The Queens' Intervention : How It's More Than Just About Abu Hamza

 This article should soon be published on one of my university's student newspapers, though I'm not sure when! I've tried to look at Her Majesty, the Queen's lobbying to arrest Abu Hamza, which was accidentally leaked in a Radio program in the UK a few days ago. In the article, I've tried to suggest that while the Queen makes a valid point, her concerns on the effectiveness of English Common Law should be reflective of much wider problems that exist in the heart of our public institutions

                       
As the extremist preacher, Abu Hamza, is finally extradited to the United States, where he is accused of assisting in terrorist offences, it also emerged that Her Majesty, the Queen, had also been privately lobbying the then Home Secretary to arrest the cleric. What was surprising was not necessarily the extradition itself (which most, presumed to be inevitable anyway), but rather that the nature of such an intervention seemed grossly inappropriate for an individual whose role was once understood as a representational figurehead.  As such, public debate on the issue has split; The anti-monarchist group, Republic, have argued that the intervention demonstrates the partisan reality of the institution, whilst pro-monarchists feel the event provides further legitimacy for the Royal Family to play a more active role in public life. Regardless of this disparity, the Queen’s intervention is remarkable, purely on the grounds that in voicing her concern, she has ultimately highlighted some of the less considered failures inherent in our public institutions- those of democratic representation and the rule of law. 

We should, however, be wary of using Hamza as a way to criticise or characterise these failures. For while Hamza is overwhelmingly guilty of inciting violence and assisting with potentially dangerous activities, the problems that exist with our public institutions go far beyond this hate preacher. Consider, for example, the less-heard of , (and certainly less sinister-looking), of detainees, who will accompany Hamza to the United States, in particular, Babar Ahmad.  Mr. Ahmad, having been under arrest without trial since 2004, faces accusations from the United States of being involved with Islamic militant websites supporting Chechen and Afghan insurgents, despite an overwhelming lack of material evidence, and a peculiar demand for a US trial, on the grounds of a computer server location. Furthermore, as the European court of human rights (ECHR) ruled earlier this year that it was feasible to extradite Ahmad, the Home Secretary Theresa May ignored the pleas by both legal representatives and human rights organizations, instead opting to eagerly approach television cameras, and voicing her desire to extradite the individuals as soon as she could. And although some legal bureaucracy had initially gotten in the way of her grand political strategy, it seems that her desire has finally been realised. All this aside, one should consider that  despite years of solitary confinement, abuse and being held without trial, Ahmad’s case will only see itself relegated to a mere footnote in the current incarnation of extradition law.     

                             

One could be forgiven for dismissing this case simply as a point of law- a field where most, including myself, often find themselves lost in its obscurity.  Rather, it is perhaps, the failure of representative government in reconciling objective jurisprudence with civil liberty. Particularly, this is evident in the modified  2003 Extradition Act, legislation first introduced by the then home office minister, John Denham.  Initially designed to make the process of extradition easier between nation states, in the political context of the ‘war on terror’, it found itself  a powerful instrument to conduct ideological politics. The challenges of confronting modern terrorism, made more complex with  copious international networks,  has also presented opportunities for certain nations to strengthen their ‘special relationship’ both through mutual objectives and greater judicial compliance.  In the case of the United Kingdom and the United States,  the aims of strengthening the ‘special relationship’ have come at the expense of  common law;  Despite assurances by the United States that it would adhere to the 2003 act , twice, British foreign secretaries have had to apologise to Parliament in cases relating to inhumane torture and rendition.  In 2008, the select committee on foreign affairs expressed concern about the continuing assurances of the US in complying with the extradition act, given reports of continuing interrogation. Most recently, in the cases not just of Babar Ahmad, but also Gary Mckinnon and Talha Ashan, concern has been expressed by numerous legal and political bodies around both the nature of their alleged crimes, as well as the evidence being used to prosecute them. Yet, senior members of the British government have not responded to these trepidations, instead opting to comply with American extradition requests. Hence, as the accused now head to the United States ,  they may face an even longer detention without trial, before confronting the worst of all punishments.

Whatever we think of  the Queen’s involvement in Abu Hamza’s  case,  her inquiries do raise important concerns we should have over the health of  our  public institutions today . For, what ultimately lies behind the caricature of the ‘hooked man’, is a vicious infection within British law and democracy. And while this may suit politicians in the short term, we should let neither more Babar Ahmads, or the integrity of our public institutions, be sacrificed to entertain political point scoring.

The Revival of Orientalism ('The New Orientalism')

This is a copy of an article I published in a student newspaper at my university. It briefly examines the recent protests in the middle east, concerning a poorly-made, amateur film, 'The Innocence of Muslims', which has conjured up a mass amount of anger within the Muslim community. I have tried to take the view that there is more of this event than simply the protests themselves- in fact, a better analysis might involve a critical examination of western reactions, particularly in the context of human rights, free speech and value systems. Almost ironically, it is also occurring in the same week that Salman Rushdie, a british novelist, publishes his memoirs about the years he spent in hiding, whilst having a fatwa on his head ordained by the then Ayotollah Khomeini.

             

In light of recent protests by Muslims around the world, in reaction to the Anti-Islamic amateur movie ‘Innocence of Muslims’, the responses anticipated from western commentators were somewhat expected. Deemed as ‘anti-modern’, ‘barbaric’ and the ‘enemies of free speech’, the consensus amongst most major news outlets in Europe and the United States, seemed to be a unanimous confirmation that the post- ‘Arab Spring’ Middle East had failed to change the Muslim mentality.

Though some were subtler than others, the observation of young Muslims – once the principal drivers of the revolution – chanting angry slogans and burning flags, illustrated nothing more than the ashes of hopeful optimism, scorched by the flames of a volatile religious ideology. Indeed, no better is such disappointment reflected, than in the upcoming headline of Newsweek magazine, boldly entitled, “Muslim Rage”.
Yet, it might be these types of perceptions that prove a greater obstacle in our understanding of what we view as the ‘Muslim world’. It is certainly true that more confident and vocal Salafi groups hold a significant amount of responsibility in stirring up violence and hatred, especially amongst an empowered, but still impressionable youth.

Nonetheless, far from being the root cause, these Salafists occupy only a symptomatic position in relation to a much larger infection – one in which even in it’s first contact with the East, the Western world has failed to diagnose. ‘The Innocence of Muslims’ is more than just a film criticising the Islamic faith. Its crude depictions are not only directed at the Prophet Muhammad, but also extend to a revolting characterisation of ‘Islamic civilization’ itself – one which is moulded by barbarity, violence and overtly masculine sexual subjugation. In doing this, the film has revived the same ghosts that have haunted both prominent academics and Western policy makers in their approach to a still mysterious and elusive ‘Islamic World’.

In 1990, the historian Bernard Lewis, published an essay, entitled ‘The Roots of Muslim Rage’ in the Atlantic Monthly. In the essay, Lewis argued that ‘Muslim Civilization’ was stuck in a state of paralysis, trapped by sense of victimhood that largely derived from a multitude of successive military defeats and economic decline. The once great civilization, in Lewis’ view, could only look back at a nostalgic ‘Golden Age’, while it found itself confined in a seemingly inescapable inferiority complex – one in which dignity continually deteriorated through direct imperialism, and eventually, Western supported despotic rulers.
‘Muslim Rage’ in this sense, particularly in light of the Rushdie affair, was ultimately portrayed as proof of an anti-modern, inferior, and ultimately dangerous civilization it seemed justified for the wiser, secular West to contain. It was of course, Lewis’ contemporary, Edward Said, who had continually contested such claims. In the 1978 publication of Orientalism, Said had argued that a position such as Lewis’ simply assisted in cultivating images of a pathetic ‘Muslim peoples’, who ultimately required the West for its own good. Although Said remains a potent intellectual force in academia to this day, it was Lewis that was brought in from obscurity to the office of Dick Cheney, and it was Lewis’ view that played a fundamental role in developing America’s Middle East strategy during the Bush years.

If the revolutions in North Africa and the Middle East have taught us anything, it is the confirmation that perceptions of a backward, anti-modern Middle East do little to reflect the obvious realities. Yet, for all the openness and curiosity of its people, we should understand that the role of the Islamic faith, and the Prophet Muhammad, remains a central component in both practical organisation and communal identification- particularly in a climate where such beliefs have assisted significantly in dismantling heinous despotic regimes.
Yet, despite this early revival, it still seems too tempting for us to revert back to a toxic narrative entrenched in outdated ideology, where Muslims are rendered helpless by their own inadequacies and a ‘backward’ rejection of seemingly superior Western, democratic values. The continuation of such condescending beliefs, whether through artistic expression or public policy, will not just augment frustration and anger. Ultimately, it will do little to heal our already fragile relations with the post-Arab Spring region.

The Randian Resurrection

Last week was the GOP national convention, so I thought it might be interesting to look at one of their stars, the Vice Presidential nominee, Paul Ryan. For those of you that don't know, Paul Ryan is most famous for forging the 'intellectual framework' of the Republican party, best embodied in the 'Ryan Plan' for a recovered America.

On the surface, Ryan shouldn't really be that interesting. In fact, he's a rather boring economics nerd,  hailed as the 'intellectual figurehead' of the GOP- a humorous, yet also disturbing title to be ordained with, considering the present state of the party. Yet, in this electoral season, the ' Ryan plan' , seems to be serving various goals. Firstly, to assist in repositioning the electoral narrative, shifting focus away from personality politics to one based primarily on economic strategy. The second objective, is much more interesting, In  a semi-religious fashion, the plan has, in an almost biblical way, resurrected a rather peculiar character of the late twentieth century- one whose philosophical presence has permeated into American politics on more than one occasion. This entity, is Ayn Rand.

Rand had escaped Soviet Russia in 1926, settling instead, for New York city. She worked intially as a screenwriter for many popular 'epic films' , while simultaneously writing her own fiction. In 1957, She wrote her most famous novel- the one in which Paul Ryan has claimed to gain much of his inspiration- Atlas Shrugged. It was also the novel that framed her peculiar, but oddly popular philosophy- one that espoused the virtues of elitism- not only by justifying the presence of elites in society, but also suggesting that they were necessary for any society to flourish. In the Randian view, these elites, or in her words, the 'prime movers' should be cherished by society, as their presence subsequently gave a more profound meaning to one's life, than that of the state or it's bureaucrats. The philosophical foundation of the Randian world view, was what she referred to as 'Objectivism'. Here is an interesting video, where she explains this philosophy;

While Paul Ryan has insisted that Rand's novels serve only as a source of inspiration relating to policy, there is a startling degree of complexity woven within her narratives. In fact, the free market rhetoric that forms the basis of Randian-inspired ideology within the current GOP, serves merely as a simplistic, if not superficial interpretation of her body of work. Although Rand certainly believed in such ideals, her novels are probably more useful in illustrating the exercise of power within the Randian world, and how her objectivist philosophy does not simply manifest itself within the market economy, but as an extension, forms the basis of human relationships. Indeed, both her famous novels, The Foutainhead and Atlas Shrugged not only reject moral frameworks that do not encompass the self,  but also illustrate the triumphs of objectivism in its confrontation with other philosophies. Through physical action and material manifestations, fantastical worlds are constructed within both the novels; The Foutainhead follows the 'prime mover'  Howard Roark's relentless defence of his artistic integrity and vision, against the tyrannical bureaucrats. Atlas Shrugged further conveys these principles through the protagonist and model prime-mover, John Galt. In response to the oppression of the state against the 'prime movers', Galt organises the exodus of the other prime movers (creatives, financiers and other such elites), as a means not to create the Randian world elsewhere, but rather, and in a rather peculiar, masochistic fashion, watch society erode in absence of the elites. The 'moral' (if one would continue to use this term) of the story however, has less to do with the evils of big government (as the GOP and other such conservatives seem to have interpreted) than the nature of the Randian universe itself. The order of this environment does not lie in the notion of 'free and equal individuals', but rather, an understanding that elites in society, the 'prime-movers' occupy an elevated status that must be exempt from any attempted form of moral regulation. Furthermore, as these elites endow onto wider society, a successful model of organising and distribution, they are also granted the right to 'protect' and 'regulate' those that are lesser than them. Thus, it seems to be the case that the Randian world is far from Paul Ryan's libertarian utopia- instead, it proposes a different organisation of society whereby the prime movers are granted legitimacy, simply on the basis that they are superior beings. 

How this superiority is acquired, seems less to do with economics than a peculiar, Randian understanding of power- which are depicted in the characterisation of  her 'heroes'. The Fountainhead sees the architect, Roark as the sole defender of his vision for a skyscraper, against the bulwark of  'mediocrity', who in Roark's eyes, exists only to compromise his creativity. Yet more often than not, one fails in the attempt to interpret the nature of Roark's vision itself. What are the components of the fantasy, which make it absolute? In this case, I'd argue that Roark's vision does not simply embody a creative idea for a building. Rather, it embodies a constructed fantasy as an extension of himself; In accepting this compromise, Roark would not only gives up the sky scraper in it's material form, but also his own individuality,all to what Rand describes as the parastic system, designed specifically to restrict the 'prime mover'. Roark, the Randian hero, finds himself existing it a nightmare world, but one in which he must retain his integrity to survive. Similarly, the exploration of power in Atlas Shrugged also centres around an assumed dominance of the 'prime-movers', although more explicity directed toward government and bureaucrats. The chants of 'Who is John Galt?' that embody street slogans, also allude to the metaphysical notion of the self. In this case, Galt, the Randian hero, elucidates not only a man superior in practical purpose (ie. in terms of organisation and physical rebellion), but similarly acts as symbolic of  'power' itself, within the Randian universe. As such, Galt's organised rebellion effectively removes the life-source of society, rendering it helpless and pathetic, left only with the failed parental state, destroyed by the virtues of collectivism and egalitarianism. The novel ends with the return of the 'prime-movers', the true parental figureheads of the society, and with whom natural order is restored. Ultimately, Rand shows us that it is these movers that have constructed the world for the benefit of lesser mortals, and as such, can just as easily dismantle, or re-build it in their image- and with a greater degree of perceived legitimacy. 

 More interestingly, what of the psychological, or rather, the psycho-sexual dimensions within the Randian world? It seems to me, that in our examination of Rand today, commentators look too much toward her ideas of moral economy, and in this case, taking the position that 'self-interest' being the only rational mode of existence, is somewhat incomplete. For it is in examining human behaviour itself, that Rand forms the basis of her peculiar philosophy, and nowhere is this more evident than in sexual conduct.  Yet, not so long ago, the now notorious philosopher, Slavoj Zizek, wrote a paper in the Journal of Ayn Rand Studies  examining her body of work through this very approach.  In the paper,  Zizek argued that the 'Randian world' was somewhat representative of a pure capitalism, without the sugar-coated pills offered by the evils of government. In this pure world, the Randian heroes, or the prime movers, would occupy a position somewhat innocent of the evils such sugar-coated pills assist in developing; thus, Roarke's uncomprimising stance on his creative integrity can only be seen as a moral good,  because man himself is working toward the greatest good he can internally occupy. Roarke requires no recognition from others to make moral judgements on his actions, possibly for the sole reason that such external judgements hold little meaning. Such an idea might be best analysed through this clip of The Fountainhead motion picture;

In this case, I feel that Zizek has probably come closest in accurately depicting the 'Randian hero' has much more than simply an economic prime mover. While conservative Randians may view Roarke and Galt as ultimate justification of free market capitalism (effectively becoming ideological commodities), Zizek instead exposes their innermost drives, making clear that the need to satisfy their internal desires can make them capable of the very things the Radian hero is supposed to be devoid of- in this case, love for the other. In Atlas Shrugged, the removal of the 'prime movers' brings about the erosion of  the harmonious, industrial society. The movers make clear that the 'other' are dependent on them, and thus occupy a more powerful position when they return. Yet, why do the prime movers return back to the society that rejected them? The prodigal sons here, do not return with sorrow and repentance, but rather, with triumph- and a 'love' for the other. It may be the case that just as the other is dependent on the prime mover to survive, the legitimacy of the mover is subsequently concentrated on the acquired legitimacy of the other. A distinction, however, does remain in place- while the mover's motivation lies in the drive for self satisfaction, the 'other' is driven by a desire for the mover. No more is this better illustrated than in a particular scene of The Fountainhead, where the dialectic between Roark and Domonique are explored. Domonique is characterised as the 'other', consumed only by a desire for Roark, whilst Roark, driven only by his vision, views Domonique only as a means to settle temporary satisfaction, all of it being completely unattached from emotions.  For Rand, notions of sex were not simply that of emotional engagement, but were rather based on rational values and principles; If extended to the rape scene in The Fountainhead,  one might suggest that Roark is both fulfilling his primal, temporary urges, as well as re-inforcing the paradigm of the Randian world, whereby as a prime mover, he occupied a position where he may overpower Domonique, with the latter's full compliance. Meanwhile, if Domonique was to have a meaningful relationship with Roark, she must 'transition from desire to drive', adapting her value system to fit within the Randian understanding of the rational world- one in which sexual action acts as a means to fulfil rational, individual needs, as well as to maintain it's established, hierarchical tenants.

Such analyses as that of Zizek, show just how complex Rand actually is. Those that adore her,mainly tend to see her too much as a prophet of the free-market cause, preferring to ignore the depth of human exploration necessary to achieve such aims. Indeed, Rand shows that particular psychological conditions have to be in place for the rational, free market to remain in place- much of which challenges general understandings of morality today. Yet similarly, those that dismiss her ideas, may also be short sighted. While Rand believed heavily in the objectivist ideology, it might be the case that even she misappropriated the philosophical tenants behind her ideas, which when applied outside the economic sphere, appear contradictory. Whether Paul Ryan has really thought about Rand in such depth, I'm not sure, but I suppose that might be the reason why her resurrection was fairly short-lived.