Old City, Sana’a, Yemen (2008).

This week, however, I’ve been focusing on “Paradise Now” (dir. Hany Abu-Assad), and I’ve got to tell you, all that “de-sensitivity” stuff has turned out to be a load of crap, because it’s gotten progressively more heartbreaking each time I watch it. Instead of the tragedy losing its effect, I just feel like I’m caught in this recurring loop of these characters (who I’ve now spent so much time with), leaving a human wake that extends on both sides of the conflict.

The film follows Khaled and Said, two best friends who are young, aimless and living in the West Bank, after they find out that they’ve been picked to carry out a terrorist operation in Tel Aviv. From the moment we meet them, we hope that something goes wrong, that these men don’t go through with this horrible act because they are so likable, or at the very least, so recognizable. Things do go awry, as you might expect of a movie longer than twenty minutes, but this leaves only one of the men to question the mission while the other becomes more convicted in its necessity.

For all its overt discussion of terrorism’s role in the resistance, the movie somehow escapes coming off as didactic. Suicide bombing by no means justified in the story, rather, given a face, which is sometimes all the discomfort the audience can handle. The real tragedy is not that young Palestinians are forced to terrorist means, but that they are convinced from both sides that they this is their only option, which not only perpetuates the violence in the conflict, but destroys the families and community they leave behind.

Beautifully shot and brilliantly edited, I can’t recommend “Paradise Now” highly enough. And if you don’t believe me, check out the American trailer below, which has some really confusing Alexi Murdoch music playing over shots of the West Bank.

Mosque – Sana’a, Yemen (2008).

Back then, we were still undecided about whether or not they thought Iraq posed a legitimate enough threat to justify the war our government was flirting with. It was still understandable that no one knew how to pronounce “Iraq.” There was no recession, no huge war debt, no body count, no Abu Gharib, no GITMO. People in liberal enclaves such as NPR were still saying things to the effect of “I’m not so sure about this whole ‘invasion’ thing, but I like the president and I want to support him.”

It’s a bit like stumbling upon a picture from junior high and not being able to recognize yourself. You can’t imagine a time when you thought graffitied jeans or crimped hair were a good idea, just as you can’t imagine a time when an invasion without an exit strategy seemed feasible… and yet there it is, that image of a former self which proves you wrong.

Perhaps the best example of this comes in Act Three (“Realism 101″), in which The New Yorker’s Nicholas Lemann and Brookings Institution analyst Kenneth Pollack argued about the for and against the invasion. It’s weird, remembering that arguments like these were persuasive in either direction, when they seemed well informed and thought through, and for their time they were. Yet there are some pretty glaring anachronisms, or at least, what feel like them now. For instance, both parties believed that Saddam Hussein had WMDs–they’re existence is in no way up for debate. It of course, begs the unsettling question of how current debates will look in only a couple years. When we talk about Iran or Gaza in three, four years, how uninformed will we consider the conversations we’re having now?

On the other hand, there are details that ended up staying true that have in some ways fallen out of our awareness. In Act Two (“When Firas Comes Marching Home Again”), Adam Davidson interviews Iraqi refugees and foreign workers who either live in or commute to Amman, Jordan. There are a number of Iraqis who left the country after being subjected to brutal torture for petty or non-existent crimes, the effects of which are still visible on their faces and fingers. I think it’s good to remember that the specter of violence has existed in the Iraqi consciousness for longer than the American occupation.

Also, these stories hit a little too close to home in a way they didn’t before the invasion. Before, these were Saddam’s brutal interrogation techniques, and were widely publicized in America as justification for overthrowing a wretchedly inhumane dictator. Yet now we have to square ourselves with our own track record in Abu Gharib, GITMO, and hundreds of CIA blackout sites all over the world.

If you’ve got an hour to listen, you should check it out for yourself, and see how far we’ve come, for better or worse.

“In a few days time, a very dangerous virus will attack the body of the nation. What virus? Is it AIDS? No, something more dangerous. Something more dangerous than Ebola, which dissolves the human body, more dangerous than cholera, which killed half of Europe a few centuries ago. I am talking about the Valentine virus, people.” (quote courtesy of MEMRI TV)

Hazem’s reasons are many, and fairly predictable. Valentine’s Day leads young Muslims into temptation, makes them consume, sin… the usual. He also goes out of his way to rail against the buying of “red colored” products, which is probably more of a rhetorical tactic than anything else. Still, I have to point out that a) fluffy, sparkily Valentine’s merchandise does not seem like the greatest erotic threat to pious young people and b) that stuff is already all over Egypt, every day, any day. If I had a pound for every time I got into a taxi where a stuffed red heart was hanging from the rearview mirror or ceiling… well, I’d have a lot of money for similar taxi rides.

Shuman’s medical comparisons and warnings about the evil of Hallmark make his speech kind of funny, but it’s also interesting for other reasons. Towards the end, he says:

“You can’t tell the difference between a Fatima and a Mary anymore. Fatima wears the same clothes as Mary, listens to the same songs, she loves the same singers, and she watches the same TV channels.”

With Egypt, like so much of the Middle East, going through an intense religious revival right now, I was surprised to hear Shuman bemoan the loss of religious identity to Western secularism. It seems strangely out of place, considering what’s going on in Egypt these days.

Of course, exaggerating any cultural issue as an East-versus-West clash of civilizations is a pretty common way of drumming up domestic support for religious or political leaders on both sides. It rarely describes what is actually going on or what people (both those making speeches and those listening to them) are actually thinking. Still, after all that ebola and AIDS talk, it was the rhetorical tactic that stuck with me after reading it.

Anyway, here’s to hoping all your Valentine’s days don’t dissolve your body. Unless it’s in a figurative, romantic way, in which case go for it I suppose… but find a better metaphor for it when speaking to that special someone.

You know the quintessential female road trip movie–the kind where the solution to any problem is just an enthusiastic radio sing-along away? Where everyone emerges from the experience knowing a little more about each other and themselves? Okay, so maybe this isn’t the automotive or cinematic aspiration of every woman out there, but I the basic act of getting behind the wheel should be available to those who want it.

The Saudi law that forbids women from driving is perhaps one of the more infamous ways in which the government systematically marginalizes women, but there’s been a recent effort among Saudi women to put together a petition to overturn it.

“Petition?” you are perhaps thinking. “Isn’t that a political process better suited for getting nominated for high school student counsel? Or to bring chicken wings to the dining halls?”

Yes and no. While petitions are often a dead-end effort in America, the Saudi government isn’t to keen on any sort of organized political action, a feeling they express with jail sentences, fines, and forced unemployment. So in this context, writing your name down in dissent is a fairly gutsy move.

It’s something that is getting much more press abroad than domestically, but a big part of that is because there are so many censors watching Saudi media that it’s not the best way of taking the country’s political pulse. It’s gettting even more coverage now because Saudi princess Amira al-Taweel has been the latest to sign on. It’s hard to say what, if any, effect this will have on the outcome (again, if any), but I think it can’t hurt for the other women who are supporting this to have a powerful ally.

The reasons Saudi women are demanding to drive are much more practical than symbolic, and I think it’s an important thing to keep in mind that any effort towards women’s rights doesn’t necessarily have to look like an effort towards an American-like society. Most Saudi women aren’t able to pay the $300-400 a month for a live in driver, and many would much prefer to spend their time driving in the company of female relatives rather than risk harrassment from their male chaffeurs. It’s not really about gender integration, but about expanding the separate female sphere. The typical (stated) male criticism about this idea is that it will put women in more situations where they are in contact with men, and therefore more opportunities for them to be led into sin. So why not train some female mechanics and traffic officers? Problem solved. Or it would be, if that’s what this were really about.

The first Arabic words that reached my ears after I returned to the states was not a result of any studying on my part, but the fact I was listening to a Top 40 Hip Hop station while driving. Busta Rhymes’ “Arab Money,” at least in the remix version, has a bismillah ar-rahman ar-raheen as a significant part of it’s chorus, which translates into “In the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful,” and is something called the fatiha, which is spoken before each chapter in the Qur’an. And while it’s normal to hear the entire Qur’an recited on cassette tapes in taxis, homes, or tram stops in the Middle East, hearing it out of my Suburu speakers in southern California would have made me fall out of my seat if I wasn’t strapped in.

It’s an interesting song, with the Arabic hook and the actual subject matter. I can’t tell whether I like it, or whether it’s embarrassing for everyone involved. On one hand, it’s kind of cool see the dream of glittery Gulf culture making it’s way onto the American rap scene. On the other, it does make you wonder how it affects the causes of the rest of the Arabs who don’t have a lot of money. Say, the ones living in the Gaza Strip. Especially this past months.

I don’t know, it seems in a lot of ways Busta has brought up that classic Middle Eastern Studies 101 question of what exactly constitutes the Middle East, or the term “Arab.” A lot of very different regions fall under the umbrella of that term, each with different problems and different assets, and there’s a lot of tension between the haves and have-nots, or more often, the countries deemed “moderate” or “friendly” by the US (Saudi, Egyt, Jordan, and the Fatah party) and all the others. Marc Lynch has some great posts about this.

Anyway, Bay Area Iranian rapper, Revolution of the Mind, has taken up the issue and made his own version of the song in response to Busta’s about the Gaza crisis. The image’s not very good quality, but he’s a really brilliant guy and makes some great points about tensions within the Arab world (or, “Arab” world) and how they are perceived in the states. He did some work for the first “Loose Change” soundtrack, but it’ll be interesting to see what he comes up with next.

Note: This version of Busta Rhymes’ “Arab Money” is a fully produced video, but does not include the “bismillah” bit, and is total gibberish, as best I can tell. To hear the “bismillah” remix, go here.

I try to be a realist, politically. I understand that Barack Obama is not the second coming, that the markets will not right themselves at his whim, that formerly hostile world leaders will not join hands across the Mall and join in a chorus of “Kumbaya” before ratifying a treaty for world peace. But you can’t deny that it means something big. For a generation who came of political age at the beginning of the W Years, we are learning that there is more than one way to relate to your government.  I think in some ways, it does mean all those big symbolic changes that we’re being sold. And for now, I have no problem with that. I’m ready to try on idealist’s clothing. Tomorrow is the first day of the Obama presidency, but for now, I think we all deserve to feel as hopeful as we see fit. After eight years, we’ve earned it.

“To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect… To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society’s ills on the West — know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.”

Almost all of the movie takes place in between when the band arrives and when they leave the next day. All the characters are almost poignant in their awkwardness, and there are some really beautiful and hilarious moments. At times, it reminds me a bit of Napoleon Dynamite… if Napoleon Dynamite had been set in the Middle East, and hadn’t been so shamelessly striving to be a new cult classic.

Mostly, it’s nice to see a movie that is technically about Israeli-Arab relations insist that it is more importantly about basic human relations of the most ordinary quality. Plenty of tension, but no mention of suicide bombers, rockets, or walls. Which is not the same as pretending they are not there, but they don’t always need to play the leading roles.

Anyway, below is one of my favorite scenes, in which Khalid (the young Don Juan of the Alexandrian orchestra), help Papi (a horribly awkward Israeli man) comfort his equally awkward blind date. It starts out a little slow, but trust me, it’s worth sticking around for the end.

Also, applicants are expected to be incredibly vertical.

Boardwalk – Dahab, Egypt (2008).