Persiflage & Paroxysm

It has always baffled me why so many of my fellow Arabic speaking peoples love radical right wing Western leaders, from Adolf Hitler to Richard Nixon and now Donald J Trump. I have never found a satisfactory explanation except to concede that we apparently respect aggressive, uncompromising, deeply conservative, absolutist, even-a-little-corrupt leaders and see in them a reflection of ourselves or our alter egos, or maybe we see in them the ideal patriarchal figurehead, a bit angry, a bit loud, a bit old fashioned but well meaning and dependable, a person able to get results. My former boss, a fellow Arab and a man I greatly respect, considered Nixon a close personal friend. Having substantial resources, back in the 80s he even produced a 20-hour television interview series with Nixon, it was intended as an eloquent retort to what many on the right back then considered the skewed image of Nixon that came out in the historic Frost interview. I believe all 20-hours can be viewed at th

I was asked recently to speak to a class of high school seniors by a friend. My friend is a history teacher and he wanted to inspire his students to approach his class with great gusto and enthusiasm, so I agreed. I sat next to my friend before a sea of young people whose smugness and irreverent attitude to everything betrayed the blind foolish optimism of youth, firm in the belief that they are absolutely immortal and the ‘old people’ just don’t get it. I rose to a barrage of applause, sincere in its intensity, betrayed only by the smirks and sniggers from the front row. The audience had clearly decided that “this old man” had nothing to teach them and no new knowledge to impart. My friend cautioned: “Don’t let them see the fear in your eyes!” But I had no need for subterfuge, I was not afraid, in fact, the only emotion I felt towards them was pity. I began: “Tell me, why do we learn history?” I paused as if waiting for an answer, an answer I knew would not be forthcoming. “