Eid Imagined

I had written this for my common app, senior year. It's a mishmash of some memories and some dreams. I haven't been to Turkey in 6 years, this is the first day of Ramadan, and I really miss my grandfather – so I thought I'd share this snapshot of what Eid will always look like in my mind.


Here’s how it goes. We are fasting the day before Eid when we board the bus that’ll take us to my grandmother’s house. The ride is two hours, and I sit next to my mom, alternating between reading the book on my lap and looking out the window.

I have different landmarks for this journey, each one a measure of how long it takes for me to read a chapter from my book, and how much closer we are to the small county of Gemlik. I look for the huge McDonalds billboard first. A business trying to sell fast food in a country that has 81 provinces, 7 regions, and 21 sub-regions, each with its own intricate and unique cuisine. There is a tunnel that goes through a hill, and I stop my reading in the dark. As if on cue, my dad leans over from the seat behind us and comments on the wonders of humanity. How marvelous it is that even small mountains can’t stop humankind when it needs roads to follow.  After the tunnel, there is only a lumber mill and an orange apartment complex before I’m leaning over my mom and finally looking at the Marmara Sea.

The sloping hills and curving shorelines of Gemlik are welcoming in their geography – relaxed, like the people who have abandoned their usual routines this month. Most of the street vendors are closed, as are the family restaurants, and most adults are sitting under trees, watching their children gulp down glasses of lemonade and eat ice cream. But don’t be fooled. In a few short hours, the city will be buzzing with energy and renewed joy for the three days that follow.

Later that night, we break our fasts and file into the mosques. I pray on the second floor because from up here, I can see everyone moving together, standing in perfect lines, and prostrating at the same time. Around me, there is centuries old architecture, glass chandeliers, and prayer beads in between people’s fingers. I want to take their photographs, and write their stories. And I do. I record snippets of conversations overheard and snap pictures of neatly folded prayer rugs. It’s a narrative of unity.

We reach my grandmother’s house when the sun starts to set. She and my grandfather live on the second floor of a three-story apartment. The first floor is a shoe repair shop; the third houses the landlord. I can see my grandparents in their balcony from a hundred feet away. My grandmother watering her plants, my grandfather smoking a cigarette, waving at people periodically. I wish I had a Polaroid camera to capture it, but for now, the Nikon D3100 will do.

They rush downstairs the instant they see us walking up the sidewalk. As soon as we are inside, my grandmother pulls me into the kitchen and shows me the stuffed grape leaves. Next to it, of course, is yogurt and baklava, along with freshly brewed black tea. We sometimes joke that it’s tea running in our veins and not blood. After all, we Turks are the largest consumers of tea in the world. In the morning, if it’s chilly, my grandmother and I will fill the old wood stove with logs and paper and brew a new pot of tea. We are both early risers.

But now, we are all sitting on the ground, a big tray in front of us. We have cold water, dates, red lentil soup, grilled Turkish meatballs, and flatbread from the bakery across the street, but our glasses and plates are not yet filled. The call to prayer starts across the city, all the mosques in nearly perfect synchronization. I close my eyes and listen. There is no impatience here, only serenity. 

Movie Review: 3000 Nights

I wrote a film review for Palestine in America (published here), and thought that if I do more reviews, I'll post them here too. Enjoy!

Written and directed by Mai Masri, 3000 Nights was screened on May 5th, the closing night of the 2016 Chicago Palestine Film Festival. The award-winning feature followed a short film called Detaining Dreams, which focused on the stories of Palestinian children and youth in Israeli prisons.   

3000 Nights is the story of a newlywed Palestinian schoolteacher, Layal (Maisa Abd Elhadi) who gets wrongfully accused of aiding a terrorist attack and is sentenced to eight years in an Israeli prison.  

The film opens on a dark, pouring night where we first see Layal. The film’s hauntingly beautiful and crisp cinematography shines through its immediate construction of the prison’s cruel atmosphere and the air of hostility between the inmates and the prison guards. Layal is in a nightgown, blindfolded, and barefoot when she is led out of a military van and into the Israeli prison she’ll stay in for several days before her trial. 

We see Masri highlight the various challenging aspects of being a Palestinian woman in an Israeli prison. We see the anti-Arab racism play out not only in how Israeli and Arab prisoners get treated by the prison guards, but also in how even between inmates, the Israeli prisoners treat their Arab counterparts with disgust and hate. 

Soon after she is imprisoned, Layal learns that she’s pregnant. Her condition is continuously exploited with false promises of freedom. She is asked to report on her friends if she wants to get out. She is told she can’t keep her baby and should get an abortion. Against all this pressure and hardship, Layal can’t rely even on her husband, who tells her to abort the baby and do whatever it takes to get out, even if it means giving false testimony. When she gets her sentence, her husband leaves Layal to go to Canada while half-heartedly assuring her that there he’ll build a life for them.      

Despite the blatant racism and brutality against Arabs and Palestinians, Masri doesn’t build caricatures of her characters on either side. She gives us complex people with believable storylines, such as Layal’s lawyer, Rachel (Laura Hawa), and Shulamit (Raida Adon), one of the Israeli prisoners. Masri captures the nuances of each character’s humanity and the circumstances they are living in when she constructs them. 

Masri’s portrayal of the mistrust and unease between the inmates is convincing to the audience. Layal is first placed in a cell with Israeli prisoners, but moved to an Arab cell when complications arise. This cell is made of a classic mismatch of characters, that are typical of these kind of prison movies with adopted family plot lines. We have a Lebanese revolutionary, Sanaa (Nadira Omran), two sisters, Jamilah (Rakeen Saad) and Fidaa (Hana Chamoun), an old grandmother (Haifa Al-Agha), and a friendly mother figure (Anahid Fayyad). 

Layal isn’t immediately trusted, especially by Sanaa, who is the main troublemaker in the prison, able to get news out and organize the prisoners. But over time they grow on each other, and we are given beautiful and emotional scenes of the women reading, joking, and singing together, and forming a huge family with the birth of Nour, Layal’s son. 

The film reaches its climax when the inmates learn of the 1982 massacre in Beirut. They decide to go on a strike, refusing to eat, leave their cells, sew military uniforms, or cook for the guards. Ruti (Izabel Ramadan), the prison’s director, separates Layal from her friends and threatens her – either Layal stops participating in the strike, or they’ll take Nour, who is two-years-old at the time. We see the difficulty of being a mother in prison and how Layal has to choose between the resistance and her son. Ruti resorts to extreme means to discourage the prisoners and subdue their efforts, but they manage to persevere and stay together. 

Masri builds a web of intricate storylines in 3000 Nights. We see unexpected friendships, inevitable betrayal, hard decisions, and a budding romance. She gives us beautiful montages of time passing whether it be in the dry and desolate shots of wire fences or the buildup of chalk drawings in a solitary cell. 

She gives us raw emotions and honesty, “A little humanity won’t hurt you,” Rachel tells Ruti, trying to convince her to let Layal’s mother help Layal during labor. Ruti retaliates by saying, “Don’t forget how you lost your son, Rachel.” It’s in these small interactions that Masri gives depth and particularity to her characters, and she does it masterfully.

The movie ends on a bittersweet note, one that I won’t spoil, but one that I can guarantee will leave the audience with hope alongside their sadness. Over 700,000 Palestinians are detained, we learn, and over 6,000 men, women, and children are in Israeli prisons, living under inhumane and unfair conditions. But there is a growing movement to expose these circumstances and make Israel accountable for its actions, and it’s gaining traction.  

For Chicago folks: Next fall, we'll be screening 3000 Nights at the University of Chicago, as part of a Palestinian film exhibition throughout the first quarter. So be on the lookout for that!

Charms in The Righteous Mind

The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion by Jonathan Haidt (Amazon // Goodreads)

This book was recommended to me by a friend who had to witness me complaining about all the New Atheist genre books such as Dawkins’s The God Delusion.  I read it over my winter break and as you can see, I have procrastinated greatly on writing this review, mainly because I was intimidated by how many things I had to say and all the notes I took while reading it. I thought I would have to spare a good three hours to get through everything I wanted to talk about. 

But I am on spring break now, and I can dedicate a good block of my time to finishing this, and then actually getting the book back to its owner (who has been surprisingly kind about letting me keep the book for this long). I am also using a new application I found called Writer’s Block which blocks me from using my computer until I reach my word count goal. 

My general thoughts on the book are positive but still somewhat ambivalent. I liked it. I enjoyed reading it for the most part. It was intellectually stimulating and raised some questions I hadn’t asked myself before. The writing strikes a nice balance between simplicity and complexity as Haidt works with a lot of scientific data and terminology, and he does a good job of getting his point across and synthesizing his findings. He has organized the chapters and sections really well, and he refreshes the reader’s memory in each chapter with formal conclusions at the end, and small referrals throughout the section. There is a lot going on in the book however, and although the main text is understandable, a considerable amount of contextual information is in the last hundred pages of footnotes which made the reading a chore. I couldn’t read a full page without at least three footnotes and going to the back of the book every other paragraph to see what he was leaving out or what he was referencing. 

Now… Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty and the hyper analysis that was bound to happen when I read a book like this. 

“I want to show you that an obsession with righteousness (leading inevitably to self-righteousness) is the normal human condition.”

This is a statement from Haidt’s introduction. The beautiful thing that happened when I was reading this book is that I went to a religious retreat (which I will write about in detail in a separate post) and quite a few of the themes that were explored in this book were paralleled in our religious discussion (such a nice God given coincidence). We explicitly talked about self-righteousness and what leads us to have a strong need for it. It’s really not a foundational part of being human. It has other roots. As far as I have been convinced. 

“Rationality is our nature, and good moral reasoning is the end point of development.”

“Specific rules may vary across cultures [… but] children still made a distinction between moral rules and conventional rules.”

“When you put individuals first, before society, then any rule or social practice that limits personal freedom can be questioned. If it doesn’t protect somebody from harm, then it can’t be morally justified. It’s just social convention.”

“It was reasoning as described by the philosopher David Hume, who wrote in 1739 that ‘reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.’”

“Jefferson gives us a third option, in which reason and sentiment are (and ought to be) independent co-rulers, like the emperors of Rome, who divide the empire into eastern and western halves.”

“Do people believe in human rights because such right actually exist, like mathematical truths, sitting on a cosmic shelf next to the Pythagorean theory just waiting to be discovered by Platonic reasoners? Or do people feel revulsion and sympathy when they read accounts of torture, and then invent a story about universal rights to help justify their feelings?”

“Yet the result of the separation [between the rational soul and the seething passions of the body] was not the liberation of reason from the thrall of the passions. It was the shocking revelation that reasoning /requires/ the passions. Jefferson’s model fits better: when one co-emperor is knocked out and the other tries to rule the empire by himself, he’s not up to the task.”

Jefferson’s model requires an in-depth analysis of the idea of co-emperors. Or two leaders in any situation having equal power. 

“So Hume’s model fits these cases best: when the master (passions) drops dead, the servant (reasoning) has neither the ability nor the desire to keep the estate running. Everything goes to ruin.”

“Moral reasoning was just a post hoc search for reasons to justify the judgements people had already made.”

My main question throughout the book was, don’t we need initial reasoning to have the gut reaction? Haidt touches on genetics as a blueprint for some of our reasoning, but he doesn’t clarify if he thinks our gut reactions mean that there is a pan-human morality built into everyone. Do people innately have a sense of what is right and what is wrong in its most basic form? And if yes, they do, then what does that say about morality’s universality?

“I can’t call for the community to punish you simply because I don’t like what you’re doing. I have to point to something outside my own preferences, and that pointing is our moral reasoning.”

“We maker first judgements rapidly, and we are dreadful at seeking out evidence that might disconfirm those initial judgements.”

I agree, but I think this makes it sound like people never question their own beliefs. While it is easier to just keep on believing what we already believe in, I think it’s also not that hard to always be conscious of our thoughts and beliefs, and continue questioning them. And people do this. Increasingly so – we are becoming more curious, more open, more doubtful. We are forced to confront our beliefs and habits as we live in an immensely integrated world with people who are different from us. 

“Empathy is an antidote to righteousness, although it’s very difficult to emphasize across a moral divide.”

“The mind is divided into parts, like a rider (controlled processes on an elephant (automatic processes). The rider evolves to serve the elephant.”

One thing I hated about this book: this analogy. It made no sense, it still makes no sense, and it was used almost every other paragraph. Haidt is very proud of it, but oh man. 

“Deontologists talk abut high moral principles derived and justified by careful reasoning; they would never agree that these principles are merely post hoc rationalizations of gut feelings. But Greene had a hunch that gut feelings were what often drove people to make deontological judgments, whereas utilitarian judgements were more cool and calculating.”

“Glaucon’s thought experiment implies that people are only virtuous because they fear the consequences of getting caught – especially the damage to their reputations. Glaucon says he will not be satisfied until Socrates can prove that a just man with a bad reputation is happier than an unjust man who is widely thought to be good.”

Food for thought – I immediately thought about Quran (4:135) "O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm in justice, witnesses for Allah , even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives. Whether one is rich or poor, Allah is more worthy of both. So follow not [personal] inclination, lest you not be just. And if you distort [your testimony] or refuse [to give it], then indeed Allah is ever, with what you do, Acquainted." Yes, sometimes it’s unpopular to be just, sometimes it challenges the status quo and those in power, sometimes it’s dangerous, but people still do it. People still stand up for justice, people who are demonized and blacklisted, they stand up for what’s right, and they are happy. 

“What, then, is the function of moral reasoning? Does it seem to have been shaped, tuned, and crafted (by natural selection) to help us find the truth, so that we can know the right way to behave and condemn  those who behave wrongly? If you believe that, then you are a rationalist, like Plato, Socrates, and Kohlberg. Or does moral reasoning seem to have been shaped, tuned, and crafted to help us pursue socially strategic goals, such as guarding our reputations and convincing other people to support us, or our team, in disputes? If you believe that, then you are Glauconian.”

I don’t know which school I fit into yet. I don’t think I ascribe to either of them fully enough. 

“But when people know in advance that they’ll have to explain themselves, they think more systematically and self-critically. They are less likely to jump to premature conclusions and more likely to revise their beliefs in response to evidence.”

This, I think, shows why a very fundamentally beneficial part of religions and belief systems with gods that are omniscient and all-seeing. Even when we are inclined to do something wrong that no person might see, we are still aware that God sees everything, and that we’ll have to own up to that action and answer for it. 

“[…] accountability pressures simply increase confirmatory thought. People are trying harder to look right than be right.”

I think this is extremely crucial in religious questioning. When I started questioning my own beliefs, I knew I would do this, so I tried to approach my beliefs similarly to how I would approach a scientific hypothesis. Approach with the intent to disprove, and if it cannot be disproven, it stands. You move on to the next hypothesis and so on. Nobody likes to be wrong, but with something as important as belief, I think we have to be counterintuitive. We have to think slowly and critically.

“People are quite good at challenging statements made by other people, but if it’s your belief, then it’s your possession – your child, almost – and you want to protect it, not challenge it and risk losing it.” 

This is what higher institutions of learning try to teach us right? They encourage us to challenge our own beliefs, grow and adapt and improve. I wonder when the right age to begin this kind of training is most appropriate. Should we begin questioning norms and traditions earlier?

“Tomasello notes that a word is not a relationship between a sound and an object. It is an agreement among people who share a joint representation of the things in their world, and who share a set of conventions for communicating with each other about those things.”

“We evolved to live, trade, and trust within shared moral matrices. When societies lose their grip on individuals, allowing all to do as they please, the result is often a decree in happiness and an increase in suicide, as Durkheim showed more than a hundred years ago.”

&&&

Some other things I got out of this book:
1. Hang out with people who are different from you and who don’t share all your beliefs and opinions. There is growth in challenge. 
2. Most information can be twisted and presented as to make sense for all sides of an argument.  Thus, it’s essential for us to try to be as objective and unbiased as possible when approaching issues we care about. We tend to look for information that confirms what we already believe in but being aware that this is our natural inclination is the first step in avoiding it in the future.
3. Hierarchies aren’t inherently bad and exploitative but can exist harmoniously when there are certain expectations and responsibilities on all parties. Haidt says such hierarchies are similar to a parent-child relationship rather than a dictator-fearful underlings relationship. 
4. There are five main foundations that politicians use to connect to us. Left-wing morality only uses two of these, care and fairness, while right-wing morality encompasses all five, including the loyalty, authority, and sanctity foundations. We don’t know the full impact of this however, because despite having more ways to connect to the voters, right wingers remain somewhat equally tied to the left wingers in support (though Haidt believes that if left wingers start connecting to voters on more foundations it will help them get ahead).
5. There are people who think morality, altruism and generosity are mistakes. This is not news, I have written about Rand here before. Haidt argues that morality is the key to understanding humanity. And he argues this point well. 
6. New Atheists think religion costs us, but it’s actually one of the most persevering ways to solve the problem of fueling cooperation among people without kinship. 
7. Liberalism tries to change too many things too quickly all at once and it is one of the reasons why it has failed to create a stable governing philosophy. Conservatism does a better job of preserving moral capital but fails to see the need to change or update institutions as times change. The idea is that we need both to have a steadily improving and healthy state. Moderation is best indeed. 

And that concludes this 2000-word monster of a post. Thanks for sticking around, if you have, that is, and see you on the next book review slash opinion piece (or maybe vignette).