The Economist is running a special feature on the Arab world, which is worth reading in its entirety. As a teaser, check out these observations from the lead article:

The political instability of the Arab world is in turn connected to another problem: the missing glue of nationhood. Many years ago an Egyptian diplomat, Tahsin Bashir, called the new Arab states of the Middle East “tribes with flags” (though he exempted Egypt). His point still holds. In countries as different as Lebanon and Iraq, ethnic, confessional or sectarian differences have thwarted programmes of nation-building.

That is why Iraq fell apart into Sunni, Shia and Kurdish fragments after the removal of Saddam despite decades of patriotic indoctrination. Syria could follow suit if the minority Alawi sect of the ruling Assad family were somehow to lose control of this largely Sunni country. Sudan has seen not one but two civil wars between its Arab-dominated centre and the non-Arab minorities in its south and west.

Now, there is an assumption here, and that is that democracy and prosperity find better soil in Nation-States, especially ones that successfully transcend clan and tribe. The Economist, which is largely a hymnal in praise of global capitalism, seems to be channeling the spirit here of Ferdinand Tönnies, and his distinction between Community and Civil Society (usually known by the German names Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft).

Specifically, following Tönnies, the Economist suggests that democracy requires a civil society that can trump loyalties to clan. I don’t dispute that, but there’s got to be more. And indeed, the Economist points out oil.

Wars can happen anywhere. What makes the Middle East especially prone to them? Just count the ways. First is oil. In the late 1990s Mr bin Laden wrote a letter to Mullah Omar, the leader of the Afghan Taliban, in which he pointed out that 75% of the world’s oil was found in the Persian Gulf region and that “whoever has dominion over the oil has dominion over the economies of the world.” So long as that remains broadly true, the interests of energy-hungry powers from near and far will continue to grind against each other there.

That can't be the whole story. Missing here is any discussion of religion, following the Economist's general vision that capitalism is secular in the sense that capitalism belongs to the world. One need only point to the incredible capitalist engine that is the UAE to see Muslim wealth creation, even if much of the wealth there is actually created by foreigners and non-Muslims.

Setting aside the real and important policy debates about the American stimulus package, I’d like to look a little at one sub-plot: high-speed rail.

As one of the regional centers for the planned $8 billion investment in rail infrastructure, southern Wisconsin sees quite a bit of debate about the desirability (or lack thereof) of a return of passenger rail.

These are legitimate debates to an extent. To an extent they’re political grandstanding. But one recurring theme among those in opposition to high-speed rail is a bit mystifying: that it’s un-American to build rail.

The logic, as best I can articulate it, is that (1) rail puts limits on personal mobility, as compared with cars; (2) rail is capital-intensive and therefore amounts to tax-based social engineering; and (3) that unlimited personal mobility and low taxes are what make America great. Therefore, rail is more than a government waste: it must be resisted.

I respect the logic but disagree with some of the important foundations to the argument. I’m a big fan of public investment in public transport. Yet I understand the arguments. The question, though, is: why is high level of mobility American? Why is it American to have small government?

In the absence of any positively unifying stories toward a Belarusian identity, and suffering under Europe’s only dictatorship, Belarus is embracing the Orthodox hierarchy.

Writing in Arche, Rashed Chowdury, who identifies himself as a Muslim, says embracing Christianity might be good for Belarus, but only at the level of popular conviction; not at the level of state-sponsorship.

Furthermore, the foundations of fascism are present when the church cynically aligns itself with the state, and, more significantly, when youth movements insist on an alignment of the culture with the faith:

President Alaksandr Lukashenka has been widening the role of the Orthodox Church in society, while the Church, in its turn, has been legitimising the regime, at times quite cynically. Belarusian TV news recently showed a spokesman for the Belarusian Orthodox Church, who, with an empty expression in his eyes, said that Belarus has the best legal structure in Europe. At the same time, one of the pro-opposition Belarusian youth organisations active in the United States, whose website is linked to by the sites of several independent Belarusian organisations and publications, as well as those of opposition parties, claims that every nation has its religion, that the religion of the Belarusians is Christianity, and that it is impossible to be a good Belarusian without being a Christian.

The partisan rancor in Washington D.C. should really surprise nobody: every president in my lifetime has pledged to “reach across the aisle”, but it never really goes far.

But stop there and we're left with cynicism. Let's rather go deeper.

The general public usually wishes for more “bipartisanship,” but what does that mean? Is bipartisan a euphemism for unprincipled? Is it the plea of the opposition party—whoever it is?

More importantly, does partisanship imply certain spiritual mindsets? I’m interested to hear what you think.

Durban 2 is coming, and a growing chorus of voices is demanding a boycott.

The UN’s World Conference against Racism, scheduled for April, is a review of Durban 1, which concluded on September 8, 2001, and which was largely forgotten after the terror attacks later the following week.

On the surface, we can all sign on to a statement against racism, but Durban 1 was not just racism in general. In was occasion for so drastically inflating the term “racism,” that it included everything from Zionism to colonialism to global capitalism—and accordingly meant nothing at all.

It was a classic case of mismanagement by a conference director so afraid of excluding anyone’s grievances, that the very serious issue of racism got sidetracked.

Durban leaders were correct in including systemic and economic justice in a discussion of racism—yet failed to retain control.

After several years of behind-the-scenes meetings, a second conference is in the works, and seems to be more of the same. Canada is currently planning on boycotting the meetings, as are several other Western countries, including Denmark, France and others.

The issues are the same as with any boycott: do you remain to influence, or do you leave, so as not to lend legitimacy?

So, now he’s in.

Having just inaugurated a new president, we in the United States are now just about the farthest we’ll be in time from another election. Nearly four years. I've had a growing suspicion, over the recent few years, that the politics of getting elected and maintaining power have a habit of distracting us from policy itself.

Which is to say: we've got at least a year without electoral politics, at least a significant level of them. So how should we best use the time?

It’s our opportunity to refocus, to think (at least for a few days) less about how to retain power or gain power next time, and to think more about who we are becoming.

So: how can we best make use of the Obama presidency to lay the foundations for cultural improvements that will last well beyond 4/8 years? Is there anything particular to this moment in time, this unique moment, which we can use to help our children’s children live in a better world than the one we have now?

Really. I’d love your thoughts.

If the forty-fourth president of the US accomplishes nothing else than generating a sense of citizenship among those who (rightly or wrongly) haven’t acted on their rights—who haven’t previously owned their citizenship—he will have enriched the country beyond measure.

A nation’s greatest resource is its citizens. Sure. We say that all the time. But what is a citizen?

As envisioned by liberal democracy (small L; small D), citizens are participants. Citizens are distinct from consumers and tax-payers. Democracies prosper when warm bodies (who may be citizens in a strictly legal sense) become citizens in deed, by their actions. Citizenship is performed. In strict economic terms, creating citizens out of bystanders is only a long-term investment, but it is sustainable and creative.

Last week’s barrage of government rituals had one overarching purpose: to generate a sense of awe and legitimacy to the presidency and the constitution that creates it.
That legitimacy is asserted on two fronts:

• By reference to the timelessness of the constitution, with its enlightenment-era universal statements (“all men are created equal” and similar); and
• By reference to the historical lineage of the new president (how often did we hear the number 44?)

This latter point is hugely important for the direction of our culture: Obama has been placed, and has placed himself, into the lineage of American history. And since he seems to think of himself in part as a history teacher, we can expect more of this throughout his years in office.

Here’s why this is important: for a variety of reasons, some imposed and some self-imposed, there are many, many Americans who feel no particular ownership of their citizenship, but who feel great ownership of Obama. These people occupy all rungs of society, but I am thinking of one particular set: the urban underclass, those who are most likely to exhibit the full gamut of social pathologies, and who are most isolated from citizenship—whether by choice or not.

These people tend to view American history as someone else’s (white man’s) history. If Obama’s legacy consists of nothing else than in opening these lost millions’ eyes to the possibilities of citizenship, he will have served his country better than a thousand new deals.

[photo credit: flickr user mamamusings]
 

If we’re going to spend a trillion dollars “stimulating” the economy, can we at least think outside the twentieth century?

As the government gets serious about debating a package intended to create jobs through infrastructure projects, all the ideas seem suspiciously familiar. It’s all about more highways, instead of truly sustainable cities, with local food and energy supplies, jobs closer to home, etc. 

A trillion dollars should be occasion to re-imagine our economy, perhaps as one which makes simpler living possible, or at least less costly, this is a big disappointment in the works. Highways create jobs, sure. But they also function as rivers, making it impossible to move around on human-powered machines (bikes or feet).

If we cannot imagine going to the grocery store, or to our jobs, without getting behind the wheel, we’re probably just going to continue with inefficient and wasteful lifestyles for decades to come.

[photo credit: Chicago, Illinois by sxc.hu user igowerf]

If you consort with the Devil, are you the Devil too?

It seems the Rick Warren inauguration kerfuffle is an opportunity for everyone to re-fight the culture war aspects of the last election. On the one hand, Obama has spit upon the liberal “coalition” that supported him by inviting an evil clansman-bigot-hatemonger to his party (that's the tone on the radio and in the papers up here in Madison); on the other hand Warren is implicitly supporting a liberation-theology baby-killer (that's the stuff I'm finding in evangelical blogs).

I am not interested in entering this debate, largely because I find it tangential and uninteresting. Political symbolisms do not do much for me; in any case, I’m more concerned about the long-term changes in our society.

Still, this to-do sheds light on just how isolated we are from another in this country. I’m talking about within the American church. As a member of a majority-black church in disproportionately liberal Madison, in historically Populist/Socialist Wisconsin, I did not see much public debate—only through national publications and the web. So I’ve been a little unnerved by the degree of hostility out there over Rick Warren at the inauguration.

In a very roundabout fashion, I was dragged into the debate. It’s not a really big deal. Mike Pohlman, a blogger at crosswalk.com suggests that Warren would do well to read Blessed Are the Uncool: Authentic Living in a World of Show—a book I wrote two years ago.

Pohlman’s point seems to be that Warren is trying to be cool by being associated with Obama. I’m not sure I agree that there’s much coolness to be gained from speaking at the inauguration. Warren already has a large audience, and seems genuinely uninterested in the trappings of fame. I met him a few years ago at Urbana 06, when he visited our webcast room; previously I interviewed him about AIDS in Africa and his local interests in Orange County.

My impression was that Warren was keen to disarm the mystique around him, and liked to draw attention to small people around him. So I don’t think the inauguration prayer is important to him in that regard.

But Pohlman’s greater point seems to be that Warren ought to reject acclaim from “the world”—meaning, presumably, that association with Obama taints Warren’s credibility as a church leader. Such a view would derive from the (questionable) convictions that

1. Christians are to live out Jesus' call to holiness by disassociating from unholy political leaders, and
2. Obama is one such an unholy leader.

Is that fair? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Not about point (2), as there's only name-calling and indignation to be gained in discussing that issue. I mean point (1), about Warren. Is our Christian credibility compromised by association with politics?