Honor is more precious than oil
Americans could learn from the Middle East a renewed sense of interdependence and awareness of what each individual owes to others.
Honor is more precious than oil. To respect it, the United States must understand that in the Middle East honor is not focused in the individual. A Christian Palestinian in Jerusalem may feel dishonored by US actions in Iraq almost as sharply as a Sunni kinsman of Saddam Hussein in Tikrit. So also a Shiite Arab in Qarbala, a Turkish guest worker in Germany, or the daughter of Moroccan immigrants at an American university. All of them are part of a world in which membership is more central than individualism.
In each case, the sense of shame and dishonor felt by the individual is conveyed through membership in a group, and where one kind of membership may not apply some of the others will. The Shiite may be grateful that his community will no longer be oppressed by Sunni Baathists – but he feels dishonored as an Arab and as part of the larger Muslim community. The Tikriti may be secular and socialist – or may be devout and politically uninvolved – but events touch the core of his or her sense of identity. Of these many identities, citizenship in a particular nation-state, with artificial borders defined by colonial powers, is often the weakest. After kinship, religion remains strongest, but the Arab identity that emerged in the last century is also very powerful.
It is striking that these multiple group identities are not neatly nested concentric circles but often conflict, sometimes driving individuals to improvise their own solutions or to retreat to single dogmatic loyalties. Many Middle Easterners are torn not only by multiple identities but by exposure to alternative value systems, but loyalty going beyond the self is inculcated in childhood. In the Middle East children are taught loyalty and respect for family. It is rare for parents to tell their children to stand on their own two feet or that their first obligation is to themselves and their own potential. Adults feel moral revulsion when they hear of American seniors put into nursing homes or of young and old agreeing that it is a bad thing to inhibit the self-realization of the young. Women, moving at marriage to a new family unit, are often torn, so it is not surprising that in the Middle East marriages that reinforce group membership are preferred and often the ideal marriage is between cousins, the son and daughter of two brothers. A Tehran cab driver once said to me, “We wouldn’t give our daughter to strangers.”
What westerners describe as “human rights” are generally individual rights, because of the centrality of the individual in our ethical vision. It is a vision to be proud of, but it brings its own abuses: our concern for individuals and our indulgence of their self-concern outweighs our concern for the wider good and the well being of communities, whether in health or preventing crime or regulating business. Yet human life is only sustainable in communities. Behaviors that strike us as violations of “human rights” often involve costs to individuals in the name of the community, while the choice of martyrdom and self-immolation are more intelligible in the context of commitment going beyond the individual.
Ironically, the stain of humiliation spreads further than specific, concrete kinds of damage like theft or murder which can be addressed locally. A telling example is the public showing of dental and scalp examinations of the newly captured Saddam Hussein, which left millions of men and women, both supporters and opponents of Saddam, from Gibralter to Indonesia and down into Africa and beyond, feeling deeply insulted and humiliated. One can be shamed either by disrespect suffered by another member of the group, even someone you actively dislike, or by the dishonorable actions of another member of the group (this is what leads to “honor” killings but is also the reason why many Muslims felt deeply ashamed after 9/11).
Americans could learn from the Middle East a renewed sense of interdependence and awareness of what each individual owes to others. It is a mistake anywhere to put single labels on people and assume that these define their interests and will predict their behavior. Similarly, it is ultimately self-defeating to divide and conquer because it stimulates unanticipated rage. The overlapping of identities and interest groups can become the basis of a genuinely pluralistic society when it is built into a political model in which everyone has a stake in practicing mutual respect. We run the risk in Iraq that memories of humiliating defeat and tactless occupation may subvert any effort at nation building or making peace.
Honor is more precious than oil. To respect it, the United States must understand that in the Middle East honor is not focused in the individual. A Christian Palestinian in Jerusalem may feel dishonored by US actions in Iraq almost as sharply as a Sunni kinsman of Saddam Hussein in Tikrit. So also a Shiite Arab in Qarbala, a Turkish guest worker in Germany, or the daughter of Moroccan immigrants at an American university. All of them are part of a world in which membership is more central than individualism.
In each case, the sense of shame and dishonor felt by the individual is conveyed through membership in a group, and where one kind of membership may not apply some of the others will. The Shiite may be grateful that his community will no longer be oppressed by Sunni Baathists – but he feels dishonored as an Arab and as part of the larger Muslim community. The Tikriti may be secular and socialist – or may be devout and politically uninvolved – but events touch the core of his or her sense of identity. Of these many identities, citizenship in a particular nation-state, with artificial borders defined by colonial powers, is often the weakest. After kinship, religion remains strongest, but the Arab identity that emerged in the last century is also very powerful.
It is striking that these multiple group identities are not neatly nested concentric circles but often conflict, sometimes driving individuals to improvise their own solutions or to retreat to single dogmatic loyalties. Many Middle Easterners are torn not only by multiple identities but by exposure to alternative value systems, but loyalty going beyond the self is inculcated in childhood. In the Middle East children are taught loyalty and respect for family. It is rare for parents to tell their children to stand on their own two feet or that their first obligation is to themselves and their own potential. Adults feel moral revulsion when they hear of American seniors put into nursing homes or of young and old agreeing that it is a bad thing to inhibit the self-realization of the young. Women, moving at marriage to a new family unit, are often torn, so it is not surprising that in the Middle East marriages that reinforce group membership are preferred and often the ideal marriage is between cousins, the son and daughter of two brothers. A Tehran cab driver once said to me, “We wouldn’t give our daughter to strangers.”
What westerners describe as “human rights” are generally individual rights, because of the centrality of the individual in our ethical vision. It is a vision to be proud of, but it brings its own abuses: our concern for individuals and our indulgence of their self-concern outweighs our concern for the wider good and the well being of communities, whether in health or preventing crime or regulating business. Yet human life is only sustainable in communities. Behaviors that strike us as violations of “human rights” often involve costs to individuals in the name of the community, while the choice of martyrdom and self-immolation are more intelligible in the context of commitment going beyond the individual.
Ironically, the stain of humiliation spreads further than specific, concrete kinds of damage like theft or murder which can be addressed locally. A telling example is the public showing of dental and scalp examinations of the newly captured Saddam Hussein, which left millions of men and women, both supporters and opponents of Saddam, from Gibralter to Indonesia and down into Africa and beyond, feeling deeply insulted and humiliated. One can be shamed either by disrespect suffered by another member of the group, even someone you actively dislike, or by the dishonorable actions of another member of the group (this is what leads to “honor” killings but is also the reason why many Muslims felt deeply ashamed after 9/11).
Americans could learn from the Middle East a renewed sense of interdependence and awareness of what each individual owes to others. It is a mistake anywhere to put single labels on people and assume that these define their interests and will predict their behavior. Similarly, it is ultimately self-defeating to divide and conquer because it stimulates unanticipated rage. The overlapping of identities and interest groups can become the basis of a genuinely pluralistic society when it is built into a political model in which everyone has a stake in practicing mutual respect. We run the risk in Iraq that memories of humiliating defeat and tactless occupation may subvert any effort at nation building or making peace.
posted by Mary Catherine Bateson at 2:30 PM
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