A group calling itself “Britain First” posts a photo online of a group of “Muslim girls being led off in chains to meet their new husbands”, paraphrasing an article which states, “women by existing defied the laws of nature”, which is then linked to as the source.
The post attracts 16,000 comments condemning Muslims and their religion as evil.
The problem?
It is clearly a photograph of Muslim Shi’ite women, chained to each other, marching during a re-enactment of the battle of Kerbala.
And the paraphrased article is a satire, lampooning religion, politics and culture.
If this is how we put Britain first, God help us.
Some people never get over Convertitis, but for most people it is like Chickenpox: you only get it once. While it can linger for some months and even years, most people eventually make a full recovery, with few pervasive side-effects. Unfortunately a few cases of chronic recurrent Convertitis have been observed in the wild over the past few days. A worrying development. On bright side, it is generally not contagious and those previously afflicted with the condition tend to be inoculated against its effects.
This is our deen. Take it away and you unravel something very precious and you’ll find yourself naked, shivering in the cold without it.
It is He who from on high has bestowed inner peace upon the hearts of the believers, so that — seeing that God’s are all the forces of the heavens and the earth, and that God is all knowing, truly wise — they might grow yet more firm in their faith.
— Qur’an 48:4
Oh soul, God dislikes contemptuous bitterness. Overlook the shortcomings of others. Have mercy on your companions. Display true gratitude for the blessings showered upon you. Put away your repugnant scorn. Faith is goodness, love and light. Be as those “who walk on the earth in humility, and when the ignorant address them, they say, Peace!”
Dearly beloved,
I have become a grumpy old man, so far be it from me to offer any sage advice on the latest manufactured controversy to hit the British Isles, namely the revelation that a lot of meat sold in the UK is allegedly “halal”.
People are allegedly up in arms about this alleged practice. The topic was covered in great detail on the World at One on Radio 4 yesterday lunchtime and again on the Six O’clock News on BBC1 last night. Serious stuff.
Personally, just from a logistical point of view, I have my doubts as to whether so much meat really is “halal” — I expect there to be more revelations in the coming weeks, quietly reported, that a lot of meat passed off as halal is nothing of the sort. Have we forgotten last year’s stories of the cross-contamination of meat already?
But personal doubts are no different from personal opinions, and there have been a lot of those flying around this week. My own personal opinion is that we should eat much less meat than we do, both from a religious perspective and due to the fact that modern large-scale industrial meat production cannot possibly be considered humane. But I don’t practice what I preach — at all. Though I should. Controversies such as this ought to serve as a reminder to those of us who say we care about animal welfare. In its purest form, that is what the halal slaughter of meat is aimed towards.
We are not going to see a sensible debate in the current climate, however. The BBC reported that a prayer in Arabic is made over the animal at the time of slaughter, but it did not venture to report its meaning. To the best of my knowledge, the words used are:
In the name of God, God is the Greatest. Oh God, from You and to You. Oh God, accept it from me.
That ought to be acceptable to meat eaters of most faiths. Some might object to the use of the word “Allah” in place of the English word “God”, but that seems not to be a concern of Arab Christians. And for Atheists: surely no metaphysical transformation could possibly occur as a result of these words. This part of the controversy, I think, is simply scaremongering about the otherness of Muslims.
Others have genuine legitimate concerns about methods of slaughter, but really these should span the industry as a whole. Firing a bolt into an animal’s temple is hardly an act of kindness, especially if you have to repeat the process several times because it did not knock the animal unconscious first time around.
If you have visited an industrial abattoir, as I have, you would quickly conclude that it is far from a humane environment, and you would probably decide, as I did, to turn mostly-vegetarian. But memories fade, for meat has an addiction like that of wine. It is good to have a discussion about where our meat comes from, how it is farmed, how it died and how it arrived on our plates. Sometimes we need to be jolted back into consciousness about the ethical dimensions of our lives.
Which leads onto my real point: responses to representations of the Muslim community. With each new controversy, some more tenuous than others, it is tempting to respond with irony, writing off every new story with satirical wit. But that is dangerous ground. We have to be careful to differentiate between the agendas of news organisations and our genuine problems.
Flabbergasted by the former, a decade ago I myself made the tragic error of judgement in deciding to launch a Muslim version of Private Eye, taking a satirical look at the news and politics — on the eve of the Beslan school massacre, of which I was not fully aware. Naturally my friends reacted then as I do today to our strangely warped priorities: shaking of heads, wondering how I could be so out of touch with reality.
And they were right. The truth is that we are easily led down the wrong avenues by our innate emotions and end up focusing on the wrong issues. Or, taken on the defensive, we justify what is unjustifiable. Or we trade wrongs, as if two wrongs make a right: in place condemnation of an atrocity by Muslims, we hear the playground retort, “But you are killing innocents too.” We are great at finding the speck in others’ eyes, but have difficulty seeing the plank in our own.
The domestic machinations of newspaper editors are not going to leave us any time soon. Our own clowns are presently circulating a petition calling on the State to recognise Eid as a Bank Holiday, even though we can’t agree when it is amongst ourselves. I can already see the headlines, once again emphasising the otherness of Muslims.
Stories about Muslims undermining the nation have been commonplace for over a decade. They are irritating — hurtful even — but their existence should not distract us from the very real work we have to do, tackling very real issues in our communities and beyond. We need to try our best to make our lives halal, to the fullest extent of the word.
Here ends today’s sermon.
Ours is a community which can spin itself into a fury over a video featuring dancing Muslims, spewing forth a million words for or against, but falls dumb when a group of extremist lunatics reportedly kidnaps hundreds of girls from their school.
Ours in a community ready to excommunicate and denounce believers for the tiniest lapse – for wearing the wrong kind of clothes, thinking the wrong thoughts, reading the wrong books or attending the wrong mosque – all the while exhibiting startling leniency for the worst of crimes.
Where are those who pronounce on the fate of others when Muslims perpetuate mass murder? Where are they when it is our brothers who are the oppressors, the unjust, the barbaric? Where are their sharp judgements? Where their cutting cynicism?
Ours is a topsy-turvy community, where everything is upside-down and inside-out. Where listening to a silly song will earn you the wrath of thousands, but exploding a bomb in a crowded marketplace passes unremarked. Ours is a community which thinks itself serious, but can’t see the wood for the trees.
On this day, sixteen years ago, I became a believer, albeit one still wavering. A lot has happened since then. The zealotry of youth has given way to more considered thought, more open to new ideas. Gone the certainty in absolutes, the black and white view of the world; in their place more nuanced understandings, and shades of grey, and pastel tones.
In place of the defence of fundamentalism, a readiness to think for myself, to shun group-think, to question accepted wisdom; to reject cynical, manipulative propaganda, whether it originates with “friend” or “foe”. Verses of the Qur’an resonate within in place of the clamour of the community… “Stand out firmly for justice, even against yourselves” … “and God does not love the arrogant, boastful” … “God is the Light of the heavens and the earth” … For every moment, an answer.
Today a faith ready to reject all that seems ungodly. Today a faith ready to centre on what is good and virtuous, to believe in a better way, beyond the simplistic renderings of an academic creed. And finally, to recall the best of advice: “Do you exhort people to goodness and forget yourselves, and you recite the Book? Have you no understanding?”
Whether out of loneliness, ego or fear of damnation, I spent years praying that my nearest and dearest would join me on this path, as I suppose they did in reverse. But as a dear friend once put it: “What foolishness to concern yourself with the fate of others and forget yourself.”
This is a faith which calls us to affect change in ourselves. But most of us have been fools, turning it into a repository of slogans and a wellspring of identity. The faith that we have presented appeals to no one: it is all ego. Had we let our faith reform and renew our spirit, exhorting ourselves to goodness: then perhaps we might find ourselves in a better place and standing.
Each day is a new beginning, an opportunity to start afresh. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day, a source of change. Not unlike this day sixteen years ago.
When he saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him.
He began to teach them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you because of me.
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven. Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
I think I am too English to embrace public displays of piety — a tasbih always in hand, salutations always on the tongue, eyes glazed over, intoxicated by the presence of the One.
But I know it is wrong of me. Theirs is a faith more courageous than mine, more willing to be seen in the world. God alone knows what hearts contain; only He knows our intentions. As to us mere mortals: our mission is to think the best of our companions.
I regret that when I meet the outwardly pious one, my initial feelings are of aversion. But that is a disease of my heart. And so the inward mutterings begin. “He is better than you,” I tell myself, recalling my many sins. “He doesn’t care what people think,” I whisper, remembering my shy and timid faith. “His character and actions speak volumes,” I remind myself, “while yours are just like dust.”
Faith comes in many forms, revealing itself in many ways. I regret that I have become so judgemental and so intolerant, when it is my words, thoughts and deeds which fall so short. May the One purify our hearts and grant us the best of character.
Did we really need another narrative pseudo-documentary featuring the exact same cast as the last three: Tommy Robinson’s EDL and Anjem Choudhury’s disciples? What exactly do these meandering personal explorations achieve, except reinforce ideas that both groups are mainstream and influential? Neither notion is true. I don’t expect it will be the last one, for it has become a genre of its own. And everybody’s favourite self-publicists have to earn their keep somehow. Extremists on both sides must lap up all the attention. Everybody else looks on perplexed.
