Some Arab writers have become mouthpieces for militias

Writers for sale

A friend of mine, also a poet, got in touch recently, asking me to post on my social media platforms an announcement for a literary prize. The announcement bore the name of a well-known militia-maker.

I asked, jokingly: "How much are you paying?"

He replied, seriously: "Just say the number."

I was taken aback. This person, whom I thought knew me well, did not know me at all!

I browsed his social media pages and found publications I did not expect from a poet who once defended post-modern Arabic poetry so vehemently he nearly had an altercation with a fellow classical poet.

I stopped replying to his messages, and instead published a post in which I criticised his militia, thinking he'll understand then. He didn't. Or perhaps he thought I could be converted, I'm not sure.

This friend reminded me of another poet whose sole occupation is to glorify the religious sect to which he belongs, going as far as choosing the name of the sect's founder as the title of one of his poetry collections.

This man had co-founded a poetry house with us in Sana'a along with Abdulaziz Al-Maqaleh and others, but he quickly turned against us, seized the poetry house as his, and turned it into a hub for the poets of his local neighbourhood.

At the time, I asked the late Al-Maqaleh what we should do after being sacked like that. He smiled at my choice of words, perhaps lamenting the loss of his dream to establish a poetry house for all Arab poets.

He then suggested that I become the editor of his literary magazine, Ghaiman, whose editor-in-chief was Hamdan Dammag.

Literature, politics, power and ambition

Anyway, our friend deemed the poetry house his, with no room for discussion.

When the militias whose authority he follows began to march toward Sana'a, there was much talk of power-sharing. I instantly knew that he would accept no less than the position of Minister of Culture, given his hunger for power.

When I bumped into him in the street by chance, I quickly congratulated him for his ministerial post, even before the government was formed. He thanked me and told me all about how he went to his leader's headquarters to get approval for his appointment as minister.

However, he said, the leader had prevented the members of the sect from assuming any position. I found that to be a sound decision.

But lo and behold, a few months later, all the positions were occupied exclusively by members of that sect, but not just any members of the sect: the leader's relatives and the people of his village.

Despite his higher degree and shared sectarianism, our friend remained without a position, since does not belong to the leader's family or village!

Literary backing for sectarianism

Today, Arab intellectuals and writers in Baghdad, Sana'a, Beirut, and Damascus, are competing to glorify sectarianism and sectarian militias and establish — or at times fabricate — references to their achievements.

This happened in Sana'a quite recently, where there was an official announcement of the publication of a book by the late Abdullah Al-Baradouni under the title Ali and Hussein… A Victory for the Ummah's Will and the Poor Masses.

The move is nothing more than an attempt to sectarianise the famous poet, who all through his life, remained the voice of all Yemenis.

The book will collect separate newspaper articles, which Al-Baradouni had written in specific contexts for specific reasons, and which, as such, do not warrant a title with such an obvious sectarian sentiment.

What's worse, the poet had never been known for sectarianism but for his disregard for any narrow ideologies and identities.

Which rings true?

Five centuries ago, French poet Pierre de Ronsard was so revered among his generation he earned the title "Prince of Poets". He witnessed the bloody battles between the Catholics and Protestants in his country, but never exhibited bias to either.

Most of his work urged the people to gather around what unites them, to discard extremist ideas, and think about the future. He expressed his doubts about both the different religious authorities the two sides followed.

Five centuries earlier, Abu Al-Alaa Al-Maarri had taken the same path in one of his verses:

"A squabble in Latakia between Ahmad and Messiah

One bangs his bell, the other, from his minaret, is shouting

Each proclaims the greatness of his faith.

Tell me, which rings true?"

I believe it is high time our writers begin asking themselves the question "which rings true?" rather than pleading allegiance to militias.