Elon Musk, in a recent conversation with Jordan Peterson, suggested that he was ‘probably a cultural Christian.’ Without being particularly religious, he claimed he was a ‘big believer in the principles of Christianity’, among which he named forgiveness. He also said that the Christian pronatalist presumption would probably ‘lead to a better society.’ Richard Dawkins, who is famous for being notoriously anti-religious, recently suggested that he does not wish for an end to Christian traditions in England because ‘I love hymns and Christmas carols and I sort of feel at home in the Christian ethos.’

In this article, I want to explain why I am a ‘cultural non-Christian.’ This does not necessarily mean that I am a non-Christian. It just means that, culturally, I am a non-Christian. Furthermore, though I can understand why somebody would see their embeddedness in a historic Christian culture as a fact, I understand much less why this cultural experience should be transformed into a political movement or an ideology.

The term ‘cultural Christian’ is shorthand for an attitude that rejects the supernatural claims of Christianity but still admits to being culturally determined by a historical context shaped by Christianity. Many people have embraced what Christian critics call ‘Christianity lite’, that is, Christian culture without miracles and divinity. Some people value moral ideas like humility or the sanctity of the individual, which they believe makes them ‘somewhat’ Christian in a cultural way. This leads to paradoxical labels. Slavoj Žižek has called his most recent book Christian Atheism, and French President Emmanuel Macron identifies himself as an ‘agnostic Catholic.’ Jordan Peterson adhered to a similar line when he said on television ‘I act as if God exists’ (emphasis added).

First, I wonder how deeply these people have actually examined their cultural contexts. In my own cultural environment, I find little that can really be identified as Christian. Instead, I notice that it is replete with almost anti-Christian elements. I might find a few secularized cultural components that were formerly Christian, but there is nothing powerful enough there to lead me to conclude that I am a cultural Christian. As a European or as a Westerner, I am culturally determined by secularism, the Enlightenment, the freedom to speak up against religion, and the overcoming of religion.

Cultural Christians tend to list qualities like respect for the individual, loyalty, or self-control as core Christian values that they still believe in. However, beyond the fact that such values can be found in practically any religion, these cultural principles have reached most of us in already highly secularized forms. Human rights and equality are secular ideas. Why should one insist on their Christian origins (a highly debatable proposition, anyway)? Many such principles could just as well be traced back to the ancient Greeks, and I could thus declare myself a cultural Greek. A kneejerk reaction might suggest that it is simply a difference in temporal distance that makes such an idea less feasible, but is the legacy of Greek philosophy really that much more distant than the Biblical origins of Christianity?

In my opinion, many non-practicing Christians are not as culturally influenced by Christianity as they think. They might imagine they are, and they may even want it to be true; but often, it is a highly secularized form of ‘Christian culture’ that they have experienced. The libidinal and subliminal reasons why these people attribute secular phenomena to Christianity might be interesting for their own sake, but they are irrelevant here.

We appreciate European culture, but to what extent is this culture actually Christian? Churches and their distinctive architecture can be used to illustrate a broader point here. When the Notre Dame of Paris burned in 2019, plenty of non-religious people were sincerely struck by this cultural loss and expressed a desire to have this monument quickly repaired. But this outpouring of emotion cannot simply be attributed to some kind of latent religiosity. It is more likely that the structure as a historical monument and a great example of Gothic architecture were what mattered to many, rather than its religious significance.

I appreciate much of the architecture that has been built by Christians, but I do not appreciate it as ‘Christian architecture.’ I appreciate it in the same secular way in which one might appreciate any architecture. The same goes for ideas and concepts that might once have been the preserve of Christian theologians but are no longer used in a Christian sense. Perhaps one of the most obvious examples is Christmas, which many celebrate without celebrating it as a Christian event. One could even go to Mass and enjoy it as a spectacle without it meaning that one is Christian in any way.

Theoretically, one could build a new Gothic cathedral and make it non-denominational, that is, build one that can be used by Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, and Christians alike. Many who think of themselves as ‘cultural Christians’ might not be dissatisfied with such a monument in their city and might even view it as an example of foreign ideas being well integrated into their own culture. They are cultural Europeans rather than cultural Christians. In a similar vein, Dawkins mentioned that he enjoys listening to Christian hymns, and I believe that it is rather the music than the religious lyrics that he appreciates. He too is arguably a cultural European more so than a cultural Christian. How many people who enjoy Bach can actually relate to the lyrics of the St. Matthew Passion?

What we are really influenced by as Europeans and what really gives us an identity as Westerners is not religion but the liberty to act against obscurantism and religion. Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, in a recent speech, suggested that Europeans should look to Christianity in order to reinstall meaning and purpose in a European society that has lost its moral compass. He does not seem to be aware that he suggests something that is deeply alien to a European culture that was born out of a revolution against religious authoritarianism. Unknowingly, by insisting on archaic Christian roots, Orbán, Peterson, and Musk push the West towards a worldview with which Christianity bears strong similarities: Islam.

Islamic societies continue to be much more strongly influenced by religion, and the idea of a ‘cultural Muslim’ is unnecessary because Islam is the only cultural reference point available: religion and culture almost entirely overlap, or are at least perceived to. Simultaneously and paradoxically, when the religious reference point is so strong that non-religious cultural aspects quasi-disappear, the idea of a ‘cultural Muslim’ becomes nonsensical and practically synonymous with the notion of a ‘cultural non-Muslim.’ A cultural Muslim is de facto a non-Muslim.

This is also the case for Christians, but for them, this paradox is less obvious. Westerners tend to have many more non-religious reference points, with the result that the concept of ‘cultural Christianity’ assumes a stronger connection to the religion than would exist if one identified more strongly with other cultural referents. Because one could choose another identity, the choice of Christianity holds more weight. Typically, when a Muslim says that they are only ‘culturally’ Muslim, the assumption is that they are in fact no longer Muslim. When a Christian says that they are ‘culturally’ Christian, the emphasis is that they are still somehow Christian. In Western societies, culture and religion can be more naturally perceived as two distinct things, and Musk et al plead not for a distinction but for a further confusion of cultural and religious aspects. It remains a strange choice. For example, Musk could simply talk about family policy boosting birth rates; why does he need Christianity to make his point?

I concede that the idea of being a ‘cultural Christian’, with which I personally cannot empathise, might be genuinely felt by some. However, there is no reason to turn this vague feeling into a movement or an ideology. This is precisely what Musk et al are doing. And when Dawkins values cultural Christianity as a ‘bulwark against Islam’ he is clearly missing the point. The only bulwark against Islam would be secularism.

I feel that you want to ask me now if I am a Christian or a non-Christian without the prefix ‘cultural.’ But this is not the topic of the article. Here I merely wanted to explain why, in cultural terms, I cannot be a Christian.

Related reading

Do we need God to defend civilisation? by Adam Wakeling

The Enlightenment and the making of modernity, by Piers Benn

The case of Richard Dawkins: cultural affiliation with a religious community does not contradict atheism, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

New Atheism, New Theism, and a defence of cultural Christianity, by Jack Stacey

Against the ‘New Theism’, by Daniel James Sharp

Can the ‘New Theists’ save the West? by Matt Johnson

A reading list against the ‘New Theism’ (and an offer to debate), by Daniel James Sharp

The post Why I am a ‘cultural non-Christian’ appeared first on The Freethinker.

This final instalment is published on the author’s birthday as a gift to the secularists who helped him free himself from Islam—leading, in essence, to his rebirth as a freethinker. The introduction to and first instalment of the series can be found here and other instalments in the series can be found here.

One day in November 2023, some Muslim friends of mine from the Far East asked that I lead the group in the Maghrib prayer (one of the five mandatory daily prayers in Islam). Far Eastern Muslims value Arab Muslims as being linked to the birthplace of Islam, plus one of my ancestors was a famous companion of the Prophet Muhammad. I tried to make excuses to get out of it, but they insisted, so I went ahead and led the prayer. Little did my friends know that by that time I was an ex-Muslim. After my defeats by secularists in numerous debates, I had turned my back on Islam. They were being led in prayer by an apostate who had devoted himself to refuting and defeating Islam!

When I returned home, I apologised to Satan (known as Iblis in Islam) for obeying Allah’s will, but he told me: ‘Do not worry, my friend, I will not punish you by putting you in hell forever, I am not Allah! It suffices to do your freethinker homework.’ I could not resist thanking the almighty Satan and I obeyed His command. That night, I did my homework, studying with secularists all the flaws in Islamic apologetics.

In his book, Allah tells Satan: ‘[Y]ou will certainly have no authority over My servants, except the deviant who follow you’. (Quran 15:42.) Allah seems to have control over some servants, but not over everyone. At least Satan does not make claims that He cannot fulfil…

Of course, I don’t mean that I believe in Satan/Iblis literally. But the disobedient Satan figure is a potent symbol for me, epitomising my own journey away from prostration to Allah towards freedom and independence.

Muslim scholars and apologists claim that during Ramadan, all the devils are chained. Yet I and other freethinkers have joyfully engaged in counter-apologetics during the last two Ramadans. We served Satan during the holiest Muslim month, so it would seem that Satan is not chained after all. Subhan Iblis! He is the greatest, indeed. And He never called us ‘servants’.

The Satan of Islamic theology is not just a personal symbol. He is a paradoxical figure who highlights the inconsistencies and contradictions inherent in religious belief. Satan was a key aspect of my journey away from faith. The story of Satan’s refusal to bow to Adam, as described in the Quran, raises profound questions about the nature of God’s commands and Satan’s role in the narrative. Satan, created from fire, refused to prostrate before Adam, who was made from clay, arguing that He was superior. This act of defiance resulted in His expulsion from Paradise.

Yet, one might ask: Why did Allah create something that could argue with him and cause trouble in the first place? Satan’s refusal can be seen as an act of courage. Ironically, it is also consistent with the divine command to worship none but Allah: if all creatures are to bow only to Allah, then Satan’s refusal to bow to Adam could be interpreted as an act of fidelity to this principle, albeit one that defies Allah’s direct command.

Moreover, the Quran verse cited above suggests a limit to Allah’s power: Satan is granted authority over some of humanity. This raises further questions about the nature of divine power and the existence of free will. If Allah is truly omnipotent, why grant Satan any power at all?

The paradoxical nature of Satan’s role, combined with the theological inconsistencies surrounding his creation and actions, challenges the coherence of Islam’s theistic belief system. The Quranic narrative reveals contradictions in the divine attributes of omnipotence and omnibenevolence and highlights the problematic nature of theological doctrines that fail to align with observable reality.

This was just one of the many Satanic verses I encountered which shook my faith in Allah. Satan, paradoxically, led me to nonbelief. As for the existence of Allah more generally, I recommend Edgar Morina’s book Disproving Islam, which provides many excellent scientific arguments against the existence of Allah.

My complete loss of faith was not an overnight event but a gradual process of disillusionment. It involved countless hours of introspection, reading, and engagement with ideas that I had previously dismissed. Even as I continued to defend Islam in debates with secularists, I began to feel empty inside. I was like a hot air balloon: I seemed big and confident, but I was easily popped. This made it look to my opponents as if I just suddenly crashed out of Islam, but the truth is more complex.

The final admission of my defeat was both liberating and deeply humbling. It was an acknowledgement of my intellectual defeat and a surrender to the reality I had long resisted. It was a decisive defeat of Jihad by Word. Nowadays, with digital tools allowing people to document and share information efficiently and systematically, Islam simply cannot keep up. There can be no more tricks. Everything is well documented. Though the defeat of Islam will take time to fully play out, secularists have essentially already won. They have returned the Muslim genie to the bottle and locked it there forever. How long it takes Muslims to realise their intellectual defeat is, however, another matter entirely.

Jalal’s ‘statement of defeat’ by secularists in debate can be found here.

Related reading

The need to rekindle irreverence for Islam in Muslim thought, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

The price of criticising Islam in northern Nigeria: imprisonment or death, by Emma Park

My journey from blindness to rationality: how English literature saved me, by Sonia Nigar

Rushdie’s victory, by Daniel James Sharp

Surviving Ramadan: An ex-Muslim’s journey in Pakistan’s religious landscape, by Azad

From religious orthodoxy to free thought, by Tehreem Azeem

Breaking the silence: Pakistani ex-Muslims find a voice on social media, by Tehreem Azeem

Britain’s liberal imam: Interview with Taj Hargey, by Emma Park

The Satanic Verses; free speech in the Freethinker, by Emma Park

How I lost my religious belief: A personal story from Nigeria, by Suyum Audu

Why I am no longer a Hindu, by Amrita Ghosh

The post Jihad by Word #4: The Satan paradox; or, Putting the Muslim genie back in the bottle appeared first on The Freethinker.

Like the typical visitor to Japan, I initially regarded Shinto as the quaint if not simplistic faith of the Japanese people. However, when placed in its historical context, I realised that Shinto was one of the last remaining major expressions of a much older faith, namely animism (typically described in Western countries as ‘paganism’).¹ Further study led me to the realisation that animism, with its panoply of mostly nature-affiliated deities like a sun or a rain god(dess), was in fact the oldest form of religion about which, today, we have any trace. That is to say, animism is now widely acknowledged among scholars as the oldest form of religion, practised universally by our ancestors for tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of years.

Inasmuch as survival plus reproduction is generally recognised as the fundamental purpose of all life forms, the creation of sun god(s), rain god(s), fire god(s), etc. is unsurprising. For just as the creation of stone tools enhanced the evolutionary fitness of hunter-gatherers, the presence of nature-affiliated deities offered the possibility of controlling (and benefitting from) natural phenomena that were beyond any other method of control. In short, what we today identify as religion resulted from the fundamental human need to survive, though it should be noted that religion at this stage was centred on the needs of the entire tribe—to ensure plentiful water and animals to hunt and so on—rather than the spiritual needs of the individual tribal member. Today, we now have examples of tribal religious practices involving nature-affiliated deities dating back as far as 70,000 years ago.   

Yet, if tribal-oriented, animistic religions can be traced back tens of thousands of years, if not longer, how does one account for the personal faiths we have today? For this, we are indebted to the insight of a German-Swiss philosopher by the name of Karl Jaspers (1883–1969). Jaspers noticed the broad changes in religious and philosophical thought that occurred throughout the entire world from about the 8th to the 3rd century BCE, now known as the Axial Age. He noted that the present-day spiritual foundations of humanity were laid nearly simultaneously and independently in China, India, Persia, Judea, and Greece. Among the key thinkers of this period, he identified Confucius and Lao-Tse in China, the historical Buddha and Mahavira in India, Deutero-Isaiah in ancient Israel², and Socrates and Plato in Greece.

Though their teachings varied, all these thinkers shared three basic elements in common. First, ‘truth’ was universally valid, and its existence was no longer confined to one’s tribe. Second, morality/ethical conduct, too, was universal. While it had long been wrong, or taboo, to steal from or injure a fellow tribal member, the rule for members of other tribes was ‘anything goes’, especially when the latter posed a threat or possessed something coveted by one’s own tribe.  At least in principle, those outside one’s tribe were now recognised as fellow human beings. Finally, the myths that had explained natural events like the eclipse of the sun, or the creation of the world, were no longer accepted uncritically. Slowly, haltingly, the search for rational answers to natural phenomena and life’s questions took root, eventually leading to the birth of science.

One good example of this change in mentality is provided by the historical Buddha in regard to the doctrine of karma. In Sanskrit, the word ‘karma’ originally meant no more or less than an ‘action’ of some kind. Later, in the Vedas, which initially presented an Indian form of animism, ‘karma’ came to mean action associated with properly conducted ritual sacrifices to the gods. It was only later still, with the advent of the Buddha, that karma acquired an ethical connotation. The Buddha ethicised the meaning of karma by identifying it with intentional actions on the part of the actor. Thus, when actions were undertaken with wholesome intent, this was good and proper, reaping positive rewards. However, when actions were conducted with harmful intent, this was wrong, and those who did so would suffer the negative consequences of their actions.

Not only did the Axial period mark the beginning of religion for individuals, but it also prepared the way for the emergence of all the major, universal religions we have today, whether Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, or Buddhism. That is to say, while there are major doctrinal differences between these faiths, they all share the same three basic characteristics born during the Axial Age. Thus, if there is hope for mutual religious understanding, if not religious tolerance, it is to be found in the fundamental tenets underlying them all.

However, given the copious amounts of blood that have been shed in conflicts between post-Axial faiths, it is readily understandable that readers may think I have a Pollyannaish view of religion. However, such is not the case, for I have long realised that the Axial Age did not bring an end to a tribal religious mentality. Instead, the Axial Age functioned to add something like an additional universal layer on top of limited tribal religion, the latter concerned first and foremost with the wellbeing of one’s ‘in-group’, whether defined by a common religious faith, ethnic and racial grouping, or simply membership in the new tribal grouping we call ‘nations’.

The ongoing wars in Ukraine and Gaza are classic examples of this religious ‘layer cake’. Prior to the war, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church (UOC), while it enjoyed a degree of autonomy, was part of the Russian Orthodox Church. After the invasion in February 2022, the UOC declared its independence from Russia. (The Orthodox Church of Ukraine—a separate church—had already gained independence in 2018.) Since then, the independent UOC has attempted to cut all ties with Moscow, dismissing pro-Russian bishops and having its head, Metropolitan Onufriy, publicly condemn Russia. For its part, in April 2024, the Russian Orthodox Church proclaimed that Russia was engaged in a ‘holy war’ with Ukraine. Although they shared the same God, the same faith, the split between them clearly came about due to their allegiance to the contending warring tribal entities we today call ‘nations’.

As for the current war in Gaza, it is, if anything, an even clearer example of the conflict between universal and tribal religion. For example, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu did not hesitate to invoke the Biblical image of the Jewish tribal battle against the Amalekites.³ Last year, he said that Israelis ‘are committed to completely eliminating this evil [Hamas] from the world… You must remember what Amalek has done to you, says our Holy Bible. And we do remember.’

Netanyahu’s reference was to the first Book of Samuel in which God commands King Saul to kill all the Amalekites. God, says the prophet Samuel, has told the Israelites to ‘go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass.’ (1 Samuel 15:3).

Likewise, Israeli Defence Minister Yoav Gallant claimed that ‘We are fighting human animals and we act accordingly.’ While Gallant may have initially been referring to Hamas fighters, he went on to call for the collective punishment of all Palestinians in Gaza, stating, ‘We are imposing a complete siege on Gaza. There will be no electricity, no food, no water, no fuel. Everything will be closed.’ The tribal nature of Netanyahu and Gallant’s comments, and their complete dismissal of the shared humanity of Israelis and Palestinians, could not be clearer.

That said, it is important to acknowledge that there are Jews, including in Israel, who do recognise their shared humanity with Palestinians. Organisations like Jewish Voice for Peace and IfNotNow share post-Axial universal values of caring for the poor and oppressed, pursuing justice, and treating others with compassion based on their shared humanity.  

If this analysis is correct, readers may be thinking that this tribal way of thinking is not unique to some adherents of Judaism, and they would be correct. One Christian example particularly relevant to the current situation in Israel/Palestine is the role played by ‘Manifest Destiny’ in American history. First coined in 1845, this term represented a collective mindset that viewed the expansion of the US as both necessary and ordained by God. As the US gained more territory, proponents of Manifest Destiny used it to justify the forced removal, enslavement, dehumanisation, and even elimination of Native American tribes, as well as the expansion of slavery into newly acquired territories.

Compare these actions with the words from Leviticus 19:33-34 that both Christians and Jews claim to believe in:

And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not vex him. But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.

These examples point to an unresolved split in all religions, i.e. between their tribal nature, based on tens of thousands of years of history, versus their post-Axial awakening occurring less than three thousand years ago. This awakening was of profound importance in that it led, at least in principle, to a recognition of the universal nature of their religious teachings based on their shared humanity. This in turn led, at least some of the time, to a feeling of mutual compassion in which people recognised others as extensions of themselves, extensions who had the same human needs and fears as they themselves had.

The struggle between a narrow tribal mentality versus a truly universal mentality accepting of others is one that transcends all ethnic, racial, national, and even religious boundaries. Nevertheless, in the US, for example, the slogan ‘America First’ is embraced by millions, demonstrating that for many the tribal mentality remains firmly in place.      

On the one hand, as brutal and destructive as religion-endorsed tribal warfare has been in the past, humanity as a whole was not endangered. Today, however, things are different. For the first time in the approximately 300,000-year history of Homo sapiens, we have the capacity to destroy each other not only in the tens of thousands, or even the millions, but totally, without exception. This is because of the very real possibility of ‘mutual assured destruction’ in the form of a nuclear-induced winter, not to mention the ever-increasing dangers resulting from phenomena like global warming. None of the deadly serious problems facing humankind as a whole can be solved by one or even a group of nations. They require the concerted efforts, and necessary sacrifices, of all the world’s nations and peoples.

Thus, adherents of all the world’s religions, and even those who identify with no faith, share a common challenge. Can we Homo sapiens collectively awake to, and transcend, the tribal religious mentality of our past or are we bound to continue to fool ourselves into oblivion, believing that we are pursuing universal truths even as we betray such truths in practice? In Ukraine, Gaza, and beyond, we live in a world characterised by the ongoing threat of thermonuclear warfare, global warming, and many other deadly challenges.

Can religion save the human race?

As an adherent of religion, I sincerely wish I could answer this question in the affirmative. However, in light of the above examples, and many others like them, I cannot. What I can say with confidence is that postaxial religion has the largely unrealised potential to prevent humanity from destroying itself. Yet, all too regrettably, this potential is far, far from being realised even though pockets of universal good will do exist.  A positive outcome for humanity, let alone all life forms, requires that we undertake concrete actions based on the realisation that the continued existence of our species is, in fact, dependent on the success of a truly universal struggle, by the religious and nonreligious alike, for human equality, dignity, and justice.

Will we be successful? Among many others, the answer lies with each reader of this article.

1. As a foundational aspect of various ancient and indigenous religions, animism is based on the belief that all things, animate and inanimate, possess a spiritual or animating force. ‘Paganism’ describes the same phenomena but the word as used to describe this belief system has pejorative overtones and is therefore no longer widely used. ︎
2. Deutero-Isaiah is the name given to the anonymous author of chapters 40–55 of the Book of Isaiah. He (it was most likely a ‘he’) is believed to have lived with the Jewish exiles during their Babylonian captivity (c. 597 BCE – c. 538). Because this prophet’s real name is unknown and his work has been preserved in the collection of writings that include the prophecies of the earlier, or first, Isaiah, he is usually designated as Deutero-Isaiah—the second Isaiah. Deutero-Isaiah was a pure monotheist who rejected the idea of Yahweh as the exclusive god of the Jews. Instead, he proclaimed that Yahweh was the universal, true God of the entire universe. ︎
3. The Amalekites were a people of the Negev and adjoining desert who were regarded as a hereditary enemy of Israel from wilderness times to the early monarchy. Amalek, a son of Esau’s son Eliphaz, was presumably the eponymous ancestor of the Amalekites. ︎

Read Part Two here.

Related reading

The rise and fall of god(s) in Indian politics: Modi’s setback, Indic philosophy, and the freethought paradox, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

Religion and the decline of freethought in South Asia, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

Can sentientism save the world? Interview with Jamie Woodhouse, by Emma Park

The Highbrow Caveman: Why ‘high’ culture is atavistic, by Charles Foster

‘The Greek mind was something special’: interview with Charles Freeman, by Daniel James Sharp

Image of the week: Anaxagoras, by Emma Park

‘The real beauty comes from contemplating the universe’: humanism with Sarah Bakewell, by Emma Park

Reading list against nuclear war, by Emma Park

Atheism, secularism, humanism, by Anthony Grayling

Morality without religion: the story of humanism, by Madeleine Goodall

The need for a new Enlightenment, by Christopher Hitchens

Can the ‘New Theists’ save the West? by Matt Johnson

Against the ‘New Theism’, by Daniel James Sharp

What has Christianity to do with Western values? by Nick Cohen

Religion and the Arab-Israeli conflict, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

Israel’s war on Gaza is a war on the Palestinian people, by Zwan Mahmod

Is the Israel-Palestine conflict fundamentally a nationalist, not a religious, war? by Ralph Leonard

Young, radical and morally confused, by Gerfried Ambrosch

Britain’s liberal imam: Interview with Taj Hargey, by Emma Park

White Christian Nationalism is rising in America. Separation of church and state is the antidote. By Rachel Laser

The post Can Religion Save Humanity? Part One appeared first on The Freethinker.

When I was preparing to become a Muslim scholar, one of the arguments I focused on countering was the argument that dhimmis—nonbelievers with legal protections in an Islamic state—were humiliated by Muslims. By addressing this, I aimed to show that Islam is a religion of peace. I believed I could win this debate despite its difficulty.

However, my argument was debunked. Below is my defence of jizyah and a summary of a debate I had with a secularist, where I was defeated using logic and Islamic sources.

My defence of jizyah

Jizyah was a tax paid by dhimmis in Islamic states (not to be confused with zakat, a tax paid by Muslims only). The jizyah rate varied based on the financial status of the dhimmi. Roughly speaking:

A. The richest dhimmis paid four dinars (gold coins).

B. Moderately wealthy dhimmis paid 20 dirhams of silver.

C. Those unable to pay did not pay anything.

This shows that the levying of jizyah was not intended to humiliate dhimmis: it was a fairly administered tax. Quran verse 9:29 indicates that only those capable of paying should do so. Though zakat was generally lower, jizyah still differentiated between dhimmis with different incomes. This fiscal system was fair, especially in an era with minimal tolerance for different faiths.

There were various valid justifications for jizyah:

1. The Islamic state uses zakat and jizyah payments for services, like security, benefiting all residents.

2. The extra amount of jizyah compared to zakat compensates for the dhimmis’ freedom to practice their faith. Countries today legitimately use citizenship rules to define rights and relationships among citizens, refugees, and immigrants.

3. The gradual increase in payment is based on financial capability, with the rich paying more and the poor paying nothing.

Do these not strike you as fair points?

Additionally, Islamic history shows that the Prophet forgave his enemies, so why would he humiliate dhimmis? Here, for example, is one of the authentic hadiths:

‘Al-Qasim ibn Salam reported: When his enemies came to the Ka’bah, they were holding onto its door and the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “What do you say? What do you think?” They said three times, “We say you are the son of our brother.” The Prophet said, “I say to you as Joseph said to his brothers: No blame upon you today. Allah will forgive you, for he is the most merciful of the merciful.” In another narration, the Prophet said to them, “Go, you are free.”’

Another example of Islamic mercy is Umar’s Assurance, a document written by Caliph Umar ibn Al-Khattab to the people of the recently captured Jerusalem in AD 637 or 638. This assurance guaranteed the safety of Christian churches and property, and it is said that the Caliph, despite being invited to do so, did not pray inside the Church of the Resurrection so as not to establish a precedent which might threaten the church’s Christian status.

The medieval Muslim scholar Imam Ibn Al-Qayyim, in his book Ahkām ahl al-dhimma, provided copious evidence that the humiliation of nonbelievers was not intended in Islamic states and that dhimmis were well treated (see, for example, his interpretations of Quran 9:29 and Umar’s Assurance). 

Further, the Encyclopedia Britannica tells us that:

‘During the Prophet Muhammad’s lifetime, the jizyah was not imposed on non-Muslim tribes consistently. For example, the Nubians of North Africa, despite being non-Muslim, were exempted; instead they entered into a trade agreement (baqt) with Muslims.

In the period following Muhammad’s death, the jizyah was levied on non-Muslim Arab tribes in lieu of military service. Performance of military service earned an exemption; for example, under the second caliph, ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb, the Jarājimah tribe was exempted when it agreed to serve in the army. The non-Muslim poor, the elderly, women, serfs, religious functionaries, and the mentally ill generally did not pay any taxes. Early sources state that under the first caliphs poor Christians and Jews were instead awarded stipends from the state treasury, which was funded largely by monies derived from the zakat, the obligatory tax paid by Muslim men and women of financial means, and from the jizyah paid by non-Muslim men of means.’

The principles instilled by the Prophet and Umar can still be felt today in regions where dhimmis and Muslims live in peace and mutual respect. In short: jizyah was a legitimate tax administered fairly and Islamic principles allowed for peaceful coexistence between believers and nonbelievers.

The debate

Such was my case for the defence when I engaged in a debate with a secularist on the issue.

My opponent questioned the three levels of jizyah I mentioned and the context around ‘humiliation’ in its payment. He argued that the terms used in Quran 9:29 imply subjugation and belittlement and questioned the validity of my interpretation of the verse.

I emphasised the importance of consulting the original Arabic text, explaining that ‘عن يد’ (ean yad) translates roughly to ‘out of hand’, or ‘those who can pay’, indicating flexibility in payment, not humiliation, and noted that many interpreters assert that the verse speaks of commitment rather than degradation. My opponent remained sceptical, insisting that ‘صاغرون’ (saghirun; roughly, ‘slavish’) implies humiliation and that the verse pertains to conquering non-Muslim lands.

The debate shifted to the concept of dhimmitude, the protected status of non-Muslims under Islamic governance. I clarified that ‘dhimmi’ means ‘protected person’ and that dhimmis’ feelings of subjugation stemmed from their having to live under Islamic law in general, not from any particular mistreatment. My opponent countered with examples from the time of Umar’s Assurance, highlighting restrictions imposed on Christians and arguing that these were humiliating. He pointedly asked if Muslims would find similar rules degrading.

I pointed out that the authenticity of Umar’s Assurance is debated, with some attributing it to later jurists rather than the Caliph himself. My opponent argued that the legitimacy of Islamic laws does not rest solely on the character of political leaders but on the consensus of jurists.

I asserted that true Islamic law is derived from the Quran and authentic hadith. My opponent questioned who determines the proper understanding of these texts, noting that scholars diverge widely in their views. I mentioned that consensus among scholars is crucial but acknowledged that different groups might have their own consensus. He cited legal manuals from various schools of Islamic jurisprudence, all of which included humiliating conditions for dhimmis, reinforcing his point that such practices are integral to Islamic law.

My opponent maintained that Islamic legal texts mandate even the poor to pay jizyah and that the humiliation is inherent in the laws themselves.

I argued that the Quran should be the primary source of Islamic law, and it contains no explicit command to humiliate dhimmis. My opponent pointed out that Islamic jurisprudence combines Quranic text, hadith, and juristic consensus, and that these have long produced discriminatory laws. He quoted various scholars and legal manuals to prove that systemic humiliation is part of established Islamic law, showing that my argument was insufficient against historical consensus.

To counter, I cited Ibn al-Qayyim’s work, which denies historical evidence for such humiliations in jizyah collection. Ibn al-Qayyim interprets the dhimmis’ feelings of being low or sad as arising from a feeling akin to paying taxes one disagrees with rather than stemming from discrimination and humiliation. My opponent remained unconvinced, emphasising that the majority consensus among jurists includes humiliating conditions and cannot be dismissed by a single scholar’s opinion.

Towards the end of the debate, I acknowledged the diversity of interpretations and the rigorous methods scholars use to authenticate hadith and derive legal rulings. My opponent insisted that the established body of Islamic law, including its dhimmi-humiliating aspects, is backed by centuries of juristic consensus and cannot be easily refuted. Despite my attempts to present a more humane and flexible understanding of jizyah, my opponent’s extensive citations from legal texts and historical practices ultimately made a compelling case for the systemic nature of these conditions, highlighting the challenge of reconciling ideal Islamic principles with historical jurisprudence.

I have now accepted my full and decisive defeat in this debate and my inability to defend the Islamic argument.

As a penance for this and many other defeats in debate, I have now shaved my beard and abandoned Islam. I have also paid my own form of jizyah to secular societies—a much better use of money, I think! I hope that by sharing these stories of my defeats I can help others to counter Islamic apologetics—and perhaps even help some Muslims to go on the same journey of enlightenment as I have.

Jalal’s ‘statement of defeat’ by secularists in debate can be found here.

Related reading

The need to rekindle irreverence for Islam in Muslim thought, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

Artificial intelligence and algorithmic bias on Islam, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

When does a religious ideology become a political one? The case of Islam, by Niko Alm

Surviving Ramadan: An ex-Muslim’s journey in Pakistan’s religious landscape, by Azad

From religious orthodoxy to free thought, by Tehreem Azeem

Britain’s liberal imam: Interview with Taj Hargey, by Emma Park

Breaking the silence: Pakistani ex-Muslims find a voice on social media, by Tehreem Azeem

The post Jihad by Word #2: how I could not defend jizyah appeared first on The Freethinker.

Books sometimes have a way of turning up at opportune times. In mid-2022 a collection of essays on the themes of blasphemy and violence in Europe, Demystifying the Sacred: Blasphemy and Violence from the French Revolution to Today, went off to the printers. According to the publisher, De Gruyter, the book ‘offers a much-needed analysis of a subject that historians have largely ignored, yet that has considerable relevance for today’s world: the powerful connection that exists between offences against the sacred and different forms of violence.’

‘Considerable relevance’ would shortly prove a massive understatement. On 12 August 2022, a month before the book’s publication, author Sir Salman Rushdie was savagely attacked as he was preparing to deliver a lecture in New York. Repeatedly stabbed, Rushie only narrowly survived, although he has lost sight in one eye. A New Jersey man of Lebanese background, Hadi Matar, is currently awaiting trial for attempted murder. All the facts will come out then, but from what we know, it is safe to say the attack was a violent response to blasphemy.

Rushdie has been living with the threat of such an attack since Valentine’s Day 1989, when the ailing Iranian theocrat Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini proclaimed that his novel The Satanic Verses was ‘a text written, edited, and published against Islam’ and its author deserved death. This fatwa still stood in 2022, although amidst the tumult of COVID-19, the 2020 United States presidential election, and the Russian invasion of Ukraine it was hardly front of mind for most people. The attack on Rushdie reminded us that, whatever else is happening in the world, the threat of zealous violence against those who fail to treat the sacred with the level of reverence the zealots consider to be its due has not gone away. The fatwa still stands today.

Demystifying the Sacred is an academic work, or a collection of academic works, exploring the connection between blasphemy and violence in Europe over the last two and a half centuries. Each chapter has a theme, usually a particular time and place. For example, one essay by Julio de la Cueva looks at blasphemy and violence in the Spanish Civil War. David Nash, one of the book’s editors (the other is Eveline G. Bouwers), contributes a chapter on blasphemy in English law, in which early editions of the Freethinker make an appearance. The final chapter, by Manfred Sing, covers the Rushdie affair.

A Conceptual Chameleon

‘Words are not violence’ is a long-running catchcry of the defenders of free speech. There are those, like Khomeini, who disagree, and Demystifying the Sacred can give some insight into their thinking. To them, blasphemy itself is violence, and blasphemers are themselves the instigators. The book does not just deal with violence against people, but violence against property. It starts, in fact, with the vandalism of an artwork.

It’s easy to assume that a book on blasphemy and violence will tell the story of the struggle against book-burning fanatics by the advocates of tolerance, reason, and Enlightenment. But the themes of Demystifying the Sacred are much broader. According to the book’s editors, blasphemy is a ‘conceptual chameleon’, related to but distinct from heresy, apostasy, and sacrilege. It has been criminalised in both religious and secular law, albeit often for different reasons, and at times it has even been treated as the symptom of a mental illness.

Each chapter can be read on its own, and I will not go into them all in detail. But a few themes run across them. One is the long-running connection between blasphemy and politics, where authorities have prosecuted blasphemy in the name of upholding public order and protecting the nation from its internal or external enemies.

More Politics than Religion

In his chapter on blasphemy in English law, Nash cites the 1911 blasphemy case of a man named T. W. Stewart. Stewart had taken to giving public lectures criticising the morality of the Bible, concluding in delightfully Edwardian fashion that ‘God is not fit company for a respectable man like me’. The Leeds Chief Constable concluded that these addresses were ‘most offensive and distressing to respectable persons passing by’ and had him hauled before Justice Thomas Gardner Horridge.

Justice Horridge did not criticise Stewart for the substance of what he said. Rather, maintained the Judge, ‘there was a difference between the drawing room and the street’, and while it might be acceptable to ridicule Christianity in private among friends, making the same claims before a crowd was a threat to public order. Stewart was convicted, which, as critics of the case pointed out, seemed to make a lapse of good taste a criminal offence.

Manfred Sing’s chapter on the Rushie Affair looks at the topic of blasphemy and politics from a different angle. Reading the chapter, I was surprised by the lack of clarity around many of the key facts of the episode. It was unclear what, if anything, was actually blasphemous about The Satanic Verses. It was unclear what, if any, actual legal effect Khomeini’s decree had in either Islamic or Iranian law (as Sing explains, it was not formally a fatwa, although the Western media ran with the term). And while commentators in the West saw the fatwa as a broadside against Western secular values, Khomeini’s attention might have been much closer to home. In 1989, Iran was in the midst of a political and constitutional crisis in the wake of the bloody war against Iraq, the regime’s domestic critics were becoming more vocal than the Ayatollahs were comfortable with, and its elderly and frail leader was well aware his time was coming to an end and that thoughts both inside and outside the country were turning to succession. According to Sing, it is likely that Khomeini issued the fatwa, or decree,to buttress his authority as both Iran’s temporal and spiritual head.

Of course, radical Muslims in Western countries had a simpler view. Sing quotes British Muslim intellectual Shabbir Akhtar, who argued at the time of the Rushie Affair that without ‘an internal temper of militant, but constructive wrath’ Islam would, like Christianity, fade away in an increasingly secular world. In this worldview, violence in response to blasphemy becomes almost a type of collective self-defence.

Demystifying the Sacred is an academic book which will be of more interest to those researching its subject than general readers. But it brings together a huge amount of scholarship about its subject in an accessible volume, and the electronic version is available for free download, making it a great resource for writers to reference. The subject, sadly, is unlikely to become unimportant any time soon.

Further reading

The Satanic Verses; free speech in the Freethinker, a collection of Freethinker articles compiled by Emma Park

The need for a new Enlightenment, by Christopher Hitchens

Three years on, the lessons of Batley are yet to be learned, by Jack Rivington

The need to rekindle irreverence for Islam in Muslim thought, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

Rushdie’s victory, by Daniel James Sharp

The post Blasphemy and violence: review of ‘Demystifying the Sacred’ appeared first on The Freethinker.

In Pakistan, the formation of a truly democratic government is increasingly hindered by the limited participation of religious minorities. Many Ahmadis, members of a religious group facing severe persecution—and I am one—abstained from voting in the 2024 general election in February for fear of attacks and the discriminatory and dangerous practice of separate voter lists. This exclusion from the democratic process reflects the broader challenges faced by religious minorities in the country.

Amir Mehmood, a community spokesperson, told me that religiously motivated extremists consider it their duty to kill Ahmadi individuals; it is therefore practically impossible for Ahmadis to vote so long as there is a voters list that openly identifies them as Ahmadi.

Pakistan is home to a population where less than 4% of the citizens are religious minorities, including Ahmadis, Sikhs, Hindus, Christians, and others. These groups were registered on separate voter lists from the 1985 general election onwards, but in 2002, President Pervez Musharraf abandoned this practice—except for the Ahmadis.

According to Pakistan’s most recent census, in 2017, 3.53% of the population consists of religious minority groups. The total population of these minority groups is 7,331,246. Interestingly, the Ahmadi population has seen a decline, decreasing from 291,000 in the 1998 census (the last one before 2017) to 207,688 in 2017. However, since many Ahmadis boycotted the censuses, the true figure is thought to be considerably higher—between two and five million.

Nasir Qureshi, an Ahmadi, is a resident of Karachi, the largest city in Pakistan. He has been living and running a business there since 1979. However, he has never voted due to the discriminatory voter list practice. When I spoke to Qureshi, he said that the situation for Ahmadis in Pakistan is the worst it has ever been. Each day, the number of attacks and incidents of hatred against the community is increasing. ‘Like other parts of Pakistan, Karachi is also insecure for the community,’ he told me.

Qureshi stated that discrimination has become widespread and that it is impossible for Ahmadis to vote for fear of being targeted with violence. ‘Until the separate voter list is abolished, I cannot vote and will not vote in the future because it makes us easily identifiable and vulnerable to attacks,’ he lamented.

Still, he was defiant. Although the ‘Ahmadiyya community is being compelled to boycott the general elections and is denied a role in the formation of a democratic government… [It] is our fundamental right to participate in polls because Pakistan is our home country.’

The Ahmadis believe that they are Muslims, but the Constitution and law of Pakistan criminalise this belief. The Constitution of Pakistan was promulgated in 1973 and passed unanimously by the parliament. General Zia-ul-Haq, the military dictator who ruled Pakistan under martial law from 1977-88, passed Ordinance XX of 1984, introducing sections 298-B and 298-C to the Pakistan Penal Code (PPC), which made it a criminal offence for Ahmadis to, among other things, refer to themselves as Muslims, call their places of worship mosques, and give the call to prayer (the Azan).

The National Commission for Human Rights, a statutory body established in 2012, recently released a situation report titled Monitoring the Plight of the Ahmadiyya Community which provides detailed statistics of the persecution against the Ahmadiyya community from 1984 to 2023. According to the report, Ahmadis in Pakistan have faced ‘an astonishing number of legal charges – 765 cases for displaying the Kalima [Islamic prayers containing the fundamentals of the religion], 47 cases for calling the Azan, 861 cases for preaching, and various others.’

Shedding further light on the persecution faced by Pakistani Ahmadis, the Human Rights Section of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Foreign Mission released a report in February 2024. According to that report, 277 Ahmadis were murdered between 1984 and 2023 because of their faith, and 478 attempted murders took place for the same reason. Additionally, 4,280 Ahmadis were arrested and 202 Ahmadi mosques were desecrated. In 2023, one Ahmadi person was murdered, 133 were arrested, and 39 Ahmadi mosques and 100 Ahmadi graves were desecrated. The report states that in the first couple of months of this year, several mosques were desecrated or attacked, 88 graves were desecrated, one Ahmadi was arrested under the anti-Ahmadi law PPC-298-C, one Ahmadi survived a murder attempt, and six Ahmadi teachers were transferred due to their faith. These statistics show just some of the ways—there are, sadly, many more—in which the Ahmadi community is persecuted and disenfranchised in Pakistan.

Amir Mehmood had this to say about the plight of the Ahmadis:

‘Sadly, we have been marginalized and excluded from the fabric of the state. As Ahmadis, we are also concerned about the future of our country, Pakistan. The actions of the state have cornered the Ahmadis, which is actually against the statement made by Quaid-e-Azam [‘Great Leader’, Muhammad Ali Jinnah], the founder of Pakistan, shortly after the creation of Pakistan [in 1947]. Quaid-e-Azam declared that every person, regardless of their religion or sect, would be free to practice their beliefs and worship in temples, mosques, gurdwaras, and so on.

This is a miserable situation for our community. Everyone, including rights activists, fails to understand why this is happening or why there is a desire to commit genocide against us, even though the loyalty of the community lies with Pakistan. Unfortunately, state institutions remain silent on this critical issue, which has not only damaged the image of Islam but also our country. However, I firmly believe that Pakistan is our country, and we are determined to serve it at any cost.’

Qureshi mentioned that discrimination is prevalent everywhere, including in universities, schools, and other institutions. Youths are also deprived of job opportunities, and their life chances are being adversely affected in Pakistan. Despite lodging several complaints with the relevant authorities regarding these issues, our pleas have been futile.

Excluding the Ahmadis, a majority of voters from other religious minorities in Pakistan also refrained from voting for their favoured candidates due to fear instigated by candidates representing the majority religion, Islam. Approximately 70% of Hindu, Sikh, and Christian voters decided to abstain from participating in the 2024 general election according to Behwish Kumar, a rights activist for religious minorities. He told me that minorities refrain from using their vote out of fear. He added that there is no mechanism to protect minorities from the consequences which would be meted out by opposing candidates.

Mehmood stated that activists have repeatedly approached the relevant authorities to abandon the separate voter list for Ahmadis, but, unfortunately, their requests have been disregarded every time. ‘We do not hold positions in parliament or other high-ranking posts, so we can’t decide to remove this. We are left with no choice,’ he said.

To participate in Pakistani democracy, Ahmadis would have to risk their lives. As the well-known human rights lawyer Yasir Latif Hamdani put it to me: ‘How can they participate openly in the electoral process and cast their votes with a separate electoral list?’ He continued:

‘As a Pakistani citizen, I firmly assert [my] right to participate in the electoral process on equal footing with every fellow citizen of Pakistan whatever their religion. This demand is firmly grounded in the Constitution, which explicitly grants this right to every individual in Pakistan. Hence, it is truly bewildering why Ahmadis are unjustly deprived of this fundamental right, despite the Constitution’s clear provisions. Such discrimination goes against the universal principles of human rights that guarantee equal rights and opportunities for all individuals.’

He added that the current situation militates against Jinnah’s vision of an inclusive Pakistan, where everyone would be an equal citizen regardless of their religion and creed.

Mehmood emphasised that Ahmadis are not seeking to overthrow the Constitution, but are simply demanding their rights under it:

‘As Ahmadis, we do not seek special legislation for protection, as the Constitution of Pakistan already guarantees the right to life for every citizen. However, we strongly advocate for the repeal of the specific articles introduced through Ordinance XX on April 26, 1984. These articles not only contradict the principles of human dignity and equality but also go against the very essence of the Constitution of Pakistan.

We are currently enduring a distressing existence, with no safe haven to be found. Our children and women face constant insecurity and are denied access to educational institutions. Shockingly, there are public declarations advocating for the legality of murdering Ahmadis, while hatred continues to propagate unchecked. It is of utmost importance that these circumstances be abandoned and addressed immediately.’

In 1947, Pakistan’s founder said:

‘You are free; you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other place of worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or creed—that has nothing to do with the business of the State…’

As an Ahmadi myself, I look forward to the day when Jinnah’s secular vision is realised.

Related reading

From the streets to social change: examining the evolution of Pakistan’s Aurat March, by Tehreem Azeem

Surviving Ramadan: An ex-Muslim’s journey in Pakistan’s religious landscape, by Azad

Coerced faith: the battle against forced conversions in Pakistan’s Dalit community, by Shaukat Korai

Breaking the silence: Pakistani ex-Muslims find a voice on social media, by Tehreem Azeem

The power of outrage, by Tehreem Azeem

Artificial intelligence and algorithmic bias on Islam, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

Religion and the decline of freethought in South Asia, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

The post How the persecution of Ahmadis undermines democracy in Pakistan appeared first on The Freethinker.

It is becoming more and more typical for politicians in Britain to whip up religious sentiments to win over Muslim votes as the country prepares for the general election on 4 July. Since Muslims’ religious sentiments are currently—and profoundly—entwined with what is happening in Gaza, a political party’s stance on this issue might determine how much support it receives in areas with a significant number of Muslim voters. Unsurprisingly, then, some politicians have started using their support for Gaza as a bargaining chip to win Muslim votes.

In a video that has gone viral online, Angela Rayner, the deputy leader of the Labour Party, makes an appeal to a Muslim audience (one apparently composed solely of men), promising that her party will recognise the state of Palestine if they support her.

Lamentably, such political theatrics seem to have emboldened some fringe elements within British Muslim communities who seek to use religious identity to stir up division in British society.

The Muslim Vote (TMV), which targets ‘seats where the Muslim vote can influence the outcome’ and aims to create ‘a powerful, united force of 4 million acting in unison’, seems to aim to weaponise religious identity in a bid to gain political clout. With its list of approved candidates—i.e. those who can be counted on to promote TMV’s agenda—and its obsession with religious identity, TMV seems to think it represents all British Muslims, and it seeks to capitalise on the ongoing conflict in Gaza to sway them.

It should therefore come as no surprise that highly contentious Muslim organisations such as Muslim Engagement and Development (Mend) and the Muslim Association of Britain (MAB)—both of which are under investigation for extremism—are backers of TMV. Indeed, Communities Secretary Michael Gove has even said in Parliament that MAB’s ‘Islamist orientation and views’ were a cause for concern. 

A video posted (and since removed) by 5Pillars, a group that was described by Sara Khan in 2017 as ‘Islamist’, shows Asrar Rashid, a Muslim cleric, publicly endorsing two Muslim candidates contesting important Birmingham seats against the Labour Party. One of them, the British-Kashmiri activist Shakeel Afsar, had this to say during the controversy over the film The Lady of Heaven in 2022:

‘The city of Birmingham will not tolerate the disrespect of our prophet (pbuh), and there will be outcomes from your actions. You will have repercussions for your actions. We have been trained from birth that we must defend the honour of our prophet and we will lay our life on the line.’

Are such sectarian rabble-rousers really representative of all British Muslims? It seems not, because they are deliberately fostering antagonism against Muslim candidates who refuse to toe the line.

Meanwhile, some shameless politicians are openly embracing Muslim identitarianism in their bid to gain power. George Galloway, leader of the Workers Party of Britain, was recently caught on camera using the language of religious demagoguery to browbeat Muslims into not voting for Labour:

‘Do you think God is listening to someone who is praying one day and voting for Keir Starmer the day before? What kind of a believer would that be?’

Imagine those who, out of a simple desire to be decent religious people, might feel pressured—even threatened—to comply with his demands. This is blatant religious coercion. Radical provocateurs, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, are openly employing such coercion to win votes. The rise of this sort of rhetoric in a secular democracy is alarming.

Pressure like this might even be illegal. Section 114A of the Representation of the People Act states that it is an offence to influence elections by ‘causing spiritual injury to, or placing undue spiritual pressure’ on voters. Yet, in the face of Galloway’s threatening religious rhetoric, the authorities are, staggeringly, silent.

In Islamic theocracies like Iran, such undemocratic discourse is very familiar. In Iran, religious clerics are the ultimate power, not the people—and the Iranian people, who have been protesting against the government since 2022, know this all too well. How shameful that we in Britain seem to be going down the same path, embracing theocratic rhetoric in our supposedly free and fair elections.

Some media pundits attempt to simplify the situation by claiming that the British Muslim vote is being driven away from the mainstream political parties over the issue of Gaza. But saying that there is no such thing as a ‘Muslim vote’ is naïve: the problem goes much deeper than just the flashpoint of Gaza. The Muslim vote is a fact of British politics now, thanks to years of campaigning on the part of Islamists to build a theocratic voting base by weaponising religious identity. This is sinister and will have dire consequences for our secular democracy.

It is true that many British Muslims are concerned about things such as employment, housing, educational opportunities, and a bright, prosperous future. However, it is wrong to underestimate the influence of religious coercion in Muslim communities. It has long been an open secret that religious zealots in Britain have bullied and harassed people into conforming to their ways.

During the 2021 by-election in Batley and Spen, a group of Muslim women wrote an anonymous open letter in which they condemned the ‘shameful’ behaviour of certain self-proclaimed Muslim community leaders who created chaos during the election campaign. The letter added that these are ‘the same faces that have plagued our area…for many years.’ That these women felt they had to write anonymously for fear of being targeted is a testament to just how deeply our politics has been infected by religious bullying.

This explains the conduct of the many British politicians who continue to focus their attention on the radical voices of self-appointed community spokesmen as if such people actually represented their community. Muslims who oppose these ‘spokesmen’ and their heinous acts of intimidation have been silenced, and those who aspire to integrate into British culture more broadly are either shunned or disregarded, or worse.

Now, groups like TMV feel confident enough to issue lists of demands to Keir Starmer, which, they say, he must act on if he is to win the support of Muslims. That these demands are simply part of a particular religio-political agenda is clear enough to see. The goal seems to be to disrupt conventional electoral politics and create parties that prioritise religious identity over secular democracy—not to provide a voice for British Muslims.

It is time for British politicians to move past polarising identity politics and focus on the country’s most pressing issues, which impact people from all walks of life, including those from Muslim communities: lawlessness, violence, extremism, and the cost of living, to name but a few.

British Muslims should also realise the perils of being silent in the face of toxic religious identity politics. The so-called community leaders have long monopolised religious and political discourse, painting themselves as representative of all British Muslims—all the while disregarding concerns over the rights of women and other vulnerable people in Muslim communities.

Instead of continuing to foster the culture of fear and division that is already being cultivated in our society, voters should support candidates based on their ideas and their qualifications to be public servants, and politicians should be ready to serve the people of Britain regardless of their religious affiliations, rather than being held hostage to religious demands.

The best course of action for all of us is to promote a shared, inclusive identity that can bring people from all backgrounds together, rather than continuing to cut ourselves off from our fellow citizens on the basis of religion. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that British democracy depends upon it.

Related reading

The Michaela School and religious exceptionalism, by Khadija Khan

What secularists want from the next UK Government, by Stephen Evans

Faith schools: where do the political parties stand? by Stephen Evans

Three years on, the lessons of Batley are yet to be learned, by Jack Rivington

Silence of the teachers, by Nath Jnan

Britain’s liberal imam: Interview with Taj Hargey, by Emma Park

The perils of dropping a book, by Noel Yaxley

Britain’s blasphemy heritage, by David Nash

British Islam and the crisis of ‘wokeism’ in universities: interview with Steven Greer, by Emma Park

Cancel culture and religious intolerance: ‘Falsely Accused of Islamophobia’, by Steven Greer, by Daniel James Sharp

Rap versus theocracy: Toomaj Salehi and the fight for a free Iran, by Noel Yaxley

The ‘Women’s Revolution’: from two activists in Iran, by Rastine Mortad and Sadaf Sepiddasht

The need to rekindle irreverence for Islam in Muslim thought, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

When does a religious ideology become a political one? The case of Islam, by Niko Alm

The post Islamic identity politics is a threat to British democracy appeared first on The Freethinker.

The UK that goes to the polls on 4 July will be the most religiously diverse in election history. Less than half the population of England and Wales describe themselves as ‘Christian’. Most people in Scotland are now non-religious. And there are now more Catholics than Protestants in Northern Ireland, but even here we are seeing more and more people turning away from religion.

This sustained shift in demographics demands a radical response from the state. Entrenched Christian privilege and a laissez-faire approach to social cohesion are ill-suited to a religiously diverse, pluralistic population. That’s why the National Secular Society is calling on the next Government to seriously rethink the role of religion in public and political life.

Here’s what we want to see from the incoming Government.

Secular, inclusive education

Schools play a key role in shaping future generations and fostering a culture of tolerance and understanding. But faith schools build division into the system.

A third of all schools are faith schools. This isn’t sustainable. Already, the prevalence of religious schools means many nonreligious families have no choice other than a faith-based education for their children. This needs to be addressed.

Dividing children by religion leads to ethnic segregation, too. The next Government should commit to phasing out faith-based education to better encourage integration and ensure that every child can receive a secular education.

The calling of the election means that the outgoing Government’s plans to abolish the 50% admissions cap in faith-based academies hit the buffers. The Conservative manifesto revives plans to lift the cap and allow faith schools to apply 100% religious selection, paving the way for yet more discriminatory faith schools.

Worryingly, Labour didn’t oppose plans to scrap the cap and will come under pressure from regressive religious groups to reinstate this policy. They should resist.

Religious selection means faith schools are not only less religiously and ethnically diverse; they admit fewer children from poorer backgrounds, children in care, and children with special educational needs and disabilities. Any government interested in tackling unfairness and discrimination in education can’t afford to ignore the pernicious effects of faith-based admissions. That’s why it is alarming that Keir Starmer has said a Labour Government would be ‘even more supportive of faith schools’ than the current Government.

In all state-funded schools, even the two-thirds without a religious character, daily acts of ‘broadly Christian’ collective worship are required by law. This law, dating back to 1944, has no moral or educational basis. Teachers don’t support it and many schools flout it. Imposing worship in schools undermines children’s freedom of religion or belief and opens the door to evangelism in schools. We will encourage the next Government to support its repeal as soon as possible.

England’s outdated model of religious education dates back to a similar era. Labour’s plans to modernise the school curriculum must not shy away from reforms to liberate this subject area from the inappropriate control of religious interest groups. All children and young people should have an equal entitlement to an objective and critical education about worldviews, citizenship, and ethics.

We will also push for new legislation to boost Ofsted’s powers to crack down on unregistered religious schools operating illegally. The creation of a register of children not in school is a key part of this. During their time in office, the Conservatives made plenty of encouraging noises but ultimately failed to tackle the problem. The required legislation for a register was in the Schools Bill which was ditched by the Sunak Government in 2022. The Tory manifesto promises to revive the register plans.

Labour’s manifesto makes no such commitment, but the Shadow Secretary of State for Education, Bridget Phillipson, has previously signalled her support for a home-school register to deliver better oversight of home education, which in too many cases leads to children being indoctrinated with fundamentalist dogma in unsafe and illegal schools. She also says she wants ‘every child to receive a world-class education’. To achieve this, the next Government will need to stand up to religious lobbyists who impede attempts to protect the educational rights of children in independent and unregistered religious schools by spuriously claiming that such attempts violate religious freedom.

Free speech

For all its faults, the Conservative Government has shown willingness to protect the right to free expression. It was slow to do so when Islamic fundamentalists descended on a school in Batley in 2021. But after a parent was left pleading for mercy after her son was involved in the scuffing of a Quran in Kettlethorpe last year, the Home Secretary robustly asserted: ‘We do not have blasphemy laws in Great Britain, and must not be complicit in the attempts to impose them on this country.’

A recent recommendation for the creation of guidance to better protect schools and teachers facing blasphemy accusations should be adopted and implemented—as should the recommendation from Sara Khan, the Government’s Independent Advisor on Social Cohesion and Resilience, to create a special unit tasked with responding to ‘flashpoint incidents’ such as blasphemy protests.

The next Government needs to find ways to address anti-Muslim prejudice in ways that don’t impede the freedom to scrutinise and criticise Islamic beliefs, ideas, and practices. It needs to be clear that there is no right not to be offended—and no legal obligation to be reverent towards any religion.

In opposition, Labour, the Liberal Democrats, the Scottish National Party, and the Greens have all shown a worrying disregard for free speech by uncritically adopting a definition of ‘Islamophobia’ proposed by the All-Party Parliamentary Group (APPG)  for British Muslims. The concept of Islamophobia unhelpfully conflates hatred and discrimination against Muslims with criticism of Islam. This blurring is intentional. The silencing of scrutiny, criticism, mockery, and anything deemed ‘offensive’ has been a long-term aim of Islamist groups, some of which have been too close to Labour for comfort. Labour has promised to reverse the Conservatives’ decision to downgrade the monitoring of anti-Semitic and Islamophobic hate incidents that fall short of criminality. There are also fears that a Labour Government will seek to incorporate the APPG definition into law.

Hindu groups have jumped on the bandwagon, calling on the next Government to criminalise ‘Hinduphobia’. Any attempt to do so will be met with fierce opposition from secularists and free speech campaigners. Resisting the politics of competitive grievances and sectarianism is something the next Government needs to do if Britain is to avoid becoming increasingly fraught with ethnic and religious tensions.

Towards a secular democracy

It makes no sense for one of the most diverse and secularised nations in the world to retain an established religion.

One manifestation of the Church of England’s established status is the twenty-six unelected Anglican clerics sitting as of right as legislators in the House of Lords. In 2022, Keir Starmer called the Lords ‘undemocratic’ and ‘indefensible’. He launched plans drawn up by former Prime Minister Gordon Brown to replace the upper chamber with an elected Assembly of the Nations and Regions. The plans would bring a welcome end to reserved seats for bishops.

Despite originally suggesting the plans be implemented within the first five years of a Labour Government, the party is now promising a much more incremental approach. Replacing the House of Lords with an alternative second chamber remains the goal, but the manifesto commits only to ‘immediate modernisation’ of the Lords by introducing an upper age limit of 80 and scrapping hereditary peers. Secularists will be arguing that any immediate modernisation must also include the removal of the archaic, unfair, and undemocratic bishops’ bench.

But we need to go further. A state religion is incompatible with a democracy in which all citizens of every religion and belief are equal. The announcement of the election unfortunately spelt the end of a bill backed by the National Secular Society to disestablish the Church of England.  But we’ll urge the next Government to engage with this long overdue democratic reform to transform the UK into a fully secular democracy, free from religious privilege.

A new administration will bring fresh hope for other necessary reforms, such as assisted dying, making wedding law fairer for all, outlawing caste discrimination, removing the advancement of religion as a charitable purpose, and effectively protecting children from abuse in religious settings.

Ultimately, Britain needs a new political framework to foster unity and keep religious fundamentalism in check by balancing religious freedom with other fundamental human rights. Secularism offers such a framework.

That’s why we’ll be urging the next Government to adopt secularist principles and policies which move us towards a freer and fairer society, where people can live by the creed they choose but where no particular religion or belief is privileged or imposed.

Related reading

Faith schools: where do the political parties stand? by Stephen Evans

Secularism and the struggle for free speech, by Stephen Evans

Religion and belief in schools: lessons to be learnt, by Russell Sandberg

The case for secularism (or, the church’s new clothes), by Neil Barber

Three years on, the lessons of Batley are yet to be learned, by Jack Rivington

Secularism is a feminist issue, by Megan Manson

Blasphemy and bishops: how secularists are navigating the culture wars, by Emma Park

Bad Religious Education, by Siniša Prijić

Silence of the teachers, by Nath Jnan

The perils of dropping a book, by Noel Yaxley

Britain’s blasphemy heritage, by David Nash

Cancel culture and religious intolerance: ‘Falsely Accused of Islamophobia’, by Steven Greer, by Daniel James Sharp

‘This is not rocket science’: the Disestablishment of the Church of England Bill 2023, interview with Paul Scriven by Emma Park

The post What secularists want from the next UK Government appeared first on The Freethinker.

I can still remember the scent of my morning coffee wafting through the air during my first Ramadan as an ex-Muslim. This was a milestone for me. Never could I have anticipated that I would one day be an apostate, enjoying coffee during the holiest of months. Raised as a devout Sunni Muslim in the Levant, I staunchly rejected anything Western or non-Islamic. I meticulously avoided walking past or even glancing at churches. I would not even look at food or drink deemed inappropriate for a practising Muslim. I was akin to a prized Arabian horse, brimming with zeal to debate non-Muslims, to perform what Islam calls jihad by word (or tongue or debate). Subdued by Islam, at its beck and call whenever I was required, I would be summoned to ride out and humiliate the enemies of the faith in argument.

Jihad in Islam takes many forms, and during my time as a Muslim apologist, I championed the concept of jihad in the form of debates (jihad by word), as it aligned with my expertise. I firmly believed that jihad, in its myriad forms, made us Muslims the most steadfast in faith. Surrender was inconceivable. I spent two decades preparing for debates with nonbelievers and I planned to document their defeats to demonstrate the superiority of Islam. I would become a hero for the faith. However, little did I know that I was riding towards my decisive defeat rather than to ultimate victory over the infidels.

One debate in particular stands out: an individual known as a secularist on Reddit reached out to me to debate the alleged scientific miracles of the Quran. This was a topic that consumed my thoughts, and I gladly accepted.

In our exchange, the secularist and I delved into the intricacies of these purported miracles, a subject that has garnered much attention and debate within and beyond Islamic circles. The secularist and I engaged in a cordial debate, dissecting each claim of scientific miracles presented in the Quran. However, it became evident that these miracles crumbled under scrutiny. Each alleged miracle appeared to unravel upon closer examination, and I was exposed to numerous flaws in interpretation, scientific accuracy, and historical context. I became beset with doubts and uncertainties. I was, in this and many other debates, unhorsed. Even to what I considered unanswerable points, my secular adversaries provided simple and devastating critiques. My feeling of invincibility was completely shattered, as was my faith in Islam.

Reflecting on that conversation about scientific miracles, I feel compelled to share some insights and strategies gleaned from my years of grappling with this contentious issue—insights which can also, I believe, be applied more broadly in dealing with Islamic apologetics in general: 

• Approach with Scepticism: When encountering claims of scientific miracles in the Quran, it is imperative to maintain a sceptical mindset. Often, apologists impose modern scientific understandings onto ancient texts, disregarding the historical and cultural contexts in which the texts were written. By consulting classical commentaries and scholarly interpretations, we can gain a clearer understanding of the intended meanings of Quranic verses. 
• Verify Scientific Accuracy: Many of the purported scientific miracles in the Quran are put forward by individuals lacking scientific expertise. It is vital to fact-check their claims by consulting reputable scientific sources. Blind acceptance of unverified assertions perpetuates misinformation and hinders genuine intellectual enquiry. 
• Consider Historical Precedence: Before attributing miraculous knowledge to the Quran, it is essential to consider the scientific knowledge available to past civilizations. Many scientific concepts mentioned in the Quran were already known to ancient peoples, rendering them less miraculous and more reflective of the prevailing scientific understanding of the time. 
• Scrutinise Linguistic Claims: Claims of linguistic miracles often hinge on reinterpretations of Arabic words and phrases. To evaluate these assertions, one must consult academic lexical sources and linguistic experts. Misinterpretations and mistranslations can lead to erroneous conclusions, undermining the credibility of alleged miracles. 

My secularist opponent and I publicly shared our conversation to shed light on the fallacies of blind faith and the importance of critical enquiry. My transition from staunch defender to sceptical observer of Islam serves as a reminder of the transformative power of intellectual honesty. I find myself not only liberated from the confines of dogma but also enriched by the pursuit of truth. Our quest for enlightenment and understanding continues. 

Below is an edited excerpt of the transcript of the scientific miracles debate.

Scientific miracles in the Quran? A debate

Jalal: But what about verses that contain numerical miracles and also scientific miracles? There are well-edited rigorous books about them. I mean Muslim scholars from scientific backgrounds have written these books. See this one on the position of stars: 56:75-76. The verse says: ‘I swear by the positions of the stars—and this is indeed a mighty oath, if only you knew.’ According to physics, this is a very accurate statement because the star could have exploded and the light travelling from it is what you see. It takes many light years to reach you, so what you actually see is the position of the star and not the star itself, although it could be there—but a more accurate statement is to refer to the position of the star.  

Secularist: I don’t find it convincing at all. There are actually so many problems with this. First, the cosmological understanding given by the Quran and hadith themselves is one of a flat Earth with a dome sky. This can be shown in so many places, and the tafsirs [exegeses of the Quran] confirm it. The stars still have a ‘position’ within such a system, and there is absolutely nothing in the text to indicate that anything other than this was intended. Remember, the Quran thinks stars are ‘lamps’ small enough to hurl at a disobedient jinn. This fits way better when you think that stars are just tiny lights and are unaware that in reality they are gigantic suns like the one at the centre of the Solar System.

Second, the idea that we observe the position of the star in the night sky is not even an accurate statement according to physics. Think about it: what we see is only the apparent position of the star, not the actual position. We have been viewing points of light from a very long time ago, but because of processional shifting, the proper motion of stars relative to each other, and atmospheric refraction, etc., the apparent position of the star may very well not be where its position actually is.

Lastly, why does Allah make oaths on created things? In my opinion, this is bad theology and also makes no sense. With an oath, you are supposed to swear by something greater than you because the greatness of the thing is meant to supply for the lack of confidence the person has in you. But God is an infinite being. What are the stars, figs, camels, etc., before Being Itself? Nothing—less than dust. Indeed, any created thing is nothing compared to God. Therefore, God should swear by Himself as He does in the Bible. What we have in the Quran is just nice flowery words that don’t actually mean much. 

Jalal: For the second point, the beam that you are referring to is what the Quran calls the apparent location as seen by the human eye, as you said. The actual location is what the Quran refers to by saying ‘stars’ in that context, so your second argument is supportive to the Quranic interpretation. Everything in this universe is in motion. 

Secularist: You said that what we see is the star’s position. But what we see may not be the star’s position. In any case, I do not accept that the mere mention of the ‘positions’ of the stars is in any way miraculous as even in a flat Earth model the stars have a position. Further, almost all ancient people studied the changing positions of the stars and had developed complicated systems of astrology and mythology about these. They already knew about the procession of constellations over time and could predict the movements of certain stars. They actually had a lot of information. On the contrary, I do not find the mere mention that the stars have a position to be impressive at all. Anyone who visually sees a star knows it has a position, even if they do not know what a star is. So, it need not even be a scientifically accurate statement.

That was just a taste of the many defeats I suffered at the hands of this and other nonbelievers. Before, I was a devout Muslim, extremely strict, for example, about haram food: always avoiding touching it, avoiding even being near it or looking at it, and avoiding any food or drink that might contain even microscopic haram ingredients. In fact, my family and I took great pride that I was the only person in my family who had never ever tasted this type of food or drink—not even by accident.

But my record achievements in adhering to Islam were broken following my defeat in many debates. All concepts of faith fell away from me, and so adhering to Islamic practices came to mean nothing to me. I can still fast during Ramadan if I like—but these days I would only do it to lose weight!

Jalal’s ‘statement of defeat’ by secularists in debate can be found here.

Further reading

‘The best way to combat bad speech is with good speech’ – interview with Maryam Namazie, by Emma Park

Surviving Ramadan: An ex-Muslim’s journey in Pakistan’s religious landscape, by Azad

Breaking the silence: Pakistani ex-Muslims find a voice on social media, by Tehreem Azeem

From religious orthodoxy to free thought, by Tehreem Azeem

Mind Your Ramadan! by Khadija Khan

Britain’s liberal imam: Interview with Taj Hargey, by Emma Park

The need to rekindle irreverence for Islam in Muslim thought, by Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

The post Jihad by Word #1: the defeat of a Muslim apologist appeared first on The Freethinker.

In the Netherlands, House of Representatives elections were held on 22 November 2023. This turned out to be a great victory for Geert Wilders’ party (Party for Freedom; PVV), which gained 37 seats out of 150. Other parties with a significant vote share included the Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD), which won 24 seats, New Social Contract (NSC), which won 20 seats, and Farmers and Civilians (BBB), which won 7 seats. PVV is generally considered to be a populist party and VVD a traditional liberal party, while NSC is a Christian democratic party and BBB is for the protection of farmers’ interests.

On 28 November 2023, the Speaker of the House of Representatives assigned an informateur: Ronald Plasterk. An informateur investigates which parties can form a coalition in the wake of an election and presides over negotiations between the party leaders to draw up a program of policies. Here is a description of Plasterk’s rather broad assignment:

‘1. To investigate whether agreement is or can be reached between the parties PVV, VVD, NSC, and BBB on a common baseline for safeguarding the Constitution, fundamental rights, and the democratic rule of law. 2. If, in the opinion of these four parties, agreement is reached on point 1, then subsequently investigate whether there is a real prospect of reaching an agreement on issues such as migration, security of existence (including care, purchasing power, permanent jobs and sufficient housing), good governance, security, and stable public finances, international policy and healthy business climate, climate, nitrogen agriculture and horticulture, and fisheries.’

The first task is rather striking since no Dutch political party has as its basic premise the view that the Constitution may be violated, or that fundamental rights or the democratic rule of law should be threatened. No party denies the value of fundamental rights or the model of the democratic rule of law. So, reaching a consensus on these principles ought to have been very easy. But was it?

In fact, reaching a consensus proved more difficult than expected. Indeed, it has recently become clear that one of the named parties wants to abandon negotiations: Pieter Omtzigt’s NSC, a relatively new party that emerged from a split with the Christian Democratic Appeal party last August.

Background to the informateur’s brief

We must understand the specific nature of Plasterk’s assignment against the background of a situation that the Netherlands shares with other countries in Western Europe, including Germany, the UK, and France. That background is that, for more than 20 years, Western Europe has been affected by violent terrorist attacks in which the terrorists have invoked their religion as a motivation. This religion is not Hindu, Buddhist, Christian, or Jewish, but Islamic.

Of the four political parties that have recently been exploring whether they want joint government responsibility, one party is wholly focused on this particular issue. That party is Wilders’s PVV, which essentially won the election.

Islam as a problem and a breaking point

Wilders takes the motivation given by terrorists themselves very seriously and concludes that ‘Islam’ is thus a challenge to Europe.

He also proposes measures to stop the growth of Islam. Wilders and his party have proposed measures like banning the Qur’an, expelling ‘radical Muslims’ from the Netherlands, closing mosques, and denying Islam the status of a religion (and thus excluding it from the constitutional right to freedom of religion). The PVV even made a legislative proposal to settle these things. These measures are—to put it mildly—at odds with the Dutch constitution, fundamental human rights, and the democratic rule of law—and also with the European Convention on Human Rights. Nevertheless, PVV’s most extreme ideas have been ditched by Wilders in the recent negotiations.

Contrary to what he has been accused of, Wilders does not discriminate based on skin colour. He is only vehemently anti-Islam. He is very critical of Moroccan youth but not because of their ethnicity; rather, he is concerned about the overrepresentation of Moroccans in the criminal statistics.

In any case, the negotiations for the formation of a new government are in a critical phase now. Two weeks from now (4 May 2024), the four parties involved in negotiations will tell the public whether they will make the jump. Is there still hope?

Two clashing perspectives

I think there are still chances for a settlement. Let us first put the question: what should the conversation between the four parties mentioned at the beginning of this article be about? There are two opposing perspectives.

First, that of journalist Peter Oborne, as set out in his book The Fate of Abraham: Why the West is Wrong about Islam (2022). Oborne argues that throughout the Western world, people are needlessly worried about Islam. Islam is an ‘ordinary religion’, and all stories about Islam as inherently violent or impossible to integrate into democratic conditions are based on false assumptions.

Second, there is Anne Marie Waters’s perspective, as set out in her Beyond Terror: Islam’s Slow Erosion of Western Democracy (2018). The title speaks for itself.

Geert Wilders, in his book Marked for Death: Islam’s War Against the West and Me (2012), took a stand supportive of Waters’s point of view and illustrates this with numerous examples. Not least the example of his own life: he has been on the hit list of jihadist terrorist organizations for decades.

In my view, Oborne is naïve. But Waters (and Wilders) are too pessimistic. What we should do is focus on Islamism, or political Islam, not on Islam as such.

The significance of this debate

This debate is also of great interest to freethinkers and atheists. If Waters and Wilders are right, then it is not only permissible but urgent that restrictive measures be taken to protect the democratic rule of law from the forces that undermine it. And if Oborne is right, anything Wilders proposes is out of order, discriminatory, and contrary to the Constitution, the democratic rule of law, and the fundamental rights of citizens.

France as a guiding country

The most interesting developments on the status of Islam and its practitioners in Europe are currently taking place in France. This is not surprising. France has the largest Muslim population compared to other Western European countries, and it has also been hit by the most horrific jihadist attacks. Think of Charlie Hebdo (2015), the Bataclan (2015), and the beheading of Samuel Paty (2020). These events, together with France’s century-long tradition of thoroughgoing laïcité, have unleashed an unprecedented intellectual energy in finding solutions to the related problems of Muslim integration and Islamic/Islamist terrorism.

The most recent development is the struggle against ‘Islamist separatism’. In 2020, President Emmanuel Macron vowed to tackle this phenomenon, which he described as the attempt of France’s Muslim community to supplant civil laws with its own laws and customs derived from religious practice. The Macron administration opposes this because it essentially creates two parallel societies.

In my view, the solution lies in recognizing that Islamism poses a challenge to Western European countries, but that, at the same time, one should try to respect the rights of all citizens, including Muslim citizens, as much as possible. One way to do this is to avoid creating privileges for religious minorities, e.g., granting Muslims the right to wear headscarves in situations where this is forbidden for all citizens (such as in the army or the judiciary).

One finds this line of argument defended, for example, by the French philosopher Sylviane Agacinski in her Face à une guerre sainte (2022) and by the French lawyer Richard Malka in Traité sur l’intolérance (2023). What these approaches have in common is targeting Islamism, rather than Islam itself.

So what Wilders will have to convince his interlocutors of is that Islamism is a real problem, not just in the Netherlands but in all of Europe—and the world.

Wilders is also a well-known Dutch politician in other parts of the world. Indeed, he is so well known that jihadist-motivated murderers have travelled from Pakistan to the Netherlands to kill him. In 2019, Pakistani Junaid I. was sentenced to 10 years in prison for an attempt to kill Wilders, while last year, the Pakistani ex-cricketer Khalid Latif was sentenced to 12 years for incitement to murder Wilders.

The Netherlands as a test case

The Netherlands could become a test case for developments in other parts of Europe. At present, in Germany and Belgium, parties similar to Wilders’s are on track for steep gains in 2024. These parties are critical of Islam and mass migration and in favour of national sovereignty. This is generally characterized as the ‘far-rightisation’ of Europe or the ‘normalisation of the far right’. It is a matter for debate whether this increasing drift to the right among the populations of these European countries ought to be of serious concern. Personally, I think the so-called right-wing parties have some good points to consider; above all their critical attitude towards the Islamist undermining of democratic institutions. Nevertheless, it is essential that Europe finds a liberal path forward. What happens in the Netherlands will be a sign of what is to come.

Further reading on religion in the Netherlands

Judging the Flying Spaghetti Monster, by Derk Venema and Niko Alm

The Enlightenment and the making of modernity, by Piers Benn

The post Geert Wilders, Europe, and the threat of Islamism appeared first on The Freethinker.