Hazardous humanitarianism

Those of you who follow our blog on any sort of regular basis know that it has been several weeks since our last post, and most likely you also know this is because we have been in the process of moving back to the States and settling in our new home/jobs in Tallahassee, Florida. Well, so far so good! Hopefully, Shannon will be able to get back to writing soon and can fill you in on the details. But for now I want to talk about something else.

Not long before we left Abu Dhabi I tagged along on a charitable excursion that turned out to be a profound learning experience about volunteerism. I intentionally delayed writing about it because of a minor (and perhaps paranoid) fear that it might incriminate me or others, but also because I wanted some time to reflect on what happened. The purpose of this post is not to lay blame at the feet of anyone in particular, but is more of a cautionary tale, if you like, so that others might avoid what I experienced.

At the church we attended in Abu Dhabi, an announcement was made that a small group of people external to the church had collected a large number of toiletries and clothing donations for a labor camp in Ajman, the smallest and probably poorest of the seven emirates, and were now recruiting volunteers to help distribute the items to the laborers. Even before moving to the UAE I had heard of the deplorable conditions plaguing many of the labor camps, and had hoped that while living there I'd find a way to help those who often end up living lives of de facto indentured servitude. It had turned out to be more difficult than you might think to volunteer for such activities - you can't just show up at the local soup kitchen - so I jumped at this opportunity.

A few days later I rode with a convoy of cars, followed by a truck loaded with the donations, out to the labor camp in Ajman. With our conspicuous arrival to the camp, it didn’t take long for the workers, most of whom were Bangladeshi, Indian, or Pakistani men, to congregate around our vehicles. We were warmly greeted by smiling faces caked in ubiquitous grey dust - evidence of that day's work mixing concrete on the industrial site adjacent to the camp.

As instructed by our group's organizer, our first task was to hand out one empty bag to each worker, which he would then use to collect one of each item we had brought. The “plan” was to have each volunteer take charge of 2-3 piles of items (e.g. bars of soap, pairs of socks) and have the workers walk by each station in a single file line, holding out their empty bags as volunteers added one of each item. Sounds doable, right? 

The first complication arose when we attempted to queue up the men to receive their empty bags. It was during this exercise that I witnessed the degree to which “the line” is a cultural concept, and one that doesn’t hold much cache in south Asia. Even with a translator helping us explain the process, it proved a futile task. In the end, we just waded in among the men and handed out the bags as best as possible. But we discovered that some men were collecting a bag, going off and hiding it, and then coming back and asking for another bag. We had no system in place to prevent them doing this other than the possibility that we would recognize someone who had already been given a bag (and with just about every man wearing the traditional shalwar kameez, this proved difficult, to say the least).

Once the bags were finally distributed, the volunteers manned our respective piles of items while simultaneously trying to direct the men to proceed through each station in an orderly fashion. This went more smoothly than the empty-bag distribution had, although we continuously had to urge the men to move back a few steps because they were increasingly crowding the piles of goods. And after a while, it became evident that some men were going through the line multiple times, while the men who only went through once became visibly frustrated.

I'm not sure how the trend got started, but suddenly the men began bypassing the volunteers' handouts, reaching directly into the piles of donations next to us, and taking more than just one. In the process of doing so, they knocked over a young female volunteer next to me, and I actually had to use physical force to clear them away. Shortly after this development, a few workers got the idea to climb up into the truck and take entire bags of donations from their source, and this quickly spiraled out of control. Wanting to protect the remaining store of items, the truck driver started the engine and began pulling away, while our volunteers in the back literally fought off those trying to climb on board.

After driving around for a while the truck returned, and attempts to climb on board continued. At this point, the lead organizer who was in the back of the truck became so desperate, she began throwing the donations onto the ground, where they were immediately swarmed, of course only stoking the mob mentality that had descended upon the workers. It is important that I say here that this frenzy did not take hold of everyone; some of the workers were trying to keep their colleagues from taking the donations.

I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “why haven’t you left yet?!” Well, we were asking ourselves that same question. The problem was that a number of us were spread out across the grounds with no way of contacting each other (we had not thought to give each other our cell phone numbers beforehand), and no one wanted to leave until we had a full head count. Finally, with our stocks depleted and nothing left for the workers to take, they began to disperse. At last we were able to organize ourselves and collectively leave, each of us with a bitter taste in our mouth.

Humanitarianism sounds noble and praiseworthy, but without thoughtful planning has the potential of doing more harm than good. My purpose in saying this is not to discourage others from volunteering on behalf of the laborers; far from it! The labor camps house people who have unwittingly been stripped of many of their freedoms and are given barely enough to survive in return for long hours of back-breaking hours in extreme weather. While this particular attempt to bring aid to the camps was a bit of a disaster, I know there are extremely successful aid efforts led by competent individuals. My biggest mistake was that I assumed the organizer knew what she was doing and so asked no questions. And while our organizer had good intentions, her biggest mistake was simple lack of planning.

So my advice to those bleeding hearts out there is to keep looking for ways to help, but to ask lots of questions before you join any effort. Ask how you’re getting to and from the site, how the aid will be distributed, and what the plan is for the safety of the volunteers as well as the recipients. After our debacle, I later learned that those particular workers hadn’t been paid in six months! It's no wonder they acted with such desperation. I wish I had known that beforehand. 

A Norman Foster tour of Abu Dhabi: part 2

If you’re looking for a different experience in Abu Dhabi this summer, then you might enjoy a visit to Masdar City. Foster & Partners began construction on it in 2007 with the intention that it become the first city in the world with a zero-carbon footprint (though perhaps carbon-neutral is a more accurate term), and one that might serve as a sort of giant lab for the research and development of sustainable technologies for urban applications (“Masdar” is Arabic for “source”). And what better (and more ironic) place than Abu Dhabi to host such an endeavor!

In all seriousness, Abu Dhabi should be commended for supporting this project, because Sheikh Khalifa and the rest of the al Nahyans know as well as anyone that one day the oil will run dry (I’ve heard estimates of about a century though I have no idea how accurate that may be.). Of course, only time will tell how committed Abu Dhabi is to applying lessons learned from Masdar City to its own infrastructure.

Getting to the site isn’t terribly involved. You simply drive as if you’re heading to Abu Dhabi’s airport, and a couple of kilometers before you reach it, you’ll see signs for Masdar City. It’s not difficult, but you might want to consult Google maps before going.

When my sister and I went back in March, the guard at the front entrance told us that we needed an appointment in order to tour the facility, much to our chagrin. But then he proceeded to say that, if we so desired, we could just head to the onsite café to catch a quick glimpse. We thanked him and drove a short distance in the direction he pointed (which led into a parking garage), left the car behind, and walked in the only logical direction we could discern, eventually passing through some automatic sliding doors into what looked to be the year 2050.

In front of us were arranged a row of smallish white pods, each in its own docking station. Fighting flashbacks of Mork “hatching” from his egg-shaped spaceship, we walked a bit closer to one of the docks. As we approached, the automatic doors to the nearest pod quietly slid open. Not sure whether we were trespassing, we were momentarily frozen. A guard was casually looking in our direction and so not wanting to appear as if we didn’t belong, we stepped into the pod and sat down, the doors automatically closing behind us.

An LCD touch screen display beckoned us to press a green “play” arrow, which we discovered sends the pod off towards a pre-programmed destination. Just to be clear, this mode of transportation is unlike the automated trams you might take between terminals in an airport. Instead, these pods have wheels and drive independently of each other or of any sort track, giving you the eerie feeling that your vehicle has been hijacked by an unseen force (which it has, I suppose). Foster intended that Masdar City be car-free and pedestrian-friendly, and so consequently included these driverless electric cars to ferry people to various destinations on a circuit that runs throughout the complex. And of course, this also helps decrease the city’s carbon footprint.

During the relaxing, though somewhat unnerving, two-minute “drive” towards our unknown destination, we ascertained that the large area in which the pods moved was built beneath the city itself. This also fed into another design component that illustrates the way in which Foster combines modern technologies with traditional construction techniques: replicating a centuries-old practice, Masdar City is built atop a nearly 23-foot high base in order to capitalize on the greater wind velocity existing above ground level. As a result, the city is naturally cooled and thus requires less electricity to maintain comfortable temperatures.

Once we “docked,” and our pod’s doors opened, we exited, climbed a swirling staircase, walked through the nearest set of doors, and finally found ourselves in the city proper. As we looked around at the shade creating narrow pathways bordered by four-story buildings, I couldn’t help but think of the Souk at The Central Market, which incorporates a similar design. Additionally, the buildings, many of which are residential in nature, are covered in undulating panels inscribed with the familiar lattice work and mushrabiya patterns. I was later to learn that the panels are made of ethylene-tetrafluoroethylene, an extremely strong translucent plastic.

After walking down one of the narrow pathways, we came to what appeared to be a town square, filled with palm trees, fountains, and another nod by Foster to a traditional and sustainable method of cooling: a barjeel, or wind tower, which captures the strong winds above the city and uses their natural force to drive them downward into the city streets.

While Foster tends to rely on traditional methods to keep the city’s temperatures down, he looks to non-traditional ones when it comes to power generation. The city relies predominantly on solar energy, which is evidenced by the photovoltaic panels covering the rooftops of just about every building. And apparently, there is also a 54-acre field of giant solar panels outside of the city itself.

Once we completed our short walking tour of the city (it is a rather small area at this stage), we walked back to our pod in a slight state of wonder at what we had just seen. In the car on the way home (this time actually doing the driving), I couldn’t help but feel as if I’d been on a short holiday. With its creative synthesis of the age-old indigenous and contemporary non-indigenous, Masdar City’s vision of culturally and materially sustainable living is so unlike anything we experience in Abu Dhabi (perhaps with the exception of the Central Market’s Souk). Hopefully, this experiment will serve as an inspiration for Emiratis as they continue to forge their identity in this rapidly changing country.

A Norman Foster tour of Abu Dhabi: part 1

Living in Abu Dhabi has brought the unexpected benefit of witnessing the city’s nascent rise as a cultural center of the region, with perhaps the strongest innovations being in the area of architecture. “Surely sir, you jest!” might be the incredulous reply of those of us who are accustomed to seeing ubiquitous, god-awful amalgams of cement and glass around Abu Dhabi, testaments to the worst dehumanizing tendencies of modern Western architecture.

On our way to work or play, we drive past block after block of lifeless rows of buildings which look as if they were produced from the same mold, manufactured like so many widgets on an assembly line. Much of this type of construction was likely encouraged by an initial impulse of the UAE government back in the 1970s and 80s to hastily create an image of “sophistication” and “modernity” so as to be taken seriously on the global stage on which they were just beginning to find their footing. As a consequence, many structures were built without much thought for longevity, as they now stand in various states of decay.

Things began to change in the 90s with a realization that if the rapid pace of development continued, the Emirati cultural heritage would be in danger of being utterly lost. Consequently, an interest emerged in “vernacular architecture” which was basically an attempt to preserve indigenous architectural styles through the construction (or reconstruction) of historic buildings using past materials and methods, while also incorporating modern technologies like track lighting and air conditioning. Some examples of this can be found in Sharjah’s Old Quarter and in Dubai’s Bastakiya district.

While these attempts at preserving the past are both commendable and necessary, it seems to me that Emiratis in general are far more interested in looking toward the future. This is plainly evident in a number of architectural projects under development by Foster + Partners, led by one of the architectural trend setters of the world, Sir Norman Foster himself.

When my little sister, Ann, visited us in March, we set out to see two of Foster’s most recent projects, The Souk at Central Market, near the intersection of Airport Road and the Corniche, and Masdar City, out by the airport. I am by no means a trained architectural critic and so my thoughts on these structures are obviously only those of an interested layman. I suppose my main objective in even writing on these topics is to raise awareness about their existence and thus hopefully encourage others to visit them and form their own opinions.

Okay, on to the Central Market! Basically, this is a modern interpretation of the traditional souk, and it is a welcomed change from the seemingly endless proliferation of malls in Abu Dhabi. Ann and I went there one weekday afternoon shortly before its official opening, so most of the structure had been completed.

My first thought was, “Wow, this is super cool...but what an awful location!” As you can see from the photos, it is surrounded by some of those monstrosities alluded to earlier in the post, a number of which are extremely dilapidated at that! More importantly, no one side of it is exposed to any major public thoroughfare. As a result, its visibility is greatly reduced. I’m sure an argument can be made (and perhaps is made) that this is both an example of the way in which souks seamlessly fit into the communities of which they were a part as well as an attempt at urban renewal. If so, then the best of luck!

The exterior and interior façades are composed of a lattice work design mixed with the occasional mashrabiya that are certainly traditional in concept. This, coupled with the use of synthetic wood-like materials, give the building a warmth that is quite inviting. Once inside, one immediately notices the narrow passageway surrounded by high walls, a technique historically employed to provide shade in outdoor settings, yet we find it being deployed in an indoor one here. It seems then the objective here was to create the ethos of a traditional outdoor souk. For the most part, I think Foster succeeds.

Perhaps my favorite aspect of the building is the exquisite natural light which permeates every corner of the souk, also a direct consequence of the structure and design. I don’t think my photos do it justice so you’ll just have to go and see for yourself!

If we had driven there, I might instead be singing the praises of its parking. Yes, that’s right; finally a building in Abu Dhabi has been constructed with parking as more than an afterthought! While the souk itself has three levels of shops and restaurants, I was told that there would be five (count them five) levels of underground parking! The website claims that this is enough to accommodate 1300 cars. Bravo, Sir Foster, bravo.

In addition to ample underground parking, a multi-tiered roof creates a social space where one can grab a bite to eat, enjoy some sheesha, or just be outdoors when the weather complies. The experience there is mixed, however. While it’s well designed and pleasantly landscaped with greenery, the only view is of surrounding buildings, a few of which have paint-chipped facades and balconies crowded with clothes hung out to dry. Of course, the landscaping also serves a functional purpose in providing a sort of natural air-conditioning that minimizes the roof’s (and thus the building’s) temperature. This eye towards “green building” and sustainability is characteristic of Foster's.

To date though, Foster’s most concentrated attempt to merge architecture with sustainability perhaps has been Masdar City. After spending some time exploring the Souk at Central Market, Ann and I decided to make the drive out there to see for ourselves why Masdar City has received so much publicity.

A case for corruption?

When American politicians or foreign policy pundits analyze the activities of Muslim-majority countries, one point mentioned repeatedly is the pervasive corruption among the ruling elite. One oft cited example: Afghan president Hamid Karzai’s penchant for awarding top government positions to his friends and extended family. For many, this behavior in a Third World country is most likely not a surprise, yet it is not restricted to impoverished and quasi failed states. Here in the UAE, with a per capita GDP among the highest in the world, Shannon and I have encountered "corruption" in a few interesting ways.

During our first weeks in Abu Dhabi back in 2009, we had the great pleasure of navigating the corridors of bureaucracy in order to get our residence visas and work permits, driver’s licenses, and liquor license (yes you’re supposed to have one in order to purchase alcohol). On more than one occasion, our visa officer, assigned by Shannon’s company to act as our liaison in these transactions, walked us to the front of a long line in whatever government office we happened to be in and spoke animatedly in Arabic with the official behind the counter. Suddenly, our paperwork would be stamped as approved, and we would be on our way.

Seeing our bemusement and slight embarrassment for cutting in line, our liaison explained with a smile that he had “wasta.” It’s an Arabic term, and one of Shannon’s colleagues explained it as a sort of social bank account where deposits are made in the form of family status and influence, and withdrawals in the form of favors and deference. Those who don’t have the right family name can earn wasta by showing loyalty or doing favors for those who do. So, for example, a person with AED 50,000 worth of speeding tickets that has suddenly been reduced to AED 500, or whose job application gets moved to the top of the stack, has wasta.

As you might imagine, wasta plays a prominent role in the selection of personnel in the government ministries as well. After having some conversations with some expat friends who had lived here for a while, I learned that many positions in the various state ministries here are often assigned according to an individual’s standing in the tribal hierarchy (in Abu Dhabi’s case, the Bani Yas tribe). Hearing this offended my American sensibilities, which consider the use of public office for personal ends, or preferential treatment based upon one’s name, to be anathema when compared with a system of rules and merit. It seemed like, well, corruption.

At least that was how I felt until I read an article by Lawrence Rosen, in the Spring 2010 issue of The American Interest, that helped to shed a different light on the issue for me. Entitled, “Understanding Corruption” the article explores the differing cultural definitions of corruption held in some parts of the Muslim-majority world, as opposed to those typically held in America (and the West in general). Interestingly, though perhaps not surprisingly, people in this part of the world have a different conception of corruption than the one more commonly held in the West.

Rosen writes:

Corruption is the failure to share any largess you have received with those with whom you have formed ties of dependence. Theirs is a world in which the defining feature of a man is that he has formed a web of indebtedness, a network of obligations that prove his capacity to maneuver in a world of relentless uncertainty. It is a world in which the separation of impersonal institutions from personal attachments is very scarce. Failure to service such attachments is thus regarded as not only stupid but corrupt. 

So, whereas Americans might conceive corruption as a lack of deference to individual qualifications, societies similar to the UAE would conceive of corruption as a lack of deference to communal relationships. This is not to say that Americans don’t appreciate family or that Emiratis don’t laud personal productivity, because they both do. However, their hierarchies of value differ. To illustrate, think about the standard greeting among Americans: "How are you?" Or better, "What's up?" In this exchange, the initiator often doesn't expect, or even care, to receive a real answer. Contrast this with the standard greeting among Arabs: "Salaam Alaykum" (translated "peace be upon you"). By invoking peace upon the other person, the initiator expects peace to be invoked on his behalf (in the form of "Wa Alaykum Asalaam", or "And upon you be peace"). If the person doesn't respond in kind, it is a direct affront.

I now find it easier to understand this mindset, but I still have reservations. Rosen points out that while this reciprocal back-scratching model seems to function in smaller communities, where everyone knows each other and all exist in relations of mutual indebtedness, it is not as easily applied in large, urban, and now globalized environments, where familiar life long relationships are replaced with impersonal ones more transactional in nature. What’s the use of bribing a clerk if he doesn’t know you and thus will likely never need help from you?

The danger, then, is for this to evolve into a system that does not serve to promote social bonds, where favors are expected for those with wasta but are no longer mutually beneficial for giver as well as receiver. The extreme logical conclusion is that the marginalized members of society, those who have become powerless to operate effectively within the structured order, might decide collectively that they want to change the now-corrupt system. And of course, this has been one of the primary motivations for the protests in Tunisia, Egypt, Jordan, and Libya.

Egyptian solidarity: the Quran and the cross

Along with the rest of the world, Shannon and I have been watching the exciting, and sometimes tragic, events unfolding in Egypt as of late, feeling especially interested given our brief tour of Egypt last year and due to the large number of Egyptians expats residing here in the UAE. There are many things I could say to comment on the situation. But for now I'll highlight one phenomenon that I've found particularly moving, and that is the interfaith solidarity between the Muslims and Coptic Christians who are protesting against Mubarak. Historically, and especially in the few months preceding the revolution, there have been tensions between the two groups, but despite their differences they have been able to come together to forge a better future for Egyptians.

Muslim and Christian cleric together in Tahrir Square (Anonymous Source) 

On January 28^th, the first day of truly massive protests, the Coptic Christians formed perimeters around a number of mosques in order to protect those inside who were engaged in their Friday noon prayers. And later in the week, when thousands of protesters had gathered in Tahrir Square, many Muslims paid back the favor and guarded the Coptic Christian priests as they performed mass. Truly inspiring! Let’s hope this behavior continues in the post-Mubarak Egypt and serves as a model for interfaith dialogue and collective action for others around the world.

Christians form protective perimeter around Muslims as they pray in Tahrir Square (Anonymous Source)

Arabian nights at the movies

I love movies. Many of my most fond and vivid childhood memories relate to them in some way. Examples: 1) the electrifying thrill when my dad came home from work with an undisclosed VHS tape in hand and put it into our brand new VCR…Return of the Jedi…the sonic explosion of John Williams’ score almost put me into cardiac arrest; 2) realizing even at the tender age of twelve that Nick and Nora Charles (of Thin Man fame) were just about the coolest couple ever to grace the movie screen; and 3) watching the Oscars every year with my family as we enjoyed grilled hotdogs, heavily buttered popcorn, and movie candy (Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for me).

Well, just as fine dining is a scarce commodity here in Abu Dhabi (see Shannon’s merciless entry here), so are quality films. Movie theaters are ubiquitous to be sure, but typical offerings are Hollywood and Bollywood blockbusters rather than the more cinematically adventurous and thought-provoking films I have come to appreciate in adulthood. Don’t get me wrong, there is a time and place for movies meant primarily to entertain or whisk you away from your troubles, but I believe there is also a time and place for movies which challenge you emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually.

So I am thrilled to say that we are currently in the middle of the Abu Dhabi International Film Festival! Alhamdulillah (Arabic for “thanks be to God”)! This week literally hundreds of independent films from all over the world are being shown in a number of different venues, including the seven-star hotel of hotels, the Emirates Palace, where the red carpet opening ceremonies were held (Julianne Moore, Adrien Brody, and Clive Owen were in attendance!).

Just before the opening credits at the Marina Mall Theaters

Two nights ago, I attended the screening of a number of short films made by Emirati and Qatari students which provided some fascinating insights into the culture here in the Gulf. One film, Second Wife, explored the love so many Emirati men have for their cars, even to the point that some fall into significant debt. Shannon wrote about this fascinating phenomenon in a previous blog entry. Personally, I think this near obsession with the fast and the furious stems from the Bedouin code which highly values courage (hamasa) and manliness (muruwa).

Another Emirati film explored a further reason many Emirati men steep themselves in debt: the dowries that they pay to their bride’s family. The Dowry showed that even though the late Sheikh Zayed (the UAE’s first president) established a fund for dowries to avoid this very thing, “bride wars” and the impossibly high expectations for extravagant weddings which have resulted are creating some social stresses as newlywed couples find themselves in debt from the get-go.

I was impressed with the way in which a few of the films fearlessly tackled some real hot-button issues here in the Gulf. Am Arab looked at the degree to which students in the UAE are learning English at the expense of Arabic, and to such an extent that most graduate from university here with a better knowledge of formal English than formal Arabic. I know, it sounds crazy, but it’s true! In the English classes that I teach I have high-performing students who are afraid that they’ll fail their Arabic courses. They have no problem speaking in their own dialect of Arabic, but they struggle with reading and writing in classical Quranic Arabic. A debate has been going on here for a while between those who say that the students need to be well versed in English in order to compete in the global marketplace and those who believe more emphasis on Arabic is required to preserve cultural identity, especially in a country where the Emiratis constitute just 20 percent of the population.

I was particularly interested in one of the Qatari documentaries, Lady of the Rosary, which examined Qataris’ perceptions of a Catholic Church on the outskirts of Doha. My interest was piqued because of the recent Ground Zero mosque controversy in New York which grabbed so many headlines a few months ago. Of course, a Catholic Church on the Arabian Peninsula, home to the centers of Islam, Mecca and Medina, is bound to encounter some criticism, but I was surprised by the number of those who believed that Christians in Doha have every right to worship as they desire. For many, their “Golden Rule” like logic was simple: countries with majority-Christian populations provide places for us to worship as Muslims so then we should provide places for them to worship according to their own faith. Of course there were those who opposed the church’s placement in Doha, but they were in the definite minority of those interviewed.

I realize that everything presented in the documentary was anecdotal and not based on scientific polling, but it was still refreshing to hear these voices. And I can say that here in the UAE, I have felt free to worship as a Christian. In fact, Sheikh Mohammed, the Crown Prince of Abu Dhabi, has pledged a very generous donation to help pay for our church compound’s renovations!

Overall, I must say that I was impressed with the documentaries. Many of them were pleasing to the eye, ear, and mind. So far, so good. This evening, Shannon and I will be seeing Miral, a multigenerational saga directed by Julian Schnabel (director of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly) about four Arab women living in Jerusalem from the late 1940s to present. Perhaps I’ll have a word or two to say about that, but until then, the majlis is closed.

What you don't know can hurt you

Demonstrators protesting an Islamic community center near Ground Zero
(Photo: Johnnie Utah)

While in the US this summer, a few people asked my thoughts on the proposal for a mosque to be built a few blocks from Ground Zero. I hadn't heard about the project so I followed it in the news throughout our trip and now back in the UAE have had the time to research the issue and formulate an opinion. Here is what I've learned --

This project, rather than involving simply the construction of a mosque, is better thought of as a community center complete with, yes, a mosque, but also a 500-seat auditorium, swimming pool, bookstore, performing arts center, and restaurant; an Islamic YMCA, if you will. In other words, it's meant to serve not only the Muslim needs of the neighborhood, but the neighborhood itself. As Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, the organization's founder, put it, "Cordoba House will be a place for Muslims and non-Muslims alike to hang out and where young kids can be mentored because extremism is a big threat in our communities."

The organization responsible for its planning and construction goes by the name of the Cordoba Initiative, which is an intentional reference to a Spanish city renowned for its religious tolerance and intellectual advances under Muslim rule in the 10th-12th century. That this is the intended reference and not a surreptitious attempt to honor a time of Muslim rule in the West (as some demagogues have claimed) is quickly confirmed upon a visit to the organization's website where it states in bold font: "Improving Muslim-West Relations" (see for yourself: http://www.cordobainitiative.org/). According to the Aug 4th post, it is apparent that the project has already worked to strengthen relations between Muslim and Jewish Americans.

As one would imagine, the proximity of the proposed mosque to Ground Zero has elicited, how can I put this delicately, "negative" reactions from Americans. Here's one, albeit extreme, example: "The monument would consist of a Mosque for the worship of the terrorists' monkey-god." --Mark Williams, chairman of the Tea Party Express. While most Americans have not reacted in such a hateful manner, a national Rasmussen reports poll found that 54% of adult Americans do not support a mosque being built near Ground Zero, the tragic site of a heinous crime carried out by individuals claiming to act in the name of Islam.

While the lack of support for the mosque is certainly understandable given the history of the site, I cannot help but feel that it is unfair to associate a fanatical fringe group with the rest of the Muslim population, 93% of whom, according to a Gallup poll conducted in 2008, condemn the 9/11 attacks. The most important question to ask here is WHY so many Americans feel this way. From the comments I have read given by those who oppose this project, most feel that the construction of a place of Muslim worship in such proximity to Ground Zero would be disrepectful toward the victims of 9/11 because this act of terrorism was perpetrated by Muslims.

So it seems that in the minds of many Americans, the faith claims and worldview of those building the Islamic community center are virtually identical with those responsible for 9/11. This tendency to possess such a monolithic view of Muslims stems from the fact that so few Americans know anything of substance about Islam or those who practice it. Why else would so many oppose this project carried out by American Muslims who believe that what happened at Ground Zero is anathema to their Islamic faith? And, as Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Fear always springs from ignorance." Unfortunately, Western media hasn't done the best job at presenting the multifarious dimensions of the Muslim world, instead focusing on what attracts more viewers -- violent acts related to either the Israeli-Palestinian conflict or our current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Perhaps the most significant thing I have learned since moving to Abu Dhabi is the extreme diversity of the Muslim world. In a geographical region which extends from North Africa to the South Pacific with a population of about 1 billion, could we expect anything else? In fact, there is no one "Muslim world" anymore than there is one "Christian world." The UAE, with its close proximity to Mecca and Medina, bedouin history, and harsh desert climate, interprets many facets of Islam differently than, let's say Lebanon, which borders the Mediterranean and has long been a cultural hub in the Middle East. Such differences might be akin to those, let's say, between Chilean Roman-Catholics with socialist leanings and robust capitalist Southern Baptists in the US.

Fear of the unknown is a powerful thing. It's also the most powerful weapon that terrorists wield. I can't help but imagine Osama bin Laden, wherever he may be, loving all of the controversy this mosque has stoked in the United States and using this vocal opposition as a recruiting tool saying, "See, they talk about religious freedom but really it's just a facade because deep down, they're utterly opposed to Islam in America." Supporting such a project being carried out by American Muslims, some of whom also lost loved ones on 9/11 and all of whom condemn it, is the very thing that extremist Muslims would not want. Such initiatives which seek to promote peace and understanding between religious communities are the very ones we should support. As a person of faith, I certainly do.

Israel (all by myself)!

A couple of weeks ago, Gerhard, a new friend of mine from church, mentioned that he was planning on traveling to Israel and was looking for a travel buddy. Knowing that Shannon had already visited when she was younger, I summoned up my mettle and agreed to accompany him on a long weekend sans Shannon. While it was simply not the same without my trusty sidekick, I had an amazing trip. Below are some general impressions from my time there.

We visited Jericho, Bethlehem, Masada, and Tel Aviv; but, of course, the most memorable city we visited was Jerusalem, and specifically the Old City. A walled citadel of labyrinthine corridors filled with bustling souks (markets) where Jews, Muslims, and Christians live and work side by side, it doesn't take much imagination to envision how life would have been here centuries ago.

Down one passage way, you could find yourself struggling to survive the din of the crowds while down the next you might find yourself completely alone with only the sound of your footsteps for company. Filled with layers of history spanning the millennia from when Jerusalem became the city of David in the 7th century BC to the present day, it's impossible to comprehend all that has transpired within those walls...but it's sure fun to try.

Whenever we left the Old City, we were instantly reminded that even with its incredible history, Jerusalem is also a very modern city. A few blocks from the Jaffa Gate, we found an area of Jerusalem (close to Mahane Yehuda market) reminiscent of Boulder, Colorado, with its university/arts town feel. Pedestrian-friendly streets were populated with students, boutique shops, street performers, and some great locally owned restaurants (I recommend Burger Bar).

As we were walking, it was easy to see that my friend and I were among the older gentlemen there, but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. Above is a shot I took documenting one of the most pervasive and influential American exports: hip hop. Timberlake's got nothin' on Isreali breakdancing!

This also brings me to another observation. Almost everywhere we went in Jerusalem, we heard what seemed like an unusually large number of English speakers, especially among the younger crowds. And what's more, they weren't speaking with British, New Zealand, Australian, or Canadian accents, but with American accents. Being in Israel was the closest I came to feeling as though I was back in the States since moving overseas. I'm not sure how exactly to explain this, but my guess is that there's a fair amount of movement between American Jews living in the states and their relatives in Israel (and of course, America has the largest Jewish population of any country in the world, including Israel itself).

As a Christian, this trip was a sort of pilgrimmage for me. We visited a Greek-Orthodox monastary outside of Jericho, marking the spot where it is believed Christ was tempted by Satan over a period of 40 days, the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem commemorating Christ's birthplace, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem which was built over the site where Christ was crucified and buried.

In one way, this was a deeply spiritual experience which I will always treasure, but in another way, I found that I was not as profoundly moved as I had previously imagined I would be. This was a little disconcerting to me, but here's what I think was going on. First, these places can be chaotic, filled with tourists trying to get their money's worth, and making them feel more akin to amusement parks than holy sites. This makes it difficult to create an environment conducive to devotional reflection.

Second, I think I'm more of a product of my Protestant upbringing than I had realized. We are not socialized and educated to develop much (actually, not any) of an attachment to a multi-sensory sensory approach to worship such as is the case with the Catholic use of icons or the Greek Orthodox use of incense. As a result, I had some difficulty enjoying these liturgical traditions which tend to emphasize the fact that our faith is an embodied faith, that is, we are to worship the Triune God with our hearts, minds, AND bodies. I was interested to find out that Shannon had had similar sentiments when she visited these sites during her time in Israel.

It's nearly impossible to go to Israel and not experience in some way how the Israeli-Palestinian issue is affecting the country. Once we crossed the border into Israel from Jordan, Gerhard and I hired a Palestinian driver who took us to Jericho and Bethlehem in the West Bank before dropping us off in Jerusalem. On our way to Bethlehem from Jericho, we passed one of the Israeli settlements in the Palestinian "controlled" West Bank (the picture above). It was absolutely fascinating to see one of these settlements which have played such a large role in the recent diplomatic tiff between the US and Israel. Moreover, our driver told us a bit about what life is like there at the moment. Among other things, he told us about how Palestinians living in the West Bank cannot enter into Jerusalem unless they have special work permits, even to worship at the Dome of the Rock, the third holiest site in Islam. I realize this is a complicated issue (talk about labyrinthine!) with many perspectives, but regardless, it was very informative hearing about it from our driver's point of view.

Having previously traveled in the Middle East, I was used to being in the company of men with automatic rifles, but Israel took it to another level. Perhaps the most striking thing for me was the guards' young ages at the numerous checkpoints we traveled through. One guard I saw carrying (and dwarfed by) an M-16 could have been no older than 18, but he looked more like 16. I remember seeing another Israeli teenager, evidently either on his way to or from active duty, walking to the Wailing Wall in a t-shirt, tattered jeans, and white flip flops along with an automatic rifle slung across his back. Just being there for a few days, I could tell that Israeli society as a whole was in a constant state of vigilance, as if the Six Day War could happen again at any moment.

Well, those are just a few general impressions I had while there, and here are more pictures (in no particular order):

Monastery of Temptation, outside of Jericho, West Bank

Passageway inside Monastery of Temptation

Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, West Bank

Byzantine mosaic, Church of the Nativity

Place marking where Christ was placed in a manger,

Church of the Nativity

Bethlehem Square where Popes Benedict and John Paul

have publically celebrated Christmas Mass

Shot taken on our approach to our lodging, the

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer guesthouse (the door

is on the right), Old City, Jerusalem

Old City wall by Jaffa Gate, Jerusalem

Jaffa Gate, Old City, Jerusalem

No, you're not in Boulder, CO; you're in Jerusalem!

View from a balcony where we were staying (the two

domes on the left are the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and

the steeple on the right is the Church of the Redeemer, the only

Protestant church in the Old City)

Pic of the garden in the guesthouse

View of the Church of the Redeemer from

the guesthouse garden

Entry into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Site where Christ's dead body was laid

and prepared for burial

What's remaining of the site on Calvary

where Christ was crucified

Dome of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

The Holy Sepulchre where Christ's dead body was laid

and which Mary and the disciples found empty

God shining down on us in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Orthodox Jews at the Wailing Wall

Standing at the foot of the Wailing Wall

Garden of Gethsemene, just outside the Old City

Street sign pointing to the oldest part of Jerusalem

Shot taken when walking along the Old City ramparts

Tel Aviv, Israel's most modern and European city

View of a minaret of the Fishermen's mosque in Old Jaffa

just beside Tel Aviv

Me in front of the Dome of the Rock, Islam's

third holiest site

Closer view of the elaborate calligraphy and

geometric designs adorning the Dome of the Rock

View of Masada, site of a final confrontation between Jewish

rebels and the Roman Empire in 73 AD (the entire Jewish group

committed suicide rather than be caught alive), from the cable car

Masada

Storehouse ruins in Masada