Fitna

Even as their already large numbers grow Muslims across Europe are facing increased marginalization and restrictions on the most visible aspects of their transplanted culture. The Swiss government banned construction of minarets. A movement in France seeks to deny public benefits to Muslim women wearing veils over their faces. And a prominent Dutch politician is now on trial for religious discrimination after comparing the Quran to Mein Kampf for its anti-Jewish rhetoric and its incitements to violence.

The latter of these cases, especially, typifies the tensions escalating across the continent. The outspoken anti-Islamism of a leading member of the Netherlands' popular libertarian-conservative Freedom Party is emblematic of the anxieties that appear to be pervasive in Europe's elite circles.

In his 2008 film, "Fitna," Geert Wilders gave full expression to his views, calling for the Quran to be banned on the same grounds as Mein Kampf. Amsterdam's district attorney initially ruled that there were no grounds on which to prosecute. It took Wilders by surprise, then, when an appeals court noted for its activism ordered his prosecution last year. "It is surreal that I sit in a courtroom, in a criminal court," he said. "I never had any idea this would happen."

At stake here is far more than the future of a single politician. Because he is being prosecuted for discrimination, it is incumbent upon Wilders to prove the verity of his statements. In order to do so, he will call to the stand as many as 17 expert witnesses, from renowned academics to infamous Islamists. His attorneys will attempt to weave their testimony into a cogent picture of the Quran as a pamphlet of hateful and violent propaganda. In prosecuting Wilders, Muslim and leftist activists have actually set the stage for official condemnation of the very foundation of Islam under Dutch law.

This case is reminiscent of the 1996 libel suit brought in British court by the prominent - and Nazi sympathizing - WWII historian David Irving against the Jewish historian Deborah Lipstadt. Lipstadt, an expert on Holocaust denial, had accused Irving of manipulating statistics in order to swing the moral pendulum toward the Nazis. There is no absolute protection of free speech under British law (or in the Netherlands), which left Lipstadt with the singular defense of proving the accuracy of her accusations. The resulting examination of Irving's research methods uncovered egregious and intentional obfuscation of historical fact for his own propagandic purposes. Irving's attempt to clear his name actually accomplished quite the opposite.

The same potential exists in the Wilders case. By challenging his claims about the Quran, his opponents have placed it under a very public microscope. But while in Irving's case the outcome - the discrediting of an influential liar about World War II and Holocaust history - was entirely positive, the implications of the Wilders case threaten much less desirable results: increased Muslim resentment of Western culture; radicalization of Muslim youth; official endorsement of slippery anti-religious rhetoric.

It is certainly understandable that millions of Europeans seek to counteract the threat to their way of life posed by rapidly increasing Muslim populations. Americans would feel much the same if Muslims, taking extreme care not to integrate into mainstream society, constituted a quarter of the population of our major cities as they do in Amsterdam and Marseilles (Stockholm, London and Brussels are not far behind). We would undoubtedly be concerned if numerous graduates of top American universities joined radical Islamist groups and some were implicated in terrorist attacks, as has been the case with such institutions as Kings College London and the London School of Economics.

Despite the logic of the sentiment, however, it may not be prudent to act on it. The uniquely inclusive and malleable nature of democracy is such that fundamental changes are not necessary for a sufficiently populous immigrant group to effectively hijack a society and its political cockpit (to use an apt, if uncomfortable, metaphor). We could be witnessing the precursors to a democratic coup which would drastically change European society even without the infiltration of Sharia onto the continent.

If this is the case, and demographic statistics certainly suggest the possibility, then using legal means to repress Islamic culture in Europe is an extremely risky proposition. Rather than inculcating in them Western ideals of pluralism and tolerance, persecuting the Muslim minority only makes them less likely to value egalitarianism and to respect heterogeneous - and heterodox - elements in European society. Obviously, it will be too late to change course if and when they become a substantial enough portion of the electorate to exert their influence. In 2010, ethnic Europeans are providing Muslim Europeans not only with motivation, but with legal precedent for their eventual retribution.

The Future of News, and The Gospel According to Ross

After much deliberation, the New York Times has announced that they plan to begin charging for online content. Whether doing so will be enough to cope with the challenges posed by free online sources of news and analysis remains to be seen.

The Times’ decision has widespread implications. It is the most important newspaper to begin charging over the web, and eyes all over the industry will be closely monitoring the effects of this approach. In an experiment that will, in significant ways, determine the very future of media consumption, the biggest name in print has publicly recognized that their traditional business model can no longer compete.

Dismissing the claim that the breakneck pace of the online media effectively closes the newspaper niche, chairman and publisher Arthur Sulzberger Jr. suggested in an internal memo that loyal readers “know that The Times brings them the most authoritative news and opinion to be found anywhere,” and will pay for continued access.

Is he correct? Does The Times provide a service that can’t be had elsewhere for free? After all, any story worth reporting, regardless of who gets there first, does not stay exclusive for more than a few minutes.

The Times seems to be banking on its reporting being so excellent that readers will pay for its take on the same stories everyone is writing about.

For major news, this seems unlikely. Beyond sentiment, it is hard to imagine why someone would pay a monthly fee for a slightly different perspective.

It stands to reason, then, that what The Times assumes will keep readers coming back, pockets open, for more is its superlative analysis and opinion. If it is going to satisfy a paying readership its columns and special features must be truly worth the price.

Whether they are is beyond my qualifications to say. Surely The Times understand what sets it apart, in the eyes of its audience, from other news outlets.

All I’ll do here is present my take on an opinion piece written by a regular Times columnist, as a preliminary evaluation of the quality of their exclusive content. The subject of the column, or at least its impetus, is James Cameron’s “Avatar,” the most talked about movie in recent memory.

Admittedly, I did not choose this piece strictly for its quality. It may be the lowest common denominator; I don’t know. Either way, it got my attention, and if the reaction is more important than the assessment, perhaps Sulzberger knows what he’s doing.

Ladies and gentlemen, Ross Douthat in:

"The Gospel According to Ross"

Ross Douthat’s New York Times editorial entitled "Heaven and Nature" is his response to James Cameron’s holiday-season blockbuster, Avatar. He makes no bones about his evaluation of the holiday flick in calling it “a crass embodiment of capitalistic excess wrapped around a deeply felt religious message.” Ostensibly, he seeks to critique Cameron’s “long apologia for pantheism,” which, by his definition, “calls humanity into religious communion with the natural world.”

Douthat is not wrong to point to the film’s pantheistic element. Much is indeed made of the interconnectedness of all of nature and of the real individual potential to merge with Consciousness itself.

But what he overlooks – or perhaps ignores – are the important ways in which it enhances the story. It adds to the fantasy and surrealism, and it strengthens the moral and political message: that greed and imperialism "tend to destroy the environment.” I won't deny that the allegory is simplistic and heavy handed in certain ways. But the deification of nature, as a poetic device, is compelling both aesthetically and conceptually.

For someone so well acquainted with hyperbole, Douthat’s interpretation is surprisingly obtuse. Does he genuinely read such ideological intention, such religious significance into the storyline? Is it really possible that, in the same breath that he excludes himself from “the literal-mindedness of the monotheistic religions,” he proves guilty of such an egregious failure of imagination? Even Will Heaven of The UK Telegraph, who goes so far as to chide Cameron for outright racism, has the sense to chalk up the offense to carelessness – or even ignorance – rather than conviction.

Literal-minded indeed.

To state the question more clearly: is Douthat truly so threatened by Hollywood’s science fiction that he feels compelled to break from his mostly politically oriented commentary to refute it? Or is there something else, more self-interest than self-defense, that he is driving at?

Given his cursory treatment of the film which is supposedly his subject, our answer appears to be the latter. It seems Douthat’s aim is not a measured response to Avatar or even to the cultural phenomenon – “Hollywood’s religion of choice” – he claims it represents. Rather, what he presents as a reaction to devolution in religious thought wrought by increasingly popular but ever pernicious pantheistic values is really a thinly disguised panegyric for his own adopted faith – Catholicism.

That he chose to use a holiday-season blockbuster as a pretense for this kind of polemic – aside from giving James Cameron too much credit – is frankly rather absurd. But this is precisely what Douthat did, and it begs some kind of response.

He makes several basic assumptions about pantheism. The first, for which he draws support from fundamentalist-in-disguise Richard Dawkins, is that pantheism is just atheism all “sexed-up.” This suggestion is not unreasonable, but I'm not sure I agree. Jewish mysticism, for example, makes a distinction between the immanent God, encompassing all of existence, and the transcendent God, which finds no direct parallel in human experience but is conscious and interacts with the "natural" world. This kind of conception might consider pantheism to be an important, if incomplete, part of the picture.

But let’s grant Douthat his premise and see how his argument holds up. Giving that pantheism is a guilty (or lonely) man’s atheism, he seems to feel that it arises out of a uniquely American combination of car-window-romanticization of nature and intellectual laziness. By this logic, neither the American's hyper-individualistic ego nor his pop-culture eroded intellect has the fortitude to handle theism.

It is true that faith is difficult, and admirable in those who come to it humbly and without dogma. This is not, however, because it requires more effort than the alternative, and not because only believers are tough-minded enough to “wrestle with the problem of evil,” but because its conclusions are uncertain and its demands all-consuming. Rejection of The Gospel According to Ross is not lazy. It is a defensible theological and intellectual position.

Douthat futher assumes that such a perspective is inherently amoral. “..the human societies which hew closest to the natural order,” he writes, are “places where existence tends to be nasty, brutish, and short.”

But this is a misrepresentation. Neither pantheism as a theology or as atheology suggests that people look to nature as a model for action. Humanitarian ethics are no less sophisticated - or effective - than religious ethics. If Douthat means to suggest that God is a prerequisite to morality, well, I Dou’ that. History - not to mention research - shows that religious societies and individuals are no more (or less) likely to act morally than those who reject faith.

What Douthat attempts here is to frame pantheism – and atheism – as low-brow, pop-cultural, unworthy of thinking people. Further, he suggests that it runs contrary to the very essence of civilization even as he acknowledges it as a natural outgrowth of democracy.

By placing the burden of proof on those who reject his God he invites it in equal proportion upon himself. This is a mistake, of course, as proof exists for neither position. Which makes the core of his argument – ‘Boo-hoo! The human condition without God is just so “deeply tragic”!’ – somewhat understandable but no more persuasive.

To the Editor of the Washington Post

So - let us begin. As I mentioned, my inaugural submission was a letter to the editor of the Washington Post in response to a piece by E. J. Dionne, a professor at Georgetown Public Policy Institute and a regular Post columnist. He has plenty of good things to say, and I recommend his column. On that particular morning, he published an article called "The Decade when the U.S. lost its way." The core of his argument is pretty clear from the title.

I didn't write to dispute his assessment of the 2000s. I wrote to draw attention to a media phenomenon that, somewhat absurdly, dominated the last two weeks of 2009. I'm referring to our obsessive anticipation of that magically meaningless moment when the ball dropped and the ticker ticked from 2009 to 2010. The airwaves and papers were dominated by frivolous top ten lists and the "Best" and "Worst of the Decade"; by sober evaluations of our nation's place in the world; by fantastic - or frightening - predictions of what lies in store.

I understand that this kind of sensationalism sells papers and boosts ratings. But is there more to it than that? Is this a product of some kind of collective neurosis, a manic build-up to climax? Were we desperately trying to compensate for last decade? Perhaps. The sense of relief that came with Y2K was certainly accompanied by an element of semi-masochistic disappointment. The anti-climax was especially potent for those unfortunate people who spent $20,000 on solar panels.

I didn't actually say any of that in my letter. Maybe I should have. It certainly couldn't have gotten any less published than it did. Oh well. Here's what I did say:

"To Whom it May (But Probably Doesn't) Concern:

E. J. Dionne wrote this morning that “certain decades shape the country’s political life for generations by leaving behind an era to embrace or, at least as often, to scorn.” True enough. He points to the 1960s, 1930s, and 1980s as such significant eras. “But as important as all these periods have been,” he continues, “their significance may be dwarfed by the reckless and squandered decade that is, mercifully, ending.”

Strong words, and he acknowledges as much. But it is not his assessment of the 2000s with which I take issue. To a large extent any such judgment is subjective, and besides, time will help bring into focus the many implications of the past decade which remain blurry. Rather, this statement is misleading in a much more straightforward way.

The decade is not, mercifully or otherwise, ending. The closing of one calendar year or decade means next to nothing except on paper. Even historians, naturally inclined to categorize, to compare, to divide history into eras, will find thematic and conceptual – rather than chronological – lines to draw.

This kind of discussion is useful, to a point. It provides some much-needed respite from the heat of the moment. It is an opportunity to reflect on recent history in light of current events, and in that way provides a perspective that is all too often lacking.

But the danger of over-hyping the dawn of a new decade is that it gives the illusion of a fresh start. We are not starting afresh. Our problems are not fundamentally different regardless of what year it is or even who is in the White House.

Let’s take a well-deserved moment to celebrate a new year, and with it a chance to reflect. Then let’s get back, not to the drawing board, but to the grind.

Signed,

Censored"

There you have it.

P.S. In fairness to the Washington Post, the above letter is about 300 words, which is at least 60 or 70 longer than their limit of 200. I didn't realize this until I got their automated e-mail response with tips for getting published. I then pared it down to 200 only to find that apparently their server blocks multiple e-mails from the same address on a single day. So I sent my edit - it's probably better shorter anyway - from a different account. I imagine filling their inbox with different versions of the same letter didn't endear me to the Post editorial staff. Maybe I have a future as a spammer.