A Review of the Film "The Reluctant Fundamentalist" and a Consideration of the Ideas of Liah Greenfeld

The Reluctant Fundamentalist, a film by Mira Nair, attempts to accomplish a great deal. Fundamentalism, which trails behind it the threat of terror and violence, is a crucial issue in our age. Nair’s film attempts to deal with issues surrounding fundamentalism by following the life of a young Pakistani. In doing so, the film attempts to pack a great deal into a two-hour story. Essentially, a young, bright Pakistani comes to the US to attend Princeton University. He graduates with honors, and is hired by a McKinsey-like company in New York City. He meets and beds a young artist, and then when it, when it seems like he’s on top of the world, 9/11 happens.

After 9/11, of course, things change drastically for him. He becomes the subject of airport searches and an unjustified arrest and interrogation. (The facts of the arrest and interrogation scenes struck me as over the top—or am I naïve?—given the utter lack of probable cause  and the sophistication of the protagonist depicted in the film, but this is endemic to the film itself). Returning to Pakistan, the young man begins to teach at Lahore University and becomes identified with radical views in the eyes the local CIA contingent. In the end, (spoiler alert), our young man rejects two types of fundamentalism: both the religious fundamentalism that leads to terrorism and violence, and the fundamentalism that the CIA and others deploy in their own Manichean worldview.

The film as well acted, well directed, and as I mentioned, except for perhaps trying to pack too much into the script, it was a decent storyline that explored some of the difficulties and challenges that such a young man would face.

Immediately before seeing this movie, I happened to read a blog entry by Liah Greenfeld. She’s a professor of Sociology, Political Science, and Anthropology at Boston University. (I found her piece on the website for Project Syndicate, which carries blogs by a wide variety of academics and intellectuals across a broad spectrum of issues.) In her entry, Prof. Greenfeld talks about the Boston bombers and their motivations in terms of her recently published book Mind, Modernity, Madness: The Impact of Culture on Human Experience (Harvard University Press, 2013) that argues an interesting hypothesis about not only the roots of terrorism, but also how the entire Modern Age affects us all. After reading the blog entry, I discovered and reviewed her personal website, her blog, and the blog she writes for Psychology Today. Her Psychology Today blog sets out the premises of her book in a continuing series of entries.

Greenfeld’s initial hypothesis starts with the growth of nationalism beginning in Tudor England in the 1500s, when the death and disruption caused by the War of the Roses created opportunities for unprecedented social mobility. This social mobility, along with new understanding of sovereignty, led to the rise of nationalism. From England, the idea passed to France, Germany, Russia, Japan, and around the world. Her second book, The Spirit of Capitalism: Nationalism and Economic Growth (2003) argues that capitalism arose not because of the Protestant Ethic (Weber) or some unique event or asset in the West, but because the idea of economic growth, as opposed to the mere accumulation of wealth, became a touchstone of nationalist thinking in the rivalry between the nation-states of Europe. 

Her most recently published book (Mind, Modernity, Madness) argues that the views of Emile Durkheim and Max Weber, two of the pillars of sociology and political economy, give us insight into what has happened in our modern world. From Durkheim, she pulls the concept of anomie, the idea that modern society cuts us loose and leaves us adrift from many of the traditional ties that moor our identity and self-concept, leaving us adrift in the modern world. From Weber, although she dismisses, as do most scholars now, his thesis that the Protestant Ethic was the guiding idea of capitalism, she nevertheless takes the premise that an idea or ideas were in fact the motive force behind this world-changing events that led to capitalism and modernity. (In this regard, she seems very close to what Deirdre McCloskey is arguing in her books, including The Bourgeois Dignity, although McCloskey apparently differs to some extent based upon the brief references to Greenfeld's work in Bourgeois Dignity.) 

In Mind, Modernity, Madness, Greenfeld argues that the most difficult and intractable of modern mental illnesses, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and major depression, are primarily diseases of the mind and not of the brain, contrary to the current trend of contemporary thinking. She believes that individuals thrown into the modern condition often cannot cope with the challenges foisted upon them, and as a result, some suffer these illnesses. This thesis attracts me because I believe that for a long time now that we can’t account for all mental illnesses through biology alone. Some mental illness is without question solely of biological origin, but others have too much of a social-cultural component among antecedents and symptoms to allow us to look at biology alone. 

Let me share an example. Suppose someone is around the corner and you’re not aware that the other person is there. You turn the corner and confront the person. If you are not expecting that person, you are startled. If you thought you were alone in a house, for instance, you are likely quite frightened. The moment you see the person and react, we can record a number of biological changes that occur almost instantaneously. Your face reveals a startled expression, your shoulders hunch, your hands raise, while internally, your body is immediately flooded with adrenaline. Now, for our little thought experiment, let’s assume that we have a medical team present to draw a blood sample and do a quick check of your body. They report that you have extraordinarily high adrenaline in your blood, and your muscles are strongly flexed. So what to do? “Well, we can prescribe a medication to help you relax to counter-act the flood of adrenaline, and while we’re at it, a muscle relaxant”, says the good doctor standing by. So what was your diagnosis? Excess adrenaline in the blood and tight muscles, some would say. True. In addition, our medical team tells you that the excess adrenaline can be treated with prescription medication X. “Your problem,” they say, “is excess adrenaline”. You need to get that under control and you’ll be just fine”. Of course, there’s an alternative way to look at the diagnosis and an alternative way to look at the cause. I say, “Your mind has deceived you; the figure that you feared was your husband, who had been working quietly in the other room unbeknownst to you”. It’s a matter much like the story of the rope mistaken for a snake in a dark room. Our mind deludes us and causes us anxiety. Both of the explanations are true from their unique perspectives, but one, unless you’re into Big Pharma, presents a lower cost, more effective way to deal with the problem: let Mother Nature run her course and put a bell around your husband’s neck. 

All of the above is a long-winded way of saying that I find Greenfeld’s perspective very persuasive with many practical applications. Whether schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, and major depression are in fact essentially one disease, diseases of the mind unique to the Modern Age, I can’t posit with authority since this type of conclusion remains far above my pay grade. However, to take a side, I’d take hers. People who do and say things while hallucinating that we consider “weird” or “crazy” do so within their language and culture. Someone may believe himself to be Jesus or Napoleon if he lives in Europe, but probably not in India, where perhaps one would imagine oneself as Rama, or some other god. People may say or do “crazy” things, but they do so within a language and a culture. Per Greenfeld and me (for what the latter is worth), even the “crazy” behavior and its cause is at least in part because of culture and society. 

I’m eager to explore Greenfeld’s trilogy in more detail when I can get the books (too big to enjoy reading on the Kindle). I’m eager to continue exploring fundamentalism and the Modern Age. I think more than one scholar (Karen Armstrong pops to mind) has argued persuasively that fundamentalism is a disorder of modernity. I suspect that religion is a carrier of the real disorder and not the cause: like rats and fleas spreading the Black Death, the root cause is anomie and a feeling of social uncertainty and belittlement that latches on to religion (Judaism Christianity, Islam, Hindu, etc.) to serve as a carrier. A particular religion provides a ready-made story that can be bent to justify the feeling of a need to change the world and to right the injustices and wrongs experienced, even if the change requires wanton violence. (See this review of Reza Aslan’s How to Win a Cosmic War about how this virus ranges across the three great monotheistic religions.) 

I think that Greenfeld’s hypothesis as it applies to terrorism as we just witnessed it in Boston fits with the ideas of Scott Atran as well (see my review here). Before learning of Greenfeld’s work, I found Atran the most persuasive writer that I’d read on this topic, but I think that Greenfeld provides a more comprehensive perspective, which, by the way, also apples to acts of domestic terror (if we don’t limit terrorism to random violence that purports to have some political motive). Atran is good at identifying how small social groups reinforce norms that lead to acts of terror, but he doesn’t as effectively address what I think are the underlying issues of social or status dislocation that are behind these acts. I think Greenfields’s work gives us the more comprehensive viewpoint. Thus, the way I currently understand Greenfeld, she would not see a significant underlying difference between the Boston bombers, or the Newtown shooter; between jihadist acts of terror or those of the Oklahoma City bombers or the Branch Davidians.

The question I have for Greenfeld is that violent apocalyptic movements have been around for a very long time, certainly going back to biblical times; the Middle Ages are full of millennial movements. How do we distinguish such actions in the Modern Age from their pre-modern precursors?

Understanding how social and cultural factors influence and create acts of violence or dislocation is crucial for our ability to try to counteract these trends. Understanding the pressures as portrayed in a film like The Reluctant Fundamentalist, or as analyzed in Greenfeld’s book, are both sources that we must use to try to come to a deeper understanding. In my own opinion, in a society so concerned with economics and economic growth, we tend to focus far too much on material incentives as the primary driver of human action. While certainly significant, a deeper understanding of human motivations is called for. The passions are probably more important than the interests. People like René Girard are among those who try to take a deeper look at what is going on. Even going back to Thucydides, we see a more complex understanding of human motivation than what many of us have come to believe of late. Simple pain and pleasure are insufficient to understand the complexity of human motives. The human individual, by herself or himself, makes no sense unless we take into account the mirrors of society and culture. (This concluding metaphor comes from the serendipity of currently re-reading Robert Pirsig’s Lila.)

 

Rep. Loebsack Response re Campaign Finance Reform

David Loebsack 2nd District, Iowa Committees: Armed Services Subcommittees: Military Personnel Readiness Education and the Workforce Subcommittees: Health, Employment, Labor, and Pensions Higher Education and Workforce Training

Washington Office: 1527 Longworth House Office Building Washington, DC 20515 (202) 225-6576 District Offices: 125 South Dubuque Street Iowa City, IA 52240 (319) 351-0789 209 West 4th Street, #104 Davenport, IA 52801 (563) 323-5988

May 17, 2013

May 17, 2013 Mr. Steve Greenleaf 345 Magowan Avenue Iowa City, IA 52246-3515 Dear Mr. Greenleaf, Thank you for contacting me about the Supreme Court's Decision in Citizens United v. Federal Elections Commission.  I'm honored to represent you. Your opinion is very important to me and my priority is to provide Iowa's Second District with the best representation possible. On January 21, 2009 the Supreme Court ruled in a 5-4 decision that corporate funding in elections cannot be limited under the First Amendment. In this decision, the Court struck down a provision of the McCain-Feingold Act that prevented corporations, both for profit and not for profit, from directly funding political communication.  I share your concerns about the potential influence of large corporate campaign contributions, and I strongly believe that we must ensure that the only voices that determine the outcome of elections are those of the American people. As someone who grew up in poverty struggling to make ends meet, I never thought I would see the day when the Supreme Court would rule in favor of special interests over the interests of hard working Iowans who want and deserve to have their voices heard in Washington. As your Representative in Congress, I will do all I can to ensure that power is put back in the hands of Iowans, not corporate interests, and that your concerns are heard in our nation's capital. In response to the Supreme Court's decision, The Democracy is Strengthened by Casting Light on Spending in Elections Act (DISCLOSE), H.R. 148, was introduced on January 3, 2013.  The DISCLOSE Act would increase disclosure requirements for campaign-related spending by corporations, unions, and tax-exempt organizations.  I am a proud cosponsor of this bill, which has been referred to the House Committees on Administration, the Judiciary and Ways and Means. In addition, I am a proud cosponsor of the Fair Elections Now Act, H.R. 269, which was introduced by Representative John Yarmuth on January 15, 2013. This bill would establish the option of publicly funded campaigns and would reduce the influence of special interest groups on elections.  H.R. 269 has been referred to the House Committee on Administration for further consideration. Please be assured that I will continue to keep your views regarding campaign finance reform in mind and will continue to work diligently to ensure that the American people, not monied interests, are the ones who decide the outcome of our elections.  Thank you again for contacting me about this important issue. My office is here to assist you with any and all concerns you have, so please do not hesitate to contact me whenever you feel that I can be of assistance.  I encourage you to visit my website at www.loebsack.house.gov and sign up for my e-newsletters to stay informed of the work I'm doing for you. I am proud to serve the Second District, and I am committed to working hard for Iowans.

Sincerely, Dave Loebsack Iowa's Second District

DL/AK

A Review of A Thread of Years by John Lukacs

There are a couple of things that might help you to understand and appreciate John Lukacs. First, his career goal was to be a writer, not a historian. One can say that history, viewed from the wide lens of the Modern Age, to a close-up in Five Days in London: May 1940, to a microscopic view in vignettes as short as a brief imagined conversation, mark the range of his writing. Fortunately, for history as a discipline, and we as readers, he chose modern history as his subject matter. 

Second, you should know that one reviewer labeled Lukacs a “conservative polymath”, but Lukacs rejects the “conservative” designation because of his rejection of so much of American political conservatism. Instead, he considers himself a “reactionary impressionist”. What is that? Here’s Lukacs in an interview discussing the “reactionary” portion of his self-designation: 

“a remnant reactionary, a remnant bourgeois, a remnant admirer of the civilization and culture of the past five hundred years, European and Western." [Quoting his description of himself in his “auto-history”, Last Rites.] I say this even though I consider many of the dominant ideas and achievements of the past 500 years—for example, objectivity, progress, and materialism—to be insufficient, and I strongly resist these categorical formulations as absolutes.

Thus, Lukacs, by this self-designation as a “reactionary”, signals his unique political and historical perspective. But what about the “impressionist” portion of “reactionary impressionist”? For understanding this designation, we have no better guide than A Thread of Years. 

A Thread of Years has been labeled an “experimental work”, and Lukacs himself says that it’s neither literature nor history. I think, it’s both, with a good deal of essay and dialogue thrown in. In this work, using most of the years between 1900 and 1969, Lukacs writes short vignettes involving fictional characters within different settings in Europe and the U.S. He then comments upon and discusses the vignettes with his “alter ego”. The subjects of these vignettes vary, although a few characters appear in several of the vignettes. His locales and characters include Philadelphia and its environs (where Lukacs settled and taught), Catholic Churches, its priests and laity (Lukacs is Catholic and taught many years at a small Catholic college in Philadelphia), and Hungarians (Lukacs is a native of Hungry), along with other assorted characters and locales. Even those characters and locales with which he seems to have no direct connection are quite convincing. Any Lukacs reader quickly recognizes his erudition and his writer’s eye for character and place. 

The format of vignettes allows Lukacs to write in the manner of a novelist, a form which I have no doubt he could have mastered if he’d have chosen that path. By taking different years and settings, he gives us a sense of the ordinary human lives that co-existed with great historical events. He also demonstrates how culture and civilization have changed in the course of the first 70 years of the 20^th century (although published in 1998, Lukacs stopped his vignettes at 1969). For instance, he addresses the decline of the Anglo-Saxon elite in the U.S. and rising tide of a form of populism. The intriguing thing about this project is his ability to create these brief sketches, these impressionistic word pictures of persons and places. In this he's similar to what we experience in the great impressionistic painters. I consider him a verbal Renoir, Manet, Monet, or Degas, but not one not limited to the fin-de-siècle. Instead, he uses a large chunk of the 20^th century to locate his verbal canvasses.

The dialogues are more challenging. Like native European intellectuals that I’ve read, he alludes to sources and experiences that often elude me. The dialogues also seem to allow him to acknowledge his biases and prejudices (for instance, he does not like the film Casablanca), thereby both airing them and letting them stand or fall as the reader deems appropriate. Sometimes I felt as if I was overhearing a conversation in a foreign language that I knew a bit of. I could pick-up bits and pieces, but I still felt as though I missed the greater whole. On the other hand, we learn from listening to the adults, so the benefit far outweighs any frustration. 

In preparing for this review and blog, I found that I’d labeled 21 earlier blog entries as mentioning, if not focused upon, John Lukacs. This entry makes 22, and assuming my good fortune to keep on reading and learning, you can expect many more. After all, while out of the U.S., he’s published another book. In addition, with Lukacs, I’ve found I can re-read with continued benefit and enjoyment. What better recommendation for an author?

A Review of The Server, a novel by Tim Parks

I was glad to read on Tim Parks’ website that he considers this novel a companion work to his Teach Us to Sit Still (my review). In Teach Us to Sit Still Parks recounted his troublesome prostate and how, after rejecting the cut and hope option offered by physicians, happened upon a suggested remedy that involved, of all things, sitting. This sitting led him into the foreign world of vipassana meditation (the Buddhist meditation practice from Southeast Asia associated with the Theravadan tradition). In The Server, Parks explores the stark contract between the austerity of a Buddhist meditation retreat center and our egoistic, narratives selves prominent in the in many contemporary lives. 

The first-person narrative is a running monologue in the mind of Beth Marriot. Beth is a vivacious but troubled young woman who comes to the center and stays to serve new participants by working in the kitchen. Her mind, when unleashed, recounts and rehashes issues with parents, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, an older lover, and a brush with death, among other things. After months at the meditation center, having apparently calmed her mind to some extent, it’s turned back on by discovering a diary of a participant who recounts his own narrative of woe, despite the ban on writing while participating in the retreat. After this discovery, Beth careens through thoughts and actions quite contrary to the austere and ascetic practice of the retreat. This clash of Buddhist austerity with the contemporary, narrative self drives the story. 

The story provides an excellent vehicle for pondering how this Buddhist world-view, what one may call a non-narrative approach to life, comports with our contemporary notions of self in the land of novels, Freud, and self-expression. (I suspect that these issues exist in the “East”, too; they wouldn’t have the antidote if they didn’t suffer the disease, would they?). Parks doesn’t attempt to answer how these two attitudes might be reconciled or whether one must ultimately prevail. One suspects that the two views, which have probably competed for the length of human history, will continue to lead an uneasy, but perhaps fruitful co-existence. 

The story makes for a roller-coaster ride—this young woman has lots of karma and vivacity (are they linked?) —and sometimes you want to tell her “whoa, slow down”, but she can’t, and that makes a trip through a meditation retreat a bit of a roller-coaster ride.

A Review of The Second Circle by Patsy Rodenburg

While reading Mark Bowden’s Winning Body Language, he mentioned Patsy Rodenburg, whom I heard of somehow before. She’s an acting coach. 

Why read a book by an acting coach? Because we’re all actors, aren’t we? After all, we all act and inter-act, don’t we? By saying this, I’m not suggesting that we’re all somehow false and manipulative, although I suppose all of us are at some time or another. Most significantly, we’re all a part of a cast in a performance, or rather, many performances: with our family, in our workplace, and with our friends. Perhaps no one says it better than Shakespeare: 

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
 And one man in his time plays many parts

Rodenburg explores her acting ideas in the context of daily life in this book. She divides our world into three parts: the inward-looking world of the First Circle, the I-Thou world (my description) of the Second Circle, and the over-powering self of the Third Circle. She urges us to spend most of our lives in the Second Circle. She is, to my mind, teaching the process and value of living in an I-Thou world. Fortunately, her teaching is shorn of the complex language and notions of I-Thou’s great teacher, the German-Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. (I haven’t read I-Thou, although I have a copy and have started it. Even a good translation of some German prose (mine by Walter Kaufman) is too daunting. For a fun and worthwhile introduction and discussion of Buber, go the Buber discussion at The Partially Examined Life.) 

Rodenburg’s ideas and suggestions about how to live in the Second Circle make a lot of sense. She provides exercises and images to help locate yourself in this inter-active arena, pulling you out of yourself (First Circle) or containing yourself (Third Circle). On the other hand, I thought the book went on too long after having established the main idea and exercises. Also, it’s something that one might learn more about by watching a DVD or webcast (which you can find on line). 

Rodenburg, like Bowden (and unlike too many philosophers), doesn’t ever forget that we’re embodied creatures, and anyone who teaches us to more fully and meaningful inhabit and communicate in the corporeal world has done us all a great service.