(This is dedicated to the martyrs of Daraa)
When faced with extremely distressing situations in the past, I would find solace in various sources. Great works of literature were my first refuge at difficult junctures in my youthful years – particularly the work of Dostoyevsky. I vividly recall when, at age 20, I faced an extremely rueful condition and delved into his Humiliated and Insulted. Tearfully crying for the misery of his protagonists gave me a legitimate excuse for grieving loudly while not outwardly admitting any personal hurt.
At a later stage, I would assuage my pain and seek comfort in music. Mahler and Shostakovich became my source of consolation and commiseration. In their music, their profound representation of agonies and chagrins of the human spirit would help me regain my composure and persevere at moments of sadness and extreme difficulty.
These days, when faced with grief, I look for consolation in the great texts of the classics. No, I am not talking about Hellenistic classics such as the works of the Syrian philosopher Xenon the stoic, but about classical texts from the foremost Arab and Muslim thinkers. Among them, the most prominent happens to be al-Kindi.
For the past five days, I have been reading al-Kindi’s treatise on How to Dispel Sorrow ‘Daf’ al-Ahzan’ , I found in it great relevance to the present crisis in my country, and an aid to address these developments in a stoic and profound way. It also helped to transcend my personal pain.
What I found most striking and had a great impact on me was his statement that to desire not to feel sorrow is akin to desire not to be, because calamities befall us as a result of being mortals. Had there been no decay, there would have been no being. If we are wanting to parry chagrins then we are equally wanting ‘no being and no decadence’ – practically an impossibility. A main proposition in this epistle is that death is simply the culmination of our being.
A central argument in On Dispelling Sadness is that for us not be overwhelmed by misery, we must only value that which is within our means and under our control. As long as we value what we cannot reasonably control then we will be vulnerable to sorrow and our state of comfort and content will be of a fleeting nature. Instead, we should only value our ability to make free choices. By choosing a life of learning, reason and intellectual virtue, we alleviate any pain or hurt that we may encounter and on which we have no control.
Al-Kindi rightly argues that it is not rational or natural to expect permanence and endurance of things. If we want to acquire and keep sensible things without them perishing, we are expecting from nature something that is unnatural and does not exist.
However, al-Kindi is not advocating a life of asceticism to avoid sadness; he is suggesting that we should be stoic about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘bad’ in life. Thus we should accept good things graciously when they arrive, but never break our hearts when they depart. This is not nonchalance, it is a rational moral position that needs vigorous mental training and inner-self discipline ‘mujahadat al-nafs’. Unnecessary sorrow can be avoided by cultivating moral courage and detachment. The reasonable person is content to enjoy temporary things but does not grieve over what is lost.
Al Kindi wrote that stability and constancy, by necessity, only exist in the world of intellect, which we can contemplate. Therefore, if we do not want to lose the things we love and do not want to be frustrated in obtaining things we seek out, we must contemplate the intellectual world and, from our conceptions of what we love, possess and want from that intellectual world. Hence, he refers to those who are able to resist grief over the loss of cherished things as men of intellect, while those who do grieve are described as men of weak intellect.
“It is therefore clear that the sensible which one loves or hates are not something determined by nature, but rather by familiarity, frequent encountering and addiction. Since finding solace from what we have lost is easily and clearly achieved by way of habit, we ought to apply ourselves to bringing our souls to this state and train ourselves so that this becomes our necessary habit and acquired character.”
Al-Kindi who was born in the 8th century A.D. symbolizes the cultural effervescence that characterized Baghdad at his times. He incarnates the Islamic openness towards the Hellenistic thinking and Greek philosophy.
The book is just one among hundreds of al-Kindi’s outstanding achievements, however, it is not considered one of his most important nor does match the philosophical heft of later works by the great Arab thinkers such as al-Farabi, Avicenne and Averos, but it is full of stoic ideas about how to cope with loss and sorrow. Yet, it gives a robust exegesis and a set of coherent arguments against the rationality of over valuation of material goods and in favor of a thoroughly vigorous ethical system based on intellect and reason.
Some of my favorite works by distinguished Syrian artists.
What has happened in Egypt in the past month is something of great historic significance. The ramifications of this revolution will continue to unfold, and its impact will reverberate for years to come.
Across the world, analysts and commentators are congesting the airwaves and printed media with their thoughts on what is happening in Egypt. For us in Syria, the fall of Husni Mubarak signifies the fall of the Camp David regime. Or let’s hope this would be the case.
However, my comment here has nothing to do with the political watershed that the Egyptian revolution will inevitably bring about. It has to do with what I believe is going to be an Egyptian cultural revival on a grand scale.
Let me start by clarifying where I stand. I was brought up looking at Egypt as the soul, heart, muscle and mind of the Arab world. As a little child, I was used to my parents sitting around the radio with their friends to listen either to the foremost Arab leader, Nasser, giving his flowery speeches, or to the uncontested diva of the Arab world, Um Kulthum, chanting her marathon-length love songs. This was how I learned at an early age the difference between ghinaa (chanting) and tarab (artistic singing that intoxicates).
The first children’s stories I have ever read were printed in Egypt (those of the Green Library), the first Arab films I watched were Egyptian, and the first song of my childhood was The Night is Gone by Muhammad Fawzi.
As a young adolescent, it was through Egyptian magazines and periodicals that I learned about the world. At middle school I started reading Taha Hussein, Naguib Mahfouz and Tawfiq al-Hakim. When I became a University student, Abdul Rahman Badawi introduced me to the world of philosophy and Islamic mysticism, while Tharwat Akasha shaped my earliest understanding of art and music. I was, and still am, much indebted to Egypt for my cultural upbringing.
The first painters, sculptures, architects, politicians, literary critics and historians I learned about were all from Egypt.
Then the grand decline started.
At some point in the mid seventies, and throughout the first decade of the twenty-first century, Egypt started to lose its edge and luster . This happened slowly and gradually but steadily. Suddenly Egypt was not the heart and mind of the Arab world any more. It was as if Egypt could only thrive as the leader of the Arab world. The moment it abandoned this role, she forsake her glorious position for a fake illusion of peace and prosperity. It is not for me to judge what Egypt has done, it was the sons and daughters of Egypt who passed their judgment on the 25th of January 2011.
During the past twenty years, the thought of Egypt only brought chagrin to my heart. Egypt of my youth and dreams was replaced by a vacuity. Nothing has replaced her erstwhile glorious position, and nothing seemed capable of restoring her past glitter.
Then it happened.
I don’t know how things are going to evolve in Egypt - it is still too early to tell. But I have great confidence in the resilience of these great descendents of the Pharaohs, Ptolemaics, Fatimides, Ayubides, Memlukes, Wafdists, and Arab nationalists (just to name a few). Here is one forecast I am going to give with confidence: very soon Egypt will resume her previous role as the leader of the Arab world, and Cairo will witness again a golden age of cultural and artistic renaissance.
This is how I will get back the Egypt of my green youth.
Some of my favorite works by distinguished Syrian artists.
