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I took the occassion of Christmas break to clean my room. Aside from the various novelties acquired during an active childhood that required sorting, I discovered a number of letters. Among them was one dated November 8, 1990 from an Eddie Brewer. By some surreptitious scheme, this note had escaped similar cleaning operations mounted over the previous 16 years. How thankful I am that it did survive, because for the majority of that period I would not have attached any significance to its contents. But “reasoning about causes and effects is a difficult thing,” as Eco has written, so I now return to the letter. Evidently a school assignment had required me to compose letters to military men during the first Gulf War. One of these letters came into the possession of Mr. Brewer, a technician on the USS O’Brien. He wrote as follows:
Hi,
I would like to thank you for taking the time to write. Every letter that is received makes life here in the Persian Gulf a little easier to endure.
My name is James E. Brewer, (Eddie), is my nick-name among others. I am an Electronic Warfare technician onboard the USS O’Brien DD 975 which is home-ported in San Diego, CA. My hometown is Natchez, MS, which is the oldest town located on the Mississippi River. I have been in the Navy for 4 years with 16 more years to [sic] I retire from the Navy. I am a sports nut with the desire to enter sport’s [sic] medicine when my career with the Navy comes to an end. I have 3 years of college working on a BA degree in education and athletic administration. This is a little about myself.
Pedestrian stuff thus far, I thought. Brewer then described his condition:
Everybody is asking how is it really over in the Persian Gulf. It is hot and dry. It is the largest beach I have ever seen. Let me explain that last statement. I took a tour in Abu Dubi [sic], UAE a month ago when the ship was in port for a short rest period. The tour was of the town of Abu Dubi [sic] and surrounding areas. I saw sand from the time I left the ship until the time I got back 6 hours later. The people in the area welcome us and our money with open arms. We are constantly made aware of terrorist attacks while in port and while at sea. Who knows when or how the shooting will start, or if it will start, so we are constantly on alert.
I was two months past my ninth birthday when I first read these words; presumably I did not bother to locate Abu Dhabi between rounds of Nintendo and bicycling adventures in the neighborhood. This very morning, though, I was over at the same port, watching the same water, infuriated by an southern wind, lash the same “beach.” Mr. Brewer completed his 16 years last November. Am I just beginning mine?
A man has recently been sentenced to death by stoning. Note that lashings are a common punishment under Shariah law. This isn’t the first occurrence of drastic punishment for sexual indiscretion, nor will it be the last.
I posted pictures from my first day in Cairo (5/25), but have had a terrible time with network connections here recently. We frequently have outages here, the last of which occurred in October. A ship sank in the Indian Ocean and happened to cut the fiber between here and southeast asia. It took weeks to get the bandwidth back. Unfortunately, I went to the Pyramids, Sphinx, etc. on the second day. I’ll post those … uhh … whenever.
Last Wednesday I attended a cricket match for the first time. Previously I had rejected this game as an idle pastime. On television, I had seen nothing but celebration punctuated by tea breaks. Further, the games can last up to seven days, a taxing period for someone with Generational Attention Deficit Disorder (GADD). I had never swooned over the indomitable Brett Lee nor had I an appreciation of England’s all-rounder Freddie Flintoff and his coach Duncan Fletcher. What sort of name is “Duncan Fletcher” anyway? It sounds like either a Cabbage Patch Kid or the archetypal British moniker. Oh wait…
With my South African compatriot, I packed my GADD and drove to the Sheikh Zayed cricket ground to see India and Pakistan, two of the most popular teams in the world. In Abu Dhabi, nationalities occupy certain vocations. Philipinos, for example, find employment in the service industry, uneducated Indians do manual labor (roadwork, construction, infrastructure development), and Bangladeshis perform janitorial work. Arabs own stuff and count money. Westerners laugh all the way to the bank. And Pakistanis drive cabs.
As we entered the facility, we observed nearly every cab in the UAE (next day I read that the seven cabbies that did not attend the match charged double and triple fares). Having no ticket, we proceeded directly to the gate where the guard observed grimly, “No tickets sorry.” Then he noticed my blonde, female companion and evidenced the most remarkable bouleversement. “Tfaddal!” he offered jovially (”If you please” in Arabic). We slipped past the gate, proceeded through security, and climbed a hill flanking the cricket ground. The scene was euphoric. Men jumped and danced like children. Loud shouts accompanied each movement on the field. One side bemoaned the fortunes of the other and then, whack!, the roles reversed. Recall that India and Pakistan have spent 40 years fighting over Kashmir, arming themselves with nuclear weapons, and generally disliking each other and you can see how special this night was. Further, most of these men work 12-14 hours a day / 7 days a week with one vacation every two years. They will work their whole lives for unfamiliar wives and children. This was a pellucid evening in an otherwise hazy struggle.
The match lasted until about 11:30 and India won, thus managing a draw in this two day “test.” When I have a few more moments this weekend, I will summarize the rules of this game (as dictated by my learned friend), both for my education and yours.
—
These are my tentative travel plans over the next few months:
May: Cairo
June: Oxford, UK
July: Home
August: Kilimanjaro / Tanzania
Andy sent along some additional pictures from Oman. These differ from the rest in that I appear in them. So far I have been loathe to pose before this rock or that animal; such contrivances make me feel stupid and maybe a little Japanese. I haven’t traveled much over the past month, electing instead to prepare for the Africa trip this summer, dive, and practice Arabic. The latter has improved and I can now speak without thinking. Yesterday, for example, Anita (my teacher) asked if I could drive well and I responded, “Yes, much better than all of the Emiratis.” The half-inch mortar board walls at the school failed to confine that opinion and we subsequently heard laughter in the adjacent room. Later, I saw several Emiratis walk out.
A coworker also taught me some naughty words last week. Now if you are learning a language, you must know the patois early on. Otherwise, you could commit unintended indiscretions. For example, in Arabic, “hamam” means bathroom and “hamaar” means [large mule-thing]. Suppose I’m at the restaurant:
“That ravioli looks delightful. Does it come with a salad?”
“Of course. Which dressing?”
“The vinaigrette. By the way, do you have a [large mule-thing]?”
“Sir!”
Arabs are usually congenial and would understand the miscommunication. But in a place like France, this behavior would likely inspire a riot.
In other news, an Arab friend called me last weekend and said, “Let’s go play
football. Do you have shoes, etc?” Sure, I said. That is, I had gear
by the next afternoon. I haven’t played since age 6, but I figured that
I could at least kick the ball and play defense. We went to a small
turf field (quarter-size, I think) and we played pick-up with some guys
from the best football club in the country. I managed the situation for
about ten minutes and then the ball came right toward me. I didn’t
think; I grabbed it. Never have I seen such laughter in my life. A fat
man in the corner had a bout of tachycardia. For the rest of the evening
they wouldn’t let me near the ball. Each time I approached it, one of
them ran up screaming, “Hello, Captain” and took it from me. The next evening, my friend had to apologize for not bringing “the professional.”
Again, I have made infrequent posts over the last few weeks. I have devoted considerable time to both running and diving. The marathon is one week from today; after I finish, I will write on a variety of topics. I’ve got a long list of things to work on, including this cartoon issue. Have another look in a week or so!
In the interim, look at some new pictures from Khor Fakkan, UAE on the country’s eastern coast. I recently took a diving trip there and then spent a pleasant afternoon on the beach. Although this town is but three hours from Abu Dhabi, the landscape differs dramatically. It looks like a different country.
I will also post a travel schedule next week. Trips this year include India, Tibet and Western China, Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, and several diving expeditions.
Well, I haven’t attended to this site with much regularity over the past month, have I? I arrived on Jan. 3 after a much needed rest at home. My intent was to rest on Wednesday and Thursday and then run the Dubai Marathon on the Friday, the 6th. I awoke Wednesday morning with no trace of jet lag, much to my delight. Upon inspection, my refrigerator yielded two eggs, a half-stick of butter, and some jelly that sported a new hairdo. After a short run, I thus drove to the market for some rations. As I pulled into the lot, all of the radio stations suddenly switched to the Quran channel. Such is never an idle indication in this region. My training partner called a few minutes later with news that Shaikh Maktoum, the Dubai ruler, had died of a heart attack. The marathon was postponed, work cancelled, and the country forced into forty days of mourning. My initial thought was to buy kerosene and guns, but then I thought better of it.
These guys tend to “die” just near major Islamic holidays like Ramadan and Eid. This fellow passed on just a few days before Eid Al Adha, the short respite just after Hajj. Rumor has it he royal family keeps dead shaikhs on ice for just these occassions. Shaikh Zayed, for example, the first UAE ruler, supposedly died six weeks before the announcement, which coincided with the conclusion of Ramadan. Now the Umm Al Quiwain (another of the seven emirates) has contracted some illness with nine months to go before Ramadan. This situation might require a strategic response, such as a Cryonics facility. Ted Williams’ family could provide some references.
The newspapers carried thousands of advertisements related to Maktoum’s death over the ensuing weeks, all of identical form and content. On one particular day, I counted 54 pages of them in the Gulf News. All media outlets carried eulogies, which referred to his “sad demise.” I found this translation quite amusing, for demise seems appropriate only when referring to the fall of Rome or Macaulay Culkin’s career, for example. At any rate, things had just returned to normal a few weeks ago when Shaikh Jaber died in Kuwait. The imams again had the whole radio spectrum as their collective mouthpiece, though the government did not mandate any federal holidays.
—-
Last week a sandstorm blew over the base. I went outside around noon and made about 50 feet of progress before retiring. Small dunes had formed at the door; visibility was about twenty feet. The sand does not hurt the skin or eyes, but is quite an annoyance, much like a swarm of gnats. Further, I did not have a rag for my mouth, so I inhaled a pound of the stuff before I could get back inside. I weezed like an emphysema patient for the remainder of the afternoon. Several hours later, the wind had abated and I went out to my car. The afternoon light reflected off the sand in the atmosphere, creating this startling ambient luminance quite unlike anything I had ever seen. The shadows seemed to retreated, as if terrified by the prospect of a superior force. The sun itself seemed amplified; I kept my head lowered as I trudged to the car.
—-
Yesterday I attended the opening round of the Abu Dhabi Golf Championship. We arrived around noon when many of prominent players–Colin Montgomerie, Sergio Garcia, John Daly–were just finishing. After walking around the course for an hour, we caught up with a fine threesome on the sixth hole: Chris DiMarco, Thomas Bjorn, and David Howell. We followed this group the remainder of the afternoon. I had never attended a golf tournament. It’s a pensive affair, isn’t it? At times it was more placid than the library. I’ve posted some pictures; the compound seems reminiscent of South Florida. Notice the clubhouse: it was built in the shape of a falcon, the national symbol of this country.
I’m off to the beach.
Hamilton first argues against the popular theory–originating in Montesquieu–that the colonies’ size precludes effective republican government. In lesser known writings, Montesquieu had promoted the “confederate republic” as an effective remedy to this defect. Municipalities and states cede certain powers while retaining the authority to nominate legislative and judicial representatives. Thus local governments secure a measure of sovereignty while acquiring ownership in the national “assemblage of societies.” Particular manifestations differ only in the degree of federalism, which remains a matter of discretion. Distinctions between the Union and Montesquieu’s grand society appear “more subtle than accurate.”
In No. 10, Madison continues the same disquisition, analyzing the efficacy of such a system in a liberal society. “Among the numerous advantages promised by a well-constructed union” he begins, “none deserves to be more accurately developed than its tendency to break and control the violence of faction.” He describes a faction as follows:
A number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or a minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion…adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community.
Madison defines such a group in the negative, but for the purposes of my inquiry this distinction need not apply.
Factions appear because of the diversity of human faculties. Different creeds, preferences, and tendencies form an ideological brew that can become volatile, impeding the operation of civil society. Governments may prosecute two strategies to winnow the more subversive strains. First, they can remove the liberty that is “essential to its [faction’s] existence.” Madison immediately concludes that this solution is worse than the disease. Second, the authorities may enforce a homogeneous set of opinions, passions, and interests. This primitive yet effective approach has appealed to many tyrants. Mao’s cultural crusade during the 1960s comes to mind as a dramatic example. Neither strategy appeals to an enlightened electorate.
One idea predominates the new system: “The protection of the faculties is the first object of government.” A third, more difficult, solution thus exists to the problem of faction: the regulation of competing interests. Since a government cannot remove–nor should it–the causes of faction, “relief is only to be sought in the means of controlling its effects.” The Constitution’s authors considered several systems before arriving at a tenable solution.
Pure democracies have several fatal flaws, most obviously an inability to scale. Also, a majority tends to seize and consolidate power in a pure democracy. The U.S. government’s mechanisms for coping with such a tendency were apparent most recently in the 2000 election. A republican government can emasculate rogue movements through objective means, for “the influence of factious leaders may kindle a flame within their particular states but will be unable to spread a general conflagration through the other states.” Indeed, the infant government quelled both the Shays’ and Whiskey Rebellions before those provincial “conflagrations” infected other communities.
Hamilton and Madison, although later violently disagreeing on the degree of federalism necessary to maintain order, insisted upon liberty as a precondition for prosperity and harmony. This protracted examination is not meant as a Anglo-centric panegyric. Instead, it demonstrates the merits of a redundant system that arbitrates in a relatively decentralized way between competing interests. Consider the critical academic review process as another example. A cursory examination of this system reveals important similarities, although I will not do the manifold intellectual labor here to qualify such a comparison. The journal/review cycle quickly discards misbegotton theories before they propogate. The transparency inherent in such a system, though, hastens the spread of fruitful ideas.
We thus see that in general, liberty is a healthy thing. I further submit that if America’s–and later the West’s–central idea is liberty, then the Middle East’s is Islam (insofar as we can make such a broad statement). At issue is the specific character of such an ideological–I use that term out for convenience, not precision–hegemony and its consequences. Why do Muslim countries almost uniformly regulate the press (Al Jazeera serving as the notable exception)? Why do they still require radio stations to play REO Speedwagon and Styx? Why are fair general elections still such an exotic species? My next piece will examine the political character of Islam and its local effects.
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