Reliance on tradition is risky, as the Germans once found out. It is our turn, writes Hussein Ahmed Amin* I have been following the intense debate in the Islamic world about the so-called Greater Middle East, listening to the various reasons our intellectuals and politicians give for accepting or rejecting it. Then I thought about the last two decades of the 20th century; the collapse of right- and left-wing totalitarian systems, the demise of the Soviet Union, the triumph of liberalism and democracy and the increasing calls for freedom of thought and creed, for pluralism and human rights. What puzzles me is that only the Islamic world, including Arab countries, remains immune to the winds of change that swept the entire world. Only the Islamic world is holding out. Its political and religious institutions, its cultural and media services, still pretend to be examining the situation, while continuing to criminalise free thinking, ban dissident opinion, confiscate books, close opposition papers, censor films and plays, arrest those who call for fair elections and let courts order wives separated from husbands accused of apostasy. Why does the Islamic world, in contrast to the rest of humanity, want to block the winds of change? Why does Pakistan feel so, but not India -- although the two were one nation originally? Is it something in our legacy, tradition or culture? Are there innate factors, latent or visible, that prevent us from accepting democracy, pluralism, liberalism and free thinking? Years ago, when I was minister plenipotentiary with the Egyptian Embassy in Germany, I visited Aachen, the imperial capital of Charlemagne, and had a long talk with the university president there. I told him how surprised I was that my three daughters, who attended German schools in the various countries to which I was assigned, were never instructed to memorise a poem by Goethe or Schiller, or read a book by Nietzsche or a theatre play by Hauptmann, whereas French and English schools abroad went to great lengths to teach the culture of the motherland. His answer was simple. The German elite, following Hitler's defeat, looked into the causes that led to the popularity of Nazism in Germany and found out that the sources of German culture were so poisoned that the rise of Hitler and his associates and party was inevitable. The poison was not confined to Schpingler, Wagner and Nietzsche. It permeated the works of Goethe, Bach, Beethoven, Kant, Schopenhauer and other figures of literature, art and philosophy, including those who may seem immune to fascist ideas and sympathetic to humanism and democracy. As a result, German schools and universities decided to turn their back on their legacy and focus on science and mathematics instead. This view makes me wonder. In our legacy and culture, are there poisonous sources of the type Germany had once to deal with? And do these include some of the great figures of our past, such as Al-Jahiz, Abi Hayyan Al-Tawhidi, Averroes and the Al-Safa brothers? And do we need, before we break free from such shackles, a disaster of the magnitude of Germany's horrific defeat in 1945, a catastrophe of the type that befell Afghanistan and Iraq? Do we need to experience a sudden tragedy, instead of the slow, subtle one that we're now going through? In ancient times, when a ship encountered hardship in high seas, the crew would immediately suspect that a body has been hidden in one of the crates on the ship. A search would start in the ship for the source of the curse, the hidden body. Once the body was found and tossed overboard, the crew was convinced things would get better. I am starting to think along the same lines. The Islamic world is rocking in the middle of a storm, its ship rudderless and listing. Shall we start looking for a hidden body in the cargo? My own search for the body has produced not one, but several. The worst, I believe, is that our men and women are ready to let the dead hand of the past grab them by the collar, guide their present and future steps, confiscate their right to think for themselves, as if everything has been decided centuries ago, as if their only duty is to listen and obey, follow and conform. To make a point, people quote the opinion of an ancient figure, a long-deceased authority. No one seems interested in practical aspects, in the merits of any given case. Knowledge, for us, is something written and preserved in old books. The older the book the more authority it has. For the West, knowledge was the use of facts to break the secret codes of the unknown. Modern Western civilisation started when Francis Bacon began questioning Aristotle's conclusions, uncontested up to his time. Bacon refused to take any statement at face value. Everything had to be subject to experiment, reasoning and proof. At present, we are facing monumental challenges. Our survival, our very existence, is at stake. Perhaps it is time we attempt to separate the immutable from the contingent, to sift the essential from the trivial. Our reluctance to do so would be a massive betrayal of our past and legacy. The intellectual rigidity we suffered under the Ottomans is not gone. The absorption in trivialities and the focus on the mundane is keeping us from reacting intelligently to the changes all around us. Europe has achieved unity. The seeds of democracy and freedom have been sown in Eastern Europe. Calls for pluralism spread like wildfire, from China to Chile, from South Africa to Benin. And yet the reaction of the Muslim majority is not much different from the one given by Mohamed Abdul- Wahhab, the 18th century leader of the Wahhabi movement; namely, that the only way ahead is to cling to the past, even if the latter involves despotism and intolerance towards other cultures. During a recent trip to Europe, I sensed a certain haughtiness in the way the Europeans view us; something akin to how Private Lynndie England felt about the Abu Ghraib inmates. This is a harbinger. The day may come when the West would grow even more impatient with the remnants of any civilisation or creed standing in the way of the new world order. Unless the Islamic world reverses its tendency for rigidity, inanity and despotism, things will get worse. At one point the West will say, "we have succeeded in undermining Marxism, with all its weapons and propaganda, even though it came from European roots. So why don't we uproot a rigid and backward creed embraced by barbarians who have no weapons, no effective propaganda, and depend on us for food and clothing?" Our officials, institutions and religious fundamentals remind me of what Nabonidus, the last Babylonian king (555-539 BC) did before his kingdom fell to the Persians. The Babylonians were frustrated, pessimistic, discontented with the deteriorating conditions in their country, convinced that their state was heading to collapse. Nabonidus thought he could set things right by locating the sites of ancient temples and building identical replicas in their place. His efforts, needless to say, didn't save him or the kingdom. * The writer is a former ambassador and expert on political and Islamic affairs.
