Opening this week, the Frankfurt Book Fair has prompted much commentary on Arab culture in the German media. Peter Ripken, project manager of the fair's International Centre, notes a remarkable upsurge in the popularity of Arabic literature Only 15 or 10 years ago, had somebody suggested that newspapers, magazines and journals, radio and television programmes in Germany today would be discussing the highlights and shortcomings of Arabic literature, the great achievements of Arab culture, its present state, the problems of Arab societies, their political systems and many current shortcomings, I probably would have responded, "You are dreaming". In 2004, this dream has come true, for 16 years after Naguib Mahfouz received the Nobel Prize for Literature, the tables seem to have turned; and following the Frankfurt Book Fair administration's courageous decision to invite the Arab world as the guest of honour of this year's round, a long delayed debate has finally started in Germany. While most commentators welcomed the idea of having the Arab World as a guest of honour in Frankfurt, some questioned the wisdom of assigning the Arab League the task of setting up the programme. This organisation, the argument went, is torn by political differences among its 22 member states, most of which are not very democratic; it stands for pan-Arabism, in effect a mere illusion; it is neither efficient nor well- known for its commitment to culture -- or, more precisely, to freedom of expression as a crucial precondition for the flourishing of literature. In early September the internationally known, Paris-based Moroccan writer Taher Ben Jaloun, for example, speaking to the prestigious German weekly Die Zeit, lamented the fact that the organisers prioritised authors writing in Arabic, ignoring those who use other languages and/or live in exile; he failed to mention the fact that he himself had been invited along with several others writing in French and living in France, including the Saudi writer Ahmed Abu Dehman. The Tunisian intellectual and novelist Abdel-Wahab Meddeb likewise claimed, in the same publication, that the organisers failed to include important voices, but did not give a single example; he ignored the fact that critical writers -- Hassan Dawoud and Abbas Beydoun from Lebanon and Gamal El-Ghitani from Egypt, to mention but two -- were in fact invited. For some time, indeed, the debate about Arab presence at the giant Frankfurt Book Fair centred on the so called official list of invitees -- novelists, poets and intellectuals. Those who were not on the list (some of them live in Germany and have access to the media) argued that it was drafted by bureaucrats unable to identify good writers (meaning themselves). Some of these were already well known media commentators who often spoke about other issues in the Middle East, leading to a situation in which the two Iraqi writers Najem Wali and Hussein Al-Mozani, for example, both of whom have been in exile in Germany for many years, were seen as experts not only on Iraq but on many, more general matters. Yet the very fact that such tongue-in-cheek debates have become a public issue indicates how important Arab writing is becoming in Germany. To some extent, these debates tended to follow political agendas -- a tendency that ignores the fact that the Frankfurt Book Fair is a cultural event, not a political tribunal before which Kurds or Berbers or religious minorities in the Arab world could argue their cases. That such issues were taken up by the media, however, reinforced German interest in what Arabic literature is about and the role played by books in the Arab world. Even the conservative daily Die Welt, a publication not known for its positive attitude towards Arabs, last Saturday devoted several of its pages to the history of Arabic literature, with praise for Taher Ben Jaloun and Rafik Schami, a German-language writer of Arab origin who, though a star in Germany, remains unknown in the Arab world; Die Welt also paid lip service to many other writers whose work it is not as familiar with. Other publications commented extensively on trends in contemporary Arabic literature, individual authors and more general issues revolving around the role that culture plays in most Arab countries, often communicating a fairly pessimistic outlook. Equally remarkable, however, is the number of translations of work by Arab authors that have appeared this year, which exceeds the number of translations to be published on the occasion of previous guest-of-honour appearances by far. Among these are new translations of work by renowned poets like Adonis (Ali Ahmed Said), some of whose work had already appeared with the Swiss publisher Ammann, and Mahmoud Darwish, previously published (and now reissued) by Hans Schiler, more of whose work is now appearing, in a fascinating new translation by the Syrian-German poet Adel Karasholi, with another publishing house, A1. Fiction fares equally well. German translations of Elias Khoury's Bab Al-Shams (by Leila Chamman) and Sahar Khalifa's Sura wa Ayqouna wa Ahd Qadim (by Regina Karachouli) as well as two new novels about Algeria written originally in French by Assia Djebar and Boualem Sansal are also appearing. Nor are established writers the only beneficiaries of this renewed interest. Who had ever heard in Germany of an Egyptian poet named Girgis Shoukri? This year a small collection of his poems, published in Switzerland, became available to the German reader. German-Arab literary encounters -- with German writers travelling to Arab countries and vice versa -- also abruptly became a matter of considerable public interest in 2004. Under ordinary circumstances, a literary-exchange project like Midad (developed by the Goethe Institute and the German network of houses of literature in cities like Frankfurt, Cologne and Hamburg, and funded by the German Federal Cultural Foundation) would have gone largely unnoticed. Such, at least, is my personal experience as someone who has worked to make contemporary Arabic writing known in Germany for many years. Not only were more funds available for such projects this year, but the exchanges were the focus of greater interest. Perhaps such heightened awareness is the result of new technologies, since the writers involved can now post their notes directly on the Internet, thus adding a new dimension to the concept of a literary encounter. Such encounters -- some argue there are too many of them -- will hopefully draw in a large audience during the week of the fair early in October. At the prestigious Frankfurt House of Literature, especially, the German public, who are used to certain formats of literary evening, can look forward to stimulating poetry and prose readings that will make use of simultaneous translation. The basic goal of these and other fair-related endeavours is to help writers who have so far gone unnoticed by European publishers attract the attention of new readers and hopefully also publishers. After all, it is hoped that the guest-of-honour presentation will have long-term consequences. And in this respect it is regrettable that there are very few programmes that encourage the translation of Arabic fiction (or non-fiction) into European languages. The Arab League, the Arab Organisation for Education, Culture and Science (ALECSO) or an individual Arab League member state have yet to initiate a programme to fund the translation of important works of Arabic literature into European languages. That such programmes can make a significant impact is evidenced by the fact that of the 114 German translations that have been made of important works by Arab writers since 1984, the Society for the Promotion of Literature from Africa, Asia and Latin American Literature has supported more than 20 per cent of that number (see a complete list at www.litprom.de,www.litprom.de,using the English language guide) since the programme started in 1994 (using funds from the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Swiss cultural foundation Pro Helvetia). Few of these books are fiction, most are scholarly works, reprints of books which have been out of print for many years. But the generous support of the Emir of Sharjah is adding to the number of books, giving German readers more of a chance to find out what Arab culture is about even despite the fact that many of the books in question target a specialised readership. Despite the tremendous upsurge of general interest in the Arab world since 11 September, the number of readers interested in creative writing from the region has not risen significantly. People have been interested rather in books about Arab society, politics and culture in general. I am tempted to call this phenomenon the Scholl-Latour-Syndrome in reference to a certain television personality -- a latter-day media "Orientalist" -- who has taken it upon himself to explain the Arab World and Islam to Germans even as Arab writers critique the notion of the Orient as a preconceived idea in many European minds. The Frankfurt Book will not only raise the number of readers interested in contemporary Arabic literature but give Arabs a chance to speak for themselves. In one of the debates to be held at the International Centre, the Moroccan scholar and author Fatema Al-Mernissi will be asking, Who benefits from globalisation? The Cowboy or Sindbad? In a world of global information networks, communication skills well may turn out to be more effective than military might. Al- Mernissi will review the arts of effective communication during the heyday of Arab civilisation, demonstrating how they became a crucial instrument of both the acquisition of knowledge and wealth through contact with foreigners, and the strengthening of Arab cultural identity. Are we about to see a revival of these arts in the next few decades? I am convinced that Frankfurt 2004 would be an important contribution to such a revival. * The writer is the director of the Frankfurt based Society for the Promotion of African, Asian and Latin American Literature and also project manager of the International Centre of the Frankfurt Book Fair. The politics of culture
