A Place in Space: August 2006 Archives

The trend continues:

August 26, 2006: Europe Pledges a Larger Force Inside Lebanon

[The NYTimes posts - again - a link to Maira Kalman's blog art: Heaven on Earth.]

Another bloglink, Line of Fire: A conversation about the new Mideast conflict, describes the current Israeli "inquiry time, the season in the Israeli calendar that comes after disappointing wars, as inevitable as the headaches and bruises and questions after a bar-room brawl in which everything seemed so necessary and inevitable while it was happening and so jagged in memory."

Meanwhile, Iran steps up nuclear production, the Palestinians strengthen their national government, Nasrullah continues to be heroicized. Fundamentalist Islam is radically strengthened throughout the political sphere of the Arab world. I ask my friends, "Where in your discourse have you built a foundation to blunt the gathering forces of repression and (dare I say it?) internalized, stratified oppression?"

It is good that Arab forces have established equity in international debates. It is as questionable what they will do with this power as any other world power, namely Israel and the US. Who will dissent from the inside? Who will be the anti-Islamists from within to join with the anti-Zionists Jed championed? (The Economist, btw, described those giving themselves this label as fringe groups, extremist in their own way. [reference the edition two weeks ago])

Meanwhile, can artists open dialogues that politicians cannot? "The [cartoon] exhibition is intended to expose what some here see as Western hypocrisy for invoking freedom of expression regarding the publication of cartoons that lampooned the Prophet Muhammad while condemning President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran for questioning the Holocaust."

Some friends and I discussed the cartoons published in Denmark last winter. Will the discourse about the “Holocaust International Cartoon Contest” ("Holocust"?) become another tit-for-tat reinforcer of static national and religious identities or can it function to open spaces for the genuine appreciation of different perspectives?

August 24, 2006: Gaza Captors of 2 Newsmen Pressure U.S.

August 21, 2004: Europeans Delay Decision on Role Inside Lebanon. I attend a protest in Istanbul.

August 20, 2006: Truce Strained as Israelis Raid Lebanon Site

August 17, 2006: I attend a Barenboim-Said concert that invokes much thought on the snippit of discourse that unfolded through initial responses to each other on the subject of Israel-Lebanon-Hizbullah.

August 13, 2006: I struggle within myself not to respond in kind to a discourse limiting what one can know based upon who one is. Puru posts a newslink.

August 11, 2006: I reflect theoretically on identity, home, and voice.

August 10, 2006: The post, Lebanon is responded to by Tejal and Jed.

August 7, 2006: The post, Diving in Headfirst is responded to by Amanda.

August 6, 2006: Berger on Philosophy" is a snapshot of my philosophical frame for discussing Mideast (and any other) politics.

August 2, 2006: Day 21 (Israel vs Hezbollah) is responded to by Jeff and Yasser.

It took well over an hour for the thousands of protesters, from a hundred different groups and organizations, to pass by me in Kadikoy yesterday afternoon. I was immediately impressed by the wide age range (I bet the average would be late thirties/early forties), and the gender distribution (more men than women, it seemed). Conspicuous by their absence, however, were Muslims. Are they not against Israel’s military incursions into Lebanon? Do they not support a Palestinian state? Or is Istanbul less integrated than it seems? Perhaps there were many Muslim men and non-veiled women among the marchers but they were undistinctive. Finally, toward the end, one group of thirty veiled women appeared.

Later, someone explained that the groups in this march were all of the political left, and the religious right won’t mix with them in this kind of way: religious Muslims exercise their politics by different means. It reminded a bit of the debate at the hostel before I left, which included criticisms that there were too many different groups, with unclear agendas or simply gut-level reactions against what they don’t like with no thought to consequences or alternatives. This is always the problem of politics, of course, the challenge of building broad-based coalitions with clear and coherent strategies. What struck me most, however, was the fact of my friends’ concern for my physical safety.

I was encouraged not to let anyone know I’m American (the crowd might turn on me?), but then it became clear it was not the protestors that was the cause for concern. It is the police. Or maybe both. Some friends had witnessed a protest on Istiklak where shop windows had been broken and police had used tear gas. They also recounted stories of police suddenly lashing out and beating people for no reason. I argued that we must make the police accountable through visibility of abuses (media coverage etc), that we can’t let the threat of violence prevent peaceful protest.

At any rate, I probably would not have been so aware of the police if we had not had this conversation. As it was, I noticed them everywhere: on the dock when the ferry landed,

massed (in riot gear) behind the central stage area,

observing from rooftops (military I think, not police),

with back-ups lurking in nearby side streets.

The main road around the staged area was kept closed long after the march was over. Leaving the protest area was no problem, but I was struck by the fact that it was completely enclosed.

To enter, one had to be searched. The men were patted down. I was directed to a female officer who only peeked in my shoulder bag. I wasn’t searched as intensively, but the atmosphere was definitely designed to be intimidating: you had to really want to be “in” the protest, not so easy for people passing by to be drawn in spontaneously.

As far as I know, there were no incidents.

It didn't take peace long (however tentatively-constructed or believed in)to fall out of the headlines. Not in the NYTimes top three for the past three days.

I had promised to share all the links people forwarded; I apologize for the delay (but then it also seems I may have lost my interlocutors?) My chicken, your egg? Or vice-versa? :-/

August 10: Sirisha sent Israel in Lebanon: Wreaking Havoc and Violence by Sukumar Muralidharan.

August 11: Swati sent two links: for news & blogs on the situation in lebanon and a short video made by a film collective in beirut.

August 11: Yasser sent The Sinking Ship of U.S. Imperial Designs by Gilbert Achcar.

August 11: Jose from Belgium sent this statement by UNESCO's Artist for Peace, Marcel Khalife.

August 14: one request to be removed from my mass mails on this topic

August 14: Puru posts in Reflexivity a link to a news story from his own blog, PaddleSweep.

August 20: from Esther sent Isreal and the Ayatollahs by Amir Taheri.

Here is a log with links back to the entries I wrote during and about the presentations I attended at the Association of Cultural Studies conference held in Istanbul, graciously hosted by Bilge University. The following list is in chronological order, from earliest to latest.

Crossroads Day 1 (posted July 21, 2006) regarding "European Identity in a Transnational World" (1.55), “The City as a Thinking Machine” (S1), and “Is a Cosmopolitan Multiculturalism Possible? The Australian Context" (1.13).

Crossroads Day 2 (posted July 22, 2006) regarding "Emotion Trouble, or the Affective Turn in Media and Cultural Studies II" (2.3).

Stop Masturbating in Public (posted July 22, 2006) regarding "Abstract Social Identities and Chaotic Everyday Practices" (3.01) and continued with Inside/Outside (posted July 23, 2006).

Multilingual Cosmopoliticians (Crossroads Day 3) (posted July 29, 2006) regarding the panel by this name.

Interpretation and Linguistic Inequality (Crossroads Day 2) (posted July 30, 2006) regarding the panel "EU: Europe Beyond Geography?" (2.51) which included my own presentation.

Crossroads (Day 4) (posted August 7, 2006) regarding “Time, Space and the Unfolding of Culture" (4.19)

Cutting into the Social Fabric (Crossroads Day 4) (posted August 18, 2006) regarding the Closing Plenary, "Where Should Cultural Studies Go?"

This morning I met Akhilesh. He’s studying disaster management at the Kyoto Graduate School of Global Environmental Studies in Japan, which is prone to every known natural disaster except drought. Istanbul just hosted a disaster management conference because it is also quite prone to earthquakes but its disaster preparedness is devastatingly low. Yesterday they commemorated the 1999 Izmit earthquake that killed approximately 7000 people and destroyed at least 300,000 homes, registered 7.4 and displaced a million people. Apparently, seismic activity occurs here – on average – every five years, but the level of individual awareness and preparation is so low authorities are concerned that individuals and families may not be able to sustain themselves for even a week if another large quake occurs.

I don't know about the emergency management preparedness of India (Akhilesh intends to return home to central India), but the cultural contrasts between Japan and India are incredible. Akhilesh described them well. :-) There are similarities between Turks and Indians in regards to law (watch for an upcoming post on Turkish driving). Akhilesh says Indians' attitude towards the law is essentially contrary. “If there is a sign that says “No Smoking,” I might light up a cigarette just for the thrill.” But in Japan, no one questions it. “There is no resistance. Not even an abberation! If the government says, "reinforce this building," they reinforce the building. In Turkey, they will pursue all the proper documentation and certifications to show their building is ok, but in actuality…”

This reminds me of my favorite retired ambassador explaining about the fantastic new highways that have been built on the Asian side, which are technologically perfect. But administratively? Several signs were posted incorrectly, causing drivers to follow misdirections for months! Even now, over a year later, one sign (at least) has still not been properly located. “It’s incredible! No one cares!”

Akhilesh’s scope is wide, considering how it is that Japan is among the upper echelon of developed countries while being faced with constant geological and climatological disasters. He notes that Japan is an island, therefore doesn’t have any border/immigration problems like India (with Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, etc) or the US (Mexico). Japan has regional tensions with China but they are not as hostile as India’s with Pakistan. I wondered about the representations of social values in language use about preparedness and how being prepared is linked to development. (One must know Japanese to identify these cultural nuances.) Overall, Akhilesh is still puzzling on the degree of conformity. Obviously, given his characterization of Indian attitudes toward the law (not to mention its vast cultural variety (regional, linguistic, etc) what was been effective in Japan will require much modification.

If I were to go out on a thin limb of speculation, I’d muse that the high level of individual conformity and collective acquiescence is, in fact, directly correlated to the high level of risk of death and social instability. The more insecure the exterior environment, the more humans seem to require stability of the interior and social relationships . . . the narrower and more rigid (?) become the avenues for the semblance of control. The discipline of doing what one is told – hence, of acting on the basis of essential trust in the authority, intentions, and reasons of the ‘teller’ – performs positive psychological and sociological functions. As long as the authorities live up to this trust, a high degree of functional performance can result, strengthening the fabric of civil society.

This is a clear benefit of homogeneity. (A cost is the reduced range of expression for individual variation along a continuum of repression to oppression.) It does help one understand the driving impetus behind ideological nationalisms and religiosity. If one manages perceptual input through pre-established frames, and limits interaction to those who are similar, one can (hope to) establish a groundwork for maintaining sanity: one can (seek to) predetermine (to varying extents) the path of one’s life, to feel as if one is in control.

August 10: Israel, Seeking Rocket Buffer, Sets Expansion

August 11: Israel Asks U.S. to Ship Rockets With Wide Blast. (Second headline; topped by the British capture of 24 men intending to blow up several planes.)

August 12: U.N. Council Backs Measure to Halt War in Lebanon

August 13: After U.N. Accord, Israel Expands Push in Lebanon

August 14: Cease-Fire Begins After a Day of Fierce Attacks

August 15: Testing How Long the Mideast Cease-Fire Can Last with videocommentary from the journalist, Steven Erlanger.

August 16: Hezbollah Leads Work to Rebuild, Gaining Stature

August 17: nothing on Lebanon, Israel, Hezbollah.... back to Iraq.

The applause after the first number, Leonore Overture, No. 3, Op. 72, was overwhelming. Beethoven is usually rousing, but there was a quality to the upsurge of gratitude and appreciation that seemed to exceed recognition of the quality of the performance. My own guess is that a significant component of the emotion was sheer relief - for now, at least, the Israeli/Hezbollah ceasefire plan in Lebanon appears to be working.

This orchestra is the 1999 brainchild of intellectual and public critic Edward Said (a Palestinian); and conductor and pianist Daniel Barenboim (an Israeli). Its performances raise money to support young people from the Middle East and Israel to play classical music together. The Foundation, now based in Seville, Spain, issued a declaration in 2004, and

An ancient hall of Topkapi Palace, the Hagia Eirene Museum was sold out but we obtained standing room only tickets and wound up sitting (comfortably enough) in the rear stairwell (our view from below, first half; for the second half we made it to the uppermost stairs). Acoustically, I was amazed at the sound. It was stunning. I wondered about performances in this space over the millennia (!) and the constitution of audiences. What kinds of court intrigues and politics occurred during and regarding public performances? How public was “public”, then? (I was unaware at the time of the cancellation and reinstatement of the concert for political purposes.)

I haven’t attended a live orchestra performance for at least 20 years. Various impressions flitted through my mind mixed with vague memories of growing up. Have I heard these pieces before? It was an educated audience, no one applauded falsely between the many movements of Schubert’s Trout Quintet. After the third or forth movement the audience and musicians had cohered. The warmth of the summer evening and lack of ventilation heated up the air to the edge of discomfort: the discipline of sitting still and listening was released in a full group rustle of throat-clearing, rapid brochure-fanning, and general bodily rearrangement. Such was reenacted in each pause thereafter.

What a contrast with Depeche Mode and its audience’s constant, unrestrained movement and attention leapfrogging between the music, mobiles, location, beer…

I also thought about voice and modern-day, mass-mediated politics. I imagined mideast politics as a symphony. There’s the constant thrum of the violins, the basics of everyday life, ebbing and cresting in twitters, chirps, and plucks of melancholy, pleasure, contentment, discord. Occasionally deep swells converge in coordinated harmonies, complimenting or contesting other tides. The deeper strings, brass and woodwinds vacillate among drawing out the dark power of living and accentuating the surface manifestations of conflict and dissension. Percussion marks the points of decision. Commit or retreat but know that whichever is chosen is consequential, even if only circumstantially so.

I know my characterization is crude: I am not a musician. But I felt the music and this is what I thought: a strong voice was needed to pound the drums long and hard enough to force political forces to stop the surface burst of unbelievable human violence. Let’s say the voices of my friends raised in outrage were the cellos and horns, and I came in as a woodwind. Or perhaps I was a lone French Horn against the trumpets. My notes were heard (?) as a threat to the cohesion of the necessary cumulation of voice (sound, power). I would prefer to be positioned as a complementary voice playing an alternative melody, or striking my notes along a different yet compatible scale (but this may be out of my control). What matters to me is the overall “sound” – the co-generated orchestral production. What a good conductor does is balance the volume of each section (sometimes even each individual instrument) so that each thematic strand is auditorily consonant with every other; but the conductor cannot make this happen, the musicians must be responsive, they must trust the conductor’s ear, which hears that which they cannot.

I suppose I came up with this analogy because of a section in Brahms Symphony No. 1 in C Minor, Op. 68. I am not sure which instrument it was, perhaps (?) the contrabassoon. Its sound was almost too deep, too soft to be discerned yet Barenboim coaxed it up, quieting the violins just enough for the lone voice to emerge with the distinctiveness of its own rhythm.

Of course, the difference in social relations and musical collaboration are that there are no conductors (or too many, smile) for social relations. There is also little precedent for such wholistic orchestration in societies or groups where, for instance, we are mostly strangers to each other. Hence, our attunements are more likely random and historical rather than deliberate and visionary.

At the end of the concert I wanted more. So did the vast majority of the audience, and I believe the musicians did too. No go. :-( Maybe Barenboim wasn’t feeling well; maybe he was affected by the absence of the double-bassist who had been called back to Berlin for some reason (leading to an alteration in the program). Who knows. The love was there. :-)

The audience’s appreciation did not dim after that first round of applause, making me wonder if it was “only” the music after all. Or perhaps the even more simple effect of the fundraiser wine we had to gulp before entering? :-) The music was extraordinary, of that there can be no doubt. The setting was magical, the timing historic, the company superb. (Erdem did make sure there was no confusion about our relationship.) ;-)

The title of the orchestra is from Goethe's poem of this name, West-Eastern Divan, "in which he brings the poetic culture culture of the Islamic and Western worlds together" (liner notes). Goethe is noted for beginning to learn Arabic after the age of 60 as well as for truthfully representing "the Eastern spirit of poetry." Imagine! Old dogs can learn new tricks!

I feel the strain of trying to change discursive tracks. :-/

Tejal and Jed both commented, continuing this conversation.

My words have not been meant as justification for Israeli military actions. I Do Not Support the invasion and destruction of Lebanon. I am also not trying to rationalize the violence, provide excuses, or otherwise contribute – in any way – to US imperialism. I Am Trying to diversify the ways we talk about this appalling and apparently unending conflict. I intend my comments as a small contribution to the establishment of a public space for a polyphony of knowledges about current events and historical trends in this embattled region of the MidEast.

I imagine that creating epistemologies is the task of public intellectuals. I trust that among us are persons with enough brilliance, passion, commitment, and ideological flexibility to co-create an alternative worldview that might provide leverage to those in government and business who also seek peace and shared prosperity. I believe it is the task of intellectuals to discover and implement a new language for political dissemination and media consumption.

The grooves of perspective, opinion, and insight from all angles are as deep and well-worn as the histories that produced them. Repeating the arguments is compelling and even comfortable. Polemics compel by expressing the full range of emotional and psychic agonies induced by the experience of injustice. Everyone feels wronged. The felt experience of oppression demands naming: its sources must be pinpointed and called to account.

Identifying with the claims of pain – whether they are overtly polemical or subtly reasoned – can also bring a form of comfort. One joins with others in a felt community of comradeship, of belonging. The collective “we” is reinforced (along whatever grounds: nationalism, ethnicity, religion, colonizer/oppressed); simultaneously “they” are solidified as enemy. Burke discusses the quality of self/other identification inherent in language use. Applying this lens to public rhetoric (roughly governmental statements and political posturing) and public conversations (including “elite” and alternative journalism, email networks and blogs) one can discern a pattern of canalization: in this regard we are all colonized.

I do not exclude myself. I know that my words will reveal my own complicity with the systems of oppression that have shaped me. I anticipate and depend upon others to teach me about myself. It is in this learning, if we can manage to do it together, that theories of discourse and the social construction of reality can be applied practically in deliberate collaboration.

There are risks. Friendships may be threatened. Alliances may be weakened. This, as I understand it, is the inevitable price of a politics without guarantee (Stuart Hall). I choose to exercise faith that the promises – albeit unknown – of venturing into such co-creation and dialogic relationship must outweigh fear.

“A voice belongs first to a body, then to a language” (52).

Negar told me about an Iranian saying, that learning another language adds a new person to your self. Yes, new capacities, new zones of expression and perception, yet what Berger says is also true, the voice – in its emotion-inducing physicality [my qualification] – remains the same. This use of the word “voice” is different than Blommaert’s conceptualization of “voice” as the operationalization of intersubjective, discursive power. The intersubjective part is the part between real individuals engaged in real time (face-to-face synchronic time or asynchronous technologically-mediated time – as in the turn-taking among myself, Yasser, Jeff, Amanda, and . . . you? wink! Why not?!!)

The discursive part is the larger framework of relationships in which each of us is embedded and all of us partake. Every time we speak (via our physically-embodied voice or through written text), each utterance spins forward along a dialectical trajectory as an outgrowth of previous exposure and knowledge. Simultaneously, each utterance opens onto a potential new vista, an unknown dark zone. “Dark” because not yet lived: unexperienced, and therefore unknown. (Thanks Negar; and original thanks to Chris Baxter, who played with calling me a "dark ally" during the 2005 Supporting Deaf People Online conference.)

I read Berger and translate his words into mine. “It is prudent to believe that the large is more real than the small. Yet it is false” (53). He is discussing the myth of scale, the myth that suggests that the macrosocial is more real (e.g., more powerful) than the microsocial. “If we are trapped, my heart, it is not within reality” (53). He writes to his love as I wish to write to mine. :-) The point, however, has wider application: let me attempt to articulate it precisely.

If we – for instance Muslims, Christians, Palestinians, Israelis – are trapped it is not exclusively because of impersonal institutional forces grinding out grim realities such as the devastation in Lebanon. We are “trapped” also within our own individual, personal and private (dialectical) trajectories. Our “hearts” (our loves, passions, dreams and visions) are constrained by “a vestige of the fear reflex to be found in all animals, in face of another creature larger than themselves” (53).

A major factor that feeds this fear is the loss of home. Berger ties the loss of home explicitly to emigration. More words about emigration are necessary, Berger claims, “to whisper for that which has been lost” (55). Emigration can be understood as the driving feature, the essential characteristic, of global transnationalism. Whether one chooses to move to another country temporarily or permanently, for purposes of education or work, or is forced to move for literal survival (to work or to seek asylum), what is threatened by this move is home. Edward Said discusses this too, in the extraordinary re-ordering of his conception of self that was required when he was sent to boarding school in the US.

“Originally,” Berger explains, “home meant the center of the world – not in a geographical, but in an ontological sense” (55). He continues, “To emigrate is always to dismantle the center of the world, and so to move into a lost, disoriented one of fragments” (57).

When the physical site of home is lost (left, taken away, inaccessible) one resorts to “the habit which protects” (64) and “the psychic level of turning in circles in order to preserve one’s identity” (63).

This conversation and critique has not left my mind the past several days. I posted an initial engagement with Yasser, to which both he and Jeff thoughtfully responded (their full comments follow my original posting).

I am in new territory. I do not consider myself to have ‘the right view’ (whatever that might be); rather, I believe that engaging in such a conversation publicly is a way for me (and hopefully others as well) to learn more, perhaps even to grow and change in our own selves. I go so far, sometimes, as to envision change in the world situation based upon discourses we create and spread.

Perhaps over time, or via specific invitation, it will make sense for me to pull particular quotes from our writings to illustrate (mis)understanding and/or deconstruct meanings, but for now I want to reply more broadly to the tone or quality of both responses. If I over-infer or blatantly misinterpret I hope no one will let it slide. This conversation is much too important to let even the small annoyances go (indeed, perhaps it is in addressing the seemingly small that we can build to the larger and more obviously pressing?)

First, both seemed to feel the need to protect me. I read this as a signal that I am ‘out-of-step’ with this particular intellectual community, or at least at risk of being perceived in this way, of suddenly being counted as among the enemy. I appreciate the engagement and am grateful for – and relieved by – the gestures of inclusion. Thanks. :-)

Second, there is a concern, in both Jeff and Yasser’s responses, that I learn or otherwise come to know certain facts (of history, of media representation, of politics, of language, of precedent…) I agree that this kind of knowledge is important (and I hope various folks will continue to contribute such facts as they seem relevant to the conversation), but I’m not convinced of their utility in generating an actual change in conditions. This is what I mean by pressing against a dialectical framing of the situation: the repetition of the same arguments serves to keep the argument alive. I do not see how this can lead to resolution.

This is slippery, however, because I understand (as Yasser explained) that the framing of this as an argument with sides is a problem, and also that if it is conceived in this way, only one side has been widely ‘heard’ in the West (especially in the US). So there is a place for repetition, but I am raising the question of which place, as well as when. The timing matters as much as the content.

The next level of complication is the sheer urgency of the situation for the people who are in it. It is horrifying to imagine the literal suffering in its physical, emotional, and spiritual dimensions. Such pain inspires polemics. So now – today – I have just read the introduction to a small new book by Tariq Ali, Conversations with Edward Said (2006). I read during lunch at the café of Istanbul Modern art museum, where, as I entered the grounds, my eye was immediately drawn to what I thought were angels. My interpretation didn’t change, even as I got closer, although I started to think they didn’t look very happy. Then I saw the title, “Europeans.”

Here is what I have learned from Ali and Said that seems relevant to this discussion:

I really enjoyed Sudeep Dasgupta’s talk on “Space, Time and the Political: The EU Constitution and the Partition of History.” This was part of the panel (4.19) on “Time, Space and the Unfolding of Culture.” The hinge of his argument, as I understood it, is that Jacques Rancière provides a conception of the democratic that presupposes an equality that the law has already institutionalized. This is a radically different premise than arguments based on alterity, which have to rely on appeals to ethics regarding one’s relations with the Other. Rancière simply declines to engage at that level, as if “Others” are outside the law, trying to get in and be covered it. He argues that the law already has established principles of equality. Period. From this basis one can proceed in quite practical terms to reframe debates about justice – “the coordinates around which democracy is organized” – instead of about difference (which necessarily invokes non-knowledge, invisibility, and a kind of absolute alterity).

Dasgupta contrasts Rancière with Derrida, who he finds “useless in real life,” while still relying on some of Derrida’s conceptual notions, such as “the ‘secret’ history of Europe (Derrida 1994, 1995) and the temporalization of the spatial. The context is the recent (2005) rejection of the EU Constitution by the Dutch and the French. Anti-Turkey and anti-Islamic themes in public discourses were used to localize Europe: as it seeks to extend its space through enlargement it also heightens its borders (Fortress Europe).

Photo: Poster of a sextant from the Rahmi M. Koc Museum.

I wrote the two friends who responded to my plunge into Mideast politics and rhetoric, explaining:

"I have always considered myself as a foil for teaching. In other words, by being willing to display my own errors and ignorance, and do this learning in public, I think others who think like me - or who might be persuaded to think like me - can more readily grow into better, deeper, richer understandings."

Foil, in the sense of "One that by contrast underscores or enhances the distinctive characteristics of another: “I am resolved my husband shall not be a rival, but a foil to me” (Charlotte Brontë)."

The responses are both critiques. I am waiting for permission to post them (either with credit or anonymously). In the meantime, this photo was sent to drive home the point that not all Jewish people believe in Zionism.

The term, Zionism, presents its own problems. By Jews it originally meant the desire to found their own nation, a homeland. By non-Jews, the term has been conflated with deliberate, systematic, and racist oppression. It would behoove us, I think, not to assume there is only one possible meaning for this term. It would be even better if we could use language more precisely - perhaps even avoiding this loaded term - to distinguish between Israeli and Palestinian ambitions. We might even be able to talk commonalities into being.

An aside: A man to watch: Sheik Nasrallah.

Hafez ıs the famous Persian poet from Shiraz, the town I had hoped to visit in Iran.

Contributions are sought from scholars working in Persian studies for a book on "Love and Civility in Hafez" (Mehr va Modara) to be published by Hafez Studies www.hafezstudies.ir and ISESCO http://www.isesco.org.ma/. The papers may be written in Persian, Arabic, English or French.

Length should be in the region of 5000-8000 words,including endnotes.

Inquiries are most welcome, and should be addressed by email to Farideh Pourgiv fpourgiv@rose.shirazu.ac.ir

Deadline has been extended to 25th of September 2006. ISESCO is going to pay US $ 200 to each article accepted for the collection.