On Christchurch
For many Muslims, the past week and a half has been difficult. Fifty dead in mass shootings spanning two mosques in New Zealand and an accused shooter named Brenton Tarrant posting a manifesto replete with maniacal musings while live-blogging the entire affair. Tarrant claimed to be inspired from many corners: Trump, differential fertility rates, Christian civilizational conflict against Islam, and myriad alt-right fora. The repellant, avowed rhetoric of the mass shooter has reinforced feelings of victimhood that many Muslims have felt unacknowledged or under-acknowledged for some time. The caricature of the barbaric Muslim is past expiration, and repugnant stereotypes stigmatizing Islam and Muslims remain common among those who have consigned Muslims in the West to the unenviable role of conflict partner. Light is being shone on those exponents who have contributed to this state of affairs. They range from popular preachers in Evangelical Christian quarters (e.g., Pat Robertson, Franklin Graham) to wealthy Zionists (e.g., Sheldon Anderson), cultural elites (e.g., Bill Maher, Sam Harris), and political actors of varying stripes (e.g., Trump).
Though the complete picture remains to be seen, Islamophobia has been implicated by most as the principal motivating factor behind the Christchurch massacre. Mehdi Hasan at The Intercept has written a lengthy piece drawing attention to this dynamic by examining the rebarbative anti-Muslim rhetoric of Trentan as mentioned in his now infamous manifesto. Hasan writes:
But what it is not is shocking. There is nothing shocking about it. How can there be? Have you not been paying attention? Much of his rhetoric and references are borrowed from the political and media mainstream — especially here in the United States.
Sana Saeed has written in a similar vein at the LA Times, arguing that we as a society have yet to fully confront “the everyday, acceptable Islamophobia that relies on the same basic assumptions that propel violence against Muslims both in the United States and abroad.” Saeed proceeds to discuss the way Muslims are represented in the media and the selective (or rather, deliberate) use of language by media and politicians to reinforce the trope of the Muslim “other.”
Like Saeed and Hasan, Nihad Awad of CAIR has responded to the tragedy with a call for renewed vigor against Islamophobic currents. Awad’s public address centered on the role President Trump has played in giving rise to alt-right anti-Muslim sentiment. Awad stated:
During your presidency and during your election campaign, Islamophobia took a sharp rise and attacks on innocent Muslims, innocent immigrants and mosques have skyrocketed. We hold you responsible for this growing anti-Muslim sentiment in the country and in Europe, but also we do not excuse those terrorist attackers against minorities at home and abroad.
A public letter published by the Guardian, co-signed by nearly 400 academics, imams, and institutions, expressed similar sentiment, arguing that the violence in Christchurch emerged from a genealogy of anti-Muslim hate that has been decades in the making:
The massacre of Muslims did not just begin with bullets fired from the barrel of Tarrant’s gun. Rather it was decades in the making: inspired by Islamophobic media reports, hundreds and thousands of column inches of hatred printed in the press, many Muslim-hating politicians and unchecked social-media bigotry. Muslims have been constantly cast as suspect communities, foreigners with barbaric views who are a threat to our society. We are now reaping the awful outcome of systemic and institutionalised Islamophobia woven into many sections of our societies. This racism and xenophobia that has been allowed to fester for far too long — has deadly consequences — presenting one of the most significant challenges to civilised society in contemporary times.
In these articles and elsewhere, the message is fairly uniform and direct: one cannot disparage a community for decades and then feign surprise when that community is attacked by those inspired by that narrative.
What Hasan, Saeed, Awad, and others have argued is indisputably true. It is high time that we hold a referendum on how Muslims are depicted and treated in the West, and absent a concerted campaign to extricate the everyday hate that counts as politically correct commentary, the tensions felt between Muslims and non-Muslims will remain. However, many Muslims have taken this general concern over anti-Muslim animus and begun to apply it in indiscriminate and seemingly tendentious ways. This has often been done with a high degree of indignation, and the sheer intensity of emotion on display alongside the visceral aggressiveness with which accusations of Islamophobia are being hurled suggests that there is something wrong with the way our grievances are being aired. And this problem is not merely one of procedure or taxonomy. Rather, it is a more fundamental, substantive set of concerns surrounding the discourse of Islamophobia: On what grounds do we determine something to be Islamophobic? Is it possible to distinguish between types of Islamophobic remarks? Or should all expression construed (or potentially construable) as anti-Muslim bigotry be treated the same?
Our contemporary political discourse does not provide us answers to these questions. This leaves us with a simple conclusion: all Islamophobia is equal and needs to be bludgeoned with the same bat. Our ideas about microaggressions going unchecked encourage this undiscriminating approach. As a consequence, Islamophobia becomes yet another cog in the irascible tribalism that has taken hold of debates dominating our political airwaves. This tribalism has conditioned us to be disagreeable and manifest a relentless intolerance for others, thus foreclosing on the possibility of finding common ground. Expressing even mild empathy with those on the “other side” of the political aisle is now said to make one “part of the problem” (a lesson Joe Biden learned recently when he offhandedly referred to Mike Pence as a “decent guy”). A 2015 paper entitled “Losing Hurts: The Happiness Impact of Partisan Electoral Loss” brings the severity of our political anger into focus:
The authors found that the grief of Republican partisans after their party lost the presidential election in 2012 was twice that of “respondents with children” immediately after “the Newtown shootings” and “respondents living in Boston” after “the Boston Marathon bombings.”
Some responses to the New Zealand shootings share in this emotional intensity. To offer a simple example, Farid Ahmed, a survivor of the shootings who lost his wife as she was shot dead trying to save him in the masjid, commented publicly that he has forgiven the killer. Ahmed was quoted saying: “I don’t have any grudge against him. I have forgiven him and I’m praying for him that God will guide him and then one day, he will be a savior.” Ahmed went on to caution against fear and urged reconciliation.
By any measure, Ahmed’s response is a noble one. Yet some on social media — individuals thousands of miles removed from the reality of what took place and who have lost nothing in the shootings — have taken issue with Ahmed. Farid Ahmed, a man who lost his wife in the masjid as she was trying to save him, is being taken to task for his spirit of forgiveness. How does this make any sense? To be clear, those who were directly impacted are entitled to feel anger and a desire for justice. But pronouncing critical judgment on this man is completely out of line, particularly given his morally upright stance.
A less appalling but nonetheless troubling phenomenon has been the blanket accusations of “complicity.” This complicity hunt has enabled the suggestion that those merely agreeing with policies adversely affecting Muslims are in some way responsible for the 50 dead. Are you for the “Muslim ban”? Complicit. Do you oppose BDS? Complicit. Have you favored profiling Muslims in certain circumstances? Complicit. I am not suggesting that these positions and policies are justifiable — they aren’t, and they should be opposed. But to posit that favoring any of these policies independently makes one complicit in the deaths of 50 Muslims in New Zealand is not only an extraordinarily dubious charge, it is a type of emotional blackmail that has become far too common in our political conversations. Such pronouncements serve to guilt and humiliate one’s opponent as moral criminals with the hope that they eventually feel sufficiently shamed into capitulation or silence. At its core, political maneuvers of this sort work as instruments of power, and the opportunity to wield the rhetorical power of bigotry against opponents has become an allure too strong to provide for discernment.
The wielding of power in tribal politics may well influence political dialogue, but it is decidedly ineffective at mending cultural conflicts or stemming the rabid hate that has become a feature of political discussions. To be sure, selective exertion of power may be necessary to bring to the fore conversations buried beneath layers of demagoguery and institutional cover. But what we are now witnessing is a de facto accusation of bigotry against all who have supported policies that have adversely affected the Muslim community. This cannot last. As Muslims, we must promote and embody the justice we want from others. Many of us complain of how anti-Semitism has been weaponized to stifle legitimate criticism of Israel. We abhor the politics of respectability that tells us that the only good Muslim is one that has brought his sensibilities into conformity with the fashions of our age. We recognize the way “non-confessional” Muslims get promoted in the press to the exclusion of those whose lives and commitments are inspired by belief. And yet we appropriate these same rules when it serves our purposes. And so our grievances do not end with the reprehensible bigotries of Bill Maher, Sam Harris, and Ben Shapiro. They extend to entire political parties, half the country that voted for President Trump, and politicians who express support for the fallen in New Zealand but have transgressed our political paths in the past.
This framing of a community besieged from all sides fails additionally to acknowledge the many allies coming to the defense of Muslims and Islam. Muslims cannot live with one eye closed. Just as Brenton Tarrant carried out a sociopathic fantasy to the online cheers of a deranged alt-right underground, tens of thousands around the world mobilized to show their support for the Muslim community in the aftermath. Masajid throughout the West were met with crowds of supporters this past Friday, and interfaith coalitions, universities, media outlets, political representatives, and more have expressed their unqualified support for the Muslim community. New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern has exemplified this attitude by demonstrating empathy and enacting institutional reforms to ensure the safety and security of the Muslim community. This past Friday’s adhan at the Al Noor mosque in Christchurch was broadcast nationally in New Zealand, and the khutbah delivered by Imam Gamal Fouda was viewed by tens, if not hundreds, of thousands globally with reports of conversions to Islam in its wake. This is encouraging and cannot go overlooked. We need to be capable of identifying friends just as we identify enemies.
Some, I suppose, will object to this interpretation of affairs or suggest that I am downplaying the situation. But let us attempt for a moment to try and put the shoe on the other foot. How often has violence carried out by Muslims — often in the name of Islam — been used to stereotype the Muslim community? For years, nay decades, we have argued that such responses were irrational, that a community consumed with hate cannot fully conceive the consequences of its actions, and that the erosion of good will between Muslims and non-Muslims would assure social deterioration. We have argued that in order to promote coexistence, we need a rhetorical environment that shares in that mission by expressing charity to those on the “wrong side” of our current political debates. And yet the moment we find ourselves with a political voice, we use it to deploy the same derisive demonizations against others. Such political expediency lacks integrity. If we want, and often expect, composure and justice from others, we must be capable of exhibiting them ourselves.
On the topic of composure, it is important here to attend to another discussion that has captured the imagination of Muslims in the West as of late: availing ourselves of our right to bear arms. A number of sincere and influential Muslims have encouraged gun ownership, suggesting further that proper training can serve to defend the community and thwart malefactors before they get the chance to amass a body count. On paper, the suggestion seems an eminently reasonable one. A fight is fair when there is symmetry. War is war when there exists a level of reciprocity, or else it is simply an invasion or minimally-impeded conquest. Wrestling and boxing are meaningful when competitors share a weight class, thus ensuring that each participant has a fighting chance. Rules exist in our athletics to make sure that neither side has an unfair advantage, and rules govern competitive markets of all types to provide for balance in seeking out opportunities and making informed decisions. However, when one side of a conflict has the brute force of firearms at its disposal and the other is weaponless, well, that isn’t a fight at all — it’s target practice.
There are few feelings of vulnerability as acute as that of defenselessness. Being imperiled in the face of antagonists is a dreadful experience. We sense this impulse even in metaphysical settings: feeling disadvantaged intellectually can lead to contempt for erudite interlocutors, material disadvantage sows discord and rancor against “the haves,” and spiritual ineptitude can cultivate feelings of antipathy against the ostensibly pious and “clerics” in our midst. Our cultural awareness of bullying seeks to remedy the same problem of self-defense. Whether in the schoolyard or workplace, online or in institutional settings, we understand that an attack against the vulnerable can result in devastating outcomes, and we feel a moral responsibility to aid the aggressed. When justice is served, either through the intervention of authority or the courage of the bullied, we applaud the outcome.
The call for armaments appeals to all of these intuitions. We possess a right to own guns, both legally and morally. Voluntarily relinquishing that right subjects us to a permanent state of defenselessness while placing our safety and security in the hands of authorities that lack the manpower to respond expeditiously to a mass shooting before death tolls rise. And so it is said: buy a gun.
However appealing this train of thought, however rational this reasoning may seem, it is my contention that, at this moment, it is fundamentally misleading and wrong. A call to arms for a community experiencing deep emotional unrest is not only unwise, it is senseless. Guns are technologies of death. There are approximately 17,000 homicides a year in the United States due to gun violence. Inner cities have been ravaged by violent conflict, and the cavalier use of guns to settle scores has not only had the effect of prolonging street warfare in seemingly interminable ways but has also caused many unintended deaths along the way. The last thing we want to do is add to that casualty count.
By any objective measure, guns are not to be toyed with. Being steady emotionally and having a coherent sense of their capabilities and potential use are necessary prerequisites for responsible gun ownership. A man (or woman) purchasing a gun expecting to derail a mass shooting in a masjid is living in Wonderland. Ninety-five percent of all police officers go their entire career without discharging a weapon. These are men and women extensively trained to responsibly handle a firearm and make use of it when the time is right, and yet even they rarely, if ever, are placed in the position of having to use it. Officers who find themselves in the midst of violent encounters struggle to know when it is and is not appropriate to fire a gun. The presence of imminent danger, even with copious training, is unsettling. Some freeze up and lose their life in the line of duty. Others find themselves victims of assault: over 40,000 police officers were physically assaulted in the year 2015 alone. Of the five percent that experience the displeasure of having to fire a weapon, a number end up inadvertently taking innocent lives.
Most men and women motivated by fear and filled with anxiety are more likely to take their own lives or the life of a family member than they are a determined killer in the act. Even those who undergo training and make repeated trips to the range will be unlikely to have their weapon on hand at the time of attack in a masjid should the need arise. If the firearm is concealed in a car, they will have to have the presence of mind to escape the masjid and run to their vehicle, retrieve their firearm, and return rapidly to fire at the assailant. The time lapse in such a situation will almost assuredly render the exercise useless (assuming it is even possible) and risks jeopardizing even more lives if the assailant elects to fight instead of fleeing. If masajid opt to permit open carry, they will risk compromising the spiritual setting they have in place while inculcating an atmosphere of panic and alarm.
If masajid are indeed concerned by the prospect of a crazed shooter entering their premises, they should hire trained security personnel to man the centers during large congregational worship (i.e., Jumuah, Eid, etc.) and special events that draw a large turnout. In all of this, Muslims need to gain some measure of perspective, even as the tragedy in New Zealand has cut deep for us as a community. Mosque shootings are, thankfully, exceedingly rare. What occurred in New Zealand is not a daily phenomenon in the West. The possibility of being shot at a masjid in the US remains infinitesimally small, and the phenomenon of “mosque shootings” has not yet become commonplace in the way school shootings have. We pray to Allah that it never does.
In saying this, I am not advancing a normative argument about gun ownership or gun control. Personally, I am in favor of the right to bear arms even as I believe common sense measures should be put in place to mitigate homicides. I am also not opposed to individuals purchasing guns to protect their families and homes, for hunting, or for recreational use at ranges. However, an adult making a reasonable determination about gun ownership without the looming anxieties of a mass shooting is quite a different thing than a man or woman buying a gun while experiencing the type of strenuous emotional volatility that is currently in high supply in the Muslim community. Now is the time for calm, poised, and sensible decisions.
Setting aside the question of arms, it is important to examine more closely the aforementioned question of motivation. Last month, the Atlantic published a feature article by J. M. Berger entitled “The Dangerous Spread of Extremist Manifestos.” In it, Berger wrote of the persuasive power of manifestos in motivating imitators to come along and carry out mass shootings of their own. Perhaps the best known and most steadily accessed manifesto has been that of Anders Breivik, the Norwegian far-right nationalist who killed 77 people in an act that was followed by the publication of a tract of some 1,500 pages remonstrating against multiculturalism, Muslims, and diversity. Many subsequent killers have cited Breivik explicitly as their motivation, and sites that reside in the dark corners of the Internet abound with young, disturbed minds venerating Breivik (some of his more devoted admirers refer to him, sickeningly, as “Saint Breivik”).
Robert Evans at Bellingcat wrote a recent article examining Trentan’s manifesto entitled “S***posting, Inspirational Terrorism, and the Christchurch Mosque Massacre.” Evans’ piece offers an informed perspective, wading through the subterfuge of “s***posting” — an act of deliberate provocation intended to distract (think trolling on steroids) — that Trentan stuffed much of his manifesto with. Evans notes that there can be no doubt concerning Trentan’s white nationalist sensibilities and highlights the inspiration he took from other mass shooters: “He expresses a sort of allegiance- and ideological sympathy, to several other mass shooters, including Dylann Roof and Anders Breivik. He claims to have been in contact with Breivik, and that the Norwegian mass shooter’s manifesto was his ‘true inspiration.’”
Aside from Trentan’s express allegiance to mass shooters and admiration of Breivik, he is noted to have deployed copious “internet in-jokes” that only the “extremely online” would get, thus acting as an entertainer for the underground internet scene to which he was a loyal member. Above all else, Trentan hoped to spark internecine warfare, drawing on divisive political figures and employing their memory to inflame already toxic political schisms.
Assuming Evans is right in much if not all of what he reports, then the specter of Islamophobia, no matter how unsettling, cannot be regarded a solitary culprit for what transpired. Nor can it be regarded the principal culprit, which was undoubtedly the white nationalist loyalties Trentan held alongside a rabid desire to motivate others like him to take up arms against those threatening the way of life to which he and his cohorts in the alt-right internet underground aspire. In Trentan’s world, anti-Muslim bigotry intersects with other concerns such as an absence of traditional spirituality, an upended cultural milieu, and parlous economic conditions, all of which comprise tenants of white nationalism in the modern age. Trentan’s propensity to s***post through the use of polarizing figures (for many of whom he held some degree of genuine admiration) was done in keeping with his loyalties while concurrently pursuing the state of violent unrest and intense political conflict he hoped to foment. Accordingly, paying outsized attention to names and statements made with the express purpose of distracting actually accomplishes precisely what Trentan wanted while ignoring what he did not.
Moreover, reading the rise of ethnonationalist currents as simple bigotry belies the many factors that are generating unrest, and this is something felt by far more than the alt-right factions to which Trentan belonged. Our world has changed rapidly over the past few decades. Technologies have permanently altered our ecological and economic landscape, making labor-related jobs obsolete that were once central to life in the West. The family structure is collapsing, with the radical redefinition of marriage, a sharp rise in out-of-wedlock births, a decline in fertility rates, and broken households. Narcotics use has risen, and opioid use has become a public health crisis. A decline in public faith has left people searching for meaning. Many are now exploring purpose in work, money, and politics. Ethnonationalism is but a story that attempts to account for these changes and establish purpose for the disoriented. It inculpates immigrants and advocates of multiculturalism, abhors our liberal elite, and scapegoats Muslims for having foisted them into a world of degeneracy and despondency. In addressing this phenomenon, Bilal Muhammad writes:
In truth, many in the alt-right circles are victims too. They are victims of seismic social change in their societies, victims of an aspiritual postmodern life, victims of failed economic policies, victims of communism, victims of broken families, victims of hookup culture, victims of addiction, victims of prescription medication, victims of conspiracy theories; people who do not know who they are or what they believe in. The anti-Muslim industry gives them an identity and a scapegoat.
As Muslims, we can offer something of purpose and meaning to the many people confused and lost in the world today. The moral foundations of our faith offer us a better path than the one they are on, and the false gods of wealth, lust, and power are failing Western society. Lashing out at us and other minority groups is a misguided act of desperation. Perhaps some are unreachable, and it is possible that many fit the description Allah gives of those obstinately opposed to God and His Messenger (pbuh) who will “spare no effort to ruin you and want to see you suffer: their hatred is evident from their mouths, but what their hearts conceal is far worse” (Al ‘Imran, 3:118). However, our task is conveying the Truth of this Din and leaving the rest up to Allah. Indeed, He is fully capable of turning even the most ardent foe into a friend (Fussilat, 41:34).
To conclude this meditation, it is important to note the many positives that have emerged in the aftermath of the New Zealand shooting. It has been heartening to see the care and concern that members of our ummah continue to share for one another. Indeed, our body is one, and we all feel the pain that any one of us experiences. Plenty of people are reminding one another of prayer, and the role of jumuah in the life of a Muslim is finding its place once again. Hearts are beginning to find contentment with the remembrance of Allah, and many are realizing that our commitments as Muslims begin and end with our commitments to God. The Muslim community of New Zealand has comported itself with grace and virtue, and the survivors have shown utmost integrity, patience, and contentment with Allah’s decree in the face of loss. May Allah bless them and their families, may He have mercy on those who have passed, and may He unite us all with them in Paradise. Ameen.
Other thoughts:
This past week marked the 16th anniversary of the start of the Iraq War. This coming week will mark the 50-year anniversary of the initial publication of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five. There is something appropriate about the overlap in my mind. Vonnegut begins Slaughterhouse Five by detailing his inspiration, one that was born as an Army private in World War II and witnessed the brutality of all sides. In the introductory chapter, he writes:
I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee. I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.
Kevin Powers at the New York Times has a useful review of the work, describing it as one of “moral clarity.” As a community, we are in dire need of such clarity today. We have honored on our platforms those who fought in invasions and killed scores of Iraqis. It is a matter of great shame for me to have witnessed such brazen jingoism and abdication of principle on the stages of our conferences. Instead of lionizing these individuals, we would be well served to take a page out of Vonnegut’s writings and offer the same clarity to our youth.
Iraq was once a land of erudition and learning. Many great scholars emanated from it, and many others traveled a great distance to spend time in it. We pray to Allah that He return Iraq to its prior glory, and that He guide us and our communities in these times. Ameen.
The state of Arizona has been deliberating a resolution that would declare pornography a “public health crisis.” Introduced by Rep. Michelle Udall, the resolution says that pornography leads “to a broad spectrum of individual and public health impacts,” further stating that porn “perpetuates a sexually toxic environment that damages all areas of our society.” Democrat Rep. Pamela Powers Hannley opposes the resolution. She argues that what is needed instead is “medically accurate sex education” and that “blaming” pornography is a “stretch.” Yes, of course, we just need to get more sexually explicit with children and abandon traditional morality more fully than we already have.
Part of me wonders which side many Muslim activists would take if this conversation became a national one. I suspect that some would advocate agnosticism (this “isn’t our issue” or “we are living in a non-Muslim society and cannot go around imposing our values”), while others would probably pay lip service to pornography being bad, though of course such opposition would have to be rooted in opposition to porn as a ‘neo-colonialist discursive otherizing non-white bodies, etc., etc.’ Some of the “moderate-types” would lament our conversations being “zero-sum” and insist that we need greater empathy towards our pro-porn brethren, while the “conservatives” would engage in prolonged and largely pointless social media battles. Color me cynical. I hope I’m wrong.
134 villagers were killed in central Mali recently during an attack. May Allah have mercy on them and restore peace and prosperity to their village. Ameen.
Allah Knows Best.
