Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Crisis at Columbia:
An Essay in Eight Parts
by
Hugh Fitzgerald
Campus Watch has been instrumental in bringing attention to problems with
Columbia University's Middle East Studies faculty. We are pleased to present a series of
studies on those faculty members. Written exclusively for Campus Watch by Hugh
Fitzgerald, noted commentator on the Middle East and Islam, the series provides a
detailed look at the "scholarship" behind the controversies that have wracked
Columbia.
I. That Awful Mess on Morningside Heights
Some years ago the writer Carlo Emilio Gadda published Quer pasticcaccio
brutto de via Merulana. The title was Englished as That Awful Mess on Merulana Street. In
America that book never received the attention it deserved. But another awful mess,
that on Morningside Heights, is receiving, a good deal of attention. A short movie has
been made, in which students testify on camera to the humiliating treatment they
endured, as Jews or Israelis, from a series of professors. A long study of the
"scholarship" of Columbia's Middle East Studies faculty is in the works. Dozens of
newspaper articles have been written about the atmosphere of harassment,
intimidation, and indoctrination of students, both in and out of class. A large public
now knows that many of the Middle East Studies faculty (and specifically those who
reside in the awfully titled Department of Middle East and Asian Languages and
Cultures, and even more awfully shortened ‘MEALAC') appear to believe in the
surpassing perfidy of the mighty empire of Israel, in the sheer nobility and justice of
the "Palestinian" cause, in the diabolical imperialist dreams of the American
government, and in the crazed hatred for the Arabs and Muslims, and will to
dominate, by Israel or America or the West, that explains everything from Israeli
archeological digs to the inability of Western scholars to fully appreciate Arab
literature, or Mesopotamian statuary.
Before offering animadversions on the course offerings, and scholarship, of individual
professors, one must be fair to Columbia's legacy. In the past century, Columbia
boasted the leading Islamic scholars in America: Richard Gottheil, who did some of
the earliest work on the dhimmi; Arthur Jeffery, who followed Mingana's early lead in
investigating the non-Arabic elements in the Qur'an; Joseph Schacht, whose book on
Islamic law remains the authoritative text for all Western students, about that
important subject. All of these disinterested scholars brought luster to the teaching,
and study, of the most important subject of all, that without which all else becomes
virtually meaningless: that subject is Islam. Yet today one can go through the
university's Middle East Studies course offerings, and learn virtually nothing about
Qur'an, Hadith, and Sira, nothing about the origins of the Qur'an or of recent
developments in the study of early Islam, both historical (John Wansbrough, Michael
Cook, Patricia Crone) and philological (Christoph Luxenberg). Only a bare handful
of survey courses in the Religion department pretend to cover the vastness of Islamic
history, theology, and civilization, reducing those riches to ‘mere' religion, ahistorical,
unassailable, eternal. Columbia's Middle Eastern Program had far to fall, but fall it
did– and with a thud that still reverberates.
For what goes on at in Middle East Studies at Columbia generally, and particularly in
MEALAC, demonstrates that the easy invocation of "faculty autonomy" should not be
employed to protect, not one or two teachers failing to do their proper job, but an
entire, and large, and well-funded, enterprise. For a study of Columbia's Middle East
Studies reveals both almost complete intellectual désarroi, and pedagogic malpractice
that at some point may be the subject of student, or parental, lawsuits.
MEALAC is the embodiment of Columbia's Middle East Studies problem: the
exclusive focus on the present at the expense of the past, the embrace of flimsy
academic fads and confessional politics in place of deep and dispassionate
scholarship, the teaching of narrow specialties and faculty interests couched in broad
terms of post-colonialism and anti-imperialism, the fetishization of the Arab-Israeli
conflict, and the reward of mediocrity. There is not a single course offered on the
highest literary achievements of high classical Islamic civilization. More specifically,
there is no course devoted to Persian poetry - nothing about Sa'adi, Firdowsi, Omar
Khayyam, Hafiz, or many others. Nor is there anything about classical Arabic poetry,
not an echo through the trees of Low Plaza of any singing crows. Instead students are
offered the thin gruel of the "modern Arabic political novel" – in other words,
literature as a handmaid of politics and socio-political analysis.
When it comes to Islam, there is but a single course at Columbia that is offered on
the Qur'an, its contents, its origins, its commentators. The major text, the critical
text, the text which has defined the attitudes and atmospherics over 1400 hundred
years, and has determined the fate of peoples and polities in the Middle East, North
Africa, and elsewhere, that has had incalculable effects on the subcontinent and in
the East Indian archipelago, is taught to students in post-modern parody "addressing
three problematic representations in the Quran… idols, prophets, and women." The
sole course on Islamic law is similarly parodic, as it introduces students to "the genesis
of the shar'ia as divine law," although a literal reading of the course description yields
a darker interpretation.
There is no course on the significance of Muhammad as a figure of world-historical
significance, and on his use as a role-model for Muslims, as revealed both in his
sayings and acts, as contained in the Hadith, and in the sacralized biography, or Sira,
that together form what Muslims know as the Sunnah, or the customs and ways of 7th
century Arabia. As the model for all time, Muhammad, al-insan al-kamil, affects
Muslim life today. How, for example, can students at Columbia make sense of many
of the laws passed in the nascent Islamic Republic of Iran, without understanding the
role of Muhammad as a model? From family law, to the law of war and peace, the
example of Muhammad is all-determining. How can one possibly understand why the
Ayatollah Khomeini, as virtually his first act, had the marriageable age of Iranian girls
reduced to nine, without reference to Muhammad and his last wife, little Aisha,
whom he married when she was six, and consummated that marriage when she was
nine?
And how can one understand the Muslim view of treaties with infidel peoples and
polities, their duration and their value, to both Muslims and to the Infidels with
whom the treaties are signed, without reference to Muhammad's agreement with the
Meccans in 628 A.D., the celebrated Treaty of al-Hudiabiyya, an agreement that Yasir
Arafat referred to repeatedly before Muslim audiences? The late Majid Khadduri, in
his Law of War and Peace in Islam, points out that this remains the basis for all Muslim
agreements with Infidel states – the same Majid Khadduri, himself a Muslim, who has
been honored even by Muslim states?
Still another area which is passed over in almost total silence, and about which there
must be almost total miscomprehension among the students, is the by-now
well-understood, and researched, subject of how non-Muslims, living in the vast lands
conquered by the forces of Islam, were treated once Islam ruled, and Muslims were
dominant – not necessarily through their numbers, but through their position. The
extensive Western scholarship on what is now known as "dhimmitude" does not
begin, or end, as some apparently think, with the meticulous works of Bat Ye'or.
Dozens upon dozens of scholars, not only from England and France and Germany and
Italy and America (indeed, from those who taught at Columbia itself), but Greek and
Bulgarian and Russian and Serbian and Romanian and Armenian and Indian
scholars, have written extensively. That their work seems to have been often
overlooked, almost willfully so, does not mean that that work, now unearthed and
being republished, says something about the quality of what is taught. For surely this
a great and important subject, that has involved the destinies of vast populations,
over vast areas. Who, for example, at Columbia studies what happened to the Hindu
population during the 250 years of Mughal rule, when between 60-70 million Hindus
were killed, and tens of thousands of Hindu temples razed?
Those who wish to contain the Awful Mess, and to restrict inquiry, and therefore
indignation, to matters associated with Israel, rather than to the larger question of
the responsibility of Columbia to insure that, in fact, the most significant matters are
taught, and left deliberately untaught, so that exaggerated, hypertrophied attention is
laser-beamed on the "plight of the Palestinians" or the Arab resentment of Israel, that
Mighty Empire that doth bestride the Middle East like a colossus (on 0.2% of the land
area of the members of the Arab League), and that, no doubt, explains distempers
among Muslims, from Abu Hamza in Finsbury Mosque, to those who blew up the
subway train in Madrid, or killed Theo van Gogh in Amsterdam, or who are
murdering Hindus when they happen step near a mosque as Friday Prayers are ending
in Bangladesh, or killing Christians all over the Moluccas, or blowing up the Bamiyan
Buddhas.
There is more, much more, that could be added – but what must be added as well is
that there is nothing presently taught in all of the offerings at Columbia that offer a
hint of any explanatory model or theory of why these events take place, or how they
may relate to classic Muslim doctrines pertaining to Jihad and to the treatment of
non-Muslims, living in lands where Islam has conquered and they subjugated to
Muslim rule. Until these subjects are taught, and taught not by apologists for Islam,
both Muslim and non-Muslim, the program at Columbia will remain farcical. Anger,
rage, humiliation, underdevelopment, and of course, Israel, are among the
explanations offered willy nilly in courses widely scattered throughout the university,
but nothing that looks honestly, some would say even coldly, at the religious roots,
the ideological roots. To do so would be to cross boundaries that have been drawn at
Columbia, almost like at no other place.
The name of Edward Said is often invoked by members of the Columbia faculty. Said
was, as Ibn Warraq calls him in his brilliant analysis of Saidism, an "intellectual thug,"
determined to protect Islam by lashing out at real scholars of the subject. Said, who
knew nothing about Islam (he was neither a Muslim, nor a scholar of Islam),
nonetheless presumed to dismiss the entire scholarly enterprise of generations of
meticulous and learned Western scholars. In the process he managed to demonstrate
that he believed Byzantium had been conquered by Muslims before Spain, though
Spain had succumbed to Islam some 700 years before Byzantium did to the Ottoman
Turks. He became hysterical over the perfectly standard lexical analysis of the Arabic
noun "thawra," which since the 19th century has been used as the word for
"revolution," finding something sinister and deliberately sexual in Bernard Lewis's
citing the root t h-w-r as meaning "excitement" or a "rising up (as a camel)."
Said's thesis was simple, even primitive: failing to conceive of study for the sake of
disinterested curiosity, Said simply asserted that all Western Orientalists worked
hand-in-glove with Western imperialists. When Lewis calmly noted that the study of
the languages and literatures of the East began, in England and France, several
hundred years before the Western "imperialists" even set foot in the East (which
began with Napoleon's arrival in Egypt in 1798), and that in any case many of the best
Orientalists were neither French nor English, the two countries which later had a
presence in that same Muslim Near East.
Said, as has been noted, in his attacks managed not only to tarnish the image, and
hence the authority, of many great scholars (while not even mentioning, much less
discussing, about 95% of the Orientalists). Through his industry, fame, and timely
anger, he also created a kind of Jobs Program, which had results: Muslims and Arabs
were the victims of "Orientalism," and were exempt from its charges. So if one were
to study the Middle East, the preferred teachers and scholars were always Muslims
and Arabs themselves. The inability to realize that the ideal of objective scholarship
has almost no place in the Arab and Muslim world, where as Lewis says the primary
mode is "defensiveness," that a kind of academic mafia has driven out of the
profession many non-Muslims.
Indeed, the MEALAC department itself at Columbia, with a handful of exceptions
(holdovers from an earlier era, who teach nicely segregated subjects – i.e. "Jewish
matters" – such as Prof. Dan Miron) – demonstrates perfectly that those who are
non-Muslim or non-Arab fit into certain categories. There are those who express
islamisant sympathies, for their years as students somehow caused them, in a sense, to
"go native." The very act of spending years learning Arabic, and of immersing oneself
in a culture, can lead to a certain kind of identification. The Arab and Muslim world
has caused a good many Westerners, from the Freya Starks and St. John Philbys, to
the ARAMCO publicists, to quite a few MESA members, to make common cause.
Psychologically, it could hardly be otherwise. If you are constantly surrounded by
people whose mode of discussion is always that of defensiveness, defensiveness about
Islam, about Arabs, about the non-West, about Western scholars in the past who did
not exhibit sufficient solicitousness for Arab or Muslim sensibilities, you are either
likely to reveal that you do not share such views, and if that is done early on you will
not be promoted (so that a certain pre-tenure Taqiya becomes de rigueur, and not
everyone can carry it off for 5, 6, 7 years of waiting and dissimulating). On the other
hand, life is short, and one wishes to attain that appetizing thing, tenure, and why not
convince yourself not to ask yourself certain questions. Intellectual curiosity is
limited; the gates of i jtihad are shut.
For a real student of Islam, such as Joseph Schacht or Arthur Jeffery or Richard
Gottheil, one would not hesitate to ask these questions: What is it about the Muslim
countries that explains their hatred of all infidels, including Hindus and Buddhists, or
what is it that explains the failure of Muslim countries to develop, despite the vast
OPEC oil wealth, modern economies, or what is it in the ideology of Islam that
encourages despotism in Muslim countries, or why did modern science develop in the
West, and such development come to a shuddering halt in the Muslim East? Instead,
we get the complete avoidance of such questions, even anger that such questions
should be raised.
Said was wrong to argue that the Orientalists of the Western world had always and
everywhere been handmaidens of Western designs on the Middle East. The study of
the East began centuries before Napoleon entered Egypt in 1798, and Europe came,
though rarely in the classic colonial guise, to stay for a while. It was only in Algeria,
after all, that the classic colonialism was practiced for more than a few decades,
anywhere in the Arab world. And Said, as well, managed to ignore all the Orientalists
who did not come from the two relevant "colonialist" powers, England and France.
But Said was right to suggest that at times there was a connection between how Islam
was viewed and depicted, and the geopolitical aims of certain Western powers. This
was a perfect description of the rosy view of Islam, and especially of Saudi Arabia,
that was promoted by ARAMCO and the State Department, and perhaps especially
by John Foster Dulles and the Republicans who followed him, for they though that
Islam was anti-Communist, a "bulwark" against Communism, and so the most
Muslim of regimes – Saudi Arabia and Pakistan in particular – were the stoutest
friends the West possessed. Hitler, too, had for a while been successful, in making an
anti-Bolshevist appeal to certain rightist circles in Europe, but finally reality sunk in.
One does not wish to make light of the anti-Israel animus. It must, for many students,
permanently sour their experience, and make them regret, in many ways, their choice
of Columbia – especially those who are graduate students, and for whom the stakes
are higher. Students have a right not to enter a classroom in fear and trembling, or to
cringe for favors. And younger faculty members – and anyone familiar with academic
politics knows exactly how much power senior faculty have over the professional lives
of the non-tenured faculty – may be forced to align themselves with views they do not
really support, but once they have signed a petition demanding "divestment" from
Israel, or boycott of its academics, their fate is sealed. For psychological reasons, they
must work to convince themselves that they really believe what they signed, for
otherwise it is difficult for them to live with their own craven behavior.
The same kind of petitions, and pressure to sign, was a great feature of Soviet life, but
there at least, the power of the government to destroy not only professional lives, but
the lives of family members, could at times be used by pressured signers to justify
their pusillanimous conformity to the dictates from above. There is no doubt that the
use of precious class time to engage in anti-Israel rants, the cancellation of other
classes, the showing of movies that are irrelevant to the subject being taught, the
berating of Jewish or Israeli students, beginning but not ending with a most telling
comparative analysis of retinal pigmentation (George Saliba), the pressure put on
students to attend anti-Israel rallies, the hysterical reaction to dignified letters of
protest (Hamid Dabashi), the canceling of classes for anti-Israel rallies, the insistent
and hypertrophied attention paid to the putative sins of Israel on every conceivable,
and not-conceivable, occasion – all of this needs to be examined, discussed, written
about, and severe punishment meted out to the perpetrators, who seem to believe,
quite wrongly, that tenure is a license to behave – however they feel like behaving.
One is cruel only to be kind – kind to the students who come to Columbia hoping to
be educated in the most important subjects. They lack the knowledge to judge, at the
time, whether or not those subjects are being adequately taught. It may be that many
of them are chosen, in fact, because they will happily submit to the skewed
curriculum, and indeed are themselves eager to become, in turn, apologists for Islam
and promoters of misunderstanding. But Columbia should be thinking of its own
reputation. The university that once had Joseph Schacht and Arthur Jeffery and
Richard Gottheil on the faculty really has to ensure that Islam becomes the center of
attention, and not something that is scarcely mentioned in the corridors of faculty
power, a faculty that, at least at MEALAC, with impudence, with arrogance, with the
assurance that tenure is an invisible protective shield that allows them to get away
with anything, harassment and humiliation and intimidation in the classroom by
some, educational malpractice by the same or by others. This cannot continue. Or
rather, it can, and the self-inflicted wounds that will result if the situation is not dealt
with by the appointment of an outside committee of truly distinguished Orientalists,
will damage much else, alas, at Columbia, including faculty members in other
departments who may not relish being punished for the unacceptable and unpunished
or insufficiently punished behavior of others.
The Edith Porada Associate Professor of Archeology, Zainab Bahrani is the
author of two books, Women of Babylon (a feminist interpretation of Near Eastern
art), and a second work, The Graven Image: Representation in Babylonia and Assyria on
Mesopotamian art. With Mark van de Mieroop (the former chair of MEALAC), with
whom she has a close association, she has translated a book on Mesopotamian history
by the French scholar Jean Bottero called Mesopotamia, Writing, Reasoning, and the
Gods.
Van de Mieroop, incidentally, shares Bahrani's distaste for Israel (he has signed the
same petitions on divestment from Israel), and is apparently convinced that a
reasonable facsimile of the Gestapo is abroad in the land: "I know that my phone is
tapped, that e-mails are read, that mail is opened. I have the sense of unease, the loss
of privacy, and also the fear to speak out, to write – will what I say tonight be held
against me when I have to appear in court."
Bahrani has been much in the news, having written a number of anguished, and
furious accounts of what she takes to have been gross negligence by the Coalition
Provisional Authority in Iraq. Despite her bitterness, in May 2004 the State
Department appointed Bahrani as a "Senior Consultant for Culture" to the Coalition
Provisional Authority, so as to help in the reconstruction of the National Museum.
She attended to this but for a few months before returning to academia.
This study by necessity must quote Bahrani at great length, for it is otherwise not
possible to appreciate the repetitious, banal, suffocating quality of her prose, the
running-on of non-thought. The Graven Image goes for more than 200 pages. Virtually
every page overflows with "discourse" and "colonial" and "postcolonial" as all-purpose
lexical fillers. Her meaning is so diffuse and obscure, and at the same time so
obviously modish, that to read her is an experience that cannot be conveyed by mere
summary.
Early in T
he Graven Image Bahrani announces:
Although I often make use of the language of European criticism and philosophy,
it is important to stress that the theoretical base for this study is neither simply
Eastern nor Western, being dependent on the writings of both Euro-American
and Third World scholars. I would also argue that a labeling of all postmodern
theories in the academy as "Western" is misleading and might even be defined as
intellectual imperialism, considering the groundbreaking work of numerous
non-European contemporary theorists such as Edward Said, Gayatri Spivak,
and Jacques Derrida. (p. 10)
Having established postmodern theory as an authentic Third World product, and
defined any criticism as – shudder – imperialism. But then in distinction to her
previous statement, Bahrani appears to state that she has gained access to ancient
mysteries denied to others:
While I discuss the problematic of narrating the past and interpreting the
ancient texts and images, for me, the ancient record itself remains the place to
which I return for knowledge of the past. This return to the ancient texts and
images is important because in arguing against the Western traditions'
representations of Mesopotamia, I base my theory on the Assyrio-Babylonian
textual and archeological record. (p. 10)
Ancient history and archeology continue to be areas of scholarship that are
inseparable from geopolitical issues, even if these issues are not the same as the
ones that had been of foremost concern to Fanon. Numerous preconceptions
regarding the Middle East and Middle Eastern antiquity have gone into the
construction of Mesopotamia, and Orientalism continues to operate with its
stereotypes of violence, fanaticism, despotism, sloth, and hypersexuality. (p. 11)
I do hope to dismantle a fabricated conception of this Mesopotamia. …mine is a
reclaiming of that past, not in the sense of nationalist historical identity,
however, but as a discursive territory. There are no studies of Near Eastern
antiquity written from a position outside the European tradition. Those written
in the Middle East, for the most part, repeat Western paradigms because the
field of Near Eastern archeology is a European field of knowledge, instituted into
the Middle East and North Africa under colonial rule. (p. 14):
Thus situated, she will liberate Mesopotamia past and present, and the discipline of
art history. The heroes and villain are plain to see:
A main thesis of this book is that since the discipline of art history developed
during the period of European expansion, it came to rely upon, as well as be
utilized by, the imperialist endeavor. Consequently aesthetic discourse today
continues to be a site for the play of alterity. In other words, I maintain that the
epistemology of separation and difference of Western/non-Western art and
aesthetics was originally necessary for the functioning of the discipline, for a
notion of a telos in the civilized West, and for building the borders of Western
self against barbaric other. I would like to point out here that in using the term
West I mean to refer to a Eurocentric identity created by late-eighteenth and
nineteenth-century Western European discourse. (p. 16)
A fundamental concept of colonial discourse analysis is that the business of
"knowing" other people was a major tool in underpinning imperial domination
(Said 1978: 22). Knowing subordinate cultures and representing them through
that knowledge, and subsequent exporting to them that knowledge about their
subordinate position, was the civilizing mission of imperialism (p. 20)
Alas, without the imperialism and art history Bahrani so palpably abhors, her own
mission would be impossible. The recovery of the art, and the civilizations, of the
ancient Near East, is the story of Europeans. It was they who came, dug, discovered,
carefully retrieved, catalogued, and studied these artifacts. It was not the local
Muslims, but Europeans, who appreciated the civilization of Assyria and Babylon. Sir
Austen Henry Layard and Sir Leonard Woolley, Howard Carter, at Nineveh, and at
Ur, respectively, come immediately to mind. Egyptology was a product not of
Egyptians but of Europeans: the Frenchman Champollion, the German Lepsius,
hundreds of others. The meticulous study of the civilizations of Mesopotamia by such
scholars as Henri Frankfort, Sabatino Moscati, and A. Leo Oppenheim who produced
indispensable scholarly works, or those who studied Cuneiform, or those who
gathered and preserved smaller artifacts, were Europeans or Americans.
Perhaps Bahrani, like Said before her, simply cannot believe that there is such a thing
as disinterested scholarship prompted by curiosity. If Layard and Woolley and
Champollion and Lepsius, are not examples of disinterested study of the past, it is
hard to know what would so qualify. They were not part of any "colonial" or
"postcolonial" venture. They were not promoting imperialism. They were simply
studying the past -- because it interested them, and because they could. Others
studied Stonehenge, or collected arrowheads, or sat as students of the stars, and for
the same reasons.
Again and again, Bahrani gives us the Saidian line:
In the first part of this book, I argued that an awareness of the cultural project
of imperialism is vital for writing a post-Orientalist history of Mesopotamia or
of the Near Eastern world. I further insisted that a post-colonial historiography
can be politically meaningful only if it considers the discourse of the present in
light of the modes of knowing or structures of reference established in the period
of colonialism. (p. 208)
This is nonsense on stilts. What "colonialist" presence was there in Iraq when Layard
first began his Assyriological spadework, and Iraq was still part of the Ottoman
Empire? Mesopotamia was ruled by the Ottoman Turks. The British drove out the
Turks and liberated the Arabs, and remained in Iraq for precisely 12 years – from 1920
to 1932. Then they left. During World War II, as part of the theatre of war, a small
British contingent returned to deprive the Nazis – who had many admirers in Iraq –
of Iraqi oil. Was that the "colonialism" that so disturbingly informs so much of The
Graven Image?
Actually, this book does what it set out to, for it does manage to break away from all
Eurocentric approaches to discourses of subalternity, or even of meta-alterity, and
comes so subversively close in its disjunctive interrogation of the counter or
anti-mimesis which is inherently essential to Mesopotamian thought, for as a native
of Baghdad and hence a non-European, Bahrani is certainly perfectly placed to
perform such a mission of interrogating all postcolonialist as well as narrativised
specificity, but obviously not, at the same time, either poststructuralist or
post-postmodern universalism, with its customary relativised discourse analysis which
seldom lends itself to anticipatory prolepsis, but on the other hand her critique is
obviously deeply rooted in Western thought with its alien constructions of identity
that give rise to post-essentialism which, in a larger sense, serve merely to violate all
the strategic critiques of hegemonic historiographical constructions of essences,
whether of the Orient or of scholars who deny the self-referentiality of all
postcolonialist essentializing.
I hope that is clear.