United In Fear!

​Dyab Abou Jahjah
(Published also in French in the Newspaper Le Soir)

As I sat behind my desk to type these words, my wife and two daughters were getting ready to go for a walk in the city. And suddenly, I was overwhelmed by a single emotion: fear.
I was afraid that while they were in the metro, strolling through the new pedestrian areas, or sitting on a café terrace, some Daesh terrorist—blinded by hatred and fascist ideology—might open fire and kill my family. I was also afraid that far-right extremists, seeing my Arab-looking family, might decide to take revenge for the Paris attacks.

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Fear is now the most prevailing sentiment among the Muslim community in Europe. We could be killed by terrorists, just like any other citizen. We could be targeted in reprisal attacks. We could be arrested, humiliated, or even shot by the police for having what they perceive as a "terrorist face." And wherever we go, we are expected to answer for the crimes of a murderous sect that, above all, is killing Muslims and destroying their countries.
Fear—the logical consequence of terrorism—takes even more subtle forms. I fear that my children will be harassed at school, that they will be robbed of their innocence. My kids do not yet know what religion is; their identity is their innocence. Last January, after the Charlie Hebdo attacks, a teacher asked my five-year-old daughter if she would be willing to eat pork in solidarity with the victims of the two "evil messieurs" in Paris. Beyond the horror of hearing about real-life violence, she was confused by the teacher's strange question. My daughter has no concept of halal or haram. Yet she answered no. When I asked her why, she said, "Papa, I don’t eat pigs because pigs like Peppa Pig are my friends." My heart broke.
My children changed schools this year, and I hope their new school has a different approach to solidarity—one that does not involve tormenting little children. But the idea that my daughters might still have to answer for the acts of fanatics terrifies me.
We live in separate worlds, watching each other from a distance. Every now and then, we pretend that we live together, that we are the same. But now, ironically, something is uniting us: we are all afraid. And believe me, among the fearful, Muslims—whether by faith, by culture, practicing or not—have the most reason to be.
The important thing is not to give in to this fear. Not to give in to the urge to build new separation walls and fences. What we need now is courageous leadership.
We need stronger security measures against terrorists, but at the same time, a more community-oriented, democratically guided police force. The police should not scare us—it should protect us.
We also need a paradigm shift in how we, as Muslims, understand our religion. We cannot dehumanize people by calling them kafir and follow the teachings of hate preachers like Ibn Baz and Ibn Taymiyyah while expecting tolerance in return.
We, as seculars, also need a paradigm shift in how we understand secularism. We cannot expect religious tolerance while promoting a brand of secularism that is outright hostile to religion. Push people into a corner long enough, and they will become defensive, conservative—some even vulnerable to extremist recruiters.
We also need a new approach to managing our diversity. We cannot build harmonious societies while protecting the privileges of some over the rights of others.
We need a more balanced and ethical foreign policy. We cannot support wars, bomb people, maintain violent, colonial, and dictatorial allies, and then expect to be taken seriously when we preach pluralism, justice, and peace at home.
For now, we are still in the same boat—we are still together in this fight against terrorists. But my biggest fear is that blind repression and populist politics, which some are already preparing, will divide us. That we will soon find ourselves on opposite sides, each behind our own barricades, at each other’s throats.
By then, it will be too late.
That should be our greatest fear.