The Creation of the Orient

Does the Orient exist? At first this may appear as stupid a question as asking if there is such a place as China or Japan. However, whereas countries are undoubtedly specific landmasses, the concept of ‘the Orient’ does not fit nearly so neatly onto one particular place. Indeed, it could even be argued that there is no physical place called the Orient at all; Edward Said, author of controversial 1978 book Orientalism, argued that the Orient was a concept held in the West’s collective imagination that helped to quantify unknown cultures and peoples in the East and, by extension, to subjugate colonial subjects. Whilst I agree the Orient exists in collective consciousness, its value is not in its capacity to subjugate but in its attempt to gain understanding, albeit it sometimes partial or misinformed, of others.

In the 18^th century, ‘the Orient’ was used to refer solely to North Africa and the Middle East; India and the Far East were added later. Well into the 20^th century, those who came to study the Orient did so predominantly from a background of Classics and Biblical studies. It is perhaps, therefore, of little surprise that when these early orientalists quantified, codified and described their oriental topics, they did so with reference to what they already knew. Thus, languages such as Sanskrit and Persian were studied in their most archaic forms, enabling comparison with Latin and Greek, Islamic odes were compared the Odyssey and the Iliad, and the main use of learning Arabic was believed to be in understanding biblical Hebrew.

The West’s preoccupation with Classics impacted on nascent studies of the Orient in a number of ways. Firstly, as the cultures of ancient Greece and Rome were seen to represent Europe’s pinnacles of achievement, similar ‘golden ages’ were sought in the ancient past of the Orient. Egypt of the pharaohs and the Achemenid, Assyrian and Sassanid civilizations were consequently of particular interest to early orientalists.

The problems of this approach were two-fold: firstly, study of ancient civilizations and languages was pursued in preference to study of their modern counterparts. The 19^th century Arabist, Reynold Nicholson, was typical of oriental academics in that he was unable to speak either Arabic or Persian, despite teaching both.[1] Secondly, if the summit of a society’s cultural achievement was in some long-forgotten age, it made sense to orientalists that the subsequent period had been one of stagnation or decline. Since the indigenous population had never regained their former glory, or so the argument went, it was the responsibility of orientalists to educate them about their history so that they might be inspired to strive to achieve such heights once again. The exact nature of this ‘golden age’ was to be defined by western philologists, poets, theologians, archaeologists, numismatists etc., regardless of any flaws in their conclusions and, at times, extreme creative license. Colonial powers could take advantage of the orientalists’ work because, they argued, only westerners held the key to knowledge about the past. The guiding, benevolent hand of the all-knowing West was, therefore, in the best interests of the East.

Europe’s obsession with biblical study simultaneously spurred on and restricted the development of oriental studies. The learning of oriental languages, translation of texts and comparative philology certainly benefited from the financial support of the church and the interest of clergyman as, during the 17^th and early 18^th centuries when orientalism was in its infancy, priests were among the small minority of people who were both educated and able to gain access to manuscripts.  The orientalist ‘projects’ of these individuals were numerous but commonly related to the following topics: proving that Hebrew was the primordial language; establishing the authority of Exodus; discrediting the views of the Eastern Orthodox church; and portraying the rise of Islam as both a punishment for the sins of Christians and the downfall of once great civilizations. Pursuing these themes gave scholars exposure to diverse texts and ideas and sparked in some genuine appreciation of oriental literature and art, curiosity about religious practices and theological concepts, research into manners and customs etc.

The trouble with these orientalists’ work was the context of religious bigotry in which they worked. Reliance on church patronage and the general public’s ideas about what was acceptable both influenced which ideas gained currency; indeed, when the Arabist George Sale translated the Qu’ran into English in 1734, even his slightest praise of Islam was thought too favorable and was derided by his colleagues. Far more popular, and therefore more widely circulated, were tracts that derided Islam and portrayed the Prophet as a fraud. Writings often outlined the dichotomy between the supposedly superior, Christian West and the inferior, Islamic East. Every characteristic of the Occident had an opposite in the Orient: rationality contrasted with spirituality, liberal democracy was compared to despotism, and sexual morality was juxtaposed with the erotic sensualism believed to result from polygamy and a penchant for harems. The need to pigeon-hole ideas into this framework of opposites restricted the scope of orientalist ideas in circulation.

The value in orientalists’ ideas is not their accuracy, for they were often flawed, but the influence that they had on creating the idea of a place called ‘the Orient’ in public imagination. The concept clearly sank deep as, despite the fact that few Europeans even now have personal experience of countries considered ‘oriental’, orientalists’ ideas have been incorporated into today’s popular thinking; an association of the East with exoticism, fascination with figures such as Tamerlane, Genghis Khan and Marco Polo, and even a fear of Islam rising on Europe’s doorstep originated or were developed in orientalist writings. The greatest impact of orientalism, therefore, is the instantaneous way in which ‘the Orient’ conjures up a thousand images without the need for further explanation. Whether or not the Orient exists, or indeed has ever existed, as a physical place is irrelevant; ‘the Orient’ as a concept is ingrained in the minds of people across the world, influencing not only how they see others, but how they understand themselves.

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[1] Irwin, R. For Lust of Knowing: The Orientalists and their Enemies (Penguin: London, 2007) p. 208

Truce with the Taliban: What Price for Peace in Pakistan?

April 13^th 2009 was a dark day for Pakistan. After 18 months of violence in the Swat Valley, the Pakistani government approved a ceasefire agreement that ceded control of the district in the North West Frontier Province (NWFP) to Taliban militants and allowed them to impose Sharia (Islamic law). The inability of the army to control militancy in the region, an estimated thousand civilian deaths from army shelling and Taliban beheadings, and high-profile suicide attacks in Lahore and Islamabad have made both local people and politicians desperate for peace. However, if the government expected Taliban fighters to lay down their arms, they will be sorely disappointed: within hours of the legislation being passed, Taliban militants had raided the neighbouring district of Buner, giving them a foothold just 60 miles from Islamabad. 

The US invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 should have spelled the end for the Taliban, a terrorist group that combined militant Islam with Pashtun tribal codes. However, a variety of factors have enabled Taliban resurgence both sides of the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. Firstly, Al Qaeda sponsored and trained not only Taliban fighters but also those engaged in jihad (holy war) in Kashmir. Keen for a constant supply of militants for this proxy war with India, Pakistan’s army and intelligence services (the ISI) provided refuge to Al Qaeda and Taliban officers fleeing Afghanistan. Rather than handing them over to the US for interrogation, militants were allowed to re-establish their training camps in Pakistan’s tribal areas. They were provided with weapons and finance, and shared intelligence with the ISI. 

America’s failure to reconstruct Afghanistan after the invasion was also to blame in the Taliban’s revival. In 2001, expectations were high that US troops would stay in Afghanistan to help rebuild the country’s infrastructure and state institutions, in particular the police, army and judiciary. When this did not occur and Afghanistan fell instead to warlord control, disillusionment amongst ordinary people was rife. Caught between the warring warlord factions, their corruption and extortion on one side, and the Taliban on the other, many people began to support the Taliban in the belief that they could at least restore law and order. The Taliban was able to offer regular salaries to men in regions with no alternative employment and, in the absence of state-run schools, madrassas often provided the only source of education. 

The influence of Taliban control in NWFP is inevitably felt most by people on the ground. In January 2009 alone, 400 girls’ schools were closed in the Swat Valley. Women have been banned from the markets and public places, music shops and barbers have been closed, and street floggings, one of the most abhorrent images of Taliban-era Afghanistan, have made their reappearance. Perhaps of most concern to the international community is that citizens no longer have the right of appeal to Pakistan’s supreme court; the religious police squads have, in many cases literally, become judge, jury and executioner. 

Taliban resurgence in Pakistan also impacts on the stability of the region as a whole. Suicide attacks and the shift of power within Pakistan threatens the viability of the national government, showing it to be weak and ineffective. This apparent power vacuum offers extreme political parties the opportunity to gain legitimate power in Pakistan through elections. The security situation in Afghanistan cannot improve whilst militants train across the border and travel back and forth freely with the assistance of the ISI. Taliban camps are training militants not only for localised attacks but also for jihad in Kashmir, Uzbekistan and further afield. Suicide attacks in Bali, Madrid, London and Mumbai can all be linked back to groups training under the protection of Al Qaeda and the Taliban within Pakistan.

Perhaps the greatest threat of the Taliban’s rise in Pakistan is not, however, conventional suicide bombings but the possibility of nuclear attack. As early as 1998, bin Laden stated that the acquisition of nuclear weapons was “a religious duty”. He met with Abdul Qadeer Khan, the founder of Pakistan’s nuclear weapons program, prior to 9/11, and in 2004 Khan was found guilty of selling nuclear plans to Libya, Iran and North Korea. The nuclear development programme in Pakistan may theoretically be controlled by the military, but they are either unable or unwilling to prevent the selling of information and technology to the highest bidder. The consequence of losing Pakistan to the Taliban, therefore, is of great concern to us all. 

The solutions to Pakistan’s problems are far from straightforward; they will inevitably be expensive, complicated and take years to achieve measurable success. The first thing needed is substantial, ongoing investment. Whilst the economy fails in Afghanistan or Pakistan, the salaries offered by militant groups will continue to look attractive. Nothing beats poverty as a breeding ground for extremism, and those living in refugee camps along the border among the poorest on earth. Investment in infrastructure projects, especially road building, electricity and water supplies, demonstrates that foreign powers are taking a long-term interest in the region. The Taliban has no capacity or interest in community development, and so by investing in these areas alongside local governments, influence can be gained in the battle for hearts and minds. 

Improved security is also essential for stability. Both during the 1990s and in this latest revival, the Taliban gained ground offering stability; in communities ravished by war, corruption and exploitation, this is a vital card to play. A greater presence of UN personnel on both sides of the border, providing Islamabad can be convinced to co-operate, would stem the flow of militants and raise local confidence. Troop presence musts go hand in hand with ongoing training of both Pakistan and Afghanistan’s armies and their police forces so that they build on their skills and are better able to protect their citizens from militancy. 

Finally, the international community needs to simultaneously put pressure on, and offer support to, the Pakistani government to clamp down on extremism. Constructive dialogue with India must be sold as the only path for Kashmir, economic policy must focus on job creation, and the ISI must be brought under control of parliament so it is accountable. Lastly, Pakistan’s moderate parties need to be built up so that they can offer viable alternatives to the extremists at election time. Winning elections within a democratic system gives militants political legitimacy and enables them to use the institutions of state to further their radical goals. As long as we fail to encourage and support a capable, moderate opposition to give voters genuine choice in elections, we are all complicit in Pakistan’s truce with the Taliban.

Timeline

December 2001 US declares victory over Taliban in Afghanistan.

September 2007 Fighting begins in Swat Valley between Taliban militants and the Pakistani army

September 2008 Suicide bombing kills 54 at the Marriott hotel in Islamabad

December 2008 Swat Valley captured by the Taliban

January 2009 Taliban closes 400 schools for girls in the Swat Valley

March 2009 Militants attacks in Lahore and Islamabad

April 2009 Parliament approves ceding control of Swat Valley to Taliban; Taliban militants move into Buner.

This article originally appeared in the Taboo issue of Asian Geographic (www.asiangeo.com)

The Mughals at Home: Architecture and Imperial Ideology in the Indian Subcontinent

What links Bill Gates and the Indian ruler, Akbar the Great? Put simply, whilst the first is the leading mogul of today, the Mughal ruler Akbar, with his expansive, wealthy empire and monopoly on power, gave later moguls their name. The Mughal kings ruled an empire that stretched from Afghanistan to Bengal. They first came to power in the 16^th century and their golden age ended with the death of Emperor Aurangzeb in 1707. The Mughals’ familial lands were in Fergana (now in Kyrgyzstan) and so they had no direct claim to the empire they forged; their conquests in the Subcontinent began only after attempts to control Samarkhand had been thwarted.

The Mughal emperors held court in five cities: Kabul in Afghanistan, Lahore in Pakistan, and Delhi, Agra and Fatehpur Sikri in India. These cities’ buildings were designed to be physical manifestations of the Mughals’ power over landscape and subjects alike, deliberately espousing through their structures the Mughals’ imperial ideology. Genuine connoisseurship ran hand in hand with clever propaganda, reminding us of the Mughal emperors’ innovative techniques for drawing together under one crown  the diverse peoples of the Indian Subcontinent.

The Mughals were patrilineal descendants of the Central Asian ruler Amir Timur. They believed that their right to rule the subcontinent derived both from Timur’s 14^th century conquests and their own military gains. The Mughals’ Timurid heritage influenced their architectural style in a number of ways. Like their ancestors, the early Mughals were constantly on campaign so a peripatetic court was in order. Courtyards and walled gardens were favoured as tented cities could be erected within their confines. The entire imperial household moved en-masse around the country so that no part of the imperial structure was left vulnerable to seizure.  

The first Mughal emperor, Babur (r.1526-30), deplored India, describing it in the Baburnama as “charmless and disorderly”. Attempting to recreate his beloved gardens in Kabul, one of his first acts was to construct a walled garden in Agra. The garden gave Babur peace of mind as he was able to demonstrate his capacity to establish order in a seemingly wild and uncivilized land. Mughal gardens were designed to evoke the Garden of Paradise described in the Old Testament and in the Koran. Areas within the garden were divided by paved walkways, fruit trees provided shade and sustenance, and fountains were filled with water.

The Timurids’ other major contribution to Mughal architecture was invocations of the legendary King Solomon. In Delhi and Agra, the Mughals constructed multi-columned halls reminiscent of Solomon’s, and the image of Solomon’s throne, which the Bible describes as being multi-stepped and carved with numerous mechanical birds and beasts, was replicated by the Mughals. Emperors Jahangir (r.1605-27) and Shah Jahan (r.1628-58) constructed their own throne of Solomon, invoking his memory through emulation of his court so that subjects would equate Solomon’s just rule with that of their own Mughal monarch.

The majority of Mughal subjects were, unlike their rulers, non-Muslim and had little previous connection with the Timurids. In order to ensure the long term survival of their empire, the Mughals had to integrate the indigenous elite, show religious tolerance towards the wider populace, and to portray their right to rule as absolute. 

Akbar the Great (r.1556-1605) brought nobles and local rulers from across his empire to court and gave them posts within the administration. They included Persian nobles, Rajput princes, and other Muslim rulers with whom he wished to form alliances. Akbar created a strict hierarchy where everyone was ultimately answerable to him. He developed elaborate court rituals, necessitating the construction of separate audience halls for public and private affairs, a multitude of courtyards, and wide, straight streets for processions of elephants and horses. 

In Hindu kingdoms,  it was believed that devotees were blessed by the mere sight of religious idols and monarchs. The Mughals adopted darshan (‘viewing’) and appeared on ornate balconies before crowds gathered in the courtyard below. The position of the balcony was reminiscent of the qibla in a mosque, so the emperor was able to draw simultaneously on both Hindu and Muslim religious traditions in his self-deification. The scope of Akbar’s religious appeal widened further when he constructed the debating hall at Fatehpur Sikri. The building was designed as a multi-faith meeting place where all religious leaders could meet to discuss theological matters. Symbols representing each religion were incorporated into the hall’s stonework. Akbar believed himself to be an intermediary between men and God, and clear demonstration of his understanding of all different theological doctrines was integral to this.

The reputation of the Mughal court attracted influential visitors from across the globe. Travelers, traders, physicians and missionaries were entranced by the Mughals’ legendary wealth and brought with them knowledge and customs from Europe, Persia and China. Among the most important gifts from Europe was an illustrated copy of the 1569 Polyglot Bible and engravings of biblical scenes. They were presented to Akbar by Jesuit missionaries in an attempt to convert him to Christianity.

The Jesuits’ gifts engendered in the Mughals a taste for western art. Inspired by European works, Mughal artists began to incorporate images of Christ and Mary in their wall paintings, carvings and manuscripts. Symbols such as the halo, the lion and the lamb, the globe and the hour glass all made their way into Mughal design to show both the emperors’ religious legitimacy but also their temporal power. Use of Christian iconography demonstrated the emperors’ semi-divine status, their cosmopolitanism, and their ability to subordinate Christian Europe beneath their imperial power and personal religion.

Mughal capitals were reflected the change in priority from military conquest to the stable governance of a diverse population. Whilst early capitals required outdoor space for tents, later architects replaced these designs with permanent, highly decorative structures for courtly ceremonies. The Mughals’ Timurid heritage merged with indigenous traditions to deify the emperor in the minds of his subjects and to give him political and cultural legitimacy. Christian iconography was manipulated by Mughal artists, gaining political connotations that further enhanced state propaganda of the divine emperor and his inalienable right to rule. 

If you are interested in Mughal political ideology and art, please check out my E-book http://www.amazon.co.uk/Painting-Development-Portraiture-1526-1707-ebook/dp/B005CJLAOO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334337521&sr=8-1

How to Snare your Wife: Bride Snatching in Kyrgyzstan.

In the bottom of a valley, beneath a seemingly endless sky, a girl of 16 streaks across the landscape on horseback, her long black pigtails flying out behind her. Hot on her heels, sweat pouring down his face as he spurs his horse on, is her hunter. Onlookers hold their breath, hardly daring to look, and their cries crescendo as the young man begins to gain on his prize. Whatever she does she cannot break free – he is stronger, faster and very, very determined. 

The competing pair are adrenalin-fuelled and delighted to be showing off their horsemanship before so many enthusiastic spectators. Their game of kyz kuumai (kiss the bride) is just a piece of fun, a hark back to Kyrgyzstan’s nomadic past and the tradition of kidnapping goats and women from neighboring clans. If the boy catches the girl he is entitled to kiss her passionately but, if he fails, she will turn around and whip him soundly for his failings.

Despite the frivolity, however,  not everyone in the crowd is amused. For some, this is not only a  game but a painful reminder of a rudely interrupted adolescence or the sudden loss of a daughter, and a harsh reality that still stalks parts of Kyrgyzstan today.

A 2007 survey found that approximately half of all marriages in Kyrgyzstan involved bride-napping, two thirds of which were non-consensual.  The groom may be undesirable, in which case a bride-napping is the easiest way to find him a wife, and his friends and family may jointly abduct a stranger on his behalf. If the girl they are after is not home when the abductors arrive, a younger sister or cousin may be taken in her stead. 

In other circumstances, the bride and groom’s parents may arrange a marriage between their two families. If the girl does not consent, she can be bride-napped and held (hospitably) hostage until she is convinced of the virtues of her in-laws, or simply becomes resigned to her fate. The social stigma attached to walking away, even from a forced marriage, is strong as a girl’s honor is considered disgraced; girls and their families are compelled to accept the match.  School girls fear the pounding of hooves or, as is more often the case in 2012, the sudden appearance of a white Lada car pulling up alongside them on the curbside. 

Despite increasing westernization in Kyrgyzstan, incidences of bride snatching show no signs of decline: what is starting slowly to change is the expectation of consent. Economic hardship makes paying the customary kalym (bride price) difficult, and weddings are elaborate and expensive affairs, with families often bankrupting themselves to pay the bills. To circumvent the expenditure, young brides and grooms are now arranging the snatching themselves, turning a terrifying tradition into a socially acceptable form of elopement. Brides may even be forewarned by their suitors when and where to expect their abduction. Text messaging is the preferred medium! Bride-napping is also a convenient way to bypass familial approval: by the time parents are able to voice discontent at the match, the couple are already married and safely out of reach.  

Bride-napping is not unique to Kyrgyzstan but it is deeply entwined with the local culture, society and economic situation. Although abhorrent in its most violent forms, the gradual evolution towards mutually-consenting abduction reveals that it is not a black and white issue: for some young couples it is a cheap, easy and desirable stepping stone to marriage. Viewers of Sacha Baren Coen’s film, Borat, may cringe in horror at the protagonist’s attempt to capture Pamela Anderson in his ‘wedding sack’, but the incident does ably demonstrate the fine, and often culturally defined, line between social acceptability and criminality.