Don’t Ask Why: the BNP on Question Time

If you live in the U.K., you’ve no doubt been following (or have at least heard about) the controversy surrounding the far right British National Party’s appearance on Question Time. If you don’t, or you haven’t, allow me to explain: following the election of two British National Party (BNP) MEPs in the 2009 European elections this summer, a representative of the BNP was invited onto one of the BBC’s flagship political debate television programs last Thursday. The panel included Chris Huhne (Liberal Democrats Home Affairs spokesperson), Jack Straw (Secretary of State for Justice), Sayeeda Warsi, Baroness Warsi (Shadow Minister for Community Cohesion), Nick Griffin (Leader of the British National Party), and writer/playwright Bonnie Greer. The topics of discussion ranged from Churchill and the second world war to Holocaust denial and immigration. The matter has received a lot of coverage in the press, a surprising amount of it dedicated to saying that the BBC is giving too much publicity to the BNP.

Sayeeda Warsi, introduced as “the most powerful Muslim woman in Britain”, has often been referred to as the most successful panelist in dealing with Griffin, or the one least afraid of overstepping the bounds of political correctness to counter the BNP rhetoric with her own ideas about immigration, or–more rarely–a sign that the Conservative party is partaking in affirmative action in press coverage.

Warsi attempted to turn the debate away from race and multiculturalism and towards class and resources, against Griffin’s attempts to evoke the “clash of civilizations” (specifically when he alludes towards reaching a ‘truce’ with Islam, which is evidently as monolithic and homogeneous as he wishes Britain and the British to be). She also mentions that in times of economic hardship, it is easy to blame “the other”: while historically the British Nationalist movement has focused on the British Jewish community and later focused on the West Indian and South Asian immigrants from Britain’s former colonies as threatening British ethnic purity, currently the danger to this purity includes all non-whites and all Muslims. Warsi addressed fears that the white, working class Brits are being overlooked in favor of immigrants and ethnic minority Brits in the allocation of housing, benefits, education and employment, rather than cultural fears of the other. She talked about the need that Britain has for the “brightest and best” of those immigrating here, but at the same time speaks of the need to limit and control immigration.

The entire immigration debate was rendered ridiculous by the fact that, despite all of the talk of everyone being afraid to discuss immigration as anything but wonderful, the Labour, Conservative and Liberal Democrat representatives discussed immigration in almost nothing but negative terms, with talk of caps and limitations–which, taken to their logical conclusion, not only risk violating the U.N. convention relating to the status of refugees (in fact, refugees were curiously absent from the discussion, aside from a mention of “bogus asylum seekers”), but set the template for a frighteningly totalitarian regime, where the government has (greater) involvement in who marries whom and how many children people are allowed to have. Even the Liberal Democrat representative, Huhne, talked about “getting control back over our borders” rather than arguing for free movement across borders.

Interestingly, when called on his description of Islam as a “wicked and vicious faith”, Griffin portrays Islam as a negative image of his Britishness, which is being fundamentally Christian and all about “free speech, democracy and equal rights for women”. Here, Islam and the multicultural Britain it is part of represent the political correctness to his free speech, the rule of the minority to his democracy, the “second class citizen[ship]” for women to his equal rights. This tendency towards defining one against the other is a part of any nationalism. Nationalism stems from the idea of an “imagined community”: shared history, shared language and shared culture. So the BNP are attempting to validate the idea of an indigenous, white nationalism by creating this history. Nationalism depends on the imagining and maintenance of “finite, if elastic boundaries, beyond which lie other nations”. There can be no one sovereign nation without other nations for it to define itself against.

Much as Griffin sets up Islam as his other, the other panelists set him up as their own opposite: while theirs is reasoned non-reactionary political debate, his is a racist, Islamophobic and unreasoned ideology. While there is no doubt that this is true, the mainstream political voices seem to provide no real alternative either to each other or the BNP, as they present themselves. Jack Straw’s (who, three years ago began a debate about Muslim women wearing the niqab) defense of the Britishness of British Muslims rang hollow against his divisive arguments against the right of British women to wear the niqab, and attacks against Griffin’s description of the inherent anti-British nature of Islam rang hollow coming from the representatives of a government and opposition that have backed British involvement in two wars that have killed hundreds of thousands of Muslims, where at least one of the proffered reasons for taking said military action was the poor, unequal, treatment of women.

The unequal treatment of women elsewhere acts both to deflect questions regarding the rights of women here, wherever here may be, and in order to justify claims of moral superiority. Ultimately,  despite the use of women and their rights as political capital or for scoring points, there seems to be no real concern for the rights of women, particularly Muslim women, so much as a desire to reduce them to objects, and create a (falsely) desirable image of the self.

Your Joke is Not My Joke: Racism and Sexism in Jokes and Satire

Have you ever noticed how minorities—and oppressed people in general—lack a sense of humor? Lately, there have been plenty of jokes about Arabs and Muslims. So why aren’t we laughing?

French Interior Minister Brice Hortefeux recently felt his joke fall flat after this year’s summer congress. One of his traditional supporters, Amin Benalia, asked if he could take a picture with the minister. A woman in the crowd jokingly introduced Benalia to the team as someone different because he “eats pork and drinks beer”. Ah, a meeting of old friends and politicians united under the banner of pork, beer and the finest French jokes. The Minister explained about Benalia:

“He doesn’t fit the prototype [of an Arab Muslim] at all. Not at all. We always need one. When there’s one, that’s all right. It’s when there a lot of them that there are problems.”

This moment of free expression had been launched on the website of Le Monde and raised lots of questions, reactions and criticism. But the merry minister did not apologize. He simply said it was a joke, and most journalists gave it legitimacy by saying the minister was “very laid-back”.

David Gee, the author of Shaikh Down—a  very “funny” novel about the Arabs (again)—claimed he “spent six years in the Gulf and never met an intelligent woman”, ignoring the fact that intelligent women had better things to do than meet up with a poor so-called satirist.

In Shaikh Down, Gee writes:

“Nayla was tall, olive-skinned, voluptuous, at twenty-six two years younger than her brother Ibrahim and exactly half her husband’s age, a feminist intellectual in a society that tended to ignore women and mistrusted intellectuals .”

Exclusively focusing his attention on the body of Nayla, the author completely ignores the role that high-profile women play in the Gulf. The “feminist intellectual” is at some point described as if she was either a prostitute or a commodity: by the size and the color of her “voluptuous” Orientalized body.

Here is another sample about Nayla, when the death of her husband is announced:

“Nayla sighed, which the houseboy took for an upper-caste Arabic demonstration of controlled grief. But grief was not what the new widow felt. Her marriage had been arranged between her brother and the Bahzoomis, whose wealth was second only to that of the ruling al-Khazi clan. Nayla had despised her husband in life – his gambling and drinking, his belly-dancing whores, his newspapers that kissed the backside of her uncle the Amir – and she felt only relief at his passing, however brutal it seemed to have been.”

In this paragraph, Gee develops the stereotype of oppressive arranged marriages among Arabs and Muslims. Nayla “despises” her husband. The Orientalist cliché of sensuality and availability always works in association with a harsh criticism of traditional marriage. Marriage is bound to be oppressive among these “shaikhs” and, most importantly, it makes the available resource of women not so available. Gee is not criticizing marriage as a social institution or as a bourgeois civil contract – like many feminists did in Europe. He is criticizing marriage in Arab societies–as if an Arab man was not able to love his wife and as if an Arab woman could only hate her husband while longing to be saved by some romantic white man…

But maybe, it only was a joke, again.

In one sentence, despising both the countries of the Gulf and the people who live in them, Gee proves that he is only recycling his own White middle-class fantasies. His book aims to be a “hilarious ‘blueprint’ for a Revolution that will sweep the tyrant Rulers of Arabia into the dustbin of history!” It is just one more Orientalist novel – a really bad and poorly written one.

Gee and the French minister are not comic; they only are racist. But maybe, I have no sense of humor. That’s the main problem, according to David Gee, Brice Hortefeux and all their funny ruling friends.

Kathleen Hanna gave the best reply you can ever make to these clowns:

“I have to deal with sexism every day so it’s like maybe boys can find that really funny and humorous, I don’t have the luxury to find that humorous. I live it every fucking day. That’s not funny to me, and if I say it’s not funny, it’s not funny. You know what I mean? It’s like there’s no argument there, whether it’s funny or not, if I say I don’t find it funny it means: hey, be cool to me and respect me, your joke is not my joke.”

Editor’s note: This article was updated on September 27, 2009.

Burqa Tourism at its Finest: How to Become an Expert on Muslim Women in Just One Week

Alicia wrote last week about female members of the British police force wearing burqas and headscarves to try to better understand the Muslim community.  Well, it seems like it’s “dress like a Muslim” month in Britain, because the Daily Mail’s Liz Jones has just written about her own experience wearing a burqa for a week.  It’s not pretty.

Before I start, I’ll just say that, while I’m skeptical of any attempt to wear hijab in order to better comprehend (hijab-wearing) Muslim women’s lives, I can at least sort of understand it if there is a really sincere effort to learn more about the kinds of reactions that such women might face from non-Muslim members of society.  What really bothers me is when these attempts are explained as a way to understand “what it’s like to wear the burqa” (or niqab, or headscarf, or whatever). If you’re wearing any of these things without any personal religious or cultural meanings attached to them, it would be hard to even come close to appreciating what it’s really like for women who wear them.

Im not sure if this is the author herself, or just some random niqab picture that they threw in, but its the photo that accompanied the article.

I'm not sure if this is the author herself, or just some random niqab picture that they threw in, but it's the photo that accompanied the article.

Jones explains her motivation for wearing the burqa as follows:

Moved by the plight of Lubna Hussein, a Sudanese woman who faces 40 lashes for wearing trousers in public, I decided to spend a week enveloped in what she should have been wearing.

Her article probably could not be filled with more burqa-is-oppressive cliches if she tried (for that matter, maybe she did try.  Either way, she sure managed to fill it up with lots of dramatic language.)  Her first day wearing it sounds almost physically impossible:

On my first day, I was unaccountably afraid to put on my burka. When I did pluck up courage, I felt suffocated.

Driving to my local station, I felt blinkered, like a racehorse. Walking to the platform, I could hardly breathe: I kept getting my nose out from beneath its shroud for fresh air. I felt weak, and faint and itchy.

She then gives us this anecdote:

I walked to the kiosk to buy coffee, staring at my feet to avoid catching anyone’s eye.

‘Mumble mumble,’ I said to the young man serving.

To his credit – the station is in Somerset, so I’m pretty sure this was the first time he’d encountered the full burka – he didn’t bat an eyelid.

I automatically lifted the cup to my lips. Ah. How on earth do women eat or drink? Later that day, at a coffee shop in Fulham, I sat outside at a table, faced with an insurmountable sandwich.

What can we learn from this?  First, that burqa-wearing women are, apparently, unintelligible.  Second, that Jones either can’t think ahead far enough to realize that maybe going for coffee in a public place isn’t so smart with no plan for how to consume said coffee, or that she did so deliberately to show us that Muslim women are so oppressed that we can’t even drink coffee or eat sandwiches.  The idea that women who cover their faces might either have already planned for how (or where) to drink their coffee, or that some might even temporarily uncover their faces in order to eat, doesn’t really factor in.

An alternate explanation arises in Jones’ next paragraph:

An Arab man shouted abuse. I have no idea what he was saying – perhaps I shouldn’t have been out on my own, or perhaps eating is a sin – but the interesting point is that during my week in a burka, he was the only person who gave me any abuse whatsoever.

Aha!  Maybe eating is a sin!  That’s how Muslim women survive the coffee-shop dilemmas – they’re not supposed to be eating anyway.

That aside (yes, I know Jones was probably exaggerating; I’ll concede that she probably does know that Muslim women eat), this paragraph irks me for other reasons.  First of all, if Jones “[has] no idea what he was saying,” how does she know that this “Arab” man was truly shouting “abuse” (and, for that matter, does she know for sure that he’s Arab)?  And how does she know that this abuse was even burqa- or Islam-related?  Maybe it was, as Jones assumes.  Maybe she had stolen his table at the coffee shop, or maybe her car was blocking his in the parking lot.  Maybe he was yelling at her because he didn’t like that she was wearing a burqa.  Who knows?  The point is that the suggestion that wearing a burqa gets negative reactions only from oppressive Muslim men attempting to police Muslim women’s bodies is disturbing and, if we listen to women in Britain who wear hijab or niqab for longer than Jones’ week-long experiment, not the full story.

In fact, Jones even dismisses one woman who talked about facing racism because of her clothing:

‘I have had so much abuse on the train,’ a British Muslim called Um Abdullah complained on Woman’s Hour. Well, she has obviously never travelled with First Great Western.

Does Jones really claim, from her one-week experience, to know more about abuse on a train than a woman who is always visibly identifiable as a Muslim?  It’s not that I would have wished negative experiences on Jones, but the fact that she didn’t have any doesn’t mean that everyone else should stop complaining because those experiences don’t exist.  And the solution shouldn’t be to just take a different train, as Jones implies with her praise of First Great Western.

Moreover, in the beginning of her article, Jones describes catching a glimpse of her own reflection while wearing the burqa, and seeing “a dark, depressed alien. A smudge. A nothing.”  Even if she says she didn’t face any “abuse” while wearing it, this comment is rather telling of the kind of judgment that she would see entirely appropriate to place on a woman wearing a burqa.  While someone in a burqa might not face overt racist comments on a daily basis, I would imagine that coming up against judgments such as this one (and having such judgments printed in a matter-of-fact way in a widespread newspaper) might just become a pretty significant frustration after a while.

Narrating other experiences, Jones tells us that:
Getting out of [a] cab, a passing decorator opened the door and grabbed my shopping – a burka makes you clumsy, slow, fearful because you can’t hear, and helpless; I spent most of the week feeling like a disabled person.
Never is there consideration made for the possibility that clumsiness and slowness might be more related to Jones’ unfamiliarity with wearing the burqa, rather than the burqa itself.  As for not being able to hear, I know a whole lot of women who cover their heads (ears included) in various ways and still manage to hear just fine, so I’m not sure what the problem was here.  The ableist language is also pretty striking; we should all feel shocked and sorry for Jones, because who would ever want to feel like a disabled person?!  [sarcasm]
The rest of the article is more of the same, and ends with:

On yet another perfect summer’s day in Hyde Park during my week covered up, I saw a crocodile of schoolchildren. Only the pale moon of the faces of the Muslim girls was exposed.

I know now exactly how they feel: marginalised, objectified, kept box-fresh for the eyes of male relatives.

All I can say to this is, no.  No, you don’t know how they feel (or at the very least, you can’t say for certain that you do.)  You don’t know why they’re wearing what they’re wearing, or what meaning it has for them.  Yes, some Muslim women feel marginalized and objectified, and sometimes this even relates to their clothing.  Other women might wear exactly the same clothing and feel entirely different, or might even feel more marginalized and objectified by non-Muslims than by their “male relatives.”  Spending a week in a burqa (especially when this experience is entered into already with fear and disgust towards the burqa) does not make someone an expert on how women who wear these things feel, or on how they should react to racism and abuse.