56 pages • 1 hour read
Once, on the way to the airport, Friedman witnessed a kidnapping, and noticed that his taxi driver barely reacted to this horrifying event. This proved to Friedman that he needed a “wild imagination” to endure Beirut (22), and he must be ready for surprises at any given moment. Even a hardened Israeli general would later tell Friedman that Beirut shocked him, recalling a story where a large group of Druse (an Abrahamic religious sect in Lebanon) approached him with orange crates full of body parts, allegedly men killed by the Maronites Phalangist militia. The Phalangist commander said that the Druse carve up their own battlefield dead to accuse the Maronites of atrocities; it was at that point that the general realized he was in a situation he did not understand.
Friedman’s own realization to the same effect occurred when a family of Palestinian refugees fleeing the Israeli invasion of southern Lebanon arrived outside his apartment building, the father carrying a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. Friedman relocated to the Commodore Hotel, where many journalists were staying, and lent the apartment to his driver and two of his children. Friedman later received word that his apartment had been bombed, killing both children and his wife, along with 16 others in the building. A squabble had broken out among refugees in the building, who belonged to different PLO factions, and one took revenge on the other by detonating the building. Friedman was left with the “ever-present prospect of dying a random, senseless death” (28).
Violence in Beirut tended to be sporadic, with frequent cease-fires holding in one neighborhood or another, so that feelings of normalcy were always possible but rarely lasting. Friedman recounts a story about a man trying to rob a gourmet food store only to have three female customers pull pistols out of their handbags. Luxury hotels that once catered to tourists rented cabanas to local families so that they could earn even a few hours’ reprieve from daily perils. People still found ways to import luxury goods and profit off of Lebanon’s crashing currency. For anyone who didn’t leave, they had to find some way to adapt, requiring “a thousand little changes in one’s daily habits and a thousand little mental games to avoid being overwhelmed by everything happening around you” (35). People imagined far-fetched conspiracy theories for the sake of imagining some kind of order, even a malevolent one, behind all the apparent chaos.
As a journalist, Friedman would attract locals who thought he could predict when fighting would start or stop. The main survival tactic was learning “how to block out what […] was not under their own control and focus instead only on their immediate environment and the things that they could control” (38). People managed violence the way other people managed traffic accidents or the weather. Friedman saw the wreckage of so many car bombs that it became a mundane experience, and he tells of a friend who was once calmly enduring an Israeli bombardment and only panicked when she saw a mouse in her home. People managed to form intense bonds among their immediate circle, often extending kindness to strangers whom they encountered. They asserted their dignity and found an inner strength they never knew they had. The bad news was that these “micro-societies” (46) inhibited any revitalization of national unity. They found comfort in those ties, which then hardened the animosity between themselves and others.
Amidst all the violence Beirut could also be funny, the former sometimes contributing to the latter. Such absurdities made for good journalistic material, but Friedman and others found it difficult to verify information with no real authority in place. Yet the lack of order also allowed for nearly unprecedented access, provided they were brave enough to travel to the front lines or interview senior commanders. One American reporter even ripped the symbol of Hezbollah, a Shi’a militia, off of a poster and used it as credentials to gain access to areas they controlled. All journalists in Beirut faced danger, and Friedman felt particular anxiety as the only Jewish American. But overall he found Lebanon to be tolerant since “people there were quite used to living with lots of different religious communities” (56). Even the PLO was generally indifferent to his religion, although once Arafat’s spokesman strongly implied that Friedman’s Judaism biased his reporting.
Journalists were heavily reliant on locals to solve problems, and their point of convergence was the Commodore Hotel. Fixers offered information, delivered bribes in exchange for favors, and even helped provide alcohol after a Shi’a militia shut down the bar in 1984. The hotel maintained state-of-the-art communications technology, albeit at a high cost, and militants were as likely to talk to journalists in the hotel as in their own headquarters. Friedman found that the smaller PLO factions tended to be more willing to share information, but everything the militias said was questionable. They could deny responsibility for attacks they had undertaken or claim responsibility for attacks they had just learned about.
Friedman tried to “develop the access and intimacy with his subjects in order to gain real understanding of them” and also “remain disinterested and distant enough from his subjects to make critical assessments of them” (69). At the same time, unfavorable coverage could easily get a journalist killed, and once, when a Sunni militia demanded that Friedman cover a minor meeting between their leader and Italian officials, Friedman typed up a fake report which never actually ended up in the paper. In some cases, journalists withheld their names from articles or used attribution to create distance between themselves and negative reporters. Other times they buried stories out of fear. Pressure came from so many sides that there was no chance for journalists to be partisans for one camp against another. Journalists were kidnapped on a regular basis, and Friedman knew that the kidnappers were the people who did not talk to journalists, and therefore served as a reminder of the limits of his knowledge.
Friedman arrived at Hama, Syria, two months after the government under Hafez al-Assad (father of leader Bashar al-Assad) killed tens of thousands of people in the city. Friedman wanted to see if this terrible event was “an aberration, a one-time-only affair, or whether it could be traced to some more permanent features in the political landscape” (77). Hama is a large city north of Damascus and a longtime seat of Sunni Islam, making it a threat to the Alawite Shi’a Assad, who seized power in 1970. Sunnis are a large majority of the population, and the Muslim Brotherhood had been active in challenging the rule of Assad and his secular Ba’ath Party. After the Brotherhood attempted to assassinate Assad in June 1980 and, the very next day, the government massacred Brotherhood members in prison, violence erupted across the country between the government and the Brotherhood. After discovering a plot to overthrow the government, Assad decided to make an example of Hama. However, the first government forces to enter the city, who had planned on arresting a list of suspects, met with fierce resistance, and many were killed. Within two days, the army had called in reinforcements and began to fire indiscriminately upon the city and its population. Once the city was subdued and the Brotherhood commander killed, the army destroyed entire neighborhoods and tortured the survivors for information. By the time Friedman arrived, large portions of the city had seemingly vanished.
In trying to understand the Hama massacre, Friedman first identifies a tradition of “tribe-like politics” (87). The harsh conditions of the desert prompted the formation of small, tightly-knit communities engaged in ferocious competition with one another for limited resources. A reputation for violence was the most effective way to deter opposition, and a lack of brutality can easily be interpreted as weakness. The Alawite Assad accordingly needed to demonstrate to the Sunni Brotherhood the price of crossing him, because he “did not see the Sunni Muslim residents of Hama as part of his nation, or as fellow citizens. He saws them as members of an alien tribe” (91).
The next tradition Friedman identifies is authoritarianism, which derived from tribal patterns of patriarchal authority. Authoritarianism can be “gentle” (92), as with the Ottoman Empire, who conquered the area but were willing to share power with local authorities. Others ruled with an iron fist, prompting a later tradition of Islamic scholarship to justify such rule as the cost of social order. Friedman places monarchies like Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Morocco in the former category, and the Arab republics like Iraq, Syria, and Yemen (then divided between north and south) in the latter category (countries that have become all the more dangerous with the advent of weapons of mass destruction).
The third tradition is the modern nation-state, a European import imposed on the region after World War I. Drawing boundaries with little regard for cultural conditions on the ground, they further brought in institutions like political parties and constitutions that have no place in Arab history. Rulers like Assad or Saddam Hussein in Iraq are thus trying to establish modern states, although they typically do so with the help of their fellow tribesmen. The most successful leaders are “effortlessly switching from tribal chief to brutal autocrat to modernizing President with the blink of an eye” (103).
One of the features that made Friedman’s reporting from Beirut so significant, when so many other journalists were there with him, was his ability to capture the humanity in conditions of endemic violence. Many journalists understandably focused on the toll of the war, the breakdown of governing institutions, the battles tearing apart neighborhoods, the various factions vying for power within the rubble. While Friedman devotes considerable time to such questions, matters of high politics are filtered through individual and communal experiences in ways that make them relatable. Anyone reporting on a warzone will have to describe people Enduring the Unendurable, emphasizing the former without diminishing the latter.
By emphasizing the idea that, no matter how bad things became, people honed the psychological wherewithal to “impose an order upon the chaos” (36)—such as by debating the likely culprit of a recent kidnapping or assassination as a form of gossip—Friedman ties the political events in the area to the personal, daily lives of individuals subject to these events. This is not necessarily a cause for optimism, as Friedman details the profound psychological consequences of such coping. The death of someone familiar tended to provoke rationalizations rather than sympathy, as people looked for reasons, however contrived and self-contradictory, for why that person died and how it might offer clues for the survivors. Such coping mechanisms may have been helpful, even necessary, but preserving that sliver of humanity required a comparable loss of humanity for the victims. Friedman admits his own susceptibility to this attitude, “focusing on the leaves” (40) blown from the trees following a car bomb explosion, rather than on the victims of that explosion. In a “state of nature” (42), it is not only law that collapses, but morality. The human instinct of pity has to be suppressed, or else concern for the suffering of others would result in either exhaustion or exposure to too much danger. On Friedman’s telling, events familiar to people around the world from press releases and news coverage become imbued with a more literary quality, which underscores the human toll of the regional violence, violence that is sometimes forgotten by even those who are most intimately acquainted with it.
Lebanon stands as a powerful and disturbing testament to The Fragility of Political Identity, as a state that once symbolized cosmopolitanism and commerce in the region descended into fratricidal anarchy. In addition to a collapse in governmental authority and intercommunal cooperation, reality itself splintered, and not simply along lines of religion or ethnicity. Instead, reality became a set of experiences unique to the observer, whose trauma and coping methods could be utterly different from a co-religionist next door, and similar to someone on the other side of Beirut whom they might only meet through an exchange of gunfire. This certainly made life even more difficult for journalists, and so, given the immense difficulties of putting together an objective account from the PLO, Syrian-backed militias, the Israelis, the Phalanges, and their rotating cast of confederates and rivals, Friedman made the fracturing of reality into the story itself. Rather than impose order where none existed, Friedman uses anecdotes and clever lines to give a sense of the chaos.
Friedman may have been particularly skilled at weaving the confusion and horror of Lebanon into an engaging story, but he still has the need to place events within a rational framework. In his investigation of the Hama massacre, almost certainly the single greatest act of violence during the entire war, the inhumanity of war is not a sufficient explanation for him. Such an event seems to require a systemic explanation, and here Friedman offers some of the most controversial arguments in a book that otherwise received considerable acclaim. By coining the term “Hama Rules” and placing the massacre within a cultural framework defined by the “harsh, survivalist quality” (87) of life in the desert, some commentators accuse Friedman of “Orientalism,” drawing explanations of Asian behavior from the peculiarities of their civilization while attributing similar behavior among Westerners to the harsh realities of power politics or other, more “rational” explanations. Edward Said, generally regarded as having redefined the term “Orientalism” from a field of study into a critique of Western attitudes, accused Friedman of spouting a “threadbare repertoire of racist cliches” (Said, Edward. “The Orientalist Express: Thomas Friedman Wraps Up the Middle East, The Village Voice, 1989). If Said’s criticism is ultimately true, it may only prove Friedman’s contention that such atrocities wage war on the very concept of truth, to the point where any comprehensive explanation becomes impossible.
Plus, gain access to 8,800+ more expert-written Study Guides.
Including features:
By Thomas L. Friedman
Books on Justice & Injustice
View Collection
Jewish American Literature
View Collection
Journalism Reads
View Collection
Memorial Day Reads
View Collection
Military Reads
View Collection
Nation & Nationalism
View Collection
Order & Chaos
View Collection
Politics & Government
View Collection
Safety & Danger
View Collection
War
View Collection