Review
Culture
5 min read

The Creative Act by Rick Rubin – no prisoners taken

A biography lacking in personal anecdotes, makes up for it with a profound understanding of the creative process. Imogen Stokes recommends an essential read on art’s transformative power.

Imogen Stokes

Imogen Stokes is a musician and member of Voka Gentle. She is also part of P.S. a missional community of multidisciplinary artists supporting and encouraging each other to cultivate a biblical culture of worship and fellowship in the heart of industry.

Rick Rubin | The Creative Act: A Way of Being

From Johnny Cash to Kanye West, Rick Rubin has worked with some of the biggest names in music. Notably titled ‘the most important producer of the last 20 years’ by MTV, the famously bearded founder of Def Jam records has nine Grammy awards under his belt and is one of the most sought-after producers working today. 

Written over the course of four years, a period that saw Rubin work with bands such as The Strokes and The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, The Creative Act: A Way of Being might promise a memoir yet assumes the form of something more like a self-help guide. Rubin distils what he has learned throughout his illustrious 40-year career into a series of short chapters that read somewhat like meditations, contemplating the meaning of art in general; how to make it well and why it matters to keep trying. While its dearth of personal anecdotes may be disappointing to fans hoping to gain insight into some of the producer’s many exploits, this book requires little to no contextual knowledge of Rubin’s life and work to enjoy. 

“There was a version of the book three years ago,” Rubin told The Bookseller magazine last October. “The content was similar but the feeling of it... it did not feel like a call to action. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t inspirational.” If inspiring artists to create meaningful art is Rubin’s primary aim, suffice to say The Creative Act: A Way of Being largely succeeds.  

Happily, this book is not just for musicians; for any working artist in search of practical guidance, Rubin offers encouragements and hands-on suggestions for how to cultivate discipline, maintain creative perspective and successfully finish work. His tips are, in many cases, refreshingly rudimentary. Set up a daily schedule of practice and stick to it. Level up your taste in the medium you are working in. Allow yourself to be distracted sometimes. Such instructions immediately reminded me of Oblique Strategies, Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt’s tarot-like deck of pithy creative prompts, conceived in 1975 as a work of art and designed to stimulate creativity. And the advice is sage. As an artist myself, I had barely gotten halfway through when my highlighter began to run out of ink.  

Rubin’s thesis on art-making is full of self-aware contradiction. It is a serious matter, he says, but it’s also reliant on play. One should employ a rigorous schedule yet embrace rest and spontaneity. Practise your craft but be aware of the value in naivety;  

‘often the most innovative ideas come from those who master the rules to such a degree that they can see past them or from those who never learned them at all’,  

and remember that both years of artistic toil and a five-minute flash of inspiration can both produce a valuable result.  

[It] does an excellent job of meeting the creative in their tiredness while celebrating their bravery.  

It is this ability to understand and speak to the tensions faced by an overwhelming majority of artists that is a real strength of this book and a testament to Rubin’s experience as a producer. The creative process is rarely straightforward; success can be difficult to define and inspiration elusive. However, he admits, in the pursuit of great art ‘there are no shortcuts.’ The Creative Act: A Way of Being does an excellent job of meeting the creative in their tiredness while celebrating their bravery. It exists, at the end of the day, to remind them why it’s important to make art at all. I can corroborate this with my own experience: as a reader I brought all the baggage of any working artist. I felt understood and reassured, both by Rubin’s reverence for art-making and by his admission that art is rarely straightforward, and that artists can be hard to understand. This, for Rubin, is by no means an indictment. It’s part of the journey, and an important one at that.   

Rubin’s reverence for the power of art and the significance of the artist is without question. This can sometimes, though, verge on the eulogising of unhealthy behaviour— an issue, I can’t help but feel, is endemic to the music industry at large.  

'The great artists in history… are protective of their art in a way that is not always co-operative. Their needs as a creator come first. Often at the expense of their personal lives and relationships',  

writes Rubin, excusing selfishness as a ‘childlike spirit’ to be aspired to. Surely, while singular focus is key, this doesn’t need to override a generosity of spirit, does it? Van Gogh certainly didn’t think so, famously writing: 

 ‘there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.’ 

There’s an evident undercurrent of divine inspiration woven throughout the book, too. Rubin acknowledges and explores the cosmic thread that runs through all things, the energy of which the artist both observes and channels through their work. The artist without this spiritual viewpoint, he posits, is at a crucial disadvantage. For Rubin, the spiritual world provides a crucial sense of wonder and a degree of open-mindedness rarely found within the confines of science. A dedication towards a deeper connection with and understanding of the ‘Source’ (the creative force of the universe) will inevitably merit a greater artistic encounter. Rubin therefore encourages artists to be disciplined in their spiritual practice in order to ‘build up the musculature of the psyche to more acutely tune in and receive from the divine’.  

Rick Rubin with Neil Diamond, 2006. Photo by MusicLoverDiamond. 

Rick Rubin with Neil Diamond

As a believer, of course I perceived Rubin’s ‘Source’ to be a metonym for the God of the Bible, and while occasionally Rubin’s universalism strays into abstraction— perhaps even cliché— there is genuine substance here; many of his spiritual encouragements overlap significantly with Christian teachings, for instance his appeal to artists to be ‘in’ currents of culture, not ‘of’ them, and the assertion that ‘it is better to follow the universe than those around you’. He admires the biblical attitudes of patience, discipline and child-likeness, and even quotes directly from the Bible’s book of Ecclesiastes, ‘for everything there is a season... ’,  when illustrating the rhythms of nature. 

Although it might be viewed as a simple guide to creative rules and rhythms, at the heart of this book the challenge is set.  

You are either living as an artist, or you’re not. You are either adopting this way of being, or you aren’t.  

Rubin takes no prisoners. The Creative Act: A Way of Being is an essential read for anyone looking to explore the importance of art or to remind themselves why they shouldn’t give up. For Rubin, a facilitator and a collaborator, the transformational powers of art are undeniable and artists themselves are almost magical creatures who need understanding and care. This book is both about, and for them.  

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Politics
7 min read

Democracy and the authorities that exist

Should we insist on democracy in the Gulf?

Andrew Thompson

Andrew Thompson MBE is an Anglican priest who served in Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates.

Three members of the Oman Shura sit in it's chamber and hold their hands in prayer
Members of Oman's assembly - the Shura.

I once participated in an American University forum looking at Gulf states and the development of democracy. Underlying the barely disguised criticism of political processes in the Arab world were three assumptions. Firstly, that there was an assumption that everyone understood which model of democracy was being referred to. Secondly, that this model should be a desirable universal goal for all nations to aspire to. Finally, that democracy works and is ‘good’. 

The first assumption is quickly undermined when one does a brief survey of democratic processes in European countries. There are no two countries which have a similar modus operandi when it comes to conducting elections. Which democratic model should one aspire to? 

On the second assumption, I was reminded that the very concept of democracy as touted by Plato was already flawed. In Ancient Greece, the public decision-making process excluded women, peasants and slaves. The elite Athenian men who got to occupy the space of power on Pnyx Hill, were already wealthy and privileged. 

Similarly, the US constitution, with its line “All men are born free and equal, and have certain natural, essential, and unalienable rights” did not include women and slaves, thus undermining the slogan  ‘a government of the people by the people’. 

It would seem that even today in the west, the democratic process still favours the elite and excludes certain categories of people. 

Their emphasis is on values-driven leadership; these values predate Islam and were forged in the harsh climate of the desert. 

So how do we define democracy?  

While academics cannot agree on one definition, there is a recognition that most democracies have one main feature: that they include a transparent, accessible and inclusive process by which citizens can appoint their governments.  

Free and inclusive elections are not a feature of Gulf states.  The authorities in Gulf countries are often criticized for their suppression of their political opponents and flagrant abuse of human rights. While several Gulf countries do hold elections, they tend to be limited in terms of who can participate, and once elected their roles in office tend to be more advisory rather than that of a decision maker. 

So how do governments in the Arabian Gulf work? 

Each Gulf state is led by a ruling family who secure their position within a rentier state economy, by sharing their largesse from the oil industry with their citizens. Failure to be generous with their tribal allies would lead the ruling family into a potential conflict. A future challenge is what happens when the oil runs out. How will ruling families secure the loyalty of their citizens? 

In the United Arab Emirates (a federation of seven semi-autonomous regions headed up by a ruling sheikh), I have learned their style of governance is rooted in centuries of tribal wisdom. Their emphasis is on values-driven leadership; these values predate Islam and were forged in the harsh climate of the desert.

Bad leaders generally don’t last long in tribal societies. 

The quintessential Arab leader should serve their people with humility, wisdom, integrity, courage and generosity; these personal leadership qualities have underpinned Arab tribal culture for millennia. The eminent historian and pioneer sociologist, Ibn Khaldun (1332-1406) describes in his seminal work The Muqaddimah, observes the importance of ‘assabiya (public consensus or group cohesion) as the glue that holds successful societies together.  He went onto describe how Arab societies achieved consensus. The most common form was the council of elders or a shura, in which the representatives of the tribes came to a common decision.  It was a shura which appointed the first Caliph after the death of prophet Mohammed. This concept exists to this day in modern Oman, whose government describes their version of parliament as a shura. It is a matter of debate as to how representative of the people the shura is, but the point is that in Islam there is a process which exists which seeks to reach consensus or ‘assabiya. It is worth noting that the concept of ‘assabiya is reflected in Rousseau’s political philosophy of working towards the common good and will of the many. For the record, Rousseau was not a believer in democracy. 

It is ‘assabiya which leads to tribes offering their allegiance to a ruling sheikh, once they are persuaded of the legitimacy of his ‘fitness’ to lead.  Although Gulf dynasties have been established for several generations, it is not automatically a model of primogeniture. For example, the position of the Emir of Kuwait is supposed to be shared between two alternate branches of the Al Sabah family. On the other hand, the de facto ruler of the Emirates was the first son of the third wife on account of his political acumen and clear leadership skills.  

Upon the death of a ruler, the family will seek to identify an elder within the family who displays the merits and qualities desired in a leader. These qualities are essential in holding the allegiance of most of the tribes. An incompetent, selfish or vicious ruler will swiftly disrupt the ‘assabiya and lose the allegiance of the tribes. There is a system of sorts, of checks and balances to ensure for the most part a benign ruler who will hold the best interests of their people to heart. 

And it works well, as attested by the common man on the street. in the UAE there seems to be a genuine respect, even affection for many of the ruling families. 

The Gulf States would be the first to say that they are not democracies, but their histories have demonstrated that overall, their countries have flourished, and political stability has been consistent.  Bad leaders generally don’t last long in tribal societies. 

Yet, there is still a conviction held by western governments that life in the Gulf states would improve if they adopted democracy as a way of life. While this sentiment may appear to be admirable, in reality, when democracy has been hoisted on Arab states it has not ended well. 

Western politicians simply do not understand the context in which hostile, militant and organized Islamists lurk. 

Kuwait was the first Gulf state to adopt a semblance of democracy and their media are among the most independent in the region.  Yet the country’s commitment to move towards democracy, as an attempt to integrate with the global economy, has backfired. The Kuwaiti democratic processes have enabled a highly organized and elected Islamist group which has consistently paralyzed the Kuwaiti parliament and thwarted their pro-western policy ambitions. 

It is ironic too, that where Middle Eastern countries have embraced democratic processes, the elections have been won or successfully contested by political parties who would be seen as threats to the Western world.  Hamas in Palestine, the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, the Hirak Islamist group in Algeria and the AKP in Turkey.  All these supposedly democratically elected parties have faced opposition and concern from Western nations. In some cases, western powers have actively conspired to bring down elected governments in order to defend their interests. Iran is a case in point. 

It would seem that democracy in the Middle East is only acceptable in the west if the ‘right’ people win it. 

The democratic experiment in Iraq came with a high cost in terms of loss of lives, and the jury is still out on whether the Iraqi parliament can deliver a national agenda in which security and prosperity can be enjoyed by all their citizens. 

It is for this reason that a senior Emirati leader recently explained at a press gathering, that the pressure to adopt democracy as a model of government in the Middle East is unreasonable. Western politicians simply do not understand the context in which hostile, militant and organized Islamists lurk. 

“Why would anyone want to buy into a system that would inflict a country with the likes of the leaders you have now?” 

That said, things are changing. The UAE sponsored Marrakesh Declaration which seeks equal citizenship in Muslim majority countries for religious minorities is clearly a step in the right direction for ensuring protection for all. 

Should we then insist on democracy in the Arabian Gulf?  

For thousands of years, the Arabs have had their own mechanisms of selecting leaders. They do not see the need to adopt western democratic procedures which are potentially likely to disrupt the economic prosperity and security of their citizens. 

St Paul once wrote the following words in the context of an oppressive Roman Empire, ‘the authorities that exist have been established by God’. While Christians cheerfully apply this teaching to support their democratically elected leaders, it is worth asking, ‘should this not apply to the leaders of the Gulf states too’? 

Meanwhile, back in the American University, a bewildered Emirati student whispered to me during a particularly strident presentation on the virtues of democracy, “Why would anyone want to buy into a system that would inflict a country with the likes of the leaders you have now?” 

His words gave me pause for thought and led me to question what we assume to be a self-evident truth, that democracy should be the aspiration of all countries.  Should we insist that Gulf states adopt democracy as their mode of governance? Would democracy work in the Arabian Gulf economy and culture? 

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