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Published: February 18th 2011
The man outside my house
He sometimes helps me with the gate. Kind of a boring job?. Thursday, February 17, 2011, 10:30 p.m.
Inside my new home, Al Jazeera is running “The Stream”, a news documentary followed by a panel discussion about the role of facebook and twitter in the Tunisia and Egypt revolutions. They’ve coined a new phrase with a lovely twist - weapons of mass mobilization. It’s fascinating. The “mobilizers” had a level of expertise that surpassed the ability of the most advanced security systems, using modes of communications that surpass traditional media by far in terms of speed and reach. It’s as if the true potential of the internet has been realized, after most of us in North America were duped into thinking it was just another shallow advertising tool that had been taken over by mainstream media. It may be as important to democracy and people’s ability to participate as the advent of the printing press. Anyone who has a cell phone or internet connection, and that’s a lot of people in the developing world, can participate and be heard. Governments have attempted to stifle freedom of speech by shutting down or monitoring the internet. But they couldn’t turn off the satellites.
Speaking of freedom and democracy, outside my new home there
is a man with a gun. Don’t worry. He’s not trying to shoot me. In a way, he could be protecting me. Or not. These are the two sides of the security coin in Syria. On the one hand, it keeps the country safe. You can walk the streets at night with little fear of crime. There are no bomb threats, no mass shootings in schools or malls. But you are watched, and knowing that you are watched causes you to act differently. Perhaps you are more careful about what you say, read, watch and write. Because you want to avoid suspicion, just in case something bad DOES happen. You don’t want anyone to have an excuse to point a finger at you.
Meanwhile, I benefit from this system by sharing an armed guard with the house next door and knowing I am safer here than anywhere else in the world, as long as I behave myself. At least the control is in my hands. I could be living in Johannesburg, LA, or Miami, not knowing from one day to the next if I will be robbed, hijacked, or kidnapped, but knowing the odds are against me. Here, the
rules are clear.
Explanation: I may have rented a flat close to the residence of a very important person. There are different stories about this person. Maybe he is a member of Lebanon's Hamas. Maybe he is someone who helped the former President gain power.
Power belongs to a fairly small group of people in Syria. Like anywhere, there are others who think the power should be theirs, but they are not likely to get that power in the next election, because there aren’t elections here. There are only two ways to gain power. Force, or “wasta”. Wasta is something you can gain by doing favours, but you can also inherit by being born into the inner circle of powerful, influential friends and family who have done very BIG favours in the past. There are degrees of wasta. Wasta can get you out of jail or avoid a traffic fine. It can get you a job in government that pays almost nothing but allows you to collect money in other ways. Wasta can get you a seat at the table and the more wasta you have, the more protection you need.
Thus, I have armed guards outside
my front gate 24/7. It’s quite likely that they know everything about me. Perhaps I had to pass some kind of test before the landlord was allowed to rent to me. Perhaps they will ease up on the vigilance outside my gate when they are confident I am not harbouring extremists bent on overthrowing the current government. Maybe they just want to see who my friends are? I did have some people over for a glass of wine last night after going to a local art exhibition. Artists in Syria, as in most places, tend to be slightly radical. Abstract visual art in is a form of political expression. After all, its difficult to arrest someone for abstract symbols that require interpretation.
As the world around us in the Middle East dissolves into pandemonium and anarchy in the name of democracy and freedom, this kind of security can seem like a better alternative, especially if you have money, power, and the need to keep it. If you don’t have money and power, the security feels like a leash that gets a little tight now and then. Facebook and chat lines can be shut down. You show up at hotel
my attempt at a traditional breakfast
tasted pretty good after a long bike ride. in the country and someone needs to know why you are there, who you are with, who you are meeting. You want to run to the top of these beautiful mountains overlooking the city, but every one of them is crawling with military and is off limits to the average citizen. Everywhere you turn, there is a roadblock literally and figuratively. But as long as you have work, food, safety and hope that your children will do better, these things are minor inconveniences. If work, food, and safety are taken away, the security leash starts to chafe at your neck and you can think of nothing other than breaking free. Particularly if you are young and well educated, and believe you can change the world.
The people of my generation here have seen the pandemonium and anarchy before, and while they may not like the current system, it’s better than the alternative. This came home to me yesterday as a motorcycle sped past our car on the way to work. I asked my driver if he had ridden a motorcycle before. He responded that he had, before the “bad times”, but during the “bad times”, motorcycles were ridden by
sunroom off the bedrm
this is why I love my place...a perfect spot for morning yoga. armed men who commanded the streets through terror. After that, no one rode a motorcycle. (Except the Bedouin of course, who use dirt bikes as their main form of transportation in the desert when camels are not available.) Motorcyclists in the city had a certain stigma, and it’s only recently that they have become more common as a mode of transportation.
On that note, I am off to see how far I can get on my mountain bike. It's a holy day and the streets are relatively safe. I wish I could climb a mountain and be free to explore and discover, as I would in Canada, but maneuvering around parked cars, road construction and 12-inch curbs will have to do. That’s enough of a challenge for today.
Post script: I found a great bike route, a good highway on a nice long hill, with an incredible view of the city at the top. If I can run it, I'll be in shape for the Comrades in South Africa. It felt so good!!!
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Kevin Gertken
non-member comment
Hello
Brenda Just following your blog. What an intriguing (scary?) time to be where you are! All the Best. -Kevin