Product Description

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #139032 in Books
• Published on: 2006-04-18
• Released on: 2006-04-18
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 352 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Trofimov covers Islamic culture for the Wall Street Journal, a wide beat that has him reporting stories from West Africa to Central Asia and even in Eastern Europe. This political travelogue includes dispatches from the front lines of the American invasion of Iraq and the subsequent attempts at creating a democratic regime. There are plenty of by now familiar stories of American troops and politicians bumbling through an increasingly resentful Iraqi society (including the deaths of an Italian diplomat and legitimate Iraqi politician at the hands of U.S. troops). But Trofimov gets fresh material on Saudi Arabia, where, despite severe economic downturns, men continue to hire thousands of foreign workers because they refuse to trust fellow "sex-obsessed" Saudis to chauffeur their wives who are forbidden from driving. By contrast, in the African nation of Mali, Islam exists comfortably alongside indigenous religions, resulting in a healthy democratic environment. If there isn't much of a theme to all this globe hopping beyond showing that Islam is a lot more diverse than most Americans realize, Trofimov puts just the right blend of cultural perspective and personal experience into his tour.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
America's struggles against militant Islam and Iraqi nationalism since Sept. 11 have been overburdened by theory and interpretation and undernourished by reliable facts. Seeking to assess several interlocking wars, U.S. intelligence analysts continue to offer tentative and sometimes wildly varying estimates about such basic questions as who is the enemy, how many of them are afoot and why some commit suicide in battle. In the political sphere, policy debate in Washington is rich with abstract argument about democratic reform in the Arab world but often barren of detail about prospective candidates, their ideologies, their sources of funding and other messy particulars.

Yaroslav Trofimov's political travelogue, Faith at War, is an illuminating arrival in this season of fog. The book is essentially a series of independent-minded letters from the frontlines of the Middle East's shooting wars, as well as its wars over ideas. Trofimov is an intrepid, Arabic-speaking traveler who moves in landscapes few other Westerners traverse. As a roving foreign correspondent for the Wall Street Journal, he has often produced newspaper stories rich in detail and nuance, and he has established himself as one of the best in the business. Now he has taken his sweat-stained notebooks and pulled together what he describes as "a personal account of what's happening on the ground" in the Islamic world. His dispatches from a zigzagging three-year tour after Sept. 2001, across nearly a dozen countries, describe "some bright spots . . . some reasons not to lose hope," as he puts it, but also "numerous signs that the battle isn't going as planned" for the United States.

At his best, Trofimov is a master of microcosm. He is drawn to graffiti and found objects, signifiers of time and place, as in the tattered documents he discovered in the rubble of Uday Hussein's former Baghdad playpen, the Iraqi Yacht Club. One circular issued by Saddam Hussein himself banned the placement of "any nylon tablecloths on the tables in the palaces, unless specifically ordered otherwise." Trofimov observes dryly: "Like most files in the shed, it was marked 'top secret.' A regime's paranoia can be measured by what it chooses to classify." His voice is arch and skeptical -- an itinerant Dashiell Hammett of the Middle East -- and some of his darker analyses, written last year, today feel a bit dated or overly pessimistic. He describes "many Iraqis," for example, as "growing nostalgic for Saddam Hussein's sadistic dictatorship," and he labels Afghanistan "a war zone, with the Taliban once again controlling large parts of the country" -- assessments that seem to run ahead of the evidence, or at least choose to emphasize a glass half-empty. Yet the region he knows so well has long rewarded doubters, and its latest turmoil -- far from finished -- may ultimately confirm his instincts.

Somewhat more frustrating for a book that describes itself as being about "faith," he presents little empathetic reporting about ordinary Muslim religiosity and its connection to politics and violence. Trofimov offers few accounts of individual faith, daily ritual, symbolic rites or the complex ways in which some preachers and militants have converted -- or perverted -- an enduring and diverse religion into an ideology of suicidal attack. Instead, Muslim belief often appears here as an oppressive, irrational and abstract force, not as intimate personal experience or a basis for the sort of subtle politics practiced by the dominant Iraqi Shiite cleric, Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, or the notionally peaceful wings of the Sunni Muslim Brotherhood.

Still, this distance from the lived experience of Islam does not matter much from page to page. Trofimov is an entertaining, serious, surprising reporter; it is a pleasure to go with him. In Yemen shortly after the Sept. 11 attacks, he searches audaciously for genuine jihadists, attracting angry mobs and secret police in equal measure. After the Treasury Department in Washington designates a honey shop in central Sanaa as part of Osama bin Laden's supposed global business empire, Trofimov rushes over for "a spoonful of jihadi honey . . . with a slight whiff of ginger." As he listens to the shopkeeper rant against the United States, he notices that the store has blotted out all the faces on its cosmetics boxes, in keeping with an austere interpretation of Islam.

In one of the book's most original chapters, titled "Teaching Freud to the Mullahs," Trofimov illustrates Tunisia's struggle between top-down secularism and bottom-up Islamic activism by exploring the manipulated history of Zeitouna, a famed citadel of Islamic scholarship lately used by the country's authoritarian government to promote peaceful, compliant religious thought. He presents an unusual, sophisticated study of how state-managed Islam, constructed in a relatively progressive alliance with the West, can struggle for convincing success.

At the center of Trofimov's book -- literally and thematically -- are four chapters that describe his travels in wartime Iraq, where he entered as a risk-taking "unilateral," as those journalists who did not accept Pentagon embedding were called. He snuck across the border from Kuwait when the invasion began, dodged death for several weeks and returned at intervals as the war's initial images of toppled statues yielded to bloody insurgency and political frustration.

He tours a haunted landscape, often angry and despairing. Again and again he records the voices of Iraqis who feel betrayed by the United States. "Even if you turn this country into heaven, we don't want it from you," declares a tribal chief whom Trofimov quotes with emphasis. "We've had enough of you and can't stand it no more." Trofimov finds it "disheartening to see how America was reduced . . . to a confused caricature of a soul-less vampire state. But I could see why such paranoia was flourishing. The only Americans most Iraqis have met were young, nervous soldiers in full battle rattle who usually expressed themselves with gestures and expletives and, above all, shot without paperwork." Such has been the receiving end of prolonged military occupation in many corners of the world, Trofimov observes.

In Iraq and Afghanistan, he sketches sympathetically American officials who seem in touch with local conditions, including the former ambassador to Afghanistan, Zalmay Khalilzad, recently appointed as U.S. envoy to Baghdad. But in Trofimov's reading, even those U.S. officials with the right instincts are unable to master the challenges they encounter. In his view, the United States cannot overcome the antipathy it faces in most Islamic lands, at least for now. The American approach in Afghanistan -- a relatively light military presence, international partners, the rapid promotion of stable Afghan leadership in the form of President Hamid Karzai -- was less troubled than in Iraq, he writes, in part because the presence of European allies kept American soldiers off the streets. In Kabul, "Nobody feared Bulgarian imperialism," he quips. He is doubtful even about Afghanistan, however. He presents last fall's election not as any sort of potential turning point in Afghan history but as a flawed exercise that bordered on illegitimate. Surely there are reasons to worry about Afghanistan's future, but Trofimov's account of the present feels too heavily located on one side of the ledger. The election that ratified Karzai's presidency has not been undermined by any enduring doubts about its legitimacy, and Trofimov attributes greater strength to the Taliban than they have yet demonstrated.

Some readers may argue similarly about his assessments of Iraq. "By 2004 the very word 'democratization' had become something of a slur in Arab political discourse, denoting obedience to Washington's agenda and a betrayal of the nationalist cause," Trofimov writes. "Islamists, of course, long held that Western-style democracy, rule according to man-made laws adopted by the people, is inherently incompatible with an Islamic society." Perhaps. Yet when more than half of eligible Iraqis voted in the midst of violence early in 2005 -- many of them, at least among the Shiites, urged on by conservative Islamic clerics -- they seemed to show it was not necessary to be secular or to love America in order to aspire to democratic self-government. And in much of the Arab world, strident Islamic activists today often lead the charge for democratic reform, hoping to use the West's ideals to wrest power from secular or despotic rulers. The contradictions of a militant yet also partly democratic Islamic politics are emerging as one new phase of the tumult Trofimov chronicled immediately after Sept. 11.

By their vocation, war correspondents are witnesses to deep suffering and the anger that attends it. In his riveting chapters on Iraq, Trofimov offers a searing record of his wartime experiences and the sullen, violent occupation that followed -- accounts that will not become less true or compelling even if the appalling episodes he describes are eventually surrounded at least in part by narratives of progress.

Trofimov closes his journey with two unexpected, well-rendered tours of Muslim-majority democracies, Mali and Bosnia. He is drawn to Mali when he reads a Freedom House report and notices that the country is one of only two Muslim-majority nations rated fully "free" by the Washington-based human rights and advocacy group (the other being Senegal). He describes Mali's relative success as a product of mainly local factors but emphasizes the importance of its constitutional and cultural separation of Islam and politics. His book ends in Bosnia, a more ambiguous democratic experiment, underdeveloped and menaced by radical Islam. It offers an appropriate coda -- played in a minor key -- to his extraordinary journeys.

In Islamic nations and especially in the Middle East, Trofimov writes, "the law of unforeseen consequences is, once again, proving to be the law of the land." About this there can be no doubt. The succession of nasty surprises endured by the United States during the past two years, particularly in Iraq, has had at least one positive effect in Washington: The blind rage and grand transformational visions that coursed through the capital after Sept. 11 have yielded gradually to a more pragmatic, problem-solving mindset -- on both sides of the partisan divide, and even among committed idealists.

The difficulty, of course, is that, in the meantime, in Iraq and the wider Muslim world, the problems facing the United States have grown thick with complexity and remain maddeningly opaque, as Trofimov's travels show. To break them down and attempt to solve them will require, among other things, more reliable facts and more analytical confidence than either citizens or policymakers currently possess. Even where I found myself quarrelling with some of Trofimov's analysis, I felt grateful for his detailed eyewitness accounts and independent point of view. Wherever the road twists next, American readers can only hope that its journalistic travelers include more like Trofimov, who has the language and courage to climb over daunting barriers, to report plainly on what he sees and hears and feels on the other side.

Reviewed by Steve Coll
Copyright 2005, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.

Review
Eye-popping peregrinations in places where people are most likely to succeed in hating Americans-and in killing us, too. Soviet-born, Rome-resident Wall Street Journal correspondent Trofimov-his Italian passport comes in handy, we see-has been traveling about the Muslim world for years, speaks Arabic and knows his way around the Arab street. It's a dusty road, filled with people who have lately come to dislike the U.S., thanks to "a nagging suspicion among some Muslims, a firm belief among others, that what started as a war against terrorism in 2001 is mutating into an intractable, almost apocalyptic conflict between the West and Islam." But out in the tonier neighborhoods, where the doctors and government folk live, hating Americans has been de rigueur for years now; even the staff of the Jeddah Chuck E. Cheese, by Trofimov's account, is likely to assume that any Westerner is a Zionist spy. The fact is, several interviewees suggest, the greater the American influence in the region, the more likely it is that Islamists will flourish. (Not all Americans are verboten: one semiofficial Yemeni newspaper Trofimov thumbs through features a long op-ed piece by Klansman David Duke.) Trofimov roams the Arab world looking for evidence of how we're doing out there. The answer is not encouraging: having weathered ethnic slaughter, many Bosnian Muslims are drifting into the fundamentalist camp; secular democracies such as Tunisia are steadily losing ground to the mullahs; a steadily poorer Saudi Arabia is ever more "defiantly different from the West in its core"; the Taliban is resurgent in Afghanistan, where, relative to the size of the force there, American casualties are as high as in Iraq, while in Iraq, those who were supposed to cheer our liberating them are counting coup on the bodies of our soldiers. As one mullah says, "We only believe in American technology. We don't believe in American democracy, because the Americans themselves don't have any." Essential for readers walking the minefield of U.S.-Arab relations-for anyone trying to follow the news. (Kirkus Reviews)

Customer Reviews

Arab Perspectives on the 2001 Iraq War
Although the author traveled throughout the Middle East during the 1990s (as a roving foreign correspondent for the Wall Street Journal), this book is based on his travels through various Islamic countries: Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, Yemen, Kuwait, Iraq, Afghanistan, Lebanon, Mali and Bosnia, in 2001-2004. With his knowledge of Arabic he was able to have direct talks with many Muslim leaders and civilians. He was always diligent in asking almost each individual as to why they disliked U.S. military personnel in liberating Iraq from Saddam, and why they wanted the U.S. military out of Iraq and quickly as possible. He notes how the average Saudi's income has "shrunk by as much as three-quarters in one generation." Explained why Saudi's fear the U.S. presence there to control the Middle East and keep oil prices low (okay, sounds fairly reasonable, besides the pro-democracy pitch). One Saudi holy man didn't want to talk to the author because he didn't want to "be defiled by direct contact with me." Trofimov noted how Saudi's don't like visitors, and journalists even less. Saudi's like to know which Islamic "sect" you belong to. He noted that Saudi officials don't like foreign businesses to have an "X" it their name, because it "looks too much like a Christian cross" (pg.8). Trofimov notes how Islamists dislike the Sufis. The author notes how Hindu workers who live in Saudi cannot be cremated there because the practice is barred by the Sharia; so the Hindu corpse has to be shipped out (pg.13). Non-Muslims cannot be buried in Saudi Arabia, because they would defile the land. So some are buried in the semi-secret non-Muslim cemetery in Jeddah (p.14). While women can't drive cars, they can drive small dune buggies at parks. There are literally hundreds of these small, personal "snippets" that one doesn't read in U.S. newspapers; they alone are worth buying this book. The author notes how he traveled behind U.S. military forces that invaded Iraq; and the perils of driving unescorted by the military. The author discusses the road blocks, the aftermath of some of the suicide attacks, and being shot at. This is not a history book on Arabia; this is really more of a "travel adventure" book -- but of your worst nightmare: in the Iraqi combat zone. There are so many fine things to say about this book, written by an individual who "was there" during the liberation of Iraq, and one who witnessed the building frustration by some Iraqis to the American presence there. Nor to be overlooked are the findings by Trofimov about how Muslims in the other Arab countries that he visited view the American adventure into Iraq. Many, many personal anecdotes written by a reporter who got away from Baghdad's "Green Zone" to talk with the villagers.

A Great Personal Journey - An Exciting Personal Account
First of all let me say: I love first-person accounts of events and activities. There is nothing more fascinating, in my opinion, than reading about the experiences that someone has endured firsthand and who is providing an interpretation of those very experiences. Even more fascinating and, for that matter, relevant, is someone who is providing us with a diary or journal about contemporary events that we are watching or reading about on the daily news via television, radio, magazines, and the newspapers. Yaroslav Trofimov, in his book "Faith at War," is doing just that.

While I may contest the author's interpretations of the experiences he has had, I cannot in good faith dispute the "facts" of his experiences. He is, so to speak, "telling it as it is and as it was," and I cannot argue with that, considering the fact he has "been there" and "done that." I have not experienced what he has, nor have I gone where he has gone. I have to listen to what he has to say, as does every reader of his book. He has, however, provided me with an insight into much which I didn't understand and which, I hope, others who read his book, can begin to understand as well.

Considering what is going on "really" in our world today, Trofimov, in his "Faith at War," does provide a window that all of us need to consider and contemplate. There is no question about the relevance of his subject. Islam and what is going on in the Middle East is important to us all. Trofimov, who covers the Middle East and Islamic culture for the "Wall Street Journal," gives us an insightful look into what is going on and what may be anticipated in that part of the world.

I think what impressed me most about Trofimov's book is the lack of an obvious political agenda, a problem which afflicts most books about the Middle East "problem" today and which he seems to deliberately avoid. His appears to be merely a "sane" account of his own experiences as those experiences occurred. While no personal narrative is completely free of some editorial position, Trofimov certainly doesn't, in my view, flaunt any particular political prejudice.

I was particularly interested in his discussion of Mali, a "democratic" country in Africa where most of the people are Muslim. This was news to me; but, then, I don't currently study African nations or society. While I was under the impression that almost every country which was Islamic was "undemocratic" by nature of the religion, it was refreshing to learn that that was not exactly true.

The journey that Trofimov takes is actually awesome. The book begins in Saudi Arabia (and he provides some information that every American needs to know), proceeds on to Tunisia ("Teaching Freud to the Mullahs," 'nuff said), then on to Yemen and Kuwait, then on to Iraq (very, very interesting to say the least), then on to Afghanistan for two chapters, ending with chapters on Lebanon, Mali (the "Muslim democracy"), and finally Bosnia (which is primarily Muslim in case you have forgotten or not watched the news for the past decade).

This book is a personal journal or diary. There is no getting around that. But it is an interesting and intriguing account from a first-rate observer of the contemporary scene. There is, in my view, no getting around that. The author also provides an interesting and valuable glossary of religious and political terms related to the subject he is discussing, an index of topics, and a number of maps so the reader can place geographical areas and regions in context. Hurray for those tools, especially for the ordinary reader who is not a specialist.

Altogether, I recommend this book just on the basis that I enjoyed reading it. Like I said, I enjoy reading first-person accounts. Maybe it's the psychology of the "vicarious" experience. Whatever, Trofimov's book is a good read and an exciting adventure and I think most readers who are interested in what's going on in our world today will like this book. Highly recommended.

read this to understand "why they hate us"
This beautifully reported and written book give readers a real on-the-ground feel for how people in the Muslim world view America and how 9/11 and our intervention in Iraq have intensified feelings about American power, consumerism, and intentions. Particularly compelling are this book's insights into how religion defines so many aspects of life and how others are viewed. Even as you are disgusted at some of the abuses perpetrated on the Muslim world by its own leaders, you will be ashamed at the insensitive behavior of American soldiers and strategic mistakes that undermine the benevolent image that many Americans want to believe characterizes our efforts to "bring democracy" to the Middle East. The author does not let either side off the hook. Reading FAITH AT WAR will help readers understand why the results of the Iraq invasion fell so far from what was hoped for. This is a much-needed critical view of the Middle East from the point of view of those who live there.