Waiting for an Arab Godot

Sometime ago, I re-read Samuel Beckett's masterpiece, Waiting for Godot, a reminiscence from my student days. All we were able to understand was that Waiting for Godot was a story about waiting for a better tomorrow.

This "curse" of having to wait, which plagues Beckett's two characters, also applies so much to those of us living today in the Middle East.

In addition to waiting, the play is essentially about salvation and hope. The characters wait and are pathetically hopeful, yet salvation never comes.

It is not a tragedy, but a comedy; in fact, a theatre of the absurd, much like the current state of affairs in the entire Middle East.

The play is about two tramps called Vladimir and Estragon who are waiting for Mr Godot, an unknown man who never shows up.

Godot is the hope we are desperately awaiting in this part of the world, which has failed us over and over again.

Much like the Arabs, the two tramps in Beckett's play live in confusion, fear and misery.

While they wait, they quarrel, reconcile, insult one another, contemplate suicide to ease their pain, try to sleep to forget their hardships and engage in senseless dialogue to ease their boredom.

The French philosopher and writer Albert Camus argues in his novel The Plague that the boredom of waiting causes people to think seriously about their past, future, identity and current affairs.

That has been the case with the Arabs in general since 1948 and more seriously since 1991; a defeated people, thinking about where they have been, why they have suffered, and wondering where they are heading?

The war on Iraq in 2003, regardless if one supported it or not, makes us stand up and contemplate about the quality of the Arab leaders that we allowed to rule us during the 20th century.

It makes us think about what future we want for ourselves and our children and what kind of leaders we need in the 21st century.

At various stages since 1948, the Arabs have cursed the skies for having abandoned them, yet done nothing to end their suffering.

Interpreted in a million ways

Also, like Beckett's tramps, the Arabs do not know exactly what they are waiting for.

This reminds us of the famous line by Syrian playwright Mohammad Al Maghout, written years later in the 1970s, where they defeated and arrested Arab citizen "would not recognise the US dollar even if he encountered him [the dollar] face-to-face on the street!"

In this sense, Godot can be understood to be the US dollar, or the material symbol of a better life for the Arab masses that live in poverty. They have been waiting for this Godot to improve their lives for decades.

In our lives, Godot can be interpreted in a million different ways. Godot can be the Arab hero; the inspirational leader who will lead the Arabs to victory, defeat Israel and expel the United States from the region.

To many, Godot is another Jamal Abdul Nasser. To the few American propagandists, Godot can be the United States that is coming to topple the corrupted Arab regimes. To the Islamists, Godot can be the Islamic revolution and revival in the Arab world.

To the Palestinians, they thought they had found Godot in Yasser Arafat, yet when he died not having established the State of Palestine, Godot became Mahmoud Abbas.

To some in Palestine, Godot is Abu Mazen's exact opposite; Hamas, Islamic Jihad and leaders like Khalid Meshal.

Godot can be disarming the resistance, ending the intifada and living in peace, while to others, Godot is maintaining the state of war with Israel.

In Iraq, Godot is Ebrahim Al Jaafari to the Shiites and Jalal Talabani to the Kurds. To some he is George Bush, to others, Godot is still Saddam Hussain.

In Lebanon, the Sunni Godot was Rafik Harriri, the Shiite Godot is Hasan Nasrallah and the Christian Godot is Michel Aoun.

To the Syrians, Godot can be the upcoming Baath Party Conference, scheduled for June 2005, which is promising grand reforms for the Syrians.

What we learn from Beckett's play, however, is that the two tramps are basically, in a place where Godot is not. Yet, by freedom of choice, they continue to wait, not knowing for sure if he would ever show up, saying: "He didn't say for sure he'd come."

The act of waiting never ends. Like the Arabs, Estragon and Vladimir are aware of their helplessness, constantly repeating the phrase, "nothing to be done".

An optimist reading these lines would be enraged, arguing that there is something to be done and we can solve our misery by rising against our corrupted regimes in the Arab world, which have made us so weak.

Some would argue that the only thing to be done is to practice jihad. Jihad, or suicide according to Beckett, is also contemplated by the two tramps.

At one point, they decide to hang themselves from a tree to ease the pain of waiting and end their miserable lives. Yet, precisely because of their frustration, the two tramps are also, too afraid to die, saying: "Don't let's do anything. It's safer!"

This defeatist attitude sums up the mood in most of the Arab world: hated as it is, the current status quo is safer than the unexpected and unknown.

Estragon asks his friend: "Do you think God sees me?" Again, this echoes the Arab Street, which is constantly questioning why God has destined us to live in defeat.

So many times, since the intifada broke out in 2000, I have seen Arab commoners asking themselves, "Do you think God sees us?"

The key to living in the Middle East, however, is to have a wild imagination. Life without illusions is unbearable, especially in the Arab world. That is why we need Godot. If he were not there, we would have created him.

We are impatient because every time we think Godot is coming, or has arrived, he fails us. The situation in the Arab world can be summed up with the last phrase of Beckett's play. One tramp asks the other "Well, shall we go?" The answer is: "Yes, lets go!"

They do not move.

Dr Sami Moubayed is a Syrian political analyst.