Endless Blind Passions - Chapter 10
“Jamal sent you a letter?” asks Dave.“Yes, I just got it. It was mailed Monday, the day before the attack,” says Monty, using a different pay phone from the last time he called his brother. “It took three days to get here. I guess mail delivery is slowed down.”
“It’s probably that anthrax scare. So what did Jamal’s letter say?”
“Here, I’ll read it to you. ‘Monty, my heart, I have to leave for a while. Don’t be alarmed. But if I don’t return, something may have happened. I’m sorry, I can’t say more. Take care of yourself. Be careful. I love you. Jamal.’”
“Holy Moses. Like, what might happen to him?” asks Dave.
“He doesn’t say. Not even a hint.”
“But are you sure it’s from him?”
“It’s got to be. It’s his handwriting.”
“Where was it sent from?”
“It’s postmarked on the tenth from somewhere in downtown Seattle.”
“Sent the day before the attack. That doesn’t sound good at all.”
“No, it sure as hell doesn’t,” says Monty. “So what should I do about it? This is fucked up. He must have known something big was coming. Jesus Christ. What should I do?”
“What do you think you should do?”
“I hate it, but I think I have to hand the damn letter over to the FBI, and all the Al-Qaeda pamphlets I found in Jamal’s suitcase. I phoned them and they’re coming tomorrow. If I don’t show them this stuff, I’ll get into deeper shit myself.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. You don’t have a choice,” says Dave.
“But this is going to incriminate Jamal even more, isn’t it?”
“Probably. I realize it’s painful to picture him as a terrorist, Monty. But the letter is suspicious. You have to hand it over, along with the pamphlets.”
“That’s what I think too. But I needed to hear it from you.”
“Listen, I have my theories about what’s behind all this,” says Dave.
“About Jamal?”
“No, not about Jamal exactly. I mean the attack, what led up to it, what’s going on in Afghanistan and the Middle East. I’m writing an article about it, that it all has to do with oil and other fossil fuels.”
“Come on, it can’t be that simple,” says Monty.
“Oh, it’s not simple at all. It’s byzantine. And it’s all been unfolding in the years since World War Two. Fossil fuel consumption, petrochemicals, plastics, pesticides—their consumption has grown exponentially exactly during our lifetime. Yours and mine. And along with it America’s meddling in the Middle East. Look at what happened when the Egyptians closed the Suez Canal in fifty-six. Britain and France invaded. But then the US intervened, and the Europeans withdrew. And so the US gets the upper hand for the future.”
“But what does that have to do with oil?”
“Over ten percent of the world’s oil production passed through the canal.”
“Yeah, okay … and …”
“And before that, in fifty-three, the US covertly overthrew the elected government of Iran after its leader, Mosaddegh, nationalized the oil industry. Then the US installed the shah to do their bidding. And then his brutal regime was overthrown by the Iranian Revolution. All you have to do, Monty, is ask yourself who’s interests are being served. The coal, petroleum, and petrochemical corporations have a stranglehold over America, along with related industries like automobile manufacturers, armaments, fertilizer, plastics.”
“Okay, I understand all this, but I don’t see what it has to do with Afghanistan, let alone Jamal,” says Monty. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Hold your horses. It’s all related. And a lot of it centers on Saudi Arabia and the oil emirates. Everything America has done rotates around controlling the Middle East and its oil, namely the Arabian Peninsula. And secondly to defeat the Soviet Union. Which fell apart soon after the US-backed mujahideen triumphed in Afghanistan and Russia retreated. Except that the US stupidly left the scene in complete chaos, and the Taliban took over. Meanwhile Al-Qaeda was determined to attack the US so they could in turn dislodge Arab governments and set up a giant caliphate. Fifteen of the nineteen attackers were from Saudi Arabia. The Taliban may or may not have been involved, but for sure they allowed Al-Qaeda to settle in Afghanistan after they were expelled from Sudan.”
“Are you sure this isn’t all conspiracy paranoia?” asks Monty. “I mean, I wouldn’t put anything past America or Saudi Arabia and the oil company giants. But do you think everything is so interlinked?”
“Of course everything is interlinked. You never take me seriously, Monty. Don’t you realize from your Buddhist practice that everything is related? Codependent origination, it’s called, right? Everything arises concurrently. Everything causes everything else. Samsara, endless cycling and suffering.”
“Hah,” says Monty. “I guess you’ve been reading up on Buddhism so you can poke fun at me. But you’re right, conspiracies aren’t always conscious. It’s all interwoven. So do you think your article will get published? You’re a freelance journalist, after all; you can say whatever you want.”
“Yeah, if we truly lived in a free country,” says Dave. “So far none of my usual outlets here or in the States want to touch this story. Everyone only feels pity now for the US. Let’s put all else aside, as if America’s issues are infinitely more important than the rest of the world’s. I don’t mean to belittle at all what happened in New York. It was horrific. But to cite one example, virtually the same number of people were killed outright in India, in Bhopal in eighty-four, when Union Carbide’s chemical plant exploded. And half a million more people suffered lifetime injuries. So did India attack America in retaliation? I’m sure the US will bomb Kabul, and who knows where else in the Middle East. Iraq maybe—get rid of Saddam Hussein once and for all and unleash some other horror.”
“Come on. Aren’t you exaggerating a bit, Dave? America didn’t purposely attack India.”
“No, but suffering is suffering. And sins of omission cause as much suffering as sins of commission.”
“I agree, but I’m not clear what you’re driving at.”
“Look, all the world’s attention, including the media, is directed at whatever happens to be the immediate scandal or tragedy of the moment. But meanwhile we’re ignoring the real existential threat—global warming. Hardly anyone talks about it, and no one’s doing a thing about it, but I’ve been following the science. And guess what? It’s all because of fossil fuels. It’s coal and oil and gas all coming back to haunt us. Did you know that Carter’s chief science adviser predicted exactly this back in seventy-seven or seventy-eight? And I’m sure the oil companies have realized for decades what’s happening, but they’ve suppressed it: that from the start of the Industrial Revolution, and exponentially since World War Two, greenhouse gases have been accumulating in the atmosphere. And no one’s doing a damn thing about it. In fact, the reverse, like when Bush agreed with the Senate to repudiate the Kyoto Protocol on reducing greenhouse gases. When? March 2001, barely six months before the attack. No one wants to face up to what’s happening to our world. Everyone’s buried their heads in the sand. Species dying off. The oceans polluted with plastic, the soil with fertilizers.”
“Okay. I agree it’s all about petrochemicals,” says Monty. “And my generation, we’re all to blame. It’s all happened exactly in our lifetime. But don’t you think you’re getting carried away? And what does this have to do with Jamal? It can’t all be about oil.”
“You’re in denial like everyone else, Monty. Have you seen any of this so-called reality-TV crap? The people on it are crazy. It’s all fake—the opposite of reality. And it’s perverting everyone’s perception of where this world is heading. Wake up, Monty.”
“Okay, okay. You’re right.”
“Thank you,” says Dave.
“But listen, talking about petrochemicals and plastics, it reminds me …”
“Yes, what?”
“I wanted to tell you I came across some of Mom’s faded Melmac plastic dishware. I still have lots of it. I thought about throwing it out because I have no space here on the houseboat. But I feel kind of nostalgic about it. Do you want some of it?”
“There you go again, Monty, changing the subject. And no, I don’t remember Melmac at all or much about other stuff. You’re the one who’s nostalgic about that sort of thing.”
“Thanks a lot,” says Monty. “Okay. I’m guilty, I agree. My whole generation. We’ve lived off fossil fuels, including good old Melmac. But I don’t see what it has to do with Jamal’s disappearance.”
“I’m not sure either. But the pamphlets and his letter are damning. I had a positive feeling about Jamal from the first time I met him. But I guess people can hide their true identity. If he has, well, his handlers did a damn good job training him in subterfuge. Maybe he’s been secretly helping the terrorists or raising money. Crazy, but it’s conceivable. Whatever the truth is, you better hand over the evidence to the FBI. Let me know what happens. And remember, if you need to get away for any reason, you can always come up here. Secretly if you have to. I could pick you up somewhere along the border.”
“Right,” says Monty. “Come and pick me up in your gas-guzzling SUV. Hypocrite.”
“Very funny, Monty. Hah hah. But seriously, I’m here for you. Love you.”
“Love you too—even though you drive an SUV and don’t care about Mom’s old Melmac.”