1/21/2008

No "buts": we want freedom of speech

On my Dutch blog I yesterday addressed the horrific reactions to the upcoming release of Geert Wilders's film on the Qur'an. This morning I read an online article which confirmed my initial analysis.

Some of the calls for self-censorship in the Netherlands are absolutely chilling. What to think about a self-proclaimed Islam expert who in free newspaper DAG states: "To prosecute Wilders for his film is the only way to make it clear abroad that Wilders's views are not those of the Dutch authorities"? Or that split-tongued wolf in sheep's clothing Tariq Ramadan, who in the same article says that "Comparing the Qur'an to Mein Kampf is an extreme insult," the only purpose of which is to "unleash outrage, and, consequently, media attention"? If Ramadan were right, does it not prove Wilders's initial point that this book is at the root of a religion annex political ideology deeply intolerant of criticism and apostasy? And if the comparison with Mein Kampf is indeed so outrageous, why is it that this book is so widely distributed in the Muslim world?

The media largely repeat -- uncritically at that -- the same message put forward by "experts" and by the Dutch government: even though freedom of speech is our constitutional right, we have a duty towards society to preserve respect and tolerance vis-à-vis all people living in this country. Prime minister Jan-Peter Balkenende in an interview on Friday once more bored the Dutch people with it, in the process subordinating free speech to some vaguely defined notion of "responsibility". It led public television channel NOS to conclude (NL), again uncritically: "Balkenende pointed at our tradition of freedom of speech, within which people treat each other with respect."

In my latest Dutch blog, I noted that Holland's Christians have never received such warm government support in reaction to the imposition of an anti-religious liberal agenda upon this country from the 1960s onward. It can only lead one to conclude that there must be a difference in strategy on behalf of the Muslims which is bringing them more success than their Christian counterparts in the past. My guess would be: threatening the societies of the West with violence in order to further their anti-liberal agenda.

Furthermore, the bankrupt tradition of cultural relativism has deprived the West of an important means of defense against the barbarism surrounding it. While continuously confronting us with our history of colonialism and slavery, our professors apparently are not allowed to confront the world of Islam with its darker historical (as well as contemporary) episodes. Islamic extremists sense this weakness and self-doubt, and so are able to use the products of our Enlightenment against us.

Of course, freedom of speech and "respect" sometimes stand in sharp contrast to each other; that is the consequence of living in a liberal democracy, in which one is free to say anything without having to fear being prosecuted. The one and only thing protecting society from descending into civil war is classical tolerance (not that politically-correct perversion it has become in modern times): allowing something with which you do not agree, out of love or respect. Stopping Wilders from expressing his views has nothing to do with that.

Muslims in the Netherlands have learned in recent years that it pays to challenge criticism of Islam by referring to religious sensitivities. It is a mechanism which never fails them. And since humans generally are quite eager to accept outside causes for their own social and cultural misery, they are all too willing to push the button that sets it in motion. Rather than providing immigrants in the Netherlands with an incentive to take matters into their own hands and better their lots, our politicians confirm their belief that white man's oppression and racism, not individual merits, are at the root of their problems. The implication is that violence and death threats are an understandable, if not justified, reaction to the events that have been taking place not only in the Netherlands but in basically the entire world.

Another objection to the repeated mea culpas on the part of our liberal elites is the fact that it can hardly be called a compliment that a large ethnic group in this country is perceived to be acting like an explosive device ready to blow up any second. Yet no one seems to consider such a low esteem of Dutch Muslims "discriminatory" or "racist". In fact, Tariq Ramadan on Saturday said (NL) in NRC Handelsblad: "Geert Wilders is revealing his true nature, and the best answer is to ignore him. The worst scenario for him indeed is no reaction. Silence!" Milli Görüs, a quasi-fundamentalist organization of Turkish origin with branches all over Western Europe, also urged its constituency to remain calm. But statements such as these, however applaudable, imply that the default mode in the minds of Muslims is outrage and violence, and that it takes community leaders to notify them on any possible alternatives.

This morning, one headline (NL) demonstrated the familiar reflex on the part of our Muslim immigrants even more clearly. A Dutch-Moroccan writer, Mohammed Jabri, is currently setting up a committee, initiated by citizens, with the specific goal of pressing charges against anyone who insults Islam. "Anyone making racist remarks about Islam, anyone inciting hatred, we will together take on through legal means," Jabri said. "We will lose lots of cases, and that is ok. What this is about, is that the effect of [winning one court case] will be lasting. If we succeed in enforcing jurisprudence that will make it more difficult for people such as Geert Wilders to vent discriminatory viewpoints about us, I am content."

In short, one foolish verdict by a liberal judge anywhere in the Netherlands -- we have plenty of those -- and freedom of speech in this country is permanently tainted. This is how extremists maintain their stranglehold on one of the corner stones of Western civilization. Initiator Jabri, of course, is not very willing to admit low motives for the step he is taking. "We aim for nothing less than equal treatment of Muslims in this society," he said. "[Equal and full-fledged participation] for everyone." The implication, again, is that some outside power is prohibiting his kin from succeeding in Dutch society, not the fact that a large majority of Muslims fail to obtain even a highschool degree and enter the labor market without any of the skills necessary to succeed in a modern service-oriented economy.

Interestingly enough, however, city councillor Ahmed Marchouch, of the social-democrat PvdA party and himself of Moroccan descent, told another free newspaper, De Pers, on Friday: "Holland thinks it is discovering new phenomena, but it was already going on in the 1980s. Nobody paid attention to it. All kinds of things were said in the mosque. From anti-Semitism to bellicosity." One can only hope that our political and intellectual elites will eventually come to conclude that the present conflict was already slumbering long before the taboo on criticizing Islam was lifted. Their unwillingness to acknowledge their past mistakes is serving neither the established political parties nor the immigrants themselves. As Marcouch argued: "I tell people: there is only one reality, which is that you have to study hard, get good grades, apply for jobs, and go to work. That is tough. For the thing they would like to hear most, is that everybody is unemployed because all companies discriminate."

It is amazing how we have been able to get our immigrants to adopt the worst vices of Dutch society, while ignoring its virtues. This country provides them with opportunities of which they could only have dreamed in their countries of origin. Instead, they indulge in the self-pity they are being talked into by our foolish politicians. Add to that the nasty peculiarity of Islamic faith, and your recipe for social disaster is complete. The ultimate victims are freedom of speech, and, not to forget, the Dutch.

3 comments:

no2liberals said...

So when is the movie coming out?
Here it is the first week of February, and still no frothing muslim rage boys, angry Mullahs, or burning cars.
I want to see mufsidun heads-a-poppin.

Anonymous said...

Giving without reserve

It is with reticence that I write this. I do not wish to place myself on the moral high ground, or to sermonise anyone. This chapter tries to show the truth and importance of dreaming of our Holy Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet). These words seek to confirm that ours is a Prophet of Mercy, a Witness, and a Bearer of Good Tidings. It also aims to portray the consequence of da’waat in the Masjid al-Haram. It is moreover meant as a method of encouragement for our children to some day continue with the Prophetic Tradition of raising an orphan for the sake of Allah, The One of Unbounded Grace. So that they may by this means know that there is more to life than just prayer and fasting. And that they should give of themselves unreservedly. That they might through it also, temper their adhkaar with compassion.

We were asleep at the Mashrabiyya Hotel in Khalid bin Walid Street in Shubayka, Makkah al-Mukarramah when, by the Mercy of Allah, I had the most beautiful dream. I saw myself standing in the holy presence of our Truthful Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet). The appearance of the Holy Messenger of Allah matched scriptural records.
Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) was spotlessly dressed in white robes and a white turban. I stared aghast. Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) stood about two metres away and faced me directly. Someone so unimaginably holy, so indescribably handsome, one will not come across. I do not have the words with which to suitably portray this most wonderful man, the Seal of the Prophets (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet).
I reached for my turban, embarrassed for not wearing it.
“Leave it,” I said to myself. “You are in the Company of the Prize of creation.”
Brilliance shone from our Guided Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet). Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) smiled at me. The smile radiated light. I stood alert, too humbled to speak. I wished that the dream would last forever. The heavenly smile lasted between ten and fifteen minutes, it felt like.

Alhamdu-lillaah. I had never considered myself deserving of such an enormous honour. This was a spiritual experience of the first magnitude. “What does that smile mean?” I asked myself over and over again. I stared at the House of Allah for extended periods, contemplating its meaning.

Deep in thought, I barely noticed the usually persuasive central-African women selling bird-seed as I walked back and forth from the Masjid al-Haram. I was hardly aware of the Turkish female who was dealing in steel daggers at the side of the street. Two men eagerly collecting on behalf of Bosnian refugees also failed to draw my attention. I half-heard a Pakistani lad calling out the price of bottled perfume to prospective customers alongside the road. Malaysian girls trading informally with scarves only just caught my eye. Part of the street had been freshly tarred.

“Unless you receive the sort of treatment that a host bestows on a guest, don’t ever think that, because you have performed the ziyaarah of the Bait-ullaah, you’ve been the guest of Allah,” my father had once counselled me.
A similar comment from my uncle, Haji Suleiman, I had further recollected. He had said to me: “Die persoon was Makkah toe – vra vir hom wat het hy gekry.” This rendered into English, says: “The person has been to Mecca – ask him what he had received [there].”
I considered his observation a bit harsh then, but the force of his remark was now bearing home on me. He knew what he was talking about. For “’Ammie Haji” it had happened very quickly. Aged twenty-five on his first Haj in 1949, Haji Suleiman had landed inside the Holy Ka’aba when someone lifted him head-high and tossed him over the 2.25 metre high threshold of the Bait-ullaah. “Did you not get hurt?” I inquired further. “No!” he responded excitedly. “I was young and fit, and had landed on my feet,” he continued proudly. Once over the doorsill, he did not have too far to fall, as the inside floor was 2.2 metres above the ground.
’Ammie Haji performed two cycles of discretionary salawaat once inside. Till his dying day, he wondered who had done him the good turn.

Every Muslim who had walked on the holy soil had the potential for such an experience, I realised. Such incidents might have been more prevalent than was ordinarily heard of, I thought. I had for a long time suspected that at least some pilgrims who repeatedly visited the Holy Land, apart from drawing from its built-in holiness, did not preclude themselves from offerings of this nature. It would be silly to think that parallels could not be drawn with Madinah in occurrences of this kind. It would also have been reasonable to expect wondrous incidents of this nature to occur in Jerusalem, as the major Middle Eastern religions agreed on the sanctity of this, the City of the Farthest Mosque. Thinking that this sort of happening was in any way unique to myself, was ludicrous.

Part of my da'waat in the Holy Mosque in Mecca, was to ask Allah, The One Who Makes Clear to us His signs so that we may be grateful, to Grant to ourselves the opportunity and blessings of raising an orphan for His sake.

Having the money with which to afford to go on Haj has always been its first consideration. There were many people who had performed the Holy Pilgrimage more often than I. With regard to my parting from the Holy City, though, I had received a fascinating send-off.

My wife and I had, over a number of years, tried to adopt a baby by applying at several local agencies, and were given all sorts of excuses which disqualified, and sometimes discouraged us. Reasons given were that we were not married according to South African law, that few babies from local Muslim parents came up for adoption, and the fact that we have children of our own. We were also faced with, what was to my mind, the worse aspect of the South African race laws. These regulations and those administering it, in this case, the social workers, prescribed that a ‘brown’ orphaned child had to be matched with ‘brown’ adoptive parents. A ‘yellow’ baby could only be placed with prospective ‘yellow’ adoptive parents, a ‘white’ orphan could not be raised by ‘black’ adoptive parents, and so on. They played dominoes with human lives. Some social workers were more ready to read the ‘race act’ than others.
In an interview and in response to a question on whether we would mind adopting a child from a ‘lower rung’ of the colour scale, I told them that “a nice green one would do.”
A jab to my ribs from my wife quickly halted the acid flow down the sides of my mouth. Stirring the ire of our then masters by criticising their political beliefs would not help, she meant. “When the white boss tells a joke, and regardless of its lack of humour – laugh!” she chided me later.
Race inequalities existing at the time ensured that hundreds of black orphans went begging in more ways than one. It virtually excluded us from adopting a child. No orphans that matched our race and blood mix were on offer and they weren’t likely to easily present themselves for adoption, we were told. My wife is of Indian (as in “Indian” from India, as opposed to “American” Indian) stock and I am of (well) mixed blood.

On the morning of Wednesday, 1st June 1994, just three days after arriving back home from Haj, we received a telephone call from Melanie Van Emmenes of the Child Welfare Society. She explained that a five-month old girl had come up for adoption. The baby had earlier undergone successful abdominal surgery and she asked whether we would adopt the child. We jumped at the chance.

A rush of adrenaline replaced the after-effects of travel. We were rejuvenated. Capetonians usually visit local pilgrims before departure and also on their arrival back home. We excused ourselves from the few visitors and asked my mother-in-law to host them in our absence. My wife and I immediately went to the Adoption Centre in Eden Road, Claremont. We signed the necessary papers.

Afterwards, we told our children that we were about to receive an addition to the family. We plodded through a maze of red tape in order to legalise the process. (My wife and I had to marry in court because Muslim marriages were not recognised then, believe it or not). A few days later, my wife, brother and I collected the petite infant from a foster-mother in Newfields Estate. I shall never forget the joyous feeling when I first carried the frail waif past the front door. Her name is Makkia. We named her after the great city from which we had just returned.

Taking her into our home is one of the better things that we have done. Makkia has added a marvellous dimension to our lives. She is part of our life’s-work. I shall always be grateful to the people who had assisted us with the adoption.

Raising an orphan means giving from the innermost recesses of one’s heart. Adoption springs from the soul of the adoptive parent. When a child is orphaned, we cry. God cries more.

The meaning behind the glowing smile from our Trustworthy Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) had played itself out in the most delightful way. My dream shows our Prophet’s level of awareness and highlights his profound love for orphans and how kindly he looks on raising an orphan. It demonstrates that raising an orphan is an immensity before God. In our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) we have a beautiful pattern of conduct. Our Affectionate Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet), also, had raised an orphan. Like a lamp that spreads light, the Messenger of Allah (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) invites to the Grace of Allah by His leave. Our Divinely-inspired Prophet is the first of the God-fearing. No person is better than him. Our Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) is the leader of the prophets. He is without sin. Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) is faultless and the foremost of those who submit to the Will of Allah. An exemplar to those who worship God, our Kind-hearted Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) is the beacon of the pious. He is an inspiration to those who are thankful to God and the leader of those who remember Allah. How should I express gratitude to the Holy Messenger of Allah (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) for his kind intervention? I am unworthy of untying the thongs of our Prophet’s sandals.

May Allah, The One Who Befriends the righteous, Send His Richest Peace and Blessings Upon our Holy Prophet Muhammad and On his family and companions, as much and as often as Allah Wills.

Allah, The One Who Is Sufficient For those who put their trust in Him, Had Granted our want through the barakah of our Beloved Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet).

I’ve been fairly constant about wearing a turban during ’ibaadah since.

Gary Fouse said...

Your article is excellent. I would like to cross-post it on my (American) blog-with due accreditaion, of course. I have linked your blog to mine in a group of European blogs entitles, "Our real European allies".

Keep up the good work.

Gary Fouse
Irvine, Calif
fousesquawk