Some of the more abrasive encounters between Muslims and others have not centered around politics or foreign policy, but in the arena of free expression. It doesn't have to be this way.
By Shahed Amanullah
Back in 1989, when the publication of Salman Rushdie's novel The Satanic Verses sparked a new phenomenon of protests from Muslims - particularly by those in the West - I was a student body senator at the University of California at Berkeley, where the Free Speech Movement was born in the 1960s. Two bookstores were firebombed - apparently in retaliation for the book - though without a claim of responsibility. Along with several other Muslim students, I appeared on local television to denounce the bombings and state our belief that while Muslims could understandably be offended, no one had the right to impose censorship or intimidate others with threats to their safety or property.
That situation put us in the unique position of being targets of abuse by Muslims and non-Muslims alike, who either painted us as whitewashing a desire to impose our beliefs on others (this from the public in general) or apologizing for a legitimate Muslim rage, regardless of whether it had crossed the line into violence (this from fellow Muslims). It was a paradox that has repeated itself many times in the 20 years since, most recently with the Danish cartoons and the violent reactions that some Muslims around the world had to them.
Some of the more abrasive encounters between Muslims and others during this time have not centered around politics or foreign policy, but rather in this arena of free expression. Muslims have naturally taken exception to the way their faith has been portrayed by some artists, writers, and academics. Non-Muslims have, in turn, criticized some books by Muslims that are offensive, along with the institutions that sell them (as have we, incidentally). In both cases, people often talk at and over each other rather than to each other. Ideas are not exchanged, and the cycle continues unabated. Read more ...
By Shahed Amanullah
Back in 1989, when the publication of Salman Rushdie's novel The Satanic Verses sparked a new phenomenon of protests from Muslims - particularly by those in the West - I was a student body senator at the University of California at Berkeley, where the Free Speech Movement was born in the 1960s. Two bookstores were firebombed - apparently in retaliation for the book - though without a claim of responsibility. Along with several other Muslim students, I appeared on local television to denounce the bombings and state our belief that while Muslims could understandably be offended, no one had the right to impose censorship or intimidate others with threats to their safety or property.
That situation put us in the unique position of being targets of abuse by Muslims and non-Muslims alike, who either painted us as whitewashing a desire to impose our beliefs on others (this from the public in general) or apologizing for a legitimate Muslim rage, regardless of whether it had crossed the line into violence (this from fellow Muslims). It was a paradox that has repeated itself many times in the 20 years since, most recently with the Danish cartoons and the violent reactions that some Muslims around the world had to them.
Some of the more abrasive encounters between Muslims and others during this time have not centered around politics or foreign policy, but rather in this arena of free expression. Muslims have naturally taken exception to the way their faith has been portrayed by some artists, writers, and academics. Non-Muslims have, in turn, criticized some books by Muslims that are offensive, along with the institutions that sell them (as have we, incidentally). In both cases, people often talk at and over each other rather than to each other. Ideas are not exchanged, and the cycle continues unabated. Read more ...
Source: AltMuslim