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Do
You Regret Being American?
by
Annie C. Higgins
Dissident Voice
April
24, 2003
“Do
you regret being American?” I was asked. I cannot remember who asked me, or
even if it was in Palestine or here in Egypt. It could have been anyone,
anywhere, anytime. There has been a continuing stream of reasons for regret,
from my country’s support of assassination in Palestine to – come to think of
it, my country’s support of assassination in Iraq, and these are just the
obvious ones. But my country doesn’t really support such evil deeds. My
constitution, my neighborly culture, my conviction in the rightness of freedom
of speech – these things define my country. These are not pushing invasion and
occupation of another nation. Those making the decisions and taking the actions
that shame us all are not of the American people, nor for us. A local commentator
feels that a coup has changed the American government, although it has not been
publicly announced or acknowledged. He does not specify whether this has taken
place in the White House or the Pentagon.
What
this alleged American government, which is the military, is doing to prisoners
in Guantanamo Bay is no different than what they are doing to themselves,
padding their ears so they do not hear, blindfolding their eyes so they do not
see, tying their own arms so they cannot feel, and binding their legs so they
cannot take steps toward any kind of progress. Americans may not have seen the
images of the Guantanamo prisoners lately but the rest of the world has.
Spanish television showed them on the heels of a clip where the Bush
administration complains of violations of the Geneva Convention in al-Jazeera’s
broadcasts of pictures.
“Do
you regret being American?”
Bush
is appointing a Minister of Information in Iraq from among the seemingly
omniscient JINSA group [Jewish Institute for National Security Affairs] who
thinks they are remote-controlling the world. One more little surprise from
Iraq that the coup-makers haven’t taken into consideration is that Iraqis are
sophisticated at sorting through the news that is handed out to them. They
don’t automatically accept what the little screen tells them. They have
developed a healthy habit of questioning authority and media pronouncements.
They are also aware of America’s legal violations.
“Do
you regret being American?”
A
special note to my countrymen and women who have silenced voices that tell of
meeting military violence with non-violence: I don’t want to prove you wrong in
your silencing effective voices that bring a small measure of justice to the
world through constructive engagement. I don’t want you to apologize openly or
feel ashamed inside. I just want you to learn to love even one glimmer of
caring for your neighbor, so that you will seek that thread of light, pursue
it, delight in it, let it reflect off of you as you stand in its path, and see
that you can neither stop it from shining nor collect it in a box and shut it
away. Who is your neighbor? I hope mine will include Samaritans, though I am
not the expert on the issue. But what if you have a dangerous neighbor? What
then? That is just what millions of people on the planet are saying now. And
they are talking about you.
“Do
you regret being American?”
After
reading of the sacking of Baghdad’s museums, I dreamed for two nights of
pounding steady destruction. I awoke hoping the news was a part of my dream.
The unspeakable loss made me so sick that I dreamed of vomiting the warm water
of my empty stomach. Is it repellent to read that? The ash and desolation of
historical and literary expressions are magnitudes more nauseating.
In
the wake of loss to plunder and flame, Donny George at the Iraqi Ministry of
Antiquities said, “This is what the Americans wanted. They wanted Iraq to lose
its history.” [Robert Fisk, The Independent, 16 April 2003] No, we didn’t. I
didn’t, and I am one of the Americans.
“Do
you regret being American?”
A
Syrian friend is not surprised that they targeted cultural places: “A nation’s
culture is what holds its people together.” What is holding my nation’s people
together? The mutual desire to ransack history? No, we are not together in
this. At the end of the two-hour “Third View” talk show with A-Sharq al-Awsat’s
Cairo bureau chief, the Egyptian Ambassador cites Gore Vidal’s vision of an
America which has split into disunited states. Off-camera, he asks me if I felt
this were possible. I have no talent for predictions, nonetheless it is clear
that there are serious splits in perceptions of the invasion. But that is
democracy, after all, a pluralistic approach to visions and analyses!
At
the height of the US/UK decapitation mission, I turn into a small but
densely-populated side street. A woman recognizes me and engages me in
conversation. Another woman says, “American?” When I respond affirmatively, she
slides her index finger across her neck, signaling decapitation, and utters a
single word, “Bush” as she sits regally on a gold sofa in the alley amidst
nodding goats. The first woman distances me from the decapitable American,
saying, “But she is a good one! She was at the demonstration with a big sign
against the war, and she spoke against it on television.” The sofa lady smiles
and welcomes me, but the image of her sentence on the Commander in Chief
remains in my mind.
“Do
you regret being American?”
Another
night, a frantic email message implores me to be careful in the dangerous
streets of Cairo rife with anti-American sentiment. I am unfazed, responding
that I feel safe walking home at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, and I have
befriended all the nighttime street sweepers. I recall the statistic that when
homicides decreased by twenty percent in America, news of them increased by six
hundred percent. When I take a late dinner break at my favorite spaghetti
establishment, my local hero surprisingly brings up the same topic as he dishes
my portion of steaming noodles into a plastic bowl: “You speak Arabic and you
are friendly with us, but if another American came through here, people would
kill him.” I am surprised because I have not encountered such emotions. He
assures me that this is the case.
“Do
you regret being American?”
Heading
to a vigil at the Journalists’ Union, a lavish and imposing palace provided by
the Ministry of Defense, a phone text message comes in to the mobile of a
reporter for a major Arab newspaper: “Mubarak wants this war. He wants to send
your sons to fight. Tell others.” At the demonstration, a television announcer
takes my statement, and insists on my answering the question, “Do you feel that
Bush and Blair are committing war crimes?”
“Do
you regret being American?”
Many
people have told me that I was brave to carry a large sign declaring my
nationality and my position, American Against the War, in the one and almost
only demonstration in Cairo [20 March 03]. “It takes courage to speak up like
that outside your own country.” I receive news that organizers of Chicago’s 63rd Street demonstration have
cancelled the action due to “a pervasive atmosphere of fear and anxiety within
the Arab community.” People are also worried about joining the ranks of the
disappeared who were taken in sweeps after 11th September, and have not been
charged or heard from since.
“Do
you regret being American?”
In
a humble but lively neighborhood where a home consists of a room just big
enough for a small aisle between two beds, we exchange contact information.
Conversation turns to money, and a man in the family indicates the desirability
of the dollar over the Egyptian pound and other currencies. “No,” says the
young mother of my new four-year old sweetheart, Fuad. “The dollar…!” she
exclaims, completing her sentence with a downward sweep of the hand. She
predicts the effects of war budgets more clearly than many Americans with
larger rooms in grander houses.
“Do
you regret being American?”
Another
family scene I have only read of has a van full of people trying to follow the
Army’s orders to “Be safe” printed on leaflets dropped in Baghdad streets. They
thought that these soldiers, like the first group they met, would wave them
through the checkpoint in their hurried quest to reach safety. Instead, a hail
of heavy gunfire left them beholding their two little daughters in their seats,
decapitated. “Please be careful when you are shooting,” pleads Captain Chris
Carter of the US Seventh Regiment, Third Infantry.
“Do
you regret being American?”
Saddam’s
metal head is dragged in the street and beamed around the world after the US
Marines topple his statue. Echoes of Constantine – when told that the people
had chopped off his statue’s head, he touched his own, remarking that he didn’t
feel a thing. I think of the lady on the gold sofa in the alley, one finger
across her throat and one word on her lips, “Bush.”
“Do
you regret being American?”
Annie C. Higgins specializes in Arabic and
Islamic studies, and is currently in Cairo, Egypt. She can be contacted at: zaytoun02@yahoo.com