Te laat

Niet alle dialecten en accenten zijn streekgebonden. Sommige zijn gerelateerd aan sociale klassen. In Engeland, klassenmaatschappij bij uitstek, kun je van iemands accent vaak zijn of haar sociale achtergrond afleiden. Ook in Nederland is dat niet zelden het geval: een corpsbal spreekt bekakt, ongeacht de stad waar hij woont, en heeft per definitie een ander accent dan zijn laagopgeleide buurman. De manier waarop iemand spreekt is onlosmakelijk verbonden met diens social identiteit. Geen wonder dat veel mensen die thuis dialect spreken op hun werk verwoede pogingen doen zich in 'algemeen beschaafd Nederlands' uit te drukken.

Er is vermoedelijk geen Europees land waar mensen zo gek zijn op dialecten als Noorwegen. Elke Noor met wie je spreekt zal beweren dat 'standaardnoors' niet bestaat, althans niet als spreektaal. Er is een geschreven standaardtaal (Bokmål), er is een alternatieve geschreven standaardtaal (Nynorsk), maar er is geen 'algemeen beschaafde' spreektaal, zo zegt men. Ieder vogeltje zingt zoals het gebekt is, en ieder vogeltje is daar nog trots op ook. Stelt u zich voor: de redactiekamer van een landelijk dagblad in Amsterdam, waar door de aanwezigen Amsterdams, Gronings, Limburgs, Goois, Twents, Haags en Vlaams gesproken wordt - en wie een ander niet verstaat, schaamt zich, en laat daar niets van merken. Moeilijk voor te stellen in de Nederlandse context, maar zo is ongeveer de situatie in de gemiddelde organisatie in Oslo.

Maar die vreemde voorliefde voor plattelandsdialecten ('in míjn dal spreken we zus zo uit') betekent niet dat er niet zoiets bestaat als klassegebonden taalgebruik. Integendeel. De mythe luidt weliswaar dat de Noorse samenleving zo goed als egalitair is, in werkelijkheid hebben veel Noren een sterk ontwikkeld klassenbewustzijn, zeker in Oslo. Zoals Haren opgedeeld is in 'de goede kant van het spoor' en 'de verkeerde kant van het spoor', zo is Oslo opgedeeld in 'de goede kant van de rivier' en 'de verkeerde kant van de rivier'.

'De rivier' is een lullig beekje dat van noord naar zuid stroomt, dwars door de stad. Het stelt weinig voor: het zit vol met afval, en langs de oevers huizen junks en daklozen. Niettemin figureert het prominent in de verbeelding van veel mensen. Want aan de oostkant van de rivier wonen 'de arbeiders', en aan de westkant 'de elite'. Als ik mijn collega's mag geloven is dat een belangrijke tegenstelling. Mijn opmerking dat zulks toch een reliek is van tientallen jaren geleden, en dat dergelijke ongelijkheden toch niet passen in het huidige egalitaristische Noorwegen, wordt eenvoudig gepareerd aan de hand van taalkundige voorbeelden. Aan de westkant spreekt men namelijk héél anders dan aan de oostkant.

Een klein voorbeeldje: het gebruik van vrouwelijke uitgangen. Het Noors kent drie geslachten, evenals het Duits. Maar vrouwelijke woorden worden vaak vervoegd als mannelijke woorden. 'Het boek' is in het Noors vrouwelijk, en zou dus vervoegd moeten worden als boka - maar in plaats daarvan zeggen veel mensen boken - ze geven het de mannelijke uitgang. 'Mijn vrouw' is kona mi, maar er zijn ook mensen die konen min zeggen.

Het zijn met name de kakkers uit West-Oslo die het vrouwelijke geslacht verwaarlozen, en alle woorden mannelijk vervoegen. Het zijn vooral de arbeiders, de 'mensen van het volk', die vrouwelijke uitgangen en lidwoorden gebruiken. Wannabe-socialisten doen hun dat natuurlijk na, en doen er bovendien nog een schepje bovenop: zelfs sommige woorden die eigenlijk mannelijk zijn worden door hen vrouwelijk vervoegd (zo spreken sommige linkse elementen naar verluidt van revolusjona in plaats van revolusjonen). Een beetje zoals Paul Rosenmöller, die zich in zijn tijd als havenarbeider en vakbondsleider een volks Rotterdams accent eigen maakte, terwijl hij stiekem uit een deftig katholiek nest kwam. Daarentegen speelde de koningin het klaar om Belgia - de officiële Noorse aanduiding voor België - te verbasteren tot Belgien.

U begrijpt: het is een gevoelige kwestie. Taal is identiteit, en kleine verschillen in vocabulaire en grammatica kunnen grote consequenties hebben. De buitenlander die zich de taal eigen wil maken doet er goed aan uitermate voorzichtig te zijn, vooral als het gaat om vragen betreffende taalgebruik. Voor je er erg in hebt heb je iemand beledigd, want een simpele vraag kan zomaar geïnterpreteerd worden als een persoonlijke aanval.

Mijn Noorse taaldocente doet het prima. Ze motiveert en complimenteert haar studenten, ze heeft moderne opvattingen, en ze haalt bij tijd en wijle Chomsky aan. Een leuke dame dus. Ze is ook een groot voorstander van taalkundige variëteit - op mijn opmerking dat ik graag wilde oefenen met het luisteren naar verschillende accenten omdat 'veel Noren dialect spreken' zei ze streng: 'alle Noren spreken dialect'. Ik ben de discussie maar niet aangegaan. Zelf spreekt ze normaliter ook haar plattelandsdialect, maar tijdens haar lessen doet ze haar best Oslo-Noors te spreken. Ze spreekt duidelijk, en is altijd goed te verstaan.

Op een gegeven moment schrijft ze een zin op het bord, waarin de uitdrukking 'te laat' voorkomt. For seint, schrijft ze op het bord. "Hè," reageer ik verbaasd, "ik dacht dat het for sent was, zonder I." "Nee hoor, dit kan ook," zegt ze. Ik ben ietwat verbaasd, want zo heb ik het nog nooit geschreven zien staan. "Het ziet er zo Nynorsk uit," flap ik eruit, mij niet realiserend wat een lullig I'tje allemaal wel niet kan symboliseren.

Ze draait zich om. "Waar woon je?" vraagt ze. Ze is nog steeds vriendelijk, maar haar stem heeft iets kils gekregen. De vraag verrast me. "Eh... Niet ver van hier. Bij het voetbalstadion," zeg ik. "Ja hoor, dan heb je gelijk," zegt ze bits. "Dan mag je for sent zeggen." Ik begrijp niet helemaal wat ze bedoelt, mijn klasgenoten evenmin. Er valt een ongemakkelijke stilte.

"Sorry," begin ik, maar ze onderbreekt me. "Nee, nee, geen sorry. Je hebt helemaal gelijk. Als je in het westen van Oslo woont, zeg je for sent. Dat is he-le-maal correct." De anders zo vriendelijke dame klinkt plotseling ijskoud. Ik voel me schuldig, want ik heb haar kennelijk op haar tenen getrapt. Maar ik bedoelde er niets mee. Ik had geen flauw benul hoe gevoelig één enkel lettertje wel niet kan liggen.

Taal is persoonlijk, en het persoonlijke is politiek. Het leren van een vreemde taal is als het betreden van een mijnenveld. Elke keer is het weer een verrassing waar de mijnen liggen. Toch raad ik iedereen van harte aan om de zoveel jaar een nieuwe taal te leren. Ongevaarlijk is het niet, maar er gaan werelden voor je open.

Obama's failure

A year and a half ago, I wrote a blog entry about Obama, just after he had received the Nobel Peace Prize. Unlike many others, I said that I sympathised with the committee's decision to award him the prize. That is, I considered his policies and intentions to be promising, and his speech acts to be significant political deeds. I stated that, whereas I was in no position to judge whether he actually deserved the prize or not, I was happy they gave it to him - for I considered it a welcome act of support for his attempts to reach out to the Muslim world, and his commitment to nuclear non-proliferation.

The time has come to admit that, sadly, I was too optimistic. Obama continues to be a great performer and story-teller, and he is more moderate than any right-wing republican would ever be. In the end, however, he is as unilateral, patriotic and pragmatic as any American president since the Second World War. His real commitment is to American commercial and military interests, not to the establishment of international peace, justice and democracy. The fact that after several years in office he still did not manage to close down Guantanamo Bay shows that his commitment to law and justice is not as serious as his rhetoric suggests. The questionable involvement (or lack thereof) in the recent revolutions in different Middle Eastern countries shows that the establishment of peace, freedom and autonomy in the region is no priority to this US government. But the most shocking disillusionment was his statement that 'justice has been done', earlier this week. I'll explain.

The first thing I read when I woke up on Monday morning was the news that Bin Laden had been killed. The first thing that struck me was the nature of the reactions - on social media, on pictures and footage of cheering crowds, on newspapers and websites. I was surprised by the ways in which people celebrated and rejoiced in the violent murder of four people, three of whom had been unarmed. I thought this might be an appropriate moment for some serious reflection on the costs of ten years of war, and for commemoration of the many victims of those ten years - in the US, in Afghanistan, in Iraq and elsewhere. Instead, people danced on the streets waving their flags as if their national team had just won the World Cup. The violent murder of an unarmed old man was celebrated as a heroic deed. As US-based journalist and eye-witness Mona Eltahawy wrote in The Guardian:

I could hear the cheers as I got out of the taxi, two blocks away. I could hear them from right in front of Park 51, the site of a planned Islamic community centre and mosque that met ferocious opposition last year for being too close to the "hallowed ground" of Ground Zero. It was minutes after President Obama's announcement that Osama bin Laden had been killed, and I was heeding a friend's suggestion that we – both Muslims – take candles and stand in vigil where the World Trade Centre stood before Bin Laden's footsoldiers took it down. So it was a shock to find hundreds of others had turned that hallowed ground into the scene of a home crowd celebrating an away victory they hadn't attended, the roots of which they were probably not there to experience or were too young to remember. (...) The scene at Ground Zero was like a parody of Team America, the film created by the South Park team to parody Bush's America gone wild on nationalism. Now that we've parodied the parody, can the frat boys go home and can we return to the revolutions of the Middle East and north Africa that symbolically killed Bin Laden months ago? I'm not hearing sympathy for Bin Laden from Muslims and Arabs I know. They're relieved he's finally gone. But they're understandably concerned that media obsession will let him hijack these noble revolutions. One man has been killed; dozens courageously staring down despots are slaughtered every day.

As I wrote on my facebook page, the reactions are partly created by cultural circumstances. In a culture where most people think in terms of absolute good and evil, the use of violence to 'defeat evil' is easily legitimated. Thus violence is cultivated. It is no wonder that in a country where many people believe they have a god-given right (literally) to defend themselves, violence is widespread, to the point that it has become an intrinsic part of society. And if violence is common within society, so too the use of violence to defend national interests abroad is easily justified, especially if it is combined with a discursively cultivated notion that the nation is under attack. As the nation in American civil religion is identified with the supreme good, so its antagonist must represent absolute evil. The evilness of the Other becomes non-negotiable. There is no place for nuances in such a scheme.

The fact that my criticism angered some of my American relatives - well-socialised members of their society - to the point that they refuse to be in touch with me any longer sadly confirms my point. It illustrates how widespread the mentality of 'if you're not with us, you're against us' actually is, when even people whom I thought peaceful suddenly express bloodthirsty patriotism. Not only are they unwilling to question their culturally defined assumptions, they are also insulted if others refuse to see the world in their terms.

There are a few questions the event has triggered. First of all, why did the US wait so long before they killed Bin Laden? Why did it take ten years to find him? Or did it? What if they knew where he was all along, carefully monitoring his whereabouts? There is evidence that they knew his location several months ago, possibly much longer. For a long time, 'Bin Laden' was a symbolic justification for US military presence in Afghanistan, and as such they had to keep him alive and prevent they couldn't find him. But now that the US have pretty much given up Afghanistan (a 'failed state' ruled by local warlords), and Obama wants to retreat his troops, he no longer needs this justification. Instead, it was politically more opportune to kill Bin Laden - the domestic popularity this would give Obama far outweighed any possible international criticism. And unlike other countries, the US easily get away with this sort of violations of international law, and the territorial integrity of another country. Instead, they received congratulations from all over the world. The power of the strongest...

Noam Chomsky made several interesting remarks about this, so I'll quote him at length:

It’s increasingly clear that the operation was a planned assassination, multiply violating elementary norms of international law. There appears to have been no attempt to apprehend the unarmed victim, as presumably could have been done by 80 commandos facing virtually no opposition—except, they claim, from his wife, who lunged towards them. In societies that profess some respect for law, suspects are apprehended and brought to fair trial. I stress “suspects.” In April 2002, the head of the FBI, Robert Mueller, informed the press that after the most intensive investigation in history, the FBI could say no more than that it “believed” that the plot was hatched in Afghanistan, though implemented in the UAE and Germany. What they only believed in April 2002, they obviously didn’t know 8 months earlier, when Washington dismissed tentative offers by the Taliban (how serious, we do not know, because they were instantly dismissed) to extradite bin Laden if they were presented with evidence—which, as we soon learned, Washington didn’t have. Thus Obama was simply lying when he said, in his White House statement, that “we quickly learned that the 9/11 attacks were carried out by al Qaeda.”

Nothing serious has been provided since. There is much talk of bin Laden’s “confession,” but that is rather like my confession that I won the Boston Marathon. He boasted of what he regarded as a great achievement.

There is also much media discussion of Washington’s anger that Pakistan didn’t turn over bin Laden, though surely elements of the military and security forces were aware of his presence in Abbottabad. Less is said about Pakistani anger that the U.S. invaded their territory to carry out a political assassination. Anti-American fervor is already very high in Pakistan, and these events are likely to exacerbate it. The decision to dump the body at sea is already, predictably, provoking both anger and skepticism in much of the Muslim world.

We might ask ourselves how we would be reacting if Iraqi commandos landed at George W. Bush’s compound, assassinated him, and dumped his body in the Atlantic. Uncontroversially, his crimes vastly exceed bin Laden’s, and he is not a “suspect” but uncontroversially the “decider” who gave the orders to commit the “supreme international crime differing only from other war crimes in that it contains within itself the accumulated evil of the whole” (quoting the Nuremberg Tribunal) for which Nazi criminals were hanged: the hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions of refugees, destruction of much of the country, the bitter sectarian conflict that has now spread to the rest of the region.

Chomsky does what an intellectual has to do: question the self-evident, taken-for-granted 'truths' spread by the ideological state apparatus and reproduced in media discourse. At least the US has some critical citizens who don't rejoice in the violent death of the man who was turned into a symbol of evil, and don't unconditionally accept the government's narrative. I am not sure Chomsky is still in touch with all his relatives, though.

So why was Bin Laden killed, and not captured alive? Why not bring him to court, provide irrefutable evidence of his involvement, and punish him accordingly? The truth could have been found, and justice could have been done - would that not have been better than turning Bin Laden into a martyr, and giving rise to all sorts of new myths and conspiracy theories surrounding his life and death? As Geoffrey Robertson wrote in The Independent,

America resembles the land of the munchkins, as it celebrates the death of the Wicked Witch of the East. The joy is understandable, but it endorses what looks increasingly like a cold-blooded assassination ordered by a president who, as a former law professor, knows the absurdity of his statement that "justice was done". Amoral diplomats and triumphant politicians join in applauding Bin Laden's summary execution because they claim real justice – arrest, trial and sentence would have been too difficult in the case of Bin Laden. But in the long-term interests of a better world, should it not at least have been attempted? (...)

[T]he notion that any form of legal process would have been too hard must be rejected. Khalid Sheikh Mohammed - also alleged to be the architect of 9/11 - will shortly go on trial and had Bin Laden been captured, he should have been put in the dock alongside him, so that their shared responsibility could have been properly examined. Bin Laden could not have been tried for 9/11 at the International Criminal Court – its jurisdiction only came into existence nine months later. But the Security Council could have set up an ad hoc tribunal in The Hague, with international judges (including Muslim jurists), to provide a fair trial and a reasoned verdict. (...)

It was not always thus. When the time came to consider the fate of men much more steeped in wickedness than Bin Laden – the Nazi leadership – the British government wanted them hanged within six hours of capture. President Truman demurred, citing the conclusion of Justice Robert Jackson that summary execution “would not sit easily on the American conscience or be remembered by our children with pride?the only course is to determine the innocence or guilt of the accused after a hearing as dispassionate as the times will permit and upon a record that will leave our reasons and motives clear”. He insisted upon judgment at Nuremberg, which has confounded Holocaust-deniers ever since.

May it be the case, then, that Bin Laden was killed simply because there was not enough legal evidence of his involvement in the attacks of September 11? What kind of proof is there anyway? Perhaps his involvement was in fact limited - perhaps the attacks were designed by Khalid Mohammed and Mohammed Atta, and all Bin Laden did was provide symbolic justification. I honestly don't know. Sure, he claimed he was directly responsible - but why on earth should the statements of this man, who obviously suffered from megalomania, be taken at face-value...?

Obama has missed a great opportunity to strengthen the institutions of international law, which contribute to international cooperation, justice and peace. He has missed the opportunity to find out the truth about Bin Laden's alleged responsibility for the deaths of thousands of people. He has acted unilaterally, without any respect for international relations. He has directly violated international law, by ordering the assassination of an unarmed man who in all likelihood could have been captured alive. Thus, he has let political Darwinism and an eye-for-an-eye mentality prevail over justice.

By making these choices, he has desecrated the Nobel Prize. He isn't the first one, he won't be the last one - but it is disappointing nonetheless.

The prince and the president

I tried my best to ignore it, but I did not manage. Every single news website I opened was full of stories about 'the dress', 'the kiss' and 'the guest list'. Every radio DJ I listened to was talking about it, and playing songs appropriate for the occasion. Facebook friends worldwide posted status updates and tweets commenting on the ongoing events. I was surprised, to say the least. I don't care at all about the British monarchy. I understand that a royal wedding is a big media event in the country where it takes place, but I fail to comprehend why Dutch, Norwegian or Vietnamese media should report it extensively, and why so many people around the world should follow it so obsessively. I was also surprised by the general lack of reflection. British acquaintances known for their leftist criticism of power structures suddenly expressed themselves online in patriotic terms, enchanted by 'the very modern fairytale' they witnessed.

I lived in the UK, a couple of years ago, for a period of ten months. It was a great experience, but I don't think I ever really understood the country. I didn't understand the strange mix of ruthless capitalism and polite friendliness, of inspiring critical thought and widespread alcohol/drug abuse, of multiculturalism and provincialism. In fact, of the five countries where I have lived, the UK is probably the one I understood and identified with the least. Nevertheless, I enjoyed living there. In particular, I enjoyed the many great walks I made - long-distance treks in the countryside, but also many city walks in London, a fascinating, multi-faceted city.

On one of those walks, I passed the Syrian embassy. In the ambassador's parking space was a beautiful, shiny old Rolls Royce. The number plate on the car said '007', and must have cost a fortune only a great fan of British culture would be willing to spend. I figured it belonged to the ambassador himself, as he is a wealthy, well-educated cosmopolitan, a man of the world who is as much home to the world of British aristocracy as to Syrian intra-party politics. The rules of nepotism are universal, after all.

He must have been very sad, this cosmopolitan James Bond fan, that he was not allowed to attend the prince's wedding. His presence was no longer considered 'appropriate' by the royal family, to which he reportedly reacted by saying he found it 'a bit embarrassing'. But he happens to represent a government which during the past couple of weeks has killed several hundred protesters. Random shooting, random killing during demonstrations of people demanding more political freedom, again and again. President Bashar al-Assad is trying hard to walk in the footsteps of his father Haffez, who once wiped out an entire urban district, killing tens of thousands of people in a city otherwise known for its beautiful wooden water wheels.

Poor ambassador. But I understand the decision of the royal family to withdraw his invitation. After all, the prince's wedding was one big PR event, designed to strengthen the position of the royal family by effectively communicating the centuries-old message that the British nation and the royal family are existentially connected; that in effect, the one cannot live without the other. A fairytale indeed, or a myth: a story that is told to convey a powerful ideological message, by not making that message explicit but trying to make it look like it is eternal, natural and self-evident. Bread and games, in other words - an event designed to legitimate power structures by depoliticising them (merci monsieur Barthes). Thus, possible associations with politics proper were to be avoided, especially if the issues were controversial. That is exactly the reason why Brown and Blair were not invited, and it is also the reason why the Syrian ambassador had to stay home and watch TV.

The prince has made the right decision, politically speaking. On Friday, the very day of the wedding, Bashar's troops killed another fifty protesters in Damascus. The world didn't watch, though, as the world was busy discussing Kate Middleton's dress. 'Finally some happy news, after all the violence we usually see on TV', somebody said on the radio. Those poor TV audiences, involuntarily confronted with suffering Arabs all the time, finally got some well-deserved romantic images they could consume and enjoy. Blissful oblivion, depoliticisation at its most powerful.

People usually associate me with East Asia (Japan and Vietnam, in particular). Rightly so, I guess. But there is another region in the world which I find beautiful and intriguing, and which I studied when I was in university - not as extensively as Japan, of course, and I never had time to learn any of the languages, but nevertheless it is a region I feel strongly attracted to. I am referring to the Middle East. I have visited Turkey, Lebanon and Israel, trips I greatly enjoyed because of the rich cultural heritage, beautiful natural landscapes and great hospitality (and food) I encountered. And before I moved to London in 2007, I travelled to Syria. I only spent two weeks in the country, but I will never forget it as it was one of the most wonderful places I have ever been. From the ruins of Palmyra to the monastery of Mar Mousa, from the churches and mosques of Damascus to the souq of Aleppo, from the friendly Kurdish bus company employee who guided me through Qamishle to the atheist refugee film maker I celebrated Iraq's Asia Cup victory with - it was a travel experience I will never forget.

One of the first things I noticed when I was in Syria was the impressive quantity of pictures of the president and his father. They are, quite literally, everywhere. Pictures and statues of father and son Al-Assad in Syria are more omnipresent than pictures of Ho Chi Minh in Vietnam. Trust me, that means something, as there is hardly a house in Vietnam that doesn't have a picture of the Great Uncle. There were so many images of the Al-Assads that it was hard to take them seriously, especially since some of them were, let's put it mildly, somewhat kitschy...

It made me wonder what people really thought about the president. The Kurdish man I spoke with was critical, of course, as apparently Bashar had broken his promise to give many stateless Kurdish residents Syrian nationality. A young lady in Damascus, on the other hand, insisted that all people in Syria loved Bashar and that he was very popular - she admiringly showed me a picture of the young president with his wife and their baby daughter. In fact, I remember that at the time international commentators and diplomats were still fairly optimistic about the apparent reform-mindedness of the president and his regime. His position seemed rather stable.

Change does not always come gradually. Sometimes there are no significant changes for ages, and then suddenly everything is turned upside-down overnight, as we have witnessed in Egypt. But I don't think the Syrian army is as willing to leave the protesters be as the Egyptian army was, and I am afraid the suffering will continue. The 'moderate' president and 'loving young father' is turning into a tyrant, a ruthless murderer who is willing to sacrifice many innocent people's lives in order to secure his own power position.

I feel sad for the people of Syria. If any of them were to read this post, by any chance, the only thing I can say is the following: thank you for the hospitality you gave me when I visited your beautiful country. I hope and pray that you will achieve what you are longing for: freedom of oppression. Your suffering has not remained completely unnoticed.

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