Living Among the Dead

According to al-Jazeera's story, there are thousands of homeless in Cairo, and "Many in fact are being forced to live among the dead." One would think that this is a new phenomenon from the story - in fact, Egyptians have been living in these very large cemeteries for centuries. Some parts have electricity, running water and sewers. Those interviewed in the story show a lack of uneasiness about living where they do and this is presented as a shocking testament their plight. The truth is that Egyptians are just not particularly put off by this. At least the Muslims aren't - no one lives in the large Christian cemeteries in Cairo's Coptic neighbourhood. These places are poor, no doubt, but they are not the poorest or the last resort of the homeless. There are many impressive tombs (such as Sultan Qaitbey's mosque - depicted on the one pound note)) in the Northern cemetery and these cemeteries are well-worth visiting.



UPDATE: Here is a more recent article which says that Egyptians are now being forced to live in cemeteries - despite interviewing people who have lived there for 30 years. According to the article, the government is now trying to stop tourists from entering and taking pictures of the inhabitants. They've also closed Qaitbay's mosque. Below is a picture of the mosque (hard to photograph in the close quarters) with a four storey apartment building beside it - with air conditioning. Although it is true that Cairo is constantly expanding, the cemeteries are not the last resort of the poor - the city is expaning outward into the valley's farmland ([picture below) and the desert.

Reading Mein Kampf in Cairo

My article in the Jerusalem Post can be found here. The Introduction to Mein Kampf is here.

The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen)

Spoiler Warning It would be better to watch the movie before reading this post.

According to the description on the Netflix envelope, The Lives of Others (a title evoking Vasari's Lives of the Artists), set in East Berlin in the 1980s, is “…a nuanced portrait of life under the watchful eye of the state police as a high-profile couple is bugged. When a successful playwright and his actress companion become the subjects of the Stasi’s secret surveillance program, their friends, family and even those doing the watching find their lives changed too.” What this movie is actually about is art and the role of the artist in society.

In one of the opening scenes, a Stasi officer and the minister of culture discuss the playwright Georg Dreyman, who is supposed to be the only non-subversive writer in the country “who is also read in the West.” Why are there so many subversive artists in totalitarian regimes? Artists are always troublemakers to some degree and the lack of freedom in these states is particularly grating. There is something more at work, though, than a simple desire for freedom. These regimes force a materialist understanding of what it means to be human onto their citizens - even the Stasi prostitutes work on a tight schedule. This understanding implicitly denies the very reason art exists in all civilizations and societies.

At the heart of this movie is the question of what it means to be a human being, and, more importantly, a good human being, and the role art plays in this.

Wiesler, the agent in charge of the surveillance of Dreyman is part of the Stasi. The Stasi’s goal is to ‘know everything.’ This knowledge though is limited to what can be written down, quantified and recorded with the various machines that surround Wiesler throughout the film. In one scene, two Stasi agents discuss a system for classifying artists into five types with matching prison conditions for each. Of course, what an artist attempts to convey cannot be captured in these terms.

One of the central themes of Dreyman’s plays is that people can change. This is a claim that the minister of culture denies. This story, though, is of the transformation of Wiesler through art. At Dreyman’s birthday party, his former director, who has been blacklisted, gives him a piece of music called “Sonata for a Good Man.” Later, when the director hangs himself, Dreyman plays this piece of music. Wiesler is listening through hidden microphones, and, despite his usual stoic demeanor, is profoundly moved by the piece. At this point, Dreyman says to the actress Christa-Maria, “You know what Lenin said about Beethoven’s Appassionata. ‘If I keep listening to it, I won’t finish the revolution’. Can anyone who has heard this music – I mean truly heard it – really be a bad person?”

Wiesler is not an artist, but he has become part of the true audience. When he sees Christa-Maria at a bar, torn between continuing her forced affair with the minister of culture and staying with Dreyman and jeopardizing her career, he responds when she asks whether she should sell herself for art that she already has art, “I’m your audience,” he says, “You’re a great artist. Don’t you know that?” She replies, before returning to Dreyman, “And you’re a good man.” It is through contact with art that Wiesler finds the strength and inspiration to defend Dreyman from his own organization. In doing so he takes a great risk and the result is that his already dreary life is made even worse. After his promotion ban, Wiesler, without his uniform and powerful position, appears smaller but more human.

Chris McClure

Trastevere and the Colosseum

The Colosseum
Erica Alini
Trastevere, the 'heart of Roma'



Chris McClure

DC Anti-War Protest, September 15, 2007

These are some pictures from the anti-war protest (and counter protest) in Washington DC on September 15, 2007. As usual, all sorts came out of the word-work for this one.



Many of the counter-protesters were veterans. Despite heated arguments, the two groups never came to blows (not that I saw, anyways).







The most popular chant was, "This is what democracy looks like!" Did that include all those protesters wearing masks? Some of those wearing masks were chanting 'jihad, jihad' at one point (see below, 16 seconds remaining). I'm not sure why they were chanting this - maybe it's some sort of new 'Hamas-chic?' What is clear is that even though many of the protesters might have had something valid to say and were serious about it, they were somewhat discredited by the large number of oddballs promoting all sorts of fringe issues - everything from veganism to the notion that Hillary Clinton and Obama are trying to outdo each other in a race to invade Iran (there was an effigy of Hillary with 'blood on her hands').



Chris McClure

Middle East Radio

Perhaps the most common thing one hears on the radio in Egpytian taxis, buses and internet cafes is Quran Radio - recitations from the Quran and other religious programming.

In Israel, the most popular radio station is Galgalatz - Israeli Army Radio. It's run by soldiers and is meant in part to alleviate the tedium of long bus rides. It's also quite fun. The word 'Galgalatz' is derived from the Hebrew acronym for IDF (Israeli Defense Forces).

Quran Radio Cairo

Galgalatz

The picture above is of a speaker at a friend's place in Jerusalem. Wrapped around the speaker is a headband taken from a Hamas member by my friend's roommate (a paratrooper in the IDF).

Chris McClure

Paestum

In my last post, I wondered what it means to appreciate a work of art and whether this can be done when the work is surrounded by noisy tourists. One of my favorite experiences in Italy was visiting Paestum, the site of an ancient Greek colony south of Naples where several well-preserved temples still stand. Somewhat off the beaten track, there were few visitors and it was a beautiful day - dark storm clouds were gathering but the temples were still in full late-afternoon sunlight, as were the wild flowers that surrounded them. I left Paestum without any of the sense of guilt I felt at the Trevi Fountain. I was surprised then, to read the following in Heidegger's "Origin of the Work of Art":

The Aegina sculptures in the Munich collection, Sophocles' Antigone in the best critical edition, are, as the works they are, torn out of their own native sphere. However high their quality and power of impression, however good their state of preservation, however certain their interpretation, placing them in a collection has withdrawn them from their own world. But even when we make an effort to cancel or avoid such displacement of the works - when, for instance, we visit the temple in Paestum at its own site or the Bamberg cathedral on its own square - the work that stands there has perished.

For Heidegger, Anitgone could only be appreciated properly by ancient Athenians and the temples of Paestum were only living works of art when they were filled with worshipers. Whether or nor this is entirely correct needs more thought. I was truly moved by Bernini's sculpture's in the Villa Borghese - but these have always been housed in the same building. What I do know is that I enjoyed being at Paestum. I also know that I enjoyed being at the Colosseum with Erica. Even in its dilapidated state the building is still impressive and it was somewhat possible to imagine what it must have been like there (despite overhearing the worn-out exaggerations of a nearby tour leader - 'as the gladiators tried to climb up the walls, the soldiers would slice off their fingers...'). Both the Colosseum and the even more ruined Baths of Caracalla had some sort of elevated air about them that was conducive to very good conversation (as was the Villa Borghese). Maybe just enjoying our time at these places is enough. As Plato observed (in a comment on my last post), enjoying a slushy with his girlfriend turned out to be more important than being locked out of the Acropolis.

Perhaps, even if we can't appreciate these works the way they were supposed to be appreciated (in Heidegger's sense), it is enough that we can experience them as they are now and think the thoughts they evoke even in their 'perished' state.

The engravings in this post depict one of the temples at Paestum and were made by Piranesi, a cicerone who made these as souvenirs for tourists in Rome in the mid-eighteenth century. He made engravings both of fantastic ideas for buildings and interiors as well as images such as those posted here. If Heidegger is right, Piranesi is making living art in these images of 'perished' art.

Chris McClure

Did You See the Trevi Fountain?

As I turned the corner I could see it - there was the Trevi fountain; well, behind that giant mass of other tourists. I had read about it in the guide book and knew a few facts about it. I waded closer to get a better look, but I was hungry, hot, tired of the paparazzi and in any case, on my way to meet someone. I left after a couple minutes with a nagging sense of guilt - both for thinking myself insensitive and for somehow offending the work of art. Did I really see the Trevi fountain? How long do you have to look at such a thing before you can claim to have really 'seen it?' Do you have to feel something and understand the significance of every detail? Whatever it means to have seen and appreciated a work of art, I was sure that I hadn't done it.

Later, as I was waiting to see the Sistine Chapel in a line that I'm certain could be seen from outer space, I began to wonder if I wasn't alone in this. Perhaps I'm being too cynical, but it seems to me that a large number of tourists are are on a frantic crusade to check of as many boxes as possible on some sort of checklist. This is, I suppose, good for conversation when one returns - no one would want to admit to having been in Italy for two or three weeks and not having seen the Sistine Chapel! But this isn't the only reason people make the effort to see these things. One also learns a great many astonishing facts about these sorts of works from tour guides and the Lonely Planet - not to mention the disembodied voice that comes from those strange audio guide devices. These bits of information really are useful, and often deserve the gasps of astonishment they receive, but the fact that Michelangelo had a hard time painting on a ceiling can't be the most important thing about the Sistine Chapel. But I'm left wondering - is it still possible to appreciate something like the Trevi fountain in these circumstances?

Chris McClure

The October War Panorama

I visited the October War Panorama in Cairo, which celebrates the October War (or the Yom Kippur War of 1973). This was a large building designed by North Koreans after a suggestion to Mubarak by Kim Jong Il. There were several groups of school kids and families with their children there and there was a festive atmosphere. People were selling ice cream and toys outside and inside there was a place to have one's picture taken with cut outs of Nasser, Sadat and various Egyptian movie stars. A couple of times people came up to me and pointed to the various Egyptian tanks, jets and statues of soldiers in heroic poses n display and give the thumbs up sign and say things like "Egypt number one!"

There were three presentations - two dioramas and a movie. For the first I was escorted in and placed in the first row. I wa surrounded by a group of seven or eight year-old girls. The room filled with the soothing voice of Phil Collins:

All of my life, I've been searching
for the words to say how I feel...

Maybe it was a mistake, I'm not sure. After this was a rousing military song to which all the girls sang. Then the presentation began. The diorama was a depiction of the Sinai with little radar dishes rotating and planes flying across on wires and flashing lights.

The narrator explained that what had been taken by force could only be regained by force. The war was proclaimed "the greatest victory in modern times." The guns opened fire at 2:05 on October 6, and the air force started its bombing runs. There were such an astonishing success that the second round of bombings that had been planned were canceled. Then the feared Israeli air force tried to strike back but, "one by one the Israeli planes with their blue stars of David were brought down by our heroic armed forces...The glorious hours passed quickly," until, a few days later, the Israeli prisoners of war bowed their heads as the Egyptian flag was raised high all over Sinai. Everyone in the room began clapping and we moved on to the next presentation in which a similar account was given.

My ticket had a description of the war which concludes that, "The epic witnessed the greatest firepower preparation since the Second World War, the greatest tank battles in the modern history, and the crossing of the most difficult water barrier in the world. Thanks to our strong belief in God and our just cause, we achieved a decisive victory which lead to the liberation of Sinai on the 25th of April 1982, from the banks of the Canal to the international borders and in March 1989, restoring the last inch of the motherland when the Egyptian flag was hoisted over Tabu [sic]."

Chris McClure

Egyptian Election Poster

This is an example of an Egyptian election poster (I saw it at the bus stop in the Baharyia oasis). There is a lot of information contained in a simple picture and name such as this. It says "Al Haj / Abd Al Tawab Abu Faraj. Your candidate for membership in the Shoura Council. 'Haj' (Hag in Egyptian dialect) means that he has made the pilgrimage to Mecca. The callous on his forehead from repeated contact with the prayer mat implies piety, while the mustache without a full beard means that he is likely not an Islamist. 'Abu Faraj' means that he is the father of Faraj (the same way 'Abu Mazen' means 'father of Mazen') and is thus a family man.

Chris McClure