To
every action there is an opposing reaction, though not necessarily an equal
one. After ‘Je suis Charlie,’ ‘nous sommes Charlie,’ and ‘Paris est Charlie,’ we have now seen a
queue of people stating why they are not
Charlie – and why, in their opinion, those who have said Je suis Charlie are misguided and
un-thinking.
When I write ‘Je suis Charlie,’ I
am not condoning everything about the publication Charlie Hebdo, much of which may be vile.
But I have no right to call myself a follower of Jesus if I am unwilling to
identify myself with the unlovely, with the offensive. However much they offend
me. However much they - and I – need
to change. Moreover, if by saying, ‘Je suis Charlie,’ I am saying, my attitudes include ugly attitudes, my words include hurtful words, then
that is far more honest than if I were to claim not to be ‘Charlie.’
When
presented with a woman whose actions were so offensive that her accusers
believed her to be worthy of death, he ruled in favour of the verdict on the
condition that whoever was without offence should carry out her execution. When
no one was found to condemn her on those terms, Jesus identified himself both
with the woman and with her accusers, condemning neither and condoning neither,
but challenging all to live differently.
When I write ‘Je suis Charlie,’ I
am not claiming that my experience of these events is in any way that of those
who have lost loved ones. That would, indeed, be deeply
insensitive; but it simply isn’t necessary. As a priest, I stand in solidarity
with people (some of whom are not likeable or commendable) who must bury their
parents, their spouse, their children, even though I have never experienced
that loss myself. That does not make me a fake. If we can only identify with
those with whom we have common experience, then we are in very deep trouble
indeed.
When I write ‘Je suis Charlie,’ I
am not deceiving myself that this act in itself is enough, that in itself it
changes the world. It is a token gesture; but that does
not make it meaningless, and does not necessarily inoculate us from taking
other small acts of reaching out to our neighbour. Big changes come through the
accumulation of small gestures, whether multitudes giving pennies to cancer
research, or people standing with a city. And yes, it might have unforeseen
negative impact as well as positive impact; and yes, we might need to identify
with other places and people and causes, too. But these qualifying things do not negate
the thing – though they can easily become
an excuse to do nothing.
When I write ‘Je suis Charlie,’ I
am not condoning Islamophobia or attacks on mosques.
Multiplying wrongs never undoes wrong. Both in our multi-cultural communities
and in our multi-cultural world, those who attack mosques harm the safety of
their own tribe as much as those who attack others in the name of Islam. The
signifier ‘Charlie’ has shifted from Charlie
Hebdo to Paris, France, beyond, to a multi-cultural city, nation,
continent, world; and anyone who harms Parisian Muslims harms ‘Charlie’ and is
not ‘Charlie.’ And yes, that calls Charlie
Hebdo itself to account [see Jesus, and identification
with others without either condemning or condoning, but instead extending the
challenge to live differently, above].
Yes, I recognise that it is
possible to condemn the murders without identifying with those murdered;
but it is also possible to identify with people without pretending that they
are innocent. The reality that we do not live in a black-and-white world works
both ways.
When
I write ‘Je suis Charlie,’ I am choosing to express solidarity with the people
of Paris – Christians, Muslims, Jews, atheists, and more besides – as they are
faced with the difficult challenge of living alongside one another.
I
am choosing to express some humanity.
I
hope that in all our great wisdom, we do not lose sight of that. However we
choose to respond.
I
am, still, despite all the arguments against it, Charlie.
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