Frederic Chavanne argues that it is more important to get to know Muslims than to have opinions about them.
The dialogue between cultures and civilizations, the need for which has been underlined more than ever by the events of 11 September, is everybody's business.
These last months have focussed attention on the West's relationship with the Muslim world. Do we in the West believe that dialogue is possible? In an article in Le Monde (23 November), Henri Tincq, an expert on religious issues, divides those who answer this question into three categories: the die-hards, who think that dialogue is impossible, that the divergences are too great and that it cannot lead anywhere; the sceptics, who have tried dialogue and been discouraged; and the artless, who believe that dialogue will enable us to evolve together and overcome our divergences.
Tincq states that there is no alternative to dialogue - we have to work to make it possible. Let us conclude then, with him, that we have to proceed with a realistic and stubborn artlessness.
But how? If the Muslim population finds it so hard to feel fully accepted in French society, it is not only because we French find it hard to be welcoming; nor is it only because one naturally finds it hard to approach someone who is different, with whom one may not know how to behave or what to say. Having a glass of mint tea together is not enough to make the obstacles disappear, as if by magic. There are many divergences, suspicions, fears and resentments which create an invisible but real barrier.
When it comes to doctrine, each faith tradition thinks that its religion is the best. On certain points our conceptions are irreconcilable. We must not set our beliefs aside but carry them with us in this dialogue, in the hope that they will reveal to us what we are and that in due course we shall find it possible to overcome our divisions. The Qur'an says that God 'will make clear to you those things you have disagreed about' (Sura 5.48).
What can be done about the historical, political, social and human barriers that separate us? In France, for example, we are afraid of the radicalization of urban youths who sometimes adopt a fundamentalist approach to religion and are verbally aggressive towards Christianity. What we do not know is that these young people are afraid of us and we must ask ourselves what it is that makes them radical.
On 13 October last year, I was one of a score of Muslims and Christians who met together in the framework of the 'Initiative-dialogue' programme, which for the last four years has aimed to develop exchanges with urban youth. We wanted to talk about the September events and the feelings which they provoked in us.
'When I learned the news of the New York attacks I was immediately afraid,' said Raoudha, a young mother. 'I wondered: what will happen to me? I arrived in France 12 years ago. As a Muslim woman, I have always held to my religious convictions. I put up with all the open and covert racist acts. I made an effort to be at ease with other people. I worked hard at this by joining associations and following training courses. Then this event hits me on the head. I shall have to justify myself all over again, prove I'm a good Muslim and that the extremists are bad. I want to be free.'
Béchir told us that he could no longer bear what was said about Muslims on TV and had temporarily stopped watching it.
'Do you, with whom I have shared so much of my life and faith, have a slight doubt about Islam?' asked Samia, some of whose friends, she says, even have doubts about themselves as Muslims since 11 September.
Have we any idea of the pressure that our prejudices exert on the Muslim population? Our friends' words made us measure the cost of this denial of dignity which makes so many Muslims feel unrecognized or unable to find their place in our society. When one feels excluded in this way, how can one fail to react and become radical?
We who have for long represented a dominant culture find it hard to imagine what it means not to be in a position of strength or to be talking to someone who has always been in such a position. Nor do we grasp the importance for Muslims of following the guidelines of their own culture, instead of systematically adopting our patterns of behaviour.
Finally, there are the complaints about the West's international policies. During our meeting in October Habib reminded us of the main ones: support for dictatorial regimes in the Arab-Muslim countries which stamp out any democratic demands; weakness in applying the UN resolutions aimed at the creation of a viable Palestinian state; the welcome given to extremists in western countries - extremists whom he differentiated starkly from Islamists.
We had no easy answers to offer except to recognize that we don't listen enough to others, that our governments have too often practised double standards because in the end our interests took priority over justice.
In the eyes of western leaders military intervention in Afghanistan was legitimate and indispensable in order to neutralize those who threaten the security of their citizens and a certain model of society. Military operations have been undertaken not so much for vengeance but to ensure that such events do not happen again.
From the Muslim perspective, western military intervention is perceived above all as aggression. It has provoked a deep frustration, perhaps because it is one more of a long series of aggressions and humiliations. It must be added that the great majority of Muslims are inwardly convinced that the West has only been motivated by its strategic interests, including the control of the energy resources of the region. The divergence of views on a single event is therefore total.
The September attacks have given new life to the frequent identification of Islam with violence. Violence is not the distinguishing quality of Islam. I was particularly struck by a verse in the Qur'an, chanted by an imam during a prayer meeting shortly after 11 September: 'May anger against a people not incite you to commit unjust acts.' (Sura 5.8)
We westerners are afraid of Islam being used for political ends. The day when a Muslim friend told me he shared that fear I knew that I could live and work with him. The stands taken by our Muslim friends will help us establish links of trust.
What we need to face is the destructive power of hatred. We have to tackle the injustices that provoke hate but without absolving from guilt those who are dominated by it.
Beyond doctrines, fears and points of view, we must aim at the meeting of people, at starting a bond of friendship, at penetrating the underlying way of thinking of the other person. We must reckon to take up questions that we have in our hearts - for example, to speak frankly about the reality of our daily life, the children's education, our family and professional life, our marital difficulties. Recently my wife and I were entertained by new Tunisian friends who had invited us to celebrate the end of the fast. We spoke about the babouches (slippers) that we men like to put on while our wives are preparing dinner, whereas they would appreciate some help. So, rather than taking up a rigid stance on theological or dogmatic matters, we can help each other live the values that we have in common.
I would like to propose to Muslim friends that they no longer derive their satisfaction from pointing out Islam's positive contribution in the past. It is today that they have their best contribution to give to the world. Those men and women whom I have known have shown me all the richness of their personalities and how much we have to bring to each other.
As for us westerners, we shall get over our fears as we live the values of our own spiritual heritage and become more fervent in understanding its demands and more trusting in the satisfaction that they bring us.
This article, which first appeared in the French publication 'Changer', was translated by Robin Evans.
By Frederic Chavanne
English
