January 2017

Am I Anti-Anti-American?

I had just recently read Mohsin Hamid’s novel The Reluctant Fundamentalist in my ASTU class at UBC–a course that incorporates reading and writing skills. Through Reluctant‘s narrative, Hamid smoothly incorporates trivial concepts such as “Islamophobia” and “Anti-Americanism”, initiating a conversation into topics rarely discussed. Especially by putting 9/11 (with concentration on the attack on the Twin Towers in New York, specifically) in as part of the backdrop, Hamid creates a unique story that questions one’s values, loyalty, and ultimately one’s identity.

While discussing the book, me and my classmates were asked whether or not we thought the book was anti-American. This of course–like many other things–made me have to take a step back and ponder in my over analytical mind. What exactly, does it mean for something (or someone) to be anti-American? Can it be as simple as having essences of hostility and resistance towards American values and beliefs? Or is it sometime much deeper?

Being anti-American is–evidently–seen in a negative light. Particularly after 9/11, strong notions of nationalism and Islamophobia were present within American culture. Now although I am by no means trying to degrade the horror that 9/11 brought (and the potential danger that terrorism can bring), many debatable questions continue to run through my mind. One question, for instance, is that if anti-Americanism is anything that resists America and its values, then does that make many Islamophobic aspects of the American culture anti-Islam? And if so, who has the authority to put one “anti-view” over another?

In The Reluctant Fundamentalist, one section of narrative particularly shocked me. While Changez was talking to the man, he claimed that terrorism was–presumably by the West–“defined to refer only to the organized and politically motivated killing of civilians by killers not wearing the uniform of soldiers” (Hamid, 178). The West sees their uniformed soldiers as the “good guys”–the ones fighting terrorism and the “evil”. But what I found particularly astounding with this quote, was the implications of America as the “evil”–that to the many countries and states that America occupied or fought against, it is the uniformed soldiers that are seen as the terrorists.

Even though our first thoughts to this concept may be that it is clearly anti-American, I believe that we must move past some of the “walls” that blind our judgments. Or more specifically, the portions of nationalism that dehumanize the lives of the foreign. Because even though there might be parts of life that can be categorized as “right” and “wrong”, I do not think that there can ever be a complete Manichean understanding in the world–that there can never be a concrete, universal line between what is considered “good” and what is considered “evil”.

For if both sides of a conflict are considered “evil” by the opposition, then who really is the “evil” one?

The Real Truth

In my ASTU class at UBC (a first year reading and writing course), we have just recently finished the journalistic comic book Safe Area Goražde,written by Joe Sacco. Following the events of the Bosnian War during the 1990’s, Sacco shows the horrid reality of the conflict through his illustrations, with narratives consisting of collected oral histories, facts, and his own observations.

Within the book, Sacco repeatedly refers to the “Real Truth” that he is trying to find. It was the idea of this “Real Truth” that kept nudging my brain as I read. Moreover, I found that Sacco’s portrayal on one’s desire to find the Truth, and their continuous avoidance of it in the process, provided a sort of reality within itself. This avoidance–which has presented itself multiple times in Safe Area–is something that I believe we as humans evidently do often. We tell people that we want to know the truth, and then when presented with an opportunity, we willingly pass by it. Just like how Sacco “avoided [a man who claimed he had the Real Truth] completely” (ii), and how some Serbians believed that the massacre of Muslims by Serbs in Srebrenica did not actually happen (195), we hide from what we claim we want.

But then again, can the Truth ever be wholly defined? Although there might be pieces of evidence–photographs, eye witness reports, video records, etc.–human nature still has a great tendency to only believe what we want to. And even then, does the Real Truth only consist of concrete fact? Can biases and opinions also contribute to the Truth? Everyone has their own perspectives on what the Truth really is. Whether it be in religion, politics, or even personal opinions, everyone believes in some way or another that they are “right”. So, in essence, who really believes in the right Truth?

Safe Area has opened my eyes further than I thought they were, to the truth of the Real Truth. It is this kind of questioning and the yearning for what is “correct” that–more often than naught–divides people and puts them against each other. Sacco provides us with an illustration (through an event often left in the silence) on how our perceptions of individual differences can cause us to categorize those individuals into part of the “foreign, dangerous other”.

But in the mix of all these conflicting Truths, is the Truth of humanity. We all evidently have opinions. We think, we decide, we act. It is this precise truth of us being unable to decide on a single truth, that makes us human. Although I know that this discussion can potentially continue for hours, days and months, in the end I think that it is only when we embrace this truth–both the good and the bad, and the ability of free will among us–that we can fully accept the Real Truth of humanity.