Those of you who follow Middle East politics will be aware of the endless succession of peace envoys who head to the region to try their hand (latterly our beloved former PM). But now, reports Yossi Alpher (co-editor of Bitter Lemons and a former Mossad official), there’s a new player in town – as he and a Palestinian colleague recently discovered:
We had been asked to be interviewed for a documentary that would explain the Israeli-Palestinian conflict to the youth of the world. A worthy cause. The producers explained that our interviewer, a German rock star, was the perfect person to establish strong communication with our audience.
At this point, British or American audiences might begin to sniff the air suspiciously – looking, perhaps, for the faintest scent of a rat on the breeze.
They took us down winding stone stairs and through long corridors, ostensibly to have some make-up dabbed on our noses for the cameras, in fact to meet the interviewer and test his disguise. We confronted a tall, blond-ish man in his thirties, dressed in leather and studs, his face heavily powdered, his arms and chest shaven. He spoke in a heavy German accent, his movements and mannerisms ultra-gay. He tried to write down our names, but they came out dyslexic.
“This guy is going to interview us?”
Yes, dear readers: Sacha Baron Cohen – or rather his alter ego, Bruno – is loose in the Middle East.
Alpher continues:
We were told that, considering the nature of our audience, the questions would focus on the most basic issues.
And they were, indeed, basic, relating to our expectations for the Israeli-Palestinian peace process. Then one of us mentioned Hamas, and the exchange that ensued went something like this:
“Vait, vait. Vat’s zee connection between a political movement and food. Vy hummus?”
We exchanged astonished glances. “Hamas,” we explained, “is a Palestinian Islamist political movement. Hummus is a food.”
“Ya, but vy hummus? Yesterday I had to throw away my pita bread because it vas dripping hummus. Unt it’s too high in carbohydrates.”
The Hamas-hummus confusion went on for several minutes. Then, the interviewer declared: “Your conflict is not so bad. Jennifer-Angelina is worse.”…
In case you’re wondering, Alpher’s less than convinced by all this. He concludes: “The end product will undoubtedly be hilarious. We’ll try to be good sports about it. But will Sacha Baron Cohen? He is exploiting our tragic and painful conflict in the most cynical and deceptive manner. I doubt he’ll give us anything in return.”
But I’m not quite so sure. Comedy, in its subversive way, can – when done right – be useful in cutting seemingly insurmountable problems down to size. Sam Leith made the point at the start of this year after he learned that Chris Morris would be doing a programme on terrorism:
…derisive laughter is what we need. At present, the new recruit can sit in his bedroom polishing well-founded fantasies of posterity: national panic; your martyrdom video on repeat play; airports at a halt; the Prime Minister talking about the threat you pose to Western civilisation. That, for the average hobby nosepicker, sounds pretty cool.
The mirror in which they preen shows them tall, handsome, brave, noble, determined. If becoming a jihadist was, as it should be, the high road to being a laughing stock – if you knew that rather than being hailed a martyr, your grave would be surmounted by a pointed cap with a big red letter D on it – recruits would surely be harder to find.
The monster is as big as we make it, and as dangerous as we allow it to be dignified. Laughter can make it small. The more childish Mr Morris can make his programme, the better I shall like it.
‘Course, this is Sacha Baron Cohen we’re talking about – so I’m not holding my breath for a sudden breakthrough on right of return or the status of refugees…
