I have recently finished reading two eye-opening books.

The first, “Ransom of the Jews,” by Radu Ioinad, was a gift from Vermilion Dreams – thanks! This fascinating books traces the phenomenon of the movement of Romania’s Jews, post-War, to Israel. Although Romania was guilty of the extermination of over a quarter million Jews during the War, its “switching sides” tactic meant that many did end up surviving. However, upon return to their cities and towns, they quickly realized that a better life awaited them elsewhere. Although an initial group received permission to emigrate to Palestine, as the exodus continued, the Romanian Government decided to profit from it.

Since the newly formed State of Israel wanted to ensure that all Jews had the opportunity to make Aliyah, and the majority of the Romanian Jews were of Orthodox background, the Romanians put pressure on the Israeli government to provide something in return for these individuals. In the beginning, this transfer was done by third party intermediaries. Schemes involved briefcases full of cash, stagings in 3rd countries, and other such covert acts. Israel also developed modern poultry farms for the Romanian state. The tale continues as Romania’s infamous dictator, Nicolae Ceausescu, comes to power. Desperate for more cash, he continually upps the price for the remaining Jews. At one point a tier system is established; university educated Jews would sell for the most, followed by those with a basic education, and lastly the old and very young. The idea was that the Romanian state simply wanted to be paid for educational services already rendered.

Of course all of this was cloaked under fancy rhetoric, and in official documents, the entire program was referred to as a means of “re-uniting” families. The book details closely the sporadic nature of this exodus, showing how, for insance, in one year a few thousand left whereas in the next only a few hundred. The author also looks into the mindset of key Israeli agents who facilitated this process and the moral dilemma they faced. A keen insight into the Romanian psyche, this book is damning; indeed, the author mentions that the Romanian government has since apologized to the Germans regarding a similar scheme with the Saxons of Transylvania, but has yet to formally apologize to the Israeli government. This book is a must read because all too often, the Holocaust is seen as the end of European Jewry, while in fact, for those who survived, the following years were too a great ordeal.

Moving along, a book I had been waiting to get my hands on for quite a while, “Murder in Samarkand,” by Craig Murray. Mr. Murray was the British Ambassador to Uzbekistan from 2002 – 2004. A lifelong FCO servant (Foreign and Commonwealth Office) he received his post at a very crucial time for the West. Given the 9/11 event, Bush had begun his crusade against terror, and found the United Kingdom to be a steadfast ally. Another perhaps lesser known ally in the “The War Against Terror,” (or TWAT,) was the country of Uzbekistan, or more precisely, Islam Karimov, the post-Soviet republic’s dictator.

Given its Soviet history, human rights had never been a strong suite of the Uzbeks, but following independence (or dissolution,) the nature of the repression changed, becoming even more brutal. Since the United States was, at this stage, gung-ho about toppling the Taliban in Afghanistan, Bush looked to Uzbekistan, Afghanistan’s northern neighbor, as a crucial staging area for US Military might. Thus a deal was forged between “Coalition” (US/UK) forces and the Uzbeks. Out of this the US received access to a giant military compound in the south of the country and intelligence gathered by the Uzbek security services. The Uzbeks, of course, received financial incentives and global nods from the US.

Before this partnership, Uzbekistan had reached a point of no return regarding economic/political life. Since independence, the Uzbeks found that their standard of living had been on a constant decline. Whereas in the Soviet times many were able to travel throughout the Union, restrictions on personal movement had become draconian, making travel even within the country a nightmare necessitating multiple bribes. Furthermore, instead of encouraging small businesses, the corrupt politburo had taken many moves to intimidate and discourage this. As a result, many Uzbeks were upset at their country, and there emerged two strains of protest. The first sought economic and social liberalization whereas the second was based on Islamist desires. Needless to say, the latter movement was much smaller than the first, but was used as cover for any and all dissidents. Therefore, charges of “attempting to undermine the homeland,” abounded, complete with the Soviet style detentions, forced confessions, and harsh punishments. The Uzbek government had been operating under this cycle for many years.

After Bush enlisted Karimov in TWAT, the scale of this repression increased tremendously; intelligence (purportedly regarding al-Qaeda) obtained by the Uzbek security services was passed to the US, and subsequently became part of the UK’s lexicon. This is where Craig Murray enters. An unconventional person to begin with, he approached his ambassadorship actively. Whereas the previous ambassadors had not interacted much with the British community in the country, Murray made it his first priority to visit businesses and NGOs. Through these travels, he learned of the extent of Uzbek brutality, and became horrified that his superiors were keeping mum about this. He believed that it was not only morally corrupt but also useless to be accepting torture-induced intelligence provided by Uzbeks.

The book details his travels around the country, including some devastatingly stark visits to families that had been subject to the Uzbek security service’s brutal violence. Breaking with the other ambassadors (namely the US,) who wished to focus on positive changes (which were largely born of fabricated statistics,) Murray decided to speak out against the regime. He did so on numerous occasions, and on a level far more blunt than that which is used in the usual diplomatic discourse. Although this did make him enemies in the upper reaches of the Uzbek government, his outgoing style won him key allies both in the British and Uzbek communities. As such, he became a figurehead to many Uzbeks, and was able to capture the attention of an otherwise recalcitrant administration. His luck with his British superiors was, however, less impressive. As a result, they set out to discredit him based on minor personal things, such as his proclivity to drink and good cheer (he was, after all, a Scott.)

This is a fascinating tale particularly because Murray does not come off as a hero, rather a normal guy, vices included, who could not keep quiet in the face of what he found to be reprehensible actions done on behalf of his government. And whereas many of us feel this way these days, as an Ambassador, his audience was huge. Murray eventually goes down, but not without one hell of a fight. The book is not only a personal account, but also a rumination on the state of world affairs. Murray spares no criticism of those who chose to ally with and support brutal dictators in the name of promoting global freedom. Written with immense wit and sincerity, this is a book not to be missed, though I fear it will be overlooked in this day of shouting idiots.

I just finished reading a good book called Behind the Gates: Life, Security, and the Pursuit of Happiness in Fortress America by Setha Low, an anthropology and environmental psychology professor at CUNY. My interest with new forms of housing patterns began when I read Mike Davis’ City of Quartz a few years ago while I was studying in San Francisco. That book talks about how the urban architecture of Los Angeles is designed to be de-centralized and unwelcoming to crowds. Of course much of that is accomplished through a lack of shared social space and strong law enforcement.

Two years after I read that book, right across the border of my town, a large new housing development went up on the side of a mountain. The community is gated, with a staffed guard booth at the main entrance, and a card swipe at the other. Although the houses appear to be spacious single family units, I was curious why the gates were necessary. The development is pretty much isolated on one side by a mountain, and on the other borders a very “fancy” town.

Setha Low’s book tries to answer the question of why people are moving into gated communities. There were two interesting findings. The first is in regards to safety. She takes a look at gated communities in South American cities, where violent crime is a real problem. In those cases, the gated community becomes a necessity, allowing those within it without constant fear of being attacked. Although in these instances the threat of outside crime is real, such is not exactly the case in the US examples. The two developments she studies the most are in San Antonio, Texas and Long Island, NY.

Regarding safety, she finds that almost every resident of these gated community cites it as a reason for moving to such a place. Although this may seem to be a fine thing that anyone would want, Ms. Low is able to string out, through delicate questioning, the underlying root of the fear. It is, simply, ethnic changes in old neighborhoods and “fear of others.” Since most of the gated communities are rather new (with the boom beginning in the 1980’s,) most residents of gated communities are moving consciously into them for one reason or other. In addition to the predicted influx of retires who don’t want to be bothered with shoveling and yardwork, she finds that many families with young children are also moving to such developments.

The fear of the other which she finds is detailed in examples of teenagers who decide not to go downtown in San Antonio for the 4th of July out of fear of “Mexicans.” Instead they hang out on the golf course, catching a distant glimpse of the fireworks. In another example, a young boy in a family gets scared when he sees laborers and construction workers within the community. Of course the children are the most candid in their responses/reactions… when pressed about the subject, most adults just make references to “outsiders” and try to steer the conversation elsewhere.

What emerges is a troubling picture where individuals are moving to communities where all others are like them. The most important barrier in such communities is of course wealth. But along with that come notions of acceptability in many other ways, such as race, and more broadly, lifestyle. Low seems to think that these enclaves of similarly situated people make them even more fearful of those who do not fall within the established parameters.

The icing on the cake, though, is that most people who live in gated communities do not feel a strong sense of community within the gates. It is almost as if their paranoia of outsiders influences their relations with those who are, ostensibly, just like them. The picture that emerges is quite bleak, of a isolating suburban hell, in my opinion. Here we have individuals living in fear of a multi-cultural society and retreating from it. But in the retreat, they are also retreating from any true community among themselves. There is, certainly, a difference between rugged individualism and isolationism. If people send the messages, “if you are not one of us, stay away,” and “if you are one of us, keep your distance,” then what is left?

Low at times contrasts these gated communities to her own choice to live in a multi-cultural enclave of New York City. Although she does outline the drawbacks of her situation, as in occasional fear of crime and the need to pay for a parking garage, she finds that her quality of life is enriched by the multitude of lives and cultures around her.

Those who know me personally do know that I am extremely wary of forced attempts at multi-culturalism or diversity. Really, the only way for it to work is if both parties are interested in it. I do believe, though, that when such is the case, fascinating collaborations can ensue. And I’m not talking about one culture imitating another, just one realizing that their way isn’t the only way. In gated communities, this is both explicitly and implicitly precluded.

And people wonder why Americans are so assertive, cocky and unilateral. Although we used to be a place that was looked up to, now we are simply feared – there is a big difference there. I’m afraid that the gated community syndrome, which is occurring at local levels all across the country is translating far beyond simple living patterns. If this is how you chose to live, why not just created a gated country? Instead of trying to solve social problems caused by the influx of non-English speakers from poor and uneducated countries, why not just segregate ourselves from them and not be concerned about it?

I fear that in this case, as the disparity of wealth increases, and the mixing of populations dwindles, America (as an idea) is changing radically. In a day when we are told that great strides have been made in terms of racism and multiculturism, it really leads one to question whether this is true or if we are just telling ourselves that so that we don’t have to really deal with the basic problems of fear which we face.

This certainly isn’t the country I want to call home – for I thought we were the best and we tried to solve problems, not run away from them and delude ourselves about our flight. But as Low points out, more and more Americans are moving to gated communities, and most new residential community construction utilizes gating. And this is not just for the rich, but increasingly for the middle class.

Where does it leave us? I’m not sure, but I’m unsettled with the direction. It implies that public shared space is too dangerous and must be policed. It makes congregation between individuals more difficult and works against genuine community building. It isolates, divides and conquers – and it’s not just the minorities who suffer. In the end we all lose if we can’t believe in the notion of civic shared and negotiated space. If our lone voices, in the search for connection and solidarity, can not find others to challenge and engage ours, they will certainly grow quiet.