Them and US

The Yemen discussion, shall we call it, is rife with that “those guys are crazy” undertone that gets into a lot of coverage of foreign policy. Even when addressing the elements of a given situation–local politics, cultural traditions, strategic importance or lack thereof–you really can’t miss it. If only those Yemenis would get it together, it’s inferred. If only they–the Yemenis, the Pashtuns, the tribal or ethnic flavor of the month–would just be more like us, in the west, or in this country, where we’ve got things sorted out.

There’s no shortage of dysfunction “over there”–wherever that “there” is at a given moment–but I was glad to see over this past weekend a few pieces that asserted, in different ways, from different angles, that there may be more commonalities between us and them–whoever “them” is at a given moment–than is often recognized. The first, from a very interesting op-ed about intelligence gathering and the support given, or not given, to intelligence gatherers. Written by former spook Robert Grenier, it has some sections, particularly the last few paragraphs, which seem overwrought in its defense of certain orders carried out by the CIA in the early years of the war on terror. The scenarios sketched in the first half, though, were captivating. But the part that made me smile was dropped in about halfway through: “Loyalty can take many forms, but when all is said and done, loyalty is essentially tribal. That is as true for us as it is for any Afghan.”

The tribes and tribalness of other lands is so often raised without recognition that we, in our way, are just as tribal. You see it in the cities and in the countryside, in business and in sports and in social circles and definitely, unquestionably, in politics. Not clearly as defined, obviously, but very present, and very important for understanding the group dynamics that drive policy and personal debates in this country and as we look overseas.

The other note was in Nicholas Kristof’s column “Religion and Women.” He writes:

Religions derive their power and popularity in part from the ethical compass they offer. So why do so many faiths help perpetuate something that most of us regard as profoundly unethical: the oppression of women? It is not that warlords in Congo cite Scripture to justify their mass rapes (although the last warlord I met there called himself a pastor and wore a button reading “rebels for Christ”). It’s not that brides are burned in India as part of a Hindu ritual. And there’s no verse in the Koran that instructs Afghan thugs to throw acid in the faces of girls who dare to go to school.

Yet these kinds of abuses — along with more banal injustices, like slapping a girlfriend or paying women less for their work — arise out of a social context in which women are, often, second-class citizens. That’s a context that religions have helped shape, and not pushed hard to change.

Again, if we’re thinking this is something that happens only among the “other”–most commonly Muslims, in this past decade–we’re fooling ourselves. It’s a question of orthodoxy, of fundamentalism, and of habits which exists in many forms, in many religions, and in secular circles as well. You can say it’s deeper-rooted in certain places, or that it manifests more often, more visibly, in certain places, but to pretend something so unfortunately elemental is the sole habit of one faith, or one people, is foolishness.