On
Friday, people of all faiths will join forces outside Egyptian embassies to
express solidarity with a jailed blogger.
November 2007
Egyptian university student Abdel-Kareem
Nabil (or Kareem Amer, as
he is known in the blogosphere) received a hefty
four-year prison sentence in February. His crime?
Insulting Islam and inciting sedition (three years) and defaming the Egyptian
president (one year).
Shockingly, the judge handing down the verdict
reportedly took just five minutes of “deliberations” to deprive this young
student of the next few years of his life, despite the efforts of a legal team
provided by the Egyptian Organisation for Human Rights.
Kareem's sad tale began in the spring of 2006,
when the grand inquisitors of the conservative al-Azhar, the oldest Islamic seat of learning in the
world – which the blogger derided as the “University of Terrorism” – expelled him for contempt
of religion, atheism and insulting the Grand Sheikh of al-Azhar.
As I’ve pointed out before, neither apostasy nor atheism are
strictly speaking a crime in Islam – and the Grand Sheikh himself has confirmed
this. So, it would seem that his own institution does not practise what he
preaches.
Matters escalated when Kareem refused to recant
his views and his case eventually found its way to court, where a zealous
prosecuting lawyer announced that he was on a “jihad” to convict him. But as
the prosecuting team were well aware that apostasy is
not actually a crime in Egypt,
they made full use of the legal climate created by Egypt’s so-called “emergency laws”
to build their case around the idea that this young man was somehow “inciting
sedition”.
“If we leave the likes of him without
punishment, it will be like a fire that consumes everything,” one of the
prosecutors argued. This view strikes me as very odd.
Browsing through Kareem’s writings, I got the impression that he is a
conscientious but angry, angst-ridden and disillusioned youth trying to
understand the world around him. Before this case came to court, few had even
heard of him.
Of course, as an a-religious
secularist myself, what I’ve seen of Kareem’s views do not particularly shock
me, although his anger and the repressive environment in which he grew up do
mean that he somewhat lacks perspective.
This thoughtful and sensitive young man also entertains ambitions that
can only be described as praiseworthy. On his blog,
Kareem described his aspiration to become a human rights lawyer and open up an
office to “defend the rights of Muslim and Arab women against all form of
discrimination and to stop violent crimes committed on a daily basis in these
countries”.
But the question remains how can this solitary
voice possibly be a threat to a faith that has endured 1,400 years of
onslaughts, both from outside and within the Muslim world, and a president that
has sat on the throne longer than Kareem has walked this earth?
“When a young man is punished for having
secular views in a country claiming respect to citizens’ right to freedom of expression,
it is a catastrophe,” GamalEid,
who heads the Arabic Network for Human Rights Information, said at the time.
There seems to be a general apprehension shared
by two embattled establishments in Egypt – the state and the
traditional religious institutions – triggered by the relatively uncontrollable
and independent nature of the Egyptian and Arab blogosphere.
And Kareem’s harsh sentence has intimidated many bloggers.
Ultimately, however, it is a futile endeavour
in this increasingly borderless world, since this campaign has only attracted
more bad press and negative attention than would have occurred had the
government simply ignored Kareem. In fact, his blog
is still online (in Arabic) and attracting
visitors. Many of its posts have been translated into English.
That would also explain Egypt’s Jekyll and Hyde approach to freedom of expression. Its
claims of being a democratising state means that its
periodically loosens the reins, often allowing an impressive breadth of
criticism – until it panics when the space is used to demand reform.
With no imminent sign of the young blogger’s release, the Free Kareem Coalition has organised rallies outside Egyptian
embassies and consulates in some 14 American and European cities to express
their solidarity with the Egyptian blogger.
Interestingly, although this is an interfaith
campaign, most of its members are, in fact, Muslims. “The creators and main
supporters of the Free Kareem Coalition are Muslim, and we are doing this
despite what Kareem said about our religion. Free speech doesn’t mean speech
that you approve of. It includes criticism,” they explain on their website.
This is a laudable sentiment which,
unfortunately, too many Muslims may object to, arguing that we must draw the
line at the disparaging of religion. But why? As I’ve argued before, ridiculing and insulting Islam is
not a new-fangled innovation or something that only non-Muslims do. Muslims
have been doing it and getting away with it since the very dawn of the faith.
Freedom of expression may have reached
unprecedented heights in the contemporary west. But despite what some might
claim, it is not a notion unique to western society. Muslim
culture has also been historically tolerant of dissent. This is a sign of a
strong and confident society, and it is only by allowing citizens again to
question freely that the Arab and Muslim world can regain the intellectual
vigour necessary to advance in the modern world.
Whether or not you’ve heard of Kareem or agree
with his radical views, it is the duty of every believer in human dignity and
freedom to add their voice to calls for his release. If you’re interested in
joining a rally near you, information can be found on the campaign website. You can sign a petition demanding
his release in Arabic or in English. Details on how to send a letter of
support to Kareem are available here.
Of course, we must all, whether religious or
secular, be consistent and demand with equal fervour the release of other
prisoners of conscience, whether they bebloggers, newspaper editors, opposition leaders, Islamists
or homosexuals.
