Abu Zeid and Al-Momani: The Neigh of Identity and the Whisper of Wisdom!
That profound wisdom, inherited by living nations, teaches us that great states are not merely built on decisions, but rather constructed by the mind that precedes the decision, and the spirit that imbues the decision with meaning.
Jordan's timeless wisdom knows that true building begins with a vision that transcends the moment, and a will that defies the impossible.
In this complex context between the subjective and the objective, I recall an unexpected phone call I received one afternoon from His Excellency Dr. Mohammed Al-Momani, the Minister of Government Communication, the official spokesperson of the government. It was short in duration but long in its echoes. The call was to commend an article I wrote about Dr. Jafar Hassan, describing him as the "state's interpreter," but the ironic reflection here is how praise, in the corridors of bureaucratic interpretation, can turn into prejudice, and how a person's expertise in the world of libraries, information, and archives – a world from which Al-Aqqad emerged to become a giant of thought – can be seen in the context of weakness rather than strength! As if understanding the layers of text and context is a flaw in a world that rewards speed and superficiality. And of course, this irony is not merely personal, but rather a small window through which we view a larger transformation in the spirit of Jordanian media, from the era of the founder Salah Abu Zeid to the era of the interpreter – also – Mohammed Al-Momani.
Salah Abu Zeid was a poet who possessed a microphone at a time when voice was a battle for existence, and when he launched "Here is Amman," he was not just starting a radio station, but was establishing awareness.
In an era when identities were melted in the crucible of totalizing discourses, his voice declared the independence of the Jordanian spirit. He brought together artists and wrote songs and established the theater because he understood that culture is the last trench of identity, and that the real battle is fought on the stage of emotion before the battlefield. His media was mobilizing because the time was a time of establishment, and establishment requires a neigh that shakes emotions, awakens conscience, and announces birth in a desert of regional silence.
Half a century later, in a world that has shifted from mono-broadcasting to digital chaos, Dr. Mohammed Al-Momani came carrying the tools of the interpreter, not the herald.
In a time when the enemy was no longer a single radio station but thousands of platforms broadcasting interference, the man who holds a PhD in Political Science turns noise into discourse, chaos into dialogue, and complexity into understanding. He does not raise his voice but raises the level of argument! He does not chant slogans but analyzes facts! And he does not confront with fiery rhetoric but with calm logic!
His charisma lies in his academic methodology, apparent in his research and articles, and in that rare ability to transform political complexity into clear discourse, where the pen – the pen of the researcher, the professor, and the journalist – becomes a tool of precise dissection, not merely a tool for writing, and his voice in his logic that trusts that reason may be the last stronghold of resistance in a time of surrender to emotion.
The two men met at a turning point of fate: both dealt with the word as an existential responsibility. Abu Zeid transformed silence into voice, and Al-Momani transforms noise into meaning. The former confronted the resonant "Voice of the Arabs" with a clear Jordanian voice, and the latter faces the chaos of digital platforms with an analytical mindset. Both believe that the media is a front, albeit the shape of the battle differs: Abu Zeid's battle was for existence, and Al-Momani's battle is for the cohesion of meaning. The first was the poet of the emerging state, and the second is the philosopher of the discourse of the existing state.
In the space of this reflection, the experience of the archives looks upon with scorn by some, emerges, an experience that Al-Aqqad used to become a giant of Arab thought. Those who live among texts and breathe the dust of documents learn that real meaning is not found in a single line but in the complete context, not in an isolated word but in the hidden fabric that binds sentences together. This skill is not a flaw but a depth multiplied, and an ability to read history as a connected tale, not as disconnected chapters. It sees beyond the apparent, hears between the lines, reads even the "erased," and understands that truth is rarely on the surface but in the layers accumulated beneath.
So, do we need mobilizing media today? The question necessitates a redefinition of "mobilization" itself. We do not need the mobilization of empty emotions, but rather the mobilization of conscious awareness! We need media that combines the wisdom of the founder with the coolness of the analyst, the warmth of identity with the clarity of vision, between the neigh of establishment and the whisper of modernization. Media that truly serves as an interpreter for the spirit of the nation in every stage, knowing when to raise the voice and when to elevate the thought, when the spirit needs a song, and when the mind needs a map!
Salah Abu Zeid has died in body but his existential question remains, and Dr. Mohammed Al-Momani tries to answer it from his position as an interpreter of the state in a time of transformation. Jordan between the two men is a continuing story: Abu Zeid said "Here is Amman" loudly when voice was a necessity, and Al-Momani says it quietly when clarity is a necessity. And the word remains a trust, and the homeland is that trust passed from generation to generation, from voice to voice, in a continuity that knows that greatness is not only in the beginning but in the ability to re-invent the essence in every era.
Jordan is not just a place on the map, but it is this enduring ability to say: "Here". Here we stand, here we reinvent ourselves, here we refuse to die.
Here, in this distance between the resonant voice of Abu Zeid and the analytical whisper of Al-Momani, we find the secret of Jordan that does not break: the ability to change without denial, to evolve without severance, and to continue without repetition. And this is the immortality of a nation that knows its voice does not die, but transforms from neigh to whisper, and from whisper to wisdom. And wisdom, ultimately, is the last thing we carry, and the first thing we leave for those who come after us, in the living archive of the nation that never shuts its doors!
