Jihad against the word jihad

Its a standing on a soapbox rambling meandinering rant kind of day, very different than my usual post.

Somebody recently sent me this article about how anti-western muslim terrorists are well-educated people who have had opportunites in life, as opposed to the vision that they are lashing out as a result of their lives under oppressive authoritarian regimes. I agree with most of what this article says, and I'm glad my friend was interested enough in it to share it. But it has reminded me that there is a real problem with how the word 'jihad' has come to have one meaning in English and western media while it has a broader, different meaning in Arabic. It drives me nuts when I hear a news anchor say "... a jihad, or holy war, ...". The word has a common meaning of struggle or effort, but the Arabic word has made its way into English with the meaning of "holy war against the West by radical muslim fundamentalists". This article provides an example of this, as David Brooks uses the words "terrorists" and "jihadists" interchangably.

This point sticks with me because nearly every instructor of Arabic I've had has at some point taken time during a class to go on a tangent about how 'jihad' does not mean 'holy war'. I think it is an important point, too, because language influences thought. If we think that there is a built-in provision in Islam for launching a war against your enemies and that it even has its own unique name, we get a much more frightening, violent image of Islam. Every serious muslim I have met here has rushed to make the point that Islam is a peaceful religion and those who act violently in the name of Islam have a twisted and incorrect interpretation of the religion. I hope to spread this idea because I do know people who equate Islam with violence, and ultimately this way of thinking is itself a barrier to peace.

David Brooks suggests this point in his article. If we want a successful policy for change in the Middle East, for democratization and economic liberalization and against destabilizing terrorist organizations, we must think of terrorists, whether they be radical fundamentalists or otherwise, as anomalies on the fringes of their own societies, with a way of thought that is not in accordance with the vast majority of their fellow countrymen.

Syria seems to be particularly lacking in extremist nut jobs. Of the many people I've met and talked to here, of various religions and ethnicities, I have only met one who didn't like Americans. And that was a taxi driver who was upset that he wasn't able to rip me off for about five times what the fare was worth. Everyone else, including the taxi drivers, has been very nice.

With that I step off the soapbox.

Not very Palmyra

Ok I am over being sick, and I did well on the midterms.

Every time I sit down to finish writing about some of the trips I've take around the country, it feels like homework, and I quit before I'm finished. So to get through it, here's a quick and dirty version.

The first trip I made outside of Damascus was to Palmyra. What can I say about it? Before I came to Syria I knew very little about the ancient places that tourists often visit. I had studied politics, modern history, and Islam. I never really have known much about the Babylonians, Phonecians, Romans, or anyone else who had been in the area before the Ottoman Empire, and I can't say that I've taken the time to learn much about them since I've arrived here. Without any detailed knowledge of the history, most ruins start to look the same after a while. My apologies to anyone who is deeply interested in these things and wanted to read my take on them. I wanted to be creative about it, but I have too much else to say and I've had too little time to write. Here is what was going to be the first paragraph of a longer tale of the trip:


I stood there, nearly 100 miles east of Damascus, looking up at the night sky. There were no clouds, and I could see as many stars overhead as I had ever seen. The wind was like a pack of race cars tearing across the desert. The fumes from their engines defracted the light of the stars, making the constellations tremble. Soda cans cut into pinwheel shapes and strung across the front of the Bagdad Cafe spun in resonant harmony with the tumult.


A little thick on the poetry, isn't it? Once you set that standard for yourself, its hard to keep it up. Anyway, that was the scene at a rest stop on the way home from Palmyra, and easily my favorite part of the trip. The rest of the day mostly involved standing under the midday desert sun looking at ruins and trying to listen to a tour guide who spoke too softly and with too thick of an accent to really learn much of anything. Merchants wander the ancient sites trying to sell you soda, headscarves, cheap jewelry, and other odd things. All in all it was fairly interesting, but I'm a lousy source if that's what you're into. Highlights included watching the sunset from a fortress on top of a mountain, feeling a little like Indiana Jones ascending the interior of an old tomb on stairs that no tourist would be permitted to climb in America for fear that they would hurt themselves and sue somebody, and, of course, seeing the night sky from deep in the desert.

Ok, at this point I have renewed hopes about describing Malula and Bosra, both of which I thought were more interesting. Quinetra also deserves a seperate post, but that will be more about politics than travel.