Reading
In Iraq
By Amitava Kumar
02 June, 2003
The apartment in which I had been living for the past few months, in
a southern California town, was close to a large playing field. At night,
the field was floodlit and groups of men and women played soccer and
softball there. Over many nights during the recent war, after we had
had our dinner, our eyes fixed on the television bringing the news from
Iraq, my wife and I would step out for a walk around that field. The
air was always sweet with the smell of orange blossoms. While we walked
under the dazzle of the lights, we could hear around us the urgent shouts
of the players and their laughter.
The scene in the field presented
a great contrast to what we had witnessed, only minutes before, each
night on our television screen. The contrast between the U.S. and Iraq
could not be greater. The citizens of many cities in Iraq might not
have water and electricity, but on the streets in this country, there
were more American flags and bright yellow ribbons. You could almost
say that the atmosphere was festive.
It was difficult for me to
imagine, while walking in the balmy, night air of California, the ancient
archives on fire in Baghdad. The British journalist, Robert Fisk, had
stood outside the gutted National Library and Archives, picking up priceless
historical documents blowing in the smoke and wind. Fisk had written:
"There was a time when the Arabs said that their books were written
in Cairo, printed in Beirut and read in Baghdad. Now they burn libraries
in Baghdad."
When history has been turned
into ashes, what remains in its place is Disney. The Amnesty International
has expressed concern at the report in the Norwegian newspaper Dagbladet
which showed American soldiers escorting naked Iraqi prisoners through
a park in Baghdad. In one of the photographs accompanying the report,
a young Iraqi man's naked chest had the following words written on it
in Arabic: "Ali Baba Thief." This was an example of
demeaning treatment of prisoners, of course. But it was also evidence
of how the old Arabian tale of Ali Baba, turned into a popular cartoon
by Disney, served as the only mirror in which the U.S. soldier could
recognize an Arab man. Would the marines have known about a book called
Arabian Nights, and, if they did, would that have moved them to protect
any of the libraries in Iraq?
When reading about the episode
reported in the Dagbladet, which has gone largely unremarked in the
mainstream U.S. media, I was reminded of Jon Lee Anderson's story in
the New Yorker about the sacking of Baghdad. Anderson described a visit
to one of Saddam's palaces where a marine told the photographers not
to take pictures of the troops because they were "Intel."
Anderson wrote: "A Marine officer was reading a copy of Playboy
as he defecated into a milk crate. He waved when we passed. Some young
marines hanging out around a Humvee festooned with photos from what
looked like a perfume ad asked me if I have any news from the war."
Were there no readers in
the army of the victors? My search actually unearthed the name of an
Indian soldier in the U.S. army who was carrying books to the war. But
the details of this revelation left me feeling decidedly ambivalent
if not also depressed.
A news-report had it that
a soldier in the U.S. Army, Nishkam Gupta, believed that his fight in
Iraq was also a struggle for India. His parents, Arun and Renu, told
the reporter that Gupta's participation in the war in Iraq was "a
part of his desire to fight the larger war against terrorism, a war
that would directly benefit Hinduism and its cause." The proud
parents also informed the reporter that their son had founded a chapter
of the Hindu Students Council and that the books he took to the war
with him were the Gita, the Ramayana, the works of Swami Vivekananda
and a tract called The Hindu Mind.
I do not know Nishkam Gupta,
but I recognise in him a dangerous condition. In him I see the narcissism
of a narrow cause, bred among immigrants bound up in their own insularity,
which gets projected into the arc of a super-power's triumphalist career.
Bush searches for power and oil, and claims it is for the Iraqi people;
our own long-distance nationalist packs his bags for Iraq, and declares
that it is for India and the Hindus. Hindutva becomes a little sticker
stuck on an American cruise missile.
To my mind this was little
more than bigotry, but I was more appalled by the young man's reading
choices. Judging from Gupta's reading list, one couldn't but feel that
he was utterly incurious about the place he was visiting or the people
at whom he was to be pointing his gun. He would have prepared better
for where he was going if he had read books that widened his view of
that part of the world. Perhaps even now, if it is not too late, the
leaders of the VHP in America can send the young soldier, wherever he
is stationed, books like Gilles Kepel's Jihad, Ahmed Rashid's, Taliban:
Militant Islam, Oil and Fundamentalism, Leila Ahmed's A Border Passage,
Edward Said's Orientalism, and, if they'd want him to read only an Indian
writer, Amitav Ghosh's In An Antique Land.
India is better off without
friends like Gupta. And the same goes for Hinduism. Those that Gupta
wants to benefit will be best served if democracy and peace win anywhere
in the world and not if the powerful, equipped with guns and
their ignorance, remove a dictator they had earlier armed and then put
in his place a few corporations that they have now created. There is
a further piece of advice I will give Gupta. If he will not read books
about the region he had invaded, it is the common men and women in that
country whom he should talk to and find out about the details of their
faith and their lives.
Albert Camus, in his Nobel
lecture, had said, "By definition the writer cannot serve those
who make history: he serves those who have to live it." After the
events of September 11, I would read newspapers and look for stories
that would tell me about people, ordinary people, whose lives had been
overtaken by forces that they were powerless to anticipate or oppose.
Everything that has happened since, in Afghanistan and in Iraq, has
deepened that sense of inadequacy and pain which had suddenly become
a part of the lives of people in cities like New York. The greater tragedy
is that for people in the rest of the world this script has been a more
familiar one and it goes on being repeated, ad nauseam.
Several weeks after September
11, I was on a visit to Pakistan. One evening, I was in Lahore, and
my driver Qasim a slight man, in his late twenties, with a thin
moustache quietly asked me where it is that I was visiting from.
I told him that I was a writer living in the U.S. He turned his face
to me and said in Urdu, "The Americans are the true Muslims."
I did not understand this. The attacks in New York and Washington DC
were still fresh in everyone's minds. I had also seen the images from
the streets of Lahore and the rest of Pakistan, of bearded men shouting
slogans in support of the Taliban. Qasim said, "The Americans have
read and really understood the message of the Qur'an." Of course,
I was baffled. But Qasim explained his point to me. He said, "Woh
log apne mulaazimo ke saath sahi salook karte hain. Woh unko overtime
dete hain." The Americans treat their workers in the right way.
They pay them overtime.
Ah, overtime! Fair wages,
just working conditions, true democracy. There was little place on American
television in all that talk about terrorism for this plain man's sublime
understanding of his religion. Or for his deeply human and compassionate
sense of the goodness of the American people. Islam in Pakistan had
not freed Qasim, and he wanted his minimum wage!
All fundamentalists are to
be avoided like the plague whether they be Muslims, Hindus, Christians,
Jewish, or of any other faith because their worldviews are rigid
and unchanging. There is no place in their minds for the new. Nor is
there any place in their doctrines for the actual and lived complexities
of people's identities. In his own unassuming and simple-minded way,
Qasim had surprised me by defeating generalisations and that is why
I would like to introduce him to President George Bush and Nishkam Gupta
of the U.S. Army.
Amitava Kumar is the author
of Passport Photos and Bombay-London-New York, both published by Penguin-India.
He teaches English at Penn State University and was recently a Rockefeller
Fellow at the University of California, Riverside.