Change is a Sound.

I leave tomorrow morning to catch a flight to Beirut.  I’ll be there for 3 nights, in Jerusalem for 2 nights, and then in Cairo for 2 nights as well.  Then I spend one more night in Amman before my direct flight to JFK and my flight from NY to BOS arriving a little after midnight on the 23^rd.

Part of me is more than ready to be home, and to be with family and friends that I haven’t seen for almost four months. It’ll be phenomenal to sleep in my own bed, in my own room, to drive my car, and to experience the absentmindedness that comes with the everyday routine only found in one’s real home.

Yet, a very substantial part of me isn’t ready to leave… and probably never would be were I to stay longer.  Part of it is the people on my program, my family, the staff, and the people I’ve met in Jordan.  I am surrounded by very ambitious, connected, and bright people at Bates as well as in my group of friends from MA… but, as much as I love them, there’s something that is entirely different about the students I’ve spent the most ridiculous quarter year of my life with.  All of them, whether majors in Arabic or Middle Eastern Studies, or people who decided to go to some random place where people would think they’re insane for going (like me), came to a country in a region that is horribly generalized, stigmatized, and considered by many Americans to be incapable of functioning like a “normal society.”  Most of us mentally prepared ourselves for a horrible semester that we’d have to power through. It was easier for some than others, but I think Jordan and SIT far exceeded our expectations… al hamdilallah.

It’s come up in conversation a number of times that no one except those of us on SIT Jordan will ever be able to truly understand what our experience was like, no matter how detailed our retelling might be for a third party.  I think this is very true, even compared to students from another semester.  Everyday has been an adventure, and we’ve all shared our individual stories of excitement, frustration, pain, sorrow, discomfort, and elation, and I truly believe we’ve lived and learned vicariously through each other’s experiences.  It would be impossible to truly GET what that meant to a person without the context of our group dynamic, the background of our experiences, and the feelings we all shared and struggled with. 

Moving on from a finite stage of one’s life is always bittersweet.  Whether it's the end of a favorite year in middle school, graduating from High School and having friends travel many hours away, or moving away from home to start a new chapter in your life, there’s an immeasurable sadness along with the excitement of the future.  I remember how sad I felt saying goodbye to my friends at college after visiting this semester.  I knew it’d probably be over half a year before I saw many of them again, and replaying their goodbyes in my head wishing me luck, or asking me to stay safe, on that lonely, lonely drive back down 95 evoked that mixed feeling.  It was a good sadness, because I knew I had such phenomenal people in my life… It was the same feeling I had when my parents said goodbye the day I flew out, and when I found the notes they had hidden in my luggage and heard their voices as I read aloud in my head the same points of uniqueness about choosing to study in Jordan, passing up far easier opportunities, that I mentioned before, and that, though they’d miss me deeply, the benefit I would get and the way my life would change would be worth the pain of separation.  The feeling that came with those words and simultaneously that change in my life is indescribable.

You can hear that change in the goodbyes between many in SIT Tribe too.  In the awkwardness of not wanting to admit the reality that many of us may never meet again, and at the same time, the heartfelt appreciation for what the other person has done, both academically…such as in the incredible job done by everyone on their Independent Study Projects (I wish you could have seen the presentations and heard the breadth and depth of the work) and how that has changed the researcher, the class, and the staff… and also in the personal changes we’ve experienced and imprinted on each other.

It was definitely heard during our re-entry and evaluation excursion yesterday.  When our academic director, Dr. Raed, said, “you’ve been my students, but once the program is over you will be my friends.”  I heard it too when my friends Ian and Ben played “Big Country” “for the last time,” with Ian playing a guitar with all of our names carved into it.

I’ve heard changes the whole time I’ve been here. Like one of the first days when I had a drop off in the downtown, and everyone around me was speaking Arabic and I had no idea what they were saying or where I was.  I heard it when I spoke my first few words of amiyah, and in the excitement in a Jordanian’s voice when I’d speak to them in their native language, or when I completed my first full conversation with a cab driver. I heard it when my youngest host brother said my name, or another new word, and when my host mother and I would laugh at something ridiculous the children had done (again, though varied in the free reign they have here in the Arab world, overall, children are the same EVERYWHERE). I’ll hear it the next time I talk to a stranger like the random guy at the bar in JFK before I left, who said “be careful, we’re the godless infidel over there,” and that I now know for a fact he’s wrong, and can call him on it.  I’ve heard it and felt it in the daily call to prayer…the beauty of the melodies, and the passion in the voice, despite my even firmer commitment to a secular public sphere after having lived in a country with an official state religion, and where culture and religion are practically inseparable.  It was even audible in the conversations I’ve had with other students over regional events, life, love, or how their cup of Nescafe (something I won’t miss) was. 

The sound isn’t all me, or my peers though.  The theme of the program is “Modernization and Social Change,” and you can hear flickers of that change in the hopes of lecturers on women in Jordan and the struggle to fulfill their rights.  We listened as professors spoke about Islam and Modernity, and countless lectures deviated to discussions of the revolutions throughout the Middle East and North Africa, and the effects likely to be seen in Jordan.  It came out loud and clear in my ISP research, discussing what democracy means with the leaders of that movement here, what media coverage is like in the west, and alternative media opportunities the youth movement could look to.

It’s been and will be heart wrenching to say goodbye to this country, to my life for the past few months, and to these people we’ve all called family or tribe.  But the sound of goodbyes is the sound of change, and while I’ll miss this experience dearly and the people I’ve met more than tears or words can show, I’m a much better person for having known them and been here, and I know that everyone else, Jordanian and American alike, is changed from our time here.  The path they’ll be taking over the course of the next few years, though it would’ve been exciting anyway, is even more so after this.  I can’t wait to hear about their lives in the future. 

We Are All Human, Let's Start to Prove It.

So much for no more social commentary… in light of recent international events, I feel like if I looked back on my writing while I’ve been here, I’d seriously regret not expressing my view at the time.

The title comes from a song, 911 for Peace, by political punk band Anti-Flag.  It was written in the weeks following the September 11^th attacks, when out of shock and horror, patriotic fervor and bloodlust swept the nation. (At the time, I must’ve been, I think, 12, and was swept up as well in the blind fury for retribution.)  While many, including my 12-year-old self, might dismiss this line and the sentiment of the song as a whole as pointless, shallow, unrealistic rhetoric, I, however, feel the sentiment behind the song, and especially in the words: “We are all human, it’s time to prove it” holds powerful potential for analyzing the death of Osama bin Laden, the reaction of the US and the world, and the broader question of US policy regarding “the War on Terror.”

Despite my love for this song, and deep respect for people with the mental fortitude to reject all forms of violence (and oppression as I think enviously of friends of mine who have the control to be vegetarian or vegan), I am not a pacifist.  So, the difficulty I face, given the fact that I don’t believe in good and evil, is how I can conceive of a “just” use of force and violence…

Following the outbreak of jubilant celebrations outside the White House and at Ground Zero, and expressions of America’s victory following the death of bin Laden devoured cyberspace, a number of my friends began posting a quotation from Martin Luther King (part of which was not actually his words, but the words of the girl who originally posted it—the power of communication is absolutely incredible) that said (here’s the viral add-on): “I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy…” (followed by the actual King line) “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.  Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”  ---Aside- the fact that it was misattributed in no way lessens the words of the individual who added the first line.  Her language flowed well enough with the ideas embedded in King’s language to fool millions, and the fact that any individual can have such communicative power IS something we can all rejoice in---

I’ve never really even tried to think of a way to justify violence before, perhaps its just too unpleasant of a thought, and if I felt it was justified… it was therefore justified.  But that’s a cop-out, and I fully realized this when confronted by these two polar reactions.  After reading the lines about “mourning” and “rejoicing” in the “death of any enemy,” I started thinking less about when is it justified to take a human life, and rather about the nature of mourning and where mourning originates for me, and why I won’t mourn the loss of someone like Osama bin Laden, Timothy McVeigh, or any of the popularly classified “evil” human beings. 

When I mourn a victim, living or dead, the tragedy I identify with and the sorrow I feel comes from the death, (or irreparable alteration- because ideas outlive individuals) of their personal hopes, their ambitions, their dreams, and the meaning their existence and exercise of these desires, however lofty or simple, gave to those that loved them and knew them.  The tragedy lies in the loss of the aspiration for constructing something, whether it is a family and a 9-5 job…or the elimination of world hunger.  You can find this across cultures, across races, across borders, and across the line that we’re frequently given of “enemy” and “ally.” But, there was nothing constructive about Osama bin Laden, his ideology, and his goals…there was only hate, and hate is destruction.  I have nothing to mourn in the loss of this human being, and I still call him this because, to quote America’s greatest President ever, Josiah Bartlett: “they weren’t born wanting to do this.” I suppose if there’s anything to lament, it’s that the world we live in can allow individuals to become so hateful.

There are innumerable debates surrounding this news.  What impact will it have politically, historically, electorally, for Obama and for America.  Does it justify the practices of the United States in the “War on Terror…” should there even BE a War on Terror anymore?  It would be impossible to think about them all, but a few are worth some reflection.  The “War on Terror” is not over, and will never be over.  Despite bin Laden’s death, or even in the event of the complete eradication of al-Qaeda, terror still exists. When disgruntled workers walk in to work and shoot their co-workers, when teenagers are beaten mercilessly by neo-Nazis because they think they’re an illegal alien, when people are stripped naked and left to die in the wilderness because of their sexual orientation… when these things happen terror, hate, and dehumanization endure. 

 Questions in the past have been raised as to the relative justness of the Bush Administration’s practice of capturing militants (and innocent people in the wrong place, at the wrong time) and brutally interrogating them without due process, and the targeted killing employed by the Obama administration.  Here’s how I feel:  the former liked to justify military action because we “are at war” but ignored what that entails for treatment of prisoners simply because “they don’t agree to it” and that this war is different.  The targeted killing, or assassination as some might say, is a more accurate representation of traditional combat, and while the targeting of these leaders is in a gray area legally, they are, without a doubt, military targets.  As for the details of the bin Laden raid… was he surrendering if he was unarmed, should he have been apprehended and tried in a civilian court?  No one can really know for sure except for the DEVGRU operator (thank god they chose SEALs instead of Delta Force) who pulled the trigger.  This detail… I won’t lose much sleep over it.

I was not surprised in the least by the overall reaction in America, and the exuberance in front of the White House and Ground Zero.  And while I was excited by the news on May 1^st, I agree, however, with those who find this showboating disgusting.  I read a very interesting article a friend of mine posted: http://www.good.is/post/when-you-piss-on-osama-s-grave-you-make-america-unexceptional/?utm_content=headline&utm_medium=hp_carousel&utm_source=slide_1

While I categorically deny American exceptionalism (I love my home, but so does everybody else…), clearly most Americans who acted like this do believe in that idea, and the perspective of the article is a cutting critique. Remember the disgust following the abuse of dead Blackwater mercenaries in Fallujah? Below is a graphic image of a Somali mob parading a dead American soldier after the events that inspired the book Black Hawk Down. 

Now here are some images from the NYC mob:

There is little doubt in my mind that if this group had been handed bin Laden's body, the same scene as the first would have been replayed. 

The take away of the whole scenario is this: the elimination of a hateful man with an unrelenting, destructive ideology is nothing to mourn.  The death of his goals (at least as embodied in his individual role as a terror mastermind) is, in my opinion, something worth rejoicing in.  If we don't have to mourn the lost potential of his future victims, then the love they can express will potentially be able to drive out the hate.  It's not about good and evil, it's about recognizing and respecting the dignity, and potential embodied in another human life.  It's about being constructive, not destructive. 

I'll close with a facebook wall post from my best friend the day bin Laden was killed, as well as my response:

He wrote: one of the great ironies about this whole thing is that the info they got about a courier that led them to bin laden was given by a detainee four years ago. four years ago we were at a rally to restore habeas corpus to detainees...were we on the wrong side of history? lol

I replied: No way. Bin Laden's one man, and as great as it'll feel for Americans to have their vengeance or "justice" or whatever you want to call it, and as well deserved as that feeling is, this battle will never be over. Whether it's World War I, II, Korea, Vietnam, or the War on Terror national security has been argued as a trade off against civil liberties. Somebody needs to stand against these injustices too. 

As long as people like Hazaifa Parhat are held so long that they have to tell their loved ones to remarry... As long as people like Maher Arar are detained at John Fitzgerald Kennedy airport in New York, rendered (disappeared really)to Syria and tortured... As long as innocent people have their lives ruined by actions sanctioned by the United States in our name, the hate created by Bin Laden and his allies who deny the humanity of those they disagree with continues to win, whether or not Bin Laden's heart is beating and his mind plotting new attacks. This was a great article from '09 about gitmo that talked about the Uighurs:http://harvardmagazine.com/2009/01/the-war-the-writ

I am thrilled Bin Laden is dead, that all his victims, American, Sudanese, Afghani, Iraqi, the nationalities are endless have received their revenge, and maybe the families of those victims can have some peace of mind. I'm thrilled that a walking terrorist command and control center had his brains blown out, and wont live to plot another day. But do I think the ends justified the means? I, for one, will never regret being able to say I never stood on the side of injustice, hate, and inhumanity. Whether that'll fit with the popular tale about our era, who knows, but I feel like as long as you do, you'll never stand on the wrong side of history.

             

The Greatest Generation.

As I'm entering my last week of ISP period, and have to actually start putting thoughts onto paper I've realized that I likely won't be writing many more blog posts.  Most of what I've written has a strong political perspective, despite the fun travel blog aspects.  I think this will probably be my last overt attempt at social commentary here, at least before my last post in-country, so I'm going to reflect a bit on regional happenings, my research, and a thought that has bothered me for a number of years.

"The Greatest Generation" is a term developed by Tom Brokaw to describe the group of Americans who came of age during the Depression years, and then, standing face to face with the prospect of global fascism, defeated one of the most sinister systems of aggression, conquest and inhumanity known to modern history.  With a bleak future economically, and the wildfires of imperialism spreading throughout the globe, mothers saw their sons and husbands leave home to bleed on the other side of the globe...on lands they may have never heard of.  These women then turned around and with those men too young, too old, or to infirm to fight rationed their food, collected scrap metal, and built the infrastructure that allowed them to construct a military armada capable of winning The Second World War.  Pacifists and conscientious objectors, scorned for their unwillingness to kill another human being and in opposition to forced conscription (another form of fascism in their eyes), even voluntarily contracted tropical diseases through injections in order to help doctors research treatments and cures for Marines fighting in the Pacific islands.

I've always felt that this was an appropriate classification.  I remember reading a couple of pieces when I was younger that criticized that generation's glorification. I forget the specifics, perhaps it had something to do with "they had no other choice," or something along those lines.  Though they may have had no other choice but to fight or die, they had what I call "generational courage"- the ability to confront a social problem that puts one individual in extreme personal danger because there is a strong enough collective sense of duty to action against the problem across a population.

Such courage has been seen in America at times since "The Greatest Generation," just not on such a uniform/mass scale.  The generation that participated in the Civil Rights Movement, is a great example. Thousands of northern youth agonized over whether to participate in Freedom Rides or voter registration drives in southern black communities.  Many chose this cause over their own personal safety, and a number paid with their lives. Most notably James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner in Mississippi.  And of course there was also the corollary movement against the Vietnam War.

Over the last couple of years I haven't been able to avoid thinking about the pervasive inaction of my generation.  Sure, "we" elected the first African American president, (I actually did not work on the Obama campaign, nor did I vote for him. And if you're thinking "oh my god how could he vote for McCain?!" please, for the love of whatever you care about, realize that democracy isn't just about who you vote for out of the two options you're spoon-fed- I voted for an African-American Woman).  However, Obama won, people got hammered and streaked across my campus, and then disengaged.  "Organizing for America" lost its critical mass, and wasn't there to stand behind truly progressive change.  Old, fat, racists in lawn chairs were more active post '08 than my generation in their opposition to the President's legislative agenda (contrary to everyone bitching about "where's the change," I've actually have been damn surprised.  check out the wikipedia page for the 111th congress. Some fine work was done on hate crimes legislation, reforming the racist mandatory minimums for crack cocaine, repealing DADT the list goes on) than the people who put the man in office in the first place!

I've joined a significant number of people my age at a couple of climate change rallies or one in Maine against the Arizona immigration bill, and for the DREAM act.  But I also saw numbers of them leave the rally early to catch a concert at Bowdoin, or skip out on the lobby day in DC because they were too hung over from the night before.  Raising your voice certainly takes some courage, but marching with a police escort in an incredibly liberal city in New England is easy. I feel like it's not that we lack the generational courage of those more active in the past... I don't think you either have courage or you don't, courage is something you find. Maybe the right situation hasn't invoked enough outcry for more decisive action in America.

I am not hopeless however.  The research I've been doing, and what I've been seeing here in the Middle East and North Africa has emboldened my belief about courage being something you find. Over the past couple weeks I have had a number of interviews with political opposition leaders here in Jordan who have been calling for democratic reforms.  They've run the gamut from a Shura (like a steering committee or counsel) member from the Islamic Action Front, the Secretary General of the Jordanian Communist Party (old school with a giant bust of Lenin in his office), the Secretary General of the Social Left Movement in Jordan (old school turned new school- he also went to jail in 1989 for calling for the same reforms that they're calling for now, an example of how there are always activists.  King Hussein sent them a letter apologizing and asking them to meet.  I shared with him the phrase we use when weird things like that happen: "Welcome to Jordan!"), and a spokesman from the March 24th youth movement that staged the sit in that was eventually broken up.  All of them are talking about the same type of democratic reforms and anti-corruption reforms, and are saying things consistent with the argument I want to make.  My objectivity kind of went out the window after reading the literature I want to use, instead of inductively saying "hrmmm what's going on here" like I originally intended, I became convinced that the co-operation being seen in Jordan between these groups of extremely varied ideology fits a particular piece of literature perfectly.

What a number of them (from the left typically) pointed out was that what was invigorating these efforts is the youth.  In Egypt and Tunisia the youth were the ones that became organized and initiated the process that brought down the regimes. Even in Benghazi, Libya, where there is no certainty of success  the youth have created a revolutionary atmosphere that is reminiscent of Barcelona during the Spanish Revolution.  The spokesman from March 24th brought up how a number of youth groups got together as the situation was heating up in other countries, and met to discuss what they wanted to call for. This included student groups, marxists, Islamists, independent democratic activists, so on.  At first it was practically impossible to get anything accomplished, but he described how, very quickly these groups could tackle rather large agendas in only a couple of hours. They agreed on their tactics, their goals for reform, and then took action together despite the risk of severe consequences.

What is happening in the region is unprecedented.  The initial success of action in a number of Arab countries has created a new atmosphere.  Regimes now know that they must play their cards right if they wish to survive, or at least, prolong their declines. The youth in these countries have made it possible, despite the bleak futures they faced economically, and the incredible risks of imprisonment, bodily harm, and even death. I am proud to be researching them, and I am proud, despite our different national origins, to call them a part of my generation. They have found their "generational courage," and I think history will deem them another case worthy of the title: "Greatest Generation."

Unbelievable.

It’s been a while, so this will be a long one. For the sake of maintaining the narrative flow, I’ll post the pics at the end.

I feel like the theme to this post will come across on the more self-aggrandizing side as far as my blog goes.  Sure, most of my posts include pictures of some really interesting place I’ve been, or what I’ve experienced so all of my friends, family, and interested “others” can share a bit in what my life has been like living in the Middle East.  I’ve steered the tone (or at least I’ve tried, I guess the reader can confirm or deny this for me) away form a sort of, “Oh my god! Look how fucking cool my abroad experience is!  So much cooler than studying in Western Europe…” mentality. (Youtube the “gap yah” video for a great lambasting of over-romanticizing living abroad in “exotic” places.)

And yet, I feel like it’s important to remind myself of how completely ridiculous my experiences have been for the past two and a half months, and how they’re only going to get crazier in the next few weeks.  I was always passively aware of the crazy things I would do or see, like, for instance, eating outside at a McDonald’s on University Street (which, surprisingly, runs by University of Jordan) while a huge parade of cars filled with pro-government demonstrators went by, honking their horns and waving massive Jordanian flags. – Assuming you haven’t been keeping up on Jordanian current events… the last few weeks have seen much less confrontational demonstration from reform groups, with large rallies occurring in support of the King or government.  We’ll see what happens tonight. -  But, I would only really come to appreciate how strange/weird/awesome and truly unbelievable things have been when I was forced to analyze them for an assignment, or someone engaged me in a conversation that was analytical enough to put me in that mind frame.

I came to fully appreciate the absurdity of what my life has been like when I was emailing one of my best friends from Bates.  We haven’t really had an opportunity to talk at all since I’ve been over here, and I really value her opinions so when I had some things on my mind we shot a few emails back and forth. It was hard to give the right texture and nuance to how I was feeling when I was put on the spot during our one skype session, but when she asked in an email for me simply to “tell (her) about (my) life),” I sat down at a coffee shop, and spent an hour or two thinking over my answer to that and other things I wanted to tell her. In many ways it was even a post script to my response to one of my best friend’s questions a day or two before I left of “what are you looking to get out of (going to Jordan).” Here's what i said to her:

My life is literally, the word incarnate, unbelievable.  It's unbelievable that within the first few days before I left Egypt and Tunisia had full blown revolutions, and now the sentiment is spreading and I'm living/researching in the middle of it. It's unbelievable that the night before I left I woke up multiple times in cold sweats, and that (at least until lately- something I'll get to later) now I sleep soundly, even through the 5 am call to prayer, and feel comfortable enough to walk down the street with my headphones on and my purple shades. I went to a wealthy oil sultanate in the Gulf that was like another world. I've lived for months in a Arab Monarchy that derives its legitimacy from a bloodline to the Prophet Muhammad. I see cars on the streets with Kuwaiti and Saudi plates, as well as Iraqi, and can safely say that car has probably driven on a street where a car bomb has gone off.  I can read, albeit very slowly and not knowing WHAT I'm reading, in a different alphabet and right to left. I can carry on a conversation with a cab driver (I meet two new ones everyday) in arabic, when before I came I knew maybe 4 words.  I came here because I knew it would be unbelievable, but if I lived it, it's real. I have to remind myself sometimes that it is both, and just how ridiculous it seems if you were thrown into this situation.  I also chose to come here because I knew most people would think I'm crazy, because “the people here are crazy.” I wanted to prove them wrong... and almost everyone I've met has done just that. Not only is that "unbelievable" for some, it's invaluable to me. This was the best decision I've ever made.

I found myself having a similar dialogue with another student this afternoon when we were in Madaba. - I believe I have some pictures from a church with a huge mosaic floor in Madaba in an earlier post.  A group of students went to Madaba for a night to celebrate our friend’s 21^st birthday.  We rented a few hotel rooms, went out to dinner, and then had a good ol’ fashioned hotel party. – Anyway, I was expressing my newfound appreciation for how ridiculous our time here has been, as we, clearly dressed like western tourists, walked through the city to the bus station.  I told her, “can you imagine if you just plucked up some random Americans and stuck them on this street  (where if you looked around all the writing on signs is in Arabic, people stare and call out for you to come into their shops in Arabic)?  They’d instantly shit their pants.”  She laughed and thought it was a pretty good way of describing it.

This has been the first official week of Independent Study, and so far things are coming together incredibly well. For the sake of my laziness, I’ll paste some more of my email to express my feelings on the subject:

I officially start my Independent Study Project period tomorrow- I think I told you about my topic, but as a refresher... I'm researching Jordanian opposition groups calling for democratic reforms. There's been a lot of talk about the region "not being ready for democracy"... People are afraid that a democracy with an organized Islamist party which supports certain backwards positions will inherently be a threat to democracy and what we need is stability... not liberty. I want to talk to them, read their statements and platforms, and show how an alliance of organizations with drastically different positions is forged over a discourse of the need for democratic reform- a network that just so happens to fit very nicely into political theory on deliberative democracy in divided societies- a discourse that is a signal of democratic processes. 

I'm so excited for this project, but I'm also very nervous. I don't know what type of data I'll get from them... but I'm confident that the situation and my hypothesis will work out. But I'm also worried because the (stakes) are very high… I need to make a very convincing argument, as my research is making a defense of democracy in the Middle East and North Africa for western eyes that are horribly critical and cynical. This is an unprecedented opportunity for me, and for the theory I'm working with. I don't want to blow it.  

I had my first interview yesterday morning, with a poli-sci professor at the University of Jordan.  He is the spokesman for a reform group that is a small network of several dozen like-minded individuals from varied walks of life.  They include Lawyers, Academics, Doctors, Farmers, Sheiks and tribal leaders, etc.  Their primary focus is anti-corruption and illegitimate government. They feel that to reach their goals, which, in their eyes, Jordan must undertake, certain democratic reforms are necessary.  They are calling for a scrapping of the current constitution, and the creation of a constitution that isn’t “so antiquated.” They also call for, more realistically within the current dialogue between reform groups, the dissolution of parliament, and a complete restructuring of how elections are run in Jordan. The interview went very well, and I got especially useful information from our discussion of where the heart of democracy lies, in discourse and deliberation rooted deeply in the public sphere, or within the aggregation of individual preferences expressed through indirect representation and deliberation in institutionalized forms, as well as from questions about their cooperation with organizations across strong ideological differences. Again though, the fact that I was talking to this man, who is a spokesman for a group of fairly influential people, calling for such substantive change, and that I will be able to help him make the case for the legitimacy of democratic desires in Jordanian opposition groups, at this time, is unbelievable.

On Monday I will be going with another student to conduct an interview with the General Secretary of the Islamic Action Front (the political arm of the Muslim Brotherhood in Jordan.)  Unbelievable.

The perspective of whether the region is “ready for democracy” and questioning the veracity of democratic values in the Arab and Muslim world has pervaded the thinking of my local newspaper as well.  In an opinion piece in the Standard Times’(the primary newspaper for South Coast MA), the paper’s editorial board claimed that “Libya was not worth the fight,” that the reasoning behind supporting the Libyan revolution was no different from the use of American military force in Iraq, and that “unbridled democracy is too dangerous in a region that has never known it.” (Here’s a link to their piece: http://www.southcoasttoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=%2F20110330%2FOPINION%2F103300304%2F-1%2FOPINION01 )

Given what I’m researching, and that I can provide a local opinion from the region in question, I crafted a response, which was published last Wednesday. Here’s a link to my response: http://www.southcoasttoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20110413/OPINION/104130302

Now to move onto the reason why many of you may continue to read my blog: the travel stories!

Last week from Saturday till Wednesday we took a trip through a number of sites within the southern part of Jordan.  With the weather improving exponentially, and the places we were heading to see including: The Dana Nature Reserve, Petra (a new 7 wonder of the world), Wadi Rum and Aqaba, it promised to be a phenomenal last break before ISP period kicked in fully.

Our first stop was an old crusader castle in Karak.  The castle was huge and offered an incredible view of the surrounding area. It’s hard to believe that people lived and fought within the walls we were scrambling over.  I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a besieged crusader fighting off an attacking army.  Pretty intense.

After that we went to the nature reserve.  It had an incredible view, and we went for a short guided hike to a natural spring where the water was drinkable.  A couple days later we had a discussion for class about Environmental issues.  It seems Jordan has come to understand pretty quickly that conservation and the impact of environmental degradation on human population (typically the most  vulnerable) are two sides of the same coin: environmental justice if you will.  Their efforts to involve communities within efforts are only a decade or two removed from the initial calls for conservation.  It took closer to half a century in America.

Our second day was what many of my friends and peers back home were most excited to hear about: Petra.  It is absolutely incredible.  Huge structures carved into the sides of massive cliffs of beautiful, beautiful stone. We hiked for a while along a route that was less commonly taken by tour groups.  I happened to be wearing a Bates t-shirt, and as I was beat boxing while descending into a valley, a man ahead of us looked up and called out “do you actually go to Bates?” After I told him yes, he said he graduated in ’97, and him and his girlfriend (though if our friend Ian was as successful as he hopes when we ran into them in our hotel bar, they might be married soon) were there for his job, and they were traveling in Jordan checking out some sites.  We talked about the campus, recent happenings at Bates in regards to town-gown and so on.  Small world.  Or “jabal ealla jabal ma tuqaabl (or something like that) bas alnaas ealla alnaas tuqaabl,” as I recently learned from a cabbie who happened to not only know the SIT staff, but regularly runs errands for them. In English the phrase is literally: “mountains won’t meet mountains, but people will meet people.”

Petra was an amazing experience, but it will unfortunately always be tarnished.  While we were there one of my friends on the program was sexually assaulted. Talking with a mutual friend a few days afterwards, we both agreed that though it would be horrible for it to happen to anyone, for it to happen to this girl was just tragic.  Seeing her have to deal with it broke my heart, and for something like that to happen to someone I care about made me want to scream (see previous post). It made me think of a great quote by Audre Lorde: “the war against dehumanization is ceaseless.”  Thankfully she wasn’t physically harmed.  She came forward, she described what happened to the police, she put the guy in jail –he won’t be hurting anyone for a long time- she wasn’t silent… she even blogged about it. (I know, unbelievable, right?) If you wanna read her thoughts on this and many a topic, she’s one of the blogs I follow, “Amman Amusings.”


The next day we went to a special needs center, where for some reason I wasn’t particularly engaged in the tour, but it was very interesting to see how Jordan deals with certain disabilities.  “Patients,” there, if that’s what I should call them, work on handicrafts projects to sell.  A number of these co-op style societies seem to exist in Jordan (like the one we went to in Salt).

After Petra it was off to Wadi Rum, an incredible swath of desert and valley with incredibly soft rose-colored sand.  We stayed at a desert camp with tents set in between some small cliffs.  The camp had two puppies, which everyone enjoyed playing with (despite the health and safety warnings from our SIT pre-departure info!), and a third one, a stray arrived just about when we did.  I was talking to one of the workers after dinner and he said they would keep it and care for it because it came with us, and was already settling in.

We took a “jeep tour,” of Wadi Rum, which was actually riding in a pickup with benches in the bed.  It was RAINING when we first started our trek.  It was so much fun, and I think the drivers were having as much fun, if not more, than us at some points, driving quickly through the desert, over dunes and racing each other.  We went to watch a sunset, which turned out quite beautiful in my pictures, but was less stellar at the time because of the high winds and cold.

Then we headed for Aqaba! Aqaba was, without a doubt, one of my favorite days of my life.  We went out on a chartered party boat into the Gulf of Aqaba, where one can clearly see Eilat (Israel), Egypt, Aqaba, and beyond a mountain, Saudi Arabia.  We stopped over a coral reef and took turns jumping off the top deck of the boat, and then went snorkeling.  We had a barbeque lunch out on the water, cruised around for a bit and then headed back to the port.  That evening we “socialized” for a while at the hotel, and then headed out to a karaoke bar, where the main clientele were Filipino domestic workers. I think watching us perform was the most fun they’ve probably had there.

The next day we rolled back to Amman, and the gear up for ISP began.  I felt great walking out of SIT as Abdoun (the neighborhood where the school is) began to take on that late afternoon glow that I love so much.  I walked in rhythm in front of the British embassy, my shades on, my headphones bumpin’ some Spoon as I strolled by two women in Niqab (the full face veil) out for an afternoon stroll.  I felt surprisingly at home.  Unbelievable. 

Walking into Karak Castle

Walking through the village at Dana. 

Petra- here's where you can make the Indiana Jones joke...

Dave at the High Place of Sacrifice. Apparently he really likes sacrifice... and being high.

Oh man. Too funny. I thought it was a generic stock photo. But apparently that dude was sitting just out of frame. Hope he didn't take too much offense. 

I took a lot of Petra with me. 

Desert Camp at Wadi Rum

Overwhelmed

Some weird Lawrence of Arabia monument. 

I want it. 

I swear it looked worse in person. 

Manlove+Puppylove

Camel Ride

Mess with Jordan, mess with Paul. 

Ian as Pirate. I feel like this picture is arrrrrrt. 

Arabic dance party on the roof. 

View out the hotel window in Aqaba. 

The Scream.

So I suppose first off I should provide an update about the on goings politically here.  On Thursday, the day before my birthday, several thousand members of the Jordanian youth movement, calling themselves “March 24^th” set up a Tahrir Square-esque sit-in style tent camp in what is officially called Jamal Abdul Nasser Square.  From what I understand they were joined by allies from left-leaning opposition groups, as well as the Islamist movement (interesting bedfellows to say the least. Imagine if the Communist Party USA were actually bigger and were demonstrating with, oh I don’t know, say… Focus on the Family).  They completely shut down the square and said that they would stay there until they got the reforms they were demanding (resignation of the prime minister and director of intelligence, dissolution of parliament, and a new election law).  As I drove by on my way home form a joint birthday party the police and royal guard had cut off all the roads leading towards the square.

The situation started to get heated when pro-government (or I guess if you wanted to flip it the other way, anti-reform) protesters began throwing rocks at the sit-in.  Reportedly a lot of the youth were bandaged from being hit by stones thrown from the overpass and debris from construction sites nearby.  The protestors were there for about a day, but were driven out by riot police who intervened as the counter demonstrators clashed with the March 24^th movement. I’ve read a number of different descriptions of what happened, including one from a Cuban correspondent who described how the jubilation the youth demonstrators showed when water cannons first showed up, turned to chaos as they were turned on them.  Two people were reportedly killed, although the official line is just one.

Following the fatalities another 16 members of the “National Dialogue Committee” which was established when the last Prime Minister was fired resigned their positions on the originally 53 member panel to protest the security crackdowns on the pro-democracy demonstrators.  The largest opposition group, the Islamic Action Front, had already decided not to participate previously, and following the violence stated that: “The Islamist movement demands the resignation, or the sacking, of the government and the formation a national unity and reformist government that would win the people’s trust and protect their lives,” and “Any government that kills citizens loses legitimacy,”.

The left leaning members that resigned, from the Popular Unity Party and the Jordanian Communist Party issued a joint statement:
“What happened was not a clash between the ‘March 24 Youth’ and pro-government loyalists but rather a systematic action on the part of the authorities which should be responsible for the massacre,” and that ““This proves that any talk about political reform is nothing more than allegations that lack foundation, which means that our membership in the committee is an act of time buying while also misleading the Jordanian public.”

The Prime Minister issued a statement saying that, “We are not going to accept dialogue that is conducted from the streets.”  It’ll be interesting to see if he can continue to feign deafness should the movement continue to heat up, and should over a third of the established committee for dialogue continue to express itself through action through non-institutional channels.

I’m sure most of my readers are familiar with the revolutions occurring in Syria, Yemen, and Libya (especially given the commitment of American military forces in the latter).  I’m less sure of how familiar my audience might be with other demonstrations occurring globally over the past few weeks.  Yesterday in Great Britain hundreds of thousands of protestors took to the streets to protest massive cuts being made to critical discretionary spending there.  In Georgia thousands turned out to protest a proposed immigration bill similar to the controversial one in Arizona.  I’ve had a discussion before with a friend from Bates that the next “civil rights movement” in America is going to be over immigration and the rights of people who live and work within the country (and as some economic analysis shows contrary to conventional wisdom, actually help the economy), and I’d say that’s still a distinct possibility. 

Also I’d like to point out the massive reaction to anti-labor legislation in Wisconsin and other states.  For decades “organized” labor has merely been a nominal designation.  Union membership as a percentage of the labor force is pitiful and no life seemed to be breathing within the beast that brought you the weekend and the 8 hour day.  But following the introduction of such reactionary legislation, it would appear that there is a potential for a rebirth. Thousands turned out to protest the attack on public employees, and the support came from both public and private unions. The American Public shows that the cause isn’t lost either: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/01/us/01poll.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=poll+and+collective+bargaining&st=cse

So what do pro-labor, anti-draconian immigrant legislation, and anti-crippling austerity measure demonstrations in the West have to do with pro-democracy, anti-corruption, reform movements in the Middle East?  We had a lecturer the other day who equated the revolutions to a function of pan-Arabism and drew a historical lineage from the anti-colonial liberation movements seen in Algeria against the French.  He actually polled some of our Arab staff about their opinions on “Arab Unity” catching them off-guard a bit.  All of the movements within the Middle East have taken on individually nationalistic tones, and the discussion of pan-Arabism seems, to me at least, to only really crop up in fanatic imaginings of the fall of the region to radical Islamists and the establishment of a Caliphate. His allusion to national liberation movements of the past holds truth, however, not in the Arab identity of the revolutionaries, but in their struggle against illegitimate coercion and power. An opposition to what felt like an affront to humanity itself. This is the link between movements East and West, and North and South.

I fortuitously chose to try to tackle a book I had picked up in early high school but struggled with shortly before coming to Jordan.  I only got about half way through it before I needed to transition back to my pre-program reading assignments which I, naturally, put off till the last minute.  The book is Change the World Without Taking Power: The Meaning of Revolution Today by John Holloway. It was written in the early 2000’s after the World Trade Organization protests in Seattle in ’99, and the rise of the Zapatista movement in Mexico in 1994, which he describes as the “first post-modern revolution.”  Two things stick out in particular from the book.  One is the concept of “the scream,” which is, in essence, a visceral response to something that seems indescribably wrong or unjust.  But, though the scream is visceral, it has meaning, and actions taken within the expression of that scream can be intellectual, tactful, and not solely gut reaction, but enforced by the anger and the disgust. The other critical concept, or at least as far as I got… was that revolution should be rethought of as being a constant struggle against illegitimate power and coercion, as opposed to having the traditional end goal associated with classical Marxist-Leninist thinking of acquiring power.

(This idea has manifested itself in less traditional forms of protest and rebellion as well. If you’re interested, try looking up the World Social Forum, and what it’s designed to do as an alternative to the World Economic Forum.) 

The rights of workers to bargain collectively are being stripped, access to affordable education and innumerable social services are being cut to balance budgets, national and border security are used as scapegoats to gut civil liberties, soldiers are killing and raping civilians, people are being beaten and told they only have a voice on someone else’s terms. What binds these events isn’t the tragedy of their sad consequences (which are clearly distinct for different cases in their gravity), but the resultant anger that is being created.  People in Libya, Syria, the UK, the US, Yemen, Bahrain, and Jordan are screaming.  The world would do well to listen.

P.S.(I can do a whole other post on why anger can be a good thing and why it’s different from hate but, khalas, enough theory for tonight.)

OH Man... Oman. (That's ohoo man... not aaahhh' maan)

So after a week in Oman and a couple of days with the SIT program in Muscat, I find it necessary to say that I am SO glad I chose to go to Jordan.  Oman, despite feeling like a dream sometimes (I'll explain more later), is an incredibly beautiful country, situated at the mouth of The Persian Gulf, the Straits of Hormuz across from Iran, and bordering the Indian Ocean, Yemen, UAE, and Saudi Arabia.  The flight from Amman was roughly 3 hours and took us over Saudi Arabia, the gulf and Abu Dhabi.  We left at night, and as we passed over the gulf you could see all of the maritime traffic and oil rigs which stood out because of the area of reflection created by their massive floodlights.  This was the first time I'd exited a jetliner down a staircase as opposed to a jet way which was pretty cool.

The ride from the airport to the hotel took maybe half an hour to forty five minutes, and it became apparent quickly that Muscat was a sprawling city that covered much area, but without the skyscrapers of Amman or Dubai (The SIT Oman academic director pointed this out as an example of their leader, Sultan Qaboos', commitment to modern, but traditionally cognizant development.)  Our hotel, Naseem Hotel, was located in Muttrah, a working port city that is part of Muscat Municipality, but is a different city than the capital.  The hotel was right across the highway from a cruise ship port and a cargo port.

Sultan Qaboos' yacht. 

The first day we had a lecture from the AD of SIT Oman, and then got on a bus to head southeast. First we went to a Green Sea Turtle Reserve, which is one of the few nesting sites in the region.  We were led to the beach by flashlight wielding guards in disdash and waited for a signal that there was indeed a turtle nesting.  We saw the flashing lights and watched as a large turtle laid dug a whole and laid her eggs and then covered them up again.  The most amazing thing of the night was when some baby turtles began hatching and traveling down the beach to the surf. Post-turtles we headed back to a camp not far from the reserve where we spent the night in small straw cabins. 

In the morning we went to Sur, a fishing town on the Eastern coast. 

In Sur we visited a Dhow factory, where the traditional sailing vessels of the Arab World's trade heyday are still constructed, primarily for tour companies and wealthy patrons. 

After Sur we went to Wadi Shab, which as an incredibly gorgeous valley whose mouth is on the ocean and interior is lined with beautiful green-pooled oasis and caves. 

We had to cross the tidal part of the Wadi before we could continue the 15 or so minute hike through the valley.  The path is maintained heavily by the government, and steps are added in particularly treacherous parts of the path, but it was incredibly hot and turned out to be quite the workout on the way in. 

At the end of the hike was a small Oasis where we went swimming.  It was absolutely incredible. Think grand canyon filled with palm trees and gorgeous water. And you're floating in the middle of it. 

I think Wadi Shab was my personal favorite thing of the trip... it definitely set the bar high, but we did see/do some other cool stuff. 

Muttrah at Night.

Some pictures from a drop-off we had to do at a museum. 

Some rooftop goats.

Nizwa University

One particularly interesting thing we did was travel to a less developed city, Nizwa, and receive a tour of the relatively conservative campus from some of its students.  A graduate student at SIT Oman also works at Nizwa University consulting the administration on receiving accreditation internationally, and provided a little background on the University, which is actually a private non-profit institution, unique in the heavily public sultanate.  All of the students wear traditional Omani clothing, including dishdash, hijab, kuma (a traditional cap), and sandals.  Our groups definitely drew a lot of attention, but much of it was positive, with many smiles and "ahlan wah salan"s (welcome).  The campus was fairly basic, and the student from SIT Oman pointed out that many of them were like portable classrooms in the states.  The University is currently building another campus a few miles away. One of the most interesting things was going to what was essentially an activities fair, where clubs like photography clubs, many educational and special educational groups, and science groups got together and promoted their membership. I wasn't able to always identify the booths because the writing was often simply in arabic, but what the students were doing provided some hint. 

Also of note... the school is significantly majority female. 

Another interesting thing about our visit to the University came from a question I asked of the SIT graduate student during his talk.  I asked about the ethnic make-up of the school, how many are ethnically arab, east african, indian.  He replied that they are all Omani, which clearly did not answer my question.  The thing is, this is the perception in Oman, at least in the portions we were in.  Anyone possessing Omani citizenship is Omani, not Somali, Indian, Arab or whatever. This overpowering national identity comes from the fact that Oman is rather diverse, and has faced separatist violence in its southern border with Yemen (fomented by the Saudis) but strives to create a timeless national identity despite being a very young nation.  

Historical interlude: Major events in Omani history

1970: Sultan Qaboos bin Said al Said takes power. (He overthrew his father) Throughout his reign he rapidly modernizes Oman. 

1962-1975: Dhofar (Yemeni border region) rebellion.

2007: Oman battered by Category 5 Cyclone Gonu. 

After we visited the university we went to Jabreen castle.  The castle was built in the late 17th century and was home to the Imam of the region, who was both a religious and political leader. 

Imam's tomb. 

After the castle we traveled to Misfat Al Abriyeen, which is a like a village frozen in time.  Despite the fact that there are cars and roads leading to it.  The inside of it is still traditional walking/donkey trails through an Oasis.  

The town and the walking trails were absolutely gorgeous, but I couldn't help but feel strange about our being there.  It is apparently a pretty big tourist attraction, but we didn't pay any admission.  As you walk through some of the trails many of the houses would have "No Photo" or "No Entry" signs up.  We were essentially walking through peoples backyards snapping photos and then leaving half an hour later. Some other students felt the same way, while others tried to brush it off.  In any event, I'm glad I did get to see how beautiful it was. 

On our last full day we took a trip to the Grand Mosque in Muscat that Sultan Qaboos had built several years ago, and a free afternoon, in which we took a trip to the beach, a pseudo-lecture/activity hybrid with SIT Oman, and then a free evening.  The Mosque is massive and can hold, I believe, 25,000 people.  There are guards walking around with pistols, and while one might think a Mosque would be immune to threat in 1979 even the Grand Mosque in Mecca was a target for fundamentalist terrorists who, in an armed group of several hundred, seized the Mosque and held it for several weeks until they were overwhelmed by Saudi military forces.    

Post-mosque was finally beach time.  I have to say, I'm terribly spoiled living perpetually within an hour of incredible beaches and coastlines.  Being on the water was definitely one of my favorite parts of Oman, and it was great to finally get into the salt water.  I can now say I swam in the Gulf of Oman, an extension of the Indian Ocean and the body of water that separates Iran from the Arabian peninsula.  The water felt terrific, and we saw a number of sting ray, though that kind of spooked some of the tribe (SIT tribe).  After some swimming we played some ultimate frisbee, and I got a sunburn worthy of an Irishman.  

Our exercise with SIT Oman included a brief discussion of the timetable behind the Arab revolutions and then a fake UN summit on the revolutions including representatives from the youth leading the protests, the old-guard of the Arab world (which I was in), the US and EU, the Arab League, and the UN security council.  We had to prepare statements and be ready for rebuttals, which was fun, but I felt as though I didn't really learn anything I didn't already know.  No one seems to know what type of government successful revolts will create, the old-school claim they bring stability, prevent the coming to power of Islamists, and prevent war with Israel and the US, the US can't make up its mind, the EU won't act without the US, and the Arab League and the security council can hardly develop or agree to a functional breakfast order, that's how helpful they are.  But these were all things I knew, so a standard lecture, or even a philosophical discussion in a more traditional manner of what our individual views on the issue are would've been more constructive. Again, I found myself appreciating good 'ol SIT Jordan.

I developed a pretty serious case of post-nasal drip over the last half of the trip, which was the harbinger of a bad head cold and cough for my final night.  While a bunch of students went out, I went back to the souq for some last minute gift shopping, did a little reading and then nabbed some sleep.  The first half hour of the flight was miserable on my sinuses but a double dose of acetometaphin and some sudafed had me in decent shape part way over Saudi Arabia. 

Everyone on the trip was stoked to be back in Jordan, and Amman in particular.  Oman was a great weeklong trip, but I definitely would've started to get bored. I'm pretty sure every cool thing the SIT kids there see, we saw in that week.  I mentioned earlier that Oman felt kind of like a dream.  Geographically it represented what I've thought of as an ideal sort of port city culture.  If you've seen The Truman Show, think of the town in that movie, I even mentioned that to some of the other students.  It just didn't feel real sometimes.  Everyone is going about their business, but it could almost be an act. In trying to figure out why it felt like that, I tend to lean on the lack of politics in the public sphere. Though there is a cult of personality around the Sultan, like King Abdullah in Jordan, the Sultan is incredibly private and does not make many public appearances like Abdullah. In Jordan, everyone seems to watch the news, and will talk to you about politics. In Oman, it just doesn't exist publicly.  This goes beyond simply not having electoral politics though, as much of any persons life is politically embedded beyond a conservative-liberal distinction.  We have a trajectory behind our thoughts and actions in society and our lives that is held together by some sort of belief system, however coherent or incoherent that may be from person to person, and it typically flushes itself out through public participation, civil society, religion, activism, or discussion between neighbors.  I was only in Oman for a week, but you definitely could feel the presence of such a thing if you were in Amman for that long.  I didn't see it in Oman.  

Now, what I am saying is that political thought and expression was not really existent in the everyday public sphere in Oman, which doesn't mean it is non-existant for Omanis.  This is evidenced by protests that have occurred within the country calling for economic assistance.  It would seem efficacy of political activity isn't immune to the people of Oman, it's just underdeveloped.  Understandable for a country in which apparently disappearances still occur.  If you're unfamiliar with the term you should wikipedia "forced disappearance."  Then check out "extraordinary rendition" for the American variety. Then, finally, imagine that being you or someone you love.  I apologize for the morbidity, but I'm unsure of my audience, and I am particularly passionate about this. 

On a happier note, spring break Oman '11 was filled with mostly being a tourist in an incredibly beautiful country that, had our trip continued to Egypt instead, I would have never have thought to have visited.  I actually said while we were swimming in the Oasis at Wadi Shab, "thank god Egypt had a revolution."  Inshallah that will be true for more reasons than that one.