The New Alliance Shaping the Middle East Is Against a Tiny Bug (New York Times, Feb. 10, 2021)

The New York Times  Opinion Section, Feb. 10, 2021

Matti Friedman

Photo: Mohamed Somji for the New York Times

Dates in the Middle East are like corn for the Maya — not just a crop but an icon, the “bread of the desert,” a symbol of life itself. The date palm appears on mosaic floors laid by Roman artisans and on coins stamped by the early caliphs. The fruit recurs in the Quran and the Hebrew Bible: Many scholars believe the honey in “land of milk and honey” refers to honey from dates, not bees.

With their long shelf life, dates were beloved by Arabian nomads and caravan traders, and are still eaten to break the Ramadan fast. In Israel the name Tamar, which means “date” and appears in the Book of Genesis, remains the most popular Hebrew name for girls. (I have a daughter named Tamar who doesn’t like dates.) At desert oases and in small holdings along the Nile, the same trees might support the same family over generations.

There’s the Middle East of the news, a region of nuclear proliferation, civil wars and futile diplomacy. Then there’s the Middle East of dates — a map defined not by national boundaries but by the stately trees in their hundreds of millions, stretching east from the Atlantic coast of Morocco through North Africa, Egypt and Israel, to Iraq and the Persian Gulf toward Iran and beyond.

The Middle East of the news saw a striking political shift at the end of last year, produced by the efforts of American envoys and by new perceptions of common enemies. In the date world, too, there’s a new alignment afoot. This change has nothing to do with American diplomats or Iranian Revolutionary Guards. But it, too, involves a common enemy and is undermining the familiar boundaries, creating new connections among the people who live here and restoring others that once existed and were lost. These stories intersect in the emirate of Dubai.

Dates in the Middle East are like corn for the Maya — not just a crop but an icon, the “bread of the desert,” a symbol of life itself. The date palm appears on mosaic floors laid by Roman artisans and on coins stamped by the early caliphs. The fruit recurs in the Quran and the Hebrew Bible: Many scholars believe the honey in “land of milk and honey” refers to honey from dates, not bees.

With their long shelf life, dates were beloved by Arabian nomads and caravan traders, and are still eaten to break the Ramadan fast. In Israel the name Tamar, which means “date” and appears in the Book of Genesis, remains the most popular Hebrew name for girls. (I have a daughter named Tamar who doesn’t like dates.) At desert oases and in small holdings along the Nile, the same trees might support the same family over generations.

There’s the Middle East of the news, a region of nuclear proliferation, civil wars and futile diplomacy. Then there’s the Middle East of dates — a map defined not by national boundaries but by the stately trees in their hundreds of millions, stretching east from the Atlantic coast of Morocco through North Africa, Egypt and Israel, to Iraq and the Persian Gulf toward Iran and beyond.

The Middle East of the news saw a striking political shift at the end of last year, produced by the efforts of American envoys and by new perceptions of common enemies. In the date world, too, there’s a new alignment afoot. This change has nothing to do with American diplomats or Iranian Revolutionary Guards. But it, too, involves a common enemy and is undermining the familiar boundaries, creating new connections among the people who live here and restoring others that once existed and were lost. These stories intersect in the emirate of Dubai.

(Read the whole thing here.)