Submission

A Muslim woman prays: “The verdict that has killed my faith and love is in Your holy book. Faith in You, submission to You, feels like self-betrayal. Oh Allah, giver and taker of life, You admonish all who believe to turn towards You in order to attain bliss. I have done nothing my whole life but turn to You. And now that I pray for salvation, under my veil, You remain silent, like the grave I long for.”

This video is pretty intense. In a way, it serves as a double-criticism of Islam. Written by a former Muslim, the video is a condemnation of the treatment of women in the Muslim world. However, Theo van Gogh, the director of the film, was killed by a Muslim for his role in Submission, so the video is also a reminder of Islam’s inability to tolerate criticism.

Muhammad Bouyeri shot van Gogh numerous times, slashed his throat, and plunged a knife into his chest, all because of a video that was critical of Islam. However, let no one think that Bouyeri was simply a radical Muslim on the fringe of Islam, for the Prophet of Islam himself ordered his followers to kill those who criticized Islam through the arts. (For more on this, see “Muhammad’s Dead Poets’ Society.”)

In her book Infidel, Ayaan Hirsi Ali (who wrote the film) responds to her critics: “I am told that Submission is too aggressive a film. Its criticism of Islam is apparently too painful for Muslims to bear. Tell me, how much more painful is it to be these women, trapped in that cage?” (p. 350).

Infidel, by Ayaan Hirsi Ali

I just started reading Infidel, by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Ali is a former Muslim who grew up in Somalia, Saudi Arabia, Ethiopia, and Kenya, and is now famous for her fierce criticism of Islam. While I’m sure I will disagree with many of her ultimate conclusions regarding religion and morality, the book is providing me with an excellent firsthand account of life in the Muslim world.

In Chapter Three, Ali and her family move from Somalia (largely Muslim, but not too strict) to Saudi Arabia (the heart of the Muslim world). The transition is quite interesting. Ali, her brother Mahad, and her sister Haweya enter a school with Saudi children. Ali recalls:

All the girls at madrassah [school for learning the Qur’an] were white; I thought of them as white, and myself, for the first time, as black. They called Haweya and I Abid, which meant slaves. Being called a slave—the racial prejudice this term conveyed—was a big part of what I hated in Saudi Arabia. (p. 42)

This racism against Ali and her family, however, was nothing compared to the Saudis’ hatred of Jews:

In Saudi Arabia, everything bad was the fault of the Jews. When the air conditioner broke or suddenly the tap stopped running, the Saudi women next door used to say the Jews did it. The children next door were taught to pray for the health of their parents and the destruction of the Jews. (p. 47)

Ali says that she and her family loved visiting the Grand Mosque, where everyone was kind to one another. Yet the situation was quite different outside the mosque:

[A]s soon as we left the mosque, Saudi Arabia meant intense heat and filth and cruelty. People had their heads cut off in public squares. Adults spoke of it. It was a normal, routine thing: after the Friday noon prayer you could go home for lunch, or you could go and watch the executions. Hands were cut off. Men were flogged. Women were stoned. (p. 43)

At home, Ali began to notice the harsh treatment of Saudi women:

Some of the Saudi women in our neighborhood were regularly beaten by their husbands. You could hear them at night. Their screams resounded across the courtyards: “No! Please! By Allah!” (p. 47)

This mistreatment, and other horrors she witnessed in the course of her life, have fueled her passion for reform in the Muslim world.

I’m only on Chapter Five, but the book is great so far. I’m looking forward to reading about her encounter with the West, and her struggles with Islam.