Islamophobia

Islamophobia

The term “Islamophobia” is generally understood as a mirror-concept of “antisemitism.” Since we know antisemitism is wrong, we assume Islamophobia is equally wrong. It is not fashionable to question this assumption but I would argue that the term “Islamophobia” is so broadly applied, and that its application differs so markedly from “antisemitism,” that it amounts to a useless and indeed manipulative slur.

“Antisemitism” refers to hatred of Jews, dissemination of lies about Jews, and sometimes the justification of violence toward Jews. It does not refer to condemnation of Jewish wrongdoing. If a Jew or a group of Jews commit a crime, it is not considered “antisemitic” to call them out for it, and to seek their prosecution.

The word “islamophobie” originated in France in 1910. Alain Quellien, in his work La politique musulmane dans l’Afrique occidentale française, wrote: “For some… Islamism is the negation of civilization – barbarian, dishonest, and cruel.” Quellien’s work represents one moment in the French self-examination that resulted from their colonial project in Africa and the Levant. This self-examination was certainly justified, given the abuses that characterized the French colonial project.

Use of the term became widespread in the English-speaking world following the Runnymede Trust’s 1997 report “Islamophobia: A Challenge for Us All,” which documented widespread anti-Muslim prejudice in British society, identified discrimination in various sectors, and made recommendations for combating Islamophobia through legal protections, balanced media reporting, and increased interfaith dialogue.

The use and understanding of “Islamophobia” again underwent a significant transformation after the events of September 11, 2001. While the term had already gained traction in academic, activist, and policy circles, the post-9/11 world saw it become a central concept in discussions about global politics, security, identity, and discrimination. It also became increasingly political as many in the West reacted to immigration and unrest in Europe, and others objected to attitudes they characterized as xenophobic.

“Xenophobia” results from the tribal nature of all human beings everywhere. Nationalism, party affiliation, and religiosity are forms of tribalism. To oppose tribalism is thus to oppose human nature, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Hunger is also human nature but that doesn’t justify gorging oneself. That said, between starvation and gorging oneself there’s a wide variety of potential eating patterns, which normal humans typically navigate without verging to either extreme. Similarly, there is no need to choose between fanatic devotion to one’s tribe and caring about all of humanity. Most people feel connected with their families, their co-religionists, perhaps their national identities, but they don’t deny that every human life, everywhere, is precious.

The crosscurrents of xenophobia and multiculturalism are not particular to the modern world. In my three historical novels, which I regard as a trilogy – Into the Unbounded Night, By Fire, By Water, and Rhapsody – I have explored Jewish identity in multicultural worlds from the first century into the twentieth. The Roman empire was multicultural. So was Spain in the period leading up to its devastating fifteenth-century self-cleansing. And of course, multiculturalism is a core principle of American culture. In Rhapsody, I treat the emergence of jazz as a marker of cultural cross-fertilization.

Conflict as well as intercultural dialogue occur whenever and wherever migration is permitted. In today’s world, the rules of migration vary greatly depending on the region. It is prohibitively difficult for foreigners to immigrate and become citizens of countries like Japan, China, and Saudi Arabia. Such countries have low levels of ethnic and cultural diversity compared to the US or European nations. While they do have minority populations and foreign workers, one ethnic group and culture dominates. Strict immigration policies have played a role in maintaining this homogeneity, though it’s not the only factor.

In India and Europe, one cannot help but sense the intensification of conflicts between Islam and Hinduism on the one hand, and Islam and Christianity on the other. It is easy to point fingers and call others intolerant, racist, or even white supremacist, but to do so is to dismiss the legitimacy of people’s attachments and identities. To do so is to make people feel misunderstood and defensive, which doesn’t solve anything.

I remember a long-ago conversation about this subject with my late friend John Briley, who had written the script for the film Gandhi. Fascinated with questions surrounding Otherness, Jack had traveled to places like North Korea, South Africa, and Morrocco in search of answers. “The women in harems are not unhappy,” he insisted. “For them, it’s an honor to be one of several wives of a powerful man. It’s so imperialistic for us to see them as oppressed. That is their identity.”

I was young and inexperienced. Jack’s words surprised me and as a result, they have stayed with me. To a certain extent, I now see his point. If a woman finds meaning and identity within her religious tradition, I would not deny her that privilege. But if her husband or society threatens to kill her unless she follows their rules regarding attire or marriage, that’s a different matter.

If citizens of Britain, France, or Belgium feel that their way of life is threatened due to a massive influx of people from foreign cultures, many of whom seem to reject some of their fundamental values, I can relate. In that sense, I sympathize with Islamophobia – which makes me, begrudgingly, Islamophobic, I suppose – but only in a narrow sense.

If “Islamophobia” means “hatred of Muslims,” it is reprehensible, like all prejudices. If it signifies a desire to preserve and honor one’s culture in the face of a perceived threat, Islamophobic attitudes are more comprehensible. If “Islamophobia” reflects concerns about the jihadism, misogyny, homophobia, honor killings, and anti-Zionism that seem to animate a segment of Islamic society, then many Muslims themselves are Islamophobic. If “Islamophobia” represents a tool of “weaponized compassion” – the use of compassionate language to justify violence and hatred – then the word is much worse than useless.

Language matters. It shapes not only how we communicate, but how we think. If the term “Islamophobic” encompasses such a wide range of meanings, from “justified caution” to “blind hatred,” then it should be used sparingly if at all. Often, concepts like “civilizational anxiety” might be more conducive to useful dialogue. Instead of calling each other names, let’s have a conversation about what “civilization” means, and whether and how it might be threatened – or, on the contrary, whether Islam, Christianity, and Judaism might have valuable lessons to teach each other.