This is quite the effective chain of communication. As we all know from playing the game of telephone, it is possible for information to get jumbled or lost along the way. But that is why historians are trained to take into consideration their source’s motives, background, and expertise. It’s true that you may not be getting the full picture, but you are at least learning something about a former era. Think of all of the precious manuscripts that have unlocked the secrets of former civilization. Think of all of the irreplaceable artifacts that have taught us about the innovative spirit and precocious skills of our predecessors. Sometimes these items don’t stand the test of time, and they only live on through references in contemporary literature or histories. To a historian, such destruction is particularly painful. “Not only am I not going to ever know about this, but my children, and their children, will also never know.” A library burns, an archive is flooded, and a door into history is slammed shut.

In this way, history can be frighteningly delicate. It is incredible to think that the only reason we know anything about what the hell happened more than 2 generations ago is because someone took the time to write it down. But if one measly manuscript can shed light into history, just think of the power of an actual artifact. Or, say 2 million artifacts stacked in the shape of a pyramid? It is estimated that the Great Pyramid of Giza has been around for 3,800 years. And here we are, hoping to live until we are 85. The presence of such wonders is truly a gift that we should cherish. The deliberate destruction of the Buddhas of Bamiyan in Afghanistan hammers home how precious even the mightiest of historical landmarks can be. It makes my blood boil to think of some puny, measly, mortal person daring to blow up a work of art–a piece of history–that has lasted centuries. Made in the 6th century, destroyed in the 21st. Gone. Sounds like the work of insecure, arrogant, and ignorant individuals on a power trip (ah yes, we are talking about the Taliban). Such buildings and statutes–which are a testament both to the genius and temporal nature of human life, should inspire a sense of humility and pride in all of us. It is our responsibility to protect these pieces of living history, not only so that we may enjoy them, but also so that the future generations may be able to experience history first hand.

Today was the first day I fully realized the importance of being a steward of history. Let it be known that I fully accept such responsibilities. Let the games begin.

Two hours and a box of tissues later, I staggered to my journal to unload my brain. This was some heavy shit. As the title might indicate, the documentary examined the oh so mild topics of faith, God, evil, doubt, and religion. This isn’t the show you have on while you are cooking dinner or updating your facebook page. It deserves your full attention, and it is well worth your time. You can find the full program online, as well as written transcripts of the interviews. It was filmed in 2002, so there is a difficult but profound rawness to the conversations.

I found the interviews with religious leaders to be particularly captivating. These were men, of various faiths, who had committed their lives to religion. And here were 19 individuals, who were so drunk off of their own religious infatuation, that they felt at peace with the notion of murdering 3,000 people. In our politically correct culture, we have attempted to separate the role of religion from the events of 9/11. “That’s not Islam” we tell ourselves, “so the role of religion is irrelevant.” It is true that the terrorist attacks weren’t Islam, just as the Ku Klux Klan, Crusades and Spanish Inquisition aren’t Christianity. But religion was involved, and we are fooling ourselves to think otherwise. Listen to the words of Monsignore Lorenzo Albacete, a professor of theology at St. Joseph’s Seminary in New York:

“From the first moment I looked into that horror on Sept. 11, into that fireball, into that explosion of horror, I knew it. I knew it before anything was said about those who did it or why. I recognized an old companion. I recognized religion. Look, I am a priest for over 30 years. Religion is my life, it’s my vocation, it’s my existence.. Therefore, I know it.

And I know, and recognized that day, that the same force, energy, sense, instinct, whatever, passion — because religion can be a passion — the same passion that motivates religious people to do great things is the same one that that day brought all that destruction. When they said that the people who did it did it in the name of God, I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. It only confirmed what I knew. I recognized it.

I recognized this thirst, this demand for the absolute. Because if you don’t hang on to the unchanging, to the absolute, to that which cannot disappear, you might disappear. I recognized that this thirst for the never-ending, the permanent, the wonders of all things, this intolerance or fear of diversity, that which is different — these are characteristics of religion. And I knew that that force could take you to do great things. But I knew that there was no greater and more destructive force on the surface of this earth than the religious passion. (full interview)

Rabbi Brad Hirschfield, an Orthodox Rabbi and vice president of the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, echoes this frank approach to the dark side of religion.

“…Religion drove those planes into those buildings. That’s upsetting, but that’s what happened. This idea that somehow that’s not Islam, so we shouldn’t worry is not only naïve; it’s stupid. It’s wrong. There’s a very rich tradition which they delved into to justify what they did.

By the way, hating doing it and fighting against it ever happening again is also Islam, just like with the Jewish tradition. The guy who went into the mosque in the city of Hebron and murdered 29 human beings didn’t do that out of the air. He had a deep connection to a tradition, a religious tradition in Judaism that pushed him there. Keeping him from doing it is also a serious religious tradition.

You don’t sterilize these traditions and say “No, no, no, they don’t do anything wrong.” Because what’s really going on when we do that is that we don’t want– If Islam is clean, and that’s not real Islam, then I don’t have to ask where is it real Jewish, and Christians don’t have to ask where is it real Christian. The worst thing we can do is make some kind of compact where none of us admit the blood on our hands. (full interview)

And what about Muslims? Afterall, it was their faith that was slandered that day. Listen to the reaction of Khaled Abou El Fadl, a leading Islamic scholar and professor of law at UCLA.

“I was completely frozen for the first hour or so. It’s as if I refused to believe it. I didn’t know how to believe it. … One day before, I was there [in New York]. In fact, I was in the Borders that was destroyed, and I stayed in a hotel right across the street from the World Trade Center. … That thought went through my head: “We were just there. The second thought was a prayer, a wish, a plea: “Please, God, not Muslims. [Do not let it be] Muslims who have done this, or anyone who is calling themselves a Muslim.” …

Part of me felt that wishful thinking. Just one week before, I had written an article in the L.A. Times, saying I was very afraid that something tragic like this was going to happen, because of my reading of where the thinking in the Islamic reality was. And then to see it happen, I didn’t want to talk about it. I actually walked away from the television set and went into my den, and pretty much didn’t want to talk about it…I didn’t want to see anyone.

Something in my heart just told me that I know it’s going to turn out to be someone who believes himself a Muslim to have done this. I wept for a good hour. It was so much suffering. As a professor who teaches in this field, and as a Muslim who is committed to this religion, for it to all to come to this. It wasn’t just that I was crying about the planes or the fear or the anxiety. … I was crying over what has happened to Muslim civilization. Where are we now? I was crying over the fate of something that I love dearly, and that is Islam.

I was very angry, [but] not at God. I must confess I was very angry at our behavior — meaning my fellow brethren and sisters, Muslims. Well before this, there was the destroying of the Buddha statues; there [was] the oppression of women in Afghanistan; there [was] the decision to have Christians and Jews wear distinctive marks in Afghanistan. It’s ugliness after ugliness after ugliness…I don’t think you can have a sense of dignity about yourself if you can’t clearly confront the fact that this was committed in the name of the faith that you believe in.” (full interview)

Three men of three different faiths, all shaken by the acts of 19 fanatics. I was very impressed by the wisdom of their words, and I was especially moved by the Monsignor’s and Rabbi’s willingness to admit the shared guilt of their own creeds. Rather than pointing the finger and singling out Islam, their reactions implied the nauseating realization of “This could have been me, this could have been my faith.” The people who drove those planes into the buildings happened to be Muslim, but the fervor that drove them had no particular connection to Islam. It is a detachment from reality, an unbelievable arrogance in the righteousness of a cause, that has exhibited itself in all religions and many ideologies. Such ugliness has no place in religion, but unfortunately it is there, and we had best deal with it.

Watch the video. Read the interviews. And most importantly, think critically about matters of faith. I only wish the hijackers had found the courage to do the same.

It’s been ten years since the attacks of 9/11, and yet there is a distinct absence of art on the subject. When artists do tackle the subject, it is largely through indirect means. This LA Times article brilliantly articulates this observation, and points out that the only major film that actually takes the subject head on (United 93) is rather one dimensional.

“Although admirably accurate and even-handed in its documentary-like marshaling of facts, “United 93″ fails to elevate its subject beyond the level of a historical reenactment. It monumentalizes the heroic passengers and depicts the hijackers without judgment — but also without illuminating them as people.”

What’s going on here? Such timidity and self-censorship is not only unusual for the art community, but it seems to contradict the very principles that artists uphold. One obvious explanation for artists’ avoidance of the subject is that it is simply too soon; the wound is still too raw. 9/11 was ten years ago, but it might as well have been yesterday. I do not know one person who died on that day and I still have absolutely zero interest in watching United 93. I still get chills when I watch actual video footage of that day. I can imagine that for people who actually lost loved ones, the last thing they want to see is a piece of art publicizing their personal tragedy. Artists who do dare to undertake this difficult subject have encountered such resistance. In 2009, a commemorative statue by artist Eric Fischl was covered and finally removed after a number of complaints from the public.

Tumbling Woman by Eric Fischl

As you can see, the statue is powerful, but in no way offensive or graphic. The fact that it rejected by the public, and ultimately censored, speaks to the sensitivity of the subject, even 8 years after the attacks.

Another aspect of this phenomenon is the availability of real footage of the attacks, as well as the spectacular nature of the tragedy. This didn’t happen in a remote village, under the cover of night. This happened on a beautiful and clear September morning, in one of the most populated cities in the world. What American doesn’t have that nauseating image–of the second plane smashing into the south tower–seared into their brain? What American doesn’t have crystal clear memories of nightmarish footage of people leaping from the burning inferno? Do we really need Hollywood to take a crack at it?

But as the LA Times article points out, the point of art is not to reenact history. Movies such as Hotel Rwanda and the Pianist prove that artists can effectively communicate the horrors of genocide without the gratuitous violence which marked each actual event. There is clearly something else at play, something nastier than an inability to talk about the tragedy.

For people who lost loved ones on that day, I imagine that 9/11 is remembered purely as a day of unspeakable tragedy. For the rest of us, and we should count ourselves lucky, the memory of 9/11 is wrapped up in a whopping knot of complications. War on Terror, PATRIOT Act, erosion of civil liberties, American imperialism, Iraq, Afghanistan, Oil–it’s like the knot of Christmas lights from hell. Americans haven’t agreed on the legacy of 9/11, so it’s hard for American artists to tackle the subject with the same gusto that they might the Holocaust. And as we have seen, those artists who do dare to bring up the subject often face an unwilling audience. When will we be ready to watch a play that tells the story of Mohamed Atta? I wonder when we will be willing to face all of the angles of this tragedy, even the ones that we’d rather not see.

For more reading, see this excellent article on the “September 11″ exhibit on display at the MOMA, in which “out of the 70 images made by 41 artists, not one shows a plane flying into the towers, or the towers smoking like torches, or people falling from the burning windows and landing in the plazas and streets below.”

But that’s not happening to my blog. I had to set it aside as I left my job, said goodbye to friends, and moved out of Washington, DC for a new chapter out on the west coast. Now that I am settling in and finding my groove, I have decided to reignite MidEast Beat. This comes just in time for the 10 year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, a time in which our country will be confronted by an onslaught of various emotions. 9/11 has become an unshakeable part of the modern American experience. The horrific murder of over 3,000 people, in a matter of hours, has changed our society and our world perspective. The event united us, its aftermath divided us, and its memory haunts us.

During these next few weeks, I hope to share some of my reflections–as well as the thoughts of others–on the anniversary of the attacks. For starters, I would like to share this interesting LA Times piece on how some American Muslims have combated the anti-Islamic sentiments of the post 9/11 era by reaching out to non-Muslims. By breaking the “Muslim bubble” and integrating into American society, these individuals have been able to act as unofficial ambassadors for Islam. Similar to the argument championed by members of the LGBT community, it is hard to harbor anti-Muslim feelings when you actually know at least one Muslim. Can you really think that Islam is a religion of hate and violence when you know that your child’s preschool teacher is Muslim? What about your dentist, doctor, pilot, barista, congressman, firefighter, or neighbor? The individuals in the article think the answer is no, and believe that it is time for American Muslims to “wake up” and engage outside of their religious community. They aren’t the only ones, as there are millions of American Muslims who are stepping out of the closet, so to speak. Take Sahar Ullar, one of the founders of the innovative and brilliant “Hijabi Mon0logues,” a show which seeks to dispel stereotypes about Muslim women. Or take Hamid Chaudhry, the owner of a Pennsylvania Dairy Queen who was featured in a recent NY Times article. Hamid isn’t an activist, he is just an ordinary American entrepreneur making a difference in his community. Oh, and he is Muslim.

Turns out soft serve is an effective antidote to stereotypes

Whether they are activists or just ordinary citizens, these individuals are helping to change how non-Muslim Americans think about Islam and its followers. But they can’t do it on their own. We non-Muslims have to do our part also. Open your eyes and challenge yourself to re-humanize Muslim Americans. The tragedy of 9/11 was bad enough, let’s put an end to the misguided hatred that followed the attacks.

Bhuiyan survived the shooting, and in an amazing display of humanity, is actually advocating against Stroman’s pending execution, which is scheduled for July 20, 2011.

“I strongly believe executing him is not a solution. We will just simply lose a human life without dealing with the root cause, which is hate crime,” Bhuiyan says. “In Islam it says that saving one human life is the same as saving the entire mankind. Since I forgave him, all those principles encouraged me to go even further, and stop his execution and save another human life.”

If only Geert Wilders, Terry Jones, and all of the other Islamaphobes of the world could hear this man’s story, they might be hesitant to call Islam a religion of hate and violence. Bhuiyan’s display of forgiveness is a reminder of the futility of stereotypes, and the strength of the human spirit.

As you may know, it is illegal for women to drive in this oil-rich monarchy. Despite the fact that it is the only Muslim country with such a ban, conservative clerics believe the law follows Islamic principles regarding gender relations, specifically those suggesting that men should be the guardians of women. However, as Dr. Qanta Ahmed points out in this article the law could actually be seen as un-Islamic in addition to simply being discriminatory.

“Ironically, the ban is particularly problematic for an Islamic monarchy since it is fundamentally unIslamic. Muslim women lacking male relatives have been making solo pilgrimages to Mecca for centuries without restriction. Their journeys reflect Islam’s recognition of their rights as individuals.”

Dr. Ahmed, who practiced medicine in Saudi Arabia, goes on to point out the political origins of the ban, and how it is more an attempt to preserve male power than it is to defend a woman’s piety.

Fortunately, she is not the only woman who is speaking out against this outrageous law. Perhaps inspired by the Arab Spring, Saudi women organized a protest against the law, taking to the streets and getting behind the wheel.

"June 17, 2011: I will drive my car by myself"

These courageous women are playing a dangerous game in a country that does not take dissent lightly. Saudi Arabia has become one of the staunchest opponents of the Arab Spring, banning public protests and criticizing the region’s transition away from authoritarian regimes. Despite the risks, these women are fighting for their rights. Show your support on Facebook, and remember these women the next time you turn the ignition.

Given that no woman, of any religion, has ever sought the Egyptian presidency, I am dying to know why you felt it necessary to title this article “Muslim Woman Seeks Egyptian Presidency.” It is estimated that nearly 90 percent of Egyptians are Muslim, and the past four Egyptian presidents have been Muslim, so it can’t be that shocking that another Muslim is throwing her hat in the ring. Similarly, as you mention in your article, Ms. Kamel is the first Egyptian woman of any creed to run for this office, so it’s not as if she is the first Muslim woman to do so, but third woman overall.

My understanding of journalism is that titles should be short and sweet. Adjectives should be few and significant. As explained, in this case the adjective “Muslim” is not significant, so the purpose of its presence is unclear. The only explanation I can conclude is that you decided to throw it in because you were slightly surprised that the first woman to be running for president in Egypt was a Muslim, despite the fact that they are the majority. You thought this despite the fact that there have been female Muslim presidents and prime ministers in Turkey, Pakistan, Bengladesh, and Indonesia, and Muslim women parliamentarians throughout the Arab world. Despite all of this, you were surprised. Why? Perhaps it’s because you, like many ignorant people, have a erroneous perception of Muslim women as more disempowered than their Christian counterparts. Unfortunately, your title not only reflects this pernicious stereotype, but it also reinforces it.

Therefore, I suggest you reconsider the title of this piece. Titular words come at a premium, and you have one word which is not serving a purpose. At least not one that you should be proud of.

Don't let that smile fool you, he's sweating underneath that Armani suit

It appears that the pressure may be working. In a dramatic development, King Abdullah announced that he will relinquish one of his key powers: appointing the country’s prime minister and cabinet. In a recent statement, the king vowed that future cabinets would be elected by the parliament. If this change comes to pass, it would be a victory for those who hope to see Jordan transition to a constitutional monarchy with a strong parliament and checks on executive power. While this is exciting news, we should hold off on the champagne until we see some action. King Abdullah has promised a lot of reform in his last 12 years; I want to see if this smooth talker can also do some walking.