October 20, 2004 -- It was about three years
ago that I started my first year at the University of Alberta. I was nervous
and excited, and wondered how the university experience would shape the rest
of my life.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I woke to the sound of
my alarm clock radio. Normally it would be the hourly news, so when I didn't
hear that dry monotone on the other end, I knew immediately that something
must be wrong: "For our listeners who are now tuning in: Two planes have
just crashed into the two towers of the World Trade Center in New York City.
This is truly a momentous, history-altering event. We have very little information
at this time…"
I listened on with increasing apprehension, confused about the
significance of what was happening. I rushed to my sister's room – the only
other person in the house. "Hey Aliyah! Turn on the news – something big's
just happened." We listened to the news on our way to school that day. I
heard snippets of conversation on my way to class – discussions in awed voices.
One of my professors began her lecture with – "I'm sorry. I can't talk about
what's just happened. It's too new." It didn't take long, however, for the
significance of the tragedy to become clear, or for a scapegoat to be found.
Though Osama bin Laden and his extremist followers had orchestrated the attacks,
the entire Muslim people seemed to have been blamed. As a Muslim I felt as
though the glare of the public eye was upon me.
After 9/11, life changed. The masses were desperate for an explanation,
and the media were in a frenzy. News stories began pouring out, decrying
the "Muslim threat." The articles bandied Samuel Huntington's Clash of Civilizations
book like gospel. They explained that a war between the Western and Islamic
civilizations was inevitable, and that Muslims hated everything good, meaning
everything that the West stood for – freedom, justice, and equality. Every
Islamophobic misconception and stereotype was suddenly front-page news. Words
like "jihad" and "terrorist" began to be thrown about, fed to the frightened
and confused.
Of course the reaction was not long in coming. The fact that
I don't wear a hijab, or traditional head covering, shielded me from the
brunt of it. But on campus I witnessed women who do wear hijabs being subjected
to dirty looks in the hallways and classrooms. While working in a computer
lab, I overheard a conversation about how 9/11 proved that Muslims were all
"dirty terrorists." And when leaving for vacation last summer, I noticed
Arabic-looking people being pulled out of line at the airport.
All of these developments have forced me to think deeply about
my faith. The Islam I grew up with and practice today is one of peace and
love, and entails respect for pluralism. It is a world apart from the dark
and frightening religion portrayed in the sensationalistic headlines. Yet
despite my conviction of the utter laughability of such depictions, no one
else seems to get the joke. Even three years after 9/11, the majority of
Westerners, including journalists, know so very little about Islam that they
are willing to believe almost anything they are told, no matter how questionable
the source. For them Islam is so remote that they are just as likely to think
of Muslims as homo islamicus – another species altogether.
The panic that many felt after 9/11 had much to do with fear
of the unknown. Frankly, this should not be surprising considering today's
educational norms. Canadian schools do their students a disservice by focusing
almost exclusively on North America and Europe. As a child attending public
school in Edmonton, I spent more time in Grade 6 memorizing ancient Greek
mythology than I did learning the basics about Asia, Africa, and South America
throughout all 12 years combined. When I once asked a high school teacher
why this was the case, he answered that such places were not considered relevant
enough to be worth the class time. Though Canadians consider themselves to
be internationally minded, their actual knowledge seems not to stretch far
beyond familiarity with foreign cuisines.
What educators have failed to realize is that our children can
no longer afford to live in ignorance of the rest of the world. There are
over one billion Muslims on this planet. They are diverse, and differ in
their cultural traditions as well as their interpretations of Islam. Muslims
have jobs, families, and aspirations for the future. And Muslims are just
as likely as Westerners to react adversely if they feel targeted or demonized
as a group. Therefore the danger exists that Huntington’s clash of civilizations
theory may become a self-fulfilling prophecy. When those on both sides begin
to believe that a clash is inevitable, they begin to dehumanize one another,
making a clash ever more likely.
But it is not too late. We are not experiencing a clash of civilizations,
so much as a “clash of ignorances.” Proffered by His Highness the Aga Khan,
Spiritual Leader of the Shia Ismaili branch of Islam, the term refers to
the clash of peoples who are not so different, yet know little of one another.
With more education, open-mindedness, and dialogue on all sides, I believe
that the world can move beyond this apocalyptic obsession with clashing civilizations.
There is simply no need for any such conflict.
Come on, people. Why can't we all just get along?
Saarah Shivji is a fourth-year honours political science
student at the University of Alberta, specializing in Middle Eastern and
African Studies. She is the recent recipient of the University of Alberta
Senate's Rising Star Award. This article was originally published in the,
October04, 2004 edition of the Edmonton Journal.
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