Column

Culture

Eating

1 April 2024

6 min read

We could all benefit from hospitality’s bear hug

In a compelling series, The Bear offers a richer and nuanced redemptive journey.

Krish Kandiah

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

A tired-looking chef turns around to look across his shoulder.

Jeremy Allen White plays Carmy.

FXP.

I only need to watch a few minutes of Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen to remind me that toxic environments not only still exist, but all too often are glorified. From bitter previous experience I know that employers can bully, lie and manipulate those beneath them, and apparently get away with it. I have sadly seen how the Christian virtues of turning the other cheek and forgiving your enemies can serve to collude with a toxic environment. However, I also dare to hope that another Christian virtue – that of hospitality – can foster quite a different environment. I have been thinking about this a lot recently as it tallies with themes explored in another chef show - the global smash-hit multi-award-winning US TV series, The Bear.

The drama is set in the high-intensity world of the Chicago hospitality industry. The story revolves around a character called Carmy, played by Jeremy Allen White. Carmy has made his name in gastronomy and has won and retained multiple Michelin stars. But when his beloved brother Mikey commits suicide, Carmy returns to Chicago to take over his brother’s failing sandwich shop called “The Beef.”

Putting a grieving world-class chef in the middle of a bankrupt dysfunctional sandwich shop in the cheap side of Chicago is a great concept for an intense drama. It is set up to be a classic rags-to-riches journey and so we wait to see how, with a bit of spit, polish and hard work, transformation against the odds is possible. Although, inevitably, the narrative arc of the show does follow the well-trodden American Dream theme of outsiders whose hard work turns things around, this is not a simple tale. There’s a richer and more nuanced redemptive journey offered in this compelling series.

The show has won critical acclaim and I believe it is due in part to the fascinating combination of three important overlapping hospitality themes that each offer us some signposts for changing the culture of toxic environments. They also happen to point to how Christian hospitality teaching is as relevant today as ever.

The vulnerability of hospitality

“The more I learn about Michael, the less I understand.”

Ebraheim

Everyone in the relational ecosystem of this television show has a major flaw. There are no messianic figures. Everyone is carrying great deal of pain and vulnerability. The ever-anxious Carmy is a recovering addict and finds solace in total immersion in his work. The rising-star sous-chef, Sydney, played by Ayo Edebiri, is grieving the loss of her mother and the serial failures of her previous businesses. The emotionally illiterate cousin, Richie, played by Ebon Moss-Bachrach, is becoming alienated from his wife and his daughter and as a result causes physical or relational chaos everywhere he goes.

Watching this show is a journey to the dark side. The pyscho-social dysfunction of the characters matches the organisational and financial mess of the sandwich bar itself. Everything goes wrong: crumbling walls, failed safety inspections and the self-sabotage of the staff team. It’s great viewing at the end of a difficult day: any minor chaos I am experiencing is relativised by the all-consuming disarray of The Beef.

Despite their flaws, we find ourselves rooting for the characters. Hollywood seems to have borrowed this idea from the Christian faith: never underestimate the underdogs. From its earliest days the church was made up of a seemingly socially impossible group of people: a suspicious collaborator, a trouble-making insurgent, as well as other socially stigmatised men and women. You don’t have to spend long in a local congregation of Christians to encounter the same social paradoxes. The unlikely, often uncomfortable gathering of believers from different walks of life is both the beauty and the bane of the church. People are both sharp and sweet, weird, awkward and challenging and yet somehow there’s not only something irresistibly moreish about their company, but the persistent belief that these are the ones who will ultimately be vindicated, honoured and rewarded.

The hope of hospitality

“I think this place could be so different from all the other places we’ve been at.”

Sydney

The continuous omnishambles of The Beef feels like a mirror of our own political moment. Swapping the leader at the top does not resolve the systemic problems. There is no overnight transformation. In fact, things must get worse before anything changes for the better. Personal existential demons need to be faced before the restaurant can begin to be turned around, and, even then, they still need an end-of-season miracle.
So much of our public life, whether it is in the politics of the church or the politics of our nation, looks like the early chaos of The Beef. A fancy new menu, a charismatic new leader, a new shiny piece of technology or even a quick-fix new work regime cannot take away the anger and the misery and the brokenness. What does seem to pay dividends in the show is the gradual inculcation of a culture of dignity, respect and commitment to one another.

Every employee at The Beef begins to refer to one other as “Chef.” This recognition of the value of the other, the regular voicing of the importance and equality of your fellow employees is part of a gradual culture change in the restaurant. The change in language is not a magic bullet for the transformation but rather a small, but important, expression of new culture of dignity that is being established. This same kind of culture change is urgently needed in our church and nation. Finding ways to express respect to one another might not be a bad place to start.

It becomes one of the highest honours for the cooks to prepare the “family meal” where the staff gather for food together after the shift is done. It turns into a moment of communion and reconnection in the chaos of the day. It reminds me of how the Lord’s Supper was always meant to be – a reason to come together and remember and hope.

The power of hospitality

“I’m gonna fix this place.”

Carmy

Season 2 tells the story of creating a Michelin-Star-worthy restaurant in the transformed shell of what had been The Beef sandwich shop. Most of the dysfunctional characters go on a series of journeys of discovery and transformation. One of the chefs goes to Denmark and learns the power of discipline and how to produce micro-cuisine. Another goes on a weeklong haute cuisine boot camp at the highest quality restaurant in the world. Beginning with the simple task of washing forks he is gradually inducted into the culture of excellence and service of the restaurant, where nothing is too much trouble in their aim to give guests an unforgettable experience of hospitality. Richie’s 45-minute make-over is the worst and best episode. The transformation is too complete too quickly, but its message is clear: there is hope for even the most dysfunctional person.

“You have this minute when you’re watching the fire and you’re thinking: If I don’t do anything, this place will burn down and all my anxiety will go away with it. And then you put the fire out. Then you put the fire out.”

Carmy

As I binge-watched this series, I found myself thinking long and hard about the church. I have tasted the toxicity that too often seeps in and spreads pain, causes harm and thwarts whatever good they are trying to do. I have also tasted the opposite, when the church has extended welcome to the homeless, refugees or children in care, and people encounter hope and transformation. When I feel like giving up on the church, I remember how delicious that really is and am re-motivated to do whatever I can to make it the best place in town.

Essay

Culture

Middle East

Politics

24 April 2024

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?