El-Youssef / The Levantine Review Volume 1 Number 2 (Fall 2012)
it seems that the common assumption that the Levant is evidently a zone of conflict, and worse, might remain so until doomsday, doesn’t lack justification. But is there a way to challenge such a seemingly fated and enduring assumption?
Let
us
mention
another
term,
which
is
just
as
popular
as
Memory:
Resistance,
or
The Resistance.
This
is
a
sacred
cow
in
many
parts
of
the
Levant.
“No
voice
shall
rise
above
the
voice
of
the
Resistance!”
is
an
oft-repeated
slogan.
Once
a
group
anoints
itself
a
representative
of
the
“resistance,”
or
wraps
itself
in
the
mantle
of
some
“resistance,”
any
“resistance,”
it
will
have
earned
the
right
to
do
pretty
much
as
it
pleases—with
impunity,
as
is
often
the
case
with
many
a
“sacred”
or
“divine
resistance”
in
the
Levant
today!
So
let
us
learn
from
the
practitioners
of
“resistance”
and
establish
our
own
resistance:
The
resistance
against
memory
and
paranoia.
Indeed,
what
better
way
to
resist
unremitting
“resistance”
than
to
encourage
forgetfulness?
But
let
me
first
emphasize
two
points:
First,
that
the
attitude
of
suspicion
vis-à-vis
the
“other”
is
peculiar
to
politics,
or
anything
that
is
determined
through
politics.
Secondly,
that
people
are
not
necessarily
enslaved
to
their
dark
memory.
Indeed,
whenever
they
can,
they
try
to
distract
themselves
from
both
memory
and
politics;
the
act
of
forgetfulness
is
not
so
strange
to
them.
Indeed
these
two
facts
have
encouraged
me
through
the
last
two
decades
to
challenge
the
assumption
that
the
Levant
is,
or
could
only,
be
depicted
as
a
zone
of
conflict.
However,
the
temporary
forgetfulness
that
I
am
talking
about
is
not
the
same
as
seeking
distraction
from
reality,
or
escaping
reality,
or
being
cynical.
Good
art
for
me
is
that
which
combines
pleasure
with
education,
or
simply
an
intelligent
joke
that
makes
one
laugh
and
think
and
then
laugh
again.
The
chance
to
forget
here
is
a
chance
to
think,
to
discover
something
else,
or
something
different,
or
at
least
to
recognise
the
significance
of
something
that
one
might
have
overlooked
or
dismissed.
In
other
words,
forgetfulness
is
a
chance
to
unlearn
an
old
lesson
and
learn
a
new
one.
I
enjoyed
reading
Larkin’s
poems,
but
I
also
learned
a
great
deal
from
them;
they
taught
me
many
things
about
the
English
language
and
post-war
England,
and
how
to
distinguish
between
an
attitude
of
disappointment
and
one
of
hostility,
and
between
expressions
of
solidarity
and
appreciation,
and
hypocrisy
and
conceit.
Within
the
Levant
the
moment
of
temporary
forgetfulness
might
be
a
chance
for
learning
how
to
pave
the
way
for
the
imagination
of
peace.
People
who
followed
the
Peace
Process
through
its
visual
aspect
must
have
noticed
how
hesitant
and
reluctant
participants
in
peace
negotiations
looked.
Starting
from
the
notorious
Arafat-Rabin
handshake
on
the
White
House
lawn,
peace
negotiators
looked
as
if
they
were
doing
a
dirty
job;
something
that
they
were
undertaking
out
of
sheer
necessity
and
desperation.
The
private
argument,
which
was
often
made,
seemed
to
confirm
the
implication
of
the
image
on
the
White
House
lawn;
“we
have
to
be
realistic—we
can
do
nothing
but
negotiate
