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n Jan. 7, twelve people died in the Paris office of Charlie Hebdo, a satirical French magazine known for ridiculing just about everyone and everything, including Islam. After the terrorist attacks arried out by militants acting in the name of Islam, the hashtag #JeSuisCharlie, or “I am Charlie,” emerged almost immediately on social media as a symbol of solidarity with the victims of a senseless act of violence. But in the coming days, the hashtag evolved into something else, and a new debate emerged. On one side, the journalists at Charlie Hebdo died in the noble pursuit of free speech, the very foundation of a democracy. On the other side, some condemned the attack even as they questioned whether the magazine should have published cartoons mocking the Prophet Muhammed just because it could. But asking that question, particularly on social media which distorts any nuance or context, has led to a dichotomy in which an “us against them” mentality seems to prevail. This is the dichotomy which allowed CNN anchor Don Lemon to ask a Muslim-American human rights lawyer on national television, “Do you support ISIS?” This is the dichotomy that allowed Rupert Murdoch to tweet, “Maybe most Moslems [are] peaceful, but until they recognize and destroy their growing jihadist cancer they must be held responsible.” And in France, just three days after the terrorist attacks, there had been almost 15 hate-crimes committed against Muslims in that country. When an act of violence is committed in the name of Islam, ordinary Muslims are expected to apologize, to condemn, to overcompensate. For Muslim-Americans, whenever an attack like the one against Charlie Hebdo is perpetrated in the name of Islam, we are left to pick up the pieces: the shattered promises of both tolerance and free speech. When Muslims are the targets of hate speech protected by freedom of speech, where is the line drawn? Or does the line even exist? This is the question Marium Navid, a junior at the University of California, Berkeley, grappled with last fall alongside her fellow classmates. For Navid, it started with an episode of Real Time With Bill Maher. “If vast numbers of Muslims across the world believe-–and they do–that humans deserve to die for merely holding a different idea or drawing a cartoon or writing a book or eloping with the wrong person, not only does the Muslim world have something in common with ISIS, it has too much in common with ISIS,” the eponymous host of the show said in a Sept. 26 episode. Not content to leave it at that, the next week Maher invited Sam Harris, actor Ben Affleck, New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof and former Republican National Committee chairman Michael Steele to continue debating the merits of Islam as a religion. “It’s the only religion that acts like the mafia, that will f—ing kill you if you say the wrong thing,” he said during the segment.
Maher’s comments perpetuate the ill-informed idea that Western civilization is at odds with the religion of Islam, but there was nothing particularly new about them. The comedian is known for his polarizing views on religion in general. For Navid and other students at Berkeley, it became an issue when Maher was invited to deliver the winter commencement at Berkeley shortly after his Islamophobic remarks went viral on Youtube, social media, and even the cable news cycle. “Bill Maher has made a lot of slanderous statements to certain groups of people and because of that, this perpetuates a negative campus climate at our University,” Navid said last November. Navid, who is also a Senator for Associated Students of the University of California (ASUC), was involved in the launch of a Change.Org petition asking the University to rescind its invitation to Maher. “This concern of campus culture was not even brought up [by administrators at Berkeley],” Navid said, when students first voiced their opposition to Maher’s appearance. “By ignoring that issue, they delegitimized all the students [who voiced those concerns].“ By starting the petition, Navid said the students involved “wanted to show [the administration] that the concern from students would be an even larger public relations issue than Bill Maher blasting Berkeley on national television” for not allowing him to speak at the event. The petition drew more than 6,000 signatures online, but the University ultimately declined to rescind the invitation. It also drew media attention, with many critics pointing out the irony of barring a controversial speaker at the very university where the Free Speech Movement was born in the 1960’s, as students fought for the right to speak about divisive issues such as the Civil Rights Movement, and later on the Vietnam War. But Navid said that those who use the argument of free speech to support Maher’s invitation to campus forget the context of the campus’ historic Free Speech Movement which celebrated it’s 50th anniversary this year. “It was a movement for students to elevate their voice, to fight for countering inequality in society,” she said. “Free speech in essence isn’t the ability to stand on a pedestal and speak, it’s about having the ability to have free and fair dialogue and transparency in process.” Although Maher ultimately delivered the commencement address, students at Berkeley engaged in a silent protest during the event, holding up signs and passing out flyers during the event. Navid said that the campaign to disinvite Maher received broad support across different faith groups and ethnic identities. “This isn’t a Muslim issue anymore,” she said. “There might be one group that is highlighted but we recognize that [Maher’s] statements affected other communities.” Navid recognized that the petition, as well as the movement it spurred, are representative of more than just one isolated event on a college campus, and stem from more than just taking offense at one person’s remarks. “We are fighting a system and a culture where we are discriminated against,” Navid said. “We’re speaking out because we recognize the fact that in this country, Islam has become racialized. Islamophobia doesn’t just affect people who identify as Muslims. It affects people who look ‘Muslim’people who fit that stereotype.” By Amal Ahmed
Al Bayan | 11 | Winter