My family and I first heard about King Hussein's passing when we walked into sacrament meeting Sunday morning and a neighbor gave us the sad news. Later my 13-year old daughter leaned over and whispered, 'Dad, why do I feel so bad about King Hussein's death?' The only quick reply I could think of was, 'Because he was such a good, kind man.' As the day went on, I reflected on her question as I examined my own feelings of sadness and loss. Why indeed was I, a Western Christian, so profoundly moved by the death of a Middle Eastern Muslim monarch who ruled a small, poor, rather obscure kingdom?
Part of the answer had to do with my family's experience living in that kingdom, officially known as the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. We returned to Provo last summer after working three years at the BYU Center for Cultural and Educational Affairs in the capital city, Amman. During that time, I had the opportunity to observe first-hand the king's leadership style and personal qualities. Not having lived previously in a kingdom or ever been anywhere near a king or queen, I assumed that His Majesty would be like most royalty whom one sees or reads about occasionally in the media: urbane, affluent, imperious, aloof. I knew of his reputation for resilience, for surviving politically and physically in the maelstrom of Middle Eastern politics.
I had read the astonishing episode when an assassin's bullet, intended for his grandfather, King Abdullah (who died in the attack), glanced off a medal the young Hussein was wearing on his chest. I was aware of how, on numerous occasions, Hussein had survived coup attempts and efforts by enemies to poison him, ambush his motorcade, or shoot down his official airplane. All of this was part of the public record and the mystique surrounding him. But what I saw and came to admire deeply during those three years was the human, personal side of an extraordinarily gifted leader. He was a king with a common touch, one who invariably exhibited both the charisma, grace and polish of royal upbringing, and the dignity, integrity, humility and compassion of a sincerely religious man.
Several examples of King Hussein's common touch are indelibly impressed in my mind. Our home in Amman was located near a park adjacent to the Prime Minister's office. In 1995, as the king's 60th birthday approached, we noticed workmen in the park laboring around the clock to install new lights, landscaping, and a larger-than-life statue of His Majesty. I was out of the country on the day of the birthday celebration, and as I returned from the airport in a taxi and passed by the park, I was startled to see the statue had been removed, leaving only the bare marble base. When I asked the taxi driver what had happened to the king's statue, he replied when the king saw it, he was embarrassed at this kind of attention and ordered it taken down. It was replaced a few months later with a sculpture symbolizing the virtues of Jordan and its people.
A year later, after returning from an extended journey abroad, King Hussein made a tour of orphanages in and around Amman. When he saw the deplorable living condidtions of the state-run institutions, he fired several government officials for neglecting the needs of Jordan's most helpless citizens and then ordered one of the royal palaces be converted into an orphanage.
In both word and deed, King Hussein always tried to make people feel welcome, regardless of their ethnic, national or religious background. He sought tirelessly to promote peace, dialogue and interfaith understanding. One of my favorite memories is of going to Christmas concerts at the American Community School that my children attended and seeing King Hussein and Queen Noor sitting on the front row, proudly watching their two daughters peform in the choir and band, and enthusiastically singing traditional Christmas carols during the audience participation.
In the aftermath of the 1967 war with Israel, the king opened the borders of his country and offered refuge and residency to tens of thousands of Palestinian refugees. (As a result, the majority of Jordanian citizens today are of Palestinian origin). Even though signing a peace treaty with a long-time enemy, Israel, was unpopular with the majority of his people, the King relentlessly supported the peace process, viewing it as the only long-term, viable alternative to the endless cycle of hatred, violence and war that has brought so much suffering to both Arabs and Jews. Not long ago, when a Jordanian extremist who opposed the peace process, killed some Jewish children who were visiting a border town, King Hussein visited the home of each child's family in Israel to express in person his condolences and apologies and to demonstrate his commitment to peace and reconciliation between enemies. Consistent with this commitment, on several occasions throughout his life the king granted pardons to political enemies who had sought to slander him, overthrow him and even assassinate him.
I also realized, as I reflected on the life of King Hussein, that his passing comes at a critical moment, not only for the people of Jordan and the Middle East, but for people here in the United States and elsewhere who have become increasingly cynical about their political leaders. Given the scandals and impeachment proceedings of the past year, where can one find inspiring examples and role models in the political arena who personify high standards of morality, honor and compassion? Juxtaposed against the backdrop of moral expediency and disgrace in the American presidency, the passing of a great king. almost universally admired for his visionary leadership and personal integrity, is all the more poignant and moving.
The words from a famous Simon and Garfunkel song, written during a similar period of disillusionment in American socieyt, came to mind: 'Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.' And I thought, the same could be said now of Hussein bin Talal. One of the great exemplars of honor and integrity in political life is taken from us just when those ideals seem to be hardest to find.
I think the greatest tribute that can be paid to any leader is the esteem, affection and support freely offered by those whom he/she leads. And there is no question that King Hussein was genuinely loved by the Jordanian people whom he ruled for almost half a century. This reality is all the more remarkable given the fact that the Hashemite family were non-Jordanians whom the British imposed as rulers of Jordan after World War I. But over the years, the young king won the hearts and respect of the Jordanian populace which typically refers to him as a father, a brother or a friend rather than a king. I have a poster mounted on my office wall that was published by a citizen's group in Amman for the King's 60th birthday celebration. It reads: 'Hussein is the most precious thing we own. Sixty years of giving and building and caring.'
What a magnificent tribute to a national leader: No partisan slogans or political spin, just sincere expression of appreciation for the lifetime efforts of a good man to improve the lives of his compatriots. He exhibited throughout his life the qualities of another king described by Mormon: 'For behold, King Benjamin was a holy man, and he did reign over his people in righteousness; ... By laboring with all the might of his body and the faculty of his whole soul ... (he) did once more establish peace in the land' (Words of Mormon 17-18). This too is the legacy of King Hussein: A humble man who reigned righteously over his people and labored with 'all the might of his body and the faculty of his whole soul' to bring peace to a troubled part of the world.