The mentality that rules us is the mentality of bygone eras. In an article published by the American social scientist Professor 'Dodd,' examining the differences between the Eastern mentality and the Western, the writer notes that among the striking differences between the two mentalities is that the first is a dependent mentality while the second

is marked by self-reliance. The Eastern student, for example, when a problem or difficulty confronts him, goes off to seek its solution from his teacher or from some other person he trusts, instead of setting about solving it by his own efforts or by digging through dictionaries and books.

This phenomenon, which the professor analyzed in his article, points not only to the Easterner's dependency — that dependency bequeathed to him by ages of servitude — but also to the trait of attachment to persons, which marks peoples before they reach the stage of maturity: the trait of following the leader with the booming voice, whether he appears in the guise of a deadly warrior, a man of religion, a feudal lord, or a teacher.

All of that belongs to the vestiges of bygone eras. But were you to look closely into the features of our life and gather up what still clings to it of the traces of those eras, the thing would appall you; the sheer number of those traces would startle you, and your astonishment would grow as you grasped the hold they have over souls — so much so that some of us would sooner have life leave them than have the dominion of ignorance leave them.

Take, for example, the custom of hanging amulets on children's chests to guard them from the evil eye. Do you not see it practiced commonly even among the class that lays claim to learning and culture?

Of a kind with these amulets are the hackneyed phrases which the cultivated and the uncultivated alike repeat in their talk, to ward off the evil of the eye, or in deference to custom, or out of a desire to flatter and oblige: 'God's name upon him.' 'No evil meant.' 'God willing.' 'God keep him.'

Then there is the profusion of God's name in speech and the repetition of oaths and invocations: 'By God.' 'By the truth of your faith.' 'By my father's life.' 'God preserve you.' 'God protect you.' All of that is a visible trace of the Middle Ages, when religion held dominion over souls. But what admits of no denial is that the religious spirit which marked those ages has vanished today, and nothing remains of it but these threadbare oaths and hollow invocations repeated on every tongue. Mikhail Naimy hit the mark when he said: We are a nation whose religion is in its mouth.

Like these conventional invocations are the conventional compliments and the titles with which ordinary letters, the addresses of correspondence, and the puffs of the newspapers overflow: the most magnificent, most honored, and respected Sir; the great fighter; the inspired poet; the great woman of letters; the Miss of exquisite breeding; the lady of modesty and virtue. If these indicate anything, they indicate a decline in taste. And there are those who fasten the title 'Bey' to every name, after the Egyptian fashion. The beylicate, to my mind, is a symbol of reaction and despotism out of a hateful age. It would better become the man who actually bears the title to renounce it — what, then, of those who pride themselves on usurping it or on conferring it gratis?