Malaysia-->Bangalore, Dubai-->Kabul

Growing up in the West, my experience of the Middle East as a child was principally limited to the world history I studied in junior high and high school. I recall deserts, camels, and Bedouins. I do not recall if I knew then that Afghanistan was in South Asia, not the Middle East, and that it was not an Arab nation, although it did embrace Islam as its principal faith tradition. As is typical of my research initiatives, my focus is principally on that country where I will be doing work and I forget that I may pass through many fascinating places between LAX and my destination. Such has been the case once again, as I have found myself in Dubai, the capital of the United Arab Emirates. Such was the case, also, when I spent a couple of days in Kuala Lumpur prior to initiating my work in Bangalore. I knew very little about the nation, but made an effort once in country to begin to learn. It so happened that I met an executive who invited me to attend a conference for entrepreneurs and so I spent a day with men and women from throughout Southeast Asia.


As Malaysia became the hub between Los Angeles and Bangalore, I began to pay attention to its role on the global stage and became quite impressed with its progress. In spring of 2006, Malaysia became one of a couple of nations to be amongst those selected as finalists for a new manufacturing facility for Dell Computers. In a wholly impressive move, the Malaysian government worked swiftly with the private sector and before India could barely blink, it had landed the very-lucrative deal. If “government” and “swift” seem wholly oxymoronic within the same sentence, you are not alone in your belief. Nevertheless, Malaysia has got an infrastructure that allows it to navigate some of the typical bureaucratic labyrinths in ways that have helped it begin to achieve its economic objectives in a world where, as Thomas Friedman says, anyone can play anytime and anywhere.

As I began to learn about Afghanistan in preparation for the initiatives that Mirwais and I are undertaking, I reflected back on Malaysia. In one scholarly study that I read—one of few related to educational leadership post-Taliban—the authors suggested China as an analogue for Afghanistan. I found this recommendation wholly inappropriate. Indeed, some of the broader lessons of any developing nation are wonderful talking points: the role of education in Chinese society or the strength of the national government, for example. China, however, is a Communist nation. Indeed, even with Communism as its principal doctrinal policy, they have made monumental strides in merging capitalistic principles with classic “Soviet-style” command and control leadership. Even so, Communism at its best tolerates religion and at its worst has historically oppressed those who attempt to adhere to tenets of a faith tradition. In the case of China, there are the Buddhist monasteries, and yet the government’s tolerance has its limits. To wit, the Party does not recognize the Dalai Lama as Tibet’s spiritual leader and only today, the Indian government arrested more than one hundred Tibetan exhiles on a hunger strike. The Indian government? Obviously, nothing is black and white.

This is the polar opposite of Afghanistan, whose proper name is the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. Whilst even that title provoked quite a lot of debate in the Parliament, with some suggesting that it was an exercise in tautology, few in the nation are not Muslim and the collective conscience of the nation is wholly Islamic in its world view. How, then, can one adequately take into account the role of religion, of Sharia law, of Quran, and coupling that with a political system whose assumptions are that of a budding democracy, consider China as even remotely relevant?

When I recently had tea with Afghanistan’s Consul General, Atiquillah Atifmal, I asked him if he had been to Malaysia, for I considered it, as a Muslim nation, a better analogue for Afghanistan than China. He relayed to me a story of a visit he had made with President Karzai, where as they drove for over forty-five minutes through the city, the President declared every few minutes that the next grand building just had to be the one that housed the conference. The place is that compelling in terms of its economic development. In talking with the Prime Minister of Malaysia, Mr. Atifmal, who at the time was President Karzai’s Chief of Protocol, asked how it was that the nation had made such great strides in a seemingly short period of time. The Prime Minister cited a commitment to education as one of the principal drivers. He had taken quite a number of the best and brightest of the nation and had sent them abroad in a several year plan to become well educated. Furthermore, the nation made a broad commitment to education of its people so that they would have a well-prepared workforce.

Whilst neither of the initiatives was a quick fix, the principle was noteworthy: education of a population gives a nation possibilities and to move fast you sometimes have to move slowly. Several Indian executives with whom I work have cited this factor as one of the keys to its rapid growth. Although education in India is rife with problems, even its lumbering system, where at least the governmental employees have the sense to call themselves “bureaucrats,” do recognize that the British schooling system has resulted in a middle class larger than the entire population of the United States. Will I find in Afghanistan that the nation has begun to embrace the Malaysian model to any degree?

But, Dubai. This is where I find myself on this day of intense blue skies and brilliant sunshine. Dubai makes Las Vegas seem a mere pretender. The peerless Burj Al Arab, whose billowing sail rises majestically on the Gulf, will set you back nearly $2500 USD per night for the budget accommodations. More cranes grace this city than anywhere else in the world. In my one, full day here, however, I chose to spend it in Old Dubai, which is nestled on the shore of Dubai Creek—a quite substantial inlet of water that resembles a small river more than the Western notion of a creek. My driver told me that he was from Pakistan and that he did not understand the violence that racked some parts of the Middle East and of South Asia. He blessed me when he learnt that I am an educator.

I headed first to the Dubai Museum and the Al Fahidi Fort, where I became enchanted with a class of young boys and their teacher, whose task it was to help her charges understand something of Dubai’s rich history. They became most enchanted with the gift shop, where they played with every object, from the Aladdin’s lamps to the water pipes, much to the exasperation of the shopkeeper.

Following the museum visit, I happened upon “Little India,” where alleys barely wide enough to accommodate one person were filled with merchants selling all things Indian: fragrant jasmine flowers, which flooded me with the memories of Bangalore; marigold flowers fashioned into necklaces; Hindu gods of every type.

The alley ended at a Hindu temple, where I spent some time with the gods and with the many worshippers, observing how they perform pujah. Hands under chin, many of the worshippers touched the photos of the gods, gave offerings of coins and food, and did obeisance, fully prostrate on the ground. Little India gave way to the textile souq—hundreds of shops laden with cashmere and silk. One man from Kerla in Southern India who tried to sell me pashminas, laughed when I told him that I worked there and recognized that the scarves were Indian, not Arabian.

Later in the morning, I stepped into a market to purchase some water and a coconut juice drink As I admired the displays of walnuts, pistachios, and almonds, the young man told me he was from Sri Lanka and that the almonds were from California. I laughed. As I purchased my water, one man whose wife wore a burqua, began arguing with the check-out clerk. He made one, dramatic parting shot in Arabic and stalked out of the store. Three other men began a heated discussion about what had just transpired, and I discerned Farsi, English, Hindi, and Arabic intermingled. I asked, “What was that about?”

The Indian man said, “That man was arguing with the clerk, saying that he should only address him in Arabic. That sort of arrogance makes him appear that he believes he is superior to others, but as you can see, we in Dubai speak many languages. How can we survive if we do not respect each other’s differences?”

As I headed back through the textile souq, I passed several mosques and could hear the call to prayer. A gentleman struck up a conversation with me. Daniel Asgari, a cruise ship captain born in Tehran and living in Liverpool, England, discussed seriously about fighting in Iraq many years ago when he was in the Iranian military. He joined me for a stroll along the creek and pointed out many of the sites in Dubai, for he takes his ship through several of these countries regularly and knows this city well.

In only a few hours, Dubai- as-crossroad introduced me to citizens of Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka, and Iran. How is it that this city can hold its ancient roots, and yet embrace modernity? In his first treatise on globalization, Thomas Friedman's The Lexus and the Olive Tree suggests that those countries most successful in the new century are those who grapple with the creative tension of opposites continually and find ways to honor the past and imagine the future. How shall Afghanistan address the ancient and the modern? Let us see how this journey into a nation that has suffered from nearly three decades of devastation is faring.