The True Nature of Charlie Hebdo & Terrorism in France

I need to add an amendment to my previous post "What's so special about Charlie Hebdo?"  During the past three days, a conversation has been taking place on my facebook page and some new articles have come to my attention. 

A good friend of mine politely disagreed with some of the points that I made: in particular, he painted a very different portrait of Charlie Hebdo, arguing that, no really, Charlie has spent plenty of time lampooning other religions just as much as Islam, and that they did (and do) some real journalistic work of quality.  

On the same day, I came across this article by French journalist Olivier Tonneau, who lives in the UK: 

"Firstly, a few words on Charlie Hebdo, which was often “analyzed” in the British press on the sole basis, apparently, of a few selected cartoons. It might be worth knowing that the main target of Charlie Hebdo was the Front National and the Le Pen family. Next came crooks of all sorts, including bosses and politicians[...].  Finally, Charlie Hebdo was an opponent of all forms of organized religions, in the old-school anarchist sense: Ni Dieu, ni maître! They ridiculed the pope, orthodox Jews and Muslims in equal measure and with the same biting tone.  [...]  It is only by reading or seeing it out of context that some cartoons appear as racist or islamophobic."

What's so special about Charlie Hebdo?

On Sunday, January 11th, 2015, one of the most impressive gatherings in history took place on the streets of Paris.  It came as a response to the worst terrorist attack that France has suffered in over 50 years.  Most of my friends took part.  I chose not to, saying that jumping into a crowd of a million people would be a bit much for me.  But I watched the live feed of the march, and I was deeply moved by the sight of a million Parisians and over 40 world leaders all participating in the march from the Place de la République.  I had never seen anything like this--honestly, I wouldn't have expected anything like this, even after I knew the full extent of the Charlie Hebdo massacre.  For the leaders of almost every European country and so many others to spontaneously come together in this way was utterly unprecedented. 

And yet in spite of how touching and powerful it was, I couldn't help but wonder: why is this only happening now?  What is it about Charlie Hebdo that brought millions of people into the streets, and inspired so many heads of state to drop everything and fly to France at a moment's notice? 

It's not the first time there's been a terrorist attack in the Western world.  In fact, in terms of sheer scale, most of the other attacks of this century completely dwarf the Charlie Hebdo massacre.  Far more people died in the 2004 Madrid bombings, the 2005 London bombings, and the 2010 Moscow bombings--and those attacks were similarly perpetrated by Muslim extremists.  Even 9/11, the mother of modern terrorism, didn't provoke such a massive, world-wide show of solidarity.  There was no march of millions, the leaders of the world did not descend en masse to walk arm in arm down the streets of Washington D.C. to show their support for the American people after the World Trade Center fell and 3,000 people died. 

Now, there could be many reasons for this.  In regards to 9/11, part of it was undoubtedly pure shock and panic.  People had never seen anything like that before, and they didn't know how to react.  They were terrified, they wanted answers, and (some people) wanted vengeance--or they at least wanted the government to do something about it.  Having an international parade and holding hands in the street would have satisfied nobody. 

There is also France's time-honored tradition of public protest and marches.  The French place great faith in the power of large numbers of people in the streets and it seems natural that they would organize such an event in response to an ideological attack like this. 

And maybe also, after so many terrorist attacks and so many wars over the past 15 years, we've simply had enough.  We have fought and fought, we've compromised our own liberties and the liberties of others (looking at you, Guantanamo) trying to stamp out this terrorism, and people have decided that, after all, the pen is mightier than the gun or the bomb.  After all, this attack was different from the others.  It was not a bomb in a subway targeting any random civilians who happened to be there--it was a specific attack on journalists, and by extension, on freedom of speech.  What better response then, but to walk arm in arm down the street, to hold our pens in the air, and to proudly declare that we will not be cowed by such barbarity!

And yet...the more I think about the Charlie Hebdo situation, the more conflicted I feel. 

As I watched the live video of the march through Paris, I eagerly scanned the crowds for women wearing the Muslim head covering, and for people holding aloft the sign "Je suis musulman, Je suis Charlie"--or "I am Muslim, I am Charlie."  Now more than ever, I felt, it was important for Muslims to make their presence known, to show the world that they will not be represented by terrorists, that they, too, stand for free speech, and peace, and equality.  I knew that it would be all too easy for conservative and xenophobic groups like France's far right party, the National Front, to use this attack as another excuse to vilify and victimize Muslims.  It would be all too instinctively natural for people to fear and despise Islam because of yet another terrorist act such as this.  Now, more than ever, the world needed to see the faces of decent, normal Muslim people, standing together with everyone else. 

I saw many Jewish signs in the crowd.  Almost no Muslim ones. 

And the more I think about it, the more this does not surprise me. 

What does Charlie Hebdo stand for, really?  Many people openly admit, even now, that their cartoons are usually tasteless, at best--and downright racist, ignorant, and inflammatory at worst.  How can we expect a Muslim to go out there with a sign that reads "Je suis Charlie" when Charlie Hebdo repeatedly attacked them and their religion in smutty, bigoted, pointless ways for years?  And yes, Charlie Hebdo attacks all religions and all sorts of political figures, but that doesn't change the fact that they've clearly been targeting Islam more than any other religion, because it's the "hot-button topic" and the easiest way to provoke people.  Can we expect Muslims, then, no matter how awful they feel about these attacks, to cry out "Je suis Charlie!" without feeling that they are betraying their own dignity by doing so?

And is it really okay to go around, now, propagating the cartoons of Charlie Hebdo everywhere and donating hundreds of thousands of dollars to it (as Google just did, along with many French media groups).  Doesn't that just alienate our Muslim communities further?  Just because Charlie Hebdo was attacked, does that really mean that we need to take up their specific banner?  We must defend free speech, yes--but who's free speech are we defending, really?  As investigative journalist Glenn Greenwald points out, "It is self-evident that if a writer who specialized in overtly anti-black or anti-Semitic screeds had been murdered for their ideas, there would be no widespread calls to republish their trash in 'solidarity' with their free speech rights."

Teju Cole made the point bluntly in his article in The New Yorker: "The Charlie Hebdo cartoonists were not mere gadflies, not simple martyrs to the right to offend: they were ideologues. Just because one condemns their brutal murders doesn’t mean one must condone their ideology."

I teach at a French high school full of immigrants (or the children of immigrants) from Africa and the Middle East.  Most of my students are Muslim, and many of them have very mixed feelings about this whole situation.  Though they agree that the violence perpetrated against the journalists at Charlie Hebdo was deeply wrong, they did not feel that they could participate in the march, or even participate in the spirit of mourning that is going on throughout France.  They feel marginalized, they feel hurt and confused, and they have no desire to pay homage to a group that so cruelly slandered them and their beliefs.  Judging by this article in Le Monde, my students are not the only ones who feel this way. 

In the western world, Muslims are easily the most vilified, the most victimized, and the most misunderstood religious minority of our time.  Yes, there are an incredible number of terrorists acting in the name of Islam, and we cannot allow ourselves to bow to their demands, nor should we compromise our own values in order to fight them.  That means that Charlie Hebdo should be allowed to continue printing as they always have.  But do we really want to be Charlie?  Do we want to be so divisive, so narrow-minded, so puerile?  Is that not also a way playing into the hands of extremists? 

Or do we want to start asking ourselves the hard questions?

Joe Sacco, possibly the greatest of political cartoonists, is asking us to do exactly that.  




Sources of inspiration for this post: 

Unmournable Bodies by Teju Cole  - The New Yorker
A Saint-Denis, collégiens et lycéens ne sont pas tous « Charlie »  - Le Monde
In Solidarity With a Free Press: Some More Blasphemous Cartoons by Glenn Greenwald - The Intercept
I Am Not Charlie Hebdo by David Brooks - The New York Times
The American Absence in Paris  - The Atlantic

Yearnings

The cure for pain is in the pain.
Good and bad are mixed. If you don't have both,
you don't belong with us. - See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumilovers.html#sthash.DLUmUn3q.dpuf

The cure for pain is in the pain.
Good and bad are mixed. If you don't have both,
you don't belong with us. - See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumilovers.html#sthash.DLUmUn3q.dpuf

The cure for pain is in the pain.
Good and bad are mixed. If you don't have both,
you don't belong with us. - See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumilovers.html#sthash.DLUmUn3q.dpuf

The cure for pain is in the pain.
Good and bad are mixed. If you don't have both,
you don't belong with us. - See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumilovers.html#sthash.DLUmUn3q.dpuf

I think people in general have a tendency to overlook their own emotions.  Either you dislike what you're feeling, so you try to distance yourself from it; or you feel too busy to deal with it; or you can't make sense out of it, so you try to tell yourself, "There's no reason for me to feel that way."  But I disagree.  There is always a reason for every feeling, even if that reason is subconscious.  However, whether or not you understand the origin or reason behind every feeling doesn't entirely matter.  One of the fundamentals of Rumi's philosophy is that all human emotion serves a purpose.  Feelings are neither arbitrary nor meaningless.  Every yearning, every desire you have exists so that you will seek out the things you really need--not only to live, but also to be a complete human being.  We feel hunger so that we will eat.  We feel tired so that we will sleep.  We yearn to be creative and express ourselves because we need to create things.  We yearn for God, for a higher spiritual order, because we need to make spiritual sense of our universe.  It is not enough to just exist.  We must know why.  We must feel there is a purpose to our being.  

I'm not saying that simply wanting there to be a God is a justification for believing in God.  I think Rumi's idea is that, if there is a yearning, there must be an answer to that yearning.  If we are thirsty, we must drink.  No one would deny this.  But does it not logically follow then, that if someone deeply longs to make music, they must make music?  Why is it that so many famous artists throughout history have been destitute, starving, cast out of society, and yet somehow felt overwhelmingly compelled, not to seek out a decent paying job, but rather to make art?  As Vincent van Gogh said in a letter to his brother, "Sometimes I draw . . . almost against my will, but it is a hard and difficult struggle to draw well."  Why on earth would he choose to spend his time doing such a seemingly fruitless activity, when he lived in extreme poverty and only sold one painting in his entire lifetime?  Because he had a hunger that needed to be fed: a hunger as real and demanding to him as any physical hunger.  

This is where it gets difficult, I think.  Everyone understands hunger, thirst, and tiredness because we all feel it in essentially the same way.  But not everyone feels the need to draw, or play sports, or commune with God.  Some people feel these yearnings so powerfully that it drives their entire lives, while others might feel that same yearning not at all.  Still more people might feel a moderate amount of this or that desire, but not to the point where they would make such sacrifices as van Gogh did.  When it comes to non-physical needs, it takes a great deal of empathy and patience to understand what drives people to do what they do.  However, like Rumi, I believe that nothing we feel is without significance.  Although making music, writing a story, or playing a sport might not be essential to life in the physical sense, it is essential in the spiritual sense.  It is not water for our bodies, but for our souls.  Whatever you do that makes you feel most truly happy and whole, that is your purpose in life.  The trick is that it's up to you to find the right balance of these things in your life, and to be strong enough to insist on the things you need, even if other people don't understand them.    

Of course, then you must ask, what if you yearn to do something wrong?  What if the fruition of your desire would be harmful to other people, or even to yourself?  Obviously you can't just use the excuse that you wanted to do it, so therefore it must be right.  Our feelings and our desires need to be interpreted, balanced, and acted upon in a constructive way.  An emotion may be leading you towards the right place, but you must interpret it correctly and find the right way to get there.  Not all pathways to an objective are equal.  For example, if you feel that a situation in your life is getting alarmingly out of control, perhaps your first impulse would be take control of it through violence or intimidation.  That impulse is not the feeling you should follow.  What you really need to ask yourself is, what is upsetting to me about this situation and how can I fix it in the most effective, benevolent way possible?  Violence just leads to more violence, and running away from the situation just leaves it to be solved another day.  But if it's upsetting to you, that means it needs to change, and there is probably a decent way to fix if you just think about it.  I'm not saying that making that change is always easy, or that you can always do it without upsetting anybody, but most of the time, there is probably a constructive path that will lead you to what you really need.

Life hurts sometimes, but that pain only exists to tell us what we need.  Rumi said, "The cure for pain is in the pain."  It is a guide sent to lead you towards goodness and happiness.  Even if you are lonely or feel unfulfilled, don't run away from that feeling.  Don't ignore it.  Follow it. 

"That hurt we embrace becomes joy.  Call it to your arms where it can change."

We can only change when we recognize our problems and decide to face them.  If you feel broken, lost, empty, don't drown yourself in obligations and distractions.   Follow your grief to the place where you can be whole.  

The cure for pain is in the pain.
Good and bad are mixed. If you don't have both,
you don't belong with us. - See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumilovers.html#sthash.DLUmUn3q.dpuf

~~~~~~~~~~~

One night a man was crying,
 Allah! Allah!
His lips grew sweet with the praising,
until a cynic said,
"So! I have heard you
calling out, but have you ever
gotten any response?"

The man had no answer to that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,
in a thick, green foliage.
"Why did you stop praising?"

"Because I've never heard anything back."
 

"This longing
you express is the return message."

The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness
that wants help
is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs
no one knows the names of.

Give your life
to be one of them.

~Rumi 

Sources of inspiration for this post:
 
The Illuminated Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks