The Strong Horse: Power, Politics, and the Clash of Arab Civilizations


In this provocative and timely book, Middle East expert Lee Smith overturns long-held Western myths and assumptions about the Arab world, offering advice for America’s future success in the region.
Seeking the motivation behind the September 11 attacks, Smith moved to Cairo, where he discovered that the standard explanation—a clash of East and West—was simply not the case. Middle East conflicts have little to do with Israel, the United ...

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The Strong Horse: Power, Politics, and the Clash of Arab Civilizations

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In this provocative and timely book, Middle East expert Lee Smith overturns long-held Western myths and assumptions about the Arab world, offering advice for America’s future success in the region.
Seeking the motivation behind the September 11 attacks, Smith moved to Cairo, where he discovered that the standard explanation—a clash of East and West—was simply not the case. Middle East conflicts have little to do with Israel, the United States, or the West in general, but are endemic to the region. According to Smith’s “Strong Horse Doctrine,” the Arab world naturally aligns itself with strength, power, and violence. He argues that America must be the strong horse in order to reclaim its role there, and that only by understanding the nature of the region’s ancient conflicts can we succeed.
Smith details the three-decades-long relationship between Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak and the United States, and gives a history of the Muslim Brotherhood, which would likely play an important role in the formation of a new government in Egypt. He also discusses Lebanon, where tipping the balance against Hezbollah in favor of pro-democracy, pro-US forces has become imperative, as a special tribunal investigates the assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafiq Hariri.
Eye-opening and in-depth, The Strong Horse is much needed background and perspective on today’s headlines.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Succinct and accessible. . . . An important read for anyone interested in the Middle East.”
The Christian Science Monitor
“Masterful. . . . A unique and vital addition to the current debate on the Middle East.”
The Jerusalem Post
“In-depth. . . . Provocative. . . . Worth a few evenings of serious reading. . . . “Smith writes clearly and tersely, and his respect and affection for his Arab friends in the Middle East come through clearly.”
St. Louis Post-Dispatch
“[Smith] treats us to beautifully written portraits of his Arab friends, individuals who illustrate far better than finely wrought theory the difficulties of practical reform.”
The New York Times Book Review
“Lively. . . . Illuminating. . . . An amalgam of travel journalism, memoir, popular history, and policy-musing. . . . The Strong Horse avoids policy prescriptions—a dime a dozen in books about the Middle East—and instead relies on a series of sharply observed episodes, deftly arranged to demonstrate a civilization in perpetual crisis.”
“[Smith] has drawn some interesting—and in some respects encouraging—conclusions in this fascinating, complicated, eloquent study. . . . [He] makes a compelling case that the United States must understand the ancient conflicts and enmities that animate the Arabs, but must also understand that America, alone among world powers, is uniquely qualified to guide the Arab world out of its troubled past. . . . This is a plea, in effect, for confident, assertive American leadership in the Arab Middle East.”
The Weekly Standard
“Excellent. . . . An entertaining yet deep and important analysis. . . . Smith’s simple and near-universal principle provides a tool to comprehend the Arabs’ cult of death, honor killings, terrorist attacks, despotism, warfare, and much else.” —Daniel Pipes, National Review
“Fascinating. . . . [Smith] should be lauded for his commitment and careful research. The book is compelling, well written and worth a read even—or perhaps especially—by those who would disagree with the author.”
Publishers Weekly
“A bold and significant book that refreshingly rejects the conventional wisdom about the Middle East.”
Reason Magazine
“The arguments put forward [by Smith] are desperately needed as an antidote to the lock step shibboleths and conventional wisdom that form the basis of much of the scholarship of U. S. Middle East studies. Much of the conventional wisdom that forms the basis of our understanding of the Arab world is challenged here, and rightly so.”
American Diplomacy
“Blunt. . . . Bracing. . . . Helps to puncture the naïveté of the anti-American Left, liberal internationalists, and prodemocratization conservatives.”
Claremont Review of Books
The Strong Horse is hard to describe and even harder to put down. Lee Smith has concocted an addictive and original brew of reportage, memoir, and political analysis that casts the Middle East and its relations with the ‘Great Satan’ in a fresh and fascinating light. Writing about his meetings with everyone from Omar Sharif to Natan Sharansky, he delivers one shrewd insight after another. Anyone seeking to understand the world’s most volatile region should read this timely and entertaining book.”
—Max Boot, Jeane J. Kirkpatrick Senior Fellow for National Security Studies at the Council on Foreign Relations and author of Savage Wars of Peace: Small Wars and the Rise of American Power and War Made New: Technology, Warfare, and the Course of History, 1500 to Today
"Lee Smith is a free-thinker in an age of herd mentalities. The Strong Horse is a powerful book—trenchant, shrewd, informed, vivid, provocative, and full of a wisdom that is not the conventional wisdom."
—Paul Berman, author of Terror and Liberalism
“In The Strong Horse, Lee Smith lets readers see beyond the stereotypes by which Western academics have misunderstood, and Western governments have mishandled, the Middle East. Based on wide-ranging conversations in the Arab world as well as on a dispassionate understanding of its intellectual and political history, he shows how the tribal nature of Arab societies combines with Islam to produce a way of life in which force is the ultimate argument. The Strong Horse is a fascinating journey from Cairo’s cafes to the Gulf’s business offices, to Lebanon and Syria’s countryside, and into the region’s seminal literature.”
—Angelo M. Codevilla, Professor emeritus of international relations, Boston University
“Lee Smith is the rarest of Middle East commentators, an observer without any ax to grind, whose book is a hammer shattering many of the blithe pieties about the Middle East that prevail in academia, government, and the media.”
—Peter Theroux, former Director of Persian Gulf Affairs, National Security Council, and author of Sandstorms: Days and Nights in Arabia
“A chronicle of one American’s journey to the Middle East in search of an answer to the question “why 9/11?”, The Strong Horse offers a fascinating depiction of a culture so different from our own that it is a challenge for us to understand just how great this difference is. Lee Smith has faced this challenge, and the insights he offers require nothing less than a radical paradigm shift in American thinking about the Middle East. If we wish to shape history, and not be run over by it, there is no better place to start than by reading Lee Smith’s beautifully crafted and deeply moving journey of discovery.”
—Lee Harris, author of Suicide of Reason: Radical Islam’s Threat to the West and Civilization and Its Enemies: The Next Stage of History
Wendell Steavenson
…[a] short, dense, nuanced polemic…
—The New York Times
Publishers Weekly
Smith, Middle East correspondent for the Weekly Standard, argues that it was tensions within the Middle East—not a clash of civilizations, American policies in the region or the creation of Israel—that prompted the attacks on September 11. He writes, “In believing that 300 million Arabs had really lined up as one against America, we had been taken in by a mirage,” and he takes to task Edward Said and others he feels homogenize Arabs into a monolithic group. In the book's strongest sections, Smith looks at continuities from the pre-Islamic Arab world to the present to trace mores and differences that seep into the modern day, adding a fascinating historical angle. While he undermines his argument with a penchant for proclaiming the condition of the region to be immutable (“In the Middle East, political violence is not an anomaly. It is the normal state of affairs”), he should be lauded for his commitment and careful research. The book is compelling, well written and worth a read even—or perhaps especially—by those who would disagree with the author. (Jan.)
Kirkus Reviews
A view of what the "Arab street" has to say about current affairs-the only problem being, as the author notes, there's not any such thing. By Weekly Standard Middle East correspondent Smith's account, the Arab world is fragmented, rife with divisions and plagued by poor leadership on all sides. The author also claims that 9/11 was a manifestation less of the war between America and Islam-he means, perhaps, Islamism-than of that among Arab factions, which means "strange as it sounds, the attacks on New York and Washington were not really about us." Perhaps, but the attacks killed many Americans and led to the deaths of many Arabs, notably in Iraq. Smith does well to reiterate the fact that the Arab world is not monolithic and that not everyone is a suicide bomber. Some of his neoconnish prescriptions will seem comforting to those who urge that we take the war to the enemy-whoever the enemy really is-rather than have al-Qaeda march down the streets of Washington, and he casts them in fire-and-brimstone terms well suited to monotheistic climes: "he who punishes enemies and rewards friends, forbids evil and enjoins good, is entitled to rule, and no other." Smith's book quickly betrays its origins as a loosely assembled collection of journalistic pieces, some ephemeral, others more substantial. It is pleasant, but not terribly revealing, to know that the actor Omar Sharif has opinions about the purity of the Arabic language, and a little more useful but still disjointed to work Edward Said's notions of orientalism into the discussion. Smith could have smoothed his narrative into a more coherent story, but he offers a somewhat provocative look at an endlessly troubled region. Agent: ChrisCalhoun/Sterling Lord Literistic
The Barnes & Noble Review

At first glance, one might think that the only things Lee Smith's The Strong Horse and David Hirst's Beware of Small States have in common are a catchy title and Middle Eastern subject matter. The former makes a sweeping attempt to provide a master metaphor for Arab politics, while the latter focuses on the history of Lebanon. Both have their (quite different) strengths, but a close inspection will reveal that they are united by a troubling commonality: a propensity to leave nuance by the wayside.

The Strong Horse emerges from Smith's work as a Middle East correspondent for the Weekly Standard. He sets forth a thesis so astonishingly facile that he can legitimately claim to have introduced an entirely new form of Middle East journalism: how to figure out those pesky Arabs without thinking too hard or avoiding generalizations. Arabs, explains Smith, gravitate toward the most powerful participant -- the titular strong horse -- in any political contest. This is not simply the essence of Smith's book; it is the book. For Smith, virtually every political conflict and its outcome in the Arab world can be understood when viewed in light of his "unassailable" strong horse theory.

Meanwhile, David Hirst (former Middle East correspondent for the Guardian and author of the influential The Gun and the Olive Branch) derives his book's title from a cautionary remark made by Mikhail Bakunin in 1870. "What he meant," Hirst explains of the Russian anarchist, "in that era of European war and geopolitical upheaval, was not only that such diminutive polities were peculiarly vulnerable to the machinations of greater ones, but that they were a source of trouble for their tormentors too." Subtitled "Lebanon, Battleground of the Middle East," Beware of Small States relates the already well-documented history of Israeli designs on and misadventures in Lebanon, from the latter's inception as a modern state in 1920 until today, with the wider Arab-Israeli conflict -- itself hardly an ignored subject -- receiving a good deal of attention. Only in the final few chapters, which tackle events of the last decade, does Hirst, who remains obsessively critical of Israel throughout, offer any fresh insight. Indeed, if The Strong Horse is simplistic and reductionist, Beware of Small States is almost entirely unoriginal.

Yet this doesn't mean that either book is without merit. When Smith takes a break from trying to mold everything in the Arab world in such a manner that it conforms to his thesis, he actually makes a few perceptive observations about specific political developments. Anecdotes about Salafists, Sufis, and liberals -- especially in Egypt -- are coupled with brief, engaging histories of the movements from which their subjects have emerged. Meanwhile, Hirst's book, for all its reproduction of material that has already been covered, and the author's excessive lambasting of Israel, emerges as useful in one major sense. If there is anybody left who believes that Israel has never been the aggressor in its many conflicts with Lebanon, here is a single book that will put that delusion to rest.

The Strong Horse is subtitled "Power, Politics, and the Clash of Arab Civilizations." Smith outlines the two camps within the Arab world and their ongoing battle for dominance: the pro-U.S. conservative bloc of Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Lebanon's March 14 alliance on one side, and the Iran-backed radical bloc of Syria, Hezbollah, and Hamas on the other. Strangely, however, he does not elaborate on his contention that "the clash that led to 9/11 was less the conflict between the West and Islam than the conflict between the Arabs themselves," except to imply that the 9/11 attacks were the result of jihadists being effectively exiled from the lands where they want to cause change.

For the most part, Smith limits his discussion to countries in the eastern part of the Arab world -- the Mashreq -- such as Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, and those in the Persian Gulf. Early on, he makes clear that Arab nationalism, though originally articulated by Christians, basically reflects the views of mainstream Sunnis and, thankfully, he doesn't buy into its orthodoxies. (Interestingly, he sees it as beneficial in at least one respect: as a means of patching over differences between Arabs who would otherwise be at one another's throats, because fighting is what they are given to doing.) But how does his view that Arabs aren't a single nation square with his application of the strong horse theory to "the Arabs"? For Smith, it's almost as though the Arabs miraculously become a nation only when he wants to characterize them negatively.

Smith asserts that "[t]he Islamists make war to win power; the regimes fight to maintain it. And so in the end, there are only two laws of Arab politics: the first is to seize power, after which political legitimacy is granted provided that the second law is observed -- to maintain power." Several examples -- Egypt, Syria, and even brief references to Iraq and Algeria (which is in the Maghreb, or the western part of the Arab world) -- seemingly prove his point. Even Lebanon, which Smith concedes boasts "the kernel of a democratic polity," isn't very different. Smith shows how a politician such as Walid Jumblatt can go from implacable hostility to Syria and Hezbollah in the aftermath of the assassination of former prime minister Rafiq Hariri (2005) to a position today that marks a 180-degree turn, reconciling with Syria and Hezbollah. All of this Smith explains in terms of the strong horse principle -- itself based on an observation by Osama bin Laden that people naturally prefer a strong to a weak horse.

The problem is that, for Smith, the tendency to support the strong horse is a peculiarly Arab trait, and all Arab politics can be collapsed into it. He does not consider that many people in liberal democratic countries with stable political institutions tilt toward this or that political party because of its clout and visibility. After all, what else could explain why so many American voters, despite agreeing with the ideals and even the political platforms of parties such as the Libertarians and the Greens, nevertheless end up voting Republican or Democrat? Reinforcing his contention that before us lies a specifically Arab trait is Smith's belief that it is age-old in Arab culture. The Arab practice of gravitating toward the strong horse, according to Smith, dates back to the pre-Islamic era and persists to this day. This is why he resorts to it to explain outbreaks of violence or political conflict in the modern Arab world, rejecting the possibility that local circumstances play a determining role.

The author dismisses examples that contradict his theory. For example, when discussing stirrings of democracy in the Gulf, he claims that the project will end in failure because Gulf Arabs adopt the outward manifestations of modernity -- such as technology -- but not its core liberal values. And he points out that democracy in Iraq and the Palestinian Territories has simply led to increased power and legitimacy for extremist and sectarian parties with illiberal values. His explanation for this unfortunate development is that the George W. Bush administration naively thought that democracy is transferable and that it can be instituted from the top down.

Here, Smith is overly pessimistic -- prematurely consigning an experiment in the Gulf to failure -- as well as plain wrong in one major respect. Liberal democracy can in fact be imposed from the outside; that is precisely what the U.S. did in Germany and Japan, in concert with German and Japanese liberals respectively, following the Second World War. And while it can be argued that Germany had already had experience with (a flawed form of) democracy, the same cannot be said of Japan.

It's too bad that Smith adopts such a gloomy view regarding the possibilities of liberal democracy taking hold in Arab lands, because arguably his book's finest feature is its trenchant criticism of Arab intellectuals' objections to the U.S. project for democracy in the Middle East -- which he points out became an American priority after no weapons of mass destruction were found in Iraq. He notes the hypocrisy of those who spent years lamenting U.S. support for Arab dictators, only to become even more anti-American when the U.S. finally decided to change course, deposing Saddam Hussein in Iraq and pressuring other Arab despots. And he justly ridicules their blaming all or most of the region's ills on the U.S., but subsequently maintaining that the U.S. cannot possibly succeed should it attempt to improve the region's fortunes in a direct manner: "In their view, apparently, foreign powers are all-powerful in the Middle East when they're pursuing evil ends. But when they're trying to bring about positive change -- like creating democracy -- they're impotent."

Funnily enough, however, Smith himself comes round to a version of this view. For although he faults the U.S. for not providing Iraqis, Palestinians, and other Arabs with a framework for liberal democracy before elections, he still feels that the project could not have succeeded: "It was not that the Arabs were incapable of democracy but that most of them did not want it, and those who did want it had not the means to win it." As a result, explains Smith, democracy became primarily a matter of elections, not liberalism, and popular Islamic and sectarian extremists gained power. Yet Smith overlooks the fact that almost all liberal democratic countries include important checks preventing the tyranny of the majority, which is what happened in Iraq and Gaza. Nowhere in the West is democracy unfettered by constraints ensuring individual, women's, and minority rights, as well as secularism, irrespective of the whims of the majority at any given time. Certain rights and freedoms are considered virtually sacrosanct -- consider the U.S. Bill of Rights, or even the more general "unalienable" rights referred to in the U.S. Declaration of Independence -- and not subject to simple referendum. Had the U.S. instituted such constraints in Iraq -- by using its position to enshrine them in the constitution, for example -- the situation in that country might have turned out differently.

Unsurprisingly, given his thesis that "violence is central to the politics, society, and culture of the Arabic-speaking Middle East," Smith wholeheartedly endorses the use of Israeli force against the Palestinians and Lebanese. (This is all the more shameless given his professed love for Lebanon, which suffered so much from Israeli force in 2006 -- and not for the first time.) And his assertion that "Israel is the United States' greatest strategic asset in the region" makes clear what he thinks the US position on the matter should be.

But Smith goes further. In correctly pointing out that Arab members of the pro-U.S. bloc, such as Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Jordan, and even Lebanon's March 14 alliance, wanted Israel to destroy Hezbollah and Hamas in its recent wars with them, he finds an additional reason to justify Israeli force. It isn't simply that violence is endemic in the Arab world to begin with, but that some Arabs support Israeli violence, thereby lending it further legitimacy. Smith does not mention that these countries, after having condemned Hezbollah and Hamas, felt compelled to criticize Israel publicly and harshly once the extent of its devastation in Lebanon (in the summer 2006 war) and Gaza (in the winter 2008-2009 war) became clear, nor does he entertain the notion that Israel's devastating military campaigns deserve to be criticized irrespective of the position of these Arabs on the matter.

The subject of Israeli force, especially as unleashed against Lebanon, makes for a logical segue to Hirst's book. For Hirst, Israeli force is simply something to be reviled. Rather than suggest a viable alternative to punitive military measures, Beware of Small States avoids any sort of engagement with the dilemma Israel faces. How is Israel supposed to deal with the Iranian and Syrian-backed Islamist fanatics on its northern border who, even when not launching attacks on Israel, are busy preaching the country's destruction? And what about those other Islamist fanatics, the ones who believe in The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, have taken over Gaza, and view any kind of political settlement with Israel as temporary albeit indefinitely renewable?

One needn't accept that overwhelming Israeli force against Lebanon and Gaza is positive, the way Smith blithely does, or support Israel's cruel and pointless blockade of Gaza, to realize that eschewing force entirely in a confrontation with Islamists is foolish and possibly suicidal. And one needn't support Israel's massive and oftentimes indiscriminate onslaughts -- such as those which occurred in Lebanon and Gaza -- to recognize that for force to have a deterrent quality, especially vis-à-vis martyrdom-obsessed Islamists, it must by necessity be disproportionate.

Hirst, of course, focuses on Lebanon throughout. But only with his treatment of Lebanon in the first decade of this century does he offer anything new. He proves especially adept at analyzing Hezbollah's dual role as a Lebanese resistance movement on the one hand, and an Islamic jihadist organization beholden to Iran and Syria on the other. This duality became more of a problem after the Cedar Revolution/Independence Intifada of 2005, which was prompted by the widespread belief among Lebanese that Syria had orchestrated the assassination of Rafiq Hariri. Massive Lebanese demonstrations and international pressure forced Syrian president Bashar Assad to withdraw the Syrian army from Lebanon. But Hezbollah refused to disarm. Hirst explains that "Hizbollah's fundamental reasons were its least admissible ones: its inability, on ideological grounds, to give up jihad, even if for the foreseeable future it was only able to practise it in symbolic 'gradualist-pragmatic' mode and, intrinsically linked to that, its dependence on an Iran and Syria for which, were it bereft of its weapons, it would have lost almost all its utility."

In general, Hirst's multi-dimensional account of Hezbollah and Lebanon compares favorably with Smith's crude and simplistic characterizations (themselves very much of a piece with simplifications and mistakes concerning other Arab countries). For example, Hirst recognizes that Hezbollah "had two progenitors. If Iran was one -- with Syria, so to speak, as midwife -- Israel was unquestionably the other." Yet Smith, who dismisses the claim that Hezbollah was in any way an indigenous response to Israel's invasion of Lebanon, reduces it merely to "a collaborative venture between Iran and Syria."

Smith also gets Israel's 1982 invasion of Lebanon wrong, claiming that it came in response to cross-border attacks by the Palestine Liberation Organization, which Israel decided to dislodge from Lebanon. Hirst reminds readers that the PLO had observed a U.S.-brokered ceasefire with Israel for several months before the invasion. Indeed, Israel decided that the ceasefire was counterproductive, not only because it implied recognition of the PLO, but because it prevented it from striking the organization as it rearmed. Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin cynically seized upon the attempted assassination of Israel's ambassador in London by the anti-PLO Abu Nidal Organization as justification for its invasion of Lebanon. Begin and his minister of defense Ariel Sharon wanted to install a friendly regime in Lebanon -- the old Israeli dream -- with Bashir Gemayel as president, after which they could turn their attention to pacifying the Palestinian Occupied Territories.

But while Hirst sometimes serves as a corrective to Smith, he has his own faults, even in his analysis of Hezbollah. Perhaps the most significant problem with Hirst's book is that in several instances when he tries to appear nuanced, he is actually doing his best to have something both ways. For example, Hirst concedes that Israel didn't provoke the 2006 war with Hezbollah, then promptly turns around and claims that Hezbollah's infiltration of Israel and abduction of Israeli soldiers "was not entirely unprovoked." (In fact, it was.) It is also somewhat misleading to state that Hezbollah's "targets were military only" in that operation, for even though the main attack targeted an Israeli military patrol, it was accompanied by diversionary mortar fire on civilian settlements in northern Israel. As for Lebanese reactions to the war, Hirst observes: "Nor was it any secret that much of Lebanese public opinion was almost as outraged, from its perspective, as the Israelis were from theirs." Shortly thereafter, however, the author reproduces the results of a notoriously unreliable poll by a Lebanese institute in which loaded questions were posed to a cross-section of Lebanese in a successful attempt to elicit answers that could be portrayed as supportive of Hezbollah.

On two occasions, Hirst observes that Hezbollah is ironically more popular abroad than in its own country. Instead of proceeding to point out that this is often the case with despots and radical movements, he disingenuously ascribes the phenomenon to "political and sectarian animosities" on the part of the Lebanese, as though it were irrational hatreds that prevent them from uniting around a theocratic militant group beholden to two foreign powers. (Interestingly, Smith's explanation of Hezbollah's popularity in the Arab world suffers from a lacuna of a different sort. For Smith, the phenomenon has nothing to do with resentment at Israel's treatment of the Palestinians or the Lebanese, but stems, once again, from Arabs' inveterate predilection for the strong horse. He doesn't even contemplate the possibility that the reason many Arab leftists and liberals support Islamic militant groups such as Hezbollah and Hamas is because anger at Israel has served to elevate any form of "resistance" to the level of something sacrosanct.)

Finally, Hirst's pretending that it is difficult to determine the winner of the 2008-2009 war between Israel and Hamas is both obtuse and callous. The author might be forgiven his starry-eyed view of Hezbollah's performance in the 2006 war, as even Israeli military analysts rated it impressive. But Hamas managed no such feat in its confrontation with the Israeli army. Whereas Hezbollah's battlefield successes overshadowed the terrible suffering of Lebanese civilians -- Shiites most of all -- Israel's rout of Hamas threw the plight of ordinary Gazans into stark relief. To claim, as Hirst does, that it remains unclear who won because Israel didn't achieve all its objectives is to obscure the salient fact that the Palestinian civilians of Gaza lost, and that they continue to suffer terribly as a result of the Israeli-Egyptian embargo.

Journalists who write books about political hot spots tend to sensationalize, so it's no surprise that both Hirst and Smith conclude with a hyperbolic flourish. Hirst warns that if another war flares up between Israel and Hezbollah, "other members of the Islamo-nationalist camp might join in: Hamas; Syria; and even, most formidably, the rising regional hegemon and Israeli-American bête noire, the ayatollahs' Iran. Together, they would wage a Hizbollah-style 'missile war' writ large."

In fact, there is nothing to suggest that a future Israel-Hezbollah war would draw in Hezbollah's backers. As Hirst mentions, Hezbollah did not attack Israel during the latter's 2008-2009 assault on Gaza, and it is difficult to imagine Hamas taking upon itself the task of opening up a front in Gaza if Israel and Hezbollah go to war. For its part, Syria almost never engages in direct confrontation with Israel; its decades-old tried and true method is to prosecute war by proxy. And Iran, for all its president's rants, knows full well how unpopular and controversial its uranium-enrichment project is with the international community, and that direct involvement in a Hezbollah military campaign -- offensive or defensive -- would furnish Israel and the U.S. with an excuse to strike Iran itself and possibly stymie its entire nuclear program.

But Smith outdoes Hirst in his apocalypticizing, by contemplating the possibility that Arabs may unite and direct their animosity to the U.S. Worse, he seems to acquiesce in the idea that, if this happens, "the Arabs" should be punished collectively for any major terrorist attack carried out by any of their number against the US in the future: "Another 9/11, or even a series of attacks, would not represent an existential threat to the United States, even if weapons of mass destruction were employed. But American retaliation against such attacks could very well constitute an existential danger to the Arabs." Perhaps this is the inevitable result of a view that Arabs, for all their differences, are essentially the same -- at least insofar as their penchant for the strong horse is concerned.

--Rayyan Al-Shawaf

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780767921800
  • Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 1/11/2011
  • Pages: 256
  • Sales rank: 705,180
  • Product dimensions: 5.23 (w) x 7.99 (h) x 0.53 (d)

Meet the Author

Lee Smith (2)

Lee Smith is a Senior Editor at The Weekly Standard. He has written for Slate, The New York Times, The Boston Globe, The New Republic, and major Arab media outlets. He is also a visiting fellow of the Hudson Institute. A native of New York, he lives currently resides in Washington, D.C.

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Read an Excerpt

INTRODUCTION: The Clash of Arab Civilizations

It was hard not to take 9/11 personally. I was raised in New York City, so when those planes flew into the World Trade Center, it felt like a direct attack on my family and friends and myself, on the neighborhoods where I’d gone to school, played, and worked, and on the Brooklyn block where I was living that beautiful summer day when the sky darkened with the ashes of other New Yorkers. It occurred to me more than once during the time I spent living and traveling in the Middle East after 9/11 that had I lived most of my life in some other American city or village, had New York not been my hometown, I might not have moved to the region some few months after to try to figure out what had happened. This book is an account of my time in the Middle East since then, and my understanding of it. My conclusion, without racing too far ahead, is that we all took 9/11 too personally.

The spectacular nature of the event was cause enough to see it as a declaration of war on America, so it is hardly surprising that Amer­icans across the political spectrum came to think of it in the context of a “clash of civilizations.” Even those on the left who disdained the phrase nonetheless employed a version of the conceit when explain­ing that the death and destruction were by-products of the legiti­mate grievances that Arabs had with the United States, which was finally just a way of delivering a verdict for the other side in the same civilizational war.

I see it a little differently. I believe that 9/11 was evidence of a clash all right, but the clash that led to 9/11 was less the conflict between the West and Islam than the conflict between the Arabs themselves. In that sense, strange as it sounds, the attacks on New York and Washington were not really about us.

To be sure, a significant part of the Middle East, including Osama bin Laden, is at war expressly with the United States. And there are genuine points of conflict between the lands of Islam and the West, including a religious rivalry that dates back to the appear­ance of the Quran and myriad regional confrontations to which the United States’ strategic interests make us party. But these conflicts are just part of a system of wars that involves the entire Middle East. We are now incontrovertibly a part of these wars, but their causes and sources are to be found in the region itself, and not at the lower end of Manhattan, or even in the halls of the Pentagon. September 11 is the day we woke up to find ourselves in the middle of a clash of Arab civilizations, a war that used American cities as yet another venue for Arabs to fight each other.


If that assertion sounds implausible, it’s because Americans are accustomed to thinking of themselves, in one way or another, as the source of the tumult in the Middle East. And that feeling was magnified after 9/11, when the continued eruptions of violence in the region made it hard for observers, from ordinary Americans to inter­national affairs specialists, not to assume that the Bush administra­tion was mostly, if not wholly, responsible for what was happening. But the problems of the region will not fade now that Barack Obama is in the White House, because they did not start when George W. Bush arrived there. Consider just a few of the clashes that preceded Bush’s tenure: the intrastate Arab crises like Saddam Hussein’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait and Syria’s occupation of Lebanon (1990–2005); the civil wars that wracked North Yemen (1962–1970) and Lebanon (1975–1990); wars between the state and non-state actors, like the Islamist insurgencies that ravaged Algeria (1991–2002), Egypt (1981–1997), and Syria (1979–1982), and the Palestine Liberation Orga­nization’s revolt against the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan (1968–1971); the genocidal bouts of ethnic and sectarian cleansing, like Saddam’s campaigns against the Kurds and Shia, Hafez al­Assad’s mass slaughter of Sunnis in Hama in 1982, and the Sudanese government’s campaigns against Christians and animists in the south (1981–2004) and now against non-Arab Muslims in Darfur. In all of these, the United States played, at most, a secondary role, and was often little more than a bystander.

Nor is this a new phenomenon. It’s true, of course, that outside actors—including the United States and the Soviet Union and, before them, the European colonial powers—have helped shape the history of the Middle East. But ultimately their actions and policies have been less important than we imagine. If we think differently—if we think that we are to blame for what is wrong with the Middle East— it’s because of two things: our own narcissism and the tendency of Arab nationalists to blame outside forces for the problems of their region. For decades now, the United States has been a convenient foil for those who believe that only the machinations of an evil outsider could keep the Arabs from becoming a formidable political, eco­nomic, and military bloc, just as we have become a convenient foil for Islamists seeking to explain why the Muslim world has fallen so far behind the West. But in both cases, focusing on the United States is a way of overlooking what’s really happening. In this book, I shift that focus back to where it belongs: on the conflicts and divisions within the Middle East itself.

There are some, of course, who deny that these conflicts among Arabs and Muslims matter. For most of the past century, in fact, the mainstream American interpretation of the Middle East has seen it as a monolithic body, made up of people of similar backgrounds and similar opinions. (This misconception is frequently vented through the tidy journalistic cliché known as “the Arab street,” which pre­sumes that, say, a Lebanese Christian and an Iraqi Shia necessarily hold the same point of view as an Egyptian Sunni.) More important, this is how Arab nationalists also see the world. Arab nationalism is a political and cultural doctrine holding that the Arabs, by virtue of a shared language, constitute a separate and single people. It is a tribal pact raised to the supranational level: in projecting unity, it seeks to obscure local enmities and keep Arabs from making war against each other. Arab nationalists have hoped to coalesce the energies of dis­parate factions and concentrate their hostilities onto a common, dis­tant enemy.

It is somewhat paradoxical that even while Arab nationalism, and then Islamism, has taken the United States to be its main foil for over half a century, all during that time the mainstream American interpretation of the Arabic-speaking Middle East has been Arab nationalist, from the American missionaries who first ventured into the Holy Land to the oil companies and the State Department, from the academy to editorial boardrooms and foreign bureaus. The United States has paid a steep price for misconstruing the region like this, but at one time our face-value acceptance of Arab nationalism had at least the advantage of being in line with American interests.

Arab nationalism is a Sunni Arab viewpoint. The doctrine’s foundations are in a language considered holy by most Middle East­erners, and a history that holds the Prophet of Islam to be the great­est of all Arab heroes, and thus it is a sop to the status quo power of the Arabic-speaking Middle East that has ruled the region for more than a millennium, the Sunnis. Since the mid-1930s, the United States’ most vital interest in the Middle East has been energy, and as the world’s largest known reserves of oil are in Saudi Arabia, Wash­ington has been guided by its need to accommodate a Sunni regime whose influence is proportionate to its wealth. America’s Sunni­centrism has also been shaped by cultural and historical factors, but it is mostly the political and economic rationale that has given us our view of the region, a fact that allows us to derive a general principle: the Great Powers’ view of the Middle East is shaped by their own interests.

Even before the discovery of oil, for instance, the British looked at the region much the same way as we have, as a Sunni fiefdom. With the British Empire comprising enormous numbers of Sunnis from Egypt and Palestine to Iraq and the Persian Gulf all the way to the crown’s prize holding in India, London tinkered little after World War I with the skeletal remains of the Ottoman Empire’s administra­tive structure. The Ottomans’ Sunni Arab deputies were left in charge to protect and advance British interests, even in Iraq, where the Sunnis were, and are, clearly a minority. The French, however, saw the Middle East differently, partly because they were in competition with the British, and also because their Middle Eastern holdings included significant minority populations in conflict with the Sun­nis, like the Maronites in Lebanon, the Alawis in Syria, and the Berbers in Algeria, communities that the French used to serve their own interests.

In the wake of 9/11, Washington found that the Middle East looked more like the way the French had conceived of it than how the British had ruled it. The U.S.-led invasion of Iraq changed the balance of power by pushing aside a Sunni strongman and empower­ing a national majority, the Shia, which, since they are also a regional minority, altered the nature of U.S. strategy. As descriptions of the Middle East go hand in hand with national interests, we need a way to understand the region in line with the reality now exposed, and this book proposes one. The Arabic-speaking Middle East is not a sea of some 300 million Arabs who all have common interests but a region with a 70 percent Sunni population and dozens of minorities. The size of the Sunni majority, and its concomitant power and pres­tige, have allowed it to rule by violence, repression, and coercion for close to fourteen hundred years. The Sunnis have been a bloc of force that has never known accommodation or compromise, but has rather compelled everyone else to submit to its worldview.

This does not mean that the Sunnis’ reliance on violence to maintain their rule is the “root cause” of the problems in the Middle East. Rather, it is just the central motif in a pattern that existed before Islam and is imprinted on all of the region’s social and politi­cal relations—whether the state is facing down insurgents, or nation­alists are fighting Islamists, or one tribe is squared off against another, or two minorities are at war with each other. The order of the region is the natural order of things that the fourteenth-century Arab historian Ibn Khaldun describes in his masterpiece Al-Muqaddima: history is a matter of one tribe, nation, or civilization dominating the others by force until it, too, is overthrown by force. And it is this, what I call the strong horse principle—not Western imperialism, nor Zionism, nor Washington policy makers—that has determined the fundamental character of the Arabic-speaking Mid­dle East, where bin Ladenism is not drawn from the extremist fringe but represents the political and social norm.

The war that Arabs are waging against the United States, some in deed as well as in word, is merely a massive projection of the same pattern of force, with a tribe bound as one to defend against and defeat the outsider. The Arabs hate us not because of what we do or who we are but because of what and who we are not: Arabs. But because of the size and heterogeneity of this putative Arab nation, that compact is not sustainable on so large a scale, civilization versus civilization. The wars waged between Arabs according to the strong horse principle make the Arabic-speaking peoples of the Middle East a much graver threat to themselves than they are to anyone else.


The Strong Horse: Power, Politics, and the Clash of Arab Civilizations is broken into three parts. The first part details the complex of issues—from tribalism to Arab nationalism, and from Islam to Islamism—spanning Arab history from before the advent of Islam through the nineteenth-century Muslim reform movement that have shaped the contemporary Middle East. And it is these issues taken as a whole that led to 9/11. The second part describes how the Bush White House responded to the attacks according to what it perceived to be the problems of the Middle East, and how the region in turn reacted to the Americans. At the core of the Bush administration’s post-9/11 strategy was democratization, and thus the final third of the book looks at the challenge of making democracy work in a region that has little experience with it.

The first chapter deals with the tribal character of Arab societies, including jihad and its most famous contemporary practitioner, Osama bin Laden. The next two chapters take up Arab nationalism by sketching its history, introducing some of its most prominent ide­ologues, and describing the political, social, and cultural purposes to which it’s been put. While those chapters deal explicitly with Arab-ism, this is a subject that runs throughout the book since I under­stand it to be the region’s defining issue. In fact, I take Islam, at least in its initial thrust, to be little more than a variety—indeed the first manifestation—of Arab nationalism. Over time, as it extended throughout the Fertile Crescent, Persia, and North Africa, Islam clearly became something else and something more than just a pan-Arab ideology, but before anyone imagined the revelation embedded in the Arabic Quran could spread to faraway Spain or the Asian sub­continent, the “universality” of this religious and political doctrine applied to the various Arabian tribes to be unified under the rule of an Arabian leader, the Prophet of Islam. And for the conquered non-Arabs who converted to the new faith, as one scholar of the period explained, “membership of Islam was equated with possession of an Arab ethnic identity.”1 The early umma—or Muslim community—was an Arab super-tribe held together not by blood and kinship but by a religious idea that motivated and rationalized the Arab conquests by distinguishing between the tribe and all comers—Muslims versus infidels, dar al-Islam versus dar al-harb, or the abode of Islam versus that which is not under Islam, the abode of war.

Dar al-Islam
’s first modern encounter with dar al-harb was Napoleon’s 1798 invasion of Egypt. The fourth and fifth chapters describe the intellectual and cultural ferment that came in the after­math of this collision between the West and the Arab world, looking specifically at the rise of the Muslim reform movement. In the nine­teenth and early twentieth centuries, Muslim intellectuals and activists took the West as their yardstick to measure how far the umma had fallen, and contended that the failure was due to the con­dition of Islam itself. They argued that the Islamic faith had been corrupted by centuries of fake customs and practices, leaving dar al-Islam so brittle that the infidels had overrun it effortlessly. The Salafist movement, as this reform current is called, is the precursor of what we know today as political Islam or, more frequently, Islamism.

It is a common misconception that Islamism is a deviant, radical ideology bearing little resemblance to the “real” or “traditional” Islam. I argue instead that Islamism represents the modern, progres­sive, and rationalist effort of Muslims to come to terms with the forces of modernity heralded by Napoleon’s arrival. The terror and violence that mark what we’ve come to call Islamic radicalism are the products of the mixture of Salafism with traditional Arab politics, which has no mechanism for peaceful transitions of authority or power sharing, and therefore sees political conflict as a fight to the death between strong horses. Far from being deviant, the Islamists’ reliance on violence is all too characteristic, not of Islam, but of the region. Consider the struggles we see played out today across the Middle East, with insurgents and oppositionists waging terror cam­paigns to win power, while the regimes use torture and collective punishment to defeat their domestic competition. Aside from the venue, September 11 was just the business of Arab politics as usual.

The second part begins by connecting the problem of Arab poli­tics to the Bush administration’s response to 9/11. When the Ameri­cans turned to the region and touched down in force, they found that the problem wasn’t just bin Laden but bin Ladenism. The issue wasn’t a shadowy network of rogue terrorists, or Arab regimes that jailed, tortured, and murdered their own people, but a political cul­ture where insurgent terror and state repression were two sides of the same bloody coin. Indeed, as the Americans discovered, the most pressing strategic concern was less Al Qaeda than the collaboration between states and so-called stateless terrorist outfits. In particular, it became clear that the biggest threat to stability in the region was not bin Laden. It was instead a confederation led not by a Sunni Arab regime but by a Shia Persian power, Iran, alongside Syria, Hezbollah, Hamas, and various Iraqi groups. This confederation, which I call the resistance bloc, fought the United States and its allies on several fronts—Iraq, the Persian Gulf, the Palestinian territories and Israel, and Lebanon. At this point, the Middle East cold war, as it has come to be called, becomes a significant theme in the book, as Iran and the resistance bloc compete with the United States and its allies to impose regional order as the strong horse.

In the sixth and seventh chapters, I discuss the White House’s program to change the nature of the Middle East, a program built around the top-down imposition of democracy or, more specifically, free elections. The Americans believed that giving Arabs a say in gov­erning their own political, economic, and social lives was an antidote to bin Ladenism and the strong horse. What they discovered was that, as one Arab commentator noted, the problem with Arab democracy was not a lack of supply but a lack of demand. In failing to grasp that Arab political pathologies were organic—that is, the absence of democracy in the region is the result of Arab societies’ conception of what politics requires—the White House’s democracy promotion left the Americans pushing a set of ideas and values that most Arabs had no interest in. The trappings of democracy do not create democratic polities; free societies need to be built by men and women with a stake in their own futures. And so, in the eighth chap­ter, I look at the only indigenous cultural and intellectual idea in the Middle East that is capable of producing such people, namely, Arab liberalism. After 9/11, one major question in the Middle East was to what extent the American intervention in the region would empower the Arab liberals, or expose them to more danger.

In the final part of the book, I look more closely at the problem of democracy in the Middle East. My case study in the ninth chapter deals with Lebanon, the one Arab society where many of the ingredi­ents for a democratic polity already existed. In 2005, Lebanon was the site of a remarkable, and in many ways unprecedented, upsurge of democratic sentiment, as Lebanese citizens of different faiths joined together in what became known as the March 14 movement. They mounted massive public demonstrations in favor of real democracy and brought about, for a time, what was labeled the Cedar Revolu­tion. Yet even as it gave birth to this hopeful development, Lebanon was also home to one of the purest specimens of violence and strong horse tactics in the region, the Shia group Hezbollah, which was sup­ported by Syria and Iran. The clash between the March 14 movement and the Hezbollah/Syria alliance offers an object lesson in the obsta­cles to making the Middle East democratic.

In chapter 10, I deal more directly with Syria, and show how suc­cessful it has been in its efforts to prove that democracy cannot work in Lebanon and that there is no serious alternative to strong horse politics. I argue that the only way to have stopped the Syrians from stamping out real democracy was for the United States to have played the role of strong horse itself. Once it refused to do so in Lebanon, the Cedar Revolution was doomed. Paradoxically, violence may be the only way to ensure that nonviolent politics can thrive in the region. Along those lines, I argue in the final chapter that Israel’s two most recent wars—those with Hezbollah and Hamas—must be seen outside of the narrow focus of the Arab-Israeli arena and in the context of the power politics of the region. In effect, I suggest, Israel has been a proxy strong horse not just for the United States but also for Sunni Arab regimes like Egypt and Saudi Arabia.

The conclusion considers what may be in store for the Arabs and what is the way forward for the United States in the region. The Arabs are weak, and this frailty in turn reflects on their patron, the United States. Since the political nature of the region abhors a vac­uum, I describe how Arab weakness may affect American regional interests, and how it has invited in other actors, like Iran, and may invite in more, like the Turks. If we lack resolve, others will force their own order on the region, an order in which American interests, and Arab ambitions, will matter little. One way or another, I argue, this is a future that should be avoided, for it would be disastrous, not for the United States so much as for the Arabs themselves.


This is a book about Arab politics, society, and culture, which is to say this is a book about some Arab ideas and the force they have on how people live from day to day in the region. I have tried to discuss those ideas as dispassionately as possible, although I recognize that the main thesis—that violence is central to the poli­tics, society, and culture of the Arabic-speaking Middle East—is likely to cause unease. Nonetheless, the idea that people naturally prefer the strong horse to the weak one in this part of the world seems to me unassailable; it is impossible to understand the region without recognizing the significance of violence, coercion, and repression. That doesn’t mean that I think the Arabs only understand force—a charge frequently leveled by many critics against, for instance, the Bush administration. It just means, I think, that force is at the core of the way most Arabs understand politics, and that therefore there is no way to understand how the Middle East works without under­standing the concept of the strong horse. It is not a moral judgment but a description.

This is, to be sure, not a concept that comes naturally to Ameri­cans, because we are among the very few people in history who have been able to live our daily lives free, relatively speaking, from violence and the fear of violence. The various protections and liberties afforded us in our society have their roots in man’s fear of violent death,2 but we have come so far from that point that it is difficult for us to see that our form of political organization makes us not the norm but a privileged exception, the beneficiaries of a historical anomaly. We are so predisposed to ignore our freakish luck, as well as the blood spilled by our ancestors, that we imagine all men must have inherited essentially the same world that we have and are thus moti­vated by the same hopes and fears and ideas. In short, they are not.

Indirectly, then, this book is also about American ideas, or some American ideas, especially those about the best form of government and the possibility and desirability of bringing our political ideas and practices to societies and cultures that are vastly different from our own. It is also a book about my ideas and how they changed over time, what I had invested in certain ideas, and certain people, and why I was compelled to modify some and abandon others outright.

A few words about the style of this book are also in order. Like the Arabic-speaking Middle East, it is a heterogeneous affair, a book combining travelogue and policy, memoir and history, literature and revealed religion in an effort to give as full and dense a picture of a complex part of the world as possible in a tight space. I have limited the scope of this book by excluding the Maghreb (Mauritania, Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia), as well as other African states (Libya, Sudan, and Somalia), to focus on the Mashreq, a region stretching from the eastern Mediterranean states—Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, Jor­dan, the Palestinian territories, and Israel—to the shores of the Per­sian Gulf. Several chapters are set in Egypt, the largest Arab state and the cultural and intellectual capital of the region where every major political and cultural trend of the last century has either its origins or its golden age, from Nasserism to the Islamist movement to Arab liberalism. Other chapters move on to the Arab Gulf states, and the Levant, especially Syria and Lebanon. This last I take to be the most beautiful country in the Arabic-speaking Middle East, as well as the most open and tolerant, most hopeful and tragic. Beirut, in contrast to Cairo (a Sunni-dominated society that offers mostly one perspec­tive on the region), is a perfect crow’s nest from which to watch the Middle East as the rest of the world comes into contact with it, a geo­graphical, strategic, and historical vantage point. Almost every state in the region has a stake in Lebanon, from Shiite Iran to Sunni pow­ers like Saudi Arabia, as do international actors like France and the United States, which for better or worse now represents the legacy of Western Christendom and its sustained interest in the Holy Land. Over the last millennium and a half, every imaginable crisis and con­flict—sectarian, ideological, political, and civilizational—has had its day in Lebanon, most recently during the country’s fifteen-year-long civil wars, which in summoning the region’s historical furies also presaged everything we are now seeing in the Middle East.

I recognize that from an American perspective, the most promi­nent Arab state at present is still Iraq, and while this book discusses some of the ways in which the war and its aftermath reverberated throughout the Middle East, Iraq in this telling is something like the ghost of Hamlet’s father. It is a significant presence that set certain events in motion, and motivates the behavior of significant players, but it is almost entirely offstage. So much of our attention and energy is consumed right now with Iraq that the sharp focus has dulled our ability to take in the Middle East as a whole; likewise, our knowledge of Iraq is incomplete without seeing it in the context of the rest of the region.

That other well-known center of conflict, Israel, I reach at the very end, for reasons that I hope will become increasingly clear. Unlike many in both the Middle East and the West, I give no credence to the idea that the Arab-Israeli crisis is the region’s central issue. That a broad consensus of prominent policy makers, academics, ana­lysts, and journalists so relentlessly advertise this conviction does not mean that they are correct, only that their obstinacy retards our understanding of the region, where the Arab-Israeli arena is merely one among many conflicts featuring the same problems that plague the entire Middle East. Regardless of what else one can say about America’s post-9/11 policy, the one undeniable success of the Bush White House was to return the problems of the Middle East to the region itself, and it is there rather than in the southern end of Man­hattan that the clash of Arab civilizations will be solved or managed or settled, in one way or another.

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments xi

Introduction: The Clash of Arab Civilization 1

Part I

Chapter 1 The Strong Horse: Tribes 17

Chapter 2 "An Arab Regardless of His Own Wishes": The Idols of Arab Nationalism 28

Chapter 3 "No Voice Louder Than the Cry of Battle": Arab Nationalism and Anti-Americanism 44

Chapter 4 The Muslim Reformation 63

Chapter 5 "The Regime Made Us Violent": The Islamists' War Against the Muslims 82

Part II

Chapter 6 Bin Laden, the Father of Arab Democracy 103

Chapter 7 The Schizophrenic Gulf 121

Chapter 8 The Battle of Ideas: The Conqueror of Darkness and the Arab Voltaires 141

Part III

Chapter 9 "Your Children or Your Guns": The Cedar Revolution and the Fight for the Future of Lebanon 161

Chapter 10 The Capital of Arab Resistance: Damascus's Regime of Terror 183

Chapter 11 Middle East Cold War and the Israeli Strong Horse 201

Conclusion 217

Notes 225

Index 231

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 7, 2010

    Finally someone who can partially explain why the Middle East nations act the way they do.

    Outstanding premise.Should be mandatory reading for the US State Dept leadership and especially the President. Logically thought out and well presented.
    Should be read prior to any discussion about the Middle East.

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