March 31, 2005
Letter 10 From Saudi Arabia
Driving Madness
R.F. Burton
Private Papers

We were quietly discussing why women weren't allowed to drive in Saudi Arabia, when Saleh—normally a polite, reticent young man—blurted out, "If my wife ever tells me she wants to drive, I swear to Allah, I'm going to take a gun and shoot her in the head!"

Then he stormed out of the office.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Some men have a desert mentality," Ahmed said. "They want everything to stay the same. Forever."

Saleh's outburst made me curious what other pig-eyed demons were twitching beneath his placid countenance. It also made me wonder how ostensibly sane men could be so vehemently opposed to change.

"So Ibrahim, why do you think women aren't allowed to drive?" I asked.

"It's too dangerous to let them drive. They would kill us all."

Funny response when you consider that Saudi men are among the worst drivers in the world. As I wrote before, on a good day driving in Arabia is like playing Russian roulette, only with cars instead of bullets. On a bad day the sensation is like being strapped to an earth-bound asteroid.

Over the years I've heard a lot of speculation as to why Saudi men are such bad drivers. One theory contends they were raised around camels instead of cars; consequently, they drive as if they're riding camels. This idea is ridiculous and smacks of cultural insensitivity, particularly towards camels. You don't learn to weave in and out of traffic, chasing each other at dangerously high speeds with a total disregard to safety, civility, and sanity from atop a camel. Besides, camels are too intelligent to put up with such nonsense. The last time I visited the camel market in Hofuf I saw a camel spit with great gusto on a reckless cameleer's head.

Another explanation holds that Saudi males are such abysmal drivers because they are raised to always be first. Not academically, athletically, or artistically first, which they never are, unless competing in the annual national Qur'an memorization contest. No, I'm talking about their need to be spatially first, as first in line (only there never is a line in Arabia because everyone crowds to the front), and socially first, as higher in status than those fortunate enough to be in their presence.

If you are convinced it is your societal right to be first, it might be difficult to feel compelled to give the right of way to others. Worse, it would be easy to think others should give the right of way to you, regardless of circumstance. Recently, on the way to work I witnessed an instance of this twisted logic. A Pakistani driver ahead of us signaled to change into the left lane. Rather than allow the Pakistani to safely complete the maneuver, a Saudi in the left lane sped up and nearly rear-ended the Pakistani. Upset that the Pakistani was still ahead of him, the Saudi hit his horn and swerved into the right lane alongside the Pakistani's car. Then the Saudi rolled down his window and started banging his fist on the Pakistani's car, screaming at the driver.

Watching the spectacle, my driver commented, "It's their country, so they think we are in their way." I asked him why he thought Saudis were such bad drivers. "They have no self-discipline," he said.

For a Saudi woman to be as dangerous as a Saudi male driver she would have to tie a veil around her eyes and drive in complete darkness. Even then, chances are she would still be a better driver because Saudi women are not raised to be first. They are raised to be last. In all ways, they are second-class citizens, taught to concede to their male "superiors." It wouldn't require a great leap for Saudi women to waive the right of way to other drivers, because they have always been forced to waive their rights.

"What about you, Hisham? Why do you think women aren't allowed to drive?"

"Because they aren't smart enough to learn how to drive," Hisham said.

I suspect Saudi women have the same amount of gray matter women all around the world have, and women all around the world have already proven they are intelligent enough to drive. Then there are the Saudi women who drive at Aramco. Technically, they aren't allowed to drive because the government refuses to issue women driver's licenses, but an unspoken policy allows them to drive in Dhahran. I never heard of a single Saudi woman having an accident.

"What are they going to do if they are alone and have a flat tire?" Jamal asked.

In all the years I've spent in Arabia I don't recall seeing a Saudi man change a flat tire. I've seen them standing in the street, trying to wave down a foreign taxi driver to change the tire for a few riyals. I've even seen them walk away from a car with a flat tire. But I've never seen a Saudi wrestle with lug nuts.

"I don't think women really want to drive," Mohammed said.

It's not lack of desire that keeps women from driving. Back on November 9, 1990, 47 women took off their veils and drove in Riyadh for fifteen minutes, hoping to change the rule against women driving. Instead, the women were fired from their jobs. Their passports were revoked. They were denounced by the mutawwa'in as "fallen women."

I knew a Saudi woman at Aramco who told me her biggest goal in life was to learn to drive a car. Her dream came true when she traveled to California to go to college. She obtained a driver's license, rented a car, bought a map of the state, and then drove all the way from San Diego to San Francisco, stopping only for occasional pit stops along the way. She said it was the biggest adventure of her life, a dream come true.

"What do you think Hisham?"

"They aren't allowed to drive because of how the men would react," Hisham said.  "You know how men get when they see a woman in a car. They start driving stupid just to see her and get her attention. Saudi men don't want their mothers and sisters and wives bothered like that."

At least Hisham had a point. Whenever Saudi men spot a woman in the backseat of a car they hover around the car like bees around a flower, vying for a glimpse. Still, I'm unconvinced the reason woman are denied the right to drive is based on anything so chivalric as protecting one's sister, wife, or mother from such unsolicited attention.

Although I've never heard a reasonable explanation from a Saudi male as to why women shouldn't be allowed to drive, I have heard such an explanation from a Saudi woman. More surprisingly, from a Saudi woman who not only drives, but drives like a pro.

Marwa Mahmood Al-Eifa, a young and beautiful Saudi, won first place in the first international women's rally car race last month in Dubai.

When asked if she thought Saudi women should be allowed to drive in Arabia, she said she was against the idea.

"There are more important things they have to do to help in the country's development process," Ms. Al-Eifa told The Saudi Gazette.

She's absolutely right. More important things like finding a way to pacify the idiotic demons twitching in the average Saudi male's mind.

I wonder if Aristophanes' Lysistrata has ever been translated into Arabic.