‘Generation F’ is Changing the Arab World
We see them chanting from Sanaa to Manama, from Benghazi to Cairo and even Beirut: “The people want to topple the regime.” They want change and they want it now and who can blame them. They are the empowered young people of the Arab world, they are the Facebook Generation. I have never felt so proud to be Arab.
But it’s unfair to attribute all that's happened to one social networking site; it’s much more, it’s the online social networking phenomenon as an organic, interconnected whole that finally freed us from our fears. Its an online community built for its people by its people, a true democratic model to emulate. The online social networking age has turned the meek and frightened Arab into a bare-chested lion.
The social media is the only tool that allows a 40-year-old in Aden to sit at home in his underpants and communicate without censorship or barriers with a 25-year-old graduate student in the US. It is the only forum for the free flow of information and opinions between people anywhere, everywhere. In fact anyone who can type on a keyboard or who has a thought or idea, who wants to say hello or who feels as afraid and isolated as the rest of us do and just wants to reach out, can be part of that community.
Our fear of dictators with violently repressive internal security forces at their disposals did not just all of a sudden evaporate. What had to fall off first were the chains of convention and conformity. Rightly or wrongly, we inherited a certain set of rules from our parents and society, what is acceptable and what is not, the proper way to behave and the improper way. Some of these rules have made us too accepting and too meek, our tendency is simply to walk away from trouble, avoid attracting too much attention and pray they don't come for us in the dead of night.
Remember, Qaddafi, in between accusing protestors of being drug addicts and Al Qaida protégés, also appealed to parents to control their kids and get them off the streets. It is that image of Arab peoples as irresponsible and disobedient children who can easily be controlled that many Arab dictators today look back on with nostalgia.
It used to be that only online could we challenge the legitimacy of our regimes and have a real open discussion on the issues that concern us all. Even then we tread cautiously. Now the people are retaking the streets in almost every Arab capital.
How can we in Lebanon hope to abolish confessionalism from our political system when our own families, our extended tribe, our community make so many of our decisions for us? If the civil rights movement in the US taught us anything it should be that dividing society into separate, yet ostensibly equal groups does not result in equal rights for all. One group will always dominate at the other group's expense; one group will always feel disenfranchised. Whether the separation is based on skin color or ethnic and religious identity, the principle is the same. That is why sectarianism is so unnatural and vile, it pigeon holes every one of us according to the faith we were born into and which part of the country we are from.
Members of each confessional unit need to topple their own internal regimes, those feudal overlords that govern their sects' political direction. It starts with saying no. Our refusal is our greatest weapon. Simply ignoring the confessional political structure and operating outside of it, around it makes it superfluous.
That is how we end confessionalism, by moving out of our comfort zones and taking the plunge, finding common purpose with other fellow citizens of diverse confessional and social backgrounds. We need our own Tahrir Square, or rather Taharur Square, a place where we can shed all our biases and preconceived ideas about the other half of our country, where we can come together without party flags.
Imagine our kids growing up in the Lebanon we live in today, but add on 20 years of the same kind of political bickering, neglect, inertia and chaos. Public services and public order disappear all together, all semblance of normal civic life evaporate, in its place constant infighting and lawlessness. Lebanon would turn into a Somalia or Afghanistan. That is the country our children are likely to inherit if we do not act now.
KETTLE DRUMS IN MY EARS
The author of the blog redleb, a very erudite and worldly gentleman whom I am privileged to call friend, wrote about the kind of music that some Lebanese companies force callers to listen to while they are on hold on the telephone. I must admit, redleb made a valid point. I can’t begin to recount the times my eardrums have been assaulted by a very loud kettle drum or horn section blaring from the other end of the line as if heralding a cavalry charge or the coronation of a king.
This abuse of music through the use of the modern technology of amplification has often forced me to keep the handset at least a foot away from my ear as I wait for the operator to come on the line. But, at last, I have found a piece of music that no matter how loud you crank up the volume will always sound soothing and calming, placing you in the right frame of mind for the conversation to come: George Frideric Handel’s Harp Concerto in B flat major, Allegro moderato.
So my advice to all companies in Lebanon: please, please, please, take pity on our ears and play a gentler tune. Is it not enough we have to be transferred from operator to assistant, to secretary, to personal trainer, to personal dietitian, to butler, to office manager, before we may talk to the person we seek? At least calm our frayed nerves with more soothing tunes.
But it’s unfair to attribute all that's happened to one social networking site; it’s much more, it’s the online social networking phenomenon as an organic, interconnected whole that finally freed us from our fears. Its an online community built for its people by its people, a true democratic model to emulate. The online social networking age has turned the meek and frightened Arab into a bare-chested lion.
The social media is the only tool that allows a 40-year-old in Aden to sit at home in his underpants and communicate without censorship or barriers with a 25-year-old graduate student in the US. It is the only forum for the free flow of information and opinions between people anywhere, everywhere. In fact anyone who can type on a keyboard or who has a thought or idea, who wants to say hello or who feels as afraid and isolated as the rest of us do and just wants to reach out, can be part of that community.
Our fear of dictators with violently repressive internal security forces at their disposals did not just all of a sudden evaporate. What had to fall off first were the chains of convention and conformity. Rightly or wrongly, we inherited a certain set of rules from our parents and society, what is acceptable and what is not, the proper way to behave and the improper way. Some of these rules have made us too accepting and too meek, our tendency is simply to walk away from trouble, avoid attracting too much attention and pray they don't come for us in the dead of night.
Remember, Qaddafi, in between accusing protestors of being drug addicts and Al Qaida protégés, also appealed to parents to control their kids and get them off the streets. It is that image of Arab peoples as irresponsible and disobedient children who can easily be controlled that many Arab dictators today look back on with nostalgia.
It used to be that only online could we challenge the legitimacy of our regimes and have a real open discussion on the issues that concern us all. Even then we tread cautiously. Now the people are retaking the streets in almost every Arab capital.
How can we in Lebanon hope to abolish confessionalism from our political system when our own families, our extended tribe, our community make so many of our decisions for us? If the civil rights movement in the US taught us anything it should be that dividing society into separate, yet ostensibly equal groups does not result in equal rights for all. One group will always dominate at the other group's expense; one group will always feel disenfranchised. Whether the separation is based on skin color or ethnic and religious identity, the principle is the same. That is why sectarianism is so unnatural and vile, it pigeon holes every one of us according to the faith we were born into and which part of the country we are from.
Members of each confessional unit need to topple their own internal regimes, those feudal overlords that govern their sects' political direction. It starts with saying no. Our refusal is our greatest weapon. Simply ignoring the confessional political structure and operating outside of it, around it makes it superfluous.
That is how we end confessionalism, by moving out of our comfort zones and taking the plunge, finding common purpose with other fellow citizens of diverse confessional and social backgrounds. We need our own Tahrir Square, or rather Taharur Square, a place where we can shed all our biases and preconceived ideas about the other half of our country, where we can come together without party flags.
Imagine our kids growing up in the Lebanon we live in today, but add on 20 years of the same kind of political bickering, neglect, inertia and chaos. Public services and public order disappear all together, all semblance of normal civic life evaporate, in its place constant infighting and lawlessness. Lebanon would turn into a Somalia or Afghanistan. That is the country our children are likely to inherit if we do not act now.
KETTLE DRUMS IN MY EARS
The author of the blog redleb, a very erudite and worldly gentleman whom I am privileged to call friend, wrote about the kind of music that some Lebanese companies force callers to listen to while they are on hold on the telephone. I must admit, redleb made a valid point. I can’t begin to recount the times my eardrums have been assaulted by a very loud kettle drum or horn section blaring from the other end of the line as if heralding a cavalry charge or the coronation of a king.
This abuse of music through the use of the modern technology of amplification has often forced me to keep the handset at least a foot away from my ear as I wait for the operator to come on the line. But, at last, I have found a piece of music that no matter how loud you crank up the volume will always sound soothing and calming, placing you in the right frame of mind for the conversation to come: George Frideric Handel’s Harp Concerto in B flat major, Allegro moderato.
So my advice to all companies in Lebanon: please, please, please, take pity on our ears and play a gentler tune. Is it not enough we have to be transferred from operator to assistant, to secretary, to personal trainer, to personal dietitian, to butler, to office manager, before we may talk to the person we seek? At least calm our frayed nerves with more soothing tunes.
Comments
Post a Comment