Walk Like An Egyptian

Yes, yes, the title's corny and it's been done to death this week, but the protests in the Middle East, all those walking Egyptians, Tunisians and Yemenis (and now Sudanese too, apparently), are worthy of commentary and analysis. So here is my two cents' worth, adding to the general cacophony of voices on the issue.

First, what strikes me is that all three countries where dissent has outstripped the state's ability to contain it, are not oil-rich ones. The lack of oil is an important factor, because it means that in tough economic times the state is not able to buy peace and time for itself. Over two years ago, protesters came out on the streets of Egypt to protest rising prices. That should have been a warning sign. Commodity prices have continued to rise over the past few years and for governments with no financial wiggle room, it means that their authoritarian character can now no longer be sugar-coated with dollops of subsidies.

How did these countries manage to limp along for so many years? I mean, Hosni Mubarak has been around for 30 years. His erstwhile counterpart in Tunisia, Zin el-Abedine Ben Ali, ruled for 23 years. And our man in Yemen, Ali Abdullah Saleh, has also been in power for more than 30 years. If one examines their finances, I wouldn't be surprised to find that American and Saudi subsidies probably kept these regimes going for the longest time as they were seen as pragmatic allies in a difficult region. Economics has again become crucial in 2011. The patrons of these client regimes are themselves undergoing a prolonged economic crisis and are cutting subsidies or are being stricter with how the money is spent. So, there is less money to trickle down to the public, as the corrupt elites in these countries are certainly not going to reduce their take from the coffers. And so protest, revolution, and change.

I think, though, that while all these protests have similar inspirations - a yearning for political change and a striking out against crippling corruption - how they will end depends upon the specific regional combination of domestic politics and foreign relations. Will Israel intervene to prop up a trusted partner, Mubarak? Will Saudi Arabia do the same for its Yemeni client? I don't think the United States has any leverage in this situation and should wait for the dust to settle before making any plans. But the folks at Foggy Bottom, the Pentagon and in the administration should take note - this truly marks the end of the Cold War in the Middle East, and the end of the useful idiots one appointed as allies to contain the Reds. And no, the Islamists are not just an extension of the Soviets. So back to the foreign policy drawing board for all of you in D.C.

A Suitable Reader

Now that the book is under contract and is awaiting its turn in the editorial queue to be tweaked, turned, printed and marketed, I think about the readers out there. I think of my book as a person and the future readers as future partners for my book with whom its life will be intermingled. I know, I know, such anthromorphism, tsk, tsk. And such possessiveness. I wouldn’t have thought it possible of myself either.

But the book is my baby, my third, silent baby. And who is its future partner, the reader of my book? The more partners, the more successful my offspring (such a wrong thought for a person, but so true for a book). I ask myself this in various settings.

This week, I was at a small lunch with other around-town moms. All of us were Indians from different states, speaking different languages, conversing in English and Hindi, discussing things. We sat around a well-lit suburban dining table, eating delicious food, and chit-chatting, and I was suddenly very aware that these women were not the readers of my book. Well, maybe two of them were, including the hostess. OK, three.

I judged them out of my own insecurity – would X be able to empathize with the dilemmas of I., an important character in my novel? Would Y be able to overcome her antipathy to people of a certain community? She would have to at least suspend it in order to respond sympathetically with some situations in the novel. Why is it that I disapprove of prejudice, but when it comes up in a drawing room situation, I am unable to do more than smile and change the subject? Would any of these beautiful women in their lovely clothes and styled hair really be able to imagine situations and lifestyles such as the one I describe in my book? Could such lives as I talk about even be believable to them? Perhaps not.

But perhaps, yes. After all, I am a suburban mom too, aren’t I? What right do I have to believe that these well-educated women could not reach out to another world and time? Ashamed of my own thoughts, I teetered between remorse and criticism. I talked too much, was too witty and too loud, too giggly, trying to find a balance between sociable and withdrawn. And I noticed that one of the other potential readers at the gathering was like me – somewhat insecure, trying too hard. I was awkward and out of place in this setting, even though I fit in so well, in terms of class and ethnicity. And even though all of those present, without exception, were thoroughly nice people. Thoroughly nice people, but not the readers of my book.

I’ll write more about other potential readers in the future. Or other potential non-readers.

In the meantime, as more snow heads our way here, stay dry.