And then you think of the horrible price it’s always had to pay for its openness and cosmopolitanism…
–
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
–
And then you think of the horrible price it’s always had to pay for its openness and cosmopolitanism…
–
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
–
The Rev. Ibrahim Nehmo expressed a shared ambivalence about Hezbollah’s power in the village of Ras Baalbek, Lebanon. Diego Ibarra Sanchez for The New York Times (click)
“In recent statements, Hezbollah’s leaders have credited their fighters with defending Lebanon against a wave of extremist Sunni militancy that could threaten the country, the most religiously diverse in the region. Al Akhbar, a left-leaning Lebanese daily, recently published a telephone poll conducted last month by the Beirut Center for Research and Information that found that two-thirds of Christians said Hezbollah was protecting Lebanon.
In Ras Baalbek, that sentiment is strong, but it comes with some ambivalence. The Rev. Ibrahim Nehmo, the priest at St. Elian Greek Catholic Church, put it this way: “We feel positive about Hezbollah today, but not as positive as their communities do.
“We are not asking them to come here,” he said. “But I profit from Hezbollah. I am not fully with Hezbollah, but if Hezbollah is powerful, I am not sad.”
At the church, deserted on a recent weekday, red and blue stained glass filtered light into a quiet sanctuary. A sign on the door displayed the insecurities of Christians, who are more powerful in Lebanon than in any other Arab country but see themselves as increasingly beleaguered in the region.”
“This land belongs to our people,” it read. “Some of us have died, some of us are still alive, but some of us haven’t been born yet. This land is not for sale.”
Whole article: “Clashes on Syrian Border Split Lebanese Town”
–
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
–
See whole article: “Christians of Mosul Find Haven in Jordan“
Radwan Shamra, 35, hoped he could survive the sectarian war between his Muslim countrymen even as many of his neighbors fled the violence that engulfed Iraq. Warrick Page for The New York Times (click)
After capturing the city in June, the Sunni militant group gave Christians a day to make up their minds: convert, pay a tax, or be killed. [Otherwise, of course, “there is no compulsion in religion.”]
Mostly, they are haunted by the abrupt end to their lives in Iraq, and to a Christian tradition that had survived in Mosul for more than 1,700 years.
“We are very much part of the Arab culture, we are citizens of Iraq,” he said. “What do we go back to? There is no home, and if this continues, there will be no country.”
–
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
–
Reblogged from Andrew Sullivan’s Daily Dish:
Sulome Anderson checks in from Tripoli, the northern Lebanese town that has become a microcosm of the Syrian civil war and which today “seems to lie in ISIS’s shadow”:
Although the extremist and ultraviolent Sunni group has few open supporters here, the appearance of pro-ISIS paraphernalia and graffiti, the clash last month in the Bekaa, and the fact that Tripoli’s Sunni-majority population has a historical tendency toward radicalism, have raised worries that the group might gain a foothold here and send the city into a spiral of deepening violence.
Local tensions in Tripoli follow essentially the same ethnic lines as those in Syria’s war:
Sunni citizens largely support the increasingly fundamentalist Syrian opposition — ISIS being the most notoriously brutal of the groups fighting Syrian president Bashar al-Assad; meanwhile, the Alawites of the Jabal Mohsen neighborhood are overwhelmingly sympathetic to Assad’s regime (the Syrian leader is Alawite) and its Hezbollah allies. There are frequent and bloody gunfights between Jabal Mohsen and the Sunni district of Bab el-Tabbeneh, which border each other. Fearing violence would engulf Tripoli and potentially spread to other regions in Lebanon, the army moved in, establishing a security zone within the city limits last year. That hasn’t stopped the bloodshed, though, and the situation in Arsal triggered fresh clashes at the end of August, in which an 8-year-old girl was killed.
Also, the local Christian community is feeling threatened in a way it never has before:
Tripoli’s Christian population has been a bit skittish lately. Several churches were vandalized at the beginning of September, their walls spray-painted with ominous threats including “The Islamic State is coming” and “We come to slaughter you, you worshippers of the cross.” Crosses were allegedly burned in retaliation for the #BurnISISFlag social media movement, Lebanon’s version of the Ice Bucket Challenge, in which people have been posting videos and pictures of themselves setting fire to the group’s banner.
Father Samir Hajjar sits in the priest’s quarters of the city’s Syriac Orthodox Church, one of the buildings that was vandalized. He is measured about the incident, but admits it was worrying. “At first, we thought this could just be ordinary vandals, or the work of children,” he says. “I’ve been here 17 years, and no one bothers us. We respect our neighbors and they respect us. But this graffiti on the walls of all the churches, that’s not children’s work. They used stencils. It’s a serious matter.”
–
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
He got enough flak for the post (read through all the ctd.’s too — very interesting) and I feel kind of bad giving him more after so many months, but it’s been in the back of my mind since the fall and the argument is so irritating that I had to put in my own two cents.
It seems that every Sullivan-type pundit rushed out in 2001, or more probably 2003 when they were making their Iraq predictions, and bought some book about the Paris Peace Conference: “Paris 1919” “The Peace to End All Peace” — it’s an entire genre in itself. And there they found out about some magic secret, like in a Dan Brown novel, called the Sykes Picot line, that supposedly explains everything about the Middle East’s dysfunction, and like a little kid who realizes he’s said something that the adults have found smart or funny, they go around repeating it ad nauseum: “Sykes-Picot Line”…”Sykes Picot Line” … “this guy Sykes and this guy Picot”…”The Sykes Picot Line…” Listen to Sullivan’s own pedantic tone:
“Syria as we now know it was created by one Brit, Mark Sykes, and one Frenchman, Francois Georges-Picot in 1920. Originally, it included a chunk of Iraq (another non-country), but when oil was discovered there (in Mosul), the Brits wanted and got it. With that detail alone, you can see how valid the idea is of a Syrian “nation” is.”
The whole point is that most of the nations of the present Middle East are artificial, colonial creations — arbitrary lines drawn on a map –and that explains everything. First, these lines are not arbitrary. Whatever you might want to say about Sykes or Picot, or Churchill or Lloyd George or Clemenceau — that they were gross imperialists (which is not even redundant really but simply a tautology: “The King is a gross monarchist…”) or anything else, they weren’t ignorant or anistoretoi.* The units they put together corresponded, as so many of Sullivan’s readers point out to him, with regions with long, historically recognized identities. Where you look at a map of the Middle East and do see straight artificially drawn lines, they were drawn through places where nobody lives. Otherwise, within every one of those lines, there has always existed a shifting, changing, re- or de-centralizing identity, but one with clear continuities nonetheless.
(*Anistoretoi – ανιστόρητοι – is a Greek word that I like very much, because it literally means “un-historied” — historically ignorant, obviously, but there’s something about “un-historied” that just seems to me like a sharper condemnation of inexcusable lack of knowledge — no? — so you’ll see it on this blog here and there.)
Thankfully, no one says this about Egypt, because it so obviously has a longer continuous history of unified consciousness than even China. But what Sullivan, so damn pompous — or just so gay and so Magdalen — dismisses as the “non-country” of Iraq, the flatlands of the Tigris and the Euphrates basin, even when semi-splintered into northern, central, and southern parts, as Iraq seems to be doing now, was always seen as a unit: certainly geographically but even culturally. The two regions the Greeks called Libya and Cyrene may correspond to a west-east division that is still apparent in modern Libya (Tripoli and Benghazi), but their union is not necessarily artificial or inherently problematic. The headland to the west of Libya we call Tunisia was the first region called Africa by the Romans, where their ancient enemy Carthage had once stood. And the region where the northwestern section of the Fertile Crescent bends over and meets the Mediterranean has been called Syria since the Greeks and was probably seen as a recognized cultural entity far before them. The mountainous Mediterranean littoral of this Syria — what’s now Palestine and Lebanon and maybe a new Alawite state waiting to be born — was always a space slightly apart and more heterogeneous, but Syria nonetheless. (The arid plateau across the Jordan, inhabited by the Moabites and Edomites and Nabataeans and all those other peoples the Israelites are always defeating in the Old Testament because God loves them more, was also a region of a recognized coherence of sorts not just made up by the Brits when they decided to call it Trans-Jordan.) Syria was the birthplace of Christianity as an organized religion. Syria was the Romans-Byzantines’ richest and most sophisticated eastern province. Syria was the prize catch for the Crusaders; the real studs among them who could, got themselves a piece of booty there, not the “Holy Land.” When Zainab bears her lament to the people of Shaam (Syria or the Levant) in Agha Shahid Ali’s beautiful poem she cries out: “Hear me Syria…” addressing the people of the seat of Umayyad power in Damascus — the one in Syria — that had massacred her sacred family. Sykes and Picot didn’t make this stuff up.
What Sullivan wants to say, and what’s truly problematic about his assertion, is that Syria is not a country because it’s not ethnically or confessionally homogeneous, and dismissing it as a state for those reasons is a far more eurocentric, and anistoreto, an idea than he may know. Because if those are our standards for nation-hood, there are very few countries in the world. By those standards, if Syria is not a country, then England and France aren’t countries either. Because a polity called the Kingdom of England, or the Kingdom of France — both of which one could argue were “artificially” created by the powers that be of the time — had existed for far longer than Englishmen and Frenchmen have. And the process by which a unified national consciousness was created to match these pre-existing political units — England or France — was a long and complex one and one that followed the particular course it did only in Western Europe and trying to force it onto the peoples of states in other parts of the world is impossible and extremely dangerous. Forget what Sullivan thinks is the Machiavelian divide-and-rule politics of the colonizers that pitted ethnic groups in Syria and Iraq against each other; these colonizers were probably never as devilishly smart as we like to imagine them. What Sullivan finds inconceivable is that one can be a Latakian Alawite or a Sunni from Homs or an Aleppo Christian or a northeastern Kurd and still function as a citizen of a legitimate country called Syria; that these groups have always had boundaries that fluctuated or were permeable; and, that though relations between them historically were better at some moments than others, they were brought together in this place called Syria by organic historic processes and not corraled together there by outsiders. And by believing that it’s inconceivable they can all function as citizens of this place, he’s actually participating in the creation of a discourse that pits these groups against each other in a manner far more fatal than the supposed manipulations of the British or French. He’s creating a poetics of sectarianism, pure and simple. One only has to look at how reinforcing ethnic differences, often with the naive supposition that satisfying each group’s demands will lead to peace, only exacerbated the tragedy — the tragedies — of Yugoslavia in the 90s to see where thinking like Sullivan’s leads.
To his credit, Sullivan gives the Ottomans credit for maintaining a semblance of peace and stability in the region for several centuries. But the Ottomans had molded, over the centuries, a complex and flexible system of negotiated corporatism and autonomy that recognized the different groups of their empire and yet that held them together in one unit successfully until modern nationalism started making that impossible. What Sullivan is doing with blowhard statements like the above is just continuing that process: making it impossible for the peoples of the region that have to live together to do so peacefully and productively.
Finally, as a somewhat tangential but important aside, I’d really be interested in finding out why Sullivan doesn’t think that India is “not a country.”
And, folks, what is going on in Syria? I’ve been in France for a month and my French isn’t good enough to follow the news and the American stuff on-line seems to have less and less coverage. Has some sort of stalemate been reached? Is some kind of compromise being forged? Are people just tired? Anyone want to enlighten me?
I’ve used this term several times without giving a more specific definition of it and that was a mistake because some of those posts would have made more sense if I had.
Like: “Little Rock, Greece” (May 26th, 2012):
“But an equal object of my bashing here is the European Union, which aside from proving itself to be a neo-colonialist endeavour masquerading as the Highest Achievement of Western Humanism Project, has also revealed itself to be a half-assed, thrown together mess on so many institutional and bureaucratic levels. (Yes, neo-colonialist: the Frangoi** gave up their colonies after the war and then discovered the exploitable potential of Europe’s own periphery again.)”
And: “Russia and Syrian Christians, ctd” (June 5th, 2012):
“Tying your survival to extra-regional players or regimes like Assad’s that are destined to soon make their exit is a losing strategy for the region’s Christians. The threat of Islamist violence is probably real. Iraq and even Egypt certainly seem to indicate that. But their only choice is probably the tricky dance of fostering, or just going with, the flow of democratic change while keeping themselves as least vulnerable as possible. Forget Russia. And, as Constantine XI had to heroically face in the end, there’s certainly no help coming from the Frangoi.* If you want to live in peace and security, look to your neighbor because, ultimately, he’s the only one who can provide it for you.”
And: “Un Verano en Nueva York” (July 13th, 2012):
“In Astoria I catch the end of vespers at Hagia Eirene. This is a church that used to be the territory of fundamentalist, Old Calendar, separatist crazies but has rejoined the flock on the condition that it was granted monastic status (and I have no idea what that means). But it has somehow got its hands on a great bunch of cantors and priests who really know what they’re doing. I’m impressed. I brought friends here for the Resurrection this year and for the first time I wasn’t embarrassed. If I hadn’t invited them back home afterwards I would have stayed for the Canon. Only one cantor now at vespers but he’s marvelous and the lighting is right and the priest’s bearing appropriately imperial. It’s incredibly heartening to see our civilization’s greatest achievement — which is not what the Frangoi taught us about Sophocles or Pericles or some half-baked knowledge of Plato or a dumb hard-on about the Elgin marbles or the word “Macedonia,” but this, the rite and music and poetry and theatre of the Church – performed with the elegance and dignity that it deserves.”
…
So…when the Byzantines first encountered the West and the conglomeration of Germanic kingdoms that had sprung up on the territories of the western Roman Empire, or rather, when they first felt challenged by it and not just irritated, was when Charlemagne, previously just King of the Franks, was crowned Emperor of the Romans in the year 800 by Pope Leo III, whose skin he had saved after Leo had been deposed and almost lynched by the mobs of Rome. This, of course, was intolerable to us, because we were the Romans and we had an Emperor, with an unbroken line back to Constantine, if not Augustus. This is close to impossible an idea for anyone today to understand; it’s even hard for modern Greeks to articulate and it’s at the core of our completely mangled identity. It’s nearly impossible to speak definitively about consciousness or identity in the present tense, much less more than a millennium past. But this is the simplest way I can put it: by the late first millennium, the Greek-speaking Christians of the eastern Mediterranean had a stronger sense of Imperial Roman continuity than the inhabitants of even the Italian peninsula. Till well into the twentieth century our most common term of self-designation was “Romios” – “Roman.” If you had asked any of my grandparents, all born Ottoman subjects, what they “were” — if they even understood the question — or even my father very often, they would’ve all answered “Roman.” For the inhabitants of my father’s village in Albania, especially the older ones, who never had “Hellenes” imposed on them by the Neo-Greek statelet, the world is still divided into Muslim “Turks” and Orthodox “Romans,” and whether they speak Greek or Albanian is irrelevant. The Greeks of Istanbul still call themselves “Romioi” for the most part; Turks still call them “Rum” too, out of simple historical continuity, while the Turkish state is still faithful to the appellation for partly more cynical and manipulative reasons. I’m writing a piece with the appropriately pompous working title of “A Roman Manifesto” or “A Manifesto of Romanness” that will deal with this whole theme further.
The Frankish West (click)
So Charlemagne was a Frank, a Latinized Germanic ethnic group, and though the Pope’s primacy “inter pares” was recognized, he had no right to unilaterally crown this Frank emperor in an Italy that had become a ravaged provincial backwater from the Constantinopolitan point of view. This didn’t end relations between the Empire and the various western European kingdoms. They continued to trade and even contract dynastic marriages and all the rest. But the tension, which had already been planted for quite a while before that, only went from bad to worse: power tensions; trade concessions to the Italian city-states that fatally mirror the ones the Ottomans had to make to the Western powers a millennium later; massacres of Italians in C-town that are equally mirror-like.
The West grew in confidence. The Empire shrank. They started bickering about theological issues, and eventually, in 1054, Rome and Constantinople excommunicated each other over some nonsense about the division of labor among the Trinity that I’ve never bothered to try and understand. Then came the Crusades — more growing Western confidence — which the Byzantines weren’t ever really enthusiastic about because I reckon on many levels they felt less animosity for and greater cultural affinity to their the Muslim/Arab neighbors than they did to the “Franks.” Runciman, I think writes somewhere that a ninth-century Greek felt more at home in Arab Palermo or Baghdad and Cairo that he would’ve in Paris or even Rome.
Sometimes Wiki’s gets it perfect:
“The experiences of the first two Crusades had thrown into stark relief the vast cultural differences between the two Christian civilizations. The Latins (as the Byzantines called them because of their adherence to the Latin Rite) viewed the Byzantine preference for diplomacy and trade over war, as duplicitous and degenerate, and their policy of tolerance and assimilation towards Muslims as a corrupt betrayal of the faith. For their part, the educated and wealthy Byzantines saw the Latins as lawless, impious, covetous, blood-thirsty, undisciplined, and (quite literally) unwashed.”
Then came the Fourth Crusade, led by the Venetian Doge Enrico Dandolo. The Crusaders fell into the internecine machinations of the some Angeloi Emperors and I think ended up feeling betrayed on some promise made to them by one party in the Byzantine political scene, and they probably were, because our latter Emperors compensated for the diminishment of their real geopolitical power and the sapped strength of their once massive military machine by becoming major manipulative sleazebags and liars, initiating a long Greek tradition that persists to our day. In retaliation, and, or, because that had been their real object all along, the Crusaders of the Fourth Crusade, in 1204, captured the City – the first time Constantinople had ever fallen to anybody and destroyed it.
They destroyed her. They massacred thousands, desecrated churches, including Hagia Sophia herself, and carried away what, in today’s terms, I’m sure amounted to billions in loot. The Venetians got off with enough of a lump sum of capital to fund and run their mercantile empire for another five centuries. But aside from the loot, which on some level is comprehensible, it’s the sheer mindless destruction of 1204 that betrays the sack as the action of thuggish, resentful provincials and their envy towards what had been the civilizational center of the Mediterranean and western Asian world for almost a millennium; it’s what an army of Tea-Partiers, NRA members or armed Texan Evangelicals would do to New York if they could. Though pregnant already with the great traditions of this supposed thing called Western Humanism, this bunch destroyed more Classical texts and melted down or smashed more Classical sculpture into gravel than had been done at any other one time in history – far more than any fanatical Christians in any pagan city or any Arabs or Muslims in any conquered Christian city before them had. More of the ancient world was lost to us in those few days than in any other comparable time span before that. Just sheer idiotic vandalism. There’s probably no more epic manifestation of Killing-the-Father in human history.
Speros Vryonis, a great historian but a seriously unpleasant man, Theos’choreston, made a career out of catalogueing the injustices done to Byzantine and post-Byzantine Greeks. He was the great modern preacher of whining Greek victimology and one often felt that all his personal bile and biterness was poured into his work in that way; his book on the anti-Greek riots of Istanbul in 1955 is one thousand pages long; you’d think it was the most important event in twentieth-century history. In any event, in Byzantium and Europe, he wrote:
“The Latin soldiery subjected the greatest city in Europe to an indescribable sack. For three days they murdered, raped, looted and destroyed on a scale which even the ancient Vandals and Goths would have found unbelievable. Constantinople had become a veritable museum of ancient and Byzantine art, an emporium of such incredible wealth that the Latins were astounded at the riches they found. Though the Venetians had an appreciation for the art which they discovered (they were themselves semi-Byzantines) and saved much of it, the French and others destroyed indiscriminately, halting to refresh themselves with wine, violation of nuns, and murder of Orthodox clerics. The Crusaders vented their hatred for the Greeks most spectacularly in the desecration of the greatest Church in Christendom. They smashed the silver iconostasis, the icons and the holy books of Hagia Sophia, and seated upon the patriarchal throne a whore who sang coarse songs as they drank wine from the Church’s holy vessels. The estrangement of East and West, which had proceeded over the centuries, culminated in the horrible massacre that accompanied the conquest of Constantinople. The Greeks were convinced that even the Turks, had they taken the city, would not have been as cruel as the Latin Christians. The defeat of Byzantium, already in a state of decline, accelerated political degeneration so that the Byzantines eventually became an easy prey to the Turks. The Crusading movement thus resulted, ultimately, in the victory of Islam, a result which was of course the exact opposite of its original intention.”
The Fall of Constantinople, Palma Le Jeune — 16th-17th century (click)
The Entry of the Crusaders into Constantinople –Eugene Delacroix, 1840 (click)
And, in fact, the Turks — fast-forward two-and-a-half centuries – weren’t as bad. Maybe ’cause there wasn’t much left. Aside from a sizeable amount of slaves, most of the loot Mehmet had promised his suicidally brave Janissaries when they finally made it into the City in 1453 consisted of cheap silver frames pried off of personal or parish-sized icons — Cavafy’s “bits of coloured glass.” The Emperor’s tombs in the dilapidated Hagioi Apostoloi — the Byzantines’ Westminster — had already been desecrated and robbed by the Franks. They may as well have sacked Astoria. The rest was in Venice. (Even the crown jewels had been pawned off to Venice a century before by Anne of Savoy, one of the most meddling Frangissa bitches in Byzantine history, to fund her episode of the Palaiologan civil wars; that’s the actual historical reference for Cavafy’s “coloured glass.” Christouli mou, can you imagine what the Byzantine crown jewels were like?) But one good thing happened for Greeks on Tuesday, May Twenty-Ninth, Fourteen-Fifty-Three: when the Turks finally broke into Hagia Sophia, they smashed Dandolo’s sepulcher — because, after all of the above, he had had the shamelessness to have himself interred there – and finding nothing of worth, they threw his bones out into the street and let the dogs gnaw on them. I don’t care what else the conquering Turks did at that point or that Menderes’ thugs did the same to the Patriarchs’ graves at Balikli in 1955; I sleep better at night because they did it to Dandolo. I’m as close to a chaneller of the Byzantine mind and soul as you’ll find (aside from Vryonis) and I can tell you that the sweet Balkan hard-on of vengeance that image gives me even now is indescribable.
The Greeks got Constantinople back in 1261, but the City never really recovered, as the Empire itself didn’t. Like the South Bronx in the eighties, whole parts of the City were eventually given over to orchards and bostania or just wilderness. Yet even after that, the Byzantines managed to plant further seeds in the womb of friggin’ Western Humanism in the form of an artistic wave of unprecedented dimensions and creativity.
The “Franks,” thereafter, were the unforgivable villains. But even before, when Byzantine writers felt like being professional, they referred to Westerners as “Latins.” When not, and eventually in most cases, they were “Frangoi.” Frangoi stuck as the word for Westerners, or for Catholics at least, because Protestantism was only a minor blip on the East’s screen. But generally it came to mean the Western Others and the Eastern Muslim world between which Byzantine and post-Byzantine Christians came to feel themselves stuck between.
“Fereng,” “Ferengi,” “Ferenj” and other variations is also a word that eventually came to be used as far east as India, but I can’t be sure whether in Iran or India it means/meant Westerner or just foreigner. For Arabs and Turks, “Frank” came to mean those Christians over there, as opposed to “Romans,” our Christians over here. So if you were Roman Catholic, either back home in Europe or in the Near East, you were a “Frank;” if you were an Orthodox Christian, you were a “Roman.”* It’s confusing. And I hope I haven’t made it worse.
For Greeks, Frangoi continued to mean Westerner both in a negative sense and not, until the nation-sate convinced us into thinking we ourselves were Westerners. When Greek peasant men, for example, started wearing Western clothes, whereas their women wore traditional dress well into the twentieth century in many regions, those clothes were “Frangika.” Frangoi also meant, with no negative connotation, the small communities of Catholics in the Aegean islands that were leftovers of the Crusader principalities that had been founded there after the Fourth Crusade.
It’s not used any more in common Greek parlance, but most Greeks know what you mean when you say it – though this generation is so profoundly ignorant historically that I’m not so sure. I, of course, use it in a spirit of historical irony, though that spirit is entirely hostile. The worst enemy of our part of the world is the European West, and not because of imperialist interventions or the usual gripes, but because of the ideological and cultural chaos we allowed it to throw us into.
Yes, Frangoi are the enemy. I like to say that. But it’s not true. We think we’re Frangoi. Unlike the Byzantines described above, who understood that their natural civilizational context was and always had been the eastern Mediterranean, we are either ignorant of the peoples to our East or despise them. We disfigured our own identity in an attempt to remake it in the Westerners’ image. We threw acid into our own face and now still look longingly into Europe’s eyes, and pathetically expect to see our Classical glory reflected back at us.
*One of the most graphic examples is Lebanon/Syria, where Orthodox Christians, who have long and poignantly tried to bridge the above gap, were still “Romans” into the nineteenth century and were among the founders and then long among the most loyal adherents of Arab nationalism, whereas Maronite Christians were the locals with the most exemplary Frangika delusions, always looking to the Western outsider to bolster their interests, first their “sweet mother France” and then Israel, and bringing disaster down upon their heads and that of all around them in the process. That’s why in many previous posts my humble outsider’s advice to and hope for Syrian Christians in the current crisis has been that they think and act like Romans and not Franks.
–
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
–
What are the differences between a Hezbollah and an Amal supporter?
One response: “Other than having different names and different figureheads, I am not sure about any ideological differences between Hezb and Amal. If I ask anyone back home, all I will get is a healthy dose of Lebanese cynicism and sarcasm.”
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
Did this opinion piece in The New York Times, “Hezzbollah Survive the Fall of Assad?“make sense to anybody? Does Ghaddar really think that a phenomenon like Hezbollah is going to be mortally wounded in some way soon or that it will go away some time very soon? And do we want it too?
“Something fundamental has changed: the Shiite militant group Hezbollah, long Syria’s powerful proxy in Lebanon [a sweeping simplification of the Hezb phenomenon], has become a wounded beast. And it is walking a very thin line between protecting its assets and aiding a crumbling regime next door.”
A “wounded beast” ? Really?
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
Photo by Julien Harneis
From Granta: “Bread of Beirut” by Annia Ciezadlo
Snag to all you carbophobes…
“The practice of sharing an oven goes back to the ancients, when Babylonian temples fed their subjects on the leftovers from the feasts of the gods. But the urban public oven came into its own in the medieval Mediterranean. In cities all around the Middle Sea, Christians and Muslims, Arabs and Armenians alike brought bread and other foods to the oven at the pandocheion, a Greek word for inn that means ‘accepting all comers’. For a small fee, the public baker would cook your food, saving scarce heat and fuel for all to share – a kind of culinary carpool. Private ovens encouraged segregation; public ovens led to mixing, cross-pollination, and negotiation – in a word, relationships. And probably, I imagine, a fair amount of food and recipe sharing across religious and ethnic lines.”
Women taking cloth-covered trays of food to the fourno in the morning and coming back with them just before lunchtime were a regular neighborhood sight in Greece till the eighties even, and I can only imagine all over the Mediteranean (Iran?), especially on Sundays or feast days, when a casserole or tepsi-based dish was more expected than a “pot” dish which was easier to make at home: pastitsio, mousaka, roast lamb (with rice in the still post-Ottoman north, or potatoes in the Bavarian south), borek (again, in the still civilized north; no one in southern Greece can roll out decent yufka to save their lives), even tomato or eggplant or pepper dolma, which Greeks tend to bake rather than simmer like Turks do, with lots of extra filling spread around the pan, so the edges of the rice — the zaire, they used to call it in Epiros, which means grain or grain stock in Turkish (and sounds of Farsi origin to me) — got nice and crispy.
What Ciezadlo doesn’t point out is that the neighborhoud fournoi also saved you from so much heat in the summer in those countries, which built up in even the coolest stone and tiled houses. And that anything cooked at the fourno just tasted incomparably better than anything made in a home oven, especially those lame electric ovens and ranges — digital cooking — used in much of Europe and the world today.
What she couldn’t have known is that by tradition almost all firincilar in the Ottoman Balkans, Constantinople and even much of Anatolia were Epirotes. My mother’s family ran a fourno in Bucharest for three generations, the men going back and forth to Roumania from their village in shifts to manage the place. Even today in Athens, people will often single out an Epirote baker to get their bread from.
I highly suggest that you read Ciezadlo’s article only if you have a source of good Lebanese food in easy proximity because, otherwise, it will leave you in pain.
P.S. fournos, forno, furn, firin, fir, horno — all come from the Latin furnus, so don’t get excited; it’s not a Greek word.
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
The New York Times recently published a piece in its “Opinionator” blog section by Frank Jacobs, ” A Syrian Stalemate,” which makes the very interesting, but highly improbable, if not probably completely implausible, suggestion that one answer to the Syrian civil war is for Assad to retreat to his Alawite mountain homeland on the Mediterranean coast and form an independent statelet there:
Ah, a Lebanon, you mean? What an unparalleled success story that was — let’s try that again. At least he accepts the comparison. Oh, and I see his got a little Hawran homeland for Druze too.
The breath-taking stupidity of this argument is not all that stupid really as it is completely a-historical and uninformed. The victorious Free Syrian Army — whose victory this layman thinks is only a matter of when, not if — will never accept the secession or loss of the last piece of Syria’s coastline (Lebanon; then Alexandretta), and the only thing something like that might lead to is an exponential escalation of violence and a massacre of Alawites, not to mention other minorities, of a scale that’ll take us back to the ugliest events of the early twentieth century.
But if that’s ancient history for any of us, let’s just go back to the 90s and Yugoslavia. Aside from the cynical geopolitical interests that were the catalyst for that nightmare (you know; I never thought I’d catch myself saying what I had previously considered a dumb cliche, like that the current Eurozone crisis is the third time in less than a century that Germany has destroyed Europe — Germany and Draghi — but actually this may be the fourth time; Yugoslavia was the third), there were two basic populist “reasons” that explained the support in the West given to the unnecessary, vicious dissection of that country: a confused muddle of remnant eighteenth-and-nineteenth century romantic ideas about the “self-determination of peoples” mixed up with the whole deluded late twentieth-century ideology which we’ll just put under the umbrella of “multiculturalism” for now. “Why don’t Bosnians deserve their own country (the former)?”, Upper West Side Sontagians cried and wrang their hands, and “Why can’t everyone in that most fascinating, multicultural part of Europe get along (the latter)?”
Cutting places up into little countries doesn’t work; there’ll always be some bunch that want their own littler country. Hopefully, nobody will ever, ever take this proposal seriously, though Jacobs says that there’s an actual escape plan for just that in Assad vaults somewhere.
But this is the point that Jacobs gets around to that I found almost as upsetting:
“Although officially a Shiite sect, with reputed syncretist elements borrowed from Christianity and other confessions, persecution by mainstream Islam as heretical has made Alawis wary of declaring their innermost beliefs. Ironically, decades of dominance may have further weakened the communal identity; Assad père et fils have always striven to narrow the perceived difference between Alawism and mainstream Islam as a way of legitimizing their regime. This enforced “Sunnification” may have effectively erased much of the theological differences with other Syrians.”
My Muslim inclinations are generally Shi’ia — forgive me the presumption of having any Muslim inclinations at all, obviously. But I love the blood and the mystery; the Persian lack of, or better, resistance to, Arab image-phobia; ta’ziyeh; the Christ-like martyrdom of Hussein and the Virgin-like laments of Zeynep; Asure is my favorite holiday; and generally I think faith should be about passion and emotion and sacrifice and not moralism or the Law. So anything that chips away at the monolith of any of our Great Abrahamic Religions of Peace, I’m for.
Like I’ve said before here and here. The Donmeh-like “Sunnification” of Alawites in Syria; Alevis in Turkey, whom centuries of violence and Sunni persecution (centuries? like until the late twentieth…) have made such staunch secularists that one doesn’t even know what they practice anymore if anything; it’d be a shame to lose such fascinating, heterodox groups and their rites and cosmologies out of indifference or because hiding has had to become such second-nature for them.
And also like I said before, I don’t know how “officially a Shiite sect” either consider themselves. In the Syrian case, at least, Iran could just be cynically using the Alawites as a Levantine power-base and vice-versa.
As for the Bektashis, who were once a Sufi order, they got tired of the Turkish Republic’s hospitality and moved their headquarters to Tirane at some point and recently, I think the 1990s, declared themselves a branch of Islam separate from both Sunnism and Shi’ism.
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com