Four Lions and the right to offend

Some Muslims are gearing up to be offended by Chris Morris’ Four Lions. Others will be having a good old laugh

“Muslim Protest at Jihadist Film” – I can see the headlines already. Despite no release date having been fixed, the predictions of a furore around Four Lions have already begun. For those that have not yet seen the clip or heard about the plot, Four Lions is a British farce about four suicide bombers from Sheffield.

It isn’t surprising that one expects there to be a backlash from the “angry Muslim” brigade. In this age of instant digital media, the tools to generate anger are readily available. There is now a regular cottage industry of forwarding texts and emails with the latest “insult to Islam”. The unfortunate trend is led by a minority who use social networking to whip up anger at trivial things like a New York store front being shaped like a cube (They Are Insulting Mecca!). If one examines these topics of “Muslim anger” they are not all the same. Some are geopolitical or local conflicts that have a religious dimension. Others are incidents of attacks on Muslims. The globalised context means that riots in Nigeria or mosque attacks in Moscow are instantly in our inbox. It doesn’t help that the right-wing tabloids continue to highlight stories of the latest heinous act committed by Muslims/migrants/Asians/asylum seekers/terrorists (it is all the same to them). Whether a tabloid editor or a generator of Muslim spam, each group is taking part a self-reinforcing cycle of outrage.

Four Lions doesn’t challenge any fundamental principle of Islam. The film deals with Muslims who have a deviant interpretation of the religion; it satirises those who kill themselves in order to murder others. If some fear that the film will demonise Muslims, my perspective is that suicide bombers and their extremist cheerleaders have already done that rather well.

But Muslims groups on the whole are getting more sophisticated at reacting, or not, to the latest manufactured controversy. They are beginning to understand that with freedom of speech comes the freedom to offend. Alongside this, there is also an awareness that culture, as well as reflecting reality, is meant to challenge us. Gilbert and George have exhibitions of photos of excrement and are expected to be taken seriously. Four Lions should be seen more in the tradition of “The Great Dictator” by Chaplin rather than “The Life of Brian”.

Personally I predict Chris Morris’s use of comedy and satire to undermine jihadi extremism will be so successful the government will try to co-opt this as a strand in its counter-extremism strategy. As well as prevent and pursue, we may also have piss-take.

At its core, Four Lions does deal with a sinister topic, and some will feel uncomfortable at it being satirised. However, this is what Chris Morris does. I asked a Muslim friend who had seen the film what he thought and he said “I have mixed feeling about it, its laugh-out-loud funny, but you sort of feel sad that these sort of people [suicide bombers] are around in the first place.”

On Monday, on Radio 4, Screen International critic David D’Arcy said of the film, “It will offend all sorts of people: It will offend the British; it will offend Muslims; it will offend jihadists.”

It takes a certain amount of self confidence to laugh at ourselves, and the coming few months will see how confident, as a community, British Muslims can be.

A cursory look at Islamic scriptures would indicate that the souls of animals do not carry on into the afterlife. Islam however, has plenty to say on animals and our relationships with them.

Animals are viewed as creatures that are deemed to be in a state of constant worship. In terms of their place in the earthly hierarchy, they are mentioned with humans and jinn. (Jinn being creatures of energy, not genies, who live in lamps, are voiced by Robin Williams and frustratingly do not allow unlimited wishes as the first wish). The difference however is that whilst humans and jinn have free will, animals do not.

This has an impact on how creatures are to be judged. In Islamic teachings, on the day of reckoning, all creatures will rise up and have justice for any wrong that was done to them, including animals. However, only humans and jinn will be judged on their actions and go on to the afterlife.

This then brings on the question that every small child asks on the death of a pet. Mummy, will I see kitty in heaven? I remember asking this when our own family cat went missing and the reply was, “Allah is generous and infinite in his mercy, so if you want kitty in heaven, Allah will provide.”

But what about animals in this life? Muslims have a multi-faceted relationship with animals. We eat them, we sacrifice them, we are allowed to hunt them for dinner and some we keep as pets. Others are seen as ritually unclean while many are viewed as benign but not suitable for human consumption. There was a heated discussion in my family recently regarding pigs, which only came to an end after we were reminded that Allah does not make mistakes, and therefore our porcine friends have their purpose too.

In general, I tend to see the Muslim view of animals as a simple choice: curry or kebab? We like them; we know our relationship with them is temporary; we will enjoy them while we can. As to whether we will enjoy them in the afterlife, I was taught that in heaven if you want any animal as food, you just think of it and it will appear in your hand ready cooked. It was not clear whether this included, God forgive me, a bacon sandwich.

Much as Muslims love their meat, it is however unfair to reduce our view of animals to one of basic consumption and even for this, there are precise rules governing animal slaughter to ensure the animal is caused minimal distress. The broad principle is that we are instructed to be kind to animals. An illustration of this is the story of the Prophet Muhammad who loved his cat so much that when it fell asleep on the sleeve of his robe he cut off the sleeve rather than disturb the cat. In another narration we hear of how a man was granted paradise for giving water to a thirsty dog.

This level of compassion towards animals has admittedly yet to translate into a mass movement in animal welfare. As Nazry Bahrawi mentioned on these pages, human beings are considered vice-regents on earth, and are therefore accountable for how they behave towards the earth and its inhabitants. To my mind, all of this adds up to one thing; if you want kitty or kebabs in heaven, be kind to animals on earth.

I made this all by myself, with a little help from a website somewhere.  BIC pens are just the best.  They are even good to chew. Seriously, if you like eating pens as you write, BIC pens look good and taste great!

To paraphrase Bob Monkouse:

When I was younger I wanted to be a satirical writer, and they laughed at me.

Now, I’m a satirical writer, no-one’s laughing now.

Check out the winners here. I am especially pleased Tariq Nelson won the best blog, he is a most splendid blogger and I urge you to read his blog regularly.   I am also please Muslimah Media Watch got an honourable mention – they are a most splendid blog and the world should know this.

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* I have used British spellings because I am hard-wired to do so.  I urge the rest of the Anglosphere to follow likewise.

Brasscrescent.org

The accompanying video is also interesting, if only for the author of the article (in a mock fashion)  felt compelled to shout out in a room full of Muslims ‘I AM A JEW’.  Sometimes I feel compelled to do the same thing.  In fact, I urge you, reader, to go into a room full of Muslims and shout ‘I AM A JEW’.  We must end the hate.

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<off topic> On a personal note, I have not posting as much of late because I am decorating my house.  Due to a hastily agreed condition a few months ago, I told my wife I would not cut my hair until the decorating was done.  However, working at the pace that I do, I now have unseemingly long hair, the evolution of which was:

afro ->  bouffant -> full mullet -> pony tail

It is now causing all sorts of social issues, my only saving grace is that baby-moo is still to young to be unaware of the detrimental public impact of being seen with a non-trendy father.  The photos will amuse the little chap when he is older.</off topic>

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I was thinking about what to write for blog action day, but the truth is I wouldn’t know where to start

Would I start with this week – where in my work for an ngo I was on flight to Glasgow for a meeting with the ultimate aim that we could continue to secure funding, so in three years time money could still go overseas…

Or last month, when someone asked about orphan sponsorship and I was having a flashback to when my own father died, age 28, and how difficult it was then, and how horrific it must be if the same thing happens when you are eight…

Or last year, when I spent three hours re-reading a tragic story about blood feuds in Albania, where two small boys were expected, when they were older, to avenge their fathers deaths – each killed by the family of the other.

Or was it two years ago when I had a robust discussion with a colleague about international standards on showing extreme imagery from disasters, when we were comparing the relative shock value of different photos: trying to sanitize death.

Or maybe three years ago, when editing case study after case study on the sad stories of children abroad, I burnt out, and became cynical about most things, the last straw being a story about an AIDS orpan in Soweto who could not survive to her teens without drugs.  I don’t know if she is alive today or not.

Or would it be four years ago, when on a visit to Afghanistan, we heard the story of a boy in an orphanage, yearning for a simple future, with scant chance of achieving it.

Or possibly  five years ago, when my first week in my new job was over, I realised what a privilege it would be working where I was, something I feel to this day.

Or was it seven years ago, when I left the opportunity to work in international finance, leaving a decent manager nonplussed as to why a young man would walk away from a chance for big money others would kill for.

Or maybe it was twenty four years ago, when seeing Michael Buerk reporting on the Ethiopia famine, I apparently burst into tears and started sobbing…

Writing about poverty would be too personal for me, and I wouldn’t know where to start.

There needs to be a word for the slight feeling of dread, and then subsequent guilt that accompanies the realisation that, for the next decade or so, the fasts will be getting longer.  At least now we start off with the longer days and each fasting day is a few minutes shorter – soon that will no longer be the case.

There needs to be a word that captures the happy staminah/energy that drives children to wake up at 3am, eat food, have a nap, go to the mosque at 6.30am, come home at 8am, go to school at 8.40am, have an active day including running around, leave school at 3.30pm, go to the mosque for 5pm till 7.30pm and then after mosque play in the park till half an hour before iftar when the neighbourhood foodplate exchange starts.  (We did that as we were kids, growing up in Leicester, and I can’t imagine us having that energy now.)

There needs to be a word that captures the combination of guilt and embarrassment and greed realising that although your mum and sisters have spent hours slaving, it is the kebabs from next door that you really want a piece of, but as a teenager and only one of seven participants in the meal, the odds are stacked against you getting a decent chunk of shredded, spiced, coagulated fried halalimal.

There needs to a be a word that perfectly describes the amalgam of greed, triumph, sweat and  indigestion that accompanies the gluttony of eating Eid biryani, knowing all along that there is nothing on the planet like eating Eid biryani as a child cooked by the hands of one’s Mum.

Sometimes there are not enough words.

Marry not a writer, an excreter of wit
For those charms that attract you are from an addict
Their habits are rubbish for a partner in life
Writers are strange folk (whether as husband or wife)

It will take a while for your concern to arouse
During the wedding they’ll be rewriting the vows
When settling into your new marital love- home
Distracted, their heads will be sunk deep in a tome

The housework neglected in favour of typing
Your marital bliss will descend into sniping
The food will be left cold, when it should be piping
Your tears of regret, that’s what you will be wiping

When the spousal vacancy opens, arises,
Please heed to the hints this poor dervish advises
Mention not your love of epics and metaphor
Just smile and nod calmly so they will think you’re demure

I should know from experience, dear friend of mine
And learnt the hard way to accept and toe the line
I write secretly now, in the dark of the night
hunched over my laptop, flickering in low light

My dear wife and I , we have reached a compromise
An arrangement we have that is really quite wise
I keep out of sight the mouse, the keyboard and pen
She‘s promised not to stab me or hit me again

Mr Moo 17th September 2008