Let me be open with you from the beginning. Through telling stories of international relations (IR) in a strange and unfamiliar way, I seek to enchant you, the reader. I want to embolden your imagination and persuade you of the possibility of disarmament.
I draw my inspiration from the disarming charm of Shahrazad, beguiling narrator of the 1001 Nights , that ancient and cosmopolitan collection of tales from Arabic, Indian and Persian traditions. In the prologue of The Arabian Nights (as the text is sometimes called here in the so-called West), we find the framing narrative that envelops all of the shorter stories nesting within its pages. We are introduced to Shahrayar, the âinvincible, energetic, and implacableâ king of âIndia and Indochina â (Haddawy, 1990, p. 3). But we learn that Shahrayarâs power over his subjects has limits. One day, Shahrayar embarks on a hunt, leaving his brother, Shahzaman, behind at the palace. As Shahrayar heads for the wilderness, Shahzaman looks out the window and is shocked to see his brotherâs wife, 10 light-skinned âslave-girlsâ and 11 cross-dressing, enslaved black men all making love in the palace gardens. Shahzaman is alarmed that despite their low station, women, slaves and people with darker skin all have agency, even âthough my brother is king and master of the whole worldâ (p. 4).
When Shahrayar learns from his brother of the queenâs orgiastic exertions, âhis blood boiledâ (p. 7). He orders his vizier to execute her and killed all his concubines himself. Stirred to a misogynistic rage by his sense of impotence, he vows to âsave himself from the wickedness and cunning of women.â He swears that everyday hence he will marry a woman âfor one night only,â ordering his vizier to kill her the next day before finding him someone new:
He continued to do this until all the girls perished, their mothers mourned, and there arose a clamor among the fathers and mothers, who called the plague upon his head, complained to the Creator of the heavens, and called for help on Him who hears and answers prayers. (p. 11)
Enter Shahrazad, eldest daughter of the vizier. â[I]ntelligent, knowledgeable, wise and refined,â Shahrazad âknew poetry by heart,â had studied history, literature, philosophy and medicine and âwas acquainted with the sayings ⊠of sages and kingsâ (p. 11). Unlike her father, who has convinced himself that he âcannot disobeyâ the king, Shahrazad has a plan. To the vizierâs distress, she insists he allow her to marry Shahrayar, so she can âsucceed in saving the people or perish and die like the restâ (p. 11). Her father tries to dissuade her, insisting that women should obey men, but Shahrazad ups the ante: âif you donât take me to King Shahrayar, I shall go to him by myself and tell him you have refused to give me to one like himâ (p. 15).
After conspiring with her sister, Dinarzad, Shahrazad marries the king. Shahrayar takes her to his bed and as he begins to âfondle her,â he is surprised when she begins to weep. Baffled, the king asks her âWhy are you crying?â She tells him that before she dies in the morning she wants to say goodbye to her sister. Shahrayar sends for Dinarzad and allows her to âsleep under the bed.â Excruciatingly, Dinarzad waits until the king has âsatisfied himself with her sister.â Then she clears her throat and pipes up from beneath the mattress: âSister, if you are not sleepy, tell us one of your lovely little tales.â Obtaining the kingâs permission, Shahrazad instructs him: âListenâ (p. 16).
She spins a tale about a merchant who bargains with a murderous demon for a stay of execution, but dawn breaks before Shahrazad can conclude her story. She falls silent, leaving the king âburning with curiosity to hear the restâ (p. 18). Dinarzad exclaims âWhat a strange and lovely story!â but Shahrazad demures: âWhat is this compared with what I shall tell you tomorrow night if the king spares me and lets me live? It will be even better and more entertaining.â The king takes the bait, deciding to âspare her until I hear the rest of the story; then I will have to put her to deathâ (p. 18).
The next night, and for many nights after that, Dinarzad is permitted to continue sleeping under the royal bed, and since it would be beneath the dignity of the king to beg, each night she turns to her sister and asks her: âtell us one of your lovely little talesâ (p. 20). Shahrazad draws out her stories; each character themselves tells long yarns of
magical objects, enchanted cities, epic sojourns and legendary romance. Reading the
Nights feels like peeling back
narratives to find infinite layers of story tucked inside each other. Each morning, Shahrazad teases the king with the pleasures yet to come: âtomorrow night ⊠will be even better ⊠more wonderful, delightful, entertaining, and delectable if the kings spares me and lets me liveâ (p. 21). Following the 21st night, Shahrayar is so enthralled by his wifeâs gifts he decides he is âwilling to postpone her execution even for a monthâ (p. 55). Only four nights later, in âamazement, pain and sorrowâ at the plight of Shahrazadâs characters, the king is willing to extend her life âeven for two monthsâ (p. 62). As each tale seamlessly merges into another, we dare to hope that our narrator, through her enrapturing
art, is slowly teaching the kingâs shriveled, psychopathic heart a modicum of
humanity. Her characters slip hints of an alternative way to govern:
Behold a peaceful city, free from fear,
Whose wonders make it a gorgeous heaven appear. (p. 94)
The original text ends abruptly, after the 271st night, tempting endless scribes, translators, hucksters and storytellers to add their own tales (including that of Aladdin), hoping to complete the remaining 730 nights. Husain Haddawy, the Nightsâ authoritative translator into English, is unimpressed by these imposters but cannot help appending his own postscript: âTradition has it that in the course of time Shahrazad bore Shahrayar three children and that, having learned to trust and love her, he spared her life and kept her as his queenâ (p. 427).
Todayâs gender politics rightly lead us to suspect the claim that a woman can love a violent, damaged man into gentleness. I could not help but cringe at Shahrazadâs exclamation in the BBC TV version: âIf I can make him listen to my stories, maybe heâll changeâ (Barnes, 2000, Episode 1, 41:19). But there is a grim humility to the original, truncated text. It offers not a utopian vision of âhappily ever afterâ but rather the possibility that through discursive skill we can stay executions one night at a time. This is the role I believe disarmament campaigners can play in global politics. We cannot promise a world free of all strife. But perhaps we can persuade violent people to give us respite, to reduce their arsenals a little at a time, to renounce particularly odious weapons. We do this by flattering their sense of honor, enthralling them with our art and weaving them into a fabric of norms and commitments. From Shahrazad we learn that the storyteller can move people, she hasâwe haveâagency. But it is a cyclical task and often a dangerous one.
Like Haddawy, my encounter with Shahrazad tempts me to add my own tales, from more recent times. And so, before attending to the more serious scholarly tasks of reviewing the literature and the bookâs theoretical approach, I offer you three anecdotes. At their core they are true, though they are stylized here in honor of the great storyteller herself.1
The 1002nd Night: The Story of the Princess and the Hibakusha
When it was night and Shahrazad was in bed with the kingânow a constitutional monarch constrained by the rule of law, a vigorous civil society and international normsâDinarzad said to her sister, âPlease, if you are not sleepy, tell us one of your lovely little tales to while away the night. Maybe you could provide the reader of this book a real world example of what the author is trying to get at.â The king muttered, âT...