We Arabs: Who Are We, and Where Are We Going? – Part Three

(This is a translation from the original Arabic, offered so that my grandchildren,  and others of their generation, may understand something of their history— a  history they were denied when they were uprooted without choice.) 

We Did Not Choose Our Enemies 

In the two previous parts, I presented a concise framework for defining who we  are and who the European is. I argued that, within this understanding, the Arabs are a composite of the peoples who have inhabited our region—stretching from  the borders of Persia to the Mediterranean coast, and southward to the Arabian  Sea—upon whom Arab identity came to prevail not by accident, nor through  domination, but because it was the last of the region’s authentic identities, one  that neither invasion, conquest, nor colonialism, under any guise, succeeded in  erasing. 

I then defined the European as a political concept rather than a racial or  geographical one. The European, in this sense, may live in California, Tel Aviv,  or Sydney, yet remains bound to other Europeans by shared goals, concepts, and  patterns of behaviour. 

I concluded Part Two by stressing that understanding history is an essential  prerequisite for understanding the present and anticipating the future.  

Today, I turn to the question of who our enemies are—because diagnosing our  adversaries, no less than understanding history, is fundamental to grasping  where this nation is headed. 

The first and most fundamental truth is this: we did not choose our enemies;  our enemies chose us. There is not a single historical record showing that Arabs  harboured hostility toward Europeans. If we examine the past century alone, we  find that despite the devastating European aggression against our region— whose scars remain plainly visible—the Arab continues to cling to Europe, to  regard it with deference, and to seek its approval. 

Indeed, several of my own friends, members of the Iraqi Communist Party, did  not seek refuge in Moscow when they were persecuted and exiled. Instead, they  came to London—the capital of global Zionism—which for seventy years  worked, directly or indirectly, to fragment their party, imprison its members, kill  them, and drive them into exile. This is a truth that demands reflection: what  explains the Arab’s attachment to European friendship, a friendship that Europe  itself rejects and actively undermines?

If we set aside the Arab settlement of al-Andalus—a subject that warrants  independent study—we find that over the past thousand years Arabs have posed  no political, economic, or social threat to Europe that might explain Europe’s  hostility toward them. 

Nor is Europe’s hostility toward us comparable to its hostility toward other  peoples. The European who occupied Japan during the Second World War,  disarmed it, and defeated it did not thereafter treat Japan as an enemy; on the  contrary, he drew it close and participated in rebuilding it. This stands in stark  contrast to what Europe did in Iraq. After expelling its army from its Kuwait,  Europe imposed upon Iraq a genocidal siege that can only be described as  hatred surpassing the bounds of ordinary enmity. Likewise, the European who  withdrew from Africa in the latter half of the twentieth century does not harbour the same hostility toward Africa. He may deal with Africans with  condescension, but he does not treat them as enemies in the way he treats us. 

Some may argue that Europe’s hostility toward us is rooted in Islam. This  explanation, however, is insufficient. While it is true that Europe rejects any  belief system that contradicts the rules of its overarching project, this alone  cannot account for its enmity toward us. Since the Second World War, Europe  has maintained its closest alliances with two of the largest Muslim-majority  states: Pakistan and Turkey. The peoples of these two countries possess no  overriding ethnic identity; their primary identity is Islam itself. If one claims  that this is merely a deceptive policy designed to preserve European alliances  with these states, then one must ask: why did Europe not attempt this same  deceptive policy with us before deciding upon enmity? 

Others may claim that oil is the cause. Oil undeniably plays a role in political  calculations, but it is not decisive. China, which possesses little oil and requires  it no less than Europe does, does not harbour this deeply rooted historical  hostility toward us. More importantly, Europe attacked and invaded us— as I  shall show later—long before there was any indication of oil reserves in our  region. And Europe will remain hostile toward us in the twenty-first century  even as oil declines in importance and is replaced by alternative energy sources  such as hydrogen, solar power, and wind. 

At this point, the inevitable question arises: what, then, is the true reason for  Europe’s hostility toward us?

The answer brings us back to the conclusion of Part Two: the necessity of  understanding history. I choose my starting point—for reasons that will become  clear as this argument unfolds—in the emergence of Jesus Christ, peace be upon  him and upon our Prophet. At that time, the Roman Empire controlled the  Mediterranean coast and extended its dominance across the region, before it  officially adopted Christianity as its religion. 

Since the primary historical testimony available to us from that period consists  of the four Gospels, we must ask: in what language were they written? 

Greek—whose alphabet, as I have previously noted, was derived from that of  our Canaanite ancestors—had spread throughout northern Egypt following  Alexander’s arrival. Its use later extended into Greater Syria after Roman  occupation. Yet the language of the people of the Levant, and the language  spoken by Jesus himself, was Aramaic. Hebrew, by contrast, was confined to  synagogue worship and religious ritual. 

Since the Jews of the Levant did not accept Jesus as the awaited Messiah, it  would not be reasonable to expect the Gospels to have been written in Hebrew.  They must therefore have been written either in Aramaic or in Greek. Two  schools of thought exist: one holds that the Gospels were originally written in  Greek and later translated into Aramaic and other languages; the other holds that  they were written in Aramaic and subsequently rendered into Greek. I am  inclined toward the latter view. Reason suggests that the followers of Jesus in  Palestine wrote in the language they spoke daily, and in the language in which  Jesus addressed them. 

What further supports this view is the phrase attributed to Jesus on the cross— “Eli, Eli, lama shabaktani”—which appears in Aramaic, indicating that this  was the living language of Jesus and the people of the Levant. The debate over  the original language of the Gospels is not central to this article, yet it bears  relevance to the later role of Greek as a conduit between the intellectual  development of our region and the transmission of Greek thought to Europe  after the European Renaissance. 

What matters here is the significance of the interconnection between Greek and  Aramaic revealed through the Gospels. Although I do not know why Judaism  failed to spread widely among the Greeks—despite the presence of a small  Jewish community in Greece, and despite the possibility that scholars have  addressed this question—the arrival of Christianity in Greece carries profound  historical importance. It reveals a deep continuity between the intellectual  heritage of our region and that of Greece, a continuity that is essential to  understanding Europe’s antagonistic stance toward us.

It was no coincidence that Greeks, or Greek-speaking peoples of the  Mediterranean basin, so readily embraced the new faith, studied it, and  disseminated it. This was a confirmation of the shared intellectual roots between  Greek thought and the thought of our region. It was this continuity that allowed  the message of Christ to be absorbed naturally into the evolving intellectual  framework of the region—of which Greece formed the western edge  overlooking the European continent. Had there been no such intellectual  affinity, the Greeks would have rejected the new faith as alien and clung instead  to their inherited traditions. 

What, then, occurred after Rome converted to Christianity? And how did  Europe come to adopt its first posture of hostility toward us? 

This is what I shall attempt to examine in what follows. 

To be continued…

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