38. Who Do I Belong To?
Today I present the words of an Iraqi author. This was written originally in Arabic, and is translated in an Iraqi magazine called “Gilgamesh (the Journal of Iraqi Culture)”. It was given to me by my new acquaintance, an Iraqi military general who needs to remain nameless.
Gilgamesh is an English language forum presenting the very human thoughts of Iraqi writers to help our English-speaking audience better understand this ancient, complex, and essential part of the world.
There’s nothing I can say to improve this piece; it is a laser-focused illustration of Powerful Peace in the life of one person.
Please enjoy:
Who Do I Belong To?
by Lamya’ Nu’man al-Dulaimi
Friends and acquaintances often tease and taunt me about the fact that I cannot truly say who I belong to. My identity, though, states my tribal and sectarian descent, which is a complex, heterogenous mix. I became aware of my diversified background early in my life; my family is the product of an intricate ethno-sectarian intermarriage that has been going on from time immemorial. The end result of these mixed marriages has been a tolerant community living in harmony and peace.
So, when I am in Kifri and Toozkhurmato amid my family and relatives I speak Turkomen and enjoy listening to Turkish songs. And when I go to Kirkuk and Suleimaniya I speak Kurdish, enjoy the mountain scenery and revel in seeing Gli Ali Beg and Shaqlawa Falls and the Dokan and Darbendi Khan dams.
In Baghdad, Mahmoodiya and Ramadi I speak with members of my family and relatives residing in these places in Arabic. However, I speak with my in-laws with a southern Iraqi accent which I am fond of as it evokes the kindness and generosity of Meisan, Dhiqar, al-’Ashar, Faw and the Gulf. This remarkable mixture has had a great impact on my mind and thoughts and injected my blood with the genes of this unique combination. I love all the contributors to my being and empathize with all. I don’t have to be biased to any party. I believe I was destined to be the epitome of Iraq’s composition; an amalgam of races, languages, traditions and cultures. Hence, the elements that contribute toward my make-up are the sum of the characteristics of the Kurds, the Turkomens and the Arabs all combined. I inherited a lot of the qualities that all Iraqis share: bravery, kindness, cheerfulness, patience and fortitude.
It is true that I can not define my true identity and origin but deep down I know that my sense of belonging is to the entirety of Iraq from north to south. I adore its mountains, its waterfalls, its Tigris and Euphrates and its Arabian Gulf port. Most important of all, I would not trade a single Iraqi quality for any Arab or international characteristic, whatever the latter’s merits.
In the days when Iraqis were either in prison or were fleeing the tyranny of the former regime, Kurds, Turkomens, Arabs, Sunnis, Shiites, Christians, Yazidis and others shared the same ordeal. They all left the country carrying their love for Iraq wherever they went. Moreover, when they left they had Iraqi passports with them, not Turkomen, Kurdish, Sunni, or Shiite passports. They were all identified by their Iraqi nationality; a passport with the name of Iraq on its cover and pages.
Forgive me, dear family and friends, for rambling on so; my point is that Iraq needs us all whatever our ethnic origin and sect. It does not matter who belongs to what. We all belong to Iraq, and only that should count.
Translated by Dhafer Abed Mutter al-Tamimi
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Oatmon. All rights reserved.
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37. When Complexion Kills
[Adapted from my monthly hardcopy newspaper column, For Goodness' Sake, in Front Porch magazine]
Bigots are everywhere. I’m sure we’re all prejudiced to some extent…I’m also sure that most of us underestimate our own prejudice.
Rally Against America
My American friend Bill was in an Arabic Muslim country a few years ago when an especially destructive US attack killed a large number of people. Bill had a great job as a manager with a local company. When following this attack he was told that his position was being eliminated for company “right-sizing”, he was shocked. Later he discovered that he, the only American and only Christian, had also been the only casualty of this corporate right-sizing.
Bill was shouted at by local citizens, angry at him personally for a tragedy over which he had had no control. He was even spit upon, but felt totally helpless to seek support from local authorities.
Bill told me that even non-Americans were assaulted because of this rage. In a few rare cases, they were murdered. A Canadian Jew was beaten to death in his own shop, because rampaging hotheads simply didn’t understand any distinctions between those who had conducted the original military strike and some who looked like them.
My friend Andy, who lives in that same country, tells me the bigotry is so pervasive he’s coined a wry term to describe his position: the Caucasian Christian Cat, or 3-C. He tells me that the 3-C is by far the worst “type” to be these days. He’s guilty until proven innocent and distrusted on sight. It’s a constant, uncomfortable feeling, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Ironically, Andy is a citizen of that country. He was born there. He just doesn’t “look” right.
If you’re like me, this makes your blood boil. It’s outrageous that decent, law-abiding, good Christian Americans like Bill can be treated so unfairly. He never hurt anyone; he should get the same respect they give each other in that country.
Except….
…Well, I’ve been a little deceptive in this essay.
Bill is not actually an American, or a Christian.
His name isn’t Bill, either.
It’s Bassam.
The “attack” that precipitated all this civic violence was not American, but Islamo-fascist. It was September 11, 2001.
Bassam is a retired Jordanian Army officer, a naturalized citizen of the United States. After 9/11 he was fired by his employer, a major retailer in America. Beforehand, he was praised for his excellent management. After the attacks, the “right size” for that outlet apparently meant one less Arab Muslim.
He was spit upon, but not in some foreign country. He was spit upon by a fellow American because he looks like some of the people who conducted 9/11. He was deeply upset by this; not only because of the extreme degradation, but because he loves his adopted home so very much. He, like thousands of other Arab-Americans, only wanted to mourn with his American family. Instead they were abused as enemies.
The murdered Canadian Jew is also not as I described. He was a humble shopkeeper, but he was an Indian Sikh. He was murdered in America, by Americans. He was of a very different religion and a completely different racial origin; but he was taken from his family because he had brown skin, a thick accent, and wore a turban.
Andy’s actual name is Imran, and he’s a very good friend of mine. He was born American and raised by his American parents, but they share the ethnic features of Pakistan.
Imran didn’t actually coin the term 3-C. It’s really 3-M. The “hardest thing to be in America”, according to Imran and other friends, is a Middle-eastern, Muslim Male.
I’d like to mention one other fine American. His real name is Kami. Originally from Egypt, he is a devout Muslim; at first sight of his bushy grey beard and conservative clothing you might even mistake him for his infamous countryman, Dr. Ayman al Zawahiri (spiritual and political mentor to Osama bin Laden).
Kami and I were discussing a US initiative to provide life-saving surgical treatment to a sick boy here in Iraq who would die of organ failure without this spontaneous charity. I’ll never forget his response when I first told him of it.
“Oh, thank God,” he said in English…”God bless America!”
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Oatmon. All rights reserved.
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36. The Six Blind Wise Men and the Elephant
Once there were six wise men who were blind. They walked everywhere together and talked about very wise things, each outdoing the next with his great wisdom.
On one particularly pleasant spring day, the six blind wise men were walking on the road, discussing very wise things and outdoing one another. They came upon an elephant and its tender, resting on the way.
The six blind wise men had never before “seen” an elephant, although they had heard of such from travelers. Each approached to touch the beast and better understand this marvelous animal.
The first approached near the head and, tracing his hands all around the elephant’s trunk, confidently announced to his friends that an elephant is definitely like a python.
The second, near the first, had laid his hands upon the tusk and declared the first mistaken; an elephant is like a spear.
The third had his hands on the animal’s flapping ear and said that they were both wrong. An elephant is like a banana leaf.
Next was a leg (which proved that an elephant is like a tree) and the flank (obviously, an elephant is like a wall).
Finally, all the way ’round the farthest, other end, the last wise man held the tail in his hands and laughed at the foolishness of all his friends. It was plain to see that an elephant is like a vine. Soon the disagreement turned into a shouted argument, as each pressed harder to prove his version of the truth. Soon they fell to blows.
The poor, dull-witted, but kindly elephant handler shook his head in wonder and continued down the road with his charge.
The six blind wise men were very honest; not one held deception in his heart. Yet they told very different stories and fought in their pride of certainty. Much has changed but nothing has really changed since the day the six blind wise men discovered the elephant…except that there are six billion of us today.
[The following poem is from a Buddhist version of this fable, describing the glee of a raja who witnessed this spectacle]:
Powerful Peace involves understanding that each of us has a limited worldview, and having the courageous willingness to act accordingly despite the risk to pride. My human nature, on the other hand, urges me to defend my ignorance with all of my strength.
I particularly appreciate the following modernized variation from the same link:
“In the unwritten sequel to the classic poem “The Blind Men and the Elephant”, we go a thousand years further on the linear timescale to a world in which vast temple complexes have been built by the followers of each of the seven theoreticians, and holy war is waged against all who dispute that an elephant is very much like a tree, a wall, or a rope. Even worse, cults arise venerating fans and ropes as elephants, and devotees plant bombs in the automobiles of those who insist that a wall is just a wall, and not an elephant at all.”
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Oatmon. All rights reserved.
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35. Origins of the Bureaucratic Species, Part 3 of 5
I’m sorry for the delay, gentle reader. This war out here in Iraq can really interfere with my administrative duties! So without further ado, and in honor of those MAV fans who have so patiently waited for the “Origins” series to continue, I present:
Origins of the Bureaucratic Species
by Marc A. Viola
[If you haven't followed the series from the beginning, or would like to catch up again, you can jump to Episode One by clicking: Jump to Episode One]
Part Three – The Insurgency Begins
Like a young living organism, an organization grows to accommodate its success. When founders are off conquering the world, they leave a growing numbers of bureaucrats behind as caretakers who, in the worst possible outcome, take charge of vital leadership decisions. If they take the helm in the absence of the founders, their actions will almost certainly veer in a direction without the vision, creativity, and daring that led to the point of their takeover that far. The strengths of bureaucrat are financial accounting, process definition, and chaos control, not vision, not direction.
Bureaucrats seek out and enlist more of their own kind when they find a need to control corporate entropy of their own making. If anything, their motivation shifts ever so slightly to enhance the security of their growing numbers. To buttress their fortress, they invite others sharing their mindset, and unfortunately belonging and inclusion often foster a sense of elitism, privilege, and status. The psychology of power can take hold, and the organization may never be the same again.
To protect themselves, bureaucrats create walls of other bureaucrats around them. Each controls new administrative functions and approval gates. The organization becomes a castle or walled city built for safety, security, and self-preservation. As they assume more senior posts, bureaucrats also harbor the discomfort of knowing that they do not own the fortress. Their insecurities emerge and, without humility, the most well-meaning bureaucrat tends to compensate by attempting to mold the organization in his or her own image.
Before the walls rose, only a semi-permeable membrane separated the organization and the world, and energy and information flowed freely between the two. New people and new ideas entered and exited the organization freely, and as needed. This was the very process of dynamic creativity in action, building momentum and vectoring in unexpected directions.
In their growing numbers, bureaucrats impose a new order to an organization. They attach themselves like parasites to the inside of the organization Bureaucrats embed themselves in the inner workings of an organization, siphoning its life and energy. As they link with other bureaucrats, their colonies grow biggest around the entry- and exit-points of an organization). In this way, they position themselves as gatekeepers, regulating the flow of resources, people, information, and, eventually, ideas. Their goal of protecting themselves is reached by controlling all sources of organizational collateral entering or leaving the organization.
The semi-permeable membrane that once carried the free flow of organization creativity becomes clogged with layers of bureaucrats who micromanage the flow of information. Bureaucrats can now modify the tone and rhythms of the organization to their liking. Creativity is now kept in check, managed, and bridled. Territorial boundaries emerge, bureaucratic fiefdoms consolidate themselves, and the once vibrant organization is no more.
Marc Anthony Viola
About the author – Marc A. Viola
Marc Anthony Viola is an intelligence professional pioneering the development and deployment of innovative technologies and tradecraft for the U.S. Intelligence Community for almost 20 years. He is best known for his work with Measurement and Signature Intelligence (MASINT) at such Intelligence Community (IC) agencies as the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency (NGA), the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO), and the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA). He was the Director of MASINT Review for the Presidential Commission on the Intelligence Capabilities of the United States Regarding Weapons of Mass Destruction, http://www.wmd.gov/.
An aerospace engineer, he expanded the scope of his interests into business, computer and information systems management, strategic intelligence, and national security studies. Viola is a visiting guest lecturer at the National Defense Intelligence College (formerly the Joint Military Intelligence College) for intelligence science topics. A former military officer, he served for almost 12 years in various U.S. Air Force intelligence positions before separating from active duty, then the reserves, and finally becoming a successful consultant. During his years in the Air Force, Marc Viola was privileged to work with, and for, members of, and organizations directed by the U.S. Army, Navy, Marine Corps, Coast Guard, and the Canadian Forces.
…And that’s it. Always leaves you wanting more, doesn’t he? That’s the mark of great writers and air-hose-tenders for hard hat divers working on the bottom of the ocean.
Go straight to the next exciting installment at Origins of the Bureaucratic Species Installment Four!
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Oatmon. All rights reserved.
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34. I Told You So, Habibi
Well, this evening I made a long-term plan. I sat for five hours with my new Baghdadi habibi (dear friend) Haider, and we discussed life from his perspective as a businessman born and raised in Baghdad but unable to live safely here in Iraq, his native land.
These days he’s back as a visitor from his self-imposed exile, but heavily protected by the security of US bases as he manages imports for the Coalition’s needs. One fateful (and fortunate) night’s chase by a gunman through an unfamiliar neighborhood was all it took to convince him that he no longer belongs on the streets of his own cities.
Our evening started out as an interview, but as so often happens with this undisciplined scribe for the species, the “interview” devolved into a very human discussion about life and how it hurts and how we can make it better for everyone.
I’m more of an optimist than Haidar, who hopes for a stable peace (a Powerful Peace) in Iraq but doubts it will happen in his lifetime. I’ve seen so much good in the hearts of humankind. That is the primary focus of my hardcopy column, For Goodness’ Sake, (you’ll find it on page 30 of the PDF in this link).
Goodness. It blows my mind that some struggle to imagine it existing in every culture. Courage and selflessness aren’t unique to the American heartland.
Oskar Schindler was a self-described (at least in the movie) “member of the Nazi party, profiteer of slave labor, and maker of munitions”. Yet the film describing his wartime deeds ranks near or even at the top of the greatest I’ve ever seen.
[If you haven't seen Schindler's List...please, please, please watch it. It will make you a little bit better of a human being.]
This quote is attributed to Schindler, the unlikeliest savior of the Holocaust’s Jews:
“I knew the people who worked for me… When you know people, you have to behave toward them like human beings.”
I mentioned in the beginning that I’d made a long-term plan this evening. I told my less-than-optimistic new friend Haider that I intend to meet him with our families in downtown Baghdad in October of 2028. This time the pizza will be on me.
I want to look him right in the eye and say, “I told you so, habibi.”
We’d better get to work.
By the way, I mentioned that I had sat with Haider to interview him. The intent of this first interview, and with God’s help the hundreds to follow, is to develop a series of Voices From the World. I hope to communicate the truth of Powerful Peace using the words of our global neighbors themselves. Please watch for Haider’s interview in P2, the Blog, coming soon.
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Oatmon. All rights reserved.
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33. War is Good
I hope the title hooked you.
It is a true statement. If you read to the end you’ll see the point.
I’m a retired Navy SEAL. I’m not squeamish about the readiness to harm others. It’s a simple fact of life in this world – some who harm the innocent will not stop. They can only be stopped. Some have to be prepared to stop them.
We governments with the means to do so must be very conscious of the consequences of our force. The worthy surgeon knows that his great power to heal with a knife must be managed with incredible care, lest this gift bring injury or even death.
No doubt about it; there’s a lot of room for debate on the question of how much hard power (compulsion by force) is appropriate. There is no room for debate among reasonable people, however, that it’s wrong for helpless and innocent bystanders to be hurt.
There is an expression: “If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.” (Abraham Maslow). I see this truism at work in the behavior of some warriors and in the minds of some supporters of warriors…or of war in general. In other words, we need a repertoire, not a single song.
I also know many fierce and gentle warriors (I hope you read this, Charlie) who deeply understand this great line:
“The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.” (Douglas MacArthur)
I honor the author of this profound quote. At the same time…I disagree that the soldier (my brothers and sisters still in uniform) alone suffers and bears the deepest wounds and scars of war.
Children Hurt by Conflict
Witness:
Children Hurt by Conflict
Witness:
Children Hurt by Conflict
Witness:
What I’m trying to say should be pretty obvious: Whatever idiocy we adults may choose, the children whose flesh and spirit are torn by our petty struggles deserve to have us fight much, much harder…toward a higher solution.
Restraint is possible, and fighting spawns fighting.
War is good – but for one thing and one thing only: establishing a secure peace. This Powerful Peace will not happen by accident, but by deep sacrifice, willingness to seek middle ground, and a true sense of urgency.
It can only result from pouring our souls into the effort…no matter how much we want to kill back.
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Oatmon. All rights reserved.
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32. Powerful Peace Grows Up
Dear readers, the time has come to put the concepts and theory of Powerful Peace (based concretely on my worldwide experience) into a coherent form.
It may have seemed that the past couple of months lacked specific focus and flowed from arbitrary mental wanderings. On one hand, this is accurate – they have lacked focus. On the other, I would stress that everything to date still fits under the mantle of “Powerful Peace” - whether it was a humorous installment of Marc Viola’s ”Origins of the Bureaucratic Species” or a pain-induced discussion of the tragic necessity of violence.
Powerful Peace is about the human experience. It’s also about the power of each human being to make his own - and others’ - experience a little more worthwhile.
I will seek to expand on this basic concept: Conflict among humans is primarily based on some fear/misunderstanding or pain. The desire to harm others is a form of soul- or heart-sickness. If we can pause to reflect on this imbalance, we may break the cycle of lashing out and causing more harm.
Instead of reacting to every single act that offends us, we can choose to pro-act; to proactively consider the context.
Terrorism is a form of conflict. Marital spats are another form of conflict. In the former, one side acts out in hostility against the other, based on an actual or perceived harm. In the latter, one side acts out in hostility against the other…based on an actual or perceived harm. In both cases, the other side often reacts to this hostility with hostility.
What if the original offense was based on a misunderstanding?
How stupid is the ensuing argument, beating…or murder?
Victor Frankl
I come back to Stephen Covey time and again. One of his primary lessons is from a quote from Victor Frankl, author of Man’s Search for Meaning: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
Let’s break that down:
“Between stimulus and response there is a space…
“In that space is our power to choose our response…
“In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
Through practice, we can expand the space preceding our response. We can consider why someone may be acting “not himself”. We already do this in our closest relationships when we give a little grace and trust that the offender will make amends in time.
If nothing else, this benefits us with time to determine a best response!
I will have a lot more to say about this.
Copyright © 2008 by Jack Oatmon. All rights reserved.
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