Quantum Note
April 1, 2005

The American Fever

In a world gone mad all things are possible; a global fever should not surprise anyone, especially after the liberation of Iraq—a liberation that has strengthened democracies around the world, especially in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Jordan, and Egypt. This new fever, code named, “American Fever” comes in two varieties: The VIP version only goes to the heads of states; the not-so-VIP strand is for everyone who can still imagine that the Statue of Liberty is real.

The VIP variety has existed for at least half a century but its more potent form came into existence on that fateful day when four passenger planes flew over the land of freedom and took away the veneer of the idol of liberty that now stands unmasked in that wasteland where Melville once dreamt of committing suicide and Faulkner drank his bitter pegs of raw violence, poverty and hunger of the deep South. Had he lived long enough, Hemingway would have loved to return to the neighborhood he had despised, for now there is plenty of adventure in that sordid land which could offer him nothing but mediocrity. But he would not have contracted either of the two varieties of the American fever, for this fever is only for those who live in far off lands.

The VIP variety of the American fever is for the generals—retired or serving—warlords of all hues and colors, Arab sheikhs and sons of kings whose mothers have never seen a man die from bullets sprayed by helicopter gunships in the occupied territories just across their artificial borders.

One of the first symptoms of this fever is an incessant preoccupation with something called enlightened Islam that these feverish heads cook up. As for the sources of this Islam, we know just about as much of it as we know about the hijackers of civilian planes whose passports survived the inferno which pulverized thick slabs of concrete and melted steel columns. No one is supposed to know who invented this Islam. Or why. Or when. But everyone is supposed to receive a dose of enlightenment from out of this version of Islam.

Soon after contracting this variety of American fever, these heads experience an inversion of reality which makes them see the night as day and day as night. Occupation becomes freedom, those who keep human beings in animal cages in that outpost of tyranny called Guantanomo Bay become champions of humanity rights, and those who resist occupations become insurgents. Webster’s convulsions in his grave not withstanding, this fever gives new meanings almost every significant word in his dictionary which he compiled on thousands of index cards in an age when words still had meaning.

The post 9/11 VIP variety of the American fever is contagious. Those who are near the heads of usurped centers of power quickly contract it and become mouthpieces of a new kind of terror which originates in cool offices and spreads all over the world. Speaking in their Master’s voice, these secondary victims of the VIP variety of American fever totally forget their humble beginnings in a bazaar of Rawalpindi and devote themselves wholeheartedly in spreading disinformation—all for the sake of a car and a chair with the label: minister of information.

The non VIP variety of the American fever has gone to the heads of hundreds of academics and self-proclaimed thinkers of Islam who hope to become celebrities in a not-so-distant future. They sing the praises of the hand that feeds them and, one day, hope to shake the hand of King George. They are not VIPs yet, but aspire to be so. These are to be found everywhere on this ravaged planet and in all disciplines. They come in so many versions that one can find them in all professions: they are professors of Islamic studies in universities where academic freedom has disappeared with the heat of American fever, they are journalists working for news outlets where the only real news is the one that is manufactured in the think tanks of the most repressive kind. There are now hundreds of so-called enlightened Muslims on the King’s payroll, selling their new brand of Islam, forgetting that the Qur’an had already forewarned the believers that there would come to be a time when men would appear who would desire to extinguish the light of Allah.

These two varieties of American fever have now spread to the entire planet, except for a country where Ayatullahs are standing guard. But even there, many have already succumbed to the fever and it may be a matter of time that Tehran, Isfahan and Shiraz become the theater of yet another liberating current. If that happens, the blood bath of Falluja will look pale in comparison and whatever happened at Abu Ghuraib would seem like acts of kindness.

The recent appointments at the King’s court are indicative of four long years of high fever. And the ease with which the King’s men (and a few women) have strangled the dream of their forefathers is simply indicative of the weakness of the foundations on which they had built their dreamland. There is a small minority in the King’s land which is aware of how their beloved country is quickly turning into a police state, but these people are unable to stop it. And for those who live in other lands and who have not yet contracted the American fever, it is now really a matter of  life and death. One wonders: Is there any antidote to this fever?

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