
The Sept. 11 Canon: Week 2

Let's back up a little bit. I agree with Ted: We are being a bit reductionist. I'm suspicious of sweeping generalizations about "the Muslim polity" and "the Arabs." As Chris Caldwell pointed out last week, self-pity may be a characteristic of Osama Bin Laden and Islamists, but that doesn't make it a characteristic of Islam, Arabs, or Muslims.
The real question that confronts us, I think, is to what extent religion determines national character. (And secondarily, to what extent "national character" exists.) Are we facing a clash of civilizations? Judith and Chris Caldwell seem to think so. So does Slate's Emily Yoffe, who dismisses the idea that al-Qaida is a "tiny band of crazed fanatics."
I'm doubtful. The most famous proponent of the clash of civilizations, Samuel Huntington (who was influenced by Bernard Lewis), looks at the world and sees that Muslim countries "are generally less advanced economically; they seem much less likely to develop stable democratic political systems. The Velvet Curtain of culture has replaced the Iron Curtain of ideology as the most significant dividing line in Europe." The clear implication: Islam is to blame for economic and political backwardness.
But early in the 20th century the same was thought of Catholicism. Max Weber opened his book The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism with this observation: "A glance at the occupational statistics of any country of mixed religious composition brings to light with remarkable frequency … the fact that business leaders and owners of capital, as well as the higher grades of skilled labour, and even more the higher technically and commercially trained personnel of modern enterprises, are overwhelmingly Protestant." Weber's explanation for this was, in part, that Catholic theology prevented its adherents from having an affinity for capitalism.
Today, that aspect of Weber's argument is widely dismissed. But I see echoes of it in our discussion of Islam, even though I tried to avoid it in my first entry. (I didn't mean to imply that I am a critic of Islam, though I can see why Judith took it that way.) Do I think that religion has an effect on societies? Of course. But I don't want us to be overly deterministic.
Take, for example, this observation from Chris Caldwell: "For all Osama Bin Laden's moaning about the Crusader impulse, it has probably been eight centuries since a Christian last wept over Islam's subjugation of the historically Christian lands of Syria, Anatolia, and North Africa." True. But this is a human, not an Islamic, impulse. Why does Islam look back to its glory days? Because they're over. The same impulse drives many Southerners to obsess over the Lost Cause. All historical losers wonder, "Why me?"
And Osama Bin Laden and the Islamists (but not Islam) are historical losers. They can't bring back the seventh century, no matter how hard they try. President Bush tries to hurt Bin Laden by calling him "The Evil One." But it's Bernard Lewis, in The Multiple Identities of the Middle East, who really knows how to hit a terrorist in the mouth:
The common Muslim blessing is "In the name of God, the Merciful and the Compassionate." Jews and Christians use the same or similar terms for the divine attributes. But the war-god of the terrorists knows neither mercy nor compassion, and projects an image that is both cruel and vindictive. He is also weak, needing to hire human hitmen to find and kill his enemies, and paying them with promises of carnal delights in paradise.
Your god is cruel, vindictive, and weak. How's that for an insult?
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Notes From The Fray Editor:
Bernard Lewis is the man of the moment: see also this "Assessment" and the Fray Notes at the end.
Comments:
Judith Shulevitz and several posters have argued that being educated about Islam and the Middle East is secondary to the conflict underlined by the September 11 attacks, that one can take a stand against evil without being informed as to its contours…
I don't see how one can fight a war against "terrorism," unless one knows enough to define the objective. Sure, we want to stop suicide bombers, but whom are we going to go after? This requires that we know something about the setting in which the acts are planned, the particular motivations of the actors, and the ideologies through which new terrorists are recruited. What is the history of these organizations? What alliances have been formed between violent anti-American groups? What apparent alliances are implausible? Should we carry the war on terrorism to Iraq? To Palestinians? Moreover, since these terrorists are foreigners, we are to some extent acting on the sufferance of their home countries; we have to have enough knowledge about these places to explain in effective terms why we want to kill or arrest their native sons…
We need to be able to provide at least minimally informed oversight of foreign policy, to be able to survey the broad contours of our war on terrorism and say, "This is a reasonable definition," or "this will be an effective intervention." We can't know that unless we have done some investigation on our own. And this investigation includes not only things like the history of the Deobandi madrasas set up by Zia ul-Haq in the 1970s, in which many of the Taliban studied, but also things like the Deobandi movement itself, the ideology that motivates it , the Islamic reform movement of Salafism that spawned both it and the Arabian Wahhabis, and so on…
--ADAS
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Bernard Lewis is a highly erudite, and readable--hence his popularity--scholar of classical and medieval Islam. He is not, however, a social or cultural historian. His is extremely textual history. Lewis begins, continues, and ends with the text. As a literary critic and cultural historian, I find this somewhat limiting. It exposes him to a very serious difficulty: he all too often takes classical texts as definitive of history, and classical history as definitive of the present. They even define, he seems to believe, the very essence of Islam, an essence he feels he can capture.
We need first to understand that the "essence" of Islam will be just as diverse, and just as un-essential, as the "essence" of Christianity, whatever that might be. (Notice that when we ask questions about Islam, we rarely ask the exactly parallel question about Christianity; doing so would demonstrate the dubious intellectual footing of many of our questions.)
Second, Lewis's brand of history tends to start with a famous or important classical text, read it in a very erudite--and at times rather uncritical--way, and then state that what we find in that text demonstrates what was actually going on in the society that produced it. A cultural historian knows that while this may be a starting point for investigation, it's hardly workable as a general assumption. Lewis unfortunately tends to assume just this, forgetting that isolated texts or works of art by elite groups may tell us rather little about the overall picture, or even the day-to-day operations, of their culture.
For all that, he's a fine read. Indeed, probably a must-read, if we are looking for popular primers.
--Seth Graebner
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(11/16)