Occidentalism: A Short History of Anti-Westernism by Ian Buruma and Avishai Margalit (2004)

The dehumanising picture of the West painted by its enemies is what we have called Occidentalism. It is our intention in this book to examine this cluster of prejudices and trace their historical roots.
(Occidentalism: A Short History of Anti-Westernism, page 6)

Some features of Occidentalism

Many groups have queued up to hate ‘the West’ over the past 200 years, for many reasons, claiming that:

  • the West is a purveyor of ‘poisonous materialism’
  • Westernism is a disease of the spirit
  • the Western mind splits human knowledge into soulless specialisms
  • Westernism promotes alienated individualism over communal belonging
  • Western science destroys religious belief and faith
  • Western media are decadent and pornographic
  • Western culture is shallow and materialist so destroys spiritual values
  • Western society is capitalist, greedy, exploitative
  • Westernism is a ‘machine civilisation’ (compared to hand-made rural arts and crafts)
  • resentment / hatred of Western imperialism
  • of Western colonialism
  • of Western (particularly American) global power and selfish foreign policy
  • Western civilisation is associated with huge, degraded, corrupt cities (compared with organic rural life)
  • the West represents ‘rootless cosmopolitanism’ and multiculturalism (compared with homogeneous native traditions)

These are the accusations and stereotypes which the authors set out to analyse and investigate, going much further afield than the contemporary Middle East, and much further back in time than the past few troubled decades, to do so.

The authors

Ian Buruma (born 1951, aged 72) is a Dutch writer and editor who lives and works in the US. Much of his writing has focused on the culture of Asia, particularly that of China and 20th-century Japan.

Avishai Margalit (born 1939, aged 83) is an Israeli professor emeritus in philosophy at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. From 2006 to 2011 he was George F. Kennan Professor at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton.

Both were contributors to The New York Review of Books during the 1990s and in fact this book grew out of an article published in that magazine in 2002, less than 12 months after the 9/11 attacks on New York shook the world of international affairs.

The background: Edward Said’s Orientalism

Buruma and Margalit don’t mention Edward Said in the text but they explicitly state that their concept of ‘Occidentalism’ is conceived as a mirror image of the notion of Orientalism which Said was instrumental in defining and popularising.

The view of the West in Occidentalism is like the worst aspects of its counterpart, Orientalism, which strips its human targets of their humanity. Some Orientalist prejudices made non-Western people seem less than fully adult human beings; they ha the minds of children and could thus be treated as ‘lesser breeds’. Occidentalism is at least as reductive; its bigotry simply turns the Orientalist view upside down. [It reduces] an entire society or civilisation to a mass of soulless, decadent, money-grabbing, rootless, faithless, unfeeling parasites… (p.11)

Prior to Said’s book, Orientalism had been the value-neutral name given to a perfectly respectable academic discipline, the study of the languages, peoples and societies of ‘the East’ (loosely defined as lands from the Middle East to Japan) until Said published his landmark study, Orientalism in 1978.

Orientalism was a long, thorough, polemical attack on the entire discipline, claiming that from its earliest beginnings it 1) drew up a clear unbridgeable distinction between ‘The East’ and ‘The West’, 2) invented stereotypes of ‘the Oriental’, ‘the Arab’, ‘the Muslim’ and 3) attributed to them and their world a shopping list of negative qualities, the stereotypical ‘Oriental’ being lazy, irrational, dominated by a simple-minded religion, corrupt, sensual, and so on.

Orientalism was intended to be a comprehensive demolition of an entire academic field which Said proved by showing that the same mental structures underpinned, and the same demeaning stereotypes and clichés appeared in, almost all Orientalist writing, from the late eighteenth century right up to the present day.

This would all have been fairly academic, in the narrow sense – academics squabbling over the epistemological foundations of a particular academic field – but for the real bite of the book which is its highly political approach.

This has two elements. Firstly Said claims that the entire field of research into the languages, culture, religions, society and so on of ‘the Orient’ enabled and justified imperial control of the region. Knowledge is power, and the ever-more comprehensive and intrusive studies done of the countless peoples, religions and cultures of this vast area enabled Western imperial control over them. Orientalist academic studies served colonial power.

The Palestinian issue

This by itself would have been a fairly controversial conclusion, but there’s a second, really inflammatory element to Said’s critique. This is his attempt to show the discredited assumptions and degrading attitudes of Orientalism played, and continue to play, an important role in determining attitudes across western culture and politics to the Problem of Palestine.

This, as every educated person knows, is one of the most contentious issues in international affairs. In 1917 the British Home Secretary, Arthur Balfour, declared that Britain would support the Jews of Europe in their wish to create a homeland in the Biblical Lands of Palestine. Between the wars increasing numbers of Jewish immigrants fled Europe and settled in Palestine, buying land from its Arab owners. Tensions between incomers and natives erupted into regular bouts of violence which the British authorities, given a ‘mandate’ to run the area after the First World War, struggled to contain. After the Second World War, an exhausted, impoverished Britain tried to hold the ring between increasingly violent Jewish and Arab nationalist political parties and militias, until, in 1948, they effectively gave up and withdrew.

The well-organised and well-armed Jewish settlers promptly declared the existence of the independent state of Israel and the neighbouring Arab countries promptly attacked it, seeking to strangle it at birth. The Israeli army successfully defended its country and amid, much bloodshed, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians fled, or were expelled, into neighbouring countries, especially Jordan.

In 1967 a joint force of Arab countries led by Egypt was mobilising for another attack when Israel launched a lightning pre-emptive strike, crushing the Egyptian army and forcing the Arabs to sign an armistice after just six days. As a result Israel seized the Jordanian-annexed West Bank (including East Jerusalem), and Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula as well as the Egyptian-occupied Gaza Strip.

As many as 325,000 Palestinians and 100,000 Syrians fled or were expelled from the West Bank and the Golan Heights, respectively, creating a humanitarian crisis.

In 1973 the Arabs launched a surprise attack on October 6, the Jewish holy day of Yom Kippur. Once again Israel faced numerically overwhelming forces but fought them off in what was effectively the Third Arab-Israeli War. In the aftermath of the war the Israelis realised that they couldn’t rely on fighting off Arab armies indefinitely, and so they began to put out feelers for some kind of peace treaty, which was to lead to the 1978 Camp David Accords under which Israel return the entire Sinai Peninsula to Egypt.

Orientalist attitudes to the Palestinian problem

The point of this long digression is that Said was a Palestinian. Both his parents were of Palestinian heritage, he was born in Palestine and raised in Egypt, attending English-language schools in Jerusalem and then Alexandria. Said’s father had served with US Army during the Great War and so earned US citizenship so, when he was expelled from his Egyptian private school for being a troublemaker he was sent to a private boarding school in Massachusetts, USA. Thus began his career as an academic in America (in New York).

But as he progressed through the academic hierarchy, as well as his purely academic publications about comparative literature, Said became known for his ‘outspoken’ opinions about the Palestinian issue, namely speaking up for the plight of the hundreds of thousands of Palestinian refugees, calling for the government of Israel to moderate its policies in the occupied territories and so on.

This, as you might have expected in polarised politicised America, drew down on his head the wrath of numerous journalists, commentators, Jewish groups and so on, many of which didn’t refrain from employing exactly the kinds of denigratory stereotypes he had listed in Orientalism against Said himself and the Palestinians he spoke up for.

In the Introduction to Orientalism Said explains that the motivation to write the book was partly driven by his own personal experience of Orientalist tropes. In New York academia he found himself extremely isolated as almost the only Palestinian and Arab working in an academic and publishing environment dominated by white liberals or Jews sympathetic to Israel and its policies.

So his own personal experience of having anti-Arab, anti-Palestinian and anti-Muslim slurs directed at himself, his writings and his opinions was a big motivation behind the years of research and labour of love which Orientalism amounts to.

This explains why the huge book, with its mountains of evidence, all work one way, criticising ‘the West’, Western attitudes, Western academia, Western imperialism, Western racism and so on.

In the Introduction Said explicitly says that he is not interested in exploring ‘the Arab Mind’ or ‘the Islamic World’ and so on. That would have doubled or quadrupled the length of the book, plus which he wasn’t professionally qualified to take on such huge subjects. His interest is solely in a deep investigation of how Western attitudes against ‘the Orient’ were created and proliferated throughout Orientalist studies, fiction and so on.

9/11

A lot happened in the real world between Orientalism‘s publication in 1978 and the publication of Occidentalism in 2002, but in the world of academia, magazines and publishing Said’s critique of Western attitudes had become very widespread among bien-pensant liberals. In the academy and liberal journals Said’s view that ‘the West’ continually sees the Middle East, the Arab world and Islam through simplistic, racist ‘Orientalist’ stereotypes, had become very widely accepted.

The 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York, the Pentagon and (possibly) the White House (the fourth plane that came down in Washington) galvanised and transformed the culture, shocking and terrifying people around the Western world. It led numerous commentators and analysts to claim that we had entered a new era of war between ‘the West’ and ‘Islam’ or ‘Islamic terrorism’ or ‘Islamofascism’ etc, an inflammatory rhetoric which translated into actual war when, within a month of the 9/11 attacks, in October 2001, US forces invaded Afghanistan to overthrow the Taliban regime there.

Occidentalism

This is where Buruma and Margalit come in. They readily concede that 9/11, like the First Gulf War before it, led to an explosion throughout the media of just the kind of Orientalist racist stereotypes which Said had dedicated his life to uncovering and critiquing. But they point out that there was a gap in the whole discussion. If ‘the West’ could be accused of deploying Orientalist stereotypes against ‘the East’, ‘the Arab world’ etc, what about the stereotypes of the West which could be found in the media and political and terrorist discourse of the East? Didn’t Arab and Palestinian and Muslim leaders regularly rail against ‘the West’, didn’t an endless stream of news footage show enraged mobs burning the American flag and shouting ‘Down with America’, and wasn’t this anti-western rhetoric routinely associated with a predictable shopping list of negative stereotypes? Short answer, yes.

So what are these anti-Western tropes and where did they come from?

The West and ‘the Modern’

Right at the start Buruma and Margalit made a fundamental conceptual decision which underpins everything that follows: this is to identify anti-Western discourse with anti-Modernism. They argue that when nationalist commentators and activists in the rest of the world attack ‘the West’, they almost always conflate ‘the West’ with every aspect of the modern world which they dislike, despise or fear, everything from industrialisation, secularism, capitalism, rationalism through to cultural products such as pop music and pornography.

What many of the anti-Western nationalist movements of the past 100 or 150 years, whether in India or China or Japan, in the Middle East or across Africa, have in common is that they want to turn the clock back. They dream of an era which preceded the arrival of the West with its monstrous attributes of godless science, nation states, brutal capitalism, cultural hegemony and so on, they dream of an era when their countries were untainted by western influence, untainted by godless capitalism, when everyone lived in small rural communities and shared the same simple faith and devoutness.

At the roots of much anti-Western feeling is a deeper resentment at all these aspects of the modern world and a passionate desire to turn the clock back to simpler, more spiritual times. This leads them to a counter-intuitive conclusion:

Anti-westernism is a western product

The first people to loathe and hate modernism i.e the rise of a secular, godless, liberal, pluralistic society based on industrial capitalism, with the uprooting or rural populations and their herding into monster cities which became sinks of immorality and degeneracy etc, were westerners themselves.

It is one of our contentions that Occidentalism, like capitalism, Marxism, and many other modern isms, was born in Europe before it was transferred to other parts of the world. (p.6, emphasis added)

The main opponents to the birth and spread of industrial capitalist society were inhabitants of that society itself. Marx is the obvious epitome of this trend, but there had been plenty of opponents to the rise of godless rationalism and capitalist industrialisation for generations before him, and loads of theoreticians who tried to cling onto older ideas of pre-industrial societies bound together by a common religion

To put it simply, Western society has, for well over 200 years, contained a large number of intellectuals who fear, hate and loath their own western society, and who have developed an extensive set of concepts and vocabulary to express that hatred in.

Communist anti-westernism

The Bolshevik revolution of 1917 appeared, at a stroke, to validate the enormous, world-reaching rhetoric of Marxist analysis, to prove the inevitable collapse of capitalism and of communist revolution, and the Soviet regime spent the next 70 years energetically spreading its anti-western ideas and rhetoric around the world.

Fascist anti-westernism

But the Bolsheviks triggered an equal and opposite reaction in the extreme nationalist movements which developed into totalitarian fascism in Italy, then Germany and the other European governments who fell prey to authoritarian or fascist regimes between the wars.

And the fascist, anti-modern rhetoric developed by these regimes and their numerous intellectual defenders and propagandists, continued long after the Second World War, helping to justify and underpin semi-fascist military regimes in, for example, Franco’s Spain, Salazar’s Portugal, the Greece of the generals, or right-wing regimes in South America such as Pinochet’s Chile (1973 to 1990) or the military government in Argentina (1976 to 1993).

So this is the most fundamental thing about the book – Buruma and Margalit’s decision to expand its frame of reference faaaar beyond a consideration of anti-western rhetoric in the Middle East, in the Arab world or as expressed by Islamic terrorists like Osama bin Laden, and to turn it into an investigation of anti-Western thought in its widest possible definition.

Scope

In their introduction, on page 11, Buruma and Margalit briefly consider taking a chronological approach to the subject, tracing the origins of anti-western feeling all the way back to the Counter-Reformation, through the Counter-Enlightenment, before exploring the roots of the various types of socialist, communist and fascist opposition to the modern world.

Mercifully, maybe, instead of the kind of exhaustive multi-volume study this would have turned into, they decide to take a thematic approach. They will look at certain key images or symbols of the decadent, greedy, rootless etc West, and sketch out their origins in (mostly) Western discourse. This helps explain why the book is a light and frolicsome 149 pages long, although some of the explication is so dense and compressed that it sometimes feels like longer…

Contents

Accordingly, the text is divided into six chapters. The headings are neat and logical but I found the text they contain often very digressive, in the sense that it hops between quite disparate topics, times and places and then, just as unpredictably, returns to what they were originally discussing. On the upside this means the text is often as interesting for the sidelights or incidental observations it throws out as for the central points.

1. War Against The West

Introduction, as summarised above.

2. The Occidental City

Contrary to received opinion, people who hold strong Occidentalist views tend to be educated, or at least educated enough to be familiar enough with the values of the West to hate them. Taking the view that ‘Western values’ are undermining this or that set of traditional native values requires you to have a pretty good theoretical understanding both of what your native values are, what Western values are, and how the latter is ‘poisoning’ the former.

Far from being a dogma favoured by downtrodden peasants, Occidentalism more often reflects the fears and prejudices of urban intellectuals, who feel displaced in the world of mass commerce. (p.30, emphasis added)

Re. the 9/11 attacks on hi-tech buildings, Osama bin Laden trained as a civil engineer. the ringleader of the hijackers, Mohamed Atta, studied architecture at Cairo University and went on to do a Masters in urban planning at the Hamburg University of Technology. He hated modern architecture. He thought the concrete high-rise buildings built in Cairo and across the region in the 1960s and 1970s ruined the beauty of old neighbourhoods and robbed their people of privacy and dignity.

The tower of Babel

Tall buildings have been a focus of anxieties and symbols of ill omen from at least as long ago as the Bible. The Old Testament or Jewish Bible has barely got going before, in chapter 11, we are told about Nimrod who built the Tower of Babel with a view to making a name for themselves. God and, it appears, his angels, feared what they might do next, so afflicted the workers on it with different languages so they couldn’t understand each other, and then dispersed them across the face of the earth.

I visited New York in the 1980s and went to the top of the South Tower of the World Trade Centre which had an observation deck on the 107th floor and an outdoor viewing platform. It was 1,377 feet above street level. You could feel the building moving under your feet since it was designed to have a certain amount of ‘give’. I have acute vertigo and was terrified.

Cities as sinks of iniquity

Throughout recorded history, cities in every culture have been associated with corruption, greed, exploitation of the poor by the rich, decadence and immorality.

It is a universal story, this clash between old and new, authentic culture and metropolitan chicanery and artifice, country and city. (p.27)

Western sources

Regarding the authors’ focus on western texts, they live down to my expectations. In just the first part of this chapter they quote the Bible, Juvenal, the Goncourt brothers, William Blake (Dark Satanic mills), T.S. Eliot (The Rock), Richard Wagner (despised the frivolity of Paris), Voltaire (admired the liberty of eighteenth century London), Theodor Fontane (disliked London’s materialism), Friedrich Engels (horrified by the poverty of Manchester) and not a single Arab or Muslim voice.

It feels like a fairly obvious sixth form selection of obvious cultural figures (Blake, Eliot, Wagner). I’d so much have preferred an explanation of Islamic traditions about ‘the city’.

Antisemitism

They then move onto antisemitism, long associated with cities, cosmopolitan i.e. non-native culture, money-lending and capitalism etc, citing (again) Eliot, Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, Marx. The Nazis incorporated late-nineteenth century tropes of seeking to escape the city for a healthier life in the country into their fascist propaganda about racial purity, despising a checklist of big capitalism, cosmopolitan crowds, decadence (nightclubs and jazz), corruption of good Aryan women into prostitution and, of course, managed to blame all of this on ‘the Jews’.

A lot of these concerns and the language they were expressed in were picked up by other nativist nationalists, in Japan (about which Buruma knows a lot and which developed its own form of fascism during the 1930s) and in the Arab Middle East, developing its anti-colonial, anti-western rhetoric (many nationalist Arab leaders allied with Nazi Germany on the twin bases that a) my enemy (Britain)’s enemy is my friend and b) shared antisemitism).

Sayyid Qutb

They make a brief mention of Sayyid Qutb (1906 to 1966), widely considered the father of modern Islamic fundamentalism, to address not his writings, but his miserable alienation when he moved to New York to study in the 1940s and was repelled by absolutely everything about American life, its soulless materialism, its obsession with capitalist consumerism, its degraded immorality. Maybe they felt obligated to wedge him in somewhere, but Qutb’s importance to the development of Islamism or Islamic fundamentalism or Islamic terrorism isn’t developed at all. A paragraph on him before swooping back to Europe and…

The French Revolution

Surprisingly, maybe, they then move to the French Revolution. The French Revolution crystallised Enlightenment trends against medieval monarchs and aristocrats, the rule of the Church, traditions of all sorts, which needed to be torn up and thrown away, replaced by the cult of Reason, modern laws for modern enlightened citizens.

Antisemitism was implicit in Christianity from the beginning, with the Jews being blamed for insisting on the crucifixion of Jesus by the earliest Church Fathers. Buruma and Margalit attribute the birth of modern antisemitism to the French Revolution. Traditional upholders of the monarchy, the aristocracy and the Catholic Church were easily persuaded that the whole thing was a Jewish conspiracy, and so was born a whole modern antisemitic way of thinking about the world, which was to flourish and become steadily more toxic in the heart of Europe as the nineteenth century progressed.

The German Volk

Soon after the revolution, France invaded Germany, or the German states. Ideological opposition to the teachings of the French Revolution became mixed up with patriotic fervour. This all happened to the first generation of German Romantics. France came to represent the modern, godless, cosmopolitan city, riddled with over-clever philosophers and money-grubbing Jews, which was trying to conquer and obliterate the values of the Volkisch, spiritual German town, the German landscape of sturdy peasants, wise artisans and soulful poets. The authors cite the German folklorist Gottfried von Herder (1744 to 1803) as an example of this view.

Japan and China struggle to adopt Western culture

But western ideas of democracy, industrialism, capitalism and so forth were undeniably effective. They provided the underpinnings for the astonishing spread of Western imperialism. The question for rulers in countries from Morocco to Japan was which ideas from the West it would be profitable to accept, and which they needed to reject in order to maintain their culture and traditions, protect their nations from ‘spiritual pollution’ i.e. Western liberal ideas. Tricky.

Japan and China in different ways tried to adopt Western techniques without changing the core of their culture. Japan was much more successful, maybe because its centralised administration was stronger: it imported Western industrialisation while managing to keep a strong sense of national culture. By contrast the Chinese political system had become corrupt and inefficient so it failed to import Western industrialisation but instead found itself infected with all kinds of Western ideas about republics and democracy and the individual etc, ideas which led to the overthrow of the monarchy in 1911.

The appeal of Marxism to anti-colonial nationalists

For the central 70 years of the twentieth century many developing countries thought that Marxism offered a way forward. It was modern, industrial, scientific but rejected the soulless materialism, corruption and imperialist mindset of the Western capitalist societies. hence its attraction for many developing countries, especially in the decades after independence in the 1940s and 50s.

Unfortunately it was the dream which failed. The failure of the secular socialist nationalism promoted by the likes of President Nasser of Egypt, Gaddafi in Libya, Saddam in Iraq, Assad in Syria led to a wave of disillusion across the Arab world and opened the cultural space for Islamists who promoted a radical solution, a return to a world before any kind of modernity existed, back to the pure, unsullied, pious and unified world of the early Caliphate.

Mao and the war against the city

The authors devote 4 or 5 pages to Chairman Mao, ruler of China from 1949 to 1976. They see Mao as the biggest exponent in all world history of the war of the country against the city. The corrupt westernised city was epitomised for Chinese communists like Mao by Shanghai, administered by westerners and packed with a cosmopolitanism, capitalism and corruption. Mao thought such places needed to be purged in the name of a peasant communism.

Mao’s promotion of peasant values promised an escape route from Western capitalism, from urban alienation, decadence and corruption, and a return to integrated rural communities, where life and work would have proper, deep human meaning and purpose.

And so during the 1950s he unleashed the Great Leap Forward which involved rounding up and shooting hundreds of thousands of members of the urban bourgeoisie, those who survived being sent to huge rural labour camps. It was, he boomed, in countless speeches, a good thing ‘to exterminate the bourgeoisie and capitalism in China’ (p.42).

The Khmer Rouge 1975 to 1979

This is the mindset which went on to guide the horrific Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia, 1975 to 1979. Most of Pol Pot’s soldiers were illiterate peasants, often only boys. When they took the capital, Phnom Penh, they were staggered by the wealth, the size, the swarming multinational population, the coffee shops and fleshpots. All these were ruthlessly emptied and its inhabitants either shot on the spot, or dragged off to be tortured, or marched off to labour camps in the countryside. Only by exterminating the urban bourgeoisie could the country be restored to purity and truth and correct living. It was a kind of logical end point of centuries of anti-city rhetoric.

The Taliban 1996

Same with the Taliban, illiterate peasants in flipflops armed with weapons seized from the fleeing Soviets or donated by America. After a ruinous civil war they took the capital of Afghanistan, Kabul, in 1996. First they butchered the leader of the pro-Soviet regime, Mohammad Najibullah, then they banned everything to do with modern life, which they associated with the hated West, in a bid to return society to the ‘purity’ of the earliest days of the Muslim Caliphate.

All music was banned, along with television, soccer, and most forms of socialising. Women had to cover themselves from head to foot and were not allowed out without a chaperone. Kabul was ruled by a six-man shura not one of them from Kabul, not one of them had ever lived in a city.

The Khmer Rouge and the Taliban represented the triumph of ‘authentic’ rural values over the corrupt, decadent modern city.

Germania

The authors then take a characteristic leap in subject, concluding with a page describing a different way of triumphing over the chaotic modern western city: this was to demolish it and build a totalitarian alternative.

Hitler hated Berlin and planned to rebuild it as a totalitarian capital, its alleys and slums replaced by broad boulevards designed for marching armies, its swarming cosmopolitan crowds replaced by the unified adoring Aryan crowd. All the messy attributes of the decadent West – civil liberties, free market economies, democracy, individualism – would be replaced by one Folk, one Reich, one Führer and one Capital City.

The Hitler regime was overthrown before building got very far but other countries have made the experiment. The authors cite Pyongyang, capital of North Korea, as what Germania might have looked like, a neoclassical testament to untrammeled, totalitarian power.

Lastly, they reference the steel and glass cities of coastal China which have mushroomed in the last twenty years, which represent a kind of defiant triumph over the less impressive, shop-soiled cities of the West. We can do it bigger, better and shinier than you, say high rises such as the Burj Khalifa in the United Arab Emirates, Merdeka 118 in Kuala Lumpur, the Shanghai Tower in Shanghai, the Abraj Al-Bait Clock Tower in Mecca, the Ping An International Finance Centre in Seoul and so on.

These are not so much anti-Western, as supra-western, denying old ideas of Western supremacy by outdoing it.

3. Heroes and Merchants

Werner Sombart

This focuses on the roots of Germany’s sustained sense of being different from ‘the West’, which German intellectuals defined as soulless mercantile Britain and godless revolutionary France.

The authors zero in on a book written in 1915 by a German sociologist named Werner Sombart and titled Händler und Helden or Merchants and Heroes. In the book Sombart contrasted the commercial civilisation of Britain and the liberty, equality, fraternity culture of France with the heroic culture of Germany. The Western bourgeois is satisfied with ‘comfort’ (in German Komfortismus) and the soporific sports of the British. By contrast the German welcomes death as the ultimate sacrifice he can make for the Volk.

Similar ideas were shared by the historian Oswald Spengler and the warrior-author Ernst Jünger. Happy happy Germany to have such ideologues of the glory of war. The fundamental trahison des clercs (‘treason of the intellectuals’) is to promote exciting ideas about glory and sacrifice which lead hundreds of thousands of young men to their death. ‘The young must shed their blood,’ write Thomas Abbt (p.58). Other young men, obviously. You need to stay safe in your study in order to produce such intellectual masterworks.

The authors make a direct link between the widespread contempt for bourgeois Komfortismus described by numerous right-wing German intellectuals, and the attitude of the jihadi fighter interviewed early in the 2001 Afghan who said that the Islamists would triumph because ‘You [the West] love life, but we love death’.

Personally, taking a materialist Darwinian evolutionary view of Homo sapiens, it seems unlikely that impatience to make live heroic lives and die in a noble cause, particularly among zealous young men ‘ardent for some desperate glory’, will ever die out. It has been so ubiquitous throughout all human history, in all cultures, that it appears to be hard-wired into the species. I’ve recently read a suite of books about the problems of African society and prominent among them is what to do about disaffected, unemployed youths, hanging round, looking for a cause to redeem their alienated lives…

Military death cults in Japan

The authors go on to trace how German hyper-nationalism and Occidentalism went on to become surprisingly influential in intellectual circles in the Middle East and Japan. The same valuing of a heroic ideal of nationhood which led Hitler to sacrifice an entire generation of German youth, was the one that made the Japanese fight to the death, island by island and send waves of kamikaze pilots in 1944.

Buruma has a counter-intuitive interpretation of Japanese suicide warriors. The phenomenon was considered at the time as being somehow specifically Japanese, but Buruma says the surviving farewell letters of many of the kamikaze pilots (and drivers of the less well-known suicide torpedoes) indicate that most were highly educated students studying the humanities at leading universities, and that a surprising number of them were well read in German literature and philosophy. They dressed up their feelings in tropes about the Samurai and cherry blossom but their fundamental ideas about the diseased decadence of the West and the need for heroic sacrifice are actually Western ideas.

Buruma gives a potted summary of the way Japanese politicians and intellectuals in the mid-nineteenth century cobbled together a patchwork copy of Western intellectual, economic, political, military and religious life, not least in the cobbling together of a state religion, Shinto, which they thought would echo the Christianity which seemed to be such a central part of European life. Ditto the transition of the emperor from a remote and powerless figure in Kyoto, who was moved to Tokyo to become a combination of kaiser, generalissimo, Shinto pope, and highest living deity. People talk (dismissively) about the British inventing many of their ‘traditions’ in the nineteenth century (Christmas trees, the kilt) but the Japanese did the same with knobs on.

Regarding the development of a cult of heroic sacrifice Buruma says an important source was the Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors of 1882 which the armed forces learned by heart and included a passage commanding the ultimate sacrifice for the emperor.

A practical consequence of this Occidentalism were that, when Western forces surrendered, as at Singapore in 1942, the Japanese viewed surrendering forces as dishonourable cowards who preferred to save their skins rather than fight on to the death i.e. the exact opposite of Japanese martial values.

As a result the Japanese regarded the surrendering British forces as less than human and treated them accordingly, working them to death in brutal labour camps. My best friend at school’s dad was in the army in Burma at the end of the war. He saw the state of soldiers repatriated from the Japanese camps. As a result he refused to have anything Japanese in the house.

The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh

The authors then move on to India for a quick description of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) which means the ‘National Volunteer Organisation’. Founded in 1925 this was a far-right, Hindu nationalist paramilitary organisation which aimed to instil ‘Hindu discipline’ in order to unite the Hindu community and establish a Hindu Rashtra (Hindu nation). Like the Nazis they aimed to create a new society based on racial purity, military discipline and sacrifice.

Osama bin Laden

Then, in this whistlestop tour, we are on to your friend and mine, the demon figure of the first decade of the 21st century, Osama bin Laden. The authors give quotes from an interview bin Laden gave after the 1996 al-Khobar Tower attack in Saudi Arabia. They say the language bin Laded uses of self-sacrifice, of suicide attacks, is emphatically not part of the Islamic mainstream tradition. In mainstream Islam dying in battle against the infidel is what creates justified martyrs; blowing yourself up along with unarmed civilians is something quite different, feared and despised by many Muslims as much as by Westerners.

They slightly contradict themselves by then describing the death cult of the Assassins, created in the 13th century for reasons which are still debated, and the pattern they set for being prepared to die for Islam in taking out an infidel opponent.

Anyway, whatever the precise roots there’s no denying that throughout the nineteenth century Muslim leaders called for jihad against western colonists and their godless capitalism, against their Jewish agents, and against native leaders who had been corrupted by their infidel ways.

Assassination

When I read this I immediately thought of President Anwar Sadat of Egypt. He was assassinated in 1981 by members of Egyptian Islamic Jihad for signing a peace treaty with Israel and instigating a crackdown on Islamic extremists, and so was painted as ‘a traitor to Islam’.

Sadat’s fate raises a general principle of Occidentalism which is that often opponents of the West aren’t actually opposed to the distant West, which they had never visited and of which they knew relatively little, so much as against the westernisers in their own society, political or social leaders who they blame for importing Western secular values. So they kill them.

Historically, the main embodiment of Muslim resistance to westernisation was the Muslim Brotherhood, founded in 1928 with the following manifesto:

‘God is our objective; the Qu’uran is our constitution; the Prophet is our leader; Struggle is our way; and death for the sake of God is our highest aspiration.’

Then, in another leap, the authors tell us that Japanese kamikaze tactics were adopted by the Hezbollah in the Lebanon with the 1983 Beirut barracks bombings which killed 241 US and 58 French military personnel.

Buruma and Margalit wrote this book before the US invaded Iraq in March 2003, an occupation which triggered an epidemic of suicide bombings by Sunni and Shias against the occupying forces.

Weimar

They conclude with a simple but crucial message. The Weimar Republic didn’t die because it was liquidated by Nazis, big business and the Army. It died because too few people were prepared to defend it. See the books on the subject by Peter Gay and Walter Laqueur. Passionate young men from the Right and the Left conspired to attack and undermine it at every opportunity. Nobody stood up for the boring, unromantic business of liberal democratic political life.

4. Mind of the West

Russian anti-westernism

Occidentalists accuse the West of being effective, technologically adroit, economically triumphant, and yet lacking the soul, depth, spirit and godliness which the critics, of course, pride themselves on having. I particularly despise the long tradition in Russian culture of belittling the frivolity and superficiality of France or Britain compared to the Great Russian Soul and its vast capacity for Noble Suffering. Tolstoy. Dostoyevsky. Occidentalists.

Dostoyevsky despised the West because it sought happiness and comfort whereas it should have been seeking salvation. And the route to salvation is via suffering. Only suffering brings wisdom. The West is afraid of suffering. The West can never be wise. Only a people devoted to suffering can be genuinely holy. The Russian soul welcomes and endures great suffering. Thus it is superior to everyone else’s.

Dostoyevsky and the propagandists for Russian suffering prepared the way (or just accurately reported the mindset) of the great Soviet barbarism of the twentieth century, the horrific civil war, the mass famines of Stalin, the huge gulags, total repression of civil society, the incredible death toll of the Great Patriotic War caused by Stalin’s ineptitude (and having massacred all his leading army officers) and Russian military readiness to sacrifice soldiers by the hecatomb in ways the Western Allies couldn’t believe. Still. Spiritual superiority, that’s what counts.

The line continues all the way through to Vladimir Putin. Putin sits in the main line of Russian cultural thought in despising, like Tolstoy, like Dostoyevsky, the decadence of Western liberalism, whose rapid end he has confidently predicted in numerous speeches.

Meanwhile, while he wastes his nation’s resources on a stupid nationalist war, the population of Mother Russia is going into decline as people flee Putin’s dictatorship or just die of ill health due to its wretched health problems.

Russia has the world’s 11th-largest economy but ranks 96th in life expectancy. Life expectancy for Russian men is 67, lower than in North Korea, Syria or Bangladesh. Still. Spiritual superiority, that’s what counts, eh.

The authors spend a long section describing ‘the love affair of Russians with their own soul’ and the achievement of nativist thinkers, loosely termed ‘Slavophiles’.

Anti-westernism’s German roots

In fact, counter-intuitively, Buruma and Margalit attribute Slavophilia, like so much anti-westernism, to German roots, specifically German Romanticism. Humiliated by Napoleon’s victories over them, conscious of their political backwardness (fragmented into scores of little princedom and dukedoms) German intellectuals, in a massive case of sour grapes, said worldly success didn’t matter, what mattered was what was in your soul. They compensated for their economic, social, political backwardness by asserting the supremacy of their spiritual life.

A spectrum

It occurs to me that there was a spectrum in the moving west to east across Europe in the nineteenth century. At the western extreme was Britain, economic powerhouse of the world but almost bereft of genuine art, philosophy or religion (sure it had the oppressive Church of England but this had little or no spiritualist tradition). Then came France, nearly as economically diverse as Britain, a good deal more artistic and philosophical. Then Germany, economically and politically backward but packed with ‘deep’ philosophers and its great musical tradition. Poland, which is never taken account of by anybody in these kinds of surveys. And finally Russia, the most economically and socially backward of European nations and, accordingly, possessed of a self-congratulatory sense of its immense spiritual superiority over everyone else.

In the authors’ view, to be blunt, it’s all the Germans’ fault. Extremely resentful of the military, economic and artistic success of Napoleon’s France, German Romantics compensated for national humiliation by working out the theory of the superior spiritual value of Das Volk and the nobility of dying for it.

Isaiah Berlin on German Romanticism

No less an authority than Isaiah Berlin thought this was the case and, moreover, thought the model the Germans worked out became a template which could be exported to all peoples who feel mocked and humiliated. The template was copied by the Russians during the nineteenth century and, as we’ve seen, adopted by Arab and Indian nationalists between the wars.

Buruma and Margalit summarise Berlin’s model. The German Romantic movement was the Counter-Enlightenment. It valued intuition and spirit over reason and calculation. It preferred heroes to shopkeepers. It looked back to a lost era of national and religious unity and looked forward to its glorious restoration.

On this view Nazism, Japanese fascism and Islamic fundamentalism are all the heirs to the original German Romantic anti-Westernism.

Russian Orthodox Christianity

The authors tell me things about Russian Christianity I didn’t know. They describe the messianic conviction that Moscow is a second Rome and only home to true Christianity. They explain that Russian Orthodox Christianity is far less interested in theology than Greek or Roman Christianity and far more concerned with custom and practice. Icons are more important than intellectual debate.

Intellectualism is suspect. And any kind of change is not needed. The thousand year old tradition of the Russian church suffices. Innovation tends to come from outside, representing threat and betrayal.

The authors give a potted history of Russia, with Peter the Great and Catherine the Great realising they had to import Western technology and ideas. Throughout the nineteenth century Russian intellectuals split into westernising and slavophile parties. They give potted biographies of individual westernisers. And they explain that for these men, the West meant Germany and its succession of Romantic philosophers.

As with Orientalism, all these Russian thinkers worked out their theories and defined themselves against the Other, the Other being a highly simplistic, stereotyped view of The West, a West which was materialistic, godless, mechanical, superficial, divided, corrupt and decadent, which lacked the soulfulness and the unity of people and purpose which characterised Mother Russia.

The triumph of will over reason

One major aspect of Occidentalism is the valorising of will over reason. Timid reason calculates the best course of action, tots up the pros and cons, a shopkeeper mentality. All this contrasts with the will which acts instinctively, in large glorious romantic causes. Following the footsteps of Friedrich Nietzsche, Hitler and the Nazis famously praised the Triumph of the Will over pettifogging rationalism. And so did nineteenth century Russians.

Konstantin Leontiev

The Russian Nietzsche was Konstantin Leontiev (1831 to 1891). He wrote a big book, Russia and Europe, which made a big splash. He was one of hundreds of late-nineteenth century philosophers and commentators who worked up an ‘organic’ theory of history i.e. that societies are like organisms which have a birth, a youth, a maturity and then a decay.

Surprise, surprise, Leontiev thought that the West with its decadent liberal democracy was in the last stages of decay. Exactly what Vladimir Putin thinks today, 150 years later. Continuities like this demonstrate that this is not a rational belief based on evidence, it is a prejudice, an unchanging tenet of anti-western bigotry, of Occidentalism.

The authors end the chapter with a brief history of the word nihilism which came to prominence, in Russia, in Ivan Turgenev’s novel Fathers and Sons. The chapter ends with more evidence of Dostoyevsky’s fanatical hatred of the West and fear that it’s godless, scientistic values were undermining the noble soul of Mother Russia.

5. The Wrath of God [Muslim fundamentalism]

 Buruma and Margalit draw a distinction between religious Occidentalism and secular Occidentalism. 

They say that Islamism is the form Occidentalism is taking in our time. What is new or unique is Islamism’s view that the West is guilty of barbarous idolatry and proceed to explain what this means, starting with a definition of idolatry.

They give a pocket history of the concept of idolatry which stems from the Jewish Bible. Here God is depicted as a jealous husband who is hurt when his Chosen People whore after strange gods. But obviously it has a deeper charge than that. God is also king of the universe, master of creation, source of existence. Denying God is the worst kind of blasphemy imaginable. In the Old Testament numerous kings and rulers are depicted as behaving as if they were as powerful as, or more powerful than, their creator, and demanding the veneration which is due to God.

So idolatry is giving to men the devotions and worship which are due to god. They discuss the meaning of Arab terms such as tajhiljahiliyya and jahili. jahiliyyahas been used to describe the religious ignorance which prevailed in Arabia before the advent of the Prophet Mohammed but also, more metaphorically, as the notion of barbarism, in the same way the ancient Greeks used it to refer to everyone who wasn’t Greek. At school I was told it was a joke term for people whose unGreek languages made them sound like they were saying ba-ba-ba-ba.

To summarise, the use of the term jahiliyya in Islamist discourse can be interpreted as referring to a new barbarism (godless idolatry) which originates from the West and is infecting the Muslim world.

The authors have a digression into the history of Manicheism, first as an actual belief system propounded by the Iranian prophet Mani (216 to 277 AD) then as the strand in most religions which posits an absolute divide between God and Evil. Then they show how ‘evil’ in most religious traditions is associated with the body, with its weakness, tendency to degrade and die, its distracting appetites, worst of which is, as we all know, sex. The body is contrasted with the soul which is taken to be immortal and the part of a human body which can approach or commune with god.

Ali Shari’ati

They discuss Ali Shari’ati (1933 to 1977), an Iranian Shia Muslim revolutionary and opponent of the westernising regime of the Shah. Shari’ati thought the best way for developing countries to fight back against the infection of godless western materialism was by rallying around their religious beliefs and traditions, in his case, Islam. He explicitly linked the influence of the West as encouraging Muslims to idolatry i.e. diverting worship away from God and towards the godless things of man i.e. money, consumer goods.

The industrial revolution made the West rich but it led to what sociologist Max Weber called ‘the disenchantment of the world’. It lost its magic and spirits. It lost God. And so all its goods and products are tainted by this tendency to disenchant and divert men’s worship from God to things. Idolatry.

Sayyid Qutb

The authors tell us about Islamic radical thinkers who fought back against the forces of secularism, for example Muhamed Taleqani in Iran, before returning to Sayyid Qutb, first mentioned in chapter 2.

For Qutb the whole world, from decadent Cairo to New York, was in a state of jahiliyya. He saw the West as a gigantic brothel, steeped in animal lust, greed and selfishness. Human thought, in the West, was ‘given the status of God.’ Material greed, immoral behaviour, inequality and political oppression would end only once the world was ruled by God and by His laws alone. The opportunity to die in a holy war would allow men to overcome selfish ambitions and corrupt oppressors (p.117)

One of the appeals of Islam is its egalitarianism: all men really are equal in the eyes of God in a way they rarely have been in the Christian West, and the Islamic dream is of a society where all men worship God, all laws derive from God, all behaviour is godly, and so it is literally impossible for large disparities in wealth or for corrupt immoral rulers ever to arise.

Qutb is given more space this time around, with a thumbnail biography describing the two years he spent in America to improve his English and which turned him into a West-hating Occidentalist. He also became a ferocious antisemite, literally believing in the famous forgery, The Elders of Zion and the ‘worldwide Jewish conspiracy’ and associating the global nature of finance capital with ‘Jewish bankers’ and so on. Schoolboy antisemitism.

To look at it another way, Qutb thought he was developing an approach which saved the noble and godly in human nature. The West wasn’t just godless, it actively worshipped the things of the body, the West is a cult of physical appetites, valuing food, drink, sex, holidays, fast cars, thus degrading human nature, instead of uplifting it through things of the soul by focusing solely on God. jahiliyya is the culture of animals or, worse, of humans who have thrown away their human attributes in a mad rush to become animals.

So, if Westerners have deliberately denied their humanity and turned themselves into animals, then they can be treated like animals, as worse than sub-humans. It’s this development of a train of thought which led him to consider all Westerners as sub-human which makes Qutb, as Buruma and Margalit out it, ‘the high priest of Occidentalism’ (p.121).

More, the world is in a state of war, between those who seek the righteousness of Islam and the rest. Even Islamic countries have been tainted to some extent by Western or secular innovations, and so jihad must be fought to overthrow idolatrous leaders. This is, obviously enough, an incitement to permanent warfare. You can see why it would appeal to zealous young men disgusted by the West, such as Mohamed Atta and so it explains the never-ending supply of young men prepared to take up arms to defend and assert radical Islam. But it just as easily explains why those societies, Islamic societies, will never be at peace with themselves. Libya, Egypt, Yemen, Syria, Iraq. Permanent war.

Abu-l-A’la Maudadi

Then we are introduced to Abu-l-A’la Maudadi (1903 to 1979) Islamic scholar, Islamist ideologue, Muslim philosopher, jurist, historian, journalist and activist, who is described (on his Wikipedia page) by Wilfred Cantwell Smith as ‘the most systematic thinker of modern Islam’.

The thing about all these Islamic thinkers is it’s hard to remember them because they all appear to have had the same pretty simple idea: Islam needed to reject the corruption of the West, purged of Western corruption, in order to become pure. Then everyone will live happy godly lives.

In practice Maudadi opposed Indian nationalism because it was Hindu, and democracy because it would impose majority Hindu values on Muslims. He said in a speech that anyone who voted would be a traitor to the Prophet and to God. He wanted to revive the early Caliphate (what Islamic fundamentalist doesn’t?).

Maudadid founded the Jamaat I-Islami Party which went on to be influential in the politics of the new country formed at the Partition of India, of Pakistan.

Tawhid and Muhammed Iqbal

Tawhid is the doctrine of the Unity of God. One of its proponents was Muhammed Iqbal (1877 to 1938) writer, philosopher and politician, considered by many to be ‘the spiritual father of Pakistan’. In his view human society should practice unity, harmony and justice in order to reflect the Unity of God. Against this settled social background each individual should be able to develop their individuality or khudi.

So, Buruma and Margalit ask, what was it that made Qutb an Occidentalist and Iqbal not? Partly it was personal psychology; Qutb was overwhelmed and disgusted by everything he experienced in America, whereas Iqbal enjoyed his British education and took a degree at Cambridge.

But basically Iqbal was tolerant. He thought there were many ways to God; the best way is Islam but there might be others for men of good faith. Qutb, by contrast took a fiercely Manichean view: there was the world of Islam and then everything else, which was full of sub-human barbarians. Qutb wrote:

Any society that is not Muslim is jahiliyya

And true believers need to take up jihad to enforce the rule of God in their nations. Permanent war.

Protestantism and liberalism

The authors then shift their ground to explain that the Reformation i.e. rebellion against the grip of the Roman Catholic Church, began the long process whereby religion and the personal sphere were separated out, in the Protestant countries of the West. The separation of church and state. The right to freedom of conscience, of belief, of religion.

And this is anathema to Islamists who insist there is not, there cannot be, a divide between religion and private belief or morality. Everyone must believe and worship the same, follow the same morality. This is why some critics of political Islam liken it to fascism. More accurately it might be likened to totalitarianism. Mussolini said: ‘Everything in the State, nothing outside the State, nothing against the State.’ Swap ‘Islam’ for state. Note the Morality Police in Saudi Arabia and Iran.

Women in Islam

Buruma and Margalit finally get around to the hugely contentious subject of women in Islam. They claim that many Muslims yearn for a return to traditional and community values. Islamic fundamentalism draws its support from a nostalgia for a return to proper Muslim values, which are associated with tradition beliefs and customs.

One of the central areas is the role and behaviour of women because in a patriarchal culture like Islam, the behaviour of women directly reflects on the honour of their menfolk, in a way most of us in the West just don’t understand.

Countless visitors to Muslim countries in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries observed the strict segregation of the sexes, the way women were completely invisible in many rural communities, or else were covered from head to foot in towns.

They zero in on the issue of the veil. The veil for women appears to have existed way before Islam there are depictions of it in pictures from the first century. Maybe Muslims copied it from the Byzantine Empire. It came to signify that the owner did not do manual labour i.e. became a status symbol.

During the independence struggle in Algeria many women took the veil as a proud assertion of their Islamic heritage and defiance of the French colonialists. But 50 years later, in the era of the Taliban, women are to be covered in what are effect shapeless sacks, completely denying their physicality, the assumption being that the merest glimpse of female flesh will cause an outbreak of ungodly fleshly thinking among surrounding men. In this respect ‘the veil’ is a symbol of a Manichean tension between the Spirit and the Body.

Wisely the authors don’t propose to delve deeper into the symbolism, meaning and all the debates raging around ‘the veil’, as fully explicating the history and then trying to find quotes in the Koran or the hadith to back up all the different opinions would keep us here till Doomsday.

Their book is not about Islamic beliefs and customs, it has the narrower focus of being about Muslim opinions about the West, in this case, Eastern views about Western women.

Islamic fundamentalists (and, the authors emphasise, Orthodox Jews) regard women’s dress and behaviour in the West as little better than prostitutes’. Here we’re back to Sayid Qutb’s opinion that Western immorality isn’t just bad, but degrades human beings to a level lower than animals. Animals don’t know any better, but humans do, and to reject what they know (of God’s demands for respect and morality) means they forfeit their humanity.

Also, in a patriarchal society, a woman is the ‘protected jewel’ in the crown of a man’s honour. Which means that how a man protects and defends his woman is a large part of his honour or identity. And here’s the point: Western men who relate to Western women as if they were just other citizens without any of the respect due to them in a Muslim country, show that they lack even the most basic sense of honour.

Wahhabism and Saudi Arabia

Three packed little pages which describe the alliance in the eighteenth century of fiercely puritanical preacher Muhammad Ibn Abd al-Wahhab and warlord Muhammad Ibn Saud. The warlord adopted the puritanical beliefs of the preacher and together they conquered the Holy Places. Then a lot of history as first the Ottomans and then the British took control of the Saudi peninsula, but by shrewd manoeuvring the family of the Sauds took control of the new kingdom and imposed an extremely fierce version of Islam on their population.

Then came the discovery of oil and these phenomenally strict Puritans found themselves among the richest people in the world. The result, say Buruma and Margalit, is an uneasy form of ‘officially sanctioned hypocrisy’, where the Saudi authorities impose a strict morality in public but live like Roman emperors in the privacy of their own palaces, or in their mansions in London and New York.

Saudi ‘hypocrisy’ would be of limited interest or importance if it weren’t for the fact that in the last decades of the twentieth century the Saudis began to export their form of intolerant Islam. As of 2004 the authors thought that:

Saudi Arabia is now the prime source of fundamentalist, puritanical ideology affecting Muslims everywhere, from North Africa to Indonesia. Oil money is used to promote religious radicalism around the world… (p.136)

That was 20 years ago, the trend has only increased since then, with Saudi involved not only in the Arab Spring uprisings and aftermaths, funding groups in Tunisia, Libya and Egypt, but also bankrolling sides in the ruinous civil wars in Syria and Yemen; and that’s before accounting for their promotion of their particularly virulent purist form of Islam in Muslim countries across North Africa and central Asia and into the Far East, in countries like Indonesia and Malaysia. And part of the package is a virulently anti-Western Occidentalist message.

6. Seeds of Revolution

A 12-page chapter on how the main venom of Occidentalism falls, even more than on distant America, on Israel. Eccentrically, they tackle this vast bottomless subject via a little known, unimportant novel published by the Theodor Herzl (1860 to 1904), the Austro-Hungarian Jewish journalist who was the father of modern political Zionism.

The Encyclopedia Britannica defines Zionism as a Jewish nationalist movement, originating in central and eastern Europe, that had for its goal the creation of a Jewish national state in Palestine, the ancient homeland of the Jews.

The novel was titled Altneuland which was translated into English as ‘The Old New Land’ when it was published in 1902. It’s apparently a huge text but the core of it is a vision of what Palestine will look like twenty years hence i.e. in 1922, after Palestine has been successfully occupied by Jews. The place has become a technological and economic miracle, the previously barren desert blooming, the previously rundown ports now full of cranes and ships, the rundown towns transformed into European-style cities with wide boulevards and cafes. Religion there is some, but hollowed out to become little more than the civic holidays of a mostly secular European culture.

Visitors to this brave new Jewish world marvel at the gleaming cities and high technology but find time to ask the one Arab in the book what he thinks, and he is overjoyed. Palestinian land-owners sold to the Jews for good prices, Palestinians are employed in all the new works, even the poor are lifted up by the rising standard of living. It’s win-win-win.

Of course it didn’t turn out that way and the modern state of Israel has become the number one hate figure for Arab politicians and Islamists throughout the region, a running sore in the Middle East which will, probably, never go away.

Anyway, the authors don’t really scratch the surface of the issue before proceeding to their rather rushed conclusion: this is that most of the nationalist responses to western imperialism borrowed western ideas to fight it with, whether they be the liberty-equality-fraternity of the French Revolution, the scientific positivism of Comte, the communism of Karl Marx, the anti-Enlightenment tropes of the German Romantics.

They move from Margalit’s home territory (Jerusalem/Israel) back to Buruma’s, Japan. He explains how the samurai leaders of Japan who realised in the 1860s that they needed to carry out a wholesale modernisation of their nation did so by importing selected Western ideas but also sparked a nativist nationalist backlash. But even this, although dressed in Japanese costume, borrowed ideas on how to run society from European fascists and the Nazis in particular.

They conclude that no Occidentalist can be free of ideas from the Occident. The modernisation of Japan gave rise to an anti-modern backlash which borrowed ideas and technology of the modern world in their effort to reject it. Same, they suggest, with Islamic fundamentalists. They loathe and fear western materialism, but communicate using laptops and mobile phones.

On almost the last page the authors start discussing the Ba’ath Party, which gained power in post-independence Syria and Iraq, and how it was forged in the 1930s from a combination of nostalgia for a holistic Arab community and ideas taken from European fascism. One of its theoreticians, Sati’ Husri, was a keen student of German Romantic theorists like Fichte and Herder who rejected the French Enlightenment by promoting the notion of the organic, völkisch nation united by blood and soil. This was translated by Husri into the Arab word asabiyya or (Arab) blood solidarity

The end of the book feels rushed and hurried. Only here do they make the big point that Arab ‘nationalist’ leaders have killed far more of their fellow Arabs than all the colonialists and Zionists put together, witness Saddam Hussein and Hafez al-Assad, who everyone thought was a cruel mass murderer until the Syrian civil war broke out in 2011 and we all discovered that his son, Bashar al-Assad, is even viler. Over half a million Arabs have died in the Syrian civil war.

What not to think

 Buruma and Margalit conclude with some very rushed thoughts. For a start they predict that the war against terror will mostly be fought within Arab states, against extremists. 

Secondly, they say the conflict is against a worldwide, loosely affiliated underground movement. (Presumably they mean al-Qaeda, though they don’t say so.)

As to the first prediction, now, in 2023, 20 years after the book was written, we know that America went ahead with its idiotically badly conceived invasion of Iraq, which on the face of it was an invasion by a foreign power, but that this triggered the collapse of Iraq into prolonged civil war and ethnic cleansing. The ‘within states’ thesis was more dramatically proven by the Arab Spring which led to the disintegration of the states of Libya and Syria, turmoil in Egypt, and a cruel civil war in Yemen. Presumably al-Qaeda and all its affiliates wanted to create pure Islamic states or restore the Caliphate, but they’ve turned out to be part of a process which has destabilised and wrecked much of the Arab world. My view is that it’s their culture, they’re their countries, we’ve interfered enough in that part of the world (and too many other parts of the world, too). Let them sort it out.

Buruma and Margalit say we shouldn’t be paralysed by ‘colonial guilt’ but I think we’re way beyond that now. Every time we intervene we make things worse. We turned Iraq into an abattoir. The Yanks spent a trillion dollars in Afghanistan over 20 years and look at it now: still the poorest country in the world and back to being ruled by the Taliban.

The West intervened in Libya to prevent Gaddafi massacring protesters in Benghazi but didn’t follow it through by leading and uniting the opposition which, instead, collapsed into regional factions, so that twelve years later, Libya has no one central government.

Total intervention, as in Iraq or Afghanistan, failed.

Partial intervention, as in Libya, failed.

I suggest the only viable policy is complete non-intervention as the West, in effect, is doing in Syria.

If Arabs and Muslims want to spend decades massacring each other, it’s not so much that we don’t want to intervene, or don’t have a moral duty or whatever to intervene; it’s more that we’ve tried intervening, in different countries in different ways, and almost always we make it worse. Non-intervention seems to me the only responsible policy.

This book was written when the Western world was reeling from the 9/11 attacks which everybody felt turned the world on its axis and introduced a whole new era. There was felt to be an urgent need for commentary and analysis, not least explanations of what Islamic fundamentalism was and why the terrorists hated us so much. This book was an interesting attempt to fill that gap.

By the end, although it contains lots of references to specific writers and theories, it feels somehow rushed and superficial. Buruma and Margalit’s thesis, which they repeat half a dozen times, is that German Romantic writers of the early nineteenth century developed a worldview opposing the rational scientific values of the French Enlightenment and Revolution, and this template for opposing all the forces of ‘modernity’ was then taken up by intellectuals in other countries which resented the way the godless materialism of Britain and France seemed to be destroying traditional values, in countries as far afield as Russia, China, Japan and India, and, in the twentieth century got mixed into the anger, resentment and humiliation of a number of Arab and Muslim theorists and theologians.

Their basic idea is that opposition to the West, and the negative stereotypes which its enemies use to characterise it which the authors call Occidentalism, began in the West and always carries the spoor of its Western origins.

However, it’s a long time since 9/11. Now, in 2023, it feels like a lot of the excitement, paranoia and hyperbole of that era has drained away. The Arab Spring, then the Arab Winter, then the collapse of Libya, Syria and Yemen, changed the landscape. Up till then Arab nationalists and radical Islamists believed that all they had to do was overthrow the ageing dictators who in one way or another had imposed Western ideas (nationalism, socialism, science) onto their peoples, and the purified, communal, traditional Islam of the good old days would rush back in to restore the Caliphate. Instead , when the dictators were overthrown, first in Iraq, then Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, with the vain attempt to do so in Syria, the result wasn’t the Unity of Islam but chaos and massacre.

Al Qaeda affiliates across North Africa continue to terrorise their countrymen but they will never be able to seize power; all they do is create the chaotic conditions in which warlords and mercenaries like the Wagner group thrive (in places like Chad, Mali or the Central African Republic or the wretched failed state of Somalia), while political and military leaders with no principles overthrow each other in naked bids for power, as in the utterly pointless Sudanese Civil War.

Piled onto all this is the relentless degradation of the environment of the Arab world, which is only going to get hotter and hotter, with evermore water shortages and the loss of evermore agricultural and even pasturing land. A lot of the Arab world is going to become a hellish place to live.

So the situation is massively more screwed up than when Buruma and Margalit wrote this book and their scholarly shuffling through tomes by Herder and Fichte, Schelling and Nietzsche, Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, feels like bookish trip down memory lane. Then again maybe they were right to stick to the library; their treatment of the role of Israel in all this, approached through Theodor Herzl’s novel and a half page description of modern Jerusalem, feels entirely inadequate.

Either way, ahead lies total chaos in which the Occidentalism they describe and define will seem increasingly irrelevant to an Arab world collapsing into endless civil war and social collapse. The West wasn’t behind the Arab Springs, that was what so excited the protesters, they were entirely homemade, of domestic Arab and Muslim origin. But so was the chaos and collapse they brought in their wake, of entirely Arab and Muslim origin. It’s their countries, their people, their problems. We’ve intervened too many times. We shouldn’t get involved.


Credit

Occidentalism: A Short History of Anti-Westernism by Ian Buruma and Avishai Margalit was published in 2004 by Atlantic Books. References are to the 2005 Atlantic Books paperback edition.

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Orientalism by Edward Said (1978) part 2

Orientalism is the generic term that I have been employing to describe the Western approach to the Orient; Orientalism is the discipline by which the Orient was (and is) approached systematically, as a topic of learning, discovery and practice.
(Orientalism, page 73)

Said’s fundamental premise is that knowledge is power – and so the entire discipline of Orientalism, along with all related types of scholarship such as the sociology and anthropology of the East, the study of Oriental languages, culture, religions, history, customs, economies, geography, ethnic groups and so on, all of them contribute to a vast interlocking system of self-reinforcing ideas about the ineradicable difference between the West and the East, and the ineradicable inferiority of the latter:

The essence of Orientalism is the ineradicable distinction between Western superiority and Oriental inferiority (p.42)

Ideas which, obviously enough, were designed to bolster, justify and explain the inevitability of imperial rule. It all circles back to the fundamental premise that Knowledge is power:

To have knowledge of a thing is to dominate it, to have authority over it. (p.32)

Knowledge of subject races or Orientals is what makes their management easy and profitable; knowledge gives power, more power requires more knowledge, and so on in an increasingly profitable dialectic of information and control. (p.36)

Straightaway you can see how Said’s thesis is premised on a basically Marxist interpretation of the compromised, parti pris nature of bourgeois culture. The naive bourgeois thinks that their culture and their scholarship is objective and truthful, beacons of rationality and self-evident truths. Whereas Marxists from the 1850s onwards developed the idea that bourgeois culture was no such thing, but in every aspect a justification for the political control of their class.

Antonio Gramsci in the 1930s extended the idea that the bourgeoisie held power by extending their values through every aspect of capitalist culture to achieve what he termed hegemony.

Michel Foucault, in a series of studies in the 1960s and 70s, gave really practical examples of how this power or hegemony extended into the furthest recesses of hospitals, lunatic asylums, prisons and other state institutions.

And Said took these ideas, very current and fashionable in the mid-1970s when he was writing, and applied them to the subject closest to his heart, to imperial rule in the Middle East or Arab world.

But the idea that so-called scholarship and academic knowledge is never pure but always tainted by the power structures of the society it is generated by, is a straight Marxist idea.

Chapter 1. The Scope of Orientalism

[Chapter 1] draws a large circle around all the dimensions of the subject, both in terms of historical time and experiences and in terms of philosophical and political themes.

1. Knowing the Oriental

In western discourse the Oriental is an object to be studied, recorded, measured and ruled. He is always in a subordinate position vis-avis the Westerner. All this scholarship doesn’t depict the Oriental as they actually are: it creates an avatar of the Oriental as inferior in every way to the Westerner, and places this image within numerous ‘frameworks of power’. So study of the Orient produces a kind of ‘intellectual power’ (p.41).

Given its enormous impact and reputation it’s a surprise to discover that Orientalism is poorly conceived and poorly written. Said really struggles to develop an argument or present evidence. Instead he asserts the same core idea over and over again. In this section he opens with a speech by Arthur Balfour to the House of Commons in 1910, then goes onto some passages from the writings of Lord Cromer, consul-general in Egypt from 1883 to 1907.

Despite his repeated lists of big categories and ideas Said is decidedly poor at placing either speech in its historical context or at performing even basic practical criticism on them. He says both demonstrate the assumption of Western superiority over the East, but I thought that was the thing he was going to analyse, and whose history and development he was going to explain. Instead he just redescribes it in much the same terms he used in the Introduction. Repetition is going to be a central tactic of the book.

It’s surprising and disappointing that, having not got very far with what ought on the face of it to be two exemplars of the heyday of Orientalising imperialism he then, abruptly, jumps to an essay by Henry Kissinger (!?), ‘Domestic Structure and Foreign Policy’, published in 1966. Said says that when Kissinger, in this essay, discusses foreign policy he divides the nations of the world into the developed world and the developing world and then claims this is the same kind of binary opposition which he, Said, sees as the basis of Orientalism (West superior, East inferior). Kissinger adds the idea that the West is superior because it went through the Newtonian scientific revolution whereas the rest of the world is inferior (less developed politically and economically) because it didn’t. I see what he’s doing but it feels like a thin and predictable interpretation.

Moreover, at this early stage, it confirms the suspicion you have from the Introduction that, in one sense, Said’s deep aim in researching and writing the book is simply to attack American foreign policy, in particular US policy regarding Israel and Palestine. He doesn’t artfully combine his personal situation and history in a subtle way with objective history and scholarship, rather the reverse; his supposed scholarship keeps collapsing to reveal the pretty straightforward political agenda lurking underneath.

Lastly he comes to another contemporary essay, ‘The Arab World’ by one Harold W. Glidden published in the American Journal of Psychiatry in 1972. By now we recognise that the title alone would be enough to get Said’s goat and, sure enough, he extracts from the article a whole load of clichés about ‘the Arab world’ (based on its patriarchy, its ‘shame culture’, the way it’s structured through patron-client relationships,  the importance given to personal honour and revenge) which, predictably enough, set Said’s teeth on edge.

We’re only at part one of the first chapter and the book is in danger of turning into little more than ‘grumpy middle aged Palestinian reads the news and is outraged by anti-Arab stereotypes’.

2. Imaginative Geography and its Representations: Orientalising the Oriental [in fact this section is about historic Western attitudes to Islam]

The academic discipline of Orientalism dates its origin to the decision of the Church Council of Vienne in 1312 to establish a series of university chairs in Arabic, Greek, Hebrew and Syriac (p.50). Until the 18th century Orientalism meant chiefly study of the Biblical languages. Then in the later 18th century the field exploded and by the mid-19th century was vast.

Modern Orientalism can be said to have started with Napoleon’s expedition to Egypt, 1798 to 1801. He took scores of scholars who explored, excavated, measured, sketched and recorded every scrap of ancient Egyptian relics they could find. The result was the vast Description de l’Égypte (‘that great collective appropriation of one country by another’, p.84), the work of 160 scholars and scientists, requiring some 2,000 artists and technicians including 400 engravers. Published in 37 volumes from 1809 to 1829, at the time of its publication it was the largest known published work in the world.

In a way the sudden fashion for all things Oriental was a transposition further East of the great awakening of interest in ancient Greece and Rome which we call the Renaissance (p.51). In 1820 Victor Huge wrote: ‘In the time of Louis XIV one was a Hellenist; now one is an Orientalist.’ There was an explosion of Asiatic and Oriental and Eastern Societies devoted to studying ‘the Orient’.

But whereas the Renaissance was based on plastic relics i.e. buildings and statues, Orientalism, indicating its origins in Bible scholarship, was overwhelmingly textual. It concerned languages and belief systems. Orientalists went to the area looking to bolster and confirm what they had in ancient texts from the region.

Said’s structuring of the material is poor. In one paragraph he says there was an Oriental school of writers i.e. Western writers who were captured by its mystique, from Goethe to Flaubert. This is an interesting idea to explore, but in the very next paragraph he is discussing whether it’s valuable for university departments which study this region to retain the name ‘Oriental’. These feel like completely different topics, each would merit a page or two of thorough investigation. Instead he plonks them haphazardly side by side and doesn’t explore either of them properly. Frustrating.

He cites the anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss on the fundamental human tendency to give ‘poetic’ or emotional meaning to our immediate surroundings and the people who inhabit them, and define them by contrast with the land beyond our ‘borders’ and the strange people who live there. Good. But in my opinion this has always seemed a weak point in Said’s argument, because he admits that ‘othering’ ‘the Other’, far from being some wicked Western vice, is in fact a universal trait and all peoples and cultures do it.

He says he wants to investigate the geographical basis of Orientalism but, characteristically, kicks this off by summarising two classic Greek plays, The Persians by Aeschylus and The Bacchae by Euripides. It’s sort of relevant as the first one is one of the earliest Greek dramas to survive and depicts ‘the East’ as a military threat in the form of the Persian Empire. The second is one of the final ancient Greek plays which has come down to us and is also about ‘the East’ which it associates with frenzied religious cults – but discussing history via literature (and therefore ignoring the evidence of archaeology and history) is always a shaky procedure.

Next thing we know Said is talking about the rise of Islam. His account is inferior to every other account I’ve ever read, lacking detail, interest or insight. Compare it, for example, with the final illuminating chapter of Peter Brown’s wonderful book, ‘The World of Late Antiquity’ (1971).

Said is blinkered by his need to twist every aspect of history to suit his thesis, to make out the West to always be blinkered, limiting, constraining, ignorant, creating the East in its own negative image. Hence he underplays the completely real threat which militant Islam actually posed to Christendom for nearly a thousand years. He refers to the West’s ‘anxiety’ as if it is an over-nervous neurotic, whereas Islamic armies captured and colonised half of Christendom, seizing all of North Africa, Spain and the entire Middle East from what had been Christian rule, then capturing the great Christian city of Constantinople and then pressing on through the Balkans into central Europe until Ottoman conquest was only finally halted just outside Vienna. See the quote from Edward Gibbon, below. Of course the West was terrified of these unstoppably conquering armies. Of course we were scared shitless of these plundering hordes. He himself admits this in a sentence thrown away while he’s discussing something else:

During its political and military heyday from the eighth to the sixteenth century, Islam dominated both East and West. (p.205)

Only someone with a poor grasp of deep history can dismiss eight centuries of Islam’s military, cultural and economic domination as if it’s nothing, a speck, a detail which we can quickly hurry past in order to get to the juicy part, the West’s wicked wicked domination of the Muslim world for, what, all of 300 years.

Having broached the topic of Islam, Said goes on to describe the way medieval authors vilified Mohammed as a kind of failed impersonator of Christ. He emphasises the West’s ‘ignorance’ and ‘narcissism’. On the next page he is claiming that this kind of ignorance created the Orient as a kind of theatre attached to Europe on whose stage were presented a whole series of Oriental types and stereotypes, from Cleopatra onwards. His text moves fast and deals with a confusing variety of topics, all of them very superficially. The only constant is his relentless criticism of every aspect of ‘the West’.

He introduces us to the Bibliothegue oriental of Barthelemy d’Herbelot (1697), which was to remain the standard reference work on the subject for over a hundred years, before going on to explain how this kind of encyclopedic work narrows and constrains its subject matter until readers could only approach this knowledge of the Orient via ‘the learned grids and codes’ provided by the Orientalist.

Said makes this sound like some awful conspiracy, as if the worst thing anybody could ever do would be to write a book on a factual subject, because that would involve imposing ‘grids and codes’ on it and so preventing any reader ever struggling through to a ‘true’ understanding of it.

In fact Said frequently uses these scare tactics, as if he’s letting you in on the shocking truth! The text as a whole has the obsessively repetitive feel of a conspiracy theorist letting you in on a secret which is even worse than the fake moon landings, who killed JFK and what really happened at Roswell, yes, this previously covered-up, hush-hush secret is that…a lot of Western literature and culture stereotypes the so-called ‘Orient’ and ‘the Arab world’ and ‘Islam’.

Next Said has a couple of pages revealing that Dante, in his great masterpiece The Divine Comedy, put Mohamed right in the lowermost pit of hell, next to Satan, for the sin of being a sensualist and religious impostor. He takes this as an epitome of the West’s fundamental Islamophobia.

Said broadens his critique out to describe how conquering Islam came to be seen in Christendom as the vital ‘Other’ against which European Christendom defined itself. Far from being some kind of revelation, this just strikes me as being obvious, really bleeding obvious, particularly to anyone who’s ever read any medieval history. Of course European Christendom defined the Islamic Arab world as ‘the Other’ because it was the Other. India let alone China were just rumours. Nobody had ever been to sub-Saharan Africa. Nobody knew North or South America or Australia existed. To anyone living in medieval Europe, in a society drenched at every single level at every single moment in Christian belief and practice, all there was was Christendom and facing it the enemy at the gates who threatened to overthrow and destroy everything they knew and cared for. Of course the Orient was depicted as alien, because it was alien. Of course it was depicted as threatening, because it had overrun and conquered half of Christendom. Even Said at one point admits this:

From the end of the seventh century until the battle of Lepanto in 1571, Islam in either its Arab, Ottoman or North African and Spanish form dominated or effectively threatened European Christianity. (p.74)

Said goes on to quote Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire without, apparently, realising the full implications of what he’s citing:

In the ten years of the administration of Omar, the Saracens reduced to his obedience thirty-six thousand cities or castles, destroyed four thousand churches or temples of the unbelievers, and edified fourteen hundred mosques for the exercise of the religion of Mahomet. One hundred years after his flight from Mecca, the arms and the reign of his successors extended from India to the Atlantic Ocean.

‘Destroyed four thousand churches.’ How do you think that struck a society completely dominated by Christian belief? With horror and terror.

3. Projects [turns into a list of French Orientalists]

Starts with more stuff about the rivalry between Christianity and Islam. Yawn. By page 75 I was remembering my impression on first reading this book 40 years ago, that Said just doesn’t have the intellectual chops to manage such a huge subject, with all its vast conceptual ramifications, that he is trying to address. He’s bitten off far more than he can chew and the symptoms of this are his repetitiveness, his superficial analyses, his raising complex issue only to move swiftly on. And his superficial and often wrong versions of history.

The Ottoman Empire had long since settled into a (for Europe) comfortable senescence, to be inscribed in the nineteenth century as the ‘Eastern Question’. (p.76)

1) The Ottoman Empire did not settle into a ‘comfortable senescence’ in the later 18th and 19th centuries. There was a good deal of upheaval and violence in the palace of the Sultan, not to mention endless uprisings and rebellions by national groups around the empire.

2) Said’s tone is unpleasantly patronising, condescending to the both the contemporary politicians who had to deal with and the modern historians who write about the Eastern Question. The use of the modish, pretentious, would-be Parisian intellectual verb ‘inscribed’ tries to hide the fact that Said doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The ‘Eastern Question’ is the term given to the series of geopolitical tensions and international crises brought about by the obvious decline and fall of the Ottoman Empire, crises which included, for example, the Crimean War and a stream of military and diplomatic crises in the Balkans in the 1870s and 1880s which threatened to drag all Europe into war. See my review of Andrew Roberts’s life of Lord SalisburyThat book was extremely well researched, intelligently analytical and beautifully written. Next to Roberts, Said looks like a blustering frog puffing up his throat to try and persuade everyone how important he is.

The next orientalist book of note after Barthelemy d’Herbelot‘s Bibliothegue oriental, was Simon Ockley‘s History of the Saracens (1708). Ockley shocked contemporaries by recording how much of the ancient world only survived because the Muslims saved it.

Next major Orientalist was Abraham Hyacinthe Anquetil-Duperron (1731 to 1805), the first professional French Indologist, whose work on Avestan texts prompted him, unlike previous scholars, to actually go to India. (The Avesta is the primary collection of religious texts of Zoroastrianism, composed in the Avestan language.) Anquetil’s publications (including a translation of the Upanishads), opened up huge new vistas of Indian literature to European readers.

Next major Orientalist was Sir William Jones (1746 to 1794), British philologist, orientalist and scholar of ancient India. It was Jones who first suggested the relationship between European and Indo-Aryan languages which is now widely accepted. Said doesn’t like him. Jones was a polymath who embarked on a deep immersion in the languages and texts of India. He founded the Asiatic Society of Bengal in 1784. According to some he was ‘the undisputed founder of Orientalism’ (p.78).

As Said went on about Jones, and the other Brits who gathered round him, studying and translating Sanskrit texts (e.g. Charles Wilkins, first translator of the Bhagavad-Gita, in 1785), I suddenly realised we had made a huge leap away from Islam, Mohammed and the Arab world to India, a completely different civilisation.

That is the primary problem with Said’s use of the word and concept ‘Oriental’, that it can refer to the Near East, Middle East, Far East, India, China, Japan you name it – and Said doesn’t help. He offers no conceptual or lexical clarification, no way of making the term more geographically or conceptually precise. In fact you realise that it suits his political agenda to keep it as open and slippery as possible. This allows him to jump from one criticism to another of ‘the West’ and its awful Oriental scholars all the more easily, to shift his ground, to continually move the goalposts.

His narrative moves on to Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt which, you will remember, was described just 40 pages ago. He repeats some of the key facts from the earlier passage, but adds new details. This, you feel, is how Said’s mind works, going round in circles, covering the same ground albeit with new wrinkles, making the same points again and again – Western Orientalism was (and is) an artificial construct, a self-referential system, built on self-serving stereotypes of Oriental backwardness, laziness, corruption and sensuality, which paved the way for and justified Western (French and British) imperialism.

The most interesting new bit is a (typically brief) account of Constantin François de Chassebœuf, comte de Volney (1757 to 1820) who wrote an extremely practical record, Voyage en Egypte et en Syrie (1787), which detailed the obstacles an invader would face in conquering Egypt, and was consulted and used by Napoleon. Many of Napoleon’s Orientalist scholars had trained under de Sacy and Said tells us his pupils dominated the field of Orientalism for the next 75 years.

de Sacy was the first Frenchman to attempt to read the Rosetta stone (discovered by some of Napoleon’s soldiers in 1799) and he was a teacher of Jean-François Champollion who went on to play a key role in deciphering it and Egyptian hieroglyphics.

The introduction to the vast Description of Egypt was written by Jean-Baptiste Joseph Fourier (1768 to 1830) known to history as a mathematician but who accompanied Napoleon’s expedition as scientific adviser. Fourier was appointed secretary of the Institut d’Égypte and contributed papers to the Egyptian Institute (also called the Cairo Institute) which Napoleon founded with the aim of weakening British influence in the East.

Said, characteristically, sees these institutes devoted to study of the Orient (and the others founded around Europe at the same time) as ‘agencies of domination and dissemination’ (alliteration is an important element of critical theory; sounds impressive) (p.87).

Said gives a handy half-page list (God, he loves lists) of the aims of Napoleon’s project, as summarised by Fourier himself, which amounts to a shopping list of Orientalism, namely:

  • to restore Egypt from its present fallen state to its former glory
  • to instruct the Orient in the ways of the modern West
  • to promote ‘knowledge’ of the East
  • to define ‘the East’ in such a way as to make it seem a natural appendage or annex of the West
  • to situate European scholars as on control of Oriental history, texts, geography
  • to establish new disciplines with which to control even more ‘knowledge’ about the Orient
  • to convert every observation into a ‘law’ about the eternal unchanging essence of ‘the Orient’
  • to bring ‘the obscurity’ of the Orient into the light and clarity of Western science

Above all, to convert the 3D ‘reality’ of the multivariant Orient into texts, the fundamental sources of power and control in Western ideology, sources written by Westerners, edited by Westerners, updated by Westerners, for the minds and imaginations of Western politicians and public. Fourier goes on to confirm all Said’s ideas when he writes that Egypt will provide ‘a theatre’ for Napoleon’s ‘gloire’ (p.86).

The Orient as stage for Western glory. Out of this matrix of dominating discourses come classics of Orientalising literature such as:

  • François-René de Chateaubriand’s Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem (1811)
  • Alphonse de Lamartine’s Voyage en Orient (1835)
  • E.W. Lane’s Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians (1836)
  • Richard Burton’s Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to El-Medinah and Meccah (1856)
  • Gustave Flaubert’s Salammbô (1862)

In the world of scholarship the next milestone was Ernest Renan’s Histoire générale et système comparé des langues sémitiques (1855).

Said’s text progresses not logically and chronologically, but crabwise, digressively, one thing leading to another. It’s fairly well known that the Suez Canal was conceived, designed and supervised by Ferdinand de Lesseps. Less well known that his father Mathieu de Lesseps went to Egypt as part of Napoleon’s huge expedition and stayed on after the Napoleonic forces withdrew in 1801.

It’s a mental tic of Said’s that he often writes a sentence or paragraph or topic about a subject, then shoehorns in a sentence in parentheses because it’s in his notes and it’s relevant but he can’t think of a way of including it in a logical exposition. An example is the way he ends his discussion of the Suez Canal’s symbolic significance (uniting East and West, ‘opening’ Egypt to the modern world etc) with a really throwaway reference to the Suez Crisis of 1956. He should either have given the Suez Crisis a paragraph of its own, where its significance could have been properly developed, or not mentioned it all. A brief throwaway reference is the worst of all worlds, but very typical of his scatter-gun, repetitive and badly structured approach.

For Said the Suez Canal finally dispelled the notion of the Orient as somehow remote and barely reachable. The Suez Canal dragged ‘the Orient’ into the fast-growing global imagination, made it imaginatively reachable (he doesn’t mention the establishment of the first Cook’s tours to Egypt at around the time of the canal’s opening, the 1860s). At the same time made it more of an annex and dependency.

4. Crisis

He repeats one his basic ideas which is that Orientalism amounted to the transformation of messy reality into tidied-up texts.

It seems a common human failing to prefer the schematic authority of a text to the disorientations of direct encounters with the human. (p.93)

He calls this the textual attitude. Travel books are an epitome of this attitude, assuring readers of a kind of Platonic ideal of a place which all-too-often fails to live up to the book’s idealised portrait.

Suddenly he’s giving a page-long quote from Egyptian social scientist Anwar Abdel Malek (1924 to 2012), from his 1963 essay ‘Orientalism in crisis’.

This is a not particularly relevant preliminary to ‘a history of Orientalism’. Said says all the pioneering Orientalists were philologists. Almost all the great discoveries in philology of the nineteenth century were based on study of texts brought back from the Orient. The central idea was that European languages were descended from two great families of Oriental languages, Indo-European and Semitic. Said gives a political interpretation of this, saying it proves 1) the linguistic importance of the Orient (its languages and scripts) to the achievements of Western research/knowledge, and 2) the Western tendency to divide and categorise Oriental materials to suit its own interests.

Orientalism is inextricably bound up with the study of language and texts; and therefore had a huge tendency to look far back into the past, to a golden age when Orientals lived the idealised lives depicted in the Upanishads or the Koran. In other words, a field of study entirely based on romantic images of an ideal past was always going to regard the messy realities of modern life in India or the Middle East as ‘degraded’ and fallen. Orientalists travelled to the East with their heads full of Romantic ideals and were horrified by the poverty and backwardness of what they saw, leading to a universal agreement that inhabitants of the modern Orient were degraded, debased and vulgarised – ‘an upsetting demystification of images culled from texts’ (p.101).

He’s barely told us he’s going to do a history of Orientalism before he tells us he’s not, and instead going to rattle off lists of eminent Orientalists ‘to mention a few famous names almost at random’ (p.99). Scholars, philosophers, imaginative writers, novelists, poets, travel writers, and explorers and archaeologists, they all contributed to the vast hegemony of Orientalism.

Suddenly it’s 1955, the year of the Bandung Conference, by which date all the nations of the former Orient were independent, presenting Orientalists with conceptual problems. This undermined (destroyed) one whole trope about Oriental peoples, of them being passive and fatalistic.

(This itself is obviously a gross simplification since movements for independence began to stir as early as the 1880s [the Indian National Congress was founded in 1885)], were loud and powerful enough to worry Kipling in the 1890s, and gained new momentum after the Great War. I.e. it’s plain wrong to say the trope of passive Orientals was overthrown by 1955, the contrary evidence was highly visible 50 years earlier.)

Suddenly Said is quoting from the first of a series of lectures given by the ‘great’ Oriental scholar H.A.R. Gibb in 1945, ‘Modern Trends in Islam’, a passage which beautifully illustrates the kind of tropes Said is on about, in that Gibb pontificates about ‘the Arab mind’ being utterly different from the Western mind, specifically in its inability to generalise from individual instances out to general laws and so their inability to have the rationalist thought and utilitarian practices which characterise the West.

This slips somehow into critiquing modern-day Orientalists such as Bernard Lewis (1916 to 2018) who set themselves up as experts on ‘Islam’, ‘the Arab mind’ and so on but just repeat the same old slanders about the Orient’s ineradicable backwardness but also – and suddenly the political Said steps forward into the limelight – uses all these tropes and prejudices to defend Israeli policy in Palestine.

And this turns quickly into polemic as he accuses Orientalists of ignoring ‘the revolutionary turmoil’ gripping the Islamic Orient, the ‘anticolonialism’ sweeping the Orient, as the world faces various disasters (nuclear, environmental) Said accuses politicians of ‘exploiting popular caricatures’ of the Orient.

These contemporary Orientalist attitudes flood the press and the popular mind. (p.108)

And his anger at white people:

A white middle-class Westerner believes it is his human prerogative not only to manage the nonwhite world but also to own it. (p,108)

Who’s making sweeping generalisations now? Who’s invoking racial stereotypes now?

You can’t help thinking that the tiger of passionate political polemic is constantly straining at the leash just below the surface of Said’s text, ready at any moment to break free and unleash a torrent of righteous indignation, genuine anger not only at Western Orientalists but the greedy white societies which host them. Pages 105 to 110 display his real anger at the way academic, cultural and political Orientalists deploy a whole armoury of demeaning tropes and stereotypes to maintain the lie of the Oriental as a passive, backward degenerate, even up to the time of writing (1976 to 1977).

It might also explain why the book is so poor as scholarly exposition, why he promises some kind of history of Orientalism on page 96 but a few pages later apologises for giving us only a very superficial sketch, skipping over names and dates, citing essays and speeches almost at random. It’s because what is really motivating him is to get to the Polemical Outburst.

(I got to the end of this section without really understanding why it was titled ‘crisis’.)

Chapter 2. Orientalist Structures and Restructures

[Chapter 2] attempts to trace the development of modern Orientalism by a broadly chronological description, and also by the description of a set of devices common to the work of important poets, artists and scholars.

In this chapter my concern is to show how in the nineteenth century a modern professional terminology and practice were created whose existence dominated discourse about the Orient, whether by Orientalists or non-Orientalists. (p.156)

1. Redrawn Frontiers, Redefined Issues, Secularised Religion

Like the literary critic he started out as, Said opens with a 2-page summary of the plot of Flaubert’s last novel, Bouvard and Pecuchet, two clerks who come into an inheritance, resign, buy a house in the country and proceed to systematically study every subject then known to modern man, with a view to mastering all the arts and crafts. Inevitably, the turn out to bodge every single one. Said’s quoting the novel because in Flaubert’s notes for the ending (he died before completing it) the pair talk about the future and hope for a great regeneration of the West by the East.

Said takes this as his theme and shows how it derived from the Enlightenment achievement of rejecting Christianity but incorporating many of its mental structures, such as a millennial transformation of society, and how, in a central thread of the Romantic tradition, this transformation and redemption was expected to come from the East, or from the reintegration of Eastern and Western thought.

Modern Orientalism derives from secularising elements in eighteenth century European culture (p.120)

This triggers a rash of name-dropping – Schlegel, Novalis, Wordsworth, Chateaubriand, Comte, Schopenhauer.

Said is, of course, sharply critical of this whole way of thinking, saying it’s yet another example of Western intellectuals thinking they own the world and that ‘Asia’ or ‘the Orient’ will be happy to play this redemptive role for the benefit of the West.

During the eighteenth century the way for modern Orientalist structures was laid down in four major developments:

  1. Expansion The East was opened up far beyond the Islamic lands, by a range of explorers he lists
  2. Historical confrontation History benefited from an anthropology which conceived of cultures as self-contained systems and began to think more sympathetically about them e.g. George Sales’s translation of the Koran which also translated Muslim commentators
  3. Sympathy Leading to ‘sympathetic identification’ by which some writers, artists, and Mozart (his opera, ‘The Abduction from the Seraglio’) imaginatively identified with the East, he briefly sketches the rise of the Gothic and exotic in writers like Beckford, Byron, Thomas Moore et al
  4. Classification The Western impulse to categorise everything into types, Linnaeus, Buffon, Kant, Diderot, Johnson, Montesqieu, Blumenbach, Soemmerring, Vico, Rousseau, it’s difficult to make out the scanty ideas through the blizzard of impressive names

In this chapter:

My thesis is that the essential aspects of modern Orientalist theory and praxis (from which present-day Orientalism derives) can be understood, not as a sudden access of objective knowledge about the Orient, but as a set of structures inherited from the past, secularised, redisposed, and reformed by such disciplines as philology, which in turn were naturalised, modernised and laicised substitutes for (or versions of) Christian supernaturalism. (p.122)

2. Silvestre de Sacy and Ernest Renan: Rational Anthropology and Philological Laboratory

An extended discussion of the lives and works of these two founding Orientalists or, as he puts it, Orientalism’s:

inaugural heroes, builders of the field, creators of a tradition, progenitors of the orientalist brotherhood (p.122)

In Said’s usual manner this starts out reasonably clearly but soon gets bogged down in his characteristically elliptical, digressive, list-heavy and oddly expressed style. It is a struggle to read. Sacy was interested in fragments of texts and knowledge (a mindset very typical of the Romantic generation).

Renan is tougher-minded. Said’s passage on Renan brings out the importance of philology, considered as a leading discipline. He brings in Nietzsche, who was also a philologist, to describe how the discipline means bringing to light the meanings latent in words and language. Renan wrote in 1848: ‘the founders of the modern mind are philologists.’ The ‘new’ philology of the start of the nineteenth century was to score major successes:

  • the creation of comparative grammar
  • the reclassification of languages into families
  • the final rejection of the divine origins of language

Prior to this scholars thought that God gave Adam the first language in the Garden of Eden. The systematic discoveries of philologists in Semitic then Sanskrit languages, along with the texts newly discovered and translated from India, was to make the story of one divine origin for language untenable, and also to call into question the previously accepted timelines of the Book of Genesis.

Thus it was his philological studies which led Renan to lose his Christian faith and then to go on to write the secular Life of Jesus, published in 1863, the first account to portray Jesus as a purely human figure, which had a dramatic impact on intellectual life all across Europe.

In my opinion, Said misses a big point here, a massive point, which is that European Christendom (and latterly American Christian churches) have a weird, strange, distorted interest in the Middle East because that is where their religion comes from.

Islam has a kind of geographical integrity, because the key locations of the religion are in the ongoing heartlands of Islamic territory i.e. Saudi Arabia and to a lesser extent Jerusalem. By contrast the faith and ideology on which ‘the West’ based itself until very recently, along with all its holy texts, derive from a geographical location outside itself, completely detached from itself by the Muslim conquests of the 7th and 8th centuries.

This accident of history and geography explains why ‘the West’ has had such an intrusive, interfering interest in the Middle East, from the Crusades to Russia claiming control of the Holy Places which triggered the Crimean War, the mandates over Palestine and Syria between the wars – and always will have, for the region is the ground zero of its religious and ideological underpinnings.

The Orientalists Said describes were so obsessed with the Middle East because they sought, through their philological enquiries, to get closer to the heart of and seek out deeper secrets, of their faith and religion. Hence the recovery of all the texts they could get their hands on, the immense effort put into the archaeology of the region, setting up umpteen Institutes and learned societies.

Said mentions the minuscule number of ‘Orientals’ who came to Europe during the nineteenth century compared to the tidal wave of Europeans who went to the Orient and this is a major reason. Not many Arabs or Indians are interested in visiting, for example, Stonehenge, which has a purely tourist interest for them. But potentially every Christian had a profound vested interest in the stream of archaeological and philological discoveries which poured out the Middle East and Egypt throughout the nineteenth and on into the early twentieth century (for example, the discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamen) because each new discovery shed light on their faith, and the sum total of the discoveries tended to undermine Christian faith altogether, as it did in the high profile case of Renan.

Said brings out how Renan came to prefer the Sanskrit family of languages origin of the idea of an Indo-European language i.e. ancestors of European languages, over the Semitic family, which is the parent of Hebrew and Arabic. His dislike of the latter hardened into an antisemitic attitude which he expressed with growing virulence and became part of the anti-Arab, anti-Islamic discourse of Orientalism.

Said very briefly refers to the post-Prussian haste among the imperial powers to draw up maps, to mark boundaries of power and control over the colonial possessions. Hence (he doesn’t say this) the notorious Berlin Conference of 1885, called to allow all the European powers to peacefully agree who controlled which parts of Africa, through to the post-Great War division of the Middle East between Britain and France and the equally notorious maps of new states drawn up by Mark Sykes and Georges Picot.

The aim of all this map making activity was never the interest of the native inhabitants, but solely the need to avert conflict arising between the powers, above all between France and Britain.

3. Oriental Residence and Scholarship: The Requirements of Lexicography and Imagination

The profession of Orientalist is based on multiple inequalities, of wealth and power and intellectual control (of the West over the East).

This section carries on from the previous section, dwelling on Renan’s contempt for Semitic languages and peoples and asserting that philology, by reducing a language to its roots, has a similar reductive effect on views about its speakers and peoples. He comments on the tendency of Orientalists of the Romantic generation to project grand romantic feelings onto the Orient, then experience an adverse reaction when they learned more about the reality of the actual contemporary Orient, accusing it of being ‘backward’ and ‘barbaric’.

So many Orientalists ended up hating their subject, not just Renan but William Muir, Reinhart Dozy, Alfred Lyall, Caussin de Perceval. Each of these pieced together and constructed versions of ‘the Orient’ from fragments, creating imaginary models for other Orientalists to debate.

Popular stereotypes about the Orient were perpetrated by mainstream authors such as Thomas Carlyle and Lord Macaulay. Orientalist tropes were used by eminent men in unrelated fields as diverse as Cardinal Newman or French naturalist and zoologist Georges Cuvier.

Marx and abstraction

Even Karl Marx, usually friend of the poor and downtrodden, gives in to Orientalist tropes in his 1850s writings about India, where he says that although British rule is harsh and stupid, it may be historically necessary to waken India from its backward, barbaric stupor.

Said quotes a bit of Marx on India where the latter himself quotes Goethe, and this, for Said, shows the origins of Marx’s Orientalism in classic Romantic worldview, wherein peoples and races need redemption from suffering through pain.

The idea of regenerating a fundamentally lifeless Asia is a piece of pure Romantic Orientalism. (p.154)

Said says these are all examples of Western knowledge’s tendency to group everything into high-level categories and groups and ignore the multiplicity, diversity and specificity of individual lives on the ground. He makes the fairly crude accusation that:

Orientalists are neither interested in nor capable of discussing individuals. (p.154)

 I have a big problem with this whole angle of Said’s attack, because the tendency to categorise and group entities under abstract terms is, of course, fundamental to the management of all knowledge and of all modern societies. The field of medicine I work in is only possible by virtue of general categories, starting with the notion of ‘patients’ or ‘cases’. Take epidemiology, ‘the study of the determinants, occurrence, and distribution of health and disease in a defined population’, which played a central role in the management of COVID-19 around the world – this is only possible by converting individual cases into numbers and groups and categories.

Accusing just the one academic discipline of Orientalism of doing this – turning the specificity of individual people into abstract categories and numbers – seems to me 1) factually incorrect; almost all academic or professional specialisms do just this; and 2) this approach is the basis of our entire civilisation, the entirety of Western science, medicine, public health provision and so on rests on this approach.

I take the point that, in his opinion, the conversion of teeming cities full of all kinds of races, religious groups, ethnicities, sexualities and so on into one big dumb category, the Orient, is a kind of abuse of the procedure, and was designed to justify imperial conquest and rule. Yes yes. But to attack the intellectual approach of gathering large numbers of people together under particular headings or categories as somehow inherently wicked and abusive seems to me plain wrong.

Anyway Said spends a page guessing that what happened is Marx’s initial sympathy for suffering individuals in the East met, in his mind, the censorship and ‘the lexicographical police action of Orientalist science’, of the accumulated playbook of orientalist metaphors prevalent in his Romantic sources, and shut down his human sympathies in favour of Orientalist stereotypes.

What Said’s devoting a couple of pages to Marx really indicates is how important Marx still was to his audience in the academy back in 1978, that he has to perform such mental gymnastics to reconcile what he wrote about India with what he takes for granted was ‘Marx’s humanity, his sympathy for the misery of people’ (p.154).

As so often Said is blinkered or partial because the whole point of Marx is that he was a kind of acme of converting individual people into vast historical abstractions; his whole deal was about mentally converting the teeming masses of capitalist countries into vast abstracts named the proletariat and the bourgeoisie. In doing so he notoriously dismissed vast numbers of people who would be trodden on and be victims of the historical process, namely the industrial bourgeoisie which would have to be eliminated in a violent revolution. And all of this needed to be carried out in the cause of the biggest Romantic redemptive project every conceived i.e. the creation of the utopian classless society.

But Said ignores the fact that Marx’s central procedure was to apply huge dehumanising categories to all Western societies, and instead somehow wants imply that he only did it to India; that this was somehow unique to his thought, a uniquely dehumanising and uniquely Orientalising manoeuvre to make, whereas, as I’ve just shown, the very same procedure was of course fundamental to Marx’s entire approach.

Travelling to the Orient

Moving on, Said says you can draw a distinction between Orientalists who stayed in Europe and worked from texts, and those who actually went to the Orient, some of them settling and living there. Here they had the exciting experience of living like kings, the life of the privileged imperial conqueror, waited on hand and foot, free to travel anywhere.

Goes on to say that an interesting process can be observed, which is they start off writing about specific experiences but sooner or later come up against Orientalist tropes, rather like the buffers in a railway station. Some Western writing became official while other texts remained personal, such as tourist and travel writing (Flaubert, Kinglake, Mark Twain). He attempts a little categorisation of motives for travelling to the Orient at this period (mid-nineteenth century):

  1. The writer aiming to gather information for scientific purposes
  2. The writer intending to gain evidence but happy to mix this with personal observation and style – e.g. Richard Burton’s Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah and Mecca (1857)
  3. The writer who travels to fulfil a personal (often literary) project – e.g. Gérard de Nerval’s Voyage en Orient (1851)

He calls the intentions of the different writers, their ‘author-function’ (p.159). I looked this up and a) it’s a term coined by Foucault who, as we’ve seen, Said is very indebted to throughout; and b) Foucault uses the term author-function as: ‘a concept that replaces the idea of the author as a person, and instead refers to the ‘discourse’ that surrounds an author or body of work’ (Open University)

He cashes this out with an extended discussion of the career of Orientalist Edward Lane (1801 to 1876), showing how the quirky personal asides he included in his monumental 1836 work, ‘Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians’, were expunged in his subsequent works – an entirely functional Arabic-English Lexicon and an ‘uninspired’ translation of the Arabian Nights (p.164).

4. Pilgrims and Pilgrimages, British and French

Pursuing the same line, Said categorises the many writers who went on journeys to the Orient as ‘pilgrims’.

(In my opinion the chapter title and concept just highlight the huge holes in his account, which include a proper discussion of actual Christian pilgrimage, a proper consideration of medieval literature, which would include a proper account of the Crusades and, indeed the vast and generally unread libraries of devotional Christian literature. Seen in this wider perspective, Said’s account pretty much solely focuses on the nineteenth century, taking its start from writers he would have taught in his comparative literature course, such as Victor Hugo, Gérard de Nerval, Flaubert and going a bit beyond them into the actual literature of Orientalists such as Sacy, Renan, Burton, Lane and so on. But of the vast hinterland of medieval and Christian accounts of the Orient, almost nothing [excepting the passage about Dante]. Not his specialism, not his area.)

He compares and contrasts British and French visitors to the region and makes the simple point that the British had strong or defining presence on the ground and the French didn’t: the British beat the French to seize India during the eighteenth century and slowly ramped up their presence in the Middle East till they established an unofficial protectorate over Egypt in 1882.

The Mediterranean echoed with the sounds of French defeats, from the Crusades to Napoleon. What was to become known as ‘la mission civilisatrice’ began in the nineteenth century as a political second-best to Britain’s presence. (p.169)

The (partly) explains why (some) British writing feels practical and administrative while some much French writing is more imaginative, projective, wistful, dwelling in ruins and lost hopes etc.

He spends some time summarising François-René, vicomte de Chateaubriand’s ‘Itinerary from Paris to Jerusalem of 1811’. Said shows how, besides Chateaubriand’s obsessive narcissism the book reeks of Orientalist tropes, despising Islam, regarding the Arab as degraded, saying the whole region needs to be redeemed by the West. Said talks about his ‘Christian vindictiveness’ (p.174).

He moves on to discuss Alphonse de Lamartine’s ‘Voyage en Orient’ of a generation later, 1835. He, too, ends up disliking the reality of the terrain and people (thinking it was painted better by Poussin, p.178) and saying it is ripe for conquest and development by the West.

Then on to Nerval (visited 1842-3) and Flaubert (1849-50). Nerval writes of an eerily empty Orient, disappointing the Romantic fantasies he had learned from (earlier Orientalist) books. He copies large blocs from Edward Lane’s account and passes them off as his own.

Flaubert, much the greater writer, vividly describes what he sees before him in notes and his wonderful letters. The Orient was to bulk large in two of his six novels, Salammbô (1862) and The Temptation of Saint Anthony (1874). Said takes an excerpt from Flaubert’s notes on visiting a hospital to highlight the way morality and revulsion are completely excise; all that matters is the correct rendering of exact detail (p.186).

The most famous episode in Flaubert’s journey to the Orient was the time he spent with Kuchuk Hanem, an Egyptian sex worker. This is a peg for Said to talk a little about the sexual stereotypes of the East and to make the fairly obvious point that not only for nineteenth century writers but for many readers ‘the Orient’ became associated with sensuality, guilt free and available sex, much more available than back in Victorian strictly regimented Europe.

But the main impact this had on me was to realise how little he talks about sex, desire, gender, feminism, themes which massively saturate modern academic studies. In fact he raises the issue, why the Orient then (and now) suggests ‘not only fecundity but sexual promise (and threat), untiring sensuality, unlimited desire, deep generative energies’, before going on to say (in his typically not quite correct English) ‘it is not the province of my analysis here.’ A little later (p.208) he refers to the use of Orientalist stereotypes of ‘exotic’ sex in semi-pornographic novels but, by and large, it’s not his thing, his aim, his subject.

Then he returns to his main theme, ‘the sense of layer upon layer of interests, official learning, institutional pressure, that covered the Orient as a subject matter and as a territory during the second half of the nineteenth century’ (p.192).

British visitors and writers had a harder more realistic sense of what pilgrimages to the Orient entailed. The French didn’t own any territory and so were, in a sense, more imaginatively free. The British were always anchored in the reality by the vast responsibility of India, later on of Egypt, both of which meant that tough questions about administration and Realpolitik lurked behind even the most carefree travelogue. In a word, they are less imaginative. He has harsh words for Alexander Kinglake (1809 to 1891, Eton and Cambridge), English travel writer and historian, whose ‘Eothen’ or Traces of travel brought home from the East’ (1844) was wildly popular. Kinglake didn’t let his ignorance of any Oriental language and poor grasp of its culture stop him from making sweeping xenophobic, antisemitic and racist generalisations about the culture, mentality and society of ‘the Orient’.

This contrasts with the splendid achievements of Richard Burton, always an imperialist at heart, but a rebel against the establishment who took great delight in pointing out to the Orientalists that he knew more languages, had travelled more, seen more and understood more of the Arab mind than they ever would. Of all the writers of the classic Orientalist period Burton is the one who knew most about the actual specificities of Arab and Muslim life which Said values. He is maybe the last compromised of all these writers. And yet throughout his work is the assumption that the Orient is there to be taken, to be ruled by the West, by Britain, leading Said to another restatement of his core theme, that in Burton’s writings:

Orientalism, which is the system of European or Western knowledge about the Orient, thus becomes synonymous with European domination of the Orient… (p.199)

Chapter 3. Orientalism Now

Begins where its predecessor left off at around 1870. This is the period of greatest colonial expansion into the Orient…the very last section characterises the shift from British and French to American hegemony. I attempt to sketch the present intellectual and social realities of Orientalism in the United States.

1. Latent and Manifest Orientalism

The phrase is obviously derived from Freud’s notion, first expressed in The Interpretation of Dreams, that dreams have both a manifest or obvious content, and then a latent or secret meaning (also latent in the sense that it required work by patient and therapist to bring it out). Said applies Freud’s metaphor to his topic of study.

The idea is simple: the details or surface or manifest Orientalism have changed and varied over the past 250 years but the latent or bedrock attitudes behind it remain as fixed as ever, namely that the Orient is backward, poor, lazy, undisciplined and passive, in need of endless help (p.206).

Actually his argument is not helped by the way that he continually shuffles the attributes he claims that Orientalism attributes to the Orient. In the space of a few pages he says there are the Orient’s:

  • sensuality, tendency to despotism, aberrant mentality, habits of inaccuracy, backwardness (p.205)
  • eccentricity, backwardness, silent indifference, female penetrability, supine malleability (p.206)
  • backward, degenerate, uncivilised, retarded (p.207)

I take the point that each list shuffles from a pack of negative stereotypes, but, like his repeated attempts to give a precise definition of Orientalism, none of which really nail it, there’s a constant sense of blurriness and slippage.

Helplessness

I read his criticism of this idea of Oriental ‘helplessness’ on a day (23 September 2023) when, on the radio, I heard that Morocco needs Western help because of the massive earthquake which just struck it, that Libya needs Western help because of the unprecedented floods which have devastated it, that Lebanon still needs help rebuilding itself three years on from the devastating explosion of 4 August 2020, and saw a charity appeal to help the victims of the civil war in Yemen.

It’s all very well to read Said’s repeated claim that seeing the Orient as helplessly needing Western intervention is an Orientalist trope, a demeaning stereotype entirely created by the institutions he describes, and yet…it also appears to be a real-world fact.

SOAS

Anyway, Said continues to describe (yet again) the process whereby a set of intellectual interests and disciplines based in study of the Biblical languages slowly transformed into a series of postulates which justified and enabled the colonial occupation of ‘the Orient’. He quotes Lord Cromer’s paternalistic speeches, specifically the one calling for the establishment of an institute to study the region, which was a trigger point for the establishment of the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies.

The importance of geography

If the section about Renan dwelled on the importance of the discipline of philology, this section dwells on the academic discipline of geography for the colonial enterprise. As Said puts it in his foggy, unclear prose:

Geography was essentially the material underpinning for knowledge about the Orient. All the latent and unchanging characteristics of the Orient stood upon, were rooted in, its geography. (p.216)

France bounced back from its humiliating defeat in the Franco-Prussian War (1870 to 71) with a renewed determination to expand its empire and this led, among other things, to ‘a tremendous efflorescence of geographical societies’ (p.217). There was even a thing called the geographical movement.

Scientific geography gave rise to commercial geography and an explosion of utopian schemes to interfere and alter geography. The opening of the Suez Canal had changed the world of commerce and profoundly affected geopolitics. Dreamers dreamed of similar huge projects, including flooding the Sahara to make the desert bloom, and tying together France’s scattered African colonies by ambitious railway networks.

Some French commentators blamed their defeat by Prussia on lack of imperial ambition; falling behind British imperial aggrandisement was blamed for France’s economic woes. The solution to every problem was to more aggressively conquer and control. This lay behind France’s drive to conquer the territories of what became French Indochina (Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam), clinched in a series of battles in 1885.

But the French throughout the period continually lamented coming second best to the British who had secured all the plum territories (India, Egypt). French envy and resentment knew no bounds. Said ties this to the way the British produced remarkable characters who flourished in the Oriental purview, such as Gertrude Bell and TE Lawrence.

2. Style, Expertise, Vision: Orientalism’s Wordliness

Starts with a discussion of the concept of The White Man, the controller at the centre of Orientalism who defined unwhites, blacks, coloureds and Orientals as ‘others’, lacking the attributes of whiteness, who therefore had to be schooled and trained up to ‘our’ standard. To demonstrate he gives (more) quotes from Gertrude Bell and T.E. Lawrence.

In the late nineteenth century bastardised theories of evolution, the survival of the fittest and race theories lent malevolent force to pre-existing Orientalist discourse.

Said introduces us to William Robertson Smith (1846 to 1894) a Scottish orientalist, Old Testament scholar and minister of the Free Church of Scotland, best known for his book ‘Religion of the Semites’ which became a foundational text in the comparative study of religion.

Said moves on to his most extended consideration of T.E. Lawrence who he sees following a recognisable career arc, from Romantic adventurer, to imperial agent (in the Arab Uprising), to disillusioned failure. He quotes passages from the Seven Pillars of Wisdom to show how Lawrence not only identified himself totally with the Arab Uprising but, more typically, identified the Arab Uprising with himself, another white man assuming the natives couldn’t have done it on their own.

I like his idea (maybe pretty obvious) that the mid and late nineteenth century figure of the adventurer-eccentric was replaced around the time of the Great War by the Orientalist-imperial agent, citing Lawrence, Gertrude Bell, St John Philby (a small checklist which he refers to countless times). This marked a shift from an academic to an instrumentalist mode.

Between the wars

Between the wars imperial rule throughout the Orient became problematic for the simple reason that the natives formed more and more strident nationalist movements, flanked by increasing acts of violence, while a growing minority in Western countries began to question or turn against colonialism and in favour of home independence.

Said quotes French Orientalists (Sylvain Lévi) who (like all academics) insist the answer is more study, more research, better understanding etc. He quotes the poet Paul Valéry whose contribution amounts (with comic French intellectualism) to analysing the problem away (p.250). And goes on to cite Valentine Chirol, Elie Faure, Fernand Baldensperger, all of whom reiterated the now crystallised Orientalist lines: ‘they’ are unlike us, lack the ability for rational knowledge, are economically and culturally backward, Islam is an imprisoning limiting religion, all the usual slurs.

At the end of this section he gives yet another summary of what he’s trying to do, to investigate:

the metamorphosis of a relatively innocuous philological subspeciality into a capacity for managing political movements, administering colonies, and making apocalyptic statements about the White Man’s difficult civilising mission (p.254)

3. Modern Anglo-French Orientalism in Fullest Flower

During the 1930s and 40s Orientalism had hardened into an extensive field of knowledge in which, like a spider’s web, reference to the most trivial fact tended to jangle the entire system and immediately invoke a whole gang of presuppositions, biases and bigotries.

There’s a long passage on the development, between the wars, of ‘types’ in the social sciences, which I think he contrasts with the cosmopolitan pluralism of the philological (in the wide sense) approach taken by one of his heroes, Auerbach. Narrowing versus widening.

So this section invokes the profound collapse of European economy and political consensus and in an obscure, round the back kind of way, describes how this impacted on national Orientalisms. For example, Snouck Hutgonje, Dutch scholar of Oriental cultures and languages and advisor on native affairs to the colonial government of the Dutch East Indies.

Then 20 pages contrasting the work of the most eminent Orientalists of their generations in France and Britain, Louis Massignon (1883 to 1962), French Catholic scholar of Islam and a pioneer of Catholic-Muslim mutual understanding, and Sir Hamilton Gibb (1895 to 1971), Scottish historian and Orientalist.

Massignon is depicted as an outsider of great genius and insight who devoted a lot of time to the biography of a Muslim Sufi saint, al-Hallaj. Gibb was the opposite, an insider, an institution man.

Inevitably Said depicts both of them, in subtle and sometimes impenetrable style, while citing Foucault and Barthes, as nonetheless continuers and purveyors of fundamental Orientalist stereotypes. His detailed look at the careers, professional subjects and styles of these two giants takes us from after the Great War up to the early 1960s.

4. The Latest Phase

To date the book has amounted to a brief consideration of the origin of Orientalist tropes and prejudices among the ancient Greeks, a brief sketch of the Middle Ages in the form of Dante, skipping past the Renaissance altogether and then settling down to a detailed examination of Orientalism from the late eighteenth and through the long nineteenth century.

In this last section he finally brings all his findings on home to the colossus which dominated the post-war settlement, culturally, economically and militarily, the US of A. It is completely unlike the rest of the book in that it is clear, accessible, magazine style rage against the unchecked proliferation of anti-Arab and Islamophobic caricatures across American culture.

The traditional Orientalism he has chronicled was broken up in 1960s America into a proliferation of academic subspecies. The European focus on philology, itself deriving from study of the Biblical languages, disappeared and was replaced by an American focus on the social sciences. American academics didn’t study the languages of the Middle East, they studied their ‘societies’ and on this basis set themselves up as experts and advisers.

Part of this was the abandonment of the study of literature. The long philological and literary approach he’s been praising and enjoying came to a grinding halt. In American hands it was all about preparing oil executives for their stints in the Arab world and advising the State Department.

He categorises ways in which ‘the Arab’ or ‘the Arab Muslim’ appear in ‘modern’ (i.e. 1960s and 70s) culture:

  1. Popular images and social science representations
  2. Cultural relations policy
  3. Merely Islam
  4. Orientals Orientals Orientals

Said becomes more and more angry, outraged at the barrage of anti-Arab and Islamophobic imagery to be found all across American culture. Images of humiliatingly defeated Arabs after the 1967 war. Images of hook-nosed Arab sheikhs at petrol pumps after the 1973 war and the oil price hike. These latter have all the Nazi antisemitic stereotypes born again.

He is appalled at the new tone of American Orientalism. He mounts a sustained attack on the 1970 Cambridge History of Islam, spotting stereotypes everywhere and accusing it of being bereft of ‘ideas and methodological intelligence’ (p.302).

He quotes from magazine articles, from Commentary magazine, from scholarly papers, interviews in which academics, politicians, commentators, repeat ad nauseam the same anti-Arab tropes he has enumerated throughout the book, the backwardness of Arabs, the stupidity of Arabs, the bombastic nature of Arabic which prevents Arabs from having rational thought, and so on.

He attacks 3 or 4 essays before alighting on a 1972 volume called ‘Revolution in the Middle East and other case studies’. He attacks the introductory essay by the volume’s editor P.J. Vatikiotis, before making a sustained attack on the essay by notable modern Orientalist, Bernard Lewis, giving numerous quotations in a vitriolic attack on what he takes to be Lewis at the same time setting himself up as an oracle on all things Arab while at the same time comprehensively despising and belittling his subject matter. Sounds weird, sounds counter-intuitive, unless you’ve read Said’s book in which he identifies it as a recurring characteristic of all Orientalists.

It’s in the Lewis passage that Said finally opens up about the Zionist movement and the foundation of the state of Israel, pointing out that Lewis nowhere (apparently) mentions Zionism or the Jewish appropriation of Palestinian land and, at last you feel, the cat is out of the bag. it feels as if the previous 300 pages have been a long, slow, laboursome foreplay leading up to this, the money shot.

What particularly gets his is Lewis’s pride in being an objective historian when Said claims to have shown he is in fact a ludicrously biased, anti-Arab, anti-Islamic bigot.

This is the culmination of Orientalism as a dogma that not only degrades its subject matter but also blinds its practitioners. (p.319)

The final pages describe the way Orientalism has infected the Orient in the sense that students and lecturers from the region come to the United States to train, are inculcated with Orientalism biases against their own people and culture and return to propagate these biases. There were, at the time of writing, hardly any institutes of higher education devoted to studying the Orient in the Orient. Academically, it is backward.

Worse, America has made the entire Middle East, economically, into a client region. America consumes a select number of products from it (mostly oil) but in return exports a huge number of goods, from blue jeans to Coca Cola. And TV and Hollywood movies, which often feature Arabs as the bad guys.

The modern Orient, in short, participates in its own Orientalising. (p.325)

Finally he hopes that his work has made a small contribution to encouraging scholars to critically scrutinise the premises of their disciplines, to be attentive to the realities on the ground and try to avoid the artificial and cramping conventions which constrict so many fields of study in the humanities. And, writing at a time of increasing nationalism in the developing world, he hopes it will help those peoples and movements get free of the mind-forg’d manacles (a quote from William Blake) which their oppressors created to judge, demean and control them.

Critique

Mind opening

Books like this are mostly for students because, if you hadn’t yet come across the notion that academic disciplines are not the clean objective collections of facts you were led to believe at school, then Said’s full frontal demolition of an entire area of academic study, and his association of it with one of modern woke ideology’s great bogeymen, Western imperialism, is liable to have a dynamite impact, opening your mind to whole new ways of thinking about scholarship, the academy, the humanities, history, geography, languages, religion, all of it.

And, given the extent to which Said ties his history of nineteenth century Orientalism directly to the perennial hot button issue of the Arab-Israeli conflict, the impressionable student is likely to have not only their intellectual interests, but their sense of justice fired up. When I used to visit my son at Bristol University I was struck by the number of posters around the town burning with indignation for the cause of oppressed Palestine.

But, unfortunately, it’s nearly 40 years since I read Orientalism, so none of this is new to me although rereading it made me realise I’d forgotten almost all the detail.

Repetitive

And forgotten how bad it is. It really doesn’t read very well. Reread in the cold light of day it feels extremely repetitive and confused. Too often Said asserts his case rather than proving it, in particular repeating the fundamental ideas like the created nature of Orientalist discourse, the premise of an unchangingly inferior Orient and so on, scores and scores of times till I felt like screaming.

Weak definitions

A surprisingly central problem is his failure to really define what his central term i.e. the Orient, actually means. When I began to explain the book to a friend she expected it to be about the Far East, China and Japan, which are the places she associates with the word ‘Orient’. She was very surprised when I told her it focuses almost entirely on the Middle East and Egypt, with some digressions about India. China and Japan are mentioned once or twice in passing, but not part of his hard core message. Here’s one of his not particularly useful definitions of the great subject, Orientalism:

What I shall be calling Orientalism, a way of coming to terms with the Orient that is based on the Orient’s special place in European Western experience. (p.1)

Or:

Orientalism is the habit for dealing with questions, objects, qualities, and regions deemed Oriental. (p.72)

You can see the air of tautology hanging over a sentence like this, as there are so many of his other formulations.

The Orient that appears in Orientalism is a system of representations framed by a whole set of forces that brought the Orient into Western learning, Western consciousness and, later, Western empire. (p.203)

Or this one, that Orientalism:

is an attempt to describe a whole region of the world as an accompaniment to that region’s colonial conquest. (p.343)

It’s peculiar that every time he mentions the concept, he feels the need to redefine it, and every time it comes out slightly different. This adds to the general difficulty of reading the book.

Relation to the contemporary world

The second point is one I made in part 1, which is that so much has happened in the world since it was published – chiefly the collapse of communism, the end of the Cold War, the rise of Islamic terrorism, the Western invasions of Middle Eastern countries, the Arab Spring and its failures – that, to anyone keeping up with events, the book doesn’t feel like a guide to the modern world but a dated dead end.

No doubt Western academics, commentators, ‘experts’ and journalists continue to use Orientalising stereotypes, and for much the same motives Said describes, to define, control and contain the complex realities of this troubled part of the world, to assert Western superiority over ‘barbaric’ Arabs. But this is, in the end, a very easy concept to understand and what would be useful would be a guide to the contemporary forms of Orientalising stereotyping which we in the West, no doubt, still labour under.

Ending the binary

Quite a few times Said says he laments the simplistic binary opposition between East and West which he says is at the heart of Orientalism. Does he? No. In my opinion he reinforces the binary on every page of the book, in fact he deepens and entrenches it by repeating its binary terms – the Orient and the West – on every page.

By not including a single Oriental, Arab or Muslim voice, while featuring scores and scores of European writers, I thought the book has the effect of making ‘the Orient’ even more invisible, disappearing it, while filling the mind to overflowing with Western European ideas. He angrily rejects those ideas. but those are the ideas I’ve just spent a week reading a 350-page book about, and so those are the ideas I remember.

Epistemology

Said’s thesis is based on the idea that knowledge is power, and that the way ‘knowledge’ about ‘the Orient’ was created and curated was always biased, bigoted, negative, critical and disempowering. Fine. But what this boils down to is an argument about epistemology, which is defined as ‘the theory of knowledge, especially with regard to its methods, validity, and scope, and the distinction between justified belief and opinion.’ This is the heart of his book and his thesis. It is an argument about the production of knowledge. And yet Said nowhere explains his own theory of epistemology. Just as he is slippery about what ‘the orient’ actually means, and gives ten or so differing definitions of ‘Orientalism’, in the same way he never gives an adequate definition of the central concept he’s arguing about.

In my opinion it’s this lack of really deep, thought-through clarity and consistency about his key concepts which explains why, instead, he lumps lots of disparate topics together, rarely explores them in any depth, and continually resorts to asserting his thesis instead of proving it.

Fake urgency

Said writes that, when Orientalists codified their knowledge into encyclopedias under alphabetical entries, they modelled and shaped knowledge, created constraints so that readers could only approach this knowledge of the Orient via ‘the learned grids and codes’ provided by the Orientalist, and this is made to sound like some wicked conspiracy. And yet the same is true of any other subject whatsoever. Take woodwork. You want to learn a bit about woodwork so you Google or buy a book on the subject, written by experts.

But in Said’s eyes, this knowledge about woodwork has been modelled and shaped knowledge by so-called ‘woodwork experts’ who have created constraints so that readers can only approach this knowledge of woodwork via ‘the learned grids and codes’ provided by the woodwork expert! Scary, eh? Or utterly banal.

Reading these kinds of scare tactics on every single page gets boring. Again and again and again he makes the same simple point which is a critique of the way knowledge is produced and curated by academics with, he claims, an anti-Eastern, anti-Arab, anti-Muslim prejudice – all so that he can lead the reader, in the Introduction and then in the third section, right back to the modern world and to the iniquity of US policy in the Middle East.

It’s this, Said’s obsession with the Arab-Israeli policy, which really gives the book its energy. The rise of ‘Orientalism’ as an academic discipline would be of solely academic interest, a very niche concern, if it weren’t for the fact that the same kind of anti-Eastern, anti-Arab and anti-Muslim tropes are at work, in the world, today, guiding American’s slavishly pro-Israeli and ruinously anti-Arab policy.

Last word

When we were students a friend of mine, who went on to become a professor of poetry, described it as ‘a bad book in a good cause’.

Practical criticism

See if you can identify the kind of essentialising Orientalist stereotypes about the Middle East, Arabs and Islam which Said describes, in Western (British) coverage of the recent Hamas attack on Israel (I’m just giving the BBC as a starting point):


Credit

Orientalism by Edward Said was first published by Routledge and Kegan Paul in 1978. References are to the 2003 Penguin paperback edition (with new Afterword and Preface).

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History as biography

The following thoughts were prompted by a reading of Shakespeare’s plays, Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra. The point is that, apart from all other considerations of literature and so on, both plays demonstrate the enduring human tendency to attribute all social change, all meaning in the flow of historical events, to Great and Eminent Personages. To humanise the flow of events and to attribute praise and blame for everything to a handful of Top Dogs.

The confusing world

It’s difficult for any of us to understand what is happening, what is going on in our own lives, let alone in the wider world. There is a natural tendency to humanise everything, to reduce everything to the behaviour of named individuals in order to make our lives manageable, graspable, bearable. If we can attribute everything to individuals then we can relapse into the standard human response of naming and shaming and blaming them. We can blame America’s ills on Donald Trump and Britain’s ills on Boris Johnson.

But on numerous levels, I think this is wrong, not morally wrong, just factually inaccurate. Even in my little family I can see how individuals are swayed by social trends and pressures. I can see how the economic outlook for my children’s generation shapes their attitudes. Multiply this by millions and you, fairly obviously, have a host of broad social, economic, technological and cultural trends which affect everything we hear, and so repeat, discuss, believe, argue about.

At the ‘highest’ level (if you want to visualise it as a hierarchy) are the cultural and ideological trends – the changing things people believe in, think about, argue about.

Beneath them you have economic trends – in our day and age drastic rises in oil and gas prices which affect the cost of fertiliser and transport which threaten severe food shortages this autumn and winter. In my country and time another huge factor is the failure of successive governments to build enough accommodation for the spiralling population, leading to the never-ending rises in house prices, and the dispirited resignation of both my kids that they will never own a home like their parents did.

Economic trends are strongly influenced by technological developments – the most obvious one in my lifetime being the enormous increase in the computerisation of all aspects of life, from high finance to finding a partner, almost everything seems to done via the internet, smart phones and social media, with all kinds of consequences, the most obvious being that people spend a huge amount of time on their phones and are immensely influenced by what they read coming through their social media feeds.

And at a deeper level there are the basic facts of geography and biology – the most important single one being the rapid heating up of the planet which is making severe drought more common, accompanied by the manmade destruction of all manner of ecosystems which we rely on for food and water, which will  greatly exacerbate the situation.

At a more individual level we are subject to our genetic inheritances which program whether we are tall or short, fat or thin, male or female, predisposed to heart disease, cancer, dementia and a host of bodily infirmities.

And then, of course, there is the constant threat of infections from outside, something most people are much more aware of since COVID-19 brought the world to a halt.

All this is hard enough to take in, and it’s only a superficial sketch of the multi-layered ‘reality’ we inhabit, or more accurately, the overlapping realities. Our minds inhabit a complex matrix of biochemistry, ever-changing sensory perceptions, the permanent wash of emotions and an endless tide of discourse and words which have no boundaries because all of these issues are, in effect, endless: discourses about the importance of oil prices on civilisation, assessing the impact of global warming, considering the effect of infectious disease on societies, explaining the importance of genetics in human behaviour, these are just a handful out of thousands of serious topics and no-one fully understands them. Vast subjects, impenetrably complex – and, when you start to begin to combine them, impossible for any individual to fully grasp.

The Great Man theory

And so it is much, much easier to think of society and what is happening in terms of a handful of powerful individuals. And this explains why most cultures, for most of human history, have done just that – attributed everything that happens to the eternal gods or, on the human plane, to Eminent Men and Women, to kings and queens and emperors and empresses and the like.

As far back as we have written records, they record the wars and acts of Great Men, emperors of China or India or Assyria or Egypt and the earliest histories which emerge from simple annals or chronologies likewise focused entirely on the doings of great men (and occasional empresses or queens).

The earliest histories had just two explanations for everything: 1. the wise or foolish behaviour of great leaders, and sitting above them, 2. the capricious interventions of the gods. 3. any unexpected turn of events could be attributed to the vague catch-all category, ‘Fortune’.

And 4. hovering behind all accounts was the primitive assumption that the present age is uniquely corrupt and degraded, a sad falling-away from some unspecified previous times when men were all upright, pure and noble.

Boris Johnson and the wheel of fortune

Armed with these four concepts you can, at a pinch, explain everything, right up to the present day. Using this template, Boris Johnson is a Great Man who Got Brexit Done, oversaw the fastest vaccine rollout of any western nation, and was leading this great country of ours onwards to greater things, when his treacherous colleagues, jealous of his achievements, conspired to stab him in the back and bring him down. To quote a Latin tag attributed to Cicero, ‘O tempora, O mores!’ meaning: ‘Oh the times! Oh the customs!’ But then again – a medieval commentator would say – no-one, even of Boris’s majesty and stature, can defy the turn of Fortune’s wheel, which is destined to bring even the highest and mightiest low.

One of the thousands and thousands of medieval depictions of the wheel of fortune bring the mighty low (Illustration by Jean Miélot to Christine de Pizan’s Epitre d’Othéa: Les Sept Sacrements de l’Eglise, about 1455)

See? Anything can be explained using these primitive concepts. Maybe more accurate to say, these concepts can be attributed to almost any events and the impression given that they’ve been explained, a completely spurious impression.

The Great Men theory in ancient authors

So it comes as no surprise when we get to the histories of the ancient (western) world, to discover that Plutarch or Sallust or Suetonius take a moralising approach to history, focusing on the character of the great men of the times they describe, and interpreting their behaviour in terms of the strengths and weaknesses. If this doesn’t completely explain the events they are chronicling, they could always add a knowing reference to Fortune which inscrutably intervenes to wreck the affairs of men.

I sometimes find it odd that the editors and translators of the editions of these ancient authors feel the need to explain the Great Men ideology of their authors, since it has been the default setting of most of mankind for most of history.

As John Wilders writes in his introduction to the Arden edition of Antony and Cleopatra, Plutarch was a very congenial source for Shakespeare’s dramas about the ancient world because, although living 1,500 years apart:

both men wrote on the assumption that the course of history was shaped by the actions of men in power and, for that reason, both were curious to penetrate into the subtleties of human character… (Antony and Cleopatra, Arden edition, 1995, page 57)

QED. It is only very recently that more objective, non-Great Men theories – broadly speaking, concepts to do with economics and sociology – have been developed. We can date this new development in human thought to the period vaguely referred to as the Enlightenment of the 18th century. Maybe we can pick an arbitrary date of 1776, the year Adam Smith published ‘An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations’, which introduced readers to the notion that we are all members of a globalised system of trade and production, and that our lives – whether we have jobs, what we can afford to buy, eat or wear – subject to events in faraway countries and forces beyond our control. Just as everyone in this country is going to suffer because of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. A revolutionary new way of thinking about societies and human existence.

This new, economics-based and sociological way of looking at society definitely accompanied the development of the industrial revolution as all manner of authors tried to understand the sweeping changes transforming society without anybody explicitly planning or wanting them.

We find Dickens objecting to the dominance of the new breed of ‘economists’ who want to reduce all human life to economic statistics (Hard Times, 1854), and Karl Marx, obviously, was writing works which engaged with the earlier sociological theories of Hegel, in Germany, and the post-French Revolution school of theorists in France. The revolution crystallised, accelerated and disseminated all manner of new political and social theories, kick-starting the feverish debates of the nineteenth century, Hegel, Marx, Bakunin, Comte and so on.

In the more pragmatic mercantile Anglosphere the industrial revolution prompted an explosion of social and economic theorists following Smith’s lead, Malthus, Bentham, John-Stuart Mill and so on. We still, to a large extent, live in this world, a world awash with ideologies and theories, none of which completely work or explain everything and so are subject to the endless updating, revising, revisiting and rethinking etc which fill so many books and political journals.

I’m not trying to recapitulate the history of modern political and economic theory, I’m interested in the way that, despite the jungle of modern social theorisation, the Great Man / Fortune’s Wheel theory of history persists and flourishes.

Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra

And so to what prompted these thoughts, Shakespeare’s plays Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra  which I read after reading about 30 texts from ancient Rome about history (Plutarch, Suetonius, Sallust, Cicero). When characters in these plays describe the lead figures, or the lead figures describe themselves, as world-bestriding colossi, they are doing two things.

First of all, they are reinforcing the Great Man theory of history, stymying any attempt to think beyond it and countenance less simplistic explanations. Again and again, reading ancient literature, you come up across this brick wall, this closed door. Nobody could think beyond it. it makes you realise how immensely intellectually free and liberated we are, in our age. Even if we don’t have all the answers, the answers we do have are infinitely more sophisticated, responsive than anything the ancients had.

But secondly, these old tropes continue to thrill us. The rhetoric surrounding great men in Shakespeare’s plays is wonderfully vivid and exciting:

CASSIUS: Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves…
(Julius Caesar, Act 1, scene 2)

This is my final point: that the vicarious thrill to be experienced in the vivid rhetoric of power deployed throughout Shakespeare’s political plays is not necessarily a good thing. Food manufacturers add salt and sugar to processed food because the human palate is designed to respond favourably to their taste. The touch of salt or sugar on the palate fires basic, primitive nerves which release endorphins in the brain. because, during the course of human evolution, edible sources of salt or sugar were so extremely rare that our palates had to be sensitive enough to detect them. In our hyper-industrialised societies, manufacturers now exploit this basic human functionality and stuff so much salt and sugar in their products that the taste pleasure can become addictive. Hence the epidemic of obesity in the western world, due to the addiction of large number of consumers to products packed with unhealthy levels of salt and sugar.

Same with the Great Man Theory. It is the default setting of the human mind, it is the crudest possible way of thinking about politics and history and social change. Listen to vox pops of supporters of either Donald Trump or Boris Johnson and you realise that most people still cleave to a theory of society which predates the ancient Egyptians. “Don-ald! Don-ald! Don-ald!” Chimpanzees picking each others’ fleas are more sophisticated.

I’m exaggerating for effect, but the conclusion I’m leading up to is that a good deal of the pleasure derived from watching plays like Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra is comparable to the guilty pleasure of pigging out on junk food.

The author invites us to thrill to the rhetoric of power embodied in the many descriptions of ‘the triple pillar of the world’ (Philo on Antony 1.1) and ‘the greatest soldier of the world’ (Cleopatra describing Antony 1.3) or great men each owning ‘a third of the world’ (Antony of Caesar 2.2), becoming ‘lord of all the world’ (Menas to Pompey 2.7), to great men playing with half of the world as they pleased (Antony 3.11) or quartering the whole world with his sword (Antony 4.14) or deserving ‘the worship of the whole world’ (Eros of Antony 4.14), being ‘the greatest prince o’ the world’ (Antony on himself 4.15), and ‘his legs bestrid the ocean: his rear’d arm crested the world’ (Cleopatra on Antony 5.2).

My point is that to thrill to this kind of rhetoric, to enjoy it, to be excited by it, is, intellectually speaking, the equivalent of wolfing down a Big Mac with large fries and a king-sized Coke. It is the basic, primitive , lowest-level human response to the society around us and abrogates the difficult but complex knowledge of the world we know we possess and know we ought to be employing if we’re ever to escape the mess we’ve got ourselves into.


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