Dear HumanDHS network friends
Please find below the Common Ground Newsbulletin: 19-25 August 2008.
Kind regards
Brian Ward
Common Ground Newsbulletin: 19-25 August 2008Inside this edition
Peace is hard work in the Middle East and beyond
by Deanna Armbruster
In this fourth article in a series on Jewish-Muslim relations, Deanna Armbruster, author and executive director of the American Friends of Neve Shalom/Wahat al-Salam, extends the example of the Jewish and Arab inhabitants of the Oasis of Peace – who have decided to face the reality of living side-by-side with one another, challenged daily with the hard work of peace – to the larger realm of Muslim-Western relations.
(Source: Common Ground News Service (CGNews), 19 August 2008)
Bangladeshi NGOs address education gap for minorities
by Tuli Dewan
Describing the challenges faced by multi-lingual societies where certain students struggle to learn a new language in order to access public education, Tuli Dewan, programme manager of Green Hill, considers what Bangladeshis NGOs are doing to overcome this obstacle.
(Source: Common Ground News Service (CGNews), 19 August 2008)
Mahmoud Darwish: a people and a poet
by Ibtisam Barakat
Ibtisam Barakat, author and educator, mourns the recent loss of respected Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish who, inspired by a vision of reconciliation, moved “between skies and across borders”.
(Source: Common Ground News Service (CGNews), 19 August 2008)
~Youth Views~ Making a home in a foreign land
by Saher A. Ashary and Meryem Maaroufi
Saher A. Ashary and Meryem Maaroufi, students of the University of Sharjah and Al Akhawayn University respectively, evaluate the successful integration of Arab and Muslim immigrants into broader US and European society, and ask what can be done in our technologically-linked global community to learn from one another’s examples.
(Source: Common Ground News Service (CGNews), 19 August 2008)
Free speech is a two-way street
by Shahed Amanullah
In light of the impending publication of the controversial book, Jewel of Medina, editor-in-chief of altmuslim.com Shahed Amanullah asks, “Why do Muslims appear to be so sensitive about what the media says about them?”
(Source: altmuslim.com, 7 August 2008)
Peace is hard work in the Middle East and beyond
Deanna Armbruster
Oasis of Peace, Israel - In Israel, there is a village where Arabs and Jews live as neighbours. Both groups endeavour to create a just society that can be a model for peace in the region.
What’s it called? Oasis of Peace. Though the town’s name gives the impression that it’s some sort of magical, idealistic utopia, the people living there are challenged daily and deeply by the reality of an intractable, painful and violent conflict. Like anything worth attaining, peace comes with hard work.
There are fears that the village will somehow threaten the 5.4 million Jews in Israel and 5.1 million Palestinian Arabs in Israel-Palestine. It won’t. Only one couple, living there now for more than 25 years, is mixed. The other 54 non-mixed families are Jewish, Muslim, and Christian; they share strong convictions about their own identities, but have made a determined effort – for more than three decades – to live alongside one another and thus impact society.
Much can be learned from Neve Shalom, its Hebrew name, or Wahat al-Salam as it’s called in Arabic, about interfaith relations.
In the local Jewish-Arab primary school, children study one another’s faiths with natural curiosity. Students break the fast together at Ramadan, share a succah at Sukkot, and exchange small gifts at Christmas. And dialogue begins, but never ends, in its Pluralistic Spiritual Center where discussions transcend religion in the recognition that this conflict is not Torah versus Qu’ran versus Bible.
The difficulties arise when the issues of the conflict are placed on the table.
The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a political strife between two national groups about land, resources, security, freedom, equality, power, identity, and justice. Productive dialogue must include recognising this and not limiting description of the conflict exclusively to inter- and intra-religious issues.
Seeking a resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict requires a look at the big picture. The ultimate goal should be to create stability for Israelis and Palestinians so they may live securely and freely alongside one another in a spirit of cooperation and mutual respect.
That means building common ground, sharing narratives and acknowledging the pain and suffering of others. Israelis and Palestinians, Jews, Muslims, and Christians need to show a willingness to recognise one another. It ultimately means seeing an enemy as an equal in humanity. Easier said than done.
Resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the leading domino to seeing any meaningful dialogue between the Arab world and the West. Without such a catalyst, dialogue will be slow. And dialogue provides the forum for understanding and for seeking resolutions; resolutions do not come without talking.
The West needs to learn more about Islam not because it’s the faith of “our enemies” but because, like the children in Neve Shalom/Wahat al-Salam, it’s the faith of our neighbours.
Just as Oasis of Peace is doing, we need to move beyond Arabs as people who are inherently scary. We paint adversarial facades to create enemies, but we must challenge ourselves to break stereotypes, question basic assumptions and raise awareness. Beyond that, the West needs to learn about the economic, political, social, and cultural conflicts facing the region.
The issues between the West and East are not just those of religion, but of political dynamics, struggles for resources, self-interest, independence, and power relations. As we begin to understand this we will strengthen those relationships.
There are another 500 families on a waiting list who want to move to Oasis of Peace. This fall, 15 of these families will break ground on their plots and begin to build new homes and new futures. They are coming with loads of goodwill and perhaps little understanding of the great challenges that they will confront.
But they offer the world a ray of hope.
The residents of this small village are single-handedly removing obstacles by demonstrating that peace is within the grasp of people who seek it and are willing to sacrifice their bias so that all may share prospects of peace.
As they provide the example to those in the region it will soon be up to the rest of us to follow their lead.
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* Deanna Armbruster is the executive director of the American Friends of Neve Shalom/Wahat al-Salam and the author of Tears in the Holy Land: Voices from Israel and Palestine. This article, part of a series on Jewish-Muslim relations written for the Common Ground News Service, originally appeared in The Christian Science Monitor.
Source: Common Ground News Service, 19 August 2008, www.commongroundnews.org
Copyright permission is granted for publication.
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Bangladeshi NGOs address education gap for minorities
Tuli Dewan
Chittagong Hill Tracts, Bangladesh - Participation by minorities in development efforts is essential for dispersing the fruits of development to all segments of society equally. But a culture of minority participation in the national development effort is not often found in Bangladesh and important segments of society are left without the tools to participate. However local non-governmental organisations (NGOs) are working to fill this gap.
Bangladesh is a predominantly Muslim country with the fourth largest concentration of Muslims in the world. Other religious, linguistic and cultural groups in the country – Buddhists, Hindus, Christians and animists – constitute 10 percent of the total population. Established as a parliamentary democracy, reflective of the country’s religious diversity and pluralist character, Islam was made the state religion in 1988 and the present government has been operating in a state of emergency since January 2007.
The people of Bangladesh are not as homogenous as many assume, and most ethnic minorities are incidentally trapped in social underdevelopment.
Though education has been recognised as a universal and fundamental human right, quality education continues to elude indigenous learners in the Chittagong Hill Tract (CHT) region of Bangladesh. Inadequate educational resources coupled with high drop-out rates – with almost 20 percent of drop-outs attributed to linguistic obstacles – create an environment where inhabitants are neither benefiting from development efforts, nor are they equipped to participate in them.
The CHT region, located in the southeast corner of Bangladesh has an area of 5,092 square miles and is home to 11 ethnic minorities who differ from the population in the neighbouring plains not only in terms of geographical setting but also in ethnicity, socio-economic status, language, culture, religion, lifestyle, customs and tradition.
Chakma is the largest indigenous ethnic group in the CHT, and the predominant language spoken, followed by Marma, which is spoken in the southern part of the region in addition to local languages. However, primary school children in the CHT are required to take classes in Bengali – the state language. This linguistic barrier makes it difficult for them to understand textbooks or follow their teachers’ lessons. School becomes boring for them and eventually they start to lose interest in learning.
Linguistic challenges in elementary school naturally impact higher education. Problems in understanding the language at this early stage result in weak learning, whereas curriculum becomes easier for students to understand when education is offered in a child’s mother tongue. This helps unlock a child’s intuition, power of thought and imagination.
Although the 40th session of the International Labour Organisation in 1957 adopted a resolution (Article 23(1) of Convention 107) that clearly provides for indigenous children’s education in their respective mother tongues, little has been done by the government to implement this. Moreover, Article 33 (kha) of the CHT Accord signed by the Bangladesh government and Parbartty Chttagram Jana Sanghati Samity (PCJSS), a regional political party that spearheaded the movement for indigenous rights, also provides for primary education in indigenous languages. And Article 17 of the Bangladesh constitution stipulates that all children should receive an education that is compatible with the needs of the society – indicating that there is no legal barrier to providing education in regional languages.
In the absence of government assistance, a few NGOs have launched an initiative to teach Chakma, Marma and Tripura children in their respective languages at the pre-school stage in a few schools in and outside the municipality area.
This struggling initiative will likely only succeed with support from the national government and would benefit from assistance from international donors. However, if successful, this initiative could prove a model for other countries with linguistically diverse populations that suffer from development challenges in multiethnic, multicultural societies.
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* Tuli Dewan is a programme manager for Green Hill (www.greenhill-cht.org), a non-governmental organisation in the Chittagong Hill Tract region of Bangladesh. This article was written for the Common Ground News Service (CGNews) and can be accessed at www.commongroundnews.org .
Source: Common Ground News Service, 19 August 2008, www.commongroundnews.org
Copyright permission is granted for publication.
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Mahmoud Darwish: a people and a poet
Ibtisam Barakat
Columbia, Missouri - On the afternoon of 9 August, I was getting ready to give a talk about Palestinian olive trees to a gathering of authors and thinkers at Keystone College in Pennsylvania. For the title of the presentation, I cracked the word olive in two, and turned it into O’ Live! But death mocked me.
Shortly before I left my room for the talk, the phone rang. It was my friend, musician Saed Muhssin, calling me from San Francisco. His voice was deep like a valley, barely climbing up to speak: “Have you heard?” he asked. “This is hard news”, he warned. “Mahmoud Darwish died today.”
My mind cried. My heart ached with all of the unhealed Palestinian losses that are recalled with each new loss – losses Darwish made sure to record in his poetry. “I belong there. I have many memories”, Darwish wrote. Memories that he recorded in at least 30 books of poetry and prose, translated into at least 20 languages.
He was born in 1941, and published his first book of poetry before he was 20-years-old. For over four decades, Palestinian and Arab poets were inspired by him, referred to him, imitated him, debated over his poetry.
Saed and I belong to Generation M, an identity we invented several years ago. I grew up on the West Bank under Israeli occupation and Saed was an Israeli citizen. Both of us Palestinian, we had completely different lives. But underneath, we shared a similar deprivation, a hunger for freedom, for a more beautiful world. We filled our hunger with the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish, and we called ourselves Generation M.
In the absence of home, Darwish turned language into a spacious tent – for us and for all who needed a home. He turned yearning into a meeting place. Those in exile could meet our mothers through his mother – whom he hadn’t seen for many years – when he wailed:
I yearn for the bread my mother bakes
I ache for my mother’s coffee.
And her touch.
He used the Arabic word ahennu for yearn, which means a yearning filled with affection. It’s a word that wakes up a thousand feelings at once, with the hint of a desperate impatience.
In 1982, he wrote “lasta wahdaka” – you are not alone, for Yasser Arafat when the Palestinians were driven out of Beirut. Darwish said it also to everyone on Earth, anyone who was forced out into exile for the nth time.
And his question: “Where should the birds fly after the last sky?” made me invent an endless number of new skies, stacked like mattresses for the refugees of Earth.
Darwish, the name in Arabic means a pure, spiritual wandering man, was precisely that for us. He moved between skies and across borders – between Palestine, Israel, Russia, France, Jordan, Lebanon, Egypt, and other countries. Wherever he was, words in his hands were a magic lamp that set free the genie of the Arabic language. He knew the heart of the Palestinians. He knew that they had only one wish for the genie, one yearning request of their language – “home.”
As seen in his language and poetry, Darwish had a vision and passion for achieving justice. He helped in writing Arafat’s famous address to the United Nations General Assembly in 1974 in which Arafat pleaded with the world by repeating three times, “La tusqeto al-ghusna al-akhdar min yadee” – don’t let the green branch fall from my hands.
In 1988, Darwish drafted the Palestinian declaration of independence in which he said that peace is achievable with a two-state solution – one Palestinian, one Jewish. He wrote that peace is possible “on the land of love and peace”.
Inspired by the vision of reconciliation, he emphasised that Palestine would be a society that thrives on human rights, equality, democracy, representation, social responsibility, and complete respect for all, especially women and people of different faiths.
At one of Darwish’s last performances, in July 2008, the audience in Ramallah received him as though they suspected it might be the last time they would see him. They stood up like the fragrant spruce trees he often plants in his poetry. “Think of others”, he told them.
As you prepare your breakfast – think of others. Don’t forget to feed the pigeons. As you conduct your wars – think of others. Don’t forget those who want peace. As you pay your water bill – think of others. Think of those who only have clouds to drink from. As you go home, your own home – think of others – don’t forget those who live in tents. As you sleep and count the planets, think of others – there are people who have no place to sleep. As you liberate yourself with metaphors, think of others – those who have lost their right to speak. And as you think of distant others – think of yourself and say, “I wish I were a candle in the darkness.”
Speaking openly about death, he had confessed to Al-Hayat, the Arab newspaper: “I am no longer afraid of death. I used to be afraid of it. But now I only fear the death of my ability to write and my ability to taste life.”
Continuing to wrestle with his art, he wrote, “I thought poetry could change everything, could change history and could humanise…. Now I think that poetry changes only the poet.”
Dear Mahmoud Darwish, your poetry changed me.
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* Ibtisam Barakat (www.ibtisambarakat.com) is the author of Tasting the Sky: A Palestinian Childhood (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2007) and founder of Write Your Life seminars which encourage people to find their voice. This article was written for the Common Ground News Service (CGNews) and can be accessed at www.commongroundnews.org .
Source: Common Ground News Service, 19 August 2008, www.commongroundnews.org
Copyright permission is granted for publication.
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~Youth Views~ Making a home in a foreign land
Saher A. Ashary and Meryem Maaroufi
Sharjah, UAE/Ifrane, Morocco - Global communication in the 21st century has reduced the distance between people from different cultures and regions, and immigration has brought people from different civilisations closer to one another. Yet, diverse ideologies, value systems and religious beliefs held by people sharing the same physical space often result in divergent views on how individuals should behave and the extent to which each group is able to participate in society.
Tension between a country’s native and immigrant populations is most pronounced in Europe, especially when it comes to Arab-European relations. Arabs and Europeans both hail from established civilisations with strong but different value systems formed by centuries of time-honoured religious beliefs and social habits.
An unwillingness to change on both sides has led to social polarisation. According to Harvard University scholar, Jocelyn Cesari, Arab immigrants in Europe have had a difficult time fitting into society; they have the highest unemployment rates of all minorities, and the greatest tendency to live segregated lives in the poorest neighbourhoods. The implications of this polarisation were apparent in the 2005 riots in France.
Examples of such schisms exist throughout the United States as well but, overall, the United States has been much more accepting of new cultures, partly due to its relative youth as a nation, and partially because it accepts a smaller number of Arab immigrants, roughly four times less than the approximately five million Arabs living in Europe. This smaller group tends to stem from a wealthier, more educated segment of society.
On average, Arab Americans do not live in ghettos and enjoy a richer lifestyle, both financially, and in terms of quality of living. According to data collected in 2000 by the US Census Bureau, they appear to be better able and willing to take advantage of US educational opportunities: 41 percent are college graduates, compared to the 24 percent of the American population as a whole with college degrees.
Their education and hard work pays off. The average income of an Arab American family is $52,300, 4.6 percent higher than the national average, giving this segment of society employment and lifestyle opportunities and removing some of the burdens of unemployment and segregation faced by their European counterparts.
However the events of 9/11 have hampered this progress. Now, the terms Arab and Muslim (often used incorrectly as synonymous with one another) are increasingly being associated with terrorism, extremism and barbarism. Terrorist attacks, perpetrated in the name of Islam, continue to fuel Western suspicion of anything Arab or Muslim.
In this age of increased communication, all societies, cultures and social groups must find ways to understand each other in order to live in peace and harmony. These are simple words, but require tremendous commitment and efforts on the part of each of us.
Thankfully, individuals are rising to the challenge.
Many Arab-Americans are trying to explain their culture and religion to Americans because of the backlash following the 9/11 attacks. For example, an Arab man, Mehdi El-Afifi of Teaneck, New Jersey was driving his daughter and her friends home on the morning of the 9/11 attacks when a woman began pointing her finger at the girls inside. She yelled, “Take off your headscarves!”
Following this incident, Mehdi El-Afifi, along with his fellow community members, began a series of talks explaining Islam and the Arab world across New York and New Jersey. Together they visited churches, synagogues, schools, women’s organisations and youth clubs. They raised awareness of their cultural differences, destroyed negative stereotypes in the process, and showed that Arab and Muslim Americans are not terrorists who want to bomb the country.
Individuals like these help bridge the gulf between citizens sharing the same geographic territory. But more people must be involved; today, a conscious effort is required not just from members of civil society, but also from politicians, historians, and religious leaders. Such examples as this could prevent further polarisation from occurring around the world, especially in our global and technologically-linked society where the power of improved communication and interconnectedness enable us to learn from one another’s examples.
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* Saher A. Ashary is a junior at the American University of Sharjah, majoring in international relations. Meryem Maaroufi is also a junior at Al Akhawayn University, majoring in international studies. This article was written for the Common Ground News Service (CGNews) and can be accessed at www.commongroundnews.org .
Source: Common Ground News Service, 19 August 2008, www.commongroundnews.org
Copyright permission is granted for publication.
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Free speech is a two-way street
Shahed Amanullah
Austin, Texas - Back in 1989, when the publication of Salman Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses sparked a new phenomenon of protests from Muslims – particularly by those in the West – I was a student body senator at the University of California at Berkeley, where the Free Speech Movement was born in the 1960s. Two bookstores were firebombed – apparently in retaliation for the book, though without any claims of responsibility.
Along with several other Muslim students, I appeared on local television to denounce the bombings and state our belief that while Muslims could understandably be offended, no one had the right to impose censorship or intimidate others with threats to their safety or property.
That situation put us in the unique position of being targets of abuse by Muslims and non-Muslims alike, who either painted us as whitewashing a desire to impose our beliefs on others (this from the public in general) or apologising for a legitimate Muslim rage, regardless of whether it had crossed the line into violence (this from fellow Muslims). It was a paradox that has repeated itself many times in the 20 years since, most recently with the Danish cartoons and the violent reactions that some Muslims around the world had to them.
Some of the more abrasive encounters between Muslims and others during this time have not centred around politics or foreign policy, but rather in this arena of free expression. Muslims have naturally taken exception to the way their faith has been portrayed by some artists, writers, and academics.
Non-Muslims have, in turn, criticised some books by Muslims that are offensive, along with the institutions that sell them (as have we, incidentally). In both cases, people often talk at and over each other rather than to each other. Ideas are not exchanged, and the cycle continues unabated.
So why do Muslims appear to be so sensitive about what the media says about them?
Muslims have generally felt embattled during the past few decades as their media image becomes increasingly unrepresentative of the average Muslim. As they struggle against this imagery, they are told that the pre-requisite for changing it is for them to meaningfully change the behaviour of extremist Muslims, who exist far outside their sphere of influence – often a half a world away.
Muslims in this position feel they have no other choice but to push back harder against portrayals that are insulting or misrepresenting. Some, unfortunately, push too far. But Muslims aren’t alone in this. Voices that seek to marginalise the presence of Muslims in public discourse routinely do the same.
Two recent examples illustrate this: the attempts by New York congressman Peter King and others to have “Why Islam” ads banned from New York City subways (based only on the reputation of an external supporter of these ads); and calls by some to prevent publication of the forthcoming book, Jewel of Medina. Neither effort has succeeded in effectively dealing with controversy, which will remain dormant only to reappear another day.
Watching this exchange over time has taught me that the best response to free speech is simply more speech in return. Anyone should have the right to publish whatever he or she wants about Islam or Muslims – even if their views are offensive – without fear of censorship or retribution.
Muslims, however, shouldn’t be expected to be passive consumers of these views. An offended Muslim has the right – indeed, the responsibility – to vigorously critique anything written about them or their religion, provided they do not cross the line into intimidation and coercion. In an ideal world, both parties would open their minds enough to understand the other point of view.
Getting people on both sides of this equation to follow these guidelines will take a lot of reconditioning. But the alternative, a hyper-sensitive Muslim community that is unable to constructively respond to external criticism (or internal criticism, for that matter), coupled with a journalistic/artistic/secular community that feels genuine fear and is prevented from free expression – cannot be an option. We are witnessing today the stagnation and increased misunderstanding that comes from a stifled discourse.
Ultimately, no one has the absolute right not to be offended, nor does anyone have the right to live without the uncomfortable opinions of others. This is true whether it concerns flag burning (which should harm nothing other than a piece of cloth) or non-Muslim views of the Prophet Muhammad (which should not have an impact on a Muslim’s sincere belief). Religion and a universal sense of civility both dictate that emotions be kept in check to preserve social order. In such an environment, the freedom to speak openly – and all the benefits that come from it – can flourish.
To move forward, we all need to develop thicker skins, more open minds, and a common understanding of the principles of free speech, such as those that influenced me as a student and allowed me to subsequently influence others. Only then will everyone – Muslim and non-Muslim – be able to progress their societies and simultaneously preserve their rights.
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* Shahed Amanullah is editor-in-chief of altmuslim.com. This article is distributed by the Common Ground News Service (CGNews) and can be accessed at www.commongroundnews.org .
Source: altmuslim.com, 7 August 2008, www.altmuslim.com
Copyright permission is granted for publication.