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RejectIslamophobia

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Andrew Levine: The Politics of Islamophobia

Posted on 29 January 2013 by Garibaldi

RejectIslamophobia

In a thorough and thoughtful essay, Andrew Levine analyzes the rise of Islamophobia, its associated politics and historical context. He also gets into a quite involved breakdown of anti-Semitism.

This is one of the better articles to come up on the subject for quite some time.

The Politics of Islamophobia

by ANDREW LEVINE

Western peoples have long viewed the Muslim world through an “orientalist” filter –imagining a backward, exotic and vaguely sinister “other.”  But, until recently, they were seldom preoccupied with what they imagined.

There was scholarly interest, of course; and artists and entertainers sometimes employed Muslim themes.  But, with the partial exception of the Ottoman Empire, the peoples, cultures and religion of the Muslim world were, for the most part, invisible to the Western eye.

Indeed, it was not until the nineteenth century, as the French and British empires expanded into Muslim regions and as advances in transport and communications brought distant parts of the world closer together, that, for the first time in centuries, Westerners became mindful of the Muslim East.

Throughout the twentieth century, awareness increased as economic, strategic and geo-political factors made the Muslim world increasingly important to Western elites.  Even so, the Muslim “other” remained largely out of view.

This began to change when significant numbers of Muslims came to live in Western countries.  Like other immigrants, Muslims came mainly for economic reasons and to escape political repression.  And like other immigrants, they suffered discrimination.

But Muslims were no worse off than other immigrants from parts of the world of which Western peoples knew little and cared less; and their religion seldom aroused much animosity.  It had been different, no doubt, when Christianity and Islam still contended for adherents and territories, and it was certainly different at the time of the Crusades.  But that was long ago.

Unlike then, the movement of historically Muslim peoples into Europe, North America and Australasia taking place now is happening at a time of waning religiosity, especially on the Christian side.  To be sure, the majority populations of Western countries have not been especially welcoming; with immigrants (as distinct from expatriates), they seldom are.

But, until recently, Islam was not an issue.  Its differences from Christianity paled in importance compared to familiar nativist, anti-immigrant complaints: that Muslims steal jobs and depress wages, commit crimes, refuse to assimilate, turn neighborhoods into slums, and so on.

This changed, however, as the West became fixated on Islamic “terrorism” and on prevailing in a “clash of civilizations.”

With astonishing rapidity, it has, by now, gotten to the point that “islamophobia” – hatred of things Muslim — has become a factor in the politics of Western nations.

*  *  *

Even the word is new.  However it is tempting to suppose that the phenomenon it designates is sadly familiar; that islamophobia is just anti-Semitism with Muslims substituting for Jews.

The fact that islamophobes repeat so many of the tropes of classical anti-Semitism – mutatis mutandis, with all the necessary changes — makes this supposition difficult to resist.  But the analogy is misleading.

The word combines “Islam” and “phobia.”   The reference to Islam, the religion of Muslim peoples, can be confusing.  The reference to phobias is even less helpful.

It suggests an anxiety disorder – like, say, claustrophobia.  But this use (or misuse) of a clinically meaningful term is hardly unique.  The English language nowadays is replete with “phobias,” and corresponding “philias,” that have little or no connection to phenomena of clinical interest.

Some of them — “homophobia,” for example — likely do have a genuinely phobic dimension; by most accounts, homophobes fear their own repressed sexual inclinations.  Others, like “anglophobia,” involve mere distaste.

Islamophobia does not quite fall in either category: islamophobes have no fear, acknowledged or not, of the repressed Muslim within.  But their animosities, like the homophobe’s, express a level of irrationality that transcends taste or judgment.

“Anti-Semitism” is an even more unfortunate term.  The word denotes hatred of Jews and things Jewish.  Strictly speaking, however, “Semitic” refers to a family of languages that share historical and structural features.  Hebrew is one of many Semitic languages; Arabic is another.

At the time the word was concocted, Hebrew was not the spoken language of Jews anywhere.  This had been the case since Biblical times.  Before proto-nationalists and then Zionists undertook to revive and modernize it, Hebrew was a liturgical language only.

Modern Hebrew draws on the Hebrew of the Bible, and anti-Semitism likewise draws on ancient roots.  Both of them, however, are enough unlike what came before to count as genuinely new.

From the time, several centuries after Christ, that Christianity emerged as a distinct religious tradition, opposition to Judaism has been endemic within the Christian fold.  It could hardly be otherwise; Christianity’s legitimacy depended not only on its differences from its ancestor faith but also on its purported theological superiority.

Naturally, Christian anti-Judaism gave rise to hatred of Jews and things Jewish.  In principle, though, what aroused the animosities of Christian peoples were Jewish beliefs and practices, not Jews themselves.

In principle, therefore, the hatred they evinced and often acted upon should disappear if and when Jews abandon Judaism for Christianity.   The evidence on that is scant because most Jewish communities held fast to their faith despite persecution.  And where evidence is available, the record is equivocal.   Nevertheless, Jews were hated and persecuted throughout Christendom not for their essential Jewishness, a metaphysical condition known only to anti-Semites and Jewish nationalists, but for their refusal to accept Christ.

However, as faith declined and as such monumental atrocities as the extermination of New World peoples and the rise of the African slave trade took hold, justifying theories more potent than the ones Christianity could provide became increasingly necessary.

And so, by the nineteenth century, pseudo-scientific accounts of the superiority of the white race and the sub-humanity of colonized and enslaved peoples were invoked to justify the depredations taking place, and to sustain the continuing subjugation of peoples of color.

In accord with the spirit of the times, anti-Semites also advanced pseudo-scientific rationales.

But it was not racial inferiority as such that anti-Semites dwelt on so much as the Jews’ essential otherness.  For anti-Semites, Jews were a recalcitrant “oriental” people ensconced within the Western fold, a foreign body to be guarded against and, in the limiting case, eliminated outright.

This sensibility took hold with varying degrees of intensity throughout Europe and its New World extensions, in part because anti-Judaism had prepared the way, in part because ruling classes used Jews as convenient scapegoats, and in part thanks to another abandoned but not forgotten Christian, especially Catholic, doctrine: the prohibition of usury.

From the Middle Ages through the dawn of the modern era, Christians were prevented from becoming bankers and financiers because the Church proscribed charging interest on loans.  Jews were not similarly constrained.  A few conspicuous banking families took advantage of the opportunities this presented.

However, before long, Christians became bankers too, succumbing to the call of emergent capitalism.  But the idea that somewhere behind the scenes, in the Dark Temples of Finance, Jews were somehow calling the shots remained fixed in popular consciousness – in no small part thanks to the connivance of ecclesiastical authorities, and economic and political elites.

The idea was so entrenched that it was natural, especially in backward quarters, for nascent anti-capitalist sentiments to take on an anti-Semitic coloration.  Thus it was that, not much more than a hundred years ago, the great German Social Democrat August Bebel called anti-Semitism “the socialism of fools.”

For these and other reasons, anti-Semitism flourished throughout Europe and wherever else European culture became established.  It superseded anti-Judaism.

Its importance in the modern history of the West can hardly be exaggerated.  Among other things, anti-Semitism became a core component of most strains of right-wing politics, and anti-anti-Semitism played a crucial role in shaping liberal, radical and socialist thought.

In short, where Muslims were absent from popular and elite consciousness Jews were very present.  Whoever ignores this momentous difference is guaranteed not to understand what islamophobia is about.

* * *

But the difference is easily overlooked because of the salience in both islamophobia and anti-Semitism of the perceived “otherness” of the populations towards which the majority population directs its hostility.

However not all otherness is created equal.  The others whom the West has subjugated from the days of New World conquest and slavery are also, in their own ways, perceived as others.  But the histories of their interactions with the dominant populations of Western countries differ profoundly from those of Muslims and Jews, and so do the animosities that target them.  No doubt, the word “racist” applies in all these cases, but it is often too crude to be enlightening.

With racialist theories discredited and Christian anti-Judaism a spent force, and with liberalism sufficiently triumphant throughout the West that states everywhere (Israel, the West’s Middle Eastern outpost, apart) are states of their citizens, not of religious or ethnic communities, there is nothing left to nourish the ancient perception of the Jew as the other.

Not surprisingly, therefore, anti-Semitism has been on the wane in the past half century; indeed, it has all but disappeared in most quarters.  Revulsion over the Nazi Judeocide accelerated the process, but it was inevitable that modernity would eventually undo what modernity began when anti-Semitism replaced the anti-Judaism of old.

Zionists today have different agendas than their predecessors did, and therefore roll out the old justifications for Zionism only when it is convenient to conjure up notions of eternal victimhood.  But it is important to recall that the original Zionist idea was that a Jewish state was needed to provide a refuge from the scourge of anti-Semitism.  Ironically, the state Zionists concocted is now the main factor keeping anti-Semitism alive.

This is because criticism if not of the Zionist project, then at least of the policies of the Israeli state, have become all but morally obligatory, while the Zionist establishment and its allies throughout the world have worked assiduously for decades to establish the transparently untenable contention that all but the most anodyne criticisms of Israel are at least implicitly anti-Semitic.

They think that charge trumps all other considerations, and they use it to beat the opposition down.  But it rings increasingly hollow, especially to young people for whom Hitler’s Judeocide, and the lesser, but still deadly, manifestations of anti-Semitism that preceded it happened long ago in another age and time.

By hurling around charges of anti-Semitism the way they do, Zionists risk making anti-Semitism respectable; indeed, irresistible.

Nevertheless, it has been well resisted, and that is unlikely to change.  But this has very little to do with the snake oil the Zionist establishment and its lobbies around the world peddle.   Anti-Semitism remains on the wane because, with advances in science and political morality and with Christian religiosity on the decline, it has become impossible to maintain the perception of otherness.

To be sure, attitudes towards Jews in parts of the Muslim world and among Muslims in Western countries are not quite so benign.  But this is a different phenomenon.  Indeed, it is more like the islamophobia from which Muslims suffer than like the anti-Semitism with which it is so readily confused.

* * *

It is in our nature, it seems, to hate our enemies, and to degrade and dehumanize them.

During the First and Second World Wars, Germans (“Huns”) were objects of animosity in Allied countries, even the United States where a large part of the population is of German or part-German descent.  There was no question of longstanding religious or ethnic hostility, but animosity was nevertheless virulent.

Italy was an Axis power during the Second World War, but Italians fared better than Germans, at least in the United States, because their country was perceived more as Germany’s reluctant partner than as a perpetrator in its own right.

In the United States, the Japanese had it much worse, and there is no doubt that racism played a role.  No one, for example, thought of interning persons of German ancestry or of confiscating their property.  Even so, when peace came, anti-Japanese attitudes too subsided.

What is often described as Muslim anti-Semitism is a similar phenomenon, made worse by the unrelenting efforts of political entrepreneurs to identify opposition to Israel with opposition to Jews.

It has little to do with the history of Jewish-Muslim relations.  To be sure, Jews lived as subaltern communities within Muslim states.  But, before the twentieth century, Jewish-Muslim relations were better than Jewish-Christian relations almost without exception – not least because Islam, unlike Christianity, acknowledges Judaism’s legitimacy and commands protection for Jewish communities.  Muslims sought to convert Jews (along with everyone else), but the anti-Judaism endemic throughout Christendom had no parallel in the Muslim world.

Now that elites in the West are, for their own reasons, effectively collaborating with militant islamists to sustain a perpetual war — officially against “terror,” but really for control of oil-rich or otherwise strategically important regions of Asia and Africa, Muslims have become the new enemy and therefore the new target of Western animosity.  Islamophobia is the result.

It is remarkable how rapidly attitudes change.  Before Communism imploded, it was Communists, or the intelligence agencies of Communist countries, that were behind the world’s “terror networks.”  Almost overnight, Muslims took their place.

Communists did precious little to fill their assigned role.  How could they when opposition to terrorism was definitive of Marxist and especially Leninist theory and practice?

Islamists have been more obliging.  This is good news for anyone interested in keeping the military-industrial juggernaut going.  For them, if Osama Bin Laden had not existed, it would have been necessary to invent him.

After Obama had the West’s archfiend bumped off — to the delight of his rule of law supporting, liberal cheerleaders — he didn’t even have to figure out other ways to fool (almost) all of the people all of the time.  By then, public opinion in Western countries no longer required a name or a face to sustain the perpetual fear that makes perpetual war politically feasible.

And as long as the drones keep flying, the special ops teams keep the “targeted killings” coming, and the humanitarian interveners get their way, there will be more than enough reality behind that fear for the war machine to keep rattling on.

The spontaneous connection between political exigencies and the rise of group animosities is especially evident in the thinking of the small number of, mostly elderly, Jewish Republicans (and Democrats too) whose hard Right Israeli politics is, as it were, more popish than the pope’s, and who, needless to say, have no interest in living in the Promised Land themselves.  From out of nowhere, their Israeli chauvinism took an islamophobic turn.

The broad outlines of the story behind this strange transformation are easy to discern.

Once it became clear to the indigenous population of Palestine that Zionists were intent not just on living among them but in taking over their land, Palestinian Arabs began to fight back.   And so, from the mid-1920s on, Zionists who, like most colonial settlers, had been largely indifferent to the native population began to view it as hostile.

Palestinians became enemies and, before long, so did Arabs generally. When they could not be ignored, they were marginalized and despised, and never more than when they fought back.  American Zionists followed in tandem.

But even as this history was unfolding, it was clear to most Israelis, and therefore to most “diaspora” Zionists, that while Palestinians and Arabs generally might be suitable targets of animosity, Muslims generally were not, and Islam certainly is not.

It was not just the historical memory of (comparatively) good Muslim-Jewish relations that underwrote these convictions; there was also a strategic imperative.

In the Zionist view, good relations with non-Arab Muslim countries on the peripheries of Arab lands – with Iran, especially, but also with Turkey and, to a lesser degree, with Muslim majority states in east Africa – had long been held to be almost as important as good relations with the United States.

Even the 1979 Iranian Revolution didn’t change this perception, though it did install a theocratic regime in Iran that tried to expand its influence throughout the region by projecting an anti-Zionist public image.  The present Iranian government has a knack for saying things that “existential threat” mongers in the Zionist camp can exploit, but worse words were commonplace in the 1980s, while Israel and Iran covertly maintained decent relations.

This changed when the Soviet Union imploded, leaving the United States the sole superpower in the region, and when the Gulf War effectively removed Iraq as a threat to Israel.  Israel no longer needed Iran to keep Iraq down.

However it did need Iran to substitute for Iraq and other Arab countries as an existential threat.  Israel may no longer be able to justify itself on the grounds that it provides world Jewry a refuge from anti-Semitism.  But existential threats are no less useful on that account.  How better to keep the domestic population in line and American money flowing in?

The Iranian clerisy and important sectors of the Iranian political class found it useful too for Iran to be pictured as an existential threat to the Jewish state.

This helps explain why, two decades ago, anti-Palestinian and anti-Arab sentiments began to take on an islamophobic tone – not so much in Israel itself, since in any conceivable future, Israel would remain an island in a vast Muslim sea, but in right-wing Jewish circles in the United States, where islamophobia was an almost costless posture to assume.

This was especially the case after 9/11, as islamophobia increasingly became an American obsession.

Islamophobia accords nicely too with Israel’s courtship of evangelical Protestants.  One would suppose that the gulf separating Zionists, both secular and religious, from (very) low-Church Anglo-Protestant proponents of dispensationalist theology would be unbridgeable, especially since Jewish Zionists well know that their Christian allies want Jews gathered into the Holy Land to hasten the End Time, when Jews who do not accept Christ will be cast into Hell for all eternity.  But Zionists these days have no shame; there is nothing they will not do to help keep America in tow.

And so, Jewish islamophobes make nice to perhaps the only Christians left who still promote anti-Judaism –touting “Judeo-Christian values” in opposition to the values of terrorist “jihadis,” Jew-hating anti-Christs, in whose lands Jewish communities had lived in peace for almost one and a half millennia.

This ahistorical madness too will pass.  When islamophobia no longer serves any Israeli purpose, Jewish islamophobia will disappear.  Historical norms have a way of reasserting themselves.

In the United States, that could happen sooner than we think, not because islamophobia in general is about to fade away – not with the war on terror continuing indefinitely – but because most islamophobic Jews are old and their influence within the Jewish community is spent. Their influence in the larger political culture remains a problem because their Paper Tiger lobbies hold Congress in thrall.  Before long, however, reality is bound to overthrow that illusion as well.

This prospect bodes ill for those who benefit from the perpetual war our Nobel laureate President now leads.  That is perhaps the one hopeful prospect in this whole sorry state of affairs; that and the realization that historically anomalous irrationalities that erupt on the scene with amazing rapidity can and usually do just as rapidly disappear.

ANDREW LEVINE is a Senior Scholar at the Institute for Policy Studies, the author most recently of THE AMERICAN IDEOLOGY (Routledge) and POLITICAL KEY WORDS (Blackwell) as well as of many other books and articles in political philosophy.

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Jeff Sparrow: The Weaponization of Atheism

Posted on 09 April 2012 by Emperor

Update: I decided to feature this article as it is a timely piece by Sparrow and has generated quite some interest amongst regular Loonwatch readers. There are quite a few gems in the article, though there are certain parts that I don’t necessarily agree with either.

An excellent piece from Jeff Sparrow about the politics of new atheism with a dose of history:

The Weaponization of Atheism

by JEFF SPARROW (CounterPunch)

In a few days time, the Global Atheist Convention meets in the Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre, a huge building sprawling out next to the Yarra River, just south of the central business district of Australia’s second biggest city.

But walk north for fifteen minutes or so to Victoria Street, Fitzroy, and you’ll find a much less imposing structure with a much older connection to atheism.

From the outside, there’s little to show that what’s now called Brenan Hall, a brick building in the St Vincent’s Hospital site, was once known, rather grandly, as the Hall of Science. Few Melbournians realise that their city boasts one of the second oldest purpose-built Freethought halls in the world, a meeting place constructed by the Australasian Secular Association in 1889.

As non-believers from around the globe come to Melbourne, the Hall of Science reminds us of the city’s long atheist history. But it does more than that. On this spot in June 1890, a man was shot, as a struggle over the direction of Freethought broiled over into a violent brawl. And that long-forgotten conflict over the politics of skepticism has major implications for today.

Both supporters and critics of the New Atheism often tell us that non-belief today is more strident, more aggressive, more polemical than in the past.

They’re wrong, as even a brief acquaintance with nineteenth century Freethought shows.

In Melbourne, a versifier expressed the ASA’s general approach in its journal, the Liberator:

From Pagan Rome and Christian Rome,
To our bright and fair Australia,
Religion’s ever been a cruel
And bloody Saturnalia.

The breezy consignment of the city’s respectable Presbyterians to a category alongside Caligula and Nero reflects an organisation not given to pulling punches.

Joseph Symes, the ASA’s leader, specialized in Hitchens-like confrontations with the pious. We have a record of one Symes lecture entitled ‘Bible Lies’ (a chronicle of the various deceptions pulled by the Lord on his long-suffering followers); on another occasion, he used data from recent archaeological digs (he was a keen amateur scientist) to lampoon scriptural history. Later in his career, Symes embraced pure provocation, bringing slices of bread to meetings so he could, as he announced, ‘have a chew on the body of Christ’.

Atheists back then were as forthright as atheists today. The real difference lies elsewhere. Today, we can identify an atheism that’s not so much militant as weaponised – that is, deployed, all too often, in the service of the extreme Right.

The late Christopher Hitchens provides the most obvious example, a celebrity atheist as famous for boosting wars as for baiting clerics.

Liberal admirers often mentally separated the atheistic Hitchens from the political Hitchens but in reality the two personas were inseparable. When, notoriously, he lauded Bush’s cluster bombs, he did so – typically – by combining his two passions. ‘Those steel pellets will go straight through somebody,’ he chuckled, ‘and out the other side and through somebody else. So they won’t be able to say, “Ah, I was bearing a Koran over my heart and guess what, the missile stopped halfway through.” No way, ’cause it’ll go straight through that as well. They’ll be dead, in other words.’

Because Hitchens was so rhetorically intemperate (recall his attack on the Dixie Chicks as ‘sluts’, his description of the war widow Cindy Sheehan as a ‘sob sister’ and so on); because, as Corey Robin says, he often evinced ‘a cruelty and bloodlust, a thrill for violence and apocalyptic confrontation, an almost sociopathic indifference to the victims of that violence and confrontation’ (witness, for instance, his reaction to the Fallujah offensive, his cry ‘the death toll is not nearly high enough …  too many [jihadists] have escaped’); he was treated indulgently, even by liberals, as New Atheism’s mad uncle, whose uglier outbursts could excused on the grounds of his very eccentricity.

But his weaponised atheism was no anomaly.

Attendees at the convention can, after all, hear much the same thing from Sam Harris, another of the so-called ‘Four Horsemen’. Harris, like Hitchens, thinks that atheists have a special insight into the war on terror, which should, he says, understood as a conflict against ‘a pestilential theology and a longing for paradise’. Most liberals, he continues, fail to understand ‘how dangerous and depraved our enemies in the Muslim world are’. Indeed, ‘the people who speak most sensibly about the threat that Islam poses to Europe are actually fascists.’

Harris calls himself a liberal but his positions on Islam are to the Right of any Australian parliamentarians, with the possible exception of Cory Bernardi, a notorious conservative crank.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali, another conference speaker, carves out similar territory.

‘We are at war with Islam,’ she says bluntly. ‘And there’s no middle ground in wars.’

Elsewhere, Hirsi Ali, a fellow at the neonconservative American Enterprise Institute, explained the home front consequences of that total war.

‘All Muslim schools. Close them down. Yeah, that sounds absolutist. I think 10 years ago things were different, but now the jihadi genie is out of the bottle.’

Again, it’s the sort of stuff you’d expect to hear from Pamela Geller, Robert Spencer or other sinister representatives of the so-called ‘counter-jihad’ movement.

Such is weaponised atheism: arguments for war and state repression, tricked out as scepticism.

Obviously, not all speakers at the Global Atheist Convention are Hitchensian warmongers. Many denounced the invasion of Iraq. Some oppose the worst excesses of Islamophobia and have the grace to find the polemical excesses of Harris et al somewhat embarrassing.

Nonetheless, the fact remains: leading representatives of the movement express ideas that otherwise we’d associate with the hard Right – and are celebrated for doing so. This is a phenomenon that requires some explanation.

Again, a comparison with the past is instructive.

In the late nineteenth century, religiousity formed the fabric of daily life. Of necessity, the ASA duly offered a secular alternative to familiar Christian rituals, with Symes prompting his followers through a materialist catechism (‘What is science?’ he asked, to which the congregations dutifully chorused: ‘Truth’.) He taught children at a Sunday lyceum, leading them off for excursions with their freethought banners unfurled. ‘It was a picnic in itself,’ gloated the Liberator, chronicling one of those trips, ‘to watch the horrified looks of some of the pious folk as the wagons passed down Brighton Road’.

In other words, while, doctrinally Symes might have shared Hirsi Ali’s hostility to religion, the persecuted ASA could never have adopted her police-state policiies to Muslim schools in Australia because, to all intents and purposes, it was a Muslim school in Australia – organizationally and socially a fringe sect, proselytizing ideas that the mainstream found foreign and threatening.

For atheists back then, state power was obviously problematic, if only because they were usually facing its sharp end. For example, Cole’s Wharf, located only a block or so from where today’s atheists will convene, once provided an unofficial free speech forum, a rare oasis in the desert of Melbourne’s conformity. But when Symes began drawing crowds there, the authorities closed the stumps down. That was why the Hall of Science became necessary: as architectural historian Kerry Jordan explains, the ASA ‘found it difficult to rent premises for their meetings because of their notoriety and opposition to contemporary moral standards.’ The Liberator was singled out for prosecution under the Newspaper Act and regularly seized and burnt by customs officials, while Symes was denounced in the press as a ‘leprous reptile’. Even the Field Naturalists’ Club of Victoria blacklisted him.

The weaponisation of atheism, then, becomes a possibility only with the mainstreaming of non-belief. In the nineteenth century, religious skepticism in Australia barred you from polite society, so that, of necessity, nineteenth century secularists rubbed shoulders with dissidents and non-conformists in a fraternity of the poor and the marginalised. Today, in most circumstances, no-one cares that you don’t believe in God. The Prime Minister is an atheist; in some professions – say, higher education or the arts – it’s considerably easier to be a sceptic than a believer (see many head scarves on Australian TV?). As Sikivu Hutchinson points out, the front ranks of New Atheism consists almost exclusively of ‘elite white males from the scientific community’, a fact that, in and of itself, speaks to the social acceptance of non-belief, at least in the prestigious universities.

These days, it is religion, not atheism, that correlates with poverty. Within Australia, the most fervent believers often belong to immigrant communities; across the world, religion dominates in impoverished states in sub-Saharan Africa and Asia.

That’s a substantive social shift, and it has obvious consequences for the political orientation of atheism.

But there’s more going on than that.

On 19 June 1890, a group of secularists stormed Melbourne’s Hall of Science and barricaded themselves inside.

Shortly after midnight, another group, led by Symes himself, arrived and fought their way through the doors. After a bloody punch-up, they physically expelled their opponents – and then posted armed guards to keep them away.

A few days later, one of those defenders took out his revolver to clean it. The gun accidentally discharged. The bullet struck a man called William Jackson Brown; he died the next day.

That tragedy didn’t stop the secular in-fighting. Several times over the next year, crowds of freethinkers – sometimes numbering as many as thousand people – gathered at the Hall for prolonged scuffles over its possession.

The anti-Symesites eventually prevailed but their victory proved largely pyrrhic. The divided movement could no longer fund the building’s upkeep – and the prize possession of the movement was forcibly sold, with ownership eventually passing, with tragic irony, to a Catholic-run hospital.

What was the dispute about?

The ASA was initially a very broad organisation, and included in its ranks radicals of all sorts. For a while, those differences could be subsumed into its struggle for freedom of speech. The ASA played, for instance, an important role in the campaign to force open the Public Library on a Sunday, in defiance of strict religious rules that public institutions remained closed on the only day working people might access them.

But the length and intensity of such fights spurred some in the ASA to move left.

At one of the trials of anti-Sabbatarians (yes, secularists actually went to gaol for the right to library access in Melbourne!), a police witness noted a new phenomenon.

‘They don’t confine themselves to the Public Library at all, your worship …’ he said, ‘but they denounce capitalists and even magistrates, your worship.’

These ASA activists increasingly identified the church as merely one amongst many institutions maintaining an oppressive status quo. As one of them declared, ‘Secularism has outlived its usefulness. Our hope … [lies] in Anarchy which is based on rebellion against authority.’

The formation in 1886 of the Melbourne Anarchist Club by ASA members dramatically heightened tensions within Australian freethought, particularly in the context of the massive social polarisations. In 1889, the Maritime Dispute shut down Melbourne and prompted a huge rally on the Yarra Bank, which was very nearly fired on by mounted police. The next year, the shearers strike left the nation on the brink of a civil war, while the world plunged into the deepest economic depression it had hitherto known.

The ASA’s Left began leading Occupy Wall Street style marches through the city, burning government officials in effigy and chanting rude songs about them. Symes, on the other hand, opposed the strikes. Essentially a pre-socialist liberal, his notion of liberty meant, first and foremost, freedom to think. From his perspective, social upheavals were, at best, a distraction from the progress of science and, at worst, a manifestation of incipient barbarism. Increasingly, he turned his polemical powers, like Hitchens denouncing anti-war protesters, on those he called ‘the washed off filth of the association, collected in the Anarchist slough’.

Why should anyone care about an obscure debate amongst minor organisations from long ago?

Because the emergence of Left tendencies in the ASA was indicative of how, all across the world in the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, liberal atheism was challenged by a new, more social orientation as labour activists turned, in Marx’s phrase, ‘the criticism of Heaven […] into the criticism of Earth.’ In a few decades time, the Russian revolution cemented an association between atheism and social reform, to the extent that, for many reactionaries, ‘godless’ and ‘commie’ became almost synonymous.

Of course, liberal and even rightwing versions of atheism persisted. But the existence of sizeable left-wing organisations committed to a broadly Marxist approach exerted a huge influence on the politics of atheism in the twentieth century.

That’s the context for the New Atheism, ‘new’ precisely because it emerged only after the traditional Left had more or less collapsed. Its novelty consisted largely of its separation from the communism that had more-or-less owned the movement throughout the twentieth century. In place of that Leftism, the New Atheism repackaged, for a new audience, the nineteenth century liberal positivism that freethinkers like Symes had espoused.

But, of course, the new context made all the difference.

For a start, the New Atheism was turbocharged by 9/11. The heightened, hysterical climate in the immediate aftermath of the terror attacks produced some bizarre publishing phenomena – obscure academic studies of the Taliban, for instance, suddenly featured in bestselling lists. Atheist polemics achieved an equal prominence precisely because they provided a simple answer to the newly urgent question that so many anguished pundits posed: why do Muslims hate us?

Again, the political consequences of that particular conjuncture are fairly obvious. Though few care to remember it now, in the early phases of the War on Terror, some of the loudest voices touting for regime change came from so-called liberals, often deploying tropes associated with the social movements and the New Left. Thus the invasion of Afghanistan – as ludicrous as it now seems – was initially shilled, at least in part, as a campaign to liberate women and homosexuals.

Atheism was used in the same fashion. Hitchens, in particular, transformed himself from midlist radical journalist to international celebrity by spinning Bush’s military adventures as a war of liberal tolerance against theocratic backwardness, a claim that, in retrospect, seems almost embarrassingly stupid.

But there were particular reasons why the New Atheist approach was so susceptible to Hitchens’ appropriation. Symes’ project, as we have seen, began and ended with an expose of religious fallacies. For him, as for the New Atheists today, religion was first and foremost a system of ideas – ‘ignorance with wings’, as Sam Harris says. Symes’ project, then, began and ended with its exposing religious fallacies. For if theological ideas were shown to be false, rational and intelligent people would surely abandon their beliefs.

But consider the corollary. If religion is an intellectual doctrine and nothing more than that, the persistence with which so many cling to God faith becomes explicable only in terms of their congenital inability to reason. Or, to put it another way, if religion is purely and simply a fairy tale, then ipso facto those who cling to it are little better than children.

The smugness that so often accompanies New Atheist interventions is not, then, accidental but is bred into the movement’s DNA. Symes rejected the activism of the ASA’s Left explicitly because to him the masses were, at best, dullards. It was very incapacity of ordinary people that made, he said, socialism impossible. ‘The strong, the cunning, the swift … must survive, while the weak, the slow, the dull and those with no artificial advantage must of necessity go to the wall — yes, the brutal truth bids me say, they must be stamped out.’

Back then, Symes’ overt elitism was largely kept in check by his organisation’s marginalisation, since his denunciations were, of necessity, usually directed at powerful clerics and politicians rather than ordinary believers. The New Atheists today find themselves in a rather different position. There’s an obvious rightward dynamic in tremendously wealthy authors (‘Sam’s fee is $25,000 which includes airfare.’regaling audiences of the well-educated and the well-to-do about the ignorance and stupidity of immigrants and the poor.

Moreover, the West’s engagement with Muslim countries over the last decade provides a context in which the weaponisation of atheism becomes almost inevitable.

The traditional Left approach to belief begins with a recognition that religion is not simply a set of ideas. Religion is a cultural identity; it’s also simultaneously an aesthetic, a system of feeling, a guide to social and sexual conduct, an organizational framework and many other things besides. These different functions contradict and complement each other in all sorts of ways.

That’s why the same holy texts can, in different social settings, give rise to entirely different behaviours and attitudes; it’s why both the Anabaptists and Pat Robertson can claim inspiration from the New Testament.

If, then, you wanted to understand the role of religion in Iraq or Afghanistan, simply assessing the truth claims in the Koran does not get you very far – indeed, in some ways, it’s almost a category error. Islam, like all religions, functions on many different levels. It offers, for instance, meaning to people subjected to death and suffering often inflicted by the advanced countries of the West. It provides charity where no social services exist; it gives voice to nationalist resistance in nations where the secular Left was widely discredited by its Stalinism. And it does many other things besides.

Even put as schematically as that, the argument suggests a particular political response. Atheists and others seeking to fostering secularism in the Arab world might do so by, first and foremost, ending the military interventions that have brought so much suffering.

If, on the other hand, religion is seen simply as a dangerous fairy story, then it’s almost inevitable that the fervent believers of Afghanistan are cast as menacing infants – a trope that reiterates, almost exactly, Kipling’s high imperialist image as the subjects of empire as ‘half devil and half child’. Hence the neocon temptation into which so many New Atheists fall, the conviction that military force is morally justified to free the savages from their own delusions, much as the British empire justified its depredations by contrasting Western science with the natives’ pagan superstitions.

Anti-Muslim writers commonly declare that Islam needs its own reformation.

But that’s a charge that should really be leveled at atheism, a movement that urgently needs the kind of political polarization that separated the Right from the Left in the ASA of 1890.

For, at present, the loudest voices speaking on behalf of atheism trot out a crude nineteenth century positivism, a rewarmed (but far more conservative) version of Symes’ freethought. Meanwhile, the atheist Left seems entirely silent. Where, for instance, are the interventions from progressives as the Global Atheist Convention conducts a session lauding Hitchens’ career under the title ‘A Life Well Lived’? Will anyone point out that the author of God is Not Great devoted his well-lived life to apologetics for a military campaign that led to the deaths of perhaps a million people? For progressives, should the devastation of Iraq not matter at least as much as Hichens’ reputation as a witty conversationalist?

A few weeks ago, the editor of the New York Times editorial page noted that the US effectively now runs an entirely separate judicial system for Muslims. Meanwhile, across Europe, neo-fascist organisations, some of them with lineages stretching back to the Nazis, supplement their traditional anti-Semitism with a new anti-Muslim bigotry. It’s a heartbreaking historical tragedy that, with prejudice rising throughout the world, the loudest voices in a movement that once campaigned for liberty uses a rhetoric indistinguishable from the hatemongers and the racists.

But it’s not just that atheism has a Muslim problem (though it clearly does).

In the US, the Republicans have launched a savage war on women’s reproductive rights, an assault justified in religious rhetoric. How, then, should the Left respond?

We could, perhaps, reply to the bishops who denounce birth control by simply declaring anyone who identifies with Catholicism as an ignorant hick.

On the other hand, we might note that, precisely because religion is a contradictory social phenomenon, the vast majority of those who call themselves Catholics actively flout the Pope’s rulings about sex, something that provides scope for a common front against the Right. Indeed, any successful movement against the war on women will, almost by definition, involve those who consider themselves believers.

That doesn’t mean that leftwing atheists should hide their views about God. It’s simply that say that we’re far more likely to win people from religion by working alongside them against the forces of oppression in this world – and thus showing them in practice that religious consolations aren’t necessary – rather than by dismissing them as dupes and stooges.

If religion is a social phenomenon, it will persist so long as social conditions render it necessary. That’s why the defeat of the atheist Right, and the revival of an atheist Left, matters so much. Denouncing God is easy. What’s harder – and much more important – is creating a world that no longer has need of Him.

Jeff Sparrow is the editor of Overland magazine and the author of Killing: Misadventures in Violence.

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The Drone and the Cross

Posted on 09 April 2012 by Ilisha

Drones for Jesus

“What Would Jesus Do?” (WWJD?) is a phrase popularized in the US during the 1990s, serving as a reminder to Christians to demonstrate the moral example of Jesus Christ.

Though it is difficult to imagine what Jesus might do in the modern world, it seems quite certain unleashing Hellfire missiles on helpless civilians would not be an option, which begs a question: Why are millions of contemporary Christians fervent cheerleaders for endless war in faraway lands?

This Holy Week, Brian Terrell considers Christ’s moral imperative in the context of current events.

The Drone and the Cross

by Brian Terrell, Counterpunch

A Good Friday Meditation

Over Holy Week, the days before celebrating the resurrection of Jesus on Easter, Christians are called to meditate on Jesus’ last days. On Good Friday, in churches and often in city streets, it is customary to retrace the “Way of the Cross,” symbolically following Jesus from his trial before the Roman procurator Pontius Pilate to his torture, crucifixion, death and burial. For American Christians in Holy Week, 2012, news headlines of wars in far-away places must not be seen as distractions from our meditations and liturgical observances but rather as a necessary means to realize the implications of Christ’s passion for us here and now.

The Roman Empire employed crucifixion as its preferred method of executing suspects deemed threatening to its imperial power and to the “Pax Romana” it imposed on the known world. The history of empires is banal and predicable even in its cruelty and the United States is more clearly than ever the successor of this imperial tradition. Empire will always be on the technological cutting edge, from bronze swords to nuclear missiles, with each advance extending the reach and the catastrophic potential of successive imperial powers, but the history of empires is really one single tragic story told over and over again with incidental variations.

Today those deemed threats to the U.S. Empire and its “Pax Americana” are increasingly targeted by Predator and Reaper drones armed with missiles and bombs. Just as Rome considered Jesus a “high value target” for execution, it is unlikely that today’s world empire would view Jesus’ life and teaching with any less suspicion. Were Jesus to preach today as he preached in Jerusalem two millennia ago, instead of a cross of wood the instrument of his passion might be a hellfire missile fired from a predator drone.

While the revolution Jesus preached was nonviolent, this did not matter to Rome and such distinctions are equally lost on the U.S. Empire, whose military, Homeland Security and FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force are at least as zealous in persecuting unarmed advocates for economic and political justice as they are in pursuing terrorists. Jesus called for a jubilee abolition of debt, for redistribution of wealth and for freedom to those in prison. His nonviolent stance did not keep him from meeting in dialogue with the zealots who advocated violent revolution. This would be all the evidence the U.S. Empire needs to detain an “enemy combatant” indefinitely at Guantanamo or indeed, to put him on a CIA hit list.

Mouthpieces for the present empire defend assassination by drone citing the fact that arresting some suspected threats would be difficult to impossible- they travel the desolate reaches of the empire, passing in and out of porous borders. When they do enter populated areas, they are surrounded by crowds of supporters, which translates in U.S. parlance as despicably using civilians as human shields.

The military and law enforcement authorities of Rome and its colonial client states were likewise frustrated in their attempts to track and arrest Jesus. When things got hot in Judea, Jesus and his disciples were known to slip out of the Roman Province of Judea into Herod’s Tetrarchy of Galilee and from there, hop a boat to the jurisdiction of the Decapolis. The mightiest military force on the planet in the year 33 of the current era could not arrest Jesus in Jerusalem “for fear of the crowds,” the Gospels tell us.

In order to bring him to “justice,” Rome needed to recruit and bribe one of Jesus’ inner circle for inside information and then wait to find him alone in a dark garden. That empire required a sham trial before their governor could sentence Jesus to die. Today’s mightiest empire uses unmanned drones to find and kill threats to its power with no trial and from long distances. Victims are named by the military or the CIA on evidence that is kept secret from any court. Rather than being hounded by spies and dragged to a cross by mercenary boots on the ground, threats to the U.S. Empire are now hunted by drones high in the sky, scanning the cities and the wilderness, sending high-resolution video feed to their “pilots” thousands of miles away in Nevada, California or New York and it is from that safe distance that the trigger is pulled to launch the fatal missile.

While drones are touted as weapons of precision, their Hellfire missiles and 500 pound bombs are not surgical instruments. Weddings and funerals, when attended by “high value targets” are fair game and hundreds of celebrants and mourners have been killed by drone strikes on these events in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Villages and urban neighborhoods where such “targets” are suspected to be residing or visiting are devastated along with their inhabitants. War is hell, it is admitted in moments of candor and an empire cannot allow itself to be deterred by fear of “collateral damage” from pursuing its objectives.

With the flexibility that drones offer the present empire, Rome would not have needed to wait for Jesus to surface in Jerusalem at Passover, but could have killed him at its leisure along, incidentally, with anyone in his vicinity. If they had drones, the Romans might have taken out Jesus at Cana along with the other wedding guests. A hellfire missile might have found him welcoming the children or at the funeral of his friend, Lazarus. The hit might have come as a 500 pound bomb dropped on the upper room, interrupting the last supper.

U.S. drones, it is reported, hover over the aftermath of an attack and target rescue workers and those who attempt to give the dead dignified burial. Had Rome the technical capability and lack of compunction of the U.S., Joseph of Arimathaea might have paid with his life for his work of mercy, laying the tortured corpse of Jesus in his own tomb. Mary and the women who later brought ointments to bathe and anoint Jesus’ body might never had made it to the tomb; or they might have been burned beyond recognition themselves before they could deliver the good news that the tomb was empty.

Of course this meditation is the result of wild and perhaps irresponsible speculation. I wonder, though, if it is so far off as it seems even to me. More than this I wonder what it means for me as a privileged citizen of an empire, to venerate the holy cross and to worship the tortured messiah who died on it while my government unleashes hellish droves of machines into the sky to spy and to torture and kill in my name.

Brian Terrell lives in Maloy, Iowa and is a co-coordinator of Voices for Creative Nonviolence. He spent Good Fridays of 2009 and 2011 in jails in Nevada and New York after protesting at U.S. Air Force drone operation centers.

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