A Parable

UPDATE: My wife reminded me that I left out one of the most important details of the story.  Final paragraph amended.

Who needs to read Andrew Bacevich when you can just talk to a Jordanian plumber?

One day a radiator heater in my apartment developed a leak.  Nothing major, just a drop from time to time.  I put a bowl under the leaky coupling and did my best to forget about the problem.  Tracking down a decent plumber in Amman sounded like a lot of work.  Much easier to just change out a bowl once a week.

My wife, who is far more responsible than I am, repeatedly urged me to find a plumber, so I finally did what any self-respecting man would do: one night I grabbed my toolbox and decided to give it a go myself.  No reason to call a plumber if the coupling just needed to be tightened.

I used a wrench to turn the coupling one direction.  Water began to pour from the fitting.  Oops.  Wrong direction.  I turned the wrench gently the other way, but the trickle turned into a high-pressure jet.  Uh-oh.  This had obviously been a bad idea; time to get the coupling back to its original position and call a plumber.  I made a couple more tweaks with the wrench, and now I knew I was in trouble.  Every time I touched the coupling, the leak got worse.  All of a sudden the whole thing seemed to come apart in my hands.  Filthy, mineral-rich water exploded out of the fitting.  In seconds our bedroom floor was a rust-colored lake.  Our closets flooded.  The water kept coming.  I made a frantic call to the landlord, then grabbed every pot I could find.  My wife changed out pots about every five seconds, while I tried to figure out which of the 12 shutoff valves in our apartment corresponded to the leak.  Fortunately, I found it.

A short time later, thanks to my landlord, a Jordanian plumber showed up.  In about two minutes he had the radiator off the wall.  With the careless ease that comes with a lifetime of experience, he disassembled and replaced all the fittings, then remounted the radiator.  He made it look so easy, it was embarrassing.  It was only after he’d finished that he finally spoke to me.  “You tried to fix it yourself, didn’t you?”  I sheepishly ‘fessed up.  "American?" he asked.  I nodded.

“You Americans,” he said, with none of the cheerful goodwill that I’ve come to expect from Jordanians.  "I worked with you guys as a translator during the Iraq War.  You always think you can fix everything.”

Ten things I won't miss about Jordan

Yesterday I listed ten things I will miss about Jordan.  Here is the other half of the story: ten things I won't miss.

10. The driving.  There were nights I was just glad to make it home alive.

9. Government ministries.  You have to push and shove through a mob of people to do anything; then you have to argue your way from office to office, trying to accumulate the 10 stamps or signatures necessary to certify what you just did.

8. U.S. government restrictions.  I’ve beaten this horse to death.  Let’s just say that I’m ready to live a little farther away from Big Brother, and I never want to fill out another country clearance request in my life.  Alas, I know I haven’t seen the end yet.

7. Conspiracy theories.  Did you know that Iran and the U.S. are secret allies, and jointly triggered the 2006 Lebanon war?  Or that the U.S. invasion of Iraq was actually designed to counteract the EU’s rising power?  Or that we engineered bird flu so pharmaceutical companies could sell vaccines?  Or that we never investigated the September 11th attacks?  Nothing makes for a good University experience like debating these things day in and day out, in Arabic (although, to be fair, this was only in a couple classes).

6. Unsolicited parenting advice.  It’s sweet and well-intended.  It’s also relentless and infuriating to every foreigner who has ever brought a child into the Middle East.  We smile and bob our heads, while we secretly think, “The day that you stop letting your toddler ride on the dashboard of your car, you can lecture me about how my baby isn’t warm enough because she’s not wearing socks.”

5. Cut-throat politics.  It seems to infect every institution I have experience with in this part of the world.  Many Jordanians will be the first to agree.  What we might think of as healthy organizational culture is largely absent here; in its place is a dysfunctional mish-mash of nepotism, personal agendas, and constant competition for power.  This breeds anger, distrust, paranoia, and a sense of helplessness among many Jordanians.

4. Anti-Semitism.  It’s real and it’s widespread.  When a European guest lecturer at UJ used “Protocols as the Elders of Zion” as an extreme and absurd example of enemy “othering”, one of the students had to interrupt and inform him that most students in the class probably believed that the book was true.  We did a poll on the spot.  Not only did most believe it was largely true, they’d studied it in school.

3. Religious intolerance.  Also real and widespread. Muslim Jordanians sincerely believe that they practice full religious tolerance.  They need to stop and ask some religious minorities what they think.  One of my friends faced apostasy charges in a local shariah court and nearly lost his children to enraged in-laws after his conversion to Christianity.  Churches have difficulty getting building permits, and pastors are routinely called in by intelligence services.  I have friends who converted from Islam who may never be able to marry, because it’s illegal to change their registered religion, and they have so many legal problems that Christian families consider them somewhat toxic.

2. Shame and honor.  Many Jordanians will be the first to admit that the shame-honor dynamic in their culture is the root of so many other evils.  I applaud the efforts of Jordanian reformers who want to change this dynamic, and who speak up on issues like youth violence and honor killings.

1. Despair.  I love Jordan and its people.  I really do.  That’s why it makes me so sad when I see Jordanian friends lose faith in their future.  They see that their economy is in shambles, their government is corrupt and inept, water and demographic crises loom on the horizon, and sectarianism lurks dangerously beneath the surface.  Those who try to reform things pay a high price and often burn out.  When I ask young people their greatest dream for the future, the typical answer is, “Leave Jordan.”  That makes me sad, and really makes me appreciate those who choose to stay--or who study abroad and choose to come back.

The best officers are leaving?

I’m coming to this discussions months late because the blog was down, but I still want to comment.  Every once in a while, an article appears arguing that America’s best officers are getting out.  The most recent I’m aware of was Tim Kane’s piece at The Atlantic.  Discussions of these articles often degenerate into a debate about whether or not it’s true that the best officers are leaving.  Likewise, people are quick to complain about the implied insult to officers who choose to stay in.

In my view, these debates miss the biggest point of the articles--which is that certain aspects of military service are driving officers crazy.  Those aspects lead some officers to get out (maybe the best, maybe not), but they also make life miserable for those who stay.  The takeaway from articles like this?  Regardless of whether or not the best are getting out, we need to fix these things.

According to Kane, these issues include promotions based on seniority rather than merit, risk aversion, centralized management of careers, and frustration with military bureaucracy.  Others have commented on the retention of toxic leaders, government nannying on issues like reflector belts or driving safety plans, and the lack of job satisfaction that comes along with a “make-work” PowerPoint culture.  Personally, I can relate to all of these.  I know a lot of other officers who can as well.  I plan to stay in for a while, but I would much rather stay in knowing that these issues are being addressed.

Ten Things I'll Miss About Jordan

10. The Food.  It’s amazing, especially the home cooking.

9. The Language.  Arabic is difficult and infuriating, but as my ability improved and I gained confidence, I really started to enjoy it--and I loved the thrill of seeing new doors open because of my growing ability.


8. Discovery. There’s always something new to discover in Jordan, whether it’s exploring the same desert that T.E. Lawrence did, scrambling around Roman ruins, watching Jordanian entrepreneurs showcase their newest inventions at a tech fair, or trying to piece together the politics surrounding reform.  It’s almost like putting together a puzzle; every new bit of language, culture, politics, history, or geography adds to the overall picture.

7. Challenge.  Jordan challenged and stretched me in unbelievable ways.

6. Representing the U.S.  I loved building trust with my Jordanian classmates, while simultaneously challenging some of their views about the United States and presenting alternative views.  These one-on-one interactions are where people really change and grow, and where more public diplomacy needs to happen.

5. The reformists.  In my final semester, I spent more and more time among Jordanian reformers--political activists, civic society leaders, business pioneers, and technology innovators.  I loved their passion, enthusiasm, and dedication to improving their country.  I also met so many University students with the same ambitions, especially among the young ladies.  I wish I could stick around to see them build Jordan’s future.

4. Hanging out.  It’s a simple country with simple people.  No trips to the movie theater; no video games.  A good Jordanian social visit means sitting out on the patio, enjoying the evening breeze, downing tea and puffing on the nargeela while you chat.  I like that.

3. Hospitality.  Jordanian hospitality is legendary for good reason.  This is a country where cab drivers will insist you keep your fare because you speak Arabic and security checkpoint guards will invite you to their homes for dinner.

2. Family. Collectivist culture has its downsides, but there’s also something to be said for a culture where family is everything and where life is shared in community.  

1. The value placed on children.  It’s a beautiful thing, and you have to be a parent to appreciate it.  In the U.S. parents love their own kids, but it’s not common to meet people who really appreciate or value other people’s children.  In Jordan, every child is the most precious treasure in the universe.

Year Two in Review

So what have I been up to for the last year?  Here are some highlights.

I audited three history classes in Arabic at UJ.  These included: Administration in the Early Islamic Caliphate, Islamic Reform Movements of the 19th Century, and the History of Western Political Philosophy.  These classes gave me excellent language practice, and were fantastic for getting an “inside look” at how Arabs and Muslims see their history.

I wrote a thesis examining discourse about Islam in the United States.  This entailed reading dozens of books and hundreds of articles and blog posts that purport to explain “true Islam”, across the spectrum, ranging from Robert Spencer to Karen Armstrong.  I loved diving into the subject and learning, but UJ politics--and personal agendas among professors--made the thesis process one of the worst experiences of my career.  I hate to admit it, but it was probably also the best training I could imagine for high-level government service.

I spent a couple months at a traditional (i.e. conservative but anti-Wahhabi) Islamic school, where I was the only non-Muslim.  I studied two subjects: an introduction to the Hanafi school of shariah law, and tajwiid (Qur’an memorization and recital). 

I visited Egypt in mid-January.  On my last night, two Egypt Olmsted scholars and I talked about whether same thing that happened in Tunisia could happen in Egypt.  Never, we thought.  The state is too strong.  The next day, as I was on my way to the airport, the first demonstrations began.  A week later, my Olmsted colleagues were evacuated.

In March I went to a “#hashtagdebate” sponsored by some young, tech-savvy Jordanian reformers.  It was a kind of town hall meeting--half physical, half virtual--where Jordanians could discuss political reform.  I was impressed and inspired by the group.  The next day, they helped lead a peaceful demonstration in Amman.  Overzealous Jordanians who considered them traitors showed up to barrage them with rocks, while police largely stood by; later the police stormed the circle and one demonstrator died.  Afterwards, police and counter-demonstrators celebrated together in the streets.

I learned that one of my best Jordanian friends used to be a fedayeen fighter and spent 20 years in Egyptian prison, at one point sharing a cell with Omar Abdel-Rahman and al-Zawahiri’s brother, before he renounced Islam and converted to Christianity.  He showed me his gunshot scars from the Battle of Karameh.  Wow.

My Arabic steadily improved.  I’m pretty good by American standards, which means I’m still pretty lousy by Jordanian standards.  I’m wondering if any non-native speaker ever feels “fluent.”

I finished my novel, which is a science-fiction story loosely based on the Rwandan genocide.  It is dark and genre-defying, but I am still hoping to find an editor who is willing to buy it... and even more important, readers who want to read it.

I am on my way to a C-17 flying assignment.  I’m sad to be leaving the Middle East, but I’m also excited to be returning to a flying unit.  Living abroad has given me a deep appreciation for the camaraderie, professionalism, and competence in an Air Force flying squadron.

Reach 364, Radio Check.

I’m back in the blogosphere.  Boy, did I miss it.  There were so many times I nearly reopened this blog, despite my security concerns: when I was in Cairo on the morning the Egyptian revolution began, when Peter King’s radicalization hearings were filling the news, when I met some hip young Jordanian reformers--only to watch them get beat up by police and overzealous “patriots” the next day.  It’s been a busy year for people who care about the Arab and Islamic worlds, and it was hard for me to keep quiet.

However, I recently finished my time in Jordan.  Now that my security situation has changed, it’s finally time to re-join the conversation.  I plan to continue fulfilling this blog’s original purpose: multiplying the impact of my Olmsted education by sharing what I’ve learned.

In addition to commenting on current events and issues, I hope to review some of my more valuable experiences and insights from the past year.  In some cases these observations will be dated, but I hope they will still be useful.  In any case, I’m glad to be back and looking forward to sharing with you.