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: Bench Memos - National Review Online

Marrakech Journal, Part III

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Do you need to, or would you like to, get up to speed? My pleasure. For the first two parts of this journal from Marrakech, go here and here.

So, the meeting has started: the 'World Economic Forum on the Middle East and North Africa,' to give the formal name. This region is known as 'MENA,' for the 'Middle East and North Africa.' Yet it's hard not to say, simply, the 'Middle East,' geographically sloppy though that term is. One could speak of the 'Arab world' -- but you have Turkey and Iran to consider. One might even want to say 'Muslim world' -- but what about the Copts, etc.? Anyway . . .

#ad#I attend a lunch -- an 'interactive lunch,' with featured speakers and general participation -- on the subject of talent. Specifically, on the subject of the 'talent deficit': a deficit that this region suffers from. For years, people with wit and ambition have left, in pursuit of a better life. They have gone to America, Europe, maybe the Far East. How to stop this 'brain drain'? How to keep the young people at home and maybe entice back those who have left?

('How do you keep them down on the farm, once they've seen the lights of Paris?' goes the old saying. How do you keep them down on the farm when there is not much of a farm and there may be chances elsewhere?)

This is a very touchy subject. It is touchy economically, culturally, psychologically, and even spiritually. Also, our moderator, in his introduction, mentions that half the population in this region is left sort of idling: He is speaking of women, of course.

The moderator passes the microphone to a man from the Gulf. He speaks of living in a society that is both 'very conservative' and 'very religious.' There are advantages and disadvantages to such a society, he says. Here is a disadvantage: There is too much rote learning going on. Too much mere 'studying,' as opposed to genuine learning. To succeed in the business world, you need imagination, inquisitiveness, broadness.

He further says that businesses in the region need to decentralize. And they need to allow people to take risks. 'We learn from our failures,' he says. Yet 'in our society, it's a calamity to fail. You are brushed aside, banished to the sidelines. You are damaged goods. And you can't come back.' That is nonsense, the man says: a nonsense that needs to be corrected.

Midway through this lunch, a woman, also from the Gulf, says, 'We've been talking about fancy skills': skills that are acquired at the top universities and institutes. 'How about soft skills, like showing up on time? How about showing up on time for work?'

A fascinating comment. And someone else says, in response to it, 'Economic issues and cultural issues get blended. You can't separate them.'

An Egyptian woman left many years ago for the U.S. She was pursuing 'my American dream,' as she says. About 20 years later, she had another dream: 'my Egyptian dream.' She wanted to return to her native country and 'make a difference.' She had made some money in the West (I assume). And now it was time to do something more idealistic, patriotic, fulfilling . . .

She has a couple of teenagers, and wonders what they will do, what their opportunities will be in the Middle East.

Another participant says, 'You know another thing about coming back?' He means, about returning from the West to the Middle East (which is what he did). His answer: You're a big fish in a small pond. He doesn't put it exactly like that, but that is his meaning. 'In the West, investment bankers are a dime a dozen.' In the Middle East, no.

Someone else addresses a big, big issue here in this region: nepotism. The inability to get a job unless you have a family connection. Everyone in the Middle East recognizes this is a colossal problem. Very few in the West, it is my impression, know about it. They're apt to say, 'Gee, it must be some Israeli settlements that keep Arabs down.'

Yeah, right.

Throughout this lunch, I hear a dog not barking -- and the sound of this not-barking is beautiful. Real problems are discussed honestly. There is no blaming Israel, no blaming the U.S. The Great Satan and the Little Satan aren't mentioned at all, at least that I can pick up. Instead, people are wrestling honestly with problems as they are. A beautiful, refreshing, and necessary thing.

One more statement, from one more participant: 'The problem is our culture.' That is an 'ouch' of a statement. 'We all know it. We favor men over women, older men over younger men, certain nationalities over other nationalities, certain names over other names . . .'

I'm going to make a few observations my own bad self -- to you, I mean. Observations about this matter of striking out from home to make your fortune elsewhere. Like you, probably, I believe in freedom of movement. I think people ought to be allowed to vote with their feet, so to speak, in pursuing their destinies. Every land ought to be a land of opportunity. You certainly want your own to be! What if it's not?

That is how America got built, of course: So many people, denied opportunity where they lived. So many people, with so much to offer: and stifled from offering it at home.

But there can be a great psychological load to carry, when you leave. Are you a traitor (to put it bluntly)? Will others regard you as a traitor? Will they be content with resenting you? Will they admire your ambition, and be pleased for your success? More than a few who have left home carry a trace of guilt.

Earlier in the week, I had a very smart and affecting guide, a youngish Moroccan who showed me a bit of Marrakech. He confided to me, very soberly -- even anxiously -- that he had a friend -- or perhaps it was a relative -- in Vancouver, who was suggesting he immigrate there. He is considering it. Yet he is deeply attached to where he lives, and all the people around him. What a dilemma.

#page#It has been a joy, in recent years, to watch the rise of India. Time was, most any Indian with a burning spark contrived to go abroad. Go into any hospital in America. Look at the doctors' directory, under 'P.' Count the Patels. Go to 'S,' and count the Singhs.

Now, achieving Indians, or Indians who would achieve, tend to stay home. At least, there are many more opportunities at home than before.

#ad#I think I mentioned the following in Impromptus a few years ago: I saw, for the first time -- it was in Florence -- Indian tourists in Europe. I had never, in all my life, seen Indian tourists, Indian tour groups. That signaled the growth of the middle class. These people weren't in Italy to work or live. They were just checking out the Duomo, the Uffizi -- just touring. In fact, I saw them in Piazzale Michelangelo. And I thought, 'Wow -- this is something new under the sun.'

You can bet your behind their parents never went to Italy.

And let me tell you one of my favorite stories of all time: It comes from the late Philip Uzielli, a close friend of my National Review colleague David Pryce-Jones. Uzielli was James Baker's roommate at Princeton, I believe -- anyway, a friend. And Baker hosted this lunch as secretary of state. It was in that fabled dining room, in the State Department. The lunch was for Francesco Cossiga, I believe -- the president of Italy. And Baker had Phil there. Phil -- 'Uzi' -- was an Italian American. And he was seated next to Gianni De Michelis, the foreign minister.

I may be off on a few of the details. But I believe the following took place: De Michelis says, 'I can tell you're a Tuscan. I can tell by your Italian. Tell me, why did you leave Italy? It's people like you who have brought our country down. It's people like you who have made our country weaker, by abandoning us.'

Uzielli said, 'You want to know why we left Italy? I'll tell you. My father was mayor of our town. And Mussolini's education minister told him that, from now on, no Jewish child would ever set foot in an Italian school -- if the child was lucky enough to live until school age.'

De Michelis blanched. Baker, sitting with Cossiga, could tell that something was wrong. He shot a questioning look to Phil. Phil signaled, 'It's okay, Jimmy. No big deal. Everything's under control.'

I asked Phil whether De Michelis said anything in return. He did. And it is greatly to De Michelis's credit that he said what he did -- he said, 'Fortunato.' Meaning, 'You were lucky.'

#*#There are many masters of the universe here. 'Masters of the universe' -- isn't that Tom Wolfe's phrase (one of his many)? Leaders of business and finance. Go-getters, world-beaters. They all radiate wealth, confidence, health, drive, imperturbability -- as though clouds never crossed their skies. I find that, wherever they're from, they look the same, these masters of the universe. There is a type.

#*#Klaus Schwab, chairman and father of the World Economic Forum, gives his traditional welcoming speech. Schwab is like Dick Clark (haven't I said that before?). He looks the same year after year after year. Extraordinary.

He thanks the Moroccan king, Mohammed VI, for 'allowing' us to hold the meeting here. I think how fortunate it is to live in a country where you don't need the king's, or the president's, permission to have a meeting, even an international one. You know?

As Schwab speaks, his cellphone goes off, loudly, and he makes an amusing remark about it. I don't quite catch it, but I know it's amusing. There is appreciative laughter.

His phone played a snatch of the famous Fugue in D minor by Bach (the one that follows the famous Toccata). (Some people say that Bach didn't write this work, but we're not going to get into that dispute now.) In the cell ring, the piece is in G minor, not in its D minor. Disconcerting. Why do creators of cell rings put things in the wrong keys? I have noticed this a lot. There's probably some technical reason.

#*#Young women serve as assistants -- ushers and so on -- throughout the Congress Center, the main gathering place here. I think, 'You know, it would be nice, just for variety, if one of them were plain -- just one. It would show that those who hired the women weren't going strictly by looks.' But no: They're all Miss Morocco, more or less.

#*#Want a little anthropological note? Okay, you got it. A small point, but significant: The toilet paper, next to the toilet -- on the left.

Moving on . . .

#*#For eons, as you know, the French have dumped on Americans for having, among other things, ketchup -- that most vulgar and offensive of condiments. Ketchup is supposed to be proof of our barbarism. Anyway, the other night, I had some ketchup, and, boy, was it good: absolutely superb. Different from the usual. I looked at the little container to see what brand this stuff was. The label said, simply, 'Catsup.' And, in smaller print, it said, 'Product of France.' I said, 'Ah!'

On that ketchupy note -- see you for Part IV?
 

#JAYBOOK#

Jay Nordlinger

Full post as published by Bench Memos - National Review Online on October 27, 2010 (boomark / email).

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