Book Review

Opium and Empire:

The Lives and Careers of William Jardine and James Matheson

by Richard J. Grace

     Imagine some people in a neighboring country, like Mexico for instance, decide that a certain drug, maybe crystal meth or fentanyl, has a potentially giant market in another country like the U.S.A. So they decide to start businesses that manufacture and traffic these drugs. Of course these narcotics are dangerous, wrecking people’s health and causing addiction as well as draining people of their money and landing them in prison; therefore the American government classifies these drugs as illegal, criminalizes their sales and distribution, and labels the businessmen as purveyors of organized crime, drug syndicates, and cartels. But from the Mexican traffickers’ point of view, they aren’t doing anything wrong. They provide work for poor people and make money in a country that isn’t rich. Furthermore, the drug sales provide a steady income whereas other business ventures tend to be less predictable and unstable. Farmers who want to grow produce, like avocados for example, grow some banned substances to keep their finances steady while the market for vegetables fluctuates. This benefits trucking companies too who smuggle drugs in boxes of cucumbers and cilantro across the border, providing work for truck drivers who need to pay rent and feed their families. Of course, a lot of Americans, especially the government and police, think this whole situation is rotten so they fight back hard. Now imagine the Mexican cartels decide to start a war with America to force them into legalizing their drugs so the gangsters south of the border can make even more money than they already do. Eventually they convince the US government to give them the entire city of San Diego so they can have a convenient base for the distribution of their goods. All praise be to Santa Muerte.

This is roughly what happened when the Jardine-Matheson trading company began selling opium on the black market in China at about the same time the Napoleonic Wars began. Richard J. Grace, in his Opium and Empire, tells the story of this nefarious corporation and concludes that they weren’t such bad people and were, in fact, just ordinary businessmen who just happened to do trade in a vice that ruined people’s lives.

You could just as well argue that good things Mexican drug cartels do outweigh the bad. It isn’t fair that dangerous narcotics are illegal in El Norteno and they are really just ordinary gentlemen who provide a service that is in demand anyways. They work hard to earn their money and there’s nothing a red-blooded American capitalist loves more than people who get rich by working hard. Hell, you might even say that the cartels are nothing more than heroes of free market capitalism, letting the invisible hand of the marketplace decide what people buy and sell. Right?

Right?

The story of William Jardine and James Matheson begins in Scotland more innocently than one might expect. Jardine came from a poor farming family and got employed as a surgeon for the East India Company, Great Britain’s colonial trading and shipping monopoly. The younger Matheson came from an upper class family in Edinburgh and eventually went on to work for the East India Company too. He met up with Jardine in India, the two paired up, and went to work as speculators, trading in silk, rice, tea, and, most importantly, opium which they purchased in India and shipped to China.

The kingdom of China at that time was closed to foreigners. They would not allow outsiders to enter their lands for business so they sectioned off a strip of the river bank running along the outskirts of Canton, or what is now known as Guangdong. There they were allowed to build a tiny village of warehouses, factories, and living quarters. Chinese merchants came to the riverfront to do business, buying and selling all commodities except opium which was illegal in China. But Jardine-Matheson insisted on peddling opium since the addiction it caused guaranteed a steady flow of wealth which helped to supplement their more volatile trading goods whose prices fluctuated unpredictably. The Jardine-Matheson company therefore sold opium offshore in international waters to smugglers who brought it onto the mainland. If Jardine-Matheson couldn’t sell opium the legal way, they had no qualms about breaking Chinese laws to make their fortune.

A large portion of this book describes the backgrounds of these two businessmen and the running on their company. It also details how they grew to such prominence as the East India Comany monopoly ended, making room for other companies to enter the competitive colonial markets. Most of this is ordinary business history explaining the methods and functions of Jardine-Matheson. If that is within the scope of your interest, it might be exciting, but actually the writing is often dry and boring. The several passages about finance and banking are especially dull. There is nothing more boring then people talking about money, especially when it gets a bit technical. It is even worse than watching golf on TV.

The story gets more exciting in the run-up to the Opium Wars. After the Chinese government seized and destroyed the entire inventory of opium, Jardine and Matheson pressured the British government to invade China in retaliation and to demand compensation for the lost products. The second Opium War happened when the British colonial government decided to force China to legalize opium for the benefit of British businesses and the extension of British colonial power. Talk about a sense of entitlement. And yes, large numbers of people died over this. Along the way, China gave the mostly uninhabited island of Kowloon, Hong Kong to the British for the sake of allowing them to have a base for business-dealings in the region. So selling illegal drugs on the black market in China was the primary source of finance for building up the British Empire. Maybe in the future, Latin American drug cartels will rule the world.

The end of the book has a long chapter about the lives of Jardine and Matheson after retirement. It isn’t especially interesting. Then, in the epilogue, the author evaluates the Jardine-Matheson company from a moral and historical standpoint. He acknowledges that selling illegal drugs on the black market and starting two wars with China was kind of a crappy thing to do, but he lets them off with a slap on the hand, figuratively speaking, because they were really just a couple of ordinary businessmen who did a lot of good things for their communities back in the British Isles. More importantly, they belonged to some prominent social clubs back home and were considered respectable men by other members of the upper class. Richard Grace goes so far as to say that they were historically important, as if that could even be denied, and their amorality was of little consequence because they were pioneers of free market capitalism. Well, that is actually a weak argument for those of us who are not especially enthusiastic about capitalism to begin with.

And about those Mexican cartels...well they may be harming and endangering a lot of lives, but they are putting people to work and financially enriching their local communities, so it isn’t all that bad, is it? Besides those guys are fun to hang out with wow do they ever throw some fantastic parties and that’s really what’s important. Who cares about all those clucks who buy their drugs on the streets. It’s their own fault they’re losers because they didn’t choose to get a job and work like the rest of us. Right? Yeah right.

I don’t know anything about the author Richard J. Grace, but I can say for sure that we don’t see eye to eye when it comes to values. Opium and Empire tells the story of the Jardine-Matheson company, saying what it needs to say to accomplish that. It is a boring book, however, written by an author with questionable morals. He claims that Jardine and Matheson were not merelya couple of sleazy drug dealers. But just because they hid behind a facade of respectability and a Protestant work ethic, doesn’t mean they weren’t a couple of slimeballs at heart. I don’t think Grace is necessarily immoral, but I get the impression his ethics are in the wrong order. This book does serve a historical purpose, but there has to be an account of this company that is more engaging and a little more balanced. The Chinese perspective on this history is barely even mentioned.

If you visit Hong Kong now, you will find a skyscraper in the center of Kowloon with a unique architectural feature. It is a slender rectangle with its cladding entirely permeated with round windows like portholes. This is the Jardine House, world headquarters of the Jardine-Matheson company which still exists to this day. Because of its unique appearance, the local citizens of Hong Kong have nicknamed it the House of 1000 Assholes. Sometimes I wonder if the people of Hong Kong think back over the times when Chinese peasants became emaciated from lounging in opium dens while their families starved to death because all their income went to feeding their addictions. Maybe that name doesn’t actually indicate how they feel about the Jardine House’s appearance but actually signifies how they feel about all the company’s employees that got rich and powerful by enslaving Chinese people to narcotics. Richard Matheson justified the opium trade by saying he had never seen a Chinaman “beastialized” by opium use. I’m not sure what he meant by “beastialized”, but one thing is certain: while he was running his smuggling business and throwing dinner parties in his mansion, he wasn’t spending time in the opium dens of China, observing how his drug was ruining people’s lives. Just an ordinary businessman? No I don’t think so, but then again take a look at the businessmen of the 21^st century. I’m not sure they any better.

 

Book Review

In the Spirit of Crazy Horse

by Peter Matthiessen

     I’ve always thought Peter Matthiessen was a terrible writer. I’ll be up front about that right from the start. The fact that he was a CIA agent doesn’t do much to lend him credibility either. But the story of Leonard Peltier and the American Indian Movement (AIM) is important enough for me to overlook the shortcomings of the author and take In the Spirit of Crazy Horse into serious consideration.

This copiously researched and overwrought work on recent Native American Indian history begins with an account of Crazy Horse, Geronimo, General Custer, and the massacre at Wounded Knee in South Darkota. After some commentary on stolen land and treaties that were never upheld by the U.S. government, the story is brought into more recent times by briefly telling the story of AIM and how leaders like Russel Means, Dennis Banks, John Trudell and other lesser known men formed the militant activist group at the end of the 1960s. The group was loosely organized and made up of urban Indians, mostly from the West coast. They came into prominence in the early ‘70s when they occupied the Oglala reservation of Pine Ridge, South Dakota. This led to a brief standoff with the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) and the FBI that brought AIM into the spotlight of national politics and won them support among Native peoples all across the country. Matthiessen follows this section up with an account of the trials that came after.

Up to this point, the story is straight forward and easy to follow since it goes along an ordinary linear path. Matthiessen’s style is not known for being direct, precise, or clear, but in these opening chapters he manages to keep a tight rein on his language so the audience doesn’t get lost so soon. The opening chapter on Wounded Knee feels arbitrary and unnecessary, especially for anybody who knows about American history. It could have been left out or shortened, but it doesn’t do any real damage to the book. The problems come later. At least these sections do a good job of setting the tone and context for what comes next.

What does come next is the whole heart of the story. In June of 1975, two FBI agents drove onto the Pine Ridge reservation with a huge entourage of FBI and BIA agents, SWAT teams, a gang of thugs, and a right wing militia group, while a spotter airplane flew overhead. A group of AIM members were camping on the reservation with a cache of weapons. Nobody knows how it started, but a firefight began. The two FBI agents were shot point blank and one AIM activist named Leonard Peltier was later charges and convicted of murder.

This whole chapter is confusing. I have to say, that is not Peter Matthiessen’s fault. He tells the story several times from the points of view provided by several different witnesses. Since most of them were either firing guns or hiding to avoid being shot, you can’t expect any of them to provide a clear explanation of what happened. As muddled and difficult as this part of the book can be, Matthiessen still holds your attention enough to keep you reading and guessing what will happen.

The inevitable next section of the story is the arrest of Peltier and some others and their two trials for murder. The prosecution does a terrible job in both trials, resulting in a finding of not guilty in the first and guilty in the second, the one in which Leonard Peltier got sentenced to life imprisonment. Matthiessen demonstrates how insufficient the prosecution’s case was in both and how they broke the law in their conduct by intimidating witnesses, tampering with evidence, and withholding necessary documents from the defense. If Matthiessen’s account of these trials is accurate, then there is more than sufficient reason for Peltier to be allowed a retrial. If Matthiessen’s account isn’t accurate, then it is because he is guilty of massively cherry picking his information. Given what I know about Leonard Peltier, I think the former is more believable than the latter and I would prefer to just go along with the author. But what comes later in the book, or more accurately what doesn’t come later, gives me reason to pause and question how trustworthy the author is.

From a simple standpoint of excitement, the beginning of the last section is the most interesting. The imprisoned Leonard Peltier learns of a supposed plot to assassinate him, so he escapes from the penitentiary, only to be caught soon after. If you want any more action to keep the narrative going, you will find it here. This incident leads the author to assert that there is some sort of conspiracy by the FBI to bring down the American Indian Movement. Matthiessen’s theory is that they are working with some corporations to access uranium mines in the Black Hills on the Pine Ride Reservation. Is it a real conspiracy or just a conspiracy theory? We know that the FBI tried to take out other Civil Rights organizations along with other activist groups of the New Left in the 1960s, so it isn’t a far fetched idea. As to why they chose to go after Peltier even though they probably knew he wasn’t guilty, is a bit more complex. It appears they needed to pin the murders on someone, even if it wasn’t the actual murderer and they found it easier to build a case against Peltier than anyone else. As for the assassination plot, I just don’t know. The FBI had Fred Hampton of the Black Panthers assassinated so it can’t be ruled out even if there is testimony from only one man regarding this.

The rest of this last section involves Matthiessen rambling around, talking to various people about various elements related to the case. Except for the two people who claim to have murdered the FBI agents, there isn’t anything here that actually strengthens the author’s argument. It is a disorganized mess of random stuff that is barely, if ever, interesting. It seems that Matthiessen felt he had to include all the information he had gathered even if it didn’t contribute anything of value to the book overall.

The biggest problem with this last section is not its bad writing, but the way in which it makes its one-sidedness so obvious. I have to say that I mostly agree with the author’s stance on the issues addressed, but the absence of opposing points of view make it look suspicious. There is one passage where the author has a phone conversation with FBI agent David Price, but Price does little more than talk in circles without ever saying much of anything. He obfuscates the FBI’s case rather than clarifies it. It doesn’t stand firmly as an attempt at providing a counter-argument. Matthiessen should have cut down on all the testimony from AIM members and sympathizers, who sound like nothing more than yes-men and yes-women, and included more from the government’s point of view. It would have made the story more complete and I don’t think it would have hurt his thesis. It probably would have strengthened it.

Is In the Spirit of Crazy Horse worth reading? For now, I have to say yes. The history is interesting enough on its own to survive the bad writing. And as far as I know, this is the most well-researched and comprehensive account of the Leonard Peltier affair that is available. Still the question remains, did Leonard Peltier kill those two FBI agents? I really don’t think so, but I also don’t think Peter Matthiessen did a good job of proving his innocence. What he does succeed in is showing how the trial was a sham, a persecution motivated by extreme prejudice and not by a desire for justice. 

 

Book Review

Arabs Without God

by Brian Whitaker

     Being an atheist or agnostic in America isn’t easy. Bigotry, religious fanaticism, intolerance, and anti-intellectualism run rampant here and this is a country where the First Amendment is the cornerstone of our Constitution. Being secular-minded in Arab countries in the Middle East and Africa is even more dangerous, being a part of the world where human rights aren’t respected, governments are authoritarian and autocratic, and Islam is the dominant form of cultural expression. In most Arab countries, Christians, Jews, and members of other smaller religions like the Druze, Alawites, and Zoroastrians are regarded as second-class citizens. Muslim sectarian fighting between Sunnis, Shias, and various other denominations is common too. In a region permeated with religious strife, having a rationalistic, scientific, or skeptical outlook can be deadly for so most Arab atheists tend to stay silent or pretend to be religious to avoid persecution. In Arabs Without God, British journalist Brian Whitaker gives an in-depth analysis of the cultural and legal climate of Arab societies and explains what it means to be an atheist in such places.

As the internet penetrates Arab nations, people who had long been silent about their disbelief are coming into contact with others of like mind. Secular Muslims, mostly those who are highly educated and familiar with other cultures, find they aren’t alone and write blogs, discuss their beliefs in chat rooms, and use social media to contact other atheists and agnostics. When the governments and religious authorities learn about this, they crack down hard on free-thinking Arabs. They send atheists to prison, harass them and their families, and, in some cases, forcehem into exile in Europe or America. In many cases, the families and friends of atheists break off contact with them, although some find that they have parents or family members who have kept silent about their skepticism all their lives. In the patriarchal world of Islam, female atheists are in an even bigger bind because women are traditionally expected to be submissive and subservient to men so by coming out as atheists, they risk even more danger and degradation.

This book is divided into two sections. The first is about the history and culture of atheism in Arab nations. Whitaker examines the history of atheism in the Middle East, proving that such skepticism is nothing new in the region. This was the weakest part of the book as he does not provide any real sources of Arabs with arguments in favor of non-belief in God. He does provide some good examples of intellectuals and poets, going back to the dawn of Islam, who expressed doubts about religious belief without actually coming out and saying they disagree with Islam. Whitaker then goes on to examine reasons why Arabs turn to atheism and scientific thought, most of the time a result of listening to Muslims and observing their behavior. Religious leaders have often blamed the West for bringing science and skepticism into Arab countries or otherwise falling back on the old trope that Jews are spreading atheism amongst Muslims to destroy their religion. Yeah, as if Jews have nothing better to do with their lives. Some people have concluded that religion is just silly, hypocritical, and sometimes even dangerous. The whole section ends with a chapter on gender in Arab societes and the suppression of gays and lesbians who often risk imprisonment, violence, and even corporal punishment for coming out as non-heterosexuals. The whole point of this chapter is to show how dangerous it is to be secular in Arab countries.

The second section of this book is more dense and rigorous as it examines legal codes, morality, government autocracy, religious intolerance, and Arab traditions to show how complex Middle Eastern society is. Muslims can be fanatical about proselytizing Islam while often making it illegal to proselytize for any other religion. Conversions to other religions is usually frowned upon and sometimes not even recognized by government officials if it is even allowed at all. Sharia law and government practices are vague, confusing, and arbitrary. The Qur’an and the Hadiths are full of contradictions and outdated rules. Living as a Muslim in a theocratic or autocratic dictatorship requires submission to authority, even when the laws make no sense. If such is the case, then being an atheist, a member of a non-Muslims religion, or even a scientifically minded Muslim can be treacherous. Minorities run the risk of committing the crime of apostasy simply by being themselves and in many Arab countries, apostasy is punishable by death. It is no wonder that many Arab atheists emigrate to more tolerant countries in the West. This second section does not comment much about atheism in and of itself; what it does do successfully is show how complicated it can be to think for yourself in such repressive societies.

The book finally ends with Whitaker making a plea for greater respect for human rights in Arab societies and equality for those who disagree with the dominant modes of thought. Finally, he takes both the Western right and left to task for treating Arabs and Middle Eastern people as monolithic societies. The xenophobic right sees them as nothing but evil incarnate and the left sees them as being angelically perfect beings who can no no wrong. People on both sides do more harm than good by holding such attitudes. Leftist accusations of Islamophobia are extremely damaging because some Arab atheists, as well as some Muslim human rights activists, have been shunned and attacked by the left, using the epithet of Islamophobia to shut down conversations about human rights abuses in Islamic countries. This is inherently racist, preventing people in Arab nations from defending the rights of women, racial minorities, and LGBTQ people by forbidding discussion on these issues in the name of tolerance. These problems can never be solved if people, especially the people who are affected by them, are silenced in the name of tolerating Islam. A lot of Arab atheists immigrate to the West so they can have more safety and freedom of choice, but then find themselves being hated by leftists for not being authentically Arab in their rejection of Islam. Being a marginalized person in any society is not easy, but it is worse when marginalized people get rejected by those who claim to defend marginalized people because they don’t fit into the stereotype they are supposed to inhabit.

Arabs Without God is worth reading because it gives an in-depth look at Arab societies from an alternate point of view, one that you may not get from any other source. Even if you aren’t interested in atheism or agnosticism, it gives another perspective on Arab societies that is unique and provocative. In conclusion, it must be said that Brian Whitaker is not concerned with converting Muslims or people of any other religion to become atheists or abandon their cultures. He clearly states that he has nothing against religious people. What he wants is for people to tolerate atheists and repect their freedom to choose, allowing them right to human dignity that they deserve. If that bothers you then you might be a bigger problem than any secular humanist ever has been. If your belief in religion is so strong then it shouldn’t bother you when others hold opposing beliefs. If it does, then you aren’t as secure in your faith as you think you are. 

 

Book Review

The Dream Palace Of the Arabs

by Fouad Ajami

     The Middle East is planet Earth’s permanent snafu. While the troubles there didn’t start in the 20^th century, it is clear that the Arabic lands since World War II have been a continuation of their turbulent past and a sad precursor for where they are heading in the future. Fouad Ajami takes a look at modern Arabia and shows how it relates to the ideologies of Arab intellectuals in The Dream Palace Of the Arabs.

The Arabian lands span an arc across the globe from western Africa to Iraq and the Arabian Peninsula in the east. Most of what Ajami writes about is in the middle of this region with the heart of it all being in Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. The work begins in post-World War II during the time of Arab Nationalism. Using the frustrating life of Syrian poet Khalil Hawi as an anchor for the narrative, Ajami shows where Arab Nationalism came from and why it failed. In the postwar world, Arab intellectuals were eager to break free from colonialism and European domination while they were simultaneously fascinated by European ideologies. Not just nationalism and modernism but also socialism, communism, capitalism, and even fascism became part of the intellectual lives of poets, novelists, college professors, and journalists. Any kind of “ism” that spread out of Europe at the time got embraced by this small class of educated people. It was Arab Nationalism and Pan-Arabism that eventually emerged as the most dominant forces. Pan-Arabism failed in its attempt to unite all the Arabic people under one ethnic umbrella, be they Muslim, Christian, Jew, or anything else. Tribalism and sectarianism proved to be stronger markers of identity than ethnicity. Regional differences were too vast and Arab Nationalism took over. Arab intellectuals pushed people to unite within national boundaries; it embraced the blood and soil element in fascism This was doomed to failure too because of so many sectarian differences. In addition a lot of Arabic people hated their leaders, making nationalism a dim hope. The dreams of Arabic unity shattered and Khalil Hawi committed suicide in despair.

Ajami continues on with Middle Eastern history in tandem with the poets Nizar Qabbani and Adonis. This section covers the time period from the 1960s or so up until the Gulf War when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. Both poets continued on expressing their desire for Arab unity and their muted disgruntlement with the growing autocracy amongst Arab politicians. Three majr events disillusioned Arab intellectuals even further. One was the Iranian Revolution, the time when the Persian, non-Arab Muslims asserted themselves as the world leaders of Muslim ideology and political power. Even worse, the Iranians were predominantly Shia and this set off a long series of clashes between Sunni and Shia Muslims in the Arabic lands. The next big obstacle to Arab unity was the oil industry boom on the Arabian Peninsula and the rise of the petrodollar. Suddenly Saudis, Emiratis, Kuwatitis, and Qataris saw themselves as richer and superior to the other people of poorer Arabic nations and they didn’t hesitate to show it. Then the rise of Saddam Hussein in Iraq dealt another blow to the intellectual’s dream of Arab unity. Iraq lost the war when they invaded Iran and when Hussein invaded Kuwait, the Saudis brought in America to fight off the attack. The impression left on the artists and scholars was that Arabic people were too weak to handle their own affairs and, even worse, members of their own ethnic group couldn’t be trusted or relied upon. A sense of dismay set in.

Ajami also goes into brief details about the Lebanese Civil War in the 1980s. Up until that time, the west end of Beirut was akin to the Sorbonne in Paris with chic cafes and the presence of the universities. It was a haven for progressive, upwardly mobile Middle Eastern people. Then the Palestinians invaded southern Lebanon and tried to force the Marontie Christians off their ancestral homeland. The Palestinians lost, but progressed onward to West Beirut and merged with the Iran-backed Hezbollah. West Beirut turned into a ghetto dominated by street gangs of Palestinian and Shia thugs. Anti-intellectualism went on the rise in the Middle East from then on.

Ajami move on to an analysis of Egypt in the eras of Anwar Sadat and Hosni Mubarak. Egypt, along with the rest of the Arabic nations, began a decline into autocratic governments, punishment for intellectuals who challenged their authority, and a rise in anti-Jewish conspiracy theories, political Islam, and Islamic fundamentalism. The lives of Egyptian intellectuals became dampened by governmental persecution and terrorist attacks from fanatical Muslims, some of which were deadly. Ajami is actually quite sympathetic to Sadat, especially because of his efforts to make peace with Israel, but he is also critical of the increasingly totalitarian nature of his government. Ajami has no sympathy at all for Hosni Mubarak.

The final section of this book examines the role that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has in shaping the intellectual life, or I should say the anti-intellectualism, of contemporary Arabic society. While acknowledging the tragic displacement of the Palestinian people, Ajami is also critical of the way Arabs, particularly journalists and Muslim fascists have turned anti-Zionism into their primary ideology since the 1990s. He points out that Shimon Peres and Yitzhak Rabin did everything they could to make peace with their neighbors, most of which, like the Jordanian royal family and the Egyptian government, had a low opinion of the Palestinians from the start, even laying claim to the land that is now owned by Israel. There was a time when Jordan claimed Palestine as their own territory and even denied that Palestinians had a right to their own nationality. Ajami also points out how Arabs turned against their leaders like Sadat and both King Abdullahs from Jordan for trying to make peace with Israel. He even points out how much Arabs hated Yasser Arafat for agreeing to the current borders of Gaza and the West Bank in a pragmatic attempt to prevent further wars with Israel. But the fascisitc elements in the Middle East got their way and the result has been a never ending cycle of attack and counter-attack in the so-called Holy Land ever since.

Fouad Ajami’s whole concept of The Dream Palace Of the Arabs is that Arabic intellectuals have been chasing after utopian solutions to their problems. When one naive ideology fails they move on to another naive ideology. Now these intellectuals have run out of ideologies and a lot of the poets have degenerated into writing vicious screeds against the Jews or retreating into a comforting and toothless womb of sentimental love poetry with no political ambition at all. Ajami’s writing is roundabout and never direct, but if you follow his argument carefully, you realize he is making an argument pragmatism. That means working with what you have within the realms of the possible. Arabs might not like the political choices they have, but if they are the only choices it is wise to do the best with what is there. Progress only happens in stages anyways. No savior or messiah is going to come and put eveything in order. No war is ever going to create stability or independence.

After living in the Middle East, I can supplement Ajami’s argument with my own observations regarding the anti-Jewish rhetoric and conspiracy theories that run rampant in the region. Arabic people have legitimate grievances against their autocratic governments, but censorship is heavy and criticizing their leaders is extremely dangerous. It is my contention that these politicians encourage the hatred of Jewish people and Israelis as a valve for releasing psychological pressures resulting from frustrated political desires while at the same time serving as a deflection away from the governments that are the actual source of people’s anger. It’s better for the government if people hate the Jews rather than the politicians. The unintended consequence is that instead of endangering the stability of Israel, the stability of the entire world is at risk due to radicalization and terrorism in the Arabian lands.

Fouad Ajami has a compelling perspective on the Arab intellectual and Arabic society in general. The worst thing I have to say about this book is that his indirect style of making an argument can be frustrating for the reader at times. While he has a definite point to prove, he never states it clearly and directly so that the effect is a kind of wishy-washy dance around what he wants to say. That indirect style may be the result of living under a repressive political regime, but then again it may just be the way people communicate in the Middle East, or maybe it is a little of both. There are also times when he includes references to literary works by Arabic authors simply because they are known outside the Middle East and not necessarily because their works lend anything of immediate value to Ajami’s thesis.

The Dream Palace Of the Arabs may not arrive at the conclusion that Arabic people want to hear. I imagine some people will uncritically hate this book simply because Fouad Ajami wants Arabs to have peaceful relations with Israel whereas he sees that politicians and journalists are making the situation worse for Palestinians, not better. I think what he has to say should be heard because the wars in the Middle East are resulting, so far, in nothing but eternal warfare. Simply put, Ajami is saying that Arabs need to get their feet on the ground, get their heads out of the clouds, overthrow the dictators, and come up with a better way to solve problems. It is a bitter pill for some to swallow, if they even bother to swallow it, but it is something that needs to be said anyhow. 

 

Book Review

Let's Go Play At the Adams'

by Mendal W. Johnson

     When the cats are away the mice will play. When Mr. and Mrs. Adams go on vacation for a week, their two children are left behind with a babysitter. What could possibly go wrong? Those darling little angels would never do something terrible like torture the babysitter, now would they? Forgive me for begging the question and spoiling the entire plot before analyzing the main theme of the book. However, I do have to say that Mendal W. Johnson’s Let’s Go Play At the Adams’ has a bit more meaning than one might expect from a horror novel.

The plot is as thin as it can possibly be. Bobbby and Cindy Adams, 13 and 10 years old respectively, stay at home with their babysitter Barbara in their house in idyllic rural Maryland. Barbara is an attractive college student, a member of the swimming team, and ambitious to become a teacher. The two kids call their friends over to play. John is sixteen, slightly overweight and may or may not make the varsity football team depending on how things go. Dianne is eighteen, awkward, shy, and book smart but naive in the ways of the world. She coddles her young brother Paul who is thirteen and mentally ill. Dianne understands him much better than their parents do. Together they have a club called the Freedom Five that engages in adventure games like playing at war or cowboys and Indians; sometimes the games involve bondage and simulated torture. So when Bobby and Cindy are left under the care of Barbara for a week, the next step is obvious. They tie her to a bed and torture her to death. Then they pin the crime on a creepy Spanish-speaking migrant worker who lurks in the woods near the house. That’s it. That’s the whole story. But the plot isn’t the purpose of the book.

Mendal Johnson writes in the third person omniscient, meaning the novel is written so that the reader has access to the subjectivity of every character. This is significant because the thoughts and perceptions of the characters are key elements in the building of suspense. Barbara, the victim in this game, is given equal weight in relation to the others in terms of character building. As she lies awake all night, bound to a bed and gagged, she tries to understand why this is happening to her. The internal monologue turns into a dialogue when she imagines her college-friend Terry by her side, explaining the situation to her. Terry is, of course, a projection of Barbara’s imagination. It is through Terry that we learn how Barbara is wracked by insecurities and blames herself for the torture. Terry later becomes instrumental in the narrative at the end of the book when the explanation for the torture is revealed. Along the way, Barbara bears a strong resemblance to Joseph K., the main character in Franz Kafka’s The Trial in that she feels she is being punished for something she cannot comprehend and the more she tries to find out why, the more elusive the answers get.

The other characters in the Freedom Five reveal themselves through their perceptions of Barbara. Although they make decisions by voting democratically, Dianne is the brains of the operation, the one who steers them along their course towards the eventual demise of Barbara. For her this is a power trip in which she practices her ability to dominate and control others. For John, the imprisonment of Barbara is an opportunity for him to overcome his insecurity, primarily sexual, in approaching women. Bobby is the one who has the most sympathy for Barbara, but his desires for her are purely based around principles of domination; he fantasizes about her as being a trained domestic animal, one that will always come back to him if he sets her free. He wants Barbara to be like a dog who runs after a stick that has been thrown and then obediently brings it back to their owner. Paul is little more than a mentally disturbed sadist and psychopath, while Cindy is merely the little ten year old girl who tags along with her big brother. Each of them has a specific purpose for doing what they do.

I believe that an important clue to interpreting this book lies in the name “Freedom Five” that the kids choose to give their club. It is exactly the kind of unimaginative and unoriginal title that children would choose for a secret organization given their age-related limited knowledge of the world. It serves as a reminder of how young they are, but more importantly it indicates the author’s intention of examining the nature of freedom. The idea of freedom entails the concept of being free from something and in this case the kids are free from their parents. Not only are the parents excluded from the club, but they are absent from the house while away on vacation. Occupying the space between childhood amd adulthood, the only obstacle to the freedom of choice that adults have is the babysitter Barbara. Therefore, she has to be removed, incapacitated, dominated, and controlled. They also see the world of adults as being an unhappy place. Adults have freedom and with that comes responsibility. Even worse, their lives look dull doing little more than going to work and arguing with each other. The Freedom Five see this as a last chance to experience complete freedom without the accompanying negativity of maturity.

With Barbara tied up and gagged so she can not give them orders, they are free to do whatever they want like staying up all night watching TV or eating all the ice cream, maybe even drinking milkshakes for breakfast. But this freedom isn’t as exciting as they expect it to be. In fact it is downright boring and they do have responsibilities like taking care of themselves and making sure Barabara doesn’t die. Therefore, they have to up the ante by making plans to torture Barbara to death. Most of the narrative tension revolves around the kids suggesting plans and deciding what to do while the reader is suspended in uncertainty, wondering if these things will really happen or if they will be successful or not. Most of the book hovers between light BDSM pulp crime fiction and existential allegory without tipping too far in either direction.

It is at the end and in the epilogue that the meaning of the story is brought out in full. It is surprising to learn that the Freedom Five actually admire Barbara. Her friend Terry is envious of her too as she explains during the final soliloquy. In their minds, Barbara is charming, attractive, intelligent, and talented. Even worse, she embodies all these qualities without making any effort. This is a poignant irony considering the earlier chapter when Barbara thinks about how insecure and awkward she feels. But in the end, perceptions are stronger motivators than reality. Besides, the Freedom Five are children who aren’t psychologically developed enough to understand the complex points of view of others. But in any case, Barbara represents their Ideal Person while they all feel inferior in her presence. So instead of making an effort to build their own characters and achieve a higher state of being, they decide to degrade and destroy their idol. They don’t raise their sense of self-worth by making self-improvements; they do so by tearing down another human being who they perceive to be better than them. All too often, this is the way the world works.

Mendal Johnson could be criticized for making this novel too subtle. On one hand, he shows restraint (haha, no pun intended) when describing the torture to avoid making this into some kind of sick fantasy. On the other hand, he understates the philosophical theme to avoid boring the audience by turning this into a lecture on how terrible it is to hurt people. After getting to the end, I thought the two sides, the form and the meaning, were actually perfectly balanced as soon as he drove the main idea home in Terry’s monologue. I just think that the novel suffers a little bit from too much understatement. He could have turned up the volume on both the torture scenes and the theoretical theme without failing to realize the novel’s intentions provided he emphasizes both aspects in equal measures.

In conclusion, Let’s Go Play At the Adams’ is not so much of a disturbing book as it as a depressing one. The bondage and torture are not so extreme that they make your stomach churn. In fact, the violence barely registers as more than some PG-13 rated horror schlock you would see at a drive-in theater. The commentary on the psychology of power, the nature of freedom, and the sick-mindedness of human society is a little more potent. I do think Mendal W. Johnson is successful in making a statement about human nature. I also think it says something about the time it was written in. Just after the Summer of Love and Woodstock, youth culture and ideologies of freedom were big parts of the zeitgiest. Like Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange, I think Let’s Go Plat At the Adams’ was partially intended to warn us about the dangers of letting young people have more freedom than they need. I have mixed feelings about that idea but I do think it something worthy of consideration.

If you just want to read something for cheap thrills or shock value, you won’t get much out of this book. But if your mind is subtle enough then the next time you wish for someone’s downfall. gloat over someone failure, laugh at someone stupidity, or think insulting thoughts about another person, even if you keep them to yourself, then remember the Freedom Five and ask yourself in honesty if there is something inside you that is just like those terrible kids who tortured Barbara.

 

Book Review

Arabia:

A Journey Through the Labyrinth

by Jonathan Raban

     As Jonathan Raban’s Arabia: A Journey Through the Labyrinth starts off, the author, while living in London, begins noticing immigrants in his neighborhood. Increasingly he sees more and more Arabs, particularly from the Gulf states of the Arabian Peninsula on the streets, opening up stores and restaurants, and moving into homes nearby. Not only are they more visible because of the traditional clothing they wear, but their insularity also sets them apart, speaking Arabic and little English. They also have seemingly endless amounts of cash. The Londoners are not happy about their presence, but are often too reserved to openly express their contempt so the Arabian people go about their business never knowing how derisive the English people are towards them. Jonathan Raban wanted to know more about these people so at the end of the 1970s, he goes on a prolonged sojourn around the outer edges of Arabia to learn whatever he can.

The travelogue does not get off to a strong start. Raban begins on the tiny island nation of Bahrain, a place like the other Gulf states where foreigners outnumber the native inhabitants. He barely has any contact with Bahraini people and spends most of his time socializing with expats, mostly contract workers and businessmen, who are there for the sake of making money, not out of appreciation for the culture. This is the least exciting chapter until he gets to Egypt.

Things pick up when Raban visits Qatar and the United Arab Emirates. He speaks with more of the local Arabic population, but mostly limits the discourses to government officials, bureaucrats, and businessmen. Other people he speaks with are nationals from the poorer Middle Eastern countries and the Indian subcontinent, all who are there because they are ambitions and tired of living in impoverished countries where their professional skills are going to waste. He also meets a group of Qatari artists employed by the Ministry of Fine Arts to help recreate an imaginary traditional past through the medium of fake folk art. One playwright suffers from severe writer’s block because everything he puts down on paper gets rejected by the ministry cesnors, saying his works are potentially offensive to government officials. It is a good example of how authoritarianism kills creativity.

While skirting around the eastern edge of Arabia, the influence of the oil boom and the expanding economy is transforming the region. Skyscrapers are being built and foreigners are flooding these small emerging nations. The lifestyles, the technology, and the banking systems are changing. Saudis are everywhere with their oversize wads of cash and their indulgence in vices that are forbidden in their home country. Anomie and social dislocation are rampant as menial workers, local citizens, and Bedu tribes-people sink deeper into the pits of poverty while money gets funneled by the ton into the hands of the well-connected. Raban captures the atmosphere and scenery of desert kingdoms with rapidly expanding economies effectively. He arrives and writes at the right time to capture a transitional moment in the Middle East when traditions are fading away and hyper-modernity is rushing in.

And then we get a completely different picture of the Arabian Peninsula when he flies to Sana’a, Yemen, then travels on to Egypt and Jordan. The chapter on Yemen was the best in the book, partly because it is the only country I did not visit when traveling in the Gulf states, but also because he gets so up close and personal with the local people in ways he doesn’t in the previous three countries. While the oil industry is fast-tracking the center and eastern countries of Arabia into the modern age, Yemen is mired in poverty. Yemen is, however, experiencing an economic boom of its own since so many Yemenis go to the richer Gulf states as guest workers and send remittences back home to their families, something that is raising the standards of living for the poorest of all the Middle Eastern countries while not being sufficient to take the country to the next level. Sana’a is described as dirty, noisy, disorienting, and often surreal. The kyat-chewing locals are hospitable and rude in equal measures. Raban experiences some of the best times with impoverished but ambitious young men who go out of their way to explain their isolated country to him. Then he comes close to witnessing a public execution with a carnivalesque atmosphere, feeling confused as whole families eat snacks and take photos, cheering and singing as if they are at a circus while political revolutionaries are blown to pieces by machine gun fire in a public market. For interesting travel stories, this is one that can’t be beat, even if Raba does leave the scene befor the real action begins.

Raban’s visit to Egypt is a real letdown. He treats the city of Cairo as if it is little more than a big red light district full of clueless, airheaded western tourists. Spending almost no time with ordinary Egyptians, he prefers to frequent casinos, go-go bars, and brothels which are almost exclusively packed with men from Saudi Arabia. From what he sees, Raban concludes that Saudis aren’t much fun, even when they are spending all their money on poker, prostitutes, and liquor. It is an interesting insight, but considering how much Egypt has to offer for travelers, this passage falls far short of expectations. If I were Egyptian, I would not be happy with this representation of the country.

Jordan is a different matter as Raban is surprised to see how comfortably the people live despite their miniscule GDP. He hooks up with members at all socio-economic levels of society, encounters its semi-thriving but kitschy art scene, and is shocked when he visits a Palestinian refugee camp to see how comfortably the people are living there.

Jonathan Raban never visits Kuwait, Oman, Saudi Arabia, or any other Arabic country in the Middle East, nor does he visit South Yemen which is dominated by a communist government at the time of writing.

While there are a lot of interesting passages in this book, and some great descriptions as well, alongside some often sarcastic and snarky humor, there are some parts of the book that just don’t work. He sometimes lapses into confused abstractions that make him sound like a drunk muttering to himself in a bar. The chapter on Bahrain was nearly pointless in terms of what Raban set out to accomplish. I will admit though that his impression of Manama was no different than my own in the dozen or so times I visited that country. I even visited the same British social club he writes about. It is still there on the outskirts of Manama to this day. The chapter on Egypt is embarrassing. It is hard to believe he thought it was fit to be included. The other chapters were well-done though and really capture a moment in history that is now past. I really do wish he had visited Saudi Arabia and Oman.

Arabia is an interesting, if erratic and uneven, portrait of the social atmosphere of the Gulf states while the oil boom is beginning to transform the whole region and the whole world along with it. Raban wrote this at the beginning of the Lebanese civil war, before Iraq invaded Iran and Kuwait, before the Burj al-Arab and the Burj Khalifa were built in Dubai, before 9/11, before the Arab Spring, and before glitzy high-end shopping malls began competing with the mosques as centers of Arabian culture. It portrays a world that is no longer with us, but is not too distant as to be incomprehensible. As for the conversations Jonathan Raban had with the people he met, I can tell you after having lived in Saudi Arabia myself that if he were to revisit his journey at this current time, he would find that nothing much has changed in terms of what people would say to him. My biggest complaint about this book is that Jonathan Raban provides a superficial understanding of the Arabian Peninsula; if he had spent more time there, getting to know people on a more intimate level, his perceptions would be different, in some ways more positive and in other ways not so much.  

 

Book Review

The Levant Trilogy

by Olivia Manning

     It’s the return of Guy and Harriet Pringle. Olivia Manning’s The Levant Trilogy picks up where her brilliant The Balkan Trilogy leaves off. The Pringles, a married young couple, arrive in Egypt after escaping from Nazi-occupied Greece in the middle of World War II. One obvious thing from the start is that they haven’t changed and their relationship continues to drift aimlessly like it has all along.

After their arrival in Cairo, Guy gets his dream job, working for the colonial British Legation as the director of an English department. Harriet also goes to work at the American embassy. They get put up in an apartment building supplied by the British embassy with rooms for U.K. expatriates. Harriet’s social life revolves around the residents there while Guy continues on living a separate existence with his group of friends who are considered to be bums by most people’s estimates. The two groups get connected through an unlikely coupling of Harriet’s erratic friend Angela and Guy’s alcoholic friend Castlebar.

Also a subplot gets introduced with Simon, a young English military officer who has just arrived in Egypt. Rommel’s forces are progressing across North Africa towards the Suez Canal and the Allies fight them off. Simon is ambitious, vowing to revenge the death of his brother until he gets injured and forced to spend time under medical care in Cairo. That is where he develops a friendship with Guy Pringle. Psychologically, Simon goes through a process of confronting the ephemeral nature of life during wartime and the often unpredictable loss of the people around him.

While The Levant Trilogy is not specifically about gender roles, there is an obvious and overriding preoccupation with the gulf between men and women throughout the narrative. With the exceptions of Simon and the kindly bachelor Dobson, the colonial bureaucrat working at the British embassy, the men in this book are portrayed as being selfish and self-absorbed. Guy’s group of heavy drinking friends are crude and irresponsible. Harriet’s friend Edwina also chases after men who use her and then abandon her. Even the Egyptian natives treat women as if women are not intelligent enough to understand the intellectual world of men.

Guy is at the center of all this. While Harriet makes every effort she can to spend time with him, he routinely ignores her, treats her like she is less important than his job and his peers, and even refuses to take day trips to the pyramids and other sites which he thinks of as tacky and of trivial importance. Later in the book, when Guy mistakenly thinks Harriet has died, Edwina tries to win his heart and asks him out to dinner. She dresses up in her most elegant clothes and Guy insists on going to a grubby, low class restaurant because he knows his friends will be there. Without even realizing that Edwina is putting the moves on him, he abandons her, leaving her to take a taxi home alone while Guy goes off to drink. The problem isn’t that Guy is cruel or heartless; he just doesn’t acknowledge that women are anything other than ornaments or pets. Guy’s vision is flawed, literally and symbolically. He wears glasses because of near-sightedness, but he is also myopic in his outlook on life. He often can not see the obvious or what is right in front of his face. The bigger picture always seems to elude his recognition. Even his optimism is naive and unnerving to the point where Harrier sometimes worries about his safety.

Guy isn’t entirely bad either. He goes out of his way to help anybody in need. His dedication to helping the downtrodden is admirable to a fault since he is unable to see that the people he helps are merely using him, usually to get meals or, more importantly, alcohol. But Guy shows what he is capable of in his friendship with Simon, offering him unconditional emotional support during his recovery from his injury. Despite all of Guy’s maddening shortcomings, it is hard not to admire his good nature and good intentions. This is the kind of nuanced characterization that makes Olivia Mannin’g work so powerful.

On other the other hand, everything wrong with Guy’s relationship to Harriet is signified by the brooch that Angela gives to Harriet as a gift. The diamond-studded heart design looks gaudy to Guy who takes it away from Harriet, telling her he wants to give to Edwina as a gift. When Harriet tells him she wants to keep it because it means something special to her, he tells her she doesn’t really want it anyways because it is so tacky. He has no consideration for her feelings or for his own conduct. This eventually leads to Harriet leaving him. Edwina later gives the brooch back to Guy, he puts it away and forgets about it and when he finds it again later, he can’t even remember where it came from. The brooch’s cycle of possession among the four people shows how oblivious he is to the presence and subjectivity of the women he associates with. To him, they are insubstantial, meaningless, and easy to forget.

Harriet gives up on Guy and leaves for destinations farther east. She heads off for Syria, meets up with Angela and Castlebar in Lebanon, and the three of them head off to Jerusalem. Guy mistakenly thinks Harriet has died and when she finds this out we learn that the separation causes the two of them to realize how much they love each other. Harriest also learns how to be more independent. The ending is more Victorian than Modern, leaving something to be desired and not entirely credible. It does provide closure to the whole saga though.

Like The Balkan Trilogy, the strongest point here is in the character building and the way the people interact. Almost through the use of dialogue along, each member of the story takes on a unique life of their own that stays consistent throughout the whole book. You can feel like you personally know each of them and it is easy to identify with Harriet, seeing the world through her eyes no matter what your gender may be. It is a portrait of a flawed humanity that gently reminds us that we need to accept people as they are and find a way to be comfortable with that. Harriet can not fix Guy’s ignorance, but she can find a way to deal with it and make the best of their imperfect relationship. Olivia Manning’s writing also makes it clear what it feels like to live in a male dominated world where women are seen but not heard and, most of the time, hardly even seen. And her writing never degenerates into bitterness or misanthropy. There is a certain kind of resignation to the characters’ imperfections, a certain kind of patience that reminds us of the need to tolerate people’s imperfections rather than wasting our lives trying to change people who don’t want to be changed.

Compared to The Balkan Trilogy, this was a little bit of a let down. In the previous novels, the encroaching Nazi menace that followed Guy and Harriet as they bumbled through life barely holding their marriage together made the whole narrative that much more unsettling. But here, while they reside in Cairo, the Nazis and the Allies fight off in the distance of the desert. While some passages depict Simon in combat, the story of Guy and Harriet continues on in its day to day routines while the war is little more than rumors and some distant noise in the background. There isn’t much dramatic tension between the two strands of the story line and that makes for some less exciting reading. Also, by replacing the subplot of the parasitical and unforgettable Yakimov with the subplot of Simon’s struggles, a lot of the tension in this second cycle of novelettes is lost as well.

The Levant Trilogy may be slightly less engaging than The Balkan Trilogy, but if you’ve read that one first, then The Levant Trilogy does a sufficient job of tying up the loose threads of Guy and Harriet’s marriage. If anything, if you are a male reader it will open your eyes to the way some women might see their marriages in a way that no other novel can. And if you are a woman, you might be able to relate. Of course, there are a lot of other themes in the book, but you just have to read it to experience it all. It is an easy book to read and understand; like Kurt Vonnegut said, “Writing something that is easy to read is the most difficult thing a writer can do.” Olivia Manning has mastered the art of writing something that is easy to follow without sacrificing depth, complexity, or insight. This is an excellent achievement.