Particularly since 7/7, I have been anxious not to behave in such way as to suggest to Muslims that I regarded them as potential suicide bombers. Hassan's plea, recently, for a minute of freedom resonated with me as that was something I have consciously, in spite of a certain "British" reserve, been trying to accord to my fellow passengers on London's public transport. Even though I sometimes wryly reflect that the very ones who are most obviously Muslim, are probably rejecting me, my nod, my greeting, my sitting next to them - because of my short sleeves and uncovered head!
One Sunday, a couple of months ago, I passed, and then turned back to stop at, a table in our town centre's pedestrian mall which is manned by Muslims from the local mosque. After a cautious sort of conversation, I took away with me a book they proffered A brief illustrated guide to understanding Islam. I was looking at it again today, and I have found the Prophet Mohammed's response to the question: "Messenger of God, are we rewarded for kindness towards animals?"
He said, "There is a reward for kindness to every living animal or human".
(The references cited for this were: Saheeh Muslim #2244 and also Saheeh Al-Bukhari #2466)
On the Jill Carroll front, I had the disappointing response from the Monitor that my question (During her capitivity, did she experience any kindness from her captors?) was not one of the questions selected for her to answer.
Don't know that I'm giving up completely on that one yet. Suggestions welcomed.
26 July 2006
25 July 2006
U Words for Peace
South Africa, 1994. The Boer War (1899–1902) still rankling. Inkatha versus ANC, AWB versus Everyone Else. Necklacing.
Who would have given Peace a chance?
I can remember Julius Lewin’s valedictory tutorial when, in 1966, about to upsticks and leave our sinking ship, he looked into the future for a small class that included Bram Fischer’s son, Paul. “A revolution is not around the corner.” He gave the Nationalist government 30 years. He was pretty much spot on, in that and in much else. I also remember him commenting at some point that, when the handover happened, South Africa had several advantages over other African countries, namely that, in spite of everything, there was still “a reservoir of goodwill” (i.e. between the factions).
Now Tutu’s Rainbow Nation has become a key player in the conflict resolution industry. (Sorry about the creepy jargon.) Yes, it’s still one of the destinations that carries what amounts to an FCO “health warning” with high levels of crime, abysmal driving standards and the now almost universal risk of indiscriminate terrorist attack. But when it comes to forgiveness, Ubuntu rules and this brings me to my first U word.
U IS FOR UBUNTU.
“Ubuntu” in the Nguni languages (“botho” in the Sotho languages) is a concept that emphasises humanity.
Ubuntu ungamntu ngabanye abantu. Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu.
A person is a person through other people.
Desmond Tutu has explained ubuntu in No Future Without Forgiveness (1999, Doubleday) and in God Has A Dream (2004, Doubleday) as “the essence of being human” as a concept in which “my humanity is inextricably bound up in yours”.
“A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good; for he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are…”
Read Further Links:
Dr Timothy Muriti in Practical Peacemaking Wisdom from Africa: Reflections on Ubuntu
and Professor George Devenish’s Understanding the True Meaning of Ubuntu in Politics
U IS ALSO FOR UMMAH
I would have thought The Ummah would also be a powerful force for unity. How does it fit in here?
Now I’m on more uncertain ground and I would appreciate helpful comment.
The OED definition includes this reference: “The flexibility of government in Islam goes back—doesn’t it?—to the concept of ‘Umma’ in Islam, the idea that Islam came actually to build up an Umma, a community, rather than to impose a doctrine” (Jnrl.R.Soc.Arts CXXIV 613/1)
Isn’t The Ummah a concept in which there is also a supportive community? Yet the news, and blogs, make gloomy reading. Yasmin Alibhai-Brown refers, in The Independent to Darfur, where “an appalling number of African Muslims are being hounded, raped, killed and dispossessed by Arab militias - brothers-in-arms, fellow Muslims of the Ummah”.
Divisions between sects seem to mean that The Ummah applies only to that community which shares the same approach to the teachings of Islam.
Is this so? If so, why?
Who would have given Peace a chance?
I can remember Julius Lewin’s valedictory tutorial when, in 1966, about to upsticks and leave our sinking ship, he looked into the future for a small class that included Bram Fischer’s son, Paul. “A revolution is not around the corner.” He gave the Nationalist government 30 years. He was pretty much spot on, in that and in much else. I also remember him commenting at some point that, when the handover happened, South Africa had several advantages over other African countries, namely that, in spite of everything, there was still “a reservoir of goodwill” (i.e. between the factions).
Now Tutu’s Rainbow Nation has become a key player in the conflict resolution industry. (Sorry about the creepy jargon.) Yes, it’s still one of the destinations that carries what amounts to an FCO “health warning” with high levels of crime, abysmal driving standards and the now almost universal risk of indiscriminate terrorist attack. But when it comes to forgiveness, Ubuntu rules and this brings me to my first U word.
U IS FOR UBUNTU.
“Ubuntu” in the Nguni languages (“botho” in the Sotho languages) is a concept that emphasises humanity.
Ubuntu ungamntu ngabanye abantu. Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu.
A person is a person through other people.
Desmond Tutu has explained ubuntu in No Future Without Forgiveness (1999, Doubleday) and in God Has A Dream (2004, Doubleday) as “the essence of being human” as a concept in which “my humanity is inextricably bound up in yours”.
“A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good; for he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are…”
Read Further Links:
Dr Timothy Muriti in Practical Peacemaking Wisdom from Africa: Reflections on Ubuntu
and Professor George Devenish’s Understanding the True Meaning of Ubuntu in Politics
U IS ALSO FOR UMMAH
I would have thought The Ummah would also be a powerful force for unity. How does it fit in here?
Now I’m on more uncertain ground and I would appreciate helpful comment.
The OED definition includes this reference: “The flexibility of government in Islam goes back—doesn’t it?—to the concept of ‘Umma’ in Islam, the idea that Islam came actually to build up an Umma, a community, rather than to impose a doctrine” (Jnrl.R.Soc.Arts CXXIV 613/1)
Isn’t The Ummah a concept in which there is also a supportive community? Yet the news, and blogs, make gloomy reading. Yasmin Alibhai-Brown refers, in The Independent to Darfur, where “an appalling number of African Muslims are being hounded, raped, killed and dispossessed by Arab militias - brothers-in-arms, fellow Muslims of the Ummah”.
Divisions between sects seem to mean that The Ummah applies only to that community which shares the same approach to the teachings of Islam.
Is this so? If so, why?
24 July 2006
Lucky along the line
The heat today took me away from my computer and out into the shade. It could have been a welcome break from news and thoughts of war and slaughter, flight and its aftermath.
But because I am glued to the Middle East blogs, it’s not a case of taking a break, sipping a drink. I am, after all, looking for grace towards enemies. I take outside with me Pity the Nation and Country of My Skull. Two wounded nations.
I flick idly through Country of My Skull, skimming for the names of people I knew until I spot a reference to Joyce Seroke, and several paragraphs further on, to Ellen Kuzwayo too. So it is, hooked by two giants Joyce and Ellen, that I come across the testimony of Deborah Matshoba and read about the man Taljaard.
During Deborah Matshoba's first detention in the Old Fort, she was returned to her cell after harsh, harrowing interrogation over several days, during which she became delirious and collapsed.
She recalled in her testimony to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, “The cell was swarming with lice. The blankets were caked and smelt of urine. I didn’t know where I was, I was screaming and shouting and had severe asthma attacks.”
“But,” she added, “I was lucky along the line. Because an Afrikaner came, Taljaard, I’ll never forget his name. He said he thought I was mad. I told him I was a political prisoner. He listened carefully and smuggled an asthma spray and some tablets in and helped me to hide it behind the toilet.”
Incredulity and humility compete as I return to these words:
But I was lucky along the line.
But because I am glued to the Middle East blogs, it’s not a case of taking a break, sipping a drink. I am, after all, looking for grace towards enemies. I take outside with me Pity the Nation and Country of My Skull. Two wounded nations.
I flick idly through Country of My Skull, skimming for the names of people I knew until I spot a reference to Joyce Seroke, and several paragraphs further on, to Ellen Kuzwayo too. So it is, hooked by two giants Joyce and Ellen, that I come across the testimony of Deborah Matshoba and read about the man Taljaard.
During Deborah Matshoba's first detention in the Old Fort, she was returned to her cell after harsh, harrowing interrogation over several days, during which she became delirious and collapsed.
She recalled in her testimony to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, “The cell was swarming with lice. The blankets were caked and smelt of urine. I didn’t know where I was, I was screaming and shouting and had severe asthma attacks.”
“But,” she added, “I was lucky along the line. Because an Afrikaner came, Taljaard, I’ll never forget his name. He said he thought I was mad. I told him I was a political prisoner. He listened carefully and smuggled an asthma spray and some tablets in and helped me to hide it behind the toilet.”
Incredulity and humility compete as I return to these words:
But I was lucky along the line.
15 July 2006
Pity the Lebanon - Again, again
As a friend and wellwisher of the Lebanon, I would like to draw attention to the Open Lebanon Forum as a source of up to date news and comment, particularly during the current crisis.
10 July 2006
How does "above all nations" resonate for you?
I have been working up a minor fret about possibly jingoistic connotations of “above all nations”, particularly to someone who googles the phrase.
Let me make it clear.
The title of the Catlin/Brittain/Hodges compilation was inspired by the inscription “Above all nations is humanity”.
I interpret this inscription as something of a counter-balance to any notions of national or religious superiority.
So I googled the entire phrase (i.e. “above all nations is humanity”) earlier this week. US links topped the list, which is hardly surprising, given that the inscription is carved on the Cornell campus.
Here are some interpretations of "above all nations is humanity":
George Ball reflecting, in 1999, on his first sighting of the inscription said: "it took me many decades before I realized what it really meant. It was identifying the greatest threat to the human race, national sovereignty, the idea that the nations of the world are autonomous, that they can do what they like within their own borders, that they are accountable to no one. During World War II, I recall a big sign I saw on the wall in a German school house which read "National Socialism is our people's greatest belief." It does not fit well with "Above all nations is humanity."
Nearly all the great atrocities of the 20th century are the result of the decisions made unilaterally by sovereign nations.
Here is the idea in the fine words of Max Frankel in a recent issue of the New York Times magazine: "Someday in the next century we will acknowledge that there can be no global rights without global laws and no way to write and enforce those laws without a global congress, courts and cops. As the lion in the jungle of nations, the United States is not ready to yield to higher authority. But in time we will realize, like the nations of Western Europe, that sovereignty has become the enemy of safety."
It appears also to be the motto of The Cosmopolitan Club at the University of Illinois which devotes a page to its philosophy, along with translations of the phrase into several languages. (You need to scroll down. And they need to seek out more translations, the obvious ones coming to mind being Arabic, as well as the languages of Africa and South East Asia.)
Then elsewhere there's David Scott along with other residents of the Cosmopolitan Club commenting on their interpretation of its (selfsame) motto: "It's a worthy motto. I wish more people in the world took it to heart. Is the corollary of this, 'Beneath all nationalism lies inhumanity'?"
Let me make it clear.
The title of the Catlin/Brittain/Hodges compilation was inspired by the inscription “Above all nations is humanity”.
I interpret this inscription as something of a counter-balance to any notions of national or religious superiority.
So I googled the entire phrase (i.e. “above all nations is humanity”) earlier this week. US links topped the list, which is hardly surprising, given that the inscription is carved on the Cornell campus.
Here are some interpretations of "above all nations is humanity":
George Ball reflecting, in 1999, on his first sighting of the inscription said: "it took me many decades before I realized what it really meant. It was identifying the greatest threat to the human race, national sovereignty, the idea that the nations of the world are autonomous, that they can do what they like within their own borders, that they are accountable to no one. During World War II, I recall a big sign I saw on the wall in a German school house which read "National Socialism is our people's greatest belief." It does not fit well with "Above all nations is humanity."
Nearly all the great atrocities of the 20th century are the result of the decisions made unilaterally by sovereign nations.
Here is the idea in the fine words of Max Frankel in a recent issue of the New York Times magazine: "Someday in the next century we will acknowledge that there can be no global rights without global laws and no way to write and enforce those laws without a global congress, courts and cops. As the lion in the jungle of nations, the United States is not ready to yield to higher authority. But in time we will realize, like the nations of Western Europe, that sovereignty has become the enemy of safety."
It appears also to be the motto of The Cosmopolitan Club at the University of Illinois which devotes a page to its philosophy, along with translations of the phrase into several languages. (You need to scroll down. And they need to seek out more translations, the obvious ones coming to mind being Arabic, as well as the languages of Africa and South East Asia.)
Then elsewhere there's David Scott along with other residents of the Cosmopolitan Club commenting on their interpretation of its (selfsame) motto: "It's a worthy motto. I wish more people in the world took it to heart. Is the corollary of this, 'Beneath all nationalism lies inhumanity'?"
Flying the flag for Iraq
How about this, then? Now that the flags (of St George), have come down - we could put our flag waving and flag positioning skills to another cause.
How about we replace them with flags of Iraq? Even just for one day?
It does slightly go against the one humanity line, but just imagine the effect, even if there were only a tenth of the number of flags that were flying a week ago.
And we'd all know what the flag of Iraq looked like too.
Postcript: Read what's happening to Iraqi football supporters. (I don't know how to link to this particular post, so you'll need to scroll down to Wednesday May 31.)
How about we replace them with flags of Iraq? Even just for one day?
It does slightly go against the one humanity line, but just imagine the effect, even if there were only a tenth of the number of flags that were flying a week ago.
And we'd all know what the flag of Iraq looked like too.
Postcript: Read what's happening to Iraqi football supporters. (I don't know how to link to this particular post, so you'll need to scroll down to Wednesday May 31.)
09 July 2006
Scoring for humanity
I read today yet another powerful post by Rachel of North London. Many times over the past year she has moved me to tears and many times to share her outrage.
Do they read her in Downing Street, I wonder? How can they not be moved by her penetrating coherent arguments, her tenacity, her compassion? She is the child in the crowd who is crying out that the Emperor is naked.
One of the points she made today really resonated with me, because it is the very thought that spurred me to start this blog.
Rachel wrote: “I think is the duty of every man and woman alive to seek justice and healing, to work for peace and reconciliation, to root out and report abuse and extremism, and to challenge and speak out what they find to be cruel and unfair. I do not think it matters what I call God, or whether I call on no God at all but instead look to a common humanity…”
Another thing that struck me quite forcibly was the reminder that "every day in Iraq is 7th July". This thought strikes me every single time I hear of another bombing with reports of scores dead.
Why do we not stop what we are doing, just once, as we have done with our minutes of silence for the victims of the London bombings - why do we not just once all stop what we are doing and step out of our offices and houses and schools on to our pavements in all our cities and stand, just once, for the people of Iraq?
What holds us back? Is it that we think a particular message will go out because of this? Perhaps that by commemorating somewhere else's dead we will be in some way be betraying our own?
I think we do need to make this kind of stand but how could one organise this, without it being taken over by groups with a different agenda? Think what it could mean if we showed the grace to make a grassroots gesture like this here, where we live in relative safety? No one would be marching anywhere, after all so we shouldn't need insurance or Health & Safety approval, or the cancellation of police leave.
Maybe we need a rock singer or a rapper to put a rhythm to this thought...
Above all nations, and above all the cliques of government, and above all extremists...is humanity.
We'll prove it yet.
Do they read her in Downing Street, I wonder? How can they not be moved by her penetrating coherent arguments, her tenacity, her compassion? She is the child in the crowd who is crying out that the Emperor is naked.
One of the points she made today really resonated with me, because it is the very thought that spurred me to start this blog.
Rachel wrote: “I think is the duty of every man and woman alive to seek justice and healing, to work for peace and reconciliation, to root out and report abuse and extremism, and to challenge and speak out what they find to be cruel and unfair. I do not think it matters what I call God, or whether I call on no God at all but instead look to a common humanity…”
Another thing that struck me quite forcibly was the reminder that "every day in Iraq is 7th July". This thought strikes me every single time I hear of another bombing with reports of scores dead.
Why do we not stop what we are doing, just once, as we have done with our minutes of silence for the victims of the London bombings - why do we not just once all stop what we are doing and step out of our offices and houses and schools on to our pavements in all our cities and stand, just once, for the people of Iraq?
What holds us back? Is it that we think a particular message will go out because of this? Perhaps that by commemorating somewhere else's dead we will be in some way be betraying our own?
I think we do need to make this kind of stand but how could one organise this, without it being taken over by groups with a different agenda? Think what it could mean if we showed the grace to make a grassroots gesture like this here, where we live in relative safety? No one would be marching anywhere, after all so we shouldn't need insurance or Health & Safety approval, or the cancellation of police leave.
Maybe we need a rock singer or a rapper to put a rhythm to this thought...
Above all nations, and above all the cliques of government, and above all extremists...is humanity.
We'll prove it yet.
I'm alright Jack. (Someone else can do it.)
“For evil to triumph it is sufficient for good men to do nothing.”
These words, and innumerable variants of them, are attributed to Edmund Burke. The closest Burke actually comes to these words is thought to be: "When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle." This with the usual Wikipedia caveats...
No matter. I go with the first version, partly for sentimental reasons. Over 20 years ago in Cape Town, a fellow Black Sasher supplied me with dozens of orange stickers on which she had had these words printed. I worked out that lifts were good places to ‘place’ this message, provided I was the sole passenger (I am a coward). The stickers did not peel easily, and occasionally the lift doors opened just as I was placing one. Pretty soon I learnt to unobtrusively start the peel, before I got into the lift. I'm not even sure that the stickers delivered a clear message, as more than one person remarked that the message they sent depended on the reader's interpretation of who was good and what was evil!
I felt rage and despair often, in South Africa, because of the "I'm alright Jack" attitude of people who disapproved of racism yet who, I believed, were doing nothing.
So who are our good men, doing something today?
Here's one. Hassan is a Northerner, who has been writing eloquently about the impact of the London bombings. His latest is a Letter from Leeds, which has been posted by Rachel of North London.
Thank you, Hassan, for speaking out and for not passing the buck.
These words, and innumerable variants of them, are attributed to Edmund Burke. The closest Burke actually comes to these words is thought to be: "When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle." This with the usual Wikipedia caveats...
No matter. I go with the first version, partly for sentimental reasons. Over 20 years ago in Cape Town, a fellow Black Sasher supplied me with dozens of orange stickers on which she had had these words printed. I worked out that lifts were good places to ‘place’ this message, provided I was the sole passenger (I am a coward). The stickers did not peel easily, and occasionally the lift doors opened just as I was placing one. Pretty soon I learnt to unobtrusively start the peel, before I got into the lift. I'm not even sure that the stickers delivered a clear message, as more than one person remarked that the message they sent depended on the reader's interpretation of who was good and what was evil!
I felt rage and despair often, in South Africa, because of the "I'm alright Jack" attitude of people who disapproved of racism yet who, I believed, were doing nothing.
So who are our good men, doing something today?
Here's one. Hassan is a Northerner, who has been writing eloquently about the impact of the London bombings. His latest is a Letter from Leeds, which has been posted by Rachel of North London.
Thank you, Hassan, for speaking out and for not passing the buck.
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