History bookshelf:
Next book on the shelf is Road Work: Among Tyrants, Heroes, Rogues, and Beasts, by Mark Bowden.
A book of essays by Mark Bowden – some from his years on Philadelphia Inquirer and some from post-Black Hawk Down days. He wrote a massive piece on Saddam Hussein for Atlantic Monthly – and there were times that I felt like Bowden was flirting with a Kapuscinski-esque style of writing, which didn’t quite work for me. Kapuscinski has the melancholy intellectualism of Communist Eastern Europe. That sort of writing comes naturally to him because that was his background, his life. Bowden is an American, he grew up during the Cold War, obviously – but I think sometimes Bowden’s experiment with this other style of writing works, and sometimes it doesn’t. Black Hawk Down was a straight-up narrative, with very little sentiment. He didn’t dwell on moments, there was no time, they rushed right by you without you having a chance to deal with it … just like the guys experienced on the ground there. When I read his piece on Saddam Hussein, I thought: “Huh. This is Mark Bowden trying something new with his writing.” It’s a bit self-conscious, stylistically, but I can see why he chose to go in that route. It is a personality piece on Saddam Hussein, after all. He’s trying to get into the psychology of the tyrant. A straight-up Black Hawk Down-esque style would not work.
These are just my wee comments, take them for what they’re worth! I don’t begrudge him his experiment – he was stretching himself as a writer, and I think that’s a good thing, even if it’s only partly successful.
Here’s an excerpt from his long in-depth piece on Saddam Hussein called “Tales of the Tyrant”. I remember reading it when it first came out in The Atlantic Monthly in May 2002.
EXCERPT FROM Road Work: Among Tyrants, Heroes, Rogues, and Beasts, by Mark Bowden.
In what sense does Saddam see himself as a great man? Saad al-Bazzaz, who defected in 1992, has thought a lot about this question, during his time as a newspaper editor and TV producer in Baghdad, and in the years since, as the publisher of an Arabic newspaper in London.
“I need a piece of paper and a pen,” he told me recently in the lobby of Claridge’s Hotel. He flattened the paper out on a coffee table and tested the pen. Then he drew a line down the center. “You must understand, the daily behavior is just the result of the mentality,” he explained. “Most people would say that the main conflict in Iraqi society is sectarian, between the Sunni and the Shia Muslims. But the big gap has nothing to do with religion. It is betweent he mentality of the villages and the mentality of the cities.”
“Okay. Here is a village.” On the right half of the page al-Bazzaz wrote a V and underneath it he drew a collection of separate small squares. “These are houses or tents,” he said. “Notice there are spaces between them. This is because in the villages each family has its own house, and each house is sometimes several miles from the next one. They are self-contained. They grow their own food and make their own clothes. Those who grow up in the villages are frightened of everything. There is no real law enforcement or civil society. Each family is frightened of each other, and all of them are frightened of outsiders. This is the tribal mind. The only loyalty they know is to their own family, or to their own village. Each of the families is ruled by a patriarch, and the village is ruled by the strongest of them. This loyalty to tribe comes before everything. There are no values beyond power. You can lie, cheat, steal, even kill, and it is okay so long as you are a loyal son of the village or the tribe. Politics for these people is a bloody game, and it is all about getting or holding power.”
Al-Bazzaz wrote the word “city” atop the left half of the page. Beneath it he drew a line of adjacent squares. Below that he drew another line, and another. “In the city the old tribal ties are left behind. Everyone lives close together. The state is a big part of everyone’s life. They work at jobs and buy their food and clothing at markets and in stores. There are laws, police, courts, and schools. People in the city lose their fear of outsiders, and take an interest in foreign things. Life in the city depends on cooperation, on sophisticated social networks. Mutual self-interest defines public policy. You can’t get anything done without cooperating with others, so politics in the city becomes the art of compromise and partnership. The highest goal in politics becomes cooperation, community, and keeping the peace. By definition, politics in the city becomes nonviolent. The backbone of urban politics isn’t blood, it’s law.”
In al-Bazzaz’s view, Saddam embodies the tribal mentality. “He is the ultimate Iraqi patriarch, the village leader who has seized a nation,” he explained. “Because he has come so far, he feels anointed by destiny. Everything he does is, by definition, the right thing to do. He has been chosen by Heaven to lead. Often in his life he has been saved by God, and each escape makes him more certain of his destiny. In recent years, in his speeches, he has begun using passages and phrases from the Koran, speaking the words as if they are his own. In the Koran, Allah says, ‘If you thank me, I will give you more.’ In the early nineties Saddam was on TV, presenting awards to military officers, and he said, ‘If you thank me, I will give you more.’ He no longer believes he is a normal person. Dialogue with him is impossible because of this. He can’t understand why journalists should be allowed to criticize him. How can they criticize the father of the tribe? This is something unacceptable in his mind. To him, strength is everything. To allow criticism or difference of opinion, to negotiate or compromise, to accede to the rule of law or to due process — these are signs of weakness.”

