In contemplating what anecdotes to write about for my final diary entry from Egypt, one moment stuck out in my mind. When I took my English class of refugees out to eat at a local café a month ago, our discussion turned to the Iraq War.
I explained to Hussain, one of the Iraqi students, that much debate had circulated in American intellectual circles about the sectarian, religious and political strife that had plagued the country.
I asked him, as someone directly influenced by the war, whether newspapers, politicians and religious demagogues label him accurately, and whether he identifies himself as an Iraqi, Shiite, or perhaps something else. He penetrated my eyes and said, "I am Muslim. Not Sunni, not Shiite, but Muslim."
As I reflect upon my study abroad experience in Egypt and traveling throughout the Middle East, this moment epitomized one of the central problems facing the region today.
How do Middle East regimes reconcile the importance of promoting a public identity, whether it is religious, political, or ethnic affiliation, while upholding the liberty, dignity and diversity of the individual?
In this sense, it is easy to overlook governmental imposition of religion in the Middle East today, by passing the practice off as a mere cultural difference between Arab countries and America.
But some Muslim governments paint a depressingly bleak picture of Muslim individuals. Those governments feel that Islam will not be practiced properly if it is not imposed by a public institution.
Regimes in Egypt, Jordan, Palestine and, to a lesser extent, Israel - all of whom have strong theocratic elements within their governments - forget that religion reflects first and foremost a personal relationship between man and a higher spiritual power.
This connection is more important than any bond linking fellow human beings with each other, for it manifests the essence of a human being's intrinsic dignity within the context of eternity.
Yet religious imposition by governments directly rejects this notion by suggesting that individuals are not capable of finding this relationship with God without coercion from other human beings.
Similarly along these lines, governmental control of economic, social and political structures further advances the underlying belief inherent in power-seeking regimes that Muslims are not capable of making rational, responsible and spiritual decisions on their own.
This thinking needs to change if Middle Eastern countries want to lessen the influence of the West and enhance their own influence over globalization in a positive and peaceful way.
Directing their anger at Western imperialism, the rise of Israel and a materialistic culture in general, all of which have undoubtedly had both positive and detrimental effects in the Middle East, will not aid Muslim Arab countries in encouraging free markets, religion and thought.
The first step is to change the institutional structures of oppressive regimes. The final and most significant step is for citizens - spanning politicians, religious leaders, businessmen, academics, students and wage-earners - to change their own internal mindsets in order to cherish and promote such liberty. To do anything less would be contrary to Islam and religion.
In general, the memories I hold from living in Egypt and traveling around the region will cling to my mind and heart forever. Gawking at the pyramids, sleeping in deserts with Bedouins, eating seafood in Alexandria, bargaining with Arabs at marketplaces, trying to speak Arabic to my Egyptian friends and drinking fresh orange juice in the West Bank liberated my mindset from the shackles of stereotypes perpetrated largely by the media, politicians and religious demagogues.
Yet more important were the personal interactions I had with people which truly showed the potential for change in the Middle East. Seeing refugees undertake the difficult task of learning English, talking with Palestinian business owners in the West Bank, befriending hard-working Egyptians studying medicine and engineering and marveling at students concentrating on their studies while their families live in danger in the Gaza Strip - all represent the seeds for an enormous potential for growth in a region that is quite capable of growing.
The most autocratic government or imperious militant claiming to rule or fight in the name of God, justice or resistance would not be able to stifle this thirst for internal transformation and individual dignity.
This is why no one can tell Hussain who he is. As he says, he is a Muslim.
Greg Collins is a Collegian columnist. He can be reached at gcollins@student.umass.edu.
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