|
Since
September 11th, my world seems to be descending quickly
and inexorably into the depths of schizophrenic madness.
Over these past weeks the two parts of the world in which I
have spent so much of my life, North America and the Middle East,
have suddenly been ripped apart and set violently against each
other. Of course
there were always tensions, what human relationship is without
tension?
Never
before, however, did so many people see the differences as so
enormous, essential or insurmountable.
Even now as I try to resist despair, I confess that there
are moments when I wonder if there is any way to end this insane
bifurcation of the world before it's too late.
For those of us who move effortlessly back and forth
between various parts of the Islamic world and Western societies
the present crisis is a catastrophe magnified by its complete
senselessness.
My
Encounter With the Middle East
A brief autobiographical sketch might help readers to locate me.
I was born in Washington, D.C., but my family moved to
Lebanon when I was only three after my father accepted a teaching
position at the American University in Beirut (AUB).
My earliest childhood memories, therefore, are of the
Middle East. As a
young child I spoke the distinctive Arabic dialect of the Lebanese
mountains while playing with my brother and our Lebanese friends
in the beautiful village of Bayt Mari in the hills above Beirut.
In the mid-sixties my family returned to the U.S., but
since my father was a professor of Middle East Studies, the Middle
East remained very much part of my life.
After
graduating from college I returned to the Middle East again for an
extended period as I began my graduate work in Islamic Studies at
the American University in Cairo (AUC).
While studying in Egypt I met and later married my wife,
Magda. We eventually
returned to the United States, where I completed my graduate work.
My research and academic work, as well as family visits,
however, carry us back to Egypt and other parts of the Middle East
regularly. I am as at
home in Cairo as I am in New York City.
My wife and I have always wanted our young son to know and
love equally his American and Egyptian heritage.
Each day his homework includes both Arabic and English
assignments. Until
September 11th there seemed nothing problematic about our hope
that he would grow up with cultural and linguistic fluency in both
of the great traditions from which he comes.
I
am a Christian and active in my own Anglican church.
My professional life involves teaching about Islamic
religion and history to Christian, Muslim and Jewish American
college students. However,
my appreciation of Islam long ago transcended a purely academic
and professional interest. Indeed
my own spirituality has been profoundly shaped, informed, and
enriched by my personal encounter with Islam.
Therefore, when my Muslim students express surprise and
gratitude that they have learned to understand and appreciate
their own faith more deeply from a Christian professor, I feel
genuine satisfaction that my own debt to the many Muslim teachers
who have guided me over the years is being repaid in some small
measure. One of my
two brothers is Muslim. His
wife is from Indonesia, and our children play together, argue with
each other, and love each other dearly as most cousins do.
Suddenly
Polarized
These then are the two equally important halves of my world, which
coexisted so peacefully and naturally until they were suddenly
ripped apart and threatened by powerful and dangerous forces.
These forces, present in both Islamic and Western
societies, are threatened by peaceful coexistence, and have now
formed an unholy alliance to provoke a great "clash of
civilizations" they need to fulfill their objectives.
Harvard professor Samuel Huntington coined the phrase
"a
clash of civilizations" in his infamous 1993 article,
published in Foreign Affairs. Despite the silly and
unhistorical assumptions upon which Huntington's article was
based, his notion of a clash between the Islamic world and the
West gained surprisingly wide acceptance in many quarters around
the world. Unfortunately,
there are many who, for a variety of reasons, are attracted to the
vision of a massive conflict between what they see as two
monolithic forces: "the West" and "Islam."
In
his perceptive essay entitled "The
Clash of Ignorance," recently published in The Nation ,
Professor Edward Said points out the problem with the sort of
dangerous reductionism reflected in gigantic and undifferentiated
terms like these. Said
observes: "This is the problem with un-identifying labels
like Islam and the West: they mislead and confuse the mind, which
is trying to make sense out of a disorderly reality that won't be
pigeonholed or strapped down easily as all that."
These terms assume the monolithic character of that which
they seek to reduce and characterize.
The way in which Huntington and others use words like
"Islam" and "the West" involves a rhetorical
device, known as synecdoche, which deliberately aims to make the
whole stand for a part. The
use of this technique by proponents (whether Muslim or Western) of
"a clash of civilizations" aims to intentionally
obscure the qualities of subtle ambiguity and multiple nuances,
which define all human civilizations.
The real strategy is actually to provoke the very result it
pretends to describe.
Furthermore,
as Harvard historian Roy Mottahedeh who, unlike Huntington, really
knows a lot about the history of Islamic civilization, has
demonstrated (Harvard Middle Eastern and Islamic Review 2 (1995),
2:1-26), while there have certainly been clashes between Muslim
and Western societies, the long history of peaceful interaction
and exchange is far more substantial, significant, and typical.
In this current crisis it is essential that those of us who
recognize the insanity of violent confrontation not allow the evil
forces of division and polarization to obscure the greater and
more enduring legacy of genuine cooperation, peaceful interaction,
beneficial exchange, and mutual friendship.
Amid all the harsh voices of divisiveness now being raised
around the world, we must respond and bear witness to the sort of
friendship that prompted a
Muslim friend in Cairo to be the first person to frantically
contact me in the moments after the horrific events, on September
11th, to make sure that my family and I were all safe.
We must likewise proclaim the courage of Christians and
Jews in America who offered to risk their own personal safety, to
guard mosques and protect American Muslims from the blind and
ignorant violence of vengeance in the aftermath of September 11th.
There
are indeed dark and divisive forces at work in each of our
Abrahamic traditions. They repeatedly demonstrate a remarkable
capacity to reinforce each other in their common efforts to tear
apart and separate us. However,
we must never be overwhelmed by their temporary successes and
allow our despair to obscure the much stronger and more noble
impulses that bind us together.
Even in the darkest of moments of this crisis we must not
lose hope. For
example, I have personally found great solace and hopeful comfort
in the many ecumenical gatherings that have brought American
Muslims, Jews, and Christians together since September 11th
to beg our common God for mercy and guidance in this hour of
trial. Even as they
seek to divide us, the forces of polarization create critical
opportunities to build new and stronger bridges.
History is on our side, not on theirs.
Our
Humanity: God's Gift
In
response to those who seek to divide us and offer only the sterile
hatred of the "clash of civilizations" we must reinforce
and expand those things that bind us together.
Among other priorities, we must build together an honest
and genuine theology of pluralism that, while not concealing what
genuinely distinguishes us, recognizes first and foremost our
common humanity. While
remaining true to our respective religious traditions, as Muslims,
Christians, and Jews, it is possible to build a common vision that
unites us, in response to those among us who would divide us.
I propose here a strategy for mutual survival in defiant
resistance to those forces that promise only our collective
annihilation. As we
work together towards a shared vision of religious pluralism - a
vision that both respects genuine differences while simultaneously
defending us from self-destruction - it may be useful to reflect
on several things.
If
we are, as the Holy Qur'an states (2:30, 27:62) God's trustees on
earth, let us then each ask ourselves how we will answer on the
Day of Judgment when we are called individually to account by God
for how we cared for this most precious of His creations - our
fellow human beings? If
we each truly reflect on the implications of this awesome
responsibility we have before God, we may find it easier to join
hands with each other and develop partnerships and strategies to
keep our sacred Trust with God, even in the face of ceaseless and
horrendous efforts by those among the children of Abraham who
never fail to find excuses to shed blood, desecrate and destroy
the most precious and sacred of God's creations.
Let us in fact redouble our common commitment to cherish
and honor human life with each and every assault that is mounted
against it. If we can
persevere and commit ourselves to upholding the sanctity of human
life with the same uncompromising dedication as those among us who
would debase it, I am convinced that we will together develop
strategies that allow us to prevail against those who seek only to
divide and separate us.
Our
common theology of religious pluralism does not have to be either
complicated or rely on any elaborate and contrived doctrinal
gymnastics. Let us
instead stick unyieldingly to those essential beliefs that we all
hold fundamental. And
from that basic position let us build a better world through a
partnership of committed action.
Above all else, let our partnership become one of deeds,
not of words. Finally,
I offer a meditation from St. Francis, which captures for me the
goal we must all strive for:
"Lord make us instruments of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is
injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is
doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is
darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy."
*
Dr. Christopher S. Taylor is Associate Professor of Religion and
Islamic Studies at Drew University in Madison, New Jersey.
|
