The American appears—despite advanced science and meticulous work—primitive in his view of life and its other human components in a way that is astonishing. This stark contradiction likely contributes to Americans appearing eccentric in the eyes of foreigners who observe their lives from a distance and struggle to reconcile their exceptional industrial civilization and precise management of work and life with this primitiveness in sentiment and behavior, a primitiveness reminiscent of the ages of forests and caves!
The American seems primitive in his admiration for physical strength and material power in general, while he greatly undervalues ideals, principles, and morals in his individual, family, and social life—except in the realm of work, economics, and finance. The sight of crowds following American football games, with their rough nature that has little to do with actual "football," where players do not use their feet but instead snatch the ball with their hands and run with it towards the goal while opposing players try to stop them by any means—including blows to the stomach and brutal fractures of arms and legs—is a sight that reflects a primitive fascination with brute strength. The crowds revel in the violence, caring little for the rules of the game and more for the sight of spilled blood and shattered limbs. Their cheers resonate with cries like: "Crush his head! Break his neck! Smash his ribs! Grind him to dust!" Such a scene leaves no doubt about the primitiveness of sentiment that idolizes raw physical power.
With the same spirit, the American public follows conflicts between groups and sects, as well as struggles between nations and peoples. I do not understand how the myth—especially in the East—that Americans are a peace-loving people has gained traction!
The American, by nature, is a warrior who loves conflict. The ideas of war and struggle run deep in his blood and are evident in his behavior. This aligns with American history, as the first waves of settlers left their homelands for America with a colonial mindset, driven by competition and conflict. They fought their way into the land, first battling the indigenous inhabitants (Native Americans) in an ongoing war of extermination, then engaging in combat with Latin settlers, pushing them southward into Central and South America. The Anglo-Saxons then fought the British Empire in the War of Independence under George Washington. Later, the North fought the South in the Civil War led by Abraham Lincoln, a war framed as a struggle to "free the slaves" but, in reality, driven by economic competition. The enslaved Africans brought to America to work as forced laborers could not withstand the cold northern climate, so they migrated to the South, where they provided cheap labor, granting the southern states an economic advantage. To counter this, the North declared war under the banner of abolition!
The era of isolationism ended when America entered World War I, followed by World War II, then the Korean War, and various other conflicts. How, then, has the myth of America as a peace-loving nation persisted despite such a history of warfare?
Material vitality is sacred in American life, while weakness—regardless of its cause—is a crime. If one is weak, no principle can save him, and he has no place in the vast arena of life. As for the dead, they are guilty of the ultimate crime: dying, and thus forfeiting any right to concern or respect.
I was once at George Washington Hospital in Washington, D.C., when an unusual wave of commotion spread through the normally quiet institution. Patients capable of moving left their beds and gathered in the hallways, whispering curiously. We soon learned that a hospital staff member had been in a severe elevator accident and was on the verge of death. An American patient went to see for himself and returned to describe the scene: the injured man’s neck had been crushed, his skull shattered, and his tongue hung limply from his mouth. To my shock, the man telling the story laughed and mimicked the dying man's final moments. Even more disturbing, those listening burst into laughter, amused by this grotesque reenactment!
Thus, I was not surprised when a friend of mine shared his own experiences with American attitudes toward death.
A colleague told me he had attended a funeral where the deceased was displayed in a glass casket, as per American custom, for mourners to view before offering their final farewell. But after the procession, as the attendees gathered in the reception room, he was stunned to find them cracking jokes—about the deceased and other topics—laughing heartily, including the man's own wife and family, all while his body lay wrapped in shrouds nearby!
The Egyptian director of academic missions in Washington was once invited to an event with his wife. Shortly before the event, his wife fell ill, so he called to apologize for their absence. To his surprise, the hosts assured him that no apology was necessary—he could still attend alone. They even suggested it would be good fortune, as another female guest had just lost her husband suddenly before the event and would now have a companion for the evening!
I once visited an American woman who was helping me with my English. She had a friend over, and they were engaged in conversation when I arrived. The friend remarked, “I was lucky! I had him insured, and even his treatment cost me little because he was covered by Blue Cross.” She then smiled cheerfully.
After she left, I remained with my hostess, assuming they had been discussing a pet—perhaps her dog—though I found it odd that she showed no sorrow for its death. But then, without prompting, my hostess clarified: "She was talking about her husband. He died three days ago!" When I expressed my astonishment at her composure, she responded matter-of-factly, "He had been sick for over three months!"
My mind drifted back to a deeply moving scene I had witnessed years ago—one that inspired me to write an unwritten reflection titled The Mourning of Birds. I recalled a group of chickens we were raising at home, which stood still in silent shock around a freshly slaughtered one, as if struck by an emotional thunderbolt. The scene left such an impression on our household that we never again dared to slaughter a chicken in their presence.
I also remembered the familiar sight of crows mourning their dead—a scene many have observed. The gathering of crows, their hovering in tight formation, their various cries and calls, their attempts to carry away their deceased companion—all these behaviors hint at an instinctive sorrow, an awareness of death.
Reverence for death seems almost innate. It is not mere primitive sentimentality that erodes it from the American psyche but rather the stark emptiness of life devoid of emotional empathy. Their existence is built on material equations, bodily impulses, and deliberate disregard for the very things the rest of the world holds sacred. They revel in defying age-old traditions, as if doing so grants their "New World" an edge over the so-called "Old World."
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Source: Al-Risala Magazine, Issue (959), 19/11/1951.
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