Flashbacks

I thank God for giving me the opportunity to finally put down on paper the amalgamation of thoughts, memories, conversations, and photographic snapshots that have been percolating in my head over the past couple of weeks. There's one word that can summarize my summer experience: transformative. Below is a collection of big picture ideas that sums up my journey out into the deserts of the Middle East/North Africa region.

Note: Interestingly enough, I went to a lecture by Professor Katzenstein today, and some of his ideas about religion and civilization are reflected here.

Ideologies and Worldviews Challenged: Casting aside my North American lens

Traveling to the Middle East made me realize how North American-centric I was. The intellectual debates that happened within Cornell’s classrooms did not come close to the intensity and diversity of the conversations that I had with people whom I met throughout my summer excursion. The number of times that I have been truly challenged on campus in the past three years did not come close to the encounters I had with individuals who truly held different viewpoints than I did.

Truth be told, Cornellians are too diplomatic, too mainstream, and too preoccupied with being “politically correct” to challenge the “liberal” views that are espoused in the classroom. Within the “liberal” institutional context, we have never really questioned the normative assumptions that underlie our analysis of social phenomenon.

What I mean by that is: we often fail to see what we deem as the “right” or “correct” method for pursuing a particular social objective is socially constructed. We do not question the basic assumptions that undergird our normative values.

The most prominent example of a normative value through which we analyze social phenomenon is our full adherence to the secularist idea that there should be a clear divide between the state and the church. We, as “liberals” within academia, only see evil in any religious influence on the state. We champion this ideal in our discussions of how public institutions should be structured.

However, can one not argue that secularism, much like religion, is an ideology that governs interactions? The adoption of secularism within our public institutions is one that delineates societal interactions along “public” and “private” lines. Therefore, in our “secular” society, we are given no choice but to accept that God must not govern our “public” lives: basically we have to adopt the view – the secularist view – that God does not exist in the public sphere. In essence, the secularist ideology is imposed on those who believe that God does exist in all parts of our lives. Any word from an individual who espouses a certain religious tenet in public debates on governance will be chastised as a demagogue or a right-wing (crazy) conservative.

The ironic thing about people's adherence to separation between the church and the state is that many fail to realize that secularism is not a complete divorce from religion. As much as secularists would hate to admit, our institutions, our legal codes, and our cultural activities are very much rooted in Christian ideals. John Locke, arguably the father of liberalism, is not divorced from religion. He openly espoused that individuals' rights are God-given, and the individualism that comes with it are very much rooted in Christian (Protestant) ideas on how one pursues a religion without the help of some external authority (i.e. the Catholic Church).

Hence, I find secularists' "liberal democratic" ideology unhelpful in trying to analyze how our present institutions came about, and how they are very much the products of religious ideologies of the past.

Liberals' championing of the secularist model of government also closes off other possibilities for structuring a society. In Islamic societies, religion is deemed as an all-encompassing model for structuring societal interactions. In other words, there is no separation between the “church” (mosque would be a better term here) and the state. Individuals are hence allowed to exercise their belief in God in the public realm, through honest discussions about God's role in the public domain with their fellow citizens and the state. Obviously there is a gradient in which people can truly exercise their religion in the public realm, and the degree to which the state adopts religious tenets in their governing processes.

Hence, would I say that there is more religious freedom in liberal democratic societies? I would argue that it's not necessarily the case. The deist must deny the existence of a deity in his/her interactions with other individuals and the state, while the secularists can go about claiming that individuals’ rights and freedoms are protected. Under the dominance of liberal democratic ideology, one cannot debate openly and honestly about the role of religion in our public institutions.

Another example of liberalism's overwhelming influence on academic discourse is discussions on individuals’ rights. We often assume that individuals should be protected against the tyranny of the majority, because there are inherent rights and principles - shared by all of humanity - that are sacred to a person’s identity. The critique on Islam (or any religion for that matter) as an influence on political institutions has often been rooted in the idea that Islam/religion denies the individual to exert his inherent rights. Simply put, people fear that Islam/religion - when brought out in the public realm - will trample over an individual's rights.

But isn't Islam just another set of values and principles that very much give people a basis of morality? Every society has a set of moral principles that are encoded in our legal system, and these things that we deem as "legal" or "illegal" are very much socially-constructed. Rights - whether they are liberal (those concerning the the individual) or republican (those concerning the welfare of the community) - are not inherent in our humanity; they are very much the products of the political, cultural, and religious processes and trajectories of each society.

Hence, who are we – as liberal academics seeped in Western norms and values – to say that the rights of the individual are greater than the rights of the community, and form the basis of our critique of other societies and their institutions on our liberal democratic idea? Are not these concepts about state institutions culturally and socially embedded?

A last (and embarrassing) example on my part is our championing of the West’s path toward economic progress. The discourse on development has always been reflective of Western ideals. We pass quick judgments on societies that are (according to our own standards) not as “developed” or “advanced” as ours.

I was caught using my North American lens in viewing how cities in Egypt are planned out. I was shocked to see Cairo's “underdevelopment” – the broken sidewalks, the decrepit buildings, the unkempt gardens. What kinds of social good could this built environment possibly produce?

However, as I passed through Cairo’s bustling metro stations day by day, I started to realize the beautiful qualities about the interactions of people around me, despite the built environment. I felt the serenity among veiled women, the calm in the flow of endless movement on the unmarked sidewalks, and the security in the smiles of strangers passing by. Strangely enough, the feelings that I wanted out of a community came not in the quiet suburbs of America, but in the chaotic streets of Egypt.

Simply put, we often fail to see how our own views stem from our Western upbringing. We fail to historicize our normative assumptions on how society as a whole should be structured. If we do not cast aside our North American lens, we will be blinded to the unexpected lessons that we – as the “liberal, democratic, and enlightened” thinkers of today – should take away from places like Cairo.

City (and Social) Planning: Juxtaposing Cairo’s chaos with Kibbutz Mizra’s calm

A typical street in Kibbutz Mizra, reminiscent of the North American suburb

How does a planner plan for the social well-being of a community through the built environment? Kibbutz Mizra is an example of immaculate physical design. The kibbutz is conceptualized upon the principle of utopian egalitarianism, where every member of the kibbutz contributes to the collective welfare. The intellectual designers of the kibbutz believe that the built environment facilitates social cohesion and collective action. For example, a communal dining hall with long tables and large open halls facilitate conversations and group activities within the Kibbutz. Other facilities are built in such a way as to facilitate social cohesion: for example, a community school, a swimming pool, a locally-owned grocery store, and a communal laundry service. Basically, you do not have to leave the Kibbutz to carry out your every-day activities!

Another ideology that underpins the Kibbutz’ structure is Judaism. Each Friday, the Kibbutz members observe the spirit of the Sabbath by eating in the communal dining hall. There are plenty of other activities that reinforce the “Jewish” identity, such as communal celebrations of Jewish holidays.

Kibbutz Mizra's dining hall, where I had my meals every day

But does the built environment always lead to a sustainable and equitable development (as dictated in the mission statement of the CRP department)? The answer to the sustainability issue is no: the walkways are lined with trees and wind through people’s backyards and main social hubs. One would think that the integrated pathways and the close proximity of residences to main buildings would induce the residents to walk. Instead, I was surprised to find that mostly all residents own a golf cart, which was utilized whenever errands had to be run (even if the destination is less than 5 minutes by foot!).

The security gate that governs traffic into the Kibbutz

Moreover, the Kibbutz is essentially a gated community, where residents do not have to interact with the “undesirable” populations of Israeli society. The way in which the Kibbutz is socially, ideologically, and physically structured – from the council that governs admission into the Kibbutz to the wire gates that bar unwanted visitors – is to prevent “undesirable” interactions with the subaltern groups (i.e. non-Jews).

What a stark contrast to Cairo’s streets, which bustled with a cacophony of sounds, sights, smells, and movements. The streets are actually filled with people (surprise! streets are made for people to walk on!). Caireans carved out their own walkways through the chaotic mess of cars, the spillage of sold goods and wares from stores, and a fair mix of exotic and common animals.

To sum up Cairo's physical layout: city planning – in the conventional Western sense, where a planner sits in a cubicle office and lays out his or her vision of the city’s streetscape and skyline – does not exist in Cairo. Instead, it is the people, armed with their everyday lived experiences, who carve out their own vision for how they want their communities to look and feel like. There is a surprising rhythm and order to the city’s movements, whether it is the dutiful footsteps of the devout Muslim heading to Friday prayers, or the humming of the honking taxis that weave in and out seamlessly in laneless traffic.

Caireans, in short, make public spaces alive. They comprise of the eyes on the street, who religiously observed the ins-and-outs of their neighbors’ lives. For example, if one finds himself/herself lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood, one would never fail to find a passerby offering directions (sometimes the helpfulness of Caireans backfires; they refuse to not not help people, to the point where they would give false directions for the sake of not disappointing you!). Hence, I certainly felt safe walking in the streets at 4 in the morning, as Jane Jacobs would certainly feel if she was still alive today and went to Cairo for a summer. The summation of these experiences is the creation of a sense of community – something that is unexpected in the midst of the chaos that is Cairo.

And what about the utopian paradise that the founders of the Kibbutzim movement envisioned? A few short years ago, Kibbutz Mizra realized that capitalism has become entrenched in the minds of its members. In the end, self-interest is the rule of the day in the Kibbutz. As a start, no more standard, across-the-board wages for all employees within the Kibbutz.

A lesson for city planners? No matter how much one would love to plan a utopian community, sometimes it takes for some spontaneity and chaos to induce the spirit of community engagement.

Moses, Jesus, and Mohamed: What do they have in common?
The Middle East is obviously a hotbed of religious contention, and Israel is certainly without exception. Everywhere – from the minarets that defy the skyline to the orthodox Jews who reprimand the Friday night bar hoppers to pay their dues (lest they be punished by God) – are reminders that religion is embedded in the social fabric. If religion is such an integral part of Middle Eastern society, then should we not take it more seriously in any political discussions that we engage in, instead of simply dismissing any religious comments as outlandish or irrelevant comments made by lunatic fringe religious groups?

If we are to take religion seriously in political discussions, then could we possibly see religion as playing an integral part in the Middle East peace process?

I tried to see what salvation these three monotheistic religion can bring to the Middle East. I have found a couple of commonalities between the three:

1) We all believe in one God.
2) We all believe in compassion.
3) We all believe in love.

This seems like a winning formula for peace in the region, no?

Religion: What kind of God are we serving anyway?

This picture was taken in one of the gazillion monasteries and churches I visited in Israel. For the untrained eye, they become quite unmemorable and indistinguisable after your tenth visit to a Catholic/Orthodox place of worship.

Without a doubt, any discourse about the Middle East can easily become religiously charged. Why is there this tendency to gravitate towards religious tenets? Perhaps it is the piety that people exercise in their daily lives. Or perhaps it is the geographical location; the Middle East is, after all, the birthplace of the three monotheistic faiths.

Nonetheless, the three monotheistic religions have come into a lot of tension in recent years. Now, I do not want to get all Samuel Huntington on this. There is much to be said about the West’s current orientation to the Islamic world (notwithstanding the usual suspects i.e. balance of power in the regional context, oil interests, adherence to the “democratic peace” theory in foreign policy, influence of domestic politics and public opinion, lobbyists, and the fear percolating within society that galvanizes support for imperialistic wars). Nonetheless, “Christian” nations (and by this I mean countries with interest groups that advocate for religiously-motivated policies in the government level) have incited much violence against other national, ethnic, and religious groups. This is especially apparent in light of the controversies – and the resultant violence – surrounding the proposed Ground Zero Mosque.

How far should my religious beliefs go in dictating social and political agendas? If my set of values is mostly derived from my religion, would it make me any less qualified to participate in civic activities? What are the universal "truths" in conducting behavior? If we follow the line of thinking that principles of morality are social constructs, then the liberal principles of morality and rights are not any more legitimate than ones that are derived from religious texts.

I am thus left with a final question: Can religion ever become a force for peace between disparate nations? After all, the adherents of these three religions all believe in a God who carries a message of love and compassion for the world. If only we could - as followers of the same loving God - do the right thing and exercise these principles faithfully in our interactions with people in our daily lives, I think we would have much more positive influences on our surrounding communities.

The Security Barrier, The Iron (Berlin) Wall, The Fence: A dilemma between security and morality?

A section of that cursed wall that separates Palestinians from each other

This structure has evoked a spectrum of reactions from people, and one can notice this even by how people choose their terminology in describing it. Is it a wall akin to the one in Berlin? A barrier to obstruct aspiring suicide bombers? A fence that demarcates a territorial boundary?

There is truth to each of these interpretations to the barrier that creates a divide between Israeli society from West Bank/Gaza society. To some Palestinians (the most poignant anecdotes are those from East Jerusalem), the wall harkens back to the time when West Berliners were separated from their loved ones through the artificial barrier. People’s movements were restricted, to the point where their personal dignity is being denied. However, their defiance to the wall (think of the Palestinians who brave the sun and rain in order to pass through the checkpoints) in restricting their movements actually reinforces their own identity: they will not easily allow a physical barrier to re-define their social relationships and communal bonds.

As much as I would like a world without borders, territorial demarcations are a human reality. This is in light of the wave of nation states that materialized in the post-war era. The state of Israel is undoubtedly one of these brave new states that tries to define its own territorial boundaries. The fence that now weaves in and out of Palestinian villages demarcates the existence of that state. In a way, it legitimizes Israel by creating a sense of “otherness”; it juxtaposes what is “inside” (what is properly due to the Israelis) and what is “outside” (what is properly defined as yours).

The creation of the "other" is poignant in how the fence seeks to include Jewish settlements in the West Bank – the fence reaches out like an extended arm of an amoeba to absorb the fledging Jewish outpost into occupied territories (see the map below).

What are the implications of the fence in the peace talks? I think it is very much clear from this map that the fence has to go down.

How else are you going to create a contiguous community for the Palestinians?

Demographic War: Creating facts on the battleground to reinforce Israel’s ethnic identity
During one of our beginning lectures, we had the opportunity to hear a retired general from the Israel Defense Forces.

This retired general, having taught at West Point Academy and similar institutions, discussed the demographic trends within Israel and its implications on the security of the state. He fears that Israeli Jews are not producing enough babies to support Israeli’s current living standards.

But more importantly, he fears that the identity of the Israeli state will be compromised by a (losing) demographic war with the Palestinians. With Israeli-Arab birth rates overtaking Israeli-Jews’, within a couple of decades the Arab population will be the majority within the state of Israel. Without a doubt, Palestinians’ “right of return” to Israel would never fly with the Israeli establishment. It would mean a denial of the Israeli state’s core identity: that of being a Jewish state.

This demographic war is exemplified in the active policies of the Israeli state to encourage Jewish settlement in strategic areas – East Jerusalem, the Negev, the West Bank, and the whole of Israel itself (“right of return” for all Jews in Diaspora).

These policies usually come in the form of financial incentives to Jews who wish to move to these areas. One interesting fact that I learned was that most of the current settlers in the West Banks are not ideologically motivated. Instead, they are very much economically motivated to settle in the occupied territory; the government provides subsidies to young couples and encourages them to move to the East Jerusalem and the West Bank.

This reality turns the peace talks on its head: if settlements are more or less based on economic motives, I don’t see how there could not be more compromises made.

Clash of Civilization: Creating your own reality

Leftovers from the 1967 war

Samuel Huntington’s clash of civilization thesis was espoused by many esteemed and powerful individuals who came to chat with us during my 5-week academic program in Israel. Suddenly it all seemed clear to me: if an individual holds to the view that there would be an inevitable clash between different civilizations, then the policies are obviously going to be overly defensive in nature, to the point where security is jeopardized because threats are always viewed as existential and therefore warrant an equal preemptive/retaliatory response. The other side, not expecting this overwhelming use of force in response to their meager attack, is provoked in escalating the violence. And so the violence continues in this vicious circle.

Not to mention that if you believe the other side is inherently going hold to some primordialistic ideas (and not recognizing the role of social processes in constructing and making these ideas salient in the first place), then you're going to have policies that reflect this inevitable "clash of civilization".

Bottom line: if one believes in the inevitable conflict with others, then you are the maker of your own destiny.

Masada: Politics in the making

A fancy UN plaque made for the touristy point of interest

The story of Masada goes something like this: Masada, the site of King Herod’s palace/resort/fortress bad times, turned into a place of refuge for Jewish rebel groups after the Jewish revolt of 66 C.E. The Romans decided to lay siege on Masada, and they ultimately breached the mountain-high defences. However, as the Romans entered the site, they discovered hundreds of dead bodies: the Jewish rebels had committed suicide in order to escape imminent defeat and slavery.

Fast forward to the present day: Masada has been deemed a World Heritage Site by the United Nations, and also crowned by Moshe Dayan (former Chief of Staff of the Israeli Defence Force) as the pre-eminent site for reinforcing loyalty to the homeland. The values instilled within each newly sworn-in soldier – bravery, camaraderie, nationalism, loyalty, commitment – are exemplified by the declaration, “Masada shall not fall again.”

At the end of the day, history is still told by the victors.

Youth: A force of change?
There has been much talk about the power of youth, as though they have super-human powers to change all the evil that is out there in this world. But I have always wondered why adults put so much unsubstantiated faith in the potential of youth to ignite ground-shattering changes. Just talking to any Cornell professor, and most of them will ruminate over the many problems of this world, and then somehow come up with the magic formula that the solutions to all these problems is the younger generation!

This line of thinking is not shared by a Jewish NGO worker. He is well into his 60s, yet he does not believe his work is done yet. He dismisses, and even rebukes, the idea that we should put faith in the younger generation. He asks the crucial question: Who are in the positions of power right now? The politicians, the policy makers, the influential personnel at think tanks and research institutes. Are not the majority of them adults?

One scary fact about Israeli society: a poll done by an NGO (will have the link soon) shows that today's Israeli youth are more prejudiced and racist than previous generations. That kind of turns the whole formula of the "youth = solution" on its head.

Jerusalem: Capitalism’s Holy City

View of the Old City from the Mount of Olives

My somewhat naïve and misguided expectations for a moral/spiritual transformation in Christianity’s holiest city were sadly unmet.

Commercialization does not seem to have left any part of the city unscathed. It is safe to say that Jerusalem epitomizes the culture of religious commercialization all around Israel. One can simply see this by looking at Jerusalem’s economy, which is based largely on religious tourism. Lacking any sort of vibrant economic activity (especially after the security barrier went up that greatly barred commercial activities with its West Bank neighbors), it is no wonder that Jerusalem is one of Israel’s poorest municipalities. What is even more concerning for the Israeli government is that there is actually a net loss of Jews in the city, mostly because young, talented Jewish Jerusalemites are leaving the city for more economically vibrant ones like Tel Aviv (see previous entry on Israel’s demographic war).

What activity that is left within Jerusalem is defined by a hyper-capitalistic mentality, with the most poignant example being the greed and self-interest that dictate the maintenance of holy sites around the city. Different denominations compete with each other for jurisdiction over the holy places by planting their own church over a particular relic or holy site.

This mammoth church sits on top of the EXACT ROCK that Jesus prayed before his arrest. How do people know that this is the rock? Who knows; maybe all of this is just for bragging rights.

The economy of Jerusalem – and Israel as a whole – is also marred by the unrelenting supply and demand of "conflict tourists." The perpetuation of the conflict is often to the benefit of certain sectors. The mere fact that the Galilee International Management Institute can hold these summer programs is a testament to this paradoxical reality: the existence of a whole slew of NGOs and public/private institutions depends on the continuance of violence and warfare in the region. As noble as their mission statements are, the reality is that these institutions are thriving because of the entrenchment, exacerbation, and existence of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

One NGO worker summarizes the phenomenon the best: if it was not for the conflict, a lot of the “conflict tourism” that occurs within Jerusalem and around Israel would not happen (and they – the workers within these sectors that thrive on the conflict – would be without jobs)!

Identity Crisis: Justifying your identity at the expense of the other
I was lucky enough to have had the opportunity to meet a Jewish settler in the West Bank. Sarah* made aliyah from America at the age of 15, and has not turned back on her ideological underpinnings ever since her move to Israel. As a Jew in Diaspora and descending back to her historical homeland, what justified Sarah’s identity and existence in Israel is the denial of the “other’s” right to claim the same piece of land as his/her legitimate homeland. Though the settler claimed to have Arabs as her close (best) friends, she did not recognize their historical narrative of Palestine as their homeland. For example, Sarah steadfastly held to the belief that Palestinian refugees were from the east of the Jordan River. In her narrative, the current Palestinian refugees are from anyplace other than the land within Israel proper.

I think Sarah’s story brings into question the power of social interactions in facilitating peace in the region. Countless NGOs merely have people interact with each other, in the hopes that if individuals from different groups can interact with each other, that in itself can bring about social change. My skepticism stems from this concern: would social interactions really make people ask the hard questions, such as their willingness to compromise on issues such as land settlements and civil rights? It is one thing to ask your neighbor over for a backyard barbeque, but another different story when it comes to giving back your backyard to your neighbor.

Finding one’s passion in life, and following it
This summer has been truly transformative, in that I have been able to finally see where my road ahead is going to be like. I feel that I finally know who I am, where I want to be, and the person I want to become.

Instead of joining the wave of seniors taking GREs and LSATs and doing applications, I have decided to take things more slowly. I will not be going to law school or grad school after graduation. Instead, I hope to travel to the Middle East again and learn more about issues of city planning, conflict resolution and management, Arab culture, and religion. Many personal narratives and lessons were shared with chance encounters, and always with shisha and chai. I hope to replicate many more of those memories when I’m back in the region next year.

That way, I will know what I hope to gain out of my graduate program – whether it is in International Law, Peace and Conflict Resolution, or Middle Eastern Politics. After all, what are my studies for if they are simply intellectual exercises with no grounding in my own experiences?

Some plans that I have in store:
- volunteer with Project Hope in Nablus
- do some traveling in Egypt: next time around, I’m going to spend a couple of nights out in the desert with Bedouins!
- intern at a legal center in Israel that fights for Israeli Arabs’ rights
- learn how to put on a headscarf correctly (and without poking myself with pins)
- teach some piano (I miss my beloved Chopin), and rehearse for a recital or two
- be fluent in Arabic

Hopefully after I’ve done all (or most) of the things listed above, I’ll be ready for grad school with a greater sense of mission and purpose.

A testimony of God’s love and forgiveness
The past 3 months have been a roller-coaster ride of emotions for me. I have experienced hatred. I have experienced love. I have experienced forgiveness. And who to thank more than my own parents and my boyfriend, who have steadfastly stayed with me through the worst of times. They have shown me true understanding, love, sacrifice, and unbounded forgiveness. They are a reflection of God in my life. To them and to my Lord Jesus Christ, I owe everything in my life.


To learn more about the programs and institutions that I was a part of:
AIESEC's Salaam Program: Coming soon! I'm actually the manager of the program this semester. If you want to learn more about interning abroad (especially in the Middle East/North Africa region) through AIESEC, email me at ekk37@cornell.edu
Population Council: http://www.popcouncil.org/
Galileee International Management Institute: http://www.galilcol.ac.il/page.asp?id=1