Against All Enemies: Inside America’s War on Terror
By Richard A. Clarke
Free Press. New York, NY. 2004. 291 pages
Reading “Against All Enemies” was more of an involved experience than reading other books that currently find themselves on my rotation. It’s neither in the camp of engaging narrative nor instructional description. Reading this book felt more like a one-sided conversation with someone more knowledgeable in their field than myself. The author’s got a very conversational written voice.
That’s both the strength and weakness of the monograph. The former National Coordinator for Security, Infrastructure Protection and Counterterrorism is someone who knows his material through personal experience, rather than through the historian’s craft. Clarke’s assertions are made upon personal authority rather than carefully footnoted references and his conclusions are drawn by reason alone. This makes his work more a testimonial of his experiences at the terrorism desk with four presidents, and his frustrations with the Second Bush Administration.
The main crux of the book is to tell two stories, either of which would be interesting on its own. The first is about the War on Terrorism, the discovery of Al-Qaida, the hunt for Bin-Laden, the September 11th Attacks and War on Afghanistan. The second is about the discord in the White House.
The litany of names and abbreviations to remember are difficult without a quick reference section which would have seriously helped the book. The book came out in 2004 and was timed to embarrass George W. Bush during the election against John Kerry, much like the Michael Moore film “Fahrenheit 911.” Like the film, the book has nothing positive to say about Kerry and functions instead as an attack on Bush. Clarke has little bad to say about Bush on a personal level (unlike the choice commentary reserved for Paul Wolfowitz and John Ashcroft) but focuses more on the generally hostile relationship between the elected executive staff and the permanent bureaucracy.
Clarke came to the White House under Reagan, was promoted under George H. W. Bush and came to the fore under Bill Clinton. Like many technocrats who enjoyed the favour of Clinton, he had difficulty acquiring the trust of the incoming Bush cadre. It’s quite obvious the respect and admiration with which he held former President Clinton.
His personal anecdotes of the first three presidents are interesting, especially when considering how de-politicized they were. Elections aren’t discussed, presidents come and go as though they were managers transferred from other departments. The revolving door of Secretaries of State and other advisors is a little hard to keep track of for someone who hasn’t been paying attention to politics for a long time. It’s important to remember that while policies change with newly elected factions, the departments that implement those policies represent a relatively stable group of professional civil servants. The breakdown of the relationship between the executive and the bureaucracy is a central theme in book and one that should noted by anyone looking at the trials and tribulations of the Bush years.
As someone who’s read many books and articles, heard many lectures and debates on the topic of the War on Terror, it was refreshing to read from someone who never thought to include any sociological caveats. He doesn’t bother to try and explain Islam, radical Islam, Islam in America or any such topic. He doesn’t vilify Muslims or try to mollify sensitive emotions by talking about the past glories of Islamic civilization. He assumes that the reader is mature enough to understand that Osama Bin Laden is bad but that doesn’t mean that you should go and give the swarthy-looking guy two cubicles over a rough time. It was refreshing not to be condescended to.
In the wake of the book’s original publication, there were predictable criticisms of it. Walter Pincus from The Washington Post and Louis Freech of the FBI both recalled conversations differently than were recorded in the book, but I tend to consider that two people rarely recall the same event in the same way, and I’d hope that the passages were chronicled around at least a kernel of truth. Dick Cheney said that Clarke was “out of the loop” by September 11th, 2001 and didn’t have a reliable insider opinion to put forth on the administration, while Condoleezza Rice made the opposite claim, saying that he was in the loop and trying to deflect blame for security shortfalls that led to the day’s events. Were Cheney correct, and the chief counter-terrorism advisor to the National Security Council was on the outs and not consulted prior to, during or immediately after the September 11th attacks, that certainly raises some questions. I imagine that the reality is that Clarke was frustrated at not being listened to, and that he did feel part of the blame for the monstrous security lapse on that day. At the end of the day, the lapse of security on that day was an institutional failure, not an individual’s. Clarke is trying to carry a sword and defend the honour of his institution.
The last section of the book, entitled “Right War, Wrong War” deals with the wars in Afghanistan (right war) and Iraq (wrong war.) He claims that the Bush regime dishonestly associated the Saddam Hussein regime in Iraq with the attacks, and neglected the fight against Al-Qaida in Afghanistan in favour of unfinished business in Iraq. This allowed for Al-Qaida to regroup, reform and survive, and the ‘wrong war’ also drew much needed resources from the ‘right war’ and from domestic security projects.
Clarke has been portrayed as a leftist in rightist media and as a whistle blower in leftist press. In reality, Against All Enemies puts him under neither banner. He’s a lifelong Republican who was involved in a departmental (not politically partisan) pissing contest between the Executive and Bureaucratic branches of government. As for being a whistle-blower, everything in the book was public record before the pages went to press. Its timeliness has since passed the book’s significance from journalism to history, and is now a testimonial as to how governmental dysfunction not only wastes money, but sacrifices security and lives. For that reason, it’s well worth the read.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Politics - The Monarchy
“The Profound Laziness of Monarchism”
Canada is the largest country in the Americas, and the second largest on the planet. We elect our mayors, city councils, provincial legislatures and federal parliaments. While far from perfect, we’ve a culture that is over-all fairly democratic. There are holes in that democratic umbrella; Indian quasi-citizenship, provincial squabbles and corruption are still problems, but they pale to the single scabbed-up wound in our democratic institutions, that of an unelected, foreign, hereditary monarch being our head of state.
I like the queen, she’s kept a stiff upper lip through some tough times and public disgraces. It’s just that there are several reasons why the institution should be given a polite burial and be done with. The monarchy is British, and while Britain is an important part of Canadian history and will ever be thus, Canadians aren’t British. All of our institutions are undemocratic when the source of authority, the font of honour, is the crown rather than the nation or parliament. It’s ceremonially an interesting tradition, but like baby teeth, bed-wetting and parental supervision, one that’s long past the point of normalcy. America, India, South Africa and Ireland have all done away with their formal loyalty to the British sovereign, and none of them have suffered for the loss. Keeping the monarchy based on the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” approach to statecraft is politically lazy, and keeps Canada as passive actor, contemplating the conflicts of American versus British Influence in our national character.
In listening to debates on the subject, I’d like to put my counters against many of the arguments that I most commonly hear:
“The British monarchy is a part of our heritage.”
Slavery was a part of the heritage of most of the world, until it was decided to be done away with. Patriarchy, racism and near-genocidal wars against the indigenous people of the land were a part of our heritage until we decided that women, people of colour and Indians deserve to be treated as human beings. Heritage is nice, I’m all in favour of heavily funding museums and history education. I’m not in favour of scouring the dustbins of history to try and reinvent expired traditions in a modern setting.
“She’s a unifying figure for Canadians.”
Again, I like the Queen, but she’s not a unifying figure, most people don’t care a lick about the institution. She contributes nothing to the country in terms of real institutions or in the less measurable field of hearts and minds. The only people who feel strongly about the queen are blue-haired little old ladies and middle-class anglophiles. For the rest of us, she’s just not on the radar. For Quebecers she’s a reminder that they have to share la belle province with les sangs impures. For immigrants, keeping a foreign head of state around just for tradition’s sake seems a tad touched. She’s simply not a unifying figure.
“She connects us the world community of the Commonwealth.”
The English language connects us to the world community, not just that of the commonwealth. The English language has spread Albion’s seed the world over, and connected us to foreign lands. In literature, a South Asian establishment emerged among novelists like Rohinton Mistery and Salman Rushdie, and journalists like Ahmed Rashid. India does not have the Queen as a head of state. South Africa, home to one of the most prominent world heroes, Nelson Mandela, is hosting the World Cup; another English-speaking cousin without a monarchical head to their government. George Orwell and John Steinbeck find their way to the reading lists of all high school students all over the civilized world. The lingua franca of the globe, not an old lady and her corgis, connects us to the world’s community of human civilization.
“Without the monarchy, we’ll join the States.”
The fact that many people believe this goes to prove that we have a stronger cultural affinity to our southern neighbours than we do to the inhabitants of that great big archipelago north of France. We’re already heavily integrated into the American economy to the point that there’s no sense in pretending we’re not dependent on American industrial and agricultural issues. Environment, culture and trade overlap in the social sphere without any respect to the land border. Saying that Canada will join the states is just silly, and appeals to our base mistrust of our neighbour. This politically acceptable social prejudice is something for which I have no time. The Netherlands hasn’t been swallowed up by Germany, little Belgium is independent from mighty France, even tiny little San Marino is a nation independent of Italy surrounding it on all sides. A similar culture doesn’t guarantee annexation.
“She connects our institutions to a tradition dating back to Magna Carta.”
Yes, so? American institutions claim the same lineage despite that notably un-royal habit of electing their head of state.
“What would we replace her with?”
Always ‘her,’ never ‘it’ when talking about the monarchy. Again, I dislike the institution, not the person occupying the spot. The absolute foolishness of this point never ceases to amaze me. As though countries like Germany, France, Italy, Brazil and Spain (all countries with higher GDPs than Canada) are somehow adrift in political limbo. As though there were no choice other than Westminster or chaos.
“The head of state should be above petty politics. I don’t want some politician in the office!”
This is like saying that you want your head of state to be completely oblivious to the problems and realities of the country. You want her/him to be classy and not to say or do anything that anyone would disagree with. I had a cat that knew nothing of politics and would never say anything that anyone will disagree with, though I doubt she’d meet the burden of classy. Democratic government is not decorative, it’s a confrontation process that never fails to arouse a controversy of opinions, nor should it. If you don’t trust the calibre of politicians at hand, then try to raise that bar by becoming involved. Democracy assures us that we’ll get the government we deserve, one way or another.
“The monarchy is a Canadian institution.”
I can’t believe that there are still people who would insist upon this. She’s quintessentially British. She lives in England, where she’s lived her entire life. Her predecessors did the same, her successors will do likewise. The monarchy reflects a constitutional reality based on the mores of England in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. A Canadian cannot be the Queen of England. Accepting the supremacy of the monarchy is nationally servile, and I dislike watching Canadians grovel so.
“We needn’t get rid of all of our customs.”
This is plea for white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant nostalgia. A recollection for a time when the country didn’t allow just anyone in, or just anyone vote. Queen Elizabeth the Second is the head of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith. She occupies a position that is by law closed to anyone of the Catholic or Orthodox faith, let alone any non-Christian tradition, or no tradition for that matter. The tradition is not benign, it is foreign, classist and religiously discriminatory. It represents values that are alien to any person of conscience. It’s a custom that is not worth keeping.
The arguments in favour of keeping the tradition alive are weak at best, and outright silly when the argument of pre-existing tradition isn’t included. The argument to ditch this archaic vestige may not have the rousing populism of some other topics, but that’s only because the institution has become so divorced from our society that no one will get riled up to keep or dismiss the institution. With such little public enthusiasm for the monarchy, the onus moves to the institution to defend its value. If we didn’t already have the monarchy, then all things being equal, would we choose to establish a Canadian monarchy, adopt a British monarchy, or just let the issue drop as an archaic part of the history of foreign lands? My vote would be to drop the monarchy with the eventual (and hopefully far off) death of Elizabeth. The days of monarchies have been counting down since 1848, and it’s best that they be surrendered with dignity, rather than a few years of pervy old King Charles III, to be followed by drunken William V, prematurely balding at 28. Elizabeth is a fine exit to an honoured institution of the past.
Canada is the largest country in the Americas, and the second largest on the planet. We elect our mayors, city councils, provincial legislatures and federal parliaments. While far from perfect, we’ve a culture that is over-all fairly democratic. There are holes in that democratic umbrella; Indian quasi-citizenship, provincial squabbles and corruption are still problems, but they pale to the single scabbed-up wound in our democratic institutions, that of an unelected, foreign, hereditary monarch being our head of state.
I like the queen, she’s kept a stiff upper lip through some tough times and public disgraces. It’s just that there are several reasons why the institution should be given a polite burial and be done with. The monarchy is British, and while Britain is an important part of Canadian history and will ever be thus, Canadians aren’t British. All of our institutions are undemocratic when the source of authority, the font of honour, is the crown rather than the nation or parliament. It’s ceremonially an interesting tradition, but like baby teeth, bed-wetting and parental supervision, one that’s long past the point of normalcy. America, India, South Africa and Ireland have all done away with their formal loyalty to the British sovereign, and none of them have suffered for the loss. Keeping the monarchy based on the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” approach to statecraft is politically lazy, and keeps Canada as passive actor, contemplating the conflicts of American versus British Influence in our national character.
In listening to debates on the subject, I’d like to put my counters against many of the arguments that I most commonly hear:
“The British monarchy is a part of our heritage.”
Slavery was a part of the heritage of most of the world, until it was decided to be done away with. Patriarchy, racism and near-genocidal wars against the indigenous people of the land were a part of our heritage until we decided that women, people of colour and Indians deserve to be treated as human beings. Heritage is nice, I’m all in favour of heavily funding museums and history education. I’m not in favour of scouring the dustbins of history to try and reinvent expired traditions in a modern setting.
“She’s a unifying figure for Canadians.”
Again, I like the Queen, but she’s not a unifying figure, most people don’t care a lick about the institution. She contributes nothing to the country in terms of real institutions or in the less measurable field of hearts and minds. The only people who feel strongly about the queen are blue-haired little old ladies and middle-class anglophiles. For the rest of us, she’s just not on the radar. For Quebecers she’s a reminder that they have to share la belle province with les sangs impures. For immigrants, keeping a foreign head of state around just for tradition’s sake seems a tad touched. She’s simply not a unifying figure.
“She connects us the world community of the Commonwealth.”
The English language connects us to the world community, not just that of the commonwealth. The English language has spread Albion’s seed the world over, and connected us to foreign lands. In literature, a South Asian establishment emerged among novelists like Rohinton Mistery and Salman Rushdie, and journalists like Ahmed Rashid. India does not have the Queen as a head of state. South Africa, home to one of the most prominent world heroes, Nelson Mandela, is hosting the World Cup; another English-speaking cousin without a monarchical head to their government. George Orwell and John Steinbeck find their way to the reading lists of all high school students all over the civilized world. The lingua franca of the globe, not an old lady and her corgis, connects us to the world’s community of human civilization.
“Without the monarchy, we’ll join the States.”
The fact that many people believe this goes to prove that we have a stronger cultural affinity to our southern neighbours than we do to the inhabitants of that great big archipelago north of France. We’re already heavily integrated into the American economy to the point that there’s no sense in pretending we’re not dependent on American industrial and agricultural issues. Environment, culture and trade overlap in the social sphere without any respect to the land border. Saying that Canada will join the states is just silly, and appeals to our base mistrust of our neighbour. This politically acceptable social prejudice is something for which I have no time. The Netherlands hasn’t been swallowed up by Germany, little Belgium is independent from mighty France, even tiny little San Marino is a nation independent of Italy surrounding it on all sides. A similar culture doesn’t guarantee annexation.
“She connects our institutions to a tradition dating back to Magna Carta.”
Yes, so? American institutions claim the same lineage despite that notably un-royal habit of electing their head of state.
“What would we replace her with?”
Always ‘her,’ never ‘it’ when talking about the monarchy. Again, I dislike the institution, not the person occupying the spot. The absolute foolishness of this point never ceases to amaze me. As though countries like Germany, France, Italy, Brazil and Spain (all countries with higher GDPs than Canada) are somehow adrift in political limbo. As though there were no choice other than Westminster or chaos.
“The head of state should be above petty politics. I don’t want some politician in the office!”
This is like saying that you want your head of state to be completely oblivious to the problems and realities of the country. You want her/him to be classy and not to say or do anything that anyone would disagree with. I had a cat that knew nothing of politics and would never say anything that anyone will disagree with, though I doubt she’d meet the burden of classy. Democratic government is not decorative, it’s a confrontation process that never fails to arouse a controversy of opinions, nor should it. If you don’t trust the calibre of politicians at hand, then try to raise that bar by becoming involved. Democracy assures us that we’ll get the government we deserve, one way or another.
“The monarchy is a Canadian institution.”
I can’t believe that there are still people who would insist upon this. She’s quintessentially British. She lives in England, where she’s lived her entire life. Her predecessors did the same, her successors will do likewise. The monarchy reflects a constitutional reality based on the mores of England in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. A Canadian cannot be the Queen of England. Accepting the supremacy of the monarchy is nationally servile, and I dislike watching Canadians grovel so.
“We needn’t get rid of all of our customs.”
This is plea for white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant nostalgia. A recollection for a time when the country didn’t allow just anyone in, or just anyone vote. Queen Elizabeth the Second is the head of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith. She occupies a position that is by law closed to anyone of the Catholic or Orthodox faith, let alone any non-Christian tradition, or no tradition for that matter. The tradition is not benign, it is foreign, classist and religiously discriminatory. It represents values that are alien to any person of conscience. It’s a custom that is not worth keeping.
The arguments in favour of keeping the tradition alive are weak at best, and outright silly when the argument of pre-existing tradition isn’t included. The argument to ditch this archaic vestige may not have the rousing populism of some other topics, but that’s only because the institution has become so divorced from our society that no one will get riled up to keep or dismiss the institution. With such little public enthusiasm for the monarchy, the onus moves to the institution to defend its value. If we didn’t already have the monarchy, then all things being equal, would we choose to establish a Canadian monarchy, adopt a British monarchy, or just let the issue drop as an archaic part of the history of foreign lands? My vote would be to drop the monarchy with the eventual (and hopefully far off) death of Elizabeth. The days of monarchies have been counting down since 1848, and it’s best that they be surrendered with dignity, rather than a few years of pervy old King Charles III, to be followed by drunken William V, prematurely balding at 28. Elizabeth is a fine exit to an honoured institution of the past.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Politics - Israel and Turkey
Turkey and Israel: Why everything and everyone’s fucked
It’s been a week since the Rorschach Test on the high sees was broadcast across the world. Some people looked at that ink blot and saw rowdy and violent thugs attacking soldiers dutifully protecting their homeland, and others saw police-state offenders descending from the night sky onto a charity mission, massacring do-gooders in the process. My opinions on this should be uncontroversial, but they unfortunately find themselves floating alone in a sea of recriminations, among people who want to support one side fully and refusing to acknowledge any legitimacy to any opposing view. The cost of empathy is being alone in the wilderness of public opinion. Any intelligent answer to the question “What do you think about all this?” should take at least ten minutes to explain, though very often they can be summed up with glib expressions showing loyalty to one side, as though there were only two rational perspectives. The Israeli government and the Turkish Prime Minister are all acting in a rational manner, given the backgrounds of their positions. Opposition to the Gaza blockade is both moral and rational. The isolation of Gaza by Israel and Egypt is neither rational nor moral. Palestinian support of any opposition group with strong rhetoric is obviously rational. Allegations of Islamophobia, Apartheid or Anti-Semitism are thrown around too lightly, even though there numerous examples of their correct application. History gives the background to an issue and is important for that reason. When discussing the Israeli-Palestinian situation, there is still a tendency for people to try and re-argue 1967 or 1948. Why not put the clock back further to 1095, when the Turks arrived from Central Asia, or 675 when the Arabs wandered out of Arabia? Heck, the Jews only showed up when Moses and his Iron Age settler buddies wandered in. The question of what is to be done is more important, and more rationally moral than what has happened.
Turkey and Israel, BFF
The alliance between two of the three non-Arab natives in the Middle-East (Iran being the third) goes back to the fifties and sixties. For Turkey, they needed political kinship with America, and they perceived Jews as being able to assure their position in the west through influence in America.
Turkey is not and never has been a “Western” country, but “Eastern” isn’t quite accurate either. Simple divisions are never useful unless you’re trying to explain the issues to someone with no background whatsoever in the facts. Turkey was a state bordering the Soviet Union from 1923 to 1989. The Soviet Union governed the (now independent) Soviet Republics of Armenia, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. The Soviet Union trained and educated Turkic Intellectuals and agents from Central Asia and Azerbaijan, as well as socialist and opposition members from Turkey proper. The huge influence and implied threat of the neighbouring Soviet Empire, as well as Armenian territorial claims on the Anatolian heartland, meant that Turkey needed the support of the western powers; the imperial agents who didn’t have their knives pointed at Turkey’s throat. Once Greece joined NATO, it became even more critical for Turkey to join the western alliance, lest their ancient enemy of Greece pull the west against Turkish influences.
The Turkish alliance with Israel was based on several motivations. Both countries shared a border with regional strongman Syria. Israel needed airspace to train its air-force. Turkey needed the Jewish lobby in the United States to oppose recognition of the Armenian Genocide. Turkey needed a preferred nation status with the US, UK and France: three traditionally staunch allies of Israel. In the 1980s, the rise of Saddam Hussein in Iraq also emerged as a shared concern. Turkey and Israel are both occupying countries – Israel over the Arab territories from the UN mandate and Turkey in 1/3 of EU member Cyprus. They both required that the United Nations never be able to apply enough pressure to end military occupations, though criticism could be easily tolerated under the sticks and stones rule. Turkey became the fifth largest recipient of US military aid in the 1980s, after Israel, Egypt, Columbia and Saudi Arabia, which was more than enough military might to keep Syria and Iraq at bay, and fight their own dirty war against the Kurds. Israel needed and got a viable ally in the region, adding to her security by sandwiching Syria. While not a terribly romantic pairing, the two found shared interests that coincided for a while.
Things Fall Apart
The terms of this marriage of convenience eventually changed. The Soviet Union fell apart, and Turkey started sending experts, investors and agents to the former Soviet Central Asian Republics and not the other way around. Armenia lost their giant backer. Greece stopped being such a feted anti-communist stalwart and became an economic nuisance to the EU and NATO. Syrian strongman Hafez al-Assad died and his son Bashar al-Assad proved to be a weaker version of his father, more concerned about local centralization and Lebanese adventurism than broader regional ambitions. Saddam Hussein was neutered by the first Gulf War and the ensuing sanctions. The alliance with Israel became more of a pre-existing tradition than an active pursuit.
In the Twenty-first Century, things changed even more. Constant rejection by the EU (usually because of an unfailing Greek rejection of their neighbour) and a steady expansion of influence within Turkish communities in Germany, Central Asia and the Middle East gave Turkey frustration at the discrepancy between her real influence and her recognition. The collapse and restructuring of neighbouring Iraq was also a push. The Kurdish territories of Iraq became autonomous and prosperous (the most tangible success story of the American-led war), while across the border in Turkey, Kurds continued in squalor. The Peshmerga (Kurdish Militias) effectively ran their own show and were supported by the United States to keep order in the Iraqi north, and train militias for the Iranian Kurdish territories. This shifting of alliances obviously did not sit well with Turkey.
Domestically, the 2001 election of the Justice and Development Party (AKP) was a rejection of the traditional governing elites and a vote for agrarian businessmen with conservative social values and a lean towards populism. Their leader, Recep Tayip Erdogan, built his image as a working-class, religious Turk, unwilling to bend a knee to the authority of the powers that be. When he refused to allow the American army the right to use Eastern Turkey as a staging base for the Iraq War, he scored a major propaganda victory at home, and in many neighbouring countries. An appeal to populism in Turkey means an appeal to local xenophobia and religious mores. In 2008, at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, all nations (even Iran!) were on their best behaviour, but Erdogan barred his teeth at Israeli Foreign Minister Shimon Peres, telling him “You know how to kill but now you must learn to listen for just one minute!” during a debate. Erdogan’s popularity at home soared, even among secular and modern Turks (not his traditional base.) It also made press across the greater Middle-East and Islamic world. Here was a modern, elected leader in a suit, standing up for Palestinians, rather than a ventriliquating the West, wearing a turban and preaching, or sporting fatigues and ranting like a madman.
Last month, the leader of Turkey’s Republican People’s Party (CHP) was involved in a sex scandal and forced to resign. The fiery Deniz Baykal was then replaced by the unassuming but admired technocrat Kemal Kilicdaroglu. Last year, Kilicdaroglu ran for mayor of Istanbul, and lost to Erdogan’s pick, Kadir Topbas, but emerged to national prominence in the process. Kilicdaroglu’s ascension to the reigns of the CHP was met with euphoria (no one ever thought they’d get rid of Baykal) and enthusiasm that there would be a new Kemalist to overturn the charismatic, borderline-Islamist and increasingly despotic Erdogan. Hope and Change were riding high against Erdogan.
The Centre Cannot Hold
When the Mavi Marmara (Blue Marmara) was seized by Israeli commandos, Erdogan was presented with an opportunity to do what he did best, play the role of the populist Mujahid, the unbendable warrior standing up for Turks and Muslims against the foreign, Jewish brutes. That’s not to say that Turks weren’t justifiably angry at their citizens being murdered in international waters, but that righteous anger was funnelled in a contest between the AKP and Sa’adet Partisi (Felicity Party) over who could tap into the rage and champion the cause best. The evocations of Hitler and of Nazi mythos appeared everywhere in the public sphere, this in a country where Mein Kampf is already available at Toys-R-Us.
With regards to the storming of the Mavi Marmara, the Israelis attacked the boat in international waters, which was illegal. The crews on the boats were right to resist the raiders. When commandoes kill civilians during a surprise night-time assault, they’re not allowed to play the victim and complain that they were being roughed up the rowdies with sticks who should have just stood their and taken it. Turkey is one hundred percent right to demand an international inquiry at the United Nations, or preferably NATO.
Despite the just nature of the anger in the Turkish populace, Erdogan is tapping into one of the darkest aspects of humanity for his own political gains. I hope that someday, our capacity for love is greater than that for hate, and our desire for peace outweighs our bloodlust for vengeance, but that day is far away, and for today, Turkey is becoming less safe (especially for Jews and Christians.) The vitriol which is being tapped right now is a horrifying thing to see when it’s unleashed, and more horrifying still when controlled by another. The protests that are going on in Turkey (without the characteristic police intervention) are tapping into something vicious in the human soul, something best kept in check.
Mere Anarchy is Loosed
The underlying problem behind all of this is the spark of the flotilla, on the fuse of the Gaza occupation, on the powder-keg of religious nationalism.
The embargo on Gaza is immoral. By not allowing concrete or metal into the territory, Israel is forbidding the area from restructuring. In the event of sanctions, war, embargos or any form of direct action, the question always needs to be asked “How will this solve the problem?” and I don’t see any way that the embargo will stop the problem of terrorism in Israel proper. It’s a stasis hold that will prolong Palestinian suffering, generation after generation, with no end in sight. Since the best idea that the Israelis can come up with is an indeterminate marathon of suffering, I think that it’s safe to say that they don’t have any good ideas. Likewise, the Palestinians’ inability to speak with a unified voice mutes their position at the table.
Other countries have been sinking into the swamp of the holy land for years. The financial and human cost to Arab states and to Israel, not to mention their sponsors in America, Russia, France and England has been a burden for generations now. Now it’s sucking in Israel’s only proximate allies, Turkey and Cyprus. There needs to be an international investigation of the flotilla raid (through the responsible countries of NATO, not the Rogue’s Gallery of the UN.) There should have been an international peace-keeping force sent to Gaza to rebuild immediately after last year’s Gaza War, but there wasn’t. That doesn’t mean that one is no longer needed. If the blockade of Gaza continues, the situation will continue as is. If the blockade is unilaterally lifted, then Gaza will return to its morose status of terrorist hotbed. The best thing to do would be to put neutral peace-keepers in there to keep the region stable and secure, while a UN force could lead the rebuilding efforts of the city. The Israelis and the Palestinians won’t work towards peace together voluntarily, both peace and reconstruction are going to have to be guaranteed by the international community
It’s been a week since the Rorschach Test on the high sees was broadcast across the world. Some people looked at that ink blot and saw rowdy and violent thugs attacking soldiers dutifully protecting their homeland, and others saw police-state offenders descending from the night sky onto a charity mission, massacring do-gooders in the process. My opinions on this should be uncontroversial, but they unfortunately find themselves floating alone in a sea of recriminations, among people who want to support one side fully and refusing to acknowledge any legitimacy to any opposing view. The cost of empathy is being alone in the wilderness of public opinion. Any intelligent answer to the question “What do you think about all this?” should take at least ten minutes to explain, though very often they can be summed up with glib expressions showing loyalty to one side, as though there were only two rational perspectives. The Israeli government and the Turkish Prime Minister are all acting in a rational manner, given the backgrounds of their positions. Opposition to the Gaza blockade is both moral and rational. The isolation of Gaza by Israel and Egypt is neither rational nor moral. Palestinian support of any opposition group with strong rhetoric is obviously rational. Allegations of Islamophobia, Apartheid or Anti-Semitism are thrown around too lightly, even though there numerous examples of their correct application. History gives the background to an issue and is important for that reason. When discussing the Israeli-Palestinian situation, there is still a tendency for people to try and re-argue 1967 or 1948. Why not put the clock back further to 1095, when the Turks arrived from Central Asia, or 675 when the Arabs wandered out of Arabia? Heck, the Jews only showed up when Moses and his Iron Age settler buddies wandered in. The question of what is to be done is more important, and more rationally moral than what has happened.
Turkey and Israel, BFF
The alliance between two of the three non-Arab natives in the Middle-East (Iran being the third) goes back to the fifties and sixties. For Turkey, they needed political kinship with America, and they perceived Jews as being able to assure their position in the west through influence in America.
Turkey is not and never has been a “Western” country, but “Eastern” isn’t quite accurate either. Simple divisions are never useful unless you’re trying to explain the issues to someone with no background whatsoever in the facts. Turkey was a state bordering the Soviet Union from 1923 to 1989. The Soviet Union governed the (now independent) Soviet Republics of Armenia, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. The Soviet Union trained and educated Turkic Intellectuals and agents from Central Asia and Azerbaijan, as well as socialist and opposition members from Turkey proper. The huge influence and implied threat of the neighbouring Soviet Empire, as well as Armenian territorial claims on the Anatolian heartland, meant that Turkey needed the support of the western powers; the imperial agents who didn’t have their knives pointed at Turkey’s throat. Once Greece joined NATO, it became even more critical for Turkey to join the western alliance, lest their ancient enemy of Greece pull the west against Turkish influences.
The Turkish alliance with Israel was based on several motivations. Both countries shared a border with regional strongman Syria. Israel needed airspace to train its air-force. Turkey needed the Jewish lobby in the United States to oppose recognition of the Armenian Genocide. Turkey needed a preferred nation status with the US, UK and France: three traditionally staunch allies of Israel. In the 1980s, the rise of Saddam Hussein in Iraq also emerged as a shared concern. Turkey and Israel are both occupying countries – Israel over the Arab territories from the UN mandate and Turkey in 1/3 of EU member Cyprus. They both required that the United Nations never be able to apply enough pressure to end military occupations, though criticism could be easily tolerated under the sticks and stones rule. Turkey became the fifth largest recipient of US military aid in the 1980s, after Israel, Egypt, Columbia and Saudi Arabia, which was more than enough military might to keep Syria and Iraq at bay, and fight their own dirty war against the Kurds. Israel needed and got a viable ally in the region, adding to her security by sandwiching Syria. While not a terribly romantic pairing, the two found shared interests that coincided for a while.
Things Fall Apart
The terms of this marriage of convenience eventually changed. The Soviet Union fell apart, and Turkey started sending experts, investors and agents to the former Soviet Central Asian Republics and not the other way around. Armenia lost their giant backer. Greece stopped being such a feted anti-communist stalwart and became an economic nuisance to the EU and NATO. Syrian strongman Hafez al-Assad died and his son Bashar al-Assad proved to be a weaker version of his father, more concerned about local centralization and Lebanese adventurism than broader regional ambitions. Saddam Hussein was neutered by the first Gulf War and the ensuing sanctions. The alliance with Israel became more of a pre-existing tradition than an active pursuit.
In the Twenty-first Century, things changed even more. Constant rejection by the EU (usually because of an unfailing Greek rejection of their neighbour) and a steady expansion of influence within Turkish communities in Germany, Central Asia and the Middle East gave Turkey frustration at the discrepancy between her real influence and her recognition. The collapse and restructuring of neighbouring Iraq was also a push. The Kurdish territories of Iraq became autonomous and prosperous (the most tangible success story of the American-led war), while across the border in Turkey, Kurds continued in squalor. The Peshmerga (Kurdish Militias) effectively ran their own show and were supported by the United States to keep order in the Iraqi north, and train militias for the Iranian Kurdish territories. This shifting of alliances obviously did not sit well with Turkey.
Domestically, the 2001 election of the Justice and Development Party (AKP) was a rejection of the traditional governing elites and a vote for agrarian businessmen with conservative social values and a lean towards populism. Their leader, Recep Tayip Erdogan, built his image as a working-class, religious Turk, unwilling to bend a knee to the authority of the powers that be. When he refused to allow the American army the right to use Eastern Turkey as a staging base for the Iraq War, he scored a major propaganda victory at home, and in many neighbouring countries. An appeal to populism in Turkey means an appeal to local xenophobia and religious mores. In 2008, at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, all nations (even Iran!) were on their best behaviour, but Erdogan barred his teeth at Israeli Foreign Minister Shimon Peres, telling him “You know how to kill but now you must learn to listen for just one minute!” during a debate. Erdogan’s popularity at home soared, even among secular and modern Turks (not his traditional base.) It also made press across the greater Middle-East and Islamic world. Here was a modern, elected leader in a suit, standing up for Palestinians, rather than a ventriliquating the West, wearing a turban and preaching, or sporting fatigues and ranting like a madman.
Last month, the leader of Turkey’s Republican People’s Party (CHP) was involved in a sex scandal and forced to resign. The fiery Deniz Baykal was then replaced by the unassuming but admired technocrat Kemal Kilicdaroglu. Last year, Kilicdaroglu ran for mayor of Istanbul, and lost to Erdogan’s pick, Kadir Topbas, but emerged to national prominence in the process. Kilicdaroglu’s ascension to the reigns of the CHP was met with euphoria (no one ever thought they’d get rid of Baykal) and enthusiasm that there would be a new Kemalist to overturn the charismatic, borderline-Islamist and increasingly despotic Erdogan. Hope and Change were riding high against Erdogan.
The Centre Cannot Hold
When the Mavi Marmara (Blue Marmara) was seized by Israeli commandos, Erdogan was presented with an opportunity to do what he did best, play the role of the populist Mujahid, the unbendable warrior standing up for Turks and Muslims against the foreign, Jewish brutes. That’s not to say that Turks weren’t justifiably angry at their citizens being murdered in international waters, but that righteous anger was funnelled in a contest between the AKP and Sa’adet Partisi (Felicity Party) over who could tap into the rage and champion the cause best. The evocations of Hitler and of Nazi mythos appeared everywhere in the public sphere, this in a country where Mein Kampf is already available at Toys-R-Us.
With regards to the storming of the Mavi Marmara, the Israelis attacked the boat in international waters, which was illegal. The crews on the boats were right to resist the raiders. When commandoes kill civilians during a surprise night-time assault, they’re not allowed to play the victim and complain that they were being roughed up the rowdies with sticks who should have just stood their and taken it. Turkey is one hundred percent right to demand an international inquiry at the United Nations, or preferably NATO.
Despite the just nature of the anger in the Turkish populace, Erdogan is tapping into one of the darkest aspects of humanity for his own political gains. I hope that someday, our capacity for love is greater than that for hate, and our desire for peace outweighs our bloodlust for vengeance, but that day is far away, and for today, Turkey is becoming less safe (especially for Jews and Christians.) The vitriol which is being tapped right now is a horrifying thing to see when it’s unleashed, and more horrifying still when controlled by another. The protests that are going on in Turkey (without the characteristic police intervention) are tapping into something vicious in the human soul, something best kept in check.
Mere Anarchy is Loosed
The underlying problem behind all of this is the spark of the flotilla, on the fuse of the Gaza occupation, on the powder-keg of religious nationalism.
The embargo on Gaza is immoral. By not allowing concrete or metal into the territory, Israel is forbidding the area from restructuring. In the event of sanctions, war, embargos or any form of direct action, the question always needs to be asked “How will this solve the problem?” and I don’t see any way that the embargo will stop the problem of terrorism in Israel proper. It’s a stasis hold that will prolong Palestinian suffering, generation after generation, with no end in sight. Since the best idea that the Israelis can come up with is an indeterminate marathon of suffering, I think that it’s safe to say that they don’t have any good ideas. Likewise, the Palestinians’ inability to speak with a unified voice mutes their position at the table.
Other countries have been sinking into the swamp of the holy land for years. The financial and human cost to Arab states and to Israel, not to mention their sponsors in America, Russia, France and England has been a burden for generations now. Now it’s sucking in Israel’s only proximate allies, Turkey and Cyprus. There needs to be an international investigation of the flotilla raid (through the responsible countries of NATO, not the Rogue’s Gallery of the UN.) There should have been an international peace-keeping force sent to Gaza to rebuild immediately after last year’s Gaza War, but there wasn’t. That doesn’t mean that one is no longer needed. If the blockade of Gaza continues, the situation will continue as is. If the blockade is unilaterally lifted, then Gaza will return to its morose status of terrorist hotbed. The best thing to do would be to put neutral peace-keepers in there to keep the region stable and secure, while a UN force could lead the rebuilding efforts of the city. The Israelis and the Palestinians won’t work towards peace together voluntarily, both peace and reconstruction are going to have to be guaranteed by the international community
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Book Review - The Great Depression
The Great Depression 1929-1939
by Pierre Burton
511 Pages, 1990
This was the only the second Canadian history book that I’ve read since finishing university, seven swift years ago. I started reading it immediately after a book called “Renegades” a history of Canadians in the Spanish Civil War. The nineteen thirties interest me as they represent a time when people were forced to take heed to the later words of Ralph Nader “People have got to turn on to politics, lest politics turn on them.” The poverty brought on by the big-d Depression forced people to re-evaluate the politics of the day.
Burton divides each year into a series of vignettes, all of which combine to give an impression of society on the whole, through a series of microcosms. No one can criticize him for a lack of context. In that endeavour, he succeeded, though the book lacks a central narrative, owing to the lack of a central protagonist. Burton’s sympathy for the Tory, JB Bennett, and antagonism to his Grit counterpart in Mackenzie King was well worth noting, in a book that places itself squarely onto the left of the political spectrum.
I’m glad that the book started with 1929. It started with the heady days of the roaring twenties. It does a good job at contextualizing the period as one of extreme wealth. It had to hit home that the wealthy at the time were rolling on the floor, being so weighted down with gold. The 1920s and 1930s were the decades of Earnest Hemmingway, Pablo Picasso, George Orwell, Graham Green and Agatha Christie. To see their world is to see a land of fantastic excess. That kind of wealth amid such poverty is something that has to be viewed with a marked fear when you see it in a history book or out of a window today.
The liberal-capitalist militancy of the Conservatives and Liberals elected to parliament stood out in my mind. The two parties were both so thoroughly dedicated to the free market, that they saw nothing wrong with exporting grain while their co-citizens were starving. When the bottom fell out of the economy, the two parties saw eye-to-eye with regards to the economic solution. Never run a deficit. Never allow government to so much as nudge the invisible hand of the market that would in its infinite wisdom guide the nation out of such despair. The Depression was created by an unregulated banking and exchange institution, and parliament was steadfastly loyal to those institutions, to the point that they abandoned any residual principles once held in order to defend the banks from an angry citizenry.
Anti-communism is a trope that of course dominates the politics of the day as it does now. Anyone who would try to promote popular democracy, or monetary reform, would be as unpalatable then as they are now. Burton doesn’t go far enough as to actually remind the reader that democracy and capitalism are inherently incompatible, but he certainly demonstrates it. The RCMP’s hostility to any whiff of socialism needed to be more directly compared to Mackenzie King’s sycophantic fawning of Hitler. The Toronto Police cracked the heads of unionists, but marched alongside the Canadian Union of Fascists. The RCMP tried to assassinate Communist Party leader Tim Buck in his gaol-cell in Kingston Pen, and the Nazi-cloned Canadian Unity Party lawfully rallied in Massey Hall.
This was a smart book, but was a difficult read because of its light structure. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who isn’t intensely interested in the time frame.
by Pierre Burton
511 Pages, 1990
This was the only the second Canadian history book that I’ve read since finishing university, seven swift years ago. I started reading it immediately after a book called “Renegades” a history of Canadians in the Spanish Civil War. The nineteen thirties interest me as they represent a time when people were forced to take heed to the later words of Ralph Nader “People have got to turn on to politics, lest politics turn on them.” The poverty brought on by the big-d Depression forced people to re-evaluate the politics of the day.
Burton divides each year into a series of vignettes, all of which combine to give an impression of society on the whole, through a series of microcosms. No one can criticize him for a lack of context. In that endeavour, he succeeded, though the book lacks a central narrative, owing to the lack of a central protagonist. Burton’s sympathy for the Tory, JB Bennett, and antagonism to his Grit counterpart in Mackenzie King was well worth noting, in a book that places itself squarely onto the left of the political spectrum.
I’m glad that the book started with 1929. It started with the heady days of the roaring twenties. It does a good job at contextualizing the period as one of extreme wealth. It had to hit home that the wealthy at the time were rolling on the floor, being so weighted down with gold. The 1920s and 1930s were the decades of Earnest Hemmingway, Pablo Picasso, George Orwell, Graham Green and Agatha Christie. To see their world is to see a land of fantastic excess. That kind of wealth amid such poverty is something that has to be viewed with a marked fear when you see it in a history book or out of a window today.
The liberal-capitalist militancy of the Conservatives and Liberals elected to parliament stood out in my mind. The two parties were both so thoroughly dedicated to the free market, that they saw nothing wrong with exporting grain while their co-citizens were starving. When the bottom fell out of the economy, the two parties saw eye-to-eye with regards to the economic solution. Never run a deficit. Never allow government to so much as nudge the invisible hand of the market that would in its infinite wisdom guide the nation out of such despair. The Depression was created by an unregulated banking and exchange institution, and parliament was steadfastly loyal to those institutions, to the point that they abandoned any residual principles once held in order to defend the banks from an angry citizenry.
Anti-communism is a trope that of course dominates the politics of the day as it does now. Anyone who would try to promote popular democracy, or monetary reform, would be as unpalatable then as they are now. Burton doesn’t go far enough as to actually remind the reader that democracy and capitalism are inherently incompatible, but he certainly demonstrates it. The RCMP’s hostility to any whiff of socialism needed to be more directly compared to Mackenzie King’s sycophantic fawning of Hitler. The Toronto Police cracked the heads of unionists, but marched alongside the Canadian Union of Fascists. The RCMP tried to assassinate Communist Party leader Tim Buck in his gaol-cell in Kingston Pen, and the Nazi-cloned Canadian Unity Party lawfully rallied in Massey Hall.
This was a smart book, but was a difficult read because of its light structure. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who isn’t intensely interested in the time frame.
Book Review - Museum of Innocence
The Museum of Innocence
by Orhan Pamuk
Translated by Maureen Freely. 531 pages. 2009.
In recent years, I’d developed a real taste for the writing of Orhan Pamuk. “Snow” was one of the best books I’d ever read, and it was that book which I recommended to all of my friends and family, as one telling the political and social realities of Turkey’s place in the world. After that, I read “Istanbul: Memoire of a City,” which also conveyed the morose feel of a ghost-occupied city, long past her glories. His politics and journalism also put him on the map, particularly his indirect referencing to the Armenian Genocide and the bloody-handed policies of his government in the east of the country.
Where “Snow” and “Memoirs” touched on aspects of Turkish political and spiritual unease, “Museum” seems to explore his nation’s obsession with obsession. The theme in snow of the conflict between the traditional society of Anatolia and the modernising, European-inspired intelligentsia is plain as day for anyone entering the country to see. Aspects of Modern Istanbul, Izmir and Ankara are heavily influenced by other Mediterranean states, from Greece to Spain, and the traditional villagers who roam into those cities are more influenced by neighbouring Iran or Syria. The influence of the Turkish Diaspora populations in Germany and France only serves to exacerbate the division. The divide between ancient glories and modern mediocrity is seen by strolling along the city walls of ancient Constantinople and looking down at the modern slums that honeycomb the districts of Fener and Fatih. “Snow” and “Memoirs” spoke of things that were easy to understand for anyone with a rudimentary understanding of the settings.
Turks obsess. They obsess about football. They obsess about girls. Cars, cell phones, music, Ataturk, fashion, Islam – pick one, or all, of the above; Turks don’t love in half measures. “The Museum of Innocence” is the story of Kemal the wealthy son of an elite family, who falls head-over-heels in love with his 18 year old cousin, despite he being thirty and engaged to another at the time. He obsesses over the girl, but can’t bring himself to call off his engagement. Fusun (the object of his desires) runs off on him and he returns to his fiancé (Sibel), unable to love her while his brain ponders his perfect love of Fusun. Sibel leaves him, he continues to obsess for another hundred angst-ridden pages until he meets up with Fusun again, now married. He becomes business partners with his flower’s new bee, only to stay close to the pollen, and Fusun’s dreams of becoming a movie star are suffocated under the pillow of Kemal’s jealousy and over-protection. Kemal constantly steals mementos of personal value to the family, replacing them but collecting his fetishes in an apartment nearby.
The first problem I had with the story was that of the main character. Like many of Orhan Pamuk’s books, the protagonist is from a wealthy family, and disdainful of the nouveau-riche. He was raised in Nişantaşi, an introverted thinker, and not terribly likeable. In many ways, Orhan-bey writes about himself. This version of himself, however, is neither likeable nor worthy of empathy. I resented spending so much time with Kemal. His whining and moping made him bad company for his friends, all of whom left him. He also made poor companionship for the reader to endure. For many of the 531 pages of this book, I wanted to slap him and say “Snap out of it, man!”
One of the strengths of Pamuk’s other works, particularly “The New Life” and “The Black Book,” is the way he builds characters to define his national culture. The main conflicts in these stories are the main conflicts in Turkish society, and the characters serve as transpositions for different trends, the farm animals in George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” substitute for different trends in Russia and England. This was done masterfully in “Snow,” as well. The problem with this book is that the characters become political stand-ins rather than breathing characters. There are industrialists like Zaim, whose role is to develop the country. There are film-makers like Feridun who try to put Turkish art on the world map, but fail, and there are people caught between East and West, like Sibel, who can’t balance modernity and tradition. These characters are as meatless as scarecrows, serving only to stand in for trends within modern Turkey.
One of the difficulties for Pamuk, in writing about Turkey’s culture and nationality, is that in a country where the average citizen lives in a constant state of economic crisis, Pamuk writes about balls and society do’s, that are completely alien to the experiences of the masses. In a deeply religious country, his characters all drink rakı and champagne, party all night and run their own financial empires. The women are kept housewives, all drink and smoke, and of course none wear headscarves. This section of society exists in Turkey, but is infinitesimally dwarfed by the throngs of unskilled labour that pour in from the countryside, claiming and colonizing the cityscape from Pamuk’s old money. The author’s Bourgeois phobia of the emerging reality prevents him from having much to say about the changing face of the country.
It seems almost ridiculous to accuse a nobel-prize winning novelist of being “wordy,” but here I go. William Shakespeare had the good sense to note that “Brevity was the soul of wit,” meaning that keeping it short was the key to being both smart and funny. The Museum of Innocence could have been half the length. The moping of the narrator, the witty observations of life, the lyrical waxing and waning of the author’s keen mind fail to make up for the lack of an engaging story, and the book’s failure to produce likeable characters.
by Orhan Pamuk
Translated by Maureen Freely. 531 pages. 2009.
In recent years, I’d developed a real taste for the writing of Orhan Pamuk. “Snow” was one of the best books I’d ever read, and it was that book which I recommended to all of my friends and family, as one telling the political and social realities of Turkey’s place in the world. After that, I read “Istanbul: Memoire of a City,” which also conveyed the morose feel of a ghost-occupied city, long past her glories. His politics and journalism also put him on the map, particularly his indirect referencing to the Armenian Genocide and the bloody-handed policies of his government in the east of the country.
Where “Snow” and “Memoirs” touched on aspects of Turkish political and spiritual unease, “Museum” seems to explore his nation’s obsession with obsession. The theme in snow of the conflict between the traditional society of Anatolia and the modernising, European-inspired intelligentsia is plain as day for anyone entering the country to see. Aspects of Modern Istanbul, Izmir and Ankara are heavily influenced by other Mediterranean states, from Greece to Spain, and the traditional villagers who roam into those cities are more influenced by neighbouring Iran or Syria. The influence of the Turkish Diaspora populations in Germany and France only serves to exacerbate the division. The divide between ancient glories and modern mediocrity is seen by strolling along the city walls of ancient Constantinople and looking down at the modern slums that honeycomb the districts of Fener and Fatih. “Snow” and “Memoirs” spoke of things that were easy to understand for anyone with a rudimentary understanding of the settings.
Turks obsess. They obsess about football. They obsess about girls. Cars, cell phones, music, Ataturk, fashion, Islam – pick one, or all, of the above; Turks don’t love in half measures. “The Museum of Innocence” is the story of Kemal the wealthy son of an elite family, who falls head-over-heels in love with his 18 year old cousin, despite he being thirty and engaged to another at the time. He obsesses over the girl, but can’t bring himself to call off his engagement. Fusun (the object of his desires) runs off on him and he returns to his fiancé (Sibel), unable to love her while his brain ponders his perfect love of Fusun. Sibel leaves him, he continues to obsess for another hundred angst-ridden pages until he meets up with Fusun again, now married. He becomes business partners with his flower’s new bee, only to stay close to the pollen, and Fusun’s dreams of becoming a movie star are suffocated under the pillow of Kemal’s jealousy and over-protection. Kemal constantly steals mementos of personal value to the family, replacing them but collecting his fetishes in an apartment nearby.
The first problem I had with the story was that of the main character. Like many of Orhan Pamuk’s books, the protagonist is from a wealthy family, and disdainful of the nouveau-riche. He was raised in Nişantaşi, an introverted thinker, and not terribly likeable. In many ways, Orhan-bey writes about himself. This version of himself, however, is neither likeable nor worthy of empathy. I resented spending so much time with Kemal. His whining and moping made him bad company for his friends, all of whom left him. He also made poor companionship for the reader to endure. For many of the 531 pages of this book, I wanted to slap him and say “Snap out of it, man!”
One of the strengths of Pamuk’s other works, particularly “The New Life” and “The Black Book,” is the way he builds characters to define his national culture. The main conflicts in these stories are the main conflicts in Turkish society, and the characters serve as transpositions for different trends, the farm animals in George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” substitute for different trends in Russia and England. This was done masterfully in “Snow,” as well. The problem with this book is that the characters become political stand-ins rather than breathing characters. There are industrialists like Zaim, whose role is to develop the country. There are film-makers like Feridun who try to put Turkish art on the world map, but fail, and there are people caught between East and West, like Sibel, who can’t balance modernity and tradition. These characters are as meatless as scarecrows, serving only to stand in for trends within modern Turkey.
One of the difficulties for Pamuk, in writing about Turkey’s culture and nationality, is that in a country where the average citizen lives in a constant state of economic crisis, Pamuk writes about balls and society do’s, that are completely alien to the experiences of the masses. In a deeply religious country, his characters all drink rakı and champagne, party all night and run their own financial empires. The women are kept housewives, all drink and smoke, and of course none wear headscarves. This section of society exists in Turkey, but is infinitesimally dwarfed by the throngs of unskilled labour that pour in from the countryside, claiming and colonizing the cityscape from Pamuk’s old money. The author’s Bourgeois phobia of the emerging reality prevents him from having much to say about the changing face of the country.
It seems almost ridiculous to accuse a nobel-prize winning novelist of being “wordy,” but here I go. William Shakespeare had the good sense to note that “Brevity was the soul of wit,” meaning that keeping it short was the key to being both smart and funny. The Museum of Innocence could have been half the length. The moping of the narrator, the witty observations of life, the lyrical waxing and waning of the author’s keen mind fail to make up for the lack of an engaging story, and the book’s failure to produce likeable characters.
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