HISHAM MAYET  …Notre-Dame, of course, burned down and there’s been all this pledging of the money. They’ve raised up to 800 million. The US also pledged 200 million euros. A transparent x-ray of misguided global capitalism. It is in no way meant to help anyone but to reinforce the idea of the ruling class and their monuments. The big story right now in fact is that the French cardinal, the one that has been molesting children, said, ‘No, you just can’t make me step down, I refuse to!’ Here’s the French Catholic Church and we’re just dumping all this money to reconstruct this relic.

HM  They’re symbols of power and they are important to reinforce dominance. In a very controversial way there would be people saying that yes, Notre-Dame is worth a lot of human lives, like in the past. But this is the way that it has always been – it’s only being sold differently. Think about 9/11 and the symbolism of Western civilization being attacked by non-Western civilization. For the anti‑American world, it was a moment of victory because this giant was brought down to his knees, even momentarily. The symbolism of that was profound. In a sense, Notre-Dame represented the same for anti-colonial minds.

HM  It’s always money and power and, of course, religion. We’ve been culturally programmed to believe in these concepts. Out of curiosity, some of us are, of course, different. Dealing with dogmas that are not so old, 2000 years for Christianity. But looking at the bigger picture, it’s just 2000 years, which is nothing. I’m a firm believer in pantheism, which is basically animism. The idea that I am a part, a microorganism of planet Earth. This idea of hierarchy in religion is absurd to me. One human dominating another human is completely absurd. To me the power of a clap of thunder is stronger and truer than any dogmatic text.

HM  I was born January 6, 1970, Tripoli, Libya, just two months before Gaddafi took over. Both sides of my family were incredibly affected. My grandfather on my mother’s side had come from Manisa, Western Turkey, a Mediterranean port, and he had been sent by the Ottoman Sultan to put down a rebellion in Tripoli in the early 1900s. This family, the Sarraj family, established itself in Libya at that time and managed to be one of the large landowners in and around Tripoli. My father’s family, El Mayet – which means the dead or the dead one – as far as I know have been there since Roman times, 3000 years. Both my grandparents were quite prominent after colonization. Both were part of the original assembly to write the constitution. My grandfather on my father’s side was a secretary of state and minister of the interior under King Idris… My father was actually an ambassador appointed to Denmark in the summer of ’69. On September 2nd, Gaddafi did the coup d’état. Had Gaddafi not showed up, I would have probably been born in Denmark. In the early 70s my father became the representative lawyer for the opposition, and of course that was a very difficult place to be. In ’74, there was a call to eliminate all political opposition in Libya and my father was one of the top targets. In 1976, my father’s life was threatened to the point that he left immediately to London. We followed shortly thereafter… overnight, we basically had to gather what we could and fly to London.

London was a place where my father and uncles went all the time; they had businesses, a hotel, so it wasn’t something that crazy. Already two uncles were living there. My father was travelling to London on business all the time. I actually went with him several times when I was really young.

It was a complete shift of life, a very intense adjustment period for my younger brother and I. My sister stayed in Libya and my older brother was in military schools in the north of England. I was in and out of private and boarding schools in London. We lived in Kensington, just 3 blocks from Harrods. This was the 70s; it was a pretty exclusive neighbourhood, but not so ostentatious as today. It was an amazing childhood for me. We would walk to Hyde Park. Harrods was kind of our playground. I went to a school called St. Davies, next to the National History Museum, a private school for diplomats and their children. A lot of Saudis, Italians, Yugoslavs, Qataris, Dutch, a small international school, 25 students, 3 teachers. Very high level. A really intense upbringing of extreme education. I don’t know how healthy that was… completely disciplined.

In 1979, Gaddafi started again to want to eliminate all opposition, even the ones living overseas. There’s a lot of news that he was sending assassins out to Europe and many people died. In this second wave, they came to my dad’s office and shot his business partner point-blank at his desk. My father was supposed to be there. Luckily, he wasn’t. He immediately left London and the UK. That was major BBC news. We heard about it watching television and there was panic in our flat… My uncle arrived banging on the door. We wouldn’t open up for anyone, but when he stuck his finger we recognised his ring and said ok. Within two hours we packed everything and went into exile for 6 weeks in Aqaba, Jordan. King Hussein’s son at the time was an acquaintance of my father so somehow we arranged quick flights to Amman. We were there maybe for 4, 5 days hiding at the Red Sea, just lying low. At that time I was 8 years old… it was a mix of shock and trying to forget what was going on. I think my parents tried to make it as safe and normal as possible.

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