Social Metamorphosis in the Cradle of Civilization
Rime Allaf, November 2008
Damascus' new taste for luxury has created a growing gap between the rich – who ostentatiously display their wealth – and the poor who are growing increasingly alienated.
Religious and social norms in the Arab world have never attached a stigma to wealth, and Islam’s holy book, the Qur’an, even states that riches and children – in that order – are the ornaments of life. Throughout the centuries, spirituality and affluence have thus been perfectly compatible concepts in the region, alongside compassion (spontaneous or contrived) to ensure that the least privileged were not forgotten.
The phenomenal recent historical TV serials have repeatedly emphasised this issue, amongst others, stressing the charitable contributions offered by the richest to the poorest and the concern that financial inequities should not be allowed to create unanswered needs, and ultimately resentment. Whether they faithfully reflect a bygone society or are mostly the wishful thinking of its descendants, a longing for values of the past is reflected through the portrayals of Chami societies in successful television dramas. All over the Arab world, people say they yearn for the good old days when social cohesion was strong, when a neighbourhood was akin to an extended family, and when the concept of a council of elders as de facto leaders of the immediate locality was the only option desired, or even imagined.
Relative to occidental societies, there is no question that the social network remains a fundamental tenet of Arab life, but the current longing for traditional values points to the drastic change that has occurred over time, and to the recognition that social empathy has all but evaporated. Everywhere, societies have metamorphosed into the proverbial rat race as people struggle with the financial and social cost of living. Many of the factors on which the loss of social cohesion can be blamed, however, have nothing to do with the necessary evils of modern life. In Syria, the metamorphosis seems to have surpassed the economically expected, and the morally accepted.
It is understandable that a society so starved of consumerism should dabble in its excesses, unleashing wallets and loosening belts with unsurpassed enthusiasm. In such fertile virgin grounds, producers of self-styled luxury products and services were bound to find their lucrative niche, opposite that of cheap productions for the masses. But where other developing markets, by default, end up with a much larger ratio of lower end products, the Syrian capital witnessed an explosion of boutiques whose window displays lured clients with astronomically-priced garments, and whose seductive billboard advertisements adorned the streets. In spite of the segment’s immaturity and the absence of proper market research, the proliferation of these shops shows a basic understanding of local attitudes and an accurate projection about demand for luxury items.
But this new concept of luxury, in itself, has deviated from the classical understanding as personified in numerous serials and claimed as an inspiration for a better life. Whereas wealth was used for personal comfort and contentment mostly away from prying eyes, current behaviour has replaced the privacy and exclusivity attributes with ostentatious displays and arrogant attitudes. Indeed, as seen in Damascus, luxury has become a matter of expense rather than quality, of brand name rather than pleasure, and of cost rather than value. To qualify, it must be put on show to be seen by others, rather than be privately enjoyed (it is not rare, in fact, for extravagant public displays of wealth to turn into controlled spending behind closed doors).
There are other dimensions to this new Chami cult of luxury and of public extravagance: there is competition on every level and a race to outspend others, in what becomes an obscene contest to determine the biggest spender, taking the “keeping up with the neighbour” notion to new frontiers. Weddings, for example, have become a perfect litmus test, with every self-respecting nouveau riche now stretching the festivities until breakfast is served, and coming up with yet more “best” caterers, decorators or planners, just as they must always have “the best” in every other field, a best that changes regularly. Of course, the more these cost, the better it is.
These factors have all contributed to the gaping hole distancing the rich from the poor, who feel increasingly alienated. Unlike the council of elders last seen on television caring for the good of society, most people who should be community leaders today seem oblivious to the relative suffering of less fortunate peers, and to the psychological burdens being heaped on them. This can be said about other societies, to some extent, but the situation seems more extreme in a society claiming to be compassionate and cohesive.
Sadly, very wealthy Damascenes (like very wealthy people throughout the country) have begun to suffer delusions of grandeur and to consider most people surrounding them as subordinates at best. Domestic help is referred to, and treated, in the most derogatory manner (with conversations including odious phrases like “my Philippina” or “my Ethiopian,” and women of other nationalities forced to work in such humiliating circumstances), as are most blue collar workers and labourers. What could have been mere extravagance has turned into vulgar exhibitionism, with obscene amounts of money wasted and flaunted in the face of people who cannot make ends meet, with a nonchalance that would shock the most hardened of us.
It seems surreal to speak of luxury (or, in this case, decadence) while a global recession is forecast; however, there is a consensus in Damascus that Syria has been unaffected by the catastrophic downfall of financial markets, and that Syria has a “real” economy. This dangerous estimation is misleading, and it only emphasises the fact that the economy, indeed, is still in its infancy and unsuited for the era of globalisation. This, consequently, merely confirms that the country will of course be affected by the recession, and boasting otherwise is a manifestation of ignorance – as is the obnoxious approach to wealth.
Such pretentious behaviour is certainly not limited to Damascus, to Syria or to Arabs; it has become a scourge the world over. However, it is more shocking to find it spreading in a place which still brags about its convivial society structure, its history of noble values and its respect of religion. The more such behaviour becomes the norm for people who should be the bearers of society’s ethical code, the more it becomes difficult to associate such characteristics with the cradle of civilisation.
Rime Allaf is an Associate Fellow at Chatham House.
