Extremism and Identity

Earlier I wrote how globalisation makes it harder to find one’s own distinct identity. Europeans struggle how to protect their Christian heritage while recognizing the demands of 20 million Muslim immigrants. Asians fear the “Coca-colanization” of their countries and the growing dominance of Western life style. Some people take it to the extreme. They turn hostile to alien influences or become aggressively xenophobic.

However, the struggle of extremists only partially responds to the forces of globalization. It is born and bred vis-à-vis the background of domestic society. I remember clearly, when the communist Red Army Faction waged an armed war against German political and industrial leaders in the 1970s. And by now, the most prominent extremists in the world are, of course, radical Muslims in Islamic countries.

But what makes people join these extremist movements? And what does the search for identity have to do with it? Convincing answers were given in the books of two acclaimed authors from Germany and Egypt.

Uwe Timm published his novel Heißer Sommer back in 1974. The main protagonist of his novel is Ullrich, a student without much idea what to do with his life. Just as many students of the time, he relies on the small wealth of his parents while wondering whether he fits into German society. He feels something is wrong with either him or society. Increasingly, he feels justified to doubt society more than himself, because the German police just shot and killed a student in Berlin who protested against the repressive political regime in Persia. And how can you anyway become part of a system that kills innocent villagers in Vietnam?

Without finding the answer, Ullrich is drawn to other students, who feel the same discomfort with society, and who confidently resist the pressure to conform. Only here does he experience a sense of belonging, so he soon delves fully into the fugitive lifestyle of an alternative subculture. And when the leaders of the socialist student movement explain to Ullrich, how those political events are systematically linked to the capitalist system, he develops a moral obligation to fight against this system by means of violence.

Almost 30 years later, in 2002, Alaa Al Aswany published a novel about modern Egyptian society, which strikes the same chord. In The Yacoubian Building he portrays the poor student Taha el Shazli, who is the son of the building’s doorkeeper. Taha studies hard, since he is eager to join the police force, but his application to join the Police Academy is rejected by “three generals with their huge flabby bodies, white suits, shiny brass buttons, signs of rank, and glittering decorations on their chests and shoulders”. His honest answer that his father was a property guard made them reject the application and took all he ever wanted.

So, Taha studies at Cairo University where, “jut as oil separates from water and forms a distinct layer on top, so the rich students separated themselves from the poor”. Taha becomes a member of the impoverished mosque group, which consists of devout Muslims like him. Just like Ullrich in Hamburg 30 years earlier, Taha develops a sense of belonging and delves into the fugitive lifestyle of the Islamic subculture. Yet, confronted with events in Palestine and Iraq, the comfort to lead an alternative life is not enough. It soon turns into the moral obligation to fight the infidels and their collaborators in Egypt. Under the leadership of Sheikh Shakir he follows the battle cry “Islamic! Islamic! Not socialist and not democratic!” and joins the armed forces of the extremists.

Both stories, the characters of Ullrich and Taha, are similar and the comparison allows for many insights. Regardless of culture of religion, the followers of political extremists are often people who feel alienated and lack a sense of identity.

Radical leaders have it easy to instill in their disgruntled followers a sense of belonging to a comfortable niche outside our modern world.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, what is my identity at all?

What, if I ask my mirror whether I am a white urban male?

 

I guess I would be much surprised if the mirror answered anything else than: “You are!” But while I am being identified that way, do I see myself well represented by those categories? Well, whether I like it or not, my identity is not only established through my own perception of myself, but also through categories established by others.

Leading an expatriate life in Thailand, the difference between my own and other people’s perception of my identity has become blatantly obvious. Given the urge of Thais to underline the differences between Thailand and the rest of the world, I am most of all “Not Thai”. This category of people is usually identified with not understanding or being ignorant of the intricacies of Thai language, customs, religion or politics. The fact that I am a “male non Thai” makes every other taxi driver in Bangkok and probably quite a few others believe that I am actually wanting to go out with a Thai girl. Finally, being a “white male non Thai”, raises the probability that I am also financially attractive to those girls. Assumptions of this kind are – as a matter of fact – alienating! They do create a large gap between locals and expats, and, on top of that, they are overly simplistic and do not reveal all other components of individual identities!

Meanwhile, much can be said about the willingness of “white male non Thais” to adopt this single-issue approach to identify Thai people and especially their younger females. Socially acccepted ignorance is deceiving, especially if it helps finding a – probably much younger – girlfriend.

Identities are multi-facetted. I am not only white, urban and male, I am also a brother, a husband, I have a job, a certain education, I love foods and wines, I follow a certain religion, I collect things or have other hobbies. All these components have a respective weight in my identity; they weigh either more or less in a different social context. It seems so obvious.

After many years I have grown tired of seeing couples breaking up because finally the man discovers all other facets of his partners identity, or because the women comes to realise that, back home the white urban male may only come with a pot belly, and nothing else.