun’s “Suspended Dreams”
explores the Lebanese legacy of war and the fragility of peace.
The film dexterously weaves together the stories of Wadad, a
Lebanese mother and
activist whose husband was
one of the many young men
kidnapped during the war,
the friendship of Nabil and
Rambo, Christian and
Muslim militiamen who
now work together as house
painters, interspersed with
the philosophical comments
and comedy of the Lebanese
actor Rafiq.
The film opens with the
familiar yet still shocking
panorama of a Beirut
devastated
by
war,
accompanied by Fairouz’s
musical lament to the city.
As Nabil and Rambo joke with one another over their
participation in the war as snipers and work together plastering
and painting Wadad’s apartment, which was damaged by the
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Films
From “Sucha Normal Thing”
war, the camera reveals their troubled youth, present domesticity,
and cautious hopes for the future. As they dispassionately recount
how they came to be young militia men on opposing sides, they
share the same profound insecurity over the possible re-eruption
of violence. The intermittent deadly car bomb, the persistence
of Israeli aggression in the South, and the unresolved conflict
over water supplies justify their apprehensions.
The fishermen in their polluted, garbage-strewn seas point
out the vast foreign toxic waste, and the ubiquitous billboards
testify to the cultural assault of consumerism. In response to the
opulent and controversial rebuilding of Beirut, Rafiq asks, “What
about the destruction within me?” The documentary discloses
the environmental and cultural problems faced by a post-war
Lebanon, yet also captures the legendary artistic gift of the
Lebanese to express their pain, and their disarming ability to
laugh at themselves.
“Suspended Dreams” received the Grand Prix for the best
documentary at the Festival du Monde Arab in Paris, first prize
in the Damascus Film Festival, and the WWF-UK Award for Best
National Documentary and Current Affairs Programming, British
Environment and Media Awards.
Tired of having only the perspective of American media
coverage, in “Sucha Normal Thing” filmmaker Rebecca
Glotfelty travels with six other Americans to the West Bank to
gain an understanding of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. While
the film opens with a cartoon to express her caricature
understanding of the situation, the film quickly becomes a crash
course in daily life under occupation and the efforts of Israeli
peace activists. The film switches back and forth from the Israeli
activists, in particular the Women in Black, a group of Israeli
women who demonstrate against the occupation and the policies
of the Israeli army every Friday, and the Palestinians living in
the territories. After two Women in Black, ages 95 and 82, recall
Hitler’s unbridled nationalism and complain that “people here
do not understand compromise,” the Americans make the
pilgrimage to Ramallah.
After showing the now commonplace image of Arafat’s
crumbled headquarters, the camera turns to the people on the
lively streets who, despite the normality of the downtown scene,
vent their frustration and describe the recent incursion into
Ramallah by the Israeli Defense Force. Their descriptions are
immediately verified when the group stops at a local coffeehouse
only to learn that a closure will be enforced in three minutes. As
the group hastily makes their way to their hotel, gunfire rings
out and they scurry to avoid the Israelis. Back at the hotel, like
most Palestinians, they remain helplessly glued to Al Jazeera as
they listen to the nearby sounds of bombs and gunfire.
The next day, they visit the hospital. There, young Ramzi,
a newlywed who had been supporting 13 family members, lies
on life support after being shot in the head on his way home
from work by an Israeli soldier. For those viewers who might
suspect this gratuitous violence, the film interviews an Israeli
reservist and refusnik who both reconfirm the Israeli military
behavior.
At the hospital, the staff points out the difficulties caused
by the elaborate checkpoints, including the two to three cases a
week of avoidable cerebral palsy caused by the checkpoints
blocking pregnant women, preventing them from getting to
hospitals for medical assistance. Traveling to Hebron, the group
meets with several peace activists who point out the economic
and humanitarian inequities of closure, as a once-vibrant city
slowly deteriorates into a ghost town. The students at Hebron
University and frightened children who are unable to sleep at
night are juxtaposed to the memorial for Dr. Baruch Goldstein,
an Israeli settler from Brooklyn who shot 30 Palestinians and
wounded almost 100 more as they prayed in the mosque.
As they travel through the West Bank, the group gets to
experience the checkpoints first hand; they meet the “potential
terrorists,” teachers trying to get to school without being gassed,
and a young boy who has just had a hernia operation. The film
reveals the habitual and widespread abuse hidden behind the
rhetoric of Israeli security. In this litany of death, Saed Abu
Hijeh, a doctor’s son from Nablus, remembers the Israelis shooting
his mother dead while she sat embroidering on her front step,
and wounding his father and himself.
Overshadowed by the realistic and relentless stories of woe,
the film concludes with a glimpse of hope on both sides. The
film’s epilogue contains some helpful web addresses. “Sucha
Normal Thing” would be a valuable addition to any course that
introduces the Middle East to American students.
In “3 Cm Less,” also filmed during the second Intifada, the
young Palestinian filmmaker Azza el-Hassan shares her filming
process and her realization that not she but her camera’s subject
commands her film. The film’s title refers to predictions that the
next generation of Palestinian children will be three centimeters
shorter due to the poverty as a result of generations of
occupation.
The film records the stories of Hagar, the 72-year-old mother
of 10 who struggled with Israeli courts for 11 years to get identity
cards for her Palestinian children, and Raeeda Taha’s journey to
make peace with her martyred father. Both family stories, like
el-Hassan’s camera, are irrevocably structured by the occupation
and focus on the emotional pain of children whose parents
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43
Films
choose the path of
resistance.
Hagar’s
daughters and Raeeda, as
adults,
intellectually
understand their parents’
decisions, yet they still carry
the invisible wounds of
taking second place to the
fight for basic human rights.
Hagar, who now lives in
Kofar, left Palestine as a
young wife to join her
Palestinian husband in
Colombia. When he was
killed during a robbery, the
widow decided to return to
her homeland only to meet
Israeli efforts to refuse her
husband’s right to be buried
there and to expel her
children
as
“illegal
immigrants.”
Raeeda also wrestles
with the ghosts of the past
to salvage the future. Thirty years ago, her father was killed
during the unsuccessful attempt to hijack a Sabena airplane to
draw international attention to the Palestinian problem.
Although he was born in Jerusalem, the Israelis resisted returning
the body for burial. While the headlines are filled with Arafat’s
funeral and the hysterical Israeli concerns over security, elHassan’s film reminds the reader of the many grief stricken
families forced to cope with the Israeli attempts to erase the
small histories of those born in Palestine. After reminiscing over
her father’s memorabilia and kisses goodbye on that fateful
morning, Raeeda visits the Old City of Jerusalem and Amman
to travel in her father’s footsteps. In one of the film’s most
powerful scenes, the now middle-aged Theresa Halsa, who was
an attractive and articulate 17-year-old involved in the
hijacking, comforts Raeeda. While the still mournful Raeeda
wonders if her father was selfish rather than heroic and confesses
to being sick of the curse of the cause, Theresa advises Raeeda
to judge him as part of the struggle rather than a father.
The despondent filmmaker returns to her Ramallah home
feeling that “films never change reality” only to find that her
apartment has been ransacked by the Israelis. The film closes
with shots of the unprovoked damage in her home accompanied
by the news clips of reputed and denied rumors of a Steven
Spielberg movie on the occupation. Azza humorously concludes
that “Steven Spielberg will liberate Palestine.”
El-Hassan’s film certainly “brings out issues that we usually
do not want to talk about,” yet the Michael Moore ironic, selfconscious intervention and the influence of American reality
television detract from the potential intensity of viewer response.
However, one hesitates to criticize el-Hassan’s courageous efforts
for giving viewers one of the few Palestinian “insider”
The three
documentaries
uniformly attest to the
timely necessity of
justly resolving the
Palestinian-Israeli
problem. While one
applauds their valor
and attention to
individual endeavors,
regretfully, one can
only imagine what
future documentaries
will come out of Iraq.
44
documentaries and hopes that this talented filmmaker will
persevere at finding the authentic voice of her camera.
“Suspended Dreams,” “Sucha Normal Thing,” and “3 Cm
Less” emphasize the generational legacy of war, and moreover
the pragmatic and emotional difficulties of civilian life left after
the politicians ostensibly sign a piece of paper. The three
documentaries uniformly attest to the timely necessity of justly
resolving the Palestinian-Israeli problem. While one applauds
their valor and attention to individual endeavors, regretfully,
one can only imagine what future documentaries will come out
of Iraq. AJ
Gulf Capital and Arab Satellite TV
Continued fromt page 9
virtual: it is predicated largely on the television image and on
the logic of the spectacle – and not on the real changes in Arab
political life. The logic of the spectacle aims at more excitement
in order to preserve and grow a large viewing audience. It turns
Al Jazeera into an accomplice of the kidnappers of innocent
civilians whose messages it transmits.
To conclude, with Al Jazeera the Arab world has entered
“the era of satellite television.” Today, many Arab countries
import TV channels and programs, just as they import Cadillac
cars! But neither a virtual democracy nor a virtual parliament
can replace the need of genuine freedom in the Arab world which
has to be built in reality and not on the television screen.
This article is adapted from a longer study. Adaptation
and translation from the Arabic by Elie Chalala
A Feminism Beyond Gender
represent radical, anti-male feminism. Others transcend the
inherent limitations of gender to express the feelings and the
ideas of woman/man in Arab/global society. Often these works
succeed in penetrating equally into the depths of woman and
man, searching for a profound understanding of the political,
cultural, and social structures of both sexes. These novels created
artistic forms and symbols geared towards a group of women
Arab intellectuals who believe that freedom demands serious
criticism first, and the ability to distinguish themselves second.
The novels of women writers complemented, whether
through their forms or methods of expression, the novels of
creative men and together produced a narrative literature of one
intellectual and critical source that does not award importance
to the author’s sexual identity. In this literature, sex ceases to be
aimed at suggesting the courage of the feminist writer on the
one hand, and on the other hand glorifying the masculinity of
the man – which obscures an unconscious tendency to
commercialize the woman.
www.ALJADID.com
Continuations
In this regard, we may pose a question of critical import: is
it desirable to establish a sharp distinction between the man and
the woman novelist, thereby overlooking the extent of the depth
that women’s issues are dealt with by men writers who reject
oppression and violence? These male writers expose the
instruments of persistent masculine dominance that serve to
crush and marginalize woman. Is not the gender of the novelist
a secondary question in the novel “The Tragedy of Dimitrio”
(1984) by Hana Minah, or “Green as the Swamps” (1992) and
“Green as the Fields” (1993) by Hani al-Rahib? These are just a
few examples of novels in which women characters express their
dormant feelings and experiences; the authors bring the women
to a high level of transparency regarding both their hidden and
declared ideas in the social environment. These works often
equal to or even surpassing the writings of women about other
women.
Do we not need instead a new concept both of feminism
and the role of sex in the novel that transcends the gender of the
artist? AJ
The Arabic version of this article appeared in the Lebanese
journal At Tariq. The original Arabic version was much longer.
The English version is adapted from the original. Translation
and publication is by permission from At Tariq.
Adaptation and translation by Elie Chalala.
United by Anxiety
West entirely, looking back towards the Golden Age of Arab
civilization as a source of inspiration.
However, what the filmmaker seems to have captured is a
sense of longing for escape. Kamal teaches drawing to children
who survived the massacres at the Sabra and Chatila refugee
camps. His hope is that these children may enter drawing
contests and have an opportunity to go abroad. “Ni moins, ni
plus,” he says, nothing less, nothing more. Another young man,
Bader, aspires to becoming a broadcast journalist for the BBC.
When asked if he would accept an American passport if one
were offered to him, 21-year-old Abbud says, “I would have to
put politics aside,” but ultimately admits that he would – that
almost anyone would.
Watching the film, one is struck by the lack of ornament,
either visual or rhetorical. What we are given, rather, is a sparse
and direct image of a generation in search of itself. The narration
is in English, and the characters’ words translated into subtitles.
However, the effect of the emotional expression of the characters
is never lost, as the camera manages to pull in tightly on their
faces, powerfully capturing the force of their words. This minimal,
hard, even glaring style reflects the stark choices the youth
face. Furthermore, it compliments what are often unadorned,
straightforward narratives, given by young people who long for
hope in the midst of uncertainty. AJ
contributors
Rafif Rida Sidawi (“A Feminism Beyond Gender,” p. 13) is a
Lebanese academic, author and critic.
Fadwa Toukan (“The Successor of Bedouins,” p. 28) , a prominent
Palestinian poet, died a year ago at the age of 86 (See Al Jadid,
Vol. 9, no. 45, Fall 2003).
Satoshi Yamaji (“A Life Under Fire: Inside the Gaza Occupation,”
p. 14) was born in Japan, started his journalistic career as a
photographer and a reporter for the Ramallah-based Palestinian
Media Center in 2001. His report on Palestinian refugee camps
was published in several Japanese magazines, and a photo exhibit
of Palestinian refugees was held in Los Angeles. He received an
award from the Association of Japanese Photographers for his
work.
Translators
Noel Abdulahad (Translated “A Visit” by Moayad al-Rawi, p.25)
is a translator and author. Most recently, Abdulahad translated
Ghada Samman’s book of poems, “Dancing with the Owl,” from
the Arabic.
Sami Asmar (translated “Landmark of Arab Music Heritage,” p.
26) is a NASA physicist, a co-founder of a classic Arab music
ensemble in California, and director of Turath.org, an on-line
educational organization. His articles on Arab music appeared
in this magazine, other publications, and in books.
Elissar Haikal (Translated “The Successor of Bedouins” by Fadwa
Toukan, p. 28) is a Beirut-based poet and critic.
Pauline Vinson-Homsi (Translated Mohammed Dakroub’s
“Louis Awad: Relentless Advocate of Secular Tradition,” p. 10) is
an academic, author, critic, and contributing editor of Al Jadid.
Artists
Saliba al-Dweihi (Illustration of Charbel Dagher, p. 4) was a
prominent Lebanese painter, who died in 1991.
Oscar Galilea Jr. (Illustration of Louis Awad, p. 10, Samir Nakash,
p. 18) is an artist with a background in design. He is currently
studying art and graphic design at Pasadena City College.
Zareh (Illustration of Ahmad Dahbur, p. 22) is a Los Angelesbased artist. His artworks and graphic illustrations appeared in
many publications, including Al Jadid. AJ
www.ALJADID.com
45
Books
The Indivisible Domains of Tarab
Time and again Racy refers to the relationship of tarab, an
essentially “secular” phenomenon, to sacred traditions.
MUSIC MAKING IN THE ARAB
WORLD: THE CULTURE AND
ARTISTRY OF TARAB
By A.J. Racy
Cambridge University Press, 2003
248 pages
“secular” phenomenon, to sacred
traditions. He points out the fact that there
is no easy division between these two
theoretically separable domains, and
second, that the aesthetics and experience
of spirituality, and particularly Islamic
spirituality, have been and continue to be
facilitated by music. Racy does not
BY ANNE K. RASMUSSEN
Ali Jihad Racy is perhaps
the most important and well
known scholar of Arab music and
culture, and his new book,
“Music Making in the Arab
World: The Culture and Artistry
of Tarab” will be received with
enthusiasm by the generations of
students, colleagues, musicians,
and audiences who have been
affected by the intellect and
artistry of this author. Tarab, a
word that may be translated as
ecstasy or enchantment, refers to
a musical repertoire, style, and
performance practice, as well as
an aesthetic system. It also refers
to a code of behavior for
musicians and audiences that is
grounded in ideas about the
enormous emotional impact and
extraordinary power of music. In
seven chapters, ranging from
ethnographic description and
musical analysis to the
investigation of psychological
process and the distillation of
relevant Arab language sources, “Making
Music in the Arab World” explores how
ideas and emotions are activated in
musical performance and, conversely, how
that performance reflects and activates the
conceptual and spiritual realm of
emotional experience.
Time and again Racy refers to the
relationship of tarab, an essentially
46
provide us with the ultimate set of
guidelines on the “permissibility” of
music, the “limits” of its use, or
authoritative “evidence” of its tolerance
or prohibition; these are some of the
conditions that seem to be of greatest
interest to those preoccupied with the
relationship of music to religion. He
demonstrates repeatedly, however, that the
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aesthetics, philosophy, and history of
tarab would perhaps not even exist
without its relation to the spiritual realm
and, alternately, that the realms of
mysticism, Sufism, and the regular ritual
performances of Islam such as the call to
prayer or the recitation of the Quran are
inextricably bound up with the musical.
Racy begins and ends the book with
descriptions of religious singing: At the
outset he reviews the work of Villoteau, a
member of Napolean’s scientific mission
to Egypt (1798-99), who reported the
“highly impassioned gestures” and
“enthusiastic exclamations” of the
audience at performances by
religious singers who “rendered
their melodic creations with
lavish embellishments” and
repetitions. At the end of the
volume, after emphasizing again
the musicality of Islamic practice
and the inherent spirituality of
music making, Racy writes: “the
very essence of the musical
expression, ideally represented
by the improvised modal
recitation, remains firmly
anchored in the Islamic
devotional practice and is
guarded by the practice – related
doctrines.” He continues with a
nod to the Egyptian Jewish
composer Daud Husni (18701937), who asserted: “the art of
Quranic chanting and the various
related expressions will continue
to nourish and preserve the
modal tradition, and even the
entire Arab musical heritage.”
Music scholars, and
particularly ethnomusicologists,
are keenly aware of the complex
and rich relationship between
musical and religious domains.
Nonetheless, it is not unusual to hear
among the general public, in the mass
media, or even from scholarly works that:
“for Muslims, music is prohibited.” Based
on news of extraordinary communities,
like the Taliban of Afghanistan, or
particular Muslim clerics, such stereotypes
are grounded in real examples. Yet, for all
of the examples of tension or even
Books
complete disassociation between these two realms, there are
counter examples where music and religion are extraordinarily
compatible. Racy’s book is definitive in its documentation of
the historically close, if at times tenuous, relationship between
music and religion in the Arab context.
The Magic of Tarab
Essentially an ethnography of Arab music in the Eastern
Mediterranean region, the book reveals that tarab music has
much in common with music making throughout the Arab world
and Middle East. The versatile musician or the connoisseur
(sammi’ah) of diverse styles may sense that some of the
phenomena Racy attributes to Arab tarab can be found in all
kinds of music.
For musicians who indulge in the musical experience as a
“time out of time,” Racy’s assertion, “becoming musically
ecstatic may produce a feeling of rejuvenation or generate a
cathartic effect or serve as an antidote to the stress of daily life,”
rings true. For example, musicians involved in improvisation –
based music such as jazz, or traditional music like American
old time and Irish music, recognize and actively seek out the
kind of collective creative energy that is produced by ensemble
playing and that results in transformative experience. People
involved in the interactive context of live performance may
identify with many of Racy’s statements, such as this one
describing saltanah: “In a saltanah state, the performer becomes
musically self-absorbed (mundamij), and experiences wellfocused and intense musical sensations. . .Saltanah is the
condition that inspires affective music making. . . it is the ‘magic’
that momentarily lifts the artist to a higher ecstatic plateau and
empowers him or her to engender tarab most effectively. In this
sense, saltanah is creative ecstasy.”
Racy, too, makes reference to other musical traditions that
have features resembling tarab culture, particularly Spanish
Flamenco and Greek Rembetika. Yet one of the major differences
between the Arab music culture Racy describes and other
musical cultures that may seem similar is that tarab culture
clearly articulates the special effect of music and its associated
behaviors. This affect is documented using a specific language
that includes numerous terms, in historical writings comprising
social and cultural commentary by specialists and nonspecialists, and a related body of literature and poetry.
Tarab music and culture is “a distinct aesthetic system”
that Racy animates by recounting numerous vignettes situating
musical performance in time and place. During many of these
events, Racy is a player in the cast of characters of the ahl al
tarab (the family of tarab). Even more impressive, useful, and
captivating, at least for the musician, is Racy’s description of
the musical ingredients that produce tarab. Certain statements
capture a detailed level of musical description that can, in this
reviewer’s opinion, probably only be imagined by those who
play Arab music or at the very least are involved in deep and
informed listening.
Listeners at a
performance
by Um
Kulthum.
Photos
courtesy of
Dar al-Sayyad
(from “Making
Music in the
Arab World”)
Egyptian
singer Abduh
al-Hamuli
(1841-1901).
(From alKhulai ca. 1904
Reprinted in
“Making Music
in the Arab
World”)
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47
Books
Singers and composers Wadi al-Safi (b. 1921) and Farid al-Atrash
(1915-1974) performing informally in Beirut in 1970. Photo
courtesy of Dar al-Sayyad.
(from “Making Music in the Arab World”)
For example, Racy’s excellent but
quite technical discussion of the building
blocks of heterophony summarize the
collective performance practice of the
musical ensemble or takht: “Realized
spontaneously in actual performance,
heterophony is a highly coordinated
process rather than a mere confluence of
isolated musical renditions or a collection
of simultaneous variations of one fixed
tune.” Later in describing the practice of
leading within an ensemble he writes: “In
some instances, a lazimah [instrumental
filler] may serve as a kubri, or “bridge,” as
it moves toward a new tonal center or a
new maqam [melodic mode], thus paving
the way for the featured performer to make
a full-fledged tonal shift or modulation.”
In delineating the percussionist’s art he
explains: “Tarab artists demonstrate a
striking proclivity toward moving loosely
with the beat, as compared to performing
strictly on the beat, for wandering about
without losing track of the underlying
temporary structure.”
In his concluding chapter, Racy
distills all of his musical, contextual, and
lyrical analysis into a lucid discussion of
“Tarab as Music” that culminates in a
compact list of about 20 musical
tendencies that distinguish focused
listening (characteristic of tarab) from
48
Syrian singer Sabah Fakhri (b. 1933) performing in Los Angeles
in 1990. Photo by Barbara Racy.
(from “Making Music in the Arab World”)
ordinary listening. The reader who has
experienced or can appreciate at least
some of these conditions will gain a sense
of this unique aesthetic and social world.
The Language of Tarab
Although essentially about music, the
book is invaluable for its treatment of
Arabic language. There is much about
music that is communicated by doing and
feeling, without recourse whatsoever to
language. Yet language is one of the most
important keys to establishing the ways
in which people conceptualize their
musical worlds. Language unlocks the
“ethnotheory” of a particular musical
system or culture. That Racy is able to
communicate the incredible richness of
the tarab world – from the names of
instruments and song genres, to
terminology for musical elation, to the
folk tales and anecdotes found in historical
literature, to the proverbs and jokes of
everyday people – makes his case, that
tarab is indeed a complete musical,
aesthetic, and cultural system.
The chapter on song texts is simply
superb. Drawing from some of the most
popular and well known texts Racy elicits
the main themes of tarab music and
www.ALJADID.com
correlates the experiences described in
song to those activated emotionally by
ahl al-tarab, the tarab people. Often
expressed in illusive and archaic
metaphor, the tropes of tarab texts
combine human and divine love and
longing, envy, natural beauty, and the
mystical state. This chapter crystallizes
the primacy of language in Arab music
culture, an assertion that Racy has made
for years in other scholarship.
“Making Music in the Arab World”
describes the ideal world of tarab, one
that in fact may be experienced only on
rare occasions in the contemporary,
transnational Arab music scene. Yet, as
we see time and again, musical
movements are cyclic; there has been
an enormous resurgence of Arab
traditional (tarab music), particularly in
the U.S. and among transnational
performers like Racy himself. The
lasting significance of this book is that
it records and interprets the history,
culture, and music of tarab in a way that
honors the ahl al tarab of the past while
welcoming and encouraging those of
present and future generations. AJ
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Music
World Music Releases Blend
Folk Classics and Innovation
CD Releases
STRINGED TRANQUILITY:
ARMENIAN FOLK CLASSICS
Ara Topouzian, kanun; Dick Barsamian,
oud.
Armenian Recording Productions
www.arpmusic.com
BY JUDITH GABRIEL
An Armenian colleague brought a
CD to work one day, and played it during
some down time. At first, it was elevator
music, so low in volume it was barely
perceptible. But I loved what I heard, and
asked it be turned up. I recognized the
traditional Armenian melodies, being
performed in a straightforward, highly
artistic interpretation. Nine tone poems
in traditional Armenian modes, varied
enough to keep the listening experience
an engrossing, moving one. And they’re
not all so tranquil as the disc title implies;
some of the passages are quite passionate
and lively.
While many of the melodies sounded
familiar to one who had spent years
listening to Armenian music, the
selections bear only English titles, with
one exception: “Armenian Red Wine/
Noubar.”
I talked my friend into borrowing the
disc, and for several weeks, I played it
continuously. Everyone who heard it
wanted to hear it again. It was truly one of
the all-time “hits” in my at-home
soundtrack collection. It’s a combination
of the choice of material, and the rare level
of caring artistry on the part of the artists.
Ara Topouzian, who plays kanun,
bendir and def on the disc, is a Michigan
native who formed American Recording
Productions in 1992 “with the intent to
record and preserve Armenian and Middle
Eastern folkloric music.” He performs with
his own ensemble in the Detroit area, as
well as with world music groups in the
U.S. Equally important in the album is
Dick Barsamian, playing a magnificently
clear oud and darbuka.
One reason there is such a palpable
element of tranquility in this album is that
the two musicians sound very comfortable
with each other, and with their material.
Theirs is the natural ease of the
accomplished. There’s nothing to prove,
no need for empty displays of virtuosity.
Running through “Stringed Tranquility”
is something deeper – a timeless, simple
beauty that is reassuring, and yet
intoxicating.
This one’s a keeper!
OOJAMI: BELLYDANCING
BREAKBEATS
Mondo Rhythmica
Hailing from the Mediterranean town
of Bodrum on the southern coast of
Turkey, Necmi Cavli, the composer and
“music weaver” of “Oojami,” has put
together traditional sounds of Turkey and
the Far East along with funked up
electronic beats and grooves. Fitting right
into the heady multi-cultural
underground North London clubs – one
of which is Necmi’s own Hubble Bubble
club – this is an entirely new “bellydance”
soundtrack. It is full of surprises, some of
which will stop your ear until you can
jump into the breakbeat melange.
Breakbeat is defined as music that
doesn’t follow the normal 4/4, four-onthe-floor tempo. Based on drum rhythms,
with its origins going back to jazz, it lends
itself well to all forms of world music. As
poet Saul Williams wrote, “Breakbeats
have been the missing link connecting the
diaspora community to its drum-woven
past.”
On this CD, the traditional Turkish/
Arabic dance rhythms are caught in
interplay with tight electronic snares, with
a dubbed-up bass adding to the fusion
sound.
It becomes hard to imagine going
back to the “pure” traditional sound after
an evening of this funky mix. Titles give
a hint at the melange: “Chicky,” “Urban
Dervish,” “Boomzaza” and “Istanboogie,”
to name a few. Although the artistry on
the traditional Middle Eastern
instruments comes through, as do
recognizable modalities and rhythms,
such as the old standard, “Azize,” in a
distinctly new arrangement.
Traditional Middle Eastern music
purists might not find this style of
arrangement to be their cup of chai, but
then again, there is plenty of authenticity
embedded within the breakbeats and
“sound effects.” Evocative, almost
cinematic musician excursions return to
fond renditions of village modalities.
“Oojami” seizes past and future and
weaves an altogether new kind of space,
and like space, it is deep, given to
harboring phantoms and parallel
universes. Quite a trip!
CHEB NASRO: DEPARTURES
Mondo Melodia
www.mondomelodia.com
www.ALJADID.com
49
Music
Cheb Nasro has long been associated
with the beginnings of the rai musical
revolution in North Africa. Now living in
America, he has remained relatively
unknown despite the acquaintance of the
rest of the world with his music. Nasro
notes that his newest album is the
realization of a 14-year dream of
producing a worldwide CD. While the
album pays tribute to rai singer Cheb
Hasni, it is dedicated to his family
(including an uncle who bought him his
first darbuka).
One of the best numbers on the album
– and the disc’s opener – is dedicated to,
and named for, his young daughter,
Fatima. It’s a disco rendition that elicits
movement and an upbeat frame of mind.
Blending inspirations from East and
West, the album enriches its basic rai
offerings, but this is not a world dance
CD, and it is the pure rai that is the album’s
heart. Nasro lays it on thick with ballads
like “Cheftha Tebki,” “El-Ghorba,” and
“El-Hob Saob.” For the Gypsy Kings fan,
there’s “Baghi Nenssak.” His North AfroCuban “Mon Amour” works quite well.
Reggae influences are felt in “Kifeche
Enti” and “C’est Pas Le Peine.”
GIPSYLAND: ARTE
www.gipsyland.net
This is the second release from the
world music group Gipsyland, and it
delivers a second offering of flamenco
music embellished with contemporary
influences and international scope. The
album features several selections, from
Latin salsa to Brazilian samba, pop to
Middle Eastern elements. In effect, the
50
flamenco form is modernized without
losing its soul.
One of the best bands on the disc is
“Salaam,” in which Egyptian-Armenian
diva Anoushka sings a duet. The result is
a rich blend of flamenco sounds with
Arabic.
The title selection, “Arte,” is a
modernized flamenco guitar in the
foreground of an instrumental
arrangement. Purists might prefer less lush
numbers, such as the fiesty “Muévete.”
The album is a lively listen, with the raw
earthiness of flamenco vocals in modern
mode.
LES YEUX NOIRS: BALAMOUK
Harmonia Mundi
www.lesyeuxnoirs.net
Part gypsy, part klezmer, and part
original compositions, the album is a
tribute to spontaneity in the traditional
mode, with a healthy dose of virtuosity
thrown in.
The title term, “Balamouk” means
“House of Fools,” and the album is a
celebration of the rhythmic, emotional
sounds of Eastern Europe, with themes
from Romania, Serbia, Hungary, Russia
and Armenia, along with influence from
jazz and Yiddish (“Yiddishe Mame”) and
Slavic folklore.
www.ALJADID.com
Some numbers reflect weddings and
other celebrations, while others are
laments. In typical folk fashion, some start
out slowly with a few melancholic notes
on the violin and accordion, only to burst
into a passionate, rhythmic mode as the
tension breaks into celebration.
Songs are sung in Russian, Yiddish
and Romani. Featuring brothers Erik and
Oliver Slabiak on violin and vocals, the
musical sound is a full one, with Pascal
Rondeau, guitar and vocals; France
Anastasia, bass and vocals; Francois
Perchat, cello; Aidje Tafial, drums and
percussions; Constantin Bitica,
accordian; and Maria Miu, cimbalom. AJ
Susan Kahroody
of getting in trouble, of going to prison.
My sister was in prison for four years. I
was arrested once, but I only had to spend
three days in jail. But I never wanted to
go back. Never.
Gabriel: You received a Gold Award as
the best mask maker in the Tehran
International Exhibition, 1995. How did
you become involved in mask making?
Isn’t that representational art, and as such,
not officially considered acceptable in
the Islamic Republic?
Kahroody: In Iran, I was a makeup artist
for 13 years. The same year I started at the
university, I got a job doing makeup for
theaters. And I started making masks as
part of that work. I’d design a character’s
look, and bring it to the director, and we’d
go from there. Mask-making is a kind of
art, something between sculpting and
painting. But I had never really done any
sculpting.
Gabriel: How did you come to the United
States?
Kahroody: Back in Iran, my husband was
a fashion designer with his own shop. He
left for America in 1996, and our son and
I joined him in 1997. It was very difficult,
but the journey was our choice. We
wanted freedom. Iran is such a great,
beautiful country. I miss it very much. AJ
Books
The Perennial Refugees:
Steadfastness in a World of
Forgetfulness
IN HOPE AND DESPAIR
Photographs by Mia Grondahl
Foreward by Hanan Ashrawi, Introduction by Peter Hansen
United Nations Relief and Works Agency
The American University in Cairo Press, 2003
B Y DORIS BITT
AR
BITTAR
Mia Grondahl’s photographs in “In Hope and Despair”
embody the facets of the Palestinian refugee experience – a
refugee experience that now straddles two centuries and has
continued into its fourth generation and sixth decade.
Thoughtful introductions written by Hanan Ashrawi, Peter
Hansen from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency, and
Grondahl herself provide background for the images and remind
us of the vast network of Palestinian and UN institutions involved
in supporting a people in exile. This book not only shows the
resilience of the Palestinians but builds a compelling argument
for them to be counted as a nation among other nations.
Throughout the book, certain themes show great similarities
from one refugee camp to the next. The Palestinian elders pose
like antiques and are usually surrounded by children. The
expressions etched into their faces bear the scars of 1948, 1967,
and countless other expulsion dates. They are clearly in a
stranger’s land. Conversely, the children are more at home,
perhaps because this is the only life they have known – likewise
for their parents. They show affection toward their pets and
playfulness toward each other. Their energy is expressed through
direct gestures such as washing their faces or sprinting in the
streets.
Grondahl’s primary theme revolves around the gentle and
anchoring domain of the Palestinian mother. It reminded me of
my own trip to the Nahra al Barad Camp in Lebanon. We visited
our friend’s mother, Nourah. Her kitchen was bright and full of
food, cups, saucers and fruit preserves. Nourah’s home was a
refuge from the refugee camp. She never stopped working,
sweeping, preparing peppers to be pickled, making coffee,
playing with the children, etc. The rooftop was an alternate
anchoring space with herbs and tomatoes growing in pots, while
it offered a dramatic panorama of the camp. I was heartened to
see these kinds of spaces included in the book. The mothers’
milieu is a life-affirming force, acting as a place for dreams and
keeping the surrounding world in perspective.
Mia Grondahl captures the complex circumstances of the
refugee camp without falling into the predictable trap of overemphasizing the hopelessness of its victims. This book
communicates the Palestinians’ divergent experiences. We see a
nation struggling between several forms of brutal intransigence,
and we notice other realities that allow romantic musings. We
Last hours in Jaffa. Barefoot and pushing their belongings in prams
and carts, Palestinian families leave the Mediterranean coastal
town that became part of the greater Tel Aviv area, Israel. UN
photo, 1948. (From “In Hope and Despair.”)
The Palestinians were again forced to flee in 1967, carrying the
sick, the old, and the frail and their few belongings on their backs,
across the demolished bridge into Jordan. The land behind them
fell under Israeli military control and is still occupied. UNRWA
photo, 1967. (From “In Hope and Despair.”)
can see ancient and contemporary phenomena side by side:
ancient, because there have always been refugees;
contemporary, because this situation is only 50 years old,
though the softened and worn concrete of their dwellings
resembles the smooth stones of the oldest cities on our planet.
We are permitted to indulge, to speculate about a myriad of
ideas and emotions, as these enduring photographs follow
the Palestinians during the period of their exile. AJ
www.ALJADID.com
51
Exhibition
Alternate Voices,
Expanding Dialogue
THIS LAND TO ME: SOME CALL IT PALESTINE,
OTHERS, ISRAEL
By Barbara Grover
Sherry Frumkin Gallery, Santa Monica, California
B Y DORIS BITT
AR
BITTAR
Barbara Grover’s project, “This Land to Me: Some Call it
Palestine, Others, Israel,” gathers photographic images, interview
texts, and recorded voices of Israelis and Palestinians. These
Gila Svirsky:
Gila, in the Bat Shalom office
in West Jerusalem where she volunteers
almost full time to peace activities and ending
the occupation. Svisrsky calls herself a
“staunch Zionist,” stating that being pro-Zionist
does not mean that Israel is a state for Jews
only, but a place where Jews can find refuge
against anti-Semitism as her mother did in
1935. As an Orthodox Jew, she immigrated to
Israel in 1966 from the United States where
she was born.
Um Subhi:
Um in Jenin Refugee Camp by
the front door of her home that was destroyed
by Israeli soldiers during the April 2002 invasion
of the camp. Um Subhi has lived in the camp
since 1948 when her family fled the Haifa area.
Remembering the days after 1967 when
Israelis and Palestinians had good working
relations and friendships, Um Subhi tells the
shabab (Palestinian youth) “that violence is
not the answer.”
pieces are a culmination of a two-year endeavor that grew out of
Grover’s work as a photojournalist. The large pristine photos,
the texts beside them, and the voices of Israelis and Palestinians
fill the space with an enigmatic and quiet strength. “This Land
To Me” prods and pushes against the prevailing mainstream
mindset, which focuses only on intractability and hopelessness.
Grover begs to differ and reveals to us a dozen compelling,
albeit somewhat didactically realized, individuals to prove her
point.
The mission of these pseudo-collaborative endeavors has
been, as Grover states, to empower “both the people in the photos
52
– people who rarely have a voice – and viewers, who will perhaps
leave the installation with a deeper, more humanistic
understanding of the complexities, realities, and diversity of
perspectives that make this conflict so painfully difficult to
resolve.”
Barbara Grover’s “This Land To Me” joins a growing body
of collaborative projects in the United States, Europe, and Israel/
Palestine. We could safely declare this body of loosely-affiliated
groups and individuals a trend. These artists, writers, journalists,
ethnographers, and anthropologists have been recording the
compelling voices, thoughts, and images of ordinary Israelis
and Palestinians for the last 15 to 20 years.
“This Land to Me” is another example of an ordinary citizen
taking into her own hands what the paralyzed diplomats and
politicians seem unable or unwilling to do. Like the ordinary
people to whom she gives voice, Grover and other pioneers in
Malk
a TTar
ar
agon:
Malka
aragon:
Malka, who fought claims
to be the first girl to fight in the Old City during
the War of 1948, at her home in the Jewish
Quarter of the Old City, East Jerusalem. Stating
that “Even the strongest wind can’t blow me
away from here,” the Egyptian-born Taragon
traces her family roots to Palestine after the
Spanish Inquisition in 1492. At 82, she holds
classes in her home to teach women about
Judaism.
dialogue compel us to imagine alternate and constructive
scenarios. Most importantly, these pioneers may one day show
us how to reconcile because they have already created the
blueprints for peace making and bridge building. AJ
For More Information:
This inaugural show ran Nov. 20 - Dec 31, 2004. The gallery
will host a series of related programs to continue a dialogue
around the conflict. For more information contact:
[email protected].
www.ALJADID.com
Continuations
Rethinking Said’s ‘Orientalism’
cover ar
t ist
alah S
aouli
art
ist:: S
Salah
Sa
Continued fromt page 5
of the Orientalists diverge from those of the Easterner regarding
his art, literature, or culture.
Chalala: Before his death, Said had his detractors, from the left
and the right, with some progressives claiming his writings
amounted to an apologia of Arab conservative forces. Do you
see your criticism as a part of either of these two schools?
Dagher: I neither tackle this issue in my book nor conclude that
Said is an apologetic of Arab conservative ideas or states. I believe
that Said’s major efforts are critical, and he is a genuine critic
with whom I disagree but nonetheless share the same critical
tradition. In my research, I have benefited from his work, and I
have full respect for him. I do not place him within any
reactionary or progressive
tendencies in the Arab
world. I was aware of the
fact that certain groups in
the Arab world, especially
conservatives
and
fundamentalists, would
use Said’s discourse to
establish a demagogue
justification for their
positions toward the West.
Fifteen years ago, I wrote
a major article about
Edward Said in the Al
Hayat newspaper, in which
I warned against such use
of Said’s writings because
it distorts his thought.
However, Said fell into
what I think is the trap of
identity. I do not believe
there is an identity issue, rather there is a relationship with things
that develop and change. The Easterner is not Eastern in nature,
he is different from the others. In Said’s writings, it is implied
rather than explicitly stated that there is some truth in the Eastern
alone, and the relationship of the Westerner to the Easterner is
always a distorted one. This is the confrontational relationship
that I reject. My rejection of this dichotomous and hostile
relationship between the East and the West is neither based on
politics nor on ideology. Instead, I base it on knowledge and
science. I believe that the Orientalist discourse of the East has
benefited us in many ways and that without openness to Western
and European methodologies, we would not be able today to
reread our past culture and read our present one. Accordingly, I
deal with these methodologies in a way that motivates me to use
them in my research and develop them, if I am able, and that’s
what I tried in my book. I relied on a group of scholars —
Americans, British, and French — to present methodological
issues which can be developed and made suitable to studying
“I believe that Said’s
major efforts are
critical, and he is a
genuine critic with
whom I disagree but
nonetheless share the
same critical tradition.
In my research, I have
benefited from his
work, and I have full
respect for him.”
Salah Saouli is a prominent artist representing part of a
new generation of Lebanese painters, who, like many of his
contemporaries, experienced the Lebanese Civil War. Yet
Saouli, who was born in Beirut in 1962, has overcome this
experience, and according to many reviewers, he has been
articulating it through his art. It is clear that the images of war
are on the mind of Saouli, and a brief glance at his works
shows how he as an adult was shaped by that traumatic
experience.
After completing his high school studies, Saouli studied
painting at the Institute of Fine Arts in the Lebanese University,
where he earned the “diploma of superior studies in painting.”
At the age of 22, Saouli moved to Germany where he studied
painting and sculpture at Hochschule der Künste Berlin, and
later printmaking at the Chelsea School of Art in London.
The training Saouli gained was a foundation that allowed
him to develop his creativity. Before becoming 30, Saouli
had already carried out extensive research, participated in
symposiums, and received awards. He has been successful in
invoking the memories of war and capturing the feelings of
alienation through various endeavors and several installation
projects and exhibitions.
“Triumph” which appears on the front cover is made of
hundreds of bounded newspapers. The paradox between the
Theme (triumph) which is perceived as a solid and a powerful
subject and the material used to handle it (fragile and airily
material: newspapers), offers a certain tension: it has been set
into a process in which the minimal increased to the maximal
(magnificent). When it comes to a meticulous observation,
the question that can be raised is: did the many words (essays,
articles etc.) written in the newspapers about euphoric issues
such as the triumph, reflect its reality? What is this triumph
created through words?
German reviewers had nothing but praise for Saouli’s
works. Referring to “Moment” (Berlin 1996), a group of
photographs displaying building facades in ruins, Wilhem
Gauger writes, “Salah Saouli confronts annihilation and
celebration again and again. “Time-out” (Berlin 1996) is
Saouli’s catalogue of images of people who have been recorded
as missing since the Lebanese Civil War. “The plethora of
tiny portraits bears witness to [the missing person’s] former
existence and simultaneously serves as a foothold in the
present,” writes Harald Fricke.
Whether it is printed on flags, put in casings, mounted on
the wall or arranged in mazes, the images of the past exist side
by side in Saouli’s works, complementing each other, telling
a story that is timeless. AJ
the Orientalist discourse on the arts of the East. In short, there
is no identity outside man, work or movement; no truths in
identity. Two Easterners would debate identity and differ –
there is no one truth in the Easterner or the Westerner for that
matter. There are simply opinions on identity which
differentiate one from another. AJ
www.ALJADID.com
53
Interviews
Women and War
th, Fir
e and Milk
ar:: The Ar
Artt of Ear
Earth,
Fire
A Conversation With Susan Kahroody
“In our culture, we use pregnancy as a metaphor...And my women are full of the
horrors of war. The pregnancy in my art represents the carrying of pain, rather than an
actual baby, to show the dilemma that Eastern women confront.”
BY JUDITH GABRIEL
Shortly after the end of the Iraq-Iran
War – the longest and bloodiest war in
modern Middle Eastern history – Susan
Kahroody enrolled in the University of
Tehran to study art, forgoing her dreams
to become a doctor. She got her degree in
fine arts in 1992, and five years later
followed her husband to Los Angeles,
where she has continued her studies, now
completing her masters program in
sculpture. Her sculptures, created from
clay, wire, mesh – and flames – depict the
horrors of war, through images of faces
frozen in horror, and women with their
swollen bellies symbolizing, not the
carrying of a baby, but the fullness of pain.
Gabriel: Your work is basically populated
with women who are the victims, and the
survivors, of war.
Kahroody: I am deeply influenced by
themes of political issues, war and
hardship in my home region. My goal is
to reflect personal and cultural memories,
particularly those identifying with the
feelings of Middle Eastern women, who
have experienced deep discrimination
between the genders. Most of my
sculptures reflect my concern for women’s
issues. The images, which are expressed
through materials such as wire, clay and
wood, represent the inner visions of
women living with this discrimination and
inequality.
Gabriel: Why are most of your women
pregnant?
Kahroody: In our culture, we use
pregnancy as a metaphor. I wish you a year
54
pregnant with love. It is a symbol for being
full of something. And my women are full
of the horrors of war. The pregnancy in
my art represents the carrying of pain,
rather than an actual baby, to show the
dilemma that Eastern women confront.
Sometimes, I make the figurative form
challenged with her fate, and sometimes I
show her as a depressed, passive,
pessimistic and lonely person. This is
because women must experience the pain
and horror of war, without having any role
in it other than to try to keep life going.
Gabriel: You had an installation at a show
recently. You called your sculptures
“Women and War.”
Kahroody: There are six pieces in this
series, three big clay pieces, two wood,
and three pieces of metal mesh. There are
several images of women. In the show,
some people said, oh, they seem so cold.
They don’t show the war. I told them
women get used to those situations, and
after a while, they seem not to notice it
anymore. It’s just totally different, living
in war. When they started bombing
Tehran, I remember bombs going off
overhead, but I would still go to school.
Everybody was acting like everything
was normal. People try to go on with their
life. But when you leave your house in
the morning, you never know if you’re
going to come back home or not. I
remember every morning, when I left the
house, I would say goodbye, Mom, maybe
we won’t see each other anymore. And yet
you can’t stop your life.
Gabriel: When did you start your war
series?
Kahroody: I did my war series in 2003,
www.ALJADID.com
Self-Portrait: Women in War – Ink and oil on
paper capture the depression that struck Iran
after the war.
in the time just before Baghdad was
bombed. We knew they were going in,
because I had seen it already. We had eight
years of war in my country. I knew what
the meaning of the war was.
Gabriel: You use many kinds of material
in your work, even fire and milk.
Kahroody: I pour milk on the clay and
fire it on the outside grill. The milk made
some features black. It is an old Iranian
tradition to pour milk on clay after they
bake it. Now I have started welding metal
and combining it with fabric, as in the
piece I am working on now, which depicts
a woman’s uterus, with eggs inside. I love
welding. I am very physical with my work.
I used fire to burn some of the war series
sculptures. The flames created the effect
of being scorched, as a home or a land is
Interviews
Susan Kahroody in her Los Angeles gardens.
– Photo by Judith Gabriel
WOMEN AS TREE: A section of Kahroody’s “Women
as Tree” series, in which the faces of women
comprise the clay tree, morphing into each other in
suppport of life.
WOMEN IN WAR — A milk glaze gets fired
with flames in a backyard grill to complete
this sculpture, part of Kahroody’s “Women
in War” series. The piece is cut with Farsi
words, such as death, disaster and war.
FACES OF
WAR: A
segment of
the “Women
of War”
series. This
sculpture
depicts
women
holding aloft a
jug, symbolizing their
service to
others in the
face of
destruction.
mosaic. I still like to incorporate Farsi text
in some of my recent sculptures. I’m not
intending to show the language itself, but
I use it as a transformative device to
convey my statement to the viewer.
during a war. The images are frozen in time,
at the moment, with the bombs overhead.
I like using fire, anything related to fire,
and that’s one reason why I like to do
welding. Fire is an extreme expression.
Gabriel: Were you able to express
yourself in Iran? Were you political at all?
Gabriel: And because calligraphy, as well
as geometrics, were sanctioned as Islamic
art?
Kahroody: I’ve always wanted to say
something political, but I couldn’t, I was
so afraid. After the revolution, there wasn’t
any freedom for artists. It was so hard to
be an artist. I could do strictly Islamic art,
and calligraphy. For my final project to
get my fine arts degree, I did a calligraphy
Kahroody: In Iran, Islamic art was
allowed. There’s a lot of very beautiful art
that comes out of Islamic art, but it’s
traditional, so you can’t make any
political or personal statements. Political
art was forbidden. An artist would have to
be very courageous to do that. I was afraid
WOMEN AS TREE: With a symbolic nest
of life-holding eggs atop her head, this
woman’s likeness tops the sculpture.
– Photos by Susan Kahroody
www.ALJADID.com
55

Issue No. 48 - Al Jadid Magazine

Transcription

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