Sunday, January 30, 2022

Across the Muslim World, Islamism is Going out of Vogue

Across the Muslim World, Islamism is Going out of Vogue

Imran Said




Though the Taliban has once again taken power in Afghanistan, they have come back at a rather inopportune time. Across the Muslim world, many seem to be souring on Islamists, defined as those who derive legitimacy from Islam and advocate for modern states to be governed along Islamic precepts, both economically and judicially. Over the last few years, Islamist governments have fallen out of power across the Middle East and Africa, haemorrhaged support in Turkey, and failed to make headway in Southeast Asia.

Islamism was once seen as an unstoppable force throughout most of the Muslim world, its proponents representing the most organized and influential voices in opposition to the often corrupt and incompetent secular leadership of Muslim countries. In more authoritarian states, mosques regularly served as one of the few “safe spaces” for citizens to vent their disenchantment about the state of society, ensuring the institutions of Islam a prominent place in the larger anti-statist opposition. Many Islamist groups further amass popular support by filling the gap left behind by woefully inadequate welfare systems and, in turn, providing their own social services, including schools and hospitals.

The issue is that once Islamists manage to get themselves into power, they frequently prove incapable of delivering on their promises. Islamist governments have often been, at best, incompetent and out-of-touch (as has been the case in the Arab world) and at worst, economically disastrous (as has been the case in Turkey and Sudan). In the more consolidated democracies of Malaysia and Indonesia, Islamist movements are fractious and riven by internal divisions and overly ambitious leaders. The Taliban may be back, but it would be a mistake to overstate the power of Islamist movements around the world.

Islamists' Woeful Governance in the Middle East and North Africa

The failure of Islamists to bring about change and effective governance was brought vividly to the fore with the fall of the moderate Islamist party Ennahda in Tunisia on July 25th, 2021, after Tunisian President Kais Saied invoked emergency powers to fire the prime minister and suspend parliament (in which Ennahda had been the largest party). The fall of the Islamist government was largely supported by the public. Just a day prior to Saied’s suspension of parliament, the country had been gripped by anti-government protests demanding the dissolution of parliament, with groups in the cities of Kairouan and Sousse storming local Ennahda offices and tearing down banners. In the city of Tozeur, a party headquarters was set ablaze.

Saied’s seizure of power, despite being condemned by almost all political parties and civil society organizations within Tunisia as a coup, has been successful because he has tapped into rising public anger over a stagnating economy, political paralysis, and an incompetent response to the COVID-19 crisis. At the time of the coup, Tunisia had recorded the highest per capita death rate from COVID-19 in Africa, while a sluggish vaccine rollout had seen only eight percent of the population fully vaccinated by July 28th. Small businesses received no government support whilst economic activity was restricted, most notably, the country’s crucial tourism sector, which suffered grievously. In 2019 the tourism sector’s share of GDP stood at 14 percent, so its hit was deeply felt. In November, Tunisia’s National Institute of Statistics announced that the unemployment rate had risen to 18.4 percent in the third quarter of 2021. Much of the blame for these deteriorating conditions would be attributed, rightly or wrongly, to the Ennahda party.

The collapse in fortunes of Ennahda was arguably the logical end-result of a decade-long identity crisis within the party, dating back to the 2011 Tunisian Revolution, which saw the overthrow of the strongman President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali. At the heart of this crisis was Ennahda’s struggle to square the role of Islam as the basis for the party’s legitimacy with being able to compete in a proper multiparty electoral system in a country with a large secular base. In May 2016, Ennahda ceased its proselytising activities and began focusing exclusively on politics, a transition that proved difficult as the party found itself alienating its traditional conservative base while also struggling to appeal to newer voters. Ennahda further aggrieved its grassroots supporters over its inability to enact socioeconomic change, feeding perceptions that the party has been co-opted by the country’s pre-revolutionary secular elites.

As of now, Tunisia’s fragile democratic transition remains in flux. Saied, who currently rules by decree, has announced that Tunisia will hold a referendum on proposed changes to the constitution on July 25th, 2022, while new parliamentary elections are scheduled for December 17th, 2022.

Meanwhile in Morocco, another moderate Islamist party, the Justice and Development Party (PJD), was removed from power not by a coup but through the ballot box. On September 8th, 2021, Moroccan voters handed the PJD a crushing defeat, with the party losing some 90 percent of the seats it held in parliament. As noted by independent researcher Abdul-Wahab Kayyali, what made these results all the more shocking was that unlike Tunisia, Morocco had handled its pandemic relatively well, with reasonable numbers of cases and a successful vaccine rollout.

Like their Tunisian counterparts, what killed the PJD was a loss of trust among voters. In Morocco’s hybrid political system, most major decisions are already made by the king. Bearing this in mind, Kayyali argues that the party’s complete co-opting by Morocco’s monarchy alienated the electorate. This had started in 2017 when the reigning King Mohammed VI replaced the popular former prime minister Abdelilah Benkirane with Saadeddine Othmani, triggering major divisions within the party. The party proceeded to go along with policies that often blatantly contradicted its conservative principles, including economic liberalization, the legalization of cannabis, and the normalization of relations with Israel, angering both religious and secular voters.

In Turkey, Tayyip Erdogan Islamist Justice and Development Party (AKP) has seen a dramatic slump in its support base, as the economy reels from a particularly severe currency crisis of Erdogan’s own making. According to recent official statistics, consumer prices jumped 36.1 percent in December 2021, up from 21.3 percent in November, the highest rate of inflation since October 2002, when inflation had reached 33.45 percent. Owing to Erdogan's unorthodox economic strategy of maintaining extremely low interest rates, the Turkish Lira lost some 44 percent of its value against the US dollar in 2021. The results for ordinary Turks have been disastrous—GDP per capita has sunk to 2009 levels, while some 3.2 million Turks have fallen into poverty. A recent piece by Nikkei Asia noted that Turks now purchase iPhones as investments - ‘[i]n lira terms, Apple's handheld asset can shoot up in value in mere hours.’


Despite this, Erdogan has committed to his eccentric strategy of combating high inflation through the lowering of interest rates, citing Quranic precepts prohibiting the practice of usury. “[T]hey complain we keep decreasing the interest rate. Don’t expect anything else from me. As a Muslim, I will continue doing what our religion tells us” he declared on state television on December 19th. Taking aim at the independence of the central bank, Erdogan has thus far dismissed three central bank governors since 2019, and further sacked three central bank policy makers in October. Erdogan is seemingly alone in this line of thinking—the majority of central banks operating in the Muslim world remain largely autonomous and happy to utilize usury.

“Mr. Erdogan's ‘what our religion tells us’ statement shows a subservience to medieval notions about finance, no matter the harm they cause,” argued Daniel Pipes, President of the Middle East Forum. Pipes warned that Turkey risks becoming another Venezuela. On the ground, Erdogan's traditional support base, including those residing in the conservative heartland as well as the business community, have increasingly condemned his reckless monetary policies. A new savings scheme announced by the government in December 2021 to save the lira has seemingly had little impact in stopping Turkish savers from flocking to foreign currencies in a bid to protect their savings.

Islamism in Sudan: “terminal decline”

Outside of the Middle East and North Africa, Sudan saw the most spectacular fall from grace of any Islamisation project across the Muslim world. In April 2019, a peaceful popular uprising led to the downfall of the military dictator Omar al-Bashir, and with him, 30 years of authoritarian rule by the Islamist National Congress Party (NCP).

Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir, Wikimedia Commons



In 2018, a spike in bread prices caused by the government’s reduction of flour subsidies, triggered mass protests, which must be understood within the larger context of years of economic mismanagement and corruption by the al-Bashir regime. Interestingly, the overwhelming majority of those involved in the uprising were under the age of 30, illustrating that even those who had grown up in the Islamist regime reject its values.

The modern roots of Sudanese Islamism can be traced to an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. In Sudan, the Brotherhood’s ascent to political power came in 1977, when they allied with then-President Jaafar Nimeiri. This allowed the Islamists to penetrate Sudan’s institutions and to introduce Shariah within the country’s judicial system. Nimeiri would be overthrown in April 1985, and the brief political liberalization which followed would allow the Muslim Brotherhood-led National Islamic Front (later to be reformed to the NCP) to consolidate their position.

In June 1989, a group of Islamist-minded military officers led by Brigadier General Omar al-Bashir overthrew the then-civilian government and installed a military junta. Having backed al-Bashir, the NIF used their heightened power to further intensify the Islamization of Sudan. The period of 1989 to 1996 would prove the peak of Islamist rule in Sudan, with a harsher version of Shariah introduced throughout the country, which served as a base for radical groups from around the world, most notoriously hosting Osama Bin Laden from 1991 to 1996. The honeymoon between al-Bashir and the Islamists proved temporary though. In 1999, al-Bashir threw Hassan al-Turabi, leader of the NCP and the main ideologue of the Islamist movement, into prison, helping create a split within the Islamist movement.

The economic situation in Sudan would continue to deteriorate, particularly following the independence of South Sudan in July 2011, which suddenly deprived Sudan of the vast majority of its oil fields (and thus almost 60 percent of its total tax revenues). Among other factors, the introduction of Shariah in Sudan helped flame armed resistance in the Christian and animist south against Khartoum. All of this would culminate in the overthrow of al-Bashir in April 2019, and the replacement of his regime with a Transitional Military Council (TMC). The TMC would eventually reach a power-sharing agreement with the Forces of Freedom and Change (FFC) alliance, which represented the street protests that had overthrown al-Bashir, and which would be in force until general elections to be held in 2022.

The collapse of the al-Bashir regime would prove a crippling blow to the power of the Islamists. The NCP was banned in November 2019, while restrictive laws on women’s behaviour and clothing were soon repealed. In July 2020, restrictions on apostasy and the importation and consumption of alcohol by non-Muslims, as well as public flogging, were also scrapped. Furthermore, in October 2020, the Juba Peace Agreement was signed, which reiterated the commitment of the Sudanese government to end the rule of Islamic law.

On October 25th, 2021, the Sudanese military launched a coup, placing the current transitional prime minister, Abdallah Hamdok, under house arrest and imprisoning cabinet members and other government officials. On November 21st, an agreement between the military and Hamdok saw the latter released and reinstated to his position in return for a cabinet reshuffle to one more pliant to the military, alongside a delay of elections to mid-2023. The public reaction was one of outrage, with ongoing street protests demanding a restoration of the democratic transition process. On January 2nd, Hamdok resigned, citing a political impasse between the civilian and military government, leaving the military in sole control and the UN currently attempting to host negotiations between Sudan’s major stakeholders.

While it is uncertain whether the Islamists will be able to fully reinsert themselves in Sudanese politics through the vehicle of the military, they must now contend with operating from a substantially weaker position. Following the break in relations between al-Bashir and al-Turabi in 1997, Sudan’s Islamist project went into what one commentary called “terminal decline,” as the al-Bashir regime sought a more pragmatic government focused on regime survival. Ultimately, attempts by Islamists to transform Sudanese society along the lines of Shariah only brought incessant wars to Sudan’s periphery (including a genocidal war in Darfur and the secession of South Sudan), alongside severe economic mismanagement and corruption, thereby eroding their legitimacy in the eyes of Sudan’s young population.

Southeast Asia’s divided Islamists

In Southeast Asia, Islamist groups have also faced hurdles in the more consolidated Muslim democracies of Malaysia and Indonesia. As I’ve written previously for Quillette, the creeping Islamization of Malaysia which began in the 1970s is distinguishable from other Islamist movements around the world by its ethno-nationalist character, insofar as political Islam was utilized by Malaysia’s leaders to enforce social divisions between Malaysia’s majority and more rural Muslim-Malays and its wealthier, more urban Chinese minority, as well as to uphold the institutional supremacy of the Malays.

In the long term, this status-quo was never sustainable. In a historic general election held in May 2018, the incumbent coalition, Barisan Nasional (National Front), led by the United Malay National Organization (UMNO), a party which explicitly stands for Malay-Muslim supremacy and which had run the country since independence from the British in 1957, lost to the multi-racial Pakatan Harapan coalition led by former Prime Minister Mahathir bin Mohamad. The defeat of BN was attributed in large part to a massive corruption scandal surrounding then prime minister Najib Tun Razak and linked to a debt-laden state-development fund 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB).

However, it would appear that the Pakatan Harapan coalition did not prove sustainable either, brought down by infighting between Mahathir and his supposed-successor (and long-time rival) Anwar Ibrahim. Promises of major reforms stalled, and it proved difficult to completely break away from the allure of the so-called Malay Agenda, which revolved around the institutional supremacy of the Malays and Islam (to the detriment of non-Muslims including the Chinese). In March 2020, Pakatan Harapan was brought down through the defection of MPs to form a new coalition with the opposition (including UMNO) organized exclusively for the interests of the majority Malay Muslims.

And yet, the new coalition proved even shorter lived than Pakatan Harapan, brought down by both factional infighting (mainly over the discomfort of UMNO at playing a junior role within the government) and the government’s incompetent handling of the COVID-19 pandemic. In August 2021, Malaysia surpassed India’s per-capita COVID-19 death toll. For a country in which race and religion dominate public discourse, the collapse of a coalition ostensibly united by the ideologies of Malay and Islamic supremacism demonstrates, in many ways, the hollowness of the Malay Agenda in the face of a complete inability to govern. With another change of government on August 21st, 2021, it seems evident that the increasingly fractious nature of Malaysia’s political system will prove a hindrance to the Islamization project, so long as Malaysia’s Malay-centric parties prove unable to cooperate on any meaningful level.

In neighbouring Indonesia, the world’s most populous Muslim country, and certainly one of its more vibrant democracies, the institutionalization of Islam has also faced resistance. As I have noted in a previous piece for Quillette concerning Indonesia’s momentous presidential election in April 2019, the creeping Islamization of the country’s institutions (e.g., schools, bureaucracies, etc.) and society has been identified as one of the biggest challenges to Indonesia’s more than two-decades old democracy and pluralistic society.

This was made most visible during the 2019 elections, when incumbent President Joko Widodo (commonly nicknamed Jokowi) faced off against long-time rival and ex-general strongman Prabowo Subianto. That election had seen Prabowo attempt to curry favor with hard-line Muslims and run a campaign against Jokowi by portraying him as an enemy of Islam and the ulema (religious clerics), as well as a secret communist. In response, Jokowi appointed senior cleric and veteran politician Ma’ruf Amin as his running mate in order to build up his own support base among conservative Muslims.

The choice of Ma’ruf Amin had appalled more moderate and minority voters given his streaks of intolerance. He had most notably played a prominent role in the 20-month imprisonment of Basuki Tjahaja Purnama (also known as Ahok), a former Chinese Christian governor of Jakarta, on charges of blasphemy. Some Indonesians had given up hope before the votes had even been cast. Writing in the New York Times in February 2019, Indonesian novelist Eka Kurniawan argued that “conservative Islamic groups, backed by radical groups, will win—have already won—the election.”

Despite all of this, one could argue that the political power of Islamists in Indonesia has been overstated. As noted by Indonesian researcher Nick Kuipers in one pre-election study of the campaign platforms of 72,486 candidates at all levels of government (including for national, provincial, and district legislatures), it was found that only 5.7 percent of candidates had actually explicitly referred to religious themes in their platforms.

As later argued by Indonesian academic Yohanes Sulaiman shortly following the election, Jokowi’s eventual victory over Prabowo (carrying 55 percent of the vote) was a victory for moderates. This was despite their aversion towards Ma’ruf, ultimately having decided to vote for Jokowi in response to Prabowo’s hardline Islamist campaign. The lesson of the 2019 election, Yohanes argued, is that Islamists could inspire enough revulsion from moderates to get them out to the polls. Writing later in December 2020 on the return of radical Muslim cleric Rizieq Shihab to Indonesia and what this means for Islamic extremism in the country, Yohanes noted that Indonesian Islamists largely suffer from the general unpopularity of their leaders (due to their intolerant views), as well as the fractious nature of the larger movement due to their leaders’ personal ambitions. To take one example, after having previous blasted Jokowi as an enemy of Islam, Prabowo currently serves as his defense minister.

Furthermore, reformist Muslim organizations have also sought to steer the direction of Islam within the country towards more liberal interpretations. One organization of note has been Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), which means “Reawakening of the Islamic Scholars” in Bahasa Indonesia. At 90 million members and followers, it is the world’s largest Islamic organization. In response to the rise of the Islamic State in 2014, NU initiated calls for Islamic reform, including rejecting the notion of a global caliphate and stressing the importance of equal citizenship between Muslims and non-Muslims. NU members are also influential within the government. Yaqut Cholil Qoumas, a former NU member and the current Minister of Religious Affairs, was one of three ministers who in February 2021 signed a joint degree banning the imposition of headscarves on students in public schools. In addition, NU has also been at the forefront of calls for normalizing relations with Israel.

Don’t overstate the power of Islamists

This isn’t to say that Islamism as a movement has completely subsided within the Muslim world. Not at all. In many countries, Islamist parties remain powerful, well organized, and with great mobilization capabilities. In cases such as Turkey or Sudan, it is too early to tell whether the Islamists have been truly beaten, as they may very well cling onto power. The innate conservatism of many Muslim countries will no doubt ensure Islam a prominent role in their political dynamics going forward. As well, in the cases of countries like Malaysia and Indonesia, the Islamization phenomenon has often occurred more at an institutional level (such as the education system) rather than through the electoral success of Islamist parties.

However, it would be a mistake to exaggerate the power of Islamists or to presume that political Islam is some sort of unstoppable force in the Muslim world. In Tunisia, Turkey, and Malaysia, Islamist parties ultimately proved incapable of enacting promised changes or providing material prosperity, souring their support base by failing to meet their constituents' expectations and by (in some cases) attempting to shift towards political pragmatism (e.g., Ennahda in Tunisia).

Islamism as an ideology may be great at mobilizing people, but this doesn’t necessarily translate towards effective governance, as has been proven again and again. In the more consolidated democracies of Malaysia and Indonesia, Islamist movements often remain divided.

Nor should we presume that Islamists don’t face pushback. In Tunisia, the large secular segment of the population forced Ennahda to moderate their positions, while Indonesia’s pluralism and powerful civil society have likewise kept Islamism at bay.

Over the last decades, the failure of secular authoritarian strongmen throughout the Muslim world to provide good governance and meet the material expectations of their peoples doomed their regimes and saw their eventual replacement with Islamists. And yet, having been unable to deliver as well, Islamists’ brief taste of power may very well be coming to a close.

Imran Said is a freelance writer currently based in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. He has written on international security, history, and politics for several publications.

Wednesday, January 26, 2022

A Chinese teen found his birth parents with a social media appeal. He killed himself after the reunion took a dark turn.

 A Chinese teen found his birth parents with a social media appeal. He killed himself after the reunion took a dark turn.

Just days before taking his own life, Liu Xuezhou posted photos of himself on the beach in this seaside town near Sanya Harbor, shown in 2007. (Feng Li/Getty Images)

By Lyric Li and  Christian Shepherd


 

It began as a feel-good story for China’s modern age that played out in the bright glare of social media. Liu Xuezhou, a teenage teacher in training who had been adopted as an infant, found his birth parents after posting a video about his search. In a remarkably short time, police found them and organized a meeting.

On Douyin, the Chinese version of TikTok, Liu shared photos of the reunion dinner, his birth father beaming beside a police officer, as well as a screenshot of his birth mother asking for an address to send winter clothes.

But within weeks, the story of a happy homecoming unraveled into tragedy. The parents, both now remarried with other people, fell out with Liu after he publicly claimed he had been sold, not given away. Liu asked for financial support. His birth mother blocked him on the messaging app WeChat. As the fight played out on social media, commentators took sides and piled on, many accusing Liu of being selfish.

Before dawn on Monday, Liu died of an overdose of anti-depressants after being rushed to a hospital in the seaside town of Sanya, according to Chinese media interviews with the emergency department staff.

Like his hunt for his parents, his suicide was first flagged on social media. In a letter over 7,000 words long, posted at 1:02 a.m. on Monday, he responded to online attackers and relayed his experiences of childhood loss, bullying, molestation and depression.

“Thanks to all those who cared for me and sorry that I failed you,” he wrote. “Wish there were fewer dark and malicious people in this world.”

When his death was confirmed by Chinese police, it triggered an outpouring of grief and nationwide soul-searching over cyberbullying, mental health and abandoned children. By Tuesday night, a hashtag of his name had been viewed 2.4 billion times on the microblog Weibo, as many asked how Liu could have been let down so frequently and utterly by society.

The case “reflected reality for the underclasses,” wrote Slave Society, a social commentary blog on WeChat. “It began from child trafficking, to losing his guardians, to school bullying, to molestation, to cyberbullying to suicide. It reflects how society treated this child over 15 years [and there were] gaping holes in legal and social support structures.”

Widespread scrutiny of how Liu’s case was handled by authorities and social media giants comes at a time when the pandemic, a slowing economy and a government campaign to promote “common prosperity” have drawn attention to the plight of China’s rural poor. Even after officials declared that extreme poverty had been eliminated, millions of people live on 1,000 yuan ($155) a month.

Some of the details of Liu’s birth and adoption, including his exact age, are disputed. (His birth father says he is 15, but his official identity card put him at 17.) And the account Liu gave in his social media posts, as well as Chinese media interviews with parents and guardians, sketches a life of Dickensian misfortune.

In Liu’s telling, as relayed to him by his adoptive family, his parents gave birth to him sometime between 2004 and 2006 in the countryside of northern Hebei province. They were unmarried and decided to sell the baby.

At the time, strict enforcement of China’s one-child policy combined with many families’ preference for male children exacerbated the illegal trade of newborn boys. Liu’s adoptive family told the Paper, a Shanghai-based outlet, that they paid about $4,200 for the baby, most of which went to a middleman.

In 2009, Liu was orphaned after his adoptive parents died in a fireworks explosion. Their extended family took over guardianship. In his suicide note, Liu said he was bullied and molested at school.

Liu was studying to be a teacher in the northern city of Shijiazhuang when he began searching for his parents. After his first video, police encouraged him to use a DNA database set up by authorities as part of a campaign to curb child trafficking and reunite families with children who were kidnapped, adopted or otherwise lost contact with their birthparents.

But unlike the tearful meetings of other high-profile cases, Liu’s birth parents appeared to view the reunion as more of a socially mandated duty, rather than a cause for celebration. Shortly afterward, Liu accused the two of selling him to pay the bride-price that his father owed his mother’s family — a common requirement for weddings in many parts of rural China. He also asked for financial support to help him find a place to live.

His parents, who could not be reached for comment, have not publicly addressed Liu’s claims. In an interview with Beijing News, his birth mother, identified only by her surname, Zhang, said she had cut off contact with Liu because she wanted to return to a “quiet life.”

In the article, Zhang said she was harassed and threatened after Liu published audio recordings of one of their phone calls, and she claimed that he asked her to get divorced and said he wanted a house. “Parents are also human, and I felt scared,” she said.

The fallout between Liu and his rediscovered parents split opinion on Chinese social media. While some argued that Liu deserved support from his parents, others accused him of cynically playing the situation to his own advantage.

“Trolls and bullies were his last straw,” said Liu Haiming, a media studies scholar at Chongqing University, adding that cyberbullying — and social media platforms’ failures to police it — played an important role in Liu’s suicide.

When the request for compensation was disclosed, it made him an easy target for trolls. “The perfect victim became imperfect and even unreasonable in the eyes of many,” the professor said. “He acted tough, but after all he was a teenager.”

As if as a reminder of that fact, one of the last things Liu Xuezhou shared on social media in the days before his suicide was pictures of himself in flip-flops on Sanya beaches, staring out to sea or horsing around with school friends. Across multiple posts, he had spelled out, in English, the word “rebirth.”

 

Tuesday, January 11, 2022

FIREWORKS

FIREWORKS


It was late October, 1962. Russian missiles were being shipped to Cuba. Kennedy was having words with Khrushchev. The world might be coming to an end.

It was a common remark: “Cheer up, it’s not the end of the world.”

Frank Greene’s wife, Joan, had just said to him, a look of genuine fear on her face, “Is the world going to end, Frankie?”

He said, “Don’t be silly.”

He’d nearly said, “How should I know?” But that would have sounded flippant. His wife looked truly distraught.

“Will it come to an end before the wedding?”

Had she really said that?

“Sophie’s shut herself in her bedroom. She won’t let me in. She’s in tears. We were going to collect the dress this week.”

“Well, collect it.”

It was a Tuesday evening. Frank, like many people, dreaded Mondays, but by Tuesday he could usually be quite good-humored. The worst day of the week was over, and he was resigned to all the others.

But this was no ordinary week. His daughter, Sophie, was getting married inside a fortnight. Everything was ready. He’d forked out huge sums of money, but that wasn’t the point. He ought to be sailing serenely through the days ahead. At work, they’d been saying to him, “Big event getting near, eh, Frank?”

But now, apparently, the end of the world would intervene.

He said again, with perhaps a gentler but more commanding tone, “Don’t be silly.” The look on Joan’s face was real. The news on the TV was real.

“I’ll go and see if she’ll let me in.”

“You do that.”

Frank did something he’d never done before. Standing in front of his wife, he gripped her by the shoulders with his two hands. With hardly any force, but deliberately, he shook her. As if to say, “Snap out of it.”

He realized that he was dealing with a state of incipient panic. The air was crackling around him. He understood that his wife must do with their daughter something like what he was doing with his wife now. If she could get into Sophie’s bedroom.

Their daughter was nineteen and about to get married. She was also the child who’d thrown an almighty tantrum on her ninth birthday, because it was chucking it down and the promised birthday picnic was not to be.

He remembered the tantrum. He remembered his own dismay at having no power over the weather.

“Tell her everything’s all right. And tell her . . . tell her it’s not our fault.”

Why had he said that? It wasn’t his daughter’s fault, no. So whose fault was it but the older generation’s? The one he and Joan belonged to.

No sooner had his wife gone to see if she could gain access to their daughter than the phone rang. He picked up, and it was Tony Hammond, Sophie’s father-in-law to be.

Tony got straight to the point.

“Should we call it off, Frank? Given the situation. Debbie’s having fits. Should we call it off?”

“Are you serious?”

Frank took a deep breath. He said, as steadily as possible, “It can’t be called off. It’s less than two weeks away. Everything’s set up.”

It was a bad answer. It implied that it might have been called off. His daughter’s wedding might have been sensibly called off at another time—it was only the lateness that was unreasonable. He should have said, “It’s my daughter’s wedding. No one’s calling it off.” Or just said, as he’d said to Joan, but with a touch of ferocity, “Don’t be so bloody silly, Tony.”

But he was talking to his daughter’s future father-in-law.

Tony said, “But what if no one comes? Given the situation. They might not come. If we’re all still here. They might not come if there’s still a situation.”

Was he hearing correctly? He formed a picture of all the guests he’d invited to his daughter’s wedding not showing up because they were glued to their radios, poised to sprint to the nearest bunker. Wherever such things were supposed to be.

If we’re all still here? Well, of course they wouldn’t come if they weren’t “here.”

“They’ll all be in a dilemma, Frank, and they might not turn up.”

Dilemma? Situation? There was something in Tony’s voice not unlike the look that had been on Joan’s face. He realized that Tony believed it. He believed what he was saying. Why would he have phoned up otherwise?

So was he, Frank Greene, the weird exception? He didn’t believe it. Was he the only one?

A voice inside Frank, deep in his guts, was now saying, “This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening.” It was the same voice he’d heard inside him when he was a bomb aimer, lying on his knotted stomach, above various German cities. He’d spent more than twenty years trying to avoid the memories. Now Tony Hammond was bringing it all back.

He couldn’t shake Tony Hammond by the shoulders, but he wouldn’t have wanted to.

A surge of rage built up inside Frank against this man who purported to be the father of the man Sophie was marrying. He’d met Tony quite a few times, met his wife, Deborah, who was, apparently, “having fits.” This man, in all honesty, didn’t mean a lot to Frank, but it had been necessary that they become friends.

Now this same man was rapidly becoming an enemy. Yet it was extremely important that Frank not let loose at him. It was vital, in fact, that he treat him as an even more significant and valued friend.

Was this how it was with Kennedy and Khrushchev?

Frank had the thought: Now they can do it all with missiles. They don’t have to send hundreds of men up into the air to die.

He said, patiently and calmly, “No one’s calling off my daughter’s wedding just because the world’s going to end.” Had he really said that? “In any case, Tony, you can take it from me, you can rest assured. The world’s not going to end, I promise you. Stay calm. We’ll all be here next week.”

Had he really said those words? How the hell did he actually know? Did he even have the right to know—to promise? Was he God?

“And we’ll all be there on the Saturday. At the church. You know how to get there? Give my best to Deborah. Tell her to stay calm. And my best to Steve, of course.”

Tony hadn’t mentioned the condition of Steve, the bridegroom. Was he cowering under a table?

People could get into total flaps about weddings. Frank knew this. It was common knowledge. But he’d never before faced the wedding of his own daughter. He’d spoken as if he’d already arranged this wedding many times, been present at it often, so this time he had it all sorted. There’s doing things and there’s having to do them again and again. Such thinking doesn’t, or shouldn’t, apply to weddings.

The truth was that it was all entirely new to him and part of him was terrified. Even without the end of the world, he’d have been terrified.

But he was right. The wedding did happen. The end of the world didn’t. By the crucial Saturday, it was clear that Kennedy and Khrushchev had come to an understanding. The world could breathe again. The wedding was only made more special, more jubilant—the pealing of bells, the scattering of confetti—by everyone’s recognition that the world hadn’t ended.

His daughter hadn’t looked like a grizzling girl. She’d looked like Grace Kelly.

Then the wedding was over. Time moved on. The event itself would always be indelible, but all that preparation and anxiety were done with. The bride and groom, now Mr. and Mrs., were still on their honeymoon (something else that hadn’t been cancelled), and Frank and Joan Greene were getting used to the fact—it was clearly going to take time, it was a whole new phase of life—that it was now “just them.”

It was November, darkness pressing in, the time for the wearing of poppies and the time of Guy Fawkes Night.

Frank still had his old sheepskin-leather Irvin flying jacket, and he’d slip it on now and then to do odd jobs around the house when the weather turned chilly: sweep the leaves from the back lawn, wash the car, climb up a ladder to clear out the gutters.

It was not so strange to see men who’d turned forty wearing such things. It was evidence that they could still get into them, that they’d not lost the physique of their youth. Frank hardly thought now of how he’d once worn this jacket. It had become just a familiar domestic item that hung on a hook in the garage.

If someone had said to him all those years ago, “One day, you’ll wear this jacket to sweep up the leaves in your garden . . .”

But who could possibly have said that?

If asked why he still wore his wartime flying jacket, Frank might have blinked a bit and said, “It’s a good jacket.”

Every fifth of November, for a few years now, he had put on his flying jacket and gone along to the Harpers’, at No. 20, for their Guy Fawkes Night. Sometimes, but not usually, Joan and Sophie would go with him. Bob and Kate Harper had two small boys, so Guy Fawkes Night in their garden was a fixture. He and Joan, with just their one daughter, had never made an event of it.

It was a chance, Frank was well aware of it, to go back to his own boyhood. How he’d loved Guy Fawkes Night—?Bonfire Night, as it was usually called. How he could remember still, across all the accumulating years, the annual thrill of it. The magic of a box of fireworks.

Bob and Kate had been at the wedding, and Frank, in his father-of-the-bride regalia, had said to them, “I suppose I’ll see you on Monday. If you’ll still have me. Not dressed like this, of course.”

Kate had laughed and said, “Why not?”

Frank had seen himself, in his morning suit, standing by a bonfire.

The fifth of November happened to be a Monday—one of those days Frank detested. But Monday evenings set you straight again. When he came home from work, he double-checked with Joan.

She said, “Go on. Off you go.”

He felt almost at once that he was doing the wrong thing. He should have said, “I think I’ll give it a miss this time, Joanie.”

He could tell from Joan’s voice that she was thinking, Isn’t it high time he gave up this annual foible of his? She was thinking, Sophie’s not here and now he’s slouching off for his fireworks.

But Frank also felt that, this year, he wanted to go all the more. It was fifty yards down the road, and he’d be gone for an hour. He was hardly leaving Joan all alone like a widow, and why couldn’t she come, too?

Sophie had left them. They’d known it would happen one day. It wasn’t the end of the world.

Though as Frank, in his flying jacket, walked along to Bob and Kate’s, things were already starting to go flash and bang all around him. There was a smell of smoke.

Centuries ago, there’d been a Gunpowder Plot. That hadn’t transpired, either.

Bob, in outdoor scruffs, opened the door and ushered him straight through to the garden. Kate was there with the two boys—both of them hopping with excitement. She looked like someone restraining two dogs on leads. She’d just lit a firework. She waved and grinned. The bonfire was already ablaze. The “Guy” on top of it, a figure in an old pair of pajamas and a crayoned cardboard mask, was calmly awaiting incineration.

There was the sudden dazzle and crack of the firework.

Bob said, “Quite a show on Saturday.”

Frank said, “Glad you were there.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it.”

“And I wouldn’t miss this.”

For the Harpers, these annual visits of Frank’s were simply an open invitation, a tradition—including the wearing of the flying jacket. They didn’t question why he usually came alone. They may have thought, without any judgment, He just wants to be a boy again.

“How’s Joan?” Bob said.

“Fine. Sends her best.”

“I’ll get you something to keep the cold out.”

Frank laughed. “There’s a blazing fire, Bob, to keep the cold out.”

But then Bob was besieged by the boys and their mother, begging him to set off a rocket. It was a grownup man’s job to set off rockets. They were launched from an empty milk bottle.

Frank said, “Off you go.”

He stood and watched. The garden was juddering in the light from the bonfire. Bob crouched with a matchbox while Kate held the boys back. There was the usual tense moment when everyone thought nothing was going to happen. Then, as if with a mind of its own, the rocket whizzed up and did its glittery burstings, to oohs and ahs.

Frank had the sudden outrageous feeling that he wouldn’t have minded if Bob and Kate had become Sophie’s parents-in-law. Outrageous and, of course, impossible. Which one of those two prancing boys would have married his daughter?

But Bob wouldn’t have phoned up to rant hysterically.

The worn leather of his flying jacket glistened. No one could have said to him, either, all those years ago, “One day, you’ll wear it to watch fireworks on Guy Fawkes Night, two days after your daughter’s wedding.”

He’d stood outside the church, in his regalia, in November sunlight, his heart hammering as he ceremonially offered Sophie his arm. She was spectacularly dressed. Days before, she’d shut herself in her bedroom. Now it was as if she’d stroked his wrist and said, “Everything will be all right, Dad.”

There was the irrevocable sound of the organ starting up inside, the scuffling noise of the congregation rising to its feet.

It should have been the last thing he’d ever want to do: wear his old flying jacket and stare into flames, watch fireworks.

And the truth was that if, back then, he could have been, in some impossible way, both there and not there, just a safe, immune spectator, he might have been able to say that, on a grand and terrible scale, that was just what it was like: immense fires below, and up in the sky a great show—flashes and bangs, colored flares, dancing searchlight beams.

His inner voice had said, “You’re not really here. This isn’t happening.”

His actual voice had said, “Steady, Skip . . . hold her . . . not yet . . . not yet . . .”

He needed to be getting back to Joan. All the feverish anticipation, then everything was soon over. Nothing left to ignite. The “Guy” was no more. The bonfire was a collapsing orange pyre.

But, before he could make his departure, Bob, with apologies, plonked a steaming mug into his hand. “Have some of that to see you home.”

See him home? Fifty yards.

He sniffed the steam and recognized the faintly earthy smell. Bob couldn’t have known.

“Bovril,” Bob said. “That is, Bovril with a good slug of Scotch in it. You wouldn’t think it would make such a good mix.”

Bovril. Breakfasts. Debriefings and breakfasts. The tea could be awful stewed muck. Not that you were fussy. It was hot and wet and a chance to fill yourself with liquid sugar. But there was usually also Bovril, if you wanted it. It wasn’t bad.

Bovril for breakfast. It was the taste of safety, of getting back, of being—for the time being—still alive.

It might have been five in the morning, barely dawn.

In their unbelievable way, those mornings were like Monday evenings. Well, you’d got through that. Now you could adjust to getting through it again.

He took a swig.

Bob said, “Good?”

“Yes, Bob, very good.”

Even without the slug of Scotch, it would have been very good. ?

Published in the print edition of the January 17, 2022, issue.

Graham Swift received the 1996 Booker Prize for “Last Orders.” His most recent book is the novel “Here We Are.”

  

Monday, January 3, 2022

Constitutional Crisis No. 1

Constitutional Crisis No. 1

By Teddy Wayneber The New Yorker



Iask’d Dr. Franklin, upon his departure from the Constitutional Convention, whether the newly form’d United States of America was a Republick or a Monarchy.

“A Republick, Madam,” He answer’d. “If You can keep it.”

He chortl’d, then with alacrity remov’d from his pocket a quill, inkwell & parchment, on which He had inscrib’d “Aphorisms for My Almanack,” & jott’d down his words with a pleas’d countenance behind his bifocals.

“Wait, what?” I queri’d. “If You can keep it?”

“Indeed, You may not be able to preserve this Republick,” He said with an impish smile.

“But, Dr. Franklin, whyfor?”

Now He appear’d less jolly. “I suppose Tyrants could exploit the loopholes We put in the Constitution.”

“Why did You not omit the loopholes?”

“Well, by the time We notic’d Them, We’d already finish’d, & it would have requir’d starting the entire thing over with a fresh scroll,” He said. “& ’twas getting really late, so We were, like—” He shrugg’d & upturn’d his palms.

“& why did the perishing of the Republick strike You as comickal?”

He said, “Mayhap I thought it funny in a morbid way, but not funny guffaw-guffaw.”

He stood in contemplation. “O, shit,” He said to Himself. “Fuck Me.” He look’d at Me with alarum. “I just envision’d the whole ‘People can have as many guns as They want’ thing Madison plans to tack on coming back to bite Us upon the Buttocks.”

“You proclaim’d ’twas a Republick ‘if You can keep it,’ ” I said. “Did You mean Me, personally? Will Women hold elect’d office?”

He burst into laughter. Upon seeing that I did not share his mirth, He affect’d a more solemn mien.

“O, You were serious,” He said. “ ’Twas more like a general ‘You.’ But not Women, obviously. Or, to be fair, Men who aren’t White. Or White Men who don’t own property.”

“How is any of that fair?”

“Figure of speech, Madam. I guess ’tis not ‘fair’ according to Webster’s definition. He said so the other night during tavern trivia. You know Noah Webster? Good Guy.”

“But We can all at least vote for our leaders, correct?”

“Um.” He clench’d his teeth & inhal’d loudly whilst wincing, as if to demonstrate that the topick was causing Him physickal distress. “I was pushing like Hell for it, but some of the delegates said that if We allow’d, say, Women to vote, it meant a Woman should sign the Constitution, which would screw up the name ‘Founding Fathers,’ which They’re really into. I maintain’d that this was a triviality compar’d to endowing all People with a voice in a flourishing Democracy. & They were, like, ‘Let Us not & say, rather, that We did.’ ”

Dr. Franklin add’d, “Sorry,” tho’ He pronounc’d it sah-wee.

“Which brings up another problem,” He said. “There is no polite way to say this to a Lady, but a lot of the Guys in this Country are, well . . .”

My eyes implor’d Dr. Franklin to conclude his doubtless brilliant insight.

“They’re Dicks,” He said. “& They will propagate yet more Dicks, & someday there shall be a profusion of Dicks, perchance nearly a majority, who, in a tragick irony, cite their purport’d reverence of the Constitution to conceal their Tyranny of Dickishness.”

“You said ‘nearly a majority,’ ” I rejoin’d. “Surely perspicacious minds like yours would not create a Constitution that permitt’d a minority of Dicks to wield federal power over the non-Dick majority.”

“Mm-hmm,” Dr. Franklin said, as his eyes shift’d rapidly hither & thither.

“How does One identify these Dicks?” I ask’d.

“Not every Dick simply wears a tricorne hat with ‘make america’ calligraph’d on it,” He explain’d. “Many cultivate full, unkempt beards, for instance, whilst others grow hair only on their chins in the unseemly manner of a goat. But one common element is that They buy their spectacles from the optician Thomas Oakley, who has pioneer’d a technique to tint the lenses dark, & to elongate the frames such that They cover a wide expanse of the face.”

“Is every Gentleman who wears his spectacles in this fashion a Dick?”

“A Total Dick,” He said.

“So,” I said, “You have draft’d a Constitution full of loopholes for a Republick found’d upon inequality & teeming with Dicks who wear Oakley’s spectacles that wrap around their faces.”

“Don’t forget the guns. O, & guess who loves guns? The Dicks.”

“I should not think this a worthy Republick,” I said.

“ ’Tis America, Madam.” He look’d defensive. “Love it or leave it.”

Dr. Franklin’s eyes lit up. He wrote this phrase on his parchment & chuckl’d as He recit’d it several times.

“Most amusing,” He murmur’d giddily. “A capital riot!” ?