Here we go again…
Some of you may have been following the development of Sherry Jone’s book The Jewel of Medina. Here’s a quotation from the book’s official website:
A’isha bint Abi Bakr is the daughter of a rich merchant from Mecca in the harsh, exotic world of seventh-century Arabia at the time of the foundation of Islam. When she is married to the Prophet Muhammad at the age of nine, she must rely on her wits, her courage, and even her sword in a struggle to control her own destiny and carve out a place for herself in the community, fighting religious persecution, jealous sister-wives, political rivals, and her own temptations. As she grows to love her kind, generous husband, her ingenuity and devotion make her an indispensable advisor to Muhammad. Ultimately, she becomes one of the most important women in Islam, and a fierce protector of her husband’s words and legacy.
Not exactly one I’m quivering to buy. But, as I highlighted in another article, I don’t have to like Mickey Mouse to defend him from a mullah’s fatwa.
Jones studied Arabic, Islamic history from early sources and was inspired to write on Aisha. This is a wonderful reason to write and she received a contract from none other than Random House. In an effort at obtaining endorsements, Random House sent out pre-pub copies to a number of scholars. One of these was Denise Spellberg, a respected scholar and whose book Politics, Gender, and the Islamic Past: The Legacy of ‘A’isha Bint Abi Bakr, Jones read. Because of Jones’ liking for Spellberg’s book, she put the scholar on the list for Random House.
However, as the Wall Street Journal reported:
Spellberg wasn’t a fan of Ms. Jones’s book. On April 30, Shahed Amanullah, a guest lecturer in Ms. Spellberg’s classes and the editor of a popular Muslim Web site, got a frantic call from her. “She was upset,” Mr. Amanullah recalls. He says Ms. Spellberg told him the novel “made fun of Muslims and their history,” and asked him to warn Muslims.
Excuse me? “Warn Muslims”? There is a reason why this article in the WSJ is entitled “You Still Can’t Write About Muhamma”. Spellberg is again adopting the position of the parent preventing the younger, “not as intelligent” or “not old enough” child from experiencing a book. Are Muslims not adults? Can they not judge for themselves?
In fact, this same Shahed Amanullah – the editor-in-chief for altmuslim.com – wrote an article entitled “Muslims have nothing to fear from this book” in The Guardian. This can be seen as a dismissal of Spellberg’s “warning” to Muslims. In this article, he highlights what occurred behind the scenes.
As you may have figured, Random House “decided to pull The Jewel of Medina”. The reasons?
[D]eputy publisher Thomas Perry said the company was advised that the publication might be offensive to Muslims, and that it could incite acts of violence by a small, radical segment.
And thanks to Amanullah’s article, we have a further understanding of it. The flames are doused, wood is thrown and the fires of intolerance are pointed to. Yet the firestarters themselves are to blame, not Sherry Jones. And the fear of Random House is legion. Salman Rushdie wrote a scathing attack against Random House’s decision especially when their reasoning was: “We don’t want another Satanic Verses“.
Naturally, Jones was devastated by Random House’s decision. Says Jones:
[A]fter being told that her book would not be published, [she said]: “I wanted to honour Aisha and all the wives of Muhammad by giving voice to them, remarkable women whose crucial roles in the shaping of Islam have so often been ignored — silenced — by historians.”
Naturally many Muslims are against “Western” writers, or people using “Western techniques” to analyse their history. Accordingly, this “sacred history” is impenetrable to normal sceptical, scientific scrutiny. Reza Aslan in No God but God writes very beautifully about this elastic, vaporous faith that has little hold in the real world. But why? Shouldn’t we be viewing Muslims and their history in the grown-up, real-world context just as we view other “grown-up” things, like politics, philosophy, history and science? I believe this is less patronising to Muslims then constantly attempting to shield them from things that might hurt their feelings. Why treat them like children? I treat them like adults, and so should we all. They are not better or worse, but my equal and I will treat their ideas as such. I will not attempt to demean, mock or dismiss them – but I will certainly not hold the same respect for their ideas.
My friend, Maryam Namazie and the great Paul Kurtz, constantly remind us that: Rights and respect belong to people not ideas! It is in this spirit we progress, not by shielded ignorance and forced dismissal.
Yet, what are we to make of this? Amanullah writes in that same article:
In this case, however, that pattern has been broken. There have been no actual threats of violence from Muslims to date, nor has there been any organised effort by Muslims to stop the publication of the book. The author herself – unlike others who have sought to intentionally provoke and insult – has insisted that her book was written with a profound respect and admiration of the central characters. And the Muslims she has engaged with so far (in three sites online) have treated her respectfully, allowing her to clarify her intentions without censorship.
This was written on the September 9 2008. But consider the events of just 20 days later.
Three men have been charged after the office of the British publisher of the controversial novel The Jewel of Medina was firebombed Saturday.
Luckily no one was injured. We are uncertain about the reasons behind it or whether the men were acting out of Islamic duty*. Yet I have trouble seeing other reasons for the firebombing of a not-particularly famous publishing house – maybe it was jealous lovers of an employee, maybe it was the wrong address. Sure, we can’t dismiss other reasoning but how likely is that? If evidence were to surface, I would immediately retract this statement and apologise. But as yet, I can think of no reason for doing so.
To add blood to the wound, my own country is not allowing the distribution of the book. The article, on a popular Muslims radio-station’s website, states:
A controversial book by American journalist turned novelist, Sherry Jones entitled Jewel of Medina, has been banned from being distributed in South Africa. This comes as the Johannesburg High Court ruled on Wednesday that the contents were found to be blasphemous.
I have emailed the popular radio-station which deals with Muslim-views, but I highly doubt I will receive a reply. “Blasphemous”? I am particularly averse to this claim. Some people’s feelings will be hurt because of a fictional book. Have we not been through this before. Can anyone say: Satanic Verses?
But it is easy to mock the High Court ruling and the banning of this book. I do not doubt the intelligence of these people, but the problem is this: They are catering for those violent, dangerous men by banning it. They are catering for it in two polarised ways.
1. As Indicative of Violence
By banning it, these extremists have something to be angry about. Anyone who has been to Mosques and heard sermons by mullahs and imams, will know how easy it is to gain coherence through anger. Consider how many books are out there that offend to the greatest degree the Islamic or any faith: The God Delusion, God is Not Great, Why I am Not a Muslim, Why I am Not a Christian, even the novels of Salman Rushdie and Tariq Ali. Some of these books are written with the deliberate intent of mocking and blaspheming against the core tenets of religious belief. Yet they remain on the shelves. So far, no one I know has been hurt because they bought any of these books.
But a novel – a piece of art – a fictional story based on historic events, set to glorify Muhammad and especially his wives – is dubbed blasphemous. No doubt the reasoning would be easy to disclose: It attacks ideas that would hurt the feelings of grown-up Muslims (talk about treating them like children, how patronising). But if they are going to ban a fictional book, written with the intention of respecting the ideas of Islam (mostly), then they must ban the non-fiction, intentionally insulting books of Hitchens, Ibn Warraq and Russell. Otherwise, as is the case at the moment, it is a double-standard.
(JM Coetzee remarks that the truly nauseating aspect on book-banning is the licence to say “art is offensive”. Who is judging art this way?)
2. Protecting the Innocent
And here’s where I struggle. Somehow, I do not see it completely in the light of Orwellian paranoia. I can’t bring myself to be too angry at the fact that someone else is deciding what I can and can not read. Yes, I am upset. Yet, I can not help wonder if they are simply trying to do the right thing. We’ve seen that these extremists will kill and destroy, if they feel someone is upsetting their ideas. We’ve seen that the reason patronising ghouls like Denise Spellberg will “warn” adult Muslims that their feelings will be hurt by a fictional novel – is nothing but a pandering to how extremists want to be treated. Extremist Muslims have shown, in their child-like but horrible responses, how they take fictional books talking about their faith: death, violence, carnage. Extremist Muslims have told us with gunshots as fullstops and death as exclamation marks, how we must treat them.
It is strange that it must be the critics of religion who say “Let us treat them like adults”. I have little respect for the so-called moderate voices in Islam. But the case-in-point remains: Is the High Court ruling attempting to actually protect its citizens from the religious bullies of Islam?
In this case, I think yes. They are doing what they can, but in so doing, are unconsciously pandering to the spoilt brat crying in the corner, that has become extremist Islam. And they keep using it! They will keep on using it if books get banned, if cartoons are not shown, if we are afraid of them.
I believe the solution is to begin treating them as adults and ignore the brats. Sure, we can not engage in discussions when the dialogue uses bullets instead of words, but a way can be reached. How we find that balance I am making my life’s work. And I hope that it will be part of your lives too.
Lets find the human behind the human-bomb, and ignore the child screaming for attention.
* – if anyone has further info, regarding these men’s reasoning please email me.
On Evil
Sunday, November 9th, 2008I am fascinated by evil. My years spent studying the psychology of individual behaviour was eclipsed by a subtle paradox: Why do people do evil deeds? I am now attempting to formulate why, how, when and what it means for us. This is the domain of us as humanists, attempting to bracket ourselves within naturalism; It is important as we have removed the chains of supernatural explanations; We have removed the hope of balanced scales in an afterlife with angels and scales and Pearly gates. We therefore have to look at those we dub evil, whilst holding refrain from reflection – for indeed, they are human like us. A broken mirror reflects despite its breakage. As much as we coat them in the brush of “monster”, the tabula rasa of a human being resides. They are not “monsters”, they are humans. We might not like them (we might rightly loathe them), but we need to engage with the essence of what warps the human frame into the crooked posture of monstrosity.
I have yet to distinguish what I find more fascinating: That people do good or that people do evil. Rodrigo’s beautiful post describes his (and my own) awe at the inherent good that resides within people. I am an optimist about our species, though that often does not come across in my work. I have yet to be disappointed with the ordinary person refusing help in accidents, collisions, muggings, and other unfortunate events that might befall us within the blink of a passing eye. A reaching hand is grasped because it is from another human. The fingers find others and there is a fit, the completion of the human puzzle.
But my optimism is not shrouded in naïveté. And it is for this reason I am heavily focused on evil. I believe that nearly everyone wants to help others; I believe nearly everyone understands respect, tolerance, freedom and wants it for others (especially loved ones); and this occurs everywhere beneath the politics and religions. What then turns some of us “evil”? And what does it mean for us?
These will be a series of ongoing posts and many answers will not be reached or even dealt with now.
What is evil? Is evil the 150+ children a day raped in South Africa? Is it the torture, raping and killing of children all over the world? Is it the systematic dehumanising that occurs to women, in religious countries? Is it the millions suffering under the “Dear Leader” in North Korea? I’m sure one could sit for days conjuring these lists like genies out of lamps. I want to funnel out the large scale into a singular key-hole vision on which to focus.
I define evil as the deliberate removal of the human within another human (known in psychology as dehumanisation); it is the forceful pain, torture and abject abhorrent treatment of another living creature (I want to restrict it to other humans in these articles, though I do not feel any less for the cruelty toward other animals).
I define it also as a useful linguistic device, as Professor Adam Morton writes in On Evil
The extent and purpose of his book is to show how dangerous this linguistic gymnastic we all perform can be: We tend to think that these “monsters” are so far from normal human sensibility, they must be something we can never know. Evil might be seen as something of an empty vessel, in which the dubious nature of incomprehension is seeded. Basically, we say evil when we think “I could never do that!”
Why is it dangerous? Because we tend to think of ourselves as not capable of such acts, of such horror, of such… Evil. But there is extensive literature within psychopathology which destroyed that view for me, several years ago. Whilst writing a paper on the Truth & Reconciliation Commission (TRC), I witnessed videos of the ordinary policeman confessing untold horrors to the victims’ families.
I distinctly remember one black police officer.
Already there is something loose and clanking in the works: A black person working for the “wit mense” (Afrikaans, pronounced vit mensa) was tantamount to treason for the oppressed black communities. As a police informant, one was exempt from all the dangers that lay like paths of daggers beneath the feet of all non-white races. But one was also the target of scorn from one’s own people. Thus, this officer seated on an old plastic chair; thus his cemented face and distant eyes; thus the sunlight behind him sending dust clinging to the tissue clutched in the quivering hands of the mothers before him. His small voice began describing each and every assassination he helped commit, each target one of the women’s sons. His sad, downcast eyes were raised and held with great strength, as he sought some humanity in the eyes of the mothers. Speaking in Xhosa, he described each and every death, to each individual mother. Even as I write this, I am struggling – so vivid was the video and the emotions.
The mothers allowed the tears to flow, mimicking the morbid words. Each a tiny dagger aimed at her once-dead heart. That part of her that was once alive was killed by this man, and yet he would revive it one last time – only to describe how he killed the son. All the sons were anti-apartheid activists, some from the same village as himself. All the mothers were incredibly brave, taking every word and transforming them into a tear, which left never to return to rage inside them. Only one mother stood up, tore her clothes and stormed out crying. After the end of all his tales, he sat back and said: “All I ask is that you accept me as making many mistakes. I do not ask forgiveness from you. That I must ask from God. That I must gain from myself. I am very sorry. I am very sorry.”
Before you let the tears flow, the most beautiful moment occurs later. After many minutes, one mother rose, took his hand and said: “You are one of our children. We can not hate you. Those times were dark.” Another rose and took his other hand and said “My son is gone. You are not. You are our son.” The others joined them and each began hugging him and promised “We must all do what we can now that the darkness is passed. Now, we must go forward together into the bright future.”
These are the brave people of my country. These are the people who looked at evil, sitting before them. Each looked and heard the evil done unto their son and witnessed their hearts quiver with bitterness; Yet they felt, like an alchemist transmutation, their leaden hearts change to gold.
Was this man “evil”? Perhaps, under the circumstances he performed an evil deed. Before the cries of “Nuremberg replies” ring out, I still consider what he did wrong. I still believe many ordinary, loving people, we brought to evil acts because of the oppressive regime that clutched this beautiful land. The sunlight only rose to send fingers further through this country, with no abject repayment in sight. Only forgiveness and what that means to other humans. The TRC and such interactions were at the very essence humanist: They sought the engagement of one human to another, or perhaps many. They sought their forgiveness, their understanding (in many cases, they did it to avoid prosecution and therefore that defeats my argument. But I hope, dear reader, you will allow me to focus on those who did it for the sake of seeking forgiveness). What happened here was the identification with one human to another; one human realising this could have been my son, my daughter, my husband, my brother. Thus, the human was restored in every one and the crooked frame of monstrosity shattered, and the ambling human walked upright.
I am minimising to a great extent in an attempt to seek the beautiful moment that is possible (the most difficult and often never claimed one), past the horror, past the evil. I am attempting to make the case that evil is a dangerous and alienated paradihm, in cases where perhaps more good could arise from looking past the monster, which is only a shadow, and into the being that casts it. I have done this in my own life, with particular instances, and become better for it. What I am interested in seeking now is whether this holds, whether this is true. I do not know, but I want to. I believe it to be. Though we are not angels and evil is too often so vile that no heart is big enough to transmute our abhorrence into forgiveness.
I do not know. But I hope this stirs something. I believe too strongly in my species for it not to be so.
I will continue in my next article dealing with how ordinary people become evil and what we should be aware of in ourselves.
Tags: adam morton, apartheid, evil, Humanism, kim jong il, north korea, psychology, psychopathology, south africa
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