THINKING ABOUT BEING HUMAN—PARENTING VIEWED FROM THE MIDDLE EAST & THE USA

Being human means that we make mistakes. Being human means we learn to apologize and really try to see that we don’t hurt others again. Being human is not to accept being stuck in a rut or complacent with the way things function in our world 100% of the time. Being human also involves being able to dream about a better world and trying to do better in raising our children.

As I was once again almost killed this afternoon while swimming off a beach in the Salmiya township on the east side of Kuwait City, I have pondered those things related to what a humanist might call being human or a religious person might consider living a life of love.

Unlike in neighboring Iraq, this sort of near-death experience for me was not due to a reckless suicide bomber but would have been the result of reckless driving. In my personal experience this afternoon, this near-killing would have been the result of the thoughtlessness and egocentricism of a Kuwaiti boater. Such a boater wanted to show off in the very shallow waters where I--and several dozen children--were swimming in the late afternoon--in the water some meters east of a Burger King restaurant whereby many Arab families of all ages were also gathered along the beach enjoying the sea.

This recklessness by boaters and jet skiers is far too common in Kuwait and in neighboring Gulf states. However, the death-rate in the water does not begin to compare with that on these nations’ otherwise excellent road systems.

On the highways here alone, reckless driving has given Kuwait—a country of about 2 ½ million inhabitants—a worldwide disrepute. In recent years, Kuwait year after year has become one of the top three deadliest country in the world for motorists and pedestrians—although most of the other nations with nearly as high accident rates are located in mountainous regions around the globe rather than in flatlands as is the case for Kuwait. Most of these other nations have also horrible road conditions due to poor paving and lack of budgets for paving.

Now, as I relearned today all this about drivers in Kuwait, the boaters of Kuwait have demonstrated that they, too, certainly desiring such worldwide infamy—i.e. Far too high a percentage are almost never thinking about the safety of others in place of their own intrepid sense of fun and sport.

As a comparativist of various cultures, I find that this life-threatening performance by roadsters in Kuwait and the boater I experienced this afternoon is more than arrogance, egocentric, and insane. (The boater who whipped his boat in circles near me and other swimmers on several occasions was acting like a man playing Russian roulette with others lives.) Such acts conjure up what humanists would call an animal-like behavior.

It is similar to a situation whereby an immature young elk might challenge his fate and the leadership of his herd on a whim—i.e. simply to have fun--, only to fortuitously escape with his life and be quickly forgiven by the rest of the herd for his reckless undertaking.

In short, through acts of grace, the young elk survives his test of fate and receives further grace of forgiveness from the community which would have been adversely affected by the coup attempt or other foolhardy act of the young elk.

In other words, parents and society in Kuwait and wealthy neighboring Gulf states appear to be incessantly forgiving the recklessness of its own drivers on both land and see—creating a sense of impunity in young people who need to know better: This is because even Kuwaitis—even admired and loved ones—are also killed on the roadways along with ex-pats in high numbers here each year. (Like most Gulf states, the ex-patriot community in Kuwait makes up majority--nearly 65% --of the country’s residents).

Only two days earlier, I had enquired of an Egyptian friend of mine whether the apparent recklessness and lack of concern for the lives and feelings of others on the highways of Kuwait were caused by some cultural tradition that we have not yet put our finger on.

During that conversation, I had shared with my Egyptian friend that one of my communication textbooks (along with several other articles I had read over the years on cross-cultural communication and education) claimed that Arabs had a different perception of distance and space than do many other cultures around the globe.

By the way, I should note here that differences in “personal space” among culture and the study of such cultural phenomena are known as “proxemics”.

In other words, “proxemics researchers” have been warning Americans and Europeans that when they are dealing with people of Arab cultures that the “Arab sense” of acceptable distance between peoples when communicating (or interacting) in a public space is quite different than the distances that they are used to in their own culture.

Intercultural textbooks warn us that this closeness preferred by Arab cultures when communicating in society is often a cause for cultural misunderstandings.

My Egyptian friend concurred. He himself had observed such a misunderstanding while studying in the USA some years ago. In Texas, my friend had personally observed a male Qatari national as he step-by-step backed his female teacher into a wall without knowing it—only to observe this instructor run out of the room screaming to her boss: “sexual harassment’. (The Qatari national had simply moved to the distance he was comfortable with when talking to an instructor. However, the teacher had backed away each time.)

Soon, an administrator arrived in the classroom. After a short discussion with the entire class, which consisted mostly of Arabs from the Middle East, the administrator discovered that the event was actually innocuous—not more than an un-intended cultural clash—not sexual harassment!

The administrator then provided a lecture to this class of Arab students on North American proxemics. He explained that a normal conversation between teacher and student in the USA took place with the participants standing about a meter (or more) apart—not 8 inches to a foot as was the custom of this Arab from Qatar.





DRIVING AND KUWAITIS

My reason for discussing proxemics with my Egyptian friend that particular day had concerned my unsuccessful attempts to understand how citizens in Kuwait and other Gulf states could, as a society, be encouraging or cultivating so careless and dangerous highway driving habits. Such driving behavior sends a message to any ex-pat experience the shock of driving or riding in such and environment that LIFE IS CHEAP and lives of others outside one’s family environment are relatively inconsequential.

Let me explain!

Both the U.S. and British Embassies, for example, are constantly putting out notices to ex-pats that the roads of Kuwait are not safe places to be—certain roads are even more dangerous than others, for example, the Fahaheel Expressway near my flat. More than a few military personal returning from a long term deployment in Iraq have been injured or have had their lives snuffed out here in recent years. In contrast, I do not observe Kuwaiti Embassies warning its citizens of dangerous driving in the UK or the USA.

I asked my Egyptian friend whether there was something the West was missing or simply not comprehending in terms of the Arab world—especially the Gulf Arab world.

I began my question by noting that in most of Europe and North America, it was hammered into the heads of the driver by (1) family, (2) police and (3) drivers education instructors that any legal driver is to avoid at all cost doing anything to cause danger to the other drivers. My dad shouted at me often on the rare occasion when we happened to see a bad driver: “An automobile is a gun. If you point it at someone, you can kill them.”

Moreover, in drivers education we are never permitted to drive our vehicles in a way that slightly has the chance of causing another driver to swerve or slow down. Laws in most U.S. states back up this carefulness through specific codes for driving. In comparison, drivers in Kuwait and in other lands in this part of the world appear to start from-the-get-go expecting other drivers to cause them to do something dangerous every single minute they are in their vehicles.

This difference in basic assumptions in driving represents a strong source for cultural clashes. At times, I have even wondered whether Islam, itself, might encourage recklessness and devalue human life on the roadways to some degree. For example, Islam promotes a sense of predestination where a driver might say to himself or herself: “I am not control of what happens when I drive.”

Muslims tell me that this is not what Islam teaches. So, what could be the reason for the driving behavior of so many on the Arab peninsula—a behavior which endangers others and shows a disregard for life and quality of life?

An Indian ex-pat, who had lived in Kuwait for 4 decades, once theorized that part of the reason for bad and dangerous driving in the Gulf and neighboring Arab states was, in fact, the result of 1000s of years of tradition—the usage of animals to traverse the wide open spaces of the desert. This ex-pat had explained, “Kuwaitis don’t merge because the camels and other beasts of burden on a flat plain or even in a hilly desert had never had to merge. This is because the bigger camel or bigger beast of burden simply pushed the other animals out of its way and went straight ahead. No merging was ever practiced.”

When I tell Kuwaitis of this “no merging due to camels theory”, they just shake their heads and chuckle. They find no truth in such an observation in explaining negligence on the roadways in the 21st Century.

Moreover, as far as Arabs being less concerned about the safety of others in public spaces, my Egyptian friend also shook his head also saying, “No way! That is not true”

My Egyptian friend stated, “There is no difference between the Western and Arab cultures in terms of concern for the other persons.” He went on to elucidate that the Koran and other guides of tradition in the Arab world traditionally encourage thoughtfulness, hospitality, and politeness to all other peoples—whether at home or in public spaces.

My friend continued, “The difference among the various drivers in Kuwait and in his homeland of Egypt has more to do with how a person is raised in his or her homes by their own families.”

He explained that, unlike many Egyptian drivers he has too often observed, he is a very safe and polite driver. His family had raised him to be very soft-spoken and polite in the home and in public. That is exactly how he raises his own children, too. I would have to agree that this particular Egyptian friend of mine is extremely polite and well-mannered in both life and in work.


BEING A HUMAN BEING

Over these past four years in Kuwait, whenever I have observed the insane survival-of-the-fittest approach to driving of far too many Gulf Arabs (very dangerous as they drive expensive vehicles, like Hummers, SUVs, and sports cars), I have asked myself what the parents and grandparents of these particular off-spring have been teaching and demanding of their grandchildren over the last half century. Certainly, when one looks at the roadways, public discipline and politeness is lacking all over the place.

Why?

The apparent lack of serious parental concern for the life-endangering driving habits of Kuwaitis of this generation in general once led a former Palestinian colleague of mine to jokingly tell me, “Those parents don’t worry about their kids because their cradle-to-grave-welfare government will just pay for another kid if their children are killed in an auto accident.”

Naturally, that Palestinian’s excuse for societal negligence was just a joke, but I had to ask myself about my own culture. Is there a cultural parallel in the good-old USA or even in neighboring Iraq that compares with the negligence on the roadways here?

I have to admit that, on the one hand, the careless (untargeted) suicide bombings in neighboring Iraq and in other countries in the region do strike me as not totally dissimilar on a busy traffic day in Kuwait where a young Kuwaiti is holding a cell-phone to his ear & driving in-and-out highway’s traffic and even through the emergency parking lanes at about 150 to 180 kilometers an hour.

In short, at such irresponsible Kuwaiti moments, (just as cars with bombings threaten lives in Iraq) I see murder as simply something waiting to happen on the roads of Kuwait.

On the other hand, half-way around the world, I believe America’s consistent lack of seriousness in rewriting the second amendment concerning gun regulations is a sign of similar parental and societal recklessness. This parental recklessness in raising up a new society has been going on in America for over two centuries. Even as guns and firearms of all types have become exponentially much more lethal since 1789, recent generations of American youth and the society as a whole have not come to recognize what all ex-pats from around the world see so clearly:

GUNS DON’T KILL! BEING CLOSE TO GUNS CAN (AND DOES) KILL!

Therefore, we need to keep guns as far away from most Americans (who don’t handle or desire to handle them safely) until Americans learn how to become more disciplined with how they raise their off-spring. This means that a concern for others must dominate our thinking more than our demand for freedoms.


BACK TO KUWAIT

Returning to this topic the topic of raising of children and families society, I recall a recent article by a female Kuwaiti writer and published in the April edition of FRIDAY TIMES. (Interestingly, it was published just days after the huge massacre at Virginia which left many bereaved families and Jewish, Muslim and Christian victims.)
The author’s name is Muna Al-Fuzai. The article was entitled: LOVE ME…HATE ME…LOVE ME…HATE ME…”

This author wrote that families in Kuwait were raising their children to think in terms of a horrible dichotomy in dealing with others outside their own family. The author explained that this was an I-LOVE-YOU or I-HATE-YOU way of viewing the world.

Al-Fuzai charged, “ If we reward those who think and take vital decisions based on their emotions then Arabs will occupy first rank. This is the case since Arabs deeply depend on the eternal rhythm of love notions when deciding how to judge others. Unfortunately, many people still take emotions and love as the decisive factors when considering others.”

In some ways, this sort of attitude is not all that different than the trite and infamous phrase W. Bush used in waging the early stages of his War on Terrorism and in his failed attempt to try to goad other nation states and the United Nations to join in. Bush claimed that all nations and peoples were are either with “us” or against “us”. (I believe the “us” implies the U.S.)

Al-Fuzai noted in her critique of her homeland’s penchant for dichotomies: “What is really upsetting about this love-hate theory is that it makes us treat each other unfairly.” Even if love and hate are important for family circles, why does society let it be used in the workplace and publics spaces of Kuwait.

I want to ask the same thing of Americans who are so quick to support the bombings of unknown peoples far away and who then goes bananas in hate if someone bombs them. For example, America bombed 30 or so countries in the three or four decades leading up to September 11, 2001. Meanwhile, the USA only got bombed once (or twice if we include Oklahoma City) in that same period.

As an American, it is a good thing that I am living in Kuwait now and not a neighboring land. Recently, the KUWAIT TIMES conducted an opinion poll and 82 % of the people stated that they thought the media and newspapers in Kuwait show a pro-USA bias.

All and all, America and Americans are loved in Kuwait—although my government has tried its hardest in the last decade to get even Gulf Arabs, like Kuwaitis, to dislike it. Is this love of America reported back in the USA? Or do we hate or fear Kuwaitis as much as we hate or fear terrorists?

Now, I will share both a true story and one little additional “thought experiment” to make an illustration of how the LOVE-HATE dichotomous view of the world can turn everything upside-down in terms of human relations.


LIBERTY DAY KUWAIT 2004

The true story occurred on the evening of Liberty Day in Kuwait, an event which takes place each year to commemorate the end of the Iraqi Invasion in February 1991. The year this particular set of events took place in 2004—almost a year after the March 2003 U.S.-led invasion of Iraq.

In the ensuing year life had gotten much better and more positive for most Kuwaitis (especially for Kuwaiti investors). The end of Sadam Hussein’s regime the previous spring had brought a great breath of fresh air for Kuwait citizens who had lived under the dictator’s shadow for so long.

In the evening of Liberty Day 2004, I decided to take my camera and go downtown to take photos of the colorfully-lit buildings and to observe any other celebrations I might find.

I had only been working in Kuwait for a month at that time, so I wandered about a bit lost. Suddenly, I saw lighted buildings in the distance and headed towards them. I quickly crossed over several streets and began to take pictures. Slowly, I moved closer and closer while taking more photos of the brightly lit structure.

To my surprise and consternation, an unmarked car filled with several plain-clothes policemen stopped in front of me and asked me what I was up to. They then told me to get into the car with them, and I was driven to a Kuwaiti police station. Naturally, by this time, they had confiscated my camera, too.

On the way to the station, I learned that the building which had been lit up in celebration was part of the National Palace. I thought to myself, “How stupid of me!” Previously, I had read in a guidebook that for security reasons in Kuwait it was against the law to photograph the National Palace.

I didn’t have a passport or a civil ID with me.
All I had was my Texas driver’s license. Nonetheless, when I spoke with the investigator, the officer accepted the fact that I was America and that I was relatively new to the country.

Soon, my camera was returned to me. The investigator shared that he himself had been to the United States recently. He had been sent to the Louisiana and had been assigned to the highway patrol as part of an international exchange program.

This police investigator not only let me go, but offered to drive me back to my home or back downtown--where I had been picked up by his plainclothes colleagues less than an hour earlier.

On the way, the investigator suggested I get out at the Liberty Tower and go up to see the view of the city at night. He indicated that Liberty Tower was only open to the public two or so nights a year as it was also a secured communications facility used by both the military and government.

Before I was dropped off at the tower, though, I had enquired a bit more about the meaning of Liberty for this particular officer. This Kuwaiti officer explained that he had been incarcerated in Iraq for most of the occupation in 1990-1991.

He added that when he returned back to Kuwait in Spring of 1991, he found Kuwait in a great chaos—with burning oil wells and destroyed structures all over the city. Soon, he had been involved in several interrogations with some of the captured Iraqis who eventually had been put on trial for war crimes.

This Kuwaiti investigator had asked those particular Iraqis why they had done such horrible things to Kuwait and its people during the occupation. (Many Kuwaitis are still missing from that era.)

In those solemn moments, the Iraqis’ only explanation was “We are animals.”

As the Kuwaiti police investigator told me this, I asked myself what it is that makes us human or behave like animals. This self-condemnation of those particular Iraqis calling themselves animals was not an explanation. In it one could hear the condemnation of a society that led its people to act like and to behave like animals.


I also reflected, “What a condemnation of ones self and ones people! How does one move from being a human being to being an animal?”

I suppose part of the difference between being a human and being an animal resides in how fast a human being can move from really loving to hating—and back again from hating to loving.

Or is that an animal instinct--to be able move from loving to hating and visa versa so quickly?


WHAT IF?

Naturally, I was very lucky to have been wearing American skin that Liberty Day evening in 2004 in Kuwait. Americans are generally loved here for having led the Invasion to free Kuwait in 1991.

On the other hand, what if I had been wearing Iraqi skin that night?

I believe, “If I were Iraqi and I had been caught taking pictures of the Kuwait National Palace, I would likely still be in jail to this very day.”

This doesn’t mean that all Kuwaitis see Iraqis as animals. Nor do many Kuwaitis voice a hatred for Iraqis.

Part of the reason for this lack of strongly voiced hatred 16 years after occupation is that extended families of many Kuwaitis do include families of their own in Iraq—just many Kuwaitis also have extended families in neighboring Iran, Saudi Arabia, Syria and Lebanon as well.

On the other hand, as Al-Fuzai wrote, there is a tendency in the Arab world to dichotomize with other foreigners or ex-pats in their own lands and abroad. This is true whether these “others” are from South Asian, Southeast Asia, Europe or Africa.

Naturally, I had also noticed a similar bad trend in child-rearing back in the United States in the 1980s and 1990s—a trend that certainly has had an adverse affect in our relationship to other peoples to this very day.

I recall teaching in two small towns in Kansas in two separate years. In both those towns, I noted that students were not behaving as I had been raised in a similar small American town to behave only a decade earlier.

Youth in my town in the 1970shad been encouraged to give respect to their teachers. In short, one gave respect. One didn’t demand that a newcomer earn one’s respect.

However, by the late 1980s and 1990s in small town America, the situation had clearly reversed itself. For example, my principle at one school chose to do nothing at all when students who hardly behaved well in anyone else’s class either came into class and told me, their new teacher, to “fuck-off”. I came to realize that a whole society had changed the rules of what had been considered good human behavior in less than a generation.

At both high schools, I held meetings with my students to discuss their behavior. I even met with supportive parents. However, non-support was the way of the day for outsiders in any school in Kansas at that time—so it would seem.

These students whom I met with explained to me that the new person had to earn their respect. They didn’t offer it to them!

I asked myself: “What kind of parenting is going on here?”

Now, just as Al-Fuzai tells her Arab counterparts to raise their families to not think in terms of either loving or hating someone, I think its time that parents anywhere—whether in America, Kuwait, Iraq or Timbuktu —need to make sure the basics of being a good human being are taught first. This involves loving “the other” first of all. Don’t start any relations with the gun-at-the-side: I hate you!

In summary, respect the other person.

Be concerned with the other’s safety. Don’t do things to cause him or her to have accidents or unnecessarily make trouble for the other.

Finally, we need to work on LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE—and throw out the either I-love-you or I-hate-you dichotomous way of relating to others. Such dichotomous views of the world and human being is the way of thinking that both terrorism and wars thrive on.