Conrad Black on the Bhutto Assassination

So this morning, I’m reading Conrad Black’s article on the Bhutto assassination and the current and past political state in Pakistan. It’s a pretty interesting read, if the sound of someone arguing that a military dictator is actually better than democracy is something that interests you. He gives a brief rundown of politics in South Asia from the business end of a gun–the assassinations in India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh paint the story, so to speak, over the canvas of the subcontinent, and Black’s resigned tones of acceptance of monstrosity in the face of uncertainty–and the always-terrifying “Islamist” threat–are the brush:

Musharraf does not now convey the impression of being a strongman, and already the U.S. television networks are profiling the new army commander as a potential replacement, as they did the now-forgotten General Lebedev as a replacement as Russian president for Boris Yeltsin. If the U.S. does not reinforce Musharraf in the most unambiguous and tangible terms, Pakistan could deliver a sizeable nuclear arsenal to a fanatic Islamic, replacement government, many years ahead of the Iranian nuclear timetable.

Musharraf not now a strongman, eh Conrad? I guess if you’re looking at the last couple of weeks, that could be true. If, that is, it wasn’t him what offed Bhutto.

Anyway, so I’m reading it, and then it hits me. Conrad, aren’t you supposed to be in jail?

probably more dangerous…

I just fielded two comments on my post about the murder of Sis. Aqsa Parvez. Pretty standard fare, really, and they mimic the majority of what finds its way into my inbox from abdiel.ca. The first begged me not to hide the truth, called me appalling (and Muslim, which would seem to be redundant from this person’s perspective–I’m just guessing here, but I’d say that’s accurate), and then told me hijab was “legitimate subjects [sic] when discussing a religiously motivated murder.” Maybe that’s true. Definately irrelevant. The author of the second, and this is much more common, appeared not to have read the article at all. That’s okay, really. I can’t force people to read or listen before they write or speak. It’s just that if a person chooses not to, that person looks a bit foolish.

No matter, though, because this person left me a real gem, probably without even realising it. This person says: [Islam is] as silly an idea as any other religion (though probably more dangerous).” The first part is woefully uninformed and unenlightening–it’s a throwaway, because if a person thinks religion itself is merely “silly,” then that person is, de facto taking himself or herself out of the discussion. It’s a throwaway statement.

But the second part tweaked my interest: “probably more dangerous.” I’m sure the thought behind that statement was in the explodey-go-boom-muahaha-evil vein. Again, pretty standard stuff. But Islam is dangerous, much more so than the people who claim to commit mass murder in its name could even pretend to understand. Certainly more dangerous than the author of that comment knows. Islam, like any other iconoclastic movement, has behind its texts and processes and dogma and people an uncompromising premise that is, of itself, enormously dangerous:

La ilaha illa lah.

A primal rhythm, a simple truth. There is no God but God. Allahu Akbar. God is great. That’s the breath that fills our lungs, and the blood that courses through our veins–if we only knew it.

So to whom or to what is that dangerous?

Yeah, it’s dangerous to Moloch and Mammon and Baal and all the other spirits, and to the little wooden idols that don’t do anything for you. It’s dangerous to all that stuff priests and witches put in peoples’ heads to liberate them from their dollars. That’s true.

But it’s dangerous to the guy who wants to sell you that car you can’t afford. It’s dangerous to the guy who tells you you won’t get anywhere without it, or without the Armani suit and the gold watch, that nobody wants a loser who can’t afford $50 underwear, who can’t afford to drink French tapwater out of a bottle. It’s dangerous to the people who line their pockets feeding on you, reeling you in with lies and empty promises, who whisper in both your ears, who yell at you to get more and better stuff, who tell you it’s them you’re working for, it’s for the stuff, all that junk you don’t need–they lie to you when they tell you that you do. And we all buy it. Me too. Who doesn’t?

It’s dangerous to the men and women who collect your taxes, because it, more than any constitution or charter, puts them on notice, whether or not they realise it.

It’s dangerous to today’s priests and witches, to the charlatans who tell you the purpose of religion is to dictate how much skin women can cover up or how long men can grow their beards, or about how Islam is something that happened 1400 years ago. It’s dangerous to anyone who tells you self-righteousness is a reasonable facsimile for taqwa.

All of these people put something between you and God–money, sex, power, control. Sometimes they do what they do for the noblest of intentions, but that’s an exception, not a rule. At any rate, at some point, they lost the beat, they forgot to listen to that noble sound, that breath.

It’s God who is greatest. Allahu Akbar. La illaha illa lah. And that’s the beginning and the end.

‘Eid Mubarak, everybody. May you know peace.

aqsa – a dirge

I am extremely angry.

I’m mostly angry that there’s a dead teenager out there, a young girl named Aqsa Parvez who was murdered, almost certainly by someone in her own house, who was the victim of domestic violence, which is a crime that is the worst possible crime in the world.

I’m also angry at Irshad Manji, who jockies Aqsa’s untimely death into a screed against women who choose to wear hijab. Her article on the subject made me feel like I needed a shower. Is this how cheap we are now, that the death of a teenager is food for our own social agenda? In her war against people who like traditions, Sister Irshad sees her own reflection everywhere:

In Berlin earlier this year, a group of young Muslim women — not a hijabi among them! — approached me to express gratitude that I’d posted an Islamic defense of inter-faith marriage.

Congratulations, Sister Irshad. You’ve managed to insinuate the accomplishments of Project Ijtihad© into an article about a dead teenager, something that any other reasonable person would imagine to be so ingratiatingly self-serving as to induce projectile vomiting. Very brave of you.

(Interesting to note that the prime example of Islamofascist extremism, Muslim Girl Magazine that she herself links to, features not one, but two sisters on its front page not wearing a head scarf. What that’s worth, I don’t know, except that it goes to show Sister Irshad’s not that big on self-editing.)

Natasha Fatah asks, Who will speak for Aqsa Parvez?

Irshad Manji just did. And apparently, Natasha Fatah is about to–and I really wish she wouldn’t. Here’s what she says:

The Middle Eastern head covering has become the most significant icon for Islam in the West, which is unfortunate, since 90 per cent of Muslim women in this country don’t wear one. By extension, they get dismissed as not being authentic Muslims.

The CBC’s own Little Mosque on the Prairie plays into this stereotype by showing every prominent Muslim woman in a hijab. This superficial measurement of Muslim-ness has become so prevalent that a small but increasing number of families are pushing it on their daughters.

Sister Natasha makes up facts–90% of Canadian Muslim women don’t wear hijab? Sister Natasha either lies or blunders–Little Mosque on the Prairie features one regular female Muslim character, Sara, who doesn’t wear hijab. In the flashback episode this season, Aamar’s mother doesn’t wear hijab. Neither did any of the women Aamar’s mother brought for him. For crying out loud, Babar’s wife didn’t wear hijab. It’s okay not to watch the show, but it’s probably best not to talk about it if you haven’t because you end up sounding retarded. But who’s counting? The stakes are high enough, the goal noble enough, that truth (or truthiness) won’t get in the way of Sister Natasha’s effort to demonstrate that it’s the hijab that killed Aqsa

Big Daddy Tarek jumps in on this indictment of a piece of cloth. Not disturbed by the fact that he’s never right about anything, Uncle Tarek uses the death of Aqsa to screech that it’s all Iran and Saudi Arabia’s fault. And Uncle Tarek’s not scared to get his hands dirty. This brave warrior in the battle against headscarves is even willing throw down against little girls:

Little wonder then, that Canadian girls walk away from sports tournaments rather than remove their hijabs.

It can’t possibly be the case, can it Uncle Tarek, that Canadian girls believe that forcing them to remove their headscarves, a style of dress they believe is religiously mandated, is obscene? Could it possibly be the case, Uncle Tarek, that your opinion of them, and what they should do, is beyond irrelevant? Could it also be the case that even bringing that up demonstrates such a willing politicization of a teenager’s death that any reasonable human being’s natural reaction should be utter revulsion, followed by a sinister feeling in the pit of one’s guts, a desire to cuff the author of such muck, just once but very very hard, for being such a turd? I’m no expert, but I say yes.

Enough! Here’s what we know of Aqsa Parvez’ death: Aqsa Parvez had problems at home stemming from intergenerational and, probably to some degree, cross-cultural conflicts, which made her distinct from other Canadian kids in exactly zero ways. She was killed in her home, something so mind-shatteringly evil there is nothing normal about it. Nothing normal for Muslims, or South Asians, or fathers and daughters–nothing normal for anyone. Analyzing it as if it falls into some pattern or other is fruitless. Worse yet, scrambling over Aqsa Parvez’ prone dead body, wrenching off this bit or that, stabbing at it with your flag to lay claim to it, to claim that its ultimate sacrifice is a sacrifice for this just cause, the obliteration of the hijab or the destruction of the myth of multiculturalism or the war against tradition, is disgusting.

That’s enough. She was just a kid. And you’re vultures, all of you.