An old Japanese friend of mine, Haruhisa Kato—formerly a professor at Todai University—wrote to me with this: “I’ve seen the images of all of France in mourning. I’ve been deeply moved by all this. Over the years I really loved Wolinski’s collections. I have always been a subscriber to the Canard enchaîné, and I enjoyed Cabu’s “Beauf” cartoons every week. I still have his collection Cabu et Paris by my desk, including a number of fine drawings he did of Japanese girls, tourists having fun on the Champs-Élysées.” But further on, he offered this reservation: “The January 1 Le Monde editorial starts with the words ‘A better world? This firstly supposes an intensified struggle against the Islamic State and its blind barbarism.’ I was very struck by this statement, a rather contradictory one I thought, that we need a war for the sake of peace!”
Others have written to me from all over the world—Turkey, Argentina, the United States…all of them expressing compassion and solidarity, but also concern. Concern for our security, for our democracy, for our civilization—I was about to say, for our souls. I want to reply to these people, at the same time as responding to Libération’s invitation to comment. Intellectuals ought to express themselves, not on account of some privileged insight or particular lucidity, but also without reticence or ulterior calculations. It is a duty incumbent upon them: at the hour of danger, they have to spread the word. Today, in this urgent situation, I just want to talk about three words.
THE FIRST IS “COMMUNITY”
Yes, we need community: for mourning, for solidarity, for protecting one another, for reflection. This community is not exclusive, and more particularly it does not exclude those people—whether French citizens or immigrants—whom an increasingly virulent propaganda reminiscent of the darkest hours of our history paints in the colors of invasion and terrorism in order to make them the scapegoats of our fears, our delusions, or our impoverishment. But nor does it exclude those who believe what the Front National says, or those who are seduced by Houellebecq’s prose.1 So, the community has to talk to itself. And that doesn’t stop at the borders, since it’s clear enough that the sharing of the sentiments, responsibilities and initiatives sparked by the current “world civil war” has to be something that’s done in common, at an international level, and if possible (Edgar Morin is quite right on this point) within the framework of a “cosmopolitics.”2
That is why community is not the same thing as “national unity.” This latter concept has in practice only ever served disreputable goals: imposing a silence over troubling questions or having people believe that a state of exception is unavoidable. Even the Resistance [during World War II] did not invoke this term (and with good reason). And now we have seen how in calling for a national day of mourning—as is his prerogative—the president of the republic took advantage of it in order to slip in a justification for our military interventions, which he’s apparently certain haven’t done anything to push the world any further down its current slippery slope. After which we had all the debates (and they’re a trap) about which parties are and aren’t “national,” on whether or not they should bear this name. Is the intention to compete with Ms. Le Pen?
THE SECOND IS “IMPRUDENCE”
Were the Charlie Hebdo cartoonists imprudent? Yes, but the word has two meanings, which can more or less easily be separated (and of course this is somewhat subjective). Firstly, disregard for danger, a taste for risk, some would call it heroism. But also, indifference toward the disastrous consequences, in the end, of a well-intentioned provocation: in this case, the humiliation of millions of people who are already stigmatized, delivering them to manipulation at the hands of organized fanatics. I think that Charb and his comrades were imprudent in both senses of the word. Today, now that this imprudence has cost them their lives—at the same time exhibiting the mortal threat to freedom of expression—I just want to think about this first aspect of imprudence. But tomorrow and the day after that (and this isn’t just a matter for a single day) I really want us to reflect on the most intelligent way of dealing with this second aspect of imprudence and how it relates to the first. And that doesn’t necessarily imply any sort of cowardice.
AND THE THIRD IS “JIHAD”
I’m deliberately finishing with the word that people are so afraid of, since it’s high time that we examined all its implications. I have only the beginnings of an idea of this subject, but I’m pretty keen on it: our fate is in the hands of Muslims—however imprecise this term is. Why? Because of course it’s right to warn against amalgams and to counter the Islamophobia that claims that the Koran and the hadiths call for murder. But that’s insufficient.
The only way to answer the exploitation of Islam by jihadist networks—whose main victims both worldwide and in Europe itself are Muslims, lest we forget—is a theological critique, and ultimately a reform of the religion’s “common sense,” thus making believers see jihadism as a fraud. If not, we will all be caught in the deathly stranglehold of terrorism—with its power of attraction for all the people in our crisis-ridden society who are humiliated and offended—and “securitarian” policies that bludgeon our freedoms, policies being implemented by ever more militarized states. Thus, Muslims have a certain responsibility, or rather a task, incumbent upon them. But that’s also our responsibility, and not only because the “we” I’m talking about—in the here and now—by definition includes a lot of Muslims. It’s also because the already small chances of such a critique and such a reform will be reduced to nil if we continue to accept the isolating discourse of which Muslims—and their religion and culture—are generally the target.
POSTSCRIPT (2017)
Among the many reactions produced by this article—at times favorable, at times hostile, or simply raising objections—I want to single out those from friends and colleagues who disputed the formula that “our fate is in the hands of Muslims,” and the idea that “Muslims have a certain responsibility, or rather a task incumbent upon them.” They were feeling or fearing that my words coincide with the dominant discourse in the West that identifies the “roots” of terrorism in Islam, and urges members of the “Muslim community” to acknowledge collective responsibility and undertake a reform of their religion to adapt it to “civilized” standards.3 I want to reply along three lines:
1. I fully acknowledge the ambiguity of my formulations, which is not only a result of the emotions produced by dramatic events, but which is intrinsic to the situation. Therefore, it cannot be simply eliminated (much less avoided by keeping silent), but it must be worked through, by means of discussions, further reflections, and a collective invention of better formulations. Ambiguities arise from the “enunciative” paradoxes involved in statements being issued at a certain place and made in the name of a certain “we”. Although, as a consequence of globalization, phrases are heard and can produce effects everywhere, it is not equivalent to speak or write in Paris, or Bagdad, or Timbuktu, or Djeddah, or New York…. And to think of oneself as an “independent voice” is not enough to make this independence (from dominant discourses, biased representations, vested interests, etc.) effective. This quite naturally leads to the question of “who is we?” Although granted a limited space by the format in which I am writing, I have been very careful to indicate that, in today’s world, there is no such thing as an “us vs. them” divide, with “Westerners” (or “Europeans”) on one side, and “Muslims” on the other side. To achieve such a divide is one of the goals of terrorism and counterterrorism (including preemptive counterterrorism), and of course its possibility is rooted in the postcolonial distribution of the world. “Muslims,” whether they define themselves in terms of a tradition or a religion, do not form a homogeneous social or political community. They are massively present on each side of the geopolitical borders. The virtual “community” I referred to was a civic community, made of “co-citizens,” who overcome divisions, but do not suppress them. A double inscription therefore is always at work in the use of “we” in the text, indicating a location where multiple identities and belongings are present, and can clash. It need not be understood in the same manner from every place: exclusionary resonances are part of the problem, common references and ideals would be part of the solution.
2. By writing that “Muslims have a certain responsibility, or…task incumbent upon them,” I mean to transmit the initiative to subjects who identify as “Muslims” (whichever nationality and allegiance they may have), instead of leaving them in a position to receive instructions and injunctions, more or less explicitly backed with threats. A responsibility in the full, active sense is defined and exercised by those very subjects whose actions can make a difference for the public. The word “responsibility” is not automatically synonymous with liability. It is a political and moral shifter, which can serve to either restrict the freedom and deny equal status of some groups, or to enhance their autonomy and historical agency, in particular when it comes to achieving a task of common (or even universal) interest that no others can perform in their stead. I was therefore insisting on the fact that the initiative of Muslims (as many as possible, as diverse as possible, as unanimous as possible) would play the decisive role in counteracting the religious conditions of contemporary jihadism (which also permanently targets them and destroys their civilization), while also empowering them, because nobody else has a right and capacity to talk in the name of Islam (which is not to say that nobody has a right to discuss Islam). What I did not say, however, or not strongly enough, was that, for Muslims to find themselves in a position to speak (and think) freely about their religion and its political uses in the present, another condition is required, which is “our” responsibility toward them (“we,” the non-Muslim citizens of the world, especially in the Western countries): to ceaselessly and successfully combat Islamophobia and discrimination against Muslims, and more generally renounce military, cultural, and administrative policies that aim at their subjection. This shows that, although there is no symmetry, there exists nevertheless a reciprocity or determination between different “responsibilities.”
3. A crucial point remains to be discussed: are there actually religious conditions of terrorism? I think this can’t be denied. But the “evidence” provided by the name which serves as justification, and which has become a global specter, is not enough. As I argued elsewhere (in Saeculum), there is no violence (whether legitimate or not) whose causes are purely religious (or purely ideological). Religious determinations make sense only as parts of a complex with many others, which are economic, political, and geopolitical. To “derive” jihadism from “Islam” as if religion—or this religion—generates violence by virtue of its essence, is sheer absurdity. Religion is but one of the ideologies that can become murderous when circumstances permit and if agents appropriate them. It is also not possible to ascribe a religious determination today only to movements and groups that invoke an Islamic justification or even a divine mission (such as Al-Qaeda and ISIS), because, with different forms and perhaps weight, this determination is also present on the side of “secular” states (some of which, in fact, are not so secular, since they claim sovereign or transcendent legitimacy, they call themselves “Nations under God”). Most of the time, the “causes” that push individuals of very different origins and culture to undertake criminal actions in the name of Allah or for the defense of the Prophet, include various combinations of psychological instability, social and racial stigmatization, anti-imperialist or anti-modernist imaginary, and political detestation of the established order in the West for which Islam has become the public enemy. Still, I find it very difficult to understand that all these determinations crystallize into a single “sacrificial” outburst of destruction and self-destruction without the symbolic name jihad, at the same time fascinating and redeeming, acting as a catalyst. Hence the necessity of a “theological critique” of this concept, i.e., an immanent elucidation of its meaning and its powers, combined with accurate history of its uses. Practically, the public opinion in Western societies (academic “Islamology” notwithstanding) is in a state of mental confusion about these. And, by definition, there is more possibility to resolve the enigma on the side of cultivated people with an Islamic culture, residing in the Orient or the West, including many who are themselves Muslim. It is for them, with their intellectual resources and their moral commitment, to define the kind of exegesis, reformation, or historical critique that can disintricate the contradictory elements of piety and conquest, government of the self and government of others, universalism and communalism, that belong to the meaning of jihad in Islam. They will succeed in achieving this convincingly if they feel that they are called by “us” all to provide a vital and exchangeable intelligibility, not to acknowledge a collective guilt. I am convinced myself that the “war of subjectivities” which, according to Fethi Benslama, is an integral component of the global “state of war” into which most of us can become precipitated, is not affecting only Muslim subjects (or those with a Muslim heritage).4 Nevertheless, since they find themselves on both sides of the battle, as perpetrators and victims, modernists and fundamentalists, speakers and objects of discourse, they must play a central role in laying bare its religious determinations. A crisis of civilization that affects all nations and peoples is not confronted through eliminating or silencing its protagonists. It is collectively resolved only if they raise a legitimate voice.