A Truth Revealed

I once was an Ian McEwan fan.  His most famous novel, Atonement, speaks of our deep need for forgiveness.  It’s the story of a woman who, as a child, committed a selfish and spiteful act of deception which set in motion a devastating chain of events that severed family ties and destroyed the lives of people she cared about. Most unsettling is the way the story takes place in a world where her sin cannot be atoned for and the protagonist is left to reconcile her misdeeds by creating an alternative history of events, in which the adversity and trauma caused by her own actions is not fatal.  A happy ending is engineered, but in the final pages we are left to swallow the bitter pill of an unforgiving universe where some sins can never be forgiven. 

After Atonement, I read other McEwan novels, and was always taken by both his prose and his storytelling.  I was particularly moved by the haunting and simple Saturday, an account of a single harrowing day in the life of a family in post-Sept. 11 London.  But eventually, I grew weary with McEwan’s work gifted though he is.  His view of the world seemed too bleak, the weight of the darkness too heavy.

I would venture that this worldview grows out of his own belief about the role of religion in public life. Painting with a broad brush, he has been quoted as saying “Faith is at best morally neutral, and at worst a vile mental distortion. Our habits are to respect people of faith, but I think we’ve been forced to question those habits. The powers of sweet reason look a lot more attractive post-9/11 than the beckonings of faith, and I no longer put them on equal scales.”  My disagreements with these sweeping conclusions are too numerous to mention in this writing, but they do help explain his gloomy view of the world. 

But I was intrigued by his reaction to being awarded a prestigious prize at the annual Jerusalem International Book Fair.  It’s fashionable in contemporary Britain, and in much of Europe, amongst left-wing academics and artists to identify with the Palestinian cause in a way that is very one-sided. Boycotts are encouraged and visits to Israel are frowned upon. McEwan came under pressure to refuse a trip to Israel to receive the award, but he chose another path. 

In defending his decision to receive the honor in Jerusalem, he argued for engagement with those with whom you disagree.  And he most caught my attention when he observed, "I don't think Israel can prosper unless Palestine prospers."  An astute observation, and one that is equally true in the converse.  Israel cannot prosper until Palestine prospers, and Palestine cannot prosper until Israel prospers.  This is a truth many would rather avoid. But a solution to the long-running conflict can only be found in acknowledging both sides nationalistic claims and the deep and historic connections all three Abrahamic faith communities have to a place they each deem holy.  It further requires recognizing the legitimate needs of both Palestinians and Israelis to attain at least proximate justice, to live in peace and security, and to have their inherent dignity respected by the other.  

The novelist is at his best when he circumvents the ideological and other debris that clutter our hearts and minds and reveals to us a truth about ourselves and the world we live in.  McEwan endeavors to do this with his work, and he writes thoughtfully of the human experience, though in the end his readers are often left with a profound sense of meaningless and despair.  But in recognizing the interconnectedness of Israelis and Palestinians, he glimpses a vision of a more flourishing world built on mutuality, and in this he reveals to us an important truth.

Last Friday at the UN

Last Friday, the Obama Administration exercised its first veto in the UN Security Council.  In fact, this is the first time since 2006 the US has availed itself of this privilege which is reserved for permanent members of the Security Council.  A single veto is sufficient to prevent action.  The resolution in question had the support of the other 14 members of the Security Council.

Having been inside the government when decision like this are made, I have been reluctant to be too critical.  Many factors must be considered.  Our influence has weakened.  The Palestinians forced our hand.  Policymakers juggle competing demands and they operate in an imperfect world.  The most thoughtful will attempt to find the appropriate balance between the pursuit of American ideals and universal values on the one hand and naked self-interest on the other, realizing that ultimately, the latter is best served when we adhere most closely to the former.  In the end both our words and our deeds have consequences. 

What transpired last week is barely noticed in the U.S., but it scream across the front pages of the Middle East. If American wanted to act in its own interest, and if it wanted to be a true friend to Israel, there was a powerful argument to be made in favor of at least abstaining in the UNSC vote. The resolution is consistent with US policy, and our ambassador to the UN, Susan Rice, was left with the unenviable task of explaining the nearly inexplicable:  We agree with the substance of the resolution, but we disagree with the UNSC as the appropriate forum to discuss the issue.  To do so, our argument goes, would undermine efforts to restart direct negotiations between the parties. 

Perhaps there’s an argument to be made here about the utility of taking this to the Security Council, but to suggest that this makes it difficult to get the Israelis back to the table falters on at least two fronts: 1. Unless the Administration is on the verge of performing a diplomatic miracle, I see no way under the sun that this Israeli government will seriously seek a deal with the Palestinians at this moment, given the regional climate and 2. If the vote justification is based on the way this impacts the potential for direct negotiations, you could also say that, conversely, you can't get the Palestinians back to the table unless you pass a resolution, particularly in light of the way in which the Palestine Papers leak exposed the Palestinian negotiators as having been very willing to compromise on sensitive issues.  Add to that the Arab world uprising and you can argue that Palestinian leaders can in no way afford to enter back in to a negotiations process that allows the Israeli policies and actions on settlements to continually undermine the potential for a compromise while the "negotiations" are going on.  

And then there’s this: People in the Middle East see the settlement issue as one of fundamental fairness--an issue of justice.  In this moment of regional upheaval, our veto undermines our ability to talk about issues and values we believe in.  Our muddled veto justification has no credibility.  

But I also know how difficult these things are for policymakers.  To exercise a veto would have created a domestic brush fire which the Administration obviously wanted to avoid.  Many would have accused the President of selling out another friend, and not just any other friend, but one often defined as our only true ally in the Middle East.  And maybe the Administration was right to avoid the domestic fight, but our action is strangely disconnected from the roiling streets of the Middle East and the cries for justice in the region.  And we should likewise be clear that neither US interests, nor Israeli interests were served.  Nor were the values we all claim to hold dear.

Sweeping the Streets of Cairo and Becoming Responsible Actors in History

Having traveled a fair amount in the Middle East the past few years, one of the things that’s always troubled me is the garbage. Inadequate trash collection services, a symptom of unresponsive and unaccountable governments, are a part of the answer, but I’ve also seen too many people carelessly drop their litter in the street and been frustrated by the way in which these individual acts have led to a collective scar on communities and the landscape. 

And now comes this story from my morning newspaper: "In Tahrir, Cleanup Crews Herald New Day."   Having swept away their president for life, and with fresh hopes that their land has been cleansed of the repression and corruption which were a part of his long reign, the protestors and their sympathizers have now turned out in Cairo’s Tahrir Square to celebrate their achievement by cleaning up.  From the Reuters wire story we hear this: “For the first time in my life, I feel like the street is mine,” a 30 year old female engineer says as she worked to clean up litter left behind after nearly three weeks of protests.  People of all ages reportedly wore vests emblazoned with “Proudly Cleaning Egypt” on the back. Other accounts indicated that thousands came out armed with "brooms, shovels, and trash bags." Well, it really is a new day in Cairo.  

Contained in these individual and communal acts are the political seeds of responsibility and democratic self-governance.  As the Czech playwright, revolutionary, and statesman Vaclav Havel has said  “Genuine politics -- even politics worthy of the name -- the only politics I am willing to devote myself to -- is simply a matter of serving those around us: serving the community and serving those who will come after us. Its deepest roots are moral because it is a responsibility expressed through action, to and for the whole.”  The dissident philosopher who led his country's Velvet Revolution against Communism is one of the world's most insightful voices on the power of a group of people who assume responsibility for themselves and their collective story.     

With history as a guide, we all have reason to worry about whether or not the legitimate grievances of the Egyptian protestors will be met, whether their genuine hopes to live in a more fair, just and flourishing society will be fulfilled.  But it is important to note that the rising of a people which has captivated the world in recent days is entirely an Egyptian production, free from outside instigation or influence, and one of the best hints that things may turn out all right in the end lies in the newly clean streets of Cairo.

Another Year

For this week's date night, my wife and I took in a British film at our local theater.  Another Year is from an original screenplay by director Mike Leigh.  It's the story of the happy marriage of Tom and Gerri Hepple, late middle age empty nesters whose easy relationship has the effect of elevating their home to a sort of sanctuary.  Their warm and comfortable world holds attraction for a number of friends and family whose lives are a dysfunctional mess.  Chief among these is Gerri's co-worker Mary, a character sure to provoke a little ire by ardent feminists.  Mary married young, divorced, then devoted herself to a married man until he brought an end to their affair.  She is now in mid-life, working as a secretary in a public health clinic, living in a tiny flat, with no one to go on holiday with and no extra money if she did.  She bemoans her lonely state, her financial plight, and the poor hand she feels she's been dealt.  Gerri is kind to her friend, perhaps even pities her on some level, but can't help but note that Mary has made her own choices and is now living with their consequences.

Mike Leigh is apparently known for capturing authentic slices of the lives of Londoners and judging by this film his reputation is well deserved.   English eccentricities abound but never devolve into caricature.

The story is told in four sections, for each of the seasons of the year.   We first encounter Tom and Gerri working the soil in their "allotment," their tiny plot in a communal garden.  They work together in harmony here, as they do in the kitchen and seemingly everywhere, but the careful way in which they tend to their garden season by season is a beautiful metaphor for the way in which they have cultivated their own marriage relationship and the fruit it has borne.  The film attempts to illustrate this point by introducing in the final section, the winter season, Tom's brother Ronnie Hepple whose wife has just died.  We are quick to learn that Ronnie's marriage was not of the same sort as Tom's.  Both brothers have only one son, and Tom and Gerri's 30-year-old Joe dutifully reports with his family to visit Ronnie in his grief, but Ronnie's own son, Carl, unseen for two years, is nowhere to be found until the priest pronounces the final prayer book funeral benediction.  He arrives only to argue with his father and the rest of the small group of mourners, an angry man and the product of an unhappy union.  Likewise, aside from Tom, Gerri and Joe, only three mourners show up for Ronnie's wife's funeral, and his home is nothing like the haven of the other Hepple brother. 

The film is a beautiful picture of a happy marriage, the easy companionship it brings, and the attraction it holds for others. We are never let too far inside this contented couple's lives, and whatever difficulties they weathered on the road to such tranquility are hidden from our view.  But we see the pull of a home filled with love and acceptance, with people who truly know each other and live in harmony.  Such a place is indeed a sanctuary, and a picture of what so many long for and of what the family is meant to be.

Egypt After the Fall

There’s nearly a breathlessness attached to the speed with which events are unfolding in the Middle East.

For those who have traveled there through the years, there is, on the one hand, no surprise that the weight of the years of repression, corruption and stagnation finally gave way. Middle Easterners, like all of us, desire to live in just, free and flourishing societies.  But the size of the demonstrations, the commitment to nonviolent protest, and all with very little obvious leadership, is both shocking and inspiring. 

Of course, not all popular uprisings end with the creation of a better society, in spite of the legitimate grievances that may prompt them. The question now is whether the moment we are in is more akin to Iran in 1979 or Eastern Europe in 1989. There are those among us who already fear the worst—a takeover in Egypt by radical Islamists who will unleash a campaign of persecution against the sizable Christian minority, impose a draconian version of Islamic law, abrogate the Egyptian peace agreement with Israel, and assume a hostile position toward the United States.  

But it feels so much more like those heady and unbelievable days in the winter of 1989 when sclerotic Soviet-style communism, dissonant as it was with the moral universe, collapsed in spectacular fashion on television as we all watched in amazement.  As Condoleezza Rice, whom I served under at the State Department, is fond of reminding us: what once seemed impossible now seems inevitable. And this is a bit what it feels like watching the people of Egypt and the greater Middle East march peacefully in their own streets, openly defying security officials in ways most had scarcely dared dream of just a few weeks ago. 

So while the worst is far from inevitable, the path to a more free and open society will not be easy.  One legacy of President Mubarak is the way in which he forbade the development of civil society and political opposition parties, except within the confines of the mosque, which gives the Muslim Brotherhood an organizational advantage.  And there is historical precedent for organized minorities seizing the reins of power in periods of transition or chaos. 

So what should the United States do?  First, we should remember that what’s happening in the streets of Cairo is not about us (and neither is it about Israel).  Second, this is an important time to be reminded of the peril we court when our foreign policy neglects to remain true to our fundamental values.  I cannot say it any better than President Bush’s former speechwriter Mike Gerson who in the Washington Post offered this:  “Democratic revolutions can be defeated by violence or co-opted by radicals. But again, we are seeing that it is neither principled nor prudent for America to base its strategies in the Middle East on the denial of rights we value.” 

When we ignore the legitimate grievances of oppressed people and side with their authoritarian rulers in the name of our own self-interest, we should not be surprised when the downtrodden, after throwing off their chains, see our actions as betrayal of the very principles we claim to hold dear.  Maintaining fidelity to “inalienable truths” is no easy task in a fallen world, but to the extent that we can in humility reflect them in word and deed, we are the better for it.